Work Text:
The sound of a single pair of footsteps echo off the cold, unwelcoming stone. The halls are empty at this time of night, save for the occasional guard. Well… usually they are. A particularly exhausted face has become a frequent guest as of late.
The man’s face is worn, dark circles around his eyes that he no longer bothers to hide. Gold glitters under the moonlight, the trim of his coat and the metal of his clawed gauntlet a veneer to hide the flaws time has left upon his skin. Regal in all respects… yet ever restless.
In daylight, he carries himself with poise and confidence. His voice is strong, ringing through the halls and commanding respect from nobility and common folk alike. But in the night… it’s far harder to hide the truth. Eyes dart left and right. Ears always alert. Traps laid around his quarters. Guards on every corner. None of it matters. He isn’t safe. Can never be safe. Memories of hellfire and pain dance behind his eyes whenever he tries to sleep. No… breathe… he has taken every precaution…
Leaning upon the railing of the balcony, he eyes the bustle of the city below. The city never sleeps… and apparently neither can he. There is always more to do. Policies to review, plans to perfect, machines to repair. They keep his mind occupied… busywork is better than the silence pressing in on him now.
Tick tick tick…
Tick tick tick…
Golden claws against stone and he taps his fingers aimlessly. He should go back inside, write a missive or… something. Anything. But what does it matter.
It will never replace them.
He forcefully shoves the thought aside, his face twisting into a grimace. The pain in his chest difficult to ignore. He can’t let his mind wander, can’t overthink the past…
But…
How long has it been? Days… months… years… does it even matter anymore? They are gone. He can’t let himself think about their voice… their touch… it was always a balm to his senses. A small smile creeps onto his face unbidden. They always knew how to challenge him, understood the pressure and pain of expectation. It doesn’t matter if they bring pain or pleasure in their wake, they are his…
…they were his. He corrects himself slowly, his smile fading back into a grimace.
…
…
He stares out into the dark horizon, his brows set in a scowl. It doesn’t matter anymore. They are gone. Straightening himself, he turns to return to his chambers.
He has work to do.