PLAGUE ON ALL YOUR HOUSES

Chapter X

"How do you know him?" She demanded hotly, all reason and manners aside, she was scared, and when humans were scared, anger was the easiest way to regain a form of confidence. Stella knew this, knew it too well; she had had enough of being scared, had enough of being frightened, emotions upon emotions, welling up, built like bricks made of mud, and only now it was raining, washing away every fortitude she had.

Her fear made her angry, and at the moment the only person to take it out on was Noctis.

So take it out on him she did.

He took a half-step back, before staring down at her with an expression something akin to disappointment. It made her hesitate slightly, her hand and will wavering, but the memory was too fresh, the fear still a poison in her blood, and so she hunkered down, and steeled herself.

"Well?" She asked, finding his silence slightly unnerving. He stared down at her; his eyes narrowed at her, before he suddenly grabbed her forearm, causing her to flinch.

"What does it matter if I know him or not?" He asked her, rather harshly, before looking at her intently, and then sighing. He released her quickly, noting how she had tensed up and stared at his hands in near horror. "I'm sorry." He mumbled, before he turned and nodded to the street in general. "We should get going." He told her, but she wasn't done, not yet. He had talked casually with him. From the corner of his eye he saw this, saw how she was barely restraining her anger, her fear, in most cases. He couldn't blame her, not really, so he settled with pacifying her. "Yell at me later." He almost winced at that – he did sound rather dismissive.

Stella held herself as she followed him, no longer trusting him, and her distance showed it. She glared at his back, but she was so consumed with her emotions that she didn't notice when he stopped suddenly, as if he realised something just then, and then grabbed her on the arm tightly, dragging her into another alleyway. He threw her harshly against the wall, and pinned her there, before glaring down at her.

She opened her mouth to scream, but his hand clamped down her mouth before she could. Ghostly hands crawled all over her body, and his proximity caused her heart to palpitate at dangerous levels. She tried to struggle, but Noctis was stronger than he looked – far stronger. He held her correctly, using his body weight and larger build to dominate over her.

"How do you know him?" He asked intently, seeming to be far angrier than he had when she snapped at him. Under his weight, Stella froze, her muscles tensing. Noctis stared down at her, looking intently at her eyes as they gazed off into a memory. Slowly, he released her, removing himself from her body and giving her respectable distance. She still seemed out of it, but she definitely noticed his departure, because her body relaxed slightly, and curled inward. "Stella?"

"He kidnapped me." She breathed a broken whisper. "I, I just wanted to find out why the guards were so edgy, and went to the stables to find Leon, but he… he was there, and he started talking about a rebellion, on how I was their key to winning it." Her tone turned harsh, as she spat the ending, before her gaze flickered back to him. Her body felt numb now, the adrenaline leaving, though she did not know why. Her mind furiously tried to explain why, why she told him, and then, it gave her its answer.

He had scared her, terrified her so badly that her body clammed up, every defence she had on high alert. Adrenaline pumped through her at astonishing levels. And then, he left, his presence was gone, and the ghostly hands left with him. However, a seed of fear remained.

If she didn't answer he would do it again.

"That's why?" He asked, dragging Stella's attention back to him. "You're here… you're…" He swallowed, and seemed very tense, though Stella couldn't comprehend why. He backed up slightly, his fist curling together, "He," He cut himself off, before he finally hit the opposite wall by swinging his arm outwards, "Your," He cut himself off again, much to Stella's confusion and curiosity. She remained rooted where she was, as she watched him run his hands through his hair in distress.

He worked his mouth, but with no sound coming through, she didn't exactly understand what he was trying to get at. He finally decided upon closing it, only for his jaw to tense until she was certain, even from where she was, she could hear his teeth grind unnaturally.

He was scaring her again.

Noctis' face clammed up then, and he seemed to loose emotion completely. To be perfectly honest, this frightened Stella more than his small breakdown. Now she didn't know what he was thinking, what he was planning.

Whether she should run or not.

"I'm sorry. Just some bad… memories." He said through slightly gritted teeth, before slowly – forcefully – relaxing himself. "We… should get going."

Now she was faced with something she didn't want to be faced with. She couldn't trust him, she had known that before but now it seemed to be even more apparent. However, she was still left with a choice; he was still willing to lead her, to where, she now did not know, but still, he was willing to help her.

"I can't trust you."

He paused at that, and she noticed how he minutely tensed, but it was just noticeable. "I… suppose you can't, but its not like you have your pick of options," he hesitated, as if he didn't want to say what he was about to say, "I won't ask who you are, though you have to realise, that I hate the royal family as much as anyone else here."

She nodded, unable to say a word. Thinking back on what she had said, she did note that while she insinuated it, she didn't directly say anything about her heritage. That made her almost sigh in relief, or, it would have, were it not for the pressure that had suddenly weighed upon her stomach.

He hated her family, and by extension, her. It brought with it the wonder of what he actually would do, had he known. It made her question everything he did, his kindness, and his aid. Then her thoughts turned to emotions, and she found she didn't want to question those things – not at all, actually.

Before she knew it, she had grabbed his arm, stopping him from leaving, stopping him from making her decision faster. He allowed it, though she noticed how he tensed under her light grip, as if he didn't want it there. Well, she thought, too bad.

She had enough of being scared. She had enough of being hurt and terrified, and as long as no one touched her – inappropriately, at least – she was going to be brave, face her problems head on, understand the situation before she decided. Like she used to, before her decisions dwindled down to startling low amounts. Now, it was time to take a different approach, rather than anger, since it seemed to have dissipated rather easily.

In her opinion, almost too easily.

"Hypothetically," she started, knowing he guessed but wasn't planning on confirming anything. No, not that question, another would work better. "Noctis, I mean," no, not that either. Already, she seemed to be failing at this. "What is your reason?"

He glanced at her from the side, and she was able to see almost a longing – sadness not from grief, but from yearning.

"Same as everyone else's here. They took everything." The voice was tight, the tone was off, and she got the feeling he was lying, but he had no reason to lie, so it must have just been her imagination. She looked down, towards her feet, her legs, her tattered dress. "We better get going before it gets dark. Otherwise we'll both have to sleep outside."

He pulled back, and her hand fell, limp, only for it to be caught in his. She tensed slightly, but it seemed innocent enough – or, at least, it didn't seem threatening – so she allowed it, and allowed him to pull her back on the busy street lightly, pulling her up beside him, and then, attempted to let go.

She gripped his hand tightly in response. He paused, hesitating, but allowed it, all the while, trying to shake some other memories away.

Because that was all they were, memories.

"You're a funny boy." The young girl had said, swinging her legs, back and forth in an irregular pattern. She was sitting on the edge of an old rock wall, which was crumbling and green from age and pollution. "I didn't steal from you, you know, so you don't have to follow me."

"I'm a boy? You're just a little kid." He muttered back, but sat next to her all the same. She turned her head towards him, before smiling very brightly at him.

"Aye, I am! I turn nine next week!" She said to him, before laughing, odd as it was, and leaning until she fell, her back hitting the mud without any complaint from her. "Say, funny boy, what's your name? I bet it isn't as neat as mine! Lillian, Lillian, I love you!" She began to sing, before laughing wildly.

"It's Noctis."

"That's a neatio name!" She gasped dramatically. "Too bad you're too much of an old man for me to marry! You probably already have a kid, huh?"

"What?" He asked sharply, before swinging his arm out to swat her across the head. "I'm not that old at all! Holy, fourteen – I'm fourteen. That's not old at all. Actually, I seem to constantly get how young I am." He told her, realising belatedly how he sounded too proud of the fact. A giggle brought his attention down to Lillian, who was stifling her laughter behind a dirty hand.

"Good for you, boy."

"Shut up," He grumbled, and she laughed even more, causing the sides of his own mouth to turn up slightly in response.

Damn. Her.

He joined in her laughter.

The King's second son cursed under his breath, as he watched the scene in front of him. He didn't seem to be able to look away, but he supposed that was normal. A quick glance in his peripheral vision told him Leif hadn't looked away, either.

The prisoner's tongue had definitely loosened, though no discernible words could be deciphered.

It was a horrible sight; the prisoner. He had effectively been stripped of all but a small amount of dignity, wearing nothing more than a ragged loin cloth. His skin was dirty and bruised, with several abrasions that littered it and crossed here and there. The man's back was a bloody mess, from where the leather whips had beat him near relentlessly, and at the moment, his skin was blistering.

Funny that, they blistered exactly where the torturer placed the red-hot iron. Oh, and fancy that, the man's screams echoed twice as loud and thrice as tortured whenever the hot rod touched his skin.

"Cy," Leif called his name, "You don't have to be here. Go see Aurora; you'd like that."

The torturer had now taken from pressing the hot iron from against the prisoner's thigh to waving it around threatening, allowing the man to speak, but all that escaped the broken man's lips were apologies and pleads for mercy.

"How can I see her when I know this is going on? This man knows nothing; no one can endure that sort of pain for this long without saying at least something." He jerked his head towards his brother, sending a glare at him. "Tell him off. Or, I swear-"

"I can't do that. King's orders."

"You're going to be the next King, don't you have say?" Cy asked, horrified, before turning his savage glare from his brother to the stone floor. "He's going to die."

"Yes." Leif agreed, all too easily, in Cy's opinion, and it made him tense up, before growling under his breath and storming out. It was no use; Leif wouldn't go against a direct order of their father and their father would rather roll over, dead, than spare that man's life.

His feet took him up the stairs, away from the dungeons, faster than he anticipated, and faster still, they took him to a room that he really, really shouldn't be. Ever; being here meant temptation beyond what was necessary.

He forced his fee to a stop, before they could reach the apartment that the Queen resided. What was he doing? He couldn't… he couldn't see her. She wasn't his to see, and even still, from what he heard, she hardly spent time in her apartment, much less her chamber.

Oh, but how he wanted her there.

He clenched his hands into fists, feeling foolish that his lust for her had reached such peaks – for that was what it was; lust. She was beautiful, beyond beautiful, soft-spoken, and actually rather carefree, when not in his father's presence. He bit his lip; forcing the impure thoughts from his mind – thoughts of her, in ways he most definitely had not seen her before.

His mind was very helpful in filling in the blanks.

For instance, how swollen he could imagine her lips could be, or how hazy and seductive her eyes could look, hazy with euphoria, or how that long, dark hair would look, all mussed up and knotted, how it would feel, having his fingers knotted-

He growled a low, animalistic sound, before dragging a heavy hand through his hair and grasping a fistful of strands, pulling on them until he felt the sharp stab of pain. He breathed in through his mouth, and out through his nose, hoping that there was nothing else that could give away his… flustered state.

That was wishful thinking, but he didn't look to make sure.

With a curse, louder than was appropriate, he forced his feet to turn around, away from the temptation, away from her bed, away from where he could imagine she would be. Away from all of that, and away from the implications of what would happen if he just… lost control.

It would be so easy to, to loose control, because his lived off of impulse. He was a person who had next to no respect for the rules, and even less for conduct, and his thoughts were definitely not of conduct. After all, it was hardly appropriate to lust after a married woman; that woman being married to his father – the King – no less.

When had it started, anyway? Somewhere in the year his father had been married to her, he had fallen in this state of need. He wasn't quite certain. From the first moment he met her, wandering in the gardens, he supposed, he had taken a fancy to the beautifully elegant woman. Then, of course, he found out the reasons he politely turned down his advances was because – lucky him – she was his new stepmother.

That sounded so wrong.

There were so many things wrong with his feelings, but he supposed he could only count his blessings that it was more lust than love that afflicted him so. Still, he could quite literally be executed for this, son of the King or no. His father didn't like to share; in fact, he quite vividly remembered when a foolish man (who wasn't of the court, but Cy couldn't remember why the man was in the castle) had dared to court Queen Sidra.

The man's hanging had taken place that night.

He flew past one hallway down another. His emotions were far too out of control. They went from horror and disgust to undeniable lust and now worry.

She had a sweet voice.

He shut down that train of thought before it could even reach how her voice would sound if she were to moan-

He cursed, again, this time stopping and slamming his body against the wall. With a hand he pinched his nose, then rubbed his eyes harshly. He needed to calm down. This was what happened when something sent them out of control; they became haywire. One erratic emotion would turn into another, and his mind would be on far too much adrenaline to slow down enough to effectively push the thoughts away.

"Cy?" He froze, hearing her sweet, beautiful voice from even on the other end of the hall. He didn't know how she saw him; he had entered a hallway that hadn't been lit for the night yet.

Her light footsteps announced she was approaching, and as much as he knew he had to tell her it was alright or to stay away from him, another part of him wanted her closer, wanted her body closer, as close as it could get, to feel her, to touch her.

He had gotten out of this type of situation before, but now, now it was dark, and there was no one around, and he was still in her apartment and there should be no one wandering the halls and damn it if it wasn't a huge test of his non-existent patience and willpower to just stand there rather than force her against a wall. He gasped, almost as if he would have had to if he had spoken that thought, rather than thought it.

"You wanted to see me." No question, a statement. Of course he would have wanted to see her, if he had gone as far as to find her chambers. He couldn't quite speak yet, since he was too busy clenching his jaw until he could hear the teeth within grind.

"Aurora." He more gasped than said. He winced, realizing how breathy he sounded, and she had to even touch him yet! He was going to hell, courtesy of his father, King and owner of his obsession. He saw her, from the corner of her eyes; she was watching him intently, her eyes roving around his body, and a part of him hoped she saw his arousal, saw what she was doing to him. "Please… leave."

But God, if only he could have her, just for one night, then he would welcome hell with open arms.

Of course, if he could have her until his obsession ended, he would be much happier-

"Kiss me."

He froze, his breathing stopped, and he forced himself to look over at her, not quite believing she had actually said what he thought she did. She wouldn't – couldn't. But, from the dark look in her eye, and steady gaze, how her mouth was just slightly open, oh, God.

She better have actually meant it.

His arm jutted out before he could realise what it was doing, and grabbed her upper arm, his body following suit. He pushed her into the wall, her body hitting it and she gasped slightly at the impact. Her breathing got heavier, and when she looked up at him, those dark eyes through her lashes, he couldn't help it.

He kissed her, fiercely, punishment both divine and mortal be dammed.

He bolted upwards, coughing, in a cold sweat, panting and looking frantically around his room.

It was dark, the only light pouring in from the two large windows to his left, letting in a cold blue light. The doors to the balcony were closed shut, but even with that so, he could hear the faint crash of the ocean waves against the cliff. It was so familiar, but what he had just dreamt was most certainly wasn't. Never before had he had an actual dream of her, and it left him swallowing hard. That, of course, brought his mind down to another part of him that was hard, but he could ignore it for the time being.

He had just had a very, very intimate dream about the Queen. The only thing that made it worse, was that the beginning of the dream - excluding his brother's mention of him seeing Aurora (like Leif would ever call her by just her name) and his mention of her - actually happened. It was so easy to try and believe that instead of going straight to his bedchambers and falling into a fitful sleep, what transpired in his dream actually happened.

He really wished it did.

"I," he breathed out into the silence of his chambers, "am so..." So what? Dead? Screwed? Dammed? Either one worked, because as time went on, it was getting harder and harder to deal with these feelings. It was getting harder and harder to deny her appeal to him, harder to deny her power over him, harder to deny his want. She, Aurora, wife of his father, and by all means, his.. step-mother... she... had a power over him that made every other woman... girl... lady... whichever - seem pale in comparison. Leif would scold him for such insubordinate feelings, before warning him that his father would not accept it, and definitely would not share.

Sharing, like hell that was what he wanted.

With another groan, he hit his hand against his forehead, cursing himself under his breath. He had to stop, stop before it got out of control, stop thinking about her, and definitely stop feeling about her. She was no one, a woman he met over a year ago, that was all. She... was nobody to him.

"I am so..." Again, the amount of vocabulary that would appropriately fit the end of that sentence eluded him, simply because he was all of them.

A/N: Okay, so, just to clarify, the ending is actually very important to the story-line, and you'll all see later on, and as for the part with Noctis and Stella, I hope that conversation didn't seem awkward, or if it did, the awkwardness was merely a tribute to their personalities? In plain english, I guess, I just hope that you like this chapter, because while I have many insecurities about it (what did you think about Cy (THE SHOTGUN GUY - hehe) and his ... uh... infatuation with the Queen? I hope it doesn't sound stupid, since its the first time I've written like that. Oh, and that's important guys, because it depends on how I may eventually write Stella and Noctis. So, Um, basically I would very much like you to give me some feedback about this chapter. As it is up for modifications.