Mystic: Okay, okay. I know that this pairing isn't exactly popular, but can I please have a little feedback? Please? Cut me some slack; I homeschool and I'm out of coffee! (However, I have beer. I write better with a buzz.)
Object of My Desire
"I still have a daughter to raise."
Kuja sneered. "You don't have a daughter. You have a brat with a horn."
"And right now, I'm the only parent she has."
"Mother needs a break," he said, examining his nails. Despite his powerful spells and enchantments, Kuja's hands were remarkably smooth and free of callouses. "Well, that's what I told her anyway."
Hilda's heart stopped and shattered into dust. "You spoke to her? So you were outside my chambers!"
"I freely admit, lady, that you've done remarkably well raising the girl. She's still a brat, but she's smart."
"Why again were you in my palace?"
"Who is her tutor?"
"I am, but Kuja-."
He shrugged. "Oh, I guess that explains her new intelligence."
"Kuja!"
"When did you ever get it in your head that raising your voice to me was permitted?" The sorcerer shot her a pointed glare, then returned his attention to his nails. "I didn't speak to the brat with words; I entered her mind and toyed with her thoughts."
Mind manipulation. Why did the revelation not surprise the fae? Kuja spent most of his spare time studying time-worn books with carefully drawn models of the brain. (Hilda glanced once or twice at the spellbooks, but never sought to master the technique.) "Kuja, if you can master an enchantment simply by reading a tome, then surely you can learn how to spin straw into gil without my help. It's not a fae-specific chant." Yes, it stoked his ego, but unfortunately, her statement was truth.
"Actually, I cannot."
"I have multiple books to give you." Arguing with the madman in the codpiece. Yes, that was always successful in days past. Always and forever.
"My lady, " he said, voice in that clear tone of great-I-have-to-spell-it-out, "I do not own, nor can I operate, a spinning wheel."
Oh. Her grin turned massive and wide. "Once again, I don't need one, Kuja."
"Which is why I need you back."
Oh.
Damn, that backfired.
"What of my husband?"
Months of living with the sorcerer proved valuable to the lady. She learned to recognize his mannerisms, his expressions, and his taste in fashion. (Flamboyant was very much an understatement.) As of now, at the mention of her dying spouse, Kuja clearly could care less because Regent Cid was useless. Still, the sorcerer responded with another shrug of his shoulders. "He believes you're visiting family because again, mommy needs a break."
Kuja's mocking tone of voice left much to be desired. Even if Hilda didn't want to admit in court, her former warden did make a valiant point. Lately in her state of life, the lady of Lindblum had been caregiver, mother, teacher, nurse, cook, politician... oh dear Bahamut, she needed a vacation. A long one. With ale.
Why was it that a mage in minimal clothes always showed up when she secretly needed to get away the most? And she never had to speak his name three times. Maybe under certain provocation she'd moan it, but -
No, no ale. Nopity, nopity, nope.
Hilda looked at her empty drink glass and sighed miserably, dropping her hands. "Alright, sorcerer. Take me away from this place."
"Marvelous! We shall leave right after I visit a few shoppes."
Not that she shouldn't be surprised at his words, but it brought fear to her soul whenever Kuja desired to go shopping.
"My lady, my lady! Yooohoooo!" came a shrill, happy voice.
Oh, dear gods. Not now. "Good evening, Waylan," she responded. Her escort stifled a laugh.
The mages stood outside the specific shoppe that catered to desperate housewives and fornicating teenagers. Its middle-aged owner bounced on his heels in excitement, clapped his hands together. "My, my, if it isn't my favorite fae! And oh? Who is that handsome devil on your arm? You sir, are a tall glass of water."
Kuja stopped laughing. He mentally cursed himself for choosing the half-mask with feathers.
This particular shopkeep valued beauty almost as much as the former madman. (Well, maybe not too former...) The owner's hair, slicked back with pomade, was dyed an unnatural blond hue, but the shade worked well for the man's complexion. A healthy, yet very faux tan hid obvious crow's feet or other such wrinkles. His attire, however, even left Kuja with a shade of green envy. Feather boas were unusually difficult to come by.
"What do you have for me, Waylan?" Hilda grabbed Kuja by the hand and dragged him inside the shoppe. He still didn't smile. A myriad of items lay organized in glass cases, separated by color, size, and single or double-pronged. There was gold and silver jewelry to the left, but the sorcerer wasn't entirely sure what they were meant to pierce. He much preferred the articles of clothing hanging on the racks. The lace, the see-though, the leather. Hilda would look nice in the leather.
Waylan, a quite proper purveyor of all things phallic, kissed the lady on each cheek. "Your special package has arrived, you daring thing. Come, come; I must show you its magnificence." He led her to the back of the shoppe. "With this purchase, madame, you are entitled to a free gift of your choosing. Perhaps you'd be interested in something for that courtier of yours?"
"Oh, no. He's not -"
Kuja held up a pair of black heels. "My lady, are these your size?"
"Those come with free fishnets," Waylan said.
Never again would Lady Hilda giggle at phallic shape objects. She blamed herself for this predicament. In his hands, Waylan held a rectangular box made of the finest velvet. Inside the box, much to the lady's delight, was a silicone-based object in a very dark color. And yes, double-pronged because she was that desperate and troubled. Kuja grinned madly. "Well, well," he said. "If I had known your base desires, I'd have offered you my services much sooner."
Hilda couldn't slap him or set him on fire for two reasons. One: there were witnesses. Two: Kuja's immunity to such spells. So instead, she glared. She glared and silently vowed revenge. Giving a polite smile, she said to Waylan, "You mentioned a free gift?"
"Oh, yes. Only the best for my favorite fae."
Given her phallic, base desires, the lady wandered over to the jewelry section. "Tell me about these, sir."
"Crafted by the finest jewelers in Treno. Made specifically for the adventurous gentleman."
Kuja froze.
"They cannot be real piercings," Hilda said.
Waylan shook his head. "Dear me, no. These are for show, for fun. They clip on the underside or the tip. Whichever my lady prefers." He waggled his eyebrows in Kuja's direction. "Would your courtier be interested?"
Her smile looked innocent as she batted her eyes toward the sorcerer, but her mind's residence headed straight toward the gutter. "I'll take this set, please. The one with the little spikes."
"Absolutely, madame. Right away."
As for Kuja, the black heels and fishnets no longer seemed adventurous.
