Warning : SPOILER, possible OOC-ness, grammatical errors.
The first sentence (the one in italic) is a quote from Nisemonogatari, said by Kagenui. I don't remember which episode or the exact words, but the meaning is the same.
First fanfic in this fandom. I've just finished playing Suikoden II and I am totally, truly, honestly, infatuated by it. I can't believe how late I am to play this awesome game. Suikoden II is my first Suikoden game, but I'm planning to play I and III the next time I have spare time.
After watching the opening of Suikogaiden I, I was just twitching to make this, so here it is. Constructive criticisms are welcomed, but please do not flame.
Special thanks to the friend of mine who introduced me to this game.
Disclaimer : I do not own Suikoden or the quote.
In their attempt to become real, the imposters, the fake ones, become more real than the real one
-x-
Jillia grew up playing make believe.
She pretended the King was her father and the palace was her house and the nation of Highland was her home.
It was a blessing, small though it was, that father was so good at pretending.
Her brother was not, but everything about him were real. Like flames licking her skin, like thunder in stormy nights. She couldn't agree with him most of the times, but she wouldn't deny that he was the one never pretending with her.
-x-
"I will have this man as my husband"
Like everything in her life, her marriage, too, was a lie.
-x-
Her husband was the complete opposite of her brother. He was so good at pretending, but unlike brother, he was like the breeze. Gentle and comforting but ungraspable, fleeing when she tried to touch it.
She was not sure which she liked better.
-x-
But his façade crumbled, once, when she asked,
"Where is the other boy? The one who was accused as a spy along with you, your friend Riou?"
He had never thought her memory was that good. She had never thought she would find the hole in his armor this quickly.
He didn't answer. She no longer needed one.
-x-
There were times when both of them, just for a while, stopped pretending to be husband and wife. Those times were when everything they said and everything they did were genuine. Or so Jillia'd like to think.
Because when he had her hand in his and they danced across the ballroom, his warmth and hers would blend together, seeping through the fabric of their gloves, and then Jillia would forget that this was the man who married her for political reason, the man who had taken part in her father's murder and her brother's death.
Her lips would curve up involuntarily and her eyes would see the boy she had seen that day on the street, honest and loyal and caring.
He tightened his grip on her waist just so slightly, enough to be protective but not enough to hurt her, and it was then that his smile and his gaze were genuine.
In the empty ballroom, just the two of them, Jillia couldn't tell if they stopped pretending to be one thing and started pretending to be another, or if they simply dropped their masks and laid themselves bare for each other to see.
Her life had been filled with lies and make believes, and the only person real for her was gone, but as she averted her eyes to meet his, she thought that the gods finally paid heed to it and left her a blessing bigger than she could ever wish for.
-x-
She found out that his friend wasn't his only weakness.
The little girl clinging to his leg with such desperation like he would disappear any moment, eyes red from crying, was another one. She wondered if there were others who could make him look that weak in front of his soldiers.
"Her name is Pilika," He told her after the maids finally succeeded in releasing her grasp on him and took her to another room to change. "She's an orphan from Toto village, the village under the City-State Jowston." She didn't need to ask. The girl was orphaned because of her brother.
"She would be safe here." That was all she needed to say. He understood.
-x-
He called her a 'doll'.
She (didn't) know (if) it was his façade talking (or his true self).
-x-
She was still alive.
She wanted to (made) believe that it was because he never really meant to sacrifice her.
-x-
There had once been her mother, her hair black like hers and her eyes gentle and loving. She could never see her. But her brother often told her about mother.
There had once been her (?) father. Firm and strong like the earth itself, all fatherly concern pretend and gentle words all pretend.
There had once been her brother. As real as humanity, as real as the flames of war and the blood flowing in her veins. He had stayed true to her until their last meeting.
There had once been a place she (made) believe was her home. It crumbled to the ground, its flags burned.
There had once been a political (fake) marriage. He fulfilled his obligations (pretended) as her husband, she did what she should (pretended) as his wife.
There had once been a man she pretended was her husband. She had watched him weaving cruel strategies and destroying people's lives. She had learned to decode his true wish and dreams from his acts.
There was a man who was his husband, who she might never see again.
Jillia embraced him as tight as she could and as she pressed her face into his chest, she could feel the heat of the rune engraved on his right hand and she could smell the blood he spilled.
"I love you."
She leaned up and kissed him.
This time, they were all real.