"Pressed flowers live forever."

Pairing: Implied Zero x Kaname and/or Kaname x Zero. (Kaname is more uke in it though. Although the relationship is just implied.)

Disclaimer:
I don't own VK or anything related. (If I did, Zero and Kaname would be together as a couple and Yuuki would either be in a threesome with them or happily supporting the manga taking a turn for yaoi. XD *lol*)
My fics make no claims of ownership nor any profit. They're just non-profit fan-made thingies out of love for the series & characters.
If you hate yaoi or either of the characters, please hit the "back" button, as I doubt you'll enjoy my stories. ^^;

Warning: Future set. AU. Implied yaoi. Depressing. XD; And just a contemplative one-shot.

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Dusk was beginning to claim the garden little by little, the shadows embracing one area of it after another with an increasing tempo as the sun dipped closer to the line of the horizon.

For vampire eyes, that posed no problem –quite the opposite, the soft twilight hues in the sky and the dim light were far gentler on overly sensitive eyes than the daylight could ever be.

And yet, the young King had been there, sitting on his habitual armchair, for several hours already.

He had always been fond of the sunlight, something that his people couldn't quite comprehend. They found that to be an odd eccentricity of a monarch that had lived far too long for his own good even if his face was still that of a beautiful adolescent. He was only young in looks, after all.

Hundreds of centuries had passed, but the earth itself was still quite similar to that of a time long gone, where ideals of equality and coexistence had flourished in long gone academies and among high-spirited youngsters, vampires and humans alike. But such times and such places too, were long gone. Little if anything at all remained of them in the new world that had emerged from the rumble of the old one, over the centuries.

And yet, some things were eternal, whether they wanted to be that way or not –such were purebloods.

The King turned his back on the palace and watched the garden, his gaze lost on this or that little thing, on a detail or another that had remained more or less the same for the past hundreds of years, because he insisted with near-obsessive precision that certain hedges be trimmed in this or that exact way and certain shrubberies be shaped in one or another manner, so that the appearance of the garden would never change, no matter how many ages passed or how many times every one of those plants had been replaced by other semi-identical ones. The marble of the beautiful balustrades itself had begun to wear down time and time again, and had been replaced by replicas sculpted with painstaking exactitude to preserve the same look the place had back then.

By now, the kingdom was for a great part ruled by the higher ranks of the aristocracy rather than by him, and those among them who may be prone to whispering gossip within the great halls of the palace would say the King had more interest in his garden than in what authority he still had over his kingdom.

In times past, they might have been slightly more careful or subtler in their allusions, the instinctual fear of pureblood powers making them more wary and cautious, even if they had all along desired him with just as much openly recognizable bloodlust.
Nowadays they were even bolder, well aware that even if word ever got to his ears of who had spoken so disrespectfully, the weary monarch would simply ignore it, turning his tired gaze back to his beloved camellia bushes and climbing white roses, or to the delicately fragrant jasmine cascading down the colonnade.

Presently, he sat in his favorite drawing room, on an antique fauteuil set in front of tall glass doors opening to an ornate balcony.
Favorite in name only, at least. The court assumed it was the drawing room the King preferred because he would most often spend time in it, but that might only have been because it had the best view of the garden.

The most common use for a classic 'drawing room' was to entertain guests in it, and as such, in most of the great mansions of the vampiric aristocracy, those were places of politics and animated discussions.
The King, however, used the room for its original meaning of 'withdrawing room', and hid himself from the eyes of the world in it as often as he could afford to.
In a way, the use he made of the room made it be closer to a lady's boudoir, a private sitting room, than to anything else, but then, the King had never cared about gender restrictions or about what the court may whisper of his reclusive tendencies and of the reprehensible reasons they all relished imagining for it. Many a rumor had spawned from that, but that was nothing new when it came to the malice of their court, and he had grown used to ignoring it however much it may be insulting or hurtful. After all, vampire cruelty had not begun recently. He'd been used to being on the receiving end of it since he was a child, so many ages ago, as he was equally used to the fact that the members of the vampire society in general would regularly try their best to hurt him, as if punishing him for his continued existence –because it was an existence of not giving them his blood and life, the thing that they most desired.

But in a way, he was also punishing them for their cruelty, precisely by not giving in and falling prey to their lustful fangs as they so wished he would. Even if it meant an eternity of miserable loneliness surrounded by covetous sharks.
Or at least, that idea might have been accurate for someone else, if he was someone had the energy to look at things in a positive light. These days, the King lacked even the energy to try and think of it that way. If he didn't die yet, it was not out of desire to punish the cruel society surrounding him, but merely because that was his curse, the ongoing life he was chained to like a condemned prisoner. Suicide as impossible for him, however much he desired the solace that death would have offered.

From his seat, the brunet focused his tired eyes on the more lit areas of the garden, perfectly able to see by night but enamored of the look it had by day and mourning already the veil of darkness falling over the place as the night approached. He'd already heard the footsteps of the approaching courtiers, and he clung to every second of time he might have left before they barged into his room, ever intent on prying on his private time and cornering him to seek favors, their insincere flattery and exaggeratedly obsequious behavior grating on his nerves now even more than it already did back in the times where they would only pursue him at official events. Not even his personal time was respected anymore.

His eyes took on a glaze of resigned and yet sorrowful irritation as the other vampires approached, their fake cheerful voices and affected respect nothing more than one more weapon in their arsenal to try and ingratiate themselves with him. It didn't matter that he remained imperturbable to their cajolery and adulation, or that the loathing he felt for their methods was plainly visible on his face. They would still try on and on again. The temptation that his blood, power and influence represented for them was such that not even his constant attempts to escape the court activities dissuaded them.

The older of the other vampires, a cabinet minister who was introducing some business associate or something of the such, droned without end in an annoying voice, continuing even as the King disconnected his mind from whatever they were telling him and stared on into the garden again, responding only in a laconic manner and uncaring of whether or not his replies made it obvious to the group how little attention he was paying to them.
The brunet was by now as long suffering and unresponsive as an aged lion at the edge of death; still dangerous if he should choose to react, but nevertheless too wounded and too tired to find any merit in the effort to muster his remaining strength and shake away the flies and vultures preying on its carcass before death had even finished to fall upon it. It didn't matter that physically, he was as young as ever --his spirit had died long ago, during the war.
From the look of things, it didn't seem that his court even considered the possibility of danger, however. They were far too aware of the depths of the apathy that centuries of pain had poisoned the King's soul with.

Eventually, the brunet vaguely registered that the other vampire had finished speaking, and that the larger part of the group was leaving the room, leaving behind only one of the courtiers, a counselor with whom he didn't normally have much contact. Their departure alone wasn't enough of a relief to raise the monarch's spirits, but the air was at the very least slightly more breathable with less of them crowding around him, even if he would much have preferred if they were all gone.

The counselor pulled a chair closer and casually sat down, displaying enough boldness to have gotten any pureblood more energetic than their King to expel him from the room violently. He knew that their King didn't welcome his approach, or that of any of them for that matter, but he had long been puzzled by the beautiful brunet and had the urge to stay for a bit, scrutinizing him up closer. Whether it was just the amused curiosity so characteristic of vampires or a hint of actual compassion for the pain that flickered on the monarch's delicate face, not even the counselor himself could tell.

The brunet merely ignored him, his expression impassible. The very slight tension of irritation showing in the way his long graceful fingers rested against the ornate armrest of his Louis XV fauteuil was the only thing that made it obvious that the King was displeased by the continuing invasion of his privacy.

The other vampire simply glanced briefly at the garden and then back to the King, dismissing the world outside as if the brunet's treasured maze of memories was nothing more than a worthless tangle of plants and flowers that held no interest. His eyes wandered with interest to the brunet's tempting neck, concealed by a delicate cravat tied at a slightly off angle, and then down his silk-and-lace-clad slender arms, stopping when he took in the sight of the pale fingertips.

"It's a beautiful ring you have there, Kaname-sama."

The King instinctively pulled his hand a little closer to his body in response, wary of the counselor's sudden interest, especially when the vampire had the nerve to approach further to get a better look of the jewel.

Although the King's fauteuil was slightly higher than the other's chair, the courtier still towered over him, being of significantly taller and heavier build than the slender pureblood. That didn't help reassure Kaname either, however much his power may be superior to the other vampire's. But unless the counselor flat-out touched the ring, it was unlikely the brunet would have the motivation to defend himself anyway, considering the mindset he currently lived with.

"But it doesn't really looks like a vampire's ring, does it, my lord…?"

Kaname's apathy didn't mean that he was completely at their mercy, however. The young—young-looking that is— King was in no mood to play games, much less about a subject that held such importance in his eyes. His voice was sharp and almost snappy when he replied.

"What are you implying? We both know well where the ring comes from."

"But of course. Please forgive my foolish jest, lord." The counselor offered an apologetic little bow in hopes to appease the King, although the possibility of having displeased him apparently wasn't enough make him leave the room.

Kaname's gaze had flashed with anger for a second, but it was quick to lose itself in the gardens once more, his other hand hiding the ring from the vampire's eyes, covering it as surely and completely as the shroud of melancholy that had descended over his eyes covered the pureblood in a distinct feeling of wistfulness and longing for things that could no longer be.
The scent of the dahlias in bloom wafted in through the tall windows, a sweet sugariness in the air making the whole scene more dream-like and more suitable to the unreal beauty of the brunet vampire, even when his gaze held so much contained pain.

Kaname was absentmindedly caressing the ring now, and for a second, the royal advisor wondered if his majesty had forgotten that he was in the room.

The taller vampire brought the brunet back out of his reverie with a question.

"If I may ask, my King, what is the chain for?"

The vampire gestured as non-threateningly as possible towards the fine silver chain that gleamed in the dimming light, still clearly visible and in contrast with the King's delicate pallor, and securely linking the ring on the pureblood's finger to a thicker chain around his wrist.

Kaname's eyes abandoned the empty contemplation of the garden –which he wasn't really seeing, as he was looking beyond it, into the past, lost in his memories— and wandered back to the other vampire's face with a careful examination, as if he wanted to determine whether he should continue this talk or put an abrupt end to it. Deciding that the aristocrat was trying to make small talk but might not have as bad intentions as some of the others in the court, Kaname replied, leaning the back of his head tiredly against the fauteuil, his elbows resting on the armrests.

"People have tried to take this ring from me before. Those who survived long enough after their attempt regretted their foolishness with their very last breath. But just in case, I got the chain for added security."

Until he got that chain, he hadn't been able to sleep without jolting awake several times each day, seized with paranoia that someone would manage to take him by surprise and steal something so important for him. The ring was of little value in itself, but it was the value Kaname placed in it, and the implied meaning behind it, that made so many in their society tempted to snatch it from him, whether to use it as a bargaining chip for political or personal gain or simply out of gratuitous cruelty alone.
The pureblood feared the loss of the ring more than what any of them might do to his body if they caught him unaware. That alone was clear indication of how much the past that was now lost mattered so much more in his eyes than the deep emptiness of his present life.

At the sight of the simple curiosity on the man's face, Kaname explained the chain further, not risking any information that could be of use but simply feeling like talking, if anything just to momentarily escape the stifling silence around himself. He wasn't really sure why he was almost talkative today, when he normally would have avoided the subject with all but the closest entourage. In the past, he wouldn't have volunteered any information that might let others know what mattered for him or what could be used to hurt him, but by now he was getting so increasingly disconnected with everything else that nothing other than those memories mattered in his eyes, and his concern for his own safety was long gone.
Maybe it was simply that this counselor didn't seem to care enough to want to take from him the only thing he had left, like so many others had tried to do before. In a way, it was a bit of a relief to be able to speak of such things aloud, truth to be said. Normally, those things were always locked inside his heart to the point that it felt like his very soul might split some day.

"His fingers were… much larger than mine. So the ring is too big for me, and without the chain, the risk of it slipping off my hand would be…"

His words trailed off then, as he realized that he'd said too much and that something within him was in danger of breaking open again. His gaze lost itself in a random point of the garden, staring with unfocused eyes as if trying to see past the flowers and not let the tears that he felt burning behind his lids fall. The agonizing grip of a loss that would never stop hurting wrapped around his heart once more, as if threatening to tear it right out of his chest. The brunet's fingers curled miserably around the ring, as if he was afraid that relic from the past might slip from his finger and suddenly vanish if he doubled over from the pain his reminiscence brought him. He clung to it the same desperate way he had done for so many years before he got the chain, when he used to always keep his hand closed by fear the ring might suddenly fall and be lost.

I can't take the risk to lose it.

Not when it's the very last thing I have left. The only physical proof that he existed and that he cared for me enough to give me this.

Kaname retreated back to his bubble of memories and to the silent observation of the petals falling from the trees with the evening wind, to try and escape the moisture welling in his eyes and the unforgivable urge to openly sob regardless of the counselor still looking at him.
The other vampire could actually distinctly feel the pain emanating from the brunet, a permanent presence, the loss that had shattered his fragile soul seeping from his bones even, like a poisonous cloud in the very air around them.

The slender monarch was as present and yet as absent from their current world as a delicate flower once it's plucked from the garden and pressed in a herbarium: carefully dried and preserved but irreparably broken, never quite the same anymore.

Immortality is perhaps not the blessing we all think it is as we covet it and seek to lengthen our lives more and more. For our beautiful King, it surely seems closer to a curse…

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The End

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Depressing fic is depressing. XD;;;; *lol*

It's an AU passed many centuries later, in which Kaname is still alive and is king of the vampires, but both are things that go against his wishes, which were to have died with Zero long ago. (And presumably, with Yuuki too maybe, as I assume the three were together, but my ZxK shipping mind kind of forgot about her and focused on the Zero & Kaname aspect. 8D;; *is shot*

The idea if that the ring belonged to Zero, and he gave it to Kaname as they were lovers. Zero's fingers are normally larger/more muscular than Kaname's due to being a hunter, having more exercise/more muscular body than Kaname and all, and so the ring was Zero's size and is large on Kaname's finger, making him even more wary of it possibly slipping away easily.

They had probably many precious memories in that garden, and the ring and that are all that is left, hence Kaname treasuring the garden and wanting to keep it looking that way…

Incidentally, I didn't describe the ring but the way I imagined it was a bit similar to the royal rings from "MeruPuri", the series Matsuri Hino did before VK. ;D Maybe a mix of that and a more modern design that Zero might have worn, maybe kinda similar to his piercings. X3

The counselor guy was just some random vampire used as a plot device, no one in particular. XD

All the flowers, on the other hand, are not random, and hold meanings more or less relevant to the story, and particularly to Kaname's feelings and to elements of his past relationship with Zero in the fic. For example, the white rose is apparently a symbol for "Eternal Love, Silence or innocence, wistfulness, virtue, purity, secrecy, reverence and humility", while camellias are "Unpretending excellence", and so on.
I'm going by the Victorian-era flower language for the most part, except for the jasmine, which I inserted for its supposed meaning of " attachment, sensuality, modesty, grace and elegance", though it's not listed in the older charts I've seen so I'm not sure whether it was always considered that.