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A Castle of Silence and Bones
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012.
will not halt this flood.
(love is many things and it can be hate at times)
It is a loveless marriage, Kiku knows. He knows that his emperor is still in contact with his first wife, knows that his current empress sits alone in her chambers and refuses to eat and sleep. It matters not; when the child comes, she will be made to do them all, willingly or not. Originally - their plans had been to extinguish the whole of a population, to wipe a group of people away; to clean the slate.
(But Ludwig's words repeat themselves in his mind - and it is the truth, and Kiku must submit to it - a nation cannot exist without its people.)
He's gone too far - they've gone too far, lost too much, to be able to lose at this rate, at this time and place. He needs Yao to remain alive, needs to keep the other alive because wasn't it the whole point of this war? A dead prize is a victory on the side of the Allies. And he cannot have a loss; can never have a loss.
"It's alright," he reassures himself. The generals have a plan; a good plan. A new royal family, a new emperor. He will be born and bred to succeed. And then, through it, the people of China will not need to declare independence to someone not of their blood. They will see the face of their empress - and she will be kicked and prodded until she truly smiles - and they will see themselves in the new emperor.
And through that, through that method and mindset, they will bow, they will listen, and they will - the few that understand, at least - they will be able to continue living.
(And then, by default, Yao will be able to continue living - and Kiku will win.)
Nonetheless, precautions are necessary.
Within nine months, the doctors have promised, and seven months have already flown by. Military campaigns (all with the highest percentages of success, of course), government reforms, and educational standards have all been made, remade, and then checked over once more. The nation itself must improve, must be ready to live (and fight and die) in the face of the rest of the world. The war is over, after all, and Japan - the island - owns the whole of Asia. The continent is controlled, is brought to its feet, by a floating mass that could only be called its finger.
And he thrills in this - in it.
"It's alright," he repeats to himself, even though he has yet to remember thinking - or speaking - anything at all. He's off to visit Yao once more, he has not seen the other in quite some time. The knob turns; the palace is as warm as ever, the maids as humble and subservient as before, and the drapes as heavy as past years.
Yao sits, reclines really, in one of the larger chairs, facing the windows which Kiku has finally allowed the servants to open. Kiku walks crisply into the room, wordlessly closing the door behind him. Yao is dressed in a kimono - elaborate and beautiful as all his kimonos are. There are three layers - the leaves of autumn trees - forever falling, never quite touching the ground - are framed and frozen in the threads of silk. Yao does not turn to greet him, makes no motion at all, really.
"Kiku," the other whispers, as he makes his way to the chair. Thrice-clothed arms loop their way around his neck, he feels the soft black hair, decorated this time with a matching autumn pendant, against his cheek, and closes his eyes. (This is his reason for the war.) "I saw them, I saw her," Yao says - and Kiku knows what he is talking about, without any context.
"She has a husband," Yao continues, "That child - her husband - " coherency is lacking, but it matters not. Kiku leans down, planting a slow kiss atop Yao's eyelids, runs a hand - ungloved for once - down perfectly-combed locks.
(This is his reason for the war.)
"She has a husband," Kiku repeats, thrilling in sigh Yao exhales when he twines their fingers; skin on skin. "My emperor," he murmurs into Yao's ear, ignores the other's tell-tale shudder, "is married to your empress. And their child - of two bloods - is the heir of two kingdoms." And then he laughs, abruptly, because Yao has said something in a language that is not the right one. "Two, three, four, five, what does it matter?" Another laugh, "This half of the world; its seas and riches and jewels - they are all meant for that child."
He pulls both his hands away suddenly, cupping Yao's face with both hands. He sees himself - black eyes, black hair - in the still-bright gold of Yao's eyes. Yao stares back at him, unblinking, uncaring, and he finds himself coldly infuriated.
"Will you not be happy?" he says - in a tongue that is not his own - before forcing frozen, framed leaves of autumn to fall.
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