(no subject)
Title: As a Servant Should His Master
Fandom: Tales of the Abyss
Characters: Guy and Luke! More Guy than Luke. Platonic!
Genre: General/Drama
Rating: G
Summary: The great pretender admits his defeat.
Guy was such a good liar he even managed to fool himself sometimes. He would pretend so well to care about the son of Duke Fabre that occasionally, he caught himself actually caring. Not in a way that a brother cares for his younger sibling or even as a friend, but as a charge. As a servant should care for his master.
When those days happened, Guy would stand in the foyer and stare at the Jewel.
Luke would pass by on the way to his studies, or to the castle, or to his room or the drawing room to speak with a father who barely made a moment for him. He would ask Guy what was the matter, and Guy would pretend not to hear.
Pretend not to care.
Pere taught him how to hide his true emotions, both before they'd entered the Duke's employment and afterward, when Guy confessed that he was having difficulty drawing the lines in reality. At Guy's request -Young Master Gailardia's request- Pere would remind him of what happened at Hod. He wouldn't tell Guy the details of how Mary died -for some reason it was the only thing Pere wouldn't tell him- but he would tell him about how the guards died. How the servants screamed and fled. How Duke Fabre laughed as he ordered countless innocent civilians slaughtered. Hod wasn't just a manor and servants; Hod was a port, Hod was like Belkend. There had been many families there, relatives of House Gardios, both immediate and distant; servant and soldier families and their children and their children's children, serving House Gardios for generations. Few had been lucky enough to escape, with Kimlasca's navy forming a blockade and sinking any vessel that dared to challenge their supremacy.
Hatred and anger flared up as Pere trembled and told him, and Guy would shake with his own fury but never asked that he stop. Never requested silence. He needed it. He needed it so he could stop caring.
"You are a kind-hearted person," Pere would say to him as he tucked him into bed. "You have made a difficult decision, Young Master, and forever I will honor it. Allow me to share this burden; should you find yourself incapable of concealing your true intentions, come to me. I will help you."
Guy rarely, if ever, came to Pere. He was a Gardios. He could endure the guilt until it went away, and as the years passed it was easier and easier to push it aside. Even when Luke was kidnapped and returned a whimpering mess of a boy, an infant of a child Guy could hate him. He could hate him for his hair, for his eyes; he didn't need Luke to keep his memories for Guy to despise him, no. If anything, he was even easier to hate with his screaming, his tantrums and his utter uselessness. Guy became a nanny and threw away his own childhood to guide Luke through his all over again, but he'd abandoned that path when he'd first suggested the idea of revenge.
Guy still remembered the day it had occurred to him. He'd been sitting beneath the branches of the Giant Tree in St. Binah, holding his knees. He was ten years old, and the tears had stopped coming the previous year. Pere was gently reminding him that he was to present himself to the crown; they couldn't stay in St. Binah forever. They had money; Pere made enough wages as a gardener for several of the wealthier families and Guy helped him under the guise of a grandson helping his elderly grandfather. No, it wasn't a matter of money.
It was a matter of duty.
Guy ran the word through his mind again and again, over and over. Duty. It was his duty to present himself to His Majesty Emperor Peony in Grand Chokmah; most likely he would be taken from Pere and placed in the care of another noble family until he came of age, and then he would inheret the title of Count Gardios and be reinstated as a noble bloodline. He would serve the Emperor in Grand Chokmah, unless the crown came into new territory and assigned Guy its governor. A normal, peaceful life.
And Duke Fabre would never pay for his cruelty. Not with the treaty in place.
To whom did Guy owe his honor? Malkuth, which didn't even know he was alive, or his family? Already he couldn't remember his father's voice, or his mother's face. He could remember Mary, snatches of their time together, but as he grew older memories from his early childhood faded and were replaced with new ones, less important ones. Ones of normalcy, of weeding in the afternoons with Pere and the sun on his neck, the sweat rolling down his back. If he forgot his parents, who would remember them? Murmurs about the tragedy of Hod were already quieting with the signing of the treaty years ago. The people craved peace and they finally had it, even at the expense of Malkuth. It was a tragedy, yes. It was a shame. House Gardios had been so strong, so sure and noble; one of the finest families Malkuth had to offer. Such a shame.
It was murder.
"I want to kill Duke Fabre." Guy had clutched at the doorjamb with both hands and his voice was both thick and unsure. He clung to the wood as if he would fall over otherwise and Pere stared at him over his teacup. Guy swallowed and breathed; squared slim shoulders and stood up straight. "Help me."
The china clinked as the cup met the saucer, and Pere slid from his chair to lower himself to a knee. "As you wish, Young Master. I will do whatever you ask of me."
Guy only needed to remember that day, that resolve, those words. That, with Pere's painful recollection of the day Hod fell was all he required to hate. It's all he needed.
Luke clung to him and Guy held him and pretended to care. Even with how different he was in temperament, how strange and foreign a creature he was compared to his former self, Guy didn't waver. He lasted for several more years, but the requests for Hod's downfall became few and far between.
He still gazed at the Jewel, but not as often; Luke was too much a handful, required too much attention. Guy grew into adolescence, then into adulthood, and throughout the years he spent more nights collapsing on his bed fully clothed than standing in the foyer with his fists at his sides. His shoulders broadened and his voice deepened, and the maids began to notice him (much to his dismay) but Guy's attention was almost always on Luke.
Even the joy of having Van alive disappeared months after the discovery. Guy clung to his waist and almost -almost- cried, but had managed to contain himself. Their words became less frequent and they almost never spoke of Hod. It was too dangerous; Van was almost always followed by Luke, both the small adult of ten years and the screaming, red-faced child of eleven. Luke would overhear. Luke couldn't overhear.
Guy was going to kill him.
Plans turned to plots, desires. Those turned into dreams. Guy thought less and less of how he would kill Luke; even as his swordsmanship grew more skilled, even as his strength increased and his speed quickened Guy thought less of it. Even when he was strong and large enough to pin Luke down, to put him into a headlock, Guy didn't think of it.
One day, Guy didn't even remember at all. Luke's seventeenth birthday; he prepared food for the boy -the teenager- that he'd wanted so badly to kill. He presented him with a gift. He laughed with him in his room; he snuck out the window when he fell asleep.
He held his head in his hands for hours and hours.
I can't.
Fandom: Tales of the Abyss
Characters: Guy and Luke! More Guy than Luke. Platonic!
Genre: General/Drama
Rating: G
Summary: The great pretender admits his defeat.
Guy was such a good liar he even managed to fool himself sometimes. He would pretend so well to care about the son of Duke Fabre that occasionally, he caught himself actually caring. Not in a way that a brother cares for his younger sibling or even as a friend, but as a charge. As a servant should care for his master.
When those days happened, Guy would stand in the foyer and stare at the Jewel.
Luke would pass by on the way to his studies, or to the castle, or to his room or the drawing room to speak with a father who barely made a moment for him. He would ask Guy what was the matter, and Guy would pretend not to hear.
Pretend not to care.
Pere taught him how to hide his true emotions, both before they'd entered the Duke's employment and afterward, when Guy confessed that he was having difficulty drawing the lines in reality. At Guy's request -Young Master Gailardia's request- Pere would remind him of what happened at Hod. He wouldn't tell Guy the details of how Mary died -for some reason it was the only thing Pere wouldn't tell him- but he would tell him about how the guards died. How the servants screamed and fled. How Duke Fabre laughed as he ordered countless innocent civilians slaughtered. Hod wasn't just a manor and servants; Hod was a port, Hod was like Belkend. There had been many families there, relatives of House Gardios, both immediate and distant; servant and soldier families and their children and their children's children, serving House Gardios for generations. Few had been lucky enough to escape, with Kimlasca's navy forming a blockade and sinking any vessel that dared to challenge their supremacy.
Hatred and anger flared up as Pere trembled and told him, and Guy would shake with his own fury but never asked that he stop. Never requested silence. He needed it. He needed it so he could stop caring.
"You are a kind-hearted person," Pere would say to him as he tucked him into bed. "You have made a difficult decision, Young Master, and forever I will honor it. Allow me to share this burden; should you find yourself incapable of concealing your true intentions, come to me. I will help you."
Guy rarely, if ever, came to Pere. He was a Gardios. He could endure the guilt until it went away, and as the years passed it was easier and easier to push it aside. Even when Luke was kidnapped and returned a whimpering mess of a boy, an infant of a child Guy could hate him. He could hate him for his hair, for his eyes; he didn't need Luke to keep his memories for Guy to despise him, no. If anything, he was even easier to hate with his screaming, his tantrums and his utter uselessness. Guy became a nanny and threw away his own childhood to guide Luke through his all over again, but he'd abandoned that path when he'd first suggested the idea of revenge.
Guy still remembered the day it had occurred to him. He'd been sitting beneath the branches of the Giant Tree in St. Binah, holding his knees. He was ten years old, and the tears had stopped coming the previous year. Pere was gently reminding him that he was to present himself to the crown; they couldn't stay in St. Binah forever. They had money; Pere made enough wages as a gardener for several of the wealthier families and Guy helped him under the guise of a grandson helping his elderly grandfather. No, it wasn't a matter of money.
It was a matter of duty.
Guy ran the word through his mind again and again, over and over. Duty. It was his duty to present himself to His Majesty Emperor Peony in Grand Chokmah; most likely he would be taken from Pere and placed in the care of another noble family until he came of age, and then he would inheret the title of Count Gardios and be reinstated as a noble bloodline. He would serve the Emperor in Grand Chokmah, unless the crown came into new territory and assigned Guy its governor. A normal, peaceful life.
And Duke Fabre would never pay for his cruelty. Not with the treaty in place.
To whom did Guy owe his honor? Malkuth, which didn't even know he was alive, or his family? Already he couldn't remember his father's voice, or his mother's face. He could remember Mary, snatches of their time together, but as he grew older memories from his early childhood faded and were replaced with new ones, less important ones. Ones of normalcy, of weeding in the afternoons with Pere and the sun on his neck, the sweat rolling down his back. If he forgot his parents, who would remember them? Murmurs about the tragedy of Hod were already quieting with the signing of the treaty years ago. The people craved peace and they finally had it, even at the expense of Malkuth. It was a tragedy, yes. It was a shame. House Gardios had been so strong, so sure and noble; one of the finest families Malkuth had to offer. Such a shame.
It was murder.
"I want to kill Duke Fabre." Guy had clutched at the doorjamb with both hands and his voice was both thick and unsure. He clung to the wood as if he would fall over otherwise and Pere stared at him over his teacup. Guy swallowed and breathed; squared slim shoulders and stood up straight. "Help me."
The china clinked as the cup met the saucer, and Pere slid from his chair to lower himself to a knee. "As you wish, Young Master. I will do whatever you ask of me."
Guy only needed to remember that day, that resolve, those words. That, with Pere's painful recollection of the day Hod fell was all he required to hate. It's all he needed.
Luke clung to him and Guy held him and pretended to care. Even with how different he was in temperament, how strange and foreign a creature he was compared to his former self, Guy didn't waver. He lasted for several more years, but the requests for Hod's downfall became few and far between.
He still gazed at the Jewel, but not as often; Luke was too much a handful, required too much attention. Guy grew into adolescence, then into adulthood, and throughout the years he spent more nights collapsing on his bed fully clothed than standing in the foyer with his fists at his sides. His shoulders broadened and his voice deepened, and the maids began to notice him (much to his dismay) but Guy's attention was almost always on Luke.
Even the joy of having Van alive disappeared months after the discovery. Guy clung to his waist and almost -almost- cried, but had managed to contain himself. Their words became less frequent and they almost never spoke of Hod. It was too dangerous; Van was almost always followed by Luke, both the small adult of ten years and the screaming, red-faced child of eleven. Luke would overhear. Luke couldn't overhear.
Guy was going to kill him.
Plans turned to plots, desires. Those turned into dreams. Guy thought less and less of how he would kill Luke; even as his swordsmanship grew more skilled, even as his strength increased and his speed quickened Guy thought less of it. Even when he was strong and large enough to pin Luke down, to put him into a headlock, Guy didn't think of it.
One day, Guy didn't even remember at all. Luke's seventeenth birthday; he prepared food for the boy -the teenager- that he'd wanted so badly to kill. He presented him with a gift. He laughed with him in his room; he snuck out the window when he fell asleep.
He held his head in his hands for hours and hours.
I can't.