Post-TRY. Xellos is still dropping by for visits; Filia is no longer certain what to make of it. Psychological. Slayers is not mine, etc. etc.

Of Secrets Unkept

When she awakens to the unmistakable sound of screaming, Filia realizes that this isn't going to be the best of days. At first, she tries pulling the pillow over her head, hoping to block out the noise, but that only seems to make the shouting louder – as if by magic.

That thought rolls around in Filia's head (alongside the clamour, of course) for a minute, and she becomes more and more suspicious that perhaps magic is involved in her current predicament. It would be just like him to—

A door slams violently shut in the next room, and Filia jumps out of bed before she can stop herself. Pulling on her dressing down – Val doesn't really care what she wears, and her guest, unless she's horribly off her mark, has seen her in far less – Filia stomps over to her bedroom door, pulls it open, and gazes sleepily out at the chaos beyond.

Well, she was about ready to get up anyway.

Her eyes scan over the broken pottery, the door torn half of its hinges, and the chaos spread across the floor, before settling upon the cause of this miniature disaster. He's turned away from her, shuffling idly through the contents of one of her cabinets, laughing to himself.

At the sight of him, Filia's lips twitch, undecided about whether to twist into a smile or a frown. "You chased my son away," she finally says, her foot tapping angrily against the floor.

"Yes, well… he spooks rather easily for a former Mazoku, doesn't he?" Xellos hasn't bothered to turn around, but Filia can practically hear the smile in his voice. "It's the Dragon blood, I suspect."

She would have once screamed at him for that, or even attacked him, but long association has taught her how to better control her anger. "You're impossible."

She strides across the room, hoping to better see exactly what has caught Xellos' attention. He turns around when she reaches him, pushing whatever he was looking at out of sight, and Filia can see the bruise blossoming on one side of his face. "He hit you," she sighs, unable to keep herself from reaching out to examine it.

"It's nothing," Xellos laughs, waving her away. "I've had worse."

"You deserve worse," says Filia. "What did you do this time?"

Xellos takes a moment to think about that, and then shrugs. "Ah… we were discussing the late Gaav, as I recall." His eyes flicker open for a brief instant, and Filia can see the gleeful malice in them. "We had a slight… differing of opinion."

"Right," Filia manages through clenched teeth. Her life would have been easier had Val been reborn without his memories, she decides. Even though the subsequent peacefulness would have given Xellos less of an incentive to continue with these random visits.

Another plus, that, Filia has to remind herself.

"Sit down," she orders, stretching her arm out stiffly to point at one of the (unbroken) chairs next to the main table. She is pleasantly surprised when he obeys. "Sometimes I think you come by only to aggravate him."

"Filia, my dear, don't be jealous," Xellos singsongs, his eyes flashing open again before his face shifts back to its normal mimicry of innocence. "Your anger is magnificent to witness as well." Humming to himself, he leans his staff against the wall, setting it beside a pile of shattered pottery.

Glancing at it, Filia frowns.

There's a Mazoku in my home, she finds herself thinking, not for the first time. Even years after everything she thought she believed first came tumbling down, this one fact sometimes still startles her. There's a Mazoku in my home, and all I'm concerned about is some broken pottery.

Shaking her head, she forces the thought and its implications out of her head. "I hope you're ready to clean this up," she tells him, waving her arm towards the mess.

"Anything for you," he replies, but makes no move to do anything at all, for her or otherwise.

It's still too early in the morning, and it's been far too long since she last tried to handle him. Ten seconds later, Filia decides that perhaps Val reacted correctly after all. Shrieking, she pitches one of her dinner plates at Xellos and storms out of the front door.

It will be a good hour before the sound of his resulting laughter stops echoing in her head.

* * *

It was when she had seen him crushed against the wall of that cavern, sliced from shoulder to foot, that Filia had first realized she cared. She had tried, initially, to convince herself that this was simply because he had been a travelling companion, a familiar presence, and that she couldn't bear to see anyone – even a Mazoku, even the slayer of her people – so hurt.

But it had been more than that, of course. She didn't know why – she didn't know how or when – but she had emerged from the far side of loathing and ended up at something altogether different. The idea didn't bother her as much as perhaps it should have; too many of her preconceptions had already been torn away, and what remained—

What remained of her was willing to accept something she couldn't change.

She had said nothing at the time, and if perhaps he had guessed… well, it was simply another mystery, another secret to keep.

* * *

Xellos is still sitting where she left him when Filia finally returns, now calm enough to remember how to evade the most basic aspects of his emotional sabotage. Stepping into her house, she sees that he's flipping through the pages of one of her novels, ignoring the shards of broken ceramics that decorate the floor around him.

The sight is, fortunately, somewhat less irritating than she would have expected.

"What are you reading?" she asks.

He waves the book at her, revealing the words written across the cover, and Filia chokes back a sudden laugh. "Shouldn't that sort of thing kill you?" Of the half dozen or so books she has scattered around her house, he's managed to pick out the sappiest, most ridiculously romantic.

"It's doing its best," Xellos mutters, his voice trapped somewhere between revulsion and fascination. Nevertheless, he turns another page.

Filia snorts, pulls the door shut behind her, and starts to make her way across the room. She manages about five steps before she realizes that Xellos' eyes are fixed upon her. "What?" Filia demands, spinning around.

Xellos shuts his eyes and smiles. "Ah… is this what you had been hoping for, Filia?" he asks, polite but sly, as he tosses the book onto the table. "Storybook romance?"

Filia's jaw begins to twitch. No, she thinks. Who'd possibly want that when instead they could have their very own good for nothing, intrusive, secretive, heartless Mazoku shadow…?

She crushes her anger as much as she can – there's no point in encouraging him – and actually considers the question.

Perhaps once, decades ago, she had expected her life to unfold like a fairytale, long before she had discovered what true horrors fairytales concealed. Everything has changed now, and there's more to it than Xellos – more to it than even Val. Too many lies, too many secrets, too many betrayals lie behind her, and now… good and evil no longer mean what they once did. Her world has become more complicated than that.

Perhaps, therefore, it is not so surprising that she would choose this life. Xellos has become the embodiment of all that she has learned – everything she has come to understand – and Filia could no more turn away from him than she could turn back the sands of time. Even though she knows that no matter what she might mean to him, he would instantly betray her at the whim of his mistress.

Filia doesn't care; this has never been about trust.

She wonders, idly, if Zelas Metallium is predisposed towards jealousy. "Xellos, what is the Beastmaster like?"

He blinks, obviously surprised by the question. He leans forward slightly, his hair swaying around his face. "Well… I guess you could say…" He breaks off, half smiling.

"…that's a secret?" Filia suggests dryly.

Xellos laughs and shrugs. "Ah… of course."

There's a bitter irony there, Filia decides. She has come to know him well enough that she can easily tell when he's not being completely truthful about something, but recognizing that a secret exists is far different from knowing what that secret is. As much progress as she feels like she's made, so much about him is still a faceless mystery. She can't really even tell why, year after year, he has continued to stay with her, even casually.

"Don't you have responsibilities to attend to?" The service of Zelas Metallium is not so easily abandoned as that of the Flarelord, Filia imagines.

Xellos glances sidelong at her, a smile creeping across his face, and then shrugs nonchalantly. "Not at the moment," he admits, and a second later a ridiculous mockery of pensiveness crosses his face. "Unless, of course, I've been tasked to check in on you."

Seeing Filia's face, he laughs and quickly adds, "But I jest."

"Can't you take anything seriously?" she demands.

He considers the question for a moment and then shrugs. "It wouldn't be a very good indication of the state of things."

A good indication of the state of things. Filia wonders what that might mean to a Mazoku, and wishes she couldn't so easily guess. Chaos, the thirst for destruction… she can't overlook Xellos' constant, almost passive maliciousness, but too often she is willing to forget exactly what it means. She may have discounted the demon of her people's stories, but all tales are rooted in some reality.

When the humour drains away, she wonders what she will find beneath.

* * *

Once, years ago, hoping to gain some important insight, some key to handling her increasingly confusing relationship with Xellos, Filia had asked her son what he could still remember of Mazoku psychology. The conversation had gone about as well as she might have expected: Val had refused to speak with her for nearly a week.

When he finally broke down, he had slammed a dagger into her hardwood table. Staring at it, refusing to make eye contact with her, Val had begun, "Everything you think you know is backwards. It goes far beyond simply feeding off of negative energy – even something as simple as the will to survive is twisted, broken, wrong. And there's nothing you can do to change any of it."

He had looked up at her then, and she had seen anger and disapproval in his eyes. "You can't save everyone, Filia. Some people aren't worth it."

* * *

Xellos is watching her, his eyes open – he does that more and more often these days – and she can see the small, secretive smile that settles around his lips. "What?" she demands, her hands curling into fists.

"You're upset," he announces, all too happily.

"You can tell, can you?" Filia grates out.

Xellos' eyes slide shut, and her anger begins to fade. "If it's any consolation," he singsongs, "I have no way of knowing why."

It's not, of course. She can't make him anything other than what he is any more than she can stop being a golden dragon. Sighing, Filia folds herself into the chair across from him. "I'm a fool, aren't I?"

When Xellos' reply comes, it's all too cheerful. "Probably."

Filia wisely chooses to ignore that comment.

"How long are you planning to stay this time?" she asks, for lack of having anything better to say.

Xellos shrugs and makes a noncommittal sound. A crash, a shriek, and a burst of laughter erupt from somewhere outside, and Filia quickly marches over to the window, glances out to make certain that nothing is terribly wrong, and finally shuts it. One source of chaos is more than enough.

"I wish you'd stop visiting only when it's convenient for you," she tells the windowpane.

"Would you prefer it if I stayed away altogether?"

"Yes."

No.

Filia clenches her teeth.

"That's harsh," Xellos complains, but he's grinning widely. Her sudden emotional turmoil probably feels wonderful. "And here I thought we were beginning to get along so nicely."

"Considering how you would probably define nice, I suppose we are," she sniffs. A moment later, she's sighing, realizing that she's probably right. For a being that thrives upon negative emotions, nice must feel entirely different. She spends a moment trying to wrap her head around the problem, to no avail.

This strange mixture of dysfunctional functionality is probably the best she can ever hope for.

She can only wonder if the brief moments of accord – of genuine happiness – make him as uncomfortable as the constant conflict makes her. "Why do you keep on coming back anyway?" she finally asks. Perhaps, after everything, he really is just as crazy, just as masochistic, as she seems to have become.

"How could I stay away from such a… gracious host?" The telltale screech of a chair sliding against the floor makes Filia wince. She glances aside to see that he's tilted his seat back and has stretched his legs out across the table.

Not long ago, the casual disregard would have left her fuming. Now, it's so familiar, so utterly Xellos that she has to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

Perhaps she hasn't managed too poorly if this is the worst type of insult he's still bothering to offer her.

Filia wanders over to the stove and sets a pot of water over it. A simple spell sparks a flame beneath it, and she spends the next minute staring at it, wondering, slightly amused, how long it will take before Xellos says something. Or grows bored enough to go away.

"The fire can't really be that interesting," he murmurs, tapping his fingers arrhythmically against the tabletop. Filia can tell that her sudden, inexplicable good mood has left him somewhat out of sorts.

"Are you feeling neglected?" She hides a smile.

"Ah… never that."

From the corner of her eye, she can see him wilt slightly and then, with a suddenness she'll never quite grow used to, vanish. She frowns, wondering if she has managed to drive him away after all, and jumps when he reappears behind her, far too near for comfort.

Not nearly close enough.

"What is this, a competition?" she gasps. His breath is warm against her throat, and she hates the way she's responding to it. Damn him anyway.

"Mmm. I suppose it is," he agrees breezily, his fingers brushing lightly against her waist.

Xellos is quick – more so than anyone else she has ever known – but he's still much too confident, far too easily taken by surprise. Filia turns around and smashes her fist into his face before he can think to move away. She knows he'll probably enjoy the pain anyway, but his shocked expression is still utterly worth it.

"What was that for?" Xellos protests, rubbing at his face. "So violent…" He teleports back into his chair and start sipping at a cup of tea that he has apparently conjured out of nowhere.

"You don't play fair," she complains.

"I thought we had… established that." He glares at her, far more annoyed than she would've expected, and Filia can't help but laugh at him.

"Punishment is good for your moral education," she informs him, before shrugging. "Though in your case… perhaps not so much."

* * *

She had hoped to save him, once – to pull him out of his hateful, self-destructive tendencies as she already had with Val. It was a fanciful goal, but Filia could see the obvious delight he took in interacting with the world, and decided that perhaps positive emotion was not such a foreign concept to him.

"Wouldn't that be a pretty accomplishment to put to your name?" Xellos had lilted, playfully wagging a finger in her face. The gesture took none of the sting out of his words. "The redemption of the Priest of Beastmaster Zelas Metallium… is that what you're thinking? It shows some ambition, at least."

And Filia had loathed him for the insinuation, and herself for thinking this could work – for no longer caring that it never would.

"You're not just some project…" she had begun, trying to calm down, but he had laughed and pressed a finger to her lips. "Filia, please," he had scolded with mock severity, "you shouldn't ruin the moment."

* * *

Her words entertain him, Filia can tell, as does very nearly everything else. She once would have considered having a sense of humour to be an undeniably positive trait, but she's no longer certain. There's a darkness to his amusement, a malicious sense of glee, and even if he would see no point in burning down a village, she knows that he would laugh at it all the same.

Filia glances at him. "Is the world just one big joke to you?"

"Isn't it?"

The words are delivered playfully – as they so often are – but Filia recognizes the truth in them. What is sarcasm, what is mockery, but a way of showing disdain? She knows that Mazoku despise life and everything about it, and has always assumed that in this, if in nothing else, Xellos is different than the rest of his kind, but—

"Xellos," she begins, her voice uncertain but determined, "do you really want to destroy the world?"

"Of course!" His smile is blinding. "I am a Mazoku, remember?"

It's rather difficult to forget.

Filia pushes the bitterness away. "But how can you want such… such destruction? That sort of complete annihilation?"

He shrugs, unimpressed by the question. "What about you, Filia? Why do you like creation? Preservation?"

"Because…" she begins, but then breaks off. Because it's good? Because it's right or proper, or even because it's beautiful? She knows that these answers will mean nothing to him. "It feels… worthwhile. Like an accomplishment," she finally explains.

"Ah," Xellos smiles and wags a finger at her. "But that goes both ways."

"Still," she rushes on. "You've never seemed too interested in accomplishing that goal." The kettle, she notices, has come to a boil. Standing up, she grabs it and quickly pours herself a cup of tea. She considers getting one for Xellos as well, but remembers that he has already provided his own.

He opens one eye to glance sidelong at her. She expects him to refuse to discuss the matter further, but instead he says, "It's not like we're on a timetable, you know."

"Oh," Filia murmurs. She supposes it's true – there's no other race, no other opponent with the same goal. It may be that the Mazoku were created to return the world to chaos, and that they anticipate that eventuality, but that doesn't mean that they'd desire nothing else. To destroy the world before it ends, well… there's a considerable amount of leeway in that sort of purpose. "But some of you seem more… committed to it."

"There are other schools of thought."

Filia smiles at his casualness. "You actually rather like the world, don't you?"

He looks absolutely disgusted by the prospect, and Filia bites her lip, trying to curb her sudden elation. She cannot begin to guess what this might mean for a Mazoku, but it's enough to know that, buried beneath everything, it's still there.

"Not true," he insists, clearly irritated by her glee.

Filia laughs. "Why else would you spend so much time here?"

He could claim that he has been sent by his superiors and is acting under orders to observe her or her son. Instead, again smiling, Xellos leans towards her until their noses are almost touching. "You amuse me, Filia," he murmurs. "More than anybody else. You try so hard to be good, but your emotions get the better of you every time. You love too easily, too foolishly, and you can't help but be hurt by it, again and again. It's… exquisite."

His hand comes up to caress the side of her jaw, and a soft, almost hopeless sound gets trapped in Filia's throat.

"I never meant to love you," she whispers, breathless.

His eyes are open now, and she can see herself within them, reflected in shades of silvery violet. "I know," he replies, for once utterly sincere. "But I forgive you."

And in those four words, he gives her more than he ever has in all the decades that have come before. Filia stares at him, and she wonders what, to a being who thrives on negativity, it must feel like to be loved.

She was right, she realizes. In a way, it seems that she has always been right. She'll never be able to save him in the manner in which she would wish to, but perhaps it isn't necessary. Despite everything, he is still willing to stay with her, to, ironically, take the good with the bad. In his own strange way, he cares.

It will never be enough. Filia knows that she will always regret this, but the day that she is truly happy is the day that he leaves her forever. Xellos will never change, never be anything more than what he is, and she'll resent him for it for as long as she lives. She'll always rant and rage and wish that she had instead given her heart to someone who would want it, someone who wouldn't gleefully crush it beneath his heel time and again.

But she can love – and hate – enough for both of them.

Xellos is still staring at her, his head tilted slightly in confusion, and Filia makes a sound that's half a laugh and half a sob. "You feel… very strange," he tells her. "What's wrong with you?"

Nothing. Everything.

Filia laughs again, and this time it comes out right. Shaking her head, she leans forward the slight distance that still remains between them, and presses her lips against his. When she pulls away, she notices the flicker of confusion that briefly crosses his face, and realizes that this is something that he'll never understand. "That's… a secret."

finis

Endnotes: The main things I was exploring with this fic were, obviously, the psychological and long-term implications of a relationship between the two of them. Clearly, I think it's feasible — Xellos could easily get enough out of it, and Filia... well, after the maturity she gained in TRY, she has what it takes to pursue it, despite fully understanding what she'd be getting herself into — if not happy or, really, all that healthy.

Retroactively, I decided to fit this into my un_love_you claim at livejournal, under the prompt "Wish I didn't love you." Since this means I'm crazy and have 29 more Xellos shippingfics to write, chances are they'll be some more X/F before I quit/die/jump fandom. Especially if there's any demand. :)