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A Rose Among the Ashes
Chapter 35: Eyes of the Monster
Sitting on her bed, Maria held the bouquet, Firion had presented her, earlier that night, before their calm meeting had erupted into an ugly, verbal exchange. Stroking the blossoms' soft petals, that were already beginning to wilt and fade, she mentally relived the harsh battle of words, they had wrought upon each other, in the forest. The white mage did not bemoan revealing to him of what she truly thought of the princess' recent and murderous temperament and actions, but she did regret what she said to him, concerning Leon. Even now, after everything that had transpired, Maria loved Leon, more than words could ever reflect, but the archer loved Firion, too and just as much, yet she had begun to realize it was a different sort of affection from what she felt for her lost, older brother.
Feeling the warmth of a tear slide down her cheek, the female rebel swiftly wiped it away, just as the weight, of a certain ornery pirate, plopped down onto the bed, beside her, and draped a tone arm around her shoulders.
"L-Leila?" Maria acknowledged, in surprise, turning her head to meet the blue-blooded marauder's roguish gaze.
"It's always an emotional experience fer a young lass, but I'm willing to bet my entire ship and crew that pretty boy cried harder," the pirate expressed as the archer perked a violet brow in suspicious inquisition.
"What are you talking about?" Maria questioned as Leila exhaled an exaggerated sigh.
"Why losin' yer virginity, of course!" the pirate blurted as the white mage's porcelain cheeks turned the color of magma, before she hastily wrapped her fingers around the other woman's mouth.
"Shh! You can't just blurt things like that out! What is wrong with you?" Maria hissed while feeling the stares of several other soldiers in the barracks fall upon them. Leila smiled, shamelessly, beneath her slender digits, calloused and nimble from using her bow so often in battle.
"Besides, that's not what happened," the embarrassed white mage corrected, releasing the wild female's face and standing from the cot.
"Oh? That's disappointing," Leila commented while leaning back onto the bed and propping herself up on her elbows.
"What does it matter to you, anyway?" the archer questioned, setting Firion's failed offering onto a nearby table before retrieving a satchel from beneath her bed.
"Firion sought my 'expertise' on the matter, earlier. I feel somewhat invested, now, and I was just wondering how things panned out," the ex-princess commented, casually, while watching, curiously, as the other female began filling the pack with supplies fit for a long journey.
"Well, it didn't 'pan out', and that's all I wish to say about it," Maria remarked, curtly, as Leila smirked and shrugged her shoulders, indifferently.
"That's a shame. I was rooting fer the lovesick lad. By the way, are you going somewhere?" the female sailor added in inquisition as Maria abruptly ceased her packing and turned to fully face the crude captain. The white mage's hesitant countenance was enough to inform Leila of the unspoken request resting upon the other woman's tongue.
"I suppose this is where you plead a favor of me, right?" the pirate captain opined while toying with the thin, scratchy blanket beneath her fingertips. Surprised she could be read so easily, Maria nodded.
"As much as I fancy begging, you still better be prepared to pay fer it, sweetheart. I don't sail anyone fer free, not even friends," the sea brigand added as Maria's brow lifted.
"She considers me a friend?" the archer thought, surprised yet hopeful that she could somehow persuade the other woman to leniency.
"I don't have any money," Maria admitted, truthfully, as the lavender-haired sailor pushed herself up from the creaky, makeshift cot.
"Neither do I, now, that I have had to pay off yer grabby princess in order to join this useless band of insurgents," the pirate retorted, recalling the female monarch's strange demeanor, upon their first meeting, that Maria had been absent for. The Fynnian princess was nothing like how the rebels described during their long voyage from Deist. Firion and the others had painted a picture of an intelligent and charitable woman, who was modest and forgiving to a fault.
"Just tell me one thing, love. Where are you going, and why are you leaving behind pretty boy and the big lad? I wouldn't have thought you would go anywhere without those two. Haven't you been together, since the beginning?" Leila interrogated as Maria's dark eyes fell.
"Since the beginning and before, but I must go to Mysidia, to find an old friend and teacher. I cannot ask them to accompany me, this time. Guy is still learning black magic from you, and Firion is loyal to Princess Hilda. I feel he may be even more devoted to her than to me. He defends her, even when she is so clearly in the wrong. Firion is all I have left, now that Leon has gone, yet I sense he, too, is slipping away from me," the archer confided while rubbing away another stray tear, escaping from her eye.
"You do not share his pristine opinion of her?" the lavender-haired pirate inquired, suspiciously.
"No. I once did, but her personality has shifted so drastically, ever since we saved her from the empire. Firion believes she is traumatized from her captivity and is still grieving the loss of her father, but the things we have seen upon returning...they are not the work of the princess, at all. It is more the deeds of a merciless imperial," Maria explained, shaking her head in disbelief, as she recalled the brutal executions and generally odd behavior Hilda was manifesting, as of late.
"Is that so?" Leila responded while feeling her suspicions mount, as memories of her first meeting with the Fynnian royal resurfaced, in her mind. The way the princess had looked at her, as if she could see into her very soul, as if she recognized who the pirate truly was. Not to mention, how she had attempted to smell the lavender-haired female and forced a kiss upon her lips.
"A kiss...," Leila thought before the sudden revelation dawned on her that 'Hilda' may not be who or what she seemed, at all. Memories of monstrous, serpentine creatures, her father, the Emperor, had bred in pits, beneath Palamecia, reappeared in the misty mire of her early consciousness. How could she have forgotten? The demons cloaked themselves in beauty or the faces of their victims, by a mere kiss, in order to lure and seduce other human prey. From what she could still recall, her father had made good use of them as spies and assassins, during the early days of his reign, when supporters of the previous emperor still threatened him.
"Leila, is something wrong?" Maria suddenly inquired, noticing the odd silence and expression that had suddenly captured the pirate's features. Slowly turning her amethyst eyes to the other female, Leila hastily grabbed hold of her shoulders.
"Do you know where Firion is, now?" the ex-princess interrogated, urgently, as the white mage appeared shocked by her sudden actions and tone.
"N-No, last I saw him was in the woods," Maria answered as Leila quickly stood from the cot and grabbed the archer's hand.
"L-Leila, tell me what is wrong!" Maria demanded, taking the chance to grab her bow, before being ruthlessly dragged from the barracks and into the torchlit corridor.
"We need to find him, now! Where is the princess' chamber?" the sea brigand exclaimed with a serious gleam in her amethyst eyes. Realizing Leila would not act this way for no reason, Maria tightened her jaw and decided to trust their newest comrade.
"It's this way. Follow me!" the seeress spoke, before the two women fled down the passageways in search of their male companion and the imposter princess.
…
Positioned before the wild flames of the hearth, raging like a cyclone of fire, the Lamia Queen stood across from a stunned and unarmed Firion. The disheveled sheets on the bed forgotten, as he faced the demon imposter, who had somehow stolen the identity of their princess.
"You should have just closed your eyes and accepted a blissful death," the Lamia Queen suggested while slowly approaching her newest prey.
"And sacrifice my friends and comrades to you, an imperial demon? We've come this far in our quest for a world of peace and freedom, and we will win," the white-haired rebel retorted as his amber eyes hastily searched the chamber for anything he could use to defend himself against this seductive creature of the pit.
"Child, do you really believe you can be victorious? Look around you. The free cities lay in tatters, Deist is gone, your king is dead, and your beloved princess belongs to us, now," the succubus informed as Firion diverted his gaze.
"Deist is not entirely gone, but it would not do to tell her that. Gods, Maria was right in her notion to keep silent about our discoveries in the land of dragons," the rebel thought while watching a nauseating grin spread across the creature's plump lips.
"Lady Hilda would never submit to the Empire willingly," Firion declared as the serpentine demon boldly cupped his cheek.
"Oh but she has. For the sake of her people, she has complied with everything the Emperor has desired of her," the Lamia Queen conveyed as the male rebel yanked his face away before grabbing a nearby candelabra.
"You would say anything to make me drop my guard. I do not believe you!" Firion shouted before swiftly lunging at the creature with the makeshift weapon, causing the demoness to gracefully parry the attack.
"Denial is such an ugly emotion, my love, and you fickle humans are filled to the brim with it. A mere moment ago, you salivated at the mere sight of me, and now, you despise me. Is it such a shock that your princess would kneel to the rightful ruler of this world? If you ask me, she is wise to do so. At least, she knows when she is defeated. All this fighting and loss was for nothing. You and your friends could have lived had you just accepted Emperor Mateus as your master," the Lamia Queen informed as Firion's grip tightened around the iron rod, in his grasp.
"Only to be doomed to a meaningless existence as his slaves. I would rather die," the Salamandian spat as the deceptively beautiful creature in front of him smiled.
"And die you shall. Such a worthless slug is not fit to live in my master's world," she hissed before suddenly vanishing into a sparkling wisp of dark vapor. With amber eyes darting around the chamber, in search of the demon, the freedom fighter suddenly felt arctic breath against his ear.
"What's wrong, boy? Can't find the courage needed to kill me, or have you not the stomach to slay a woman?" the Lamia Queen purred, manifesting behind Firion, before he clenched his jaw and spun around, blindingly, striking her across the face with the burning candelabra, singeing and shredding half of the creature's flesh.
"You are no woman. You are nothing more than a vulgar monster summoned from the underworld," Firion responded as the demoness doubled over and clutched her damaged face. Screeching in rage and agony, the creature suddenly lashed out at the rebel, before her, striking him and sending him flying, to the opposite side of the chamber before colliding with a wooden table. The sound of splintering wood and breaking glass filled the room, as the smell and sight of pluming smoke accompanied it, from the abandoned candelabra resting atop the floor, igniting the rug-cloaked surface beneath it.
"A child of the earth, soft of heart and young in years, is wise enough to fear the monster standing before him, but is ignorant to the brutal suffering the harsh eternity of Jade and Pandemonium has wrought upon her," the demoness growled while straightening her posture. Slowly, she removed her long-nailed fingers, from her face, revealing inhuman flesh, scarred with metallic scales, like some otherworldly serpent.
Bruised, bloodied, with clothes torn and stained, Firion, managed to grasp a shard of glass, from the wreckage beneath him. Gasping in pain and exhaustion, he kept it away from the Lamia Queen's sight.
"You berate and look down on us humans, yet how wise are you, continuing to serve the very man responsible for your agony," the male rebel managed to comment as the demoness began to approach, once more.
"Mateus responsible for my many centuries of suffering? It was he who led me to salvation, my dear," the Lamia Queen corrected with an amused chuckle, revealing beast-like fangs behind her lips.
"You see, I am the oldest of my kind. I was born in the everlasting darkness of the underworld from a great crystal. For many millennium, mortals did not meddle in the affairs of our realm, until our king, Nazar, bereft of tangible flesh, grew jealous of mortal men. He desired the experiences of their pleasures and pain, so he appeared to the leader of the first and oldest empire, of your world, and a pact was made. Even after war divided that ancient nation into what now is called Palamecia and Mysidia, the many Palamecian emperors and empresses have continued to uphold it, even when their Mysidian counterpart abandoned the tradition to serve their goddess of light," the demon imposter explained, placing her hand, again, over her tattered countenance. The flesh soon began to mend itself, weaving over the scales, creating a perfect porcelain complexion, once more. She was seemingly in no rush to share her story, even as the flames continued to spread across the floor, from the discarded candle holder.
"I was summoned from the deepest pits of eternal torment, centuries before Mateus took the throne, by a desperate predecessor, who had just lost the woman he loved. Enthralled to him, by the whim of our god, I did as I was bade and kissed the lips of his queen's corpse. Decades I wore her face for his pleasure, a slave to his every petty wish. After his eventual death, I was kept in the bowels of the castle, like some forgotten relic. I survived mostly on the flesh of rats, but if I behaved and was fortunate enough, I would be gifted the occasional disobedient servant, a most rare treat. More years passed before Azariah rose to power," the Lamia Queen detailed, the light of the fire painting her pale flesh red. A small, vengeful smirk played on her painted lips. Shaking her head, her lingering thoughts over the late emperor fueled her anger.
"Emperor Azariah was even more depraved than the bitch that gave birth to him. In crazed hatred, he drove me and my earth-born daughters from the palace and into the desert, murdering many of us as we fled. Scum, he called us. The blasphemous deeds of a deranged, grief-stricken king," she spat as Firion sensed an indescribable rage continue to fill her soulless vessel, before her irate features softened, once more.
"Mateus was the only one to have mercy on us. He defied his father and spared us, concealing us until the day his reign finally arrived," the succubus spoke, her crimson irises falling, as she mentally relived the old memory.
"Ever since, I have devoted myself to him, vanquishing all who dare stand in the way of his ambition," she added, as the freedom-fighter examined her distant expression. Even though she had murdered the king and many others, not to mention her attempt to derail the entire resistance by replacing the real Princess Hilda, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of pity for her and her long and tragic past.
"So, you are his assassin? That is why you are here," Firion interjected as she raised her brow yet kept her vermillion gaze low.
"I have killed many who have opposed him, and you and this pathetic band are the last obstacle," she responded, with a detached expression.
"To me, it sounds as if he only spared you for your abilities. I imagine he would discard of you, in an instant, if you ever became a liability, like Borghen," the Salamandian purposefully antagonized as a frown tugged upon the Lamia Queen's ruby lips.
"You dare compare me to that bumbling, mortal wretch? Brave child, I almost forgot to enlighten you on how my master prefers to reward me," the demoness retorted, turning to face Firion fully. Swallowing hard, the white-haired rebel gazed up at her. Standing above him, still laying amidst the shattered wood and glass, she smiled, causing her sharp teeth to gleam in the firelight.
"He permits me to devour my targets, down to the very last drop of blood, especially if they are useless leeches, like yourself. I shall try not to take my time, but I cannot make any promises. As you know, I do so enjoy playing with my food," she taunted before swiftly lunging at his seemingly vulnerable form, like a viper would its prey. Little did she suspect the deadly shard, hidden in his hand. Hastily, he made use of the weapon. Plunging it into her chest, before her ghastly fangs could rip into his flesh.
Twisting the sharp fragment, Firion climbed to his feet, forcing the demoness back, as she wrapped her clawed hands around his wrist. Dark vermillion streams of blood, poured down his arm, from his own hand, gashed by the vice-like grip, he had upon the makeshift dagger. His determined amber eyes soon widened, when the Lamia Queen merely laughed at his ambitious attempt to slay her.
"Creatures like myself are not so fragile as you mortals. I may not be as beastly, in appearance, as my demonic brothers, but our immortal compositions are still the same, I'm afraid," the Lamia Queen informed with a sneer before grabbing the resistance member by the throat and lifting him from the ground. Smoke filled the chamber, thick as fog, strangling the air from his lungs, along with the demoness' coil-like grip.
"W-What power...I don't think I can defeat her alone. Maria...I'm sorry I didn't believe you," Firion thought while feeling his consciousness begin to abandon him.
A loud knock, banging upon the locked door, suddenly interrupted the dire scenario, pulling the Lamia Queen's attention away from her prey, especially when a female's voice screamed the male rebel's name.
"Oh my, it appears we have a visitor," the serpentine creature whispered, a renewed grin stretching upon her lips, as she throttled Firion to unconsciousness.
...
With haste, Maria and Leila rushed through the corridors, on route to the princess' chamber. The scent of fire in the chilly, night air only quickened their pace, as they neared the oddly unguarded room. Smoke seeped out from around the edges of the frame. Fearing the worst, the archer dashed up to the closed entrance, in a desperate panic, and attempted to enter.
"It's locked!" she shouted, in despair, trying with all her strength to force the door open. When it would not budge, she resorted to hammering, loudly, upon the wooden surface with her fist.
"Firion!" she cried before feeling Leila's hand grasp her shoulder.
"I'll take it from here, sweetheart. You just stand clear," the blue-blooded pirate declared as the white mage obeyed and backed away from the door. Lifting her hand, Leila focused her palm to the obstruction, before releasing a spell of pure, electric brilliance, that reduced the stubborn structure to steaming splinters.
Briefly mesmerized by Leila's display of magical power, similar to what the seeress witnessed in Deist, Maria quickly followed the sea brigand over the smoking debris and into the chamber.
Shocked by the chaotic sight that greeted them, the two women readied their weapons, as they crept into the decimated chamber. It appeared as if a great struggle had just taken place. Suddenly, Maria caught a glimpse of Firion, collapsed on the floor, amidst the smoke, thick as rolling fog. He was bloody, beaten, and seemingly unconscious.
"Firion!" the white mage shouted, in horror, while rushing to her comrade. Kneeling beside him, she scooped his limp body up into her arms. He was frigid and did not appear to be breathing.
"Wake up! Please, wake up!" she cried, shaking him, fearing the worst, but there was no response. Placing her palm, upon his chest, she focused her energy, in an attempt to cast a restorative spell, but her abilities were still sealed, even in this state of urgency. After a moment of hopeless trying, she realized the effort was pointless. Sobbing, she draped herself over him and rested her head against his.
"I'm sorry...for everything," she whispered before pressing her lips to his, in a gentle kiss. It was the first kiss she had ever given him, and it could very well be the last. Warm tears dripped from her cheeks and onto his, creating rivers through the soot and blood, staining his skin.
"I do love you...I always have," she added in confession after breaking from his lips.
"Maria, look out!" Leila's voice abruptly interrupted as a shadow barreled through the smoke, surrounding them, and lunged at the pair with the shaft of a broken candelabra. Without warning, the dead hand of the supposed Firion, shot up and grabbed the splintered pole. Maria's black eyes widened, as she stared at the fingers, wrapped around the makeshift weapon, impeding it. They had morphed into inhuman digits, clawed and scaly. Afterward, dark laughter filled the hazy atmosphere, in Firion's voice, as the body, in the archer's lap, sat up.
"I guess you weren't as indisposed as I had hoped. I suppose I should have just killed you, but I so wanted you to live, just so you could witness as I consumed your friends," it spoke as Maria stared at what she thought was her comrade.
"F-Firion?" the white mage questioned, bewildered, as the creature, still wearing Firion's face, turned to her with a villainous smile.
"Yes, my love?" the demon purred, reaching for the dumbfounded, female freedom-fighter.
"Maria, get away from it! It's of the empire!" the real Firion shouted, emerging from the shadows, snapping her out of her confused trance.
A bloodthirsty sneer appeared on the Lamia Queens lips, before she took a blindingly fast swipe at the escaping archer, tearing into the flesh of her arm. Groaning in pain, Maria stumbled away from the creature and into Leila's arms.
"Are you alright, lass?" the blue-blooded marauder questioned while immediately taking note of the bloody laceration, marring her limb. With a grave expression, the pirate yanked the bandana, from her lavender hair, and tied it securely around the gash.
"A Lamia Queen's bite is fatal, even a mere scratch is highly toxic, but this will have to do fer now. There is still time to heal it," the normally crass woman informed, causing the wounded Maria to wonder how she could possibly know such things. As far as the archer knew, such creatures did not exist in the realm of man. How could a lowly pirate from the docks of Paloom contain such knowledge?
"She will live, for now, but her time is short. Even as we speak, my venom courses through her veins, unrelenting and incurable," the Lamia Queen taunted as a horrified expression conquered the real Firion's countenance.
"Maria!" he shouted, in a panic, watching as the white mage sunk down to her knees, clutching the bandana, wrapped around her arm, that continued to grow a darker shade of red.
In a rage, the Salamandian suddenly charged at the demon, swinging his arms overhead, with every intention of impaling her, but just before the tip of his weapon could reach her, the Lamia Queen took on a new face. Shocked, Firion felt his resolve leave him, as he stared into the dark eyes of his true love.
"Would you really harm your precious beloved?" the succubus purred with a grin as the rebel lowered his makeshift spear, until it dropped with a hollow clank upon the ground. Even though he realized it was not Maria, he still could not bring himself to dispatch even an image of her.
"Stay focused!" Leila shouted while watching the male rebel lose his nerve.
Amethyst eyes narrowing upon the serpentine demon, the pirate felt torn. She knew what must be done. To save her new friends, she would have to utilize the power inside her as a princess of Palamecia. Even though she had not yet sold her soul, like her father, she still possessed some control over demons, that was only enhanced by the crystal heirloom, hanging around her neck.
"Should I reveal myself to save them?" the sea brigand thought. Her mind in turmoil over what she should do. It was rare that she even felt willing to put herself at risk to save someone else. If they were truly her friends, should they even mind who she really is?
Understanding that she had no choice but to unmask her true identity, Leila hastily stepped in between Firion and the Lamia Queen, just as the horrid beast was about to deliver the final blow. Vermillion irises widening, the demoness immediately recoiled at the sight of lavender-haired sailor.
"Y-You protect them?" the feminine creature gasped, in disbelief, shrinking back from the pirate, like a vampire from daylight, while simultaneously reverting to her default appearance.
Suddenly, unexpected visitors arrived, barging in through the destroyed entryway, with weapons drawn. It was the Fynnian royal guards, led by Guy and beside him was, shockingly, the long, lost prince of Kashuan, Gordon. He was bloodied, pale, and dressed in filthy, tattered clothing. A grim and traumatized expression marred his features, as his gaze fell upon, what everyone had believed was, their princess.
"Gordon!" Firion exclaimed, glad to see that he was still alive. It was almost self-explanatory to guess that the Lamia Queen had been behind his disappearance.
"So, it is true. Our princess is a monster," one of the soldiers commented as Guy extinguished the fires with his newly learned ice magic. The exposed demoness hissed in response, bearing ghastly, knife-like teeth in the direction of the newcomers. Cornered, she attempted to lunge at them, out of desperation, only to be met with the sharp heel of Leila's boot knocking her back to the ground.
"Kneel!" the once Palamecian princess demanded, fiercely, as her crystal pendent glowed with supernatural power, asserting her dominance over the hell-born creature. In response, the demoness cowed and sunk back down against the wall. The other rebels watched, in amazement and confusion, as the Lamia Queen groveled in fear, before the crude sailor, except for Firion, who already knew the reason why the demoness knelt before the female marauder.
"Pirate, how are you capable of this? Who are you?" Gordon interrogated, suspiciously. The prince's voice sounded different from when he was last seen. He had always been mild and soft-spoken, but now there was a weariness in his tone as well as a darkness and utter hatred for the imposter before them.
Leila gazed around the chamber at each of the stunned faces, unsure of how to respond. Maria and Guy appeared just as equally astonished. They had already witnessed that she was strong from what she had done in Deist, but to force an immortal demon to bow to you with but a word was something else entirely.
Pulling her eyes away from the shocked faces and wary stares, Leila felt her heart tighten with anxiety.
"Am I a freak to them? Will they reject me, now?" the ex-princess thought, in fear and sadness, before bony, clawed fingers wrapped themselves around her ankle.
"Let go!" the pirate captain demanded, attempting to free herself, yet the demon simply stared up at her with otherworldly, ruby eyes, that were almost worthy of pity, despite the beast-like gleam.
"I can smell your blood, child. You are no more a plebeian corsair than I am a mortal sovereign. The essence of Pandemonium flows through your veins," the demoness divulged, climbing to her knees, while grasping and tugging at Leila's clothing, like some desperate beggar.
"Forsake these doomed souls, and your trespass will be forgiven. The Emperor welcomes your homecoming but not for long. Linger here and you will share a like fate to these defiant rats. Return to your father, to where you truly belong, Princess Aysa," the Lamia Queen pleaded as another set of collective gasps escaped the others, witnessing the bizarre scenario.
"P-Princess...Aysa?" Maria stammered as she and Guy exchanged disbelieving glances, before the battered prince of the fallen star marched forward.
"You're the Emperor's daughter?" the Kashuanian questioned, his mouth agape with shock, before turning his outraged, emerald gaze in the direction of Firion, Maria, and Guy.
"You brought this filthy spawn of the empire into our halls!" Gordon accused, pointing a finger in their direction, as Leila visibly flinched at every hate-drenched syllable.
"Gordon, she is not loyal to the empire. She is an ally," Firion assured as Maria glanced at him, confused, before finally putting the pieces together.
"You knew?" the archer questioned causing the white-haired swordsman to lower his amber eyes with the guilt of withholding the truth from her.
Maria wasn't entirely surprised. She had suspected something was awry ever since Deist. She would often catch the pair whispering amongst themselves before suddenly falling silent, when the white mage would draw near. Originally, she had suspected Firion harbored desire for the other woman, which led to Maria's jealousy of the pirate, but now, she understood.
"You do not have to defend me, Firion. I can speak fer myself," Leila interjected. Firion appeared surprised, when his real name departed her tongue and not the usual derisive sobriquets.
"It is true. Once, I was a princess, and Palamecia was my home. But that was long ago, before I was taken away, stolen from my bed, in the dead of night. Ever since then, I have lived a life of suffering and cruelty, at the hands of captors, until I gained my freedom, not so long ago. I have spent far more time on the open seas than in the land of my birth," the lavender-haired pirate confessed as her fingertips skimmed over some of the many scars marring her body.
"I have come to realize that if my father truly cared fer me, he would have found me, but he is enthralled with power and control over everything. I was just a hindrance to him, an unnecessary burden. It took me a long time to accept what he is and perhaps, always has been, but I understand, now. I want to put an end to it. I am no more a princess than this demon at my feet," she expressed, sincerely, yet Gordon's composure remained as icy as the snow-covered wastes of Salamand.
"I'm afraid words, alone, are not very convincing. As you can see, the empire has already fooled us one time too many. I will not permit it to happen, again," the prince responded, ready to order her arrest, but she wasn't about to give him that chance. She had been a prisoner for most of her life, and she wasn't about to surrender her hard-fought liberty, now.
"Then perhaps this will convince you," Leila hastily retorted before abruptly snatching Maria's bow from her grasp. Swiftly, the pirate turned and took aim, firing a lightning imbued arrow at the Lamia Queen's temple. The bolt passed completely through and lodged itself into the wall behind the demoness, still sparking with the power of a thunder spell.
With a shocked expression, the stunned Lamia Queen's jaw fell open, as soot-like blood streamed down her pale skin, from the hole in her forehead.
"F-Forgive me...M-Master...," she sputtered in a strangled groan, before her red eyes rolled into the back of her skull. Leila quickly took up her daggers and unburdened her head from her shoulders, to ensure her permanent demise, resulting in the creature's entire being disintegrating into a pile of ash.
After the shocking act of slaying the ancient and hellish beast, a painful silence ensued, as all eyes fell upon the pirate. Black blood dripping from her blades, the air in her lungs escaped noisily from her nostrils, as her breathing stabilized. Unwilling to wait any further for their judgment, the ex-princess angrily sheathed her weapons and stormed out of the chamber. Gordon's troop of rebel soldiers immediately granted her passage, almost falling over themselves, as they stumbled out of her path.
"Leila, wait!" Firion called after her, following her angry footsteps, only to halt in front of the wrecked doorway. Watching her disappear down the corridor, growing with curious bystanders, his amber gaze returned to his fellow resistance members. Their expressions were distant and full of doubt, as to Leila's genuine allegiance.
"She is our friend. We cannot treat her this way," Firion reprimanded as Maria turned her gaze to him. The hurt was evident in her black eyes.
"Why did you keep her identity a secret from us? From me, especially?" she interrogated as the white-haired rebel lowered his amber irises.
"I learned of it from the thief, Paul, during our voyage to Deist. He made me promise not to tell anyone," Firion answered, truthfully.
"Paul, a member of Fynn's disbanded knights. How is he involved in this?" Gordon demanded.
"He shared with us, once, a story about how he had broken into the Emperor's castle and stolen his daughter. At first, we had thought it was just hot air, the inflated boasting of a man past his prime. In the mines of Semitt, he confessed to me the truth. Ten years ago, he did successfully explore the harsh deserts and jagged mountains of Palamecia, expecting to find only ancient ruins, containing untouched valuables. Instead, he stumbled upon an isolated nation, living in the yoke of a greedy and terrible master. He managed to infiltrate the imperial court as a royal smith and weapon's expert. There, he befriended Leila as a child, took pity on her, and stole her from the Emperor's palace, though he could not care for her properly and had to give her away. Rebellious and homesick, she fled and was kidnapped by a gang of pirates. The rest I am sure you can guess," Firion explained. A look of disdain marred the prince's face. Lowering his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head in disapproval.
"I did not want to hurt anyone. I only kept my silence to protect her," the Salamandian justified as the Kashuanian turned to him, sharply.
"Protect her? She is the Emperor's seed!" Gordon shouted.
"That doesn't make her the Emperor, himself!" Firion retorted, angrily, causing the prince to shrink back and fall quiet. The Salamandian turned back to an ambivalent Maria and Guy.
"She has aided us in our quest, albeit with a little persuasion, but she has also saved our lives on multiple occasions of her own volition. It doesn't matter where she comes from or whose blood runs through her veins, she is one of us," he spoke, pleadingly, in an attempt to evoke well-deserved empathy and gratitude for the shunned woman.
"Firion right. Guy would not know black magic with no Leila. Leila is good teacher and friend," Guy voiced as Maria touched the bandana still binding her arm. Her cold expression melted. If she were truly a loyal imperial, she would have let the Lamia Queen annihilate them.
"Why are we lingering? Let's go find our friend," the white mage concluded with a smile upon her lips. Returning it, Firion took her hand, and taking one final glance at the silent Gordon, the trio poured out from the chamber, to commence the search for their newest comrade.
Sweeping through the entire base, the three divided, running like drops of water through the branches of corridors, checking every chamber as they went. The secret stronghold had swiftly descended into chaos with the news that Princess Hilda was an imposter assassin, sent by the empire, spreading through the compound like a plague. A sense of emergency and panic erupted, as the military's higher-ups looked to appoint new leadership to the resistance, until the real Hilda could be found and hopefully reappointed to the throne.
The trio soon reemerged, exiting into the chilly darkness of the slumbering Altair, that appeared ignorant to the mayhem taking place inside the resistance's hideout.
"No sign of her. Where could she have gone?" Maria questioned, her breath departing from her as fog, as she wrapped her cloak around herself, to put up some barrier against the cold.
"Guy not find her anywhere," Guy added while even though bare-armed, he showed little reaction to the frigid air.
"There is only one place she would go," Firion informed, catching sight of the glowing pharos, perched atop the cliff side, in the distance.
Taking the southern road, from Altair, they traversed across the battle-scarred fields to the ocean. The pale green glow of early morning stained the eastern horizon, creating a shimmering gleam of light across the sea. The sound of waves crashed against the rocky shore, along with the shrill clamor of seagulls. Making their way to the harbor, Leila's impressive ship, the Stele Fugar, could be seen, still tethered at port. Warm light flickered in the windows, as it bobbed in the bay. The worn yet ornate vessel was both her prison and sanctuary. It only made sense for her to return to it during times of turmoil.
"Where do ye think yer goin'?" a deep voice inquired before an impressive figure suddenly blocked their path to the ship.
"Barric?" Firion questioned, looking up at the blond-haired pirate, standing like a human fortress between them and Leila.
"Capt'n aint seein' anyone right now, 'specially that one," the large man informed, pointing his chin to the direction passed them. Turning, the party caught sight of the prince of Kashuan, a few paces behind, creeping in their footsteps. Surprisingly, he had come alone, with only his lance, fastened to his spine.
"Gordon?" Firion questioned, squinting his eyes, as the prince shifted his stance, nervously.
"Forgive me, I followed you. I only wish to apologize to her," the Kashuanian explained as Barric's lip curled.
"Like hell ye are! Ye goddamn masters and royal types always usin' 'er then passin' 'er off, like 'er life means nothin'! Well, I ain't gonna stand fer it anymore," the imposing sailor spat while aggressively approaching Gordon. Swallowing hard, a bead of sweat slid down the prince's face, before Firion reasserted himself between the two, with his arms spread out, protectively.
"Get outta me way, lad, or I'm throwin' ye in the sea!" Barric threatened as Firion's amber eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. This man was quite serious. There was no way the rebel could take him with bare fists, alone. If only Josef were still alive, they might have a decent chance of victory without resorting to anything permanently damaging.
"Let them through, Barric. It's alright," Leila's voice echoed from aboard the ship. Directing their sights upward, the group glimpsed the ex-princess on the deck. Leaning over the railing, her wild, lavender hair dangled around her face, as she gazed down upon them, before withdrawing back into her cabin.
"Aye, capt'n," Barric finally grumbled in obedience, hesitantly stepping aside and permitting them entrance to the vessel.
"Watch yerself, prince," the male pirate warned, lowly, as Gordon passed him, following the others onto the ship, while apprehensively glancing back over his shoulder to the stalwart soldier of fortune.
Entering the captain's cabin, the chamber glowed with the soft, golden light of candles and lanterns, that reflected off the ornately carved walls. Wooden shelves of tomes, worn from repetitive use, lined the room, along with a desk, covered in maps and navigational charts.
"Well, have ya come to hang me from the mast?" Leila questioned, sitting against the headboard of her bed. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, and a bottle of rum dangled in her grasp. Lifting the glass container to her mouth, her lips trembled with restrained emotion, as she pulled the cork out with her teeth.
To Maria, she resembled a child begging not to be deserted, again. Empathy filled her heart, and the initial shock of the pirate's true identity was swiftly forgotten. Approaching her, the white mage climbed onto the bed and stole the bottle from her fingers, before the opening could reach her lips.
"You are one of us, now, Leila. You are a part of our family, and we will never abandon you," Maria assured, pulling the other woman into a tight embrace. At first, the pirate's body became as rigid as stone, in response to the sudden contact, but her icy composure soon melted, as she relaxed into the other woman's arms. Clearing her throat, the lavender-haired brigand eventually pushed the archer away.
"There's no need to get emotional," Leila muttered, attempting to hide the fact that her face had turned lightly red.
"So, how 'bout it, Prince? Can I officially join the club?" the pirate questioned, changing the subject as well as taking note of the Kashuanian, standing in the doorway of her cabin. Stepping into the light, the golden-haired royal bowed, apologetically.
"There isn't even a need for you to ask. My earlier behavior was unacceptable. I was quick to judge, and I allowed my anger to get the better of me. Please forgive me, my lady, I am not usually so harsh. It's just...I have experienced much hardship, as of late," Gordon explained as Leila perked a lavender brow and smiled.
"My lady? Haven't heard those words in quite some time. You may win me over, yet," the female sailor commented.
"What happened to you? Why weren't you here, when we got back from Deist?" Firion questioned as a weary and sorrowful expression overcame the prince's face.
"Where do I even begin? When Minwu told me to be careful of the princess, I should have heeded him. Lady Hilda-I mean...the demon seduced me. I should have known it was not really her. The true Hilda could never love me...not after what happened to Scott, but by the time I realized she was false, it was too late. The situation steadily became worse. Many people, soldier and citizen alike, died at her callous hands, before I was immured in a secret cell, beneath headquarters. Night after night, she came, with the blood of innocence staining her body, and tortured me. The abhorrent things she did to me and to others...will haunt me forever. Only the empire could conjure a creature so vile," Gordon revealed, with a traumatized expression, before turning his green eyes to Guy.
"I had started to lose count of the passing days as well as hope that I would ever get out. I thought I would eventually die in that hellish prison, and the rebellion right along with me, before Guy stumbled upon my cage and released me," the Kashuanian revealed. The immense gratitude was evident in his voice and composure.
"Guy heard screams in the night. Dungeon rats led Guy to Gordon," Guy informed, simply.
"Don't be too hard on yourself. We were all fooled by the imposter. Well, almost all," Firion stated, turning his amber gaze to Maria. Looking up at him, she smiled, before a strange sensation suddenly stole her strength. Falling backwards, the archer felt Firion's hands catch her before losing consciousness.
"Maria!" the Salamandian exclaimed, holding her in his arms and gently lowering her to the floor. Blood began to drip from her nose, as her breathing became rapid and strained. The color drained from her skin, and her black eyes rolled over white.
"What is happening to her!" Firion questioned, in a panic, turning his helpless, amber irises to Leila, as Maria's body violently spasmed in his grasp.
"Don't worry yer pretty head," the female sailor responded, quickly rising from her bed and kneeling next to him, by Maria's side.
"Forgive me, lass, I had almost forgotten about this," the lavender-haired female imparted taking the seeress' quivering limb in her hand, still bound with the pirate's blood-soaked bandana.
"The poison has spread. There is only one thing to do," Leila informed, taking one of her daggers to her own palm. Slicing the calloused flesh, shocked gasps escaped the others, bearing witness.
"What are you doing!" Gordon exclaimed while watching the sailor remove the soiled scrap of cloth, from the shaking female. Beneath the makeshift bandage, the inflamed flesh had become discolored with darkened and engorged veins.
"You'll see," Leila responded, pressing her bleeding hand to the wound before uttering a strange incantation that caused her own escaping blood to turn a glowing violet.
"I've seen this magic before. Paul showed me in the mythril mines. It is Palamecian blood magic," Firion commented, observing with amazement, as Maria's injury absorbed Leila's enchanted blood.
"Yes, but unlike that filthy oaf, my blood possesses special properties. It can cure the Lamia Queen's venom," the pirate revealed before removing her hand from Maria's arm, leaving behind completely healed, flawless skin. The archer's breathing soon calmed and natural color began to fill her flesh, once more. Cracking her onyx eyes open, Maria's gaze drifted up to the pair above her.
"T-Thank you," she muttered. Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"Another few moments and you would've been a dead lass. What else could I have done?" Leila responded as the white mage weakly smiled and closed her eyes, again. Resting in Firion's lap, the Salamandian looked down upon her, relieved, and stroked her long, violet hair, splayed across his legs.
"All she could think about was getting to you," the blue-blooded pirate divulged causing the male rebel's amber eyes to meet her amethyst orbs.
"You should take her to bed. A new fight rests on the horizon, and I have a feeling things are gonna get a lot uglier before they can be pretty, again," Leila warned as Firion scooped Maria up into his arms and stood.
"So, would you rather us call you Aysa, now?" the white-haired freedom-fighter questioned as the ex-princess sat down on her bed and wrapped a scrap of cloth around her gashed palm.
"That name is from another life. Leila will do just fine," she responded with a wry grin while watching him carry his beloved to the doorway, followed by Guy.
"Another word of advice, don't be so quick to trust a beautiful woman, just because she is willing to take off her clothes for you," the lavender-haired corsair informed as Firion gave her a sheepish smile and an understanding nod before he, Guy, and Maria departed the ship.
"Are you going to be alright?" Gordon questioned once they were alone. His emerald eyes rested upon her wounded hand.
"It's just a scratch. Barric will take care of me," Leila responded while crossing her legs and taking up her pipe.
"After order is reestablished at headquarters, we will all need to convene a council and begin plans for finding and retrieving the real Princess Hilda. As a new and valuable asset to the Wild Rose, I expect to see you there," the prince of the fallen star stated as the pirate smiled around her pipe.
"Then there you shall see me, prince," she responded.
…
Inspirational song for this segment: Good Enough by Evanescence
Opening her dark eyes, Maria's sight was met with the hazy image of a flickering light, that after a moment of rapid blinking, came into focus as a single lantern, hanging over her bed. The dangling object gifted a small halo of light to an otherwise dark chamber.
The sound of pained grunting soon attracted her attention to the foot of the bed, where sat a familiar figure. Facing away from her, was Firion. The dim glow of the lantern illuminated the flesh of his bare back, marred by countless lacerations and bruises, from his gruesome battle with the Lamia Queen. There was no doubt some of the wounds would leave behind lasting scars.
With a bowl of pure water, at his side, he struggled to clean and change the soiled bandages, binding his injuries. Sitting up, Maria gently tugged the covers off of her body and crawled across the mattress to his hunched over form.
"Let me," the archer whispered, stealing the damp, bloodstained cloth from his hand. Surrendering to her, Firion winced and took hold of his knees, as she commenced seeing to his injuries.
"You have been asleep for a full day. How are you feeling?" the Salamandian inquired, after a moment.
"Better than normal. Leila's magic is incredible. I only wish I could return the favor," Maria responded as Firion flinched when she brushed against an open wound.
"Sorry," she offered, softly, before picking up a small, glass jar. Opening the lid, the scent of herbs filled their olfactories, before she started to apply the medicinal salve to his battered flesh.
"D-Don't worry about it. You are far more skilled at this than I am. Sometimes, I think wounds hurt more after a battle than during the actual fight," the male rebel commented before sighing in relief, as a pleasurable, evaporating sensation soothed his tattered skin and reduced the searing inflammation.
"When your blood is up, you act as if invincible. You charge forward, despite the danger or risk, like some hero out of a storybook," the seeress pointed out while dressing his abrasions in fresh bandages. Firion laughed at her observation. Even though he and the others had been heralded as heroes and saviors, for their deeds in Salamand and other places, oppressed by the empire, he had never seen himself as such and probably never would.
"Where are we?" Maria questioned, analyzing the foreign chamber, as she finished up her work.
It was clearly not the resistance's hideout. It was cleaner and more luxurious. The room was structurally sound, with no cracks or holes, and decorated with paintings of beautiful scenery. The furniture consisted of a trunk and small desk, and the bed was an actual bed, boasting a feather mattress and soft, warm blankets and pillows. The financially stretched resistance could only afford thatched, makeshift cots, dressed with whatever they could find and crammed into the barracks, to accommodate the growing number of volunteer soldiers and refugees, fleeing the constant destruction wrought by the empire.
"Altair's inn. Gordon payed for us to have a private room for as long as we required it. He thought it would be best, if we recovered here. The situation is still fairly chaotic at headquarters," Firion explained before a silence fell over them. Maria could tell her male counterpart was dwelling on something rather serious, as he struggled to muster up his courage to utter the thoughts plaguing his mind.
"Are you still going to Mysidia?" he finally questioned, as Maria's black eyes widened in surprise.
"Did Leila tell you?" the white mage inquired, already knowing the answer, as the snowy-haired swordsman nodded.
"While you were still unconscious, she came to visit," he revealed, still with his back to her, as if he were intentionally concealing his expression out of shame.
"I'm sorry for what happened...for the fight in the woods, lying to you about Leila, the Lamia Queen...everything...just...don't leave...please," he blurted before she could even utter another word. His tone was pleading and desperate. Stunned, the female freedom-fighter realized they had feelings for each other, but she had no clue he cared so much, if she left or not, even for just a short while.
Smiling, Maria rested her head against his back. It was comforting, to her, to hear him be so candid. Carefully, she laced her arms around his abdomen and embraced him.
"I'm sorry, too, and I won't go without you," she assured before kissing his shoulder blade. The gentle yet intimate contact sent a burst of warm tingles throughout Firion's body.
"Did you mean it, when you said you loved me?" he inquired, daring to turn his head, to get a glimpse of her over his shoulder. Being careful not to mash his injuries, the archer leaned forward, until her nose brushed against his.
"Every word," she responded before pressing her lips to his in a soft and slow kiss.
Being attached to her, in such a way, was one of the highest feelings the male freedom-fighter had ever experienced, and it drove him to the requisite to be closer to her. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his body, he turned in her arms and pulled her lithe form tighter against his own being, hardened and chiseled by combat. With absolute certainty, he knew this was the woman he wanted to be with for the rest of his life. The way she melted into his body was perfect, yet it wasn't enough. He needed to be even closer to her, until they ceased to be separate entities, entirely.
"I want to be one with you...only you," he confessed in a whisper that could almost be classified as a mere sigh.
Lifting her fingers to his face, she caressed his cheek and gazed into the longing, amber pools of his eyes. Nodding her consent, she met his lips, again, before carefully pulling him down to the sea of soft sheets beneath them.
To be continued...