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Yes, still more Peony fic.
Last updated 25 weeks ago. Sigh. Life has been insanely busy and continues to be so, but at least I was able to squeeze out this completed piece last night.
Title: The Measure of a Man
Fandom: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG-13
Words: 682
Disclaimer: I don't own Tales of the Abyss
Summary: Days after the assassination of Emperor Karl V of Malkuth, Peony confronts the first of many hard decisions that will mark his reign.
Author's Notes: This one comes from a discussion![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rallalon and I had a couple of nights ago. This aspect of Peony's role as emperor was mentioned only briefly, but it stuck with me, and I wondered: How would a man who exerted every effort to make peace between two bitter enemies react to death on a much smaller scale, and death far closer to home?
There are a few events referenced from my semi-AU Peony headcanon here. First is the assassination of Karl V, Peony's father, which I ficced about here half a year ago. Second is my own personal take on the "struggle for succession" that sent Peony to Keterburg as a child--that Karl VI, heir of Karl V, attempted to assassinate his father and was publicly beheaded. Karl V made all his remaining heirs watch to send a message, including Peony, who was eight at the time.
And before my ramblings become longer than the fic itself, I'll end here.
It's far, far too late at night for anyone to be awake, even if "anyone" is the very new emperor of the Malkuth Empire. Peony is sitting at what had been his father's desk in what had been his father's room, writing a letter to the family of Aldo Benzin, one of the guards who had died to protect the emperor. The former emperor.
He had been writing it, anyway. The ink has long since dried at the end of a sentence, where Peony had set down his quill and had begun to stare off into the darkened room. He has yet to stop.
His father's murderers are dying tomorrow. He was the one to give the order. The law is very clear on what happens to those who commit the highest of treasons, the highest of crimes. Highest in the view of the law, at any rate—Peony's views on the value of royalty as opposed to commoners can almost be treasonous themselves.
Is it possible to commit treason against yourself?
He rubs at his eyes and considers dimming the fonstones further. If that's where his mind is going, he might as well go to bed.
He won't, of course. He'd never sleep. Not when he's killing people tomorrow.
It will be the older man in charge of executions who will actually be doing the killing, of course, but Peony has no illusions. He was the one to order their deaths. When the axe falls, it will be the same as if he is the one bearing it.
He wishes it didn't have to be an axe, but the law is very explicit. The matter of a public death or a private one, at the very least, isn't specified, and for that he's grateful. Beginning his reign with executions is bad enough without making a spectacle out of them.
All this has been pressing down on him, but the question that has him still staring into the faint light of his father's room is this: Does he watch the executions, or does he stay away and bury himself in the apparently endless tasks, both trivial and vitally, vitally important?
It feels wrong to order someone to kill for him and then . . . leave. Leave and examine the state of the treasury, or meet with the Chesedonian ambassador wishing to console and congratulate, or . . . or any number of other jobs. It feels wrong to watch, feels far too close to revenge.
That he's worried he won't be able to watch the beheadings without fainting this time, or vomiting, or turning away does not even enter into his decision. It crosses his mind, unavoidably, but it isn't a factor. It can't be.
The stars brighten in the darkness. Luna travels a bit farther in the sky.
He makes his decision and covers his face for a time. He rereads what he's written and adds a bit more, thinks about Aldo and what he can remember of the man, and adds that as well.
He folds the letter, puts it in an envelope and sets it aside until he can get the proper address from the records of the Imperial Guard. He turns off the lights and goes to another room, undresses and dresses again, and lies down in what has yet to feel like his own bed to sleep, after a while.
The next day, after watching five people die in a well-lit room in the most secure area of the imperial prison, Peony returns to his new chambers, supposedly to do paperwork. Instead, he simply sits, face pressed against his hands, curled over his desk.
None of those who had been present comment at that time upon the shaking hands of their new emperor. No doubt they had their own expectations of the heir of Emperor Karl Upala Malkuth V and how he would react to the execution of the greatest criminals in Malkuth. Perhaps those expectations were changed by what they saw. Perhaps, later, they will wonder about the measure of this man.
In time, they learn.
Title: The Measure of a Man
Fandom: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG-13
Words: 682
Disclaimer: I don't own Tales of the Abyss
Summary: Days after the assassination of Emperor Karl V of Malkuth, Peony confronts the first of many hard decisions that will mark his reign.
Author's Notes: This one comes from a discussion
rallalon and I had a couple of nights ago. This aspect of Peony's role as emperor was mentioned only briefly, but it stuck with me, and I wondered: How would a man who exerted every effort to make peace between two bitter enemies react to death on a much smaller scale, and death far closer to home?There are a few events referenced from my semi-AU Peony headcanon here. First is the assassination of Karl V, Peony's father, which I ficced about here half a year ago. Second is my own personal take on the "struggle for succession" that sent Peony to Keterburg as a child--that Karl VI, heir of Karl V, attempted to assassinate his father and was publicly beheaded. Karl V made all his remaining heirs watch to send a message, including Peony, who was eight at the time.
And before my ramblings become longer than the fic itself, I'll end here.
It's far, far too late at night for anyone to be awake, even if "anyone" is the very new emperor of the Malkuth Empire. Peony is sitting at what had been his father's desk in what had been his father's room, writing a letter to the family of Aldo Benzin, one of the guards who had died to protect the emperor. The former emperor.
He had been writing it, anyway. The ink has long since dried at the end of a sentence, where Peony had set down his quill and had begun to stare off into the darkened room. He has yet to stop.
His father's murderers are dying tomorrow. He was the one to give the order. The law is very clear on what happens to those who commit the highest of treasons, the highest of crimes. Highest in the view of the law, at any rate—Peony's views on the value of royalty as opposed to commoners can almost be treasonous themselves.
Is it possible to commit treason against yourself?
He rubs at his eyes and considers dimming the fonstones further. If that's where his mind is going, he might as well go to bed.
He won't, of course. He'd never sleep. Not when he's killing people tomorrow.
It will be the older man in charge of executions who will actually be doing the killing, of course, but Peony has no illusions. He was the one to order their deaths. When the axe falls, it will be the same as if he is the one bearing it.
He wishes it didn't have to be an axe, but the law is very explicit. The matter of a public death or a private one, at the very least, isn't specified, and for that he's grateful. Beginning his reign with executions is bad enough without making a spectacle out of them.
All this has been pressing down on him, but the question that has him still staring into the faint light of his father's room is this: Does he watch the executions, or does he stay away and bury himself in the apparently endless tasks, both trivial and vitally, vitally important?
It feels wrong to order someone to kill for him and then . . . leave. Leave and examine the state of the treasury, or meet with the Chesedonian ambassador wishing to console and congratulate, or . . . or any number of other jobs. It feels wrong to watch, feels far too close to revenge.
That he's worried he won't be able to watch the beheadings without fainting this time, or vomiting, or turning away does not even enter into his decision. It crosses his mind, unavoidably, but it isn't a factor. It can't be.
The stars brighten in the darkness. Luna travels a bit farther in the sky.
He makes his decision and covers his face for a time. He rereads what he's written and adds a bit more, thinks about Aldo and what he can remember of the man, and adds that as well.
He folds the letter, puts it in an envelope and sets it aside until he can get the proper address from the records of the Imperial Guard. He turns off the lights and goes to another room, undresses and dresses again, and lies down in what has yet to feel like his own bed to sleep, after a while.
The next day, after watching five people die in a well-lit room in the most secure area of the imperial prison, Peony returns to his new chambers, supposedly to do paperwork. Instead, he simply sits, face pressed against his hands, curled over his desk.
None of those who had been present comment at that time upon the shaking hands of their new emperor. No doubt they had their own expectations of the heir of Emperor Karl Upala Malkuth V and how he would react to the execution of the greatest criminals in Malkuth. Perhaps those expectations were changed by what they saw. Perhaps, later, they will wonder about the measure of this man.
In time, they learn.