-HOMRA-

Mikoto didn't look at her much for a while after that. He didn't leave his hand out of his pocket for her, but he didn't push her away when she tentatively looped her arm through his. There was something strange in his eyes, though he allowed his aura to project no outward emotion. It was making everyone a little edgy.

At dinner, their clansmen were speaking a little quieter than usual, unsure if they would bother their King or not. There was less plate scraping, no yelling, and even less drinking. They didn't say it, but she knew there was a tendril of fear mixed in with the concern. If Mikoto's condition was becoming worse, his Sword of Damocles could come crashing down upon them any second. Most Red Clansmen didn't fear death or pain, but they did fear the day they lost the Red King.

Still, there was speculation as to his foul mood. Anna's name came up, as was expected, but so did Totsuka's. When the name of their fallen clansmen floated through the smoky air of Izumo's bar and reached Mikoto, there was a visible tensing of his shoulders. Suddenly, the emotion he'd been packing away all day flared outwards, even as he stood to leave.

Guilt. It clicked in her mind then, watching him shrug on his coat as though he hadn't a care in the world. His pace was still as lazy and sedate as it always was, and he didn't fling open the door or slam it shut, but it was there.

Guilt. Mikoto was their King, her King, and he was responsible for their protection and wellbeing. Most times, it was protection enough for him to just be with them.

He hadn't been able to be there for Totsuka, and she knew the vibrant young man had been Mikoto's best friend before the end. Similarly, as it had leaked in his aura, he felt guilty for not being able to protect her from himself. His presence had not been enough to safeguard her from his own desires.

She was his clansmen. It was different for them.

But, she had always been different for him, hadn't she?

Hesitantly, Anna slid down from her perch on a barstool. She sent a tiny smile over her shoulder when Yata, Izumo, and Kamamoto made to follow her. It was only the sadness in her eyes that made them stop.

It was snowing outside. Being near Christmastime, the air had a bite to it that she absolutely hated. She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly afraid that Mikoto would no longer be a warm place for her. Her shoes tapped loudly against the concrete as she walked, searching for that particular shade of red.

He hadn't gone far. Perhaps he'd known she'd come after him.

The Red King was sitting at the top of the steps leading up to a bank that was already closed. His back was against the wall, one arm resting on a bent knee. He spared her a glance when she approached him.

She took a breath, fighting tears, as a translucent red sphere enveloped them. The snow in her hair melted and dried, and the warmth she'd felt for so many years now cradled her shaking body. The snow that had accumulated on his body melted away too, and it reminded her of simpler times when Mikoto melted the snow for her because she didn't like the way it covered up his red.

Anna had never been particularly bold. She wasn't loud, or violent, or reckless like the rest of her clan. She loved them all, and wouldn't trade them for the world, but had never been the same as them.

Still, she gathered all the courage she had and made herself sit close to him. He looped an arm around her waist, perhaps thinking she was still cold. It didn't matter to her either way; the action still unleashed her tears. She felt his chin brush the top of her head when he turned towards her and the hand at her waist traveled up to cup the back of her head.

He didn't know what to say, she could have guessed that without his aura flickering strangely all around her.

In many ways, Anna had never wanted her relationship with the King to change. Even when she'd come of age, her relationship with him had always been pure. She herself had always been innocent and nearly childlike.

She thought that was the way it would always be.

Now it wasn't the same, and a part of her she didn't understand wanted the change. She wanted more nights like the one they shared on her birthday; she wanted to be that close to him, always.

The crumbling image of his Sword of Damocles flashed across her mind. Could Mikoto be there forever? Maybe that was another facet of his guilt. If Mikoto allowed himself to do what he wanted, he would one day leave her…or kill her.

Fear lanced her heart, and she threw her arms around him. "Don't go," she cried. He stilled for an instant and released a long-suffering sigh. She wasn't offended; he wasn't sighing at her. In an odd way, it was more like he was sighing with her.

A strong arm snaked under her knees, the other falling across her back as Mikoto lifted her into his lap. He dropped his head onto hers. For a long time, there was no sound but her hiccuping sobs.

"I never wanted to be a King." She'd heard the admission before, but it took on a different meaning now.

If Mikoto had not been a King, he would never leave.

But because he was, he didn't know if he would be able to stay.

-HOMRA-

It was an odd and decidedly horrible feeling that crept over her in the following days. Regardless of what she chose, she knew she would be sacrificing something. And it had been left up to her. If she decided she wanted her relationship with her King to continue to change, he would change it.

If she decided she did not want to get that close with all the things that could…collapse between them, he would stay away.

And that was the basics of it. Change her relationship, or lose her relationship. They would be King and Clansman, and that would be all. Anna could hardly blame Mikoto for not promising to merely restrain himself if she chose not to accept the change. If his Sword of Damocles was truly a representation of himself, it was a miracle he had showed as much restraint with her as he already had.

She wondered if the strain that put on him was worsening his condition.

In fact, she wondered if either of her decisions would be better for him. Staying with him would mean he didn't have to restrain himself anymore, but a lack of restraint was the problem with his condition currently. If she chose not to, the effects of having her there but just out of reach could be just as disastrous.

It made her sad, and she was so tired of crying.

In the end, lying on the cream colored sofa in the bar's staff room, Anna decided to stay. Telling him her decision the next day had been easy, allowing him to gather her close had been easy, kissing him back had been easy.

It had not been so easy to swallow the bitterness of knowing their relationship was likely the last thing she'd ever be able to give to her King.