[Fanfic KHR] [6927] One for Misery, Two for Joy
Title: One for Misery, Two for Joy
Rating: G
Warnings: Character death
Summary: Do you know the meaning of this flower?
A/N: Honestly, I think this is a little fail. Then again, all my writing is somewhat fail. -_- Oh well, enjoy?
I know a field which you would have loved. All year round it was alive with a thousand blooming flowers that change with the seasons. You could visit in the summer then return in the winter to think you had lost your way and stumbled upon a different place. I used to go there every other day and lie amongst the sweet-smelling petals, under the blue, blue sky and watch as fluffy white clouds passed over me while the wind blew my hair every which way.
I kept it hidden from normal eyes, deciding that field would be mine and mine alone. I wandered, solitary, amongst golden buttercups, amongst fragrant heather, through gently bobbing bluebells. I came to love them; each one meant something unique to me. Here, at least, there was life blooming, unaffected by what hardships it underwent.
How nice, I thought, that such things could live such careless, fleeting lives. Death for them was a part of life. Just another step in the natural cycle - a cycle which I lived and could not escape from. And so I envied those flowers their brief, momentary existence, yet I could not bring myself to harm them. They knew nothing of human suffering, and that was what made them so pure, so innocent.
That field is gone now... It fell prey to time, as everything does in the end.
I know you would smile to hear me say this: your gentle laughter would always infect us with its gaiety so that we could not help but laugh along with you. Even myself, who has never known happiness in this life yet seems to have found it with you.
You once came to me, teary-eyed, sniffling, a mess, and fell into my surprised arms. Sobbing, you could barely manage to form words to articulate your thoughts. It was a surprise to me, that you should come seeking my help. Unused to such displays I did not know how to react. Surely you had others whom you turned to for comfort? What could I possibly offer you?
While I stood there, wondering whether to walk away, you snatched at my sleeve as if sensing my intention and with pleading eyes silently begged me to stay. In halting words, with tears coursing down your cheeks, you unburdened yourself to me until I understood.
For a naive person such as yourself, the murder of anyone - whether they had done you wrong or not, whether by your hands or otherwise - is abhorrent to you.
How could I remain so cold, you asked. How could I calmly take another's life as they screamed and begged before me, and enjoy it?
I told you that we were not the same. You knew that, and yet you clung to me, salty liquid staining my clothes as you tearfully tried to understand. Would the pain ever ease? Would you become as indifferent to the suffering of others as myself? As you fretted and gabbled, I placed my hands on your shoulders and made you look into my eyes. Which you did, hiccupping.
That is not who you are, I told you. I am who I am, and you are who you are. At this point in our lives, nothing about us can change; it is too late.
You stared at me then. Without warning, you flung your arms around my waist, burying your face into my clothes and your weeping renewed. There is always time to change, you said. Always.
The next day you were your usual cheerful self. You waved off the others' worries with a carefree hand, smiling to assuage their worries. I was not the only one who saw the lingering sadness in your eyes though. You spared me a grateful smile as you went past but I was not convinced.
What did it matter to me? You were nothing more than a target. A goal. Something that I had to obtain.
So I turned my back on that smile and walked away.
How had those ten years passed by so swiftly? Like the turning of the seasons, time's flow can only be measured in the changes around us. I saw you grow from the hapless, self-doubting child you were into a capable leader, if still somewhat lacking in confidence. And I found myself following your orders. Requests, not orders, you preferred to call them.
Though I know I continued to terrify you with my presence, that terror faded with the passing of the years until it was a mere nervousness.
And still I had not followed through with my threat of ten years ago.
You became far too comfortable with me. How could I have allowed that to happen? No, that is wrong - I should be glad you felt as if you could relax while I was nearby. It would make it all the more easier to achieve my aim. We had all matured into adults, yet I still held on to my childhood grudge.
I knew better than most that past deeds are never forgotten. Hostility, I expected. Suspicion, I encouraged. People do not change from who they were as children, and it has been long since I have been a child. So you surprised me with your complete and utter faith. What had I done to deserve it?
The last time I saw you, we were in the midst of war. I watched from afar as you leaped into the thick of the fighting, the brightest blaze amongst flames all colours of the rainbow. I watched as you felled your opponents one by one, an expression of righteous fury replacing the calm, mild-mannered man you usually were.
I saw you emerge from each individual victory, triumphant. I saw our enemies grow increasingly desperate as we laid a trail of destruction amongst their forces.
I saw the bullet which finally took your life.
Your expression changed, from slow horror to shock, the light faded from your amber eyes. You coughed; a trickle of blood coursed down your chin; your knees buckled, and you collapsed where you were, as limp as a string-less puppet.
I had started forward before I knew it. In an instant I was by your side, rolling your lifeless body over so I could confirm for myself - whether to disprove what I had seen or to be assured of your death, I do not know. You appeared as if asleep, peaceful almost. There was a shout: the enemy was retreating; it seemed their task had ended with that one gunshot. I spared no thought for them.
No, you could not be dead...
I shook your shoulders hoping for a response, disbelieving the truth my eyes showed me and what I knew instinctively. You were dead. The great fire of your life was extinguished.
...What would I do now?
They placed your body in an elaborate coffin, to be placed amongst those others of your station. They had cleaned the blood from your face and your wounds and now you truly looked to be in restful slumber. Those around me wept for your passing as the ebony lid slid across your face and slotted into place with a muted thud of finality. Should I have followed their lead? Should I too have been weeping? You were but another person in my long list of acquaintances. Should I have felt any particular sorrow?
I visited your coffin in its secluded location later that day. I know it was against tradition but I had to do it: I removed the lid, leaning it gently against the side of the casket, and gazed upon your reposed face. Your body lay clothed in the finery of your position, arms folded across your chest, surrounded by a bed of sweet-smelling white roses.
I hope you forgave me for my rudeness...
I brought out my own offering: a modest bunch of bright yellow daffodils. Perhaps they were not appropriate as usual gifts were, but I have mentioned that each flower held its own personal meaning, have I not?
I lay them down one by one in the coffin atop the roses. I counted down as they were placed until I held the last in my hands, twirling the thick, sturdy stalk absently between my fingers. The flowers made a pleasant contrast with the sombre white. With a pang, I was reminded of the bright, happy person you had been before death had claimed you.
I tucked the last one beneath your hand, letting the yellow trumpet rest upon your chest, and sat back on my heels.
As I cast my eye over your still form, the colours blurred. I blinked and something trailed down my cheek. I brought my fingers up and touched the wet track it had left behind.
I knew what it was but I could scarcely believe it possible after so long...
Before I knew it, my lips had curved into a smile. I think you would have been pleased to see it. I leaned down and left a lingering kiss on your cheek.
I had changed after all because of you. Your light had driven away the darkness of my past which had consumed me. I thought all that I could look forward to in life was death. But it is not until you see death take away one whom you would have given your life too that you begin to appreciate how precious life is.
So I will not wait for death. I will live. This is my contract - no, my promise - to you, Tsunayoshi.
A/N:
( http://marriage.about.com/od/flowers/a/flowermean.htm )
DAFFODIL: Regard, rebirth, new beginnings, unrequited love, you're the only one, chivalry, eternal life. Associated with the tenth wedding anniversary. Also the birthflower for March.
DAFFODIL, SINGLE: Misfortune.
DAFFODIL, SEVERAL: Joy, happiness.
Rating: G
Warnings: Character death
Summary: Do you know the meaning of this flower?
A/N: Honestly, I think this is a little fail. Then again, all my writing is somewhat fail. -_- Oh well, enjoy?
I know a field which you would have loved. All year round it was alive with a thousand blooming flowers that change with the seasons. You could visit in the summer then return in the winter to think you had lost your way and stumbled upon a different place. I used to go there every other day and lie amongst the sweet-smelling petals, under the blue, blue sky and watch as fluffy white clouds passed over me while the wind blew my hair every which way.
I kept it hidden from normal eyes, deciding that field would be mine and mine alone. I wandered, solitary, amongst golden buttercups, amongst fragrant heather, through gently bobbing bluebells. I came to love them; each one meant something unique to me. Here, at least, there was life blooming, unaffected by what hardships it underwent.
How nice, I thought, that such things could live such careless, fleeting lives. Death for them was a part of life. Just another step in the natural cycle - a cycle which I lived and could not escape from. And so I envied those flowers their brief, momentary existence, yet I could not bring myself to harm them. They knew nothing of human suffering, and that was what made them so pure, so innocent.
That field is gone now... It fell prey to time, as everything does in the end.
I know you would smile to hear me say this: your gentle laughter would always infect us with its gaiety so that we could not help but laugh along with you. Even myself, who has never known happiness in this life yet seems to have found it with you.
You once came to me, teary-eyed, sniffling, a mess, and fell into my surprised arms. Sobbing, you could barely manage to form words to articulate your thoughts. It was a surprise to me, that you should come seeking my help. Unused to such displays I did not know how to react. Surely you had others whom you turned to for comfort? What could I possibly offer you?
While I stood there, wondering whether to walk away, you snatched at my sleeve as if sensing my intention and with pleading eyes silently begged me to stay. In halting words, with tears coursing down your cheeks, you unburdened yourself to me until I understood.
For a naive person such as yourself, the murder of anyone - whether they had done you wrong or not, whether by your hands or otherwise - is abhorrent to you.
How could I remain so cold, you asked. How could I calmly take another's life as they screamed and begged before me, and enjoy it?
I told you that we were not the same. You knew that, and yet you clung to me, salty liquid staining my clothes as you tearfully tried to understand. Would the pain ever ease? Would you become as indifferent to the suffering of others as myself? As you fretted and gabbled, I placed my hands on your shoulders and made you look into my eyes. Which you did, hiccupping.
That is not who you are, I told you. I am who I am, and you are who you are. At this point in our lives, nothing about us can change; it is too late.
You stared at me then. Without warning, you flung your arms around my waist, burying your face into my clothes and your weeping renewed. There is always time to change, you said. Always.
The next day you were your usual cheerful self. You waved off the others' worries with a carefree hand, smiling to assuage their worries. I was not the only one who saw the lingering sadness in your eyes though. You spared me a grateful smile as you went past but I was not convinced.
What did it matter to me? You were nothing more than a target. A goal. Something that I had to obtain.
So I turned my back on that smile and walked away.
How had those ten years passed by so swiftly? Like the turning of the seasons, time's flow can only be measured in the changes around us. I saw you grow from the hapless, self-doubting child you were into a capable leader, if still somewhat lacking in confidence. And I found myself following your orders. Requests, not orders, you preferred to call them.
Though I know I continued to terrify you with my presence, that terror faded with the passing of the years until it was a mere nervousness.
And still I had not followed through with my threat of ten years ago.
You became far too comfortable with me. How could I have allowed that to happen? No, that is wrong - I should be glad you felt as if you could relax while I was nearby. It would make it all the more easier to achieve my aim. We had all matured into adults, yet I still held on to my childhood grudge.
I knew better than most that past deeds are never forgotten. Hostility, I expected. Suspicion, I encouraged. People do not change from who they were as children, and it has been long since I have been a child. So you surprised me with your complete and utter faith. What had I done to deserve it?
The last time I saw you, we were in the midst of war. I watched from afar as you leaped into the thick of the fighting, the brightest blaze amongst flames all colours of the rainbow. I watched as you felled your opponents one by one, an expression of righteous fury replacing the calm, mild-mannered man you usually were.
I saw you emerge from each individual victory, triumphant. I saw our enemies grow increasingly desperate as we laid a trail of destruction amongst their forces.
I saw the bullet which finally took your life.
Your expression changed, from slow horror to shock, the light faded from your amber eyes. You coughed; a trickle of blood coursed down your chin; your knees buckled, and you collapsed where you were, as limp as a string-less puppet.
I had started forward before I knew it. In an instant I was by your side, rolling your lifeless body over so I could confirm for myself - whether to disprove what I had seen or to be assured of your death, I do not know. You appeared as if asleep, peaceful almost. There was a shout: the enemy was retreating; it seemed their task had ended with that one gunshot. I spared no thought for them.
No, you could not be dead...
I shook your shoulders hoping for a response, disbelieving the truth my eyes showed me and what I knew instinctively. You were dead. The great fire of your life was extinguished.
...What would I do now?
They placed your body in an elaborate coffin, to be placed amongst those others of your station. They had cleaned the blood from your face and your wounds and now you truly looked to be in restful slumber. Those around me wept for your passing as the ebony lid slid across your face and slotted into place with a muted thud of finality. Should I have followed their lead? Should I too have been weeping? You were but another person in my long list of acquaintances. Should I have felt any particular sorrow?
I visited your coffin in its secluded location later that day. I know it was against tradition but I had to do it: I removed the lid, leaning it gently against the side of the casket, and gazed upon your reposed face. Your body lay clothed in the finery of your position, arms folded across your chest, surrounded by a bed of sweet-smelling white roses.
I hope you forgave me for my rudeness...
I brought out my own offering: a modest bunch of bright yellow daffodils. Perhaps they were not appropriate as usual gifts were, but I have mentioned that each flower held its own personal meaning, have I not?
I lay them down one by one in the coffin atop the roses. I counted down as they were placed until I held the last in my hands, twirling the thick, sturdy stalk absently between my fingers. The flowers made a pleasant contrast with the sombre white. With a pang, I was reminded of the bright, happy person you had been before death had claimed you.
I tucked the last one beneath your hand, letting the yellow trumpet rest upon your chest, and sat back on my heels.
As I cast my eye over your still form, the colours blurred. I blinked and something trailed down my cheek. I brought my fingers up and touched the wet track it had left behind.
I knew what it was but I could scarcely believe it possible after so long...
Before I knew it, my lips had curved into a smile. I think you would have been pleased to see it. I leaned down and left a lingering kiss on your cheek.
I had changed after all because of you. Your light had driven away the darkness of my past which had consumed me. I thought all that I could look forward to in life was death. But it is not until you see death take away one whom you would have given your life too that you begin to appreciate how precious life is.
So I will not wait for death. I will live. This is my contract - no, my promise - to you, Tsunayoshi.
A/N:
( http://marriage.about.com/od/flowers/a/flowermean.htm )
DAFFODIL: Regard, rebirth, new beginnings, unrequited love, you're the only one, chivalry, eternal life. Associated with the tenth wedding anniversary. Also the birthflower for March.
DAFFODIL, SINGLE: Misfortune.
DAFFODIL, SEVERAL: Joy, happiness.