Standard disclaimers…
Implied shounen-ai, yaoi… angst, angst, angst. Particularly CLAMP-ish.
A sort of alternate ending for my “As If” series… just pretend ‘Irreclaimable’ and ‘Fate’ never happened.
Daryoon shut his eyes briefly before looking at the reports strewn on the table. He didn’t want to know how many were dead now, which nobles had been found mysteriously murdered. He couldn’t stand it any longer, perhaps that was why he didn’t turn when he sensed a presence in the room, didn’t reach for his sword or call for the guard. So close, he could feel the warm breath on the back of his neck, the light touch on his arm. Then it was gone. Daryoon’s head sank onto the desk. He shut his eyes again. There were a thousand things he wanted to say, should have said, could never say… His hand clenched around a silken scarf of deep, emerald green. It wasn’t much… but it was all he had left.
Arslan shut his eyes. It was getting worse every day, the growing silence between Daryoon and Narsus, an ever-widening gulf that soon would be unreachable. It was impossible to understand and he’d tried everything, anything to force them to talk. Unfortunately it hadn’t worked and now perhaps it never would. Perhaps he shouldn’t have tried so hard, perhaps he should have tried a different method, perhaps… and Arslan, King of Pulsar, emancipator of slaves put his head in his hands and began to sob like a child.
In Misra’s chapel in the royal palace Pharangase knelt in prayer. Not an unusual sight, certainly not unsettling till looked at closer. The priestess’ hands were clenched together tightly, her lips moving in a rapid but silent prayer. Still, this was all not so unusual, the difference didn’t lie in her posture in any way but in the treacherous tears that threatened to fall from her tightly shut eyes.
Earlier
Daryoon stood in front of the doors to Narsus’ chambers, shaking from a mixture of rage and uncertainty. He wouldn’t have come here if Arslan hadn’t made it a royal order. Of course the young King though he was helping. Daryoon felt a little of his anger ebb. Perhaps this was the impetus that he needed to sort out this situation. After all it was all a horrible, horrible misunderstanding, wasn’t it? He hoped so… There had been rumours, the palace gossips whispered that Seishiro had been seen leaving Narsus’ chambers in the early hours of the morning, suggesting that he might not have been there for conversation. Daryoon clenched his teeth, damn that man! Taking a deep breath Daryoon knocked on the door and entered.
Narsus didn’t look up from the manuscript he was reading, though of course it was Daryoon who stood before him.
“We need to talk.” The warrior said in an even voice.
“Really?” Narsus finally looked up to regard the man in front of him.
“Narsus…”
“I can’t think why. After all, you didn’t think so before.”
“Please.”
“And what could we possibly have to talk about?”
“Wha -“
“We’ve already said everything there was to say.”
“But –“
“But nothing! Besides, it’s not really as if…” Narsus paused thoughtfully.
“As if?”
“As if I actually gave a damn any more.” He turned back to the manuscript.
Daryoon stared, speechless. This was impossible, surely Narsus couldn’t mean it but the strategist continued reading, seeming oblivious to Daryoon’s continued presence. Daryoon abruptly left the room, somehow managing to ignore a rather smug Seishiro who was making his way along the corridor.
Seishiro idly traced the lines of the inverted pentagram etched into the back of Narsus’ hand. The sorcerer’s mark flared with pale blue light at his touch. Seishiro smiled, the mark that bound the prey to the hunter, to Sakurazukamori could never be removed. Thus Narsus would never be free. Again he wondered idly if things might have turned out any different… Perhaps. If it hadn’t been for the pain and suffering that almost drove Narsus insane, matters would have been resolved with predictable regularity. Of course Seishiro would have killed him, given his soul to the darkness, then turned his attention to the real problem… this priestess who’s spiritual power almost matched his own. People like that were problematic, they might or might not upset the balance of things and so Sakurazukamori was needed to deal with such potential disturbances. Fate didn’t like disruptions. Which lead him back to contemplation of the figure in his arms. Narsus stared out of the window, eyes fixed on nothing. He was leaning back into Seishiro’s embrace but Seishiro wondered if he felt anything at all, then his smile broadened. Of course Narsus felt no emotional response any more, he be a fairly useless Sakurazukamori if he did. He wasn’t Sakurazukamori yet though, not while Seishiro was still alive but he would prove to be an effective assassin. Seishiro considered the situation, it was like holding a doll, a beautiful porcelain doll, perfect, exquisite and utterly lifeless.
“What do you see?” he whispered, breath warm against Narsus’ ear.
“The Promised Day. Seven Seals. Seven Angels. Kamui must decide.” Narsus answered, eyes glazed.
It was this that had finalised Seishiro’s decision, not to kill Narsus. With a little training the DreamGazer in his arms might prove useful to him. Seishiro’s initial plan had been to use the strategist’s ability to tip the scales in his favour, then he’d discovered the extent of that power. Rather than just give Sakurazukamori a slight advantage it seemed the deadly accuracy of Narsus’ premonitions, his ability to identify the exact points that could change the course of fate, might even be enough to change everything. And what better way to control him than bind him to Sakurazukamori completely, empty his soul of all emotion that might tie him to another? The problem, of course, would have been finding a way to initiate that. Yet it seemed that luck or fate had been on Seishiro’s side. The disastrous consequences of recent events had been perfect, Narsus had all but thrown himself into Seishiro’s arms begging him to ‘take the pain away’. Daryoon had tried to make amends but he’d been too late, it was impossible now, for the absence of pain could only be achieved through the absence of emotions. It wasn’t that Sakurazukamori simply had no capacity to care or love, the capacity to feel grief and pain was lost too.
Pharangase strode through the corridors of the palace, her face set in determination. Tonight, of all nights, when the moon was full and Misra’s power could be felt throughout the land, she would do what duty commanded. Turning a corner she stopped suddenly. Narsus stood by the large archway that opened onto the palace gardens, regarding the full moon. He turned as Pharangase approached, face completely blank, then, briefly, the green eyes flared with recognition. Pharangase’s grip on the dagger in her belt tightened. Narsus glanced at her movement then appeared to shrug, returning to his contemplation of the moon. It would be easy like this, she could stab him in the back, putting an end to this threat to the kingdom, an end to Sakurazukamori… But she couldn’t. They’d once been friends, comrades throughout Arslan’s campaign, how could it be that one of the kindest, wisest souls she knew could have fallen to this? To become Sakurazukamori, the shadow within shadows, emotionless killer… Emotionless, could it be… could it be because of… Pharangase gasped, she knew, it all made sense. Then there was still hope, if Daryoon could forgive him, if Narsus could forgive himself…
Her body jerked back and the priestess looked down to see a bloodied hand protruding through her ribcage. Looking up in stunned silence at Narsus, she saw him smile, then the darkness crashed down on her.
Seishiro withdrew his hand, letting the body slump to the floor. Surprised by a sudden ache, he put his hand to his side to discover the priestess’ dagger sticking out of his ribs. He made a desperate attempt to remove it but already the holy blade had done its work. Seishiro staggered, sinking to his knees, struggling to remain conscious before sinking lifelessly to the floor.
Narsus’ hand stung a little from handling the holy artefact but it didn’t really matter. He continued to smile.
Be afraid, be very afraid.
I think I was angsting and this just sort of happened.
- Narsus (29/11/01)