Within Holy Walls

A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic

By Tenshi no Ai

I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.

(Eh...maybe a PG-15 for sexuality. Just to be on the safe side.)

Chapter 26: Eros and Psyche (A night-colored love)

Hello, love.

Hmm...? I move around, trying to get some sense of coordination back into my limbs, but right now I don't want to open my eyes. After some sluggish thrashing around--with an injury to the heel of my left foot when it collides with the footboard being very helpful in waking me up--I face in the direction where I think I heard Beowulf. I still refuse to open my eyes. If this is a dream, I'm going to be very annoyed with myself.

Rough, gentle fingertips touch my face. Good guess, he sounds cheerful. Any other time this simple fact would make me happy. It's irritating right now, sorry for coming over at such a late hour.

What time is it? I mumble, putting significant emphasis on time'.

It's a little after one, his fingers are stroking my hairline now, sorry, I had the seven to one shift tonight.

One? It's one in the morning, this is a fascinating point that my mind just won't let go of.

suddenly his hand is gone. I sigh. I liked that... sorry about this. My next shift is this afternoon, so I'll see you tonight...well, the upcoming night. Alright? There is the touch of his lips on my cheek.

...So, he's woken me up from my nice, needed sleep...and now he's just going to leave? Is that it? Beowulf, are you leaving already?

He pauses. Well, that's what I was thinking of doing.

Oh. Well, if he's going to come here, it'd be rude of me to just send him away. Besides, even though it's only been a week, I've gotten too used to feeling his warmth next to me.

No, I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep if he left.

Wriggling my body, I manage to scrunch myself into a lump next to the wall. The blanket's shoved under me and it's uncomfortable... Please stay.

If you say so, he cheerfully responds. It's a bit sickening. I mutter something to that effect, but it quickly gets as tangled up in the sheets as I currently am. Beowulf sits on the bed...is he actually humming something? Does he have any realization as what time it is?

Why are you so wide...wide awake? Something needs to be done about this.

There's a thud as the sole of one of his boots hits the floor a little too hard. Because it's cold outside. That sort of temperature forces people to stay awake, I think, a swishy sound makes itself known as, it seems, he's pulled his scarf off. The familiar sound of his taking his jacket off follows, his weight shifting on the bed, where's the blanket?

It's a futile effort, but I try to tug the semi-soft cloth out from under me. It's bunched up underneath me, my voice sounds very near whiny. Ah, it's too early in the morning to care.

He's chuckling. I fail to find the humor here, but then again my mind's mostly happily submerged in sleep, or something like it. Well then, I better rescue it, his hand burrows underneath my waist and he lifts me up, freeing up the thick folds of the blanket enough to tug it out. After gently placing me back into my proper position, he spreads out the blanket over the both of us and scoots up against me, wrapping his arm around my waist and kissing my nape.

Ah...this is perfect...

You really value your sleep, don't you?

Nn... Of course I do, I mumble. Wait, is he trying to tell me something? what about you?

His arm shifts so that he's not holding me as closely. Was that a bad question? I can't think... I don't...well, I like sleeping with you, but for the most part sleeping isn't all that great.

Oh. Really? Why's that? I stifle a yawn and try potentially hard to fight away the cluttered cobwebs of sleep. If he wants me to listen, it's the least I can do for him...

...Well, it'd be nice if he started talking.

Finally he makes a small noise. Just some dreams, memories...that's all. Sorry, I'm keeping you from your sleep. Goodnight, Reis.

Dreams, memories...bad ones?

...Not much of an explanation. But...I'll respect it.

Goodnight, Beowulf, I whisper, and his hold on me tightens again.

-----

--bomp--

I hate your bed.

With my head resting on his left shoulder, I glance up at him. Is something wrong? Of course, I have a pretty good idea about what he means, but it's only past eight and I'm not feeling very tired.

This bed is so short. It must've been made for the average woman, I'll agree with that. But, in my view, most Ivalicians are on the short side, since you're tall, doesn't it bother you?

A bit, I shrug, smiling inwardly as the fingers of his right hand drift along the forearm of my left arm, which is thrown over his chest haphazardly. Funny, thinking of the arm and body placements like this sound very convoluted, but it feels like one of the most natural things in the world, that's why I do this, slowly I run my bent left leg along the inside of his clothed right leg...why is he gripping me so hard? i-it's easier to sleep in this bed if you bend your legs, but that's easier to do when you're on your side.

He mumbles something that doesn't even fully make its way past his lips. Is that so? He sounds distant.

Well, yes, for me, anyway. Though, I can't imagine it being too comfortable to sleep with my knees point up at the ceiling.

now he sounds vaguely disappointed...why? I can't wait until we get married. The first thing I'd like for our house would be a nice, large bed.

It's certainly nice that one of us has their priorities straight. Smiling, I look up at his face. That sounds nice.

Yeah, it does, his voice has taken on a more blissful quality...it's slightly unnerving, just think about it, love. Enough room to stretch out our legs and still not touch the footboard--

--bomp--

--I think my point has been proven, his legs collide into mine when he turns over, facing me, definitely the most important thing.

I try my hardest to get our legs even more tangled up. I see, that's something I've come to appreciate about the shortness of this bed; it's practically a necessity to scrunch up our legs together, even if the rest of us somehow gets disentangled during the night.

I appreciate the closeness.

He adjusts the blanket over us, the top of it coming up to our chins. his tone of voice is very warm, and I can't help but press myself up against him just a little more, when should we get married?

That's...a good question. We've been engaged for a week and a half and this is the first time it's been brought up. To be honest, being engaged to marry is just like being in the type of relationship we were in beforehand, except that there's now an element of...extra expectation? Maybe it was just my way of thinking, considering my problem, but I wasn't expecting anything.

Now...now there's so much ahead of us.

Thinking about it like this, it leads to some tangent questions. We can't just announce that we're going to get married if we weren't supposed to be in a relationship in the first place. So, the obvious solution would be to make the wedding happen at a plausible time for everyone watching. It sounds like we'd have to pretend to go right back to the getting to know each other' stage of things.

It seems a bit ridiculous. Can we really go back to that stage, even if it's just for show?

I don't really know, but what is the normal time structure between getting to know a person and marrying them? Before I answer...how long is the whole process supposed to be?

He looks at me, interest sparking in his eyes. 'Process'? Do you mean planning out a wedding and such things?

Oh, there's that too, isn't there... No, I mean from two people knowing each other until they decide to get married.

At this, his eyes close. Well, that's hard to say. With nobles, that can be anywhere from a couple months to nearly a year. But that's usually planned out by others. With other people, I couldn't say.

Hm, I see, how confusing. Depending on the process, we could be delaying our wedding for quite some time. I'm not in any rush to get married...well, not right now. It's hard to when we're enjoying at least a few benefits of the married life. Besides, I'm just grateful I even am getting married, Beowulf, what process were you following?

he looks at me and smiles widely, the process of my heart?

...Oh. I see.

Hunters...we don't have any specific time allocation for that sort of thing. You meet someone, typically at the age of fifteen or sixteen, you get to know each other, then you decide if it'll work between the two of you and get married. No elaborate process of a wedding or anything...it's all a bit too impractical for my tastes.

But, thinking about it like this, Ivalice doesn't follow that sort of ideology at all.

What are you thinking? I look at him when he touches my face, cupping the side of it with with one large hand.

Well...we aren't technically supposed to be together, so we'd have to start over' once the cardinal comes back, gently, I tug at my bottom lip with my teeth, trying to concisely put all my thoughts into words. It's hard for me, sometimes, I was just wondering what was the normal time for a relationship before we can go along with getting married.

His fingers push through my hair, stroking the lock resting on my face. To tell you the truth, I hadn't even thought about that, he sighs, alright, how about this: just tell me what month you'd like, and I'm sure we can figure it out from there.

...I don't believe we can fit what we want into a set time period. Everything needs its own time to grow, doesn't it?

--That's the very definition of magic, you know, to forcefully change the environment for your own benefit--

Hm. Is he going to do everything by magic?

--Ivalician magic is mostly based on one's own willpower--

Well, I suppose he would know.

What month...I like it when it's hot. How about July?

He makes a face at this. It's too hot. I'm not as blessed as you are.

... Blessed'? He thinks I'm blessed? ...I don't know how to feel about that. How can you think that?

Well, probably because I wear all black, even in the summer, he smiles at my frown, his fingers moving along my face as if they were trying to block out the wrinkles of that facial movement, sometimes, being normal just isn't all that great.

...Really? Ah, I shouldn't dwell on this subject. Some things are just...no, I don't need to think about it now. Everything's fine now. Alright then, how about May?

My suggestion seems to go over well, seeing that thoughtful look on his face with moonlight rippling over it. The middle of May, next year?

I smile. That sounds great, I'm sure that would be enough time to form an acceptable' relationship...right? that's plausible, isn't it?

Of course, especially if we started' dating in December or January, he nods. Slowly, a huge smile breaks out on his face, like the sun overcoming mountains to reach the top of the sky, May, next year. May, Pantora forty-eight. Six months from now. I like it, wrapping his arms around me, he kisses me, pulling away after a short time and looking straight into my eyes, we'll work out the actual date later.

May. Springtime. A time when everything's blossoming and fresh.

I like that.

His smile is soft when I refocus on him. It's the kind of smile that makes me want to blush, though for vastly different reasons than the smile he aims at me when he's staring at my body. It makes me feel light, this soft smile. Not embarrassed, or interested, or even a bit smug--which really isn't very good--just light.

In the presence of that smile, I feel really...loved. Or something even greater than that, I'm not quite sure.

Is it possible for someone to feel something greater than love for another person?

But even with this wonderfully mellow mood that a simple facial movement has put me into, I can't help but be curious. What's that smile for? I really like it.

I really love it.

I'm just thinking about you in a wedding dress, is it just me, or does he actually look a bit...embarrassed? you'd look amazing in one.

A...wedding dress? Interesting. I guess I'll have plenty of time to make mine, then. What does one look like? I need references.

He looks thoughtful. What did Sis say about that... white, for purity'. Yeah, something like that.

...Purity?

An uncomfortable silence sinks in. I'm not sure, but I don't know if I'm very pure by Church standards. Well, not anymore at any rate.

Well, they don't need to know about that. Just wear a white dress anyway, this is a very reasonable suggestion, why don't you wear that one you used for that ball? That, on the other hand, is not the most reasonable suggestion.

Why would I do that? I mean, it was made for the ball. It's done its duty and is now retired. It's also kind of...lazy to reuse it.

He shrugs, though it looks a bit strange when done while lying on his side. Why only wear it once?

...That is a good point. Not enough to change my mind, but it's a good point.

I wonder what sort of design I should go with for a wedding dress? It seems I've used up all the very good job class designs, but maybe...hm. I'll have to check into that sometime.

Hm, Beowulf's being quiet. I glance at him, noting his new smile, one I'm very familiar with. What's that smile for? I can't help but ask anyway. He grins.

If you go with that Holy Knight dress, it just makes things even more convenient, he says, as if that would clear up what he means significantly.

I don't understand? Though, I can't help but smile when his grin widens. That and one of his hands is slowly making its way to the front of my nightgown.

You see, he states, fiddling around with its collar and tracing a finger over my collarbone, I already know how to take that one off. It opens in the front, right?

Mm...well, that's a good incentive to use it.

-----

...Reis...my love...

I don't bother to respond in words, I just hold him more tightly, smiling when he does the same in return. My breathing's just about returned to normal, though it seems that his heartbeat's still a bit erratic. It still has a nice rhythm to it, though. We're skin-to-skin from heated chests to tangled legs, and it's just so pleasant that I can feel myself slowly sinking into deep, everlasting sleep...

I feel wet. Really sweaty, among other things.

The first time I didn't mind at all. However, the effect of sweaty skin pressed against sweaty skin has long since lost its novelty. I want a bath.

I start disentangling myself from him, which is a task easier said than done. Beowulf, let go.

Slowly he opens one eye. He sounds disoriented.

I'm going to the bath, I answer, and he loosens his grip enough that I can move away from him, out from the blanket, and off the bed. Where's my nightgown, robe...soap...

he responds, yawning,

...I don't think he's fully thinking right now. To take a bath, should I bring my hair soap too? Hm, might as well.

he breathes out. The bed creaks as his weight shifts on it, I'll go with you.

I look over at him as he goes in search of his own clothing.

He grins as he pulls on his pants. To take a bath.

...Maybe I'm not thinking either. Oh. Separately?

Why would we do that? You're the only one with soap, he pulls on his jacket, let's use the men's side.

I shrug. Whatever he likes is fine with me. We leave my room and quickly walk down the hallway to the bathhouse, all the overwhelming heat from earlier disappearing in the presence of the cold night air. Even I can tell it's cold, so I can't imagine how Beowulf is feeling. Entering the appropriate door, I look around. The men's side looks exactly like the women's side, except for the fires burning inside glass circles placed high above on the walls, between every two spigots. I guess the knights are expected to take baths later at night than the white mages.

Beowulf takes the toiletries from my hands and places them down, then leads me over to a stool. You'll go first, alright?

Well, if he says so. I take off my robe and nightgown, handing it to him when he comes back from filling up a bucket. Sitting complacently on the stool, I can see small wisps of steam rising from the bath itself. I didn't realize the bath was open this late...well, I don't know what time it is, but I'm sure it's pretty late. What time is it?

I think it's past ten, he replies, and I can hear the distinct sounds of his disrobing. There are the steady sounds of his footsteps as he walks away from the bench lining the inside of the room, should I start off with the shampoo, or the soap?

Shampoo'? What is this...

There is a bottle in front of my face...my hair soap. This. What do you call it?

'Hair soap', I answer, and he chuckles,

That makes sense, but this is the first time I've ever heard it called that, I'm not sure...why is that funny? I'll start off with it, then, I can hear it being squeezed out of the bottle, then the sound the bottle makes against the floor. His hands grasp my hair, his fingers probing against my scalp as he rubs the...shampoo into my hair. I close my eyes. This feels nice.

After too short of a time, he piles my lathered-up hair on the top of my head, patting it there. The gesture reminds me of my brothers playing in the mud after a rainstorm, trying to see who could make the largest pile of mud, but neither twin ever won because Quain would cry if Tyrei looked like he was winning, or Tyrei would kick over Quain's sculpture if the reverse happened. I used to get so exasperated over them!

How funny...I really miss that now.

There is the feeling of slickness against my back, sliding up and down, teasing me. It's hard not to relax to this, arms pooling in my lap as the soap massages deeper, more...over more of my back, down and up, down and up and over my left shoulder. Briefly he passes the soap down the length of my arm, his other hand lingering behind the soap to massage the residue into my skin. The soap makes a new trail over to my right arm, this time passing through my chest. Even in this haze, I'm half-expecting him to drop the soap now--this is quickly losing any pretense of cleansing. But he continues on, albeit a very long detour over and around the curves of my breasts that makes me think that he's enjoying this a little too much.

Hm. I kind of like that.

He presses against me after quickly lathering up my right arm, and my suspicions are confirmed. The soap delves down, running along my navel now as his lips touch the back of my ear. Do you like this, love?

I smile. Yes. I suppose I won't have to ask the same, though.

He pauses for a moment before bursting out in laughter. You're really amazing, you know that? Well, I can't help it, not when an extremely beautiful woman is letting me touch her anywhere I want, he leans over and kisses me on the edge of my jaw.

Never mind that extremely beautiful woman' part, but... I always let you, though. I'd think you would be getting used to it by now.

He runs the soap over the top of my thighs. Used to it by...what, two weeks? I'd hope not, at his urging, I spread my legs and stretch my right one back so he can reach from his position. I don't think he wants to move, it's probably unrealistic, but I hope I never get used to it.

Hm, me neither. After he finishes with my right leg, I hold the left one back for him. He finishes this one quickly and moves the soap back up to my thighs, rubbing it in slow circles on the inside of my thighs...that feels great. I tilt my head up, my breathing more and more shallow as the circles grow, become wider, more...more...

Reis, I hope you'll forgive me, he murmurs. I nod. He can do whatever he likes, I don't care, just kee--

!!

Shampoo suds drift down my face, falling from my chin and plopping onto my lap. Cold water drops do the same at a much more rapid pace. I can feel a thick chunk of my hair bend onto the back of my neck while water trickles uncomfortably down my back. if I say his name any louder than a whisper, it will probably be accompanied by something very unflattering.

Sorry, but I'm done, he pauses, you still have a lot of soap left, the second and third dousings go by much more nicely. I don't say a thing. He leans over and I can see him in my peripheral vision, I should've warned you better about that first one, right?

...What do you think? I say blandly, it's your turn now, isn't it?

...Don't...don't worry about it. Let's get you into the bath, and all warmed up... he leads me over to the bath and helps me over into the very warm water, this is better, right? I'll be with you in a minute, love.

...Hn. I sink into the water and glower at the opposite wall until I hear water splashing onto his body and he mutters something about cold water in the winter. Yes, it's pretty uncomfortable and surprising, isn't it? His feet pad down to the bath and he enters. After a long moment of silence, he does this weird thing...he's flailing around, but he easily moves through the water from one end to the other. Beowulf, what are you doing?

He stops that weird movement and smiles at me. He looks a little relieved, actually. I'm swimming. I used to do that a lot when I was a kid, excitement crosses over his face, do you want to learn?

...Well, it wouldn't be very useful since there aren't many large bodies of water in Lionel, but...why not? Alright. What do I do?

Reaching out to me, he puts an arm around my shoulders. First, we'll get you used to floating, ... floating'? Like the legendary airships of the Yudora Empire? Oh, maybe he means more like a boat. Interesting...people can do that? I nod, and his hold on my shoulders tightens as he reaches underwater to the back of my legs, lifting me up. He moves his arm out from under me, replacing it with a hand between my shoulder blades.

I'm laid out on the water with only a hand on my back and under my knees.

It's kind of scary, to be honest.

I murmur, trying my best to get my bearings, let go of me.

He does so, and I slowly begin to sink...what...this isn't floating...up, up! I desperately keep my nose up, especially after my mouth is submerged...alright, I'm not sinking anymore. Great, what do I do when I want to talk? You don't float very well, I can hear Beowulf observe, though it sounds slightly muffled with my ears being underwater and all, maybe what he said was true after all... the smallest stone sinks faster than the largest feather.'

...A fine grasp of the obvious there. At least it doesn't sound like anything Beowulf would say. Straining a bit, I manage to get my lips past the barrier of water. Who...said that? Ah, air!

Wiegraf did, but he was talking about actions versus words, I look at him blankly, in this case, you're really slender but you actually have a lot of muscle on you as well, so, that makes me a stone. Well, better than something that blows around in the lightest breeze.

What...do I do...now? I think I'm losing the struggle here...

He gets a hold of me again, just one hand under the small of my back, enough that I can breathe and talk without struggling. Do you know how to roll? I nod. I'd hope so, considering that it's a good technique for avoiding attacks by various monsters. Okay, try and do that onto your stomach, the water doesn't help, but I manage to do what he says. He has a hand under my stomach, and he places his other on the small of my back, now that you're used to the water, this is the actual swimming. It's a lot of fun.

If he says so.

Hm...say you were walking on a bridge when it suddenly collapsed, so you had to reach out and grab the edge of the cliff you were closest to. Do that kind of motion with one arm, after a sidelong glance at him, I do so with my left arm, now the other arm, I repeat with my left, great. Okay, now do that so that one arm will be constantly reaching, ...oh, one after the other? Left, right, left, right, okay, this isn't so bad... and kick through the water as if you were walking, ...is it just me, or are there too many instructions for this? I splash around, feeling weird, and then he lets go of me.

...I'm still afloat? This...this is fun! Wait, the end of the bath is quickly approaching...how do I turn? I don't have enough space!

My arms hit the wall and I stop swimming, with the unfortunate side affect of starting to sink instead. Well, it was fun while it lasted. Quickly putting myself into a standing position, I make my way over to Beowulf. It seems that I can't turn, either I need to learn, or I need a larger body of water.

I'll teach you that next time, he places a hand on my head, running his fingers through the wet strands of my hair, you did really well. A lot better than me the first time I tried, that's for sure.

I shake my head. He can be so ridiculous sometimes... Why did you learn in the first place?

Well, I didn't have anything else to do, that's a straightforward answer, most nobles have their children taught by tutors until they're old enough to go to an academy, but...well, of course Mum didn't care about me, so I had a lot of free time. I'd go out into the woods with a whole bunch of kids from the poorer areas of town and go diving in the lakes and whatnot.

--True, but I meant that you were young, so why not enjoy your childhood?--

Is that a childhood'? Playing around all day? I suppose that's okay, but I wouldn't have given up my youth for anyone else's. What about your education?

Hm, the maids taught me a lot about math, and whenever Sis was home she'd always make me stay home and attempt to teach me everything she learned at the academy, the water stirs as he turns around, facing the entrance of the bathhouse, I know you learned a lot about your lifestyle when you lived at Bariaus Hill, but what about when you went to Murond?

I sigh. That time... I didn't know how to read, so they taught me that. But they said that I learned it abnormally fast for my social class', so they taught me the form of ancient Ivalician found in Murond. That was easy too, so they decided I was a prodigy and taught me all sorts of dialects, mathematical theorems...basically anything they could, shrugging, I look up at him, I'm supposed to be an example of how the Church can improve the lives of commoners, I believe.

he nods, looking thoughtful, you must be the type of person that can be easily attuned to anything, pulling himself out of the bath, he holds out a hand to me, let's go back. I feel like I'm going to be one big wrinkle if I stay in there any longer.

Ah, sleep sounds good right now. I grasp his hand, which is as shriveled up as mine is. Alright then.

It's strange, those lessons that we're taught in life. Of course, education in the more formal studies of reading and writing is good if you're planning to live out where it's a necessity. It's not a necessity everywhere; I don't think my parents knew anything about that. They were more concerned with the cohesiveness of the family and hunting techniques, among other things. And Beowulf didn't have the formal education of a noble--though it doesn't seem to make a difference--but he learned how to swim and get along with people from different social backgrounds.

What is the most important thing to learn?

I'm looking forward to learning how to turn while swimming.

-----

--This is going to sound a little weird, but could you not meet me at the barracks anymore? Just until I say it's okay, alright?--

I don't like the sound of that. Hopefully he'll tell me why soon...but even so, it doesn't sound right.

Sighing at my mind's insistence on bothering me with those words, I meander through the alleyways, feeling about as dark as the clouds filling up the sky. They're not excruciatingly dark, but even though it's barely noon they're still very ominous. Yet, they still don't unleash their burden onto the earth below.

Ah, maybe it is accurate.

The shopping area is fairly bare. The clouds must be intimidating most of the shoppers...not to talk of the outdoor vendors. This is something I've noticed about this town; in the winter people are slow to wake and prefer to stay inside most, if not all, of the day. For this reason alone, we've gotten away with having him leave at seven; during late spring and summer he'd have to leave much earlier than that.

It's too early either way.

The only time this isn't true is on Sundays, when all the parishioners start coming in at seven, so we've just decided that six out of seven days is really good enough.

We appreciate all we can get.

But, we don't have lunch or dinner so much anymore. I miss that, just sharing lunch and talking. We still talk a lot, but it's also overshadowed by our physical needs...wants. I don't need it, but it is nice. Great. Wonderful.

...Ah, I was looking for the restaurant where we were supposed to meet at...there it is. The inside's completely full. Well...it's not that bad out here. Approaching the restaurant, I sit outside at one of the tables and wait for the waitress. She comes out shortly, very bundled up in layers of material. Are you sure you'll be okay out here?

I nod. I'm sure.

Well, if you say so, she hands me a menu, then stares at me quizzically, her brown hair very dark against her pale skin and reddened cheeks, don't you usually have a male companion with you? One of the knights?

I nod again. He'll be arriving shortly.

Okay then, I'll just find another menu for him, she smiles widely. It's strange, but I can't help but wonder if that's really a natural smile for her, if you feel too cold, please tell me and I'll try to locate a table inside for you!

Thank you, I murmur, opening the menu as she leaves. Ah, I really shouldn't have salad today...maybe a stew of some type?

Hey look, it's Miss Reis.

Hm? Where...?

Hn, should I be impressed or something?

Of course not, but...that still didn't sound very nice. These are men talking so far, and they sound like some of the knights.

No, but even if you don't like her, you shouldn't be rude about a lady.

Don't like me...well, I get that a lot, but only from the white mages up until now. What have I done to the knights to make one of them dislike me?

A lady? A whore is more like it.

...What? That word...haven't I heard it before?

--A woman who sells her body for sex--

That's what Peppermint said, but...I'm not exactly understanding. There has to be some other meaning...I'm not... selling'? He's saying something slightly different at least, isn't he?

Either way, it still hurts.

God, you don't call our leader's fiancé a whore! What kind of idiot are you? She's right across the damn alley!

Oh. That's why they sound so close by. They're behind me, at the restaurant on the other side of the alley I just walked out of. Hm. I didn't even notice them.

You're the one who's yelling. And what, I'm not allowed to express an opinion that, by the way, most of us hold? No way in hell I'm gonna respect either of them now.

What...what did we do that was so wrong?

...Wait. Most of them?

Nah, Sir Kadmus is still okay. Anyway, can you really blame him? If she's going to offer herself up to him...damn, if I were him, I'd go for it.

Even in a church?

...Yeah, that's going too far.

...Oh. That...I didn't even think about that. It's convenient because I have my own room, but...it's still a church. I'm not religious...we're both not, but...

This...this really is Church-owned Lionel.

You know, you Ivalicians...you all have a strange way of thinking. So it's okay if he does it, but not the woman? Not even if they were already in a relationship?

Wait...that's a problem too? I'm not allowed...? Because Peppermint taught me about sex in such an open manner, I thought...

Isn't it okay?

Tanaka, I don't know what you all do back in your country, but here it's not acceptable behavior. We're civilized here.

So, would you like to explain to me about that war that's going to go on its forty-eighth year soon? Is that what civilized countries do, go to war with all their neighbors and alienate themselves?

Okay, okay, both of you calm down. We're all knights here, remember? Even if our leader can't handle himself, the rest of us can at least look acceptable as Shrine Knights.

Eh...what? But Beowulf...I was the one who gave him that choice, so why does he look bad? Because he took it?

Y'all are making way too big a deal about this, y'know? I just don't see what the problem is.

That voice is familiar...

You're standing up for them too, Mikner? Riola sure as hell isn't, and you always follow his lead.

Yeah, and the one time I didn't, Miss Reis saved me. She's totally cool in my eyes. Sides, Sam just doesn't like the whole fact that Sir Kadmus is obviously sleeping over in the church. He's cool about everything else.

And you are? You're the one in love with her.

...What?

--And like, even before today I had this major crush on you...--

Hm. I thought he was delirious...

I'll get over it. I figured I'd never get a chance with her anyway, but there's nothing wrong with dreaming about it.

And you also don't mind Sir Kadmus?



You aren't even looking at things logically. When that priest finds out--because Sir Kadmus practically made her room his new home--there's gonna be a huge thing about it. That priest is nothing less than vicious, the bastard. It could reverberate throughout all of Lionel, even to the ranks in Murond...then what? Most of the priests barely tolerate us as is, and Sir Kadmus is going to screw that all up because he found out he could get it free from some cold slut who doesn't even know how to smile?

You know, those two words don't go well together. Cold slut'? Isn't that a contradiction?

Shut it, Tanaka.

He does have a point there. And Brunson, if you ever call Miss Reis anything like that again, you're going to regret it.

Mikner, don't even try to act tough. You're a failure at it. Not even Riola would back you up.

You say that like I'd need back up. I mean, it's just you.

Godammit, both of you, shut up!

What were we talking about again? Miss Reis? Figures. She's only across the way and she's doing all this. I guess that's just how women are.

...So, this is what I've done. I didn't even think...was my choice really that bad? I never thought that there would be consequences like these...being insulted is one thing, but Beowulf...

--I mean, Sir Kadmus has more people depending on him than just you. He's a knight, but he's also a leader. He's already affected all the knights in this town; how long before he gets to everyone in this region?--

Miss Alia said that after my horrible choice, that time at the ball. But this choice, this was a good choice! We're both happy, but the same reaction is happening again.

No...it's even worse.

--This is going to sound a little weird, but could you not meet me at the barracks anymore? Just until I say it's okay, alright?--

Is this the reason why you asked that of me, Beowulf? You knew...didn't you?

Is this your way of protecting me?

Lowering my head, I take deep, unsteady breaths. I feel sick. This...all of this...it makes me sick. My own decision being reviled when it really shouldn't have anything to do with them...finding out this way...

If they're talking about me, I deserve to know.

At least, that's what I think I deserve. Apparently Beowulf knows better than me.

I resent that.

-----

Reis, you've been kind of quiet today.

I don't look over at him, instead keeping my eyes on the ceiling. We're not even touching right now...I really don't want to be touched right now.

This has gone on too long. I need to speak up now, before we get married and I forget...I forget that in theory we're supposed to be equals. Equals that help each other, equals that don't hold back from the other.

--I don't want you to fight--

We're equals. Really.

--I would've never let you find her if I had known it was more than a sprain. I probably shouldn't have, anyway...--

I hate that. More than anything, I really hate that. I'd like to think that I deserve to be given some human decency, to be told things that affect me. I'm trying hard, very hard, to break out of holding back important things, but I have a feeling that Beowulf would've never made the effort to tell me about this. Why?

--He just wanted to protect you--

This...this is not protecting' me. I never asked to be protected.

I didn't crawl back to this level of humanity to be protected.'

I did it because I wanted to be on an equal level with him.

His body shifts, the bed creaking accordingly. What's wrong?

So caring. So loving. So concerned.

It's completely irrational, but it makes me even more irritated to hear those words said in that tone.

my voice sounds so bland, it surprises me. I haven't heard it sound like this since Murond... why didn't you tell me that your coming here would cause so much trouble?

Right now, while he's here, he's affecting his knights in the worst way.

He says nothing, just sighing as a response. How do you know about that? Beowulf's tone matches mine in its deadness.

I really wasn't supposed to know, was I? I overheard it today, before you arrived for lunch.

I see, he exhales slowly, then places his arm over my waist and leans in close, his lips lightly touching my ear in that familiar way, don't worry about it. I'll take care of it.

--I don't want you to fight--

They sound the same.

The past and the present, they sound the same. They haven't changed.

I pull away from him, sitting up and leaning against the wall next to the bed. Why didn't you tell me?

But I have.

He shakes his head, sitting up and staring at me. It's not something you needed to know.

--It could reverberate throughout all of Lionel, even to the ranks in Murond...then what?--

How can you say that? I'm nothing short of incredulous. Is he listening to what he's saying? It affects everyone. You're a leader, Beowulf. What you do affects everyone. Why didn't...why didn't you mention anything about what could happen if we do get caught? And me... I grit my teeth and look directly in his eyes, it has everything to do with me. So why don't I deserve to know?

Whose room is this? Whose invitation let you inside? Who let their choice be known in the first place?

And still, he decides that I don't need to know.

He keeps his eyes on me. I was just trying to protect you from this. I didn't want you to be hurt.

--A lady? A whore is more like it--

It hurts even more that you didn't tell me, I whisper, fingers digging painfully into my thighs, it hurts that I had to hear it...eavesdrop on your men to find out. It hurts...I don't need to be protected. Not in this way.

I was protecting myself just fine. I was practically dead inside, an emotionally-inept girl fully immersed in illusions. But I clawed my way through those illusions, through my own barriers, into reality...for what? To be protected from it?

What was all that effort for, then?

I'm sorry, he mutters, an edge to his voice that I've never had directed at me before, you don't need me to protect you. You need to hear that everybody thinks I'm an idiot for coming over and spending the night with you. You need to hear that I'm not even sure I could find a shred of respect from the men I've worked with for three years anymore. You need to hear all this and more, and how I can't do anything to stop it because I'm a leader and it's not very fair-minded to try and stop people I was once friends with from saying the most hateful things about you because there isn't a rule against that.

But of course, protecting you is a waste of time because you don't need me for that, he looks away, and it affects me more than his words, God, Reis, I knew you wouldn't appreciate this, but I wouldn't have minded a thank you' either.

And just like that, my anger dissipates.

I don't know what to think. I feel justified in my anger, but...I'm also ashamed.

There is absolutely no way to hold a controlled argument. Not with human feelings. With monsters, arguments lead to someone's death.

Humans usually aren't so lucky.

My memory will never forgive me.

My lips are moving, but it isn't until I consciously force my voice to act that words spill from them. What does Sir Chiroseau think? After all, I don't think that he would abandon Beowulf.

He laughs, a dead, hollow sound that repeats in exactly the same tone. He morally objects...I mean, he's angry at me, but not at you. There aren't very many that think that, you know. He said...what was it... you're supposed to get married first. Do you know how this is going to look for Miss Reis? Don't you have any sense of responsibility? Or maybe an understanding of actions and their consequences? Now everybody thinks it's her fault when it's just yours. Did you even think?'

It is my fault.

My fault. Beowulf's fault. Our fault.

But I started it.

I'm sorry, bowing my head at first, I press my forehead against the bed, a lump in my throat forming as my eyes get too wet for their own good, I'm so sorry... and my wet eyes start leaking tears even when I close my eyes so tightly that my jaw reflexively clenches.

I say I don't want to be protected, and then I act like it's the only thing I need.

You don't need to apologize...Reis... there are hands on my shoulders, pulling me up . I go along with it, making no attempt to hide my scrunched-up face and the falling tears, God, it's not the end of the world, this isn't worth it... he wraps his arms around me tightly, stroking my hair while I pitifully try to grasp at the last of my self-dignity.

But it feels good to let it slip through my fingers.

After awhile, though, I manage to get it back. Sniffling a bit, I try to pull away but he doesn't let me. Tilting my head up, I look right into his dark eyes. Something in those eyes... I love you, he murmurs, and suddenly I understand.

I love you, so much...maybe too much.

It's too late to change that. I wouldn't want to.

He smiles, but it's different. Let's be as selfish as possible.

my smile mirrors his, dark and with all ignorance shattered.

--Even if you make a choice that no one can agree with, if you have a reason to make that choice, then the only judgment that holds any weight at all is God's--

This is true. It doesn't seem like it, it certainly doesn't feel like it, but it does make me feel better about everything.

Even if all it leads to is disappointment and insults, losing friends and being alienated, I will stay with my choices. I won't be protected from their results, from their unintended consequences. I struggled to get to this point, and anything less than seeing what happens in its fully glory is unacceptable.

It's beautiful outside the walls.

-End to chapter 26-

First off, this was barely proofed. Personally, I'm blaming Final Fantasy X and monster-capturing (stupid Simurghs!) and bribing (stupid Machea!). Secondly, this is another one of those month-in-a-chapter chapters, except not as tightly written as chapter 24. I want to shove in another chapter, but the end has to come sometime...

-For those of you unfamiliar with the myth of Eros and Psyche, all you have to know is that the title couple only met at night until Psyche dared to break her promise to Eros. That's all I'm saying as it is one of my favorite Greco-Roman myths.

Reviewers!

Hey, Luna. Well, you do have a good point there that Beowulf has never interacted with any children--unless you'd like to consider 12-year-old Mustadio a child--but he is also more than old enough to want to settle down. Plus, in the second part of his interlude, he basically assumed he was going to have children later on. But that's pretty vague, isn't it?
Are there any good sex scenes in fanfiction? I think I've read one out of way too many to admit to. The problem lies in trying to write about an act that is both physical and emotional; most people tend not to even bother making the two balance.
I'm happy to hear that you got some rest on your break, though school tends to drain faster than than rest can restore. -- What book are you researching?
Well, at least you know the myth, though Eros is the Greek; Cupid is the Roman. I'll admit though...I figured you were going to take a shot at the quote, so I just put up the most controversial-sounding one. Heh. I'll be fair this time...

Yo, The Burning Misery. I wish I had DSL, I'm still stuck on 56k. But, that city you live in is a nice place...well, if nothing else, I like the Claim Jumpers near the mall.
It's the weirdest thing, but I don't feel motivated to write unless I'm going to school regularly. I just don't feel like writing on my school breaks. So, I understand.
Let me just thank you for not insisting I play the greatest RPG ever!' I've been completely spoiled as far as the game goes, and I find the SNES FFs to have cuter sprites than those weird lego people in VII.
Well, the reasons for marrying someone tend to be out of three concepts: children, regulating sexual access, and for economic reasons. Marrying for love is very recent, though having affairs out of love has been around for centuries. Don't mind me, I just took a test on this so it's still fresh on my mind. While I don't see FFT as having a medieval setting--at least, not purely--the idea of marrying mainly for children or rank was firmly in my mind for all socioeconomic groups. I do agree with you, of course, but that would be extremely liberal thinking for whatever time period FFT is supposed to emulate.
As you can see, I've probably thought too much about this.

MavGunloc...I basically told you everything that I wanted to say/ask, so I'm just going to thank you for your review. I hope we can talk again soon!

Hello, Jaded Soul. I think I'm happy to be asked what I think, actually. I looked over the sentence in question and decided that, for plotline considerations, that completely' was extraneous anyway. Thank you for pointing that out, and I'm painfully looking forward to all the corrections you'll be making to this chapter!
I'm going to guess that Berserk is one of your favorite--if not your favorite--manga/anime, huh? Well then, with a recommendation like that, I'll definitely look into buying some of the manga soon!

Wow, I didn't think I'd be seeing you again so soon, Mavina! Beowulf is a weird person, but could you explain a little more? I think I have an idea of what you're referring to, though, and I'll probably change the interaction a bit once I get the chance. Thanks for pointing it out, in any case.

Chapter 27: Sunset (Monochromatic Harvest): Priest Buremonda, don't ever touch me again.