A/N: I own nothing but the plot. This story is an alternative to what happened at Fort Zeakden. Teta and Algus are the only survivors of the explosion. When she awakens, she finds Algus unconscious and badly hurt. Teta digs through the wreckage and finds potions to heal him. Since Algus now owes her his life, he agrees to let her journey home with him to Dorter, since she can no longer go back to the Beoulves. He allows her to work as a personal maid for his 3-year-old sister. Two years have passed…

Algus Returns

Teta wondered if she would even have a reputation left by tomorrow morning. Her head felt a bit fuzzy from the wine she had just imbibed with Algus. She really hadn't imagined that she would be anywhere near his bed tonight, let alone sprawled across the coverlet, brushing hair back from her face and watching the room slowly spin in lazy circles.

She had only drank two (slightly overfull) glasses. The wine had been bitter to her inexperienced tongue and she had only forced it down over the course of the past hour because Algus insisted that she have some. It wasn't easy to say no to such an unusually kind offer. And though she was loathe to admit it, she was privately thrilled at the chance to spend the evening with her master. It had felt a bit like having a friend her own age. Teta had almost given up on expecting such a thing. The 40-something cook and 5-year-old Layla were the only real company she had kept for the past two years. Algus had flitted in and out of the manor like a hummingbird through all that time, always with some urgent business to attend to, never with enough thought to spare for even his baby sister, let alone the commoner nanny. How strange the past month had been, with the war drawing to a close and her master home to stay. At first she had been afraid of his return. He was nothing if not cold and sharp-tongued, and Teta fully assumed he would spend his new free time berating her and the other servants whenever plausible. But the master who returned to Sadalfas manor was subdued, tired, and showing more weariness than any boy of twenty years should be expected to. When he came to kiss his little sister hello that first day home, there had been no cruel remarks aimed at Teta (surely a first) as she stood away in the corner. She had given a quiet "good afternoon, m'lord" and he had returned with a bored nod. Much better than she could have hoped for their first encounter after four months of his absence.

Algus slept almost constantly during his whole first week home, something that only a war-survivor could do without being called slothful. And after that week, he amused himself more and more in the nursery, giving long overdue attention to his last remaining relative. Though Teta had never thought much of her master's character, she did become impressed with his affection for Layla. He occasionally spoke a bit to Teta while the little girl napped. His words came in clipped questions, concerning how his sister and the manor had fared in his time away. His voice was, as expected, detached and imperial when he spoke to her, and he never deigned to make eye-contact. However, after two years of maid's work in his home, she had learned that his haughtiness was at times just an act. When he listened to her replies he paid her more attention than a lord ought to bother with, and she wondered if he was so very bored that he clung to the few words she gave. At times, when he thought she wasn't looking, she saw his eyes fully resting on her, in a not un-kind way. Teta had come to believe that Algus did not despise her as much as he once pretended. A small victory, but she did not have much else in life to celebrate. An eighteen year old girl typically does not thrive well in a home set two miles away from civilization with no one to talk to. She was often bored, and had read every book in the modest Sadalfas library already. Some of them twice or three times. The plots stayed in her mind as she went about each hour of her life… she daydreamed of people with friends and real families and romance and adventure. She could not claim to have a single one of those things, and so the books were a mixed curse and blessing. They helped her escape from her lonely boredom, yet they also made the loneliness that much more real. She found it harder and harder to let go of Layla whenever she embraced the child. The closest person she had to family, the little girl had become. The only person she had left to love.

Teta had never truly hated Algus, but he certainly could not inspire love in her the way his baby sister did. He had spent plenty of occasions peppering her with insults for his own entertainment, but her personal anger was always outweighed by the fact that he had been kind to her when she most needed help- and given her a home, however grudgingly it came. And now in this past month she could not even dredge up a mild dislike for him. Truthfully, she was beginning to care a small bit for her master who now paced halls aimlessly with eyes that could only be described as haunted. She supposed the war had been worse for him that he let on. There was always a twinge of sadness to him now, even when he was with Layla, and Teta recognized his look as the feeling that had been chewing her heart since the death of her brother Delita. She knew there was nothing she could do to comfort proud Algus, but she couldn't help wishing that she were able to make him smile, even bring back some of his awful arrogance. Anything but this indifference.

Teta's intoxicated night had begun with a twilight walk down her favorite garden path. Layla was safely tucked into bed, and Teta now had a few precious minutes to herself before full nightfall. She was enjoying her leisurely walk immensely, that is, until her master spied her over a field of sunflowers as he rode by on a chocobo, heading back toward the stables. She felt a spark of fear when she saw him turn the beast in her direction. Certainly he would only come to her with a complaint or reprimand. Or maybe he simply planned to run her over.

Algus dismounted, tied the chocobo to a small tree, and walked the last thirty feet to the spot where she had stopped to wait for him with ever-feigned patience and respect. He half-smirked as he approached, which Teta immediately read to mean that he had an especially rude remark for her and he was savoring the moment before he spit it out. She had been in this situation with him more times than she could count. She kept her eyes on the ground.

His tone was stunningly neutral. "Why exactly is my maid outside alone in the night?" he asked. No cruel undertones, maybe just a hint of amusement, she thought.

"It is not quite nightfall yet," she insisted, as the last bit of light disappeared from the sky. She felt foolish. "Well…" she stammered, "I didn't realize it was quite so late. And I rather like to walk through the garden…"

He was looking at her like she was a fool.

"I am sorry. I'll go back inside now," she declared quickly, and tried to brush past him. He gripped her upper arm and she halted. Her skin prickled through the fabric of her dress where he held her. When was the last time she had been touched by someone over the age of five?

He gently turned her to face him and said "I had not intended to spoil your evening."

An uncomfortable pause ensued in which she noticed how cold her arm felt where he had now released it. "But," he continued, "a young girl should not be out alone at night under any circumstances, as you certainly must know?"

She wanted to roll her eyes. Any other man would simply offer to walk with me, but you would never be that polite… she thought bitterly to herself.

Teta evaded his question but stating "But I am not a young girl anymore." She had, in fact, already turned eighteen, the typical cut-off age for a girl to be wed. So really she was more of an old-maid than a 'young girl'.

"Oh really?" he drawled, "Then what age would you be by now Miss Hyral?"

She blushed. Honestly, she had not thought he would be bold enough to ask. And he was actually waiting for the answer!

"I was eighteen this spring."

No look of pity crossed his face and for that she was grateful. "Well if you insist then I will call you an old girl. Or impertinent girl, or grossly disrespectful girl…"

Teta had no clue if he was angry or simply jesting. Probably the former; he did not ever jest with commoners.

"I'm sorry, my lord," she mumbled. Eyes down, she began to pace toward the manor. She was surprised to find that he again tailed her and grabbed her, this time by both arms. She squirmed. He dug his fingers in tighter.

"I did not mean to be unpleasant to you," he explained frankly. "Sometimes, on a dull night like this, a bit of conversation is welcome. There is no need to run from me."

"Please let go, my lord," she said in a strictly measured voice. His fingers were hurting her.

He dropped his hands rapidly. "My apologies. You look rather distressed…" He gave a harsh bark of a laugh. Teta felt tears prick her eyes. He made her quite nervous with his abrasive attitude. She just wanted to leave him, but he had forbidden her to run away.

Algus noted her glassy eyes and immediately felt a wash of guilt. He hadn't meant to upset her at all. His overriding need for educated company in this remote place had pushed him to come speak to her in the first place, though he would never tell that to her.

"Now…" he said uncomfortably, "Now, let us go indoors." Her hands were shaking with nerves. "I promise I won't touch you again, Teta."

She looked up at that. He rarely ever spoke her given name. He met her eye for a small moment, and then he laughed a very small, gentle laugh that he meant to put her at ease. "I forgot how nervous you are, and now I am guilty of ruining your evening. Come inside with me. We'll have some wine," he offered, "it will make you feel better."

She tried to politely decline, but he insisted. Despite her shaky protests, he successfully led her to his quarters, where he sat her down at a cozy playing-card table, uncorked a bottle of merlot, and filled a glass nearly to the brim. His own glass he left significantly emptier. At first she sipped in silence as he settled himself across the table from her. He gave her another brief apology for his behavior.

"Why apologize?" she questioned curiously, "You can be as rude to a servant as you please, with no consequences."

He gave her a genuine smile and she felt herself blush again, though she wasn't sure why she did this time. "I would prefer that my company for the evening not be upset with me," he replied simply.

And she did keep him company for the next hour. He taught her a simple card game, promising that he would not tell anyone respectable that she had agreed to play cards at all. The wine gave her a small bit of confidence to participate in a real conversation with him. She began to feel comfortable in the candlelit chamber with her master tugging words out of her. Eventually, she managed to ask him about his life during the war these past months, and he told her snippets about living in and out of the woods and the people he had met. Sometimes he made her laugh, but mostly she was content to sit lazily and listen even to minute details of a boring subject like camping. He left out all disturbing details of death and discomfort. She knew he was trying to paint a slightly prettier picture of everything, for her sake, and she was grateful for that. His voice had a pleasing sound to it that she had never noticed before, made even more so through the veil of her first experience becoming tipsy.

Near the end of her second glass she had become quite calm, her earlier nervousness a mere memory. He fell silent for a moment, in which he relaxed back into his chair. It struck her all of a sudden that it was probably inappropriate for her to be in his quarters so late.

"I should leave," she said, and attempted to stand quickly. The poor girl had to cling to the table to prevent herself from falling on her face. How had she become so dizzy so suddenly? She squeaked in embarrassment.

Algus immediately came around the table and had his hands on her waist to steady her.

"I don't know what's wrong with me!" she gasped.

He laughed heartily at that and his laughter made her giggle, though she didn't know what was funny. She was standing up straight now but he kept his hands at her waist. The touch gave her such an unexpected spark that it nearly cleared her mind of dizziness.

"You are drunk, Miss Hyral. From two glasses of wine, my my."

"I've never been drunk before," she said. She placed her hands on his biceps for support and she felt his arms tense when she touched him. She wondered if she gave him a spark like he did to her.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

"Yes, of course," she said and immediately tried to stumble over to the doorway. She made it about two steps before he had his arms wrapped completely around her to keep her upright. She rested her dizzy head in the warm crook of his neck. He smelled good. He was laughing hard.

"Don't laugh at me," she demanded, though she couldn't keep a grin off of her own face.

Next thing she knew, he had lifted her up in his arms and was carrying her across the room. But not to the doorway.

"I'm going to have you lay on my bed until you are sober enough to walk properly," he told her, "We can't have you stumbling around and waking the whole house."

"No," she panicked, though she felt very nice in his arms, "No, no not on the bed. I'm wearing boots!" she exclaimed.

He firmly set her down on the bed and said "Relax, I will take them off… Hold still."

She could barely breathe while he grabbed her right ankle and began to unbutton her shoe. It felt obscenely inappropriate and her whole body began to flush and overheat. Soon he had removed both boots and left her merely in her stockinged feet, which was certainly the most naked she had ever been in front of a man. And yet somehow her skin still managed to feel so delicious in the spots where he had gripped and held her. How mortifying!

She pushed an errant lock of hair out of her face and stared down at her white clothed toes. He was still standing by her feet, his mischievous smile lingering as he surveyed her from head to toe with his eyes.

"Algus!" she gasped, in total awe of him.

He lost his smile and his eyes took on a hard glint. He suddenly turned his back to her and quickly strode to the window, praying she hadn't noticed his reaction to her. She was forbidden to call him by his name, he was her master after all. Normally he would have slapped a servant for the infraction, but now… now he was just trying not to imagine her saying his name in that same breathy voice while he unlaced the rest of her clothing. He needed to get a grip. This was not what he had intended for tonight.

"Oh no," she moaned, "I'm very sorry, my lord, I'm sorry I didn't think about what I was saying. Please don't be angry," he heard her give a soft sob and she repeated herself again tearfully.

Well if he needed an excitement-killer, there it was. He hated when women cried. Algus stalked back over to her.

"I'm not angry with you. Stop crying now," he ordered, "I am giving you permission to use my name only for tonight." She still looked upset. Dear god. "You know you look rather ugly when you cry." He pulled up a chair and sat by her bedside.

She glanced over at him. "You once said I always look ugly, so why should it matter?"

"I changed my mind and decided you look quite nice when you are not crying."

She gave a choked laugh. "No, you have not. I didn't know my master was such a liar."

"I most certainly am not a liar." Now she felt as if his eyes were burning holes in her. He slowly and confidently moved out of his chair and sat on the bed, beside her right shoulder. "You have lovely big eyes when they aren't swollen shut like that. And your face has gotten pretty now that you aren't so scrawny as you used to be."

She let her eyes drift shut and murmured stiffly and harshly, "That is kind of you to say, but I wish you would not bother. I know its not true, there is no need to pretend for my sake."

"And still you accuse me of lying Miss Hyral."

"I… well, you know I am not a pretty girl. Honestly, I turned eighteen already and there was not one man in the country who would have wed me. If I were pretty, that wouldn't have been so."

He couldn't look at her; her embarrassment was a palpable thing at the moment. He felt a small bit of pity for the maid.

"Don't be foolish, you barely know any men, and it would be lack of gil, not looks, that would possibly scare them away from you." He stumbled over his next words- "Most men would be glad to… I mean…" He had meant to say 'bed you' but decided it would be an awkward choice of words, as she was in his bed right now. He chose not to finish his sentence at all.

She gave a trembly smile. "You can be very kind at times."

Algus quietly stood and moved back to the table to finish his wine. He openly watched her over the rim of his glass. She really was a gorgeous little thing, curled up on her side while resting atop his covers. Her long mahogany hair twisted about her delicate face and he was enjoying the sight of her prissy white stockings poking out of her dress. Were she not so innocent, he would be seducing her now. As things were, he didn't want to break the naïve trust she had for him as her master. He had already frightened her enough in the span of a few minutes. He supposed he should give her some time to relax.

Teta felt a small discomfort with Algus' eyes on her. She knew her dress looked poor and drab compared with his elegant bedding. And she had a little niggling fear that she could be judged very harshly if anyone else found out that she had laid in her master's bed at all. She closed her eyes against the awkwardness of the situation and allowed her drunken drowsiness to sweep her away.

As Algus slowly downed his drink, he noticed that Teta appeared to have fallen completely asleep in his bed. Such a delicate situation. What was he to do? The possibilities…