Author's Note: This fic is completely unrelated to my other AU fic dealing with a similar topic, "Assassin." Just to make that clear. I've been waiting a long, long time for someone else to write this fic, since I think the idea is a fairly obvious one, but alas no one has. So I took a shot at it myself . . . however, I don't think that should keep anyone else from trying! I'd love to see someone else take on this idea, as I'm sure it would be done better than my own poor attempt.
Shuurei sighed and settled herself into the shadow of the roof tree. It was a quiet night, or at least it should have been. The winter was only recently passed, and so there were no nocturnal sounds of insects or animals from the gardens. It wasn't silent, of course, but the noises she heard were the ones she should hear, for the most part: the leaves moving in the gardens in response to the faint currents of air, the sigh of the banked kitchen fires in their chimneys, the nearly inaudible murmur of the buildings settling in for the night.
There were no intruders among the corridors and gardens, not tonight. That was the way she preferred it, of course-- she lived with the perpetual fear that the next assassin would somehow get past her. Guarding the Emperor's sleep was an uneasy job at best, and in these troubled times her fear never entirely went away. At least His Majesty was safely in his own bed tonight, and alone. When he slept elsewhere she ghosted over the rooftops after him, or crept through the gardens, and at times it was a challenge to do so unobserved and undetected. And whatever bed he slept in, when he had companionship she was forced to find a position as close as possible, and be as alert to the sounds from inside as without. Threats to His Majesty could come from anywhere, her father had once warned her; even the most trusted among the court were not immune to its intrigues. So she stayed nearby, all her senses on the alert, trying to maintain her discipline as an assassin and bodyguard even as the things she overheard threatened to drive her to distraction with embarrassment.
She sighed again and huddled closer to the roof tree, wishing that the cold tile had retained at least a little of the day's heat. The comfort would have been welcome. Perhaps she preferred the nights of His Majesty's assignations after all. They were fairly random and unexpected, for one thing, which added to their safety. The Emperor played no favorites and seldom repeated a visit or invitation to anyone. And overall, she could bear the embarrassment a great deal easier than she could handle the screams.
Shuurei winced when the Emperor cried out again. It was worse than usual, tonight. A spring breeze had put out the candles that burned perpetually in His Majesty's rooms, plunging his quarters into darkness. He always had nightmares on those occasions when he slept alone, but normally he woke himself up and then took one of the candles to go spend the rest of the night in the archives. But apparently this was not a normal night, because he wasn't waking up. She could hear him thrashing around in his bed, the muffled sound of a pillow landing on the floor, his voice pleading, heart-rendingly, to some phantasm-- please, please no, no no no--
She was moving before she could think about it, before she could tell herself that it was wrong, that she shouldn't. Fingertips hooked on the edge of the tiled eaves took her weight easily, and she swung herself down and through the open window. She landed in a crouch inside, supple boots entirely silent on the cold floor of the Emperor's bedchamber.
The only light was the faintness of the stars outside, but it was enough for Shuurei's night-trained vision. His Majesty was twisting among the badly rumpled sheets, trying to escape some unknown tormentor, still asleep but obviously panicked. He was sobbing, too, and his words were almost unintelligible around the tears.
All she had to do was wake him up. Just that, and then she would be gone, no one would ever know. He would never know. She glided to the bedside, leaned over, spoke softly. "Your Majesty. Wake up, Your Majesty."
He moaned and scrambled at the blanket as if it were choking him, sending it further off the bed. She tried again, a little louder. "Your Majesty! Wake up, it's only a dream, you're safe--"
He exploded upwards with a cry, and his hands locked on to her arms with more strength than she would have expected. She could have broken away easily, of course, but shock and her own deeply-ingrained training-- the person of the Emperor is sacred, the Emperor must not be harmed!-- froze her at the crucial moment. He pulled her close, his arms desperately tight around her. And then--
"Don't leave me," he said, his voice shaking with urgency. "Please, please don't leave me alone, it's dark, so dark--"
That was a royal command, no matter the voice in which it was delivered, and she had to obey. He was crying into the densely woven fabric that protected her neck, his arms like a vise around her. She winced, but her arms came up without her entirely willing it, awkwardly rubbing his back. The words came to her without thought, the same as she would say to a frightened child, running from a bad dream. "It's all right," she said. "It's all right, you're safe, it was just a dream. Just a dream, but you're awake now, you're not alone. I'm here . . ."
Gradually he regained control of himself; she could feel the heaving of his shoulders subside under her hands, felt the moment when he realized that he was holding an actual, physical person and his locked muscles let go. He still held her, but he no longer threatened to break her ribs. "Thank you," he mumbled. "I'm sorry, I--" awareness was returning to him; she could feel the difference in his body, in his hands on her back. "Wait, you're not one of the palace women-- who are you?"
His hands on her back! She squeaked in sudden, dismayed embarrassment and tried to squirm free, rapidly discarding sixty-three of the different methods for getting away from a grappling opponent that immediately sprang to mind for the degree of bodily harm they caused. Fortunately he realized what she was trying to do before she could attempt number sixty-four, because he transferred his grip to her upper arms so she was no longer crushed against his chest. That was better, at least, and gave her a chance to regain her composure. She couldn't bow, but she could at least lower her head as was proper-- of course, nothing else about the situation was proper in the least. She wondered if her mandate to protect the Emperor from all dangers included those to be found in his dreams. "Your Majesty, I am your guard, your assassin-- the Black Wolf."
"The Black Wolf? Ah, I remember, Shou Taishi told me about you . . ." he hadn't let go of her. "But . . . I don't understand, what are you doing here? Did something happen?"
"No, Your Majesty. All is quiet tonight. Except-- you cried out in your sleep, you seemed distressed, I only meant to wake you somehow." She cringed at the weakness of the words and the excuse. "Forgive me, I beg of you, I'll return to my post--"
"No!" That one word made it apparent that the panic from before had not gone far, that it still lurked only barely beneath the facade of the Emperor's calm. His fingers spasmed on her arms. "Please, please just stay with me for a while, it's so dark here, I can't see anything . . ."
"As Your Majesty commands," she replied, not knowing what else to say. Nothing in her training had anything to do with frightened Emperors or their nightmares. A physical threat she knew how to face, what to do, but what was called for here? "Shall I light a candle? Surely Your Majesty wishes to return to sleep . . ."
"A candle? Yes-- no, no!" She could feel him shudder through his hands on her arms. "Don't leave, I don't want you to leave--"
"It's only across the room, Your Majesty," she said, more tartly than she intended to. "I won't leave, don't worry."
"I . . ." he hesitated. "Thank you." With what must have been a wrenching effort of will he pried his fingers loose from her arms, tension thrumming through him so strongly that she could feel it even as she moved away from him. She had long since memorized every detail of the Emperor's rooms, and she lit the lanterns from memory by striking a bit of flash powder off the iron loop of one of her many throwing knives. The light was meant to dazzle, but she was used to it and shielded her eyes. When she turned the Emperor was blinking owlishly at her as his eyes readjusted to the renewed light. He didn't look particularly kingly at that moment-- his hair was mussed, his robe crooked, and he was sitting with his legs drawn up in the middle of his mostly destroyed bed.
She dropped to her knees and bowed her head, determined to return to something that resembled propriety, and he made a faint sound of protest. "Your Majesty, I am your humble servant. I--"
"No, not down there," he said. "Sit beside me, it's still dark."
Once again she was left scrambling for an answer to an untenable situation. She tried for diplomacy. "It would not be right for me to--"
"All right, then I'll sit down there," he said, climbing abruptly down from the bed.
"You can't!" she found herself saying before she thought, and she clamped her hand over her mouth in horror.
"It's my floor," he said loftily, with faintly wounded dignity. "I can sit on it if I want."
She didn't mean to, but she found herself meeting his eyes as he studied her. The nightmares still lingered there, but with sleep banished a strange intensity, as well, one that caught at her and kept her from lowering her head again.
"What's your name?" he asked, as if it were perfectly normal to be sitting on the floor of his bedchamber in the middle of the night, Imperial dignity forgotten. "Shou Taishi didn't tell me."
It was such an ordinary question that she was responding before she had time to think. "I'm Kou Shuurei."