A.N. Thank you to those who still read and review. Please enjoy.
A Rose Among the Ashes
Chapter 34: Smolder
Several weeks had slowly drifted by, since the rebels returned from the exterminated country of Deist, and the seasons had already begun to change. The air was noticeably cooler, and the environment seemed quieter, even peaceful, in contrast to the battles, that had recently plagued the land. White vapor rose from the surrounding hills, and crows echoed in the ever-changing, vibrantly-colored forests, that still bore the scars inflicted by the Dreadnought's raids.
Making his way to the surviving fields, stripped bare from the ongoing harvest, Firion soon caught sight of the forms of Leila and Guy, as well as the flash of spells. The pair had spent almost everyday together, since they came back to Altair. Racked with guilt, after his powerlessness in the land of dragons, Guy was eager to learn, all he could, from the crude ex-princess.
Reaching the hill's summit, the white-haired warrior was astounded by what met his amber gaze. The practice dummies, they had crafted from wood, cloth, straw and dressed in imperial armor, recovered from defeated demons, had been blown apart by Guy's black magic. All that was left were splintered stumps, covered in diamond-like frost.
Leila examined the extensive damage done by the large rebel's incantation.
"Impressive. It seems yer strongest element is ice. You will be most powerful using this kind of attack, but that doesn't mean you can't learn the other elements, as well. They will just be far weaker in combat scenarios, but they can still be useful," she explained before lifting her hand, as it became a soft indigo, with the luminescence of a spell. Brilliant bolts of electricity suddenly began to spark and whiz in her palm.
"My strongest element is lightning, but I can also use fire magic, even though it is only useful in practical situations, like igniting a campfire," she informed before taking another breath, causing the spell to morph into a small, flickering flame.
Noticing Firion, she greeted him with a wayward smile, while allowing the incantation to dissipate in a wisp of pale smoke.
"Yer friend is a fast learner. Quicker than I ever was. A born black mage, to be sure," the blue-blooded pirate commented as Firion stared in awe of the decimated, imitation soldiers. Approaching them, he touched the transparent shards of ice, clinging to the splintered armor. Hissing in pain, he quickly retracted his hand. It was colder than the frozen tundras of Salamand in the dead of winter.
"Amazing! The power of the spell was strong enough to penetrate the mythril armor of the imperials. I always knew Guy was gifted, but I never imagined he would become a black mage," Firion expressed as the diffident Guy turned slightly red and diverted his chestnut eyes.
"Guy only good student because Leila good teacher," he responded, earning a small smile from the sea brigand, in return.
"Why are you out here, anyway? Normally, you cling to Maria, following her around, all day, like some lovestruck mutt," Leila commented as Firion lowered his eyes before unsheathing his sword, to begin halfheartedly sparring with what remained of the frozen, practice dummies.
"It's been weeks, since we returned from Deist, and Princess Hilda has yet to give us a new mission. I don't want my skills to dull, before the fighting begins, again," the Salamandian native clarified as the lavender-haired pirate placed a hand upon her hip and perked a thin brow.
"Is that the only reason? Sounds like excuses to avoid Maria, if you ask me" she expressed, watching him continue to mindlessly chop away at the frosty manikins, until his blade became lodged in the ice.
"Is it...that obvious?" he grunted, while yanking on the weapon, until it pulled free, sending tiny shards of sparkling frost into the air, around him.
"Yer face is like an open book, I'm afraid," Leila replied as Firion sighed and sheathed his sword, in defeat.
"She still won't talk to me. I guess she's pretty upset," he finally revealed as the sea brigand folded her arms and smirked.
"I don't blame her. She was standing her ground fer something she believed in, and instead of supporting her, you completely disregarded her feelings and took lady sweet-cakes' side," Leila stated as an expression of guilt and regret overcame his face.
"I was only trying to protect her. With the imperial army suddenly withdrawing and all these disappearances, lately, everyone is on edge. Not even the princess is thinking clearly. There is no telling what could have happened had I not stepped in," Firion declared, narrowing his amber eyes in thought, trying to think of anything that would place him back in the female archer's good graces.
"The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her," he added as Guy approached him and placed his hand upon his shoulder, in support.
"Maybe Firion try apologize," the large rebel suggested as Firion shook his head.
"I've done that, already, but you know how she is! She's so stubborn. She just says everything's fine and continues to give me the cold shoulder. She's just like how Leon used to be, except he would beat me up, first," the snowy-haired swordsman commented.
"Maybe you should put a little more effort into it. Women love men who are persistent and strive to please them. It makes you seem all the more sincere," Leila informed, walking over to a small cluster of flowers, blooming on the edge of the field. Plucking them, she returned to Firion and placed the bouquet into his hands.
"But I am sincere," Firion assured, staring down upon the beautiful and vivid blossoms, the last traces of the fading summer.
"Not that I know much about romance, but what are you waiting fer?" the female pirate questioned as an expression of determination conquered the rebel's features.
"You're right. I can't let this tension escalate. It's already continued for far too long," Firion stated before turning from the pair and heading back to Altair. Today would be the day. She would know his true feelings.
...
The passing weeks were all a blur to Leon, as he continued to accompany Princess Hilda to the Palamecian capital's slums. The pair had continued to return almost everyday, striving to meet the various needs of the many different districts. The Fynnian noble had completely immersed herself into caring for the poor. Closely monitoring every extravagant banquet and construction project, conducted by the Empire, she quickly procured what was left over, leaving nothing to waste. It was obviously the distraction she needed, even if she acted otherwise.
When the Emperor first tasked Leon with watching over the princess, he thought the cruel despot merely wished to torment him for some unrealized trespass, and perhaps, he had, but now, the Dark Knight had become accustomed to and was actually starting to enjoy his daily escort duty. The female monarch had done more for the people of Palamecia, than the Emperor had in the entire ten years of his reign. It was ironic, really. Mateus mercilessly slaughtered her people and stripped them of their resources, and in return, she became an angel of mercy to his. Of course, charity could only go so far in fixing the problems of the corrupt and immoral empire.
The sky was cloaked in gray clouds, making the morning oddly dark, as Leon swept through the corridors, while listening to the low rumble of thunder, in the distance. Soon, the princess' chamber door came into sight, but, like the weather, something seemed awry. Outside of the door, waited her handmaiden, Liluye, with a worried expression cloaking her timid countenance.
"Why are you loitering out here? Shouldn't you be aiding the princess?" Leon questioned, sternly, as he approached her. The servant flinched, at the sound of his voice, and nervously turned her attention to him.
"Why does she always look at me with fear? I've never done anything to her...," Leon thought in frustration as he impatiently waited for her answer.
"T-The door is locked, and Lady Hilda is not answering my calls. Normally, she is already awake at this hour. I am afraid something is wrong. I was just about to go seek out aid, when you arrived," she responded as Leon sighed, in annoyance, before moving passed the servant and rapping, loudly, upon the door.
"Princess!" he shouted but silence was all he received in return.
After a few repeated attempts, he decided force would be his only option. Taking a step back from the hard, wooden surface, he placed his gloved hand upon the metal handle and uttered an incantation. With a faint, purple glow, the door unlocked and swung open with such force, it bounced off the opposing wall.
The room was lined with arched windows, covered by vermillion veils, that glowed, dimly, with sunlight, smothered by opacus clouds. A multitude of doused candles, from the previous night, decorated the tops of the baroque furniture, in hollowed and deformed heaps of wax. Resting, in the center of the chamber, was a large bed, situated in front of the impressive hearth, that now lay flame-less and cold. The thin drapes, surrounding it, were drawn closed.
"Princess!" Leon called, again, almost expecting to be met with no response, once more, before a sickly groan suddenly erupted from behind the canopy.
Recognizing her mistress' voice, Liluye darted to the bed and yanked back the curtains, almost pulling them down, in the process. Within, the princess rested on her side, with the sheets drawn up to her lithe shoulders. Her appearance looked like death warmed over, as she desperately clung to her dethroned chamber pot.
"My lady!" the servant exclaimed, in shock.
"Liluye...?" Hilda muttered, in response, as her sapphire eyes fluttered open, before she suddenly retched what remained in her stomach, into the already near-full pot. The concerned handmaiden used her fingers to comb back the Fynnian royal's long hair from her face, before the princess suddenly recoiled from her grasp.
"Stay back...I-I don't know what is wrong with me," she warned, weakly.
Appearing slightly hurt, even though she understood that the monarch was only trying to protect her, Liluye obediently stepped away and clasped her hands, firmly, before her body.
"Go and fetch a healer," Leon ordered, without a second thought, as Liluye, hesitant to leave her mistress in such a state, eventually nodded and left the chamber.
The dark-haired soldier re-ignited some of the candles, to grant some light to the dim chamber. Returning to her bedside, he soon realized the female royal was without clothes, as the sheets slid down her body, when she vomited, once more. He quickly searched the chamber for any article of clothing to cover her and preserve what remained of her dignity, even though nudity in Palamecia didn't seem to be that large of an issue. In fact, he had noticed that many women and men, in the isolated, imperial capital, wandered around fairly bare, though he already knew the Fynnian princess definitely preferred clothing, when he had happened to witness some of her mortified reactions to the supplied wardrobe.
Eventually, he caught sight of an embroidered, lace robe, thrown over the back of a nearby chair, and quickly grabbed it. Helping the frail woman to sit up, he was able to get a good look at the chain of eternity, branded upon her spine. The flesh around the seared characters was still pink and tender, even after all this time.
"You shouldn't be so close to me. I fear I am ill," Hilda warned as Leon set the chamber pot upon the nearby nightstand and wrapped the fluttery garment, securely, around her. She sounded so weak, and the expression upon her face clearly revealed she had received little sleep.
"I'll take my chances," the Dark Knight replied as he wiped a pearl of vomit from her chin with his thumb. Checking her forehead, she didn't seem feverish, but something was obviously wrong.
Soon, another knock sounded upon the door, before an imperial healer glided into the room. Clothed in the usual long, dark robes, his head was shaven and dark paint accentuated his eyes. Liluye anxiously followed in behind him.
"What seems to be the problem, my lady?" he questioned, coming to stand before the pair, but before Hilda even had a chance to reply, another wave of nausea overcame her. Quickly grabbing the pot, she spewed into it, once more.
"Oh my, it seems I have my answer. Let's have a look, shall we?" the physician suggested before instructing the princess to lay back onto the bed.
After a few minutes of examining her eyes, throat, and checking her heartbeat, he eventually parted her robes, to bare her abdomen, as one of his cold hands came to rest upon her stomach. Turning away, Leon folded his arms and waited.
"Hm, that's odd...," the healer commented before uttering a chant, that caused his hand to glow with a pure, white light. Rubbing her lower abdomen in a circular motion, his eyes widened. Breathing heavily, Hilda appeared petrified, as his icy palm stilled and lingered.
"Well, what's wrong with her?" Leon demanded, quickly becoming agitated by the mage's prolonged silence.
"Nothing, absolutely nothing. This is quite common in women who are expecting," the healer informed, withdrawing his hand and straightening his posture. Hilda's jaw went slack, as she stared, speechlessly, up at the ceiling.
"She's pregnant?" Leon repeated, in surprise. The last time he had heard those words was when his own mother conceived Maria, nearly twenty years ago. The general felt a rare sense of happiness, upon hearing the news, since he, himself, had always desired to have children. That was, of course, until he noticed the horrified expression upon the princess' face.
"H-How long?" Hilda questioned, her pale lips trembling, as the words formed on her tongue.
"A matter of weeks. A month, perhaps. Congratulations, my lady," the physician responded as her hand slowly drifted down to her still-flat stomach. Leon observed, as tears began to glitter in her sapphire eyes, even though she fought hard to suppress them.
"Excuse me, I must inform the Emperor, immediately," the healer announced, with a bow, before turning to retreat the way he came. Quickly sitting up, the Fynnian royal watched his attempted departure, her chest starting to heave along with her rising panic. Without warning, she grabbed Leon's wrist.
"Leon, don't let him leave!" she suddenly ordered as the Dark Knight stared at her, incredulously.
"Why?"
"Stop him! Please! I can't do this, not yet!" she pleaded. Leon had never seen such desperation in her features. Without a second thought, he obediently drew his sword and swiftly followed the mage, who was oblivious to his approach. Grabbing him by the collar, the general threw him into the wall and held him there, with his feet dangling beneath him.
"W-What do you think you are doing!" the healer demanded before Leon placed the lethal edge of his mythril blade against the older man's shriveled throat. With eyes the shade of obsidian, the warrior stared into the old mage's wavering gaze.
"I don't know, but you will say nothing to the Emperor about this. Do you understand?" the Dark Knight spoke as the physician clawed at his vice-like grip, struggling to breathe.
"T-This is treason!" he muttered, in accusation, as Leon's grip became even tighter, in anger.
"Do not speak to me of treason! I have accomplished more on behalf of the Emperor than all of you groveling leeches combined, and you cannot even begin to imagine what I have sacrificed, along the way," he hissed, while allowing his sword to lightly graze the healer's brittle flesh, causing a small stream of blood to dribble down his neck. Petrified, the older man trembled like a leaf caught in a tempest.
"The lady consort will tell his majesty, herself, when she is ready. Now run and don't give me a reason to come find you," Leon threatened before releasing the terrified man. Scrambling to his feet, the physician hurriedly fled the chamber.
Once they were alone, again, Leon realized the potential gravity of his actions. Sheathing his sword, he returned his midnight gaze to the princess, catching sight of her pacing, back and forth, before the great windows, lining the chamber. Her trembling fingers were wrapped, tightly, around her lips, as if she were attempting to suppress her inevitable breakdown.
"Why did you order me to do that? Do you realize the position you've put me in?" he inquired but she did not respond nor cease her pacing.
"Can you not hear me?!" Leon interrogated, raising his voice, before the dam of her building emotions finally broke. Falling to her knees, the princess buried her face into her hands, her shoulders shaking, as she began to weep, uncontrollably.
"Why are you crying? It's not as if you didn't realize this would eventually happen," he snapped, coldly, feeling his anger climb. Kneeling at the princess' side, LIluye wrapped her arms, protectively, around the sobbing woman.
"Leave her alone!" the handmaiden yelled, realizing the price could be her life, for talking to a superior in such a way, but Leon was far too enraged to take notice of her transgression. Grabbing the ex-slave's wrist, he tore her away from the distressed noble.
"Don't coddle her! She is a princess, not a child," the general reprimanded allowing Liluye to fall to the floor, before grabbing Hilda and pulling her to her feet.
"This is the reason Fynn is losing the war! You are weak and indecisive! Crumbling apart at the result of a deal you, yourself, agreed to! The Empire didn't destroy Fynn, you did! You could not protect it!" Leon spat while staring into the princess' tear-filled eyes, as he held her by the space of her arms, directly beneath the shoulders. He knew that much of his anger was unrelated to their current plight, but he could no longer restrain it from bubbling to the surface. The thoughts had rested in his mind, since he stole her, that fateful day, from the insurgents' airship.
"Stop it! She's with child!" Liluye reminded, grabbing the Dark Knight's forearm, in a futile attempt to pull him away from her mistress. Remembering that the princess was, indeed, expecting, Leon immediately released her.
"I am not the kind of man that harms a pregnant woman," he thought as the flames of his anger were instantly quelled by the cold touch of shame. Turning away from the female monarch, he felt her soft hand gently capture his wrist.
"N-No, your anger is justified. When my father was wounded in battle, my leadership was too weak to stave off the Imperial invasion. The kingdom fell and many perished. Your parents. Scott...," she spoke while sorrowfully looking down upon her hand and lovingly touching the garnet stone of eldest, Kashuanian prince's ring, still loosely garnishing her thumb. She had not taken it off, since Firion and the others retrieved it for her. It was surprising no one had tried to take it from her yet, not even the Emperor.
"Myself and what remained of my house were forced to flee into the forests, hoping to band together the Fynnians that survived. I understand why you blame me, and I am truly sorry for what happened. It haunts me, every day...my failure that night," Hilda revealed. Gazing at her, from the corner of his eye, he took in her weak visage. Her skin was pale, in exception to the flesh around her eyes that was now pink and puffy with sorrow, but the blue orbs, themselves, were now dry and steady.
"What does it matter, now," the Dark Knight muttered, turning from her and heading for the exit.
"You will have to tell the Emperor, soon. If his clairvoyant abilities do not uncover the truth, first, the child, growing inside of you, eventually will, and I cannot afford to keep my silence, for long," he warned, pausing in the entryway.
"I will send Althalos to watch over you. I think it best, if you remained here, today," Leon stated, glancing over his shoulder, as a look of defiance filled the princess' sapphire eyes.
"But I-!" she began to argue before he raised his hand to silence her.
"You are in no condition to travel to the capital. You have more than just yourself to think about, now," the Dark Knight commented as the female monarch grew agitated.
"You dare lecture me about this? What right have you to dictate what I can and cannot do?" Hilda demanded as Leon approached her, once more, his expression softening.
"One who is charged with your protection," he responded as the female sovereign shook her head, disbelievingly.
"You cannot still believe that is why you are here," she stated as a bewildered expression captured Leon's countenance.
"What do you mean? The Emperor charged me with protecting and escorting you. You were even there, that night, in the council chamber, when he gave me my orders," the Dark Knight reminded.
"Your presence has never been for my protection. Do you really think anyone would dare touch me, with the knowledge of who I belong to branded upon my very flesh?" she questioned, turning her back to the general and lowering her robe, just enough, to reveal the chain of eternity, seared into her skin.
"My unfortunate circumstances has granted me a more thorough understanding of your master. The fact that you and I share the same native land has created an invisible tether, binding us, despite the very different circumstances that brought us to Palamecia. Neither of us can ever truly be of this land, and the Emperor has used this subconscious truth to disguise his web of lies," she explained as Leon shook his head.
"I don't understand," he expressed as the princess returned to face him, while readjusting her robe.
"You are my cage, invisible though it be. You are meant to grant me a sense of freedom in order to distract me from the disparaging truth, that we are both merely pawns in his game, and as pawns, both of our existences are limited to our usefulness," Hilda revealed as it all suddenly made sense to the general. At the beginning of the war, he had been taken prisoner by the Empire, because he was the first human to actually defeat a demon, but was that really reason enough for the Emperor to allow him to live? He needed someone of Fynnian blood to ensure capture and control over his true target.
"Had he planned this from the beginning? Is this my true purpose?" Leon thought, realizing that the princess was a far more valuable pawn, than he could ever hope to be. Had the Emperor been so far ahead in his scheme, that he eventually knew he would need someone like Leon to complete this particular phase of his plot? The general had learned, long ago, not to take the Emperor's words and motives at face value, but here he was, again, completely fooled.
Rubbing his face, tiredly, Leon sighed. He had not the mind nor the time for his master's labyrinth-like schemes.
"Does it even matter to truly understand his plan? I thought I accepted, long ago, that I was merely a tool for the Emperor to use. Has her presence affected me to such an extent, that I have begun to see myself as an individual, again?" the dark-haired warrior thought before the princess' gentle voice touched his ears, once more, interrupting his thoughts.
"Do you understand, now?" she questioned as Leon met her sapphire gaze, expressionlessly.
"This revelation changes nothing. I accepted my role as a pawn, long ago, but as long as I remain useful to his majesty, I have nothing to fear. I will play out my allotted part, and I would advise you to do the same," the Dark Knight responded as her lips tightened. She wanted to say something to the contrary. He could see it in her blue eyes, but she decided against it.
Without another word, he turned and abandoned her, within the secure chamber, heading for the palace's exit.
Stepping out into the light drizzle, Leon marched through the mud and puddles of rainwater for the stables, to fetch his chocobo, as Hilda's cortege prepared to depart, without her. He almost felt guilty for leaving her behind. It was obvious how important this daily task of visiting the slums was to her, but now that she was pregnant, it changed everything. He would have to severely limit where she was allowed to go and what she was allowed to do. She would hate him for it and probably try to fight him on it, but he had no choice. He would pick up the slack for her absence, and it's not as if she would be left alone. Althalos would stand watch over her, and Calix wouldn't be far behind him. The lovestruck child jumped at every opportunity to spend time with his beloved princess. The boy had become quite attached to her, and also, her handmaiden, Liluye, would be by her side. It would take a miracle to pry that woman away from the princess, especially now.
"The maid's loyalty to Princess Hilda, a noble of foreign birth, is...impressive. Perhaps it is Hilda's indiscriminate kindness that has captivated her," Leon thought, remembering how she had risked receiving the punishment of death, as she attempted to protect Hilda, back in her chamber.
Leading his obsidian-colored steed out, beneath the charcoal sky, the princess' words still haunted him, but he knew they were true. Anything the Emperor did was never truly what it seemed, though she was extremely sharp to have already picked up on it.
Mounting his chocobo, the Dark Knight suddenly caught ear of footsteps, coming toward him at a leisurely pace.
"Out for a morning ride, are we?" a familiar voice inquired, as Leon noticed the approaching form of Lord Gavril.
The old man had been fortunate enough to survive the Emperor's latest, murderous mood swings and was now the only adviser left. He had served Mateus' father, Azariah, and even lived through the depraved Empress Mateja's reign, before that. His knowledge of Palamecia was extensive and invaluable, but Leon could not discern where his true fealty lay. At times, it seemed his loyalty was more with the Empire, as a whole, rather than its current master.
"I cannot help but notice you are not at the lady consort's side, today. Has there been a quarrel? I could understand, if there was. As much as she has complied with the Emperor's wishes, Lady Hilda's heart is still obviously with her people and homeland. I am sure you will agree that true devotion will require the test of great sacrifice," Gavril expressed as Leon glared down on him, from atop his chocobo.
"She has sacrificed plenty to the Emperor, already. I would say her devotion has been proven," the young general responded as the elder nodded, in agreement.
"Indeed, she has sacrificed her body and freedom to a man, she probably views as nothing more than a sadistic murderer, but when the time comes to sacrifice her child, will her devotion hold true?" Gavril inquired as Leon's black eyes widened.
"What do you know?" the younger male questioned, suspiciously, as the imperial adviser appeared confused.
"Whatever do you mean, General? It is only a matter of time, before she conceives," the old man clarified as the Dark Knight fell silent, fearing that knowing of Hilda's condition, could cause him to become overly paranoid, when talking to the Emperor's closest aids.
"I must be careful how I react, or I will risk revealing her secret, prematurely," Leon thought, swiftly regaining his composure.
"That is none of my concern. As for the reason behind her absence, she has grown weary from so many journeys to the capital and wishes to remain here, today, and rest," the dark-haired soldier declared, falsely, as the elder nodded, in approval of her decision.
"I see. It is wise to be conscious of one's health, just as it is wise to be conscious of the weather. You should show some of Lady Hilda's wisdom and remain here, during the rainy season. The mountain roads grow treacherous with the downpour. Landslides and flooded paths will be prevalent, this time of year," Gavril warned as Leon snorted and guided his chocobo passed the old man.
"I am the Dark Knight. It will take more than a little rain to stop me," the Dark Knight retorted, stubbornly, before departing the castle grounds, along with the caravan.
...
The umbral shroud of late evening enveloped Altair, as Firion traveled though the rebel headquarters. He was on his way to the infantry barracks, in search of Maria. Continuing his swift march, he noticed something unusual, as he approached the princess' chamber. Instead of her body guards, standing, vigilantly, outside the entrance, the female sovereign, herself, waited, gazing in the approaching freedom-fighter's direction, as if she had been expecting him, all this time.
Coming closer to her, in the passageway, Firion halted his hurried gait and bowed, respectfully.
She was garbed in a dark sangria-colored robe, that hung, perfectly, from the feminine contours of her body. Diamond pins decorated her long, cascading hair, glistening like a constellation, among the silky strands. Her beauty was so captivating, Firion could not help but gawk at the woman, as any words, he might have said, became lodged, in the back of his throat.
"Where are you rushing off to, and with such a lovely bouquet, too?" she questioned as Firion slowly hid the flowers behind his back.
"I-I was...," Firion stuttered as she sauntered closer to him, within the isolated corridor. The open chamber, behind her, glowed with the light of a warm fire and smelled, sweetly, of incense. Blood flooded his cheeks, as he diverted his amber eyes away from her intense, predatory stare.
"Poor child, you seem nervous. Why not come in for a drink, before you set out? It will put your anxious spirit at ease," she offered as a sultry smile stretched across her painted lips.
"Besides, there is much I desire to discuss with you," she purred before gently caressing the rebel's strong forearm, with a long-nailed hand, garnished with opulent rings. His olive skin seemed to prickle, at the unexpected contact, causing him to feel the sudden need to shiver.
"I-I'm sorry, your majesty, but there is somewhere I must be, and I can't delay it anymore," Firion suddenly spoke, causing a look of surprise to steal her immaculate features. He wouldn't allow anything to interfere with his meeting with Maria, not even the princess.
"He would dare turn me down?" the Lamia Queen thought, as the white-haired soldier bowed, apologetically.
"Oh? Forgive me for standing in the way of something so important. Perhaps later then," she responded, restraining her own bloodcurdling rage to a simple frown, as he smiled gratefully, ignorant to her true emotions.
"T-Thank you, my lady," Firion declared, appreciatively, before continuing his journey, unaware of the princess' bone-chilling gaze piercing his distancing spine. Her friendly countenance had morphed into one demonic hatred, her false, sapphire irises becoming flooded with a bloody vermillion, as she watched him disappear down the passageway.
"I'll claim you, eventually, and I'll kill that pathetic sow, you care for so much, too, if I must," the succubus growled, bitterly, before recoiling back into her chambers, like a serpent slithering back into its pit.
...
Entering the barracks, Firion made his way through the rows of cots, each furnished with a simple, worn blanket and pillow. Flickering oil lamps and candles illuminated the large chamber, and what remained of the rebel soldiers rested upon the small beds, conserving their energy for whatever the Empire had in store for them next. Those who weren't sleeping busied themselves cleaning and sharpening their weapons or writing letters to surviving loved ones in the surrounding towns and villages.
Soon, the native Salamandian caught sight of Maria's feminine backside, cloaked in long, violet hair. A distinct trait, especially since the troops were predominantly male. As he neared her, Firion realized she was sitting upon her cot, hard at work crafting new arrows for her bow. Coming to stand before her, he set the bouquet of flowers upon the table. Briefly glancing at the offering, she quickly returned to her tedious labor.
"What are those? A bunch of weeds?" she questioned, causing Firion to frown.
"She's still angry? Dammit, Leila, I thought you knew what you were talking about! Well, no turning back, now," Firion thought, summoning all the courage he possessed to break the ice and speak to her.
"Maria, we need to talk," he declared.
"Very well, say what you need to. I'm listening," the archer clipped, not even bothering to meet his pleading gaze.
"I was hoping we could do this in private," Firion added, while stealing glances at the other surrounding soldiers, who were obviously listening in on their conversation, some even snickering, especially at the crimson shade his face was turning.
Ignoring the male rebel's request, much to his frustration, Maria continued fastening the feathers, she had plucked from defeated cockatrices, to the ends of her arrows.
"Please, Maria, we can't continue like this," he expressed, wishing to make amends. Of course, she knew he was right, but another part of her wanted to leave him standing there, like a fool. She wanted him to feel just as ridiculous and unsupported as she had.
Uttering nary another syllable, she stood from her cot, and grabbed an oil lamp and a wicker basket, before wordlessly moving passed him, heading for the exit.
"Where are you going?" Firion called after her, as she paused, briefly, and glanced over her shoulder.
"Out for a walk. I need to gather more materials for my arrows. You can come if you want," she invited as Firion relinquished a small smile. She was giving him an opening to make things right between them.
"This is my chance," he thought before following her outside the resistance headquarters.
Stars littered the black heavens, glittering like tiny shards of glass, as they wandered outside of Altair and into the nearby woods. A cold breeze blew, rustling what leaves remained in the trees, as the white mage collected sturdy sticks and small branches from the forest floor. Instead of using sharpened stones and rocks for arrowheads, she would obtain mythril, imported from Semitt and Salamand, later, from the rebel blacksmith.
For a while, they hiked in silence, before Firion noticed his female companion was shivering, as she gathered her supplies.
"Are you cold?" he questioned, concerned.
"A little. I think the seasons are starting to change," she commented, wiping her runny nose, as the male rebel pulled off his cloak. Taking the basket from her hand, he draped the garment around her, still warm with his own body heat.
"Thanks," she conveyed, softly, clutching the cape, tightly, around her shoulders, as the pair decided to take a break upon a fallen tree trunk.
"So, what else did you report to the princess, after I...left?" the archer inquired. Even though the event was still a sensitive subject for her, her nagging anxiety refused to let it be.
"Nothing really, though she did take an unusual interest in Leila," Firion answered, remembering the strange, serpentine gleam in Hilda's sapphire eyes as well as the unexpected kiss, she forced on the pirate captain.
"You didn't tell her about the wind drake's egg and the magic spring?" Maria interrogated as he shook his head.
"No, it completely slipped my mind. Besides, who knows how long it will take for the dragon to hatch, if it even will. A wind drake would be a mighty aid against the Empire. We need to be sure, before we arouse anyone's hopes," he responded as the white mage's fair countenance became awash in relief.
"I think you made a wise decision by not telling her," Maria commented as Firion sighed, exasperatedly, quickly realizing where this conversation was headed.
"Are you still suspicious of the princess? Don't tell me you think she is some sort of brainwashed spy, reporting to the Emperor, in secret, about our next plan to bring them down. We don't even have a plan! Nothing has happened in weeks!" the white-haired swordsman pointed out, but the seeress did not appear convinced.
"Every decision she makes is detrimental to the resistance. Soldiers continue to abandon their posts, and mass quantities of people keep disappearing, on a nightly basis! Something is wrong with her, and it is obviously affecting her ability to lead! If we continue to follow her, we will lose this war!" the violet-haired archer exclaimed as Firion stood from the mossy log, with an incredulous expression staining his features. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"She was kidnapped and held captive by the Empire! There is no telling what happened to her at the mercy of those brutes. Not to mention, she just lost her father. She's traumatized and needs time to heal, not judgment and persecution from those who are supposed to be loyal to her," the male rebel argued as the female appeared offended.
"I am loyal. I am loyal to our cause, to the restoration of our home! I have talked to the other soldiers, who served her, while we were away. They told me she does not eat or sleep, strange noises come from her chamber, at night, and no one has seen Prince Gordon in weeks!" Maria revealed as Firion rolled his amber eyes.
"Nonsense! I'm sure there is a good explanation. She probably just sent him away on an errand," he stated as the white mage quickly became outraged. Rising from the tree trunk, she balled her fists, at her sides, and came nose to nose with her male comrade.
"How can you defend her, Firion, and at my expense, no less?" she interrogated as the white-haired swordsman appeared shocked
"Your expense?! Oh, you mean that emotional outburst you had? I was protecting you from potentially joining those people on the gallows! You should be thanking me!" Firion corrected as Maria turned her back to him and folded her arms.
"Are you just going to ignore me, again? I don't think so," he commented, grabbing her and forcing her to turn around.
"Don't touch me!" the archer hissed, ripping herself from his grasp and backing away from him.
"What was I supposed to do, Maria? Don't you remember? After Fynn was destroyed and we lost everything, Princess Hilda took us in, when no one else would. She gave us a purpose. She cannot be in her right mind," Firion argued as Maria gazed at him, coldly.
"There is no excusing murdering the innocent. Their only crime was being afraid. The princess, I remember, never forced anyone to join or remain in the resistance. They all stood behind her of their own free will. She inspired their loyalty. What does she inspire, now, Firion?" the seeress questioned as the male freedom-fighter looked down upon the tops of his leather boots, unable to give her a response.
"Only fear and division, and if you cannot see that, you have been blinded by her deception," Maria answered for him, as her pale hands unfastened the cloak, around her shoulders. Rolling it up, she approached her male comrade and shoved it into his arms.
"I do care for you, Firion, I always will, even if you are infuriating, but I refuse to stay here, any longer," she declared as the native Salamandian's amber eyes widened.
"What do you mean?" he questioned, suspiciously.
"When dawn comes, I am leaving for Mysidia to find Minwu. If anyone can get this rebellion back on track, he can. You and the others are welcome to join me, but I will go with or without you. I cannot stay here and wait for the orders of a princess, who no longer cares about victory in this war. I will take matters into my own hands, if I must," the white mage revealed as an expression of shock overtook Firion's features.
"You cannot just leave on your own! How far do you expect to get without your white magic?" the snowy-haired fighter interrogated as her black eyes narrowed.
"Are you insinuating that I am not as good a warrior without it?" Maria questioned as Firion's next words instantly died on his tongue.
"How dare you! I lost my brother to the Empire! I cannot help what has happened to me!" she exclaimed, in such rage and sadness, it made the male rebel flinch with every syllable.
"He was my brother, too, Maria, and yet, I have not lost the strength to fight. In fact, his treachery has made me even more determined," he responded, softly, as tears began to stream down the archer's porcelain skin.
"It is different for you. You cannot understand how I feel," she expressed, as now, it was his turn to be insulted.
"What do you mean by that?" Firion questioned, narrowing his eyes, as she remained silent, her arms folded and her obsidian eyes distant.
"Oh, I see. Is it because we do not share the same blood?" he inquired before turning his back to her.
"I didn't realize I meant so little to you," the rebel expressed, angrily, before abandoning the white mage, heading back in the direction of Altair. He could hear her call after him, but he wasn't about to stop. Not after that. If she wanted to roll around in self-pity and pretend like the last ten to fifteen years of living together didn't matter, then so be it. He was done.
…
Arriving at the entrance to the princess' chamber, Firion stood before it, rubbing his fingers against his sweaty palms, anxiously. Summoning as much bravery as he could, he lifted his hand to rap upon the surface, but before his fist could even reach the wood, the door suddenly opened and there stood the female sovereign, in all her sensual beauty.
Staring at him, with that unnerving predatory gaze, she had adopted, ever since being rescued from the Empire, 'Hilda' said nothing, while waiting for him to make the first move.
Licking his lips, Firion's mouth felt as dry as an arid desert, as he rubbed his clammy palms against his thighs, trying to think of what he should say.
"Y-Your majesty, sorry to come here, unannounced, but does your offer for that drink still stand?" he questioned, nervously, as a wicked smile spread across her painted lips.
"He has come to me, willingly. Excellent," she thought before stepping aside to permit him admittance.
"Of course, please come in," she invited as the male freedom-fighter hesitantly entered the room. Standing in the midst of her chamber, he took a moment to examine it.
The hearth blazed with a large fire, warming and lighting the room. Numerous candles decorated the mantle, as well as her desk and nightstand, creating a romantic atmosphere. Cracks and vines ran through the surrounding alabaster walls, like abstract streaks in marble, and the extensive roots of a large, old tree penetrated and veined across the ceiling. Upon her bed, the silken, vermillion sheets were ruffled, as if she had been resting, just moments before he arrived.
Being there, it felt awkward and far too personal. He almost wished to turn around and leave the way he came, but as the princess closed the door, behind them, he knew it was far too late.
"Who am I to have won the princess' favor? Why does she desire me here, in such a private space, andwhy did I even come back here?" he thought, frantically, before feeling her lithe grasp take his arm and lead him to a nearby table.
"Sit," she requested.
Obeying her command, he watched as she fetched a crystal decanter and two chalices. His mind still rested on Maria, as the princess poured the burgundy liquid into his glass. Was the archer still, at this very moment, searching for him? Did she really mean what she had said, or was it all just angry rantings? Either way, she would have no idea to look for him here, or would she?
"You seem tense," 'Hilda' commented, interrupting his thoughts, as she sat beside him and filled her own chalice.
"I had a fight with Maria," Firion confessed, taking a sip of his drink. The liquid was strong yet flavorful, and the white-haired swordsman quickly realized it would not take much to turn him into a drunken fool. Placing her hand on the bottom of his chalice, the princess tilted it further to his lips, encouraging him to imbibe more. Setting the drained glass down, Firion exhaled sharply. His vision had already begun to sway.
"I really don't think I should have much more of that," he commented, worriedly, as she refilled his cup.
"Don't worry, I'll watch over you, if you are overcome by it. I think you have earned a few drinks, my dear," she responded, watching him, as he returned the glass to his mouth.
"So, this fight... Was it a lovers' quarrel?" the princess questioned, curiously, returning to their conversation, as Firion almost choked on his liquor.
"L-Lovers? No, that we are not. It was just a fight between two people, who cannot seem to agree on much of anything," he confided, his halfhearted smile fading, as he recalled the past month of avoiding each other as well as the intense argument they just had, in the woods. For a long time, he had wished that he and Maria could be more than just friends, family, or comrades, and at one point, he had thought she felt the same way.
"Guess I was wrong," the freedom-fighter thought with disappointment.
"Mm, I see. Then she wouldn't be jealous, if another woman won your affection?" the serpentine princess inquired, as the male rebel paused, wide-eyed, with the refreshed chalice half-way emptied against his lips.
"What are you talking about? What other woman?" Firion questioned as 'Hilda' smiled seductively.
"Need you ask?" she retorted, while caressing his thigh beneath the table. Shocked, he suddenly dropped his glass, resulting in it shattering upon the table. Hurriedly rising to his feet, the room spun, as he stumbled backwards from the female sovereign.
"Where are you running to, my love? Don't you lie awake at night and fantasize about all the things you could do with me, in a situation like this?" she interrogated, cornering him against the vanity, while toying with the silken sash of her robe.
"What? Why are you asking me this?" the native Salamandian demanded as she cocked her head to the side.
"Don't pretend you do not know of what I am talking about. Every time we meet, you cannot pull your eyes away. You obviously desire me, Firion," she explained, as his expression grew increasingly panicked, with every step she took, closer to him.
"T-That's not true," he defended as 'Hilda' perked a thin brow.
"It is impossible to deny it, and here we are alone, hours from sunrise. Why not give in and indulge yourself? I can fulfill your every want and fantasy. I can do things for you that petty, little archer could never even begin to fathom," she tempted, before fluidly undoing her sash, allowing her silk robe to slip down her slender body and cascade around her feet. Beneath, she was clad, only, in a sheer, lace negligee. Everything was clearly visible beneath the complex latticework, and the garment's length was so short, the frilly hem barely reached the tops of her thighs.
"Princess!" Firion shouted, in shock, while quickly clenching his amber eyes closed. His back was pressed, painfully, into the edge of the vanity. The princess stood between him and the only exit. There was no escape.
Closing the gap between them, 'Hilda' gently cupped his molten cheek, trying to encourage him to open his eyes.
"Look at me. After all, I am wearing this for you," she commanded as he shook his head, rapidly. Smiling, she suddenly pressed her lips to his.
"That did the trick," the seductress thought, as her sapphire gaze was reunited with his stunned amber.
"Good boy," she purred, lightly kissing his jaw, before returning her oral affections to his lips. She could feel his entire body tremble, as she slid her hand from his face, down the length of his strong arm. Capturing his hand, she lifted it and pressed it to her breast, causing him to gasp and yank the stolen limb back, as if he had just touched a hot stove.
Hurriedly turning from her, he knocked over several of the ornate, glass bottles of different colored perfumes and cosmetics, breaking some in the process, as he grabbed hold of the edge of the vanity, his back turned, defensively, to the female sovereign.
"What is wrong, my love? Didn't you like the way that felt?" she questioned, embracing him from behind and pressing her near-naked body into his spine. Breathless and blushing, Firion watched in the vanity's hazy mirror, as the princess snaked her arms around him and slipped her hands beneath his shirt, exploring and caressing every crease, muscle, and scar on his body.
"I-I don't think I can do this...," the rebel announced, attempting to still her hands, before his murky gaze caught sight of a familiar glimmer, amongst the pearls and precious stones, carelessly scattered before him. Taking a better gander, it was a diamond necklace, cut in the shape of a wild rose.
"Prince Gordon...," the swordsman thought, swiping the necklace into his grasp.
"Why can't you?" 'Hilda' questioned, oblivious to the treasure he had just found.
"Because I have seen this, before. Gordon retrieved it, while we were in Kashuan. It used to belong to his mother, and his only desire was to give it to the one he loves the most," Firion revealed, turning in her grasp, with the piece of jewelry dangling from his fingers, as if to ward off her advance.
"Since you have this, doesn't that mean the two of you are-?" the snowy-haired freedom-fighter began but was interrupted by the princess suddenly erupting with laughter, as if the point he was trying to make was highly humorous.
"Oh please, I could never love a man like that! He abandoned me and his own brother, leaving us to die, on the night Fynn was invaded. He is a coward, but you, my dear, are not," she declared, taking the necklace from his hand and flinging it to a distant corner.
Firion stared, with a stunned expression, in the direction of the discarded heirloom. How could she have thrown something like that away so easily? Even if she didn't share his feelings, did the notion mean nothing to her, after everything Gordon had gone through to regain her trust? He had even risked his own life to save her from the Empire and destroy the Dreadnought.
Realizing the rebel fighter was distracted by his own, maelstrom of thoughts, she took advantage of the opportunity, grabbing his arms and forcefully leading him to her bed. Pushing him down onto the silken sheets, she climbed on top of him, straddling and pinning him against the numerous, tasseled pillows. The amount of physical strength she had, stunned and unnerved him, as she ripped open his shirt, exposing his tone, olive chest, already shimmering with sweat. Taking his face into her hands, she kissed him, passionately, sliding her fingers up into his snow-colored hair.
"Enough of this meaningless talk. It is time, you let me have you," she purred, momentarily breaking from his lips. Firion realized she wasn't going to take no for an answer, but why was he trying so hard to stop her, in the first place?
"The princess doesn't seem to have any interest in pursuing a relationship with Gordon, and it is obvious that Maria does not desire me, either. So, why am I even fighting this?" he thought, before 'Hilda' took control of his lips, again. She smirked, when she felt him actually start to respond to her.
"Has he finally resigned himself to his fate?" the Lamia Queen thought, feeling his hands begin to timidly caress her feminine curves, obviously desiring to explore more, but too afraid of going any further.
"What a pure child," she thought, sitting up on his lap, before grabbing his hands and showing him how to molest her, properly. She chuckled in amusement, when she felt the edifice of his lust grow beneath her, as a result.
"Someone's excited. Could this be your first time?" 'Hilda' commented, reaching her hand, beneath herself, and squeezing. Jolting in surprise, Firion groaned. His mind was far to muddled to respond to her inquiry, but it was, indeed, his first time with anyone and it felt as if his entire body could combust at any moment, due to the overwhelming nature of the experience.
"It feels painful. Allow me to relieve your suffering," she proposed, capturing his lips, again, before moving further down, playfully biting his throat and kissing his hard, heaving chest, before sinking even lower, to his quivering stomach. Arching against the bed, Firion desperately clung to the silken covers, beneath him, as she continued to toy with him, before reaching the top of his trousers.
"This is it!" the swordsman thought, breathing so hard, he was almost hyperventilating, as she began to undo his pants.
Clenching his amber eyes shut, the only image that would come to his mind was, ironically, Maria's face. Memories of everything they had been through together, filled his thoughts, in rapid succession. After his parents died and he was brought to their home, she was the first to pull him into her arms and embrace him, welcoming him into their family. Before the invasion and after, she had always been by his side, defending and comforting him.
"And where was I, when she learned of Leon's treachery, and then, again, when she lost her white magic? I was so consumed by my ambition to defeat the Empire, I neglected her needs, in the process. No wonder, she is angry with me, but I can't betray her. I won't betray her," he thought, realizing he bore no real feelings for the princess. All of this was just an escape, an excuse to avoid his own problems.
"I can't do this," Firion suddenly vocalized, as 'Hilda' glanced up at him, annoyed.
"Enough of that nonsense," she responded, attempting to ignore him. Grabbing her by the arms, the freedom-fighter forced her to cease her actions.
"I said no!" he repeated, in a strong and clear voice, as the fake sovereign stared at him, wide-eyed.
"How dare you," she growled, lowly, her shock quickly turning to rage.
"I'm sorry, but I love Maria. If I am to be with anyone, it will be her," Firion declared as the entire atmosphere in the room seemed to change.
An unnaturally wide smile spread across the princess' painted lips, sending an odd chill down the warrior's spine, as she rose up, from laying in between his legs, to her feet.
"Congratulations, my dear. You are the only man, who has ever been able to resist me," she revealed, with her back to the rebel, walking toward the flames of the hearth, that seemed to grow wilder, as she neared.
"I was even considering going all the way with you, to give you a first and final taste of pleasure, before the end, but now, I think I'll just kill you and be done with it," 'Hilda' commented but the voice that met the freedom-fighter's ears was not that of the princess'.
"What are you talking about? W-Who are you?" Firion expressed, in confusion, as she began to laugh, uncontrollably.
"You still don't understand? Pitiful child, think! You and your companions rescued me from the clutches of the Empire without a second thought. Like true heroes, you bravely whisked me away to safety and dealt a hard blow to the Empire, with the loss of its two trump cards, but was it really Princess Hilda of Fynn that you saved? The Emperor is a master of sorcery and a conjurer of demons, so how can you be sure?" she questioned, her hair becoming sleek and as black as the darkest night, as she turned back around, to Firion. Her eyes had turned a hellish vermillion, reflecting in the light, like some nocturnal beast, and her skin had become as pale and cold as a corpse.
"I am the Lamia Queen, demoness of eternal lust and hunger, and I have been sent to kill you, Firion. You inspire what remain of the insurgents like no other, except for maybe the princess' herself, but without you and your closest companions, what hope is there left for these filthy rats to cling to?" the succubus declared, standing before the white-haired swordsman in her true form.
"Maria was right. I am a blind fool!" Firion thought, quickly rising from the bed and reaching for the hilt of his sword, only to realize he was unarmed.
"Damn," he cursed, realizing that with or without a weapon, he would still have to find some way to defeat this creature. It could no longer be allowed to roam free, or it would mean the end of the rebellion.
How long had it been, since they rescued the supposed princess and destroyed the Dreadnought? The entire time they had spent recovering from the Dreadnought's explosion and then their journey to the faraway country of Deist, this demonic creature had been here, in place of Hilda, murdering and sabotaging the rebellion's every move! This sudden and horrible revelation left only one question unanswered...
"Where is the real Hilda?" Firion interrogated as the demoness perked a brow at his inquiry.
"Oh, she is with the Emperor, a slave to his will, like the rest of you eventually shall be, but I am afraid, you, my sweet and innocent child, will not live to see the world engulfed by his rule," she informed with a wicked smile, as she began to stalk closer to him.
"I am going to devour you, body and soul. You and your true love can enjoy each others' company in the deepest pits of the underworld, my dear," the creature declared as the flames of the hearth blazed behind her, like the fires of hell, itself.
To be continued...