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coley_merrinTime Imperfect
Author: Coley Merrin
Pairing: Conrad/Yuuri
Rating: R
Genre: Romance, Drama
Summary: What if the one you loved would die tomorrow because of a mistake you made almost 10 years before? What if you could go back to correct it, even if going back meant that there was no guarantee that you could return to your rightful time… or to the one you loved?
Chapter 4 – The Mirrored Day - Part One
Chapter 4 – The Mirrored Day - Part One
First off, apologies for the long delay between chapters. I have 1,001 excuses, and 50% of that boils down to me being a lump on the couch. But 85% of the story is done to the end... So with luck, it'll roll smoothly and quickly to the end. Thanks to all of you for your comments!
***
PAST - Conrad
***
Between Yuuri, Murata and Yozak they had come up with a fine amount of worry for Conrad’s strange behavior. Yuuri had come up later, knocking hesitantly before he entered. He had carried a mug of tea, but Conrad knew he had been checking up on him. It was not every day that he had what seemed to be a mental breakdown after all. It had been sweet gesture, a side of him that Yuuri was known for. But Conrad had sent him away with little more than a reassurance that there was nothing for Yuuri to do. It had eased the frown on Yuuri’s face only a little. There was little he could or should tell the boy. Conrad knew there was danger in dwelling too much on the past.
He swept the contents off of the table in his bedchamber and found the best gluing putty he could find. If he could just fit enough pieces together, just enough to approximate a cup… But even the largest pieces of the shattered goblet were small, and the smallest like sand. He had sat, hunched with his neck growing stiff, moving pieces around, turning, shuffling, until he couldn’t remember which pieces he had moved and which he hadn’t. He focused as if his life depended on it… and it did. But the pieces he had joined so far were small, none larger than the tip of his thumb. And if he did not find all the pieces tonight, then he would try again in the morning, and through that day, and the next. He would get help, as much as he could.
When he slept his brain was too fuzzy for thought. But he woke with a name on his lips: Anissina.
“Can it be joined?” he demanded, having dragged her half across the castle in his haste for her to see the broken pottery.
If it could be joined by magic, or any means necessary to make it whole... Means unavailable to him. Anissina hummed as she looked over the shards, turning over the small pieces he had been able to fit together.
“We could grind it down, add something to join it, and reform it,” she murmured.
“The etching needs to stay intact.”
“It’s not very much intact now.”
Aghast, he realized she was right. Even if he put the little pieces together, pieces so small blowing on them would move them, the etching would not be whole.
“Some things were meant to stay broken,” Anissina said. “Yuuri understands..”
“This isn’t about the gift!”
“I’ll think on this,” she said, slipping out while he turned this new realization over in his mind.
If he had copied down the etching before it had been broken, they could have created it again. If he had not had it sent to Yuuri at the castle early, it would have stayed whole. If he had… His eyes drifted closed.
If he had drank from the cup before it had wanted the blood of the king, it would have emerged on Yuuri’s birthday, and found that despite his Mazoku blood, his human weakness would have precluded him. It would have found the one strongest, the one closest to him: the blood of the Maou. Yuuri would have watched him die before his own life was taken.
And if there was nothing that could have been done, if he had tried to fight the spirit in the furure before it got to Yuuri?
It would have been waiting ten years to taste Yuuri’s blood. Conrad could not have stopped it. Not even if the Conrad from the past had come forward…
If he, Conrad from the future, was in the past… Then was the Conrad of the past in the future? If Yuuri, his Yuuri, had heard the message relayed across the glass, then perhaps Yuuri was also working. If Yuuri knew anything it was that Conrad was doing everything he could to return. He had promised.
It was some strange mental state. Conrad pushed himself away from the desk. He could not be caught in the future and still push forward now. This was not just a problem. It was a war. Saving the life of the Maou had been achieved. The next goal was returning everyone where they needed to be. Not just for his personal happiness, but to set the right people where they belonged in time. The person he was now and the person he had been might be similar but the places they served in, the people they were around... they were uniquely suited to fill those roles.
“Let no one in or out of this room,” he ordered the sentry he had stationed at his door. If the man found it odd to be guarding a bedroom he didn’t show it. But he couldn’t risk a maid sweeping up things best left alone.
Allay’s Antiques. He gripped the paper.
If there was one, there might be another.
***
The shop was small and dusty, which was much what his memory of it had been from ten years previous. It was tucked into a corner of a nearby town, in between a baker and a bookseller: Two typical town companions for an unassuming storefront that bore only the name “Allay’s” on a rickety wooden board. It was the eclectic spread of merchandise in the storefront that advertised what it was, spread along the edges of the windows which were only clean from head level down and even then only somewhat. It seemed all the advertisement anyone needed, if they were in search of a faded toy, a useful tool… or a goblet.
There was a feeble bell that rang as they entered, Conrad followed by Yuuri and then Yozak. Much as he had tried to go on his own, they had clung like burrs, not only insisting on coming along but that they all went together in a well padded cart, Yozak driving them like a merry fool while Conrad and Yuuri sat in the back in half silence, half conversation that focused primarily on Yuuri’s week… as Conrad could hardly share the events of his. If Yuuri had been puzzled by Conrad asking him to detail his week, a week that Conrad has ostensibly been there for part of, he didn’t show it. He responded with Yuuri’s typical level of enthusiasm and wry resignation. It took little to agree or disagree, even without a clear recollection of the events -- because as he had dealt with Gwendal and Gunter a good deal longer than Yuuri, he did not have to imagine with any great difficulty.
The seemingly random clutter from the window continued as they wound towards the desk through stacks and cases that held books and glassware and other artifacts.
“Sir Weller!” The proprietor oozed out behind them. “What brings you back again? And the Maou!” Yuuri took a subtle step closer to Conrad, and for good reason as the man had a few inches over Yozak, and had a huge mane of wheat colored hair and beard that made him resemble a predatory feline… a surprising sight in the small room.
“Mr. Allay… It’s about the goblet I purchased.”
“Ah, yes! Fine piece of work, very fine. Bought it out of an estate… has to have been two hundred years ago if it’s a day. I’ve been selling things out of that lot of things ever since.”
“Do you happen to know the history of the goblet by any chance? As you know it was a gift, and…”
“Can’t say that I do. That’s the only one like it I’ve seen… Lot of local potters tried their hands at this kind of thing through the years… Hard to say when it might’ve been made for that matter. We had the thought that it was older though, give the old Script on it. Hence you paid a prettier price than I would’ve charged without it. Nice piece, though. You dissatisfied?”
“No, quite the contrary… We wanted to see if there was another as that one has unfortunately been broken. Shattered. The inscription on it was of particular interest.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m not sure how much help I can be to you. I have some other goblets that might be a nice replacement.”
“Do you happen to know what the text on it read?”
“Can’t say that I recall... I know that my nephew was interested in it at one time, but you know how those things go. I’m sorry.”
“And is there any other place that I could look?”
“Not that I can think of… I’m only one around here that would have that kind of thing… And that particular goblet is at least 200 years old. I’m afraid even if there were another, the likelihood of you finding it… You could search another 200 years and never come across one.”
Conrad’s breath hissed out from between his teeth. Even if that was the answer that he was expecting, it made it no easier to actually hear it.
“I thank you for your time. If you do happen to remember anything, could you please let us know?”
“Of course. Could I interest you in…?”
“I’m sorry. Not today.”
Yuuri opened his mouth as though he were about to ask a question, but closed it and turned with them toward the door. His actions must be confusing to Yuuri, obsessing over a goblet that had its danger removed. Unfortunately, that danger still lurked he thought as he gave Yuuri a hand up into the wagon bed. It was all he could do not to drive his fist into the wood. The pain in his fist would feel better than the torment inside.
“Drive on, Yozak. Our business is finished here.”
The wheels began to roll, and his stomach with them.
“Sir Weller!”
Conrad’s head shot up, his hand clamping on Yozak’s arm hard enough to make the man squeak. Allay stood outside of his shop door waving a sheet of yellowed paper over his head like a flag. Conrad scrambled down, Yuuri at his heels like a puppy.
“Our talk of the goblet made me start to wonder, and I chanced to look in a pile of papers my nephew had left. Is this by any chance the etching from the goblet?”
Conrad’s hand trembled when he took the paper, tracing the lines with his eyes, lines he had come to hate.
“Yes. It is. Do you know what it reads?”
“An old poem of blood, is all I can tell. Perhaps you can find someone with more knowledge of the old tongue. You’re welcome to take it with you. But take care not to lose that one… once that’s gone, you’ll have no recourse but to curse your own luck.”
With this paper he could take the shards to Anissina, and into the newly formed goblet they could etch the words. And if that happened, then… Yuuri. He closed his eyes. And yet there was still the Yuuri who was beside him now.
***
Chapter Five
Author: Coley Merrin
Pairing: Conrad/Yuuri
Rating: R
Genre: Romance, Drama
Summary: What if the one you loved would die tomorrow because of a mistake you made almost 10 years before? What if you could go back to correct it, even if going back meant that there was no guarantee that you could return to your rightful time… or to the one you loved?
Chapter 4 – The Mirrored Day - Part One
Chapter 4 – The Mirrored Day - Part One
First off, apologies for the long delay between chapters. I have 1,001 excuses, and 50% of that boils down to me being a lump on the couch. But 85% of the story is done to the end... So with luck, it'll roll smoothly and quickly to the end. Thanks to all of you for your comments!
***
PAST - Conrad
***
Between Yuuri, Murata and Yozak they had come up with a fine amount of worry for Conrad’s strange behavior. Yuuri had come up later, knocking hesitantly before he entered. He had carried a mug of tea, but Conrad knew he had been checking up on him. It was not every day that he had what seemed to be a mental breakdown after all. It had been sweet gesture, a side of him that Yuuri was known for. But Conrad had sent him away with little more than a reassurance that there was nothing for Yuuri to do. It had eased the frown on Yuuri’s face only a little. There was little he could or should tell the boy. Conrad knew there was danger in dwelling too much on the past.
He swept the contents off of the table in his bedchamber and found the best gluing putty he could find. If he could just fit enough pieces together, just enough to approximate a cup… But even the largest pieces of the shattered goblet were small, and the smallest like sand. He had sat, hunched with his neck growing stiff, moving pieces around, turning, shuffling, until he couldn’t remember which pieces he had moved and which he hadn’t. He focused as if his life depended on it… and it did. But the pieces he had joined so far were small, none larger than the tip of his thumb. And if he did not find all the pieces tonight, then he would try again in the morning, and through that day, and the next. He would get help, as much as he could.
When he slept his brain was too fuzzy for thought. But he woke with a name on his lips: Anissina.
“Can it be joined?” he demanded, having dragged her half across the castle in his haste for her to see the broken pottery.
If it could be joined by magic, or any means necessary to make it whole... Means unavailable to him. Anissina hummed as she looked over the shards, turning over the small pieces he had been able to fit together.
“We could grind it down, add something to join it, and reform it,” she murmured.
“The etching needs to stay intact.”
“It’s not very much intact now.”
Aghast, he realized she was right. Even if he put the little pieces together, pieces so small blowing on them would move them, the etching would not be whole.
“Some things were meant to stay broken,” Anissina said. “Yuuri understands..”
“This isn’t about the gift!”
“I’ll think on this,” she said, slipping out while he turned this new realization over in his mind.
If he had copied down the etching before it had been broken, they could have created it again. If he had not had it sent to Yuuri at the castle early, it would have stayed whole. If he had… His eyes drifted closed.
If he had drank from the cup before it had wanted the blood of the king, it would have emerged on Yuuri’s birthday, and found that despite his Mazoku blood, his human weakness would have precluded him. It would have found the one strongest, the one closest to him: the blood of the Maou. Yuuri would have watched him die before his own life was taken.
And if there was nothing that could have been done, if he had tried to fight the spirit in the furure before it got to Yuuri?
It would have been waiting ten years to taste Yuuri’s blood. Conrad could not have stopped it. Not even if the Conrad from the past had come forward…
If he, Conrad from the future, was in the past… Then was the Conrad of the past in the future? If Yuuri, his Yuuri, had heard the message relayed across the glass, then perhaps Yuuri was also working. If Yuuri knew anything it was that Conrad was doing everything he could to return. He had promised.
It was some strange mental state. Conrad pushed himself away from the desk. He could not be caught in the future and still push forward now. This was not just a problem. It was a war. Saving the life of the Maou had been achieved. The next goal was returning everyone where they needed to be. Not just for his personal happiness, but to set the right people where they belonged in time. The person he was now and the person he had been might be similar but the places they served in, the people they were around... they were uniquely suited to fill those roles.
“Let no one in or out of this room,” he ordered the sentry he had stationed at his door. If the man found it odd to be guarding a bedroom he didn’t show it. But he couldn’t risk a maid sweeping up things best left alone.
Allay’s Antiques. He gripped the paper.
If there was one, there might be another.
***
The shop was small and dusty, which was much what his memory of it had been from ten years previous. It was tucked into a corner of a nearby town, in between a baker and a bookseller: Two typical town companions for an unassuming storefront that bore only the name “Allay’s” on a rickety wooden board. It was the eclectic spread of merchandise in the storefront that advertised what it was, spread along the edges of the windows which were only clean from head level down and even then only somewhat. It seemed all the advertisement anyone needed, if they were in search of a faded toy, a useful tool… or a goblet.
There was a feeble bell that rang as they entered, Conrad followed by Yuuri and then Yozak. Much as he had tried to go on his own, they had clung like burrs, not only insisting on coming along but that they all went together in a well padded cart, Yozak driving them like a merry fool while Conrad and Yuuri sat in the back in half silence, half conversation that focused primarily on Yuuri’s week… as Conrad could hardly share the events of his. If Yuuri had been puzzled by Conrad asking him to detail his week, a week that Conrad has ostensibly been there for part of, he didn’t show it. He responded with Yuuri’s typical level of enthusiasm and wry resignation. It took little to agree or disagree, even without a clear recollection of the events -- because as he had dealt with Gwendal and Gunter a good deal longer than Yuuri, he did not have to imagine with any great difficulty.
The seemingly random clutter from the window continued as they wound towards the desk through stacks and cases that held books and glassware and other artifacts.
“Sir Weller!” The proprietor oozed out behind them. “What brings you back again? And the Maou!” Yuuri took a subtle step closer to Conrad, and for good reason as the man had a few inches over Yozak, and had a huge mane of wheat colored hair and beard that made him resemble a predatory feline… a surprising sight in the small room.
“Mr. Allay… It’s about the goblet I purchased.”
“Ah, yes! Fine piece of work, very fine. Bought it out of an estate… has to have been two hundred years ago if it’s a day. I’ve been selling things out of that lot of things ever since.”
“Do you happen to know the history of the goblet by any chance? As you know it was a gift, and…”
“Can’t say that I do. That’s the only one like it I’ve seen… Lot of local potters tried their hands at this kind of thing through the years… Hard to say when it might’ve been made for that matter. We had the thought that it was older though, give the old Script on it. Hence you paid a prettier price than I would’ve charged without it. Nice piece, though. You dissatisfied?”
“No, quite the contrary… We wanted to see if there was another as that one has unfortunately been broken. Shattered. The inscription on it was of particular interest.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m not sure how much help I can be to you. I have some other goblets that might be a nice replacement.”
“Do you happen to know what the text on it read?”
“Can’t say that I recall... I know that my nephew was interested in it at one time, but you know how those things go. I’m sorry.”
“And is there any other place that I could look?”
“Not that I can think of… I’m only one around here that would have that kind of thing… And that particular goblet is at least 200 years old. I’m afraid even if there were another, the likelihood of you finding it… You could search another 200 years and never come across one.”
Conrad’s breath hissed out from between his teeth. Even if that was the answer that he was expecting, it made it no easier to actually hear it.
“I thank you for your time. If you do happen to remember anything, could you please let us know?”
“Of course. Could I interest you in…?”
“I’m sorry. Not today.”
Yuuri opened his mouth as though he were about to ask a question, but closed it and turned with them toward the door. His actions must be confusing to Yuuri, obsessing over a goblet that had its danger removed. Unfortunately, that danger still lurked he thought as he gave Yuuri a hand up into the wagon bed. It was all he could do not to drive his fist into the wood. The pain in his fist would feel better than the torment inside.
“Drive on, Yozak. Our business is finished here.”
The wheels began to roll, and his stomach with them.
“Sir Weller!”
Conrad’s head shot up, his hand clamping on Yozak’s arm hard enough to make the man squeak. Allay stood outside of his shop door waving a sheet of yellowed paper over his head like a flag. Conrad scrambled down, Yuuri at his heels like a puppy.
“Our talk of the goblet made me start to wonder, and I chanced to look in a pile of papers my nephew had left. Is this by any chance the etching from the goblet?”
Conrad’s hand trembled when he took the paper, tracing the lines with his eyes, lines he had come to hate.
“Yes. It is. Do you know what it reads?”
“An old poem of blood, is all I can tell. Perhaps you can find someone with more knowledge of the old tongue. You’re welcome to take it with you. But take care not to lose that one… once that’s gone, you’ll have no recourse but to curse your own luck.”
With this paper he could take the shards to Anissina, and into the newly formed goblet they could etch the words. And if that happened, then… Yuuri. He closed his eyes. And yet there was still the Yuuri who was beside him now.
***
Chapter Five
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