[CONTENTID1]Death Becomes You[/CONTENTID1]

[CONTENTID2]The Emperor's Desire[/CONTENTID2]

[CONTENTID3]

Double doors were always imposing, no matter which country you were in, no matter their height or design, it seemed. Even for a man of the sword like himself there could be a petty fear such as this. And yet, as Kris shifted from foot to foot like a nervous schoolboy about to be tattled on, he knew this particular set of doors was the worst. He had seen them before, many a time, since he was mere teenager.

"Did you hear? The Emperor's dog passed this morning," as maids were prone to doing, they were gossiping in the corners while he waited to be announced. Kris allowed himself to listen in. After all, the more information the better to know exactly what kind of emperor he would be dealing with today. Though Kris had entered these doors many a time as he returned from his travels, the Emperor's personality was never quite the same. He was always quiet, but a different aura filled the audience room each time. Mostly incredibly sad, but occasionally fiery anger or icy lack of emotion or care.

"Can't say I'm surprised, how many does this make?"

"It's the third dog, I don't think we can count how many pets in general, though, remember the black stallion that was a gift from the Arabian Prince? It was found dead in the woods the other day."

"It's like...he attracts it or something."

"Or causes it," murmured the other maid so low Kris could hardly catch it. The maids moved on, but Kris still pondered their words. So the curse still reigned, it seemed. Kris couldn't exactly say he was surprised; something was always dying around the Emperor. For some reason the Emperor's life was a swirling vortex of chaos. All five of his elder siblings had perished leaving him, the second youngest, to rule. Only his youngest sister remained, and there were sick bets placed on when she would succumb to the Emperor's horrid luck. His mother had died in childbirth when the Emperor was only two, and this was when the cycle had started. It wasn’t as though he had done something wrong, but as people are, rumors began and only swelled with future events.

Three years had passed from death of Emperor’s Mother, when his second eldest brother died in sword fighting accident with friends. Just six months after that assassins succeeded in murdering the crown prince. Two years more and his eldest sister drowned herself when she couldn't be with her lover - and add another two years and the other sister was killed in a highway robbery.  Four years after this the remaining brother succumbed to a fatal illness. It was only another year before the Emperor himself collapsed and died right there on the floor of the very audience room Kris was about to step into.

And so little Emperor Zitao, at the tender age of fourteen, ascended the throne. It would seem there was no one left to die - aside from the sole surviving sister, Hi - and yet friends of the family perished with alarming rapidity. Pets had an extraordinarily limited life expectancy, and it was getting to the point where the Emperor was under suspicion for being a living disease. Anything he touched seemed to wither. Die. Collapse to ashes. Kris often wondered if it extended to servants, and if he'd one day find himself dead on a funeral pyre just by association with the Emperor. The less time spent around him, the better, for everyone's sake.

At last the doors creaked open, and Kris took one last deep breath before he plunged himself into the audience room.

~

Incense sparked at his nostrils, smoke assaulting his senses as he took steady steps towards the Emperor's throne. Swathed in robes of richly embroidered, red and black patterned cherry blossoms, the Emperor held his hand steady as he painted. Holding back the long sleeves to bare a startlingly pale arm, the royal bent over his parchment piece, brush in hand. This was the first piece of the Emperor's body he had ever seen unclothed.

For the Emperor never seemed to let the light of day grace his face, let alone his body. A thin black mourning veil dropped from the elaborate head piece he wore, covering his face entirely. Kris could honestly say he had never met anyone who had actually seen what was under the Emperor's veil. For as long as he had known his lord, and had been his knight, there had always been someone, or something, to mourn.

As Kris came to a stop a suitable distance from the Emperor, he dropped to his knees, sword clanking against the wood paneled floor. His forehead pressed to the floor, arms outstretched in deference. The Emperor did not keep him waiting long.

"Rise," spoke the high, cool, and yet so very young voice of his lord. Though the Emperor had to be in his late teens by now, his tone still had a childish lilt to it that no council member could seem to vanquish. It was all too eerie, the voice, the person who spoke, the harbinger of death sitting innocuously right before him. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, as they always did when he brought himself to stand.

"What have you brought me today?"

Kris fought against the shudder that wished to course through his body, and not to cough or shuffle his feet nervously. He also fought not to breathe too deeply. Who knew the reason why death followed the Emperor, but Kris wasn't about to take any unnecessary chances.

"Flowers, Your Grace, that only bloom in the moon's light. From the Africa's."

"What use have I for those?" The Emperor set down his brush, and folded his hands into his lap, causing Kris's glimpse of bare skin to be covered in the folds of his sleeves.

"Your garden lacked exotic flavor the last I was here, and you asked this of me," Kris was not surprised at the Emperor's forgetfulness, though he his chapped lips nervously all the same. The Emperor was given to flights of fancy, sending Kris off on years long journeys just as soon as he'd stepped foot on home soil.

"Did I?" the Emperor murmured so lowly Kris had to lean forward to catch the words. He wasn't entirely sure if he should respond or not, and so he waited in silence. The creepy gaze of the Emperor was still upon him behind that black veil, a faceless being shrouded in highest quality silk. At long last, he spoke.

"I would like to see you in the garden this evening, around the time the sun just touches the river trees. Is this agreeable with you?"

Kris's eyes went round in shock and he merely stared, stalk still. What....what had the Emperor - the Emperor who never associated with anyone he didn't have to...what had the Emperor just said? Was there something wrong with him? Was he sick? Kidnapped?

"Must I repeat my offer?" there was the barest twitch of agitation that had the cherry blossoms waving on the cloth of the robes that adorned his body. As reminiscent of spring that brought flying pink blossoms on the wind the action was, the fact that the Emperor was irritated was worrying.

"Ugh...," well that was both inarticulate and embarrassing - not to mention extraordinarily rude and likely to get him killed. Though punishment was not common under Emperor Zitao's rule, he was still a fan of discipline. Besides, who wanted to be on the bad side of the person that seemed to breed death all around him?

"N-No, My Lord. I will be sure to arrive promptly at the time you have set."

"Then you may leave, dismissed," at last that unwavering curtain of black lowered itself to stare down at the painting once more; a clear dismissal. Kris, realizing he was slightly trembling, bowed low before scampering away. He needed time to recover before his completely unprecedented and...and just plain odd meeting with the Emperor. He'd better come bringing gifts, just to ensure he was on the Emperor's good side if they were in close proximity. Though the Emperor's mood didn't seem to determine who lived and who died...it was more whoever he was closest to at the time. Kris shuddered, wonderful. He'd been marked, clearly. Lured into almost certain death, he was now.

Fear loomed before him, attempting to consume him, and Kris fought to keep his rationality. All remained to be seen.

~~

Leaves crunched under Kris's heavy boots, and the scent of fallen pine needles wafted through the air. Kris hurried towards his destination, exotic potted plant in hand, desperate not to be late. Already the evening sky had set in and the sun was just edging past the swaying river trees to dip towards the horizon. He could see the Emperor now, sitting beneath the elegant, swishing willow just before the duck pond. A duck pond, mind you, that was devoid of ducks. Kris didn't really want to know what had happened to them since he was last there.

"My Liege!" Kris called, desperate to make his presence known, to perhaps make up for the fact he was a few seconds late. He did not know the palace or its grounds all too well, given he normally only had a day or two to spare during his trips home. Not that it would ever pass as a good enough explanation.The figure in the deep black robes, sitting with his legs crossed in a relaxed lotus position, turned its head at his call.

Kris stopped. He nearly tripped, skidding so suddenly to a halt, plant nearly flying from his hand to hit the Emperor. The Emperor's veil was lifted, his pale face aglow in the evening light, waxen as the moon that was soon to rise. Sharp cheekbones and jaw, slanted, glittering eyes, black hair pulled away in a small ponytail, lips naturally curved and pale pink.

The Emperor could have been a bride with skin so remarkable, but instead the Emperor still had a vampiric quality about him. Someone dangerous and cold at the heart. Poisoned. But still quite pretty, even with all the angles. Pretty? What earth was he thinking? Danger. Danger. Abort mission now. Run. But he couldn't, that would be even worse - the Emperor probably already had a voodoo doll of him ready and waiting in his quarters.

Kris dropped to his knees, head tilted down to keep from making eye contact, plant clutched in his hands, "My Liege, my humblest apologies for my tardiness - here is a gift I have brought ," he offered the little pot with two hands, head still bowed, knees pressing into the dirt. It was taken from him by a set of long fin