A/N: Mm, we have a bit of a random pairing here with Hugo x Marian. Admittedly, this is one of those ideas that came to me already fully formed so I don't even know what made me write it. It's a small part of the fic and not romantic at all. Really, would I put the poor girl in an actual relationship with such a man?
Disclaimer: I don't own Tales of Destiny; I just write fanfiction about it.
Hugo and Marian are not lovers. That would imply this exchange is an act of love rather than something they just do and then never speak of. They're merely two adults with needs they want to fulfil and wants they need to sedate. He's older than her and knows a few tricks to make her crave him, but that doesn't change the fact that it's lust like literature, completely formulaic. Rising action, climax, falling action and it's over. The story's sequels are all the same and not one stands out from the rest. Their sex is beautiful but mechanical, like dancers who've overmemorized the choreography. There's no emotion, no passion, just a mutual loneliness that they desperately want to alleviate, even if just for a little while. She's almost attracted to him when he's not speaking with his usual cold arrogance; he always thought she was pretty, but he finds her even moreso when she's on her back. Even so, this isn't a romance and that's how they prefer it. A house maid, Hugo thinks, is good for little more than an easy fuck and a convenient excuse for him to further shirk his parenting duties. Marian believes him to be broken and twisted beyond repair and she can't love a man like that.
If there is enough light in the room and if she turns her head just right, Marian can see Hugo's late wife's eyes peering at her through picture frame glass, piercing her with an accusing glare that only exists in her guilty imagination. The physical similarities between them are almost freakish right down to the length of their soft raven hair. Marian knows that's the only reason she was hired by Hugo, she assumes it's the only reason he invited her into his bed and she fears it's the only reason Hugo's young son, Emilio, grew attached to her.
Marian hears that Hugo's low breathing has evened out and it's obvious that he's asleep. He's at his most vulnerable and he still seems guarded, like there's something he's hiding from the world. It's not hard for Marian to remember why she secretly disapproves of everything he is. She slowly, carefully eases her body from the mattress and reaches out. She lifts the copper picture frame from the nightstand. It's mercifully dark and she can't see Chris's face, but she when she sets it down, she makes it face the opposite way. She slips out of the bed and finds her clothes on the floor. She dresses in the dark and leaves, quietly closing the door behind her. This is a regular occurance and Hugo never asks her where or why. Marian's glad he doesn't pretend to care.
She pads down the hall, her bare feet making no sound against the floor, and stops by Emilio's door. She opens it and sticks her head in. He's sleeping soundly, nestled so deeply in the blankets that the top of his black hair is all that's visible. Marian tiptoes in and fixes the blankets. The child stirs ever so slightly, but doesn't awaken. Marian gently kisses the side of his face before leaving him to dream about whatever it is that contents him so. She wonders if he would think any less of her if he knew what goes on behind closed doors. He's too young to understand right now, but old enough to have already developed a rather strong dislike toward Hugo. Marian doesn't blame him; in spite of living under the same roof when Hugo is actually around, the two are already estranged.
She's the only one up at this hour, but the other maids carelessly left candles lit. Instead of blowing them out and going off to bed, Marian sinks down to the floor and buries her head in her hands.
She feels that she's lost herself somewhere along the way, that she's merely a substitute for whom she was certain was a wonderful woman, one that she'll never be able to live up to. She's supposed to be something that cannot exist. No matter how she looks at it, she knows it's true. She has no identity to these people and how can she when she's raising Chris's child, sleeping with Chris's husband, living Chris's life. But what about her life? Is she living a double life or has she just conformed to what she is expected to be? She hits the floor with her open palm, a paroxysm of frustration washing over her. She doesn't cry, though. Crying and acceptance do not go hand in hand and she has already accepted her duties.
Her ears pick up the sound of a door creaking open. She looks and sees a rather bewildered looking Emilio standing in his doorway. He blinks, still groggy, before focusing on Marian. Immediately, he's aware that Marian is troubled and kneels by her side. His violet gaze is questioning, but when he opens his mouth to speak, all he can manage is a yawn.
Marian asks him the questions any concerned guardian would; did she wake him, did he have a bad dream, is he sick?
He says that no, he's all right, he simply heard something startling.
She assures him that it was just her, smiles tenderly and tucks him back into bed. He's so sleepy that he obliges without any semblance of a struggle.
"Good night," he mumbles automatically, already a million miles away in the arms of sleep.
"Good night," Marian whispers back, leaving the room and closing the door behind her.
How ridiculous, she thinks, her previous train of thought was. This is her life, not Chris's. Hugo may view her as a convenient replacement and Emilio's too young to judge, but that doesn't change the fact that this is her life and she loves it. It certainly isn't perfect, but it's the little things that make it worth living. She just needs a reminder from time to time.
The candles are still blazing and she remembers to blow them out before going to bed.