Roxas scans the crowd of faces, their form, looking for anyone – or anything – suspicious. He is currently just outside the towering balcony doors, leaning against the pillar, arms crossed – not hiding in the shadows as Maleek had told him to. The tendrils of his breath curls in the night air, and the moonlight glints off the hilt of one of the many daggers he wears at his side. Oblivion and Oathkeeper seem to glow like embers in the light as well.
The Grand Ballroom is white as snow, like the rest of the palace, but decorated in pastels, opened large and wide around the rectangular dance floor filled with revolving dancers. Gilt details chase the curved walls and net the domed ceiling far above. Swaths of silk in hues of white and glacier blue float from the ceiling and ornate glass baubles hang between. The whole room glistens and sparkles like the inside of a Fabergé egg.
Dressed like iridescent dragonflies, the musicians sit huddled in one corner. They play their instruments feverishly, bowstrings fluttering like the wings of the insects they represent. The rhythm they keep is a steady on-two-three, one-two-three. Dancers turn like dervishes, bead-and-gemstone-encrusted skirts flaring out.
Powdered and pale, the women look like stale pastries. Tall and with garish, pointed ears, the men seem like predators. Roxas was surprised at how many Elven men and women had arrived; looking so mortal with their enormous yards of fabric they call dresses and jackets that square the shoulders with multiple medals and sashes crossing their chests.
King Sephiroth sits on his throne, looking powerful and regal in his red and gold jacket, a fur-lined cape draping out onto the floor. The Queen is at his side, speaking with Prince Kiros.
Honestly, even those seem more comfortable than the armored suit Roxas currently wears.
Hours before the ball, Maleek had come to Roxas informing that his suit is ready. And when Roxas had seen it, he was . . . surprised. What seemed like a simple modification, they had entirely transformed it changing the colors and adding pieces of actual armor, not like the light leather Roxas is so used to. Steel blue, gold, and black armor, with several red lines decorating it. One of the reasons he dreads wearing it. The thing must weigh forty pounds.
Currently dressed in the suit, trying to ignore the weight crushing his shoulders, his new armor predominantly sports shades of green and gold. In this suit, Roxas has a yellow cape to his outfit that is discolored, almost appearing rusted. It drapes past his feet, swooping to the side in an elegant manor, as if he is posing for a portrait. The armor on his knees are gold and bears a sharp, upward-pointing hook on the outer side of each one. Roxas' boots are colored completely gold in this outfit.
Even more disconcerting, his suit is now fitted with a helmet, which Roxas immediately refused to wear. Hoods he can bear, but helmets it something Roxas doesn't like. Constantly breathing in the same filthy air, the sweat that gathers on your forehead and behind your ears . . . No, Roxas will not wear it.
Of course that is until Maleek reminded Roxas that he has to keep his identity a secret, and that him being seen at the ball can cause . . . disruptions. Roxas' helmet also has a notably different design from Kain's or Cecil's, appearing more squashed and flat at the top. His helmet also has two prongs on either side of his head which point backwards and angle diagonally upward.
Something about it is grateful, but something more along the lines of what Roxas has seen for aerodynamics.
But admittedly, whoever designed it did a good job of keeping circulation clean. His helmet doesn't grow hot or stuffy. The screen covering his eyes doesn't fog from exhales, and he can even feel the coolness of the air circulate through it, keeping his ears from sweating.
And . . . as a bonus, Roxas could shift into his elven form, and when his ears stretched and pointed, they didn't push against the interior, merely slid smoothly into the two prongs on either side. Intentional? Either way, Roxas is grateful.
Being in his Elven form, he can see almost every detail, right down to the pearl beading on a woman's gown, and smell everything – from the exquisite banquet that no one is touching and even to the smell of the guests. Perfume and cologne, as well the stench of their fear whenever the Thirteen moved was distracting, and made Roxas dizzy in the head. And his ears picked up each sound of a clicking show, to the tickle of silverware, to the blood pulsing in the necks of the guests.
Across the room, he catches Kain tucked into an alcove near a servant's entrance. There he can keep an eye on the glittering ball in front of him, as well as the assassin. Which is fine; every so hour Roxas would look to Kain, bearing the elven warrior to feel his gaze, and when they made eye contact, Roxas gave him the reminder of their meeting after the ball. And Kain would give a nod every time, a devious grin on his lips.
Other members of the Thirteen are scattered about the ballroom, the majority hidden within the limited shadows. Roxas had actually learned that Edge and Vincent, who seem as close as a dog and a cat, were given an inner title called The Shadows. Rightfully titled to them as they had been trained together since infancy to blend into any silver of darkness and listen – and they are nowhere to be seen in this hall.
A feeling draws Roxas' attention to look to his right and he finds Maleek emerge from his spot, look to him, and nod. Time to rotate.
They've been keeping this pattern going since the party started . . . five hours ago. They would rotate every hour to observe the guests, and each time, Roxas could see some of the guests stiffen and look, as if waiting for something to happen. And when the Thirteen would resume their new positions, the guest would relax and continue about. Roxas couldn't tell if they were nervous because they were scared something was going to happen, or if because they were nervous of getting caught if they were conspiring.
As the Thirteen rotates, Roxas turns his helmeted head and a tingle of joy spreads up his spine when he sees himself wandering towards the long buffet tables, covered with so much food that edges of some of the plates ads hovering over the edge.
He turns his head back towards the crowd, people scattered through the floor dressed like peacocks and jesters, demons and queens. There are feathered dresses and silk suits, glittering gowns with belled sleeves, top hats and long cloaks. Roxas passes a young woman decked in white ostrich feathers and diamonds as she lies sprawled on a divan. Her ivory slipper hanging from one toe, a glass of wine in each hand, she laughs hysterically as a tiny man in a green and yellow jester's costume takes one false fall after another.
As he passes a few young women with dresses donned in ruffles and they flutter themselves with their lace fans, batting their eyelashes and giggling coyly. Roxas merely passes them by giving a terse nod of acknowledgement.
His attention is on the food. The scent of cinnamon, freshly baked bread, and spiced meat seeped through his helmet, causing his stomach to clench. Tureens are overflowing with fruit and are arranged in bouquets, plates of fowl ranging from turkeys, to chickens, to ducks, to larger species Roxas doesn't even know. The smell of their gravy makes his mouth flood with saliva, and they are each sprinkled with spices, lemon juice and finished with little tuffs on the ends of their legs. Trays of ocean creatures sit fried or grilled with little cups of dipping concoctions in front of them; Roxas taking a piece of fried calamari and dunking it into a marinara sauce as red as blood.
Lifting the front screen of his helmet, his mouth explodes in a flavor that almost makes him groan, and leaves behind a hot aftertaste. The next table is all about salads with fresh greens and vegetables and several dressings lined perfectly.
Of course there are over eight thousand plates, and almost all of them have barely been touched.
And then the table after that is home to the desserts. Gods – cakes and cookies, cupcakes and pies all flavoring from chocolate to fruit, drizzled with sauces of caramel, chocolate, berries and topped with powdered sugar and whipped cream. Silver platters hold piles of candy and pastries stuffed with jam or cream. The frostings range from pink to blue and green and purple, designed in flowers and hearts and elegantly traced. The sweet odor draws Roxas away from the other tables.
There are only a few slices missing from the cakes, only a couple cupcakes were taken, and only small pickings of the candy. And there he finds his favorite: hazelnut truffles. And they look exquisite. Perfectly colored down with their tips dipped in the thick caramel sauce. Popping another in his mouth, Roxas moans as his taste buds are sent to a sugary wonderland.
"You better hope your teeth don't turn red again." A voice says behind him. Roxas jumps and whirls around to find Maleek out of his post with a smile on his face. He looks handsome today. It is in the way his hair meets his tan skin – in the tiny gaps between the strands, in the way it falls across his brow.
"You had better hope that no one yells at you for abandoning your post." Roxas says as he finishes chewing and swallowing the truffle. He closes the screen to his helmet.
Maleek chuckles. "As to you, Sir Tobias."
Roxas rolls his eyes as he sucks the remnants off his thumb and turns to pour himself some of the glittering cider in the large crystal bowl with intricate snowflakes carved in itself. "I did not abandon my post. It just so happens that my post was right next to the banquet tables."
"Right." Maleek grins as he helps himself to a skewer of fruits. He pulls off a strawberry and tosses it into his mouth. The two of them turn back to the crowd to observe. He then says, "So, how're things going for guard duty?"
"I'm bored to tears and nearly dead with the cold breeze coming in through the doors."
Maleek's shoulders slouch and he shakes his head, still grinning. "You're the greatest assassin in Kingdom hearts, and yet you can't stand watch for a few hours?"
"What's there to watch?" Roxas hisses. "Couples sneaking out to fondle each other between the hedges? Or every giggling maiden wanting to dance with any of us?"
"Not like you don't adore the attention."
Roxas barks a laugh. "No! Gods, no. I'm spoken for and you know it."
"I know, I know." Maleek says almost sadly. "I'm just ruffling your feathers."
They stand in silence, Roxas about to tell Maleek he should get back to his spot, when the captain clears his throat. Roxas turns his head, his hand drifting to his sword. But when he follows the angle of Maleek's head, Roxas smiles behind his helmet when he sees Kiros approaching them, his smile bright and welcoming. He is resplendent in a cobalt jacket with gold-thread accents, his hair coiled and braided in a coronet atop his head. His delicate golden earrings glitter in the light of the chandelier, drawing eyes to his elegant neck. Kiros is easily the most stunning man in the ballroom, and Roxas didn't fail to notice how many women – and men – had been watching him all night.
Maleek bows, "You Majesty."
Kiros nods to the captain, but barely stops until he reaches Roxas. When he does, Roxas doesn't bother to bow. Kiros opens his arms and Roxas walks right into them, the two of them chuckling. Several men and women of the ball gasp, but Kiros imply laughs more as he holds Roxas' hands and says in Galtea, "Oh, it is so good to see you again my friend."
"As to you, Your Majesty." Roxas instantly replies, then folding in his lips when Kiros glares at him with a grin. "Sorry, force of habit."
He's managed to see Kiros a fair amount over the past two weeks since he had first met the prince – mostly just for brief walks and dinners, where they discussed what it was like for Kiros to grow up in Galtea, what he thinks of Valendia, and who at court had managed to annoy the prince that day. Which, to Roxas' delight, is usually everyone.
"Roxas," Kiros says softly. "you need not be so formal." Roxas simply shrugs as he sets his hands on his hips. "I must say that armor makes you look so much more intimidating than your usual outfits of black."
"Uh, the thing weighs more than me! I can barely walk without feeling like I'm going to keel over." Roxas replies in Galtea. The prince laughs, and Maleek clears his throat.
Kiros still hasn't asked Roxas about how he'd wound up in Valendia when Gollund Mines was in Lesalia . . . torturously. Every time Roxas thought about how so close Axel was, Gollund being so agonizingly close to the city, ten miles out – that was the worst kind of torture the mine could offer. Even worse than solitary confinement, or the whippings . . .
"How goes your studies, Your Highness?" he asks.
Kiros bites on the words for a moment, blinking a couple times before answering. "They are . . . tolerable." He retorts, his accent thick and a bit unwieldy. He then turns to Roxas to say in Galtea, "My slobbery-nosed tutor couldn't teach a dog how to bark." Roxas snorts. "I swear it! Roxas, he is teaching me the basics when I learned them in my toddler years! And no matter how much I insist, he merely shakes his head, claiming my accent is too thick to understand."
"Maybe because you keep switching back to Galtea." Roxas chuckles through his grin. Kiros smacks his arm, causing Maleek and some of the guests to stiffen. But Roxas merely chuckles more and asks, "Why would they give you a tutor who can't understand you?"
Kiros replies in Galtea, "Because this continent is hopeless when it comes to matters of common sense. That and it would take weeks for a translator of Galtea to come here; at least, one who was brave enough to come."
While Roxas could listen to Kiros rant about the people of Valendia for hours, they are in a ballroom – other people are listening to their lengthy conversation, even if they can't understand it.
"Why would your people be afraid of Valendia? Isn't it Kerwon whom they resent?" Roxas asks, his voice more quiet.
"It's not the continent they fear, merely its inhabitants." Kiros says. He then turns to the table of desserts and extends out a graceful hand to take a yellow-cream custard toppled with seasonal berries; a Galtea delicacy.
Roxas turns his feet, following the prince and folding his arms. His back now to Maleek, the captain thankfully stays quiet, but Roxas can sense the piercing gazes of onlookers. Their eyes piercing through his helmet. "You mean, the Elves?"
Kiros looks to him and a smirk. "No, the gnomes and trolls." Roxas would've smacked the prince's arm, but he doesn't need the guests panicking and having members of The Thirteen tackle him to the ground. Or even just pierce an arrow in his throat. "Have you not seen the sentries? They are rather impressive."
"You said they had feared them, yet you express admiration." Roxas reiterates, keeping their conversation in Galtea. He plucks a chocolate frosting flower and lifts the screen to his helmet. He gulps the entire in one inhale and sets the screen back down. Although now he wants some more cider.
"Not like the 'normal' kind of fear." Kiros rephrases. "Merely, intimidation."
"That shouldn't be enough to stop them."
"Oh please. Even you know for a fact that these, males are impressive beyond any mortal standards. Which is why I am surprised to see you as a part of the one of the most feared organizations of the entire Ivalice continent."
"The Thirteen are impressive, I won't deny. But they can't be the best."
Kiros chuckles, causing Roxas' cheeks to warm. "How are you apart of the coven, yet so naive about their reputation?" He pats Roxas' armored shoulder.
"I consider it being humble."
Kiros chuckles some more. "But apart from that, Valendia is the closest continent to Kerwon." Kiros shrugs. "I presume they fear coming here should Kerwon advance their army into the territory."
"That's a bit of a stretch." Roxas says, his voice laced with doubt.
Kiros give a wave of his hand. "Even so, it keeps tutors from coming out."
Roxas is about to retort when Maleek steps in and says, "Time to rotate."
Has it been an hour already? Roxas rolls his eyes and sighs as he starts to walk to his next position of the ballroom. Kiros finishes another pastry before quickening his steps to follow Roxas. Maleek follows them as well, leaning to Roxas. "You two seem to be getting along well."
Roxas can't help but smile at the jealousy and slight irritation in Maleek's tone. "You think that's bad? You should see us when we really get going."
Once he reaches his new position – this time under the alcove cast in shadows – he turns and leans against the marble pillar, folds his arms and sighs. Thankfully Maleek takes a few steps away as a respectable distance, but still within vague earshot.
"So, have you spoken to King Sephiroth about it?" Roxas asks the prince in Galtea.
At the mention of King Sephiroth, Maleek turns his head. But Roxas merely keeps his eyes focused on the prince. Kiros sighs. "I know His Majesty means well, and I know he has his duties, but I feel as though he is brushing me off. Granted he is a kind man and he listens to me in council meetings. But whenever I wish to have a private audience with him, I am denied."
"It's not like you post a threat. Were you not just speaking with the Queen?"
"Only the Queen, as many women and noblemen keep approaching him. I give the man credit though. I would normally cringe, yet he keeps smiling brightly and accepts each word they wish to speak with him."
Roxas glance around them. Ladies are eagerly watching from behind their fans, and even the Queen has noticed their lengthy conversation.
"I'm sorry to hear that." Roxas says, a pang of guilt aching in his chest. He could probably get Kiros an audience with the king easily at their next meeting with the Thirteen. As he's thinking he suddenly hears Maleek call him. He turns his head to the captain, trying not to roll his eyes.
"Just as punishment for leaving, we're running an extra mile tomorrow morning."
"Oh great." Roxas says with a thumbs up. "I look forward to it!"
The prince grabs Roxas' hand. "You'll teach me!" he says in Galtea. "Teach me how to better speak your language – and teach me how to write and read it better than I do now. So I don't have to suffer through those horribly boring old men they call tutors."
"I –" Roxas begins in the common tongue and winces. Having the prince be fluent in both languages would be great fun. But convincing Maleek to let him see Kiros is always a hassle – because he insists on being there to keep watch. He'd never agree to sitting through lessons. "I don't know how to properly teach you my language." Roxas lies.
"Nonsense." Kiros says. "You'll teach me. After . . . whatever it is you do with that one. For an hour every day before supper."
Kiros raises his chin in a way that suggests saying no isn't an option. Roxas swallows, and does his best to look pleasant as he turns to Maleek, who observes them with raised brows. He walks back over. "He wishes me to tutor him every day before supper."
"I'm afraid that's not possible." He says. Roxas translates.
Kiros gives Maleek the withering glare that usually makes people star t sweating. "Why not?" he falls into Galtea. "He is smarter than most of the people in this castle."
Maleek, thankfully, caught the gist of it. "I don't think that –"
"Am I not Prince of Galtea?" Kiros interrupts in the common tongue.
"Your Highness," Maleek begins, but Roxas silences him with a wave of his hand. A gathering of women approach them, fanning themselves as always and batting their eyes. The men give them all nods as they curtsied and went on, giggling like a pack of birds.
Kiros is staring at Roxas' forehead, or where Roxas' forehead would be behind the helmet, and the assassin asks. "Is there something on my helmet?
"No." Kiros says a bit distantly, his brows knitting as he studies Roxas' brow. The prince suddenly stares into Roxas' eyes with a ferocity that makes the assassin recoil. "Do you bear the same Elven traits as the rest of the great warriors?"
A clock tower chimes in the distance.
"No," Roxas says. "I don't."
"You're hiding something." The prince says softly in Galtea, though is it not accusatory. "You are much more than you seem, Roxas."
"I – well, I should hope I'm more than just some simpering courtier." He says with such bravado as he can master. He grins broadly hoping Kiros would stop looking so strange, and stop staring at his brow. "Can you teach me to speak Galtea properly?"
"If you teach me more of your ridiculous language." Says the prince, through some caution still lingers in his eyes. What had Kiros seen that caused him to act that way?
"It's a deal." Roxas says with a weak smile. "Just don't tell him. Captain Camobrook leaves me alone in the midafternoon the hour before supper is perfect."
"Then I shall come tomorrow at five." Kiros says. The prince smiles and begins to walk once towards the King and Queen, a spark appealing in his black eyes. Roxas watches as they rotate spots again in the ballroom, bringing Roxas almost all the way back to his original spot near the balcony. Once he sees Kiros exchange a nod and smile with the Queen, he waves off and makes his trek back to Roxas. "I wish to leave now. Will you escort me to my rooms?"
Roxas beams behind helmet. This will be the perfect chance to get out of the party early to meet Kain, and finally take off his accursed helmet. "Yes. Yes of course!" he leans into the prince. "Anything to get me out of guard duty."
Kiros smiles and links elbows with Roxas. Maleek approaches, but Roxas speaks before he can even ask. "His Highness grows tired of the party. He wishes for me to escort him back to his rooms."
Roxas turns away, elbows still linked as he escorts the prince out of the ballroom.
One of the two of Kiros' guards follow them, but Roxas doesn't mind. He immediately takes off his helmet, revealing his flushed cheeks and the strands of his hair sticking to his forehead. They walk down the hall in silence, the clicking of their boots echoing throughout the walls. The silence if comfortable, and Kiros keeps their elbows linked. Roxas has his helmet tucked under his other arm. Kiros still smiles and as they pass the large windows, he stares outside. The full moon makes his beaded hair glitter and his skin appear sculpture smooth.
Roxas lets him lead the way to his chambers, of which he knows the route well, and Roxas can spot the room immediately as the other guard comes into view standing outside of the double white doors outlined in guilt gold details.
He steps aside as and opens the door for the prince. The one who had escorted them resumes his position. Kiros stops in the threshold and turns to Roxas.
The assassin is surprised when the prince suddenly speaks. "I know you might not trust me. And I do not wish to force you."
"What –?"
"You have been through so much, and yet your heart is still warm." Roxas is speechless, his mouth agape in surprise. Kiros stares Roxas for a long moment before smiling gently. "You have power in you, Roxas. More power than you realize." He touches Roxas' chest, tracing a symbol there, and Roxas can suddenly feel a tiny shock travel through his heart and spread out to his arms and legs. Kiros' eyes are locked on him. "It sleeps." He whispers, tapping Roxas' heart. "In here. When the times comes, when it awakens, do not be afraid." Kiros removes his hand and gives Roxas a smile. "When it is time, I will help you."
With that, Kiros walks fully into his chambers, shutting the door quietly behind him. Roxas stares at the door as if he can see the prince through the door, walking away; wondering what his last words meant.
And why, when he had said them, something ancient and slumbering deep inside of the assassin opens an eye.
He sets a hand on his heart as he finally turns away from the prince's chamber doors and starts down the hallway. He had managed to get a brief look and Kain and with a simple lift of his brows signaled he was leaving. His assumption is that Kain is maybe waiting for him outside the ballroom. But instead when he turns the corner, he finds the warrior leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, but a grin on his face.
Roxas blinks, puzzled. "How – how did you find me?" Roxas stupidly asks, and then adds. "I thought you'd be waiting for me outside the ballroom."
Kain shrugs. "I just followed your scent. It wasn't that hard to miss."
Instinctively, Roxas brings his hand up to wipe the back of his neck, his forehead and behind his ears. He's not too keen on having this warrior following him around like a hound dog following his scent, especially when its body perspiration. He's about to give back a witty response, but Kain merely extends out his arm, gesturing Roxas down the hallway. His shoulders slouching, Roxas continues to towards Kain and starts to follow him as he takes the lead.
They don't go up any flights of stairs, merely walk towards the end of the hallway and then turns left and then the first door on the left-hand side is where Kain stops. The double doors are large and the panels are outlined in gold. Kain pushes the door open and Roxas steps inside, trying to ignore the thrumming of his blood in his ears. The guards posted outside nod to Kain, stiffening as they walk inside. When he steps inside, Roxas is taken by surprise.
Inside, the room immediately grows warm in that the whiteness of the castle seems to disperse immediately. Unlike Roxas' enormous chambers, Kain's room is all put together in one single chamber, and then the bathing room blocked off by a door near the very back. The ceiling is still high with more golden details intricately bordering around the room and morphing into a mosaic at the center. Two chandeliers hang above, their decorative crystals gleaming like diamonds, and his walls are actually covered with ornate stencils of fleur-de-lis. The floor is mostly covered with large, beige rugs under the sets of furniture he has. The dining table is near the back by the three floor-to-ceiling windows, now blocked with golden draperies.
His bed is pushed against the right wall with an elegant bed canopy and its curtains pushed back. It's covered with the pushiest pillows Roxas has seen, one end table with a crystal lamp on it, and then another desk just off the side the of the bed. Directly across the bed on the other wall is a wooden fireplace with a large mirror set atop the mantel, then an antique clock with an impish little angel leaning on it, looking up into nothing. Two end tables with two more lamps flank the fireplace, and then a couch, two armchairs and a glass coffee table in between surround the front. Behind them, a little divan with a warm flannel blanket.
It's the picturesque of elegance, but gives off a warm, home-like feeling to it.
Roxas looks all around, taking in the little things that make this Kain's room; like the desk off the side of the bed has papers on it, a couple pens scattered and the lamp turned on; the fireplace is still crackling softly with a book set open on the glass table, a bookmark set from where he left off; little glass figurines set on either side of the clock on the fireplace; a couple more books on the back desk are stacked next to a half-filled out sheet of paper, a pen still in the ink well.
"I hope my chambers are to your liking." Kain says as he passes by Roxas, taking off his helmet wiping his forehead and setting it on the little stand next to the couch. His long blonde hair sways as he shakes his head.
"It's, honestly smaller than I had anticipated." Roxas admits as he sets his own helmet on the divan.
Kain removes his cape and drapes it over the back of one of the chairs of the dining table. "Not all of us like to have large, extravagant chambers to ourselves. Personally, it would only remind me of how alone I am, in such a big space."
Roxas looks to Kain in surprise, some sadness welling at Kain's words. "Don't you share a room with your brother?"
Kain gives Roxas an annoyed expression, as if asking him how he hasn't pieced it together yet. "We might be bound by blood, but even I can only take so much of my brother. Especially at night, the male snores like a wild boar."
Roxas chuckles, quickly covering his mouth. He tries not to stare as Kain strips off his armor, setting it on the floor, and then furthering to remove his tunic. His skin is so tan with multiple scars crisscrossing here and here, a large set in the shape of claws rakes across his hip, ending at his V-line. His abdominal muscles are distinct in a pack of six, and stupidly Roxas' cheeks are warm again.
"It's strange." Roxas suddenly blurts. Kain merely gives him a questionable look as he disappears into the bathing room. He leaves the door slightly ajar, and Roxas remains standing in the room, feeling it would be rude to sit down when he didn't offer it.
"What is?" Kain asks through the door.
"Well it's just, you Thirteen members are the perfect personification of warriors. Strong, elite, skilled in every aspect. So it's rather unworldly to hear you, complain of things that are so, normal. Or mortal." Roxas explains. He sees Kain shrug on another tunic, black this time, and then start to remove his trousers. He clears his throat as he averts his eyes.
"We may be warriors, Roxas, but we are still male by heart. We're still men." Kain emerges from the bathing chamber. "We still have our flaws; we're just better at hiding it."
He then motions Roxas towards the fireplace and Roxas gives a nod of thanks. He sits in one of the armchairs since the opened book in front of the couch dictates where Kain will sit. "So, what is this case, anyway? And do the other members know about it?"
"Of course." Kain says as he trifles through a few papers on the other desk near the windows. "Even if we have personal issues to deal with, the entire coven knows of it."
"Seems a little intrusive." Roxas says as Kain walks over to him.
"Not really. We've see what happens when members attain to their own agenda, and they end up . . . well, kicked out or dead."
"Dead as punishment?"
"No, because they were stupid enough to go alone. And I speak from personal experience." Kain says without looking at Roxas. His focus is on the papers as he sets them on the coffee table. Roxas tries to peer at them without leaning, and then Kain looks to him. "I understand you were living with Reno before you had been sent out to Gollund."
The question is cold sounding, of not, disinterested. But Roxas swallows down a lump in his throat and nods. "Yes, he was the brother of my . . . partner. And he did say he had worked with the King. Honestly I thought he was fibbing."
"He was a character, I can vouch for that. And yes, he did attend a decent handful of meetings with the King and his court. Not too hard to find him; with his spiky red hair and his carelessness. But the man could make an argument."
"So why do you ask?"
"Because we had gotten reports that he had acquired you help for the case of the husk bodies being found within the borders of Lesalia." Kain explains, and Roxas' throat clenches as he sees Kain set down report after report of matching description: a husk was found with dried blood running down its nose and ears, face sketched in horror and sorrow.
"Oh no," Roxas mumbles.
Kain doesn't say anything, but he looks at Roxas for a moment. He pushes one of the reports towards Roxas and Roxas doesn't take it not wanting to show his shaking hand. "We'd gotten a report as recently as three days ago about a body discovered near Koga Village. And this time, it's a demi-elf."
"What?"
"If this thing, this creature, is starting to target demi-elves, this causes great concern."
"So when it only targets elves is when you get concerned." Roxas suddenly snaps coldly.
Kain looks to Roxas and leans forward, elbows to his knees. "We're concerned for the safety of all our citizens, Roxas. Human or Elf. It's when they target the elves that we grow even more concerned, because the elves have magic. Whether you are half-blood or purebred, you have it. Your blood depends on your power." Kain sets a finger on the paper. "You saw the bodies yourself; they're not mauled, they're not mutilated. They are drained. If this thing can drain life essence, it drains their magic with it. Now that, is concerning."
Roxas sighs, closing his eyes and dropping his shoulders. "So what do we do now?"
"The local guards have blocked off the sight for us, and kept an eye on the body. We're going to have to travel out to Koga Village and investigate."
"Are we all going?"
"Some of us have to stay behind and guard the King." says Kain. "So it's you, me, my brother and Vincent."
"Do you have any suspects?"
"We did notice that the body was found just off shore of the beach." Kain pulls out a map from the pile of papers and turns it to Roxas. "Near that is a forest, and that's home to a local bandit group who have, more than a grudge against The Thirteen."
"Rivals?"
Kain chuckles. "Of a sort. Members who had been banned or didn't get in. They're merely suspects by now. And no doubt our presence will stir them up to do something."
"All the more reason to make our presence known." Roxas grins. Kain looks to him and returns it. Roxas looks back to the map. "But the only problem, for me at least, is that the village is practically on the other side of the continent. It would take us weeks just to make it here. And by then another victim could be targeted."
With them being in the Royal City of the New Valendian Kingdom, they'd have to pass through The Deadlands, cross the massive ravine that practically cuts through the continent, and then make their way through The Orient to get to the village. That's quite the travel, especially considering the weather conditions as they change.
Valendia is known as the 'Summer Continent.' They don't get much cold weather, and they definitely don't get snow in the winter. So instead of celebrating Yuletide, they hold the festival Samhain. A Valendian festival marking the end of the harvest season and the beginning of winter or the "darker half" of the year. It is celebrated from sunset on the last day of October to sunset on the first of November, or about halfway between the autumn equinox and the winter solstice.
"Well, out travel actually depends on your ability to shift." Kain says as he leans back into the couch, draping an arm over the edge. "You've ever run in your Elven form before?"
Oh, yes he has. And it was the greatest thing he had ever experienced. He can still remember the wind in his hair, hissing in his ears. The forest around him blurring into a tunnel of green; the scents of all the flora and fauna and animals as they ran alongside him. The rush was enough to make him wail with happiness.
"I have. But I can't make that trek." Roxas admits.
"I figured. And I'll admit to you, not even we can make that trek, whether in our immortal or animal form." Kain says as he folds his hands in his lap. "So we're actually having the body sent to us from Koga Village. Our travel isn't for another few weeks, give or take."
"Well then why tell me this now?"
"Because, as I said, all members need to be informed of the situation."
Roxas groans and rolls his eyes. "I thought you were finally giving me something to do."
"Patience, Roxas. We'll go when things are ready." Kain assures, doing his best to hide his growl. "Once the body is here, we'll let you know. And there is another reason . . ."
Roxas looks to Kain wearily.
"I understand you had a personal experience."
Immediately his throat closes. In an instant he remembers the two beds, the mutilated bodies of his unknown aunt and uncle. And then Ventus' body, his blood turning the bed black.
"Reno filed in a brief report of what you had described. Needless to say it was less than helpful."
Roxas suddenly feels sick; and it comes through in his voice when he speaks. "I don't want to talk about it."
"I won't force you. But do understand that it can be useful to the case." Roxas stiffly nods. He swallows, and his throat is dry. "Alright, well I think I ruined your night enough. You may take your leave." Kain sighs as he rises from the couch. Roxas blinks and rises with him. Kain goes to fetch Roxas' helmet and hands it to him.
Roxas takes it and looks at Kain. His eyes are warm, yet frozen with a hardness that Roxas is familiar with. "You didn't completely ruin my night." Roxas says as he follows Kain to the doors. "You got me away from guard duty, at least."
Kain opens the doors and Roxas can see the guards stiffen. The warrior gives a small smile as he holds the door open. "Believe me, it'll only get worse from here."
As Roxas walks through the door, he is merely to two steps out when Kain speaks.
"Roxas." the assassin turns back to the warrior. He is leaning against the door, his one arm propping him against the frame. "You pretty tough; I respect that. In fact I'm surprised at how well you've been doing so far. Just, wanted to let you know."
Roxas stares at the warrior, blinking a couple times before nodding. A small smile on his lips.
"You let me know if you need anything. Okay?"
Another nod and Kain gives a brief goodnight before closing his doors. Roxas quickly turn away and makes his way back towards his rooms. The whole way, he has a smile on his lips.
Surely Kain didn't mean that romantically, and despite his appearance, Roxas can't see himself falling for him. It was more along the lines of . . . acceptance. Respect.
That's the one thing that fuels Roxas' smile right now. He is earning their respect, and they're not treating him like some frail mortal boy. But actually as one of their own.
The smile stays on Roxas' face as he make it to his room. He nods to the guards as he enters. And it isn't until he gets to the top of the stairs does he find Maleek sitting at the dining table, a book in front of him and a cup of warm tea by his elbow.
"Maleek?" the captain turns and smiles at Roxas, getting up from his seat. Roxas unclasps the cape of his uniform and tosses it onto one of the dining room chairs. "What are you doing here?" Roxas asks as he sets his helmet on the console table.
"At this point, it really shouldn't be surprising to find me in your rooms." Maleek smiles. Roxas rolls his eyes as he walks over to the table, finding a simple plate of cookies. He takes one and munches on it. "But I was actually wondering where you were. Since you left your post so suddenly."
"I told you, I was escorting the prince back to his chambers." Roxas says as he wanders over to his bed and starts to pick apart the pieces of his armor.
"Yeah, well you conveniently managed to avoid the rest of the ball. All of the guests are leaving now."
"Oops." Roxas smirks. He removes the pauldrons, setting them down on the first step of the dais. "I'm surprised you didn't come searching for me."
"Why would I? Don't get me wrong I was worried, though."
Roxas looks to the captain confused. His fingers fumble with the buckle of his gloves. "Do you not remember who I am?"
Maleek simply shrugs. Roxas is starting to wonder if Maleek is drunk. He seems too relaxed that it is out of character. But then he says. "I'm not going to follow you every step and every location you go to. For one, I have my own things to worry about, as I have duties outside of The Thirteen. And two, I'm actually starting to trust you, again."
Roxas looks to Maleek. "You're drunk."
"I'm not drunk, Roxas. But I have been watching you. And you seem to be taking this thing seriously."
"Why wouldn't I?" Roxas kicks off his boots, and the entire suit is loose enough that Roxas can wriggle out of it. He sets it on the bed, well aware that he is merely in his undergarments.
"Honestly, if you ever decided to leave, I didn't think that we had stood a chance to stop you." Maleek says as he rubs his neck.
"Have you seen The Thirteen?" Roxas sarcastically asks.
"I'm serious. I mean, you were – are – the greatest. I thought you would have slaughtered us by now."
"I'm not like that. Well, not anymore." Roxas murmurs as he wanders over to the end table, were he had packed a spare set of loose pants and a night shirt. He can feel Maleek's eyes upon him.
Maleek stares at the assassin in the candlelight. Those three large scars on his back mark their way from his right shoulder, and all the way down to the bottom of his spine. They ripple the flock of birds that fly across his shoulder blades.
He seems so different. When he had seen Roxas leave with the prince, and then noticed how Kain had followed shortly after, he couldn't understand the rage that arose up seeing it; didn't want to understand that sort of anger. It wasn't jealousy, but something beyond it. Something that transformed his own teammates into someone else, someone he didn't know. Maleek knew that all member were aware that Roxas isn't a virgin. But it probably makes them more interested.
It was just something about the way Roxas can go from looking stoic and valiant, into a frail and broken boy. Maleek could see every tear he has cried, like an ocean in those turquoise eyes. All the pain and the scars have left him cold.
He can see all the fears Roxas has faced; like a storm that never goes away.
Even if he can't be with Roxas, he wants to be there for him.
Maleek sighs through his nose as he leans against the table.
Roxas faces him. His blood thrums in his veins. Maleek isn't looking at him the way he had this morning. There is something wary in his gaze – and something unspeakably sad. "What?"
"Your scars are awful." Maleek says, almost whispering.
Roxas' shoulders droop and he picks up the suit of armor. "We all bear scars, Maleek. Mine just happen to be more visible than most." Roxas does his best to fold the suit, setting it all on the console table.
Maleek approaches Roxas as he climbs into his big bed and yawns. He only has a few minutes. The moment his head hits the pillow, Roxas will be out.
"I brought you a present." Maleek feels immensely foolish, and for a moment considers running from Roxas' rooms. Still, he sits on the edge of the matress.
"A present?" he says, turning his head towards the captain and blinking in surprise.
"It's nothing; they were giving them out at the party. Just give me your hand." It was a lie – sort of. They had given them to the women of the nobility as favors, and he'd snagged one form the basket as it was passed around. Most of the women would never wear them – they would be tossed aside or given to a favorite servant.
"Let me see it." Roxas extends his arm.
Maleek fishes in his pockets and pulls out the gift. "Here." He places it in Roxas' palm.
Roxas examines it, his eyelids growing heavy as the soft and plushness of the bed surrounds him. "A ring." He puts it on. "How pretty." It is simple: crafted of silver, its only ornamentation lay in the fingernail-sized amethyst embedded in its center. The surface of the gem is smooth and round, and it gleams up at the assassin like a purple eye. "Thank you." Roxas says.
Maleek smiles at Roxas. He then clears his throat, his blusher fusing to fade. "Well I should go. I don't want to keep you any more awake."
"Will we be going to another run at dawn?" asks Roxas.
"You'll find out when I toss you off the bed." Maleek chuckles. He then heads down the steps and Roxas stares at the spot he occupied until he hears the doors to his chamber close.
Roxas looks back down at the ring on his finger. He had unknowingly put it on his ring finger, on top of the gold band that Axel had given him. His throat tightens. Suddenly he is thinking about what Axel had been doing the whole time Roxas was in the mines, for a whole year. Reno has his connection, why hadn't he informed the king sooner? The men didn't have contacts like his father's Guild, but still . . .
While Roxas knew that Axel was probably doing everything he could, it still angers him at how they hadn't been able to free him. And for some reason, after seeing Maleek and the way he had looked at him, Roxas doesn't want to reason with his anger.
He wants to be unreasonable.
Maleek hasn't tried anything with him. That moment could've been the perfect opportunity for a kiss, and yet he didn't.
Though, Roxas kind of wishes he did.
He gives a disgruntled sigh and takes off the ring. He leans out to reach for his end table. He opens the top drawer and drops the ring inside.
The gold band winks at him in the moonlight as he shuts the drawer.