[Fire Emblem 10] Blameless
Dec. 10th, 2009 12:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runicloreBlameless
Author: Amber Michelle
Rating: K
Warnings: n/a
Word Count: 819
Comment!fic Prompt:
Fire Emblem, Lehran, the point when he decided that the world could not be redeemed and that destruction would be the most merciful option
..........................................................................
When she asked him why, afterward, careful to specify the most obvious of his crimes - encouraging war, awakening the goddess - Sephiran could only answer with a cliche: the world had passed beyond redemption. And how did he come to such a conclusion, exactly? What qualified Sephiran - excuse me, Lehran, if you expect me to believe that - to determine where the line between good and evil was drawn, and judge every man, woman, and child had passed beyond? Sanaki looked away as soon as she asked; the day was clear, sunny, full of birdsong and as yet unburdened by the haze of woodsmoke that always blanketed Sienne. She'd removed the red band from her hair and the heavy robe of her office.
Even without them she was imperial, shoulders back, spine straight but for the slight arch that pushed her chest out. When did Sanaki start sitting that way, with her legs crossed, her toes pointed--? Her hands folded over her knee. The nails were bitten and torn to the quick. His fault.
A long time ago, he told her - how many years, now? Seven. No, eight--
Are you trying to tell me another story? Try the truth, for once.
They sat at a table in her living quarters, at opposite sides of the round top, and the curtains were pulled back to shine on the empty teapot and her silver spoons. Sephiran watched their reflections flicker when a fleet of birds stormed past her window with loud cooing noises. Do you remember the night we met? It was during the new moon, and every candle, lamp, and torch in the manor had been doused with water, broken, snuffed out, and the servants and guards likewise. Even the dogs turned up with slit throats-- remember?
Sanaki was quiet a long moment, until he thought she wouldn't respond at all. How should I remember something I never saw?
He remembered the glint of her wide eyes in the starlight when they left the grounds; Sephiran had carried her in both arms while Zelgius led them out of the courtyard, past the ruined fence, into a forest still damp and muddy from an earlier rain, where pine needles scented the air and scratched their cheeks. Sanaki woke at one such offense, and many nights thereafter, screaming that 'they' were stabbing her with pine needles. Who, she never specified. Not Sephiran; not Zelgius. They had no faces, she said, only long, black, sharp-- pine needles.
Don't you dare blame this on me--
You are blameless, Sephiran said immediately. As always. She watched him, her mouth turned slightly down, her lower lip swelling out. Her eyes narrowed, lashes dark, thick, and clumped together by tears that had dried in the hours since his brush with death. It was obvious, what she thought, so he added: I mean exactly what I said.
If she was mollified, it didn't show in her expression. All Sanaki did was spare him of her gaze, turning it instead to the window and the bare branches of the maples. Blue jays screeched somewhere beyond the scope of her window. He heard her heart beat, every breath and hitch in her throat when she wanted to say something but stopped herself, and every minute shift of her dress, the cushion. You should have left me there. Her finger traced the knit of her lace tablecloth. With my mother.
If I wanted you dead, Sephiran said, you would make a lovely statue.
Sanaki's chin jerked. She didn't face him. Liar. All you've done is lie, since the very beginning. 'I'm not here to hurt you, princess,' 'let us help you, princess' - to my grave. I didn't need an extra senator for that favor.
In the old days they would have laughed. Instead Sephiran watched her lip tremble until she pulled it in with her teeth and bit down. He saw the color drain out, the tautness of her skin. I didn't teach you to base your arguments on baseless assumptions, he said, looking at the sky beyond the glass and wishing there were leaves to mottle the blue and flutter on the air currents, showing their sides, light and dark. I'm the one tired of living. My mistake was in assuming everyone else felt the same way.
Her hands shifted, her fingers moving like the slats of a fan in his peripheral vision. So you admit it. Sanaki turned back. The most glorious of suicides. It could be a play, it's so dramatic.
A comedy, Sephiran said, and thought he might actually laugh to release the tension in his throat. But the play is over. He had lost.
.
Author: Amber Michelle
Rating: K
Warnings: n/a
Word Count: 819
Comment!fic Prompt:
Fire Emblem, Lehran, the point when he decided that the world could not be redeemed and that destruction would be the most merciful option
..........................................................................
When she asked him why, afterward, careful to specify the most obvious of his crimes - encouraging war, awakening the goddess - Sephiran could only answer with a cliche: the world had passed beyond redemption. And how did he come to such a conclusion, exactly? What qualified Sephiran - excuse me, Lehran, if you expect me to believe that - to determine where the line between good and evil was drawn, and judge every man, woman, and child had passed beyond? Sanaki looked away as soon as she asked; the day was clear, sunny, full of birdsong and as yet unburdened by the haze of woodsmoke that always blanketed Sienne. She'd removed the red band from her hair and the heavy robe of her office.
Even without them she was imperial, shoulders back, spine straight but for the slight arch that pushed her chest out. When did Sanaki start sitting that way, with her legs crossed, her toes pointed--? Her hands folded over her knee. The nails were bitten and torn to the quick. His fault.
A long time ago, he told her - how many years, now? Seven. No, eight--
Are you trying to tell me another story? Try the truth, for once.
They sat at a table in her living quarters, at opposite sides of the round top, and the curtains were pulled back to shine on the empty teapot and her silver spoons. Sephiran watched their reflections flicker when a fleet of birds stormed past her window with loud cooing noises. Do you remember the night we met? It was during the new moon, and every candle, lamp, and torch in the manor had been doused with water, broken, snuffed out, and the servants and guards likewise. Even the dogs turned up with slit throats-- remember?
Sanaki was quiet a long moment, until he thought she wouldn't respond at all. How should I remember something I never saw?
He remembered the glint of her wide eyes in the starlight when they left the grounds; Sephiran had carried her in both arms while Zelgius led them out of the courtyard, past the ruined fence, into a forest still damp and muddy from an earlier rain, where pine needles scented the air and scratched their cheeks. Sanaki woke at one such offense, and many nights thereafter, screaming that 'they' were stabbing her with pine needles. Who, she never specified. Not Sephiran; not Zelgius. They had no faces, she said, only long, black, sharp-- pine needles.
Don't you dare blame this on me--
You are blameless, Sephiran said immediately. As always. She watched him, her mouth turned slightly down, her lower lip swelling out. Her eyes narrowed, lashes dark, thick, and clumped together by tears that had dried in the hours since his brush with death. It was obvious, what she thought, so he added: I mean exactly what I said.
If she was mollified, it didn't show in her expression. All Sanaki did was spare him of her gaze, turning it instead to the window and the bare branches of the maples. Blue jays screeched somewhere beyond the scope of her window. He heard her heart beat, every breath and hitch in her throat when she wanted to say something but stopped herself, and every minute shift of her dress, the cushion. You should have left me there. Her finger traced the knit of her lace tablecloth. With my mother.
If I wanted you dead, Sephiran said, you would make a lovely statue.
Sanaki's chin jerked. She didn't face him. Liar. All you've done is lie, since the very beginning. 'I'm not here to hurt you, princess,' 'let us help you, princess' - to my grave. I didn't need an extra senator for that favor.
In the old days they would have laughed. Instead Sephiran watched her lip tremble until she pulled it in with her teeth and bit down. He saw the color drain out, the tautness of her skin. I didn't teach you to base your arguments on baseless assumptions, he said, looking at the sky beyond the glass and wishing there were leaves to mottle the blue and flutter on the air currents, showing their sides, light and dark. I'm the one tired of living. My mistake was in assuming everyone else felt the same way.
Her hands shifted, her fingers moving like the slats of a fan in his peripheral vision. So you admit it. Sanaki turned back. The most glorious of suicides. It could be a play, it's so dramatic.
A comedy, Sephiran said, and thought he might actually laugh to release the tension in his throat. But the play is over. He had lost.
.