Sable-Fahndu – many, many thanks for your help, for taking the time and effort to beta-read this chapter! I can't even find the proper words to say how important this was for me! -hugs tightly-
Oh, and while we're at it – dear readers, I want to point out that Sable has started to write her own Kuja/Hilda fic, so please, check it out (leaving a review in the process)! Plus, there's also her C2 – you can find some excellent Kuja stories there. Go ahead and take a look, I promise it won't hurt. :P
Author's Notes: Sorry if my warning comes a bit too late, but I should perhaps tell you that I always end up writing adult stuff, angst and modern/sci-fi elements into my stories. :) I can only hope that you'll somehow forgive me for what I did with the location of Terra (I vaguely sense some Grandia II influence here), the implied pairing, Hilda's self-composure and Kuja's badass attitude. (No longer so tough, are you, my canaries? -chuckles-)
Don't worry, though; everything will eventually be back to normal. :) Enjoy!
Chapter Seven
She knew that Kuja was still in the palace. A week ago, on the day of their arrival, he had told her that he wouldn't be leaving any time soon, and she saw no reason not to trust his words. Still, their shared meals had come to an end, and she had yet to meet him in one of the hallways. It seemed that he had vanished into thin air, leaving her alone among all these unsettling statues, burning candles, marble floors and the mute mages.
At first, Hilda had been relived. She no longer had to play the man's games, mind her every single gesture, listen to his confidences and scholarly disquisitions. According to her unspoken wish, she had been left on her own, free to do as she pleased, to 'make herself at home'. She could stroll about the palace, unbothered, absently examining the multiple works of art, at the same time searching for a convenient escape route.
A week had passed, and she had found none – at least none that would allow her to leave safely, without breaking her neck in the process. There were no windows on the lower floors, and those from the upper ones were situated too high above the ground. Besides, even doing something radical, like knotting a few curtains and sliding down the impromptu rope, for example, would really get her nowhere. She would end up at the bottom of the gorge, armed with nothing but her dagger, lost and unsure as of where to go next, possibly bound to run into some 'antlion' sooner or later. The desert was not uninhabited, she knew. By day, when the temperature reached forty, forty-five degrees, everything looked nice and quiet, at least from her own window… but sometimes, just sometimes, she could hear the dull rumble of falling rocks. And there were also these queer shadows, bumps moving across the sand, which instantly made her think of giant serpents, patrolling the canyon in search for a potential prey.
Actually, the only safe way to the airship led through one of the teleporters, which were no longer operable. They wouldn't even light up as she walked past. She hadn't seen any of the mages use them, either. They were as good as dead, completely useless, just another bizarre ornament in this huge place. And even if she managed to activate any of them by chance, what next? The cave was swarming with monsters, wasn't it?
Of course, the last remaining alternative would be to check the top floor, but she had the impression that Kuja hadn't lied to her about the deadly defense mechanism. True, he usually kept toying with her in every possible way, but she had long ago realized that he could be also perfectly serious at times-he would straighten himself up, stop smiling and cut the formalities, such as this customary, suspiciously mocking 'my lady'-just as he had acted that afternoon, seven days ago.
In other words, her escape would verge on the miraculous. Any attempts seemed useless… Still, she kept searching, climbed the marble stairways, checked all dark corridors, entered most unlocked rooms, never missed a chance to open a conveniently situated window. Unconsciously…
…unconsciously, she was looking for Kuja.
His presence was tiresome, yes, but even his chatter seemed better than the silence of her own chamber, or the mages' blank stares. She was beginning to miss regular people of Lindblum, the hubbub of voices that quietened down only at night. It was ironical, really… Hadn't she left the city to escape all that? Why would her forced loneliness become a burden in such a short time?
The truth was, she simply couldn't feel at ease in a place like this. For all its richness and marvelous beauty, the palace was redolent of coldness, oddly depressing in spite of the many colorful windows and golden frames. Even the brightest chambers appeared somewhat dark and gloomy, and she had yet to find a truly happy face on one of the paintings – as if the artists had been reluctant to portray any outward traces of joy. All she could see were solemn angels and demons, along with half-ominous landscapes and still lifes.
Perhaps, if she had been a guest, not a prisoner, she would have learned to appreciate things more. In a situation like this, however, she could only give in to her growing melancholy… which was soon replaced by utter, absolute confusion.
On the eight day of her stay, after about two hours of aimless wandering, she discovered a library. And there was much more to it than she would have ever thought possible.
The library was a huge room filled with dozens of bookshelves – tall and impressive, they formed a peculiar labyrinth in the shape of an eight-pointed star, though their arrangement appeared rather chaotic at first glance. Hilda carefully closed the door behind her, sliding her gaze over the countless volumes. It took her quite a few moments to reach the heart of the maze: a circular, empty space surrounded by the furniture. Turning her head to the left, she noticed a broad desk by one of the walls, complete with a single, padded chair. A few books lay there, scattered, as if someone had been reading them quite recently. Hilda stopped several feet away, looked round the whole chamber, and yet she caught no glimpse of Kuja. Perhaps he was somewhere among the bookshelves, but she didn't really feel like playing hide-and-seek with him.
There was nothing wrong with little curiosity – he had said that the place was all hers, hadn't he…? Finally overcoming her hesitation, she walked up to the table, took one of the volumes into her hands, absently imagining what the contents might be.
She had expected anything but this: the thin, leather-bound, rather ordinarily-looking book was filled with rows of neatly organized squares and curves, completely illegible from her point of view. Obviously enough, she had never seen such writing before. It didn't even resemble Burmecian characters; the signs were far too complex, almost to the point of imitating a series of miniature paintings. Frowning, Hilda put the volume down, reached for another one. Again, the very same 'alphabet' greeted her eyes.
Kuja sighed, and then drew back into the shadow, towards a nearby bookshelf, unwilling to reveal his presence just now. It had turned out, after all, that this quiet, barely audible rustle hadn't been only a product of his imagination—she was there, rummaging through his possessions with as much interest, hesitation and curiosity as a little girl at a fireworks stall. The parallel almost made him laugh. Lady Hilda was nothing like a child, he reminded himself; was fourteen years his senior, calm and dignified, playing the part of a noblewoman considerably well most of the time. A bit naive, perhaps, but certainly no fool. Sooner or later, she was bound to confront him about the books and the language. Not that it really mattered. He knew he could tell her everything from elaborate lies to shocking truths, and still get away with it. There was nothing to fear. His plans were safe.
If she had raised her head, turned a bit to the right, she would have easily seen him, leaning against the bookshelf, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips—but, of course, she was too preoccupied with her 'reading' to pay attention to her surroundings. He watched her flip through one book after another, and even though he was quite unable to make out the expression on her face, the growing consternation was almost tangible. She was perhaps beginning to question her supposedly excellent education right now. Along with her captor's identity.
The heavy, silver-fitted boots didn't even clank against the marble floor as Kuja slowly made his way towards the absorbed woman. She was being careless, he mused, especially in a place like this, regardless of his earlier promises. To drop one's guard so completely… To him, it was unthinkable. Then again, she was only a lady, brought up in the safety of an average manor house. No wonder she lacked a few basic, substantial habits.
Stopping a bit to the right, no farther than ten feet away, he cleared his throat. Rather loudly. Hilda started at the sound, almost to the point of gasping, letting the book drop. Almost… Once again, Kuja had to remember how brave and self-confident she actually was. Just like a lioness, he thought, fighting off the urge to smirk—yes, the nickname from a few days ago seemed all too fitting.
When the woman turned around, her movements as dignified as ever, there was no fear in her gaze, only some mild curiosity. "I was wondering whether I would find you here."
"Are you, by any chance, saying that you were looking for me, my lady?" Cocking his head to the side, he gave her one of his most innocent smiles. Technically, now that his position among the aristocracy of Treno was no longer secret, she was supposed to address him as 'my lord' in return, and they both knew it. Hilda purposely refused to acknowledge the fact, though; she kept her old, slightly disrespectful manner of speaking. Kuja didn't even bother with pressing her. That would be pointless, considering both the woman's character and the circumstances under which they had met. The whole 'countship thing' was nothing but a pretense, anyway, something completely useless in a situation like this.
"Not necessarily." Hilda's gaze pointedly slid over the table. "I was merely taking a look around the library."
"These things will be of no use to you, I'm afraid." With a small shake of his head, he swiftly crossed the remaining distance between himself and the lady. "Now, if you're bored and looking for something to read… Downstairs, you can find a second library, with books in Gaian languages."
"In Gaian languages?" She faltered, unable to conceal her surprise.
"That's right." His gaze trailed down to the volume she held in her hands. Squinting his eyes, he was finally able to recognize the author's name, printed across the cover in tiny green letters. Shirawa,a famous, twentieth century writer from Nagoa. He had died the day a hydrogen bomb had been dropped on the city. Seven hundred years ago, at the very beginning of the war.
"What do you mean?" Hilda had finally regained her composure. "What about this library? What are these books?"
"These?" He smiled. "Mostly essays, reports, manuals, historical novels, poems and romantic plays… that kind of stuff, if you pardon my colloquial way of speaking."
As usual, she didn't find his mockery too amusing; her voice was low, swollen with irritation. "You know perfectly well that I was referring to something entirely else."
He had never been very fond of Shirawa, but the volume Hilda was holding was perhaps the only existing copy of his works, and she kept clutching it as if it were a weapon. "Please, my lady," he said calmly, stressing the title in his usual manner, "why don't you put the Miracles down? These pages are rather delicate."
No wonder, really, considering how old the paper was. At times like this, Kuja felt almost sorry for bringing the books to Gaia, where some of them would literary crumble to dust before his very eyes. On Terra, the volumes that had survived the nuclear cataclysm were safe—the atmosphere was so static that things hardly ever aged anymore—but here, in this world, the flow of time was merciless and inevitable.
"Miracles?" The woman suspiciously eyed the cover, running her fingers over the green characters. Kuja knew what was coming next. "Is this the title?"
"Yes," he nodded, "…although, right now, you're looking at the author's name."
"How can you–" Hilda stirred; he could almost sense her frustration rising. "…And where does this author come from, if I may ask?"
The province of Satsu, south Amidawa, he wanted to reply—with a customary smirk and a bow to match—yet suddenly decided not to push this silliness any further. "Not 'does', but 'did'. The man's been dead for centuries, and the place of his birth no longer exists. It… used to be a five-million city in a country the size of Lindblum." And a population the size of the entire Mist Continent, he recalled, all gone over a span of four months. "On Terra."
Why the hell was he telling her all this? Wouldn't it be so much more convenient to let the whole matter drop? Spare himself the trouble? Right now, for example? Just turn on his heel and leave her here, with all her questions unanswered?
"Terra…" The word fell from her lips with a small sigh. She wasn't foolish, he knew; she must have remembered it from their previous conversations. "It's not the first time you mention this… place."
"Is it?" He raised an eyebrow at her, careful to keep the tone sarcastic, even though, in reality, he was merely trying to buy some time to make up his mind. "I'm delighted to hear you're such a keen listener, my lady."
"Stop mocking me." Her reply was stern. She must have already got over the shock of their very first meeting, if she felt comfortable enough to use that kind of voice with him. "I believe you do owe me an explanation. I do not consider myself ignorant, and yet I admit that I have never heard of this Terra of which you sometimes speak." She weighted the precious book in her hands, still refusing to put it back onto the table. "What is the meaning of this?"
Kuja raised a hand to his face and rubbed an itching eyebrow with one of his knuckles, managing to look tired and hesitant despite himself. There was no risk, of course, but the entire situation seemed somewhat surreal. Nobody had asked him such a question before… nobody had ever felt the need to ask, since he was a master of keeping up the appearances. So far, with eight years spent almost solely on Gaia, he hadn't told anyone about 'the other world' he came from. Not even Francis knew, and Francis was aware of most of his private affairs, much more than either of them was willing to admit; including such things as the extent of Kuja's involvement—not always legal, pretty and official—in the Kingdom's politics. At times, he seriously considered telling the man the truth, or at least a part of it, but in the end they had never gone past the 'scholar from nowhere' facade.
Then there was Beatrix, of course. She knew about his tail, much in the same manner he knew about the small rose tattooed on the inner side of her left thigh… It was just there, sweet and alluring, and he had never openly questioned its origin. She had never tried to question his obviously non-human background, either. It would seem that mutual ignorance suited them both… Besides, their relationship hadn't been based on talks and he preferred it that way. No confidences, no obligations. It was a matter of safety, as well as convenience. What was the point in trying to explain things that were far beyond an average Gaian's comprehension? Why would he want to ruin a few perfectly fine relationships with unnecessary truths?
With Hilda, it was different. He didn't like her to a degree when he would actually care about her opinion, let alone sympathy. She was only his prisoner. The unintentional kidnapping had been perfect, no witnesses left. Technically, he could kill her any time he wanted, and nobody would ever know. His secrets were safe with her, for even if she returned to her husband—no sooner than the airship served its purpose—it would already be too late.
In six months' time, the wheels will have been set to motion. I will be unstoppable.
Kuja sighed in delight; the thought brought a small, genuine smile to his lips… and suddenly, he felt like sharing his soon-to-be success with someone, anyone… Looking to the left, he saw Hilda watch him patiently with a pair of narrowed eyes, frustration and curiosity written all over her face.
As amusing as the whole situation was, he knew that there would be… consequences. Still, he was willing to risk it. Secrecy, the need to watch his every word, every impulsive gesture, was slowly beginning to weight down heavily on his shoulders… and the possibility to speak freely in a Gaian's presence seemed all too temping.
"Come, Lady Hilda," he said smoothly, meeting the woman's unwavering gaze. "I will show you."
She nodded and put the book down, following almost instantly when he turned around and started to walk farther into the library. Come to think of it, she probably expected him to produce some atlas, show her a map, or a few pictures of Terra. Well, technically, he could do just that – they were surrounded by dozens of historical books, after all, and finding an illustrated one would only take him a few moments. Still, a mere drawing, he suspected, would not solve a thing, so instead of searching through the shelves, he led the woman to the south-west corner of the chamber, up a couple of stairs and to the mezzanine. They eventually came to a halt next to a stained-glass window.
Now, if he remembered correctly, this particular window was supposed to open. Soon enough, a pair of hidden hinges gave in to his fingers, and the colorful panes slid aside, revealing a small part of the startlingly clear sky. Hot air rushed inside, along with tiny grains of sand, most probably blown off a rock protrusion above the library.
Kuja took a step back, shielding his eyes against the wind and the brightness of a desert afternoon. This chamber was one of the highest situated places in the whole palace, unlike most other rooms, it didn't lie in the canyon's shadow. Still, even the dazzling, magnificent sun could not outshine the two large shapes hanging in the sky – the twin moons of Gaia, one blue, the other crimson.
"This," Kuja pointed at the bigger orb, "is Terra."
Or rather what was left of it, his mind supplied. Which is not much.
Many, many years ago, when he had still been a very naive, very misled boy, barely tall enough to reach Garland's waist, he had used to like that place. Everything had been an endless source of fascination, from the dark, unmoving pond in Bran Bal to the distant, blue peaks that could be seen from the outskirts of the village. These days were long gone, though; he could barely remember what the whole excitement had been about. Terra was in its death throes, slipping out of the wheel of time, slowly changing into a sad monument of its former glory.
The silence prolonged. Somewhere behind his back, Hilda was probably still trying to figure out whether her host was being infuriatingly sarcastic, or just plain crazy. Turning away from the window, Kuja absently slid his gaze over her face—ah, that would be a mixture of both—then took a couple of steps to the left. The lioness kept staring, visibly torn between disbelief and anger.
"Don't be ridiculous," she finally managed.
"I take it that you don't believe me, then?"
"And how am I supposed to believe you?" she nearly snapped at him. If anything, her mood swings were fun to watch. "It is only a moon, the Red Moon of Gaia."
"From your point of view, perhaps," he answered calmly, staring up at the pale, unmoving orb. "I assure you that it's a planet."
In reply, she only threw him a long, meaningful look that clearly questioned his sanity. Kuja suppressed a low, amused laugh, but he didn't manage to keep himself from smirking, and it made his next statement sound nearly hypocritical. "I'm not trying to sell you a good joke, my lady."
"Then why would you say such a thing? The astronomers–"
"Ah!" he interrupted in the middle of her sentence, even if wasn't exactly a very polite thing to do. "And haven't these astronomers constantly wondered how it is possible that this 'moon' always stays in the same place? That its trajectory never changes? Against the basic laws of physics, might I add…? Well, I'd say that they have no idea what they are talking about, and that each of their theories isn't worth a straw."
His words clearly got her thinking. He could see hesitation in her eyes, still mixed with a great deal of skepticism. The facts spoke for themselves, though – the 'Red Moon' had been escaping all human logic for centuries, ever since it had miraculously appeared in the sky one day, which was yet another unsolvable mystery in itself.
"Fine." Hilda drew a deep breath. "And even if it were a planet, as you claim… even it were… no, had been inhabited… then how would you explain all these books here?" Kuja smiled at her; she was catching up rather quickly. "It is impossible to travel that far. No ship would be able to cross such a distance."
"No, of course not, at least not in a regular manner," he agreed calmly. Even the Invincible, Garland's most fabulous achievement—from the old man's point of view, anyway—was incapable of breaking the gravity barrier, raising beyond the stratosphere. So much data had been lost during the war that space flight technology no longer existed on Terra. It had been, however, replaced with other, equally practical means: magic.
"Oh?" Hilda's eyes narrowed slightly, perhaps in irritation. "From your words, I gather that some other, 'irregular' manner exists?"
"Correct." He shrugged, resting his back against a tall bookshelf. "There's a special gateway between the two words, quite similar to the teleporters in my palace, only much more complex, not to mention powerful."
"And the journey to the moon… basically comes down to stepping into the right circle?"
"Well, not really." Kuja couldn't help but laugh at such reasoning. "You see, the pathway is temporarily sealed, and to unlock the gate, you would first have to visit quite a few places, starting from a very old castle in the northern area of the Forgotten Continent…" He trailed off, folding his arms across his chest. "Trust me, the whole ordeal is rather tedious."
Unfortunately, he would need to take care of it quite soon. Talk to the three remaining Guardians, convince them to cooperate in spite of the circumstances… This part was perhaps going to be simple: Kraken seemed not too bright and easily manipulated, Tiamant indifferent to everything but himself, whereas Marilis obviously hated Garland's guts. He was more worried about the Gulug Stone, anyway. Oeilvert was a place protected by a powerful antimagical field, and even though Kuja knew that there was no need to be concerned about all the little monsters swarming inside, he couldn't be too certain about the extent of Ark's hospitality. If it came to a fight, based on physical strength alone, the demon would have the upper hand, that much was obvious.
"The Forgotten Continent?" Hilda absently shook her head. "Yet another land of legends…"
"It does exist, I assure you."
"Yes," she interrupted, "I know. It's just that… all these things you say…"
"You asked me a question, my lady," he gave her a pleasant, though entirely artificial smile, "and I'm merely trying to answer it. To make long story short, Terra can be accessed through a dimension slip of sorts, a rift that teleports people and objects across space. This gateway lies north of the Forgotten Continent's shores, above a place called the Shimmering Island, otherwise known as…"
"The Pathway of Souls," she finished for him, slightly out of breath, blue eyes narrowing in recognition. "The monks from Esto Gaza believe that it's the entrance to the afterlife."
"I'm aware of that," he laughed. "They are all wrong, of course. There's no heaven on the other side of the gate. Just a sick, dying planet, where time has stopped forever."
"And how would you know? You… could it be… have you ever been there?"
For far too long than I would've wished. He lowered his head, lips pressed together in a strained, humorless smirk. And I don't really want to remember. But it's quite hard not to.
"Been there, yes." He kept his voice as dispassionate as possible. "It's my… birthplace," or rather the place where he had been 'created', but he was not going to tell her that, "of sorts."
"Birthplace?" The woman drew a sharp breath. "You mean… your home?"
Now it was his turn to flinch. Home? How long had it been since he had last felt 'at home' on Terra? Hadn't his whole worldview shattered with his arrival to Alexandria, all these years ago?
"It would seem so." He shrugged, his tone as sarcastic as ever. "Shocked, aren't you? Why is that, Lady Hilda? If I recall correctly, some of the local scholars have always wondered if there was life in places different than Gaia. Surprisingly enough, there is. The universe happens to be much more complex than most people here tend to think, anyway."
"Why should I believe you?" Her distrustful words rang loudly across the chamber, but he could already see sparkles of doubt in her pale eyes. After all, they were both surrounded by thousands of books—books he couldn't have written himself, a fact Hilda was perfectly aware of. "It sounds a bit too unlikely, would you not admit?"
"I'm not going to admit anything. Neither am I going to try to convince you. Believe what you wish, my lady."
"Fine." She clenched her teeth in frustration. "Let us make at least one matter clear, then. Just who are you, really?"
"Kuja King, a nobleman from Alexandria." He kept smirking. "I have all the necessary documents. Perfectly legal ones, may I add."
"Yet you were not born in Alexandria."
"No, of course not." He watched her with a mixture of interest and mild amusement, wondering how she would phrase her next question. Nothing could have prepared him for her boldness, though.
"Are you even human?" she asked, and for a brief moment, the world came to a halt.
(When will you learn, child? Why won't you finally accept your place?)
(Master Garland, I…)
(You what? Wanted to prove me that you are 'not like them'? That you are human? By making human mistakes?)
"That's enough," he said coldly, straightening himself up. Hilda must have sensed the rage behind his deceptively controlled words, for she instantly took a step back, looking as if she was ready to flee the second he so much as raised a hand. In fact, he felt quite eager to strangle her, right here, right now, not because he was furious with her, but–
(None of this is real, you only keep confusing your wishes with reality. Your soul is flawed, child. What you mistake for human emotions is nothing but somatic memory, an atavistic, unconditioned response, resulting from the remains of the genetic pattern inscribed in your cerebral cortex–)
"I…"
"What does it look like to you?"
"I… needn't have asked," she finally managed, her cheeks paler than usual.
It took him an equally long time to form a reply, to slip back into the practiced role of an almost-polite gentleman. "It's alright." From his point of view, it definitely wasn't alright, but he couldn't think of anything better to say, unless he felt like dealing with a hysterical woman. "Oh, and to forestall your next question, should you have enough audacity to ask it—I have my reasons to be here. On Gaia."
She nodded slowly, with a great deal of hesitation. The silence that fell between them was heavy, filled with unspoken comments and many hidden subtexts; strangely enough, it was beginning to get on his nerves as well. Turning his head away, for the woman was no longer looking at him, he noticed how tiny grains of sand kept falling through the open window, pilling up in a corner between the wall and the nearest bookshelf. One of the puppets would have to clean this mess later, he decided absently, taking a few steps to the right, pushing the panes back into their place, cutting off the flow of the sand along with the flow of sunshine.
"Now, if you don't mind…" Hilda looked up, met his cold gaze. "I prefer working alone."
"Of course," she replied in a dry, deceptively expressionless tone; it seemed that she was equally determined to end this awkward conversation. She probably needed some time alone to sort everything out, or at least try. "Before I leave, though… May I?" Once again, she surprised him by nodding at one of the shelves.
"…Go ahead," he agreed, albeit a bit reluctantly, covering his hesitation with a smirk. Not all of the books were precious and unique—much of the data they contained had already been stored in the Pandemonium's main computer, anyway—and yet it almost pained him to have somebody like her finger these covers. "Tomorrow, I shall perhaps show you to the other library. I must see to it that you don't get bored during your stay here…" He walked past the silent woman, towards the end of the entresol, turning around just in time to see her choose one random volume. "Since boredom often leads to excessive curiosity, don't you think?"
Hilda was wise enough not to comment on that.
End of Chapter Seven
Author's Notes: Phew, yet another chapter done! Worry not, for this wasn't the last time Kuja got the chance to talk about Terra. There will be more, right after a bunch of angsty/fluffy filler. :)
Basically, it took me forever to finish this part, because I couldn't decide whether I wanted to use Hilda or Kuja's perspective. As you could see, I finally opted for the latter (as it seemed more interesting), and I can only hope it was a good choice. If you have a different opinion – and didn't like what I did to the bishie's personality – don't hesitate to tell me. :)
Oh, and if you're reading this story only because of Hilda, don't worry. She's equally (if not more) important, which I shall try to prove quite soon. :)
Last but not least, I'd like to thank everyone who keeps reading my fic; particularly all these wonderful people who took the time to review since it was last updated: ZeroSystem, Bloody Vixen, Black Mage Dad, the nameless, anonymous reviewer :), TiA aRiEl, Sors, Shinimegami7, popgoesthebaldie, Kuroje, PsychoBlair, Neko Kuroban, Rappy28, celeste, Genjy0-Sanz0, klepto-maniac0 and Ruby Moon. You're really wonderful, guys; you make me keep going!