[oneshot] Breaking Point
Title: Breaking Point
Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou
Characters/Pairings: Ulrike, Murata
Genre: Angst
Word count: 1,282
Notes: Set around episode 70 or so. Ulrike doesn't get nearly enough love. So I write fics about her with lame titles.
Fourteen hours and counting.
Of course, that assessment had been given to him almost a half hour ago, already incorrect, but after that constant a vigil, time started ceasing to really matter. In the half hour he had been watching, Ulrike hadn't moved or spoken; had not acknowledged his presence at all. Holes in the barrier just continued to be patched, weak spots reinforced. New cracks appeared every few minutes or so.
Murata leaned against the wall by the Inner Sanctum's door, scanning the giant ball of energy with his eyes and other senses, reinforcing his own inner shields against the miasma when necessary. After the fiasco with that maid, Sangria, they could take no chances. They had been forced to use all the Menadia antidote treating her and the three noble idiots who had accompanied Shibuya up Makadira. Another trip to the mountain would cost them in time and resources. If there were any flowers left.
No, better to guard against Soushu's influence as they were doing.
Up in the courtyard, the temple bell sounded the hour. Ulrike remained statue-still in front of the boxes.
Murata tapped a knuckle lightly on the door and refolded his arms over his chest as it opened. One of the Maiden guards peered through the opening. "Yes, Your Highness?"
"How much rest have the others gotten?" he asked softly, gaze drawn back to the white-haired priestess.
"They should be all right now."
"Fetch them, then." He chewed on a hanging fingernail. "As soon as they can get here, the better."
"Yes, Your Highness." The door closed silently behind her.
He pushed up from the wall and approached Ulrike slowly, hands in his pockets. As he came closer, he could see the sweat beading on her forehead, the white circles around her fingertips as she clenched her hands together. As though the force she exerted on them could somehow translate into more progress. She was exhausted, and no extra power reserve was forthcoming. Watching her at this distance, he felt sorry for her. She would protest having the other Maidens coming to take over; they were weaker, and wouldn't last as long as she could. Plus, so many were needed to equal her abilities even in this state.
If Murata could have helped her last a few more hours, he would have. The best he could do was make her rest, despite her reluctance.
Is that really the reason?
Using the other Maidens would weaken the barrier in ways even Ulrike would not be able to repair.
Convenient that concern for her condition should raise its head now.
The door to the Inner Sanctum opened; the Maidens filed into the room. Five of them, all resolved but clearly weary. He beckoned them forward, forcing himself not to see how tired they all were, as he stepped up beside Ulrike. Her concentration flickered as the Maidens knelt behind her and began to support her power; it broke when Murata touched the top of her head.
She looked up at him groggily. "Your Highness?" Her voice was thin, but he smiled at her.
"Shift's over, little one."
"I can't..." As she shook her head, strands of her hair fell from their holders and hung over her face. "I must continue. His Majesty, the Shinou--"
"He knows how hard you've been working," he broke in gently. "He would want you to rest."
"But... the barrier is so weak..." she murmured even as she tried to stand and her legs refused to support her. Murata caught her easily and picked her up. He felt a now-familiar twinge in his chest as she rested her head against his shoulder.
He held her carefully as he left the room, nodding to the guards holding the door. "Shhh," he soothed. "It will be there when you return." She smiled softly at his reassurance and the twinge returned, a bit stronger. She believed without question, without hesitation; fine qualities in a priestess, but he couldn't help regretting her wholehearted trust.
Ulrike was half asleep in his arms by the time they reached her rooms; he figured she would be. Murata waited until one of the attending Maidens arrived before setting her down on the bed. He turned to leave so the attendant could help her prepare for bed, but Ulrike reached out and clung to his hand. "Please, Your Highness," she murmured. "Stay with me a while?"
"Lady Ulrike?" the attendant replied before Murata could, and he understood her confusion. The Great Sage might have unfettered access to the temple, but even he had never been alone with the First Maiden in her chambers.
"Well, you should at least get changed," he said. He could arrange a reason to be called away once he was out the door; she'd fall asleep and forget all about her request.
Her large purple eyes focused on him with disturbing clarity, as if she could anticipate his plan. Proof she knew him far better than he wanted her to. And she still trusted him. Her expression softened as her small hand tightened around his. "Please?"
Murata found his willingness to refuse much weaker than he expected it to be. He gave the attendant Maiden a helpless shrug, played up in the face of her hesitant disapproval, and squeezed Ulrike's hand. "All right."
She smiled tiredly and let his hand go, letting the other woman help her with her shoes before she pulled her feet up onto the bed and tucked her skirt around them. Someone else -- Shibuya came to mind, or Cecilie -- would have sat beside her on the bed; Murata took a chair from her writing desk and pulled it over to the side of the bed and sat down. Close enough that his knees bumped the mattress, but still far enough to be comfortable. "What's on your mind?" he asked after a moment.
Ulrike shook her head. "It isn't that," she replied. "I just..." She looked down at her hands as she clasped them together, not unlike she'd been doing in the other room. "I'm frightened, Your Highness."
Murata settled one of his hands over both of hers. "That's all right," he said. "I think we're all a little nervous." Inwardly, he frowned and hoped most of her confession was born of fatigue rather than any real feelings.
She shook her head again, and though she kept her head bowed, Murata saw her lower lip trembling. "No, you don't understand," she insisted. "All my efforts are only barely succeeding... and I should be able to do more but I cannot. And I must be failing because of these fears!" She hiccuped softly and continued, speaking faster. "Because even though His Majesty, the Shinou would not set me on a path if it were not the right one... and even though Your Highness is here with me... I doubt and I am afraid, and..." Another hiccup and she buried her face in her hands, though not before Murata saw the tears begin to roll down her cheeks. "Forgive me for my weakness, Your Highness."
Murata did move, then, before he could reason out why he shouldn't; he pulled her into a tight hug and felt the sobs wrack her small body. "Don't apologize, little one," he murmured against the crown of her hair. "It's all right." He closed his own eyes before the slightest sting could betray him. If he could tell her how much it hurt to ask of her what he was -- what they were -- he would. But one confession would follow another, and another.
Until everything he asked of her really did amount to nothing at all.
Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou
Characters/Pairings: Ulrike, Murata
Genre: Angst
Word count: 1,282
Notes: Set around episode 70 or so. Ulrike doesn't get nearly enough love. So I write fics about her with lame titles.
Fourteen hours and counting.
Of course, that assessment had been given to him almost a half hour ago, already incorrect, but after that constant a vigil, time started ceasing to really matter. In the half hour he had been watching, Ulrike hadn't moved or spoken; had not acknowledged his presence at all. Holes in the barrier just continued to be patched, weak spots reinforced. New cracks appeared every few minutes or so.
Murata leaned against the wall by the Inner Sanctum's door, scanning the giant ball of energy with his eyes and other senses, reinforcing his own inner shields against the miasma when necessary. After the fiasco with that maid, Sangria, they could take no chances. They had been forced to use all the Menadia antidote treating her and the three noble idiots who had accompanied Shibuya up Makadira. Another trip to the mountain would cost them in time and resources. If there were any flowers left.
No, better to guard against Soushu's influence as they were doing.
Up in the courtyard, the temple bell sounded the hour. Ulrike remained statue-still in front of the boxes.
Murata tapped a knuckle lightly on the door and refolded his arms over his chest as it opened. One of the Maiden guards peered through the opening. "Yes, Your Highness?"
"How much rest have the others gotten?" he asked softly, gaze drawn back to the white-haired priestess.
"They should be all right now."
"Fetch them, then." He chewed on a hanging fingernail. "As soon as they can get here, the better."
"Yes, Your Highness." The door closed silently behind her.
He pushed up from the wall and approached Ulrike slowly, hands in his pockets. As he came closer, he could see the sweat beading on her forehead, the white circles around her fingertips as she clenched her hands together. As though the force she exerted on them could somehow translate into more progress. She was exhausted, and no extra power reserve was forthcoming. Watching her at this distance, he felt sorry for her. She would protest having the other Maidens coming to take over; they were weaker, and wouldn't last as long as she could. Plus, so many were needed to equal her abilities even in this state.
If Murata could have helped her last a few more hours, he would have. The best he could do was make her rest, despite her reluctance.
Is that really the reason?
Using the other Maidens would weaken the barrier in ways even Ulrike would not be able to repair.
Convenient that concern for her condition should raise its head now.
The door to the Inner Sanctum opened; the Maidens filed into the room. Five of them, all resolved but clearly weary. He beckoned them forward, forcing himself not to see how tired they all were, as he stepped up beside Ulrike. Her concentration flickered as the Maidens knelt behind her and began to support her power; it broke when Murata touched the top of her head.
She looked up at him groggily. "Your Highness?" Her voice was thin, but he smiled at her.
"Shift's over, little one."
"I can't..." As she shook her head, strands of her hair fell from their holders and hung over her face. "I must continue. His Majesty, the Shinou--"
"He knows how hard you've been working," he broke in gently. "He would want you to rest."
"But... the barrier is so weak..." she murmured even as she tried to stand and her legs refused to support her. Murata caught her easily and picked her up. He felt a now-familiar twinge in his chest as she rested her head against his shoulder.
He held her carefully as he left the room, nodding to the guards holding the door. "Shhh," he soothed. "It will be there when you return." She smiled softly at his reassurance and the twinge returned, a bit stronger. She believed without question, without hesitation; fine qualities in a priestess, but he couldn't help regretting her wholehearted trust.
Ulrike was half asleep in his arms by the time they reached her rooms; he figured she would be. Murata waited until one of the attending Maidens arrived before setting her down on the bed. He turned to leave so the attendant could help her prepare for bed, but Ulrike reached out and clung to his hand. "Please, Your Highness," she murmured. "Stay with me a while?"
"Lady Ulrike?" the attendant replied before Murata could, and he understood her confusion. The Great Sage might have unfettered access to the temple, but even he had never been alone with the First Maiden in her chambers.
"Well, you should at least get changed," he said. He could arrange a reason to be called away once he was out the door; she'd fall asleep and forget all about her request.
Her large purple eyes focused on him with disturbing clarity, as if she could anticipate his plan. Proof she knew him far better than he wanted her to. And she still trusted him. Her expression softened as her small hand tightened around his. "Please?"
Murata found his willingness to refuse much weaker than he expected it to be. He gave the attendant Maiden a helpless shrug, played up in the face of her hesitant disapproval, and squeezed Ulrike's hand. "All right."
She smiled tiredly and let his hand go, letting the other woman help her with her shoes before she pulled her feet up onto the bed and tucked her skirt around them. Someone else -- Shibuya came to mind, or Cecilie -- would have sat beside her on the bed; Murata took a chair from her writing desk and pulled it over to the side of the bed and sat down. Close enough that his knees bumped the mattress, but still far enough to be comfortable. "What's on your mind?" he asked after a moment.
Ulrike shook her head. "It isn't that," she replied. "I just..." She looked down at her hands as she clasped them together, not unlike she'd been doing in the other room. "I'm frightened, Your Highness."
Murata settled one of his hands over both of hers. "That's all right," he said. "I think we're all a little nervous." Inwardly, he frowned and hoped most of her confession was born of fatigue rather than any real feelings.
She shook her head again, and though she kept her head bowed, Murata saw her lower lip trembling. "No, you don't understand," she insisted. "All my efforts are only barely succeeding... and I should be able to do more but I cannot. And I must be failing because of these fears!" She hiccuped softly and continued, speaking faster. "Because even though His Majesty, the Shinou would not set me on a path if it were not the right one... and even though Your Highness is here with me... I doubt and I am afraid, and..." Another hiccup and she buried her face in her hands, though not before Murata saw the tears begin to roll down her cheeks. "Forgive me for my weakness, Your Highness."
Murata did move, then, before he could reason out why he shouldn't; he pulled her into a tight hug and felt the sobs wrack her small body. "Don't apologize, little one," he murmured against the crown of her hair. "It's all right." He closed his own eyes before the slightest sting could betray him. If he could tell her how much it hurt to ask of her what he was -- what they were -- he would. But one confession would follow another, and another.
Until everything he asked of her really did amount to nothing at all.