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runicloreThe Child-like Empress - V
Author: Amber Michelle
Pairing: Lehran/Sanaki (platonic)
Fandom: Fire Emblem 9-10
Theme: 22 - cradle
Gauntlet theme: 15 - There is no armor against fate; death lays its icy hand upon kings
Words: 6778
Rating: K
Disclaimer: Fire Emblem is copyrighted by Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. I'm not getting any money out of this, just satisfaction~
Chapters:
+ Part One
+ Part Two
+ Part Three
+ Part Four
+ Part Five
Notes: Part of the Bloodline series of (mostly) canon storylines. Here "cradle" is interpreted as a protective or nurturing gesture rather than the physical object.
This will be the last installment.
......................................................
When the empress realized Sephiran would allow her nightly infractions upon his space, she let go of whatever restraint remained in her interactions with him; night after night for a week, a month, Sanaki ran to his rooms with nightmares on her heels, and Tanith or Sigrun close behind. He grew accustomed to the the heat of her breath at the crook of his neck, against the underside of his chin, to finding the collar of his sleeping robe damp with sweat or drool; he learned to recognize the subtle differences in pattern present in Tanith's breathing rhythm, Sigrun's, Eirene, Catalena, perhaps half of the holy guard. They were unwilling to abandon their care of the empress even when Sanaki was, as many of them believed, safe in Sephiran's hands. He learned that Sigrun liked to read, and would bring a covered lamp with her when it was her turn to stand guard over his bed; she chose epic poetry from the north, while her companion Tanith preferred strategy manuals, and the others often lapsed into daydreams.
As for himself, he'd not gotten a full night's rest for over a month by the time Sanaki decided, much to her guard's chagrin, that she might as well accompany Sephiran to his rooms after dinner and sleep there to start with, rather than huddling alone in her room and then demanding they take her downstairs. It'll cause less comment, Eirene said, while the four of them stood around the dinner table in a half-circle, but Sigrun frowned sharply and said no, it'll cause more - we're lucky she's so young. Two or three more years, and the talk will turn ugly. Sanaki asked why, and Sigrun told her she'd understand when she got older.
I don't intend to let it go on that long, Sephiran murmured, but she ignored him, and the empress didn't hear, which was just as well. Now that Sanaki knew he would say no to her on occasion, she'd grown both more hesitant to ask, and more demanding when she decided he should give her something. I won't let you leave until you tell me a story, she might say; or, you aren't allowed to hold anyone's hand but mine - especially not that woman. I don't like her, and she went so far as to prove good on her promise to make it an order-- in public, in the cathedral antechamber, while he held the Duchess Asmin's hand to kiss her knuckles. She wasn't young enough to merit his interest, nor single, but she was a woman, and Sanaki, it seemed, had learned the lesson of jealousy too soon. He wondered if it was Culbert's fault. Most of her bad habits could be traced to him, Sephiran thought. I want this, I want that, on your knees--
The day after Sanaki's first formal sleep-over in his rooms was sunny and hot. Even the slashes of sunlight peeking from between his curtains were warm, though they were filtered by glass and an under-layer of fine white silk. Sigrun brought the empress's day robes, and dressed Sanaki while Sephiran performed his ablutions in the bath, and dressed in a new set of robes. A layer of red lay close to his skin, covered by a lined silk coat so heavy he thought it dragged on the air behind when he walked; his sash was purple, the adornments of rank gold and violet and crimson. The precise cut of the shoulders and sleeves felt confining after the simpler senatorial robes he'd worn for the last year and a half, but Sanaki clapped and oooohed when he came out, so his discomfort couldn't have shown.
"Can I go with you to the meeting?" Sanaki sat on his dressing bench while her knight arranged her hair and fastened the red band of office around her head. Her legs kicked back and forth, the buckles of her sandals flashing in the pale sunlight. "I want to ask them something."
Sephiran drew his hair over a shoulder and combed his fingers through to the ends. "Have you attended before? No?" he said when she shook her head, and he shrugged. "I suppose we can ask."
"Why? You don't have to ask them for anything."
He met her eyes in the mirror. "If only that were true. But even the empress cannot simply do as she likes all the time-- can she?"
Of course I can, Sanaki muttered under her breath, but she stared at herself in the mirror for a long moment, then moved her gaze back to his. "You outrank them."
In name only, yes. Sephiran wondered how many knives would be aimed at his back if he tried to overstep the true bounds of his authority, which lay only so far as required for him to keep the empress quiet. No doubt they hadn't even thought of what he might do for her education, with or without their knowledge. He'd held a lowly post when they promoted him, and the arrogance of the upper classes blinded them to ability in individuals below their station. Did they know their lady's knights read on such a wide variety of subjects, and tried to tutor her in history, rather than myth, when the senate wasn't looking? Were they aware one of Sanaki's maids was a laguz, a woman Sigrun vouched for and protected by some means still a mystery to him? Perhaps her family contributed. Maybe the laguz woman - a cat, tawny-haired and thin as a rail - was one of her personal retainers.
If they didn't know, Sephiran supposed he couldn't allow them to find out. A tighter hold on Sigrun and the others meant less freedom in which to enact his own plans. "Even so. The senate came about as a limit on the power of the Apostles and their aides, and the law says all important matters must be presented and agreed upon by both branches of government."
Sanaki hmphed loudly and crossed her arms. "Well this is very important, so you have to take me."
"Yes, your majesty."
Once she was dressed, they went downstairs and crossed the garden courtyards between the palace and the cathedral, Sanaki nibbling on a sweet roll while they walked. Sephiran smelled rain on the wind that swirled down from the sky to skitter with the leaves across the limestone pavement, but it must have been far away; the square of sky showing between buildings was clear and bright blue, unmarred by streaks of cloud or haze. His hair flitted and streaked against the empress's face, and she batted it away with her sticky fingers.
The cathedral air tasted bitter, stuffy, and voices echoed in the tall, arched halls, though they did not encounter anyone until they passed into the main antechamber to go up the stairs. The public clock struck eight, its chimes like the strident tones of a harpsichord. Priests and senators trickled in through the doors. Guards came to attention and saluted when the empress passed their stations. When they reached the council chamber, and Sephiran heard the voices within, he brought her to a halt just outside the door and knelt so he could whisper that she mustn't say anything, or get involved - it was her right to be present, as their empress, but the business addressed would be meant for senators, not queens, and in any case it was probably inconsequential. Her hair swayed when she nodded, and they went inside.
Hetzel stammered at their little empress's entrance; Oliver's eyebrows lifted, and Lekain showed no surprise at all, though he spent a moment composing his welcome. The others were absent, or late; Sephiran didn't care. He led Sanaki to his own seat at the head of the table and helped her up. "Her majesty has asked that we hear a proposal at the end of the meeting," he said, straightening, folding his hands behind his back, and shook his head when one of the others offered him a chair. "Meanwhile, she would like to observe."
Lekain gathered paper from his end of the table, tapped the sheaf straight, and brought them to Sephiran - his copies of all relevant documents, he murmured to the empress while spreading them out on the table before her, picking the one on intelligence reports from the north border when the meeting started. The room they'd chosen didn't have floor-to-ceiling windows like the other he often met the senior council in, nor was anything interesting visible through the curtains, though Sanaki craned her neck to see around the tall back of her chair. Only leaves waited on the other side of the glass, the wobbling lines of branches, both sable and white, and muffled birdsong that was drowned by Lekain's elaboration on the information sent by his Gaddos operatives. He watched her straighten up and lean back, eyes quickly flicking aside when the empress finally faced front, and Sephiran watched the other two try to watch her and pretend they weren't. Sanaki's legs kicked and swung under the table, sweeping arcs above the floor. Her sandal buckle cracked loudly against a chair leg.
He watched Lekain's eyebrow jump and twitch at the sound and wished he could smile.
After discussing Daein business (no sign Ashnard was stupid enough to attack, more's the pity according to Oliver), they moved on to city revenue and how to raise it, and what should be done about some poor artist's case - one Sephiran had never heard of, but who, he gathered, had the audacity to slander a certain senator - who was not present, for he couldn't bear to face his colleagues - with claims of conduct in the red light district that were beyond ridiculous. Why, even Culbert has the sense not to beat his pretties, Oliver said, and with a ring? He would have a fit about blood caking the settings and sue the damned brothel for damages. Lekain snorted, thanked him for his opinion, said that really wasn't the issue.
Sephiran, the empress whispered, leaning heavily on the right arm of her chair to twist around and see him. What is a brothel?
Hetzel coughed, the only one near enough to hear what she asked, and told her perhaps they would explain it later. She frowned and pouted, sitting straight in her chair when Sephiran told her to, and nursed her puffed out lip with her teeth as they resumed.
"Remove him," Oliver said, his chair creaking loudly when he leaned back. His rings smacked the table when his hand came down. "Who is his patron?"
"A family I am currently involved with," Lekain said, stacking his papers and watching them even out as he tapped them onto the tabletop. His mouth set in a line very close to becoming a frown. "He is making waves in the entertainment district, but has not achieved sufficient notoriety to reach a reputable theatre."
"Then what is the worry?" Sephiran curled his fingers over the top of Sanaki's chair back. She tilted her head back to look at him, up-side down. "Slander is a serious enough charge to arrest him, and doing so should have no untoward effect on the council's reputation."
Hetzel twisted the ends of his shawl and said, "The problem, you see, is that he was not intelligent enough to remove that ring, and it was stolen..."
So Culbert did not, in fact, have the sense to check his impulses? Sephiran sighed and did nothing to hide the curl of his lip when he turned his face away. They could fix that problem without his input; Sanaki was still looking up at him, waiting, and he knew she wanted an explanation. How was he going to explain a brothel, an abuse charge, without veering too far into territory she wouldn't understand completely? She'd chosen a terrible day to follow him around.
He knelt beside the chair and explained the matter as well as he could - consider the victim a contract worker, Sephiran said, to which she nodded. He took his job in Culbert's mansion under the auspices of a verbal agreement that would have included his safety, and Sanaki didn't look surprised when he got to the part in which Culbert struck his so-called employee. She did ask what the man was contracted to do, and Sephiran convinced her it wasn't a topic they should discuss in the meeting chamber. Later, perhaps, over tea. Maybe she would forget by the end of the meeting, and Sephiran wouldn't be asked to withstand Sigrun's glare when she found out he'd explained sex too early - by at least five years, he could imagine her saying. Men. He distracted his empress by asking if she wanted water, or anything to eat, and fetched a squat, heavy glass from a tray in the corner.
The tiny clock at the center of their table chimed ten, like a silver wand striking crystal, and Sanaki pulled her legs onto the chair cushion while everyone gathered their papers and folders, tucking them under so she could kneel and appear taller. She thrust her shoulders back when Lekain sat down and everyone turned to look at her. Sephiran stepped forward to stand beside her, stacking his papers neatly and laying them on the corner of the table near Culbert's empty chair.
"I'm going to Gallia," Sanaki announced.
Sephiran felt a chill, a drop in the pit of his stomach. The senators stared at her a full five seconds, maybe even ten, before Oliver looked at him, and Lekain said, "For what occasion, your majesty?"
"I want to go," she said.
Lekain's eyes slid to Sephiran. "Is this something you have already discussed with your prime minister?"
"Of course--"
"No," Sephiran said, and hoped his eyes were not too round, showing too much white, marking him as prey. The empress slapped the table with her palms and started to contradict him, and he said, "I told you, a journey like that is im--"
"You said to ask them!" Sanaki jerked her gaze back to Lekain, her hair flying, swinging. "I want to go."
"Your majesty," Hetzel said, rubbing his papery cheek, "Gallia is no place for a child your age, especially a girl--"
"I don't care."
"They're savages, your majesty--"
"I'm not afraid of laguz!" She slapped the table again, shouting, made the water in her glass slosh and splash over the lip to pool on the table. "I'm going to go, and Sephiran is going to come with me!"
He pulled out his handkerchief and tried to dab the water dry before it reached his papers, whispering your majesty, please--
Lekain waited for more, his hands folded and perfectly still on the tabletop. When he realized she was finished, he said, "You will see Gallia, your majesty - the entire nation will bow at your feet and acknowledge your superiority. But that is yet to come." His eyes moved, searching her face, and then he sighed and bowed his head slightly. "Perhaps in a few years - five or ten."
"Ten?" Her voice raised an octave. "I want to go now."
"Impossible," he said. "Your own beloved Sephiran--"
"Does what I tell him," Sanaki snapped.
The flat line of Lekain's mouth finally turned down. "No." His voice deepened, but grew softer. "You will not go to Gallia. You will not leave the palace. We will not allow you to disgrace Begnion with your poor behavior."
For a moment, Sephiran thought Sanaki would cry. Her eyes shined, tears gathered at the corners, and her lips trembled. Then her hand darted out to grab her glass, and she threw it across the table.
It made a short, glittering arc in the air before slamming into the wood, bouncing, clattering, rolling, too heavy to shatter, and water spilled across the table. Lekain jerked out of his chair faster than Sephiran thought he was capable of moving, and almost knocked it onto the floor. His papers blurred, blue and purple, the ink running; Oliver snatched his documents from the table and tried to wipe them dry on his doublet.
The glass rolled over the edge of the table and shattered on the tile floor.
Sanaki stared at Lekain for a moment, breathing hard. Sephiran thought she would say more; her lips worked, and he saw her eyes shift, her hands clench, but then a tear streaked down her cheek and slid out of the chair to run. The red streak of her mantle shot toward the door, and she slammed it behind her. Utter silence made the sound seem to echo, but the room was too small, and Oliver's gusty sigh broke the spell only a few seconds later. Sephiran grabbed his papers and rounded the table.
"Gallia?" Lekain's voice stopped him when they were even with each other, he standing beside his chair, Sephiran a mere five steps away from the door-- and safety. "I can hardly believe she came up with the idea herself."
Sephiran halted, turned his chin just enough to allow a meeting of gazes. He knew they wouldn't let him get out of it, but-- couldn't they wait? She must be crying by now. "Unsurprising. You lack imagination in most matters relating to the empress."
He heard a short laugh at his back, the tone incredulous, and a warning murmur from Hetzel that both he and Lekain ignored. "You were not hired for your imagination, Sephiran. Our instructions were to control her temper and see that she is trained to behave properly when necessary - I do not recall telling you to encourage her flights of fancy."
"Children are often given to 'flights of fancy.' A young empress given everything she wants will naturally begin to wonder where her wonderful possessions are coming from, and want more - and more, and more. All you managed to teach her in the year since her rescue is to demand satisfaction and expect to be obeyed, or indulged with a secondary luxury." The paper crumpled in Sephiran's grip, curling against the leg of his pants. He couldn't hear Sanaki outside, so she must have run, or demanded that Sigrun carry her. The only question was where he would find them - and, perhaps, whether Sigrun would jump to conclusions and blame him or not. She might anyway. Gallia was his idea, after a fashion. "You don't realize the difficulty of the job you've given me, Lekain. While you wait for results, perhaps you should reflect on the nature of children and childhood, and remember that imagination and exploration are natural components of the learning process." He walked to the door. "Of course she wants to see Gallia. I'm sure she'd like to see anything that isn't Sienne."
"Then--" Lekain caught him before he could turn the knob fully. "Take her elsewhere."
Sephiran let the knob slide in his grip, turn back into place. He looked over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. "A sudden change of heart, isn't it?"
Lekain turned fully, blotting out the light from the windows. The others watched from their seats. "Take her anywhere in Begnion." He folded his arms behind his back, perhaps clasping his hands, his eyes glittering. "Persis, perhaps. You are required to visit within the year to take control of the provincial seat, I believe."
Sephiran wished he hadn't placed himself at such a disadvantage; he would have to squint to make out the subtleties of the man's expression with the light glaring in his eyes, and that would look ridiculous. Appearance mattered, if he was going to face these men down. "And?"
"Stay there." Lekain held his gaze for a breath, then turned back to the table and picked at his papers, rubbing watery ink between his thumb and forefinger. "Until the first of the new senate sessions next spring. You won't be needed until then, and the empress can sign and stamp paper in Persis as well as her rooms here."
He had a thick neck; Sephiran wondered if Zelgius would require one strike to cut through it, or even two. "You must be joking. Her presence is required for audience--"
"The last audience of the season will be tomorrow." Water dribbled over the edge of the table. Broken glass crunched under Lekain's boots, ground beneath his weight. "Perfect timing, do you not agree?"
Oh yes. Sephiran opened the door and made himself close it gently on his way out. Yes, it was just perfect.
*
The announcement of their trip to Persis was met with skepticism from Sigrun and silence from the empress, who confined herself to her room - to cry, Sephiran thought, but he didn't hear her voice when he entered her rooms, nor an irregular rhythm to her breathing. He didn't bother to disguise his irritation when he instructed the knights to prepare for a stay of half a year, perhaps longer, depending on how soon he could convince the other senators that sending paperwork to the provinces was more inconvenient than dealing with her tantrums. They really were fools, all of them, incapable of putting themselves into another's shoes, unable to recall their own childhood logic and apply it to what was right in front of them, despite the childish nature of their own self-serving habits.
If he'd needed further reason to bring about the Judgment after the massacre at Serenes, the rotting fruit of Begnion would have provided an abundance of specimens to demonstrate the tragic flaws of the human race. The senators were concerned with their own goals and finances, which were not hurting in the slightest, and could not see beyond the tips of their noses; the nobility sank itself into decadent pleasure, consuming without producing anything valuable of its own; the commons was caught between them, ignorant, pathetic. If anything about the Serenes incident were forgivable, Sephiran might have allowed the commoners some leeway - they were stupid, but it wasn't their fault they were so easily taken advantage of.
Nothing about it could be excused, however. He would show them no mercy. Ashera would strike them down on his word, and they would be returned to the earth from which they were formed and given a life they did not deserve.
Sanaki was asleep when he went in to check on her. He sat on the stool at her dressing table and watched the folds of her velvet mantle rise and fall with each breath, the vivid color deepened to magenta by the shadows; her curtains were drawn. Her hair bled into the shadows, dark and blue and purple. The ends hid her pale face and stuck to her cheeks, where trails of salty tears tracked when he knelt by the bed to brush the strands behind her ear and straighten her cover. Watching her sleep held him transfixed for a long while, long enough one of the guard came in to see what he was doing, ask questions, the sound of her voice threatening his empress's peace until Sephiran stood up and motioned her out with a sharp jerk of his hand. No, he didn't know why the senators were sending them away, he said-- even though he had an inkling. No, he wouldn't fight it-- unless she thought the empress would be happier staying in the palace, rather than getting out and exploring her own country.
No, of course not. She looked appalled. He wanted to know why they hadn't tried to get her out sooner, and she shifted on her feet, uncomfortable.
The last audience of the season passed without incident. Sanaki didn't bother to ask him any questions. She scowled at Lekain when he came over afterward to ask how their preparations were moving, when he should appear to see them off, and the empress told him he should lock himself in the dungeon until she was gone, so she wouldn't have to look at his face. Sephiran said she shouldn't speak to the senators like that - and when their adversary had gone, he leaned down to pick her up for the walk back to her room and promised I'll bring something beautiful for dessert for that..
Sanaki smoothed his hair from the part, down over his ears, and tucked it back as he often did with hers. He watched her while he walked, keeping track of the knights' course in his peripheral vision so he wouldn't wander. Her hands warmed his cheeks. She leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose.
Sephiran wanted to go to Gallia just as she did. He wanted to go, take the empress with him, and stay there forever, where the trees were still tall and green and the laguz were proud, strong, and most importantly, free. Free from fear, from shame. Free to bare their colors, their markings, and live according to their instincts, as the beorc were allowed to do. Sanaki would be happier there. And he would hear the whispering of the forest - perhaps not his own forest, which lay in ruin, but the spirits in every land had a voice for one who knew how to listen.
He wanted to listen. It didn't matter if he could understand what they said - he wanted to hear their voices, and teach Sanaki to hear them too. Who cared if she didn't have the mark of the Apostle, or if she couldn't sing galdrar? She was a child of both races and neither, even still - his child, his birthright, the carrier of the talent he'd lost long ago.
Sanaki belonged to him.
Every night of their journey to Persis, Sephiran told her a story once they'd landed, eaten, and the knights had erected a tent for their use. The stars were brighter outside of Sienne. Sanaki liked to fly, would fling her arms out to the sides to pretend she had wings while he held her firmly to the saddle and scolded her for taking such risks. The wind swept his words away, and her laughter with them. But when night fell, and they sat by the fire, it seemed she liked to sit in his lap just as much, with a blanket around her shoulders like her royal mantle, to demand stories. Remember that one about the dragon lady and the king? Tell me again. And then another one, the one about Altina and Dheginsea and Soan, and what about Saint Lehran? and he tried not to let his mouth twist at that one. She complained that he was too sparse with it, but it was strange talking about himself in the third person - strange to remember that name, when he'd given it up so long ago.
"Why don't I tell you something else?" Sephiran said when her frown showed no sign of easing. The moon was out, almost full, dimming the stars, but lighting their camp with gray and blue tones at the edges, where the small clearing gave way to trees. They had white bark and spindly branches, dark, star-shaped leaves, and looked like ghosts when the fire burned low and the coals were more red than orange. Behind the scent of burning wood was pine and sandy soil, and a hint of water far off; his ears caught the burble of the stream, though the knights had to walk fifteen minutes east to find it. "See those stars up there?" He lifted his hand, pointed. His empress shifted in his lap to look, so she sat on his legs like he was a chair. "It's hard to tell tonight, but during the new moon, that cluster of stars is lit up like mist. In ancient days they called it the River of Heaven. Have you heard of it?"
She shook her head, and Sephiran told her the story of how the river of stars came to be when the goddess waded into a pool to wash her hair and flung diamond droplets of water into the air in a long, glittering arc when she tossed her head back; some of it splashed down like rain to dapple the mirror surface of the lake, and the rest got caught in the indigo sky and stayed, so the lady of the dawn would have company when the sun went down and left her in the dark.
"But I thought the herons kept Ashera company," Sanaki said, twisting a handful of his hair in her hands. She tilted her head back. "Did they leave?"
"They would never leave her." He smiled, and rested his chin atop her head when she looked at the fire again. "Never by their own choice." The snap of the fire was too appropriate an accompaniment to that thought. He wondered if she even knew, yet, that the forest had burned, or if the senate had kept that information secret. No doubt they would like to forget Serenes and the heron clan ever existed. "This was before their time, when the goddess was still creating the details of our world. Perhaps that incident inspired the creation of rain as well."
"And the star princess?" A spark leapt from the fire, spiraled upward, faded. Sanaki's fingers kneaded the hair she'd pulled over her shoulder, but she no longer pulled or combed. "Did the goddess create the star princess too?"
Sephiran shifted, the bark of the tree he leaned against biting into one of his shoulder blades. "She wasn't truly a star, but she was a princess." The empress let him move, but wouldn't get up, even when he shifted his legs. "I don't recall telling you that one. Shall I?"
Tanith and Sigrun murmured on the far side of the clearing, lit gold and orange and dark brown by the campfire. Their accouterments glinted, throwing tiny streaks of reflected light about to dance on the tree trunks and grass whenever one of them shifted. Three knights slept near them, already rolled up in their blankets, and far away he heard the beat of pegasus wings, three or four pairs, flying patrol around the area. It was a designated camping spot for this very purpose - to cater to government officials en route to the provinces, complete with the imperial seal emblazoned in a rock near their encampment, but they refused to lower their guard.
"My mother told me," Sanaki said. Her head lolled slightly to the side, her golden eyes gleamed. "She liked that story."
Sephiran's grip on her arms tightened before he realized it. He made his fingers loosen, stroking her hair instead, twitching the blanket closed where it had fallen open over her feet. Her voice had no inflection. It could have been that she was tired, drifting off; Sanaki's face was tilted at a difficult angle, and he couldn't lean over to look without disturbing her.
She never talked about her mother. She never talked about anything that happened before he found her in that abandoned villa, covered in her mother's blood, everyone dead and all the lamps dark. Even the night had been moonless, starless, blanketed with heavy, dirty clouds. He remembered the pitch of her scream like it was yesterday.
Instead of telling the story, Sephiran let the moment pass and waited for her to fall asleep before carrying her into their tent.
Two nights and most of another day brought them to Persis, and another two days of flying stretched before they touched down on the manor lawn in the provincial capitol. Seven of the holy guard appeared to meet them, sent several days before Sanaki's own departure to secure the area and become acquainted with the staff. Twenty people met them at the entry, including the head of household, a secretary, and fifteen maids, all of whom sank to their knees and pressed their foreheads to the floor when he entered with the empress. They wore red and black layered coats and skirts with wide sleeves that spread out in half moons on the floor, and the women wore their hair braided and bunned atop their heads, every head dark, with pleasantly dusky complexions of tan and brown. Sephiran lifted Sanaki onto his arm and let them lead the way while her arms ringed his neck and her breath dampened his ear.
She liked the style of lamps, which hung from the ceiling like lanterns, with their sides cut out in a mesh that cast golden light shapes on the corridor walls. Everything was washed white; the floors were reddish stone, smoothed and polished, the doors heavy, dark wood he wasn't sure his empress could open on her own. High arched windows marched along the way to his rooms, covered by shutters cut again into mesh shapes, geometric sometimes, artistic at others. His apartment was divided into three rooms, all layered with rich carpets: a living area, where one could entertain a guest; an office with a wide oak desk large enough to sleep on; then a bedroom, sunny and open while the others were decorated with dark woods and red. The walls were white, the floors white and bare, the curtains a fine lace. The bath was a wide, shallow pool decorated with tile flowers, lit by three tall windows and surrounded by plants.
Sanaki wanted to take a bath right away, but he convinced her to wait until after dinner, which he had them serve on the small table in the bedroom. Shuttered, mesh doors opened to a wide balcony. They had the table moved outside, and watched the tops of the date palms wave in a warm wind. A vegetable stew was brought, cooked in a special clay pot, along with aromatic rice, stuffed peppers, and a nut pastry drenched with honey. She drank three glasses of pomegranate punch before he realized, and kicked at the table legs when he sent it away, but she forgot about the disappointment soon enough - there was the bed to examine, which looked excessively soft when she jumped onto the quilt and sank downward.
Once the empress had made a nest for herself at the center of the bronze-colored quilt, she curled up and peered over the top of her indentation at him. "They said I have a room."
Sephiran tossed his napkin onto the table and walked fully inside, gesturing for the maid to clean up. "You may stay - for today." Her lip puffed slightly, and he shook his head. "There will be work for us to do, your majesty. It might look like a vacation, but all they really mean to do is keep us out of the way. All of our paperwork will be sent by courier."
Sanaki twisted onto her back. "That's stupid."
He approached the bed, an arm folded behind his back. "The senate is always doing stupid things. You're a far better influence, even when you yell."
Her giggle was muffled by her two round fists, pressed to her mouth to hide her smile. "Can I yell at them when we go back?"
"All you want." Sephrian sat down on the edge and folded his legs up. The pillows were piled three high, firm enough to lean against without falling back. She crawled across the quilt to curl up at his hip, rest her head on his stomach, while the maids removed the remains of their dinner, moved the table back inside, and heated the bath. Their trunks were brought in, set down against the wall. As the sun faded and the lamps were lit, the room turned from white to gold, cool to warm, and his empress's little fingers curled and traced on his shirt.
"They think I'll forget, don't they?"
Sanaki's voice broke Sephiran's contemplation of the ceiling. "About Gallia?" he said. "I'm sure they hope so. The last thing they want is another empress who thinks of laguz as human beings."
She was quiet a moment. The maids left in a line of crimson robes; the outer door closed. "My mother?"
"No." He looked down, but all he saw was the top of her head, and the golden halo atop the darkness of her hair. "Your grandmother. She freed all laguz still enslaved in Begnion, and would have done more if they hadn't killed her."
Her fingers curled more tightly into the fabric of his shirt. "Why?" Her head was heavy, pressing his ribs. "Why would they do that, when she was doing something good?"
"They are not good people, Sanaki." Sephiran smoothed her hair, combed his fingers through it, working a tangle with his nails. She still smelled like feathers and pegasus, and he did too, but she'd climbed onto his leg, and showed no sign of wanting to move. "A good ruler will always put her people before herself, and use her strength to protect the innocent and the weak. They do neither. Every word they utter they mean to serve themselves."
"They killed my grandmother." Her intonation did not make it a question, but she said it slowly, as if she didn't know what the words meant. "They..." A pause, two breaths. "They don't like laguz."
They killed laguz - any they could find. They killed the herons - his family, his friends, everyone he had ever known who was still alive, the senate destroyed. Sephiran tried to say yes, and his throat closed against the words so he had to swallow hard, several times, before he could speak.
"Why?" Sanaki's voice was very soft.
He kept coming her hair, swallowed again until he'd wet his throat. "I don't know." Because they had wings, perhaps, or tails? "I wish I did."
"I won't let them do anything mean." She pushed up suddenly, settling back on her knees, hair matted and frizzed on one side of her face where it was pressed and rubbed against his shirt. "I'll read every paper to make sure they're not, I promise. I won't let them take Yurice away," she said, naming her laguz maid. "They think I'm stupid, but I'll know when they try to do bad things."
Sephiran wanted to smile, but he couldn't even look at her directly. If he did-- he didn't know what would happen. He might cry like a child. They always said he was moved to tears too easily - Dheginsea, Soan, even Nasir, whom he'd thought the most understanding of his allies, if also the weakest. "Such big promises, and such a little empress."
She straightened in his peripheral vision, her white dress a bright spot against the golden hue of the room. "I'm not little, Sephiran. You're just too tall."
The laugh burst out before he could stop it, but it gave him an excuse to rub his eyes. Her fierce frown made him laugh harder. What a wonderful little girl - sweet, willful, well-meaning, so like her ancestress in that way. Sephiran reached for her again and pulled her into a hug, held her tight, buried his face into her feathery hair. "I'll help you," he said. "I'll never leave you." I'll save you. "We'll change the world, and you'll be queen of it all."
Sanaki squirmed and craned her neck back to stick her tongue out at him. "I already am!"
He kissed the crown of her head, her forehead, her nose, both of her hands. "Of course you are, my lady Sanaki. How could I forget?"
.................................................................................................
The story about the heavenly river I made up, though it's possible I copied some legend by accident; the second story is the Tanabata myth, also known as "the princess and the cowherd." The original plan would have had a Tellius version of it, but I think that'll have to wait for another side story. For now, Child-Like Empress is going to end. Hopefully it didn't disappoint too much.
.
Author: Amber Michelle
Pairing: Lehran/Sanaki (platonic)
Fandom: Fire Emblem 9-10
Theme: 22 - cradle
Gauntlet theme: 15 - There is no armor against fate; death lays its icy hand upon kings
Words: 6778
Rating: K
Disclaimer: Fire Emblem is copyrighted by Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. I'm not getting any money out of this, just satisfaction~
Chapters:
+ Part One
+ Part Two
+ Part Three
+ Part Four
+ Part Five
Notes: Part of the Bloodline series of (mostly) canon storylines. Here "cradle" is interpreted as a protective or nurturing gesture rather than the physical object.
This will be the last installment.
......................................................
When the empress realized Sephiran would allow her nightly infractions upon his space, she let go of whatever restraint remained in her interactions with him; night after night for a week, a month, Sanaki ran to his rooms with nightmares on her heels, and Tanith or Sigrun close behind. He grew accustomed to the the heat of her breath at the crook of his neck, against the underside of his chin, to finding the collar of his sleeping robe damp with sweat or drool; he learned to recognize the subtle differences in pattern present in Tanith's breathing rhythm, Sigrun's, Eirene, Catalena, perhaps half of the holy guard. They were unwilling to abandon their care of the empress even when Sanaki was, as many of them believed, safe in Sephiran's hands. He learned that Sigrun liked to read, and would bring a covered lamp with her when it was her turn to stand guard over his bed; she chose epic poetry from the north, while her companion Tanith preferred strategy manuals, and the others often lapsed into daydreams.
As for himself, he'd not gotten a full night's rest for over a month by the time Sanaki decided, much to her guard's chagrin, that she might as well accompany Sephiran to his rooms after dinner and sleep there to start with, rather than huddling alone in her room and then demanding they take her downstairs. It'll cause less comment, Eirene said, while the four of them stood around the dinner table in a half-circle, but Sigrun frowned sharply and said no, it'll cause more - we're lucky she's so young. Two or three more years, and the talk will turn ugly. Sanaki asked why, and Sigrun told her she'd understand when she got older.
I don't intend to let it go on that long, Sephiran murmured, but she ignored him, and the empress didn't hear, which was just as well. Now that Sanaki knew he would say no to her on occasion, she'd grown both more hesitant to ask, and more demanding when she decided he should give her something. I won't let you leave until you tell me a story, she might say; or, you aren't allowed to hold anyone's hand but mine - especially not that woman. I don't like her, and she went so far as to prove good on her promise to make it an order-- in public, in the cathedral antechamber, while he held the Duchess Asmin's hand to kiss her knuckles. She wasn't young enough to merit his interest, nor single, but she was a woman, and Sanaki, it seemed, had learned the lesson of jealousy too soon. He wondered if it was Culbert's fault. Most of her bad habits could be traced to him, Sephiran thought. I want this, I want that, on your knees--
The day after Sanaki's first formal sleep-over in his rooms was sunny and hot. Even the slashes of sunlight peeking from between his curtains were warm, though they were filtered by glass and an under-layer of fine white silk. Sigrun brought the empress's day robes, and dressed Sanaki while Sephiran performed his ablutions in the bath, and dressed in a new set of robes. A layer of red lay close to his skin, covered by a lined silk coat so heavy he thought it dragged on the air behind when he walked; his sash was purple, the adornments of rank gold and violet and crimson. The precise cut of the shoulders and sleeves felt confining after the simpler senatorial robes he'd worn for the last year and a half, but Sanaki clapped and oooohed when he came out, so his discomfort couldn't have shown.
"Can I go with you to the meeting?" Sanaki sat on his dressing bench while her knight arranged her hair and fastened the red band of office around her head. Her legs kicked back and forth, the buckles of her sandals flashing in the pale sunlight. "I want to ask them something."
Sephiran drew his hair over a shoulder and combed his fingers through to the ends. "Have you attended before? No?" he said when she shook her head, and he shrugged. "I suppose we can ask."
"Why? You don't have to ask them for anything."
He met her eyes in the mirror. "If only that were true. But even the empress cannot simply do as she likes all the time-- can she?"
Of course I can, Sanaki muttered under her breath, but she stared at herself in the mirror for a long moment, then moved her gaze back to his. "You outrank them."
In name only, yes. Sephiran wondered how many knives would be aimed at his back if he tried to overstep the true bounds of his authority, which lay only so far as required for him to keep the empress quiet. No doubt they hadn't even thought of what he might do for her education, with or without their knowledge. He'd held a lowly post when they promoted him, and the arrogance of the upper classes blinded them to ability in individuals below their station. Did they know their lady's knights read on such a wide variety of subjects, and tried to tutor her in history, rather than myth, when the senate wasn't looking? Were they aware one of Sanaki's maids was a laguz, a woman Sigrun vouched for and protected by some means still a mystery to him? Perhaps her family contributed. Maybe the laguz woman - a cat, tawny-haired and thin as a rail - was one of her personal retainers.
If they didn't know, Sephiran supposed he couldn't allow them to find out. A tighter hold on Sigrun and the others meant less freedom in which to enact his own plans. "Even so. The senate came about as a limit on the power of the Apostles and their aides, and the law says all important matters must be presented and agreed upon by both branches of government."
Sanaki hmphed loudly and crossed her arms. "Well this is very important, so you have to take me."
"Yes, your majesty."
Once she was dressed, they went downstairs and crossed the garden courtyards between the palace and the cathedral, Sanaki nibbling on a sweet roll while they walked. Sephiran smelled rain on the wind that swirled down from the sky to skitter with the leaves across the limestone pavement, but it must have been far away; the square of sky showing between buildings was clear and bright blue, unmarred by streaks of cloud or haze. His hair flitted and streaked against the empress's face, and she batted it away with her sticky fingers.
The cathedral air tasted bitter, stuffy, and voices echoed in the tall, arched halls, though they did not encounter anyone until they passed into the main antechamber to go up the stairs. The public clock struck eight, its chimes like the strident tones of a harpsichord. Priests and senators trickled in through the doors. Guards came to attention and saluted when the empress passed their stations. When they reached the council chamber, and Sephiran heard the voices within, he brought her to a halt just outside the door and knelt so he could whisper that she mustn't say anything, or get involved - it was her right to be present, as their empress, but the business addressed would be meant for senators, not queens, and in any case it was probably inconsequential. Her hair swayed when she nodded, and they went inside.
Hetzel stammered at their little empress's entrance; Oliver's eyebrows lifted, and Lekain showed no surprise at all, though he spent a moment composing his welcome. The others were absent, or late; Sephiran didn't care. He led Sanaki to his own seat at the head of the table and helped her up. "Her majesty has asked that we hear a proposal at the end of the meeting," he said, straightening, folding his hands behind his back, and shook his head when one of the others offered him a chair. "Meanwhile, she would like to observe."
Lekain gathered paper from his end of the table, tapped the sheaf straight, and brought them to Sephiran - his copies of all relevant documents, he murmured to the empress while spreading them out on the table before her, picking the one on intelligence reports from the north border when the meeting started. The room they'd chosen didn't have floor-to-ceiling windows like the other he often met the senior council in, nor was anything interesting visible through the curtains, though Sanaki craned her neck to see around the tall back of her chair. Only leaves waited on the other side of the glass, the wobbling lines of branches, both sable and white, and muffled birdsong that was drowned by Lekain's elaboration on the information sent by his Gaddos operatives. He watched her straighten up and lean back, eyes quickly flicking aside when the empress finally faced front, and Sephiran watched the other two try to watch her and pretend they weren't. Sanaki's legs kicked and swung under the table, sweeping arcs above the floor. Her sandal buckle cracked loudly against a chair leg.
He watched Lekain's eyebrow jump and twitch at the sound and wished he could smile.
After discussing Daein business (no sign Ashnard was stupid enough to attack, more's the pity according to Oliver), they moved on to city revenue and how to raise it, and what should be done about some poor artist's case - one Sephiran had never heard of, but who, he gathered, had the audacity to slander a certain senator - who was not present, for he couldn't bear to face his colleagues - with claims of conduct in the red light district that were beyond ridiculous. Why, even Culbert has the sense not to beat his pretties, Oliver said, and with a ring? He would have a fit about blood caking the settings and sue the damned brothel for damages. Lekain snorted, thanked him for his opinion, said that really wasn't the issue.
Sephiran, the empress whispered, leaning heavily on the right arm of her chair to twist around and see him. What is a brothel?
Hetzel coughed, the only one near enough to hear what she asked, and told her perhaps they would explain it later. She frowned and pouted, sitting straight in her chair when Sephiran told her to, and nursed her puffed out lip with her teeth as they resumed.
"Remove him," Oliver said, his chair creaking loudly when he leaned back. His rings smacked the table when his hand came down. "Who is his patron?"
"A family I am currently involved with," Lekain said, stacking his papers and watching them even out as he tapped them onto the tabletop. His mouth set in a line very close to becoming a frown. "He is making waves in the entertainment district, but has not achieved sufficient notoriety to reach a reputable theatre."
"Then what is the worry?" Sephiran curled his fingers over the top of Sanaki's chair back. She tilted her head back to look at him, up-side down. "Slander is a serious enough charge to arrest him, and doing so should have no untoward effect on the council's reputation."
Hetzel twisted the ends of his shawl and said, "The problem, you see, is that he was not intelligent enough to remove that ring, and it was stolen..."
So Culbert did not, in fact, have the sense to check his impulses? Sephiran sighed and did nothing to hide the curl of his lip when he turned his face away. They could fix that problem without his input; Sanaki was still looking up at him, waiting, and he knew she wanted an explanation. How was he going to explain a brothel, an abuse charge, without veering too far into territory she wouldn't understand completely? She'd chosen a terrible day to follow him around.
He knelt beside the chair and explained the matter as well as he could - consider the victim a contract worker, Sephiran said, to which she nodded. He took his job in Culbert's mansion under the auspices of a verbal agreement that would have included his safety, and Sanaki didn't look surprised when he got to the part in which Culbert struck his so-called employee. She did ask what the man was contracted to do, and Sephiran convinced her it wasn't a topic they should discuss in the meeting chamber. Later, perhaps, over tea. Maybe she would forget by the end of the meeting, and Sephiran wouldn't be asked to withstand Sigrun's glare when she found out he'd explained sex too early - by at least five years, he could imagine her saying. Men. He distracted his empress by asking if she wanted water, or anything to eat, and fetched a squat, heavy glass from a tray in the corner.
The tiny clock at the center of their table chimed ten, like a silver wand striking crystal, and Sanaki pulled her legs onto the chair cushion while everyone gathered their papers and folders, tucking them under so she could kneel and appear taller. She thrust her shoulders back when Lekain sat down and everyone turned to look at her. Sephiran stepped forward to stand beside her, stacking his papers neatly and laying them on the corner of the table near Culbert's empty chair.
"I'm going to Gallia," Sanaki announced.
Sephiran felt a chill, a drop in the pit of his stomach. The senators stared at her a full five seconds, maybe even ten, before Oliver looked at him, and Lekain said, "For what occasion, your majesty?"
"I want to go," she said.
Lekain's eyes slid to Sephiran. "Is this something you have already discussed with your prime minister?"
"Of course--"
"No," Sephiran said, and hoped his eyes were not too round, showing too much white, marking him as prey. The empress slapped the table with her palms and started to contradict him, and he said, "I told you, a journey like that is im--"
"You said to ask them!" Sanaki jerked her gaze back to Lekain, her hair flying, swinging. "I want to go."
"Your majesty," Hetzel said, rubbing his papery cheek, "Gallia is no place for a child your age, especially a girl--"
"I don't care."
"They're savages, your majesty--"
"I'm not afraid of laguz!" She slapped the table again, shouting, made the water in her glass slosh and splash over the lip to pool on the table. "I'm going to go, and Sephiran is going to come with me!"
He pulled out his handkerchief and tried to dab the water dry before it reached his papers, whispering your majesty, please--
Lekain waited for more, his hands folded and perfectly still on the tabletop. When he realized she was finished, he said, "You will see Gallia, your majesty - the entire nation will bow at your feet and acknowledge your superiority. But that is yet to come." His eyes moved, searching her face, and then he sighed and bowed his head slightly. "Perhaps in a few years - five or ten."
"Ten?" Her voice raised an octave. "I want to go now."
"Impossible," he said. "Your own beloved Sephiran--"
"Does what I tell him," Sanaki snapped.
The flat line of Lekain's mouth finally turned down. "No." His voice deepened, but grew softer. "You will not go to Gallia. You will not leave the palace. We will not allow you to disgrace Begnion with your poor behavior."
For a moment, Sephiran thought Sanaki would cry. Her eyes shined, tears gathered at the corners, and her lips trembled. Then her hand darted out to grab her glass, and she threw it across the table.
It made a short, glittering arc in the air before slamming into the wood, bouncing, clattering, rolling, too heavy to shatter, and water spilled across the table. Lekain jerked out of his chair faster than Sephiran thought he was capable of moving, and almost knocked it onto the floor. His papers blurred, blue and purple, the ink running; Oliver snatched his documents from the table and tried to wipe them dry on his doublet.
The glass rolled over the edge of the table and shattered on the tile floor.
Sanaki stared at Lekain for a moment, breathing hard. Sephiran thought she would say more; her lips worked, and he saw her eyes shift, her hands clench, but then a tear streaked down her cheek and slid out of the chair to run. The red streak of her mantle shot toward the door, and she slammed it behind her. Utter silence made the sound seem to echo, but the room was too small, and Oliver's gusty sigh broke the spell only a few seconds later. Sephiran grabbed his papers and rounded the table.
"Gallia?" Lekain's voice stopped him when they were even with each other, he standing beside his chair, Sephiran a mere five steps away from the door-- and safety. "I can hardly believe she came up with the idea herself."
Sephiran halted, turned his chin just enough to allow a meeting of gazes. He knew they wouldn't let him get out of it, but-- couldn't they wait? She must be crying by now. "Unsurprising. You lack imagination in most matters relating to the empress."
He heard a short laugh at his back, the tone incredulous, and a warning murmur from Hetzel that both he and Lekain ignored. "You were not hired for your imagination, Sephiran. Our instructions were to control her temper and see that she is trained to behave properly when necessary - I do not recall telling you to encourage her flights of fancy."
"Children are often given to 'flights of fancy.' A young empress given everything she wants will naturally begin to wonder where her wonderful possessions are coming from, and want more - and more, and more. All you managed to teach her in the year since her rescue is to demand satisfaction and expect to be obeyed, or indulged with a secondary luxury." The paper crumpled in Sephiran's grip, curling against the leg of his pants. He couldn't hear Sanaki outside, so she must have run, or demanded that Sigrun carry her. The only question was where he would find them - and, perhaps, whether Sigrun would jump to conclusions and blame him or not. She might anyway. Gallia was his idea, after a fashion. "You don't realize the difficulty of the job you've given me, Lekain. While you wait for results, perhaps you should reflect on the nature of children and childhood, and remember that imagination and exploration are natural components of the learning process." He walked to the door. "Of course she wants to see Gallia. I'm sure she'd like to see anything that isn't Sienne."
"Then--" Lekain caught him before he could turn the knob fully. "Take her elsewhere."
Sephiran let the knob slide in his grip, turn back into place. He looked over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. "A sudden change of heart, isn't it?"
Lekain turned fully, blotting out the light from the windows. The others watched from their seats. "Take her anywhere in Begnion." He folded his arms behind his back, perhaps clasping his hands, his eyes glittering. "Persis, perhaps. You are required to visit within the year to take control of the provincial seat, I believe."
Sephiran wished he hadn't placed himself at such a disadvantage; he would have to squint to make out the subtleties of the man's expression with the light glaring in his eyes, and that would look ridiculous. Appearance mattered, if he was going to face these men down. "And?"
"Stay there." Lekain held his gaze for a breath, then turned back to the table and picked at his papers, rubbing watery ink between his thumb and forefinger. "Until the first of the new senate sessions next spring. You won't be needed until then, and the empress can sign and stamp paper in Persis as well as her rooms here."
He had a thick neck; Sephiran wondered if Zelgius would require one strike to cut through it, or even two. "You must be joking. Her presence is required for audience--"
"The last audience of the season will be tomorrow." Water dribbled over the edge of the table. Broken glass crunched under Lekain's boots, ground beneath his weight. "Perfect timing, do you not agree?"
Oh yes. Sephiran opened the door and made himself close it gently on his way out. Yes, it was just perfect.
*
The announcement of their trip to Persis was met with skepticism from Sigrun and silence from the empress, who confined herself to her room - to cry, Sephiran thought, but he didn't hear her voice when he entered her rooms, nor an irregular rhythm to her breathing. He didn't bother to disguise his irritation when he instructed the knights to prepare for a stay of half a year, perhaps longer, depending on how soon he could convince the other senators that sending paperwork to the provinces was more inconvenient than dealing with her tantrums. They really were fools, all of them, incapable of putting themselves into another's shoes, unable to recall their own childhood logic and apply it to what was right in front of them, despite the childish nature of their own self-serving habits.
If he'd needed further reason to bring about the Judgment after the massacre at Serenes, the rotting fruit of Begnion would have provided an abundance of specimens to demonstrate the tragic flaws of the human race. The senators were concerned with their own goals and finances, which were not hurting in the slightest, and could not see beyond the tips of their noses; the nobility sank itself into decadent pleasure, consuming without producing anything valuable of its own; the commons was caught between them, ignorant, pathetic. If anything about the Serenes incident were forgivable, Sephiran might have allowed the commoners some leeway - they were stupid, but it wasn't their fault they were so easily taken advantage of.
Nothing about it could be excused, however. He would show them no mercy. Ashera would strike them down on his word, and they would be returned to the earth from which they were formed and given a life they did not deserve.
Sanaki was asleep when he went in to check on her. He sat on the stool at her dressing table and watched the folds of her velvet mantle rise and fall with each breath, the vivid color deepened to magenta by the shadows; her curtains were drawn. Her hair bled into the shadows, dark and blue and purple. The ends hid her pale face and stuck to her cheeks, where trails of salty tears tracked when he knelt by the bed to brush the strands behind her ear and straighten her cover. Watching her sleep held him transfixed for a long while, long enough one of the guard came in to see what he was doing, ask questions, the sound of her voice threatening his empress's peace until Sephiran stood up and motioned her out with a sharp jerk of his hand. No, he didn't know why the senators were sending them away, he said-- even though he had an inkling. No, he wouldn't fight it-- unless she thought the empress would be happier staying in the palace, rather than getting out and exploring her own country.
No, of course not. She looked appalled. He wanted to know why they hadn't tried to get her out sooner, and she shifted on her feet, uncomfortable.
The last audience of the season passed without incident. Sanaki didn't bother to ask him any questions. She scowled at Lekain when he came over afterward to ask how their preparations were moving, when he should appear to see them off, and the empress told him he should lock himself in the dungeon until she was gone, so she wouldn't have to look at his face. Sephiran said she shouldn't speak to the senators like that - and when their adversary had gone, he leaned down to pick her up for the walk back to her room and promised I'll bring something beautiful for dessert for that..
Sanaki smoothed his hair from the part, down over his ears, and tucked it back as he often did with hers. He watched her while he walked, keeping track of the knights' course in his peripheral vision so he wouldn't wander. Her hands warmed his cheeks. She leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose.
Sephiran wanted to go to Gallia just as she did. He wanted to go, take the empress with him, and stay there forever, where the trees were still tall and green and the laguz were proud, strong, and most importantly, free. Free from fear, from shame. Free to bare their colors, their markings, and live according to their instincts, as the beorc were allowed to do. Sanaki would be happier there. And he would hear the whispering of the forest - perhaps not his own forest, which lay in ruin, but the spirits in every land had a voice for one who knew how to listen.
He wanted to listen. It didn't matter if he could understand what they said - he wanted to hear their voices, and teach Sanaki to hear them too. Who cared if she didn't have the mark of the Apostle, or if she couldn't sing galdrar? She was a child of both races and neither, even still - his child, his birthright, the carrier of the talent he'd lost long ago.
Sanaki belonged to him.
Every night of their journey to Persis, Sephiran told her a story once they'd landed, eaten, and the knights had erected a tent for their use. The stars were brighter outside of Sienne. Sanaki liked to fly, would fling her arms out to the sides to pretend she had wings while he held her firmly to the saddle and scolded her for taking such risks. The wind swept his words away, and her laughter with them. But when night fell, and they sat by the fire, it seemed she liked to sit in his lap just as much, with a blanket around her shoulders like her royal mantle, to demand stories. Remember that one about the dragon lady and the king? Tell me again. And then another one, the one about Altina and Dheginsea and Soan, and what about Saint Lehran? and he tried not to let his mouth twist at that one. She complained that he was too sparse with it, but it was strange talking about himself in the third person - strange to remember that name, when he'd given it up so long ago.
"Why don't I tell you something else?" Sephiran said when her frown showed no sign of easing. The moon was out, almost full, dimming the stars, but lighting their camp with gray and blue tones at the edges, where the small clearing gave way to trees. They had white bark and spindly branches, dark, star-shaped leaves, and looked like ghosts when the fire burned low and the coals were more red than orange. Behind the scent of burning wood was pine and sandy soil, and a hint of water far off; his ears caught the burble of the stream, though the knights had to walk fifteen minutes east to find it. "See those stars up there?" He lifted his hand, pointed. His empress shifted in his lap to look, so she sat on his legs like he was a chair. "It's hard to tell tonight, but during the new moon, that cluster of stars is lit up like mist. In ancient days they called it the River of Heaven. Have you heard of it?"
She shook her head, and Sephiran told her the story of how the river of stars came to be when the goddess waded into a pool to wash her hair and flung diamond droplets of water into the air in a long, glittering arc when she tossed her head back; some of it splashed down like rain to dapple the mirror surface of the lake, and the rest got caught in the indigo sky and stayed, so the lady of the dawn would have company when the sun went down and left her in the dark.
"But I thought the herons kept Ashera company," Sanaki said, twisting a handful of his hair in her hands. She tilted her head back. "Did they leave?"
"They would never leave her." He smiled, and rested his chin atop her head when she looked at the fire again. "Never by their own choice." The snap of the fire was too appropriate an accompaniment to that thought. He wondered if she even knew, yet, that the forest had burned, or if the senate had kept that information secret. No doubt they would like to forget Serenes and the heron clan ever existed. "This was before their time, when the goddess was still creating the details of our world. Perhaps that incident inspired the creation of rain as well."
"And the star princess?" A spark leapt from the fire, spiraled upward, faded. Sanaki's fingers kneaded the hair she'd pulled over her shoulder, but she no longer pulled or combed. "Did the goddess create the star princess too?"
Sephiran shifted, the bark of the tree he leaned against biting into one of his shoulder blades. "She wasn't truly a star, but she was a princess." The empress let him move, but wouldn't get up, even when he shifted his legs. "I don't recall telling you that one. Shall I?"
Tanith and Sigrun murmured on the far side of the clearing, lit gold and orange and dark brown by the campfire. Their accouterments glinted, throwing tiny streaks of reflected light about to dance on the tree trunks and grass whenever one of them shifted. Three knights slept near them, already rolled up in their blankets, and far away he heard the beat of pegasus wings, three or four pairs, flying patrol around the area. It was a designated camping spot for this very purpose - to cater to government officials en route to the provinces, complete with the imperial seal emblazoned in a rock near their encampment, but they refused to lower their guard.
"My mother told me," Sanaki said. Her head lolled slightly to the side, her golden eyes gleamed. "She liked that story."
Sephiran's grip on her arms tightened before he realized it. He made his fingers loosen, stroking her hair instead, twitching the blanket closed where it had fallen open over her feet. Her voice had no inflection. It could have been that she was tired, drifting off; Sanaki's face was tilted at a difficult angle, and he couldn't lean over to look without disturbing her.
She never talked about her mother. She never talked about anything that happened before he found her in that abandoned villa, covered in her mother's blood, everyone dead and all the lamps dark. Even the night had been moonless, starless, blanketed with heavy, dirty clouds. He remembered the pitch of her scream like it was yesterday.
Instead of telling the story, Sephiran let the moment pass and waited for her to fall asleep before carrying her into their tent.
Two nights and most of another day brought them to Persis, and another two days of flying stretched before they touched down on the manor lawn in the provincial capitol. Seven of the holy guard appeared to meet them, sent several days before Sanaki's own departure to secure the area and become acquainted with the staff. Twenty people met them at the entry, including the head of household, a secretary, and fifteen maids, all of whom sank to their knees and pressed their foreheads to the floor when he entered with the empress. They wore red and black layered coats and skirts with wide sleeves that spread out in half moons on the floor, and the women wore their hair braided and bunned atop their heads, every head dark, with pleasantly dusky complexions of tan and brown. Sephiran lifted Sanaki onto his arm and let them lead the way while her arms ringed his neck and her breath dampened his ear.
She liked the style of lamps, which hung from the ceiling like lanterns, with their sides cut out in a mesh that cast golden light shapes on the corridor walls. Everything was washed white; the floors were reddish stone, smoothed and polished, the doors heavy, dark wood he wasn't sure his empress could open on her own. High arched windows marched along the way to his rooms, covered by shutters cut again into mesh shapes, geometric sometimes, artistic at others. His apartment was divided into three rooms, all layered with rich carpets: a living area, where one could entertain a guest; an office with a wide oak desk large enough to sleep on; then a bedroom, sunny and open while the others were decorated with dark woods and red. The walls were white, the floors white and bare, the curtains a fine lace. The bath was a wide, shallow pool decorated with tile flowers, lit by three tall windows and surrounded by plants.
Sanaki wanted to take a bath right away, but he convinced her to wait until after dinner, which he had them serve on the small table in the bedroom. Shuttered, mesh doors opened to a wide balcony. They had the table moved outside, and watched the tops of the date palms wave in a warm wind. A vegetable stew was brought, cooked in a special clay pot, along with aromatic rice, stuffed peppers, and a nut pastry drenched with honey. She drank three glasses of pomegranate punch before he realized, and kicked at the table legs when he sent it away, but she forgot about the disappointment soon enough - there was the bed to examine, which looked excessively soft when she jumped onto the quilt and sank downward.
Once the empress had made a nest for herself at the center of the bronze-colored quilt, she curled up and peered over the top of her indentation at him. "They said I have a room."
Sephiran tossed his napkin onto the table and walked fully inside, gesturing for the maid to clean up. "You may stay - for today." Her lip puffed slightly, and he shook his head. "There will be work for us to do, your majesty. It might look like a vacation, but all they really mean to do is keep us out of the way. All of our paperwork will be sent by courier."
Sanaki twisted onto her back. "That's stupid."
He approached the bed, an arm folded behind his back. "The senate is always doing stupid things. You're a far better influence, even when you yell."
Her giggle was muffled by her two round fists, pressed to her mouth to hide her smile. "Can I yell at them when we go back?"
"All you want." Sephrian sat down on the edge and folded his legs up. The pillows were piled three high, firm enough to lean against without falling back. She crawled across the quilt to curl up at his hip, rest her head on his stomach, while the maids removed the remains of their dinner, moved the table back inside, and heated the bath. Their trunks were brought in, set down against the wall. As the sun faded and the lamps were lit, the room turned from white to gold, cool to warm, and his empress's little fingers curled and traced on his shirt.
"They think I'll forget, don't they?"
Sanaki's voice broke Sephiran's contemplation of the ceiling. "About Gallia?" he said. "I'm sure they hope so. The last thing they want is another empress who thinks of laguz as human beings."
She was quiet a moment. The maids left in a line of crimson robes; the outer door closed. "My mother?"
"No." He looked down, but all he saw was the top of her head, and the golden halo atop the darkness of her hair. "Your grandmother. She freed all laguz still enslaved in Begnion, and would have done more if they hadn't killed her."
Her fingers curled more tightly into the fabric of his shirt. "Why?" Her head was heavy, pressing his ribs. "Why would they do that, when she was doing something good?"
"They are not good people, Sanaki." Sephiran smoothed her hair, combed his fingers through it, working a tangle with his nails. She still smelled like feathers and pegasus, and he did too, but she'd climbed onto his leg, and showed no sign of wanting to move. "A good ruler will always put her people before herself, and use her strength to protect the innocent and the weak. They do neither. Every word they utter they mean to serve themselves."
"They killed my grandmother." Her intonation did not make it a question, but she said it slowly, as if she didn't know what the words meant. "They..." A pause, two breaths. "They don't like laguz."
They killed laguz - any they could find. They killed the herons - his family, his friends, everyone he had ever known who was still alive, the senate destroyed. Sephiran tried to say yes, and his throat closed against the words so he had to swallow hard, several times, before he could speak.
"Why?" Sanaki's voice was very soft.
He kept coming her hair, swallowed again until he'd wet his throat. "I don't know." Because they had wings, perhaps, or tails? "I wish I did."
"I won't let them do anything mean." She pushed up suddenly, settling back on her knees, hair matted and frizzed on one side of her face where it was pressed and rubbed against his shirt. "I'll read every paper to make sure they're not, I promise. I won't let them take Yurice away," she said, naming her laguz maid. "They think I'm stupid, but I'll know when they try to do bad things."
Sephiran wanted to smile, but he couldn't even look at her directly. If he did-- he didn't know what would happen. He might cry like a child. They always said he was moved to tears too easily - Dheginsea, Soan, even Nasir, whom he'd thought the most understanding of his allies, if also the weakest. "Such big promises, and such a little empress."
She straightened in his peripheral vision, her white dress a bright spot against the golden hue of the room. "I'm not little, Sephiran. You're just too tall."
The laugh burst out before he could stop it, but it gave him an excuse to rub his eyes. Her fierce frown made him laugh harder. What a wonderful little girl - sweet, willful, well-meaning, so like her ancestress in that way. Sephiran reached for her again and pulled her into a hug, held her tight, buried his face into her feathery hair. "I'll help you," he said. "I'll never leave you." I'll save you. "We'll change the world, and you'll be queen of it all."
Sanaki squirmed and craned her neck back to stick her tongue out at him. "I already am!"
He kissed the crown of her head, her forehead, her nose, both of her hands. "Of course you are, my lady Sanaki. How could I forget?"
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The story about the heavenly river I made up, though it's possible I copied some legend by accident; the second story is the Tanabata myth, also known as "the princess and the cowherd." The original plan would have had a Tellius version of it, but I think that'll have to wait for another side story. For now, Child-Like Empress is going to end. Hopefully it didn't disappoint too much.
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