AN: This kinda feels like I'm betraying my first story, but the idea just won't leave me alone. The plot is just too delicious, I had to bite.

Well, if anyone even reads this, I hope you guys have fun :)

Empire of Shadows

01

The night was clear, and perhaps, more than a little warm, unlike what his astrologists had predicted. It was quiet now; a moment ago, it had been fresh with anguished screams, but those had long since been quieted, if not by the blade of a sword, then most certainly by the fire that was now crackling happily, its glow bathing the darkness with eerie light.

It had once been a village, but all it would be in the morning is the remains of ashes and blood, and perhaps one corpse, or two, that the fire had forgotten to devour.

In the middle of it all, stood a man with hair that resembled blue midnight and glittering amethyst eyes that caught the light of the fire and almost seemed to be sparkling. His hands rested on the hilt of his sword that was embedded into the chest of who had once been the chief of this village.

He had been quite the character, the chief, a two-faced bastard that had courage and wit in all the wrong places. Just moments after he had realized that he had made an irreversible mistake, he had thrown himself at the ground, prostrated himself and did the things he should have done from the very beginning, but neglected.

"Mercy! Mercy, please!" And he had clutched the man's leg almost desperately, knowing it was the only way to save his, and the rest of the villagers' pitiful lives. "Spare us, Yukimura-sama!"

Yukimura had only smiled. It had been a gentle smile, one he used when he had to deal with brainless idiots. "Ara? You ask for mercy, and prostrate yourself before me, but plot a rebellion behind my back? Do you think you deserve my mercy?"

Yukimura didn't think so, but then again, only one person deserved what compassion was left in his heart. And it was not the chief.

So Yukimura, because he was compassionate in a way, spared the chief long enough so he could watch each and every one of his villagers die. Yukimura had even let him live long enough to hear his family's last breaths.

And then, the chief himself lost his life.

Pity, Yukimura thought, but then again, he had long since stopped minding the stupidity of all others around him. He surveyed his hands, as the fire crackled happily around him. They were bloodstained, and blood was still dripping steadily from his fingertips. He could feel the smear of blood on his cheek, as well, and perhaps there was even some staining his clothes.

He frowned as he picked at his silk shirt delicately. He didn't particularly like the shirt, but now that it was disgusting, he would have to throw it away. Or burn it. So in one night, he had lost a village, about a hundred or so people, and a silk shirt.

He plunged his sword a little deeper, though the satisfaction did not come, because there was no answering whimper. Annoyed, he left his sword where it was, and stalked towards the outskirts of the village, where few of his men would be waiting.

He caught a glimpse of the plantation the village tended, and felt himself sigh once again. So he'd lost a week's supply of corn, as well. And that was too bad, because he happened to like corn. He could feel a headache coming on, but no one ever said running an empire would be easy.

There was an undercurrent of fear in his troops when he smiled at them, more pronounced now than before, but they remained in formation, and parted respectfully when he passed. He unbuttoned his coat as he approached his carriage, because it just wouldn't do to lose a carriage, too, especially if it was a carriage he had liked.

He paused and narrowed his eyes when he found another one idling beside his, and his sharp gaze focused on the head of the guard.

"Who was inside this carriage?" he demanded angrily, pointing an imperious finger at it.

"B.. beg pardon, Yu.. Yukimura-sama, but..."

"I asked you a question. Spare me your excuses."

"Fuji." It was Sanada who answered. Sanada, who was towering over him, riding a dark horse that looked as if it had been pushed too far. He was bare-headed, and looked almost as if he had thrown his clothes on in haste, but his breathing was even.

Yukimura did not stay to ask.

Instead, he walked slowly back to the village entrance, where he found a slight figure shivering in his nightclothes. The figure did not turn at the sound of his approach, and Yukimura took time to admire how the light lent his hair a fiery hue. It was a beautiful color.

"Syusuke," he called, as gently as he was capable, and the figure turned, so that Yukimura could see his trembling blue gaze. But despite the trembling, he met Yukimura's eyes steadily.

"Seiichi," he greeted, voice breathless with something Yukimura couldn't quite place. Fear, maybe? But that was impossible. Yukimura had given Syusuke very little reason to fear him.

Almost at the same time, Sanada caught up to him, voicing out a, "Seiichi," warningly. His rough voice drowned out the bell-like quality of Syusuke's, and the corner of Yukimura's lips turned down slighty with displeasure.

Yukimura reached out and wiped his bloodstained hands on Sanada's coat. The action removed very little, because the blood had already dried on his hands, and though Yukimura had no desire to touch Syusuke bloodstained, it would have to do.

He closed the distance, and cupped the clammy cheeks. At this rate, Syusuke might wake up tomorrow with a cold, and perhaps that couldn't be helped anymore. "Does this trouble you?" he asked, whispering against the shell of his ear, feeling Syusuke shiver once again, but this time, for a completely different reason.

Syusuke's hand reached out to clutch at his shirt, tighter and tigher until the fabric tore. He exhaled, and it almost seemed like the tension wracking his body was expelled along with the air he breathed out. When Syusuke looked up, his eyes were shut and he was smiling.

It was not a convincing smile, but it was a smile nonetheless.

"Not as much as it should," Syusuke replied, still with the same breathless voice. And, almost as an afterthought, he added, "Anymore."

"Don't worry," he said in an enticing voice, his other hand drifting down to wrap around Syusuke's throat. Where his hand passed, traces of blood remained, and he gazed at it distastefully. It would have to be washed away. "I'll be here. I always will, until you forget how much this vision disturbs you." His other hand traced the familiar contours of skin, trailing blood on the otherwise unmarred face. "You won't have to be made to remember."

And his fingers pressed on the carotid arteries on either side of Syusuke's throat. Syusuke gasped once, before he fell limp on Yukimura's arms. It was not a method Yukimura liked, it was too risky for his tastes, but he had no other choice. Too much of this would only hurt Syusuke even more, considering what he was, and what he did for Yukimura. Yukimura passed his body to Sanada gently and turned to the other new addition to the party he'd brought tonight.

This person's eyes were blue, as well, though they were a distasteful color, and contrasted awfully with his red hair. He was trembling, his face pale and pinched with fear. Yukimura smiled, liking the way even his fingers shook. It was sad, because Yukimura had thought he had pounded manners into this wretch, and had trusted him enough with Syusuke, of all people, but it seems he was sorely mistaken.

"What did I tell you," he asked silkily, advancing on the servant like a lion observing its prey. "About what to do with Syusuke tonight?"

His eyes tightened, and when he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "My... my... Fuji-sama... He asked for... asked to see His Majesty so I thought-"

The slap echoed loudly against the quiet of his ranks. Yukimura made sure to strike with enough force to send the creature to the ground, where, in Yukimura's opinion, he belonged. Yukimura watched as he curled to his side, clutching his cheek. "So you thought you would disobey my orders?" He reveled in the servant's cries until he lay face-up to see Yukimura leer at him. "Maa, Kikumaru-kun, I wonder who your emperor is."

When Kikumaru failed to answer, Yukimura struck him again. "I asked a question."

"Y-you, Yukimura-sama!" Kikumaru cried between whimpers.

"That's right," Yukimura agreed, fiercely. "So I expect you to be smart enough to know my orders take precedence over anyone else's. Do you understand?"

"Yes!"

It was a broken, plaintive cry, one that Yukimura would have treasured any other time. He was too furious to treasure it now, so he crouched down and pinned the blue eyes with his own hard gaze. "You are lucky that Syusuke would become upset if I beat you, or I would have lashed you within an inch of your pitiful life." He grabbed the childish chin, digging his fingernails in until he felt fresh blood trickling down his fingers. "As it is, you're not to have food within the week."

He watched the eyes widen tremendously, before he let go, and motioned for Syusuke to be passed back to him.

"I'll have him ride with me," he informed Sanada quietly. His gaze drifted into the uneasy ranks of soldiers he had brought with him and realized he trusted none of them. He jerked his head towards them. "Be rid of them for me, won't you?"

Sanada looked as if he might protest, but nodded his head and promised to have a fresh batch replace them in the morning.

As the carriage moved forwards, Yukimura smiled, chidishly playing with Syusuke's hair on his lap, straining his ears to hear the screams that had once again filled the night.

There were a million and one other kingdoms Tezuka Kunimitsu could have allied with, but if his kingdom was to survive a war against the Yukimura Empire, then he would not have any better choice apart from the neighboring Atobe Kingdom.

Or that was what he had told its arrogant king. Tezuka was many things, and he could become many more to protect his kingdom. Even if he had to lie through his teeth so he could smoothen negotiations with them.

The truth was, of course, less glamorous than the lie made it up to be. It was a simple combination of facts that had led the king of a kingdom teetering dangerously close to the edge of a precipice to this decision.

Even as they spoke, the Yukimura Empire was expanding, and growing threateningly close to Tezuka's own country, threatening his people and his sovereign. And though Tezuka had confidence in his army, a third of the empire itself was almost ten times the size of Tezuka's own small kingdom, and where the empire's ruler was ruthless, Tezuka valued honor, amongst many other better things.

Whatever the reason, it would all fall down to the fact that Tezuka would be hard-pressed to fight a great empire without having to worry about the other kingdoms taking advantage and trying to take over, as well. It was for this (and various other reasons, the greatest one being his kingdom was too small to handle a war against the Empire) that Tezuka had spent the past few weeks drawing up several treaties and allying himself with most all the nearby kingdoms in the looming fight against a sovereign that spanned half the map.

The only neighboring kingdom left had been Atobe's, and it was the most fearful kingdom among them all, for its size and military capabilities rivalled the Empire's, or at the very least, posed a threat to it, so much so, that its Emperor had left it untouched where he had conquered many other kingdoms around it.

If there was one thing any King knew for sure about the sole Emperor on their lands, it was that he enjoyed toppling great monarchies, treating warrior-proven kings like his own little playthings. There must be a reason why he neglected the Atobe Kingdom for so long, and it could be either that he was the slightest bit threatened by the danger declaring war to that kingdom posed, or that he was making it climb higher, so its fall would be even more painful.

And the King had to be aware of that, but here he was sitting arrogant, preening like a peacock in Tezuka's sitting room, uncowed by the threat. If anything, Tezuka had to admire his courage.

"And ore-sama is expected to believe you, then?" Atobe Keigo was regal, even as he sat in a not-so-regal plush armchair, his hands steepled together on his lap. "Ore-sama has ears, Tezuka..." He paused, almost as if contemplating something, bringing his fingers up to his forehead, levelling Tezuka with an assessing gaze. Tezuka stared straight back.

"...san." Atobe finished with a mockery of a smile. "And ore-sama knows you have been allying yourself to many other kingdoms opposite my border." He brought his hand down, but his calculative stare remained. "Are you going to stab me behind my back?"

"For what purpose?" Tezuka asked, raising an eyebrow, reaching out to take the teacup that had been served there almost a half hour ago. It was Earl Grey, but it was cold now, and he winced. "So I could weaken my people even more and present both our kingdoms to the Yukimura Empire on a silver platter?"

Atobe's smile, this time, was a completely amused one. "So that's what it is about then," he drawled, sounding as if he was an edge off of laughing. "You want to make sure ore-sama doesn't invade your kingdom while you're busy with the Empire."

He spoke the word with distaste, scowling where a few moments ago, he was in good humour. "Very well, Tezuka-san, ore-sama will tell you now that he has no desire to take over the reins of your pitiful kingdom, and if ore-sama did," he paused again, giving Tezuka a hard, severe gaze. "He would not do it hiding behind some repulsive excuse for an empire.

"Do not take ore-sama for a coward."

Tezuka wanted pinch the bridge of his nose, because he could feel a headache coming on. He also wanted to stand up, put both hands on either shoulder, and shake some sense into the arrogant brat, because even though that had been part of the reasoning why Tezuka wanted to ally himself with the Atobe Kingdom, that was not the point.

"If I thought you to be a coward, you would not be sitting here in my room, negotiating with me." Tezuka stood up and walked towards the windows. The night sky was clear, and the moon lent a calming glow upon the kingdom. It was quiet now, and Tezuka tried not to think how many other kingdoms had spent their last night free of the Empire in this manner. It was a deceitful peace, one that had been the cause of many a kingdom's fall. "I would hardly ally myself with cowards when I fight against a militia as great as the empire's. That is only asking for failure."

He looked back, and watched the other king take on that pose once again. Around the room, soldiers of their choosing shifted uneasily, and one in particular, one with cocky golden eyes whose cockiness could be overlooked because of his skill, looked very closed to tapping his foot against the floor to make aware of his boredom.

"I have no such desire."

"Then, you want ore-sama's kingdom to ally with yours because we have one common enemy." Atobe's tone was laced, once again, with amusement.

"It would be to both our military advantages. I hardly need to remind you of this, Atobe-san, but if I and my allies fall, then your kingdom would be no more of a threat to the empire then than mine is now." Tezuka gauged Atobe's reaction to that. As far as he knew, the other King had always prided himself with his kingdom's power, and saying such things could potentialy be harmful for the negotiations. If he burned this bridge...

Suffice to say, it was too big a bridge than Tezuka could afford to burn.

But Atobe kept his smile, as he leaned back on the chair. "And if we fight together, perhaps we might even harness a chance at winning." He said it laughingly, but he held the actual laughter back.

"Perhaps," Tezuka agreed.

This time, Atobe did laugh. He threw his head back, and the rich sound filled the entire room. Several of Tezuka's guards, and even a few of Atobe's own shifted uneasily. "Or," he said, between chuckles. "We 'offer both our kingdoms to the empire in a silver platter.'"

Tezuka assessed the laughing form calmly. He was adept at reading people, but there were some, such as the likes of Atobe Keigo, who refused to be read. It irked Tezuka somehow, but he did not show it in his face.

Atobe was still laughing. "You are amusing," he said, when he finally regained his breath. He smirked at Tezuka and stood as well. "You are amusing, but ore-sama likes the way you think."

He walked, casually, the distance between him and Tezuka, but Tezuka made no move whatsoever to acknowledge it.

"Fine, then, Tezuka, I'll ally myself with you," Atobe declared, smirking.

"Atobe-" one of Atobe's people protested. From the looks of him, he was not a soldier, more built to be a scholar of a sort, or perhaps a politician.

Atobe threw him a look.

The man only shrugged. It was clear that, from the easy, almost lazy way he did it, that he knew his King, probably better than any other soldier Atobe had brought here. "They are a small kingdom. Just thought you might want to know."

"I am not an idiot, Oshitari," Atobe hissed, low enough for Tezuka to barely catch it. "Besides, they are full of... interesting people."

Atobe looked at him when he said it, and it made Tezuka uneasy, for the other king said it like he was examing a particularly good specimen, or perhaps commenting on the tasteful furnishing of a house thoroughly beyond him, but that caught his attention anyway.

"That one, for example," Atobe was pointing at one of Tezuka's guards, and Tezuka turned his head to see. "Has the eyes of the warrior-king that had shocked the world."

Atobe's gaze turned back to him. "Well, is he, Tezuka?" He pointed again. "Samurai Nanjiroh's son?"

He watched Echizen narrow his eyes angrily, but Tezuka threw him a hard glance to tell him to keep quiet.

"I don't think I am at liberty to discuss the personal lives of my people to you," Tezuka answered. "That is now how this alliance will work."

Atobe surveyed him once again, long and hard, and for a moment, Tezuka might have thought he will withdraw his support. But he just turned on his heel and waved his hand dismissively. "Fine, fine, keep your secrets."

The underlying, "I'll find the answer for myself soon enough," obvious in the air.

They left in the same procession they had come, and the last of them, the one who had spoken, whom Atobe had called Oshitari, turned to him.

"You may send as a copy of the treaty you have drafted tomorrow," he said, making it all sound like it was an afterthought. "We shall send it back once it has been reviewed, along with the date when it is favorable for signing."

And then he, too, left, the door closing after him with a satisfying click.

When Fuji woke up, he spent a fair amount of time looking at the ceiling. Rather, the deep blue canopy of his bed. The curtains were not drawn so he could only see precious little from the flimsy material of the cloth. Seiichi must have put him to bed last night, Eiji knew he liked to wake up and actually see his room.

Another village, again. It was a small one this time, but it had not always been the case. And with Seiichi attacking villages just on the suspicion that they were rebelling...

Fuji's fingers curled in on his palm until they were shaking fists. He did not want this. Many years ago, when they made that promise, he never thought it through so much as to predict this. And in the years advancing onward from then, he had thought that maybe, once Seiichi has finally taken what he had wanted of the land, maybe they could all settle down, have peace and be happy again.

He just wanted them to be happy.

Was that even too much to ask?

He thought... what they did... he thought they could be happy because of it.

"Fuji-sama?" a timid familiar voice called, interrupting him from his thoughts. The curtains covering the windows parted, and a moment later, so did the curtains around his bed. He blinked rapidly, trying to get used to the morning light.

"Eiji?" he responded in kind, still not moving from his spot on the bed.

"I'm glad you are awake, Fuji-sama." And Fuji turned his head to watch Eiji tying a ribbon to hold the curtains together. There was something different about him today, but Fuji could not place his finger on it. "I've drawn your bath already, so we'd better get you in it while the water is still warm."

"Eiji, what happened to Fujiko?"

Eiji stiffened at his question, and did not meet his gaze when he reached to pull down the covers. "Please, Fuji-sama, it is better this way," he begged, in a voice that made Fuji want to cry.

Once upon a time, Eiji had been a cheerful ball of energy, he had been Fuji's friend, and, by association, Seiichi's friend, too, because during that time it didn't matter that Eiji was the son of their cook and all that mattered was that Eiji was a boy their age, and that he knew the best hiding places in the manor, as well as the best places to look for sweets. But that had been long ago, and Seiichi had beaten that cheer out of Eiji the way he had beaten many other things out of many other people.

And he hated that he now had to order Eiji to treat him as he did when it did not matter that they were friends. "Call me what you want to call me, Eiji. I do not care."

"I cannot." It was a whisper, and Fuji knew it was the only answer he would get. He wondered if it was the same answer he would get, if he asked Eiji what had happened last night.

He let Eiji lead him to the screen where Eiji began to gently take off his clothes.

"Fuji-sama's necklace?" The question was rote, but Eiji asked him anyway. Just yesterday, Eiji had playfully punched him, and pouted, because apparently, necklaces weren't meant to soak in the tub. Now, he was back to this.

"I'm okay, Eiji," he said, clutching at the chain even as he lowered himself at the tub. The chain was Yuuta's, and Seiichi had given him the ring to wear as a replacement for a pendant. It had been a family heirloom, passed down from one king to the next, but Seiichi had given it to him, that night, and had smiled the last angelic smile that he had ever worn.

"So you know for sure," he had said, and Fuji had never doubted. Perhaps he should start.

He traced the evidence of what had transpired in that night now, the rune that Seiichi had carved into his skin. It had hurt, that night, and it had hurt even more when the salty tears had leaked into it, but he had held the hilt of the blade firmly with Seiichi, and told him he was okay, that he should keep going, because they needed to do it, so they could accomplish their dreams.

Maybe... Maybe he shouldn't have. But he had been a child, and he had loved Seiichi too much to not believe in him, and his conviction.

His hand brushed against the ring, once again, and he brought it up to his gaze to observe it.

"So you know for sure," it once told him, but now, it seemed that all it was ever doing was laugh at him.

He didn't know, not for sure, not anymore. And every day, he just kept getting more and more scared that one day, he just won't know anymore, and Seiichi would be lost, and would become nothing more than a stranger.

He sucked in a sharp breath, and Eiji, who had been helping him dress, moved in his field of vision and asked if he had tied anything too tight.

And just when he did, Fuji spotted the bruises on his jaw.

He reached a hand up to touch it. "Eiji, where did you get this?" He could feel Eiji trembling, as he tilted his friend's chin up to see the bruise. He had a sneaking suspicion this bruise came from-

"It's nothing, Fuji-sama," Eiji answered, tearing away from his grip. "I... I was careless, forgive me."

The bruises were so familiar. He'd nursed plenty of those after nights spent in Seiichi's bed. Bruises from Seiichi's nails where he scratched too hard. And suddenly, it all made sense. Why Eiji had gone back to a way of addressing Fuji that he knew Fuji hated, why he was so distant, why...

Oh, god, was this his fault? Because he'd insisted to see Seiichi, because he'd taken a carriage and demanded that Eiji take him there? He should have known, he should have known! How could he be so stupid as to believe that Seiichi would see the friend he no longer saw?

"Seiichi," he whispered, and had his confirmation when Eiji's eyes widened. Eiji had never been a good liar.

"What else?" he whispered fiercely, feeling his body shaking with horror. "What else did I make him do to you?"

"Fuji-sama, you didn't-"

"Yes, I did!" He could feel the tears prickling at the back of his eyes. "What else, Eiji?"

Eiji looked torn, as he watched Fuji hyperventilate, face twisted in horror. "I..."

And there was a knock from the door.

"Fuji-sama, if you are ready, His Majesty would like for you to join him for breakfast."

Fuji was shaking. He wasn't ready, he didn't want breakfast, and he, most emphatically, did not want to eat breakfast with Seiichi. He'd probably just see Eiji's bruises and all he'd be thinking is how Seiichi did it, and how it was his fault that he did.

But Eiji was steering him towards the door, murmuring things like how he was okay, and how the bruises would heal, and how he looked like he needed some food in his system. Of course he needed food in his system, his stomach was looking for something it could throw up.

But he was not led to the dining hall, and was instead brought to Seiichi's study. He recognized the door, he waited outside it often enough.

And when the door flew open, and Seiichi smiled gently at him, Fuji found the turmoil in his soul easing.

Because Seiichi did not look like a sadistic murderer who beat people for his own pleasure at all.

"Good morning," Seiichi greeted, escorting Fuji inside. The room was a mess, but Seiichi didn't seem to see it. He was too busy leading Fuji to the only place that had been kept neat. "You seem... different, are you ill?"

Fuji could see Sanada-san waiting in the shadows, the only person in the room apart from them. He gave Fuji a quick nod, which Fuji responded to with a tentative smile.

"I... I'm fine," Fuji lied, diverting his smile to Seiichi. "But I don't suppose I could stomach breakfast."

"Good," Seiichi replied, snaking his arms around Fuji's waist, making him shiver. "Neither could I."

He felt the cold hands grasp his cheek, and he looked down to see a map spread out across the table. The Empire spanned almost half of it, colored in midnight blue, the same hue as Seiichi's hair. At the northeastern border, colored in ghastly red that reminded Fuji very much of blood, were a few kingdoms, that Fuji could have sworn stood separately until today.

"Yesterday, that kingdom," Seiichi said, his voice more amused than anything. "Joined with King Tezuka's growing alliance." He said the name mockingly, knowing, even before they attacked that no matter how big the alliance got, they will never become a threat. "Oh my, what should I do?"

His hands crept downwards, caressing Fuji's thighs, and yet, all Fuji could see was the bruises on Eiji's chin and how badly Seiichi must have treated his friend because of him.

"You beat Eiji last night," Fuji said, phrasing it as a statement, not a question.

The fingers curled around him tighter. "Would you like me to?" Seiichi asked. "I restrained last night, but if you are amenable..."

"You... didn't, last night?"

"You would hate me, if I did." One hand rose up to clutch the ring he had given Fuji. "I can't have you hate me." His tone was plaintive, and anguished, a tone that made Fuji want to turn and ask to be forgiven for his doubt.

"So you know for sure."

Fuji pressed back into the embrace. "I don't hate you."

At the corner of his eyes, he saw Seiichi gesture at the map again, the size of the Empire, and the measly size of the growing alliance. "They will attack us, if we are not careful, so tell me," Seiichi breathed, still plaintive, and pleading. "Tell me what I could do that won't make you hate me."

But Seiichi had it wrong. Fuji could never hate him. Fuji could be scared of what he's becoming, Fuji could be afraid of losing the Seiichi he knew, but Fuji could never hate him. No matter what Seiichi did, or would do, even if he attacked and took over the kingdom Fuji had wished he'd never notice, even if he killed the person Fuji had hoped he'd never touch... He could never hate Seiichi.

And with him acting like this, telling Fuji he still cared... Even though it did nothing to erase Fuji's fear, it eased it somewhat, because somehow, at least Seiichi could still have a little bit of the Seiichi he was before that night happened and they lost what had been left of both their worlds.

He suddenly felt very tired. "Do what you want, Seiichi," he replied. You always do.

And when Seiichi turned him around and pressed his lips against his, Syusuke knew he had given the right answer.

Okay, so I know that Yukimura (and Fuji, a little) is so super OOC, but there is a reason for that ;) Yes, my unfaithful-to-my-first-story self actually spent like a whole day writing out character sketches and planning out the plot. I can't help it, it really won't leave me alone :'(

So, um. Would you guys be really nice and tell me what you think? -hopeful smile-

/silverglitters