A Dog Among Princes

Chapter 33

Griffith was starting to wonder whether or not he was a bad person. When he’d asked the king about it the older man had only clapped him on the shoulder and said he was an excellent politician. Of course that wasn’t really an answer was it.

It wasn’t that he didn’t feel guilt. He felt guilt for a lot of decisions he’d made over the years, times he’d gotten people killed, or times he’d hurt friends. however he couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty about things he’d done to his enemies. Or, well, that wasn’t quite right, he couldn’t bring himself to feel guilt for things he’d done to people who weren’t his allies either. He had a sneaking suspicion that, based on the way everyone had reacted the other day, that wasn’t normal.

Griffith knew in the back of his head that he wasn’t normal exactly, even beyond the whole grand destiny of conquest and kingship thing. He’d spent enough time practicing smiling in the mirror, praying to whatever god was listening that it looked natural, to know that. He was good enough at keeping the mask up, making sure he wasn’t staring too intensely, pretending to have the correct emotional response to other people’s problems and successes, but he hadn’t deluded himself into believing he didn’t wear one. Griffith also realized that it was beginning to slip. That was no longer just a risk to his own reputation, it would be a risk to Guts’s as well. He was already taking a risk professing his love to Griffith the demon and war hero. Griffith the demon and war criminal was a much harder sell.

The worst of it though, was what the God Hand had shown him. That other him. The one that would’ve taken them up on their offer. Even now, going through it over and over again in his head, if he had been left to be tortured for that long, if he had lost the use of his arms and legs, his ability to speak, his looks, he probably still would have done it. He wouldn’t have done all of it, the final scene of the vision he’d been given was excessively cruel for his taste, but if he allowed himself to be driven insane by unfulfilled lust and rage like the other Griffith… He didn’t want to think about it. Griffith hadn’t told anyone about what he’d seen, not even Guts, but after seeing the looks of horror on everyone’s faces because of him, because they were afraid of him, it was starting to eat him up inside. They were horrified by the things he wasn’t even guilty about. Griffith couldn’t imagine how they’d react knowing the sheer depths he knew he could stoop to.

He needed help. It was against his every instinct to ask for it, but he needed it. Even if it was just to preserve his image, or to protect the very small group of people he could muster an attachment to, rather than some grand moralistic drive to become a better person, he hoped that would be enough. He was selfish, he wasn’t moral in the way he let others think he was, but he still didn’t want to be alone.

The first one he thought to ask was Guts. They were kindred, abnormal in many of the same ways. He knew Guts didn’t feel guilt for most of the lives he’d taken, and Griffith had seen how he’d had to learn to moderate himself in public. He might be able to understand.

When he entered Guts’s room he was bent over his desk. His arms were crossed and his brows furrowed in concentration as he read the papers in front of him. God he was cute. There was something else mixed in with his normal smell (a faint musk of sweat, crossbow oil, and iron), rose and marjoram? If he remembered right, that was Charlotte’s perfume.

“You met with Charlotte today?” Guts jumped in surprise, but then relaxed once he realized it was just Griffith.

“How did you know?”

“You smell like her perfume.” Guts sniffed his arm.

“I do?”

“What were you two talking about?” Griffith threw her arms around Guy’s neck and sat in his lap. He was overdoing it a little bit, but he wanted Guts to be as receptive as possible to what he was going to say.

“Not much, just small talk. She wanted to get to know me better.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, still feels weird that somebody like her has any interest in me. She’s looking for friends at court. Well honestly, it seemed more like she just wanted friends in general.”

“How do you feel about that?” Charlotte had no connections here, her political worth as an ally was basically negligible, however since she’d been raised as a princess, she could be an invaluable etiquette counselor to Guts, helping him learn the secret languages of court even Griffith wasn’t privy to.

“She’s a nice kid, and I feel like I owe her that much don’t I?”

“What for?” Guts unwrapped one of Griffith’s hands from his neck and kissed his knuckles, looking into his eyes meaningfully. He‘d miscalculated. He couldn’t ask Guts, in fact Guts was probably the last person he could ask. Guts’s lack of guilt wasn’t the same as his. He lacked guilt because he’d lived as a mercenary his whole life. Growing up he’d understood that both himself and his enemy were the same, both wanted to kill each other and get paid, neither wanted to die nor really understood what they were doing on the battlefield aside from earning a living. He could rationalize murder in that context. It was because he was able to empathize with his opponents that he felt no guilt. He expected both to kill and to die every time he stepped onto the battlefield, and he knew his opponents did as well. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”

“What makes you think I wanted to talk?” He dragged his hands from Guts’s shoulders to his chest.

“Come on, you’re only this clingy when you think you’re going to tell me something I don’t want to hear.” Shit, Guts had seen through him. Really, Griffith knew he had always seen through him, Guts just felt more comfortable calling him on his misdirections.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about.” Guts looked at him and Griffith could tell he didn’t believe him.

“Your pupils contract when you lie.” Guts kissed his cheek. “You should be careful with that, it’s more obvious now.” He kissed the juncture between his neck and shoulders. Griffith sat completely rigid in his lap, too afraid to say more. “What’s wrong?” Guts pulled away. Griffith expected to see a mocking or angry expression on his face, but instead he looked concerned. “You don’t owe me an explanation or anything, if you don’t want to talk about it anymore you don’t have to.” Guts was completely in control of the situation now or maybe he’d always been in control. He didn’t know why, but that made him desperately afraid. Griffith slipped off of his lap.

“I- I need to go.”

“I’ll be here.” Guts watched sadly as he left.

Casca! Casca would give him actionable advice! Sure, her loyalty to him was no longer as unshakable as it once was, sure, it seemed that she had already began to see through him, and hadn’t liked what she’d seen, but that was precisely why she was the one to ask. He’d have to leave out the vision that was tearing through him, but she’d at least tell him what was wrong with him.!

Judeau met him at the door. “Is Casca in? I would like to speak to her about something important.”

“How important?” Judeau lowered his voice, “She’s laid up with a fever again. If it can wait I’d really appreciate it if you gave her the time to recover, you know she pushes herself harder than she should when she’s like this.”

“I suppose it can wait.” It was probably best to leave her alone for the moment. He wouldn’t be able to get anything actionable out of her while she was in that much pain. More likely she’d say he was a bad person merely for disturbing her while she was.

Griffith desperately went through the catalog of people he knew, Pippin: too nice, wouldn’t give him a straight answer, Corkus: yes man, Rickert: actual child. Fuck, he was running out of options. There was someone following him. Someone who smelled like incense. The holy chain knights seemed to have stuck around. It seemed like either their commander or her second in command. He heard a stick break in the undergrowth. His stalker stilled their breath, trying to stay silent. Not the girl then, she wouldn’t have noticed.

“Have I shown my true colors yet, my friend?”

“‘Fraid not sir, at least not to my lady’s satisfaction,” came the voice from the bushes. So it was definitely the boy then.

“So you will be following me until I’m caught drinking the blood of a virgin then?”

“Or stealing children and putting them in a sack.”

“What about stealing the hearts of men and taking their souls?”

“I believe she’s already convinced you’ve done that, sir.” Griffith threw his head back and laughed.

“That is what she’s stuck on, is it?”

“Well among other things, sir.”

“And what about you young man? What do you think?”

“I’m not paid to have an opinion, sir.”

“Strange, after all your sister seems so zealous.”

“My apologies, lady Farnese and I may look similar but we are completely unrelated.”

“Oh please, don’t speak to me as if you are dealing with his highness. You’re half siblings at least, I’d guess different mothers, same father, correct?”

“You’re joking surely, sir.”

“Oh? But I have proof!” The knight was on him in what seemed like seconds, his eyes wide open. Griffith smiled as he realized what he was looking at. This boy was like him, wasn’t he? He had that same wild ferocity, he just hadn’t gotten good enough at hiding it yet. He’d initially just been goading him to let off steam but perhaps this was a good opportunity, who better to judge him than a complete outsider.

“What do you want?” The boy held his sword at Griffith’s throat.

“A trade. There is an issue I wish to receive counsel on, however it is also one I wish to keep in confidence. I would trade my own confidence for yours.”

“As long as you also tell me how you found out.”

“All in good time.” He smiled.

Serpico listened as the man in front of him told him all he’d done. He’d made many difficult horrible choices throughout his life, however they all seemed understandable given the circumstances. He probably may have made similar ones in many cases given the outlined circumstances. Then things started getting a little strange. He began talking about the eclipse, the same one he and Farnese were supposed to investigate, the one that was supposed to signal the arrival of the Falcon of Darkness. Serpico’s blood ran cold. As Griffith went on it became clearer and clearer who he was talking to. This was the man who was supposed to end the world, yet somehow he’d managed to subvert the prophecy. Farnese was right, if only by half.

“So then,” Griffith addressed the shell shocked knight. “Given all of that, do you think I’m a bad person?”

“Hold on a second.” Serpico tried to steady himself.

“That was too much to take in at once wasn’t it.”

“Sorry, it’s not about you actually.” The world wasn’t going to end. Not for another 500 years at least anyway. The creature that was supposed to end the world was standing right in front of him asking if Serpico believed he was a bad person. “So the thing that has you the most concerned is that you have a hard time feeling empathy for people you aren’t close to right? And you’re worried if you ever became estranged from the people you care about you’d hurt them too?”

“Exactly.”

“Okay. I don’t think having less empathy makes you an innately bad person.” At least Serpico hoped it didn’t. His ability to care about other people had been knocked completely out of whack since- since he started being afraid of fire. “I think it just means you have to work harder to be a good person. In terms of what the demons showed you, as a cleric knight it’s my job to say they were tempters who would show you anything to try to get you to join them. As a layman, that’s what I mean by you have to work harder I guess. Clearly you know it would be wrong, you just have to have the strength to not do horrible shit just because you won't feel bad about it.”

“Well that’s part of the problem isn’t it? It’s harder for me to intuit what others would find unconscionable.”

“No, I think you have a decent handle on that actually. Nothing you mentioned seemed particularly extreme except the last part, but once again you didn’t actually do that one.”

“It’s just something I’m capable of.”

“Yeah and? Sometimes I have violent thoughts that I never act on. Just don’t act on it and you're fine.” God he hoped that was right. He wasn’t a professional at this or anything, he was a kid, but that’s how he dealt with it. He didn’t think he was a bad person, hell he didn’t even think Farnese was even though she gave into her violent urges more often than not. He’d seen enough to know sin was a construct. There was no one and no act that was inherently good or evil, intent mattered and so did free will. Good was not a condition, it was not a state ordained by god or the priests that claimed to speak for them, it was a choice that had to be made everyday with every action. But he was just a kid, standing in front of a man destined to end the world, who had chosen not to. He couldn’t figure out a way to articulate his point that was stronger than that. “You know, we initially came all the way out here to investigate a prophecy.”

Remarkably, a seventeen year old telling him he had been destined to end the world somehow made Griffith feel a little bit better. He supposed it was because it was proof in a way. He was capable of doing horrific things. Supernaturally so. He could have begun the end of everything with a nod. But he hadn’t done it. He’d forced himself to make the choice that he didn’t think would benefit him. If the boy was to be believed. He would just have to keep doing that.

“You will of course keep everything I’ve told you in confidence won’t you?”

“Of course, now your proof?” The boy was good at keeping himself on target.

“Since, well in light of what you told me I suppose I could call it, my apotheosis, my senses have become far sharper than they were previously. I can see colors beyond the spectrum available to-“ he supposed it was alright to admit it, the boy already knew, “to humans. I can hear the heartbeat of a deer from several yards away. However, more importantly, I can identify people from scent alone, even from several feet away. You and your lady have very similar scents, too similar for it to merely be a result of close companionship. As for the bit about your father, merely deduction. Half the fatherless bastards in any major city are of the lineages of kings. If it worries you, a strong perfume might cover it, but unless there are any like myself within the holy city, you ought to be able to avoid detection. Of course if there were I imagine you’d have much bigger problems to deal with than salvaging your lady’s family honor.” Griffith smiled. “You’ll find, despite all I’ve told you, I’m far more restrained than most others like me.”

“I can believe that.” He said the others had torn him appart and eaten him the moment they realized he wouldn’t be their king. Occasionally ordering an unjustified assassination was fairly tame in comparison.

“We have an agreement then, your lady’s secret stays with me and my secret stays with you.” Serpico would’ve rather just killed him and buried him in the woods, but that didn’t seem like a particularly good idea.

“Agreed.”

Guts was a little hurt. He knew it wasn’t reasonable, Griffith had let him keep his own secrets for all those years, he should’ve been willing to let him come to him on his own time. At the same time though, he’d trusted Griffith enough to see the deepest parts of him, let him stick his fingers in his gaping wounds, but Griffith still didn’t trust him in the same way. It hurt, and it was frustrating, but he understood. He’d also pushed him a little too hard. He shouldn’t have turned the tables on him like that when he came by earlier. Griffith didn’t respond well to losing control of situations. Guts thought he could shock him into honesty, but all he’d done was scare him away.

“I apologize for leaving so abruptly.” Guts jumped, surprised out of his self loathing. Griffith closed the door behind him.

“I was starting to get worried.” Guts didn’t try pressing the issue. He didn’t want to scare him away again. Griffith took a breath.

“What if I told you there was something wrong with me?”

“You want to try being more specific?” Guts jokingly raised an eyebrow. Wait shit no he probably sounded like an asshole, mother fucker! Griffith chuckled anyway before becoming serious again.

“I mean something truly, deeply wrong with me. Something that might make you think less of me.”

“I’m not going to think less of you.”

“You haven’t heard what I have to say yet.” Guts took his hands and looked him in the eyes.

“I’m not going to think less of you. You know me, better than anyone else. No matter what you have to say it’s not going to change how I feel about you.”

“I do know you. That’s exactly why I’m so afraid it will.” He looked down at his hands. “I remember when you first joined us you pretended you didn’t care about anything or anyone, but it was self protection wasn’t it? You often care too much about other people and it has hurt you.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Guts, I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything, more than money, even more than power, and I care deeply for those I’ve come to call my friends and allies, but I don’t care about anyone else.”

“That’s normal isn’t it though? You only have so much energy Griffith, you can’t find it in yourself to care about everybody.”

“That’s not quite what I’m getting at. If you saw a stranger on the street trampled by a horse for example, you would probably feel upset on their behalf wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah?”

“I wouldn’t. If it was you I’d be upset, but if it was a stranger, it wouldn’t phase me in the slightest.”

“Is this recent or…”

“No always. I’ve always been like this.” He reflexively grabbed his arms. He could feel his claws beginning to unsheath. “I know I’m supposed to regret everything I’ve done, but I don’t. I can’t. I won because of it, but I’m worried. I hurt you without realizing because I didn’t fully understand that everyone else did.”

“Hey, come here.” Guts pulled Griffith into a hug, holding him as tightly as possible, making sure to pin his hands. “I’ve never thought you were a saint. What you told me, it makes a lot of things make sense more than anything, but it doesn’t change how I feel. You’re not my commander anymore Griffith.” He smoothed down his hair. “If you make a call I don’t like I can just say no. Besides, you say I care too much right? Maybe we can balance eachother out? I tell you what’s not enough and you tell me what’s too much.”

“It shouldn’t be your responsibility to keep me from hurting people. I’ve caused you enough pain.”

“I want to do it, because it’s you.” Griffith’s hands relaxed, his claws retracting. He slipped his hands out from between their arms and held Guts in return.

“Thank you.”