Dear Neko-chan, I'm terribly sorry for not updating sooner… It's just that the dreaded 'real life' was getting in my way pretty effectively, keeping me not only from visiting this site on a regular basis, but also from writing in general. :( In any case, your patience with me is incredible, and I'm starting to wonder whether you're not some kind of an angel. :)) Thank you so much for everything you've done for me so far! --hugs tightly--


Chapter Two


Maybe it's my punishment for running away from home, she thought for what seemed like a tenth time in the last couple of minutes, absently rearranging yet another one of her pillows, a task which was supposed to serve more as a distraction from her growing restlessness than anything else. Maybe I should have never tried something so unreasonable

Hilda's fingers froze for a few seconds, then resumed their subconscious, nervous twitching. Unreasonable? Was it, really? After all, how could she have predicted such a ridiculous, tragic turn of events? She had the right to leave Lindblum any time she wanted, had she not? And if so, was it really her fault that those poor soldiers had died in a completely unexpected attack, trying to defend themselves against a much more powerful enemy?

Well, of course not… but her uneasiness, mixed with a great deal of anger and frustration, remained. Some things were certain: if only she had stayed in the capital, those people would now be alive. Hilda Garde would have never been stolen, at least not so easily. And she… She wouldn't have to sit in this room--the door most probably unlocked, yet the very sense of imprisonment remaining--moving from one chair to another, nearly biting at her fingernails in an entirely unladylike manner.

Maybe she should have chosen some other way?

There were many ways of punishing a disloyal husband. Hilda could think of a few good ones in less than five minutes. The most obvious one, cheating on him behind his back, was absolutely out of the question. First of all, Cid was probably too dense for the method to work straight away, so a potential affair would have to last for months. Most importantly, though, no matter how much she couldn't stand his inconsiderate behavior at times, she still loved him… and would never do something so cruel as to seek revenge in another man's arms. No, she had had to strike where it would hurt the most, without actually hurting him too badly… Fortunately, Cid's pride and carelessness made an ideal target.

Had he been taking her presence for granted? Well, certainly not anymore. Now he would have to learn what it meant to run a country without a woman's care and support.

Hadn't he always repeated how precious his baby-daughter, his airship was? Let's see how he managed without it.

Hadn't he usually tried to impress some of the younger girls with his looks? Well, surely he would make a terrific impression as an oglop…

Hilda chuckled under her breath; it was a small, humorless sound, which sounded suspiciously similar to a dry sob. No, she didn't really feel guilty for executing that sort of a vengeance. Month after month, she had seen the man flirt shamelessly with cute, young maids and less civilized, yet equally attractive female engineers. Cooks, magicians, actresses, technicians and infamous Alexandrian soldiers… everything that wore a skirt--the skimpier, the better--didn't go beyond her husband's notice.

To say that Hilda had been upset would be a huge understatement.

Cid deserved every bit of punishment he got. At least she had been quite creative about it.

Besides… Hilda turned her head to the right, to look at the passing clouds, am I not allowed to a bit of freedom every once in a while?

She had taken this trip not only to put Cid back into his place. She had also wanted to take a break from her everyday life. From everyone's constant rambling about machines, steam engines and brand new technologies, from the annual Festival of the Hunt--a dangerous, slightly outdated tradition that she had never truly approved of--as well as from loud ballrooms and dusty theatres, her overprotective servants and their mindless chatter, Artania's old jokes and her best friends' headaches… practically from everyone and everything. It had been so long since she had last left the city as herself, not as the regent's wife. She had almost forgotten what independency tasted like…

And where was her independency now, when she was but a helpless prisoner in some strange, unpredictable man's hands? A man who wouldn't even hesitate to kill, in order to achieve his obscure goals? A man who didn't need to think twice before threatening a woman? How safe could she feel under these circumstances? Was he even inclined to keep his cheerful promise?

Worse still, she wasn't the only one caught up in such a risky, unfortunate position. If she was unable to go back home any time she saw fit, what would become of her husband? As much as Hilda tried to ignore it, the question had already settled deep into her mind, pressing for an answer she knew she could not find. True, she had initially planned on staying away from the castle for at least a month or two, and that period wasn't over yet… but if things continued as they were, who or what could guarantee her safe return?

And if she didn't manage to return, who would turn Cid back into a human?

She could only hope that the man would never grow so desperate as to try dubious potions, let alone some other suspicious rites. Then again, knowing him, he probably had enough common sense to patiently await her arrival. The obvious problem was, she was temporarily stuck in a dead-end situation. Returning to Lindblum could take her weeks, if not months. Besides, unless her captor had a sudden change of mind and decided to vanish from this ship as swiftly as he had appeared, it would require a clever plan of escape, not to mention some bravery to follow it, and a great deal of luck.

Hilda sighed, tracing her smooth fingers along the pillow's edge. Sure, she could always put her worries aside and simply wait for a rescue party to appear. It was some alternative, she supposed, a fairly reasonable one at that, so much safer than trying to push her luck with unpredictable madmen. Sooner or later, someone would come, right? Wandering heroes and selfless mercenaries were a rarity these days, but if Cid was forced to spend too much time in his new body, he might even start to look for her, and then…

Ah, but it would have been so humiliating… running away from your husband, only to have him rescue you some time later. Simply pathetic.

Hilda Garde could remain in the air for at least nine days, without running out of fuel, water and other supplies. Normally, this fact would have made her proud of Cid's skills, but not right now, when every single hour mattered. A whole week was a huge amount of time, an eternity, almost, especially considering the ship's incredible speed. In a week they could get literally everywhere, to Burmecia and beyond--assuming that Kuja hadn't lied to her, of course, and that they were indeed traveling north. Besides, there was no way of telling where exactly they would land, and it was another factor that worked to Hilda's disadvantage. It made her escape very difficult, nearly impossible.

Well, there was nothing she could do at the moment but stare at the sky and battle her uneasy thoughts. She disliked having to sit with her arms folded, but what other choice did she have?


He swiftly rose from his seat when she entered the room, walking up to the other side of the table, as if to offer her a chair. Hilda stopped in the doorway, glancing down at a slightly smaller mage who had just brought her to this dinning chamber, and was already turning back to leave. As soon as the unnerving, silent creature was gone, her eyes wandered back to Kuja's expressionless face.

"Thank you for your… invitation," she spoke without taking a single step forward, "but I am not hungry at the moment. I tried to explain it to one of your… servants, but he" - he?- "wouldn't even listen."

"Oh, but you'll have to eat." The white-haired man shrugged, stepping back from the chair, perhaps wordlessly asking her to come closer. "After all, I didn't spare your life only to have you starving."

Hilda couldn't help but wince. Straight to the point, wasn't he? Unfortunately, his arrogance was fully justified: yesterday, she had been completely at his mercy.

"Don't be unreasonable, Lady Hilda," he insisted. "Please, take a seat."

For a long moment she stared at the table, undecided, but common sense eventually won with her pride. To starve herself to death in a silly act of defiance would have been, for the lack of other words, simply ridiculous. If she wanted to escape, she would have to remain strong, and to remain strong, she would have to eat. It was as simple as that.

She gracefully walked up to the offered seat, once again wincing slightly, as he all but helped her sit down. In this new age of enlightenment and equality, young people hardly ever cared about such gestures. It would seem, though, that this particular lad was the very epitome of proper etiquette. It was quite confusing, in fact, that he could be so full of contradictions--acting so gentlemanly whenever he chose to, yet so frighteningly rude a moment later.

Tonight, in this warm, candlelit room, where there was no blood in sight, only delicious-looking, steaming dishes, the unmoving Kuja looked almost harmless. Hilda knew better than to judge people on the basis of their appearance, but with his eyes half-closed, lips set into a neutral, nearly pleasant expression, and long hair flowing down his shoulders in a swirling mass of white and silver, he resembled nothing more than a very young, entirely innocent boy… or, to be more specific, a beautiful, porcelain doll, which was only supposed to look like a boy. His facial features alone were enough to make a couple of her female friends envious, she realized suddenly, and the thought made her cringe. There was nothing to envy, after all… She had already seen his other face, hadn't she? A face marred by cruelty, frozen in icy indifference.

And yet…

Had she met him like this, calm and motionless, bathed in the soft, golden glow of dying sunlight and flickering candles, she would have never deemed him capable of murder.

It was a strangely unsettling thought.

The illusion of innocence, however, broke the very second he opened his eyes--because they were the ones she had seen yesterday, on those slippery, bloodied planks, as he was staring down at her, expression cold and uncaring.

"You must be hungry, Lady Hilda," he murmured absently. "Let's eat."

Well, of course she was hungry, in spite of her earlier lie… No wonder, really, considering the fact the she hadn't eaten practically anything in the past twenty-four hours. Careful to keep her movements dignified, she helped herself to some bouillon, wishing she had enough courage to reach for a piece of meat straight away.

They both ate in complete silence, occasionally pausing to exchange brief glances, yet keeping all their comments to themselves. Much to Hilda's disappointment, the food itself turned out rather unpleasant. Swallowing one bite after another soon became a considerable challenge. Not only did her throat feel dry and constricted from the events of yesterday, but also the dishes' taste left quite a lot to be desired. Everything was edible, she supposed… but a bit tasteless, nonetheless.

"Would you like some wine, Lady Hilda?" Kuja's voice suddenly rang from across the table.

"No, thank you," she found herself replying. Unlike the rest of her meal, the wine would have probably turned out delicious, at least if it came from Hilda Garde's hold, but she had to remain perfectly sober. As much as she hated the constant tension, she knew she could never allow herself to relax in this man's company.

"I'm sorry about the dinner's quality," he spoke once more, and this time she actually looked up at him, only to see him smiling apologetically--or was it merely another one of his skillfully concealed smirks? "None of my puppets can cook very well, I'm afraid."

Puppets…? Was it all these creatures were? They sure looked a bit like it; their golden eyes empty and uncomprehending, movements stiff and oddly insecure, too strange for normal, self-conscious beings.

"So I have noticed." Fortunately, her voice didn't fail her, and she instantly congratulated herself on regaining her inner balance so soon. "Had I known about it before, I would have perhaps reconsidered your offer, and prepared myself a decent meal."

"Oh? Is that so?" He looked up from a bottle of wine--Cid's wine, what else?--he had just opened. "I thought that Lindblum noblewomen didn't lower themselves to such petty things as cooking." The tone had been playful, more like a lighthearted joke than actual insult.

"Obviously, you thought wrong," Hilda replied with a small, dignified shrug. "Life often seems to be full of surprises, does it not?"

"True enough. I can't say I didn't feel surprised to meet the Regent's wife in a place like this, so far away from Lindblum…" He trailed off, as if waiting for her to swallow the bait and continue. Ah, but if he considered himself the only one skilled in these games, then he was gravely mistaken.

"I assure you my shock was even greater." She forced herself to meet his gaze, no matter how much courage it cost her. "You see, I have always thought that Alexandrian noblemen didn't lower themselves to such petty things as murder and thievery."

As expected, she did manage to catch him off guard, just this once--her bold words were no different from a direct slap in the face, after all. For the briefest of moments, his blue eyes widened in uncontrolled surprise, but then he simply started to laugh, expression as unreadable as ever.

"What makes you think I'm an Alexandrian nobleman?"

This strange, indirect response definitely wasn't any similar to the one she had expected, and she couldn't really tell if it was for the better. "Your accent," she replied calmly, careful not to show her growing uneasiness. "This, and the fact that you are one of the very few people I know who actually take their time to eat poultry with knife and fork."

Well, it certainly was true. Ever since their meal had started, he had been meticulously cutting the tasteless chicken into tiny, even pieces, instead of simply grabbing a thigh, sticking it into his mouth and picking the bone clean, just like most other men did, aristocracy or not. Truth be told, it was something that had instantly caught Hilda's attention. For years, she had tried to teach her otherwise polite husband some basic table manners. Much to her frustration, it had soon turned out to be an absolutely impossible task, doomed to failure from the very beginning, as Cid simply wouldn't give up on his old, comfortable habits, only because her wife had told him to.

Kuja, on the other hand, behaved in a flawless way, at least as far as proper etiquette was concerned. Unlike Cid, he would actually use flatware. Unlike Cid, he remembered to use a napkin. Not that it made him look any better in her eyes.

Meanwhile, the young man laughed once again, looking up from his slender fingers, still locked around a set of cutlery. "Well done, Lady Hilda. You are very perceptive."

He seemed genuinely amused, as if the fact that she had discovered a part of his identity with such ease didn't bother him even the slightest bit. Was he really so careless, so self-assured? Did he have no fear of being caught?

"Apparently not perceptive enough to tell your motives," she replied calmly, willing to play along for just a while longer. "Why would you steal a ship, if you could possibly…" –one look at his clothes was enough– "afford it?"

"Oh, it's not just any ship, right? It's the Hilda Garde, unofficially the Eighth Wonder of the modern world, the fastest airship on Gaia. Had I wanted any other ship, I would've probably tried using some more old-fashioned means, like money." He laughed. "Too bad this one wasn't for sale, then."

"So, for a mere airship you would go this far?"

"Oh? Haven't I already told you that I didn't do anything?"

"Yet you are the one giving orders here."

"True." Hilda's heart nearly skipped a beat, as the innocent smile didn't fade from Kuja's face. "Which is why you may want not to upset me."

Was that a threat? With his enigmatic expression, there was no way of telling. Unless she asked him directly, of course, and that was entirely out of the question. It would be pointless, not to mention risky, to prolong this incredulous discussion.

"Excuse me," she said, standing up. "I'm afraid I need some rest."

"Leaving so soon, Lady Hilda?"

"Yes. I have already finished my meal."

His voice stopped her just before she could reach the door. "As you wish, but before you leave, may I ask you a single question? Where were you traveling yesterday, my lady?"

It was the very same question she had already asked him, more or less. A small, humorless smile tugging at the corners of her lips, Hilda turned around to face the sitting man. "East."

He blinked at the mockery, surprised only for a second, then once again started to chuckle. "Ah, by now I should've become rather well-used to your sharp tongue, eh?" The laughter faded as quickly as it had started. "…Still, I insist that you give me a direct answer."

"And why should I? My private matters are of no interest to you." She kept her head high, but fear was creeping up on her rather quickly. Probably for the very first time since she had met him, Kuja looked deadly serious.

"It couldn't have been a matter of politics, could it?"

"I was not on a diplomatic mission of any kind, if that is what you were asking about," she replied cautiously, unsure of how much he wanted to know, and just how much she was willing to tell him. "I was traveling for my own, personal reasons, which, as I already said, do not concern you in any way."

A thoughtful look crossed his doll-like features, as if he was trying to figure out whether her words were true or not. "A bit surprising, really, that you didn't take your husband with you."

"He was very busy," she retorted dryly, "and had to remain in Lindblum."

"Mhm…" He leant back in his chair. "I think I might've heard something about that… So busy that he wouldn't even leave his room, let alone the castle, for the past three weeks."

"He has been… sick, as well." She narrowed her eyes at the white-haired man. There was no way he could know about Cid's true condition, unless he had a secret informant within the castle, or was a spy himself--though the latter, she supposed, was rather impossible. She had met several spies in her life, and they had all but one thing in common: inconspicuous appearance. Kuja, with this unnaturally perfect face of his, could never pass as 'inconspicuous'.

"Sick, I see." The almost nonexistent smile didn't fade. "How unfortunate. Well, there have been rather… interesting rumors. Apparently, Regent Cid suffers from some kind of an unpleasant curse, one that has temporarily robbed him of his human body. Surely, you must know something about it, Lady Hilda?"

"And how would you know?" she interrupted sharply, for she certainly didn't like the direction, in which their entire conversation was going. "I thought you mentioned that the Regent didn't even leave his room?"

"Ah, rumors are only rumors, I guess… Nothing to get too excited with," he sighed, raising one of his hands in an overly resigned, apologetic gesture. "In any case, it's a real pity you can't be with him in these supposedly trying weeks."

She had to clench her teeth so tightly that it actually hurt. "Indeed. Well, I shall be returning to my room now, if you do not mind. Enjoy the rest of your meal."

"Ah, but it just won't be the same without your charming presence." He didn't really mean it, which was rather obvious. "We shall meet here tomorrow, as well. Oh, and by the way… As long as we're in the air, you're free to wander around the ship as much as you like. I'd recommend you not to disturb the puppets, though. They might react quite badly to such disruptions."


Why he had decided to spare her life, he had no idea. It had been an impulsive, spontaneous decision, and it probably had not so much to do with his conscience, as with the circumstances under which they had met. Killing her on the spot would have been too… uncivilized for his taste. And a bit unnecessary, as she posed no treat to him. There was nothing beautiful, nothing truly poetic in striking down a defenseless woman, one who had still attempted to look straight into her death's face, without flinching. It had perhaps been that defiance, that very courage that had saved her. Had she covered before him in fear, he would have most certainly had her killed in a matter of seconds, with no regrets. After all… there was no place for the weak in this world. Not in this one, not in any other. Showing anyone mercy was pointless. It was one of the basic laws of the universe.

Even if the whole turn of events was rather surprising, he didn't regret his choice. Keeping this woman alive meant but a couple of insignificant complications, nothing more, and it could also prove quite beneficial in the near future. As of now, he wouldn't even have to keep an eye on her--surely, she wasn't suicidal enough to try and escape in such unfavorable conditions?

And besides… she was a bit amusing, really: her pride constantly making her raise to the smallest of his challenges, regardless of her situation. When had they met, exactly? Had it been only two days ago? Less than forty-eight hours, in any case, and she was already certain that she had figured him out, managed to solve at least one puzzle, basing on his accent and table manners alone. The mere thought of it brought yet another ghostly smile to his lips. Humans were all the same, he mused, slowly tracing the rim of an empty glass; nothing more than a bunch of pathetic, overconfident fools. Too blind to see past his innocent façade, to take him seriously, to realize that his kind words might have been nothing but lies and empty vows. Ignorant enough to mistake ethereal beauty for weakness, distant sarcasm for sheer politeness. Oh, sure, he had always hated playing weak and respectful towards the ones he despised, but in the end, it was all worth it. Their reactions were so… entertaining, after all. People swallowed whatever lies he would feed them. They thought him harmless, he knew, clever--and thus potentially dangerous--but remarkably loyal, entirely devoted to Alexandria's glorious future. A slightly eccentric, snobbish, yet perfectly average gentleman, concerned mostly with money and pleasure (weren't they all?), and most importantly, with the Kingdom's well-being…

They were in for a big surprise. The glass, now filled to the brim with wine, slowly rose to meet the man's scarlet lips.

And to think that the elephant-lady was sure she was using him… It was laughable, really.

He had long ago abandoned all fears of being caught red-handed, of someone being able to see through, let alone thwart his actual plans. And how could they? Even that old fool, that pathetic excuse for a Maker, couldn't find a crack in his flawless mask--a final, undeniable proof of his betrayal--no matter how hard he tried. So far, they had reached a status quo of sorts: as long as Garland's own ambitions were set into motion, as long as the Tree received enough souls to function properly, Kuja was free to do whatever he pleased. However, the Tree still wasn't working at its full capacity, and it was something that kept Garland nearly on edge these days--if such a term could apply to a person who hardly ever showed any feelings at all, that is. In any case, Kuja knew better than to mistake his Creator's seemingly cold, stony expression for anything else than a clear sign of irritation and displeasure.

And, as much as he hated to admit it, an impatient, displeased Garland was not to be taken lightly. A real, full-scale war on Gaia would have to start soon, otherwise the pompous bastard would grow suspicious and insufferable. It didn't really matter if they were miles, dimensions apart; unfortunately, Garland still had many ways of reaching his Angel–

Kuja's open palm violently slammed onto the table. No, not his, certainly not for long… not when the Angel was already so close to realizing his own life's ambition. With the beginning of the war, everyone's attention would be diverted, and he would finally be able to bring all the Eidolons under his control. As soon as he managed to do that, only one step would separate him from defeating Garland and becoming a master of his own fate… as well as of everything else in the known universe.

He could hardly wait for that to happen.


End of Chapter Two


Quoting the X-Files: "The plot is out there!" (…I just need to look for it some more. :D)


Author's Notes: Damn, I wanted to keep my chapters short, just this once… perhaps next time I'll do a bit better. :P Comments and suggestions are very much welcome, even though I already know where this fic will be going – it's just a matter of writing everything down in semi-decent English, as usual. :)

Steeple333, please, don't get me started on a single non-English word I decided to use in the first chapter, as I could ramble about the whole issue forever. Basically, I agree that Fangirl Japanese is horrible and that putting it into a fic makes you a very bad author (I never claimed to be a good author, by the way :P).

Kuja's 'ara' ('huh?') was supposed to be nothing more than a Terran expression of surprise – I love toying with idea that it's the language he thinks in, most of the time. Would you rather have me create an entirely new word for this purpose? Truth be told, I was planning on using even more Japanese than that (not just Fangirl Japanese, mind you), but I kind of expected that some people wouldn't like it… and perhaps rightly so.

I removed the word and decided to stick to pure English from now on.

Tacofoolio, I thought about "the Black Mages issue" a lot before I decided to post anything, trust me. :) The Mages Kuja currently travels with are those who haven't awoken yet, not the ones form the Village. Well, I felt that the man needed at least some servants (after all, he's definitely not the kind of person to do everything by himself), and Black Mages were an obvious choice.

As for Hilda… she's far too noble to betray her husband, so there's no chance in hell that she will ever fall for Kuja. ;) And yes, Neko-chan, I intentionally made her so strong, because that's how I've always seen her – as a self-confident, independent woman, not so easily intimidated, and certainly not your typical damsel in distress. ;)