Summary: After the death of his beloved Nel, Albel is consumed by grief and plagued by dreams and painful memories of her. Only Woltar, his surrogate father and old friend, can offer him the comfort he needs to finally let go. But this task requires Woltar to reveal a secret he has kept hidden since before Albel's birth…
Disclaimer: I do not own 'Star Ocean Till the End of Time' or any of the respective characters.
Warnings: None that I can think of.
A/N: I really wanted to write a fic to show Albel's more 'sensitive' side and a better interaction between him and Woltar, so here it is. Well, seeing as their relationship was a little off in Fascination, I fixed it (hopefully). And since it was Lucrecia LeVrai who pointed that out, this story is dedicated to you!
Confessions by MoonlightShe came to him again that night, a whisper of shadow in the darkness of the bedroom. As he drowsed, Albel saw the silhouette of a woman drifting towards him like a cloud…
Like a dream.
In his mind's eye, vivid scarlet hair floated around a perfect face and vibrant green eyes that flashed with a wonderful light. It seemed so real to him that in the dream Albel held his arms open to Nel and she wrapped her arms around him. Her heart pounded against his chest, her breath was warm on his neck. He would never forget how Nel had smelled, a sweet and spicy fragrance that sometimes had a hint of lavender or sometimes a whisper of wildflowers. He would always remember how slender she had been, yet how powerful. Touching her had always been his delight; he had loved the feeling of the silkiness of her skin and the firm muscled flesh underneath his fingers. Her kisses…lips both yielding and unyielding at the same time, fire and ice touching his mouth…
Albel drifted in sleep, and smiled, and sighed. Nel.
Then, as suddenly as it had come, the dream was gone. And Albel was left, cold and alone. Crimson eyes blinked open slowly and a bitter sigh escaped his lips as he recalled the memory of her. He sat up in the enormous bed, flinging back the heavy blankets and swinging his legs to the floor. For a few moments, he cradled the vision of Nel in his mind, the scent of her perfume still tenderly taunting his nose. A stab of pain jabbed him sharply in his chest and his mouth twisted in a grimace.
It was still dark, with a number of hours till dawn and the starless night was quiet. A cold breeze, blowing through the room, teased his shirtless chest until he relented and dressed in the thin black shirt he had discarded earlier. Pressing one hand to his temple, he absentmindedly reached for a goblet at his bedside but the claws of his left hand knocked it to the floor. A stream of wine spilled onto the thick carpet, a black puddle forming on the red fabric. Cursing, he threw the goblet at the wall angrily, his face a portrait of loathing and disgust. Albel glared at the offending limb, or rather its ghost. A shadow of throbbing pain echoed through the remaining stump of his hand and he shifted restlessly in place, dark shadows darting in and out of his thoughts. He rose abruptly and strode to the stone basin beneath the window, cupping his hands in the cool water and splashing it on his face. Albel shivered slightly from the shock of the icy water and leaned on the rim, staring at the sliver of moon peeking out at the sleepy town from behind a bank of clouds.
Albel drew in a deep breath and turned back to his bed when a flash of scarlet caught his eye. His heart leapt in his chest and he opened his mouth to call out to her, but his voice was caught in his throat. It was not her.
It never would be.
The woman he loved was six feet under, a corpse rotting in the ground.
He slumped against the wall, rubbing the remnants of his hand pensively and a scowl marred his pointed face. Albel twisted the silver ring on his finger in agitation, a familiar movement that sent jagged emotion lancing through him. It was the ring that Nel had given him, the same one that she herself had worn.
The silver ring was exquisitely wrought and depicted two hands holding a heart crowned with a wreath of flowers. She had given it to him the very day she had first told him that she loved him…
"People in Aquaria exchange these as a sign of devotion. The two hands," she murmured, leaning closer to him, "Represent unity and the flowers represent faithfulness. And the heart, well, you know…" She had smiled affectionately at him. "Wearing the ring means that you belong to someone."
Nel had held out her hand to him and showed him the ring on her finger. She belonged to someone. Belonged to him. He smiled wistfully, the sweet memory coursing through his veins. That was also the first night that he had made love to her and he remembered her uncertainty, his hesitation.
Whatever view Albel had presented to the world, he was not promiscuous and before Nel, had never taken a woman to bed. It was not that Albel disliked women or found men more appealing; it was simply that he had never before found a woman worthy of his affections. Well, before Nel at least. She had told him, with a wry smile that she too was a virgin.
"So," she had said, poking him hard in the chest, "You do not have to worry about relinquishing your prize to me Albel, because you will be the first to receive mine."
Perhaps she had seen some kind of worry in his eyes. Nevertheless, he had laughed and taken her into his arms.
Then he had had to watch her waste away while he stood helpless by her side. Watch as the disease devoured his beloved, until there was nothing left to consume.
His hand clenched tighter on his shirt and the thin material scrunched willingly in his fist. It was pointless, he reasoned to himself in the dark, not to mention dangerous, to dwell on the beautiful soldier who had stormed his fortress and conquered his heart. Pointless, because she was dead, and dangerous…well, her ghost already haunted his dreams. He doubted whether he would be able to keep his sanity intact if he began seeing her during the day. The nights were bad enough.
His gaze flickered around his room, normally comfortable and welcoming, now closing in on him like a rat and unable to shake off his sudden restlessness, he began to pace the room like a caged tiger. Albel clutched his head in one hand, feeling more claustrophobic by the second.
By the gods, he thought as a furious growl of frustration ripped from his throat, he would go insane by merely staying in this room. He had to get out, had to leave.
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Moments later, he stood in the faint moonlight atop the mansion rooftop. He breathed in the cool air deeply and the still night was calming, as his frustration gradually ebbed away from him.
"Bit late for stargazing, eh?"
Albel did not turn around. "What do you want, old man?"
Count Woltar shrugged, limping forward slowly to join the swordsman. "Fresh air."
He snorted and his red eyes were cold. "I want to be alone, Woltar."
"Are you ordering me in my own house Albel? I think there is room enough for both of us up here," he said, lowering himself to sit on the edge and groaning slightly as he did so. Next to him lay an ornate walking stick, hand carved out of a beautiful red wood.
Something flickered in the eyes of the Black Brigade captain. "You should be resting. The doctor said-"
"I know what he said and he's a fool. All this old leg needs," he said, thumping his injured leg lightly, "Is a bit of exercise."
"What an idiotic geriatric like you needs is rest-"
"And since when have you been the coddling type, Albel? Besides, I would much rather talk about you."
"Not my favorite topic of conversation, old man."
His gaze softened as he glanced upwards at the younger man. "Sit down boy."
"I would prefer to stand."
"Sit down."
There was no mistaking the command in his voice and Albel lowered himself to the floor beside Woltar reluctantly, swinging his legs over the edge.
"Now," he began, "Perhaps you will tell me why you have taken to wandering my mansion at night."
Albel stiffened and fixed his gaze on the moonlit town of Kirlsa. "None of your business Woltar."
The pair sat in silence for a few moments before the older man spoke. "Is it about the Zelpher woman, boy?" Albel jerked next to him suddenly as if he had been shocked and Woltar thought he saw an odd shimmer in his eyes. A tear?
"I don't want to talk about her."
"Such a shame," he continued as if he had not heard Albel. "A remarkable fighter and a superb leader for a woman. But the good always die young and Nel was no exception-"
"SHUT UP!" Albel leapt to his feet, his fists clenching in anger.
"What did you say to me, boy?"
"You heard me, shut up!"
"Watch your mouth when you talk to me, Albel, now sit down!" he snapped, his dark eyes flashing.
"No, you listen to me, Woltar!" his red eyes burned furiously and a muscle twitched in his cheek. "I am sick of your meddling, I want to be left alone!"
The Storm Brigade captain opened his mouth to retort but Albel cut him off. "How could you understand what I feel? You have no idea, no clue of what it felt like to watch her die! I stood there and watched her die. Those fools thought they could give me comfort by talking of her 'heroic deeds' and her 'brave spirit' while she lay on her deathbed," he spat. "When all I really wanted was for her to return to me, where she belonged!" When Albel had finished shouting, he was trembling violently.
Albel expected him to be livid, but instead Woltar gave a sad sigh and patted the spot where Albel had been sitting. "I could not understand boy, because you refused to open your mouth. Now sit down again, before I have to force you."
"You? Force me?" he growled, a sneer pulling at his mouth. "You amuse me, old man."
There was a sharp thwack and Albel collapsed on his knees beside Woltar, struck speechless.
Woltar smiled placidly and returned his walking stick to his side. "At least it is useful for something."
With red eyes narrowed, Albel stared hard at him. "You have some nerve you old fool," he said, a shadow of his old smirk tugging his reluctant lips. If it had been any other man who dared strike Albel the Wicked, they would have found themselves minus a limb and in a world of pain. However, Woltar was no ordinary man. A sort of 'surrogate' father to Albel since the age of sixteen, he commandeered a grudging respect from the Black Brigade swordsman that no other man had. Of course, Albel would rather be strung up by his entrails that admit he actually might care for the old man. Besides, Woltar and Glou Nox had been close friends and Glou had always insisted that his son treat him with some decency and Albel supposed that it had become habit even after his father's death. Hence the reason that Albel might actually listen to the Storm Brigade captain. And be vaguely polite (or as polite as the Wicked One was capable of).
"Ah well, at least I know I have not lost that over the years." He shifted in place, rubbing his leg absentmindedly. "You said, boy, that I would not understand."
"What of it? You never married and I certainly never saw you with a woman while I was growing up."
Woltar laughed, coughing slightly. "There was one, boy, you just never knew about her. I loved her above anything and anyone else."
Albel caught the hidden sorrow in the old man's voice and frowned. "What happened to her?"
His eyes were drifting, floating faraway to places where Albel could not see. "She died a long time ago."
"How?"
Woltar glanced sideways at him and his voice was soft when he replied. "She died giving birth to you."
Stunned, Albel could only stare at the man he thought of as a friend and a father. "You were in love with my mother?"
"Shocked, Albel?" he said bitterly, staring at the sleeping town. "Yes, I did love her. Damn near ripped out my heart when she died."
"But…what about my father? I thought that you were his friend, his companion! All the times that you spoke of loyalty, to me, what about him?"
"Just because I loved Alyssa Nox, does not mean I acted on it. And I suspected that Glou always knew how I felt about his wife but he trusted me nonetheless. He never had to worry though, Alyssa was completely devoted to him and did not return my affections. On my part, it was respect for you fathers friendship and your mothers honor as well as my own pride as a knight that forbade me from pursuing her after their marriage."
Albel had to force himself to speak. "Why did you never tell me? Why did my father never say anything? Did my-" he swallowed hard before continuing, "mother know?"
"I asked myself the same questions, many times. Glou would not have wanted you to think any less of me as you grew up, knowing how stubborn and resentful you might have become. For myself, it was the same. At your birth, Glou told me that if ever something happened to him, I was to care for you. And I took that to heart, Albel. I did not wish for you, a boy I regarded as something of a son, to hate me. For me, you were all that remained of Alyssa." His eyes closed wearily and then opened again. "Alyssa knew, I think, but she trusted me because Glou did."
"When she died, I had to push my own grief aside to help your father. Along with the loss of his wife, he had to cope with a newborn baby and I accepted that he needed me. After that, however, I swore that I would never love another woman as much as her. A foolish thing to do, really."
"Why?"
Woltar looked at him, surprised. "Good lord, boy, I swore off love for the rest of my natural life, shunning every woman who came my way. I could not bring myself to love any of them, comparing each of them to her perfection and convinced I was betraying her memory. And you are preparing to make the same mistakes I did."
Albel scowled. "What would you know?"
"Grief is natural Albel, but you are bordering on obsession. I know that this is the last thing you want to hear but you have to let go. Nel Zelpher is dead and gone."
The red eyes were damp and his voice was a dry whisper. "What if I cannot forget?"
"This is something you must do for yourself Albel. Else you might be destined to become a very lonely old man."
Woltar rose stiffly, using his walking stick for support and began limping back to the stairwell. "I know you loved her Albel, better than you think. But she is gone and you are still here. Think only of that."
A single tear sparkled as it fell through the air and plunged to the floor. "I wish it were that simple, old man."
"It never is, boy. It never is."
Albel heard the cane knocking stone, the echo fading gradually. "Do you think her death was punishment for my sins?" he said abruptly. The sound stopped suddenly and the echoes faded into nothing
Woltar looked back, his eyes narrowing. "What are you talking about?" he asked sharply. "Nel died from a disease, a terrible tragedy that had nothing to do with you."
"I've thought about this many times since she died," he said quietly, "Are the sins I committed in my life so great that I did not deserve happiness? Was she taken from me because the gods did not think I deserved to love and be loved?"
"Albel, I have never heard a more stupid thing from anyone in my life!" he said roughly, turning to look at the forlorn swordsman. "Nel chose of her own free will to love you, even the gods could not force her otherwise. Do you feel as if she was forcing herself to love you?"
Albel stared at the ring glinting on his finger. "No."
"Nel loved you and you loved her. If you take nothing else from here, remember that. I often wondered myself actually, if the gods were punishing me for loving another mans wife, for my inability to love a woman other than Alyssa. But as I grew older, I realized that I was preventing myself. My stubborn pride, guilt at betraying Glou, knowing Alyssa's undying loyalty to her husband…I tortured myself for years." He sighed and then smiled suddenly. "Nel left you a gift Albel: the ability to love. It would be an insult to her memory if you abused that gift."
There was no answer from Albel and he sat still and silent in the moonlight. Woltar began treading heavily down the stairs when he heard him.
"… Thank you, Woltar."
The solemn acknowledgement made the old mans eyes water and when he smiled, his wrinkled face seemed to be illuminated with a ray of pure sunlight. "You're welcome Albel," he said gruffly, disappearing down the stairs.
Albel was left alone on the rooftop, his ring warm in his palm. Slowly, he raised the ring to his lips and kissed it gently before sliding it back onto his finger.
Woltar had made his confession. It was time for Albel to make his.
Nel.
After my father died, I became cold, dead. You revived me with your strong will and passion, made me whole again after so many years of living incomplete. I never thanked you for that, did I? But you always knew; I could see it in your eyes.
Do you know what that maggot Cliff told me after your burial? 'It is better to have loved and lost then never loved at all'. At the time, I was on the verge of separating his head from his body but now, painful as it is for me to admit it, perhaps he was right.
He laughed ruefully, imaging the blonde's reaction if he heard that one and immediately sobered, remembering what he was here for. There was one thing he had not told Woltar, one thing he had been too ashamed to reveal.
I…I wish that I had told you that I loved you. Even when you were dying, I could not bring myself to say it. You deserved to hear it from my lips every day, every moment.
I'm sorry.
He raised his face to the moonlight and a tear gleamed with the brilliance of a diamond on his pale cheek.
"I love you ."
The End.