Tales of Symphonia
Kratos
Traitor's tale
Author's notes:
So this took a lot longer than it should have, and for that I apologize. It's been near done for weeks, but every time again I ended up messing up in the middle. After speaking to a good old friend last night for a while, I found myself incapable of postponing it any further, and I spent a good two hours puzzling to make the dialogue finally match up.
Reason it was so difficult, is because of the fact there is a timeskip now. The first of few that are necessary to move this thing on. If my assumption is correct, I'll need another full chapter before I can progress into the depth of war, this probably marking the last or second-last part of this chapter. I'll see when I split.
Hope it's become as clear as I think it is, and without further ado... Enjoy!
Leonardo had been right: there was a dark bruise forming on the side of his nose, where I'd hit him with the mockery of a sword. Guilty as I felt, it wasn't the reason my heart skipped several beats as I gawked at him and the man next to him.
My father merely raised an eyebrow, his eyes slowly taking in the mess I'd made of my room. Books and scrolls lay scattered across the floor, some whole, others shred and torn. Two of those books lay right beside the door, and my father looked at them for some time, studying their bent shapes as if he'd never seen such a thing in his life. I'd thrown them against the wall some time ago.
One because it was about a nobleman who happily managed to slaughter countless half-elves, and was praised for it – a story nothing but unfit for one my age, come to think of it now – and the other because it had simply been in range of the first.
Whilst he stared at the books, I looked at him, and my self-pity made room for a strange mixture of guilt and worry.
The man most resembled Leonardo, weary and much skinnier than I recalled him to be. But worse than that was the fact that he was injured. His chest was bare, filthy bandages wrapped around it, and in turn one of his better cloaks hung loosely around his shoulders to cover that up a little. A curious burn marked his cheek and chin, the edges blackened as if seared.
It had a reminiscent look to it, but I had no time to stop and think about it, my eyes wandering over the man's appearance some more. The knees of his trousers were tattered, revealing yet another bandage around his left leg. His boots had lost their shine, and there were stains on them. Brown stains, and my stomach twisted at the sight of them. Blood. Dried blood.
I forced myself to look up again, and noticed his hair was messier than I'd ever seen it; untied and hanging loosely down his shoulders. Adding it all up, he looked quite savage, but somehow, there was a certain calmness to him as he eyed the room up and down, finally resting his gaze on me.
"Well," my father said, his voice low and hoarse, a smile toying with his lips as he went on. "I believe you've a room to tend to, before anything."
"Oh?" Leonardo remarked airily. "I wonder what gave you the idea, my lord."
My father rolled his eyes at the backtalk, sighing deeply, and he gestured at the room with a hand impatiently, before extending said hand to me. Leonardo scurried past his master to gently push me aside, into my father's direction.
He wriggled his fingers at me in a beckoning manner, smiling whilst he did, and so I reached for my father's hand, taking it carefully. He reeled me in and ruffled my hair, sighing again, this time with satisfaction. Without word, he steered me outside of the room, and we began to walk, leaving Leonardo behind in the mess.
I wondered sullenly if the servant would recognize any of the scrolls and books, and if he'd link them to Yuan and I. But even if he did, there was nothing I could do about it anymore.
It was that simple fact – the realization that there was nothing I could do at all to change things – that made me realize how tired and miserable I truly felt. It was futile to argue any further, futile to try and fix what I'd broken, lest anyone else find out. It was over. It was unfair. And in that, it ended. The simple realization that it was over, that I'd not risk Yuan like it, and that I'd never again meet him as an equal, brought a strange peace to my tattered mind.
And so I blindly clung onto my father's hand, letting him guide me through the mansion. Despite his weariness, my father's grip was strong, his hand warm, and whether or not he was aware of my reasons for clinging onto him so desperately, I did not care; he was home, and he was safe, and he was mine.
He led me to his room, where Soleila sat waiting for us, accompanied by Gladia who stood by the wall opposite the door. Her grim eyes lingered on me and I could've sworn I saw a flicker of disapproval pass her face, before she bowed before us in a most gracious manner.
I merely nodded at her, and then at my father when he gestured at the vacant chair beside Soleila. As I sat down I looked at my knees, observing them quietly so as to not face Soleila or her servant. I looked a mess and I knew it. I hadn't changed clothes since sparring against Leonardo, the grassy stains on my trousers showing it clearly, and I hadn't washed up or brushed my hair, nor had I tried to hide the fact I'd been crying yet.
I felt Soleila's curious gaze bore into my skull, and so I was grateful when my father began to speak.
"I'd have asked Leonardo, but I have found him a more urgent matter to attend to," my father said in a bittersweet tone to Gladia. "Could you instead get us some tea? Granted princess Soleila doesn't mind your absence for a moment, of course."
"No, that's fine. I'd quite like some tea, actually," Soleila said in her proudest formal voice. It made the hair in my neck stand on end, but I kept my tongue.
"As you wish, your highness. Lord Aurion," Gladia said, addressing them in turn and leaving me out of it entirely. Even as she bowed before us, she seemed to think of me as little more than air, and I refused to look back, instead keeping my gaze fixed on my father until the door slammed shut. He sighed almost instantly and shook his head.
"Just a moment, please. I'd rather look somewhat presentable… if I can…" he mumbled, and he stalked off into his bedroom.
It took him less time to dress up nicely than it took for Gladia to return with a tray of cups and a steaming pot of tea. As she put it all in place, my father combed his hair in the doorway of his bedroom, giving up rather rapidly on trying to untangle the mess when the comb almost broke in half on the go. He rolled his eyes and made a bit of a show of pulling the comb out of it, causing Soleila to giggle at him. He resolved the issue by binding his hair back in the usual tail instead, be it a lot messier than I'd ever seen it.
"It'll have to do," he said as he sat down opposite us. "Thank you, Bethilda."
Miserable as I felt, a meager smile tugged on the corner of my mouth, more so when Gladia glanced at me angrily, her jaw clenching ever so slightly. She said nothing, however, and after nodding politely she withdrew to stand by the wall again. My smile completed itself when my father shook his head at her, almost as if berating her for something.
"Now, I'd rather keep this private to these two. So if you don't mind…" he said and he gestured at the door rather lazily. Soleila took a moment to take the cue, but then she turned and smiled broadly at her serving woman.
"That's fine. Gladia, please wait outside."
And so she did, leaving my father to pour us all some tea and after he stirred around his cup with a spoon, despite not having put any sugar in, he finally focused his gaze on us again. Bemused as he had seemed before, grim was he then.
"I've some bad news, I'm afraid. And some good news, as well…" the latter he added reluctantly, as if it was nothing compared to the rest of the news. And my suspicion was proven right instantly, as he put the spoon down with utmost care, taking half a minute to put it in place. A tic of his, to try and bring order to chaos, no matter how small.
We waited patiently for him to finally leave the spoon to rest, perfectly aligned with everything on his desk, and then he took a deep breath before speaking.
"The good news is… your father and family are alright, your highness. Most of them, that is. Duke Cecil was not so fortunate, nor was his estate…"
He trailed off and slowly pushed the spoon off the table, a vacant expression on his face. The sound it made as it hit the barren floor around his desk rang in the air for what seemed to take minutes. Neither Soleila or me dared to break the hollow quiet, and I glanced at her to see she had lowered her gaze, her face set dim.
The name Cecil hardly rang any bell, but the face of a bit of a chubby old man came to mind. He held an estate with a large piece of land down south, one I'd visited maybe once in the few years I'd lived. Thinking about it, made me realize it was probably a cousin to my father, if not my mother, but more than that assumption I could not find in my memories.
After clearing his throat and taking a sip of the steaming cup, my father nodded to himself and went on.
"The Sylvaranti have massacred the place… and that's gently spoken. Worse, however, is that they lay claim to the land. They were scarily precise in what they destroyed, and looking back at it, we should've realized why. The main buildings and the barracks that guard half the area were left untouched.
"They've now a new base down south, meaning that once more they gain on us. Not just east and north… but south as well. With the amount of men I have already patrolling up north, to keep Palmacosta at bay, and the few men I've sent to the capital, I've little left to try and reclaim what was lost. Especially after our losses…"
"And yet… you've returned," Soleila pointed out, her tone carefully airy, for she obviously full well knew how dangerous a point she made. Declaring my father a coward who ran, would do a lot of damage to both Tethe'alla and our household.
My father gave her a stern look, one from which I'd have averted my gaze, but Soleila did not. She seemed to take on the challenge, casually raising her cup of tea to her lips and taking a sip, her eyes still on my father's face.
I picked up my cup too then, hoping my father would not give me that scary stare of his. The tea was warm, the steam tickling my chin as I tightly held onto the cup and raised it to take a careful sip. In all my frustration earlier, I'd not realized how cold a day it was.
The fact I wore but a simple shirt and ragged, thin trousers did not really help much in warming me. I had the strange urge to see if I could crawl into my teacup, to try and get more of its warmth, but I left the childish thought hanging, instead taking another sip.
It was bitter, no sugar, but I didn't dare move for some with my father looming over his desk the way he did.
After another quiet minute of staring at one another, my father managed a weary smile. He rubbed his chest slightly before he moved his hand up to carefully touch the peculiar burn on his chin. The more I looked at the burn, the more familiar it seemed, but I couldn't fathom why.
"A dead man can't fight," he said in a low voice. "Nor can a man in poor shape. What I can do… is make sure the ones that can still fight do the right things at the right times."
"So you will command them from afar?" Soleila wondered. I felt as if I'd missed out on a massive part of the conversation, as if in their silence they'd spoken more than I had heard.
"Perhaps up close, too. There have been stirrings in the Forests. Reports say that the Sylvaranti have been trying to traverse it, but as you well know…"
"The place is haunted," Soleila said, to which I scoffed. They turned to look at me, as if they noticed my existence only then.
"What?" I said, somewhat defiantly. "The place isn't truly haunted, is it? It's a natural maze, according to master Avery, and too dark to see a thing at that, making it only harder to pass through it."
My father nodded, the slightest of a smile passing through his gaze, as if proud that I knew.
"You're right, Kratos. But what I was hinting at, was the fact that we control a small part of the forest. There are a few villages, or well… tribes that live there, and we offered peace to them some time ago. In turn, they promised to keep out any a traveler who does not wear our colors."
"But can't the Sylvaranti people just disguise themselves then?" Soleila asked.
"They don't know this. The tribes used to kill anyone, you see, regardless of circumstance. The fact they are now somewhat picky is probably not very noticeable to the Sylvaranti…" my father said, and he drained his cup of tea in one go, slamming it down on the desk before swiping it off it just as well.
It slammed into the wall and shattered, leaving a different hollow sound to ring through the room.
He sighed and leaned forward, resting his head on his hands, his fingers rubbing his temples. It wasn't his violent gesture, the sound of the thing shattering, or the fact Soleila looked so startled that disturbed me most. No. It was the fact my father looked so tired all of a sudden.
Old.
As a child, you learn to respect your elders, for they always seem so superior. They know everything, have seen it all, and know how you ought to behave to be able to do the same someday. Seeing them in a moment of weakness, however brief, makes you realize how they are but human too.
It made me realize that he felt as bad, if not worse, as I did, for all sorts of reasons, and suddenly my worries concerning Yuan and Leonardo's knowledge seemed but trivial.
Tiny specks on a giant painting, hardly noticeable for anyone lest they know they are there. My father didn't know, and so he did not see or care, and probably never would. He had the full picture to worry about already.
It was strange to see him take yet another shaky breath, letting out a deep sigh before he lowered his hands and leaned back in his chair, his eyes resting on nothing in particular as he spoke the last things on his mind almost thoughtlessly. It was almost as if his mouth moved without his consent, his voice calmer than it had been all day.
"That aside… the future looks grim. There is no way we can escort you back home safely, with the amount of Sylvaranti that are about. They took half-elves into their ranks, their magic more dangerous than anything I have ever seen…" he paused again, and in that moment I realized why the burn on his face seemed so familiar.
His arm had bore a deep cut just as vile, only a few weeks earlier. Cut and burned, magic searing his skin as if he were a pig to be branded. My stomach twisted, and the magic I'd seen spark off Yuan's hands when we'd first ever met came to mind. But he would never do that to me, I knew. Or would he?
"So your father and I discussed all possible means, and we've made our choice. Soleila, my princess…" and here he lowered his gaze to look her in the eye. "You are to stay here, until the roads are safe again. It may take days, it may take months, or even more. We cannot say. But know you are most welcome here."
"I know I am, sir. And for that I am grateful."
"Kratos," my father set his weary gaze on me, and I nodded, leaving my thoughts about Yuan behind. "You're probably wondering why I asked for your presence. It's simple, yet complicated. Whilst recovering from my injuries, the King visited me several times. We discussed the future for a long time, as well as the past. And soon we found ourselves smiling at the thought of our children growing up…"
He paused for a moment, inclining his head and looking at me as if he were truly imagining for me to have grown. When he went on, he spoke more seriously, as if his head and mouth had reconnected somehow.
"There was a time our blood did not mingle, my dearest sister passing away of illness before she could grant Tethe'alla an heir. Yet, despite that… the King holds our family in high regard. We spoke of possibilities, and whilst the two of you are still young, I want you to realize that perhaps someday our lineages should finally cross again. For the sake of Tethe'alla, as well as the sakes of our families. Kratos… I trust you know what I expect from you…"
My heart was suddenly in my throat, and it seemed to take hours before I managed to avert my gaze and open my mouth to react. I did not want it. And thinking back about it, my father's approach was all but subtle, but his weariness had obviously left him so careless. It did not help in convincing me it was the right thing to do.
Love… was not a political thing. Young as I was, I understood that already. No, love was a thing that would happen eventually, as Rose had told me with a smile, and only when it did, I'd understand.
Being unable to explain myself, I merely shook my head at my father, closing my mouth without a single word passing my lips.
It was no more I could do, and no more I dared to. He mistook it for some boyish prank, perhaps, for he chuckled and smiled warmly at me.
"It's a lot to think about, isn't it? Trust me, it will take time, Kratos. You'll understand eventually. As will you, Soleila. For now, I don't want either of you to get ahead of yourselves. But keep it in mind, that perhaps someday you will stand side by side. I trust for you to treat our guest well, Kratos. You may go now…"
And with that my father let us go. Soleila tried to cling onto me, but before she could, Leonardo politely requested a private moment with me – the man had been waiting in the hallway, staring sternly at Gladia without apparently having said a word.
I was confused to say the least, but Soleila happily ran off to tell her own servant the news. I followed Leonardo's gaze, waiting until they were out of sight, and then curiously looked at him. He waited another moment, which I thought was odd, but most likely he didn't wish for them to be in hearing range.
"Let's make a deal…" he said in a low voice, putting a hand on my shoulder as he finally looked me in the eye. "You don't want this, and I am aware that you don't. Your father, on the other hand, isn't so much aware. And I'd like to keep it that way.
"You… are not going to ruin what little grip on this nation he's got left. The possibilities of this arrangement are grand, and for the good of all of Tethe'alla. So I want you to just pretend you're alright with his decision, lest anyone suddenly find out about a half-elf boy named Yuan… Get what I mean?"
He added the words with a look so dark, I could hardly believe my ears. He threatened me. Me. But arguing he was not to address me like this any longer was futile. I had nothing to get back at him; so long as he knew about Yuan, I had no choice but agree. And so I did, nodding slowly. My shock must've been clear on my face, for he nodded gravely, squeezing my shoulder a little.
"I'm sorry, young master. But all of us do what we must. And I expect no different from Caleb's son…" he said as the corner of his mouth jerked upwards in a small smile. "Make him proud. It'll do you good in the end, I promise."
He pat me on the shoulder before he let go. Without another word, without even another look, Leonardo walked away, leaving me to stare at his back and shortly after, the empty hallway. My head spun with all the things that had happened, my body aching terribly as my fatigue finally caught up with me.
I'd lost Yuan, had behaved too childish for anyone to take my word concerning him, and now I'd been given away to perhaps marry a girl I did not like or love within only a matter of years.
My father stepped out of his room after I lingered a little while longer, that much I recall, and I quickly scurried off, mumbling about a bath. I did not want to face him, nor explain to him what had caused my fit of rage earlier, or tell him the reasons for which I was still outside his room.
The times that followed I scarcely recall, every new day becoming as terrible as the one before it. Princess Soleila demanded I be with her as much as I could manage, leaving me to sit next to her dully, sharing in conversations about subjects I knew little to nothing about.
Her talk of our future as king and queen seemed to enter one ear to leave the other shortly after – it was too distant to imagine.
The days seemed endless, more so when it came to studying. I was to learn everything by heart, from history to geography, both myths and fact. Every little detail that might one day come in handy was stamped into my skull in the early afternoons by master Avery, but not until after I'd already been completely demolished at sword practice each morning.
My father had seen to it that I was allowed to train next to other future soldiers and knights. Cole, whom I'd met before, took great pleasure in accompanying me there, but not as a friend or a companion. He most reminded me of an obnoxious large guard dog, as if someone had told him to protect me against Aska knows what.
Whether or not the guy cared more about me as a person or if it was all about my title, I did not know, and never found out. Our tutor made sure we had no time to exchange words or pleasantries.
We'd arrive and pick our weapons for the day, often quarreling quickly over the better few arms, and once we'd settled in our places and stances, our teacher explained briskly the next move or new situations, if not simply letting us go all out against one another.
The man was tall and broad, his skin bronzed by a life lived under the sun, and he had little patience for anyone in particular. Unlike my fellow trainees, who treated me with more respect and stiffness than I wanted anyone to, the man treated me like he would any other, never once pausing to consider I was at least four years younger than the youngest trainee already there.
They were ahead of me when it came to expertise and knowledge – plus shape, for I was the shortest and slimmest among them – but with the man's unbiased treatment, and everyone else's expectancies, I refused to give up so easily.
A stubbornness grew in me, one worse than the attitude I'd already had, and it was all I had to shield me against the harshness of my newly found way of living. I swiftly learned to hold my tongue, to quietly observe and follow orders as they came.
Sometimes Soleila would come to watch, accompanied by Gladia of course. She'd cheer me on and afterwards she'd look so proud, as if it were great to see me bite the dust over and over again. But like so often, I kept my tongue. Just nod and accept, for Yuan's sake.
He was still serving in the kitchens, and sometimes we'd look at one another, but no more than that. If anyone noticed, they held quiet well enough. Leonardo in particular, though once he noticed and gave me a meaningful look, which was slammed right off his face by Rose who began to scold him for "glaring at the young master" like such.
I missed her, but was often too wearied in the few hours I had for myself to go and visit her. The few times I did, Leonardo always seemed present one way or another, as if to shield me from Yuan who was scurrying about in the background.
And so days went by slowly, turning to weeks and months, and even after all seasons had passed us – not once or twice, but thrice, the years creeping past, there was no insight of when Soleila could return home.
The war had gone from bad to worse, now seriously threatening to destroy all we knew. Sylvarant's despicable efforts were starting to pay off, their troops of half-elven soldiers feared far and wide, but our country refused to mimic them in their efforts.
Instead, the few half-elves on our side were commanded to help design and build monstrous machines. Like cannons shooting giant blasts of magic, these machines popped up more and more often, one of them even being installed in the new guard tower which had been built near the crossroad down south.
"Nigh indestructible, capable of felling a small army in a single blast, at the cost of draining the one controlling it entirely for days," my father had told me gravely, not paying me much attention at all, instead grinning at Leonardo's effort to cut my hair. "Several soldiers have died firing a few, but in trade, an entire platoon drops dead. A dozen of half-elves died among those wretched idiots as well. A small price to pay…"
It left me wondering how this magic worked, these energies used to fire the dangerous weaponry, but our library held only so much word of it. We were humans, not elves, and in our inability to control it, we sought no knowledge of it.
Magic. Magi-technology, however, was a word I came across quite often. Human bodies could not manipulate the force known as Mana, but we were capable of letting devices do it for us – so these cannons were based on that concept.
Once, in the beginning of autumn that year, my father was forced to send all forces to fend off invaders in the forest down south. It became so serious a fight, even the trainees were sent to aid the men. All save me.
I wryly sat staring at the pages of a book when Soleila quietly came to sit beside me in the library. She'd gone more quiet as time had passed, the three or so years doing her good that way. I watched how she put an arm around me, once again trying to make a move, and I merely accepted her touch, sighing.
"You haven't even flipped pages…" she commented meekly as she gazed at the book. It was true.
I'd grabbed a random book from the shelves that morning, slamming it open and demanding she leave me be. Only about half a page had managed to hold my interest, after which my mind had begun to wander again, thinking about the fighting.
Leonardo had informed me I was not to join the others, for it was too much of a risk. I'd argued it was one sword less, to which he said that it would also be one corpse less by the end of the day. The insult had stung me but I'd merely glared at him for a time until he bowed his head and withdrew quietly, but not before commenting that he'd rather be of use as well.
In that I'd realized we weren't all that different. Leo had begun to train vigorously by my father's recommendation, his body still fairly slim but no longer skinny or brittle. Thinking about it, the servant probably longed to fight to protect us as well.
Soleila prodded my cheek, snapping me out of my grim thoughts, and I looked at her for a time. Her blonde lock of hair again obstructed her darker eye, the other blinking curiously.
"Why so sour, Kratos?" she asked. I shrugged and closed the book.
"I'd had hoped for my training to be of some use by now…" I said, clearing my throat afterwards once again. My voice had gained the delightful tendency to waver in and out of control, something which both my father and Leonardo loved to tease me about.
My father commented first, saying it was the price to pay to become a man, after which Leonardo made a rather suggestive movement which earned him a whack in the skull with a heavy iron gauntlet, and a rather lethal glance from my father.
Soleila seemed to think it was cute, however, and smiled at my discomfort as she moved her finger from my cheek to my nose playfully, "But your training is useful… for me."
She looked at me, squeezing my arm and then leaning back again. Yes, I'd grown a bit bulkier than I had been, my muscles firmer than a few seasons before. But all the same, I failed to understand what she found so interesting about it.
"Want to go for a walk?"
"It's raining…" I said after casting a glance at the window.
"We can ask your lousy manservant to carry our umbrella. Lester makes such funny faces when displeased, after all. And I bet being soaking wet will do the trick," she chuckled at the thought.
Manservant. It had become the joke of the mansion, for ever since my father had returned, Leonardo took all the same old stress in with a much brighter look on things. Not a single complaint, and even with the added pressure of my father's demands, he seemed nothing but delighted to serve him.
People joked he was in love with my father, something which I found unthinkable, if not simply despicable.
Surely, my mother would've had him hang for even thinking about it. Not to mention I all but believed my father had such interests. Leonardo was bizarre enough in his ways, but my father would've thrown him out a long time ago, had he ever done such things.
And still, I seemed to be the only one to make such sense of it. But sharing that was too much a hassle. Last thing I needed was a massive argument with anyone about a meager servant. Imagine the scandal…
"Kratos? Are you still with me?"
"Sorry," I said, getting up and successfully shrugging her off. "We could just not bother the man and go by ourselves."
"If you carry the-,"
"I will, I will," I mumbled as I put the book back on the shelf. So after putting on some suitable clothes, we ended up outside. Like promised, I carried the umbrella, Soleila naturally clinging onto my free arm for dear life, trying to get me to smile back at her.
Several times she complained about still feeling drops of rain, and I ended up half soaked by the time she was finally pleased with where I positioned the dang umbrella. By then we'd reached the far end of our land, the northern gates still open so we had a gorgeous view of the ocean far up north.
Plans had been made to reestablish the harbor there, despite the treaty with Palmacosta that neither Sylvaranti or Tethe'allan ship would ever sail through the channel that kept their land and ours apart; lots of materials had been stashed inside the walls, if not to build up the old buildings of the abandoned harbor, then to expand our own buildings and the tower down south.
In the meantime, Soleila had begun to talk about summer, and how she longed for it to return soon. Or snow.
Snow was nice, much prettier than rain, she said. I begged to differ but kept my mouth shut, merely nodding to her words. Slowly, her words died out as well, and we quietly walked on, the cold ocean breeze toying with our hair.
"Why must you be so quiet all the time, Kratos?" Soleila suddenly demanded. I looked at her, trying to make sense of her words.
Time and again, I'd told her that I still had no interest in a future with her the way everyone had seemingly planned. And to that, she'd never react normally. She'd scowl or mumble that it was just the way it was, and that she did like me. I simply didn't feel that way, and my head couldn't get a grip on all the lousy things she did for a hobby. Without that, and without a future to discuss, I had little left to say. And so I told her once again.
"I've nothing to say, your highness," I said stiffly, emphasizing the last words only so much.
"You've got plenty to say, don't lie to me! Whenever you meet that stupid servant of yours, or that maid in the kitchen, you won't stop talking. But whenever I'm near, you start to act like everyone else does! Let's respect the princess by boring her to death…"
"We behave the way we were told to," I simply stated. She let go of my arm and folded her arms, glaring at me all the while. I stopped, not quite bothering with keeping the umbrella over her head anymore.
"I want you to just talk to me, like you'd talk to them. There's nobody around half the time, so what do you care about those stupid rules?"
"Not doing it keeps us from slipping up when there are people around, Soleila," I summed it up once again.
It was a pointless conversation we'd had before, one we'd have more often, most likely. Anytime now, she'd stalk off to cry someplace, to return when told to by her servant. But she did not. Not yet, instead I saw rage take her, a furious blush claiming her cheeks at a rapid pace.
"As if they'll stand by the side of our bed once we get married! They won't! I want to get to know you better, Kratos. We're both stuck in this, so we might as well make the most of it!"
Bed. The throne will need an heir, some day, my father had said. But to think she'd bring it up, whilst I'd refused to even kiss her, it caused something to snap inside me. I couldn't stand her, at all. Her voice screeching through my skull time and again, her arrogant manners, her girly giggle, the constant lying she did.
With every time I tried to convince myself I could live with all that, it only seemed to get worse, and so my mind roamed free as I shouted back at her.
"Fine! Make the most of it this way then: find someone else, who does care about all those mediocre things you won't shut up about!" I told her, pulling the umbrella away from her entirely then. "There's a war going on, Soleila, and because you've got a childish crush on me, I've not even the right to stand up and put to use all I've learned.
"No, I'm to sit here and babysit you. Again! Hours, and hours of work and dedication, going to waste because you like me despite all the times I've tried to insult or hurt you! I don't understand you, and I don't want to understand!"
So she did run off crying then, but not before I threw the umbrella at her feet and stalked off around the wall myself. I glanced back only once, to see she'd reached the doors of the mansion in the distance, the umbrella still on the ground, and then I merely stomped on blindly. Maybe this had fixed it all. Or broken.
Whatever it was to be called, it had happened. I walked all the way around the walls, thinking I'd use the hole in it to get back fastest, but something stopped me from doing so.
His green eyes widened in awe as he looked up at me. The half-elf boy sat inside the lack of wall, legs pulled up and a familiar book resting against his knees. It was the perfect shelter, out of sight from those within the walls, and far from the road. And more importantly, dry and out of the wind.
For a moment, Yuan and I merely locked eyes, taking each other in. It was wrong, and yet, I couldn't help but feel a smile tug at the corner of my mouth. After clearly hesitating, he began to smile back, and within no time at all we were smirking at each other like the idiots we were.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. "And how did you…"
"Walked around," I said, not wanting to explain. "Are you… are you really reading that?"
He cast a glance at the book and nodded a few times, seemingly smug.
"I understand most of it now. Not all, but a lot. I found more words in the kitchens. Grocery lists and such."
It was strange to sit down next to him in the hole in the wall, both of us having grown considerably, making it rather crammed. But at that we grinned stupidly, and despite the fact we had not spoken in months, it felt like the most natural thing to do. It felt like home.
Author's notes:
Let me simply sum things up, to prevent confusion.
Kratos' age. Twelve at the start, and now fifteen, close to sixteen due to the three years that passed. I can't be sure entirely since I don't know what season he was born in, but he's hit puberty... Spirits help us.
In Aska's name - "Oh God.", "By the gods!"; reality, fantasy... and so this too.
Since there's a high probability of the Summon Spirits being revered as gods, Aska made most sense to me. If not for being a guide and the epitome of choice (two heads, two paths?), then for the fact he embodies Light.
Leo Lester said "lest". How punny. I noticed, I grinned, I left it be.
And on that note; manservant. Considering who I based Leonardo on, it was to be expected, though the extent of his fondness for Caleb won't be revealed, lest I ever get to write that side story. See? I did it again - messily this time. Ohoho grammar, you silly thing.
Love. Having Kratos describe it a few times, from both childish and mature perspectives, is utterly disastrous to try and do. In my defense, Kratos admitted that the only woman he ever truly loved was Anna... which was four thousand years later... awful long time for a man to not know what love is.
Caleb's spoon - developing OCD is often a natural reaction to severe mental trauma. War does that to a man. And an inside joke, since I'm fairly fond of spoons.
Oh, Yuan... crammed into a hole in a wall with Kratos. Hopeless duo.
So now there are a lot of things that can happen... and I am fairly certain none of you will be able to predict what will happen. I'm so mean.
Next chapter is a mere case of editing for the life of me, since I wrote it several months ago and the style is slightly different, as are some details. Might take a while, but hopefully not as long as this one took!
Hope you enjoyed, and until next time!
