Bartholomew sat in his bed at the inn of Prontera, head in his hands with his chest resting on a pillow. He heaved a hopeless sigh and looked over at the nightstand, where a tiny photo of a cheerful looking archer was propped up in an equally tiny frame. A piece of a locket. He'd been given the locket as a gift, but after it'd broken, he decided to us it as a good luck charm. When anyone would leave for a long period of time, Bartholomew would place it on his nightstand or under his pillow, and every night, would dream of the smiling face of whoever was in the picture.
This time, it was his lover.
Though the picture was old and the archer boy had grown into a handsome bard, the picture remained something special to Bartholomew. Memories of their adventures, acolyte and archer, hand-in-hand, would flow through his mind whenever he laid eyes on the picture, and he couldn't bring himself to replace it anymore. Now, the two were engaged, and the bard was nowhere to be seen.
Adjusting his aquamarine priest's robes, Bartholomew pulled a sheet over his cold body. It felt so strange to be sleeping alone. No warm body, no loving arms around him, to comfort him at night. It was as if a piece of him had been torn away from his body, and he had nothing to replace it with. Sure, his friends would comfort him now and then, but the lack of his lover made Bartholomew more uncomfortable day after day.
It had come to the point of desperation. Despite disapproval of the church, Bartholomew had been with his lover in secrecy for a long time, and to both of them, their relationship got them both as close to The Heavens as they'd ever get. Both knew that two men in a relationship was sin in the eyes of the Church, and Bartholomew's priesthood wouldn't last very long if they ever found out. Yet, if they eloped or were married under a different church, they could be together for the rest of their lives. That was what Bartholomew wanted.
Every face, every person, every selfless act reminded him of the smiling face in that picture. The face of his beloved one. The one he would do anything to protect, even if it were to give his life. No matter whether it was monk or crusader or assassin, every human being that had been kind to Bartholomew led him back to those memories of his younger days, or even those right before his lover had left.
One memory always seemed to stand out, however…
"Hey, look! See this Rosary? I'll betcha it belongs ta that guy over there!"
"Really?"
Two novices stood in the midst of a large crowd, observing a chain with a large cross on it, laying right on the edge of the Prontera Fountain. One had very short black hair, the other's a beautiful violet that shone brightly in the light, along with equally bright eyes and a smile that could melt the heart of a Baphomet.
The black-haired novice quickly ran and picked it up. "C'mon, we gotta return it! It's gotta be real expensive, y'know?" His companion sighed and shrugged, following his impulsive friend to the tall priest that had gained a good amount of distance since they'd first seen his Rosary. The two followed him swiftly through the door of the Tool Shop, giving him quite a startle, and he quickly turned to see the two boys, both of which couldn't have been more than ten years old.
"Is this yours?" asked the black haired one once more, holding it up to the priest. "We found it at the fountain, and only priests and crusaders carry Rosaries around. So it hasta be yours, right?" The priest smiled down at the two and ruffled the black haired boy's hair, taking the Rosary and carefully placing it around his neck, brushing his sleek white hair out of the way.
"Thank you, boys, and God bless you." The priest looked down at the quiet violet haired boy, curiosity in his eyes and a warm smile still on his face. "What class are you aiming for, young one?"
The shyer of the two blushed brightly and scratched his head thoughtfully, looked at him companion thoughtfully. The novice in question shrugged, and turned to the priest to speak for his friend. "He doesn't know, sir. I do, though. I'm gonna be an acolyte." The quiet boy still looked a bit nervous, but also thoughtful at the same time, as if thinking about something he felt was an uncomfortable topic but had to be discussed anyway.
He raised his hand for attention, spoke up in a soft and pleasant voice: "I would very much like to be a bard, sir." His hand dropped to his side and he looked very bashful, looking at his friend shamefully. The other novice took his companion's hand and felt it shaking, gave it a soft squeeze to calm him, and the shaking subsided.
"See? That wasn't so hard." The priest smiled down at them and especially to the quiet one, giving both a winful wink. "My name is Chrow. I'm fairly well-known around here, so give me a call if you ever need me. I'll be in the Prontera Sanctuary…" He paused. "And if you intend on getting married sometime, I'm a much better priest than even the King himself. Of course, don't tell him I said that…"
Bartholomew's reverie was cut short as someone knocked on his door. His heart leapt in his chest and a smile spread across his face as the door was opened, but he felt it fall back down as he realized it was only a maid. She smiled at him and winked at him, waving a hand and opening the door farther to tow a cart in with plenty of food on top. "Room service!" The maid giggled and pulled her cart up to Bartholomew's bed, bowed, and left without a word.
He felt as helpless as he had the day he'd met Anoe and her fiancée. A lonely acolyte, his only friend gone off to train to become a great archer. He lacked the fighting strength one would expect from a male, mainly because of his aspirations to be simply supporting in battle and a user of magic, not qualified or willing to become stronger.
Yet, there was something appealing about physical strength to Bartholomew, and he set off to train, disregarding all that he had taught himself. All the discipline involved with mental training slipped from his grasp and he set off to Payon Cave, mace in hand and confidence in his mind.
Anoe sat alone under the shade of a large tree, its type native to Payon and common throughout the village. This one was the largest of its kind, however, and it provided a decent amount of shade for the solitary acolyte.
When she heard the footsteps of metal-toed boots she expected to see her fiancée Vattic, but rather was disappointed as the owner of the boots turned out to be a male acolyte, dressed in bluish tinted garments as opposed to the traditional cream.
Anoe was older than the newcomer and more experienced in battle, and she could tell. He seemed to be new to his job and uncomfortable about it, constantly fidgeting and twitching his fingers, adjusting the collar of his robe every few minutes. "Hello," he inquired, "my name is Bartholomew. You are also an acolyte, I see." She smiled at him, nodding in reply, scooting a bit closer to hear what he spoke.
"Yes," Anoe replied. "My name is Anoe. What do you need, dear?" Bartholomew blushed just slightly, and he felt the heat coming off his face. He hoped she wouldn't notice.
"I'm weak."
Anoe tilted her head with a cheerful grin, her bright eyes reflecting kindness. "Of course you aren't. You just need to awaken your mental powers, and you'll be the strongest acolyte ever. Oh, yeah, that's right. Are you a battle acolyte, or a full-support acolyte?"
"Full-support," he replied. "I plan on being a priest one day. A great priest at that. I want to help my friend. He's gonna be a bard but he can't get there through just training by himself. That's what he thought…and now he's gone in the forest…"
"Cheer up! I'm sure he's okay. He'll be back soon. Now, let's go to train, shall we?" Bartholomew nodded and smiled, feeling the heat disperse from his cheeks.
Another knock on the door.
Bartholomew sat up and shuffled over to the door, feeling exasperated and hoping that his lover would be behind that door and not just another disappointment. He felt the doorknob twist under his fist before he could turn it himself, and a face peeked through the crack in the doorway. "Hello?" A familiar voice, but crackling and distant.
He felt his heart leap in his chest and he opened the door slowly, afraid he'd nearly faint with suspense, excitement burning within him, and finally he just flung the door open and threw himself onto the figure behind the door. He wrapped his arms around his love and felt himself being embraced in turn. "Barth…"
"Reon."
Reon smiled and let go of Bartholomew, but the priest hung on tightly as tears collected in the corners of his eyes. "Reon…I missed you…I miss you…"
"I know."
Finally he let go and looked at the violet-haired bard. He saw the younger Reon in that same Reon, the young novice-turned-archer that had been so confident to leave on his own for training, nearly getting himself killed. And now he'd done the same. He looked to be a little scraped up and his voice was hoarse, but it wasn't half as bad as it had been long ago. Reon had changed. He was a lot stronger, but even stronger was his bond with Bartholomew.
He made his way through the door and unstrapped his bow from his back, setting it by the dresser. They'd been living in the inn for quite some time now. Perhaps the owners were getting suspicious. At any rate, now he was home, and it was time he started acting like it.
Bartholomew shut the door silently and returned to the bed. "It's been a long time, Reon. Where have you been? What have you seen?" Reon walked slowly to the bed, undoing the buckles holding his cape to his shirt. He shrugged it off carelessly and looked at Bartholomew, half smiling, his eyes nearly closed. No doubt he was exhausted.
"I'll tell you in the morning, Barth. It's time I took a rest." Bartholomew smiled at Reon and nodded, pulling a sheet over his love and blowing out the two candles on either side of the bed. Carefully he slipped under the sheet as well, sighing in relief. All day he'd been hoping that Reon would return safely and unscathed. Now it was time for much-deserved rest, the only he'd gotten for many days.
Happier than he had ever felt in his life, Bartholomew drifted off to sleep, dreaming of their younger years as he slept in his lover's warm, loving embrace.
"Hey, Barth, look. That's a kitty band right there, isn't it?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Reon," replied the acolyte, gazing on at the smokies gathered around the headband. The largest of the smokie group took the kitty band in his paws and placed it on his head as if it were a crown.
"C'mon. Let's go kill those smokies. I've been wanting a kitty band for a long time and everyone knows you get them from these guys. Now we have proof!"
Reon shrugged and grabbed his bow and two arrows, aiming straight for the heart of the lead smokie. "Ready…" He nocked the arrows and pulled back on the bowstring. "Aim…" He closed one eyes, being sure that his target was straight, and just as he released… "DOUBLE STRAFE!"
Bartholomew watched the arrows meet their target straight into the torso of the large smokie and got ready to cast Heal if any of the others attacked. Instead they all fled, squeaking in terror as Reon struck a triumphant pose behind the bushes. "Ha! Now hurry, go get that kitty band!"
"Uh…Reon…"
He turned to see Bartholomew pointing off in the opposite direction. The bushes were rustling. "God, Barth. It can't be anything more than a smokie or a yoyo. Those are the only monsters around the Abbey and you know it! Now grab the kitty band and let's go!"
Bartholomew looked panicked. "No, no, Reon! We have to run now! There's a Choco in those bushes, I just know it!"
Reon quirked a brow. "Right, Choco. Everyone knows that's a myth." He shrugged, rolling his eyes at the superstitious acolyte, and scrambled over the bushes to grab the prize and present it to Bartholomew.
Just as he bent over to grab the kitty band, he heard a loud growl and felt a large body slam into his back. "Barth! I told you to—" Reon turned his head and found himself eye-to-eye with an oversized yoyo, its fur darker than most and its eyes furious. Undoubtedly, it was a Choco.
"Run, Reon! Drop the kitty band and RUN!" Reon ignored his friend and wrestled the Choco off of his body, grabbing his bow and pulling two arrows from the quiver on his back. "You can't fight this thing! I can warp us back to Prontera! Now just trust me and RUN!"
"DOUBLE STRAFE!" The arrows flew to their destination in the Choco's belly, but instead of being embedded in the flesh, they bounced off. "W…what?" Reon heard the sound of a blade cutting through the air and felt a sharp stinging pain as the Choco's claws slashed across his face. Reon couldn't see through the blood but continued his struggle with the Choco, totally fearless and braver than Bartholomew would have ever been.
Quickly the acolyte cast a heal spell on his friend, but it was hopeless. A whack to Reon's head with the Choco's tail and he was brought unconscious. The beast was ready to turn and attack Bartholomew when suddenly a loud yell made the Choco jerk his head to look behind him, but too late — its body was slashed in half by a gigantic sword.
The sword was withdrawn from the Choco's remains by a black-haired knight. He smiled over at Bartholomew and winked, giving him an approving thumbs-up. "You kids shouldn't be in a place like this. Looks like your friend took quite a nasty hit there!"
Bartholomew quickly rushed over to Reon's motionless body, casting several heal spells before the wounds on the archer's face stopped bleeding and one of his eyes twitched. "My name's Saku," said the knight. A loud squawking was heard and the sounds of large feet against the dirt echoed through the forest. A large bird, saddled and covered in armor, approached Saku. "There you are, Peco. Now, let's get these kids home, shall we?"
Reon awoke with blurry vision and looked up at Saku. "So, you saved me, eh?" he asked wearily. "Thank you.." Saku grinned down at the sarcher and patted his head.
"Peco will take you boys back to Prontera, but I must be training. Oh, and this is yours, right?" Saku picked up the battered and dusty kitty band. "Here, you can have it." Bartholomew smiled and took the headband, placing it on his head with pride.
Reon weakly climbed onto the back of the PecoPeco with a little help from Bartholomew, who followed suit and hopped onto the creature as well. Saku gave its hip a strike with the flat of his blade and it cried out, swiftly galloping through the woods, dodging trees gracefully and skirting bushes with ease.
The two vaguely heard Saku's voice calling out, "Good luck, and may God guide your travels!"
Bartholomew awoke early the next morning and rubbed his eyes, yawned, stretched. Reon awoke shortly afterward, and he stood up swiftly, stepping over to his lover's side. "I dreamed about you," he whispered.
The priest smiled at Reon. "I did too." He reached into the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out a battered hairband with fuzzy cat ears attached. The ears were black with pink insides and would have certainly looked very realistic, had they retained their youth as Bartholomew had wished they would have. "Remember when we made this?"
Reon smiled and giggled, throwing an arm around Bartholomew's shoulder and giving a wink. "Oh, but of course. It took us two whole hours of hunting fabres." Both of them chuckled, images of the time when Bartholomew had tried as hard as he could to get the assassin Neko Neko to upgrade his kitty band. She had complied after much persuasion, and the new black cat band was created. Bartholomew had worn that headband for many years until his priesthood, when the Church demanded he dispose of such a ridiculous thing.
He never did that. He had kept it in secrecy, stored away where he could, and wore it now and then when he felt like remembering. Bartholomew placed the headband on his head with a grin and slowly walked out the door, holding his lover's hand. "I love you, Reon. I'm glad you're back.
Credit for this story is something I feel I can't fully take. The character Reon belongs to his player, Risa, also a friend of mine. I wouldn't have been able to write this story if it weren't for the support of my good friend Bri, and the help of Chris, a fellow writer. If I hadn't been pressured by the song Heaven by Bryan Adams, I wouldn't have stayed up until 2 AM last night writing this story. It would also be without a title if not for the song I Miss You from the Ragnarok Online soundtrack.
I may write these words, but I hope you all take this to heart: everything I write comes from everyone I meet. You are the inspiration for all that I do. You are what helps me through the toughest times in my life. You are what supports me when I need support the most. I'm not joking, and I'm not just telling you a white lie. When I say all this, I mean it.
Thank you for reading,
Lie