["Can you even imagine it? The soul-gnawing terror—not of death, but of irrelevance?" — Lord Elgrave of Gurwick, the night before the failed Vunt Offensive]
The wind was cold against Kiritsugu's face as he looked down over the slumbering town. It felt like days since the princess had yanked him off on their little adventure, and yet the sky was as dark as ever.
Sighing, he took another swig from the waterskin and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His throat still felt like sandpaper.
That's what you get for talking so rarely. The ghost of a smile crept over his face. She probably would have said something like, 'It serves you right, tall-dark-and-broody—'
The water turned to ash in his mouth. He spat it out on the dark stone and slumped back on the wall.
I'm so goddamn tired.
He replaced the waterskin under this thrice-patched coat. After a moment, he felt around his belt. The flashbang had appeared precisely when he'd needed it earlier that night. Were there any more?
To his mild surprise, his fingers found the familiar metal canister. He tugged it off and turned it over in his grip. Black paint drowned out the pastel green underneath, a modification he always did to reduce their visibility.
He scratched the stubble under his chin. If he searched again, would more of his standard kit conveniently appear? A quick pat down told him he was out of luck. No sign of a claymore mine, plastic explosive, or even a simple garotte wire. The goddess only handed out 'blessings' at her whim, it seemed.
I should turn in. Get some sleep while I still can.
But he lingered, gazing up at the stars emblazoned across the inky night. They were much more visible here in a world without light pollution, burning in alien constellations. He idly wondered if there was something like the north star. Something to guide wanderers home.
He sighed again. He really couldn't afford this kind of self-indulgence—
A telltale scrape of expensive women's shoes on stone caught his attention. He forced down the bristling at the back of his neck and made himself turn slowly. The queen wore the same robes in which she'd greeted them at the waygate, her hair fluttering in the wind. Perhaps he wasn't the only one who had spent the last hour lost in thought.
"Good evening, Yuusha-sama." She walked up to the edge of the ramparts, a seemingly casual but precisely calculated distance from him.
Kiritsugu nodded.
The silence held its breath for a few short moments.
"The stars are lovely tonight, aren't they?"
He grunted.
"They must feel strange to you," she said sympathetically. "I could help you learn their names, if you would like."
"Just the ones used for navigation," he said.
"Mm. Solaire would be better suited for that," the queen replied, leaning on the hewed stone before her. "She absorbed all these lessons as a young girl on Knight-Captain Roënwul's lap."
"She is not fond of me," he observed neutrally.
"But she loves our people," returned the queen. "Enough to put up with you, I'm sure."
He arched an eyebrow at the unexpected bluntness. "Sure about that?"
"She is my daughter." A small smile. "She has more patience than you might expect."
He grunted.
"Now, there is something I must ask you, Yuusha-sama." Her face was stern when she turned to him, brows heavy with her unseen crown. "Tomorrow will be your coronation."
Fuck.
"So I've been told," he shrugged, yearning for a cigarette.
"As king, I will need you to support me." She caught his gaze and held it. "Not just as the vanguard of our forces, but as my fellow leader of our nation."
"You can do that part." He shrugged again. "I'm not suited for—"
"You are not listening," she interrupted him, crossing her arms over her ample chest. "I need you. It has been two months since my husband died. During which I have been responsible for not only Crescendo, but effectively the entire Southland Alliance. It has been three months since I have slept more than a half-dream. I am at the end of my rope."
The admission of weakness surprised him.
"I need someone to help me bear the burden. Be my eyes and hands when I cannot attend to matters. I can only do so much."
"Not much I can do that won't make things worse." He stared at the twin moons touching the horizon, and held back a shiver. "I'm just here to kill the Demon Lord, not muck around in local politics."
A pause, and then a long sigh echoed in the space beside him. "Look at me, please."
Kiritsugu reluctantly did so. Golden eyes, hard as stone, held him in place.
"I cannot have you commanding me," she said in a tone that brooked no argument.
Kiritsugu looked at her flatly. "I didn't."
Her gaze seemed to search for something in his eyes. Her little huff of dissatisfaction reminded him of her daughter.
"'I want her quarters next to mine,' was it?" she said after a moment.
"I was just telling you what I needed." An almost imperceptible raise of his eyebrow. "I told you, I will kill the—"
"That is how it forms in your mouth and rings in your ears, Yuusha-sama." She gave him a strained smile. "But to anyone witnessing that interaction, you were issuing orders as a general might to his officers. Do you see the issue?"
After a moment of consideration, he did. "You need to preserve your authority."
"Yes." She looked at him for a moment longer, then pivoted back to face the stars. Her sigh drifted in the wind. "I know you don't want to be here. And you don't have to like me. But you do need to at least treat me as an equal in public." She ran a hand tiredly through her red tresses. "And 'public' is broader than you may think. The walls have ears."
Kiritsugu couldn't help but give a little nod of approval. He had been those ears on more than one occasion.
"I cannot unshackle you from your destiny," she said quietly. "But I imagine that you would prefer to fulfill it behind the curtains, yes?"
He nodded tersely.
"Then I can continue being our public image." She grabbed the stone rampart again and sighed. "But in exchange, I will need you to help where you can. Military matters, espionage, certain executive functions. The harsher brand of diplomacy." A wan smile. "I am the open hand, and you are the closed fist."
That was agreeable. It allowed him to focus on his objective. "That's fine."
A few long heartbeats passed. "Yes, I suppose it is."
"Is that all?"
"That's all the business I wanted to raise with you, yes." Her brow lifted as she let her shoulders relax. "But if you could spare a little time for pleasure…"
He sighed, readying himself for another round of batted eyelashes and insinuations he would need to reject. As if once wasn't enough tonight.
"How would you like to sample the local liquors?"
To his surprise, it wasn't quite that route. But it wasn't hard to see that it was going to head to her bedroom, and one thing would lead to another, and something he neither needed nor wanted to deal with would happen.
"I would prefer to sleep in my own bed," he replied.
A pause. He waited, then glanced at her. There was no trace of seduction in her eyes—rather, it was a momentary confusion.
"I believe there is a misunderstanding," she said smoothly. "I meant more of a tour of Sonata's drinking establishments. You should sample the culture here. I think you might come to like it."
"Get to know the people, too," he said sardonically, reminded of the princess's angry glare. Too tired to give a damn about them.
"Indeed," the queen agreed. "You should know the texture of the people you are saving."
He nearly took a step back before catching himself. Those words… he hated them.
"I'm just doing a job." Sentiment had nothing to do with it.
"Think of it as paid leave, if you prefer." The smile on her face clearly said she wasn't going to back down.
Like mother, like daughter.
He sighed. "Fine."
"Tomorrow night, after your coronation?"
"Sure."
"Thank you, Yuusha-sama." She curtsied. "I hope that you have a restful night. Please get some sleep before tomorrow morning, as you will have a very busy day."
He nodded, and she walked to the door. Her footsteps stopped on the threshold.
"I look forward to working with you," she said, and the door squeaked closed.
Exhaustion shuddered through Kiritsugu's frame, settling deep in his bones. Still, it was more than a quarter hour before he left his place on the rampart and staggered his way to bed.
I'm so fucking tired.
