Notes: This story was heavily inspired by the song "Servant of Evil" sung by Len Kagamine, but mostly by the Classical Nico Nico Chorus version of it. Thus I am not sure if this should be categorized as crossover fanfiction with Vocaloid or not.
I attempted to write it with the most rhyming I could, and a bit like storytelling, too. It took a lot of work. I was more compelled to write this because I couldn't make an animation for it, so writing was the way.
I wanted to be able to add more to it, but it was far too difficult. I apologize for those who'd wish to see more characters.
!Warnings: Mainly violence. Possible incest.
~ o ~ O ~ o ~ O ~ o ~ O ~ o ~
Ivalice bears many tales
'Tis only one more of them
In a kingdom known as Gallionne
Born were two sons of man
Rumored of royalty and of Barbaneth
Brothers they were said to be
Even if their colors contrasted
And without blood proof to see
if they were both truly noble
But if Barbaneth said so, who wasn't to trust he?
At birth they were given
Stones of unsurpassed wealth
Sadly the gifters did not know
Of the power they held
A goat's mighty greed
Given to the blonde son
A centaur's odd masochy
Given to the dark-haired one
Little did they know
That it would well be their doom
And so in that day they laughed
Under the light of the moon
Ramza and Delita were their names
Gallione's pride knew no bounds
The boys grew loyal and caring
Ready to mend any wounds
Both were known then
As the youths without sin
They had not yet noticed
Ramza's malice within him
Even when the stones
Were well out of their sight
The demons were imbued inside them
Only able to be driven off by unknown might
Their ways only became clearer
With noble-commoner play
And in the game of dominating and dominated
The adults had no say
The brothers were far too close
None could pull them apart
With love and passion, to each other,
They poured all contents of their hearts
But it was only Delita
That Ramza was said to love
And it became much of a worry
Along the blonde's desire of gore
With Barbaneth's death did he take the throne
As Dycedarg and Zalbaag were not yet seen as fit
Ramza chose Delita as his loyal servant
And that was the real start of it
At first Ramza ruled so well
Only true wrongdoers filling prison cells
Through the air wafted peacefully
Diverse flowers' sweet smell
But the king's malice appeared to his kindness contest
At the first time a villager came to ruthlessly protest
And try though they might, his friends tried to forget his fate
Thrown aside and battered, a body that the wolves promptly ate
And when the economy decreased due to trading problems
Ramza easily raised the taxes
Sending Delita to lay down protesters' axes
Telling them to calm down, for the raise was necessary
Recovering trust in child, old, adult, of both sexes
Yet Ramza did not lighten down his rule
As if a lion would give out his earnings to a mule...
So he sat on his throne, ever grinning
Minding not his and Delita's sinning
Oh, such complexion
"You would rather trust a god of no true existence,
Than your king that lends you protection?
This shows well your high insolence!"
'Be grateful you commoners do not face my rejection.'
Delita answered the king's every whim
Caring not whether it was a good order or a sin
He faced his opponents with an expression of disdain
Cut the rose, burned the stem
After all, he loved Ramza more than one loves their brethren
And even as his sword became tainted with blood
To the servant, the king was golden and pure
A figure of utter kindness and allure
So even as the trust of the citizens faltered
And Ramza's brothers' poisoning could not, with medicine, be countered
And the mossfungus mushroom laid at the throne's foot, rotting with determination
When the king ordered abruptly, "kiss me",
The servant obeyed without hesitation
Once he was told to check upon the neighboring kingdom,
Lesalia was its name
It was prosperous, cheerful and brilliant
In comparison to Gallionne, certainly not the same
But its brightest points were two humes
Orran and Valmafra, they were
And even though Delita was not so willing
Those were friendly moments that they did share
A warmth settled inside him, then
Of this feeling of friendship, he was not so aware
While in the kingdom he saw its princess
Ovelia, she was said to be
Young, short, innocent
Face bright with glee
Her happiness is almost contagious
Big as a black chocobo's wing
Though it is not enough to make him smile, yet.
It is time to report back to the king
The servant talks well of Lesalia's state
And of their princess heir
Ramza's jealousy boiled in his veins
Being rather unaware
That though Delita said those things
He still preferred Gallionne's lair.
And so the king ordered, twirling his hair curl
"Burn down that kingdom, slay that girl."
"Aye," said the servant, leaving at length
He knew how Ramza trusted his strength
In Lesalia the people played, as they did for weeks
Conversed, tried to be clever and witty
Ignoring the brunette servant pacing the streets
Not knowing what would happen to their city
Ovelia was a fair princess,
A rose among a foul stench
Though upon seeing her guards
Delita's heart had to clench
Orran and Valmafra paced by her side
And the three looked so content
Hesitation came forth with all might
He did not want to kill her during that moment
Does the demon inside him drives deeper
Or does it only wither?
Dear king there are wounds of yours that I want to mend
So upon your orders I shall her to death send,
But as tears flow down, I cannot understand
Why should such innocent soul meet their end?
Her death was Ramza's wish
And in this he had no say
So as his sword lunged forward into her heart
He wondered why things need to be this way
He doesn't want to hear
As the couple screams his name
Blood drenches the dress as he hurries away
Forever is the servant tainted in History's lane
From his hand, as he runs, comes forth fire spells
His ears are deaf to the countless yells
Many try to stop him, to the curses, the sword pays no heed
Most of the city is on flames as he leaves, planted is chaos' seed
The entirety of Lesalia bares teeth at Gallionne
But Ramza cares not, for he is his servant's only one
"As you have always been," Delita insists,
"This loyalty of mine has never gone through any risks."
You are my dear king and I'm your loyal knight
Love deep as the dark of night
Even if the entire world wishes your demise
For you I will slay every troop, no matter the size
"'Tis a dear dream of mine
That world relations mend fine
And that the kingdom of Gallionne shall shine
With the colors of Beoulve paiting its shrine."
White, it is. There should be no place for crimsom red in this.
But to Delita, Ramza was golden still. And to believe otherwise, he had no will.
Lesalia's knights were prepared, loud
Helped on by Gallionne's angered crowd
They were to mass at the castle, weapons ready to wreck
Wanting to separate the king's head from his neck
Well aware of this, the servant formulated a plan
And even with his heart in turmoil
He tried to appear calm
Knowing it would be his body the one to nurture the soil
Delita stepped towards Ramza with a slight smile
And pulled him into an embrace
Trying to ignore his silence, untying his ponytail's lace
He spoke, "I have a plan, it will last a short while."
"I shall now swap our looks
And be a good slave
My life matters very little
As long as it is yours I save.
Do not worry, this plan will not sink.
We are not as different as you may think."
With a sweet, enchanting song
Delita made his own hair blond and long
Whilst Ramza's grew short and dark
Both felt faltering the beats of their hearts
Transformation seemed complete
They weren't so different, after all
What remained were the colors of their eyes
And that servant smile, far too small
With a passionate embrace did Delita tell
"I will trick and deceive all.
If we swap our clothes
And keep our eyes shut
They will never know
And you won't be hurt."
You are now a fugitive
Whilst I'm Gallionne's king
So at least allow me to sing
Our last words of parting
But the ticking clock insists otherwise
Though I saw a flicker of light
Inside the amber of your eyes
Obeying Delita's orders, with hesitation,
Ramza flees away
Whilst Delita, in the king's appeareance,
Allows to be led another way
The crowd beams at the sight of the tied king
Being led, almost instantly, to the guillotine
Trying to be quiet, and still half-smug
As they proudly free Ramza's favourite chocobo, Josephine
Delita tries not to shiver as they put his head in place
Unaware that it is Orran and Valmafra preparing the instrument
Unaware that his smirk is fading
Unaware that Ramza's gaze is over him in that moment
... Evil... Manipulation...
The worst kinds of art.
But if that is why you are infamed
Then I too, should be blamed
For we share the same heart.
They do not allow him last words, do not give a prayer
There are only cheers as the guards finish the instrument's links
A lone tear graces down Delita's cheek, dark green eyes closed still
When the blade falls down, it is of Ramza he thinks
You are my dear lover, I am your self-sacrificing brother
Fate laughed at us since we saw our way out of our mother
The goat demon fades, unable to stand so much emotion force
Leaving Ramza's soul free, right when things get worse
As blood is spilled, his eyes shimmer with tears
The people's cheers do not reach his ears
His heart clenches, feeling alone
He runs away, not glancing back
Whispering to himself, "What have I done...?"
When the spell fades,
And they realize they killed the wrong one
It matters little, for the real Ramza was already gone
Among the disbanding people, who were complaining mightly
Orran crouched, regretful, by the unmoving body
Seeing that the decapitated head was smiling slightly.
Even if the whole world...
Ramza thought of Delita.
Wishes your demise...
Delita thought of Ramza.
The only wish that I dream to gain...
Is to be able to, in another life,
Meet with you again...