...She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought,
And with a green and yellow melancholy
She sat like patience on an monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
- Twelfth Night (Act 2, Scene 4)
He had never seen such an open display of affection before. The toad, once already old and wrinkled, now further withered by age looked upon the scene with a small, observant stare. It was no mystery to Jaken that Death would one day come for him, soon. Of that he was assured, and readily prepared. And to him it made no difference, for he had lived centuries and witnessed the end of several creatures before him. But too quickly, he realized better than most, death came for mortals that he almost pitied them.
Almost. He mentally noted. For what sort of sympathy could be reserved for a species that loved, and did so freely? One that damned boundaries and said 'To Hell' with prejudices; one that knew no limits.
Yet alas, he thought. Perhaps not the only species to feel so passionately.
"Milord?" He interrupted his master who now silently tended to the cold body of a mortal girl. The quiet Inu Daiyoukai gave no reply; his hand gently brushing a strand of hair away from the face of the woman he once knew to be a child. Nineteen years of her life had gone by within the duration of no more than the blink of an eye. Unawares, he watched her grow, cared for and protected her, never quite understanding why it was he had done so. But now, seeing her lie there, so motionless, he did.
"Come Jaken. We're leaving." And the infinite truth of the matter disturbed him, far worse than the guilt that plagued him; the knowledge of what brought about her tragic fate.
Would she have forgiven him, if only he told her blatantly, honestly, that he might have felt something stronger than a sense of duty for her? That what he did was for her sake and hers alone? That he could not go back in time and undo what had been done by his pale, marked hand? Would she, he wondered, have forgiven him had he eventually come to love her?
Far be it from a demon to admit the errors of their ways. Resolutely, Jaken observed, Sesshoumaru did not once look back. His head held high, he walked on. Only this time, Rin was not to be found following closely behind their Lord. Rather she remained carefully laid out among a field of flowers, her arms crossed over a barren womb, and a small, sad smile upon her face. Her warm, deep eyes forever closed as if asleep, though never again to wake...
.//
A/N: MmKay. So this will be the first of many drabbles/one-shots to come within this collection. I wanted to start off with something a bit more somber, and I think that's at least been achieved. Understand, I sincerely do love Sesshoumaru/(adult)Rin as a romantic pairing - Hell, I'm a shipper for it - but I don't truly believe it could ever end well. The reasons for Rin's premature death, and whether or not Sesshoumaru was unintentionally behind it, I leave for you to decide. I'm actually contemplating taking this and making it a full blown-out multiple chapter story. It all depends on how many hits I get (I'm a supply/demand type writer); so if you like it, and want to see it expanded, let me know. In the meantime, au revoir!