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Cliopher arrived at the Imperial Apartments with his writing kit tucked under one arm. The outer guards greeted him as usual, but as he moved deeper into the apartments, he noticed their increasing stiffness. Their tight expressions. The way they eyed him, nervous and relieved all at once.
Cliopher knew without any of them uttering a word: Something was wrong with his Radiancy.
Cliopher hastened his stride. Pikake and Ato challenged him in front of his Radiancy’s study, spears gleaming, and for the first time in years, Cliopher felt the full weight of the Imperial Guards bearing down at him.
His worry for his Radiancy crescendos into a sick fear. He needed, quite suddenly, to see him. “I am here to see his Radiancy.”
“Cliopher!” A door to the Inner Apartments opened, revealing Conju. He was as impeccably dressed as always, but Cliopher caught the lingering smell of sweat under his perfume.
“What has happened?” Cliopher asked.
Conju glanced at the guards. Cliopher wondered for a moment if he would lead them into a private room for this discussion. But then, there were no secrets in his Radiancy’s household. If something had affected his Radiancy to worry Conju like this, then it was not something that could be hidden from the inner guards.
“His Radiancy has been … a little different since his vacation,” Conju began. “The difference in his behaviour has been slight, for the most part. I thought that it was only obvious to those of his household. But the priest wizards have noticed.”
Cliopher tightened his grip on his writing kit. He did not have much experience with the priest wizards, not being of magic himself, but it worried him greatly that they were somehow involved.
“They came to the kitchens this morning. I have little magic myself, but some of the junior kitchen-hands who have such talents confirmed that a calming spell was laid upon his Radiancy’s morning meal.”
“A calming spell,” Cliopher repeated, feeling the words falling into the deepest parts of himself.
Conju nodded, yes. “A rather strong one, too. But we could not ignore their directions–” To do so was treason, a crime that could have Conju and half of his household executed. “--so we took the food to his Radiancy who agreed to consume it.”
Cliopher closed his eyes and breathed slowly and deliberately.
Conju inhaled deeply beside him, following Cliopher’s calming example. “It has been a long time since they dared. I hadn’t thought that they would do such a thing again.”
Cliopher opened his eyes. “Again?”
Conju glanced nervously at the study, where his Radiancy was waiting, alone and drugged. “When his Radiancy first came to the throne, he did not embody the Serenity of his position as he does now. Or so I have heard, this was before I came into his service.”
His Radiancy had told Cliopher about his confusion and horror when he first came to the throne. Cliopher could not imagine trying to hide that overwhelm, especially when every moment of his day was witnessed by dozens of attendants and guards and courtiers, scrutinising the young Emperor and likely finding him wanting.
A dark wave rushed up from deep inside him at the thought of that young version of his Radiancy and all the members of his household who refused to see that inner man, even though it must have been so obvious in those early days.
“I have heard,” Conju went on, “that he had bouts of panic at times.” Cliopher sucked in a sharp breath. “Not often. And never in public. But…”
But the Sun-on-Earth could not be besieged by human emotions like panic or fear. A living god did not have panic attacks, no matter how young and new to the throne he may have been.
“That was so long ago,” Cliopher said. “Decades.” Hundreds of years ago by some accounts.
Conju nodded tightly. “The Ouranatha did not use the calming droughts often after the Fall. I can count on one hand the number of times it has been used since I have come into his Radiancy’s service.”
Cliopher’s throat felt tight, his hands tingling strangely. On occasion, his Radiancy fully embodied the Serenity, so still and impossibly tranquil as though…
But no. Surely he would have noticed if his Radiancy was impaired. He was one of the few people (the only?) who dared to meet his Radiancy’s eyes; surely, he would have noticed if they suddenly appeared glassy, or if his pupils were ever too large.
“Conju,” Cliopher said, voice low and urgent.
“No,” Conju rushed to say. “His Radiancy refused to be in front of you, whenever he was, uh, affected–”
“Drugged against his will,” Cliopher interrupted.
Conju stopped. The guards at the door were still, not looking at either of them. Pikake was glaring determinedly at the back wall.
Conju frowned. “Cliopher.”
But Cliopher would not pretend like this was normal.
But then… maybe it was. He only knew the previous Emperors as history chose to remember them, near-divine and perfect in every way. He wondered silently (for saying such thoughts were treasonous) if any of those previous Emperors were ever outwardly frightened, or nervous, or depressed. For many generations, the Emperor couldn’t even see sunlight.
It made sense that the priest-wizards would put in measures to deal with any human weaknesses as the Emperor’s Godhood grew over the centuries.
Cliopher clasped Conju’s shoulder and squeezed. “Thank you for telling me, Conju.”
Conju shifted nervously under his hand. “He doesn’t want to see you. He’s gone out of his way to keep others from seeing this–to keep you, in particular, from seeing this.”
Cliopher would not let him leave his Radiancy alone. He turned, facing Pikake and Ato, and said firmly, “I’m here to see his Radiancy.”
Pikake and Ato hesitated briefly, then thumped their spears and announced Cliopher’s arrival. The doors to the study swung open and Cliopher stepped inside. He scanned the room quickly.
His Radiancy was on the other side of the room, facing away from him, shoulders set and hands clasped neatly behind his back. The very picture of Serenity.
Rhodin and Ludvic were posted at the interior doors. Neither looked at Cliopher, and he did not look at them.
Cliopher sank into the expected obeisance and then rose without permission. “My lord.”
Cliopher waited a long moment for his Radiancy to speak, to turn to him, but he stayed as still and silent as the night.
Now was not the time for waiting and listening, not while his Radiancy was so close and yet so far away. Cliopher crossed the study in quick strides. He stopped on the other side of his desk. “My lord,” he said again. “I’m here.”
His Radiancy’s hands tightened against his wrist. The grip looked painful, knuckles almost white with the strain.
“We told everyone to leave.” His Radiancy’s voice was strange. Not slurred. But there was a looseness to his speech, like he had just woken from a deep sleep and was still finding his bearings.
“Yes, my lord.”
“You will not be dictating today.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Tomorrow, we will finalise the drafts for the…” His Radiancy paused. Cliopher waited for him to finish the thought, but his Radiancy did not. Could not, perhaps.
Cliopher had been given pain-relieving droughts several times before, after a great injury or sickness. He remembered the way they made his body and mind feel clumsy, thoughts far-away and hard to grasp.
But those droughts were usually mild and coupled with instructions to rest. Cliopher couldn’t imagine forcing himself back to work while he was so physically and mentally addled–and he doubted that the priest wizards gave his Radiancy a mild dosage.
His Radiancy turned, finally. He standed tall and straight, the fall of his robes perfect in every way, and stared straight-ahead as though staring into some far-off horizon. It reminded Cliopher of his appearances at court, when he was the very embodiment of the Serenity.
If it were anyone else, they wouldn’t have noticed anything different about the Emperor. Only Cliopher, one of the few who dared to meet his Radiancy’s eyes, that noticed his mismatched and blown pupils.
“How long will it last?” Cliopher asked.
His Radiancy considered him for a moment. “They have used droughts before, but they have not used these particular spells since I was new to the throne. They did not believe I needed them.”
Until recently.
Until Cliopher took his Radiancy on vacation and unearthed the inner man that had been lying almost dormant within.
“I was careless,” his Radiancy murmured.
“No,” Cliopher said, trying to contain the tidal-wave of emotion rising up inside him. “You are human.”
“Yes, exactly.” His Radiancy closed his eyes. He looked as cool as stone, a statue made man.
Are you okay?, Cliopher wanted to say, but what a ridiculous question that would be. Of course he was not.
His Radiancy opened his eyes. They were pleading, the effect amplified by his still-blown pupils. In a low and not-quite-steady voice, he said, “Cliopher.”
“I’m here.”
“I feel more like a ghost than ever. Like there’s a plane of glass between you and I, or between my brain and my skull, totally separating my inner being.” His words became even looser, more like a slur.
“I’m here,” Cliopher said again, hand twitching by his side. His Radiancy followed the movement. The silent longing in his eyes made Cliopher ache.
“I know, logically. But it feels like I’m impossibly alone. Like I could float away entirely.”
Cliopher dragged a chair over. “Sit, my lord.”
After he’d said it, he’d realised that he’d given his Radiancy a direct command and had to swallow to force back the reflexive apology. His Radiancy was already obeying, sinking into the chair, hands curled on the arm rests.
Cliopher stood in front of him. It felt wrong to loom directly over his Radiancy like this, but he did not want to move to the side, out of his Radiancy’s line of sight. “Take a deep breath and focus on the way your lungs are expanding, your ribs lifting up and out.” Cliopher demonstrated, inhaling deeply, and his Radiancy followed his lead. “Push your feet into the ground. Feel the soldiness of the floor, the feel of the leather sandals against your skin.”
Cliopher led his Radiancy through all of the simple grounding exercises that he knew. Two quarters of an hour passed while Cliopher talked, and his Radiancy listened. Some of the tension bled gradually from him.
“We will have to be more careful in the future,” his Radiancy said, at last. “I think today was a warning.”
“Yes,” Cliopher said, feeling raw. “But not in here.”
You do not have to hide away entirely, he thought. Not anymore.
“Thank you,” his Radiancy said. His eyes were still glassy, his voice still too-loose, but Cliopher could see that inner man closer to the surface now.
“Any time,” he said, and wished desperately that this would not happen again.