Cloths of Heaven
(i)
The gathered forces of Eressea gathered at the bottom of the hill facing the massed forces of both Esset and the Nemesis. Crawford checked his information a second, and then a third time. Esset had declared war with the Nemesis over the collection of a certain Janissary from the border, the Nemesis declared it was legal and within their territory but Esset said it was not. This could have been avoided if the Nemesis had returned the girl but he had refused to back down. It was even said that the girl accompanied him everywhere as a slight to the elders of Esset, and there was even talk of him putting aside his political wife and marrying her.
Crawford couldn’t understand, why, after so many years of a flimsy peace the Nemesis, who was said to be unlike his predecessor as chalk was from cheese, was willing to shatter it, and for a girl. He thought of Ran, lost to him these two years, and believed he might understand, if only in part.
He wondered, in retrospect, if he had not pressed Omi’s claim to the state of Daryiia in an attempt to appease the tormenting ghost of Ran.
In the dark hours he could have sworn he heard Ran, and as he sat at his desk, he could feel the ghost of his warmth of his cheek against his thigh, yet when he turned he lost him again with the realisation that he was not there, that he would never be there again. He had been almost convinced that Ran was dead, that he had killed himself in the hills of Herensea to be with his sister and parents, but then Birman had received a letter from a girl who called herself Aya who spoke of Sir Alaric, just as Ran had once done. The letter had been full of cryptic asides that he had not understood and some he did, “If you can find a way to tell him without letting him now I have been in contact with you please tell him I do love him. If you can find a way to tell him without letting him know I have been in contact with you please tell him I do love him.”
It was those words that instilled in Crawford the desperate belief that Ran was alive, that he was trying to communicate secrets in ways only Birman could understand but the knowledge gave Crawford some comfort, his beautiful boy, his Ran, his bride, loved him.
It didn’t stop his boy haunting him. Even now he could feel his breath on the back of his neck and the sweet innocent questions he would ask and then suggestions that would dazzle a general twice his age. Ran’s voice had deepened over the years but it was still his, and occasionally he would find wine dark red hairs in his clothes. He never let anyone else see him weep, he was too proud for that. Yet still Ran haunted him.
“Move your forces to the left,” the ghostly voice said in his ear. “That way you’re up against the trees here, it’ll make it harder for them to flank you.”
Crawford looked at the metal figurines laid out on the map and saw that Ran was right, he always was.
Even two years after Ran had gone he still had two place settings set out for supper.
(ii)
Aya looked at the massed forces of Eressea, in the name of Inabayama, and Estet, then sighed. As much as he would like to deny it it was obvious that they were gathered here because of him, well not because of him personally, but because of his situation. Crawford was using Omi’s claim to call him back to him, he had gathered an army to restore Inabayama thinking that Aya would be duty bound to return to him then. Estet was using the excuse that he had been captured within their borders, which was an outright fiction, because he hadn’t been, and he had volunteered for the Janissary, and Chloe had gathered his army because Estet hadn’t backed down over the cause.
It was spurious, Aya was from Inabayama, or Daryiia as they had renamed it, he couldn’t have been more Chloe’s property if he tried.
Chloe was gathered with his generals as Free stood beside him. He could see Ken, whom he had met because of the mix up over the seraglio, he had come to apologise and he had struck Aya as being genuine but overworked, he was now leading the infantry, he wore a pair of razor sharp claws on the back of his hands for melee fighting, beside him was Yuushi who wore a whip sword around his back and cautioned attack as the best defence. Then there was Reiichi who counselled patience, Masato who looked as if he listened to every option but had his own plan that he didn’t share and Naru who was in charge of artillery. Most armies fell before him.
They had their counterparts in Esset as well, Berger, the Black General who left no one alive, Geisel, The Horned King, who outmanoeuvred his enemies into traps to crush them at his leisure, and Layla, the Silk Queen who seduced her way to murder and despotism, it was said that she had killed over a thousand maidens to bathe in their blood. They were feared and rightly so. Esset must have something planned if they had brought them to the front.
He was frightened, not for himself because such was irrelevant, death was the least he deserved for what he had done and who he had betrayed, but for Chloe and Crawford. Free said nothing, he never did.
(iii)
“Which one is he?” Chloe asked looking out over the army of Eressea with his spy glass. “Your husband?”
“Why?” Aya asked, rising from the bed to stand beside Chloe, the night was chill.
“Because I’m still unsure whether I want to kill or thank him.” Chloe answered with a smile, “he, whether he intended to or not, sent you to me.” Aya took the compliment with good grace and a dark laugh. “I might kill him just because you compare me to him, even when you don’t intend to.”
“I,” Aya began, Chloe silenced him with a kiss.
“I think I’d love you less if you didn’t still love him,” he answered. “Ran loves him,” he offered with a rather calm smile, “but Aya loves me, that Aya and Ran are the same body is the crux, there are parts of you that are still Ran, it was Ran that took Yuki under your wing, and it was Ran that spared my life that night, but Aya is hard and brittle and beautiful. I can sometimes imagine how you feel, because I love both Aya and Ran.” Aya lowered his eyes, “so, please, let me see my rival.”
“He has dark hair,” Aya said turning his back to the armies, “and eyes like polished circles of amber, he is tall and dignified but he wears eyeglasses to read. He speaks softly and carefully, choosing each word before he speaks, by nightfall he has a shadow of stubble across his chin, and pen calluses on his fingers. He is darker than you, and slightly taller, more broad across the chest, he was an anchor I was happy to hang my life on.”
Chloe’s smile softened the pain Aya couldn’t help but feel. “Which one, love?” He asked.
Aya turned and pointed to the tent, “there,” he said, “That is my husband.”
Chloe looked at the man standing there, “and the two men beside him, the redhead and the blonde, are they your champions?” He asked. Aya nodded. “I’d like to meet them, if circumstances were different I would like to meet your husband and your champions because they made you the man I love.”
“You’re such a sap,” Aya said batting him lightly on the arm even though his heart was warmed by the words. It didn’t frighten him in any way to talk that way to the Nemesis, who the romance novels called the Devourer of Nations.
“Ah,” Chloe answered with a grin, “and they say romance is dead, now I know why.” He laughed, it was faintly mocking but Aya knew he was only teasing. “And to think, I have made you my chosen companion, the one who wipes my mouth after a feast of nations.”
“Who said it was your mouth I wiped?” Aya answered with a grin, glad Chloe had changed the subject, he didn’t want to dwell on the past.
“My ecchi,” Chloe answered with a smile, “now, do you want to go to him?” He asked suddenly.
“Yes,” Aya said, “I owe him that.”
“If you promise to come back, and take Free with you, I’ll let you go, I know I can’t meet with him, but I think you need to say goodbye.”
“I said goodbye.” Aya protested, “he just didn’t know it.”
Chloe cupped his face with his palm. “If he feels for you an inkling what I do, and knowing how you feel about him, I’ll trust you,” he kissed him on the lips gently, “after all, you are my captain of the Heaven Guard.”
“How?” Aya asked, “Why? I mean,” he stopped, “Chloe, you baffle and bemuse me.”
“Because once I nearly married your sister, my father petitioned the king of Inabayama for her, but obviously Eressea’s bid was higher, I have the portrait he commissioned of both you and your sister. If your sister hadn’t fallen ill I would have petitioned for you.” He stroked Aya’s cheek softly, “things have a funny way of coming full circle.”
“So you always knew?” Aya asked.
“No,” Chloe answered, “I believed you dead when you left Herensea, just like everyone else, but I suspected.” He kissed him on the forehead, “go to him, and say goodbye, come tomorrow things will change, and you and I will be nowhere near the fighting. I’d hate for him to die before you got the chance to say goodbye properly because I know you, love, it would eat you up inside.”
“Are you so sure you’ll win?” Aya asked.
“No,” Chloe answered, “not at all, but I am royalty and I’ll be whisked away from the battle at the faintest hint that things are not going to plan, you are my favourite so I’ll take you with me or throw a tantrum to make Yuki proud.” His grin was impish, “he is only a general, he will be among the fighting.”
Aya sighed, and then prepared to walk down the hill.
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