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Kyou Kara Maou: Grace
Warnings: Alternate universe. Mellow angst. Kay's fetish for giving people who are in love vials of poison with which to kill one another.
"There is no one, Your Highness," reported the captain of the guard, his features drawn and full of self-reproach. "We can find no sign of the foul murderer."
"I see," said the Sage.
He took a step away, turning to the throne to hide his face from the other man. Every nerve in his body was alive, every moment another whirlwind of thoughts cascading over his mind. So nervous -- it wasn't like him, it wasn't what he'd wanted at all.
He traced his fingers over the arm of the throne. Only a day before, Shinou had sat upon it as if it had been carved to glorify him. "We will find the man who did this," he said, the words sounding dim in his ear. "Continue to search, Captain. Someone must have some useful knowledge... At least enough to identify where he came from, or which way he left."
"We will do our best, sire."
Already hope had begun to fade from their minds. Everyone had seen the man, nondescript, a stranger, but no one remembered anything about what he had been doing before or after he went into the wine cellar; no one saw any further traces of him. He must have been quite professional, quite adept at his craft.
The Sage knew that they would find no traces of the man, who did not exist.
When he was alone again, he sank to the floor, not quite daring to touch the throne itself just yet. Shinou was still there -- his presence still captured in every twist of the wood and enameled gold. The Sage wished that he could have it destroyed. It would clear his mind.
He leaned back against the arm of the throne, a soft sigh escaping him. His heart was still tangled up in these emotions that had trapped him for so long: admiration, respect, fear, perhaps even love. The man who had trapped his heart was dead, but he was still there in every twist of awareness and layered thought.
When will this memory of you fade? A week? A month? A year? I will wait. And then finally his own life could continue.
The nobles of the ten houses had begged him to take up the crown after the sudden and mysterious death of their king. Likely in time, when it became obvious that Shinou was truly dead and that his murderer would never be found, they would choose someone amongst themselves to rule. Free of his last responsibility to the world, he would be able once again to wander and educate himself and search for the elusive strands of enlightenment.
Or perhaps they would want him to continue ruling... He didn't think he would mind that. After all, who better to rule a kingdom than a wiseman? The Sage flattered himself to think that his reign would be a fair and civilized one--
There it was, that face, those blue eyes, intruding on his thoughts and destroying his equilibrium.
The dark-haired Mazoku pushed himself back to his feet, trying to shake off that memory, of those last moments when the Shinou had been shaking as the poison stole its way through his body and he had looked up at the Sage and known but still for some reason there was no anger in that gaze, no shock, no betrayal.
He had just been sad.
Hate me! You should have hated me for killing you. That would have made it so much easier to brush aside. A normal man couldn't be expected to understand, after all. It would just be affirmation of his limited range of knowledge, the weakness that emotion and connection had put into his brightly silvered armor.
There was a knock on the door. The Sage looked up, a small smile coming to his lips as he tried to recapture his attention. Roufas was in the door, looking small and sick. His eyes were red. "My lord sage," he said, uncomfortably, "you should get some sleep... You haven't rested since last night, have you?"
"No, I... I have to be in charge of this effort." He didn't think he could sleep. His hands were shaking.
"My lord... It wasn't your fault."
At first he couldn't think of a reason why Roufas would feel that he blamed himself; and then he remembered, with relief, that he had brought the Shinou his cup of evening wine. He did so every night -- it would have been easy for someone to intercept it at some point, to poison it while the Sage was unawares. No one knew the minutes he had waited to be sure before he had called out for the guards.
And who would suspect him? The whole country had known how close they had been.
He shook his head, unwilling to look up. "I-- Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I should try to sleep."
Roufas smiled in wan encouragement. The Sage followed him from the throne room, trying not to think of the spilled wine, spilled golden hair, and pained blue eyes.
You were holding me back... Everything I felt for you kept me from finding grace.
But he had the sickening feeling that he might never find it now.
"There is no one, Your Highness," reported the captain of the guard, his features drawn and full of self-reproach. "We can find no sign of the foul murderer."
"I see," said the Sage.
He took a step away, turning to the throne to hide his face from the other man. Every nerve in his body was alive, every moment another whirlwind of thoughts cascading over his mind. So nervous -- it wasn't like him, it wasn't what he'd wanted at all.
He traced his fingers over the arm of the throne. Only a day before, Shinou had sat upon it as if it had been carved to glorify him. "We will find the man who did this," he said, the words sounding dim in his ear. "Continue to search, Captain. Someone must have some useful knowledge... At least enough to identify where he came from, or which way he left."
"We will do our best, sire."
Already hope had begun to fade from their minds. Everyone had seen the man, nondescript, a stranger, but no one remembered anything about what he had been doing before or after he went into the wine cellar; no one saw any further traces of him. He must have been quite professional, quite adept at his craft.
The Sage knew that they would find no traces of the man, who did not exist.
When he was alone again, he sank to the floor, not quite daring to touch the throne itself just yet. Shinou was still there -- his presence still captured in every twist of the wood and enameled gold. The Sage wished that he could have it destroyed. It would clear his mind.
He leaned back against the arm of the throne, a soft sigh escaping him. His heart was still tangled up in these emotions that had trapped him for so long: admiration, respect, fear, perhaps even love. The man who had trapped his heart was dead, but he was still there in every twist of awareness and layered thought.
When will this memory of you fade? A week? A month? A year? I will wait. And then finally his own life could continue.
The nobles of the ten houses had begged him to take up the crown after the sudden and mysterious death of their king. Likely in time, when it became obvious that Shinou was truly dead and that his murderer would never be found, they would choose someone amongst themselves to rule. Free of his last responsibility to the world, he would be able once again to wander and educate himself and search for the elusive strands of enlightenment.
Or perhaps they would want him to continue ruling... He didn't think he would mind that. After all, who better to rule a kingdom than a wiseman? The Sage flattered himself to think that his reign would be a fair and civilized one--
There it was, that face, those blue eyes, intruding on his thoughts and destroying his equilibrium.
The dark-haired Mazoku pushed himself back to his feet, trying to shake off that memory, of those last moments when the Shinou had been shaking as the poison stole its way through his body and he had looked up at the Sage and known but still for some reason there was no anger in that gaze, no shock, no betrayal.
He had just been sad.
Hate me! You should have hated me for killing you. That would have made it so much easier to brush aside. A normal man couldn't be expected to understand, after all. It would just be affirmation of his limited range of knowledge, the weakness that emotion and connection had put into his brightly silvered armor.
There was a knock on the door. The Sage looked up, a small smile coming to his lips as he tried to recapture his attention. Roufas was in the door, looking small and sick. His eyes were red. "My lord sage," he said, uncomfortably, "you should get some sleep... You haven't rested since last night, have you?"
"No, I... I have to be in charge of this effort." He didn't think he could sleep. His hands were shaking.
"My lord... It wasn't your fault."
At first he couldn't think of a reason why Roufas would feel that he blamed himself; and then he remembered, with relief, that he had brought the Shinou his cup of evening wine. He did so every night -- it would have been easy for someone to intercept it at some point, to poison it while the Sage was unawares. No one knew the minutes he had waited to be sure before he had called out for the guards.
And who would suspect him? The whole country had known how close they had been.
He shook his head, unwilling to look up. "I-- Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I should try to sleep."
Roufas smiled in wan encouragement. The Sage followed him from the throne room, trying not to think of the spilled wine, spilled golden hair, and pained blue eyes.
You were holding me back... Everything I felt for you kept me from finding grace.
But he had the sickening feeling that he might never find it now.