Mystic: Kuja's chant in this chapter comes from Loreena McKennit. And my fingers are itching to write something naughty. Have fun.


Time for Dancing


At one point during our travels together, I might have slept with him.

Please, collect your jaws off of the floor and sweep your minds out of that perverted gutter. If I didn't know any better, I'd think some of you grew up in a bawdy-house surrounded by gamblers and whores. Catherine did, but that is an entirely separate story. Kuja and I did not ...bond through that. The temptation to do so was quite high, I admit, but unlike the regent, I know how to keep my feet on the ground. Yes, I know some people are able to perform - you know what? Nevermind.

We didn't.

Moving along.

Kuja, of all people, suffered from vivid and wild dreams that caused him to writhe and break out in cold sweats. He refused to tell me if they were nightmares, but even his precious dragon understood the severity of its master's sleep. They had returned after nearly a month's absence, and Kuja was lost in the torment of his mind. My people call it a night terror. He had fallen asleep on the journey, and that beautiful creature looked to me for guidance. At that point, I was lady of the house. Palace; oh, you understand.

That was the first of many moments when I felt pity for him. The mage didn't even have a childhood to grow and explore. With great difficulty, I managed to calm his subconscious. I compelled him; I had no other choice. He finally drifted into a more peaceful slumber, still nestled on the feathers of his companion, and I collapsed beside him, my magic once again drained. One would think I'd keep a steady supply of ethers around.

Outside in the sun, atop the silver dragon, we slept side by side. At some point in our shared slumber, my head moved to rest on his chest and I clearly felt his arms tight around my waist. Not that it made a corset anymore comfortable. Though, I suspected that he might have loosened the darn thing. It was much easier to take a deep breath when I awoke, eye level with his armor and bare stomach.

It took me a few seconds to recognize my surroundings. For a moment, I truly didn't want to move. Then he breathed, and I remembered.

I sat upright far too quickly. "Ah," I moaned, grabbing my head. "The world spins."

"Isn't it supposed to?"

Kuja stared at me, a sleepy grin on his face like a child refreshed for more playtime. "How long have you been awake?" I questioned.

He yawned. "Mm, long enough to see that you like to cuddle."

"Sorry." You must pardon the fact that I hadn't had a bedpartner in an indecent amount of time.

"Hilda," he said. "What in the name of sanity compelled you to compel me? I was unaware you knew the art."

I let out a sigh. "You were suffering a night terror."

"In the middle of the day?"

"Kuja, what would you rather me do? Let you suffer?"

He shrugged. "You, lady, are a very odd person." Before I could respond, he took me by the waist again and pulled me back down. "I suppose I should thank you. Sleep doesn't come easily for me."

"You're welcome." So he does have a heart. I could feel its steady rhythm beneath his chest. "What do you -?"

"No, Hilda. Just don't."

"Fine, then." We lay there in silence for a while, all sanity gone as we basically cuddled like a pair of lovers out in the open air. "Kuja, is your dragon ...purring?"

The feathers on his beautiful companion matched the ones in his hair. They blended together. "She does that when she's relaxed," he answered.

"...Does she like me?"

Kuja hesitated a brief second. "I believe she's grown fond of you."

That was the first of several instances where we literally slept together. Only sleep and small talk, nothing more. By Shiva's good grace, I never again had to compel his mind into peace. One of his many black mages mentioned that I was the first and only person allowed to stay close to their master while he slept. I found that revelation a bit odd. I'm no fool; I know for certain I'm not the first woman who warmed that sorcerer's bed. He lived in Treno for years. And yet, courtesans aren't exactly known for sleeping.

Myself? I haven't achieved a full night's rest since I returned to Lindblum. There isn't a fuzzy tail wrapped around my leg.


Though she thoroughly enjoyed being in Kuja's presence again, the experience was very humbling. Like it or not (and she really didn't), Kuja would forever be the more powerful of the two. Lady Hilda might have written off certain patients in the Industrial District as too far gone, given them poppy for pain relief until the dreaded inevitable. Kuja though, he always had more than a few tricks up those silk sleeves.

She cornered him outside the home of a very ill child. "You're not turning them, are you?"

"Don't be stupid, lady." He shook a vial of viscous fluid before removing the cork and blowing over the top. "There's quite enough of your kind on Gaia, and I don't believe we need anymore."

Hilda chose to ignore the slight insult. "Then what are you doing?" The Industrial District, usually alive and noisy with workers, stood quiet as disease and death wandered freely in the streets. "What is it that you give them?"

"It's not exactly what I'd call perfect, but over half of the time it's enough." The bright sun gave way to passing clouds, leaving the mages in the cooler shade of the day. "You cannot simply kill off the infection. A patient needs help defending their body from outside forces."

"Coneflower," she mumbled. "Of course! It strengthens resistance to sickness. Kuja, that's brilliant!"

He shrugged. "Astragalus, actually. It comes from Terra."

"Why didn't I think of that?"

"My lady, you're exhausted." Kuja looked at her, flicked back a strand of his hair. "You're not the vibrant female I once knew."

"Well, I wonder why. I'm out among the people during the day and listening to the tribunal court drone on about my marriage in the evening." She glanced out over the buildings, toward the water that surrounded her city. "It's more of a prison now then when I was with you."

"When was the last time you danced?"

By all things holy and pure, do not let that question be a euphemism. "Pardon?"

"You heard me loud and clear."

"Feast of All Souls." One of the many holy days of her people. "You remember."

"Oh, yes," he said. "Our picnic in the ruined cemetary outside of Mount Gulug. The bonfires dotted the rolling hills, and the figures danced around and around." His words were a time-worn chant, written by a long-deceased female mage.

Lady Hilda took the vial of astragalus, let her fingers graze across his. "Any other questions, sorcerer, before we move on to the next house?" Red crosses scattered across the landscape.

Kuja leaned close, eyes burning, smile witty and mischievous. "When was the last time you really danced?" He stood near enough that his robes brushed against her skirts. A stern nun from Esto Gaza caught what he really meant, than smacked it with a rulerstick.

Goosebumps appeared on all exposed flesh. "You're not speaking vertically are you?" No fear as she matched his stare.

"Not unless you are extremely talented." An experienced courtesan would tell them both it's not just about talent, it is also practice.

When a woman breathed, the slight rise and fall acted like hypnosis for a man. Kuja, all-powerful and forever composed, was not immune. "Believe me, Kuja," she whispered, willfully ignoring his lack of steady gaze. "I am quite talented, but I have not danced, truly danced, in a very long time." He stiffened, and she chuckled, leaning her lips by his ear. "One of my regrets, when I was nothing more than your ward."

Every drop of blood in his body rose to near boiling. "The interest rate on your debt has risen substantially, Hilda."

"Speak my name again, Kuja, for I'm quite sure that the interest rate is not the only thing that has risen."

So much of the crimson life force in his body, and absolutely none of it went toward the head on his shoulders.


Zidane clamped his hands over his mouth to keep from laughing and revealing his hiding spot. He crouched on a nearby rooftop. Since his marriage to Garnet, he forgot how much fun it was to spy on another couple and watch what took place. So far, it was sly flirting and sass, but the body language screamed tension of the sexual kind. Zidane had never seen his brother flustered by a woman before.

And another man's wife. Oh, the scandal! Oh, the gossip! Hopefully no other handmaiden would interrupt his voyeur-time. Though, he heard the blonde named Billie was attractive. A married man could still look around as long as he kept his hands to himself. Or, away from himself. Anyway.

He really needed to go home to Garnet. All of this 'watching' was making him a bit feisty.


When Kuja returned to the palace later that afternoon, Cid quickly cornered him in a quiet hallway. "What is she to you?"

"Excuse me?" The sorcerer tapped his staff against the hard floor. It wouldn't do well if certain people forgot who he was, and intimidation solved that problem very successfully.

"My wife." Cid clearly emphasized the second word.

Kuja's grin created fear in the hearts of so many people over the years. This particular moment proved no exception. "The lovely Hilda?" When the regent nodded, Kuja elaborated in theatric fashion. "My, my; she's a brilliant wise woman, mage, fantastic gardener. Skilled singer, talented dancer; I do think in her younger days she could have been a very popular courtesan." Classy and of high-rank.

"Watch your words, sorcerer."

"Of course, I remember Hilda as a very compliant ward."

That was enough for the regent. He pointed an aged finger in the sorcerer's direction, threatening. "You even so much as try to touch her-"

"Or what?" Kuja said with a sneer. "You don't even want her anymore. Isn't that why your marriage is being investigated?" He stepped around the man, unafraid, unimpressed. "Allow a younger man to waltz in and fill the role she dearly desires."

"So you fancy her?"

Kuja shook his head. "What she and I share is hardly a passing fancy."

"Then what is it?" Curiosity always got the better of him. It's amazing he had any lives left. "Our marriage is not considered null yet."

"That's between myself and her, regent." Kuja left, black robe sweeping the floor as he walked.


Hilda leaned on the balcony outside her private chambers. A cup of tea rested in her palms, but she didn't dare bring it to her lips. She ordered Billie to stir in an extract of chaste tree, but the herb seemed pointless and almost silly. Chaste tree cooled the blood in the body, namely, the sexual drive. Noblewomen of court took it regularly; noblemen barely knew it existed. Regent Cid took comfort in a harlot, one from the trashy pubs on the outskirts of the city. So many women questioned her upon her return: Did you not take a lover, my lady? Even for one night's revenge?

Catherine, blunt as always, called her stupid right to her face. Now, with Kuja's return, Hilda certainly felt stupid. What did she expect to happen? Would she consider inviting Kuja into her chambers, acting the role of a whore for him in her bed?

Unwanted by a husband, desired by a madman. She tossed the chaste tree concoction into the bushes below.