By Narsus ([email protected])
Disclaimer: Don’t own anything etc.
Shounen-ai, introspective, maybe a little angsty.
Set some time during any of the many battles that take place between Pulsar and Lucitania.
If this gets strange my excuse is watching 48 episodes of Gundam Wing in only three days.
Narsus:
The camp is not in the slightest any quieter for the coming of evening. Soldiers rush about, engineers fuss with catapults, Generals check their troops… or at least one General is inspecting his troops, which is part of the reason that I am strolling about rather than retreating to my tent. With the final, last minute preparations for battle going on I’m not really needed, battle strategy delivered the strategist is somewhat redundant. That’s always been something to amuse me. Earlier in the day my words were attended to avidly by all and now, now I’m just told to sit back and keep myself out of the way while the armies get on with it.
The guards on watch give me strange looks as I pass, as I recall I’ve done two complete circuits of the camp already. I suppose I should retire but… I turn in the direction of the Prince’s tent instead for surely Daryoon will be found there. Always at the Prince’s side, his ever faithful protector. Am I jealous? I wonder, perhaps I am, a little. But Daryoon has his duty to the Prince, more than that, the last charge of his uncle to protect Pulsar’s hope and even more, even if it was not duty I think Daryoon would still remain. Honour and a sense of justice demands so. Still, perhaps I am a little jealous. No one has ever tried to protect me. Not that I need protecting. I stop, considering this train of though. I do not need protecting and I would most probably be offended if someone tried… still, it would be nice if someone offered, well, not just anyone…
There are lamps lit inside the Prince’s tent and sure enough I can pick out two familiar silhouettes. The Prince and his General. It would make a wonderful romantic ballad I have to admit… if the ending didn’t turn into a farce with the Prince’s advisor slapping the General silly for his behaviour! I laugh softly at that.
“Narsus!” that unmistakable, too loud voice.
“Lord Narsus!”
“Alfreedo, Elam. What is it?”
They both seem at a loss for words.
“Master, shouldn’t you retire for the evening?”
Not now Elam, I’m busy stalking Daryoon… again.
“In a little while, Elam.”
Elam accepts this calmly while Alfreedo suddenly latches onto my arm.
“We could go for a walk since it’s so nice out.” She simpers.
I raise an eyebrow at that, Alfreedo has never simpered before and it’s very disturbing.
“A walk…” I reply carefully.
“Yeah, just the two of us.” She said poignantly, glaring at Elam.
“Master! Surely you don’t want to spend time with that… that skunk!”
“Hey! I’m Narsus’ future wife! You little…”
Not if I kill myself first, Alfreedo.
“Alfreedo, there’s no need to shout.”
“Oh. Of course not, just tell him to leave us alone though.”
Elam looks at me, suddenly silent.
“I’ll go prepare you tent then master?”
No! Elam don’t you dare leave me with her!
“I am feeling a little tired now. Perhaps I should rest.” I say extricating myself from Alfreedo and turning to leave with Elam.
A safe distance away from where Alfreedo is no doubt still standing open-mouthed, Elam starts to giggle.
“Elam?”
“It’s just…the look on your face master, when she wanted me to leave!”
“I can imagine.”
Elam giggles the rest of the way back to the tent.
Now in the darkness of my tent I still can’t rest. I lie on my back going over my latest strategy, the strengths and weaknesses of the army, the myriad of possible variations for tomorrow’s battle. If the Lucitanians have more archers that we’ve anticipated we’ll loose more cavalry in a frontal charge to break their lines, if they’ve reinforced the cavalry flanks we’ll need to move the spear-men to protect our archery lines, if… if they send in a couple of ninjas it might all be over tonight. I rub my hand across my eyes, there is only so much that can be anticipated, only so much that can be planed for and yet, my plans must be flawless, utterly perfect or people will die. It’s a terrible imbalance, I lay my plans, set my traps and just sit back and watch events unfold. If my plans fail I will not be the one who pays for that failure with my blood. The Prince would not punish me regardless of the disaster, though his father would. I can smile at the memories now of how many times when I watched the battle unfold with an executioner stood at my side, ready to carry out the King’s will. It was always the same man stood there with his sword drawn, ready to spill my blood. As I recall he was a rather cheerful sort, always smiling while he sharpened his sword, “Just in case.” He’d always say and wink at me. Strange, I didn’t think an executioner should be so cheerful about his job…
The sound of the tent flap being drawn back surprises me, I must have fallen asleep. I keep my eyes closed and stealthy reach for my sword.
“Master?”
I sit up, blinking at the torchlight that now filters into the tent.
“What is it, Elam?”
“I…I can’t sleep.” His voice wavers, reminding me that despite everything Elam is still a child.
“Come here.” I say, letting him slip under the blankets next to me. He’s shivering as he settles against me. I stroke his hair, trying to sooth him. It’s strange really, the distress I feel at Elam’s unease, yet, I will never father a child so perhaps this is the closest that I’ll ever get to paternal instincts.
“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” I ask softly.
“I was just thinking about tomorrow.” Elam sniffs, as if he’s been crying.
“The battle?”
He nods against my shoulder.
“It’s necessary. We have to fight the Lucitanians.”
“I know master but sometimes…” Elam sniffles again.
“Sometimes it seems wrong to let so many people die?”
“Yes.”
“It is wrong.”
“But then…”
“It’s the best we can do, Elam. Call it the lesser of two evils but we still have to fight.”
I think I’m rambling slightly but Elam seems calmed by my words. He sits up, rubbing his nose slightly.
“When I grow up I want to be a soldier, like Daryoon, so I can protect the people I care about.”
I can’t help smiling at that.
“So when you’re old and grey I’ll be able to protect you too, master!”
“Grey! Who says I’m going to go grey?! My hair is mud-coloured and mud-coloured it’s going to stay right until they put me in my coffin!”
“But everyone goes grey eventually.”
“Not me! When my hair starts loosing its natural colour I’m going to dye it!”
Elam almost falls over laughing and I have to smile at my own vanity. Not that I’m in any way joking about it though. When my hair does start to go grey I will most certainly dye it.
“I think I’ll be able to sleep now, master.” Elam says with a smile and exits my tent.
I lie back again, closing my eyes. I can’t help wondering what I’ll look like if I live till old age. I’m not sure that grey hair would be too flattering on me but Daryoon… well, if he ends up looking anything like his uncle he’ll still be the best looking soldier in all of Pulsar.
I wake to the sounds of shouting, the ring of steel against steel, horns blaring. The last preparations before battle have begun. I dress quickly heading out of my tent to find the Prince, or so I tell myself. There are final adjustments to be made to my plans, spies have arrived in the early hours to report that the Lucitanians have deployed a small ground of archers that have already started to march to gain the higher ground along the valley. The Prince looks panicked at the implication.
“Narsus, if they are already…” he begins.
“How many archers?” Daryoon, surprisingly cuts Arslan off.
“The spies reported only two dozen hidden. They’d be easy enough to catch off guard from behind.” I reply, catching the look in his eyes… and he does look incredibly handsome this morning.
Arslan looks hopefully up at Daryoon.
“We’d need to deploy…” Daryoon looks at me.
“I’ll take a dozen horsemen with me. It shouldn’t take long to be rid of them.”
“But Narsus, you can’t… The risk is too great!” Our gentle Prince speaks up.
“It’ll be butchers work, your Highness. They’ll never even realise until it’s too late.” At least I certainly hope it will be, otherwise… The implication of what even a small number of hidden archers could do from behind our lines doesn’t bear thinking about.
I glance at the soldiers behind me their faces are set in grim expressions. Whether this turns out to be easy slaughter or not it will be unpleasant. Some part of me almost hopes that they’ll notice us in time and turn and fight, at least that way I can tell myself that they had a chance, that we didn’t just cut them down where they stood. But once again the more pragmatic part of my soul takes over, we have to kill them all, honour aside, it will be more efficient if it is slaughter. I mount and suddenly notice Daryoon striding towards me. I lean over the pommel of my saddle to look at him. His expression betrays nothing, then I’m gifted with a dry smile.
“This is usually the other way round.” He says. It’s true, normally it is him astride his horse looking down at me while I stand there trying to find something to say, to express how I feel, just in case… in case this time he doesn’t come back.
“I love you. Make sure you come back.” He says, always succinct, my lord Daryoon.
“I’ll try.” I say and wink at him before I ride off.
I’m glad that we’ve spoken before the battle, at least this way, if tomorrow never comes for either of us… but there is no more time for though as we reach the back lines of the hidden Lucitanian archers. Theoretically it was a good plan for them to sneak behind the enemy ranks, theoretically…
They never realised the danger until we were on them and then it was merely slaughter. Hacking them down on either side of me I feel neither remorse nor elation. This is just another part of the dreadful sorrow of war that doesn’t touch me, I can’t let it or I will become useless to the Prince. A strategist who regrets the deaths he causes is not reliable.
The ride back to camp is uneventful, save for the understanding looks of soldiers and the appalled face of the Prince as I dismount. I am covered in blood, I know, it is soaked through silk and most likely also matted in my hair, I wonder why I wear white at all, it hardly seems appropriate. The Prince seems lost for words as I approach.
“Highness, the enemy has been dealt with.”
“The enemy… Those men, they didn’t even get a chance to fight back did they?” Arslan’s voice is an accusation.
“A truly effective plan, Lord Narsus.” One of the generals speaks up. There are nods and murmurs of assent.
Arslan is looking at me again, his eyes almost imploring me to show some remorse. I meet his gaze steadily.
“This is war, Highness. This is the way it must be.”
This is the way that I must be. If I even begin to let myself grieve from all the deaths I have caused my tears would never cease. I would become a liability, my plans would become flawed…
“Narsus…” Arslan is almost in tears.
It’s good that you can grieve for them, Highness, that you still have a conscience because I don’t think I have.
“Highness, you should rest now.” Daryoon voice cuts through the Prince’s unshed tears and my own self-pity.
I watch the Prince retreat to his tent looking sorrowful and a little confused. Daryoon follows. I wonder if even Daryoon will be able to explain what has just passed as I walk away.
Once more inside my tent, having washed away the stains of the battle I lie still, eyes closed listening to the hum of noise from the rest of the camp. It must be almost nightfall now. I do not feel like joining in with the celebrations though, I have done nothing courageous today and yet I can not grieve over my actions. I did what was necessary. Daryoon understands that, he understands why I can not grieve. Daryoon… It seems that even an executioner may have something to be cheerful about.
The tent flap lifts quietly…. What is it with nocturnal visitors to my tent? There is the sound of buckles being undone and armour falling to the ground. I open my eyes slightly watching the growing pile of black armour beside me. This is one of the various indicators of Daryoon’s mood. If he sets his armour aside neatly then he simply wants to talk or some such thing, if he doesn’t set it aside he’s in one of those moods where it will take much persuasion on my part to diverse him of it and if it ends up in an ungainly pile… I smile, stretching beneath the blanket.
Tonight my lord is not patient. Daryoon always laughs when I call him that but it is, never the less, the truth. He is my lord and master and I would follow him to the ends of the earth, abet slowly and with much protesting at the travel. I do not bother to watch him in the dimness of the tent, instead closing my eyes, waiting for his touch. He slides a hand beneath the blanket to rest on my thigh. His breath is warm against my ear.
“Open your eyes Narsus.”
I shake my head, “It’s not like I’d be able to see anything anyway.”
I can hear him chuckle and then suddenly he tugs the blanket back, exposing me to the cold air. That snaps my eyes open and I stare up into the amused face of my lover. His kiss is surprisingly gentle and I am covered by the warmth of his body, and the blanket that I resolutely tug back over us.
Finally completed with a view to a sequel, thanks to RoninBrat and F. Angell.
- Narsus (6/5/01)