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To bury my sacred love	By : Kittycountess Category: +G to L > Gankutsuou Views: 5827 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gankutsuou, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Chapter 1
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
To bury my sacred
love � Chapter 2

By Tessa Marlene

Sound�

Somebody is moving above me. I
can hear the rustle of their clothes, and a gentle voice speaking.

�I believe that�s enough, Ali.
We should let him sleep and heal the rest on his own.�

Recognition dawns. Haydee. She
is talking in a hushed tone, but the musical ring of her voice is too familiar
for me to miss.

I try to open my eyes, but it�s
no use. It feels like my lids are laden with five tons of concrete. I let out
an exhausted sigh.

I feel everyone quite down, as
if the sound I made managed to charm them.

Then, �Thank you everyone, you
have been of much help. I would like to ask you to leave now please.�

More rustle. I know it�s the
servants scuttling to obey. I feel a cool alien hand on my forehead that is
more soothing than a hand should be, then it disappears.

�You�re always there for me when
I need you, Ali. Thank you for all you�ve done.�

I see a blue and black shape bow
to a colorful one and then walk away. The colorful shape turns to me and I see
a bright, blank spot where a face should be. Wait a minute�. I see, which means
my eyes must be open.

The colorful shape with no face
is motionless for a moment before it approaches me from my right and slowly
moves down. I feel the mattress beneath me dip and soon enough, I feel a hand
on my head, combing through my hair gently. Not a healing hand like the one
before, but one that is infinitely kinder and more familiar.

�Hayde-e-cha-an.� I try to
speak.

�Shhh.� She whispers, her hand
never seizing its soothing motion. �Don�t speak just now. Try to gain some
strength back.�

The pale moon that is her face
turns for a moment before it comes back into view. And now I see she is holding
something in her hand. Her other hand, the one that had been stroking me moves
lightly behind my head and wedges itself between my head and the pillow. I feel
it tug a little and know she is trying to lift me so I obey. I do my best to
raise my head as much as I can and that is enough for her to a cup to my lips
and tip the warm liquid into my mouth. I don�t remember being hungry or thirsty
and I don�t even know what it is she is feeding me, but I devour every gulp
like it is life itself pouring into me.

When the cup empties she pulls
it away and now both her hands are around my face and for the first time since
I woke up I can see her. Her face is as beautiful as ever, those black eyes
shimmering like the endless starlit space. Even though they shiver with sadness
now, and I can see rivers of crystalline tears pouring out of them to run down
smooth pale cheeks, I still can�t pull my gaze away from them.

With a monumental effort - which
is still not enough to release my body from the sluggishness Ali�s cure has
forced upon me � I raise a hand to gently touch her face, trying to wipe away
the tears.

�Don�t -- cry. Please.� I�m out
of breath so quickly.

If anything, my pleading makes
her emotional outburst worse. She takes my hand in hers and presses it close to
her face as she shakes her head vigorously, eyes squeezed shut and brow tightly
furrowed. She looks so troubled it almost breaks my hard, thinking that I am
the cause of it.

She doesn�t speak for a time and
I�m too exhausted after the two and a half words I�ve spoken to fill in for her
so we listen to the silence. I look at her face in the meanwhile, watching
emotions battle on the surface of its clear waters, her impossible beauty still
impervious to it all. She finally opens her eyes, still pressing my hand to her
wet cheek, and I try hard to give her my best smile.

�You are better now, Albert-kun.
Your injuries�Ali healed them.� She says quietly.

I hold the smile, doing my best
to pour all the reassurance and gratitude I can muster into my expression. She
doesn�t have to do this, she risks more with it than I am worth � thinking
about what my father did to her � yet she does it so selflessly every time.

�Thank you, Haydee. Thank you
very much.� I find my voice then.

We remain quite for a while,
both enjoying the calming sounds of space and the scent of the incense that are
burning in a stand somewhere. My eyes keep closing as I feel her fingers
treading through my hair. After the intense experience I endured this quiet
moment is like a balm to my wounded soul.

�How are you feeling?� she asks
me mildly.

�Like crap,� I try to joke
although it seems to have the opposite effect. Her eyes fill with tear again
and a line of them flows over the side of her face. Her expression however
stays the same.

�Why do you let him?� She asks
in a somewhat muffled voice.

I get confused. �Why do
I--what?�

�Let him�,� she repeats, and I
feel her hand move over my body, all the parts that were hurting before,
�This�,� she continues, �Why do you let him do this to you?�

I close my eyes and breathe out,
a smile stretching my lips. �You shouldn�t worry about me so much, Haydee-san.�

She bursts out angrily. �Why do
you ask such a thing of me? Do you consider me so distant that I shouldn�t
care?�

I open my eyes to look at her.
�No, Haydee-san. I know you are kind. But I made a deal, and I am keeping it at
any cost. Your concern over me does nothing but to hurt your gentle heart.�

�But--but,� for a while it seems
like she is out of words. As if she can�t decide what to say until she gives up
and turns her eyes away.

I hear her speak. �I loved him
too, you know. Still do, very much. But to watch him, every night, slip further
and further into the clutches of that creature from hell�.�

I look at the ceiling wearily,
her words are similar to the ones I repeat to myself many times. I find I am
just too tried to find her an answer that would not hurt.

Instead I whisper. �I�ll do all
I can to save him. I might not have much left to give, but whatever I still
have, I�ll give it for his release. If I can stop him from committing one more
sin, if I can take the brunt of his revenge in the place of one more innocent
person, then I believe I�ve taken a step towards freeing him from this curse.
To me, that�s worth a thousand sacrifices, all the despair and anguish in the
world, and even more.�

She looks at me hurriedly, hands
over her mouth, eyes filled with shock and sadness at what she�s heard me just
say, but I am already a million miles away. Gliding like a kite in the
skyscapes of my memories.

-----------------------

I am not kneeling in front of
his casket. Praying, yes, but not kneeling. I want to see his face when I open
my eyes. He is not dead. He is /not/
dead. I have to remind myself a few more times before I can decide whether that
thought brings me sadness or joy. His body is prone, his face as pale as a
ghost�s. But he isn�t dead. That is what they said, and that is what I want to
believe.

Franz D'Epinay, my friend and
confidante, who loved me and sacrificed his life for me, is sleeping.

At least that�s what I like to
call it. Sleeping is just that, sleeping. The thing we do every night. Quietly
and peacefully. Doctors always like to use harsh, clinical words for
everything. Like �Coma� and �Internal Damage� and �30 percent chance of
recovery�. I don�t believe in those words. I think Franz simply got tired and
decided to go to sleep. Escape a little into his own world and shut himself out
of this cruel one. After all, there was nothing here left for him to hope for.

Even as I say it his letter that
I read and crumpled after the duel digs cuts into my palm. His words seem to
fill the air I breathe and I can imagine him reading his letter to me in a sad,
solemn voice. All those words, his confessions, about how he felt about�.

Oh Dear Lord. Please deliver me.

At last I finish my prayer and
open my eyes to look at his angelic face behind the protection of the solid
glass. The casket � �incubator� like the doctors would call it � looks like an angular
torpedo with a lid that has a glass window in front of his face. He reminds me
of the heroin of an old story my mother used to read me when I was a child. It
was called Snow White. The main character ate a poisonous apple but didn�t die,
she just fell asleep. And when the prince of her dreams found her sleeping form
while passing through the forest he awakened her with a single fated kiss, and
they lived happily ever after.

I know that magic won�t work
here. I think about it sadly as I look over at the casket and Franz�s face.
It�s not because of what the doctors have said about his condition, that he is
very badly wounded in the duel with most of his internal organs crushed or
punctured, and that he needs to remain in this super high intensive care
incubator to accelerate his healing through special microwave rays. That is all
just scientific mumbo jumbo.

No, it won�t work because I�m
not the prince who can awaken him with my kiss. My kiss contains no such powers
since my heart isn�t pure. It is tainted by my love for another man.

And as history tells us, the
ironies of our lives are endless. For this man whose love soils my
heart, and my kiss, is the same who has put my prince to sleep. It�s an
endless, shameful tragedy.

I�m still staring at my friend
when I hear footsteps behind my back. As if my thoughts have conjured a demon,
a shadow appears in the dark hallway behind me. I hold my breath. Although the
face of the man is not yet in view, I can tell by what I see and what I have so
carefully recorded inside my heart �his poise, his gait, the way he carries his
body as he moves� that this is the man I had been just thinking about.

In fact, it isn�t long before
the light falls on the side of a wide-rimmed top hat and a velvet dark cape and
into its circle walks the Count of Monte Cristo.

He stops his pace and remains on
the outer rim of the light, simply standing. He stares at me and I don�t know
if he is surprised to see me or if he was expecting to find me here. I can
never read what is inside his heart. So I just stare, rooted to my place, and
wonder what he is doing at the hospital�s special care wing with all the nurses
and security people guarding the place.

We remain like that for a while,
silent and frozen like two wax statues positioned the wrong way until he lowers
his head and smirks. I can�t tell the expression on his face because of the
shadow the rim of his hat casts on it. The light in this room is simply too
hard.

�I see an angel has come to take
a soul away.�

The sound of his voice knocks
the silence out from around me. I try to make my throat work, try to reply but
he looks up and I see the faint outlines of a rune carved on his forehead. In
this light, the way it cuts the sharp contrasting dark and bright patches on
his face, he looks almost divine. Like an Olympian god come down his mountain
to check up on the deeds an insignificant mortal. I find myself trapped by that
gaze.

He shows me his fangs then and I
take a reflexive step back.

It�s only then that I see what
he is holding in his hand. Not his typical bejeweled staff. My eyes widen at
the sight of a sword, sheathed and held tightly in his left. The handle looks
like it�s decked in gold.

He takes a few more steps toward
me and immediately I back away. It goes on like that until the back of my legs
hit the side of Franz�s casket. I can go no further so instead, I round the
edge and go stand next to Franz�s face, weary and watching the other man�s
every move.

He stops once he reaches the
bottom of the box. His eyes are no longer on me but on the figure that is
sleeping helplessly inside it. The look I see on his face disturbs me.

My anxiety grows into a million
alarms as I see him reach for the hilt of his sword pulling it out of its sheath
slowly. At the same time, as if on cue, I hear a sound at my side and look to
see the lid of Franz�s incubator starting to slide open. The harmony of the two
movements is so precise it makes the scene look like a choreographed piece out
of a bizarre play. I don�t know if what I�m seeing is real or not. Could this
man, this harbinger of death, truly have the powers to walk through walls and
make inanimate objects obey his command?

All those thoughts disappear
from my mind the next moment I see him raise the sword high over his head. He
is standing over Franz�s open casket and there is not a spark of doubt in my
mind as to what his intentions are. My body moves of its own accord. Out of
pure instinct and sheer terror of what would happen if I just stand there and
do nothing �flashbacks of the last moments of the duel running through my head
� I move. The next thing I know I have leaped in front of him, blocking his
view of my friend while spreading my arms wide to each side, and a sword is
descending rapidly towards my head. I squeeze my eyes shut.

He deflects the blow in the last
moment. Either that or through some kind of magical spell he turns the blade
into mist and makes it pass through me without any harm. I am breathing hard
and the next time I open my eyes it is to see myself still standing and him in
front of me with the sword at his side.

�Move away.� He says in a dead
voice.

I shudder. I am in too much
shock to speak right now.

He lifts the blade and holds the
tip to my throat. He repeats the order, �Move away.� It sounds like a verse out
of a bad omen.

I stand my ground and slowly
draw my confidence around me. I glare at him. I can do that. And with that I
give him my simple, final answer. �No.�

His expression doesn�t change.
There is not even a flicker of reaction on his perfectly schooled face.

�I have no reservations about
killing you. You must know that,� he says.

And I growl in reply. �I know
that. But it still doesn�t mean I would let you hurt Franz again. He hasn�t
done anything to you. And if you, by any chance, have a hidden reason for
destroying his life you first have to go through me before I even ask you what
it is.� I am shaking from anger saying it. My protectiveness over my friend who
risked his life for me has taken over my fear. I am completely honest when I
tell him I�d die before I let him raise another finger to Franz.

The tip of the sword is pressed
harder into my throat, giving me a taste of what I am daring to challenge. I
close my eyes and wait. What I get is a repeat of the same command.

�Move.�

I continue to shake. My breath
hitches next time I speak. �Why? At least tell my why you are after him.�

�He interfered. He ruined the
plan I had so carefully designed.�

I open my eyes and snap. �What plan?
You wanted to kill me? All right, here is your chance. Do it now. I promise
I�ll do nothing to stop you.� I press my throat harder against the blade, my
eyes goading him into doing it.

�Too late, she isn�t watching.�
He says. The pressure on the sword gets affected by his mood. The tip of the
blade draws a trickle of blood from my skin.

�But why Franz now? Have you
sworn revenge on him too just because he put his life in line for me? Because
it ruined your plan?� I ask imploringly.

He brings the sword down and
looks at me. I can almost see his mind playing back scenes from the past.
Trying hard not to react to the horrors he sees.

�He is the friend. Friends
shouldn�t help, they should betray. That�s the way it is. Any other way is
wrong.�

His words don�t make sense to me
but they still hurt in that hidden spot where my heart used to beat for him and
has now turned to ice. In that moment he could have thrust the sword right into
my chest and I would have been happier freed from his cold detachment.

Tears come, unbridled. They fill
my eyes and pour over my face.

�How could you be so cruel? How
could you stand there and talk about revenge when it is _my_ friend who is
lying in there? What gives you the right to ruin the lives of people who have
done absolutely no evil to you?�

I bow my head as my tears
continue to rain. My guards are down, all my defenses gone, and I don�t even
react when I sense him move. Only when I feel the touch of his gloved hand on
my face is when my heart takes a leap and I flinch. That touch, that careful,
feathery ghosting of his hand over my tearstained face� I know it. Had felt it
before when it made me blush with joy. When, with the same hand, same fingers,
he offered me sweets laced with the scent of his own unique opium.

There was a time when his touch
was soft and his eyes were kind. When was it?

I can�t remember anymore.

So I submit. Turning my face to
his caress and soaking his moon-white gloves with my tears. I am at the end of
my resolve, no strength left in me, no spirit either. And it�s at these times
that my heart seizes control over my body and demands what it desires the most,
like a spoiled hungry child.

�The people who have done evil
to me created you.� He speaks softly. �Is there a bigger crime in the world
than what you are? To posses a face like an angel, bear such pure, innocent
heart, yet be born from such an unholy union? You are sin incarnate, my dear
Albert, the last temptation from Satan. That is why you shall be destroyed.�

�Then kill me,� I sob. The
hiccups and tears that clog my throat making it hard for me to speak, �kill me
and be done with it. Leave Franz and Eugenie alone.�

The hand that is caressing my
face moves to my hair, stroking and gliding easily through the strands. I�m
sniffing. I want to wipe my nose with my sleeve but it will look childish. And
the last thing I want is to look like the child I am in front of him. Why can�t
I ever be strong with him?

As gently as it had come he pulls
his hand away. I open my eyes, bleary and tired. I�ve got nothing left to fight
with but I�m still standing in front of Franz�s casket waiting for my fate.

His hand comes back, holding a
handkerchief this time. His other hand, the one with the sword, reaches the
back of my head. Holding me caringly while the other wipes the snot from my
nose. Doing that he inadvertently pulls me closer to his body and I can�t help
but to fall into it. I put my arms around him and fist his long silken
overcoat. My sobs echo in the empty, sterile room. I want to stay with him like
this, I want him to stay�like this�in my arms, and never return to what he�s
become, never be what seems to be a nightmare version of his real self. I want
him to be the count I used to fool myself into loving.

But like all dreams this one too
ends all too soon.

His hands reach back and pry
mine away from his coat. The look in his eyes is gentle and kind, the same look
he used to give me every time we were together in that long ago past. I try to
tell myself not to hope, but it�s pointless. It�s now clearer to me than ever
that I am but a captive of him, my struggles no more effective than those of a
dear in the jaws of a powerful lion.

�My Albert, you plead for the
life of your friends even after I told you you�re the target of my revenge?� he
says in that same kind tone.

I nod. �They are innocent,� I
say. �If I am a sinful being then only I should suffer. It is not fair of you
to hurt them.�

�But dear boy, death is such an
easy, convenient way for punishment. Isn�t despair much more painful? Isn�t the
thought of losing your friends and loved ones a harsher sentence than whatever
I can inflict on you?�

I squeeze my eyes shut. A
thought whizzes swiftly before my eyes and I reach for it. God, is it scary!
But I still capture it and hold on tight.

�There are fates much more
frightening than death, even scarier than losing all your friends.� I say
slowly.

He sighs, sounding weary. �Yes,
I know such a fate.�

�Even worse than that,� I
interject him as I open my eyes, �You are talking about the fisherman�s tale,
aren�t you? If that�s the worst fate you can imagine inflicted upon a human
being, then submit me to even worse. I am more than willing to accept it.�

A strange calmness has descended
over me. This could be the last chance I have to win salvation for my friends,
my companions who are innocent. I was the one who tied his heart to this man
and therefore I shall be the only one to pay the price.

He looks at me for a long time.
His eyes have gone back to the same cold and distant look he was giving me when
he first came here. I meet his stare eye to eye. I stand my ground by sheer
determination even though my heart pounds wildly in my chest. I can almost see
the maw of the dark abyss opening in front of me.

�A fate worse than what I know.�
He muses absently, his stare pinning me like a dead butterfly. �Are you sure
you are capable of enduring that?�

My only answer is a nod.

�Then prove it to me.�

I look at him in pure bewilderment,
not sure what he means until he takes one step forward and puts his hands on my
shoulders, and then presses down hard. I cry out and immediately go down on my
knees. For a moment panic seizes me. In the position I am there is no way for
me to cover Franz and if he intends to harm him, I won�t be able to prevent it.
However his eyes are on my face and I feel a little easier as I see the sword
sheathed at his side.

He continues to look at me. His
hands have now moved to my hair and all of a sudden I realize that I am facing
the crotch of his pants. I reel back a little. He seems to notice my reaction
and tightens his hold on my hair.

�Take it out,� he orders.

I look up at him, not quite sure
of what I�m hearing. The question must have been all over my face because the
next thing he says is the answer.

�It�s exactly what you think.
Now take it out.�

I blush furiously. Never in my
life have I been faced with a situation like this. After all, I�m only 16, and
the only encounters of this kind that I�ve had, the very few, have been with
girls younger than me.

His fist in my hair tightens to
the point of pain. �Did you or did you not mean it when you said you wanted to
protect your friends?�

I see his other hand move to the
hilt of the sword and immediately jump into action. The circumstances are very
dire and I have a vow not jeopardize Franz�s life again, ever.

His tool is just as I expected
it, large and hard with a soft, slippery skin that shares the same bluish hue
as the rest of his body. It�s warm when I touch it. I like to believe the
contact with me is what has caused his impressive erection.

I must have been staring at it
for a long time because the next thing I feel is a shake of my head, followed
by another order.

�Put it in your mouth and suck
it. What are you waiting for?�

There is no way of escaping this
I tell myself. I open my mouth and start a slow rhythm of licks and sucks on
his enormous organ. I am quite unskilled due to my lack of experience and the
not-so-convenient circumstances. But as soon as my lips touch him I hear his
gasp. It seems like he doesn�t care much about how I�m going about this.

It�s not an easy task. To be on
your knees like a common whore, in front of a man you used to love and admire,
used to look up to and hope that someday he would see you as more than the
foolish teenager you are. I think I grew up on that day, the details still
fuzzy in my head.

He has a firm hold on my head and
is guiding the action. I simply relax my throat and cover my teeth with my lips
as I let him do what he wants. Once I almost choked. It was a blessing that he
pulled out right after or else I don�t know what would have happened. He pounds
my face unrelentingly and I begin to wonder about his stamina. My lips and
throat are already sore.

Then, just as I think it will be
over soon he pulls out of my mouth in a rough, quick motion that leaves me
gasping for air and pulls me up by my hair. Not long after I find myself thrown
over Franz�s capsule. I realize I hadn�t even noticed the lid had closed.

My face hits the glass where his
face is. I find myself staring at his beautiful, sleeping expression. Then I
feel someone from behind ripping my clothes apart.

I can�t help the cry that
escapes me when the realization of what is going to happen finally hits me.

�Please, not that. Anything�let
me hope to at least keep my dignity,� I cry out miserably.

His laughter is poison in my
ears. �Dignity? Hope? My boy, you lost both when you made your pact with me.�

I try to struggle, but my body
refuses to follow my brain. My tears have started falling again. �At least
don�t do it here,� I beg, turning my head to the window on the casket. �Not in
front of him. Don�t defile his resting place.�

He pulls the last of my garment
away from me, leaving me naked in shreds. �I will mark this place with your
blood and my essence as a signature to our agreement. This is how we seal our
deal and if you are promising to forfeit your freedom to me, you have no right
to complain about it.�

After that he enters me from
behind. So swift and brutal I feel my insides scream. The scream that leaves my
throat is loud enough to awaken the ghosts sleeping in this haunted place. I
lose all control in the face of his insistent pounding, listening to my body as
it hits the top of Franz�s chamber again and again like the sound of a horrible
battle drum. I�m not sure if it�s his breathing I�m hearing behind me or a
demon come to take me to hell.

Franz is right in front of me,
sleeping quietly between life and death. I refuse to open my eyes, refuse to
look at him. Instead I look up, at the glass door of the shelf that stands at
the head of the bed. I can see the man who is violating me in the reflection in
the glass. Can see the toothy grin on his lips showing a set of fangs I wonder
why I never noticed before.

But more than that, I see the
creature inside him really for the first time. The pink and purple outline
sketched on his forehead glows like tiny streams of lava. And within those tiny
rivulets that twist and turn are two blazing, whitish eyes. Alight with
something I cannot comprehend that seems to fuel all this vehemence in the body
it has grabbed on to.

The eyes are staring at me through
the glass, their livid irises fixed on my face as if daring me to a fight. And
all of a sudden my life gains meaning. Things become clear to me the instance I
meet that heated glare in the clear surface of the glass.

I know what my existence is for.
I know what I should do for the man my heart is still beating for.

With a head-on determination I
don�t know where I pulled out of, I take the challenge offered to me by those
evil, alien eyes.

To be continued

---------------------

I can just hear Gankutsuou music
playing over that last scene. In fact I made myself rewatch parts of the show
to get into the mood for this chapter. After that, the story just poured out of
my in one big rush, my hands barely had time to keep up with my thoughts.

ps. Here I�m pretending Franz
wrote a letter quite different from what we heard Albert read to us in the
show. I leave the content to your imagination.

Feedback is greatly appreciated.
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To bury my sacred love