Whew. This chapter has been extensively reworked so I didn't include the preview text (from last chapter) in here. Still on the same topic, though. Final version uploaded.
"How possible is democracy when one man can incinerate villages with his mind?"
-Uzumi Nara Attha, private letter to Patrick Zala
Her great-aunt had died senile, limp, and sodden, like an old rag too stained to clean. She had been ninety-seven: eons in Cagalli terms.
Well, at least this Sun Princess' death would be exciting. She wished, though, it weren't so imminent. Or so obviously painful.
A blade crashed through the carriage's side, huge and silver, sending a spray of wood chips her way. She stifled a scream and pushed herself back, away from the spearhead which worried around the chamber like a hound sniffing for prey. Gritting her teeth and giving the door one final thump, she kicked down hard on the flat of the blade, jarring it from its search.
Promptly it slithered out, to come bursting back in and land juddering inches from her head. She stared at it wide-eyed for a second, then turned and peered through the hole it had created. Pale blue eyes greeted her, narrowed in malice. The man drew a second, shorter sword from his belt, made to throw it at her – and was abruptly whisked away. There was a sound like steel being dragged across an anvil and then several screams.
She loosed a sigh, settled down. It had taken them long enough – the entire train had been slaughtered! Cagalli hadn't cared much for her handmaidens but she had never wished for them to die.
Well, alright, once or twice. But those had never been serious. And the shrieks as they had fallen had been deadly serious.
Bolts thudded against the side of the carriage and she started, jumping to her feet. Western cavalry never used crossbows; they were a signature of the Elite Guard. She hadn't realized that the dread company had situated a base so close…
It was probably one of the training camps they thought she didn't know about. But the only forces stationed at the far Western border belonged to-
Athrun Zala. She slumped against the wall. What great Zala propaganda this would make: the bold and daring heir swooping in to catch her after she had tripped on her own feet! Vaguely she wondered whether Durandal could have orchestrated the whole attack.
An arrow trembled to a stop right next to her hand. Her eyes ran over its black-flecked feathers before she realized what it was, scrambled away as if bitten. Damn. Had Durandal's drug slowed her reflexes, too?
Splotches of red were marking the floor. There was no one in the carriage but her. She glanced wonderingly at her hand, saw that it had actually been nicked by the arrow, remembered her first lessons on warfare (before Zala had cancelled them).
The raiding parties of both sides poisoned their arrows, so that even a scratch was lethal.
The world swam around, grew slow and gray as if she were underwater under a white sun. She tried to move: couldn't. The tips of her fingers were numb and cold and she felt a strange, acid chill spread inwards from them, burrowing inexorably to her core. Blackness closed in around the edges of her eyes. There was no way some Western peasant poison was going to conquer Cagalli…Yula Attha…
She shook her head: once, twice, willed herself to consciousness. And then the pangs started, like her intestines were contracting, and she fell, grasping for breath with bloodsoaked palms, onto the carpeted floor of the carriage, and she coughed and there was blood, and her sundress was soaked in flooding tides of crimson, spreading across her legs-
"Well. She's just a spare. But I suppose we could allow her to pass – she may be an interesting diversion, further down the line."
"Is that wise? Do I look like a man who relies on wisdom?"
A chuckle.
"Of course, a confusion of terms. I was being deliberately obtuse; I apologize. Anyway, how is the boy?"
She felt mirth, dancing on the edges of her mind, a frenzied rotted joy that spread like a cancer.
"Excellent. You have done well. And yes, I'm beginning to like the idea of the spare – you know, it will be a great boon to the royal families. They haven't had a blonde in what, seventy generations? They're so short lived when one takes one's attention off them…"
And then she felt a cruelty so sharp and bright that it eclipsed her like an exploding star and then, she knew, she was both formed and ceased to exist. It was absolutely the worst feeling she had ever experienced.
And it was getting worse.
"…I mean, isn't that hilarious? You know last time they were derided for their hair color. Now it reminds them of Sister! Patent absurdity but the irony is so amusing."
A gaze, piercing her chest: hard and cool and liquid-evil. The same voice? She couldn't remember.
"Yes. I think now is a good time."
And then he – it - left and she had had sixteen years of life whishing between like wind on blackened canvas and now this. And somehow she knew he was back, and he was laughing.
He, she realized, had always been laughing, and she had mistaken the laughter for words.
"Die," he chortled, "you're killing me."
Around them, flames rose three meters into the air, swishing her hairs, kissing her with soft stray embers. She was upright and could stand and the poison receded, faded into the background along with her heartbeat. The sickening essence was sluggish, slowing – or was she speeding up and leaving her body behind? At that point she didn't really care.
The flames were rising from houses and she could see clouds in the sky mingled with smoke from the fires and men like shadows cutting down their kin. The thunder of their hooves was devoured by the crackling of the flames. In the ghoulish light blood sprayed orange and burned, leaving flecks of iron-tang smoke hanging about her. She coughed, waved them away.
He – the Laughing Man – he was furious. But he wasn't furious about the burning or the killing – no, he had laughed at that. But
He had stopped laughing and all his power was focused like light through a lens on one – no, two – targets and despite herself her knees nearly gave out in relief that she was not one of them.
The flames blazed and danced and she walked into them, anything to escape that lens, the man-who-was-no-longer-laughing.
They didn't burn her.
In fact, she felt absolutely safe: safer than she had been in the Palace, safer even than when she had still lived at home. The flames ensconced her in a billowing curve of fire and her eyes widened, the man forgotten.
What they had said about her was true. It wasn't Attha propaganda or Zala lies. The flame was with her and in her and when she moved her arms it fled as if chastised. And then she made as if to embrace the fire and as she touched its heart she was filled with fury that burned like a pyre.
She smiled.
And then she woke up to the tune of poison screaming as it was burned out of her bloodstream, and when she touched the wound on her hand it smoked as if cauterized but there was no pain. She had cleared her head of the poison and had gone to her natural reaction – anger.
"Okay," she breathed, gut filling with a rare hope, "if this doesn't work I'm going to feel very stupid for the next few days."
For some reason she had to strain to say it, and when she did it felt like it had been bellowed out like the screams that Theatre actors made when they played Oiden the Thunder-god. But the word was soft, clipped, composed.
"Amaterasu."
The carriage exploded. A phoenix's cry burned across the sky.
---
Bad enough that the graduates had to raze Amon Fields a day before; now, on their time of celebration, they're called to this
Athrun was, uncharacteristically, furious. If the useless, arrogant, and caustic Sun Princess had the incompetence to let herself be captured by raiders, he didn't think she deserved a rescue. But then Zala training kicked in and he crushed the thought.
We must protect everyone, even those not worth protecting. It's what gives them hope in our system.
Father had said that, and while Athrun didn't think he had been serious, the teenager still took the words to heart. When he was Emperor they would be words to live by. Now, they were words to act by.
He sighed. "Gather the troops."
The messenger dropped smoothly to a knee, nodded. "Yes, milord."
He turned to look at the wall scroll and his scabbard slapped against his side. On the scroll: mountains rising from a void of white, men struggling up the scraggled cliffs, distance anchored by lonesome trees in speckled bloom. To Athrun the mountains had never been of stone. They were too pale.
He felt, when he contemplated that painting, Heaven's weight upon his shoulders, and the shifting of ancestors' bones below.
There was a rustling of beads and the messenger returned from the veil-door. "They are ready, milord."
The Guard was punctual as always. He turned, placed the deadly emerald blade carefully into its sheath. "Tell them to meet me at the stables. Full barding on the horses."
Again, a liquid bow. "Yes, milord."
He heaved a sigh, let go of the fury. A soldier might be able to afford himself anger but a commander was clear-headed or a failure.
Dusty sunlight shafted into the stable between ancient wooden supports. The horses neighed to one another, glancing past the blinders, stomping idly. Their pens reeked with the filth of excrement and Athrun scowled – where were the cleaners? Sahaku chargers were huge beasts, seven feet tall at the shoulder with tremendous endurance and power. Unfortunately, they also produced tremendous amounts of waste.
The rest of the guard tromped in, tired but smug, testing their new swords for weight and heft. He indulged them for a moment, then motioned to the horses. Silently, they complied, saddling their mounts before the wooden gates had had time to creak open. He swung up on his own charger, turned to them.
"You know what's happened. We don't have time to waste. If the Sun Princess is captured then border morale will fall unacceptably low."
They regarded him carefully before affixing their facemasks. Ghoulish smiles greeted him and he hya'd the stallion into movement. "Go!"
And, in a pitch ocean of limbs, they thundered off across the green. Athrun blinked the wind out of his eyes and took his horse to a gallop, eyes picking out trails of smoke to the east. Below him, the charger's muscles rippled like the tide, steady and powerful. The li were eaten away under their cascading hooves and just before they reached the site Athrun stopped, faced the Company.
"Crossbows out," he commanded, drawing his sword. "Pick off any presenting themselves as targets and make sure to get shots at their horses before you engage."
They nodded, hand crossbows clicking into place, and around them the wind stirred and blew their horses' manes like anemone tendrils into their faces.
"These aren't peasants," Athrun added grimly. "Zala."
"Zala!" The chorus was accompanied by the cocking of bolts.
Outriders seemed to spot them, and Athrun cursed as the raiders broke off their attack, spinning around to face this new threat. They weren't novice enough to turn their backs to an enemy, so the guards accompanying Cagalli's caravan had already been slaughtered. More sacrifices for the Sun Princess. I suppose it's too much to hope she won't be ungrateful.
The white-clad raiding party stared for a long moment at the black-on-black Elite Guard before retrieving longbows from behind their saddles. Armored biceps strained as the armored knights reared back, huge black-speckled arrows on bowstrings.
Athrun's eyes widened.
"Charge!" He screamed, bringing his sword down in a chopping motion. The guard broke like a damn upon their enemies, horses snorting in fury as they bore down on waiting arrows. There was a high-pitched whistling of cut air as both sides loosed, bodkin heads sinking deep past armor into flesh. Two Guardsmen leapt off ailing horses, cutting at enemy underbellies, while the raiders crumpled like a crushed glove, four toppling boneless off their mounts.
Athrun snarled as he wheeled about and sliced through one's bowstring, blade zinging as it parted wood, gauntlet, and finger. His enemy howled and drew a shortsword, but Athrun was already past his guard and six inches of green-tinted steel erupted from the back of the white knight's armor, spilling blood in long rivulets. Turning, he based another's nose in with his shield, then pulled his sword out and impaled the rider through his gut.
The raider grunted as if he had been punched, then gagged red before he died. Around, the Elite Guard folded across the battlefield like the ends of a clamp, leaving a wake of bloodied grass and crushed horses. More bolts sang across the air, felling raiders by the score. Athrun scanned the trees, using the moment of respite to search for enemy reinforcements.
The wind was working the trees into frenzy and leaves shivered off the branch. He gnashed his teeth, unable to decide whether any enemies lurked in the growth, and turned back to battle, just in time to deflect an arrow aimed for his heart. He saw a Guardsman whirl and slash a raider off his horse, then bear down on the injured man, cleaving through his wooden shield until it splintered. Gore flew red-green across the grasses, slapping wetly against Athrun's cheek. He rubbed it off on his shoulder, sighted the carriage.
A spearman was mounted next to the cart, his haft fishing inside for a target. Athrun sank low so that he could smell the sweat on his horse's mane and rushed the man, their impact screaming of steel on steel. His opponent started, letting go of the spear, and he swung one arm around, smashing it into the raider's gut. Blood flew from the knight's mouth as Athrun rose, smoothly parting his foe's armor with the sword.
Before he could check on the Sun Princess, however, arrows bounced and scattered off his heavy armor, and he turned swiftly, searching for the snipers. A few errant shots bounced into the carriage.
One of his men gestured to the right, and Athrun nodded, sighting the archer formation. As he rode them down he inhaled heavily, the thunder of war on his ears.
And then, behind him, he heard a roar that shattered the heavens, and it was as if a massive rushing wall had folded around him and was carrying him forward, and his knees buckled as he slammed facefirst into the earth, head ringing, a dull gray pain spreading from between his eyes as redness dripped down his vision.
He was out before the flames began.
---
Kira sighed, brushed itchy strands of hair off his nose, and then he was awake and shuddering. She had, for the first time, given him something. He opened his palm to look at it, smelled the ash grimed into his knuckles.
It wasn't there.
Which meant one of two things. She was lying to him, or she didn't exist. He felt his breath freeze. And then he sat bolt upright, and saw it dangling from his neck. The starlight caught its sides so that it sparkled like a cut gem.
He wrapped his hand around it, let go a sigh.
She had let him go, and her eyes were liquid and full of stars. He dared to brush a lock off her face and she smiled sadly.
"I'm sorry, Kira."
Her voice was hiccupped and broken, and when she hitched in the middle of a sob he did too.
"I didn't know what they did until now."
The agony of her eyes had jolted him from half-death. He didn't know how much longer he could bear her tears. Tentatively he brought her to his chest, shivering as they touched.
"Lacus," he whispered, "I don't understand what's wrong."
She drew in a slow, shaking breath, then looked at him. "I did it, Kira."
Through the tears she still smiled, but it was painful, forced. "I killed your village."
He had felt a crushing disbelief, equal parts bewilderment and shock. "What? Lacus, that's not possible. Eastern raiders killed-"
Lacus was shaking her head, and she buried her face in the hollow of his neck only to pull away, as if burned. "No, Kira. My songs – that's what they do. I hadn't realized for all this time…"
This was too much. "Lacus, you're not-"
"Everyone, Kira." He could not meet her eyes; they were like spears jagged in his heart. "I killed everyone. I thought that I sang because they died, to mourn them – it's not true. They die because I sing. Everyone." She looked up to him and tears overflowed her eyes.
"What if- someday- you…" Then she clutched him, so hard it almost hurt, and he held her to him and breathed in her satin hair and wondered why he was sent these dreams.
After the blossoms had stopped falling, there was a moon in the sky – the first moon he had seen, and it was perfect, crystal-yellow, a scimitar of light. She had stopped, and though her eyes were puffy her beauty had not diminished.
"Kira," she whispered, so soft he had to bring his ear to her lips to hear, "I'll make it better for you. My Masters will be unhappy but I can weather it. And maybe after you find me we will be strong enough to be free."
"What-"
"Shh…" she had placed a finger to his lips. It was cool and soft and smooth. "You must listen. They're always watching me. This way they won't be able to hear. Please, I know this is hard but you must have faith. Do you trust me?"
He nodded, almost imperceptibly.
"Here." She pressed something into his palm – a cold circle connected to a mass of chain. "Don't look at it. Afterwards they will block you from me, so when you wake up, please remember this."
"There is someone you are supposed to meet." Her brow was furrowed, as if she were under great strain. He was about to act when she choked out a name.
"Athrun Zala. Find him. I think you were supposed to discover on your own but this way'll be faster."
"Wait. What? Why? How do you-"
She wrapped soft arms around his neck and looked at him. "Please don't forget," she breathed. He stared intently at her. Was she going to-
"Kira, I've wanted to do this for a long time."
And then their lips met and he could hear the thrumming of their heartbeat and she was clear and clean and drawing him in so he raised a hand to cup the back of her head and that silken hair
And she was gone.
He was too tired to grasp the memory any harder. His fingers toyed idly with the ring. Above, the sky was moonless, studded with stars.
I want to thank all my reviewers from previous chapters, especially Maderfole (he's an awesome writer, you should check out his fics), Minerva, lamu, and Jack. I was on vacation but now I'm back - please review to help me keep my inspiration up!
Thanks!
Rihaku