Presence

By—Strange and Intoxicating -rsa-

Warnings: Sexual Content, Violence, Questionable Sexuality, and Blasphemy

Author Notes: I would like to take a moment to thank Anonymousness (whose story "Where Black Met Gold" inspired this story) for allowing me to play with a few of her ideas to mold my own story. I was intrigued by the idea that pregnancy, which can only happen if a Queen mates with her sister's Chevalier, would be able to cure Saya's Long Sleep. Her story, as well as Lullabyes "Bloodstone" led me to many nights thinking, and finally penning this story.

I am predominantly a yaoi writer for another fandom and this is my first attempt at writing heterosexual-themed anything. I hope that this idea wouldn't spook you away, because the main point of the story will be the Haji/Saya/Solomon love triangle (with my own distinct spin on it.) There is a minor back pairing that involves what could be seen as yaoi, and I hope not to scare anyone away with such a small portion of the story. There probably won't be any actual sexual content in regards to that, as I will be focusing on the main pairing(s) of the story.

It would also be good to note that I have both read the manga and watched the anime, and there is a certain character who I have lifted from the manga into the story. He has been a joy and blessing to the story, and for that I love him. I hope that you give him a chance.

There will be mentioning of the Roman Catholic Church as well as religion in general. It is not that the characters themselves are religious beings anymore, but it isn't too far-fetched to imagine that Saya and most of the Chevaliers would have knowledge in religious matters—they grew up in a time when religion was a staple to life. The manga and anime loved to play with symbolism and I plan on furthering it. I will be playing with some of the insane conspiracies that I've come across in studying for this fiction, but note that I am not religious, and I only know what I've read and what I've seen. What's written is not the truth, but a distorted picture for an entertaining read.

Pardon me for rambling, but it is best to get details out of the way before progressing to the actual story. There will be limited Author Notes from this point forward. Thank you for reading, and I do hope you enjoy.

On a personal note: This story is my official "Fuck You" to canon. In Blood+ there is no such thing as the sanctity of character life. I'll go grumble in a corner now.

"Dying is not romantic, and death is not a game which will soon be over... Death is not anything... death is not... It's the absence of presence, nothing more... the endless time of never coming back... a gap you can't see, and when the wind blows through it, it makes not sound..."

-Tom Stoppard

Saya's eyelids fluttered closed against Kai's back. His breath, heavy with exertion of carrying her piggy-back up to the Miyagusuku crypt, synchronized with every step toward her Long Sleep. He would deny it, but Saya knew that it wasn't simply her weight holding him down. There was a hitch in his breath and a sniffle every now and then, breaking the cycle for the briefest of moments. She knew there wasn't much time—she was feeling sluggish, and every breath was becoming more and more labored.

She was being carried up the stairs with a thousand paper cranes tied to her ankles.

"Kai," she whispered, "you've got to... take care of them. They're... still Riku... Braid their hair, don't let them fight... not Diva, not again."

"I know, Saya. Just hang on, we're almost there," Kai answered through gritted teeth.

"N—listen," her voice dropped a little lower, "Kai... when I wake up, you'll be there... right?" Saya didn't wait for him to answer, because the trees on the left were becoming more dense, and she could almost smell the old stones up ahead. A minute—maybe two. "Kai... I... he'll come back. Right?"

She didn't even need to say his name, because they both knew. He should have been here, next to her. He should have been carrying her in his arms, informing her when she woke the world would be more beautiful. He did that every other time, except for the last. Vietnam—when she cut off his hand. Hiding away, hating himself while he should have spent his time hating her instead. But he wouldn't ever hate her. He had even said—

"He said he wouldn't leave me, but he's not here." Saya felt her mind buzz. For the past month, since that day and her torn dress and bloody hands, she had patiently waited. Every day she listened and held her breath for the flutter of his wings. He would come back, would clean her stained hands and tuck her into her cocoon for her sleep. They would be together even if he was bleeding to death under the blanket of the French sun.

"Say—"

But Kai stopped—Saya wondered if it was pity for a fleeting moment before realizing that his feet weren't moving anymore. They were nearly there.

"I want them back." Saya struggled against Kai's back, her arms filled with lead. Her fingers grabbed for his back, absent-mindedly running her finger over the small picture she clutched so desperately. Riku, Kai, and her. So happy, so bright... she wished she had a picture of him, too. So they could all be together, beside her. She stopped and settled back against Kai's back, her head lolling. Tiny dribbles of tears dotted his neck.

"We're almost there, aren't we?" There was no need for a response. "Kai... thank you."

"No need to thank me."

"I know."

She dreamed a dream, a dreamer's dream filled with dreamy thoughts and even dreamier themes.

At first, it was cold. She remembered it on her skin, the touch of the cocoon wrapping around her body. She wasn't quite there, in her own dream world yet. It was close, so close that it breathed on her skin like a lover would, a midnight touch that reminded her of where she was, what she was, and what she was missing.

But after a short while, her eyes drifted shut, more closed than how she could ever dare to even imagine. It was like being lost within something she couldn't understand, not able to escape no matter how much she wanted to. Freedom did not exist in the tiny space; she was trapped.

A little longer and she couldn't even remember her own name.

There was no panic, because no matter how empty it felt, she knew that sometime soon she would be free of it, this incessant and cloying inky darkness.

Time did not exist, so she could not say how long she lingered between the dimensions of sleep and reality, but for a period of the inconsequential time, she was nothing and knew nothing, and that thought comforted her. Nothing could harm, but in the same vein nothing could please.

Occasionally there would be touch, a sound, a glassy-eyed memory through a mirror of fog—blue eyes, bright eyes, staring into her. It was always blue eyes, eyes that glowed with the anger of someone she should have known, but did not wish to remember. During those lucid thoughts there would the the accompanied twinge of pain, something she did not like. It felt as though her organs were crushed in the palm of the person with the blue eyes.

At the same time there was a touch and a smell of a fragrance that reminded her of another time. Soft, mellow, beautiful smelling... and a touch to her being, to her core that she could not quite place. Despite all her desires (though desire only came when the smell did, and dissipated shortly after into the nothingness) she could not remember when or why the smell seemed so close but yet so very, very far.

There was also a whisper, a solemn vow.

"It is beyond blood. I have formed a bond sweeter and stronger than blood. From this moment on I will be your..."

Be your... She could never quite catch the end of the sentence, always fading off back into nothingness before catching the last few, precious syllables.

And another, from a different voice... one with such tenderness that she could not even comprehend.

"I have lived as your... and have done everything you've wished, but now... I'm going to disobey you just once."

Memories like shooting stars, always reaching out to grab and never able to quite reach—that was what the glimpses were. She knew, and yet she did not.

But in such a stasis, who is to know what anything means?

The first time things changed, in hind-sight she knew it was coming. The flashes of memory and smell, of tastes, touch and hearing sped up like a train. The frequency increased, and so did the aesthetic disposition of whatever sense she experienced. The voices gained pitch, the smells became refine, and those bright blue eyes had small rings around the irises of blood red.

But, that is only hind-sight, she admitted to herself.

It was like waking from sleep that did not have a dream—the soft blackness opening up into light like a canopy of brightness spilling onto her face. There was fuzziness in her gaze, little specks dotting her vision, and a yawn escaped her lips. She lifted a hand to her mouth and then to her eyes, rubbing out the sleep.

It took a moment for her to gather her thoughts, and it would be barely another moment in which she lay staring at the thick white curtains around her bed to realize that there was someone else in the room—the sound of a fast-paced pulse pounding in her head, a drum with a beautiful beat.

"Saya."

A name. Hers?

"Saya," the voice whispered, and she (Saya?) turned her cheek into her pillow. The voice was so soft and reminded her of one of the voices from a dream long ago, in a time she could not quite remember. "Saya," the voice repeated, and the figure emerged in her sight, the black of his suit contrasting with the blond of his long, curly hair.

"It is beyond blood. I have formed a bond sweeter and stronger than blood. From this moment on I will be your..." Saya said, her voice contorted. She looked up to the man, weakly lifting her body up in his direction.

A flash of recognition crossed the blond man's face as a smile spread over his lips. "You remember, Saya? You remember my vow to be yours, eternally?"

Saya (for now she knew that this was her name) blankly looked at the man, wishing she could communicate further. Instead, she said, "It is beyond blood. I have formed a bond sweeter and stronger than blood. From this moment on I will be your..."

"Saya, it'll be all right. You've just woken, it is to be expected that you aren't quite... awake." The man stepped closer to Saya before smoothing out an invisible wrinkle in his black vest. He sat down on the mattress, letting both legs drape over the side as he leaned in closer. "I wish I could feed you with the blood of awakening," he murmured as he reached forward, running a finger against her warm lips. "Alas... in un rêve blood is not exactly an option."

"It is beyond blood."

He laughed and traced her cheek and up into her long black hair. "That it is, Saya. Everything involving you is beyond blood." A slight crack and upturn of his lips expressed all that he could not convey through words. "My name is Solomon, Saya. I am your..." He tittered for a moment with the proper word, before leaning down and nestling his nose into her hair, resting his chin against the top of her head. "I am your Chevalier, Saya. I will always protect you—do you understand that?"

Saya was not quite sure what Solomon meant by his words, but there was something deep within her gut that whispered in her ear of devotion, or love, of tender feelings and careful touches.

Dressed in pink, his hand in hers as they danced to a beautiful melody. The blue rose in his lapel, the touch of his white jacket as it brushed against her arm, his voice whispering in her ear...

Unable to voice these feelings, Saya allowed Solomon to brush a long hair from her eye.

"I am your guardian, one of them, at least..." Solomon smiled and gestured to the room, where there were two others sitting patiently at a small table in the corner. "They are your Chevaliers as well... There is another, but... he cannot come here."

"I'm going to disobey you just once." Saya looked to the two boys sitting at the small table, searching their faces. Neither boy was the one who had proclaimed such moving words to her...

"Yes, he cannot be here with you now, Saya. But I am here, and so are your other Chevaliers."

" I'm going to disobey you just once," she repeated, holding out her hand in expectancy of her partner's hand to join hers. "Justonce."

Solomon sighed and briefly touched the bridge of his nose before smiling back at her, though there was a crack in the facade. "Of course, I understand." Solomon rubbed his hand against her cheek once more before standing. "I cannot hold this against you, Saya. He has been with you for many years and has cared deeply for your in your worst moments... Moments I wish I was able to be with you for." The blond man stepped backward, but was stopped by Saya's hand grabbing his and yanking with child-like determination, forcing him back onto the bed.

"It's beyond blood..."

Solomon's green eyes widened and he smiled, as if his entire world centered around those three small words. "Of course, Saya... It is more than beyond blood, it is beyond devotion, it is beyond past and present and future."

Saya felt the man's lips against her forehead, and smiled. She wrapped her arms around his stomach and laid her head against his chest... there was a heartbeat, the rhythm of life and of-

"Solomon," one of the boys whispered, but Solomon shook his head, blond hair falling into his face as he continued to embrace his Queen.

"Just one moment, one more moment..."

She slept again, though this time there were dreams.

A young boy on a ship, his smile as the ball flew across the sky and into the distance. His laughter as he handed the pictures to Saya and another boy older than he. A red, glistening stone around the other boy's throat like a bruise. The pain in his heart as he clutched the stone, repeating words of comfort to himself and her. A look of absolute fear on the boy's face, already stone. The boxes crashing into his body, breaking into a million crystal pieces.

A man with a blue rose in his hand, a mask over his face. Devotion in the worst form, the desire to kill, to maim, to permanently make his. His anger as his hand was cut from his body, hurt from who did such a deed to him. Fear as his friend hurt him, leading to her blood inside of his body. A monster in her bright red eyes, not realizing all he wanted was to be with someone who would love him.

An angel holding out his hand to her, pulling her onto the dance floor, holding her close and allowing the music to invade their every sense. His hand on her waist, the smell of his cologne in her nostrils as he leaned forward in a small bow. A half-bow, a promise of peace, a desire for change. He looks tired, and the red blossoming from his white suit paints a macabre rose. A dying monster at her hand, his vow to return to her, as long as she called his name.

And a man, his dark hair flowing out of a blue ribbon as he fell downward. Panic as the blood surrounded his body and the crunch of bones met his ears. The bright blue of his eyes, the wings sprouting from his back—the hand, so deformed that its very presence sent bolts of fright through her entire being. But... the gentle touch of his hand to her cheek, his lips upon hers, the whisper of no more bloodshed, no more tears. The gentle cradle of his body against hers, always warm, always comforting.

How could she fear such a being, one that only exalted love?

The memories did not come in a flood, but a stream.

It began when she awoke the second time, to the bright sunshine and three sets of eyes staring at her. She remembered their faces from their previous encounter, but there was something else that began to click into place. The dreams, reality? Their faces, more familiar than she first imagined.

"Saya," one of the boy's said as he stood up, all but running to her side. His face was filled with joy and Saya could see little fangs on his two canine teeth through his open-mouthed smile. The young boy launched himself at her bed and grabbed at her nightgown, resting his head against her chest in wonder. "It's really you! I've been waiting for so long to meet you, to finally see you..."

Saya put a hand on his head, "I... I don't," she muttered, "I don't think I've met you before." Her voice was rough with sleep, but she was considerably more aware of her surroundings than she had been the previous time when she was awoken.

The boy did not look dejected, but instead pulled his ear from her heartbeat and smiled even brighter. "I'm Charles, Saya. I'm one of your Chevaliers. I'm the one you didn't get to ever meet... but now that you're here, it means I can finally serve you and make you happy."

A cough echoed from next to Saya, and she turned from her little Chevalier to see Solomon and another boy roughly the same age as Charles.

"Charles, what did I tell you about assaulting Saya when she just woke?" the man asked, a little chortle echoing through the room. "She's very tired and does not quite remember everything yet—you have to give her time. It's the only thing we can do. Other than, of course, not jumping on her."

Saya looked away from Solomon to the boy still clinging desperately to her. She leaned up and adjusted herself to a sitting position, continuing to hold the young boy in her arms. "It's okay, really," Saya said as she ran a hand through the boy's soft black hair. "I don't mind."

Charles peered up to the other two Chevaliers and said, "See! She does love me. All that worrying was stupid! I knew that she wouldn't care, that she'd love me like she loves Riku." The boy glanced at the other boy, Riku his name was, whose response was to turn up his lips just with a hint of happiness.

"I, I think I've seen you two, though." Saya held Charles in her arms, still attempting to recall something that she was missing, something that was not quite right. "I'm almost sure of it..."

broken red crystal

Saya blinked back tears, unsure as to why they were building up in her eyes. There was a kiss of something to her sight, a ghost of a naked stone body and a bowing man, just like in her dreams.

She flinched, pulling her arms away from Charles and grabbing under her knees, pulling her head down between them. The blood rushed to her head in a powerful pulse, and the nausea, though where the nausea could have come from was anyone's guess, ran through her like a wave. It was like drowning, but so very, very worse.

"You'll be fine, hush," Solomon whispered as he stroked her back with the back of his hand, moving only slightly to the side so that Riku could reach her head with a cool cloth. "You're fine, Saya. And we're fine. So hush, just breathe deep breaths—it will all be okay, it will all be fine."

The hand was comforting the way a spring rain was—dancing in the cold water in nary her underthings, what Joel would say if he saw her with her little servant boy in nothing more than a soaked chemise-

"My head," Saya cried, feebly reaching up, pushing her palms into her scalp in the faintest hope of some bit of comfort.

"That's not going to help, Saya!" a voice, one she knew very well, filtered through her head, and it was Riku and it was her brother and-

It was a process, Saya would find. Waking in un rêve took time and patience. Her memories, the ones that were blood-stained and angry, were the first to come back. Diva dying next to her children, her father turning into a chiropteran, the butchered of Vietnam, of Russia, of the garden party where she had allowed her sister out, and the Met, where she had let Diva sing.

That melody was burned into her mind, for some reason or another, and would find herself at the most inopportune moments biting her tongue to prevent its escape. It was a song that wanted to be heard, to cause all the bloodshed Saya allowed Diva to create just a short time before.

Time did not pass as it did in the normal world, Saya reminded herself. Who could tell whether the bloodbath at the Met had been a month before, a year, a thousand? From what little information Solomon, Charles, and Riku knew, it could have been a million millennium, as they were just... tucked inside of Saya's head like a lost memory rising to the surface. ("Nathan never did tell me about how this place really worked and Diva was too broken to reach it, so we are left wandering around, aimlessly, hoping that we've got it right," Solomon told her just a few nights before as he tucked her into bed, sweetly kissing her on the cheek before leaving.)

Un rêve, the dream world—her own personal memory bank. As a queen of monsters, she could reach places that others dare not tread, to touch dreams and reality with her own special spark of life.

The memories were finally catching up, and she ached for her chevaliers more than anything. They roped her down to reality when there was no up or down, and for that Saya was eternally grateful. It was like waking up from one of her long sleeps without her other chevalier, whose name could not quite grace her. Solomon told her not to rush, to take her time and think of other things, as the other chevalier would slowly return, and he was—there were brief, small flashes of his face in her dreams, a touch of a palm, the smell of cologne, the shape of his cheekbones.

Riku seemed pleased that she was remembering, Charles indifferent as long as she spent time with him every day, but Solomon... her blond-haired, angelic chevalier would all but turn the other cheek and expect another hit whenever she mentioned the mysterious man who was missing from their little group.

"Did he do something that hurt you, Solomon?" Saya asked at tea one morning (though the tea was excellent, the morning was not quite correct, as time bent to Saya's will, and it could be sunny mid-morning one moment and storming night in the next.) "If he hurt you, then I'm not even sure I want him back!"

Of course, this was not honest, as Saya wanted this last piece to her puzzle, to explain how she survived the two hundred years as a Queen without losing her mind like Diva. Diva was so terribly damaged, and yet she remained of stable mind and stable body, something that from her brief memories of her sister's chevaliers, did not happen with chevaliers. Solomon had told her once that he was not originally her chevalier, but he loved her all the same.

"Riku is the only chevalier in un rêve who is, in the most strict sense, your flesh and blood chevalier. Charles and I are of very different breeding..." They had turned their backs on her sister. Little Diva, alone in her own world of swirling winds and blue rose petals, blood dripping down her chin onto her white dress...

Saya could not fault them, even though they had abandoned her sister. They had come to her, spoke of their love and devotion and could never even dare enter un rêve without her explicit trust. And she did trust them; there was something in their eyes that spoke of past pain and current joy in her awakening. Diva had not been kind to them, she was sure.

But, it was Solomon who convinced her of their loyalty. Riku accepted the man as her protector, and he accepted Charles as well, and that was all well and fine. But something about Solomon made her trust him completely, even without knowing who he really was. He would smile at her, touch her black hair to move it from her eyes and kiss her palm, letting his hair tickle her hand. They would talk about nothing and everything whenever she woke. Sometimes, when the nightmares would come in the form of her dying sister and the cracking ceiling of the Met, he would let her curl up next to him in his bedroom and cry into his shoulder. She would cling for dear life to him, and allow his soft murmurs to drift her to sleep.

Saya trusted them.

It could have been seconds, months, years, but when Riku and Charles one day, out of nothingness, popped out of existence, Saya held Solomon and begged him not to go.

He promised he would stay until the universe ended.

She hoped he was not lying.