Mystic: Gah, I couldn't help myself. October 14th just so happened to be my birthday, and I indulged in pizza, beer, and cheesecake. My slightly loopy brain got this strange idea for Kuja and his prisoner. It takes place during FFIX gameplay and ties in rather well to Illicit Vows so kick back with an appropriate beverage and have fun. And of course Square - Enix owns it all except for the three songs briefly mentioned. Those go to Loreena McKennit.
"Where's that woman now?" Kuja spoke under his breath as he stood inside her bedchambers. The sheets were straight and tucked, evidence of being undisturbed for several hours at least, but the curtains were tied open to allow warm sunshine inside. Everything inside was quiet, with nothing but a lavender scent seeping though her pillows. She must have harvested some sprigs from his garden -
Of course. Kuja groaned at his brief mental lapse and exited the room. His prisoner never suffered from boredom, that much he discovered. Even the icy cold of a desert night didn't deter the woman from grabbing a thick cloak and heading outside among the plants. She didn't harvest or work in the darkness, only sat under an elder tree and drink a mug of spiced cider. Kuja detected more than a hint of brandy in the last brew. It tasted well, whatever the recipe.
The hot days warranted a departure from her usual attire of corset, veil, and long skirt. Kuja grew used to seeing her with her hair down, sweat glistening on her face, and the dress of housemaid instead of a regent's wife. He thought it belonged to a housemaid. Chances were equally good that a puppet made her something simpler to wear.
Puppets went about their business in the halls. Some mopped or swept, others flocked to and from the kitchen or wine cellar. A small one sat hunched over in a corner, surrounded by various colors of cloth, a needle passing repeatedly through a cotton pattern. "You," said Kuja. "What are you sewing?"
"A dress," the mage stated.
"Why?"
"The lady requested it."
"Tch." Kuja rolled his eyes, brushed a lock of hair out of his face. "Do that somewhere else, puppet."
"She wants a hat."
"A hat."
"A hat made from straw. For the garden."
By all things holy ... "Have 42 do it."
He walked away before the absurdity of it all caused a headache. This is what it must be like to have a woman actually live in his home. Oh, he'd spent the night with several women over the years, even kept a mistress in Treno for a while, but no one female had ever made a place for herself in his desert palace. The puppets became accustomed to making breakfast and coffee for two, tidying up two different bedchambers, and now even mending a lady's garments. It wasn't exactly bothersome, but highly different than what he usually preferred.
Kuja debated himself on many occasions on what to do with the regent's wife. (Not that the man properly treated her as such, if he were to rely on the many rumors.) One thought immediately came to his head, but quickly dismissed that particular idea upon realizing she was connected to the fae clan. She was too crafty and ... noble to be the victim of seduction; and whatever morality he had prevented him from taking her by force. He may very well just have to kill her quickly when it's all said and done.
Then he saw her kneeling in the garden again. She was tugging at something, and having a difficult time at it.
"Lady Hilda!"
No response.
"Lady Hilda!"
Still nothing. Kuja stepped closer and noticed two wads of cotton in the woman's ears. The reason for the protection stemmed from the item she attempted to pull from the soil, Kuja noticed with a raised eyebrow. It was a powerful and dangerous plant, meant to be used by only the most experienced practitioners.
He placed a hand on her shoulder and she jumped in alarm, falling back to land at his feet in a lump. Her expression was that of a child with her hand near the cookie jar. Kuja offered his own in assistance. "Good afternoon, lady."
Hilda removed a cotton wad from her left ear. "Care to help me, wizard? I want your mandrake."
"For what purpose?"
"I have my reasons."
Kuja barely raised an eyebrow at her. "If you're looking to punish Cid further, you're wasting your time as we are not headed to Lindblum anytime soon."
"That is not -"
"And I am quite sure you are smart enough to not even consider using the devil's apple on me."
"Devil's apple?" she queried. "Is that you call it?"
"Or yourself."
Hilda stared at her captor. "Please," was all she said in return.
"Hold your ears." Kuja bent down and took hold of the plant. He jerked once, twice ... the third turn gave rise to a piercing screech that caused a nearby brush of queen anne's lace to wilt and die. A black mage in the distance protected himself too late and collapsed in the sand. While the mandrake shrieked and shook in Kuja's hands, Hilda reached quickly to cover his ears. He pushed her aside, expression one of indifference.
"You'll go mad!" she shouted. At his smile, she stepped back, whispered, "You're already mad."
The mandrake stopped its tirade, prompting Hilda to remove the cotton wads. Kuja placed the fruit in her palm. "Use it responsibly," he ordered. "Or not it all."
And Kuja never gives simple suggestions.
"Thank you," she said.
"Now come inside. We need to talk."
After many years as a wife, Hilda knew that those words rarely meant good things. As prisoner to a powerful sorcerer, the outcome seemed bleak like the skies outside of Burmecia. She placed the mandrake in her pouch and followed him into the palace. Kuja motioned for her to sit down by the hearth, then ordered two cups of hot tea from a wandering mage. It was a simple black pekoe, similar to what was sold in the Lindblum shoppes.
"You haven't been around." Hilda stared at him from behind her tea cup. "I felt like I was back in Lindblum."
Kuja leaned back in his chair, inhaled the steam from the drink. "Don't get used to it, lady. I need you to join me in Conde Petie tomorrow."
"Village of the Dwarves?"
"You know of it?"
"They celebrate with the fae folk. Rally ho." She smiled and lifted her cup in a cheer. When Kuja didn't reciprocate, Hilda sat back in a frown.
"Then pack your belongings," he ordered, taking a sip. "And bring something ... nice-looking."
She raised an eyebrow. "Nice-looking?"
"No work dresses, lady. Make yourself fancy."
"Will you be doing the same?"
"I always look my best."
Hilda wanted to voice a protest on his last remark. She'd seen him with tired, bloodshot eyes in the early morning hours, hair uncombed due to a restless sleep. She'd seen the pale complexion of an overworked man and wrinkled attire because of his constant movements. Then the callouses; oh, the callouses on his hands from all the powerful spells he'd conjured. Kuja did not always look like the put-together, regal wizard who stole an airship right from her grasp, but he never tolerated those who argued with him either.
"Alright, wizard. I'll even admit to being flattered. This is the first time you've had need of me, a quiet Lindblum girl."
Kuja stared at her, almost bursting in laughter. "You're not a girl, but a woman; far more complicated and dangerous."
"Not so," she retorted. "Young virgins are the dangerous summoners." Or so said the numerous legends of the lost summoner tribe. Eidolons liked pure and innocent masters.
"You're not a summoner, lady. Fae females become quite poweful after marriage." He took another sip. "And especially so after giving birth."
"... I wouldn't know."
Kuja remained silent for a moment. "Off with you now, Lady Hilda. We leave bright and early in the morning."
His prisoner finished her tea, but refused to place the cup down in a proper manner. It rattled with elemental force when she stood before him. "You wish to speak of danger, Kuja?"
"Watch your tone, woman," was all he replied.
The tea cup tilted onto its side, empty and alone without a spoon. "Look in the mirror, wizard. Out of every fae, mage, or human, you are the most dangerous and terrifying man I have ever come across."
He smiled at her. It felt nice to be complimented.
xxx
Ever since the encounter by the hearth, Hilda fought an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach. The fae considered it more than basic intuition; something was clearly 'off' in the wizard's sudden request of her company. Normally he kept her at arm's length, a comfortable tolerance of her presence in the palace. There had to be a specific reason, and she was determined to find it.
Midnight found her with a lantern in hand, covered in a heavy cloak to keep away the chill, roaming the halls in search of his vast library. Kuja referred to this time of night as the witching hour, a rare moment of boyish humour, and she certainly felt tempted to brew a large cauldron of brandied cider. It'd help her sleep later.
Almost every night she passed by the one room in the palace she dared never to enter alone, Kuja's bedchamber. She had been inside once to activate the teleport, but that was only when she'd first arrived. His personal chambers gave her a sense of foreboding, hidden power she did not wish to ever awaken. As her steps continued to carry her past the door, most likely sealed by a spell, a sound from her past made her pause. There was music inside that room, a violin.
It played a hymn, the anthem of the fae.
"Kecharitomene," Hilda whispered. "One who has always been full of grace."
How would Kuja know that hymn?
Her hand paused at the door handle, temptation high to risk breaking the seal, but fear overcame her again and the lantern swung wildly as she made her way to the library. Answers were bound to be discovered soon enough.
xxx
Kuja kept a very extensive library, guarded with stone statues on either side of the bookshelves, tables cluttered with loose paper. Besides the garden, this was another place of refuge. One open book immediately caught her attention, scent of cinnamon and wood sage evidence of Kuja's earlier presence. The lantern provided necessary light, though she chanted a quick fire spell to give it more lumination.
"Conde Petie," she said aloud. "You are hiding something Kuja, and I don't like it."
If he was indeed plucking the violin earlier, that would be one of the few exceptions.
"Village of the Dwarves," she read. "A male and female pledge their lives and heart to one another, and make a pilgrimage to the Sanctuary. Passage is refused to those who choose to live alone."
The ritual, of course. The fae had a similar one in their many clans. How could she forget? It was no different than any other marriage ceremony across all of Gaia.
Hilda suddenly felt very faint and had to sit down. All she needed was another unhappy and loveless union. This was another grand play of his, to be sure. That man spoke too much to his prisoner, revealed too many horrors, and now he wished to be a husband even if for but a moment.
But yet, despite his narcissism and cruelty to others, his immodest attire (even by fae standards), was he any worse to her than Cid? Kuja didn't flirt with other women, didn't laugh at her when she came in from the garden covered with dirt. He talked and talked about himself and the chaos he desired, then listened to her about her day. And all over a cup of hot tea or chalice of wine before shooing her away so he could go on about his business.
Kuja was a clever and confusing man. A soul so filled with hatred, but a mind open to a neglected lady from Lindblum.
As Hilda raised to collect her lantern, another tome caught her attention. It lay beside the Conde Petie volume. "A Study on the Ancient Fae."
The seal to his bedchambers would be smashed to the ground.
xxx
It took one chant to break open Kuja's bedchamber door, the seal no more than a fine mist in the air once Hilda was through with it. Shadows moved across the marble walls and floor when she stepped inside, the dark quiet of the night pouring in from the lone window. The violin stood on a nightstand next to an empty chalice. Smoke curled from blown out candles.
Hilda ignored the silent teleport on the left, instead focused her attention on the large bed where the wizard slept. But before she could storm her way over and shake him awake, a growl beside the teleport both distracted and frustrated her. A large tiger began to stalk the fae, white fangs glistening for a meal.
She managed to dodge the first strike with its paw, used the lantern to cast a quick fira spell at its eyes. "What sort of person keeps a monster in his bedchamber?!"
A monster himself.
Blind from the fae's fira, the tiger leapt in her direction, knocking over a few candles. She dropped her cloak as she backed away, purposefully making her way toward the window. Moonlight wasn't quite as strong as sunlight, but it would be sufficient for here. Fae folk drew their magic from the elements, making Gaia work for them. Medicinal teas and potions were made with the sun or moon, stars provided light for a wedding or birth. A moonbeam straight to the heart caused death.
She spun on her heel, the tiger's paw inches from her throat, and called forth the light of night. A swirling ray stemmed from the window, cascaded into the room, dove into the tiger's chest. The creature fell on its side, motionless; Hilda collapsed against the wall and wished for a goblet of brandied cider. "Any other surprises?" she whispered.
The candles righted themselves and flames danced to life on the wicks. "At least one more," a voice called from beneath the sheets, followed by a Terran curse. Kuja sat up in his bed, glared at the woman who stood wide-eyed in his private chambers. Even in sleep he didn't wear many clothes.
"Good evening," she said, voice barely audible.
"Hardly," he replied. "How did you -?" He glanced at the door, then back at her. "You broke through my seal?"
Now it was Hilda's turn to give a smug smile. "Took me one try."
That had been a Terran seal. No one should have been able to pass through without getting burned. "I've underestimated you, lady."
"You're not the first man to speak those words."
"Then I'm positive I'm also not the first to invite you to spend the night."
Hilda's smile disappeared into Ifrit's domain, never to return. "Kuja ..."
"You don't have much of a choice. This palace is fickle and the defense system activates if anything of mine is disturbed. Hordes of beasts are roaming the halls right now and unless you care to fight your way through, you are stuck here until dawn."
The fae ran to the door, side-stepping the tiger's corpse, and opened it just enough to peer outside into the hall. A pair of claws cut through the air inches from her nose. Hilda slammed the door with a thud. "Wonderful, another mistake I've made," she muttered.
"What brings you to my bedchambers?" Kuja asked, sliding over. The sheets slid down to his waist.
Hilda became very aware of what little both of them were wearing. She herself only wore a cotton chemise that barely reached her ankles. The top had fallen off one shoulder in her struggle with the tiger creature. "Do you wish to marry me?" she finally asked.
His smile turned her stomach. "It'll be a marvelous play, lady. I desire passage and they have laws."
"I'm already married."
"To a faithless human. Keep in mind that I can throw you into my dungeon at any moment, but I choose to give you freedom and treat you well. I'd say, Hilda, you owe me a favor."
Kuja sounded like the rogue crime boss that occasionally roamed the Lindblum streets. All he lacked was the thick cigar and small bag of white powder. And a hat. "Dwarves talk, Kuja. They'll ask questions about our past."
"I have that planned, Hilda. Sit down and I shall explain. The sun won't rise for another five or six hours."
"Where am I to sit?" Her options were limited to the floor or his bed. Neither seemed appropriate.
Kuja allowed his eyes to roam over her curves for a moment, currently second-guessing his decision to treat her with proper dignity. "Use common sense, Lady Hilda."
Common sense told her to risk the monsters out in the halls or jump out the window. Morbid curiosity instructed her to sit on the edge of a madman's bed, shut her eyes, and think of the Lindblum empire.
"Oh, honestly, lady. If I had wanted that from you, I'd have already taken it."
She quickly recalled the many aphrodisiacs planted in his garden.
Right beside the poisons and hallucinogens.
Oh, dear.
"Alright, wizard." Hilda sat on the corner of his bed, but kept her eyes open and chose not to think of her husband's empire. "Talk."
So he did. Quite a bit, actually.
xxx
"Sing for me, lady."
"Pardon?"
"Sing me to sleep, I'm exhausted."
"Play your violin instead."
"Sing a fae hymn, one of your legends." Kuja lay back against the headboard. "Mm, what's that one about the thief and his beloved...? Oh, the Highwayman."
"That's a story."
"What about the miraculous medicus? The funny man with the big blue box."
"That's for children."
Kuja pouted. "I like that one."
"How about I sing about our monks with their fiery swords?" she spat with a heated glare. "That ought to give you peaceful dreams."
"The headless ones? Please do."
Hilda dropped her head into her palms.
xxx
"Shall we play cards?" Kuja pulled a deck from underneath the pillow.
Hilda sighed, fighting a smile. "I gambled a bit in Lindblum, wizard. It won't end well for you."
"Treno house rules."
"No." She'd end up in an even worse situation if her hand happened to lose. Not a risk she'd want to take.
xxx
Lady Hilda crossed her legs and sat like a child in the middle of the bed. She briefly stared out the window at the bright, full moon and its many companion stars. Then she heard the humming from behind her, deep and almost mournful. The words followed next.
Sit here by my side - for the night is very long - there's something I must tell - before I pass along -
"Kuja?"
"Yes?"
"How do you know that?"
He gave a tired grin. "Don't you remember, lady? You were singing it when I first met you."
"Is that something else you plan on telling the dwarves?"
"Maybe, though I was referring to when I boarded your airship."
"Hijacked."
"You were crying."
" ... I haven't really stopped."
xxx
"Shall we get our stories straight? I'd like a few hours sleep, Lady Hilda." Kuja poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher on his nightstand.
Hilda wished for a glass of brandied cider. "You heard me sing, wizard. Out in my garden."
"Under a fruit tree," he smiled.
"That's right. You asked to taste my fruit."
Kuja scowled. "It sounds risque when you say it like that."
"Well, what sort of fruit are you referring to?!"
"Mm, I do have a fondness for cherries..."
Sweet Shiva, this man was going to drive her mad. Why bother picking the mandrake at all? Deadly nightshade would act better in her favor.
"Perhaps a promegranate."
Hilda stole his pillow and fought the urge to whack him repeatedly over the head with it. He'd likely throw a flare star in her direction, then make frightening use of her torched corpse in ways that were probably illegal in most parts of Lindblum. The fae folk might be willing to give a dispensation.
xxx
"Tell me again how you have such a beautiful garden in the desert?" Hilda said with a yawn.
"That's a personal secret." Kuja leaned forward and touched her cheek. "Now go to sleep. Traveling tired makes me cranky."
Hilda stared at him, at the bed she sat on, him again. "Where am I supposed to -?"
"Common sense, Hilda."
"But -"
"Again, Lady Hilda." His voice dropped a degree while he entwined their fingers together. "If I truly desired that, I'd already have the scratch marks along my back."
xxx
Hour later, when the rays of the sun replaced the moon, Hilda awoke nestled under a soft sheet and warm blanket. She rubbed her eyes, but felt quite alert despite the lack of a full eight hours. While she had sewn lavender sprigs in her pillows, Kuja had sewn hops in his. Well, a mage had probably sewn it in. She couldn't imagine Kuja taking the time to stitch anything. Hmph, that might explain the indecent attire.
She relaxed for a moment, staring up at the ornate ceiling. At least there wasn't a mirror hanging above them, and he didn't snore. It was an uneventful night. For the most part.
Until Hilda felt something strange against her side. Something hard.
And fuzzy.
"You perverted man!" Hilda jerked aside the covers and dove out of the bed. She fell in a heap onto the floor. "I'll not be shown such disrespect!"
"Then get off of the floor, lady." Kuja sat up, offered her his hand. "Honestly, haven't you seen a tail before?"
His hair was tussled and tangled. The tail itself lay limp across the sheet, all except the very end which playfully thumped against the bed. Hilda took his hand and started to laugh. "A tail!" she exclaimed. "Oh, that's adorable! Let me see!"
"Adorable?" He almost let her fall back on her behind. "Take that back."
"Why do you hide it? Tails are exotic, wizard."
"Woman, go get ready. The beasts should be gone by now." Tails were not exotic. His was cumbersome, an annoyance, a reminder of his origins. He wanted it cut off and torched to satisfaction.
Hilda scowled at him. "Oh, fine." She grabbed her discarded cloak and exited the chamber. She just wanted see it, maybe touch it a little. In her slight agitation, a black mage nearly became an unfortunate knocked-over victim. "Pardon me!"
"Sorry, madam," the mage said. He held a tray with two mugs of steaming coffee. "Do you and the master wish for coffee?"
Hilda smiled. "I guess so. Is breakfast almost prepared?"
"Number 68 is on his way."
The lack of names was highly disturbing. Even created servants were persons in their own right. "I might as well stay here then. It wouldn't be the first time Kuja and I shared a meal together."
"The beasts didn't harm you, did they, madam?"
"No, I was -" she paused briefly. "I'm the one who activated the defense system last night. Kuja offered me sanctuary in his chambers."
"Hm," the mage mused. "I wonder why the master didn't take the time to deactivate it."
Hilda blinked. "What?"
"Madam, this palace and everything in it is his to control. He could have turned it off whenever he wanted."
Mystic: Aaaaaand, I think we'll end it here. I hope I didn't warp the palace's defense system too much for the sake of this little oneshot, plus the not-so-vague Doctor Who fun. Creative license. Now readers, drop a little feedback if you don't mind. Tell me I'm awesome, tell me where I need to improve. Praise, constructive criticism, have a little fun. Until next time. ;)