![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runicloreThe Child-like Empress - III
Author: Amber Michelle
Pairing: Lehran/Sanaki (platonic)
Fandom: Fire Emblem 9-10
Theme: 07 - superstar
Words: 8105
Rating: K
Disclaimer: Fire Emblem is copyrighted by Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. I'm not getting any money out of this, just satisfaction~
Previous installments:
+ Part One
+ Part Two
Notes: Part of the Bloodline series of (mostly) canon storylines.
I'm so sorry for the length. >_>
......................................................
"Sephiran."
Pale flames licked the air within round, brass lanterns hanging on chains from the ceiling of the corridor, two hands above his head, and while the wall to his left was open, merely a march of columns dividing the covered area from a fountain courtyard, it was no better than the indoor hallways - the air was stuffier, heavier. The empress's hand slipped in his, but she held his fingers tightly when he attempted to withdraw. "Your majesty?"
Sanaki's indigo hair swayed against her chin. Wisps clung to her neck, beneath her ears. "How did you pass the barrier?"
Sephiran looked down, but she was watching her feet, and a flick of his gaze from side to side revealed the profiles of her knights. They hadn't forgotten, though he thought the empress had let the incident slip from her mind forever when she neglected to ask this question over the course of the last week. Why not three days ago, or five, when the journey to the vault was still fresh in her mind? "Consider our location," he said, adjusting his hold on her hand. It was so small, easier to wrap his fingers around her wrist. "If you wish to fill the silence, we should discuss tonight's session. You must have questions."
The empress lowered her chin, and he didn't know her well enough yet to decide what that meant. He thought she'd paid attention during the proceedings; she always bit her lip and rubbed it between her teeth when she tried to understand something, and picked at the embroidery on her sleeve when she was bored. His ears caught the churn of her stomach when she was hungry, and Sanaki had already proven herself stubborn when she was physically uncomfortable. Court broke for an hour that night to accommodate her appetite, and Sephiran spent forty of those minutes resisting the urge to fold his arms on the table and take a nap. His lady feasted on thick slabs of bread and cheese heaped with fresh tomatoes and herbs, drizzled with olive oil, and he stared out the window of the break room, past her reflection, glad she chose to speak with Sigrun. He tried a cup of chamomile tea at the urging of one of her knights, but it was flat. He managed two gulps and held it between his hands on the table until Sanaki was ready to return to the meeting.
Every matter brought before the senate that day left a bitter taste in his mouth. Their emissary to Melior, dispatched a week before Sephiran's promotion, was attacked en route by Phoenicis; the ship was wrecked, and Kilvas charged fifty thousand gold to return the passengers to Begnion soil. Their messenger challenged the senate to find another to way, and the public nature of the meeting stopped the senior council from invoking their advantage over the ravens-- but only that.
Then a report on wyvern riders spotted during the last week's border dispute with Daein soured the air further, and he remembered Sanaki's fingers tapping the arm of her throne while they argued, while suggestions were made - root the traitors out, send a messenger to King Ashnard to negotiate their capture - and her bracelet clanked on the wood. He'd knelt beside her, placed a hand over hers, and explained why the senators from the south, especially those from Asmin, were so intent on revenging themselves on these mysterious riders in the north.
"I thought--" Sanaki said when they alighted the blue tile steps into the palace hall, "I thought our border with Daein was that wall. I thought there was a deal."
"A treaty." She let her hand slip to her side, and Sephiran reached back to retie his hair as he spoke. "Azalea Hill, 515. Daein's king at the time wished to extend his reach to the southern half of the mountain range, where the mines are still active."
"He lost?"
"Of course."
"But--" Sanaki stepped on the hem of her robe and stumbled, grabbing his arm to steady herself. Sigrun paused, her hand whipping out to grasp the empress's other shoulder, and the other knights clomped to a stop, spear butts scraping the tile. He heard Sanaki sigh, saw her mouth turn down. "I hate this thing."
Sigrun smoothed the mantle, the empress's hair, and said, "Four flights is quite a climb. Shall I carry you?"
The halo of reflected lamp light shifted when Sanaki canted her head at the knight, her fingers shifting, curling slightly into Sephiran's sleeve. Then she turned her head, and looked up at him, and he felt the heat of a lamp at the back of his head. Someone chuckled - one of the newer recruits, Tanith or Catalena. "The exercise is good for you," he said. When she stamped her foot and opened her mouth, he leaned down to pick her up by the waist and said quickly, "but I can manage a few stairs after carrying you across the province."
The little empress sniffed sharply and said that's better. Her thin arms wrapped around Sephiran's neck and shoulders; small hands pulled his hair away from his neck and smoothed it. She adjusted the collar of his new coat as they ascended the stairs and rested her head against his when she'd finished preening him. He heard her heartbeat at his ear and the rasp of her breathing, and was glad for her rosy scent - the way it drowned the smell of leather and polish and dust.
She was only a little heavier than before, and far too thin. Her elbows were sharp, digging into his shoulder. When they entered her rooms and he put her down, she bounded away at a half-run, twisting between her chairs and a sofa to pause at the open door to her bedroom and call Tanith. It's your turn, isn't it? she said, and disappeared inside. One of the others told her not to come out drenched this time, and the young knight followed the empress and closed the door. Sigrun commanded the others to leave - but she stayed behind, at his back, her breathing audible to him above the footsteps of the others and the click of the door pulled shut.
Sephiran listened to her rhythm a moment before he moved away and reached to open the glass doors to the balcony. The room was dry and hot, and smelled of lamp oil and dust. He was rewarded with a breath of gardenia while he stood at the door and looked over the treetops; there were maples, pines, magnolias, cypress, juniper, planted so the textures of their leaves stood out, one against the other. Only a stretch of the imagination would allow one to imagine it a forest.
"Will you answer her question?"
He watched a five-pronged maple leaf twist from its branch on a breeze and flutter down, past the wide stone rail and out of sight. The air cooled his forehead for a moment and was gone. "Which?"
Her armor creased; perhaps Sigrun folded her arms. "You think to convince me of your ignorance when you've contrived to place yourself at her majesty's side so quickly?" Her boots hardly made a sound on the rug, but he still heard her approach. She stopped on the other side of the table and turned a teacup over on the left. "It took a week at most. I'm impressed."
Sephiran twisted, looked over his shoulder; her pale face was set into a near-frown, lips slightly turned down, but her unblinking gaze reminded him, for a moment, of the first morning he spent at Sanaki's side before the full senate. Sigrun looked so young - she couldn't be much more than twenty years. Her fingers curled around the tall back of an extra dining chair and her nails scratched the wood. So young, and she treated the empress as she would a daughter, though she must not have any children - perhaps not even an immediate family. Only those who lost what they loved were so desperately paranoid when they found a replacement.
Or-- perhaps she was abnormally good at detecting lies. They were all noblewomen, these pegasus knights - maybe some of them were tainted by the traditions of their families before they got away.
"Duke Culbert moved before I could contact my own patron." He turned back to the balcony and watched the branches sway in another hot breeze. "Do not overestimate my influence here. He placed me in this position to keep the empress quiet, not to support my agenda."
Her knuckle cracked, a faint sound, and the chair moved. "That agenda is-- what?"
"Have you not been paying attention?" He left himself open for that question; he had to swallow his annoyance and relax his expression before he turned his back on the garden. "I support laguz - the restoration of property and bloodline, radical things of that nature. Do you think they would give me the power to do anything about it?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Yet you took the position anyway. If you intend to use the empress, even for a good cause--"
"Don't be ridiculous." He wished the door to Sanaki's bedroom were open, so he could hear her voice. She must be laughing. The bathroom was probably drenched with water, if the splashing he normally heard was any indication of how much she played. Goddess knew she never had any other opportunities to do so. "Sanaki is young. If she learns to respect the needs of all of her subjects, no matter their race, don't you think Begnion will benefit? Her presence on the throne has not quieted every disturbance in the provinces - only most. She needs to learn and live up to her responsibility. The others were weak rulers, but she can be strong."
Sigrun frowned. "With you to help her, of course."
Sephiran sighed sharply and turned his back on her again. "If you're so determined--"
"Why didn't you tell us?"
He halted, his hand on the paddle-shaped handle of the glass door. "Tell you what?"
"Your lineage." She came around the table quickly and pulled the door from his hand, pushed it shut. "You weren't affected by the barrier, and the empress didn't lead you through. Did you not think it worth notifying us, so we can guard against--"
"It isn't something I want in the open," he said sharply, loudly, and she flinched back-- but held her ground at his right hand. He turned his face the other way. "What accusations would have flown if I'd revealed that to you?"
"This is Begnion, senator." Sigrun stepped around him, made him look at her. "If I believed everything I heard, the empress would be dead. Blood ties aren't proof against betrayal, and neither are sympathies for the downtrodden."
"But both will get me in trouble," Sephiran said, "and my problems will reflect on the empress, so keep it to yourself."
She had her hands on her knives so often in his presence he thought she would reach for one at that moment, but a high-pitched oh startled her into looking aside. Sephiran turned his head more slowly, slanting his eyes left, and found they had an audience of two in the frame of the bedroom doorway, and the little empress had her hands to her mouth, covering what looked like a smile.
Sanaki lowered her fists. "Did we interrupt something? Do you need more time alone?"
Sigrun made a strangled sound and stuttered a protesting your majesty, and Sephiran stepped away from her and bumped into the table, a flush of heat creeping into his face. It must be what made him so charming, this appearance of innocence, as if he hadn't been caught in more embarrassing moments during his lifetime, with more attractive companions - though she wasn't unpleasant. "Where did you learn that?"
Sanaki canted her head. "Oliver."
Tanith's muttered ew was lost beneath Sigrun's voice. "Duke Tanas is not a suitable example of courtly behavior, your majesty. Please don't listen to a word he says."
The empress let her smile fade and chewed the inside of her lip, showing the beginning of a pout. "He said to pay attention to the senators." She pointed at Sephiran.
He folded his hands behind his back, lowered his head. "Perhaps I should be more specific in my instructions."
"Do that," Sigrun muttered.
Sanaki's pout became a frown. "Then why were you talking like that?"
"We were discussing tomorrow's party," Sephiran said, moving past Sigrun to kneel before his little empress. "Sigrun said she would be delighted to accompany us, so you can attend after all. I think we should find a dress for you, majesty - don't you agree?"
There was silence at his back, but Sanaki's squeal nearly shattered his eardrums. He smiled and lifted the girl in his arms as he regained his feet. She kissed his cheek and told him he had to go with her to look at her wardrobe immediately.
Sigrun couldn't arrange his untimely death in public; perhaps she would see, when the ordeal was over, the merit of his hand in the empress's education. If not-- Tanith was a promising candidate for her post.
*
A tray of cards greeted Sephiran the next morning when he left his bedroom, dressed and bathed, hair combed and tied back, a black round with silver chased handles, the sort that would carry a porcelain tea set and a plate of pastries if the servants had not already been instructed to send his meals to the empress's table. The envelopes were multicolored, like flowers; a dark pink scented with rose (and Valtome's square cursive script for a curt note: I've been told you'll be attending without escort tonight - may I suggest instead--), a paler tint, cherry blossom (The Marquess Elandra wishes to reserve a dance), an expensive blue dye with a gold-leaf insignia on the flap (surely you do not intend to go alone; a man of your caliber requires a companion of equal beauty. I have not yet been engaged--) and Oliver's scrawl looked hurried, not as beautiful as the make of his other notes.
The last - plain white envelope, unrefined parchment of a cream color, ink more brown than black, as if thinned - said: a word with you, Minister. Seven-thirty, and he wondered if Sigrun ever slept, or if she'd transcended her human needs by strength of will.
He left his coat folded and draped over his dining chair and buttoned the high collar of his white shirt as he walked to the door. The clock on the end table by his bedroom door read seven thirty-seven, which meant she must be waiting outside, perhaps deflected by a servant, or one of his ornamental guards, until he made it known he was ready. They were armed, and yet their white armor was so heavily decorated with gold scrolling he'd thought the pair flanking his door the night before were statues, mannequins, to improve appearances according to his ranking, as the commander said when Sephiran asked.
Begnion was so strange now. He remembered simplicity from Altina's time - functional decor made luxurious by her choices in materials, oak and silk, lace to line a table runner, red varnish to highlight the natural beauty of the wooden floors and paneled walls. Now the floors were mosaic, marble; now the furniture was painted gold where it shouldn't be, the cushions stuffed so full of wool and feathers he thought their silk seams would burst. Rugs woven in the poor regions of the capitol province layered the floors, hid the natural beauty of the stone. Altina wouldn't recognize her own palace.
Eight hundred years, he supposed, was a long time for beorc. For all Sephiran knew, the place he built on these grounds with Altina at the beginning of the empire had burned down centuries ago, to be replaced with this monstrosity. At least the gardens were maintained. The trees had dropped seed and propagated. He knew their strains well, having planted their ancestors with his own hands. The echo of their generations still thrummed in their wooden hearts. Even he could hear it.
Sigrun was waiting outside as he suspected, leaning against the opposite wall of the small antechamber between his living area and the hallway. She lifted her pale eyebrow when he leaned out, and came forward when Sephiran stepped backward and opened the door to admit her. She had shed her coat, her armored boots and gloves, and wore her jade hair down in a braid, not twisted up as he was accustomed to seeing it. A dagger was sheathed at her hip, and when she paused by his table, shifting to place a hand on one hip, it seemed she missed the taller hilt of her sword where she was accustomed to resting her arm when they spoke.
He shouldered the door closed, leaving the shadowed alcove around the door, arms folded. "If you want to discuss something with me," he said, pausing where the curtains were parted to shine a bar of cool light across the rug, "please tell me before you leave. I understand the nature of your schedule. It won't be a problem."
She blinked once, slowly, her lashes a shade paler in the light. "I am perfectly capable of meeting my own needs, senator."
"No doubt." When her gaze did not waver, Sephiran walked past her to gather the notes and envelopes, stacking them even with his hands on the tray. "What is it you want so early in the morning?"
"You didn't tell her."
He straightened. "And I won't - yet."
"She deserves to--"
"She says what she pleases and cares nothing for the consequences of her words, as young children often do." The time of year was too warm for fires, even at night; there were no coals blow upon and feed with paper. Throwing them into the pool of his bath would only taint the water with ink and spent perfume. "I will tell her when she is mature enough to keep her secrets, and if it angers her, she will also know to direct her dissatisfaction to me, and leave you out of it."
Sigrun blew a sharp sigh through her nose. "It isn't self-preservation that motivates me to say this. Lady Sanaki thinks she is alone--"
"It's better that way."
"How can you say that?"
Sephiran looked over his shoulder. "Bloodline is meaningless. If it were not for the peculiar abilities possessed by the Apostles, the throne would have been taken by another before Lady Sanaki was born. I cannot be the only person in the capitol whose blood carries a trace of hers - and it is only a trace, I assure you. We are so far removed only tradition would call us family."
Her arms crossed; her stance shifted, all of her weight on one hip while her head tilted in the opposite direction. "A trace strong enough to trip every ward in the vault. I see." Sigrun's eyes traveled over his bookcase, lingered in one place. He imagined the colors of his spellbooks reflected in the shine of her eyes. "Strong enough you could have taken custody of the throne in her place, perhaps? Until a proper female descendant might be produced, that is." Her eyes flicked back. "It has happened before."
"Good question." He tapped the notes against his hand. The corners poked his palm, pricked between his fingers. "I don't know, and didn't care to take the opportunity when I had the chance, as you see."
She appeared unaware of the special properties of blood attributed to Altina; Sephiran wished he knew more, and doubted the records in the vault would provide the information he wanted. When he met Misaha - when he realized such a thing as Branded existed, that his own children and grandchildren were marked by his blood and thought it a curse-- when he learned it passed from daughter to daughter, he'd wondered at the pattern of transmission and how consistent it was in his own descendants, when Zelgius and others led him to believe the appearance of a brand was random. Was it the touch of the goddess? She lay not a league away - not even past the border of the cathedral grounds, but within walking distance - and she slept, but how soundly did she sleep?
Soundly enough, he remembered, that she did not hear his cries when his child with Altina robbed him of his birthright. Yet she said-- you children will have the ability if I must be awakened.
Did Ashera know what would happen? Did she?
"Your opportunity has not yet passed, as I see it."
Did she? Did she know?
His eyes focused on Sigrun again. The silence stretched a moment while he cast his mind back for the thread of their conversation. "I will be targeted often enough as guardian without taking the regency as well. I doubt it would sit well with the council." Sephiran turned his back on her, walked away to drop the notes into a wastebin. It was woven like a basket, painted brown and varnished to match the shelves. "Is that what you were worried about?"
"You speak in past tense."
He knew he glared over his shoulder when Sigrun's eyes narrowed and her knuckles cracked. Sephiran glanced at his books. Three Dissertations on Compassion caught his eye, a yellow canvas cover and black ink title, and if he hadn't had company, he would have laughed. "Your worries are unfounded." It was said Ashera influenced the minds of her servants in subtle ways. Yet-- was he not showing compassion? Understanding? The woman still lived, though his task would be easier without her. "Be at the imperial quarters at four. Someone will have to help Lady Sanaki dress for the party, and it should not be me."
"Speaking of targets--" he heard her shift again, didn't look. Let her speak to his back. "This party will be an excellent opportunity for anyone wishing to be rid of her."
"Security is your job." The gardenias weren't as lush outside of his window; it faced the cathedral, and he saw the glitter of a stained glass window through a gap in the maple boughs marching across the gardens. "I will taste anything she wants to eat first. She has to learn her role somehow, Sigrun - if she won't read or listen to her tutors, then we do this the hard way."
A party. A ball. An excursion to the black forest reserve north of the city where the hills were vivid green and dotted with bright purple and mauve flowers, a tour of the vineyards of Persis. Sephiran would take his empress to all of these events, on any excuse - it wasn't as if their presence in Sienne was required for the senior senators to take advantage of her - and place himself at her beck and call. He would teach her what to say, how to say it, how to be skeptical without letting on by expression or body language.
"She'll listen to you, I'm sure." Sigrun's voice parted the mist of his thoughts, made his neck prickle. She was only partially armed, but a knife was no different than sharp teeth or claws. "I want Sephiran. Make him read. Her words."
Lady Sanaki already heaped favor after favor upon him. He didn't need the throne. It was his by proxy if he wanted it, but it belonged to Altina's daughters - and even if he told Sigrun, she would never understand what he meant. He was glad they kept Altina's portrait, and their daughter's image, in the vault. It was Misaha's benevolent smile beaming down from the wall in the chamber used for senior council meetings instead.
How did they stand it? How did they look at her golden eyes without remorse?
"We will see about readings tomorrow once she has rested," he said. "Are you finished?"
The sound of her footsteps receding was his answer.
*
The empress met him in a simple white dress with a skirt that bounced and fluttered when she skipped over the rug to link her arms around his neck. Little lace gloves with pearl buttons decorated her arms, and the straps of her dress were flounces of gauze and lace, like her skirt. Sephiran picked her up when prompted, smoothed her skirt over his arm, and complimented her on the butterfly barrettes holding her hair over her ears, and her little dangling earrings and matching bracelets, all pearls and emeralds and gold accents. Sigrun stood back, arm folded over her waist, looking as she always did; her gauntlets and boots had been replaced by softer suede, her hair was held with a large gold barrette instead of her invisible pins - but her expression was the same, caught between affected neutrality and the beginning of a frown.
"Did you eat?" he asked once the empress had shown him her jewelry.
"Yes." Sanaki pulled her lip in with her teeth. "I thought this was a dinner party. Why did I have to eat before?"
"It isn't polite to eat very much in public, your majesty." He turned his back on Sigrun. The other knights were waiting outside to accompany them; Tanith opened the door and followed as far as the hallway, carrying on a whispered exchange with her commander. "You must also bear in mind the danger of poisoning," he said. "Valtome will no doubt take every precaution to protect your health, but no one can be completely sure of their servants."
"Valtome." She wrinkled her nose.
"Didn't I tell you he was the one arranging the celebration?" She shook her head, and Sephiran felt her hands smoothing his jacket, and then his hair, and she leaned over his shoulder to see it drift behind them as he walked. "It was his idea. We'll see what he really wants once everyone is busy."
The empress told him white suited him better and he should have consulted with her before changing; his hair disappeared against his black coat, and she didn't like that. It was her favorite thing about him, the prettiest thing except for his eyes - they were nice too, and he had such a beautiful voice. He would have to sing for her someday, she said. Sephiran wondered what she would think of his wings - if she would play with the feathers as she did his hair, or find them something to be ashamed of as other humans did, something he should hide. She perched on his arm like a little bird for their walk downstairs to the drive, and on the edge of the carriage seat during the short ride to the Culbert mansion, trying to stretch her feet to the floor, her fingers curled underneath like talons.
Unlike the Tanas palace, or the Asmin house, Culbert did not admit guests to a private drive by gate, but by a narrow street stretched outside the premises, both sides unbroken white plaster walls, paved with flagstone. Their carriage was allowed to draw to the front, and Sephiran led Sanaki through the painted wrought-iron gate after Sigrun and another knight whose name he did not know. Bougainvillea spilled from wire baskets; the entry was narrow, perhaps three people wide, opening a good dozen steps inward to a crowded garden. Leaves and paper-thin petals in pink and magenta crunched under their sandals. The path wound around a fig tree whose arms reached over their heads and spread wide, five-fingered leaves. He pointed out the green bulbs of fruit, and Sanaki walked with her neck craned back, clinging to his hand with both of hers.
He recognized olive trees, and, rising far above the crowns of the others, the fronds of date palms and the scent of fallen fruit. Cicadas screed, and far away, somewhere in the house, Sephiran's ears caught the thrum of strings and the warping of their tone as they were tuned. He didn't know the instrument; if the house were the measure against which he might judge Valtome's tastes, he supposed it must be something native to the region he governed.
Valtome met them at the door to his dwelling, dressed modestly in the uniform white and gold of his senatorial costume. The yellow tiles he knelt on were swept clean and scrubbed. "Your majesty, Lord Sephiran, thank you for attending. You honor my home." The thick kinks of his red hair were gathered by a gold ribbon that shined when he lowered his head.
With his neck bent like that, Sephiran almost thought he meant it. He waited for Sanaki to make the appropriate response, then said, "It seems we're early. The road was still quite open when we arrived." The other senator straightened, looked up and away from the empress, though he had the decency to remain on his knees. "I apologize for the inconvenience."
"Unnecessary. This is part of the arrangement." Valtome turned his gaze back to the empress and humored her with a smile. Her grip on Sephiran's hand tightened. "The empress has never visited Culbert province before," their host said. "I thought she might like a tour of the house. It is traditional, down to the smallest piece of furniture."
"Really?" Sanaki leaned forward. She dragged the toe of her sandal on the tile. "There are round wardrobes? And the rugs?"
Valtome's laughed a moment, his smile narrow. "They still have four sides," he said, pushing up to his feet, straightening his coat. "I'll show you. There are dozens of rugs - and curtains, and quilts, and cushions, all hand-made. Come and see."
The empress bounced on the balls of her feet, tugging Sephiran forward by the hand, and he heard Sigrun follow, and the others disperse - to examine the grounds, he assumed, as they couldn't possibly trust Valtome so completely. They caught a glimpse of the open area on their way to the stairs before a servant ran to twitch the wooden screen closed; the impression he left with was red - red rugs, red silk cushions, gold tassels and weavings, deep browns, all of them soaking up the light. Pastry fried somewhere, the buttery scent calling to mind images of crisp turnovers and finger-sized pies, garlic and vegetables roasted, and Sanaki said it smelled good. The walls were wood-paneled and polished to a golden sheen; the marble floor was pale brown, yellow, and white, streaked by gold. Their sandals slapped and echoed in the stairwell, and Sigrun's footfalls sounded twice as heavy.
This chamber, Valtome told them when they left the stairwell and walked into the first open space, is where the family meets to eat and talk. Hangings adored the white plaster walls in a rainbow of bright color, yellow and green, the shades between, blue and red, worked in stylized plant motifs and geometric designs. A low table was the room's focal point, golden pine wood polished to mirror perfection, wide enough an adult might lay across the diameter comfortably. Sanaki let go of Sephiran's hand and ran across the rug - shades of brown he didn't want to step on, they were so tightly and precisely woven - and crouched on a blue cushion. The yellow fringe bounced. Her knees sank into the velvet. She pet the fabric, crawled to the next one - green silk and braided trim - pressed her fingers to the table, and asked how they ate sitting on the floor without their legs falling asleep. Valtome giggled, and Sephiran was too distracted by the shrill hee hee to pay attention to his answer.
Short corridors opened from the central chamber and became bedrooms; they were shown to two guest rooms and their adjoining baths, and Sanaki opened every carved cabinet, tried the edge of both beds, and wanted to know why there were cushions instead of mattresses, and why they were so hard. She liked the trapezoidal shape of the first wardrobe, the way its glass-inlaid doors bent open like an accordion, and her lip stuck out when it wasn't any different inside than her own. The second specimen saved them from a litany of complaints - a stand-alone octagonal wardrobe like a wooden column in the middle of the room, in which Sanaki immediately tried to climb up and fit. Sephiran coaxed her out with a promise to carry her downstairs and - damn Valtome for the suggestion - feed her with his fingers for the first course.
His empress smelled like vanilla, perhaps to match her dress, and leaned heavily on Sephiran's shoulder as they followed Valtome back to the first floor. He hoped Ashera's judgment would come within the man's lifetime - that his plan would succeed before Valtome was too fragile to suffer. The senior senators were responsible for the destruction of the heron clan, Misaha's death, the near extinction of Altina's line, all of whom were the goddess's blessed servants. She must have dreamed of it; she must know. She would reserve some special punishment for them, even if he had to embellish their crimes to convince her.
Sephiran would follow them, no doubt, for his own misdeeds - but as long as they fell first, he didn't care what punishment awaited him.
The screens were folded open, and the wide open space reserved for the party was darker than when Sephiran first glimpsed it; the lamps were turned low, their golden glow soaked in by dark silk wall hangings, crimson rugs, divans carved from golden wood and cushioned in a range of monochrome brown arranged in a circle around another low, round table. They were led to a seat top center, covered with a red embroidered throw, and he let the empress slide from his lap to the cushion and drape herself over the wide arm.
She wanted one, of course. It was almost as comfortable as a real bed. Perfect, Sanaki told him, for telling stories.
Dark wooden screens stretched across the width of the room behind them as they had earlier in front to block his view, and through the top panels, carved into wooden mesh shapes - lotus, rose, birds in flight - Sephiran saw the gleam of the darkening evening sky. The sun had set, but the stars didn't appear to be out, leaving the streaks of clouds colored red, purple, orange, and limned with gold. Culbert said they would be opened later once night fell and the jasmine had fully bloomed.
Then the inevitable happened; Sanaki had Sigrun take her to 'freshen up' as the knight termed it, and they were led away by a female servant in a long, slim dress trimmed with tiny coins at the hem that clinked like bells, and Sephiran was left with the senator. Voices drifted in from the front. He recognized two as senators, and another as the woman Duke Tanas kept company with on occasion, and felt Valtome's eyes linger on his profile, though he resisted the temptation to slide his gaze over.
Though he was part of the senior council by way of promotion, Sephiran hadn't yet been invited to a meeting - and doubted, in fact, he would ever see their meeting chamber again unless they wished to give him more specific orders in relation to the empress. He had not been required to endure this man's scrutiny since the night he was called for their examination, and thought he preferred Tanas - the man was straightforward with his intentions, at the least.
"You see why I did not want an escort," Sephiran said, lifting his eyes long enough to confirm his guess when the voices got closer and the first guests were led into the room. He smiled, raised his hand to greet them, and Culbert welcomed them from his seat on the stool beside her majesty's divan. "At the moment I don't think she will stand for only half of my attention."
"Perhaps." Valtome adjusted one of his rings, twisting the band so the ruby setting was positioned just so, and flattened his hand to examine it. "I assumed I erred in only offering women, but my agents tell me you are notorious for turning down almost everyone."
His emphasis on almost had Sephiran's lips pressed flat before he was aware of it. Zelgius must have been followed when he visited. "I am not interested in that kind of advancement, Senator."
"No?" The lilt to Valtome's voice set his teeth on edge. "Oliver insisted you were amendable. My apologies."
Sephiran sighed heavily, curled his hands on his knees so he wouldn't rub his temples, and looked away from Valtome's annoying hee hee hee to watch the corridor his empress had followed. Duke Tanas had quite an imagination to accompany his lack of social grace, it seemed. Sephiran would never consent to have tea with him again.
Sanaki's return deflected their host's attention, and the beginning of the festivities involved every guest coming forward to greet her with a bow or curtsy and a compliment to her dress, or her jewelry, or the way she'd curled the ends of her hair. Lady Marsilikos bent so low when she greeted them Sephiran thought she would spill out of her low-cut dress; a younger female, third cousin to Hetzel and already famous for her poetry, bent on one knee and bowed her head over the empress's white sandal, and composed a short verse attributing the grace of herons to her tiny feet. Then she turned her head and said she'd written a song for his own ascension - that she hoped he would find it pleasing, and speak to her later.
Her skin reminded him of the almond bark of the slender trees crowded around the altar in Serenes Forest, and she was slim like their number, and moved gracefully, and her voice was pleasant enough. Before he could accept, his empress wrapped both of her hands around his wrist and said he'd already promised to keep her company. The female laughed, introduced herself as Tigana, and left them with the promise to perform later.
Sephiran looked down at his empress. She frowned with a full lower lip. "You did," she said.
"And I meant it," he said, loosening her hold on his wrist with one hand. Her grip relented. "You are invited to any conversation I choose to have."
He didn't deserve the narrow-eyed look Sanaki gave him, and when she climbed over his lap to settle in the narrow sliver of space between his thigh and the rounded arm of the divan, she said, "I think Sigrun is right, and I need to keep an eye on you."
Valtome's snicker was nearly lost in the buzz of conversation. Sephiran imagined Sigrun's stuttered y-your majesty, really-- was accompanied by blood rushing to her face, and wanted to turn around and mortify her with a stare, but Oliver chose that moment to arrive and exclaim from across the room what a lovely image he and the empress made framed by crimson silks and gold candlelight. Lady Sanaki adamantly opposed his attempts to take Sephiran's hand away from her, going so far as to climb into his lap and sit with a puff of frothy white skirt. He sighed. At least she wasn't discriminating.
"Now, your majesty," Oliver said, his beringed hands still stretched halfway between his bent knee and Sephiran's lap, "we would also like the pleasure of Lord Sephiran's company--"
You would - all alone, Valtome murmured.
"--and his smile is yours nearly every day. Surely you can find it in your heart to allow me a few moments."
"No."
Oliver's mouth hung open a moment, his next words seemingly stuck in his throat, then his teeth snapped shut. "I really must speak--"
Sanaki kicked the frame of the divan with her heels. "No."
Oliver's rings clicked when he pressed his hands together. "Five minutes--"
"Stop begging, Oliver." Valtome curled a hand in front of his mouth, cleared his throat loudly. Under his breath, he said as he stood to speak, "Do it later, at the council meeting."
Sephiran's eyebrow lifted. Duke Tanas shrugged, a hand pressing on the table to rise again, while their host welcomed his guests once again and drew their attention to Lady Sanaki and his own presence. Sephiran looked down at the empress, felt her hands curl around his arm, though she showed no other sign of being discomfited by the attention. The main courses were announced: grilled eggplant, stuffed zucchini, feta cheese pies and onion pancakes, and a servant, the same woman who led the empress away earlier, knelt by the arm of the divan with a plate of diamond-shaped baklava slices in a pool of their own honey, arranged in the shape of a flower.
So. Duke Tanas wanted to see him for some legitimate purpose, did he? Sephiran couldn't imagine what. Not for any official matters, unless he'd misjudged their intentions, and-- he thought not. Would they really pull him into one of their private meetings for anything more than a show of solidarity? He watched Lady Sanaki take a sticky diamond of pastry, hold her hand beneath it to catch drips of honey, and she cooed her approval around a mouthful.
At least she was enjoying the party.
"A lovely image." The speaker had bowed her head and spread her skirt in a curtsy when Sephiran looked over. And when she stood-- it was Helene of Damascus, another senator, her smile accompanied by shallow dimples. "I don't think we've spoken face-to-face in over a month, Lord Sephiran, but I must say you are a perfect fit for little Lady Sanaki."
His empress stiffened, and Sephiran closed his hand over her sticky fingers when they moved to push her hair back as she always did when she prepared to assert her authority, trying to smile. This was never going to end.
*
The empress slept through the carriage ride back to the palace, and Sephiran carried her up to her rooms, where Tanith waited with three others to relieve Sigrun's shift, into her bedroom, where he lit the lamp wick with a few words. The oil smelled like gardenias; a small basket of blossoms sat on the opposite nightstand, their petals rimed with brown and wilting. Her eyes were open when he laid her against the pillows, though she had not uttered a word since Valtome bade them good-bye. He sat on the edge of the bed, reached back for the quilt folded on the chest at the foot.
"You know all those people..."
Sephiran shook the blanket out over the edge of the bed. Blue stars and moons were woven into the white damask. "Some of them. Most I have not spoken to outside of committee meetings and the like." he spread it over the mattress, folded back, and took one of her feet to untie a sandal.
Sanaki's lids were heavy, but the gold hue of her eyes gleamed, glassy, at a glance too much like another pair of eyes that lived only in his memory. It was remarkable how consistent Altina's features were in her female descendants; if not for the silver hair, Sanaki's grandmother would have resembled her more, but the violet hair, the eyes, the hue of their skin-- how could he not notice it every time?
But her voice was different - young, yes, but it would not be as deep as his wife's, nor as unrefined. He remembered trying to teach Altina how to sing, and the laughing afterward when she proved hopeless and gave up, and reached for him to bend his attention elsewhere. Her contralto laughter had seemed to ring in the vaulted height of the audience chamber the first morning he walked inside, when the sky outside the high windows was still a twilight purple like her hair.
They like you so much, Sanaki said. I had no idea. Sephiran reached up, smoothed his hand beneath her bangs to push them out of her eyes, and dropped the first sandal onto the floor so he could work on the next. I wonder if anybody will like me.
He pulled the other sandal off. "You received quite a few compliments to my memory," he said. She sat up at his bidding and he un-clipped her barrettes. "If you laugh and smile like that--" He combed his fingers into her hair to straighten it, rested his hand on her head. "Forget about Valtome. Even Oliver was charmed when you jumped in to play his word games. Lady Tigana, too."
The empress stuck her tongue out, and he laughed. "She tried to pull you away," Sanaki said.
"But I didn't go."
"You won't go, will you? You won't leave me again? I had them look all over for you, and nobody would tell me where you went." She looked up at his arm, blinking the bright gleam of moisture from her eyes. "I'm tired of being lied to."
Sephiran withdrew. She would have been happier with her mother at that isolated villa; if only their search for the first princess and been successful, perhaps Lady Sanaki would not have to grow up listening to corrupt old men convolute the truth for their own purposes and twist her arm until she did what they wanted her to do. Nor would she sit there, on a bed too large for her stature, and thank him for his honesty.
He took one of her hands, the one without the ring, and bent to kiss the back, still soft with baby fat as her knees were, and her chin, her elbows. "I won't go anywhere, my empress." Sephiran smiled when he straightened, smoothed her hair again. "Except bed - I'm exhausted."
Sanaki blew her bangs from her eyes and pouted, but let him go once he'd promised to be there again first thing in the morning. Tanith saluted when he left, and Sigrun was thankfully nowhere to be found, though she would probably pay him another visit in the morning. What would she criticize this time - the late hour to which they remained out, or perhaps the number of ladies, both young and not, who dared infringe on their empress's territory? Would she be obliged to beat them off with a stick to maintain Sanaki's mood?
By all means, Sigrun, he would say, and he imagined her jade eyes would narrow.
Sephiran smiled down at the stairs as he walked. The halls were empty, the lamps turned down, the windows at the end of each corridor shrouded by curtains. The guards at his door saluted as Tanith did, their fists over their hearts, and he went inside. His own rooms were cold and dark; Zelgius could not visit him openly, or surely he would be there to warm the chambers and keep his master company.
You won't go, will you? You won't leave me again?
His sleep was uneasy that night. Morning dawned gray, the sky like ash.
.
Author: Amber Michelle
Pairing: Lehran/Sanaki (platonic)
Fandom: Fire Emblem 9-10
Theme: 07 - superstar
Words: 8105
Rating: K
Disclaimer: Fire Emblem is copyrighted by Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. I'm not getting any money out of this, just satisfaction~
Previous installments:
+ Part One
+ Part Two
Notes: Part of the Bloodline series of (mostly) canon storylines.
I'm so sorry for the length. >_>
......................................................
"Sephiran."
Pale flames licked the air within round, brass lanterns hanging on chains from the ceiling of the corridor, two hands above his head, and while the wall to his left was open, merely a march of columns dividing the covered area from a fountain courtyard, it was no better than the indoor hallways - the air was stuffier, heavier. The empress's hand slipped in his, but she held his fingers tightly when he attempted to withdraw. "Your majesty?"
Sanaki's indigo hair swayed against her chin. Wisps clung to her neck, beneath her ears. "How did you pass the barrier?"
Sephiran looked down, but she was watching her feet, and a flick of his gaze from side to side revealed the profiles of her knights. They hadn't forgotten, though he thought the empress had let the incident slip from her mind forever when she neglected to ask this question over the course of the last week. Why not three days ago, or five, when the journey to the vault was still fresh in her mind? "Consider our location," he said, adjusting his hold on her hand. It was so small, easier to wrap his fingers around her wrist. "If you wish to fill the silence, we should discuss tonight's session. You must have questions."
The empress lowered her chin, and he didn't know her well enough yet to decide what that meant. He thought she'd paid attention during the proceedings; she always bit her lip and rubbed it between her teeth when she tried to understand something, and picked at the embroidery on her sleeve when she was bored. His ears caught the churn of her stomach when she was hungry, and Sanaki had already proven herself stubborn when she was physically uncomfortable. Court broke for an hour that night to accommodate her appetite, and Sephiran spent forty of those minutes resisting the urge to fold his arms on the table and take a nap. His lady feasted on thick slabs of bread and cheese heaped with fresh tomatoes and herbs, drizzled with olive oil, and he stared out the window of the break room, past her reflection, glad she chose to speak with Sigrun. He tried a cup of chamomile tea at the urging of one of her knights, but it was flat. He managed two gulps and held it between his hands on the table until Sanaki was ready to return to the meeting.
Every matter brought before the senate that day left a bitter taste in his mouth. Their emissary to Melior, dispatched a week before Sephiran's promotion, was attacked en route by Phoenicis; the ship was wrecked, and Kilvas charged fifty thousand gold to return the passengers to Begnion soil. Their messenger challenged the senate to find another to way, and the public nature of the meeting stopped the senior council from invoking their advantage over the ravens-- but only that.
Then a report on wyvern riders spotted during the last week's border dispute with Daein soured the air further, and he remembered Sanaki's fingers tapping the arm of her throne while they argued, while suggestions were made - root the traitors out, send a messenger to King Ashnard to negotiate their capture - and her bracelet clanked on the wood. He'd knelt beside her, placed a hand over hers, and explained why the senators from the south, especially those from Asmin, were so intent on revenging themselves on these mysterious riders in the north.
"I thought--" Sanaki said when they alighted the blue tile steps into the palace hall, "I thought our border with Daein was that wall. I thought there was a deal."
"A treaty." She let her hand slip to her side, and Sephiran reached back to retie his hair as he spoke. "Azalea Hill, 515. Daein's king at the time wished to extend his reach to the southern half of the mountain range, where the mines are still active."
"He lost?"
"Of course."
"But--" Sanaki stepped on the hem of her robe and stumbled, grabbing his arm to steady herself. Sigrun paused, her hand whipping out to grasp the empress's other shoulder, and the other knights clomped to a stop, spear butts scraping the tile. He heard Sanaki sigh, saw her mouth turn down. "I hate this thing."
Sigrun smoothed the mantle, the empress's hair, and said, "Four flights is quite a climb. Shall I carry you?"
The halo of reflected lamp light shifted when Sanaki canted her head at the knight, her fingers shifting, curling slightly into Sephiran's sleeve. Then she turned her head, and looked up at him, and he felt the heat of a lamp at the back of his head. Someone chuckled - one of the newer recruits, Tanith or Catalena. "The exercise is good for you," he said. When she stamped her foot and opened her mouth, he leaned down to pick her up by the waist and said quickly, "but I can manage a few stairs after carrying you across the province."
The little empress sniffed sharply and said that's better. Her thin arms wrapped around Sephiran's neck and shoulders; small hands pulled his hair away from his neck and smoothed it. She adjusted the collar of his new coat as they ascended the stairs and rested her head against his when she'd finished preening him. He heard her heartbeat at his ear and the rasp of her breathing, and was glad for her rosy scent - the way it drowned the smell of leather and polish and dust.
She was only a little heavier than before, and far too thin. Her elbows were sharp, digging into his shoulder. When they entered her rooms and he put her down, she bounded away at a half-run, twisting between her chairs and a sofa to pause at the open door to her bedroom and call Tanith. It's your turn, isn't it? she said, and disappeared inside. One of the others told her not to come out drenched this time, and the young knight followed the empress and closed the door. Sigrun commanded the others to leave - but she stayed behind, at his back, her breathing audible to him above the footsteps of the others and the click of the door pulled shut.
Sephiran listened to her rhythm a moment before he moved away and reached to open the glass doors to the balcony. The room was dry and hot, and smelled of lamp oil and dust. He was rewarded with a breath of gardenia while he stood at the door and looked over the treetops; there were maples, pines, magnolias, cypress, juniper, planted so the textures of their leaves stood out, one against the other. Only a stretch of the imagination would allow one to imagine it a forest.
"Will you answer her question?"
He watched a five-pronged maple leaf twist from its branch on a breeze and flutter down, past the wide stone rail and out of sight. The air cooled his forehead for a moment and was gone. "Which?"
Her armor creased; perhaps Sigrun folded her arms. "You think to convince me of your ignorance when you've contrived to place yourself at her majesty's side so quickly?" Her boots hardly made a sound on the rug, but he still heard her approach. She stopped on the other side of the table and turned a teacup over on the left. "It took a week at most. I'm impressed."
Sephiran twisted, looked over his shoulder; her pale face was set into a near-frown, lips slightly turned down, but her unblinking gaze reminded him, for a moment, of the first morning he spent at Sanaki's side before the full senate. Sigrun looked so young - she couldn't be much more than twenty years. Her fingers curled around the tall back of an extra dining chair and her nails scratched the wood. So young, and she treated the empress as she would a daughter, though she must not have any children - perhaps not even an immediate family. Only those who lost what they loved were so desperately paranoid when they found a replacement.
Or-- perhaps she was abnormally good at detecting lies. They were all noblewomen, these pegasus knights - maybe some of them were tainted by the traditions of their families before they got away.
"Duke Culbert moved before I could contact my own patron." He turned back to the balcony and watched the branches sway in another hot breeze. "Do not overestimate my influence here. He placed me in this position to keep the empress quiet, not to support my agenda."
Her knuckle cracked, a faint sound, and the chair moved. "That agenda is-- what?"
"Have you not been paying attention?" He left himself open for that question; he had to swallow his annoyance and relax his expression before he turned his back on the garden. "I support laguz - the restoration of property and bloodline, radical things of that nature. Do you think they would give me the power to do anything about it?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Yet you took the position anyway. If you intend to use the empress, even for a good cause--"
"Don't be ridiculous." He wished the door to Sanaki's bedroom were open, so he could hear her voice. She must be laughing. The bathroom was probably drenched with water, if the splashing he normally heard was any indication of how much she played. Goddess knew she never had any other opportunities to do so. "Sanaki is young. If she learns to respect the needs of all of her subjects, no matter their race, don't you think Begnion will benefit? Her presence on the throne has not quieted every disturbance in the provinces - only most. She needs to learn and live up to her responsibility. The others were weak rulers, but she can be strong."
Sigrun frowned. "With you to help her, of course."
Sephiran sighed sharply and turned his back on her again. "If you're so determined--"
"Why didn't you tell us?"
He halted, his hand on the paddle-shaped handle of the glass door. "Tell you what?"
"Your lineage." She came around the table quickly and pulled the door from his hand, pushed it shut. "You weren't affected by the barrier, and the empress didn't lead you through. Did you not think it worth notifying us, so we can guard against--"
"It isn't something I want in the open," he said sharply, loudly, and she flinched back-- but held her ground at his right hand. He turned his face the other way. "What accusations would have flown if I'd revealed that to you?"
"This is Begnion, senator." Sigrun stepped around him, made him look at her. "If I believed everything I heard, the empress would be dead. Blood ties aren't proof against betrayal, and neither are sympathies for the downtrodden."
"But both will get me in trouble," Sephiran said, "and my problems will reflect on the empress, so keep it to yourself."
She had her hands on her knives so often in his presence he thought she would reach for one at that moment, but a high-pitched oh startled her into looking aside. Sephiran turned his head more slowly, slanting his eyes left, and found they had an audience of two in the frame of the bedroom doorway, and the little empress had her hands to her mouth, covering what looked like a smile.
Sanaki lowered her fists. "Did we interrupt something? Do you need more time alone?"
Sigrun made a strangled sound and stuttered a protesting your majesty, and Sephiran stepped away from her and bumped into the table, a flush of heat creeping into his face. It must be what made him so charming, this appearance of innocence, as if he hadn't been caught in more embarrassing moments during his lifetime, with more attractive companions - though she wasn't unpleasant. "Where did you learn that?"
Sanaki canted her head. "Oliver."
Tanith's muttered ew was lost beneath Sigrun's voice. "Duke Tanas is not a suitable example of courtly behavior, your majesty. Please don't listen to a word he says."
The empress let her smile fade and chewed the inside of her lip, showing the beginning of a pout. "He said to pay attention to the senators." She pointed at Sephiran.
He folded his hands behind his back, lowered his head. "Perhaps I should be more specific in my instructions."
"Do that," Sigrun muttered.
Sanaki's pout became a frown. "Then why were you talking like that?"
"We were discussing tomorrow's party," Sephiran said, moving past Sigrun to kneel before his little empress. "Sigrun said she would be delighted to accompany us, so you can attend after all. I think we should find a dress for you, majesty - don't you agree?"
There was silence at his back, but Sanaki's squeal nearly shattered his eardrums. He smiled and lifted the girl in his arms as he regained his feet. She kissed his cheek and told him he had to go with her to look at her wardrobe immediately.
Sigrun couldn't arrange his untimely death in public; perhaps she would see, when the ordeal was over, the merit of his hand in the empress's education. If not-- Tanith was a promising candidate for her post.
*
A tray of cards greeted Sephiran the next morning when he left his bedroom, dressed and bathed, hair combed and tied back, a black round with silver chased handles, the sort that would carry a porcelain tea set and a plate of pastries if the servants had not already been instructed to send his meals to the empress's table. The envelopes were multicolored, like flowers; a dark pink scented with rose (and Valtome's square cursive script for a curt note: I've been told you'll be attending without escort tonight - may I suggest instead--), a paler tint, cherry blossom (The Marquess Elandra wishes to reserve a dance), an expensive blue dye with a gold-leaf insignia on the flap (surely you do not intend to go alone; a man of your caliber requires a companion of equal beauty. I have not yet been engaged--) and Oliver's scrawl looked hurried, not as beautiful as the make of his other notes.
The last - plain white envelope, unrefined parchment of a cream color, ink more brown than black, as if thinned - said: a word with you, Minister. Seven-thirty, and he wondered if Sigrun ever slept, or if she'd transcended her human needs by strength of will.
He left his coat folded and draped over his dining chair and buttoned the high collar of his white shirt as he walked to the door. The clock on the end table by his bedroom door read seven thirty-seven, which meant she must be waiting outside, perhaps deflected by a servant, or one of his ornamental guards, until he made it known he was ready. They were armed, and yet their white armor was so heavily decorated with gold scrolling he'd thought the pair flanking his door the night before were statues, mannequins, to improve appearances according to his ranking, as the commander said when Sephiran asked.
Begnion was so strange now. He remembered simplicity from Altina's time - functional decor made luxurious by her choices in materials, oak and silk, lace to line a table runner, red varnish to highlight the natural beauty of the wooden floors and paneled walls. Now the floors were mosaic, marble; now the furniture was painted gold where it shouldn't be, the cushions stuffed so full of wool and feathers he thought their silk seams would burst. Rugs woven in the poor regions of the capitol province layered the floors, hid the natural beauty of the stone. Altina wouldn't recognize her own palace.
Eight hundred years, he supposed, was a long time for beorc. For all Sephiran knew, the place he built on these grounds with Altina at the beginning of the empire had burned down centuries ago, to be replaced with this monstrosity. At least the gardens were maintained. The trees had dropped seed and propagated. He knew their strains well, having planted their ancestors with his own hands. The echo of their generations still thrummed in their wooden hearts. Even he could hear it.
Sigrun was waiting outside as he suspected, leaning against the opposite wall of the small antechamber between his living area and the hallway. She lifted her pale eyebrow when he leaned out, and came forward when Sephiran stepped backward and opened the door to admit her. She had shed her coat, her armored boots and gloves, and wore her jade hair down in a braid, not twisted up as he was accustomed to seeing it. A dagger was sheathed at her hip, and when she paused by his table, shifting to place a hand on one hip, it seemed she missed the taller hilt of her sword where she was accustomed to resting her arm when they spoke.
He shouldered the door closed, leaving the shadowed alcove around the door, arms folded. "If you want to discuss something with me," he said, pausing where the curtains were parted to shine a bar of cool light across the rug, "please tell me before you leave. I understand the nature of your schedule. It won't be a problem."
She blinked once, slowly, her lashes a shade paler in the light. "I am perfectly capable of meeting my own needs, senator."
"No doubt." When her gaze did not waver, Sephiran walked past her to gather the notes and envelopes, stacking them even with his hands on the tray. "What is it you want so early in the morning?"
"You didn't tell her."
He straightened. "And I won't - yet."
"She deserves to--"
"She says what she pleases and cares nothing for the consequences of her words, as young children often do." The time of year was too warm for fires, even at night; there were no coals blow upon and feed with paper. Throwing them into the pool of his bath would only taint the water with ink and spent perfume. "I will tell her when she is mature enough to keep her secrets, and if it angers her, she will also know to direct her dissatisfaction to me, and leave you out of it."
Sigrun blew a sharp sigh through her nose. "It isn't self-preservation that motivates me to say this. Lady Sanaki thinks she is alone--"
"It's better that way."
"How can you say that?"
Sephiran looked over his shoulder. "Bloodline is meaningless. If it were not for the peculiar abilities possessed by the Apostles, the throne would have been taken by another before Lady Sanaki was born. I cannot be the only person in the capitol whose blood carries a trace of hers - and it is only a trace, I assure you. We are so far removed only tradition would call us family."
Her arms crossed; her stance shifted, all of her weight on one hip while her head tilted in the opposite direction. "A trace strong enough to trip every ward in the vault. I see." Sigrun's eyes traveled over his bookcase, lingered in one place. He imagined the colors of his spellbooks reflected in the shine of her eyes. "Strong enough you could have taken custody of the throne in her place, perhaps? Until a proper female descendant might be produced, that is." Her eyes flicked back. "It has happened before."
"Good question." He tapped the notes against his hand. The corners poked his palm, pricked between his fingers. "I don't know, and didn't care to take the opportunity when I had the chance, as you see."
She appeared unaware of the special properties of blood attributed to Altina; Sephiran wished he knew more, and doubted the records in the vault would provide the information he wanted. When he met Misaha - when he realized such a thing as Branded existed, that his own children and grandchildren were marked by his blood and thought it a curse-- when he learned it passed from daughter to daughter, he'd wondered at the pattern of transmission and how consistent it was in his own descendants, when Zelgius and others led him to believe the appearance of a brand was random. Was it the touch of the goddess? She lay not a league away - not even past the border of the cathedral grounds, but within walking distance - and she slept, but how soundly did she sleep?
Soundly enough, he remembered, that she did not hear his cries when his child with Altina robbed him of his birthright. Yet she said-- you children will have the ability if I must be awakened.
Did Ashera know what would happen? Did she?
"Your opportunity has not yet passed, as I see it."
Did she? Did she know?
His eyes focused on Sigrun again. The silence stretched a moment while he cast his mind back for the thread of their conversation. "I will be targeted often enough as guardian without taking the regency as well. I doubt it would sit well with the council." Sephiran turned his back on her, walked away to drop the notes into a wastebin. It was woven like a basket, painted brown and varnished to match the shelves. "Is that what you were worried about?"
"You speak in past tense."
He knew he glared over his shoulder when Sigrun's eyes narrowed and her knuckles cracked. Sephiran glanced at his books. Three Dissertations on Compassion caught his eye, a yellow canvas cover and black ink title, and if he hadn't had company, he would have laughed. "Your worries are unfounded." It was said Ashera influenced the minds of her servants in subtle ways. Yet-- was he not showing compassion? Understanding? The woman still lived, though his task would be easier without her. "Be at the imperial quarters at four. Someone will have to help Lady Sanaki dress for the party, and it should not be me."
"Speaking of targets--" he heard her shift again, didn't look. Let her speak to his back. "This party will be an excellent opportunity for anyone wishing to be rid of her."
"Security is your job." The gardenias weren't as lush outside of his window; it faced the cathedral, and he saw the glitter of a stained glass window through a gap in the maple boughs marching across the gardens. "I will taste anything she wants to eat first. She has to learn her role somehow, Sigrun - if she won't read or listen to her tutors, then we do this the hard way."
A party. A ball. An excursion to the black forest reserve north of the city where the hills were vivid green and dotted with bright purple and mauve flowers, a tour of the vineyards of Persis. Sephiran would take his empress to all of these events, on any excuse - it wasn't as if their presence in Sienne was required for the senior senators to take advantage of her - and place himself at her beck and call. He would teach her what to say, how to say it, how to be skeptical without letting on by expression or body language.
"She'll listen to you, I'm sure." Sigrun's voice parted the mist of his thoughts, made his neck prickle. She was only partially armed, but a knife was no different than sharp teeth or claws. "I want Sephiran. Make him read. Her words."
Lady Sanaki already heaped favor after favor upon him. He didn't need the throne. It was his by proxy if he wanted it, but it belonged to Altina's daughters - and even if he told Sigrun, she would never understand what he meant. He was glad they kept Altina's portrait, and their daughter's image, in the vault. It was Misaha's benevolent smile beaming down from the wall in the chamber used for senior council meetings instead.
How did they stand it? How did they look at her golden eyes without remorse?
"We will see about readings tomorrow once she has rested," he said. "Are you finished?"
The sound of her footsteps receding was his answer.
*
The empress met him in a simple white dress with a skirt that bounced and fluttered when she skipped over the rug to link her arms around his neck. Little lace gloves with pearl buttons decorated her arms, and the straps of her dress were flounces of gauze and lace, like her skirt. Sephiran picked her up when prompted, smoothed her skirt over his arm, and complimented her on the butterfly barrettes holding her hair over her ears, and her little dangling earrings and matching bracelets, all pearls and emeralds and gold accents. Sigrun stood back, arm folded over her waist, looking as she always did; her gauntlets and boots had been replaced by softer suede, her hair was held with a large gold barrette instead of her invisible pins - but her expression was the same, caught between affected neutrality and the beginning of a frown.
"Did you eat?" he asked once the empress had shown him her jewelry.
"Yes." Sanaki pulled her lip in with her teeth. "I thought this was a dinner party. Why did I have to eat before?"
"It isn't polite to eat very much in public, your majesty." He turned his back on Sigrun. The other knights were waiting outside to accompany them; Tanith opened the door and followed as far as the hallway, carrying on a whispered exchange with her commander. "You must also bear in mind the danger of poisoning," he said. "Valtome will no doubt take every precaution to protect your health, but no one can be completely sure of their servants."
"Valtome." She wrinkled her nose.
"Didn't I tell you he was the one arranging the celebration?" She shook her head, and Sephiran felt her hands smoothing his jacket, and then his hair, and she leaned over his shoulder to see it drift behind them as he walked. "It was his idea. We'll see what he really wants once everyone is busy."
The empress told him white suited him better and he should have consulted with her before changing; his hair disappeared against his black coat, and she didn't like that. It was her favorite thing about him, the prettiest thing except for his eyes - they were nice too, and he had such a beautiful voice. He would have to sing for her someday, she said. Sephiran wondered what she would think of his wings - if she would play with the feathers as she did his hair, or find them something to be ashamed of as other humans did, something he should hide. She perched on his arm like a little bird for their walk downstairs to the drive, and on the edge of the carriage seat during the short ride to the Culbert mansion, trying to stretch her feet to the floor, her fingers curled underneath like talons.
Unlike the Tanas palace, or the Asmin house, Culbert did not admit guests to a private drive by gate, but by a narrow street stretched outside the premises, both sides unbroken white plaster walls, paved with flagstone. Their carriage was allowed to draw to the front, and Sephiran led Sanaki through the painted wrought-iron gate after Sigrun and another knight whose name he did not know. Bougainvillea spilled from wire baskets; the entry was narrow, perhaps three people wide, opening a good dozen steps inward to a crowded garden. Leaves and paper-thin petals in pink and magenta crunched under their sandals. The path wound around a fig tree whose arms reached over their heads and spread wide, five-fingered leaves. He pointed out the green bulbs of fruit, and Sanaki walked with her neck craned back, clinging to his hand with both of hers.
He recognized olive trees, and, rising far above the crowns of the others, the fronds of date palms and the scent of fallen fruit. Cicadas screed, and far away, somewhere in the house, Sephiran's ears caught the thrum of strings and the warping of their tone as they were tuned. He didn't know the instrument; if the house were the measure against which he might judge Valtome's tastes, he supposed it must be something native to the region he governed.
Valtome met them at the door to his dwelling, dressed modestly in the uniform white and gold of his senatorial costume. The yellow tiles he knelt on were swept clean and scrubbed. "Your majesty, Lord Sephiran, thank you for attending. You honor my home." The thick kinks of his red hair were gathered by a gold ribbon that shined when he lowered his head.
With his neck bent like that, Sephiran almost thought he meant it. He waited for Sanaki to make the appropriate response, then said, "It seems we're early. The road was still quite open when we arrived." The other senator straightened, looked up and away from the empress, though he had the decency to remain on his knees. "I apologize for the inconvenience."
"Unnecessary. This is part of the arrangement." Valtome turned his gaze back to the empress and humored her with a smile. Her grip on Sephiran's hand tightened. "The empress has never visited Culbert province before," their host said. "I thought she might like a tour of the house. It is traditional, down to the smallest piece of furniture."
"Really?" Sanaki leaned forward. She dragged the toe of her sandal on the tile. "There are round wardrobes? And the rugs?"
Valtome's laughed a moment, his smile narrow. "They still have four sides," he said, pushing up to his feet, straightening his coat. "I'll show you. There are dozens of rugs - and curtains, and quilts, and cushions, all hand-made. Come and see."
The empress bounced on the balls of her feet, tugging Sephiran forward by the hand, and he heard Sigrun follow, and the others disperse - to examine the grounds, he assumed, as they couldn't possibly trust Valtome so completely. They caught a glimpse of the open area on their way to the stairs before a servant ran to twitch the wooden screen closed; the impression he left with was red - red rugs, red silk cushions, gold tassels and weavings, deep browns, all of them soaking up the light. Pastry fried somewhere, the buttery scent calling to mind images of crisp turnovers and finger-sized pies, garlic and vegetables roasted, and Sanaki said it smelled good. The walls were wood-paneled and polished to a golden sheen; the marble floor was pale brown, yellow, and white, streaked by gold. Their sandals slapped and echoed in the stairwell, and Sigrun's footfalls sounded twice as heavy.
This chamber, Valtome told them when they left the stairwell and walked into the first open space, is where the family meets to eat and talk. Hangings adored the white plaster walls in a rainbow of bright color, yellow and green, the shades between, blue and red, worked in stylized plant motifs and geometric designs. A low table was the room's focal point, golden pine wood polished to mirror perfection, wide enough an adult might lay across the diameter comfortably. Sanaki let go of Sephiran's hand and ran across the rug - shades of brown he didn't want to step on, they were so tightly and precisely woven - and crouched on a blue cushion. The yellow fringe bounced. Her knees sank into the velvet. She pet the fabric, crawled to the next one - green silk and braided trim - pressed her fingers to the table, and asked how they ate sitting on the floor without their legs falling asleep. Valtome giggled, and Sephiran was too distracted by the shrill hee hee to pay attention to his answer.
Short corridors opened from the central chamber and became bedrooms; they were shown to two guest rooms and their adjoining baths, and Sanaki opened every carved cabinet, tried the edge of both beds, and wanted to know why there were cushions instead of mattresses, and why they were so hard. She liked the trapezoidal shape of the first wardrobe, the way its glass-inlaid doors bent open like an accordion, and her lip stuck out when it wasn't any different inside than her own. The second specimen saved them from a litany of complaints - a stand-alone octagonal wardrobe like a wooden column in the middle of the room, in which Sanaki immediately tried to climb up and fit. Sephiran coaxed her out with a promise to carry her downstairs and - damn Valtome for the suggestion - feed her with his fingers for the first course.
His empress smelled like vanilla, perhaps to match her dress, and leaned heavily on Sephiran's shoulder as they followed Valtome back to the first floor. He hoped Ashera's judgment would come within the man's lifetime - that his plan would succeed before Valtome was too fragile to suffer. The senior senators were responsible for the destruction of the heron clan, Misaha's death, the near extinction of Altina's line, all of whom were the goddess's blessed servants. She must have dreamed of it; she must know. She would reserve some special punishment for them, even if he had to embellish their crimes to convince her.
Sephiran would follow them, no doubt, for his own misdeeds - but as long as they fell first, he didn't care what punishment awaited him.
The screens were folded open, and the wide open space reserved for the party was darker than when Sephiran first glimpsed it; the lamps were turned low, their golden glow soaked in by dark silk wall hangings, crimson rugs, divans carved from golden wood and cushioned in a range of monochrome brown arranged in a circle around another low, round table. They were led to a seat top center, covered with a red embroidered throw, and he let the empress slide from his lap to the cushion and drape herself over the wide arm.
She wanted one, of course. It was almost as comfortable as a real bed. Perfect, Sanaki told him, for telling stories.
Dark wooden screens stretched across the width of the room behind them as they had earlier in front to block his view, and through the top panels, carved into wooden mesh shapes - lotus, rose, birds in flight - Sephiran saw the gleam of the darkening evening sky. The sun had set, but the stars didn't appear to be out, leaving the streaks of clouds colored red, purple, orange, and limned with gold. Culbert said they would be opened later once night fell and the jasmine had fully bloomed.
Then the inevitable happened; Sanaki had Sigrun take her to 'freshen up' as the knight termed it, and they were led away by a female servant in a long, slim dress trimmed with tiny coins at the hem that clinked like bells, and Sephiran was left with the senator. Voices drifted in from the front. He recognized two as senators, and another as the woman Duke Tanas kept company with on occasion, and felt Valtome's eyes linger on his profile, though he resisted the temptation to slide his gaze over.
Though he was part of the senior council by way of promotion, Sephiran hadn't yet been invited to a meeting - and doubted, in fact, he would ever see their meeting chamber again unless they wished to give him more specific orders in relation to the empress. He had not been required to endure this man's scrutiny since the night he was called for their examination, and thought he preferred Tanas - the man was straightforward with his intentions, at the least.
"You see why I did not want an escort," Sephiran said, lifting his eyes long enough to confirm his guess when the voices got closer and the first guests were led into the room. He smiled, raised his hand to greet them, and Culbert welcomed them from his seat on the stool beside her majesty's divan. "At the moment I don't think she will stand for only half of my attention."
"Perhaps." Valtome adjusted one of his rings, twisting the band so the ruby setting was positioned just so, and flattened his hand to examine it. "I assumed I erred in only offering women, but my agents tell me you are notorious for turning down almost everyone."
His emphasis on almost had Sephiran's lips pressed flat before he was aware of it. Zelgius must have been followed when he visited. "I am not interested in that kind of advancement, Senator."
"No?" The lilt to Valtome's voice set his teeth on edge. "Oliver insisted you were amendable. My apologies."
Sephiran sighed heavily, curled his hands on his knees so he wouldn't rub his temples, and looked away from Valtome's annoying hee hee hee to watch the corridor his empress had followed. Duke Tanas had quite an imagination to accompany his lack of social grace, it seemed. Sephiran would never consent to have tea with him again.
Sanaki's return deflected their host's attention, and the beginning of the festivities involved every guest coming forward to greet her with a bow or curtsy and a compliment to her dress, or her jewelry, or the way she'd curled the ends of her hair. Lady Marsilikos bent so low when she greeted them Sephiran thought she would spill out of her low-cut dress; a younger female, third cousin to Hetzel and already famous for her poetry, bent on one knee and bowed her head over the empress's white sandal, and composed a short verse attributing the grace of herons to her tiny feet. Then she turned her head and said she'd written a song for his own ascension - that she hoped he would find it pleasing, and speak to her later.
Her skin reminded him of the almond bark of the slender trees crowded around the altar in Serenes Forest, and she was slim like their number, and moved gracefully, and her voice was pleasant enough. Before he could accept, his empress wrapped both of her hands around his wrist and said he'd already promised to keep her company. The female laughed, introduced herself as Tigana, and left them with the promise to perform later.
Sephiran looked down at his empress. She frowned with a full lower lip. "You did," she said.
"And I meant it," he said, loosening her hold on his wrist with one hand. Her grip relented. "You are invited to any conversation I choose to have."
He didn't deserve the narrow-eyed look Sanaki gave him, and when she climbed over his lap to settle in the narrow sliver of space between his thigh and the rounded arm of the divan, she said, "I think Sigrun is right, and I need to keep an eye on you."
Valtome's snicker was nearly lost in the buzz of conversation. Sephiran imagined Sigrun's stuttered y-your majesty, really-- was accompanied by blood rushing to her face, and wanted to turn around and mortify her with a stare, but Oliver chose that moment to arrive and exclaim from across the room what a lovely image he and the empress made framed by crimson silks and gold candlelight. Lady Sanaki adamantly opposed his attempts to take Sephiran's hand away from her, going so far as to climb into his lap and sit with a puff of frothy white skirt. He sighed. At least she wasn't discriminating.
"Now, your majesty," Oliver said, his beringed hands still stretched halfway between his bent knee and Sephiran's lap, "we would also like the pleasure of Lord Sephiran's company--"
You would - all alone, Valtome murmured.
"--and his smile is yours nearly every day. Surely you can find it in your heart to allow me a few moments."
"No."
Oliver's mouth hung open a moment, his next words seemingly stuck in his throat, then his teeth snapped shut. "I really must speak--"
Sanaki kicked the frame of the divan with her heels. "No."
Oliver's rings clicked when he pressed his hands together. "Five minutes--"
"Stop begging, Oliver." Valtome curled a hand in front of his mouth, cleared his throat loudly. Under his breath, he said as he stood to speak, "Do it later, at the council meeting."
Sephiran's eyebrow lifted. Duke Tanas shrugged, a hand pressing on the table to rise again, while their host welcomed his guests once again and drew their attention to Lady Sanaki and his own presence. Sephiran looked down at the empress, felt her hands curl around his arm, though she showed no other sign of being discomfited by the attention. The main courses were announced: grilled eggplant, stuffed zucchini, feta cheese pies and onion pancakes, and a servant, the same woman who led the empress away earlier, knelt by the arm of the divan with a plate of diamond-shaped baklava slices in a pool of their own honey, arranged in the shape of a flower.
So. Duke Tanas wanted to see him for some legitimate purpose, did he? Sephiran couldn't imagine what. Not for any official matters, unless he'd misjudged their intentions, and-- he thought not. Would they really pull him into one of their private meetings for anything more than a show of solidarity? He watched Lady Sanaki take a sticky diamond of pastry, hold her hand beneath it to catch drips of honey, and she cooed her approval around a mouthful.
At least she was enjoying the party.
"A lovely image." The speaker had bowed her head and spread her skirt in a curtsy when Sephiran looked over. And when she stood-- it was Helene of Damascus, another senator, her smile accompanied by shallow dimples. "I don't think we've spoken face-to-face in over a month, Lord Sephiran, but I must say you are a perfect fit for little Lady Sanaki."
His empress stiffened, and Sephiran closed his hand over her sticky fingers when they moved to push her hair back as she always did when she prepared to assert her authority, trying to smile. This was never going to end.
*
The empress slept through the carriage ride back to the palace, and Sephiran carried her up to her rooms, where Tanith waited with three others to relieve Sigrun's shift, into her bedroom, where he lit the lamp wick with a few words. The oil smelled like gardenias; a small basket of blossoms sat on the opposite nightstand, their petals rimed with brown and wilting. Her eyes were open when he laid her against the pillows, though she had not uttered a word since Valtome bade them good-bye. He sat on the edge of the bed, reached back for the quilt folded on the chest at the foot.
"You know all those people..."
Sephiran shook the blanket out over the edge of the bed. Blue stars and moons were woven into the white damask. "Some of them. Most I have not spoken to outside of committee meetings and the like." he spread it over the mattress, folded back, and took one of her feet to untie a sandal.
Sanaki's lids were heavy, but the gold hue of her eyes gleamed, glassy, at a glance too much like another pair of eyes that lived only in his memory. It was remarkable how consistent Altina's features were in her female descendants; if not for the silver hair, Sanaki's grandmother would have resembled her more, but the violet hair, the eyes, the hue of their skin-- how could he not notice it every time?
But her voice was different - young, yes, but it would not be as deep as his wife's, nor as unrefined. He remembered trying to teach Altina how to sing, and the laughing afterward when she proved hopeless and gave up, and reached for him to bend his attention elsewhere. Her contralto laughter had seemed to ring in the vaulted height of the audience chamber the first morning he walked inside, when the sky outside the high windows was still a twilight purple like her hair.
They like you so much, Sanaki said. I had no idea. Sephiran reached up, smoothed his hand beneath her bangs to push them out of her eyes, and dropped the first sandal onto the floor so he could work on the next. I wonder if anybody will like me.
He pulled the other sandal off. "You received quite a few compliments to my memory," he said. She sat up at his bidding and he un-clipped her barrettes. "If you laugh and smile like that--" He combed his fingers into her hair to straighten it, rested his hand on her head. "Forget about Valtome. Even Oliver was charmed when you jumped in to play his word games. Lady Tigana, too."
The empress stuck her tongue out, and he laughed. "She tried to pull you away," Sanaki said.
"But I didn't go."
"You won't go, will you? You won't leave me again? I had them look all over for you, and nobody would tell me where you went." She looked up at his arm, blinking the bright gleam of moisture from her eyes. "I'm tired of being lied to."
Sephiran withdrew. She would have been happier with her mother at that isolated villa; if only their search for the first princess and been successful, perhaps Lady Sanaki would not have to grow up listening to corrupt old men convolute the truth for their own purposes and twist her arm until she did what they wanted her to do. Nor would she sit there, on a bed too large for her stature, and thank him for his honesty.
He took one of her hands, the one without the ring, and bent to kiss the back, still soft with baby fat as her knees were, and her chin, her elbows. "I won't go anywhere, my empress." Sephiran smiled when he straightened, smoothed her hair again. "Except bed - I'm exhausted."
Sanaki blew her bangs from her eyes and pouted, but let him go once he'd promised to be there again first thing in the morning. Tanith saluted when he left, and Sigrun was thankfully nowhere to be found, though she would probably pay him another visit in the morning. What would she criticize this time - the late hour to which they remained out, or perhaps the number of ladies, both young and not, who dared infringe on their empress's territory? Would she be obliged to beat them off with a stick to maintain Sanaki's mood?
By all means, Sigrun, he would say, and he imagined her jade eyes would narrow.
Sephiran smiled down at the stairs as he walked. The halls were empty, the lamps turned down, the windows at the end of each corridor shrouded by curtains. The guards at his door saluted as Tanith did, their fists over their hearts, and he went inside. His own rooms were cold and dark; Zelgius could not visit him openly, or surely he would be there to warm the chambers and keep his master company.
You won't go, will you? You won't leave me again?
His sleep was uneasy that night. Morning dawned gray, the sky like ash.
.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-06-11 10:40 am (UTC)(I blame my commentfail on it being six in the morning.)
no subject
Date: 2009-06-11 10:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 01:45 am (UTC)I find your details are superb!
really like this story it has so much inocense
Chelle
no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 09:44 am (UTC)Thank you, I'm glad you liked it!