Well, this is a little bit out of my normal range in a couple of ways as the first femalecanonxOC one shot that I've ever attempted to write and as one of the few stories where I didn't begin with lyrics or a song in mind, though a beautiful BreakxAlice MEP did inspire me. That said, I apologize if any characters from Pandora Hearts who are featured in this one shot {and who, I will add, are not in any way purported to be my creations and who belong to their respective designers and creators} are depicted as being out of character. Unfortunately, I have not been able to watch the anime for Pandora Hearts, and I've only recently begun reading the manga, so once again I am functioning with friends who have watched and/or read it and using wiki sites as a support. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy, and that I don't step too far out of line with any part of this story. Feel free to leave a review; I love hearing from people who have read the things that I have written.
Swallowed by the shadows, the forest was little more than a blur of skeletal arms, hands reaching for salvation and charred by the flames of judgment. In the depths of night, it was hardly more than a blur of black on a navy backdrop, stars whirling dizzyingly overhead in a velvet expanse of sky. Though there were no clouds in the sky, the moon had been painted into obscurity by the hands of fate, a blessing and a curse on this night. Darkness smothered him, sifting inside his mouth and tasting foul against his tongue like ash as his lungs burned with the acrid night air. It tasted like battery acid, but he could no longer breathe through his nose. Straining his eyes to see past the shadows and the reaching branches, the young man fought to keep his breathing even, gulping down grating pants that sounded to his ears like gunshots in the night.
As he slid under a low-hanging branch in his path, he forced himself to shut his eyes and listen to the sound of his heartbeat for just a moment. The worst thing, he'd found, to happen when running, especially when running from something or someone, is to hear nothing. Death's cloak dragged along the floor to the rhythm of an empty room, brushed against the walls with the sound of ashen leaves disintegrating in the night.
But for innocence, he thought grimly, I would run an eternity.
With a hushed grunt, he broke free of the tree line and skidded to a stop, muffling a curse with the torn leather glove covering his palm. Eyes darting this way and that for an auxiliary escape, he took a step away from the crater into which he had very near tumbled, bits and pieces of dirt crumbling away under his muddy boots and tripping down the steep incline. Raw wires and decrepit concrete jutted out of the makeshift cliff side, exposed by years of erosion, but no shard of rubble extended more than five feet from the dirt wall. At that point, nighttime dwelled as the monster in the shadows, a darker patch of black against the whole far bigger than the average closet beast, as if things simply…ceased to exist within the sphere where once an entire city had stood.
"The Tragedy of Sablier…," the young man found himself whispering, his hand falling limply to his side as the wind raked through his hair and snatched his words away.
"Astute observation, Professor Alphonse," responded a clipped voice, smothering the weary prey and stealing its sight in a single fluid motion. "Soon enough you will see the other end of the Tragedy and know it for yourself."
【❁】
Jack…
【❁】
Spluttering and coughing for breath, Alphonse jerked weakly against his bindings and strained upwards into the soaking wet burlap sack for a mere taste of oxygen. He sucked the precious substance down in wheezing gulps as the water ceased to pour down and his chair was kicked violently into an upright position. Head bowed forward, he vomited a good deal of water and stomach acid into his lap, expelling the putrid liquid from his lungs and respiratory tracts. His shoulders quivered, legs and arms numb from the degree of tightness with which they had been bound for the past few hours as he had been all but drowned.
How in God's name these people expect me to give them information when I can hardly breathe, much less talk…
Hardly enough time had passed for him to catch his breath before his neck whipped back over the wooden-backed chair and the deluge began anew.
【❁】
I miss playing with you…
【❁】
Dark circles were painted under Alphonse's sagging eyelids now, his hair and clothes disheveled and his gaunt face unshaven. Though he was freer to move about now than he had been before, movement was farthest from his mind, each muscle a leaden cord dragging him to the floor and binding him with exhaustion. For a moment, a minute, an hour, he rested his forehead against his knees, just a bare tap and a quiet beginning to a snore that peaked into an anguished shout as, all too soon, he was awakened by the sound of a thousand electronically amplified birds screeching with laughter. Jolting to his feet, he cracked his skull against the low-hanging ceiling and cursed, feebly slamming his fist against the walls within which he was confined. How long had he been stuck in this forsaken prison? It was getting hard to remember his own name, much less what they wanted him for.
【❁】
It's so lonely here…
【❁】
Too weary to stand on his own two feet, the bedraggled young professor struggled to keep from being dragged along the cold stone floors, though his suit was far beyond saving. Drenched in water, blood, and other fluids, scraped along rocks, dirt, and burned, the once beautiful brown fabric was ruined; it was a wonder the entire piece had held together as long as it had. He had long ago lost his gloves, and as he was thrown forward, he had to use his bare palms to brace himself against the rock as the room spun around him. The cool surface felt nice against his fevered flesh, even as he felt a pool of warmth spreading out from a stinging slice.
"I hear you're ready to cooperate, Professor," intoned the same voice which had blinded him like a hooded hawk near the site of the Tragedy. "Please. Do elaborate."
With a slow, ragged breath, Alphonse raised himself up to one knee, his head throbbing as he attempted to focus his gaze upon the robed figure before him. Bleary from lack of sleep, his chocolate colored eyes settled at last upon the empty void below the scarlet hood, no face to be found nor, in truth, desired to be seen. Alphonse swallowed once to wet his throat and let out a heavy sigh.
"Yes," he lied with easy conviction. "I'll tell you what you want to know."
【❁】
Come back to me.
【❁】
Having offered to his captors an abundance of information, not a single lie out of place in the arrangement and sprinkled over with a pinch of truth, Alphonse felt nothing more than utter weariness and a desire to lie down and never wake again. He had thought at the onslaught that he'd be able to withstand whatever methods had been devised to pry the information out of his unwilling lips, and true to his stubborn will he had never revealed that which he'd set out to protect from the beginning. There was, however, only so much that a man could stand in the way of torture, and as he'd sat shivering and awake for far too extensive a period of time, he'd come to realize he had reached that "so much" long, long ago.
"My my, you certainly are a big help, even if half of what you say is nothing more than gutter drabble, dearest Professor. I think, though, that we can work with what little scraps you've given us; normally, we don't even have to ask for information..I'd consider myself a lucky man that we deigned to consider you, Professor Alphonse," the male before him murmured, leaning forward over the weary man.
"I'd consider myself a lucky man if you would hold to your word and let me go," he responded dryly.
"I would, had you held to your end of the bargain and told us the truth. As it is, you've told us enough to suffice for the time being, but if you'll continue to act in accordance with your stubbornness then you've outrun your usefulness." As two more maroon hoods hauled Alphonse to his feet, he fixed the one in front with a cold, hard stare. "Do you yield, Professor?"
"I will not allow you to tear innocence asunder like the hound after which your family is named!"
"Then you are of no further use to me. Throw him into The Abyss."
【❁】
Dusty curtains whispered in a nonexistent wind, releasing their grey-haired lovers to the silence of a cavernous antechamber, its marble archways crumbling under the weight of an everlasting time that did not, in this place, exist. Lining the walls were tall, thin windows of black glass with spidery silver filigree frames, or, in their stead, heavy shelves filled with dolls and trinkets. Broken bits of rubble littered the presumably once glossy checkered floor, joined here or there by toys and shards of china and disturbed only by the presence of a low white table set for tea with petals of roses skimming the surface. The grandfather clock against the wall stared at the desolate mess with an impassive face, long blind and unmoving to the emptiness.
Curled up on a pile of mauve cushions in a window seat that was, for all purposes other than decoration, quite useless, the Will of the Abyss rested her forehead to the glass and frowned at her bleak reflection. She did not like these windows that showed her nothing but darkness, or at best, her own reflection, and she did not like that she could not go outside. A painful memory crept in with the thought and she flinched away, clutching her white rabbit doll to her stomach as it contorted with pain. Upon opening her eyes, a stranger sight than most greeted her, and for a moment, her lavender gaze quivered with uncertainty and she bolted to her feet.
"Jack…?"
Swallowing down the name she hadn't realized she'd spoken aloud, the young woman clenched a fist to her chest and stood rooted to the spot. Before her was not the man she had first supposed, golden locks braided neatly down his back and pressed green cloak cut to his tall, lean frame; no, what awaited her was far less refined and charming. He might have been handsome at some point, with dark hair of a length that, as she peered more closely at him, did resemble Jack's to some extent, and a similar stature. At this distance, the similarities ended there, and she found him all together darker and looking as if The Abyss had dragged him from some half-remembered unpleasant experience. Her face contorted in child-like displeasure at the realization that, in all likelihood, that's exactly what he was.
"No no no!" she muttered, stamping her foot. "You can't recreate him, you always get it wrong!" With a frustrated noise, dying half-strangled in her throat, she shut her eyes and whirled away from the man with a vicious command thrown in his direction. "Get out!"
As she did so, her knees shook and turned, locking together and weighing her down to the floor. Like a silken sea of clouds, her dress billowed around her as she sank to her knees, lying like a death shroud over the abandoned pieces of the past that were scattered beneath her. She brought her hands up, almost helplessly, to wipe at her eyes, her petite ribcage shaking as she fought back sobs. Behind her, the shaken man struggled to his feet and cast a bewildered glance around the room, his hand pressed to his rather tender ribs. He took a step towards her, wavering on his feet as if his body was lost with his mind, unsure of the true extent of his exhaustion until he hit the floor with a resounding thud.
The sound of a heavy body collapsing to her tiled floor attracted the attention of this dimension's very core, and with a hiccup, she lifted her teary face from her hands and drew her damp sleeve over her bleary eyes. Glancing over her shoulder, she noted no longer a man but a crumpled pile of brown cloth, marred here and there by faded scratches most likely acquired by being dragged across some rough surface; he seemed to have passed out cold. Curious, now, she cautiously stood to her feet and swept across the floor in his direction, pausing at his head before she deigned to sit. Reaching out one hand, she toyed with a piece of his hair, noticing for the first time that it was not black but a very deep coffee hue of brown.
"You aren't part of the Abyss," she mumbled. "Where did you come from…? You don't have a chain, you aren't a contractor…"
【❁】
Awaking to the cool touch of a hand on his aching temple, Alphonse moaned beneath his breath and screwed his eyes more tightly shut, opening them slowly only when he felt he could no longer keep them closed. They fluttered open and revealed in varying degrees of clarity his surroundings, leaving him thankful for the muted colors and only slightly less nauseous than he had been before. As focus gradually returned to him, he found himself staring into a pair of eyes the most peculiarly soothing shade of purple he had ever seen, set into a pale, feminine face peering down at him. The girl looked as if she'd been crying, faint streaks and dark circles under her pretty eyes, but as she noted him awake a faint, cheerful smile stretched across her lips and she drew her hand through his hair; it felt nice.
"Hello, Miss…?" he attempted, his voice sounding dry and garbled, as if he had swallowed rocks.
Very slowly, memories of the past however many days he had been detained were returning to him, overwhelming his muscles and bones with a deep, aching exhaustion. He had to fight to keep his eyes open, wary that wherever he was, he was not safe, despite how pleasant it felt to have his head resting in an attractive girl's lap. She smelled very much like lavender and roses, distracting enough without her hands in his hair.
"Come again?" he asked after a moment, realizing too late that she'd spoken and he hadn't been listening.
"I said that I don't truly have a name. What is yours? And where did you come from?"
"My name is Alphonse. I'm in The Abyss now, aren't I? I thought so," he continued as she nodded, still combing through his hair. "I was sent here as a punishment. I would not give up information that would lead to the harm of an innocent person."
"Why not?"
"She was someone I had sworn to protect. You don't have a name?"
"No."
"Then I'll give you one."
He sat up gingerly, managing enough of a shift to turn his torso towards her in a degree such that they were almost facing. She watched him quietly in that unblinking way of hers, hands folded neatly in her lap now that they could not play with his hair. Dressed all in white, she looked all at once the part of a young girl in spring attire, her sleeves detached so as to bare her shoulders, and that of a young woman to be engaged, the low neckline of her dress maturing both outfit and wearer on the whole. Capturing the ethereal light which lit the room—from where, he could not tell—her translucent hair glowed with the luminescence of a lily beset by moonlight, the same ghostly shade as her outfit. For a moment he could almost imagine that she was that girl for whose legacy he had been banished to this realm, and he lifted his hand to brush her hair away from her face, only to have her capture his hand with hers.
"…Alyss," he sighed as she poked and prodded at his palm. "I think that name will do."
"…I'd like that," Alyss murmured after a moment of silence, wrapping her arms around the man that had been all but dropped into her lap. "Will you stay with me, Alphonse? It's lonely here; no one ever comes to play anymore."
"I'll endeavor to make it less so."
She's just like a child, he wondered. I could have sworn she was yelling at me not ten minutes ago. I wonder…who is she, really?
【❁】
Long after Alphonse had fallen asleep in her arms, Alyss sat petting his hair and working out the tangles and the blood. Beneath the dirt and the grime, his face was pale and he shivered in his sleep every so often, though he lay like a leaden statue as exhaustion wrung energy from every fiber of his being. Tracing her fingers across the shadows beneath his coffee-colored eyes and down the pale blue veins on his temple, she found herself thinking that he very much needed a warm bath after his nap.
"Nyah, Mistress…?" a velvet purr interrupted her thoughts, accompanied by a gentle nudge as a warm presence made itself known against her shoulder.
"Oh, Cheshire," she responded, hardly lifting her head. "Bring a tub, and fill it with water, please? My new doll needs to be washed…"
Lips set into an impassive frown, the rejected feline sat back from his mistress, brushing a few dark maroon locks from his face. When she said and did nothing more than continue to offer what should have been his attentions to the human, Cheshire wrinkled his nose and stood with a derisive sigh. Licking one paw, he turned his face from the ghostly female and gave a disinterested 'nyah,' before the ribbons and bells hanging from his shoulders cocooned him and took him from this place. Alyss hadn't moved from her spot, even when he returned with what she had requested.
【❁】
For a moment, he was back in the cold, damp dungeon, the smell of moss and mildew filling in whatever cracks the water would not. It invaded his ears and his eyes and his nostrils and his mouth, reducing his senses to little more than a water logged panic as the deluge seeped into every pore and made his clothes heavy. Caught in the spiders web between dream and reality, Alphonse struggled and threw his head back with a soundless scream, inviting in the heavy liquid and releasing what little air his lungs still had.
"…!" He broke from the water with a startled gasp, choking on the puddles that had congealed in his lungs.
"Oh dear."
With all the agility of a fish out of water, the near asphyxiated professor floundered and scrabbled for the sides of whatever tarn he had been so cruelly tossed into and threw himself out onto the floor. There he lay in a pool of his own sweat and the bathwater slipping down his skin, shuddering and fighting convulsions as he coughed. As he lay against the cold marble floor, a hand gently brushing through his matted hair, his fevered eyes slowly blinked open and laid his fears to rest, showing him a dungeon of a different kind—one of marble and tile and roses rather than stone and bars and moss. He gave a quivering sigh and raised his hand to press back the ache in his skull, procuring a gentle coo from the one with her hands in his hair.
"I didn't know you'd act quite like that…was the water too hot? You'll have to get back in any way, you're still all dirty and I don't have clothes for you yet."
"Clothes? But…"
Heat flooded Alphonse's face as the realization struck him that he was no longer wearing his clothes, if indeed the scraps of soggy, filthy material he had covered himself with prior could be considered clothes at this point. Rather, his flesh, paled from exhaustion and an extended period without sunlight, was bared to the chill air of the room, wrapped tightly across tempered and lean muscles. Embarrassed as he was to find, sitting up with his hands graciously placed, Alyss was correct; he was quite filthy.
"Alyss, why am I…naked?" He swallowed hard and ducked his head.
"Your clothes were filthy!" she exclaimed cheerfully, taking his face in her hands and lifting his head up. "I sent Cheshire to get some more while I gave you your bath."
"That's very kind," he sighed, tucking his knees closer to his groin to cover his nakedness, "but I'd really rather not get back in a solid body of water. Perhaps with a washcloth, or some soap, I could…"
"Are you afraid?"
"Wha—?"
"Oh…You're afraid of the water. I'll get in the tub with you then," she told him, her forehead pressed to his with a kind smile.
Swallowing again, he watched in a mixture of horror and awe as the younger woman sat back before him and proceeded to untie the black strings and ribbons which bound her sleeves to her arms. They spiraled to the floor like feathers shed from a swan, but as her dress pooled about her knees, revealing skin as pale white and smooth as cream, there was left a creature no less beautiful than the first. She couldn't have been much older than thirteen—fifteen, at the very best!—he was sure of it, and for a professor of his twenty-young years, these feelings were entirely improper for him. Quickly, he shut his eyes to banish them, though her pretty face framed with delicate braids still smiled at him from behind his eyelids. It took everything he had not to pull away as she led him blindly to the water and bade him sit, a gentle splash following as she sat down with him in the water.
Cooled after having been left for some time, the tepid bathwater lapped against his chest and worked to soothe the ache in his muscles that seemed to have migrated into his bones. He gave a small shudder at the remembrance of what had caused that penetrating fatigue, but otherwise sat still in the copper bathtub Alyss had prepared. After some time of no movement, she approached his form and grazed her fingers across his throat and jawbone, enticing a shiver to roll across his skin and prompting him to open his eyes. She sat in front of him quietly, one hand wrapped across her torso, thankfully, and the other outstretched towards him.
"Hey…You don't have to be afraid," she murmured, her brows drawing together. "I'm here with you, and…and you're here with me…we're here together. I'm not lonely, so you don't have to be scared, all right?"
As she spoke, she scooted closer and dropped her hand, bringing both her palms together under the water so that when she lifted them up they held some of the liquid, a shimmering pool held in her hands. Lifting the shell of her hands, she poured the water over his head and worked her fingers through his hair. He wondered for a moment if it was as much a relaxation for her as it was for him—a bit of a nervous habit she seemed to have. Quite a reversal of roles, he sat still for her like an obedient child as she attempted to wash the dirt from his hair and scrub it from his shoulders. With a nervous chuckle, he prevented her from transgressing any lower, taking her hands in his and gently setting them down in the water.
"I can tend to the rest."
After a moment of washing himself, he spared a glance in her direction, drawn for another glance at this curious girl that had taken charge of whatever remained of his life since he had been dropped here. She was turned three quarters of the way away from him, absently swirling the water with her finger and occasionally repeating the process she had gone through for his hair with her own. Her hair, however, was far longer than his was. It near filled the tub, a silver lining atop what had been his nightmare, and at the current moment, was in danger of becoming terribly tangled. Pensively staring at one of the windows, now, she didn't seem to notice it at all, nor when he quietly sidled closer until his hands were in her hair.
"…? Alphonse?"
"Your hair is going to get tangled," he whispered as he carefully began to comb through it for her. "I'll deal with it for you."
Alyss smiled, then, nestling back against him as he proceeded to work out the tangles and replace them with a bottle of shampoo there was left beside the tub with towels. It smelled of vanilla and roses—fitting, Alphonse thought. Seating two people in a small copper tub and expecting them to bathe adequately was a difficult task, he found, especially when he was doing his utmost to refrain from inappropriate contact when Alyss, on the other hand, was snuggling against him from between his legs with her head on his shoulder.
【❁】
From the shadows, a hellfire stone and accompanying empty socket watched with obvious envy, spitting a hiss beneath a growl as the human touched his mistress. If terrible things always came in threes, then that poor wretch with his mistress in his arms was due for a fitting end.
【❁】
Though it had been a relief to finally lift Alyss from the tub and wrap a towel about her exposed form, some small part of Alphonse could not deny that it had also felt nice to have to wrap his legs around her to keep her from squirming as he rinsed her hair. Wrapping a towel about his waist, he knelt before her and gently fluffed the towel through her hair before leaving it around her shoulders and searching for her dress. As a gentleman and the older of the two, he presumed, it really ought to have been he who cared for her in the first place, regardless of how he had arrived or in what state. Regardless of whether or not this was a dream. But, he'd studied The Abyss long enough to know that this was no dream, nor even a nightmare; it was reality, pure and simple.
"Alphonse…?"
"Mm?"
"You looked lost in thought for a moment," Alyss murmured, holding out her arms expectantly for her sleeves as he tied the ribbon about her waist. "What were you thinking about?"
"Just…how I want to take care of you, now that I'm here," he laughed, sliding the filmy fabric up her slender arm. "I don't have much else to do, and this feels…right."
Wrapping her arms around his torso, the petite female dragged her new caretaker in close and nuzzled her face into his neck. "You may not be…'that person'…but I'm glad that you're here…We can…we can stay up all night and talk, right? And play games…and…and…," she paused to yawn, rubbing her eyes, "and we can…mmn…"
He gently caught her as she started to slip, holding her about the waist with one hand and keeping his towel held up with the other. With a sigh, he carefully lifted her up, surprised at her slight weight, and shuffled over to the high-backed Victorian sofa. Its short stature—or perhaps his inability to lean down without losing either Alyss or his towel—required that Alphonse lower himself to one knee before he could arrange the pillows and clear away the abandoned dolls to make room for the sleepy girl. She herself looked like a fragile doll, her damp hair spilling out across the cushions and her porcelain cheeks hardly touched with any trace of color as she fought back another yawn. Brushing her bangs away from her face and tucking her dress in gently around her, he shook his head and gave a faint smile.
There's something about you, he thought quietly. You…I think you are someone I would run an eternity for.
"You rest a while," he said aloud. "I'll be here when you wake up."
"You do not belong here," someone said from behind him. "You are stuck here, however. Perhaps you will die soon."
A cold chill dripped down Alphonse's spine at the husky voice, making him shiver and wish he had his clothes. In turning, he found that's exactly what he had, though they were a darker color and, upon closer inspection, not his clothes at all, but rather a set much like them. Holding them was a male who stood approximately as tall as Alphonse, his shaggy hair the same shade as the human's, albeit of a shorter cut. Dark black and purple clothes with golden ribbons and bells decorating them wrapped his lanky form in velvet shadows, and Alphonse wondered how he hadn't heard the other man when he wore bells about his throat, on his toes, and trailing from the ends of a long scarf-like cloak.
"Cheshire would like that very much," the young man spoke again, pinching the clothes between two long claws, for where his hands should have been instead there were enlarged paws, and holding them out towards Alphonse as if they disgusted him. "If the human would die soon. You look tasty, and Cheshire is hungry. But Mistress would be upset if Cheshire killed you just yet."
"Beg pardon?"
"She seems…attached to you," he said, shoving the articles of clothing towards the bewildered professor. "But Cheshire does not like you. If The Abyss does not…nyah, Cheshire will eventually destroy you."
Cheshire shoved the clothes at Alphonse once last time, wrinkling his nose as if he had smelled something foul. Beyond that, his single visible eye, a dull and disinterested red gem, betrayed no further expression, and his lips hovered over a frown and two needle-like fangs. With a twitch of one feline ear, he turned away, a white-tipped tail swishing derisively as he faded into the shadows. As the sound of bells faded into nothingness, Alphonse was left with a heavy feeling of impending dread, much the same as when the Baskervilles had been chasing him.
Save this time I have nowhere to run…
Bewildered, Alphonse stood a moment and stared after the strange half-feline male, clutching the clothes he had been given to his abdomen. After some time he moved, looking over his shoulder at Alyss as she slept on, her hands half balled into fists near her face and her lips parted in relaxation. Giving a sigh, he pressed a hand to his eyes and wondered, briefly, if exhaustion had merely gotten to him at last. He dressed with relative slowness, sinking at last to a sitting position with his back against the sofa. Eyes shut, he leaned his skull against the cushions with a sigh, permitting his shoulders to sag as he raised one hand and gently ran it through the silver cataract spilling across the sofa.
"Well…I told you I would stay. And so I shall."
【❁】
"There," Alphonse murmured, gently tucking the braid he had finished behind Alyss' tiny shell of an ear. "All done."
"Oh!" The young woman clapped her hands together in delight, smiling warmly at him from her place on the sofa. "Thank you, Alphonse!" Running her fingers through his hair as she had been doing since the day he first arrived, a pensive expression overtook her lavender eyes. 'Will you let me braid your hair, Alphonse?" she asked, entreating him with that kind smile of hers.
"I don't know that it's long enough…," he began, shrugging as she promptly took hold of his shoulders and pulled him onto the cushions next to her.
"Sit!"
Laughing beneath his breath, the young professor took his seat next to Alyss as commanded by the smaller female, turning as she pushed and pulled at his shoulders so that he sat just how she wanted. He had to put one leg up over the arm of the small sofa in order to fit his tall frame and rested his arm against the spine of the piece for balance. Eyes shut, he relaxed to the feel of her well-manicured nails skimming his scalp as she combed through the thick, dark hair falling over his shoulder blades. After so long in her dimension, this place without time, he had grown accustomed to her hands in his hair; she always liked playing with it.
"Say, Alyss," he murmured, opening one eye and tilting his head to look at her as she began braiding.
"Don't move so much," she frowned, then smiled, continuing to weave the thick locks of hair back and forth in an intricate plait. "What is it, Alphonse?"
"Why do you like playing with my hair so much?"
"You have pretty hair," she teased, twirling in another layer to the braid, "and when it's all braided like this, you look like—"
Abruptly, she stilled, her pale face gaunt and frightened as she lifted her eyes to his. As if she was burned, she dropped the finished braid with a quiet thump against his back and pressed herself against the other arm of the sofa. He turned to look back at her, brows drawing together at the sight of a shimmer in her eyes, reaching for her as the first tear fell down her cheek. She pulled away, however, with a cry, shoving hard against his chest as more tears bubbled up and trickled down her chin.
"No! Go away! I'll ne-never forgive you!" she whimpered, clutching her head as the room began to tremble and shake as if a giant had grasped it in his palm and was shaking it about like a snow globe. "I told you I told you I told you! I don't want this, this isn't right, you aren't him this is wrong!"
"Alyss?"
Startled by her sudden change in behavior, Alphonse jolted to his feet, though he almost immediately had to grip at the sofa as dolls began to fly off the shelves with maddening giggles. Rising in pitch like a siren and whirling like a tornado, their noise deafened him as he struggled to keep hold of the piece of furniture in the wake of the vicious, tearing wind. He had seen her in the beginning of a fit when he first arrived, and in several smaller tantrums since, but this was something he had never before experienced.
"Human!"
A heavy weight barreling into his side whipped Alphonse's attention away from the girl shivering and crying on the cushions and had him seeing stars as his neck snapped back and cracked his skull against the marble floor. Tasting blood, he coughed and tried to breathe to clear the spots in his vision only to find that for the weight on his chest he may as well have been drowning all over again. Above him, he heard a feral growl, followed quickly by a sharp and stabbing pain in his ribcage. As he was lifted into the air, Alphonse sought a purchase and dug his fingers into the sleeves of the creature that held him, gasping for breath as its elongated claws sunk further into his torso.
"You made Alyss cry," a familiar voice hissed, Cheshire's arm flinging him wide and into one of the bookshelves. "Tch…That is…unforgivable…Nya, Cheshire told you he would destroy you."
Struggling to sit up, Alphonse put his hand to his chest and coughed again, feeling liquid warmth seep between his fingers as he clenched the fabric of his suit. Through the ringing in his ears, he could tell that the wind had stopped, but menacing snickers hovered near his ears, pulling his hair and destroying the braid Alyss had so carefully built. Bits of crumbling stone and wood showered down on him from the broken bookshelf as he managed to sit up, realizing too late that the ringing in his ears was not some traumatic damage but instead the mocking sound of the bell around his enemy's throat. His jaw ached as the irate feline wrenched his face upwards by his chin, as if he would shatter every bone in the human's body with just enough force at that point.
Still dazed from being thrown about like a ragdoll, Alphonse raised himself up with one hand and wrapped his other around Cheshire's wrist as if it could be used for leverage. With a bitter, gleeful smile, the Chain dragged his prey to his feet, pulling back one inhuman set of claws with which to rend his upper body from his lower. This wretched creature would pay for upsetting his Mistress.
Everything that makes you sad, everything that hurts you…Cheshire will destroy them!
"Stop!"
As if he had been struck, Cheshire flinched and dropped Alphonse without another word, turning to face the voice that had reached out to him. Ears lowered, he extended his hand towards Alyss with a tentative smile, as she approached him, only to be paralyzed with a spear of pain as she rushed past him and straight to the human who had made her cry. He turned slowly, heartbeat thundering in his ears, to see her cradle his head close, her arms cocooning him against her own dimension.
"But…Mistress…," he fumbled for words, hardly daring to whisper as she crooned apologies into Alphonse's ears.
"Just…go. I don't want you hurting him anymore, Cheshire. He's mine."
For a moment, Cheshire simply stared at the girl to whom he had devoted his life and afterlife. Then, with a tremble, he simply…vanished. Not even the ringing of his bell filled the vacuum where he had gone, and with a sweep of Alyss' hand, the dolls fell silent too.
"Alyss is mad," they whispered in silence, "and Cheshire is to blame now. What a bad kitty."
"Alyss?"
"Don't move!"
Grunting, Alphonse shifted as she pulled him, finding his forehead pressed against her collarbone as she stroked his hair. A faint laugh shook his chest as he was struck with the sensation that this was a very familiar scene. Body aching, he found himself in the arms of a young woman who had first been yelling at him, then crying. Just as he had first thought, she was simply a child. Rather than sitting still this time, however, he tenderly put his arm around her and embraced her to his chest with a sigh. She felt cool against him, her hair falling down his back and across his chest as she hovered in suspended motion above his prone form. After a moment, she shivered and sank down, slipping against his chest and resting her head on his shoulder as he held her.
"I'm fine, Alyss," he assured her. "Are you? I didn't mean to upset you with whatever I did."
"I'm fine," she said after a while, lifting her head and running a hand through his hair. "Hey…Alphonse? You're…mine, right…? I don't ever want you to leave me."
"I…don't think I can leave, Alyss," he murmured, resting his hand over hers. "But I wouldn't if I could. I promise. I told you I would stay, and I will. I'll stay here and take care of you, protect you."
"Then you can be my knight!"
She took his face in her hands with a smile, pressing her forehead to his. When she touched her lips to his, a chill spread through his body, similar to his near drowning experience but far more pleasant a feeling of icy asphyxiation. Shutting his eyes as she pressed her fingertips into his cheeks, he brought one hand up to her hair and brought their faces closer together, seeking a warmth she held as he began to feel cold. Her tongue slipped across his lips with a small, questioning noise, but he did not deny her for longue, granting her access with only mild surprise that she could be so bold. One arm at the back of her head and the other around her waist, he held the smaller female to him as she explored the cavern of his mouth and teased his tongue, pulling away in surprise rather than pain as she bit his tongue.
"A-Alyss…?"
Separated, his breath melded with the air around them as a foggy puff, his skin flushed as a single bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. He hadn't realized until now how hot he was, and he shivered feverishly as she bent towards him and dragged her tongue across the cut on his, wiping away the trail of saliva that connected their mouths with one delicate finger. As she laid his head in her lap, Alphonse fought to control his breathing, brought back to rest comfortably against Alyss' stomach. Catching sight of his reflection in her eyes, he swallowed slowly and began to calm almost at once.
"You'll never have to leave me," she cooed as garnet met amethyst, "and you'll be mine…forever, right?"
Ah~! Finally done! It took far longer than I would have wished it to, but at last, Knight is finished, and properly so. Hopefully it pleased the readers and I kept everyone in character; it wasn't until I was almost done that I reached the chapter in the manga where the Will of the Abyss appears. As I said, reviews and messages are always welcome, so long as they are not flames or hate mail~. I adore seeing what people think of my writing.
Oh, but, before I go. One note I did want to make. I left one part of the ending very vague and had thought that it was fine if people caught it or not, but it was brought to my attention that hardly anyone would notice it if I didn't make note of it. Pay very close attention to Alphonse's eyes. At the beginning, they are "chocolate colored," however, at the very end when Alyss speaks, "garnet met amethyst"—that is, his eyes are no longer brown, but red. Alphonse became a Chain at the very end; Alyss' Knight.