A/N: Sorry this didn't come out Monday! Over the weekend my boss asked me if I could pick up a four to midnight shift on Monday, to which I agreed, but it made it difficult to find free time to post. I'm also sorry that I wasn't able to respond to anyone's reviews last week. I was swamped with stuff the day of my birthday and then the following days afterwards. It seems the end of the semester is eating away all of my time. I won't be able to respond this week either, which upsets me because I always like giving you guys a response since you take time out of your lives to read and review. Again, sorry for the late update. It won't (at this juncture) happen again. I also apologize for any errors that this chapter contains, I didn't take much time to proofread it, just a light skim through. Thank you all for reading and reviewing and being ever so patient with me.
Enjoy,
Orangepotato
Chapter Twenty Nine
Zelos stared out of the window blankly, blue eyes not seeing anything.
Damn, he needed a drink.
His headache was returning and the acid burn that usually brushed his skin had subsided. Like he needed to be sober right now…
"Sebastian," he called, his voice slurring a bit, "Get me some more alcohol!" He rested his head against the window, the cold pane easing the pounding in his head. The squeak of the door opening, however, caused it to come back and the red head gritted his teeth together.
His butler entered quickly, carrying a large glass of amber liquid.
"Sir," the older man called, showing the Chosen the drink. Zelos grabbed it thankfully, chugging a good half of it before gripping the cool glass tightly in his hand.
"Be honest," the red head stated, smirking darkly at his reflection in the window, "Am I a mess?"
His reflection said as much, anyways. His skin was pale, parts blotchy from where his wounds were still healing up. He'd pulled his hair back into a ponytail, the thick locks greasy from not being washed. He'd lost a lot of weight, his bones jutting from his skin, and his health was in decline due to his sudden drinking problem.
"Yes sir, you are."
Zelos chuckled, "That's what I like about you Sebastian. You're honest."
"As you wanted me to be, sir."
The red head took another swing of the acid beverage, the vile taste washing down his throat and easing his headache.
He was about to dismiss the man when Sebastian spoke up, "Oh, and you have a guest, sir. He's waiting for you downstairs."
A guest?
"Tell them I don't want to see anyone."
"I already tried that sir, but this man is persistent. He wished to ask about speaking to you in person, but I made a compromise and told him I'd ask you once more if you'd see anybody."
"The answers still the same," he looked out the window, staring without caring. A storm was brewing, dark clouds coating the sky and a thick lightning beginning to blossom underneath. Small washes of rain would rattle the window panes, but he continued staring.
Not an ounce of his being wanted to speak to someone right now.
"I'll inform him of the news, sir." Sebastian bowed deeply and exited the room without another word. For that, the Chosen was grateful.
Sheena…
She couldn't be dead, it simply wasn't possible.
He'd demanded answers but hadn't gotten any. Instead, he'd been knocked out and dragged to his mansion in the dead of night. Earlier in the week, then, he'd been informed that there was going to be a ball in his honor to celebrate his 'return from the dead'. There, the pope was going to announce the end of the 'conspiracy' that had threatened the red head's life and bring him back into political and religious dominance.
The words had pissed him off enough that he'd verbally beaten the poor guy informing him and sent him running back to the chapel. Sebastian had kindly reminded the Chosen afterwards, don't shoot the messenger.
Absently, he drank the rest of his drink, letting the taste surround his senses.
Part of him knew that this wouldn't be what Sheena would want. She'd want him to go out and figure out what was going on, not sit in his room and have a pity party. Not that this was a pity party; he was far too drunk most of the time to pity himself.
He laughed at his haggled reflection, "God, Zelos… Sebastian is right. You are a mess." His voice sounded odd to his ears, the raw emotion that seeped forth strange. Normally, he concealed all of those, but hell, he was already letting himself go. Why not shatter the masks as well?
Then he laughed at the irony. The ball that was being held was a masquerade… He was just drunk enough to want to tell Sebastian about it.
Moving from the window, he stumbled through his darkened room, making his way onto the balcony outside his room and shouting for his butler.
"Sebastian, I have the funniest thing to-" Blue eyes caught his butler downstairs, dismissing an individual who looked strikingly familiar. However, the person was gone before the Chosen could connect the man's image with his memory and he stood, staring over the edge.
Who was that person?
They'd almost looked like…
"What is it, sir?" Sebastian called from below, slowly making his way up the stairs. He reached Zelos' side within moments, "What do you wish to tell me?"
Shaking his head, loose red locks dancing around his face, he spoke to his butler, "Nothing, nothing. Um, who was that?"
Sebastian replied, "That was the man who wished to speak with you. He said he'd come back at another time, sir, hoping that you'd be in the mood to have visitors then."
"What was his name?"
"He actually didn't leave a name, sir. He only left a message."
"Tell me it, then." Zelos placed his hands on his hips, the buzz from the alcohol slowly fading as he focused.
The butler seemed to ponder for a moment, as if pulling it from a drawer in his mind, than answered, "He said, 'I do not wish to drag this out more than necessary'. Does that mean something to you, sir?"
The red head froze.
Yes. That did mean something to him. The bastard who'd attacked him and Sheena in Sylvarant had said that before striking them down.
When he thought of the man, the two images clicked.
Yes. The man who'd just left was the man who'd attacked them before.
"That bastard," Zelos clenched his fists, running across the balcony and stumbled down the steps. He almost toppled, but managed to remain upright, chaotically making his way through the front door by the time Sebastian's protest entered his ears.
A wash of cold rain hit him first, only clearing his head more. Blue eyes glared around the dark streets, desperate to find the man who'd just left.
"You couldn't have gotten far!" He screamed, his voice muted by a loud bellow of thunder. He span around, air and water swirling around him, as he let out another shout for the man, "Get back here you bastard!" He started running towards the castle, intent to stop him before he left the city.
The ground was steadily growing slick though, and before he could make it out of the noble quarter, his foot slipped and he fell to the hard earth. His hands barely caught him, the world spinning as tried to figure out what had happened.
"Sir Zelos!" Sebastian called from behind the red head. He turned his eyes on his butler, the man making a mad dash over to help.
"Sebastian, I-" Another crack of thunder filled the air, a spark of yellow flashing across the black earth before allowing darkness to swallow everything up again.
His butler reached him a moment later, draping a coat over his shoulders and helping him up. The man spoke gentle words, ensuring the Chosen that the man would return, that he'd desperately wanted to speak to Zelos, that he'd said he'd speak with the red head any opportunity he'd get…
The Chosen barely heard those words, but he nodded numbly in agreement.
The buzz of alcohol was coming back, warming his skin as he and Sebastian walked back to the mansion.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
A big storm still bubbled overhead, but that didn't deter any of the royalty that swarmed towards the palace. As far as they were concerned, if they got inside, they'd be sheltered from the weather and be able to party all night long.
Masses entered through the large double doors of the palace, masks adorning their faces. Some were colorful, some a single shade that blended with their extravagant outfits.
Zelos, himself, looked down on the people entering with distaste. He was four hours sober, a pounding headache in his skull reminding him painfully, and he frowned at the thought. Sebastian had restricted the red head's access to alcohol when the preparations for the party had started. He'd stated simply that his job description was to maintain the well fair of his client, and Zelos drinking himself to death wasn't 'maintaining his well fair'.
While the red head had to agree with that, it didn't make the reality any more satisfying.
Instead, he frowned down to the slowly growing group of party goers, raising an eyebrow at some of the women's 'unique' choices in attire.
I suppose I am single, aren't I?
From his viewpoint on the balcony that wrapped around the elegant banquet room, he could see the pope speaking animatedly to the king. His royal highness, dressed in fine silks and satins but not wearing a mask to disguise his appearance, replied back less than enthused.
Absently, the red head wondered what they were talking about.
It hardly mattered though.
Turning, he leaned against the rail, staring at the decorated brick wall in front of him.
The clamor of voices from below began increasing, thousands of nobility with too much times on their hands were ready to get the massive party started.
Well, Zelos mused to himself, I might as well not keep them waiting.
He made his way down the carpeted stairs and to the King and pope, both of whom noticed him immediately.
"Chosen one," the King spoke, his deep voice reverberating in the red head's ears.
"Your highness," he gave a small bow, then straightened, looking the pope square in the eye, "Your eminence."
The pope almost physically growled at Zelos' lack of etiquette, but whether the King actually cared wasn't voiced. Instead, the man continued, "I'm glad that the threat to your life is no longer."
"I as well, your grace."
The pope spoke up from behind his mask, "Surely the Chosen wishes to give thanks where thanks is due?"
Giving a smirk, Zelos spoke with as much innocence as he could muster, "Surely you, the pope of the Church of Martel, don't wish for such petty things."
The round man growled, his costume matching him. His mask was colored like a fierce animal, though Zelos couldn't remember the name. It was orange with black stripes covering different aspects of the face. His outfit was colored to match the mask. He probably would have looked intimidating was he not of a short and round stature.
Instead, it only made the Chosen inwardly chuckle.
"At any rate, you highness," he turned back to the King, "I shall go mingle." He bowed again, his headache coming back as he descended the marble steps to the crowds of party goers.
Instantly, he was recognized by many women and bombarded with questions.
He kept his answers vague and mysterious, unintentionally flirting and earning several girlish giggles. He smirked; his pearly whites making the women swoon.
Hours passed in a similar fashion, everyone pausing as the King and the pope relayed the message that had already been spread around the area by the Chosen himself. There was a thunderous applause and the red head, while no one was looking, rolled his eyes and frowned.
God, everything was so pomp and circumstances with the rich. Everything had to be elaborate draws for bored wealthy minds and regardless of the event, funerals even, they made a show out of it.
Parting from yet another group of women, Zelos walked across the large hall, reaching the long decorated table of refreshments. Wine was aplenty, the red head pouring himself a crystal glass of the red liquid before turning his attention back to the crowd.
Taking a sip, he looked at the people merrily speaking, a large group of them dancing elegantly to the small band of stringed instruments.
Popping some tiny pastries into his mouth, he maneuvered along the walls to reach the courtyard opening, slipping into the cold night unnoticed.
A light drizzle had started while everyone was merry making, but the red head didn't mind. Just being out of the area made him feel better; there was only so long he could remain around blissfully ignorant people.
Sipping some of the bitter red wine, he leaned against one of the magnificent walls and stared across the city. Most of the people were asleep by now, a dim glow of street lights the only sign of life. Other than that, darkness consumed the stretches of the city and Zelos desperately wished he could be a part of that darkness.
Sheena.
Once again his thoughts returned to her.
Hell, when he wasn't drunk, he was thinking about her. His heart ached at the mere recollection of her, and yet, it was the only way he could keep her alive. No, she is alive!
God, who was he kidding?
Taking another taste of the fancy wine, he let his thoughts drift from her to Sylvarant. Why wasn't he being forced back over there? Yuan hadn't seen him in weeks and with no word from the pope, he was starting to think the half elf had died.
Though, that'd be too easy an answer…
What would happen to Tethe'alla if the Chosen of the declining world completed the journey? Hell, what would happen to him?
The pope's bitter words returned to his mind.
"Look out for myself, huh? I suppose things were a lot simpler back then." He thought his musings had gone unheard but a deep voice sounded from beside him.
"Though, with simplicity comes mindless obedience."
Zelos nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning to look at the man who'd snuck out beside him.
He was wearing a crimson mask that covered his entire face. Only two eye holes had been carved, the man's eyes, color undistinguishable, peered out from the curtain. His ensemble was black; a cape draped over one shoulder dramatically while glossy knee high boots adorned his feet. He almost blended into the night, save the mask on his face.
It burned into the Chosen's eyes, "I suppose it does." He kept his answer simple, turning back to the darkened city and swirling the red liquid in his glass absent mindedly.
"For some reason, however, I take that you are not a simple man and that you detest simplicity."
Smirking, Zelos responded, "That's quite the statement from a man I don't know."
"You don't need to know me for that observation to be correct."
While it was true, the Chosen felt a small tingle of suspicion cross over his spine. Why was this guy speaking to him cryptically anyways?
"Well, I need to get back to the party," Zelos commented, shifting away from the wall and downing the rest of his wine. He started moving away.
The man spoke up, "Why did you dress as a raven?"
The red head froze. That was his costume. A black mask, composed of feathers that expertly covered only half of his features, leaving a blue eye and his smirk untouched, rested on his face. The rest of his outfit, black clothes accented with blues and purples, covered his body. His shock of red hair had been pulled back into a braid and was usually swung over one of his shoulders.
Why had he?
There had been several outfits the maids had sewn for him, and he'd chosen the raven…
The mysterious man gave a vague comment, "Perhaps you and I are more alike than you think."
Zelos turned towards the man, blue eyes glaring hard into the darkened eyes behind the mask, "Who are you?"
"If you wish to speak to me, we must speak in private. There are far too many people with curious ears."
The man waited only a moment before moving back into the crowded hall, not even waiting for the Chosen's answer. Zelos wasn't even going to follow, but he couldn't help his interest. With a small smirk, Zelos decided that, at least, it was more interesting than rejoining the party goers.
Making his way through the crowd as well, he kept a well trained eye on the man. He ascended the steps carefully, almost blending into the shadows along the wall so that it seemed an eerie blank face was staring at the merry makers.
Shaking off the chill, he polity declined dances with women, gave interested commentary to men and slowly made it across the hall. By the time he reached the stairs, the man was gone.
"Chosen?" A woman with an insanely low cut dress called to him, "Won't you dance with me?"
He recognized her as the woman he'd broken up with a few months ago. Even now, her voice was bitter, probably because she had a thing or two she wanted to speak to him about, but he shook his head. Responding as if she was just another face in the crowd, he stated, "Another time, my darling."
With a twirl, he went up the stairs, hearing an angry huff from the woman below.
Quickly, he reached the top of the balcony, going down a discrete corridor where dozens of guest chambers were housed. His footsteps were light as he walked, spying a door that was ajar near the end of the hall.
Picking up his pace, he reached the door and gingerly poked it open.
Stepping through the opening, he closed the door behind him, letting his eyes travel around the room. It was well furnished, the man sitting carefully on one of the many dark blue sofas.
"Well, I'm here." Zelos yanked his mask off, tossing it on the couch closest to him. "Care to share?"
The man didn't move for a moment, as if he was contemplating whether he should speak. However, after a few more moments, he stood, eyeing the Chosen.
"If we continue with this meeting, I need to know I have your cooperation."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
The man seemed to mull over his words carefully, "If we speak, the undertaking that accompanies it will be a long one. At no point will it be possible for you to walk out. Once we've spoken, you've made a commitment and you can't back down."
Zelos opened his mouth, but no words came out. What sort of thing was the man involved with for there to be so much secrecy? Did the red head even want to be a part of something like that? Only that man and God knew what he was hiding, whether it was worth figuring out or not…
"For some reason, however, I take that you are not a simple man and that you detest simplicity."
He'd been right.
If the Chosen didn't do something now, he'd be forced back into the simple world he'd just freed himself of. He'd be forced to continue his simple roll for simple people, and that thought alone was unbearable.
However, the man's purpose was also questionable.
"Why do you even want to involve me? What are you hoping to gain out of all of this?"
The man spoke, "I cannot divulge the details, however, I can guarantee it will be of some interest to you."
"How would you know that?"
"I speak as an interested party myself."
What the hell does that mean?
He stared at the man more, hoping that some of his secrets would betray themselves, but the man and his body language were unusually quiet. Zelos supposed he had a choice to make.
Walk away, back to a simple life or involve himself in something that he was completely unaware of… but at least it'd ease the boredom. Hell, if it got him away from Meltokio, it would all be for the better. If betraying the pope's orders was the last of his defiance, the last way he could live in Sheena's stead, then so be it.
"Alright," the red head gave a smirk, "Sounds like fun."
"There is no going back," the man warned, "this is the last time I'll give you this warning. Heed it or otherwise be sealed to this arrangement."
Sealed to this arrangement, huh?
"You have my cooperation."
The man paused, as if giving the red head more time to consider it, and then quietly, began removing his mask.
Zelos wasn't sure who he expected to see, but was shocked by the face that revealed itself. No, he didn't know the man personally, but his face was highly familiar.
He had to blink a few times to correct his thoughts.
No, it wasn't Lloyd.
The man spoke, "My name is Kratos, I suppose it's a pleasure to meet you Zelos Wilder."
