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Title: REM Sleep

Author: The Kunai

Chapter One

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Congratulations were great and all that.

Medals and honors were excellent.

She should have been proud, she should have been just as excited as the rest of them and joined in their games and been a good sport like Tormund was. He tolerated dancing around in a circle and holding hands with the sugar-high little children as they bounced around and played in the rivers of mist.

Market town citizens would be delighted to hear of a new trading opportunity. They would have swam a marathon in their joy. She was probably not going to have to play diplomat as often anymore. He was probably going to be promoted as a knight by her uncle Skarl. They were both honored as Defenders of Neopia.

She should have been happy like the rest of them, and danced like a Miamouse on crack.

But she wasn't--the blue Acara was downright bothered. Tightness showed in the creases of her furry forehead.

Maybe it was because she was getting tired and just wanted to go home. No reveling in a feast, no reveling in general--Roberta wasn't one for having a reveling spirit anyway. Not a fighting instinct either, but she had expected the Darkest Faerie to be a lot more challenging than that. After what everyone had told her too…even Queen Fyora couldn't stand up to her and they could? Something was odd, different about their battle, it was a puzzle waiting to be solved…her brain was ticking noisily and it was aggravating her more and more.

Something changed--but what?

The girl felt a paw poke her in the shoulder and she realized that her male companion was snapping her out of a daze, giving her a concerned stare with his amber-colored eyes. Roberta also registered that her temple was feeling bruised and that she had been knocking her head against the side of the winged carriage for a while now. She glanced back at him with her own violet eyes, and below that a sheepish smile formed while her cheeks seemed to heat up.

"…sorry…"

Silence, again. It was hard to talk about much in front of her two uncles with Tor; they had shared their share of private conversations and jokes, dirty innuendos…something that two members of the royal family that were bred to be that way certainly wouldn't approve of. Otherwise she would have given her thoughts about this matter. Maybe King Hagan wouldn't exactly mind her concerns, but she didn't want to be brushed off about it. Tor was the one who fought with her and could understand. He was the only one who would bother to listen too--he experienced her mood swings and learned how to interact with her. Visa-versa hopefully.

He was the only one that she would trust with her feelings and with her brain surgeries. But what now, now that their adventures have ended and no one was supposed to care anymore?

Tired of even thinking, the Acara blankly stared at the outside. The clouds were no longer a rotten plum tinge anymore, and they no longer smelled faintly of century-old sewage. They were just white wisps that were quickly passing by, and the lavender towers of Faerieland, from what she could see from the back window, were also vanishing too like the Hidden Tower. Soon they took a dip into the cloud cover toward the land and the view was obscured. Water droplets began to hang themselves on the glass.

The one thing that could be told from gray was the gradual darkness. There was a storm over Meridell apparently; the irony never ceased to amaze her--

"Roberta."

"Hm?" Roberta felt jerked out of her trance by the collar.

King Hagan smiled kindly, ignoring the loud snores that had started emanating from his brother's pig-like nostrils, "I know you are a sorceress now, but you are still needed in matters of politics."

Being his majesty's niece, she was allowed to release an annoyed and tired sigh.

Then he continued, "A few days before the clouds appeared, we received word from the Lost Desert's ruler about a disturbing matter. When we replied, we received an urgent request for a sorcerer to be sent--and we couldn't do anything about it because our entire kingdom was fearful of the Darkest Faerie's power. But now that we don't need to worry about her anymore, I can trust you to travel over there and figure out what happened, especially since you are a sorceress now."

Now she was interested. Not because she could potentially abuse the power of her Wand of the Ancients and still wear the Legend Robes that was currently her attire of choice, but because this might relate to the Darkest Faerie…

"You will be going to the Lost Desert in about a week. I will still have Seradar accompany you to make sure you are unharmed."

She smiled in return, "Yes uncle."

The smile was wiped clean off, however, as she looked back at her armor-clad partner. Now he was looking out of the window of their carriage that showed the dismal scenery of the Meridell kingdom in the rainstorm, his ears drooping at the tips oh-so-subtly, his gaze avoiding all who were sitting around him (especially the slumbering Skarl), his handsome profile darkened by their area. That's right…he wasn't going to be joining her automatically anymore…he had duties back in the city. When his ears drooped like that, it meant that he was bothered quite badly; anything lower usually meant he wanted something or felt guilty. She tapped him on the shoulder and he faced her again, his expression unreadable.

"Hey, think of it this way Tor…" Roberta tried to help, "You get to go back and slice apart contestants in the arena in Meridell. Maybe meet a pretty girl or something. And maybe you'll get promoted to Man-At-Arms someday--"

Skarl grunted loudly. He must have heard that. Tor, on the other hand, flashed his pearly whites and responded, "Yeah. Hope so."

It wasn't convincing to her that she had helped him feel better though…if he was feeling bad at all. A fleeting tightness wound in her chest as she thought of him not caring at all…

…maybe she could just spend ten minutes at the feast and then go to bed…

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"Roberta?"

His face hovered outside the doorway of Roberta's temporary chambers. He watched the Acara laying facedown on her downy mattress and pillow, dressed in a loose white nightgown and partially covered by her comforter. A wiggle of her antennae showed him that she was still conscious, followed by the sideways movement of her head to see who it actually was. He waved at her; he himself was removed of all armor and instead put in a clean cotton shirt and pants. A fluffy yellow wolf-tail was wiggling at the same rate as his hand and still continued to undulate when he stopped. She smirked back.

"Hey Tor…you can come in if you like, you know. You're still my best friend."

He stepped through the threshold, feeling a twinge of annoyance at what she had called him--

"And you can close the doors behind you."

Tormund's ears pricked up. Slowly and almost cautiously in manner his paw reached for the brass handles and the double doors shut with a click and a squeak behind him. Roberta was now sitting up in her bed, the blankets draped across her lap and her eyes partially shut. A small smile was etched in her azure face…

"Come over here." To him, the voice was a hook, but even with no bait he would still bite. It didn't help that the room's lighting was dim because of only two candles lit on her night stand, nor that her night-black curls suited her features perfectly or the rose-pink lips--

What was he doing? Now she was giving him a strange look and he had ruined the moment. Again. Quickly he snapped back to sanity and hurried to sit on the edge of her bed, sitting away from her to hide his inner workings and the shame that he wore on his sleeve and ears. She still examined him for a minute before lapsing back into her more relaxed position, and he internally sighed. Yeah…stop being crazy. She's royalty, she doesn't even like you in that way…dirty jokes are only because they were alone together in that crazy quest to stop the psycho faerie…yeah. Stop torturing yourself, Tor, because there's no hope.

And she's going to be gone after tomorrow morning.

"…Is there something you needed?" Roberta asked the oddly nervous young man. He shrugged in return.

"I just got concerned…you left the feast so abruptly."

Her lower lip jutted out, her gaze averted, "Yeah…I…just wasn't that hungry…"

The blonde Lupe nodded. For once, a great silence stretched between them like rubber. This wasn't caused by the fact that they were busy fighting or that they were so tired their brains ached with the rest of their bodies as if they had the swamp-flu. This was awkwardness, and he knew he didn't like it. It didn't help that from the first moment he had met her he felt so immediately caring for her. First she was like a more mature version of Lucy, and then her unique traits started to come out in bold and he was fascinated by them when he had time to think.

More silence. He had to speak up now.

"…So…why did you make me close the door? You aren't going to assault me are you?"

It was not implying anything; honest. Roberta sniggered and punched him lightly in the shoulder when she had lazily butted over close to him on the bed, "Psh; you wish Tor. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that last battle with the Darkest Faerie…didn't you think it was too easy?"

Okay, thoughts about Roberta were over. It was time to go back to the…what? His brows furrowed, "Easy? Well…"

For a while he had forgotten about the fight and just remembered the celebration afterwards. It was a better thing to cheer up than to dwell on the past. But now that he thought about it…

The memory of the last battle came to mind.

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Outside, the scenery was flying by, but rather than sideways like a train or an aircraft it was the sky going down to up and colored bright purple. Tor steeled himself for what may come, and then charged at the Darkest Faerie who had the nerve to keep her back to him. His sword glowed white as he prepared to give her a taste of the ancient blade.

Suddenly, he was swept back by a tidal wave of dark smoke to exactly where he started. Although the only thing he felt was pressure on his back and chest and the armor was light, Tor barely had any time to get up and respond to her next strike--a blast of pure white energy. Ah, the irony never ceased to amaze him. Except right then because he had no time to ponder, for he instinctively put his shield up. The plate of metal also glowed white and seemed to give off a thousand star-like creatures as it effortlessly bounced the super ball of energy back, and her spell struck her squarely in the face. Then he moved in, and made each strike count, spilling her shadowy blood and ignoring the demons that were swirling all around as Roberta was busy blasting them away--they were insects, she had the pesticide, and he was handling the queen while she distracted the workers.

The witch recovered and again he was pushed back, and again the process repeated itself twice more, but each time he was swept back it became weaker and weaker, until he couldn't even feel it and he shoved right through, making a great slash to her side and causing her to fall down with her stained hands clutching the oblique tightly. The process as a whole must have taken barely more than a minute and already her defenses were shot. She seemed to realize this too, as she struggled to get up from the blow…more fog, and he was set upon by what seemed to be a bazillion muscular skeith of rainbow colors and the silhouette of a woman with monstrous wings attempting to escape. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed at least one or two flashes; when he sliced through the monsters that were blocking his view Roberta had already flung the charm at the Darkest Faerie.

And then she began to set, concrete in a mold it seemed, while the constrictor necklace tied tightly around the evil one's scrawny neck and slowly choked the life out of her. Eyes grew cold…her hand dropped the bottle containing the imprisoned Fyora and it shattered, allowing its contents to escape. Before they knew it the sky became blue and the giant broken elevator of a city lurched to a stop at last…

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"…it wasn't what one would call 'exceedingly difficult', yeah…" Tor admitted, a paw rustling through his hair, "But it's nothing to complain about, right?"

She nodded, "Well, sure, but didn't you see that Queen Fyora with all her defenses and power couldn't stand a chance against the Darkest Faerie, and yet we could easily beat her down with time to spare to save the kingdoms? Even IF my wand or your sword is stronger than her rod--which is very unlikely and I apologize to King Altador--Fyora still has her powers as a faerie to back her up."

Tor turned to face her and sat cross-legged on the cushy bed, "I suppose saying that she was distracted wouldn't help her case either? I mean, we did have Jerdana's orb to finish her off, you know. I'm sure that we would have fared just as well if not worse against her without it."

The Acara turned onto her side and faced him as well, and she spoke, "The only thing keeping her standing up was whatever magic she had left in her body. When you were finished with her she couldn't even reflect my blows anymore…she was badly injured, very weak, with only enough energy to summon monsters so she could get away before the castle fell."

"I suppose. And you're sure that Jerdana's orb has nothing to do with it?"

"I'm positive. That assignment that I'm going to have next week…I think it might have something to do with why she had a sudden drop in power. Maybe how she awakened in the first place. While I'm there I'm going to research it, and…"

Roberta seemed a touch embarrassed as she paused, "…I'll write to you as well. As often if I can if you want."

"Sure, why not?" Tormund said to her, "We might not get the opportunity to see each other for a while--"

The blue neopet suddenly shot up into a sitting position with a cross face.

"I hate this."

He was startled. Her flashes of anger were rare and his tail drooped as he wondered what he had done to suddenly spark her off. What a time bomb that girl was.

Roberta continued, words zipping out like a bullet train, "Suddenly I'm going to have to leave and you're going to be going off to who knows where; we might never see each other again Tor. Not even counting on the fact that we may suddenly drop dead one day for some reason. Royalty seems to be oh-so-grand until you're a part of it. Then it's 'Roberta you gotta wear this' or 'Roberta you MUST meet this charming young man' or 'Roberta you need to act more lady-like; it's not good for a noble woman to cultivate fighting skills.' They tell you where to go, what to eat, who to love."

She sighed, cooling off a little bit, her forehead resting on her bent knees and her tentacles flopping around her ears, "The only time I had independence was with Seradar and…and you, Tor. I really wish that it could last and I could have more choice in the matter…"

"I'm sure eventually the King will finally understand that you're just not cut out to be a controlled type, Roberta." Tormund told her softly, rubbing her shoulder with his large paw as he would with his sister when she would get frustrated or tired. But this question would only be answered with the royal niece's head shake somewhat restrained by her knees.

The Acara looked up, "Never mind…sorry…"

Now he was confused.

Was she concerned about King Hagan's feelings if she told him she didn't want to be a part of royal life anymore? What did she mean by 'never mind?' Did that mean that she didn't trust him to help make her feel better or something? The Lupe pouted slightly as he thought of this, and that awkward silence was beginning to build up like soap suds again.

He heard her move a little and assumed immediately that perhaps she just wanted to go to bed now. Turning again and jumping off the bed, he looked at her for a last time.

"G'night Ace."

But as he was about to exit, there was a flurry of blanket followed by steps rushing to meet him from behind the boy. His arm never extended to the double doors because immediately following him rotating to see what was going on he was suddenly immersed in dark hair and blue fur. Arms tightened around his upper body and didn't seem to want to let go, as if he were the only thing to hold onto in a black storm.

Hugs were never a part of their friendship before.

Tormund felt weak at the knees, nauseous and awkward like a three-footed chicken laying a square egg. Things were supposed to be as such--successes were met with a high-five, or a noogie. Their disappointments were highlighted with plenty of bashing of so-and-so around a small campfire and a game of tic-tac-toe if they were feeling particularly immature.

At the same time, he felt quite pleasant as well. It was one of those things that he kept in the back of his head but sometimes emerged in his deepest dreams. Becoming a knight back then would have been an easy goal compared to this. Someone up in the yonder blue had to be looking out for him, even if the situation was hopeless.

Shyly, slowly, Tor made his own arms behave and they returned this rather out-of-the-blue gesture of affection. His wolfy head settled itself on the top of her own scalp and he breathed in more of her showered hair, while he murmured, "What's up?" with a chuckle.

"And you were about to leave your best friend with only a couple of words. Cruel Tor, just cruel."

She sounded happy, at least, despite the melancholy undertone.

"…g'night Tor. I really do want to see you soon…should I just send your mail to the castle?"

"Sure."

It was with reluctance, he noted, that she let go of him at last. And he, too, felt the same way. But again, when he tried to open the door, it seemed that something really was trying to keep him in this room with his best friend and--admittedly--that someone who he definitely felt very different about than any other girl who he had met in his travels. Although Prunella was kind of cute…but that would be going off on a complete tangent.

He hadn't even touched it again when someone knocked on the door politely. Panicking, the yellow wolf jumped away from the threshold as Roberta said, "You may come in…" and he realized that it was only an Aisha servant. The maid had opened the doors slightly at first, and then she opened them wider as she spoke in a feathery tone.

"Excuse me…are you Sir Tormund?"

Dumbly the boy nodded, and suddenly he caught his armor while his shield and sword were carefully placed at his feet. Again he was perplexed.

"But miss…I'm in the--"

He stopped, hearing chuckling and a strange smooching sound in the hallway. Yellow eyes curiously looked out from the bedroom and he could see two nobles. They did look awfully familiar…one was a flaming red Scorchio and the other was a lovely little pink Acara, with tinkling voices marred somewhat by a drunken air. Tor's body followed this couple, but he stopped at the corner of the hallway while they proceeded to go into his room.

What the hell.

"…that…was my room…was it not?" He stammered, spinning back on his toes to see the Aisha servant.

The mistress simply bowed and replied, "We do sincerely apologize for this…they demanded to have a room so we had to take yours; a noble's priorities rank higher than the priorities of a knight…I'm afraid there are no more places for anyone to sleep, master Tormund. We can make a makeshift cot for you if you like down in the dungeons, however."

Sleeping right above the sewers. He growled in the way that he would if someone had decided to sneak up on him and yank his tail very hard, if he were a Werelupe. For once he really did mind the whole system of nobles and 'the rest of them'; he came from a farm so even if he was the richest knight in the world he would still not have any choice in the matter.

The slorgs and the tentacles creeping around fifty feet beneath his back probably wouldn't be a huge bother, however. Resigning himself to his fate with an accented exhale, Tor decided to collect his weaponry and follow the servant downstairs.

"Wait."

The sorceress had appeared in the hallway as well, "It's alright; he can stay with me. Come on, Tor."

Her pink hand touched his arm and urged him to come back inside the nice warm bedroom with candlelight and dry floors, but he was stuck in place. Did she just say that…well, it's not like they hadn't spent nights together before but…he glanced at her uncertainly but the girl seemed quite adamant when she dismissed the Aisha. He found something caught in his throat; finally a swallow rid him of this clump and he was able to ask a question.

"Won't your uncle be concerned?"

She smiled back.

"Of course he will. But he gave you his trust, so if he does become angry I'll just remind him of that."

And with that, she successfully herded him inside, closed the door, let go of his arm and placed his sword and shield close to her wand. The Acara then proceeded to dive back into the sheets and waited for the Lupe to join her, and when he did, darkness enveloped the room. He watched her watching him in the dark for a while, she outlined by faint moonlight; he turned over at last and decided to try and actually fall asleep.

Later that night, he could have sworn that she was snuggling against his back. Tor turned over, carefully trying not to squish her nose, and his arms embraced her. Maybe the situation wasn't as hopeless as he had originally thought.

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Light had barely started streaming in, and he knew that she was gone while he was half-asleep. He read her letter when his eyes could open, the one that she left on the pillow with a couple of her own hair strands, the first of her promised letters. He smiled like fog, and then he just sank.

Tormund would only get a couple more minutes of sleep.

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A/N: Might have uploaded it just a bit quickly…hopefully it looks nicer now.