A/N. I've always wanted to see a story where Kaoru is the more dominant party of the power dynamic, so this was born. Warning: I might re-organize the whole structure of the fic as I update, so don't be alarmed. Please review if you want more; I mainly write based on the interest of others, so frequency of update depends on readers. (I'm just lazy and lack motivation.)
kaoru: hopeless before fate.
(kenshin: mistress, i am yours to wield.)
"I will protect you, dear one," Kaoru promises her emperor consort, their face so close she can feel his steady breathing on her lips. She grips his hands with white knuckles and fervent worship. Her blood hums and she is unshakeable in her resolve. "I will piece you together again."
Kenshin's violet eyes that are usually smothered in blankness flashes with something intangible, something divine that would make even the heavens tremble. "Yes, my Empress. This unworthy one knows, that he does."
Liar, she thinks. Broken things cannot reflect truths.
Still, Kaoru cannot bear to look away from his eyes.
Kaoru is seventeen when she officially ascends the throne as Empress, crowned in the stifling heat of midsummer—a mere two days after her father's funeral. The nation should be in mourning, but the dead of the Emperor has left a power vacuum in the state, and Kaoru, however young she may be, is the only heir to the splendour of the empire.
An Empress the realm demands, and an Empress they shall have, whether it be Kaoru or not.
The palace doors are thrown open in all their finery, the sun's rays gleaming on the new coat of crimson paint. A steady rhythm of drumming booms into existence, a mirror to her own thundering heartbeat. She is the last of the Kamiya line, and as the daughter of Kamiya Koshijiro, she must not break. Kaoru did not cry when her mother's life was siphoned away by sickness, she did not cry when her (dead) father was set alight, and she most definitely does not cry when she kneels before the priest as the priest brings his lips to her forehead.
"I have received the people under my rule. I swear on my father's bones that I will protect them," she whispers vehemently, and her fate is etched in history.
In unison, the imperial advisors recite that she will bring glory and honour to her clan—to the empire—but Kaoru only wishes to not shame her father.
Father, I beg of you, she prays, (begs,) eyes clenched shut, salt in her mouth and ashes in her lungs, guide your daughter—no, your nation, your people—to prosperity.
No one answers, but Kaoru is used to the silence.
Kenshin meets Kaoru when he is no longer a foolish boy on the cusp of manhood, but rather a weary man (?) who is just so, so tired. Dimly in the back of his mind he wonders if Master is laughing at him for his current predicament.
Kaoru is fury bound in a mortal body, Kenshin thinks while he kneels in front of the Empress (his new mistress). Her blue eyes are hardened in denial, but Kenshin has learned mortals are fickle. Tomoe has taught him that.
"You lie, Aoshi!" Kaoru cries out. She tries to ignore the red-haired man—no, not a man— bowing his head to her, as if in acceptance of what is to come. The pain of her nails digging into her hands only served to rile her up more. "Father—"her voice breaks off, staggering against the weight of the secret, "Father would have never allowed for this. He said our sword is one that protects, not enslave!"
"It does not change anything." Aoshi meets her anger with cool eyes and does not say a word. "He is yours to wield."
She wants to scream at the spymaster for his calmness, for his callous words. He is not a sword, he is his own, not mine to wield, but she cannot believe herself.
Father should have divulged this secret to her earlier, before his death, before the madness began.
Why didn't you tell me the Kamiya clan has trapped a deity within their compounds?
The clan's best kept secret: a god, bound to her bloodline for eternity. Kaoru wanted none of this.
It begins with Tomoe. Kenshin is sure it will also end with Tomoe.
"You killed Akira." Tomoe's sharp voice cut through the wailing wind and whittles Kenshin's heart to nothing.
Her blank stare does not falter, even when he bows his head. "Tomoe, please..." He is begging for something he doesn't know, but nothing can mend the chasm between them.
"My husband is dead, and you cannot bring him back." Her hands trembles as they touch his face, his bleeding scar. The smooth skin of her fingers makes him flinch. "You have killed him, and so you will pay for it in full."
The scent of plum and death chokes him, wraps him up in a cocoon of haziness and warmth.
Tomoe has always stayed her hand toward Kenshin. She cannot hurt him, but she finds a way.
With blood and wrath, vengeful Tomoe binds Kenshin to her until her mortal body falls.
Kenshin does not disagree with her actions.
Nothing will absolve him of his sins.
(Later, when he finds out the spell will not be dissolved unless Tomoe's blood is no more, he thinks it for the best. One lifetime is not enough for Kenshin to repent.)
Kaoru refuses to acknowledge Kenshin, but he is always there, tucked away in the darkness of whichever room she is in. The throne room, her bed chambers, even the baths. It is driving Kaoru mad.
"Can you not leave me alone?" she cries. Every time she looks at him, the crimes of her ancestors are burned into her mind, yet again. Stop depending on me, she pleads in her mind, do not make yourself my duty. "Leave."
He kneels on both knees and hangs his head. "This unworthy one is sorry, Your Majesty, but orders must be followed." His face is shielded from her view by his bangs, but the defeatist tone is clear in his hollow voice.
She holds in a shudder at the unnaturalness of the situation. When Kenshin speaks, he sounds resigned, subservient. A god, bowing his head to her, a mortal and accepting her as his ruler.
Kaoru has never felt so furious. Furious at Aoshi for telling her, furious at her father for not telling her, furious at her ancestors for bringing a deity to his knees, but most of all, furious at herself for being unable to do anything. The itch for her sword makes its way up her arm.
You should be happy to have a god at your beck and call, an insidious part of her mind whispers, but she crushes the thought with ruthless efficiency. The heavens are subject to nothing, including her. An Empress is nothing compared to a god.
What will it take to free him?
(Only Kenshin knows the answer, but he keeps it wrapped in chains, hidden in his broken heart, and does not speak.)
Kaoru reads the entire royal library in a week, never ceasing her anger; she is a maelstrom of willpower and not even Misao—kind, innocent, Misao—is able to appease her.
Her eyes burn and the storm known as Kaoru doesn't rest for anyone. All is helpless before her ire.
In thousands of documents, Kenshin's name is not mentioned once.