By Narsus ([email protected])
Disclaimer: the characters and locations that I’m mangling are not my property etc.
Major angst, tragedy, people die…
Shounen-ai.
It’s late and I’m listening to depressing music again…
Daryoon:
It’s barely dark and I can hear the revellers clearly but then the celebrations always started early, every year. If I chose to look out of any of the many palace windows I’d see the bonfires burning brightly in defiance of the night, people dancing, celebrating, clinging together in the shadows… I could easily slip from the place into that welcoming darkness, drunkenness and merriment making many quite liberal in their affections, outside these walls or even within. Else where in the palace laughter echoes against marble. If I listen hard enough I can hear them. I could go join them, yes, it would be so easy to forget but I can not. I do not want to forget, not for a moment… I close my eyes briefly then begin to make my way towards quieter reaches.
Passing by one of the many empty courtyards I realise that it is not empty. The clear sound of a lute carries through the air. Gieve, of course. Yet another ballad of devotion and love, meant to sway the heart of his lady. I remember there was once a time when sincerity was his least likely means to approach. Time had changed all that. These days Gieve is nothing but truthful in his devotion. The priestesses of Misra’s temple have grown used to his visits and I can’t help but wonder if the courtesans have grown used to his absence. Now he is no longer the faithless wonderer. For where ever he may travel it is never for long for he always returns. It never seemed to bother him that Pharangase didn’t appear to return his affections in the past, so it probably matters little now. I do not linger here, I would not intrude on his privacy.
My first destination, the small chapel to Misra within the palace walls. There is no one here now at this late hour. All is silence and the soft light of candles. Kneeling before Misra’s altar I whisper a small prayer of thanks, that Pulsar is at peace, that Arslan is King. There is so much I should be thankful for, so much I should voice but I can’t, the prayer catches in my throat, so instead I offer up another, for the soul of a fine comrade, dead these four years. Everything taken from you, was it worth it? I close my eyes, holding back the sudden tears that threaten my composure. A few rapid blinks and there is no trace of my grief. I smile bitterly, just as it should be, it would not be fitting for the King’s Champion to be seen to weep.
I leave the chapel by the same route as I entered, passing the courtyard where Gieve still sits. I wonder, does she hear him now? After all these years… Strange, how a man can attain this purity of though and action once the object of devotion is placed out of reach. Perhaps she does hear you, from Misra’s hallowed halls, where surely she now sits, now that duty no longer holds her. Pharangase, the finest woman I have ever known, the most beautiful because of her strength and spirit, the Prince’s Holy Protector, you fulfilled your duty, you died protecting him.
I continue my lonely walk along darkened corridors. These are so many who have died, so many who gave their lives so that we might finally come to peace. I have to believe that it was worth it, that all these deaths were necessary but sometimes, sometimes I just can’t. Sometimes in the darkness it seems so empty, hollow, like the shadows cast by the flare of torches. Outside the people celebrate the end of the war, the rebuilding of Pulsar, the wisdom of their new King, inside there are lavish banquets, the chatter of courtesans, the many foreign ambassadors eager to garner the favour of our young King and besides all that is the constant shadow of the past. The past that many want to forget, that should never be forgotten. I remember once, Narsus quoting some obscure text “I have seen the ultimate evil that mankind can inflict upon itself.” I wasn’t listening properly at the time but I know what he meant, I know exactly what he meant.
I turn along the winding corridors. My steps ring hollowly off the floor. This part of the palace is deserted now, the celebrations that grate so harshly on my ears have draw most of the servants too. The room I enter is utterly silent, unused. Against the far wall is a small table, upon which rests a bowl filled with fresh water, a holder for incense and a string of emeralds wound round the bowl. I light candles elsewhere in the room and mentally prepare myself for the onslaught of memories. I stand across the room from the table, it is not a large room, so I am not so far away but each step forwards is terrible. Each step recalls the past with all it’s pain. As quietly as I can I move to light incense filling the room with the fragrance of roses. My hands shake slightly, brushing against the bright emeralds, delicate and perfect, such an ornament that a court lady might wind into her hair. I sit in from of the small table breathing deeply to calm myself. Still the flood of memories is merciless…
I remember the final battle, the reclaiming of Ekubatana. The Lucitanian troops had been driven from the city and now we only needed to break them sufficiently to make them flee Pulsar. It was all so simple, Narsus’ plan was perfect. So that battle had passed, much like any other. I remember the shouts from the men as they realised that the Lucitanians were retreating. I remember the exhilaration, the sudden almost unbelievable realisation that the war was over. I remember thinking, “Can you see this Pharangase? We’ve won! Your duty can end now. Your spirit can rest.” We had won, the price of victory paid in blood. I had though that finally it could end. I can still remember the cheers of the soldiers ringing in my ears, smiling myself, looking about for my comrades. The Prince had been so happy. Then I remember looking for the others, searching for Narsus specifically. He would doubtless be perfectly pleased with himself at his grand plans. I kept looking and looking until someone had called to me, a sombre-faced messenger. It is still as clear as the day it happened, I’ll never forget a single detail. The vengeful Lucitanian forces had added a further bitterness to retreat. Elam had found him, lying on the ground, already dead, a Lucitanian arrow in his back. I remember holding his cold body in my arms, tears spilling over the form of my dead beloved.
I blink, sitting here alone it doesn’t matter if I weep. It doesn’t matter that my grief pours itself out in the silence of this room while outside the world rejoices. The candlelight catches the emeralds, such a paltry comparison to the light in his eyes. Perhaps I should not keep them but they are all I have left, my gift to him sealed with the promise of my love. “I love you still. I said forever and I meant it, nothing has changed.” I whisper, unable to speak any louder. I can feel the tears rising again and this time I don’t bother to hold them back, feeling their tracks down my face as I sit in perfect stillness. I don’t care that such grief is unsuitable, tomorrow is soon enough for Pulsar’s Grand Shogun to play his part but tonight… tonight I will spend with my love.
*sniff,sniff*
I can’t even begin to explain why I wrote this. Two of many possible reasons though: Virtue from the Hannibal soundtrack and Treize’s last lines “Millardo, I’ll wait for you on the other side.”
On a more technical note, I’ve changed the ending of the manga since there isn’t a battle to breach Ekubatana’s defences and no one gets killed. Oh, and the ‘obsqure text’ that Narsus quotes from is Weis & Hickman’s DragonLance Legends.
Maybe this is a response to the fix-it ending for Sei-chan in “Fate” and Daryoon seems to be turning into my angst-bunny!
Oh, well…
Narsus (9/4/01)