cheddarbiscuit presents

I am Not the Beast

Disclaimer: If I owned Golden Sun, this would be cannon. Seeing as I do not, this is all fannon. And that's really a shame. I'm such a sucker for interspecies romance.

Summary: The trials and triumphs of captivity. VOLECHEKXHOUJU

Yes. Yes writting the pairing in all caps was nessicary, because I have yet to see Volechek and Hou Ju on this, or any other, site. Suggested? Yes. Talked about? Yes. DONE? No.

And it needs to be done. That's why I'm doing it. And I'm doing it now and I'm doing it unforgivingly.

So, we need a pairing name. I'm going for Monstershipping, because I'm pretty sure Stockholmshipping is taken. I can't think of anything else, aside from Cheddarshipping, which is just vain.

Leave any suggestions in your review!


Chapter one:

He had not always been the finest warrior in all of Morgal. At one point, he had simply been the shame of his father, the scourge of the maids, and the eternal headache of his mother. He had been younger then. Impossible. Dealt with because he was a prince and only his father could punish him. His father who had no time.

Volechek swung the axe down, splitting the fire wood in half.

He had been less of a headache once Sveta was born. Now that he knew a little more about the world, he wondered what prompted his parents to have a second child, he was such a handful. Were he in his mother's shoes (or, his father's) he would have sworn off children all together. Then again, Sveta was probably unavoidable.

He rested his elbow on the axe's handle, and watched his little sister clean the kitchen floor. She was sweeping the dust outside, a little smile on her face, content with her simple life, because she knew no better.

He did not resent her. He would kill anyone who dared say such a thing. He would have crumbled to dust ages ago if not for her. Even when he was nine, there had been nothing to compare to the feeling of calm and reverence that over came him when his sister was placed in his arms. He would have remained a devil and a child for ever, if Sveta had not been there to teach him responsibility. He would have dissolved in a sea of self destruction if she had never come around.

It was Sana that he resented.

He raised the axe and swung it down on the fire wood. It lodge two inches in to the stump. He starred at it for a while, he had not known he had worked himself into a fit so easily. He heaved a sigh and looked towards Sveta. Her back was turned to him, so she had been unable to see his outburst. She worried everyone he showed the slightest hint of anger. She always had. Growlng a little, he jerked the axe out and replaced the log.

Sveta did not remember. He was glad about that. She had been five years old at the time, and she bad been fully awake, but for some reason, she had wiped her own memories of the terrible events that had transpired all thoes years ago. That, or she lied to him every time he asked her if she remembered. He would, from time to time, catch her starring towards Belinsk with the beginnings of tears in her eyes, and he would ask her what she remembered of their parents' murder.

She would smile faintly, sadly, and shrug. She would tell him she remembered swimming to Biblin, while he had an arrow in his shoulder, and she remembered a young girl showing up to help them. This was not much. Because of his injury, they had never reached their destination.

But he was glad she did not seem to recall the attack on Belinsk. It was terrible.

He massaged his left shoulder. There were still two knotted scars, one where the Sanan arrow had pierced his skin, the second where it had been pushed out by a kind stranger, the young stranger Sveta reportedly remembered. He could no clear memories, as his vision had been blocked by pain and his sense of smell obscured by agony. When he had come to, his chest had been bandaged, the arrow cut and removed [1.] Sveta was safely asleep up beside him, curled up under his coat. He had lain there for a long while, until the sun had set again and the will to live and continue surviving found him.

He swung the axe down again, the memories of wounds on his left shoulder revolted silently. He ignored their must cries, though. They had been complaining for ten years. He could do nothing for them. He was twenty-four now, childhood injuries should not stop him from working, even ones that had never healed properly.

He had carved out a living in Kolima Forest with thoes old scars. He had learned to survive on his own. He had cared for his sister as if there had been no one else in the world. And sometimes, if felt like they really were all alone in their own vast garden. It was, on most days, just the two of them. Rarely did a traveler wander so deep into Kolima Forest, but if they did, Sveta was almost always eager to accomodate them.

Perhaps too eager. They were always the shadiest of strangers, hunting for treasures and bounties. Volechek was always afraid that the bounty on his head was still being offered. He was always worried they would come for him. But sometimes he found himself wondering if Kuan had given up on trying to find the missing children of Morgal's dead king.

He stopped to massage the twin scars on his shoulder. They were more bothersome than normal today. Perhaps it was the humidity. Perhaps it was because this day was the same day Emporer Ko had managed the spectacular feat of raiding Belinsk Castle.

He wished thoes old scars would just let him forget the past, but it seemed as if they echoed the cries of all Morgal. The would not let him rest until he — Morgal's rightful king — had done something. Ten years.

He swung down again. The axe sunk six inches into the wood. He had been unaware that he had been so angry. He jerked it out agian and his shoulder shouted in anger and pain.

Sana had kept Morgal and her people under and iron fist. Ten years.

Again, he swung down, a thick, satisfying crack as the wood splintered and the stump was cut deeply again.

Sveta could take care of herself, now. Were he to leave her alone, to rise agianst Sana and get himself killed.

In truth, he knew he should. Not as the heir to the throne, but simply as a man. But ever time he tried to leave, he thought of Sveta. Of how she was too trusting and young to be left on her own. Of how someone would find her, perhaps someone who was already out to hurt her, perhaps not, and take advantage of her.

He swung down once more, unaware that there had been no wood to cut.

It could all be solved if he just explained what wandering, adventerous men tended to do to the young, unspervised, little sisters of honest workers away from their homes. But she was only fifteen. Far to young to know about such things.

And if he was killed, who would protect her then?

"Volechek?"

He turned. Sveta was frowning at the stump he had chopped wood on for years, like this was not the first time he had absent-mindedly hacked away at it. It wasn't. He laughed and said casually, "Sorry, little sister, I suppose I was lost in thought."

She turned her green eyes to him, and said timidly, "I'm not voilent when I think."

She was worried. She was worried and he knew it.

"I'm sorry." he let go of the axe at let it sit at its awkward angle in the stump.

"Is everything alright, Volechek?"

He examined a callous on his hand, "I was just thinking, Sveta. That is all."

"About Kuan." she said keenly, but with a gentle, refressing frankness.

"Yes."

There was no point in lying to her. She could sense his very thoughts if she wanted to. Sometimes, he suspected she did, just to see how often he lied to her. He had made a point of telling her the truth after she confronted him about his habit of not telling her what he was doing.

He could think better knowing she was not peering into his mind every few minutes, even if she was peering for his own good.

"How was town?"

"There were two beastmen there." she said softly, turning away, "Asking for you."

"Oh?"

"No one told them where we were, though."

"Then why do you look so nervous?"

"Because..." she mumbled, "They looked at me, and I got the feeling they knew I was your sister."

"What did they look like?"

"Wealthy. Like warriors. Not very friendly." she said, turning away, "Come inside and rest a bit."

But by the time he crossed the threshold into the kitchen, there was a knock on the door. Sveta cringed, her ears slanting downwards in worry as she looked towards him, then to the little sitting room.

"Distract them for a moment." he said, "Mind your manners. I am not fit to see company."

"Yes, Volechek."

She had wanted him to tell her to send them away. He was tempted to, but if their business was worth seeing to, nothing Sveta said would deter them. While she went to answer the door (they were knocking again) he went to the back of their cabin to the barrel of rain water they had collected for washing and cooking. He splashed some on his face and snatched a dry shirt from the clothesline, because the one he was currently wearing was not suitable for company.

"... I recognize you. Where is your brother?"

"Just on his way." Sveta said. She was wary. This was odd behavior for her. She was normally quite accomodating. Perhaps it was the innate instinct all Beastmen had acting up. Perhaps she always just stifled her intincts to be polite.

"Could you ca—"

"No need." he said quickly, "I am here."

At once, they walked past his sister and knelt before him. Sveta crossed her arms and glared at their huddled forms before giving him a little glare of her own. He nodded slightly to her. He understood. She knew the diffrence between peace and danger, after all. She may not always see what invited danger, but she was certian it came carried on the backs of these two men.

Their polished armor probably did not help, neither did their regal, sickeningly formal action and the sword strapped to their belts. Volechek caught sight of two proud war horses, also covered in jeweled, polished armor. Sveta was looking at them, too, her hands on her hips.

"Your Majesty!"

"We've been searching for you!"

And that settled it. Sveta's head snapped back to them, still knealing on the ground, and crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed venemously and she demanded, "What do you want with him?"

"Surely you know, Princess? Did your brother never inform you?"

On the word princess she stalked around them, her shoulders barred, trying to appear menacing, "Oh, yes. A position of power." she hissed, "That thing that took our parents from us. Let me guess, you want power to rob me of my brother as well?"

They got to their feet then, and the second one said, as if in disbeliefe, "Are you unaware of the opression that goes on outside this forest at the hands of the Sanans?"

Sveta stepped forward and put her hands on her hips, her green eyes flashing and her ears slanting backwards. Anger was such a rare expression for her. Of course, she was somewhat justified. Heir to the throne or not, he was her brother, and she was inclined to worry about his safety.

She opened her mouth to say some thing uncharacteristically nasty, and Volechek realized the sooner she was taken out of the conversation, the better, not for her reputation, but for everyone's safety. He had never actually seen Sveta get violent (he did not ever know it was possible!) and he did not want to, "Sveta, go get some refreshment for our guests." She glared at him now, possibly with even more anger and venom than she had the two generals, "Please?"

She turned on her heel, "I'll get you some tea..." and Volechek distinctly heard her mumble, "... bloodthirsty pigs." before slamming the door.

He managed to smile politely and pray silently that their guests had not heard her. Judging from the smiles on their faces, they had not heard a peep from her past 'tea.' That, or they were very considerate for her feelings. It was a move in their favor.

"I must recomend you find a way to apease my little advisor." he informed them jokingly, "I do not like seeing her upset."

She had heard the words 'little advisor' and she slammed a cupboard door.

"Do not let your sister control you, your majesty."

"In all honesty, gentlemen, I would rather my sister control me than anyone else! I rarely make a choice with out at least consulting her."

They passed each other a glance, like he was insane. He realised the might be because Sveta had chosen to reveal her claws at the wrong moment, normally she was quiet polite, "She's normally very sweet."

They ignored him, "If you were your father's son, you would not be able to sit idle while your people suffer."

Volechek raised a hand to his scar. Even with out stress, they had suddenly begun to hurt. Perhaps they were echoing the cries of Morgal. Perhaps it was only in his head. Perhaps they would stop, if only he would do something. "Well..."

"Your sister does not remember. Of course she is against justice. She was just a beastling, and has not harbored your anger, your majesty. Her voice means nothing here."

She was standing at the kitchen door, looking at their unwanted guests and snarling again. She was not pleased to hear that they planned to take him away to galavant off to war. Hearing that her opinions meant nothing was not helping their case. They had not seen her, and so Volechek stepped towards her, knowing their eyes would follow him to where his little sister was standing, the essecence of anger. In an attempt to remedy the situation, he laid a hand on her shoulder and said bluntly, "Sveta's opinions are completely valid. I cannot just abandon her."

She did not stop snarling. The kettle whisteled from the kitchen and with an exasperated growl, she turned around to get it. He half expected her to return and throw the boiling water on them (himself included), then kick them out in anger. He smirked a bit. That would certainly teach them to disregard her feelings.

"I cannot take her with me, either. A young girl traveling with a rebel army? No. I cannot alow it."

"She would be well cared for."

"She will be given the life she was born into again."

Sveta had come back now, the tea on a wooden tray in her hands with four cups made of common clay. "I like this life." She said, "It is peaceful. No daily risk of assassination. No hordes of people declaring loyalty and watching your ever move. No prized china to care for, no best silver to polish." she said that as she administered the plain cups to the two generals, who looked almost insluted, "Send them away, my dear brother."

"Noble Lord Volechek—"

She cut in, half spite, half sugar, "My sweet, peaceful brother—"

"—A fierce warrior and natural leader by birth—"

Sveta held onto his arm, lacing her clawed fingers just above his elbow, she mocked his honey-sweet tone, "— Is hopelessly under the spell of love and loyalty to his dearest little sister."

"He would—"

"Never do something so brazenly foolish—"

"Stop it! Both of you!" Volechek found himself shouting, "I won't go with you if you insist on fighting my sister in a battle of sweet-talk. That is open mockery."

"Forgive us, sire, but your sister—"

"Is next in line and you will treat her as such."

"Well I abdicate and chose to remain here!" She let go of him and crossed her arms, sitting down and turning up her nose, "I'll pull the plough and do repairs and I'll only miss the conversation."

"Sveta!"

He pulled her to her feet and took her into the kitchen. She looked a little scared for a moment, like she though he was about to hit her, but he just said calmly, "Sveta, you're only acting this way because you're afraid—"

"I know its what you want." Sveta said, her eyes flashing, her clawed hands on her hips, "I see it in your eyes, but you can't do it."

"Sveta, you must agree I have an obligation to Morgal."

Her frown deeped. She did know, and she wished to high heaven that he did not. He turned away from her.

"Do not think I do not know." she hissed, "Do not think for a minute that I don't know."

"Sveta..."

"What?" she demanded, "Now that your two general friends are here you also think what I have to say means nothing?"

"No." he steered her further away, they were in the back room, now, the windows were so big it was really more of a sun room, designed to stay cool in the summer. In a whisper he added, "Sveta, you are my little sister, and I love you—"

"But when I say, even in my sweetest voice, 'Volechek, rising up against Morgal will get you killed' you won't listen?"

He could not respond. He could say yes, and have the cold shoulder for a week. He could say no, and she would expect him to stay home. She tapped her clawed foot and looked at him, as if she could force an answer out with her eyes.

"Sveta, I hate to do this, but—"

"What?" she hissed, "You're king of Morgal so I must obey you?"

"I am your brother, and you will do as I advise."

She grabbed his arm and pulled him into the kitchen with her, "Now see here, Volechek, standing out there are two capable warriors and leaders. They could, just as easily as you could, raise and army against Sana. Why do they need you? They do not need the 'Rightful King of Morgal'" the last bit was said mockingly, "They need a figurehead. A scapegoat. They need someone to take the blame when everything fails. When the dust clears and the traitors are to be hanged, where do you think they will lay the blame. Tell me that, Volechek? Let them find some poor beggar, needy of fame and no stranger to hunger, and whom I will not miss too much, should he be imprisoned like a common criminal and killed."

"Sveta." he gave her a light shake and tried to sound firm. Normally, that worked. Not today.

"You have a poor judge of character!"

"Sveta!"

"You'd sooner marry a smooth-talking whore than someone who really loves you!"

"What brought that on?"

"I—I don't know!" she said, stepping back and throwing up her arms. Then she turned and stormed out, rounding on their two visitors, "Get out of this house."

"Sveta!"

"Your majesty—"

"I am princess of Morgal, and you are in my living room, threatening to take away my brother and telling him that my argument is invalid. On top of all that you followed me here and you are drinking our tea. Get out. Get out or... or... VOLECHEK!"

"I think she wants you to leave."

"But sire—"

"You had better do what she says." Volechek took each one by the arm and steering them out, "We'll discuss this outside."

Sveta was not actually very happy with that, either. She growled in frustration, grabbed him by the back of the shirt and yanked him back inside, slamming the door on the tail of one of their guests. When he yelped in pain, she opened the door, gave him a sound kick and slammed it again. She glared at the wood for a while, and Volechek watched her stupidly. He knew that the two generals had not gone anywhere, but he was not about to say anything, because he could see quite clearly that Sveta knew they had not moved, too.

He swallowed and extended a hand. This outbrust was unlike her. Horribly unlike her. She took a deep breath and exhaled, turning her green eyes to him, "War took my parents. Don't make it take my brother."

"Sveta. I don't understand, you are normally quite—"

"I do remember." she said suddenly, "I do. I remember how I felt when Mother and Father were killed. How dare they say I don't. But I remember seeing Sanan soldiers dead, and what you do not understand is that hurt me just as much. Lord Kuan has a son, he has a daughter. They are not as young as we were, but that will not make their pain any less, and you know that."

He frowned. He did, but he did not want to believe it. No. Sanan's were not capable of feeling emotions and remorse. He told himself this a million times. They were slave drivers. they were merciless and cruel. There was not a drop of good blood in their country, in their people. Not even their children were innocent. Even they were told time and time again that Beastmen were barbarians.

Of course, he looked at Sveta's furious green eyes and he did not really believe that.

No! he told himself, No, they are a wicked race. They killed your mother. They did more than just kill you mother! And you can never forget that.


[1.] the proper way to remove almost any arrow is to cut off the feathered part of the shaft, and shove it through, due to the fact that some may have curved points or serrated edges. When in doubt, don't pull.

Little survival advice, there. If we ever find ourselves invaded by aliens with arrows and clubs.