Angel's Breath by aleka

Sesshoumaru's Childhood

Angel's Breath

The chilled air of the night beat against Sesshoumaru's face as he walked down the field's worn path. The breeze brought with it a nameless tune, sad and morbid. He walked to the weeping willow planted so long ago. Its drooping leaves and twisted branches casting deformed shadows hauntingly over his mother's grave. Its tombstone carved with only her name and last desires. He stared at it, the words worn deeply into the stone:

The breath of angels caressed your skin when your sun kissed eyes opened and you drew your breath as you came into this world. Your life is precious; live it through your heart my little Sesshoumaru, my dear son. Watch over our child, my love. He is my last gift to this earth.

He would never forget that night. Having woken from a nightmare of his mother crying beneath a willow tree, he had crept through the dreary halls in search of comfort from his only healthy parent. As he walked through the halls, his little hand rubbed his pudgy face, the baby fat having yet to mature, smearing the tears dry as he took a left at the split in the hall leading to his father's rooms. The hall he chose was at the edge, the last hall bordering the outside of the house, lined with long narrowed windows built for archers during the old years of war when the fortress was erected.

Framed clearly through the windows were the crescent moon and the eerie weeping willow. A bolt of lightening flashed, the crackling sound dramatizing the invasion of blue bolts that ruptured the wood of the willow's trunk as it fell victim to the storm, illuminating it. The tree's tired branches and sad, drooping leaves caught Sesshoumaru's eye.

His nightmare of the ghostly woman crying in the shadow of the weeping willow replayed in his mind. The shadow casted by the sparse light given off from the crescent moon haunted his conscious. He ran, his legs pumping him through the halls to his father's chamber, the fall of his steps upon the stone was washed out by the rolling thunder and tapping of rain as it collided with the stonewalls and floor through the uncovered windows.

Reaching the door of his father's room, he stood frozen to his spot as sounds twisted with the crackling noise of thunder. Unfamiliar moans reached his ears, spilling through the door. Those were the sounds of the couple in his father's chambers, his father and her. Sesshoumaru turned and ran from the windows and the sounds, not sure how else to react. He turned to the servant's quarters.

Accruing his scattered wit as he reached the end of the main hall, Sesshoumaru stopped at the door of his nanny Thandiwe, one of the few servants he knew by name.

His own curiosity and fright beckoned Sesshoumaru to move closer to the door of the only familiar person in these quarters, his nanny. His small hand rapped on the door, the sound echoing and blending with the groans and thunder. A minute or so passed before the door opened a crack and the white of eyes could be seen through the door.

The eyes similar to its mother's were an inch higher than Sesshoumaru's in height. The figure said through the crack in a drowsy voice, "What do you want?" a sneer attached to the end.

"I want to talk to Thandiwe," curtly answered Sesshoumaru, having learned to address subordinates indifferently by watching.

The door closed, and anger clouded his adolescent mind. Sesshoumaru's amber eyes narrowed and he made a move towards the door, only to stop when hearing the sounds, from inside, muffled by the thick wooden door. The door opening once more, this time unbolted by a woman, who stepped through fully before shutting it behind her. The woman's coal eyes fell on Sesshoumaru, annoyance spreading across her face. Although, hidden by the dark, he knew it was there. "Sesshoumaru, why are you up?" Thandiwe snapped irritably.

Snippily Sesshoumaru replied, "Why are there groaning and moaning coming from Father's chambers?"

His nanny's hesitation to answer his questions worried him. Determined to get his answers, Sesshoumaru pushed forward with unwavering determination. Thandiwe's face changed once more this time to utter shock and horror. "Wha... Wha...What do you mean?" the nanny whispered.

"I will not repeat myself. Answer my question or I will go and ask Father," threatened Sesshoumaru, his weariness heightening at his nanny's sudden change in mood.

To support his threat, he pivoted and started to walk back to his father's chamber, having forgotten his earlier fright. When a child's mind focuses on proving something, it forgets all else, including any previous anxiety. "No, don't!" she whispered sharply, grabbing onto his small shoulder before he could take another step towards the lord's wing. "I will tell you, there is no need to interrupt him."

"Then answer my question." came Sesshoumaru 's curt reply.

'Arrogant child, he is not even of age, yet he orders and talks to people as if he is the ruler of the world ever since his mother's became bedridden.' thought Thandiwe, ignoring his last statement, instead grabbing his wrist, dragging him down the halls to his bedroom.

Sesshoumaru's arm was held uncomfortably high above his head and was turning red from the tight grip of his nanny.

He felt humiliated as he was dragged back to his room. The eyes of the servants who were cleaning up a broken pile of dishes gawked openly at him as he stumbled to keep from falling as he was lugged like a sack behind his nanny.

Making it to his room, Thandiwe swung the door open before stepping to the side and swiftly swinging her hand wrapped around Sesshoumaru's wrist into the entrance, releasing him from her grip causing him to stumble into his room. Wearily, she said, "He is with another, child. Now, stay out of my sight; don't wonder about, and go to bed."

She slammed the door; Sesshoumaru was enclosed in shadows, his amber eyes piercing through, and his displeasure evident. Thandiwe's answer had not appeased his curiosity, so he opted to find the answer out by himself. Turning towards the window, Sesshoumaru climbed outside into the rain, and walked though the mud, skimming the outside of the old fortress until he was in front of the window that looked into his father's main room, totally soaked through with mud and water.

His hands on the windowsill, he pulled himself up and stared inside absorbing, making out the two figures in the room. He let himself slide to the soggy ground with his back pressed against the cold stone wall. His hair shadowed his face, hiding the tears that, once more, marred his pale skin.

Though he didn't know the true extent of the picture he saw before him, he did have an idea that his father was betraying his dying mother. His chilled face hung down, his hands knotting in his top; never had he expected this to happen. Any hope of life returning to normal, his mother getting better, his father smiling, and a happy family, left him.

Sniffling, he propped himself up and made his way through the mud and in the rain to another window not too far away, being careful not to look back at that bitter place. He stepped off the worn path. He took to his mother's window, into her room, and under the sheets of her bed that matted along his soaked body, leaving a watery trail of rain and tears.

Bland brown hair plastered with sweat splay limply against a waxen face. Eyes, half-lidded, gazed blearily at the warm lump curled up to her side. Her mind, fogged from illness, did not understand the sobs, or the trembling body burrowing deeper into her body. Sobbing "Mommy," Sesshoumaru pressed his face deeper into his mother's side.

His tears bedewed her mussed silken robe. Her eyes opened and closed agonizingly slow. Her mouth slightly open, quietly took in breaths of cold air. She did not reply in words, and maybe not even intentionally, but by laying her hand on him then moving her hand clutched atop his shoulder only to loosen and slide off his shaking body, dropping onto the matt, a lifeless lump of flesh, her last gift of comfort.

He lifted his head at the loss of her touch; his face threaded with tears.

Starring at his mother, his eyes filled with grief, he then dipped his head back between the sheets, next to her warm body. His hands twisted into the cloth, wrinkles folding about his hands that grasped tightly with the hope the flimsy piece of cloth would act as his shield from reality and the scent of his salty tears.

Wood clicked on the stone floor from steps followed by a loud swish as the shoji door slid open. The rustle of cloth brought Sesshoumaru from his mother's side as he raised his head to scrutinize the intruder. The man held his hand firmly on the stinging junction of his neck; gilded eyes wide in disbelief and jaw slacken from shock. His pants were wrinkled and rumpled; he was topless.

His platinum locks were in disarray. He lowered his gaze, and locked onto the watery eyes of his son peering at him over his wife's body, stunned silent as he took in what laid before him. The picture in front of him: his bedridden wife submerged in white sheets, her back towards him and his son staring at him with eyes slowly filtering from grief to hatred. His tiny hands gripping onto his mother's clothes, not recognizing the body had begun to go cold.

Sesshoumaru's small body shook from anger that his father would dare come into his mother's room with the marks of another telling of his exploits away from his wife condemningly marring his flesh. Sesshoumaru growled, his teeth clenched and irises rimmed with crimson as they bore into the female, wishing her dead at the spot where she stood. "Why are you here?!" he bit out.

"Sesshoumaru, go to bed." his father said, leveling him with a stern stare.

"No." he said clutching onto his mother tighter.

"Sesshoumaru,"

"Why should I be the one too leave? You are the one...you're the one...." his tears began to fall again.

The older male's eyes widen, and his head whipped up to look at his son more clearly, "Now."

"No." Sesshoumaru replied, sinking deeper into his sheet fortress.

The glacier words caused Seath to freeze and to squeeze his eyes shut then look to the floor while Sesshoumaru stared wide-eyed, mouth sealed. "Sesshoumaru, go now." he said, his eyes his crossed arms, avoiding Sesshoumaru.

Sesshoumaru froze then buried back into his mother's side, his tears flowing freely. His muffled mantras of "no" making his father stiffen more and turn to leave. Hours later Sesshoumaru fell asleep next to his mother's motionless body. Thandiwe came in and watched over him, silently regretting everything she had done to the boy. She lifted him, untangling his hands from his mother's hair.

She wrapped him in a sheet soaked in his mother's scent and tucked him back to his mother's side; her finger weaved through his hair. She would not openly show him affection because she was but a servant which did not bode well for him to become attached to those below him. But for now, his last night with his mother before she was buried along with his innocence, she could not stand being cruel plus there was the guilt of how she had treated him earlier.

In slumber, Sesshoumaru snuggled in his sheets, moving closer to his mother's body. He softly let out a weak whimper; there was no comforting hand for him. No mother to run too anymore. When he finally stopped moving, his eyes opened slightly invaded with a solemn resignation. He was alone. He lifted himself up onto his knees that sunk deeper into the thin bed from his weight, while the sheets constricted his legs from his movements.

Then he forced himself forward until he was near his mother's eye level, trying to balance himself so he would not fall. He then laid down, his hand reaching out, tangling in her hair, once more. Letting go of the lock of hair, his hands hovered to the decorative silver chord around her neck. He pulled. The chord untied and he clasped it in his hands, falling asleep, not noticing the ring that fell off the chord onto the bed.

With the Father

Walking out of his sick wife's room, Seath, Sesshoumaru's father, allowed instinct to guide him out of the east wing, the family wing. The chilled temperature nipping his bare flesh took a backseat to his perturbed thoughts brought by his son's words and cold glare. 'How much does he know of what I have done to make him look at me like that? What?' Sighing and turning, he walked away gracefully, his platinum locks swaying with each step, dancing about his ears, highlighted by moonlight.

With long strides, he made his way through the hall into the darkened area hidden at the back of the stone fortress. He stopped once he was blanketed with shadows, his gaze falling onto the cold stone floor. His blank bullion orbs traced the moon's eerie glow that spilled through the windows, invading the darkness. Then he began following the twisted shadow of the willow tree that inched back and forth as the leaves swayed. He allowed himself to show his exhaustion, his shoulders slouching and posture bending.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled a deep breath before straightening himself, donning the mask of a distant man. Pivoting, he silently moved to the window, his hand resting on the sill as he stared off into the darkness, barely making out figures of nature stood in the light of the moon.

About to leave, the muscles in his arm stilled when a waft of air passed under his nose. Roses, she loved those. Turning his face toward a twisted tree, he stared at it, the place where he first met his wife. His hand clutched his wedding ring that rested on a silver chord hanging on his neck.

'His wife, so precious was dying.' he thought ' Yes, so very precious. Yet, it took the words of my son to make me realize what my grief has driven me to do. But, I cannot blame my grief; I have betrayed you, my love. I am sorry.' A tear escaped unnoticed from the corner of his eye, mumbling, "My son? My wife? What have I done too you both?"