In Shadows – Part 2
Not mine, not mine!
During the awfully long time it takes for Arslan to retake Pulsar…
Implied stuff!
Evening…
Again another day over, the camp filled with the sounds of people settling in for the night. Arslan stood just outside his tent, observing all those dedicated to his cause. He felt a swell of pride at their loyalty and determination. All these soldiers, their many commanders, a select few generals… all supporting his claim to the throne, supporting his initially hopeless fight against the Lucitanians. His thoughts turned to his closest companions; the daughter of the Zot chieftain, a wandering minstrel, Misra’s priestess, an ex-slave-boy, a self-exiled strategist and, so Arslan believed, Pulsar’s finest warrior. With such support how could they loose?
“Oh, quite easily, your highness.” Came the smooth voice beside him. Arslan started, he didn’t realise he’d spoken out loud.
“But surely they’re some hope now?” he countered, looking sideways at Narsus.
“Hope, highness, can be though of as the proverbial carrot dangled in front of the horse’s nose… by some at least.”
“And is that what you think? That there is no hope.”
“I didn’t say that I considered hope of no use.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” Arslan was getting used to this now. The way in which Narsus could turn one conversation into another, effortlessly. He’d once though that it was unintentionally done, now he knew better.
Narsus peered at the Prince in the growing darkness. “Nothing is foreordained, your highness.”
Arslan stared right back at his strategist. “And your opinion of hope, Narsus?”
“Ah.” Little more that an expulsion of breath. Narsus smiled, or at least Arslan though it might be considered a smile. A slight parting of lips and a knowing look. “A useful motivation for your troops, highness.”
Arslan turned back to watching the camp, knowing that he probably wouldn’t get a reasonable answer. After a long pause, he turned back to his strategist. “I think I’d like to keep hoping, even if… even if everything doesn’t work out.”
“Good. Because without hope, there really isn’t any chance at all.”
Surprise showed on the young prince’s face but then, all things considered, it was probably the nearest to a straight answer that he’d ever get from Narsus.
“Still, I’m glad that everyone else is here too. I probably find it too difficult to do alone.”
“I don’t think you’ll ever be alone, highness.” There was a hint of a wiry smile.
“I don’t mean just physically…” Arslan stopped, unsure what he was trying to say.
“You mean without an understanding companion or supporter?”
“Yes, that’s it. I think I’d be too afraid if it was just me.”
Narsus looked disbelieving. “Sometimes faith in one’s self is not the only factor. Sometimes it is duty that keeps you from falling and sometimes, even pride.” Another wiry smile.
Arslan frowned, that last statement smacked of self-reference but before he could inquire further Narsus was excusing himself and heading off to his tent. The Prince stared after him, still wondering. He didn’t quite know what to think of the rest of it but he could probably manage to let duty guide him.
Much later…
The guards stationed on watch made the greatest effort to ignore the dark shape that made it’s way towards the strategist’s tent. They ignored it’s fumblings with the tent-flaps, the accompanying cursing and it’s sudden re-emergence from the tent. What they couldn’t ignore was the light that streamed out of the General’s tent as Narsus stuck his head out and peered round. The guards had to stifle their laughter as the General guiltily scuttled back to his own tent, a bewildered look upon his face.
“Narsus, what do you think you’re doing?!” Daryoon looked particularly panicked as Narsus climbed back into the recently vacated bed. “Anyone could have seen you! We ought to be discreet about this!”
“Why bother?” came the off-handed comment “They all know whom I spend my nights with.”
“They do!?” Daryoon’s incredulous tone was now bordering of hysterical.
“Of course. Other than being called the Devil’s Strategist, I’m now also ‘Lady’ Narsus.”
Alone, in his tent, Arslan stared up at the roof as he lay in bed. He didn’t want to be alone, not the way Narsus spoke of. But he supposed that he might have to be, eventually. He frowned, call it growing pains maybe, but he didn’t have to like it.
Even later…
Lying in Daryoon’s arms, Narsus watched the still sleeping face of his beloved. He couldn’t help remembering all the dark nights before, when he’d awake from strange dreams, alone. So desperately lonely that he hadn’t dare admit it even to himself, for fear of loosing himself completely to despair.
Yet, he wasn’t lonely any more… so why impress upon the young Prince such deafening despair? Narsus considered it briefly, the answer a swift conclusion.
He fears to be alone, yet he will always be; for he is Crown Prince and one day will be King.
Oooh, angst, and silliness too.
This is slowly heading down the path to being a small collection of snippets. They’ll probably all be sweet little things, seeing as I have Count D’s gorgeous fanart (CLAMP’s Wish) on my wall above my monitor, to influence things. (http://www.geocities.com/imperial_artist/art/d1.jpg)
- Narsus (3/02/02)
