Title: Not Yet, an immediate sequel to the events of Imagine Knowing
Warnings: ANGST! mentions of character death (as per Imagine Knowing). Lotor's POV.
Disclaimers: Not mine, no money, not much point in lawsuits. WEP holds those rights! (Dang it!)
Summary: discovering Lotor's reaction to Sven's death.
Author's Notes: having written Imagine Knowing for randi's b'day 2003, and Problems and Solutions (belatedly) for her b'day in 2004, I was walloped with this one almost straight away. So this is her 2004 Christmas pressie! *grins*
Aust spellings and grammar prevalent.
an immediate sequel to events in 'Imagine Knowing'.
"NO! Don't you dare leave me! I'm not ready for you to leave me, so don't even consider it!"
No . . . no, this isn't happening. Not ready . . . I'm not ready yet. Where the hell are those surgeons? Guards! Guards!!
No . . . don't look at me like that. Please . . . don't pretend you're afraid . . . you can't be . . . you're never afraid.
No! You can't! You . . . oh gods! No, please . . . hold on . . . Don't worry . . . I'll keep you safe . . . I will, I promise . . . just . . . oh gods! Don't you dare leave me!
Please . . . please, no . . . no . . . not yet, not yet . . . dear gods, not yet! I . . . I'm not done with you, yet . . . I . . . gods, what will I do without you? Please. Please! Sven! Wake up! I'm serious! Wake up!
No! Go away! No, I won't let him go! I can't . . . I . . . what? No! He's tired . . . he didn't rest . . . I told him to rest . . . I . . .
Sven! I told you to wake up . . . stop this nonsense! Wake up!
Voices. I can hear them clearly, even through this strange fog I feel. I don't understand their words, though.
"Instantaneous, of course. There would have been nothing we could have done, even if we'd been here at the time. That's the way of things, I'm afraid. Merciful, though."
No! Don't lie . . . stop lying!
"I suppose that's something, I guess." A pause. "Could their . . . uh . . . union have contributed, do you think?"
No . . . oh no. Please. Please, please, please, no . . .
"Oh no, most unlikely. These things are rarely affected like that - it most certainly would have happened, regardless."
I . . . no, I don't want to think it. I can't . . . he's not . . . he's not!
"You know, I am surprised at his reaction."
"His Majesty's, you mean?"
"Carel, I didn't think you were that naive."
Yes, I agree - pardon? Do go on, this sounds interesting. I . . .
Oh gods . . . Sven . . . They're talking about . . . No . . . Please, no . . . not Sven . . .
"There's only one reason a man with His Majesty's status and disposition keeps another man exclusively in his bed for so many decades, Carel, and it has little to do with ordinary desire."
Oh, nonsense! Why shouldn't I have desired him?
But . . . when did he get to look so old? I don't recall him ever being old . . .
His hair . . . white . . . I don't even remember when I last saw so much as a few strands of dark amongst the white . . .
And he was so . . . so light in my arms! He had no right to be like that! I can't recall anything . . . when did those lines appear? When did his skin become so pale, so fragile? He was always so strong, so intelligent, so brilliant . . .
He just . . . was.
Sven . . . my . . . my Sven. Always mine.
They say I loved you. I suppose, in retrospect, I did.
I never knew that love could just grow, you see; I'd always thought it was just . . . there. I'm not one to admit that I was wrong, you know that, but in this case I apparently was.
Yes . . . I sit here, the cold stone of your crypt leeching its chill into my bones, and I look at your face, so carefully carved in marble, and yes, Sven, I can say it now . . . I loved you.
Of course, as always it's too late, but, Sven . . . I desperately hope that, somewhere, you can hear me . . . and forgive me.
I still don't know what fascinated me about you, all those years ago . . . I suppose I never shall. I hear them talking, Sven, and I know what they say about me: I was brilliant, in my prime, a leader of men - strong, decisive, quick witted . . . hells! They even say I was surprisingly fair, for a Doomite King, even when I had to be harsh. Oh, how little they know, eh, that even the minor good I have done during my reign has all come from you.
I . . . I did it, Sven. I freed them, freed them all, right to the very last child. It was the least I could do for you. I . . . I just never had the courage, before, you see. If I had let you go, would you have consented to stay?
And then there's that other matter. Gods! Why do I feel so guilty about this now? You never knew, never even suspected . . .
He grows well, your son. Oh, I know others wouldn't agree with me: they say he's too quiet, too introverted. But, Sven, I see so much of you in him! His mind is quick, his thoughts run deep . . . he's so much like you, in so many, many ways.
Actually . . . I've been thinking of late. Wondering, really . . . Well, we both know I don't have so much as one heir. Perhaps a bit of an oversight, that, but after you came, I never even looked for another in my bed.
Oh, hell! Sven, I'm starting to think that maybe I've loved you for longer than I thought.
No wonder I miss you so much.
Please don't be cross with me . . . I know I haven't been eating all that much lately. Three meals a day appear at my table, but quite frankly, I can't say how often I consume them, and how often I don't. I just don't have much appetite, these days.
They all tread on eggshells around me, Sven. No one mentions your name any more. I'm not sure how I feel about that, actually. Sometimes, I want to scream at them, to tell them that you should damn well be remembered! Most of them owe their very lives to your presence here, and they don't even know it!
I guess that that's my fault, though. So much is my fault.
I'm going to go rest, now, Sven. My bones feel so much older, now that you're gone. I won't say I'll sleep . . . I don't do much of that any more, either. But I will rest; I'll promise you that much. I have things I need to do, things I have to finish for you. Then . . . then I'll be able to sleep.
Until then, I'll keep on working . . . I know you'd want me to do that. And when I've done what I can . . . Yes. Yes, I do think I'll hand it all to Alvian. I think he'd do a very good job. In truth, though, Sven . . . if he's even half the man his father was, he'll be a better man than me.
Don't worry . . . I'll be back to see you again. I'm not sure if I can make it tomorrow, but if not then, it'll be the day after. And some day . . . some day soon . . . I'll be here with you permanently.
I love you, Sven. And I miss you.
Goodnight. For now.
~ owari ~