Moonlight Sonata
By: Ceriadara
"They say blood is thicker than water. What they don't say is that otherwise, it's not that strong." Rei is the son of the Emperor of China who falls in love with a Russian mercenary with cold crimson eyes. Now, he is caught: will he choose his throne...or his heart?
Chapter Three: Ballade
The best and most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or even heard, but must be felt with the heart.
- Helen Keller
After I spoke my words, the conversation was deemed over, and the redheaded mercenary was quickly on his way back to his camp and his commander, I suppose. I sat back on my windowsill, my mind full of the words Yuri had said to me, reeling at the thought that someone who knew so little about me would still care enough to try to do something to ease my pain.
Never before in my life had I experienced such care. Surely the servants cared for me, and my older staff would even go so far as to say that they loved me, and yet no one had offered a hand or a shoulder to me – it was forbidden for servants to display emotion before their masters.
Before I was aware of the time I was lost in thought, the sun had disappeared below the horizon and risen again, flecking the distant mountains with the palest hint of gold. I sigh, looking back down at my abandoned tome, absentmindedly wiping dust off of the yellowing page, my fingers tracing the blackened characters. Thoughts flit restlessly throughout my sleep-deprived mind, settling on no one topic, as a butterfly to a flower.
Why should my mother's people need me?
Freedom isn't part of the bargain.
"Happiness was not part of my bargain, but I found it."
What is happiness, after all?
Something you will never achieve.
Achieve…how hard, I wonder, did that man…Hiwatari…work to reach the skill level he possesses?
Why am I thinking about him?
Why not?
His eyes, his skin, his hair, his voice, his smirk, his…everything.
Why, why, why?
Well, that train of thought was rather unproductive, to say the least. And yet as my mind meanders down the path leading to Hiwatari, it slows and it calms, and whispers in the back of my mind lull me into a state of calmness, where things such as happiness and freedom and answers and not quite so elusive, and solutions can be found.
I'm suddenly in my bed, sitting up. I raise a hand to my head – how on earth did I arrive here? Had I walked? Had I been carried? By who?
I push these questions to the back of my mind, pushing a strand of dark hair from my face as someone knocks at my door. I frown. It could be my father, toying with my mind. It could be a servant, coming to bring me news. And then…it could be Yuri, come for one last appeal.
"Enter," I call, both afraid and apprehensive, waiting to find out whom exactly lies in wait beyond my bedroom door. It opens, and I draw my breath in with a light hiss. What – where – how - ?!
It is him, standing there, tall and proud, smirking at me, those red eyes glimmering like gems in pale marble. He looms before me with almost god-like perfection, and he speaks at last. "May I come in, then?"
I blink at him, watching him move without waiting for my answer, seeing him approach me without asking if it is all right. Suddenly, he is there, there, and then – HERE, right in front of me, his hand on my face, his fingers curling in my bangs. His face is close enough to mine that I can feel his breath coming in warm puffs of air against my mouth, and I am shaking like never before – but not from fear.
My thoughts slip from decently coherent to befuddled to downright stupefied as his body comes closer to mine, warmer warmer warmer, and suddenly he is under my sheets and his legs are pressing against mine and his hands are pressing the small of my back, gently tugging me back against my pillows, and that smirk is on his mouth and –
And now his mouth is on mine, and I suddenly can't breathe anymore, much less think.
Everything that follows is a terrifyingly heated mash of skin on skin and lips on skin and teeth on skin, and everything is so hot and so wonderful that I can't even begin to fathom it. My mind is struggling to adjust itself even as my hands pull at his hair, even as my tongue moves to moan his name –
"Kai…"
I awake from my dream with his name on my lips, soiled and sticky and generally unpleasant, upset, and confused. I can barely stumble to the baths, sliding out of my clothes and into the hot springs. I am stunned, bewildered, and barely able to comprehend what has happened to me.
Certainly, I know what it is; I have been walked through the awkward moments of adolescence well enough through both books and appointed "teachers". I have just never experienced one of such intensity…or with another man. I briefly wonder what my father's reaction would be, but I find myself too drained to really care.
Dressed at last, I drag myself to my room, collapsing on my bed, running repeatedly over the thoughts I had before the dream, the thoughts of freedom and happiness and of his eyes and hands and mouth and skin and
That could certainly be the problem. Perhaps, if I avoid thinking of him, avoid speaking to him, looking at him, acknowledging him, it would go away. Or perhaps not. And truly, I have no wish to follow through with my rather drastic plan – I cannot help thinking of him any more than the sun can help rising every day.
My eyes drift shut and I slide away again, this time firmly hoping that I will be able to finally rest.
When I awake, sunlight is brushing its golden fingers against the floor before my bed. My hair has come loose in the night and it lies, tangled, spread across the pillows like a cloth. I raise myself up, cautious of my bruises, duly noting that no new ones have appeared.
I curl a thin section of hair around my fingers, working the knots away gently. Slowly, however, my mind slides away and returns to the troubling thoughts and memories of last night. I sigh, knowing that it was a fool's hope that my mind would be entertained by such a mundane task, and I turn my full attention towards my memories.
Words flit through my mind, accompanied by unspoken thoughts, runaway emotions, and crimson eyes. I close my eyes and lean back into my pillows once more, my mind too riled up now to even begin to drift back into sleep. My hand falls still against a pillow.
What had I given up?
Freedom; the chance to escape this horrid life; the possibility of happiness. I had turned my back on the ultimate human ideal: to be happy. I had wasted my chance of freedom because I felt some kind of loyalty towards these people…the people who barely cared that I existed.
The people who knew I existed, the people whom I had contact with, either showed no emotion or showed no mercy. The former was my servants; the latter was my father. My father, my Emperor, who wished, apparently, that I no longer existed. It often seemed as though his sole enjoyment in life was making mine a waking nightmare, criticizing my every flaw mercilessly in front of important guests and "meaningless" subjects alike.
My mind turns to my father, almost against my will, and I try to divert the attention onto something else; but once the mind has locked onto a subject, diversion from the subject is nigh on impossible. I think, then, of my father: why has no punishment come? Is he, perhaps, using apprehension to phase me? It is a cruel and merciless tool; it would not surprise me in the least.
I hear the door open, and I peek through lowered lashed to catch a glimpse of who my visitor may be. Black slippers embroidered with gold step into the sunlight, and immediately my heart begins to beat as loudly as a drum.
As though my very thoughts have summoned him, my father advances farther and farther into the room. Although he is tall and masterfully built, he makes no sound as he moves, a fact that has always caught me off guard. I wonder if he is here to wake me and then deliver his beating, or to leave me sleeping and allow me to wake with new blackened skin.
He draws near to the bed, and I feign sleep, hoping against hope that he will turn back, wait, perhaps, until I am awake and can feel the pain more clearly. I feel him sit beside my body on the mattress, and I must fight to keep my breathing even. What is this? What will he do to me?
I fight back the urge to shudder as I feel his hand settle on my forehead. I feel his fingers lightly brush away my unruly bangs that have fallen into my eyes, and then his hand rests there for a while. I hear him sigh deeply, and suddenly his hand is gone from my forehead, replaced moments later by a brief touch of his lips. He pulls back, caressing my forehead again.
"If only you knew, little one," I hear him whisper, "how much you remind me of her. How much I loved her… how much I love you."
And then he is gone, leaving me startled and quite alone to face the wake he has left behind.
What could he possibly mean by that?
It is later in the day now, and I am in the Hall, dining on breakfast, alone with my tumultuous thoughts. My mind is reeling with blow after blow: a total stranger offers me freedom, my mother is coming up everywhere in my thoughts, red eyes continue to haunt me, and then my father – my abusive, stoic, Emperor of a father, tells me for the first time I can remember…that he loves me.
So buried am I in my thoughts that I do not sense the presence of my breakfast companions until they have been seated and served and Yuri has waved his hand thoroughly about my face for a while.
"Are you alive at all in there?"
I blink and turn my eyes towards him. "Ah, my apologies. I…was not expecting guests for breakfast this morning. Please, allow me to go and – "
Yuri frowns, snatching my wrist and tugging me back into my seat. "As you told us yesterday, you are not our anything. You are not expected to dress for ceremony."
I smile rather nervously at him and place my hands in my lap, my fingers plucking at the dark red strands of fabric that make up my tunic. He shakes his head in what I suppose is exasperation, and he begins to eat his meal. I resume my dining, and I glance over at his companions. They are both silent, eating politely. My eyes dwell for a bit longer on the red-eyed mercenary, but when I see him move as though to glance up, I immediately direct my gaze towards my plate, terrified of meeting his eyes again.
When the two are finished, they leave, looking at neither their fellow soldier nor me. I fight back the disappointment that rises like bile in my throat, and I feel Yuri's bright blue eyes on me. I look up, and his gaze is understanding.
"You're watching him."
It is not phrased as a question, but I answer all the same. "Yes."
"Why?"
I hesitate. "I…I'm not…sure, exactly. There is just something about him that…"
Yuri smiles gently, placing his elbow on the table and resting his head in his palm. His eyes are on the doorway from where the men exited, and they are as soft as when he looked at me. "You want to be near him, and yet you are almost terrified of him. You want to catch his eye, but you dare not. Am I on the right track?"
"…"
My silence is as good an affirmation as any, and Yuri shakes his head, conveying something that I cannot quite understand. He rises from his seat beside me, and he looks down on me, his expression cooler and his face carefully controlled. "Good day to you, Prince Kon."
I begin to open my mouth to question his change of character when I spy two shadows streaming in from the door. I rise as well, bowing towards my father. "Good morning, Emperor. General."
My father looks down haughtily at me as the General bows, speaking to me as he rises. "Good morning, your highness. I trust that my soldier has been…respectful?"
"Perfectly so," I reply as Yuri slides away into the background and out of the door. I begin to leave as well, but am stopped by a wave from my father.
"Remain with us while we dine. It may do you good to listen in upon discussions of war."
Knowing better than to reply with a negative answer, I simply nod and move to sit beside the General, who takes the seat beside my father. I mold my face into an attentive mask and then allow my mind to roam free, knowing that I have not the thoughts for war.
I find Yuri waiting for me in the library.
He is running his fingers along the spines of the books, taking one out at random and flipping through the pages idly, with no apparent interest.
I cough to announce my presence, and he starts. He frowns lightly when he sees my ill-hidden smile at his startled face, and he pokes me just below a hidden bruise on my arm. We retreat to the corner where he found me the night before, the silence between us comfortable.
It is he who breaks it, turning to me, his eyes earnest and somewhat sad. "Rei."
"Yuri."
"…I respect your wishes, truly I do, but – "
"No," I interrupt. "To respect my wishes would be to leave them unquestioned." As Yuri's mind struggles for a response, I ask myself again why I am doing this.
In answer, the light touch of my father's hand against my forehead springs to mind. He loves me? No one has ever loved me before.
"Please…I wish to make things better for you," he finally begs, his blue eyes burning into mine. "This is no life for anyone to lead, be he a prince or a pauper."
"What life, Yuri? A life of abuse, of loneliness, of lies and deceit? Yuri, everyone lives at least some part of this, and some of them live all of it. You can't save the world."
"I can damn well try." There is a fire in those icy eyes, burning so brightly that it very nearly takes my breath away. "I can try. If I can save…one child, one woman, maybe that will be enough. Maybe. But I'm not so sure." He looks at me, and I feel as though he's looking through me; his mind is suddenly outside of this library, outside of China, back where he calls 'home'. "Maybe if I can save those people I can make up for all the ones I killed…"
His hands are shaking.
"Oh God, I can't believe that I do this, everyday, all the time, because I'm paid. I'm like an assassin-for-hire, except I come with thousands of others. And the terrifying part is, they don't care. Boris and Kai, they're indifferent to what we do, to who we kill. It doesn't make any difference to them, it doesn't matter that a little girl will never see her home again, a brother will never see his family…they don't seem to realize that someone will have to tell a little boy that Father's never coming home…"
Now he is shaking, trembling, his blue eyes shining with not only fire, but with tears, as though the ice is melting away and running down his pale cheeks.
"I have so much blood on my hands, so much sin…and I can't wipe it all away. I don't believe in a god anymore, because what kind of god would give his creation this much suffering? This much pain? But when I die, my soul is going somewhere, and maybe if I try to save the world, it will be enough…enough to make it a good place…"
I cannot take it anymore. Very gently, as though he is some kind of fine china, I wrap my arms around him, pulling him into a close embrace as I used to imagine my mother would do for me. I cradle his body and he pulls close to my chest, his head resting on my shoulder. I can feel his frame shaking from his tears, and my heart is sobbing alongside him. We rock silently back and forth, until he is finally still, his breathing calmed. He moves to draw away and I let him, my eyes searching his.
"I'm so sorry," I say, and my voice comes out in a whisper. "I'm so sorry, Yuri…"
"And I can't leave." Now he is whispering too. "That's the worst goddamn part. I can't leave this place, because I'm too much of a coward to give up my happiness. It was gone for…for the longest time, and then I found it, and now I can't make myself give it up again, and I feel so selfish. And then I meet someone like you, someone who stays from loyalty and kindness and hope, and I feel so ashamed."
"Yuri…" I bring my hand up to touch his cheek gently. "I have never felt the kind of happiness you have. I have been lonely and hurt all of my life, a lone little bird who's afraid to fly. You are far braver and far more selfless than I. I stay because I have never felt that happiness, because, somehow, I am afraid of that happiness. You are so much braver than I will ever be…"
He draws near me again and we stay like that for some time, two completely different people, bound together by a shared suffering.
You are so brave.
A/N Wow.
Okay then.
First chapter of this in a while, and it's longer than the second chapter! Woot!
Anyway. I know that the end was all BLAH and that the wet dream was utter mishmash, and that Yuri would never ever ever break down like that…but I don't care. :P I'm too tired to care, to tell the truth. I DUN WANNA GO TO SKOOLZ. XD
- Management
