Child of the Wilderness

By Sarun

Zelos recalls parts of his past in a dream. I set this POV to the song "Child of the Wilderness" from The Phantom of the Opera. I thought this song fit Zelos perfectly.


He normally wore a cheerful expression, a bright smile that was innocent and yet cunning at the same time. Every now and then his expression would be mischievous instead, ready to draw playful attention to himself with his antics. His wavy red hair and bright blue eyes added to the effect, the image he gave of a young man still reveling in immaturity.

Rarely would he let this mask slip. And yet there were always those times. Times when he could not stop his mask from slipping, or the memories found behind it.

The Chosen of Tethealla tossed and turned in the depths of his dream. Eyes clenched shut, his mouth in a frown, lines of worry etched upon his handsome face.

A stream of words muttered from his mouth: "Don't do it, mother, please don't…"

Child of the wilderness

Born into emptiness

Learn to be lonely

Learn to find your way in darkness

Zelos sat at the end of the dining table, trying to concentrate on his dinner, to ignore his mother's gaze.

Impossible.

Her gaze, powerful and menacing, felt like a suffocating sheet. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the head butler, Sebastian, with a worried look upon his face as he stood by the table.

Mylene Wilder sipped her tea, her eyes set upon the child that sat across from her. Her child - she grimaced inwardly at the thought. His long red hair, blue eyes, facial features, and his mannerism, even, all so resembled the man she had been obligated to marry. Who was rarely at home, involved in his own interests.

Not that she minded his long absences that badly. She heartily disliked him, as she had always, and he cared not for her. It gave her ample opportunity to "visit" Count Arman, and not to mention…

Noticing that her teacup, delicate and painted with the design of pink roses, was nearly empty, Mylene stopped in her thoughts to pour herself more tea.

Zelos felt the suffocating stare evaporate. Forgetting himself, he let his gaze lift a slight fraction from the table.

Holding the refilled steaming teacup to her lips, Mylene glanced sharply once more across the table, catching her son's frightened blue eyes.

It happened in a flash: her hand whipped forward, the teacup flying past her fingers and smashing against the boy's forehead.

Scalding liquid burned where it landed, sharp shards of the cup flying asunder. Zelos cried out, falling backwards off his chair. Sebastian started forward, only to be stopped by the lady's gaze. She stood up slowly, unaffected by her son's cries, and walked around the table to where he lay. Zelos held one hand to his forehead, trickles of blood seeping past his fingers.

She stood there, her face expressionless as she stared down at him. "Sebastian!"

"Milady…?"

"Clean this mess up" she signaled to the broken shards upon the floor. With a sweeping motion of her dress, Mylene walked out of the dining room.

Sebastian hurried forward, taking the case of Apple Gel out of his pocket as he looked over Zelos's injury. "It is all right, Chosen" he murmured "Do not cry, it is over." Dabbing at the wound on the boy's forehead, it healed over, the skin mending in matter of seconds. Zelos sat in silence, shaking slightly but no longer crying.

Thought it broke him to see it, Sebastian had no power to stop Lady Mylene from mistreating Master Zelos. All he could do was comfort the boy after it was done.

"Thank you, Sebastian" Zelos stood up, brushing away traces of tears and returning to his seat.

Who will be there for you?

Comfort and care for you?

Learn to be lonely

Learn to be your one companion

Bright colors filled the air, confetti and fireworks, the loud cheers of the people from all sides thundered.

Zelos, dressed in his finest attire for the occasion, along with his mother and father, stood before the Church of Martel, as was traditional for the family of the Chosen on this annual ceremony.

Glancing up briefly, he saw his father clearly enjoying the attention, waving and grinning at the crowd. His mother stood at his father's other side, dressed in a fine silk gown, her expression the usual one she reserved from ceremonies – stiff with what could pass as a small smile to the untrained eye.

The ceremony had ended hours before, the sun had long gone; the sky dark and the stars beginning to emerge. The streets of Meltokio were brightly lit with lanterns of every color, dinner parties at every corner of the city, the members of the upper class out and about in their finest clothes.

Zelos stood by the window, watching. Only a thin sheet of glass separated him from the outside, but it seemed as though he were observing a different world.

His father had had left several hours prior with the half-elf woman in the flowing green dress, the one who came by most evenings, and a return before the next day was unlikely.

His mother had left soon after, accompanied by the count with long brown hair.

The glass felt cool against his forehead as he leaned in close, his eyes idly following passers-by.

That boy looked to be about four or five. The clothes he wore showed his rank to be below that of the upper class, more fitting for the son of a well-to-do merchant. His small hand closed around the fingers of his father as they walked together. As Zelos watched, the boy yawned suddenly and rubbed his eyes with a fisted hand. His father stopped, bent down and gently picked him up. His head settled against his father's shoulder, they continued the walk back home.

For a moment, they caught each other stares. The boy stared in likely awe and slight envy at the boy standing near the window of the elegant mansion, with the fine garden, marble statues and curling sparkles of light in the windows.

The son of the Chosen stared in awe and envy at the simple merchant boy who had what he never would.

Never dreamed

That out in the world

There are arms to hold you

You've always known

Your heart was on its own

A marble headstone stood before him, adorned with countless flowers. At his side, his mother wore a black dress and veil. He could hear the sound of his little sister's restrained sobs. Behind him stood practically the entire population of Meltokio, dressed in somber colors for the traditional memorial to the sacrificed Chosen. The pope's loud voice echoed through the cold air, leading what seemed like another endless prayer. Barely audible, the new Chosen whispered:

"Goodbye…father"

So laugh, in your loneliness

Child of the wilderness

Learn to be lonely

Learn how to love

Life that is lived alone

His face was numb from the cold – except for where the patches of the red liquid had landed. His shoulder felt numb as well, where his mother's hand was clenched.

He could hear the footsteps of the armored guards crunching in the snow…the screams of the attacker as she was captured…Sebastian calling his name and running towards them … but nothing blocked out the last bitter words of his mother

"You should never have been born"

Mylene managed to utter the words she had longed to speak for so long. Then her body grew still, her eyes glazing, her blonde hair spread in a halo against the red snow.

Her dead hand retained its grip upon her son.

His blue eyes flew open – Zelos sat bolt upright, breathing in short, panicked gasps. Wiping away beads of sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand, he looked desperately around the room for some kind of reassurance-

The room was the same one the group had rented for the night. Purple curtains, faded maroon carpets and old painting hung upon the walls. From the room window he could see that a light snow had begun to fall outside the inn, the snowflakes beginning to gather on the windowsill. The room was dark, yet he could make out the outlines of the rest of the group as they slept. Sheena, Lloyd, Regal, Presea, Raine, Genis and Collette. They were all there. Safe.

Together…

Zelos lowered his head into his hands, his eyes closing as he breathed in deeply. After a few moment's calm, he let himself fall back onto the bed, his fingers unconsciously running over his shoulder. Suddenly noticing, he crossed his arms over his chest, closing his eyes determinedly. In the morning, he will resume his cheery mask and his playful antics.

Learn to be lonely

Life can be lived

Life can be loved

Alone
My first TOS fic, hope you enjoyed it.