By the time he arrives, the foreigner is already there. He stops in the doorway and curls his hands into fists. He doesn't like this man--never has, not since he showed up at court and charmed his way right into the royal hierarchy.
Now it seems that his fears were justified. His queen is dead; there is a gaping raw space in his chest that always follows the unexpected death of a sovereign. And the idiot doesn't even seem to care.
(he never knew Himiko as a girl, wide-eyed and delighted at the taste of summer peaches, or shaking through the vestiges of her dreams, or the wonder in her eyes when she looked at his face and knew who he was--)
"I have to go," the man says, and brushes past; he leaves Himiko as she was, sprawled and empty and wrong on the floor. His sleeves flutter and smell like sandalwood. Their arms brush for a moment.
"She died in service of her country," the foreigner says. His voice is oddly brittle. "Her last thoughts were of you."
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Date: 2009-08-05 03:16 am (UTC)Now it seems that his fears were justified. His queen is dead; there is a gaping raw space in his chest that always follows the unexpected death of a sovereign. And the idiot doesn't even seem to care.
(he never knew Himiko as a girl, wide-eyed and delighted at the taste of summer peaches, or shaking through the vestiges of her dreams, or the wonder in her eyes when she looked at his face and knew who he was--)
"I have to go," the man says, and brushes past; he leaves Himiko as she was, sprawled and empty and wrong on the floor. His sleeves flutter and smell like sandalwood. Their arms brush for a moment.
"She died in service of her country," the foreigner says. His voice is oddly brittle. "Her last thoughts were of you."