A/N: Took a little longer than I wanted, but that's alright. I still got it done. Enjoy!
Amon lounged on her beaten mattress, a book propped open and resting against her lifted knee as she ate a fruit. This idleness felt as familiar as it did unnatural. When she was a child she'd had many moments like this. She hadn't been a child for a very long time. As with any memory of her youth, this one ate at her focus until she was left staring at the pages of the book with no memory of reading the words. Giving up, she dogeared the corner to mark her spot and set the book to the side. Her head fell back on her shoulders, then she just let her entire body collapse down until she was sprawled over her futon.
A week.
How was she supposed to survive a week of this boredom? At least escaping from the infirmary would have given her something to do. She'd hoped that being in her own room would be more relaxing, more tolerable.
She'd been wrong.
A week. It still seemed excessive but she understood what the king was aiming to do. Keep her out of sight for a few days, not just for her recovery, but so he could smooth over her awful transgression. While he was the absolute power in Alaric, he had a cabinet of demons who worked as his advisers. If they were all calling for her execution and he resisted, he'd have to come up with a compelling reason why or risk losing the respect of the other powerful men in the territory. Amon sighed again, stuck in the same spiral of thoughts that had been hounding her for four days already.
If the king had just killed her this wouldn't be necessary.
Instead, he took her shopping.
She had no idea what he was thinking. That was unnerving, in its own way, but it was also unfortunate. The fact he'd entertain so flippantly disregarding the voices of reason surrounding him showed her that he felt himself the most competent man in the entirety of the land. While not unheard of for a king, it was at it's best a foolhardy way of behaving. He was still very new to his position. He should rely on the systems in place to support him, not just rebel against them for the sake of posturing.
Groaning, Amon tossed her arm over her face, burrowing her nose in the crook of her elbow so that the dim lights of her lanterns were turned to darkness. Her king was such a stubborn, self-assured fool sometimes.
Not that she couldn't relate.
"If I'm going to drown in thoughts I might as well do it in a bath." Amon spoke to no one but herself. Rolling on her mattress always made her feel a bit grungy. Some sort of grit had worked into the threads and transfered to her skin at every available opportunity. Bathing was her new favorite hobby for that reason.
Prying herself off the futon and onto her feet, she padded over to grab her toiletries and a clean set of clothes. The best part of living down here was how no one invaded her privacy. There were rumors this part of the castle was cursed and Amon used those old superstitions to her advantage. Anything to get a hassle free bath.
Hiei wandered the underbelly of the castle driven by a nagging sense of curiosity.
What had Amon been doing down here?
That question had been pestering him for a few days now. Why had she been down here in a lonesome bathroom, breaking mirrors? He knew no one bothered with this area. The staff muttered to themselves that it was cursed or haunted or some other equally idiotic thing. There were no ghosts down here but their own imaginations.
He strode into the bathroom to reexamine it. The glass had been swept up, the mirror replaced. That surprised him. Why would anyone bother? It occurred to him to look around. The entire room had been cleaned. Unlike many of the other rooms in this sector, this one looked cared for. Unusual. Was this Amon's doing? Why?
Sound grabbed his attention, a soft splash from behind the partition leading into the bath proper. Hiei made sure to keep his steps light as he approached, eyes sharp.
An intruder? A vagrant who had made a home where no one would look? Amon in another one of those states, lost in her own mind?
He grabbed the curtain and yanked it open with a harsh look marring his features, ready to fight.
Amon spun toward him with similar spirit, eyes narrowed and dark, lips pulling back over her teeth in a snarl, feet sliding apart as she prepared herself to spring. She grew stiff upon seeing him.
Hiei stared, blinked, then spun and closed the curtain, facing it. It took him a few seconds to realize he'd closed it with himself on the wrong side.
"Sire?" Amon's voice called, confused and wary. Worst of all, it was far too close.
Hiei didn't want her to see his embarrassment as he fought the curtain for a second, floundering in his flustered state. Finally he pushed back to the other side, leaving her behind him to finish drying off. He hadn't meant to barge in on her bathing, much less her just standing there dripping water onto the floor as she reached for her clothes, wet hair clinging to her back and shoulders and chest and cheeks. The red strands had gotten longer than he'd realized.
"Sir." Amon's voice brought his brisk walk to a stop. He turned slowly to face her where she stood just at his side.
She was dressed, but her hair was still soaked. In fact her clothes clung to her still damp skin. He looked away.
"You're fast." He commented.
"Did you need something?" She pressed, eyebrows raised imploringly. "It's unusual to see you down here."
"I was trying to answer a question." It was the truth at least.
"About the bath?" Amon's brows pulled down, her head tipping to the side. "Perhaps I could help?"
"You're on bed rest." Hiei started walking again, turning his tone as lofty as he could, nose in the air to dispel the fact he was still embarrassed. More so now for floundering the way he had, like some teenager who still had shame, instead of keeping his composure.
"Surely this isn't that intensive of a request. It's a bath." Amon suggested. Her tone sounded a little pleading to him. "I'd like to help."
She was right, she could help. He would just ask her outright instead of beating around the topic.
"What are you doing down here?" Hiei demanded then, eying her.
Amon's eyes darted to the side, pinched in quick thought. Then she pressed her lips together before regarding him.
"I live down here." She answered, back to being wary.
Hiei stared at her before moving to look around the dark, grungy hall. She lived down here? In an old, unused prison?
"Why?"
"It's the first place I slept." Amon offered, looking around too. "The first night I was here, you didn't tell me where to go. I've slept on stones in chains for so long this felt like home. It's quiet too, which I enjoy. I get to be alone."
"Show me."
Amon's eyes grew wide at the uttered command, her eyes darting to the king as she swallowed her compulsion. She wanted to dissuade him from this. Hiei saw it in her eyes.
"Show me where you sleep." He narrowed his gaze in warning, leaving no room for argument. With a nod, Amon turned on bare heel and led him back down the hall. Not that he'd make a habit of abusing this newfound power to get her to do whatever he wanted, it was awfully convenient.
Amon pushed open a door and stood to the side so he could pass through. What greeted him as she shifted uneasily to his side was a barren room of stone and dim lights. A futon on the floor that smelled vaguely of old air and mildew, even from feet away. He had no idea how she stomached sleeping on it. Her clothes hung on a rack formed of old metal tubes. There was an old mirror propped upright. A small stack of books whose covers had worn so roughly that he couldn't read their titles. Lanterns burning on their last bits of oil.
Did the rest of the castle even use oil lanterns? He honestly couldn't recall. Where did she pull this things from? Was there a portal that led to relics he didn't know about it?
He paced through the space, attending to the smallest details. Amon remained by the door watching him as he toed her futon mattress with mild disgust. Her expression was noticeably blank.
"I've slept in worse." Hiei told her, taking another glance around.
Amon snorted in response. "Surely you jest. Why would a king of your caliber ever lower himself to such standards?"
"I used to be a bandit. I was notorious." Hiei eyed her. "You never heard of me?"
There was a moment of obvious discomfort that crossed her features where she considered lying to him. Then, she rethought it and shook her head. "No, sire, I don't think I've ever had the pleasure. I'd enjoy hearing stories of your youth."
"They aren't bedtime stories, Amon. There is a reason the citizens and staff think I'm a monster. I've earned the title." Hiei told her, picking up the book she'd dogeared. He read the first few sentences on the page she'd marked.
"All the same, I'd like to hear them." She pressed lightly, her voice gentle. "If you ever feel like sharing them, that is. It's rare for me to learn about others' pasts."
"Maybe because you're so secretive about your own." Hiei prodded mildly.
"Who would want to hear the origins of a slave?" Amon brushed off his interest, walking into her room to pull her book from his hands with great care. "I know this room doesn't look like much, but it is mine. It's the first thing you ever allowed me to choose. I cherish it for that reason, even if it does remind you of being a bandit."
Hiei watched her as she walked around him to oh-so-gently place her book on the stack. She didn't own much, that was true, but what she did have to her name was obviously well cared for.
"Where did you get this mattress from?"
"A closet. It seemed unused so I did my best to wash it."
"It smells."
She frowned at him dully. "As I said, sire, I did my best."
Hiei rolled his eyes. "You like this room, fine, but that doesn't mean you have to live like a dog. There are plenty of staff rooms you can pilfer bedding from. Get a real futon so you're not sleeping on whatever age old parasites that one is riddled with. And while you're at it, get more lights."
"I don't mean this to sound rude, sire, but why do you care about the state of my mattress?" She asked him, guarded as she looked him over. "Shouldn't you be scolding me for taking supplies without asking? For choosing a room that's not to your liking? For choosing anything at all?"
"That's Greyfield talking again." Hiei told her firmly. "I told you that I don't have the time to pick all your choices for you, Amon. If you stand by your decisions, then fine, but how does it make me look if you're sleeping on mattresses even prisons thought were too disgusting to keep around? What if someone saw you down here in this state? Would you really want them to think I made you live like this? Do you want me to be seen as some sort of torturous bastard?"
That clammed her up.
Hiei didn't believe half of what he was saying. No one was going to come to the castle and judge him on how poorly his staff lived. And definitely no one would wander down here and stumble upon Amon's little abode. But Amon believed they might. She wanted his reputation to be solid and good. She thought him a well-liked king and that was something about him she sought to protect. Maybe taking advantage of that to his own gain was wrong, but he'd never cared much right and wrong before.
He didn't see the harm in bending her loyalty a little if it meant getting her a real bed to sleep on.
"Surely any of your guests would wonder why you treat me so lavishly as is." Amon argued quietly, obviously doubting herself. "To allow me to sleep in a bed untethered, they would find it odd yes? I can't take advantage of your good will to my own ends sire. You've already done so much for me."
"You think this rotten mattress is lavish?"
"I've spent most of my life sleeping in dark rooms on stone floors or chained to thin mattresses, sire. I haven't had a true bed since I was a child. The fact I have a room of my own, that I was allowed to pick, is insanely generous to me."
Hiei stared at her, not sure exactly why this information made him so angry. It had been obvious for a while now that Amon's life hadn't been easy. Her skin was enough to tell him that, decorated as it was with scar tissue. But for some reason each new detail she offered of her time under Greyfield's thumb ate at another piece of him exposing his temper.
"I said pick a mattress Amon. Stop making me repeat myself when I give you orders." Hiei snapped.
She blinked and bowed her head quickly, apologizing. He forced himself to pull back from his raw frustration.
"Take a bed from an empty staff room. They aren't much but they're better than this." He gestured to her futon. "I don't want you sleeping on the floor."
"Thank you for your concern, sire, I'll strive to deserve it." Amon told him quietly but resolutely. "Though I truly don't mind the floor. I've grown used to it."
"If you can get used to that, you can get used to a bed." He grumbled, arms crossed over his chest.
The hypocrisy in his statement didn't escape him, but Amon didn't catch it. It had taken him years to get comfortable on soft mattresses. He still slept on the windowsill sometimes, actually. Sitting up propped against something just felt more secure in his more precarious moments. Every now and then he would even go to the roof and sleep in the open.
It occurred to him that he hadn't felt the need to do that since Amon had started visiting him at night. Maybe that's why he had felt the urge this week. She hadn't been around to ease him through his thoughts. Did he rely on her so much?
Apparently.
"You're a peculiar man, sir. I like that about you. You keep me on my toes." Amon tilted her head, regarding him. "No offense meant of course."
"Hiei."
Amon lifted her brows, staring at him.
"You can call me Hiei. It's what everyone else does." He informed her. "All this 'sire' 'sir' and 'king' nonsense makes no sense."
"You are a king." She reminded him. "Just because you don't get respect doesn't mean I shouldn't offer it. Referring to you by your given name is too intimate. Or worse, disrespectful. Even if no one else deems you worthy of your title, I do."
Hiei sighed. Honestly, how was it possible to be so delicately stubborn? Amon's backtalk was all so diplomatic and respectful. How boring.
"What do you think it would take to get you to show your temper?" Hiei wondered aloud. "You have one. Yashishi proved that."
Her cheeks grew red. "I would never deign to upset you with such vulgar actions. The general's death will forever be a shame I carry, especially knowing how much you had to sacrifice to keep me from suffering the consequences of my own actions. Truly you are kind to a fault, sir."
"Tch." Hiei rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll find your limits on my own. Sooner or later I'll strike the right nerve, Amon. And then I'll see what lies underneath that calm, patient mask of yours."
"I fear this is a quest without an end, sire." Amon warned him gently. "My duty is to you and you alone. Losing my temper would not fulfill that end."
"You have an answer for everything, don't you?"
"I try my best, sire."
Hiei smirked at her then, a glinting warning. "I'll find the line, Amon, and then I'll shove you so far across it you'll have no choice but to come at me wildly."
Amon stared at him, studying him with careful interest. It was obvious she was intrigued by this quest of his. "Responding wildly seems like a poor response to confrontation sir. I would have no part in it."
Hiei started to the door, ideas buzzing in his skull about how to provoke her. He made it over the threshold before hearing the rest of her remark.
"I would respond with calm precision, personally."
Hiei paused and glanced at her, to make sure he'd heard correctly, but she was already fussing over the book placed atop the stack. He could only see the curve of her back as she bent over. Still he grinned, his hands diving into his pockets while he strolled back through the hall.
Amon stood in an empty, unused staff room staring at the small bed that had been pushed against the wall. This is what the king wanted her to take down to her own room? This task was irksome. First of all, she'd have to make several trips. And she'd need to disassemble the bed frame. Rolling up her sleeves as she readied herself to get to work, Amon heard the door close behind her. She did a quarter turn to assess her company.
"Ah, I see." She spoke coolly assessing the three demons who glared back at her. "I assume this about General Yashishi."
"You assume correctly." The demon in the middle told her with a growl, his black eyes narrowed in his gray face. "I don't know what manipulation you've put Hiei under to get him to protect you, but I can promise your tricks won't work on us."
Amon looked over the three faces, all full of menace as they regarded her. All three bodies tensed to spring, fists clenched. She didn't recognize them so they weren't anyone the king met with regularly. Subordinates to the general? Perhaps. Loyal to him, at the very least. They were strong. And they outnumbered her. Her eyes moved from them to the room, glancing around. No other viable exit but the door they were blocking. Nothing she could use as a weapon in the immediate.
If she fought them it would only bring more trouble. Demons like this, they didn't know how to back down. But if she didn't fight them they might actually kill her. She was outnumbered, outmatched and trapped. As she was now, even if she did fight she might not win. She'd have to try to out think them.
She put her hands up to reveal her palms. "I'm not interested in fighting you. I'm sorry for what happened between Yashishi and myself. I wasn't in my right mind when we fought, if I had been I can promise things would have ended differently."
"What a bullshit excuse." The man to the left spit.
"It's not an excuse, it's an explanation." She told him. "How can we resolve this?"
"You can accept what you have coming to you. You killed one of our own. Don't think we'll just let that pass." The demon in the center snarled. "Don't try to talk your way out of this, you piece of trash. You should've been left to rot in that damned cell."
"No. She should have been executed like she was meant to be." The demon on the right hissed. "Let's fix that."
Amon pressed her lips into a line, glancing between them. Their energies flared and she inhaled sharply.
She was not going to win this.
Not because they were going to defeat her but because she wasn't going to exacerbate this issue by resisting. Nothing these men could do to her would be worse than what she'd already endured. They'd beat and they'd feel redeemed and satisfied. So, she relaxed and waited.
Amon finished setting up her bed in her room and immediately fell onto it. It didn't immediately fall apart under her weight so she figured she'd done an alright job for only having one good eye. The other was swollen shut, it stung. The same eye that had been swollen after her fight with Yashishi. At this rate that fracture would never heal. Her face was decorated with deep colored bruises, the same purplish blacks that covered her arms and back and stomach. Her jaw hurt from being hit repeatedly, but it wasn't broken. Her teeth were intact. And she'd stopped bleeding already.
Taking a beating wasn't her natural response to provocations. She wanted so badly to break every bone in their degenerate bodies, but this was a circumstance where she needed to accept her punishment and keep her head down. If she took on those three more would come. She wasn't interested in becoming a target. Now, those demons thought she was weak and laughed about how stupid it was that Yashishi died under her hands. They said she'd gotten lucky. This was the result she wanted. She worked best when underestimated, and if the entire territory thought she was a weak, obedient fool then fine. It would only serve as an advantage if any of them made a move against her king.
And they would, eventually, move against her king.
Thinking of the king made her roll to her back so she could stare at the grimy stones forming the ceiling. He would be furious if he saw her in this state. He'd specifically told her to keep out of trouble. She'd just have to keep down here, sequestered, so she could avoid his attention. She had three days left to heal. He'd never even have to know.
Her eyes drifted closed as her body sank into the mattress, the soft comfort lulling her to sleep quickly.
She dreamed of ancient forests and sleeping on cozy beds in old castles, of walking through gardens and planting medicinal herbs. They were good dreams.
Hiei was only half listening to the updates offered to him by the advisers and generals. Maybe less than half. Was that possible?
Why were these meetings always so dull? Sometimes, he felt this is what purgatory might feel like, trapped in one endless cabinet meeting hearing about how a town on the outskirts had a good crop this year or how the military was sitting on it's ass because times were peaceful. Truly, this was the prelude to hell. Even he'd been second in command these meetings had hardly been tolerable. Now that he couldn't continuously avoid them with flimsy excuses and training they were even worse. How had Mukuro done it? How had she sat here every week listening to these idiots talk, talk, talk?
He wondered what his lunch would be. With Amon still on bed rest he was at the mercy of the kitchen staff once again and they were growing a little too creative for his tastes. Part of him wanted to march down to Amon's quarters and retract his one-week sentence. He thought better of it. He had a feeling if he started giving in to her that way he'd find himself on a slippery slope.
Maybe he could request the kitchen make him that stew Amon had brought for dinner last week. He'd enjoyed that. The potatoes were soft, there were no mushrooms, the broth was creamy and rich.
"Does your silence equate to approval on this matter, Hiei?"
Hiei rolled his attention from his empty stomach to the general of the western forces. Red eyes blinked with disinterest.
"What matter is that?"
The entire room grumbled in unison, all them showing their annoyance at his lack of attention. Hiei wanted to roll his eyes but refrained. He was the king goddammit. If they wanted him to pay attention they should be more interesting. Why couldn't they have these talks during sparring sessions? That's how he and Mukuro generally communicated.
Takeo, the general, sighed with clear disdain for Hiei. Hiei stared at him until he repeated himself. "The issue regarding that beastly servant of yours."
"Amon?" Hiei snorted, amused. She was hardly a beast. "What about her?"
No one seemed to like his humored tone, he got that message from the room full of glares directed his way. He didn't care. Amon was his business, and they didn't need to worry about her. After all, she served him and him alone.
"Last night three of Yashishi's former men apparently caught her lurking in the staff hall and took punishing her for her crimes into their own hands. She didn't put up much of a fight from my understanding."
Hiei's amusement died.
"Looks like maybe that idiot wasn't as strong as he claimed to be then. Getting killed by a trained dog. How disgraceful. If you ask me, the fact such a weakling was able to beat him so thoroughly just shows how useless he was." Another adviser huffed. "At least now Yashishi's men proved their point and settled down. We won't have to listen to them demand justice anymore."
"Yes. That is good news." Hiei wanted to demand the names of the three soldiers, but he didn't bark the command. His tone was lofty, out of sheer force of will, because inside he was utterly seething. He had told everyone in this room to leave it alone. In fact, he was the one who had pointed out that Yashishi's death proved his worthlessness. But that wasn't good enough. They had to go and allow these ingrates to put their hands on Amon then celebrate it.
Justice.
Justice would be him stomping all their moronic throats in so he'd never have to hear them speak again.
Amon had been right about this, though. Him not handling her to the cabinet's satisfaction was a poor choice on his part. How frustrating.
He'd given the doctors strict orders to contact him if Amon found herself back in their care for any reason. He didn't want another episode of her going missing only for him to find out she was nearly dead. They hadn't told him she had arrived, so she hadn't sought medical attention. Did that mean she wasn't injured? Or did it mean she knew better than get to help for her injuries because she didn't want it getting back to him? She was determined to handle these issues herself. He wanted to know what damage those three fools had done. He wanted to go see her.
He couldn't. If he rushed over to her side the cabinet would see it as a weakness. Amon would be put in their sights and neither of them wanted that, he was sure. So he remained seated, working his expression into something of passable acceptance as the meeting continued around him. His input was limited, but he hoped it gave the impression he was bothering to listen.
Weak? How they think Amon was weak? Were none of them down there when she fought Yashishi? Of all the demons who had gathered around her and the general, had none of them bothered reporting what they'd seen to their commanders? How thoroughly had she been beaten that these mouthy demons could feel so secure in their false assumptions of her strength? She hadn't put up a fight, Takeo had said. Why not? It was obvious she could.
The memory of a jagged shard of ceramic pressing to his throat, a cruel smile unfurling into existence just for him to see struck Hiei. "Whether or not I can seems a far cry less important than whether or not I will, sir."
No. Amon wasn't weak. But it seemed as though she wanted to be seen that way. This was something she'd allowed, he decided. A purposeful act of helplessness.
He wanted to know why.
It was a few day later that Amon examined herself using the mirror in her room. For the most part the swelling in her eye had gone down, and the purplish tinges around it were nothing to fuss over. She looked tired, not abused. No marks on her neck or cheeks. The cut above her eyebrow from her fight with Yashishi had already started to scar. She wasn't entirely disappointed by the line cutting through the arch of her brow. Greyfield had always taken such care to not leave permanent marks on her face. He'd be furious to see her like this.
That brought a smile to her lips, where another scar lived. This one was hardly noticeable. Just a needle thin line of pale pink that showed where the skin had been burst open.
The seamstress had delivered her clothes to her, and the new ones fit her perfectly. Too perfectly. It felt strange to have tailored shirts and pants again. The vests all followed the line of her sides and waist a little too cleanly. Without a jacket on, one could definitely make out the flare of her hips. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. Her blouses were long sleeved, a request she'd been sure to press the seamstress to accept. The cuffs were buttoned snugly, adorned with matte black cuff links. The sleeve up from the cuff was looser, thin material billowing slightly out from her arms.
The seamstress had seemed annoyed with the muscle Amon had developed, and clucked in disapproval during her fitting. Amon didn't mind. She liked having a strong body. And now that the king had forced weight back onto her, it seemed a waste to not rebuild what she'd had before. Granted, she was nowhere near her former build or strength, but she was confident in herself and that was an alarmingly new sensation.
Half the vests she'd bought were embroidered. All of them black with threads of garnet or lavender or glimmering white creating designs in the silky material. The other half were plain colors, grey, lavender and dark blue. Her shirts were white, easily matched with any of her other pieces, and the seamstress had insisted she accept a few other colored items as well. Amon doubted she'd ever wear them though. Maybe the lavender blouse, but the other shirts were short sleeved and she didn't like to show her arms. Her slacks were fitted to her form, either black or grey, some tapered and others the straight leg cut she was used to wearing. Her jackets, she now owned far more than three, could be interchanged with any of the vests. One of crushed black velvet, one of white. Lavender linen. One of dark plaid, the colors a mixture of the three that made the base of her wardrobe.
And the shoes. She was surprised and delighted by them. Her old ones had nearly been worn to pieces, despite her doing her best to care for them. The soles were worn through in several places. But these? Beautiful. And more than one pair! The seamstress and the shoe smith had worked together, it seemed, to match the styles of her outfits to her footwear.
Black oxfords that shone like dark diamonds. Two pairs of boots, ones that stopped just under her knee and looked to be riding boots, and ones that came up to mid-thigh where they folded over themselves. Those were her favorite. They reminded her of being a wild teenager, traveling through Makai and learning about the world. For today though, she would wear the oxfords. Professional. Once midnight struck she could get back to work, as her last day of leave was drawing to a close. She wanted to present herself to the king with sophistication.
So she dawned her shining shoes and her straight-legged pants, her black and white embroided vest and her crushed black jacket. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, her bangs freshly trimmed.
"Dashing." She told herself, spinning in front of the mirror with glee. "This is the best you've looked in ages. Now. Time for work."
Red eyes stared uneasily as the small white envelope sitting on his desk, being menacing and innocuous at the same time. Earlier in the day a courier had pressed into Hiei's reluctantly open palm. Now, hours later, Hiei opened it without joy or amusement. He knew who it was from. He could tell by the childish scrawl of his name on the front.
Truth be told, he was a little worried about the contents. He didn't want to read it.
Hey shortcake. Are you done with your bullshit yet? Haven't heard from you in a long time. Did your dumbass die or something? Better not have. I'll kick your ass. Write back.
Yusuke
PS We're coming to see you soon whether you're ready or not. Don't be a dick about it.
Hiei growled, crumpling the lined paper into a ball. He let it fall to the floor out of his fist as he got to his feet. Stepping over the discarded letter he grabbed his cloak off a chair and headed for the roof. This room was too small, the walls to close to him. A pressure had formed under his sternum at the thought of those idiots coming to see him again. His oldest frie-allies. His oldest allies.
He didn't want them to come.
They hadn't interacted with each other at all since the funeral and their departure wasn't on good terms anyway. He thought Yusuke would have understood that. No matter who wrote to him, he didn't respond. He paced down the hall toward a stairwell that would take up a few floors up. When they'd last seen each other, he'd been angry, at himself, at Mukuro, at the world and at his frien—allies for trying to comfort him. He'd been lost in his own darkness. Their light had annoyed him. He didn't want to find his way out. He just wanted to be alone. Hadn't he told them that? He didn't need them or their pity. He was pretty sure he'd threatened to kill them if they ever came near him again.
Those had been his parting words, hadn't they?
It was all a little hazy around the edges. He couldn't remember what he'd actually said or if he'd just thought things. But did it matter anyway? Shouldn't they have known? He hadn't spoken to them since. He'd made no effort to keep in contact. Even when he'd received the birth announcement he'd refused to acknowledge it. Though, that particular mail still sat in a drawer in his desk. He couldn't bring himself to throw it away or burn it like the rest.
Why would they come?
Why now, of all times?
The anniversary of Mukuro's death crept ever closer, a shadow threatening to swallow him whole. The reminder that it had been a year already filled his stomach with stones. All he wanted to do when the day came was be alone, locked in the training room, destroying things until he passed out. Not entertaining a pack of idiots who didn't know when to shut up and leave him be.
He flipped himself out an open window, springing from the sill to overhang of the roof. With one hand he grabbed the edge and twisted his body upwards, landing on his feet a few inches from the drop off. Standing in the dying sunlight, those stones grew so heavy he couldn't help but lose to them. So he sank down and stared over his city, his kingdom with a sense of dread and pain he had been trying to overcome for nearly a year.
Mukuro would surely laugh at him before scolding him for pouting like a child. She'd tease him about his grief.
Hiei tipped his head back to look upwards. The sky was that shade of red that reminded him of dying coals lying in ashes, molten in the center and black all around. The wind twirled around him, billowing his cloak. From up here he could see a generous portion of the city. Demons still filled the streets, indistinct voices carrying up to him. It all culminated into white noise as he laid back, legs hanging over the lip of the roof. He closed his eyes. The wind, the voices, the hard surface under his back all helped him drift to sleep.
He dreamed of Yusuke and Kuwabara and Kurama and Yukina and even Botan and Genkai. He woke up feeling lost and angry and hopeless. The dreams had been a mixture of memories and fears. The worst sort of dreams. Full dark had fallen while he slept, the city around him quiet as death.
"Hiei. Why do you insist on sitting up here alone?" Mukuro asked him, already knowing the answer but wanting to make him say it. Instead she earned a rueful glare.
"I need to escape all the idiots for a while. So what?"
"That's not why."
"If you know then why bother asking?" He grumbled. After she came to sit beside him, he relented. "I like the quiet. It lets me check on her."
Mukuro smiled then, and nodded. "You can always leave you know. You're not being forced to stay here."
"It's better this way." He responded gruffly. "It's better if I'm far away."
He hated this. He hated these damned memories that made him feel warm and cold at the same time. He hated that Mukuro was still gone and he was still here. Back then he may not have been forced to stay but how could he leave now? The kingdom needed someone.
And Mukuro, in her infuriating glory, had chosen him.
He jerked his head to the side as Amon sat down next to him, one of her legs falling over the edge of the roof and the other bent at the knee so she could rest her arm on it. She said nothing.
"Has it been a week?" Hiei asked airily, as if he didn't know. He didn't want her to know he'd been keeping track. The weights in his bones lessened as he adjust to her presence. It didn't seem so dark out here suddenly, the dim lights of the city reflecting off her perfectly shined shoes. The barest hint of red light cut through the darkness, allowing him to more clearly see her features. He hadn't noticed it before, the faint glow.
"A day over, technically. It's past midnight." She assured him. "I've already pressed your clothes for tomorrow and I brought your some tea."
He glanced behind him to the tray of tea and snacks she had set down.
"Are you healed?" Hiei reached back and took his cup as well as a small pastry. Amon made some decent snacks, he had to admit. Stuffing the treat in his mouth so he could hold it with his teeth he grabbed the second cup and forced it into her hands. She accepted with a nod, a faint smile.
"Mostly." She told him, fingers curled around the warm cup. "I'll be completely back to normal in a few more days but I can't stand being forced to sit still and out of sight for so long. I needed to get back to work."
He understood that feeling.
"How bad was it?" He asked, watching her sip her tea. She glanced at him, the red glow of Alaric casting a sheen over her already keen eyes.
"Apologies, m'lord, but I'm unsure what you're asking me." She hedged, eyes closing.
He realized that was one of her tells. It was how she hid her expressions from him, closing her eyes. Looking away. Putting on airs of polite misunderstanding. As if she were stupid.
"You know, dodging my questions is starting to feel a lot like you're lying to me." Hiei told her, watching her eyes barely open. She focused on the dark city suspended under their hanging feet through the sliver of her lids. He wondered if she could see through those thick eyelashes of hers.
"I would never lie to you, sire." Amon kept her voice quiet. "I just don't think you need to worry about such small matters when you have so much responsibility already. Being a king is difficult, demanding. It requires all your waking energy. Listening to people, sorting ordeals, making laws and hearing cases. Inflicting punishments and meeting with dignitaries. So many different beings to make happy. It's an unwinnable fight, truly. There are too many demands and too many outcomes to appease everyone, but still you have to try. Your people need your attention and your focus and your care."
Hiei stared at her, brows pulled down in thought. That was an awfully insightful thing to say. It was almost as if Amon knew from experience how hard leading could be. How annoying it could be.
But she still didn't answer his question, and he noticed that too.
"You know exactly what I was asking you." Hiei glared at her. "You know what I'm talking about. Don't sit there and try to defy me by appeasing my ego, Amon. Now, let's start over. How badly did they hurt you?"
She sighed, closing her eyes once again and sipping her tea before answering. "Nothing was broken and the swelling has gone down on my eye. The bruises are all nearly healed. As I said, in a few days I'll be back to new."
He looked away from her to glare over his city.
"You're awfully calm for a woman who allowed herself to be beaten by three thugs to prove a point." Hiei growled.
"It'll be fine, m'lord. Please don't worry so much about me." She pressed gently.
"Why did you let them hurt you? You can fight. I've seen it. You don't like being touched by anyone but Marielle, I've seen that too." He lowered his voice in his frustration. "I just don't understand the benefit of playing dumb and weak. Why not fight? Why not establish your dominance?"
"I have no dominance in this place." She informed him easily. "Like it or not, sire, I'm a slave. I'm your slave. All that matters to me is that your reputation is secured."
"You're not a slave."
"I beg to differ."
He jerked himself around to face her, seething. "Why do it say it like that?"
"Like what?" Her expression so cool it chilled the wind.
"Like it doesn't matter!" Hiei snarled at her. "Why aren't you angry about being forced to work for me? Why aren't you furious that I'm in this position over you? Why don't you fight back?"
Amon looked him over then smiled, shaking her head. "Oh, sire."
Hiei opened his mouth to yell at her some more but was caught off by his back hitting the roof unexpectedly. His teacup dropped from his hand in his shock. Amon hovered on him, one palm pressed flat over his shoulder, her knees straddling one of his legs. He glanced to the side and noticed she had caught his falling cup in her other hand. She moved it carefully out of the way before looking down at him.
That red glow sharpened the gleam in her eyes, made it look something between sinister and welcoming. His eyes became transfixed on her face, lips still parted. His chest lifted and fell heavily. Amon had only touched him to push him back, but it had been with enough intention he had followed through with the movement, caught off guard. She'd been so fast.
"I'm not worried about your position in regards to myself, m'lord." Amon spoke in what sounded like a warm purr to Hiei's growingly warm ears. "The fact of the matter is that you don't trust me to know what I'm doing. I have dealt with kings before. I have served men you'd kill on principle. None of that matters. What matters is that, unlike your other weapons, I sharpen myself. Fear not, my king, I allowed those unruly soldiers to do what they wanted because it suited me. I allow your generals to talk down about me because it's what I need them to do."
Hiei swallowed, enraptured.
"I am the greatest tool you have in your arsenal, and whether or not you want to use me in that capacity is your decision, but I will continue to act in your best interest regardless. Your people think I'm some pet of yours, a weak thing that follows at your heels out of obedience and servitude. This benefits both of us. It allows me to act as I need to, and it allows you to display your authority as necessary. But, I will put you at ease." She dropped her face closer to his, falling to her elbow so all he could see was her eyes and the intent glimmering in them. "You became my king out of compulsion, but you only remain my king because that's what I want."
She pulled back then, no wicked smile to tell him she was just fooling around. No indication she'd been anything but serious.
Whether or not I could seems a far cry less important than whether or not I will.
Something hammered in Hiei's chest, a feeling he didn't fully recognize as she looked over his beastly servant.
"I thought you couldn't harm me." He told her, once again swallowing. Not from fear, but from anticipation. He wasn't sure of what.
"I can't intend to harm you." She corrected. "You don't live this long in chains without learning how to work around them, sire."
The beating grew harder, louder, threatening to deafen him and shake his frame. Was this excitement? He hadn't felt it in so long it was foreign to him.
"Did you kill Greyfield?" He asked her.
"No. But I did learn something from his death." Amon rose to her feet, brushing off her pants.
"That was?"
When she looked at him again he couldn't help but tilt his head back as he grinned. He wanted to hold her gaze. He wanted to see that look in her eyes for as long as possible. It warmed him, rekindled the ashes he had thought had grown cold inside him.
"That inaction is sometimes the only true action one should take." She did not smile in return. "You cannot win every battle, sire, but you can't lose if you aren't even participating."
"A dangerous outlook."
"One that I only summon when necessary, I assure you. By spirit I am not one to lose." Her eyes scanned over him. "So when I do, there is a very good reason. I fought Greyfield's assailant you know. He made me. So unfortunate I was overtaken and failed to defeat that demon. It was miraculous, the way he simply knew where to hit me to knock me unconscious. It must have been pure luck. The same luck that led that demon to know exactly what poison to use and which food to put it in."
Hiei got to his feet, thrumming with exhilaration. "Did you order training attire when you saw the seamstress?"
That caught Amon off guard. She blinked at him, tilting her head to the side.
"No, sir. Should I have?"
"I think Yusuke left some of his a while back. They won't fit you properly but they'll be good enough."
"Sire?"
"Come with me. We'll get changed and then we'll go down to the caverns." Hiei grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her behind him, buzzed off the feeling of excitement rampaging through him.
"Sir, please, wait. I don't understand." Amon stumbled behind him. "Why am I changing clothes? Why the caverns?"
"You're going to fight me." Hiei looked over his shoulder at her, eyes glowing. Her expression shifted to one of concern. "I want to see what those nails of yours can do, Amon. You've got me excited to face you. Let's go."
"Excited?" She questioned quietly behind him, allowing him to lead her to the roof access door.
The hall they entered was lit, causing Amon to blink to adjust her eyes. Her throat went dry and she was glad for the gloves otherwise the king might notice the sudden sweat dousing her palms. Those dark garnet irises looked positively alive with light as he glanced back at her. His expression fluttered in her chest. Did he realize just how radiant he looked? His fingers on her wrist through her clothes suddenly felt far too intimate. She trembled in his grasp. He had her excited too, but she was positive it was in an entirely different way.
He glanced back at her at the gentle tremor that shook her. "Is that fear shaking you, Amon?"
"No sire, far from it." She responded.
"Good."