Guy drabble; Someday
Title: Someday
Word Count: 893
Summary: Guy thinks on the ultimate goal of his servant job.
Warning/Pairing/Extra: Spoilers for Guy's past.
Notes: Ahh, this came so suddenly! I was trying to prod the muse back into writing for Ghost, and I wound up reading some pre-game doujinshi, and this popped into existence... the creative mind is a very strange thing. It's kind of depressing though... sorry. ,-_- I'll try to be more upbeat next time!
This was written during the most incredible, windy rainstorm at the cottage... somehow that seems relevant.
I want to kill you.
It was a daily occurrence for Guy, that flitting thought, the promise he'd made years ago when he'd first come up with the idea. He, a child of Malkuth, the heir to the Gardios line, had lost everything at the hands of the famed Duchy of Kimlasca. The lord of Belkend, Duke Fabre. The Crimson Assassin, he was sometimes called by his enemies. Killing women and children because of where they were born. Or, sometimes, because of who they married.
It was only fitting that the heir of Hod take from Kimlasca their future crown prince, the pride of Baticul. The oh-so noble young son of Duke Fabre.
I want to kill you.
He'd learned to school his expression before even coming to Baticul; Pere had helped him, finding pictures of the duke and his family, surprising Guy with them at the most inopportune moments, until Guy was able to look at them calmly, without reacting in a way that would reveal his identity or intentions.
Eventually he learned to smile, to nod, to bow. So when the time came, when he was hired into the man's house to serve his son, he looked into the eyes of the monster who had murdered his mother, beheaded his father, and smiled. And thanked him for his kindness.
And only Pere knew what truly lay in his heart, what thought always came to mind.
I want to kill you.
Smile, smile.
Meeting the child of his enemy was no different. The boy was arrogant, as cold as his father, watching his new servant with little interest. Was this really the little prince everyone was so impressed with? The boy who would be king?
Disgusting. His pretty words couldn't hide the truth; he was an enemy of Malkuth, even at such a young age. He was the son of a murderer, nephew to a traitor, and his ambition was to surpass the both of them. Worthy, he said. "Someday I'll be worthy of becoming king."
Your life isn't worth a single gald, and a dog could earn more respect on the throne than you.
I want to kill you.
Sometimes he questioned himself- his motives, his determination. Not because the young master had changed his mind, or gained his respect with his noble sentiments and flowery words of the future glory of his realm. Arrogant, so arrogant. But still young; Seven years old, just a child. Too young to understand why he has to die.
That wasn't what Guy wanted. When they died, he wanted them both to understand- that the sword on the mantle, the one with which he would remove their heads just as Fabre had taken his own father's, was his heirloom. That he was the son of Count Gardios, and they died to avenge the losses of countless innocents. His father, his mother. The guards of the manor. The maids sacrificed to save his life. His childhood friends.
Mary, Mary, Mary.
I just want to kill you...!
Not yet, not yet.
There were days when he thought it was time; when Luke flawlessly completed his lessons, when he showed the determination and fortitude of a true warrior while the knights instructed him in the art of swordsmanship. If it were anyone else, it might be admirable, but it only served to fuel his hatred. Learning how to fight meant learning how to kill. He was, after all, his father's son.
Seeing this, it felt as if he was ready- ready to learn the truth, ready to die. He'd found a book detailing the Hod massacre; it would make a worthy addition to the boy's schoolbooks. A lesson he would never forget... one he would die learning.
And then something would happen: the son of his enemy would become a child again, shaking in fear as a thunderstorm raged, stumbling and failing a particularly difficult arte, sulking immaturely when Natalia or his tutor corrected a mistake during lessons.
Or watching the duke's back, too afraid to reach out after countless rejections, looking like nothing more than a lost and lonely little boy whose father hardly spared him a glance, never offered a kind word or a smile. And Guy's resolve would fade, all his hatred directed right back to that man, that murderer.
And he'd go back to waiting for the day that the child would disappear, for the day when Luke fon Fabre would become an heir worthy of the Crimson Assassin. Because someday Luke's efforts would surely pay off; someday the duke would look at him and know, truly see that the boy was his successor. Someday he would be proud.
Guy thought of his own father, the count, one of the leading figureheads of Hod. He thought of how his father had balanced duty and family, served the emperor and his country with pride and still loved his wife, played with his children, made certain that his family knew he loved them. A great man, deserving of a better legacy than the gruesome trophy he became.
Duke Fabre didn't deserve what he had, and Guy would make sure he knew that when he lost it all. He would die alone, empty, full of regret, with the corpse of a neglected child in his arms.
I want to kill you.
Not yet, not yet.
But someday.
Word Count: 893
Summary: Guy thinks on the ultimate goal of his servant job.
Warning/Pairing/Extra: Spoilers for Guy's past.
Notes: Ahh, this came so suddenly! I was trying to prod the muse back into writing for Ghost, and I wound up reading some pre-game doujinshi, and this popped into existence... the creative mind is a very strange thing. It's kind of depressing though... sorry. ,-_- I'll try to be more upbeat next time!
This was written during the most incredible, windy rainstorm at the cottage... somehow that seems relevant.
I want to kill you.
It was a daily occurrence for Guy, that flitting thought, the promise he'd made years ago when he'd first come up with the idea. He, a child of Malkuth, the heir to the Gardios line, had lost everything at the hands of the famed Duchy of Kimlasca. The lord of Belkend, Duke Fabre. The Crimson Assassin, he was sometimes called by his enemies. Killing women and children because of where they were born. Or, sometimes, because of who they married.
It was only fitting that the heir of Hod take from Kimlasca their future crown prince, the pride of Baticul. The oh-so noble young son of Duke Fabre.
I want to kill you.
He'd learned to school his expression before even coming to Baticul; Pere had helped him, finding pictures of the duke and his family, surprising Guy with them at the most inopportune moments, until Guy was able to look at them calmly, without reacting in a way that would reveal his identity or intentions.
Eventually he learned to smile, to nod, to bow. So when the time came, when he was hired into the man's house to serve his son, he looked into the eyes of the monster who had murdered his mother, beheaded his father, and smiled. And thanked him for his kindness.
And only Pere knew what truly lay in his heart, what thought always came to mind.
I want to kill you.
Smile, smile.
Meeting the child of his enemy was no different. The boy was arrogant, as cold as his father, watching his new servant with little interest. Was this really the little prince everyone was so impressed with? The boy who would be king?
Disgusting. His pretty words couldn't hide the truth; he was an enemy of Malkuth, even at such a young age. He was the son of a murderer, nephew to a traitor, and his ambition was to surpass the both of them. Worthy, he said. "Someday I'll be worthy of becoming king."
Your life isn't worth a single gald, and a dog could earn more respect on the throne than you.
I want to kill you.
Sometimes he questioned himself- his motives, his determination. Not because the young master had changed his mind, or gained his respect with his noble sentiments and flowery words of the future glory of his realm. Arrogant, so arrogant. But still young; Seven years old, just a child. Too young to understand why he has to die.
That wasn't what Guy wanted. When they died, he wanted them both to understand- that the sword on the mantle, the one with which he would remove their heads just as Fabre had taken his own father's, was his heirloom. That he was the son of Count Gardios, and they died to avenge the losses of countless innocents. His father, his mother. The guards of the manor. The maids sacrificed to save his life. His childhood friends.
Mary, Mary, Mary.
I just want to kill you...!
Not yet, not yet.
There were days when he thought it was time; when Luke flawlessly completed his lessons, when he showed the determination and fortitude of a true warrior while the knights instructed him in the art of swordsmanship. If it were anyone else, it might be admirable, but it only served to fuel his hatred. Learning how to fight meant learning how to kill. He was, after all, his father's son.
Seeing this, it felt as if he was ready- ready to learn the truth, ready to die. He'd found a book detailing the Hod massacre; it would make a worthy addition to the boy's schoolbooks. A lesson he would never forget... one he would die learning.
And then something would happen: the son of his enemy would become a child again, shaking in fear as a thunderstorm raged, stumbling and failing a particularly difficult arte, sulking immaturely when Natalia or his tutor corrected a mistake during lessons.
Or watching the duke's back, too afraid to reach out after countless rejections, looking like nothing more than a lost and lonely little boy whose father hardly spared him a glance, never offered a kind word or a smile. And Guy's resolve would fade, all his hatred directed right back to that man, that murderer.
And he'd go back to waiting for the day that the child would disappear, for the day when Luke fon Fabre would become an heir worthy of the Crimson Assassin. Because someday Luke's efforts would surely pay off; someday the duke would look at him and know, truly see that the boy was his successor. Someday he would be proud.
Guy thought of his own father, the count, one of the leading figureheads of Hod. He thought of how his father had balanced duty and family, served the emperor and his country with pride and still loved his wife, played with his children, made certain that his family knew he loved them. A great man, deserving of a better legacy than the gruesome trophy he became.
Duke Fabre didn't deserve what he had, and Guy would make sure he knew that when he lost it all. He would die alone, empty, full of regret, with the corpse of a neglected child in his arms.
I want to kill you.
Not yet, not yet.
But someday.