A/N: Sorry for the delay folks, I have been incapacitated by a stack of a totes full of glass at work which screwed up my shoulder for several weeks. I'm still in recovery but I am back to full duty and writing at my desk no longer hurts so bad I could cry so I've been able to finish this chapter! enjoy! I've been having a good time putting tension into this story and I hope you guys like it too because it's not going anywhere lmao, sorry kids, time to suffer with me.
The city hummed with delight around Hiei as he strolled through the crowds gathered in the market. There were far more vendors and booths than had ever been there before. So much life surrounded him he was almost at a loss for words on how to describe it to himself. His lips quirked up, threatening to reveal a smile.
Amon had outdone herself, even if it had been behind his back and beyond her station.
He came to a stop at the one shop he always visited on his outings. Looking over the wares laid out he took his time studying each item with absolute attention. This had to be perfect. It had to be exactly right. He wouldn't accept anything less.
Amon had placed herself in the signs of bondage as a statement of how willingly she'd tied herself to him, to his image and his being. Her dedication was a collar around her throat for the world to see. That was well enough, if he had to allow it which it seemed he did. Though, he had his own ideas for showing their guests what Amon was to him. How important her position, how prestigious. Even she didn't seem to fully grasp it. There was one thing, one mark, that would say more than he was capable.
The one thing Amon never asked for.
The one thing no one had ever given her.
The one thing he would provide that would shock her and everyone around them.
"This one." He held the item in his hand, judging the weight. "I need this one."
Amon kept her chin parallel to the ground as she walked, her footsteps silent against the stone floors, but still the world could hear her coming. Shoulders down and back, she opened the door to the dining hall. The staff had all already passed her inspection, everyone in shining uniforms of black, white and crimson. The room smelled of cooked meat and savory treats sure to surpass anyone's expectations. Alaric wasn't known for it's food but that didn't mean they shouldn't try. The king had beat her to breakfast, seating himself at the head of the table looking bored as he regarded the filling seats.
The twinkling of metal colliding with metal earned his attention as she strolled to his side with purpose, depositing his plate in front of him.
With a quick scan he assessed her appearance and gave her the exact reaction she'd hoped for. A sharp look of reproach, eyes lacking amusement. Under his breath he addressed her. "Really?"
"You don't approve? I can change." She held his gaze, daring him to ask it of her. She watched him do another sweep, his eyes heavy against her skin where it could be seen. "You did tell me to wear one of my new outfits, sire."
"Interesting gauntlet to throw down, Amon." His quiet tone promised that this would not be the end of their conversation. Then he allowed her to see the barest glimpse of humor as it struck him. With warmth he told her, "I do like that hairstyle."
He watched her lips form a line as he touched on the one area of her appearance she had obviously not had time to fully craft. Her hair was a wild mess of red strands barely contained in a hopeless thick braid. It added an element of wild spirit to her otherwise coiffed display. Her shirt was similar to his, though sleeveless with no collar. Hers was darker in color as well, no panels of white. Just black punctuated by blazing scarlet that glittered like her eyes, and probably his too in the moment. She wore leather pants just as he did, again hers were black, and they held a little more tightly to her figure than his did. Her boots came up to her thighs, folding over where they rested so high on her legs. His cuffed below his knees. In bright, vivid color her tattoos revealed themselves above the short glove on her right hand. Her left arm was covered from fingertips to bicep by another glove. It was a suitable outfit, though he wished she'd take that damn long glove off. What was the point of wearing a sleeveless shirt only to cover all the skin it exposed?
Her accessories made his fingers tighten with the urge to remove them from her person. Just the sight of them irritated him in a way he hadn't fully expected.
Amon stilled as he brushed his fingertips over the collar circling her throat. Two inches tall, silver so finely polished he could see himself in the gleaming surface. There was nothing to interrupt the metal band before it clasped against her nape. At the base of the collar were six strands of wheat-link style chains that ran from the silver on either side of her neck down to matching armlets that encased the meat of her arm just above her bicep. Similar bands trapped her wrists, though no chains bound those together. She'd heavily abused his approval for the accessory by making it infinitely worse.
She lifted her chin ever so slightly in defiance of what she knew he was thinking. It carved his mouth into a particularly harsh line whenever he was determining when to forbid her from something. It was not a subtle expression, but it was fleeting.
"I need to speak with you privately before the first meeting of the day. It is important, do not evade me." He demanded moving to stare into her eyes.
"As you command." She answered with a nod. "I've re-situated my schedule so that I will be able to accompany you as you requested. I've shifted some of my duties back a few hours, so once your meetings are over I will need to tend to these other matters."
She rose and the sound of the chains colliding with one another made his teeth grind which she noticed. She stepped away from him to gesture to the other staff to begin serving their guests. Amon lingered to the side, close enough to beckon if the king needed her but far enough away to provide some necessary space between them. Their brief conversation had already caught the attention of a few of their visitors.
She kept her smile hidden behind a neutral mask, her eyes scanning the table repeatedly taking note of all the faces she only knew from pictures in her research, and of all the faces she knew from personal experience. Her scars itched as though were fresh while she glanced over this den of beasts, each one regarding her as if she were lower than their cowardice. She hadn't told her king, because she knew he'd ask for too much, but the collar had a secondary purpose.
It prevented anyone from realizing hers was gone.
Some of these fools had seen her at her worst, in her weakest hours, and they knew her as that cultivated shell of herself that Greyfield had so carefully built for their viewing pleasure. It was likely some of them didn't even recognize her. Being at the king's side had nearly completely transformed her, resurrecting her from her broken spirit. She saw it in a few of their eyes though, that spark of recognition followed quickly by confusion.
Would she tell?
Did the king know?
Were they here as allies or as examples?
She was the only one who held those answers and she would never offer them. She wanted to watch everyone squirm as they'd watched her do so many terrible times.
Would she tell the king? Probably not. His temper was hard to control and he had a soft spot for her. He'd only get himself into trouble. Even aside from that, these guests were invited because they did all hold some potential benefit for Alaric. It wouldn't do to completely alienate them from the start.
No harm in toying with them though.
"Delicious breakfast." The sentiment turned her head toward the source, brows coming down as Kuwabara regarded her with a smile. "Thanks for making sure I don't die while I'm here."
"You don't need to thank me for doing my job, Mr. Kuwabara. I want for all of the king's friends to be comfortable and welcome. How are you finding your stay so far? Is there anything I can do to improve upon it?" She offered him a measured smile.
"There is one thing." He winced, rubbing his neck. "Can I take a look at the food that's for me?"
Her back straightened, her smile fizzling out. "Why, was there something wrong with your meal? Did it make you feel ill?"
If these riotous idiots tried to poison one more damn being she was going to lose her mind. She'd dealt with this enough from the last cooks. Her flare in temper must have shone because he held up his hands as if to ward her off.
"No, no. Nothing like that. It's just that, foie gras isn't really my thing. Neither is escargot, actually." His blush tinted his cheeks completely. "I promise I'm not trying to be a picky eater or anything-"
"You do not have to shrink yourself or your demands for me. My job here is to serve, Mr. Kuwabara. If your food isn't to your taste it my responsibility to fix it." She assured him calmly. "I admit, this is entirely my fault. I have very little idea what to feed a human, especially one of your size. I beg you to forgive my ignorance. The foods we had imported were supposed to be the most decadent and royal available from different regions of Human Realm. It seems I made some poor choices."
"They are actually really fancy foods!" He quickly assured her, rushing to speak. "I just don't actually like them. I was wondering if I could just see what you have in store for me. Maybe I can cook my own meals."
She stared at him, mouth falling open in a moment of sheer disbelief and horror. Then she swallowed and righted herself as fast as she could. Carefully, she tried to dissuade him. "Mr. Kuwabara I cannot, in good conscience, allow a guest of the king to cook his own meals. While you are here you are supposed to be treated with the same utmost respect as any other member of royalty."
"Well, if I'm royalty, doesn't that mean you sort of have to let me do what I want?" He raised his eyebrows pointedly.
She opened her mouth again, then glanced to the side where she caught the sound of the king chuckling as he watched her flounder. His expression told her that he felt she had this nightmare coming.
"I will have Benji show you to the kitchen where you will be free to examine our stock and the menus I have prepared. If you feel that your future meals are not going to satisfy you, you'll be welcome to dictate new recipes to the staff." Her urgent promise made him study her.
"I feel weird about making someone else do the work of cooking a new meal just because I complained." He told her sheepishly.
"And yet here we are discussing a new menu." She pointed out. Another snicker made her realize that the king's other friends were nearby listening as well. She kept her voice as level and professional as possible. The king laughed again, though he covered his mouth with his hand to prevent anyone from seeing him fighting the emotion gripping him.
"No, I mean, I feel bad making someone else cook them. I can-"
"Rest assured, Mr. Kuwabara, my staff is highly trained and they are incredibly capable. It would insult them if you were to push them out of the way. They are eager to sharpen their skills in human cuisine." Amon persisted. "They can do whatever you instruct them to do."
"I feel like you're really set on not letting me cook." He finally tipped his head to the side. "Everyone is so busy. I'm pretty sure it'd be more helpful for me to just do it myself rather than teach someone how to do something I already know how to do."
Closing her eyes for a brief pause so she could adequately gather her wit she focused herself. When she once again opened her eyes, it was with a firm resolution. "Mr. Kuwabara, you must understand that you being here is part of a much larger event. We are hosting several dignitaries from several regions. Imagine, if you would, that this castle is a symphony. Every member of staff a musician, every detail an instrument, all designed and trained to work cohesively together to produce something larger than all the parts. This requires cohesion."
"Okay." He furrowed his brow.
"You are the audience to this symphony. Your responsibility is to enjoy, to consume it. I would not ask you to climb on the stage and begin singing without any training, nor would I ask you to rewrite the music when we hit a sour note. You may identify the mistake, and then we will adapt to it." She smiled at him. "None of this hard work is worth anything if you do not enjoy it."
"I understand that." He nodded his head slowly. "Just get me a hot plate and I'll make ramen in my room. It'll make everything easier on everyone, probably."
"What is a hot plate?" She asked him, incredulous.
Yusuke couldn't contain himself any further and burst out laughing. He walked over and clapped a hand on the back of Amon's neck, tugging her closer to him with all the familiarity of someone who had known her for years. The sudden firmness of his grip on her made her stiffen, her eyes flashing wide as the air in her lungs refused to move in or out.
Suddenly she was free, it made her realize how frozen she'd so quickly become at the unwelcome contact.
"Don't do that." Hiei released Yusuke wrist as quickly as he'd grabbed it. His humor had faded significantly in his quick trip from his seat to their congregation. Ruby eyes assessed Amon as she tried to hide the fact she'd been so effected. "Amon, don't let them bully you. Their opinions aren't worth any more than anyone else's."
"I lost my train of thought." She muttered, gathering herself. Shaking off the static that had begun to swim in her limbs. "I'm so sorry, I forgot what I was trying to say."
"Are you okay?" Yusuke reached for her again, only to have his hand pointedly lowered by Hiei once more.
"She doesn't know you. Don't touch her." Hiei informed him quietly. "Don't make a scene about it."
"Sorry." Yusuke made a face. "I didn't realize you were the don't touch me sort of person."
"I remember my question. What is a hot plate?" Amon ignored Yusuke's apology and Hiei's interruption to focus on Kuwabara once more.
"It's like a tiny little single eye of a stove that you can keep in an apartment." He explained, trying to demonstrate the dimensions with his hands. "It would mean I could cook in my room."
"We don't have anything like that." She informed him with a head shake.
"Just let him starve." Hiei suggested with a smirk. "It's not like he needs any extra weight."
"You want to fight?" Kuwabara's quick retaliation earned a sigh from Kurama, who joined them quietly. Hiei tossed out another barb that was answered with a brandished fist.
Amon watched as the other guests meandered out of the hall once their meals were finished. She was thankful, because she was already growing tired. One night of rest was not enough to make up for the sleepless weeks that lurked about her, ready to strike her body and mind at the first sign of weakness on her part. She needed to stay sharp and keep moving. That meant ending this inane conversation as quickly as she could and moving on to her next task.
"Sire, stop being rude to your guests please. It's unbecoming of a monarch to act like a child." Her tone strained as it struggled to remain controlled. He shot her a look. "Mr. Kuwabara, keep that symphony image in your mind please and respect the staff enough to trust them to do their jobs for which they've been thoroughly trained."
"They're more your guests than mine." Hiei pointed out to her with a huff. "I didn't invite them."
"Then be kinder to my guests." She told him dully, a headache threatening to bloom behind her eyes and in her temples.
He seemed to think about it for a moment before shaking his head and baring his teeth in a grin. "No."
"I-" Kuwabara went to argue again and this time Amon held up her right hand to cut him off.
Her tone changed, growing firm as though she were putting her foot down with a child. Her eyes pinched a bit at the corners, but she did not let her actual agitation show.
"No." She told him. "I have orchestrated a very intense and tight schedule on which the entire staff must act if things are to continue flowing smoothly through this event, which I have taken months of my life creating. I am not having that timing altered because you cannot seem to allow my staff to do their jobs. Check the stock, situate the ingredients, give the recipe to the cooks and remove yourself from the kitchen as a personal favor to me lest I go mad upon hearing that your chivalry has caused a backup in meal preparations that ruins my painstakingly arranged time line."
Kuwabara pulled back slightly, eyebrows high on his forehead. Even Yusuke and Kurama leaned back, shooting her looks then glancing to Hiei who looked rightly delighted.
"I understand." Kuwabara nodded to show his agreement. "I won't get in the way."
"For my sake, I hope not." She smiled at him but it was definitely hollow. She glanced at the clock on the wall and then turned to Hiei. "Sire, you wanted to speak with me privately before your first meeting. We should go."
"Meet me in my office. I'll be there shortly." He nodded and she walked away. He waited until she left before turning to the three men who had traveled so far to see him. "Amon's history has not been kind to her. She has certain moments of sensitivity that I need you all to respect."
"She's been abused right?" Yusuke guessed immediately.
Hiei inhaled roughly not wanting to verbalize his affirmation. "It has taken her some time to get where she is, comfort-wise. Don't set her back."
"Yeah. I get it." Yusuke nodded, thumbing toward Kurama. "This guy caught on pretty quick after her reaction to your tantrum yesterday. I guess there are some rumors about her being a slave floating around."
"Well she's not. We don't have slaves in Alaric." Hiei dared any of them to argue with him, eyes narrowed dangerously.
"We will be careful to not put her in any situation where she may be uncomfortable." Kurama promised softly.
"Good. And stop arguing with her. I'll be the one who deals with the fallout if you idiots push her too far." Hiei crossed his arms over his chest. Grumbling he rolled his eyes. "This entire week is already going to be a farce with me playing center stage. I have enough to deal with."
"Isn't this whole party in your honor?" Yusuke deadpanned.
"Partially. It's to memorialize Mukuro." Hiei explained. "Amon's idea. I don't know why, so don't bother asking."
"Right." Kuwabara drawled then looked at the other two. "Well, I guess we better get out of your way sire before you miss your appointment."
"While you're at it, how about you just stay out of my way." Hiei quipped, already beginning to march from the room. Benji stood at the door with a look of expectation, his eyes bright. He was once again dressed up and Hiei knew it was Amon's doing because the child was just not that adept yet. "Did Amon speak to you?"
"Yes." Benji nodded. "I have my orders."
"Stick to them." Hiei told him, then paused so he could lower his voice so avoid being overheard. "Stay close to them if you can Benji. I want to know what they're doing here. I'll ask for a report from you later. Try not to be obvious."
He received a nervous quiver and then a sigh. "Okay, sir."
"Good boy." Hiei offered him a devious smile before directing himself toward his office to face Amon before the day's excuses for diplomacy drained him of all good humor.
Amon stood in the office, head bowed over a folder she cradled in her hand when Hiei entered. He took a moment to once again observe her ensemble, head to toe, now that his staring wouldn't be commented on ruthlessly by anyone but the woman herself. He actually found the cut of her top flattering. If the chains and cuffs were on anyone else he might have appreciated the artistry in them more, they were extremely well crafted. It definitely made a statement. She'd left the wild, fiery braid untended, apparently accepting that she didn't have time even now to try to tame the mess. He hadn't realized her hair was actually so thick. She always contained it so well in her ponytails and braids. The only time he saw it loose was generally during their sparring sessions, when it was undoubtedly matted with sweat and dirt, and even more rarely after she bathed when it was wet. More often than not though, she only let him see her at her most presentable.
What a ridiculous thing to feel privileged by, he mused to himself. Hair, untamed, of all things.
Though he shouldn't be surprised, Amon seemed to provoke this sort of response from him over the most meager of details.
"What has you so engrossed?" He strolled over to his desk as he asked the question, pulling a key he'd tethered to a leather necklace from his under his shirt. He unlocked the bottom most drawer, reaching in to retrieve the gift he'd purchased that morning.
"An overview of your schedule." She muttered back to him, distracted. "I want to be as familiar as possible with the demons you're meeting with today. It doesn't rightly matter if we gain allies, as you pointed out earlier, but it does matter that we don't unintentionally make enemies. I need to be on my best behavior, at my most knowledgeable."
"And to think, you were going to send me in there alone." He offered her a fond smile she didn't see.
"I will waste a million breathes reiterating that I think you are a capable king." She finally lifted her attention to meet his gaze. Her eyes pinched as they darted to the wooden box on the top of the desk in front of him. "What's that?"
"A gift."
Her brow furrowed. "For who?"
"Guess." He suggested, finding her confusion hilarious. For who, she asked.
"I would like to hope it's for your friends, who traveled a long way to support you." She walked closer to him, the file held closed in her hand. "But I know you're too stubborn for that. For one the guests? Do you know someone here? I hadn't realized. If you tell me who I can make sure they're taken care of as though they were you. Whoever has your attention must of great importance."
"I agree." Hiei stared at her, lips quirked into a smile. "I don't think they'll be accepting of your dedicated attention though. They're just as stubborn as I am."
"They'd have to be." She mumbled under her breath, eyes on the box. "
"Besides, if you were to treat them as you treat me, doesn't that mean you'd attend to them hand-and-foot? I don't like the idea of that." He reminded her. "You're supposed to be my personal attendant."
"I am." She shot him a look. "You wouldn't want me to extend myself to someone so esteemed?"
"What makes you think they're esteemed?"
"You bought them a present." She gestured to the box.
"Is that so strange?" Hiei raised an eyebrow.
"It is when you've never done it before." She pointed out. Then she wrinkled her nose before smoothing her extremely completely into her neutral mask, eyes closed to prevent him from seeing the truth in them. "It's alright if you don't want me to know. Your privacy isn't for me to invade."
"I have to admit, Amon, you're so intelligent that I truly enjoy reveling in your moments of sheer stupidity." Hiei snorted before pushing the box over toward her side of the desk. When she opened her eyes in anger he smirked. "It's for you."
"Me?" Her voice grew small as she moved her attention from his face to the box, reaching for it before retracting her hand. She once again looked at him, her flash of anger completely forgotten.
"Yes, Amon. You." He nodded.
"I don't think I can accept, sir-"
"Hiei." He interjected.
"-I mean, it's inappropriate. You getting me a gift? If I accept I'm abusing your generosity."
"And if you don't you're abusing my patience, of which I have a finite amount." He reminded her.
"Sir."
"Hiei." He once again corrected dully.
Finally she sighed, her posture crumbling slightly. "Hiei, I can't accept this. It would make you look weak to your men and everyone else watching. You cannot dote on me this way."
"Open the box." Hiei demanded with a smirk. "That's an order, Amon."
She continued to stare at him, then the box, then him again, concern radiating from her in palpable waves. He ran his fingers over the edge of the unpainted wood, smooth as it was.
"It's for you. I chose it myself." He allowed his eyes to leave his fingers to scan up to her face slowly. "Because I wanted you to have it. A token of my appreciation and yet something more. A symbol of my own choosing. You can keep marking yourself with collars and chains, Amon, but you'll also bare this gift for the world to see because it's the message I want every being who meets you to understand. If I am your king, then you are my servant and I would not dress you in the vestiges of bondage. I would display your station a little differently."
"So, not a gift. A badge." She finally touched the box gently.
"If that makes it more palatable, then yes." He allowed.
"Thank you." She smiled for him, cautiously. "I will wear it with honor."
"I'm sure. After your done throwing a fit about what it is." He smirked again. "Because I know you well enough to know where this conversation is going to wind up."
Her brow furrowed again, lips puckering slightly but she lifted the lid anyway. Her eyes widened as stillness racked through her form. He counted the twelve seconds it took her to continue breathing.
"No." She told him sternly. "No. We are back to this being unacceptable."
Her hand gestured to the sheathed knife awaiting her, nestled on a bed of velvet. The handle was wrapped in the same style as his sword, though he'd chosen far more delicate materials. Instead of the white leather that covered the ray skin of his hilt, he'd chosen white silk ribbon. A softer hold but not less effective. Where he had a red tie wound over his sword guard, he'd woven a similar line of red through the white silk so that it hung loose near the blade similar to how his strings were. The sheath of the weapon was black leather and he'd chosen the style because it would be the hardest for her to hide.
He didn't want the weapon to be a secret. He wanted everyone to know it was on her person. He wanted anyone who met his Amon to fear her upon sight, to understand her importance and power innately.
She examined the leather sheath with pursed lips.
"It's for your thigh." He informed her easily.
"I am quite aware, thank you." Her tone barely contained her obvious frustration. "What are you thinking? In all seriousness, even you have to know this isn't alright."
"Why?"
"I could use it against you! Servants don't get to be armed, Hiei. That's just basic, common knowledge!" Her voice rose, her hands throwing out to gesture to the wide world that encompassed them.
"Would you?" He asked her.
"Would I what?"
"Use it against me?" He wondered, purposefully removing the weapon from it's protective housing. The shining blue blade matched the absolutely lethal look in her eyes. It was a perfectly balanced, artfully made thing. Expensive, but he knew she'd take care of it. With intention he grabbed her hand and forced the handle of the blade into her grip, closing her fingers around it.
Then he moved her arm so that the tip of the knife pressed to the unprotected hollow of his throat, holding her gaze.
"Don't." She tried to pull away but he didn't allow her to. Amon let the struggle die in case the efforts accidentally injured him. Her voice grew smaller, near to begging. "Don't. Please don't do this."
"You didn't answer me." He informed her plainly, pulling her hand forward slightly so the pressure blade was uncomfortable to him, just a hair away from breaking skin. "Do you intend to kill me, Amon? Would you use this gift to you to slit my throat? If so, do it now. You'll never have such a chance."
"No." She breathed.
"No?" He repeated, unconvinced. "Is now not convenient for you? Would you sneak into my room at night and stab me?"
"This isn't funny." She hissed quietly, her arm trembling in his grasp.
"I'm not laughing." Hiei assured her.
"Let me go."
"Answer me." He demanded without anger. He already knew the answer. He wouldn't have done this otherwise. It was Amon who seemed to need the boost of faith.
"I said no." She reminded him, her eyes growing angry and dark.
He went to open his mouth for another retort but all that left his lips was a gasp, his eyes flashing wide as Amon ripped herself from his hold so easily he could only imagine he hadn't been truly holding her there at all. The blade pressed to the side of his neck, the cloth of his collar protecting his skin from the sharp edge. Amon leaned over him, her other hand bunching in the cloth of his shirt, forcing him to arch back over the desk slightly. Her anger vibrated through the air between them and Hiei swore for a moment he could taste it as his blood rushed through his veins.
"I could." She told him quietly, staring into his eyes in a way that made him wish she was closer to him than she already was.
"Whether or not you could is a far cry less important than whether or not you would." He forced the words to exit his throat, fighting the urge to dip his attention to her mouth.
This nagging attraction was getting worse by the outburst and at this point he didn't know what he could do to save himself.
He did know, though, that his ignorance was willful in this matter.
"I would never." She promised him, shifting ever so slightly to fill up more space in his view. "I would never kill you."
"I know." He assured her.
Amon hesitated to release him. He wasn't in any danger of her knife, but he didn't know that. She'd taken great care with his wardrobe, choosing only the most luxurious and defensive of fabrics. Only the best for her king. The material was impossible to pierce. He didn't realize it, but he was in a walking suit of armor by her design and specification. As if she would take any chance with the rats from the other kingdoms scurrying about.
As if she trusted his life in anyone's hands but her own.
Still frustrated, she retracted.
Hiei took the moment to recover before straightening. "Now that we have that settled, you'll wear the knife."
"I won't." She shook her head. "It's not appropriate."
"You will." He told her, smoothing out the wrinkles she'd created in his shirt. "Because I'm ordering you to. And also because I want to see how it looks on you. Like you said, it's a badge."
"Why?" The strangled question fought to be heard around her frustration.
"Because I want them to quake in fear when they see you coming." He blinked a few times as though she should have known this. "You're my servant, Amon. And my servant wouldn't be a defenseless dog getting the shit beat out of her. You're a fighter, I know that. I want them to know it too."
"Yours." She repeated the word as though she'd never heard it before and lacked understanding of it's meaning.
"Yes." He reiterated, locking eyes with her not sure what to do about the urge he had to lock the door. He was saved from himself by a forceful knocking and a call that someone was waiting for him. It allowed him to redirect his focus. "Put on your badge, Amon. It's time to pretend to care about this political circus you've organized."
Their walk through the halls together was exactly how he'd hoped it would be. All eyes traveled from Amon's thigh to her face, eyes full of confusion and curiosity at the sight to the knife she'd strapped on. She carried herself with extra effort, he noticed, but that was fine. Takeo offered them a particularly irate glare and Hiei pretended not to notice. He'd need to ask Amon about her relationship with the general at some point.
The meetings and greeting were as tedious as he'd imagined they'd be and he was glad she was there because it was her soft hums that corrected his behavior when he started to get too annoyed or bored. And it was her gentle prodding that pushed people from the room when it was time to be done. She prepped him for each new idiot just before they walked through the door and he wondered how she'd planned to have him do this alone when it was so glaringly clear that he needed her there. Between meetings she flitted into the hall and he heard her giving orders or approving changes, offering advice and suggestions.
Finally, they seemed to scrape the bottom of the barrel. There was a quiet reprieve were no one knocked on the door and no one barged in without waiting to be announced. Amon didn't seem in a hurry to hand him any needed information so he suspected he was finally free of his duties.
"You have one more meeting, but it's in town. I'll take you." Amon checked something off in her file of paperwork that she'd been clinging too all day.
He stewed in annoyance at the news.
Hiei grumbled as he rose from his seat and followed her out the castle doors and into the heart of the city. He looked around the rows upon rows of gold light bathed vendors and stalls. All put together for Mukuro, to remember her, to celebrate her. The center of Alaric felt warm and alive, a beating heart. His attention drifted to the woman responsible, absorbing the details of the way the light turned her hair to fire and bathed her skin in healthy warmth. She needed to get outside more, he decided. This reminded him of the way she'd looked as they returned from their visit West.
"I'm not going to pretend to know what happened." Amon told him, her eyes wandering the crowds as they walked. Hiei glanced at her, intrigued by the jarring choice of topic. In that careful, caringly hushed tone she continued, "I wasn't there. I can't absolve your guilt. For all I know you could have saved her, maybe you were supposed to, maybe you weren't even close to being there. What I do know is how it feels to be responsible for a death you could have, should have, prevented. It's excruciating. An agony few others could fathom, and it sticks to your ribs and it burrows in your bones and it eats you from the inside."
Hiei studied her. Her eyes were cool, distant, but he saw the way they pinched at the corners, he noticed the slight waver to her voice that might've been overlooked. Who had she lost, he wondered, that it haunted her so deeply? What a terrible horror they shared.
"You have to let it go." She turned her face to him. "Or at least, you have to start."
"How am I supposed to let it go, Amon? She died. Mukuro should be here ruling this damn territory and she's gone." Hiei felt that ice clawing back up from the pit of his stomach just saying the words out loud made it all feel so fresh. "I can't forget that."
"Don't forget. Never forget her." Amon shook her head. With two fingers she pointed at the center of her chest then at her temple. "Hold onto her forever, and listen to her when she speaks to you. But you still have to let go, not of her, but of that awful pain you carry. You cannot heal if you won't treat your wounds. Of all the demons in the world you should understand that."
He didn't understand though. She was being contradictory again, speaking in roundabout riddles. He stared at her trying to decipher the meaning in her words.
"This grief of yours is another dark beast you must call on and devour. It'll always be with you, somewhere, but you cannot let it be the thing that controls you. You have to let go of your anger toward yourself. You have to swallow it and turn it into something powerful. Make it push you forward, don't allow it to hold you down." Her words held a distant reverie to them and once again she turned her attention to the lines of demons around them. Her chest rose and fell as she looked at something that wasn't there. "No, it'll never go away completely though, will it? The guilt. But still, I think you need to just not let it be the first thing you feel in the morning."
Hiei wondered what she had lost to carve that expression into her face. Just as he was about to ask, he felt the gentle, warm sensation of fingers wrapping around his wrist. He glanced down at the way Amon held onto him so softly, her touch just barely there. Then he felt a thick scrap of paper press into his palm. Her hand slipped away once he gripped the note.
"Go there and have a drink with your friends. Take control of your inner demons." She offered him the smallest, saddest smile he'd ever seen.
"You're not coming?" He asked her, not sure why that bothered him so much.
"You need them." She put a hand on his back and pushed him into the crowd gently. When he turned to grab for her, she was already gone, swallowed by the demons surrounding them.
Hiei waited for a few minutes in that spot for her to reappear before reading the address she'd passed to him. With limited resolve he start walking.
The castle walls deflected the bright lights and the happy noise of the festival in full swing. Amon drifted through the halls alone, glad for the stone barriers protecting her from warmth she'd been suffocating under outside. This was too familiar, too homelike. Her heart broke in her chest under the glow of the gilded lantern light. She'd been able to look at the king, his visage too radiant for her to stand.
Her room was quiet, cool and dark, the perfect place for her.
Her feet carried her to her bed, the edge of which became her perch.
Festivals and braids and warm food and dancing, these were things that used to make her glow just like her king. They were things she'd looked forward to as a child. For the warmth of this event to strangle her instead of lift her up must just be further proof that her pain was a worthy punishment.
Her eyes assessed her hands bathed in shadows. There was no beautiful light down here, no happy chittering of hundreds of excited voices, no tidal wave of happiness. Just the pain. If all her mistakes had led her here to save someone else from the agony she'd allowed to consume her, then maybe it would balance out her soul a little. Perhaps some, never all, of the blood on her hands could be washed away if she was able to push the king out of his own darkness and back into the light. She'd have to be in the dark behind him to do so, but that's where she lived anyway. There was no reason to pull him further into it with her.
All she could hope was that his friends were honest, loving people. The forgiving type. The accepting type. Everything someone in the king's situation would need if he was ever going to learn to forgive himself. She could not absolve the king of his guilt, but maybe they could.
Oh gods, let them be able.
