Lies slipped smoothly off his tongue; soft words knit falsehoods that he fed into her open ears. A waifish figure would stand waiting for him, every day, fingers clenched around the crack in her metal tomb. Soon he became God in her empty existence, playing the sympathetic captor, the reluctant guard. He’d knit ribbons into her tresses, press apples into her palm.
She would dry her tears for him and smile. When he pleaded, she would crawl off her bed and dance, gown spinning through the hollow air. He allowed her to cling to him, washing her clean of terror with contaminated water.
One day he laced her meal with poison, smiling as she thanked him for her favorite food. He pretended to be horrified when he found her barely breathing, fingernails digging into her blanket. He had given her that blanket.
A kiss on the forehead calmed her, an open door signaled his undying trust, and his return saved her. She clung to him afterwards, spilling out her wishes, her desires, and her fears.
“I cannot give you that,” he would whisper, regret tinting his voice with sorrow. “And I cannot give you that either. Is there something you want that I can give?”
A silence. Hands clutched his clothing; a weary head dug into his chest. “I want some roses, to put in a vase. I-I want to see something alive.”
A vase and perfect roses were hers a few days later, and her loyalty was his to maim. A rose for her love and a rose for her kingdom.
“Do you miss him?” he asked her one day, unbuttoning her dress. The fabric sifted to the floor and she stood exposed before him, naked body venerable, so very venerable. He followed her curves with his hands and sent kisses dancing up her stomach. “Do you miss your beloved Hokage?”
“Yes.” Fingers reached for his glasses, and she eased them off his ears. She leaned down to kiss him, the only man left in her universe. His warmth sent fire leaping along her lips. “Very much.”
When he stood up, he held her delicately in his arms, sending his fingers spinning through her hair. He dressed himself in the part of the unloved replacement, set foot upon the stage and acted his part. “Do you kiss me but think of him?” Burying his face in her shoulder, he tenderly rubbed his thumbs into the soft flesh of her arms.
“Only sometimes, Kabuto-san,” she breathed, sweeping locks of hair from his eyes as he turned to gaze up at her.
“I love you. I want you to be happy more than anything else in the world.” Reaching for the bed, he gathered the dress he had brought her in his arms.
She spread her hands and he pulled the dress over her head, cloaking her in blood red. She shut her eyes, imagining a ball just for them, her spinning, spinning, the main attraction.
He buttoned up the dress from behind, fingers slipping up her spine like a snake. “I will take you to him,” he hissed.
She jerked, going rigged. A trembling hand clutched his arm; a gasp. “To him?”
“You’re suffering.” His hands slithered up her chest, cupping her breasts. Pressing his body against hers, he reached behind him to the small table and plucked a single rose. He grasped her hands, gliding the rose into them. “It’s too much for me to bare. So much pain that…” A moan escaped his lips. “…that I must let you go, my little sparrow.”
Her chest was heaving now, and her breathe came out in ragged gasps. Her knuckles were white as she clutched his hands to her body.
“I’ll come with you.” He eased his hands out of hers, bowing majestically as he swung around her. “I cannot let you go alone.” Settling himself at her feet, he leaned his cheek onto her wrist. His fingertips slunk up her smooth arm. “All you need to do is tell me where to find him.”
And when she opened her mouth, he smiled.
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Chapter notes: Written for sunnday_love's May contest on livejournal. The prompt was flowers.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.