Dawn

The day began with a bright clear sky. On any other day it would have been a signal for new beginnings. A herald for the birth of spring as it spread across the land. A day that should have begun with promises, crisp clear shining promises. But tired eyes watched from a window along the castle’s south face and thought only of broken vows and shattered laughter.

It had been nearly a week since he’d returned home and in that time his entire world had changed. When he’d first stepped into the wading pool in his backyard all he could dream of-all he could imagine-was life; as he’d known it, as he’d left it. He’d walked between the worlds enough that a part of him had been convinced that even with his absence nothing would have changed, not really anyway.

Sure he’d listened to what his brother and Murata had had to say before he’d left, but deep down he hadn’t wanted to hear the possibilities that they’d laid before him. In his heart he’d thought that their fears were unfounded. He’d already put so much into traveling and making friends and establishing ties of peace, to say nothing of endless searches for magic relics and boxes that end worlds.

He’d already paid his dues; surely when he returned his life would be free. He could deal with the occasional uproar and baseball game, but being able to return to his friends, his family, his kingdom that was what was important. He’d no longer have to feel torn between worlds. He’d no longer have to feel this terrible guilt over his decision to leave Shin Makoku.

He raised a hand and scrubbed it across his gritty eyes. He hadn’t slept since he’d woken in Geisela’s infirmary. He’d been numb for his meeting with Conrad and Josak. A part of him felt weak that he’d let Gwendel take charge over the debriefing, but the bigger part had wanted Gwendel to take over the smaller meeting with Gunter that had happened later that day.
Growing up on Earth Yuri had known about the facts of life; birth, death, heck after a truly horrible an uncomfortable talk at the dinner table where his father had spent most of the evening being interrupted by his mother’s “helpful” interjections while Shiori looked on in silence Yuri was even somewhat cognizant of the birds and the bees. But nothing had ever prepared him for having to sit down and plan his daughter’s funeral.

Just thinking about it again caused the vise inside his chest to tighten. He raised a hand to absently rub the choking ache. He didn’t know if his life would be extended now that he was fully committed to this world, to these people. But if he ever had to sit at another table and make plans for another child of his to be-no-there would never be another time where he would have to do that.

Yuri felt his jaw tighten in resolution. He would make sure that no other parent ever had to make those plans. Children should never die before their parents. Parents should be able to pass away warm and content in their beds surrounded by their children and grandchildren secure in the knowledge that their family would live on prosperous and happy. This-this was an abomination. Something never meant for children. He’d thought that he’d left his kingdom in peace. He’d been naïve enough to believe that there would be no consequences for his leaving. This was his fault. She was his fault.

He looked down at the sudden pain in his fingers and was shocked to see that his hands had been gripping the battlement in front of him so firmly that his nails had cracked and tiny slivers of stone had pierced the flesh of his hands. He watched his blood well up, filling the small abrasions before running in steady rivulets down to paint the ground at his feet.
And no longer did Yuri see the stone in front of him. His eyes no longer viewed his battered hands or the soiled earth in front of his feet. No, instead his eyes were focused inward reliving a scene from earlier that day.

He had stood in his finery bare-headed under the blistering heat of the sun. He could feel the weight of his robe around in neck and shoulders, the fur trim and hot uncomfortable prickle that he wanted to rip away from. He could feel the people behind him like a silent wall; Gunter, Gwendel, Conrad, Jozak, Ken. He felt the eyes of the people in the crowd watching him, weighing him. He even felt the timber of the music that followed the procession down the hill pressing against his body, a cage of sound that trapped him.

And then he could see the sun glint of the polished stone he stood in front of. That sudden flash of light as it danced across the marble shine reminded him of her. Of Greta. There had been an afternoon about a month before he’d left when the twon of them had ventured outside to hide form Wolfram in the gardens. They’d huddled together trying to shrink themselves behind some leafy bushes as they’d heard Wolfram stomp and rant along the path they’d just left. His voice had barely faded before they’d both dissolved into laughter at their success.

He’d felt so light and happy at that moment, so accomplished in his evasion. He’d turned to look at Greta and the sun had caught the shimmer in her hair ribbons. The silk had danced and flashed with the light a living flame whispering among her curls with the heat of the day.

He felt a gentle nudge at his shoulder and turned to look at Ken beside him. He followed Ken’s gaze to tattered doll he held in his hands and the now solid obelisk that stood complete. He saw his hands raise the doll to his lips and felt them ghost across the doll’s cheek before he placed it in it’s final resting place at the base of the obelisk. He watched as the crowds began to thin in the periphery and felt the solid weight of Conrad’s hand come down upon his arm before he was lead away.

And suddenly it wasn’t the earlier memory of today that Yuri saw. It wasn’t even his own torn and bleeding flesh on the stone battlement but a parody of the remembered scene in the garden. He saw the light dance along the ribbon in Greta’s hair and heard her laughter, right before she stiffened and fell limp upon the ground. It was her blood that spread below her in an ever growing stain.

And as the king fell upon the ground in the lowest bailey of his castle a prince awoke in the castle’s highest tower.

***A/N***
Okay I need to start by apologizing profusely to everyone. This is version 9.0 of this chapter and I still am convinced that it's pretty much dren. Seriously folks I was hoping the zombies would come attack me at most points during this infernal chapter! It never should have taken this long and I'm a schlep for having made it so. Again, profuse apologies! The only good thing I can say is that the following chappies should be a whole heck of a lot better and faster now that this dead horse is beaten.