Chained Hearts

Chapter 3 - by Akira

I confess that, in the moment I received the orders to instruct Shiro into the state's organization, I felt myself extremely unsure. I had to admit that my master was far from being a child, after celebrating his forty-ninth birthday last spring and it was clear that his body was already presenting some signs of exhaustion. His mind, however, remained quite sharp.

Therefore, the only reason for such an attitude I could come up with would be that he was certain that I would threw myself in his mortuary pyre and, in this case, there would be no one in the Palace with the necessary knowledge to manage it. Although I agreed that it was a very romantic dream, the truth was I wasn't ready to die. Not in a near future, anyway.

In order not to let the panic to subside, I tried to face Shiro not as my replacement, but as a partner with whom I could share my burden and, who knows? — maybe share some of my thoughts, as an equal.

My wish, nonetheless, seemed impossible to come true, since he demonstrated, from day one, to have a very sharp tongue and a deep despise against me. His emotions were so powerful that, in our first weeks together, I couldn't think about anything but what should I do to end his rage towards me and convince him to make a good job.

— What bothers you, Akira? — asked my master, sitting behind me in bed and pulling me against his chest.

I sighed, knowing I would never be able to express my insecurities regarding the youngster to him. After all, if it wasn't for his sick jealousy of Jean's glances over me, the poor thing wouldn't have been brought to that house in the first place.

— Just tired. I'm not used to talk this much in my daily routine.

Jacques pecked all over my neck, his hand invading my kimono to tease a nipple.

— I can do all the job, if you wish me to — he offered in my ear.

I smiled, wondering how he would manage to do so when his back had been aching so much recently. In reality, his health had been so fragile that we hadn't done anything further than kissing and caressing each other for months. Although I held these tender moments as a treasure in my heart, I missed our old fire in bed.

— I will never be too tired to love you, Jacques — I answered, honestly.

Spinning in his arms, I covered his lips with mine, taking his clothes off slowly, before starting kissing each piece of skin I found on my way.

— How can you love such an old rag like me? — he asked me, with an embarrassed look in his blue eyes. — I feel so unworthy of a beauty like you...

Shaking my head, I used the tip of my fingers to caress the plump lips that drove me crazy so many times.

— Don't you ever say that again! Above all the pleasure you give me, Jacques, it's your heart I love the most. I could never love anyone but you.

Or could I?

Since I arrived at Île Écarlat, I never doubted it myself. It's true I was scared about his age when I first arrived at that house. Usually, a thirty-five years old man would have grown-up kids that would soon take over his place and responsibilities and could then take their time to enjoy the results of their hard work. Jacques, however, was never raised as an heir. As the third son of the Cerisier, he trained all his life to be a Knight until an unknown disease took his older brother's lives and, suddenly, he ascended to the throne and was forced into an arranged marriage.

Although the Emperor had no desire for women, he fulfilled his duty as the ceremonies determined and had three children, including a beautiful and delicate Jewel. In that way, he was able to assure his power. However, in her last pregnancy, his wife had suffered severe consequences. Unable to walk for long distances and with her mind too fragile to bear with the court gossips, she decided to retire from public life and, with a guilty relief, Jacques decided to move on with his own life, taking for himself what his body craved for the most.