Leviathan's Daughter
GoldenEagle
Author's Notes: I enjoyed this chapter. As for Rebecca, I'm actually thinking about following out your request, but it would be in one of the last chapters. I skipped school today (shh! Don't tell Mum!), but I was sick, too, and she was at work till seven so I stayed home. I don't know WHY I'm sick all the time... If we get counted absent six times in one class during a symester, then we have to retake the class, like repeat! Egh... I'm getting close to that number... But, anyways, I hope you guys like this chapter! I sware, I am drawing to a close! Don't quote me on this, but I might be finishing up by the end of next week. So... Read and review! Oh, yeah, and here is a normal sized piece, longer than the last few.
Chapter Forty-Four
"How is she doing?" Folken spun around at the voice, his quick motions added onto his stress and exhaustion, making him light headed. He warily took note of the blonde knight before turning back around, sighing, and taking in the passing scenery that played far below.
"She is taking everything quite well. Emotionally, I think she's torn in several directions. As far a physically, she's not feeling well. I left her asleep after she ate." Folken was too tired, too drained to hold any hate for the other man now. All he held was a strange, ever growing pain, like the tightening of a noose around one's neck.
Allen came to stand by him. He had let the strategist go in and deal with Persephone, knowing well enough that they went much farther back than anyone else on the ship, perhaps excluding the still drugged Dillandau. Allen smiled a little bit, his gaze also being drawn to the passing view. "I know Persephone. She'll get through whatever is going on and in the end, she'll be stronger for it."
"I'm sure you do know her." Folken said, the smallest bit of jealousy creeping into him, tainting his words bitter. Allen snapped out of his daze as he heard the tone, and he glanced at the man out of the corner of his eyes, through his golden hair.
He straightened himself, carefully masking any emotions that might make him look more than just curious. "You were there, weren't you?"
Folken was taken aback by this question, blinking rapidly before turning towards the knight. "Where?"
"At the festival. That would explain why your Dillandau was so far from Zaibach's protection in search of you, and why he was there when we were captured." Allen said, as if it were no big deal. In reality, he had something on his mind that he was leading up to.
The strategist sighed, all his pride and strength completely sapped. "Yes. I was there. I had heard that you and your party were to go speak with the King of Mirama. I had... personal matters with which I wished to discuss with some of your party."
"Oh?" Allen said, his eyebrows raised. "And what were those?"
"They were personal matters." He said, making it obvious that he did not want to delve into that question.
After a long pause, the knight decided to go ahead and delve into the subject he had been trying, unsuccessfully, to bring about subtly. "You saw me kiss Persephone." It was a statement and it took Folken by such surprise that he actually took a small step back, an envious, deep tremor rising in him. When he said nothing, Allen continued. "I have to admit that I hold a certain grudge against you, Folken Strategos. I'm afraid I'm rather jealous of you." He turned back to the window, averting his gaze from the other man.
Folken was even more shocked by this one statement than any before. "Jealous? Of me?" He asked, becoming suddenly aware that he was delving into some rather unstable topics with an adversary. "Why?" He asked, an unreadable paranoia seeping into him.
Allen turned back and smiled slightly. "She loves you." He replied in a sincere tone. "To think, I can hear the jealousy in your voice for me even as I feel the same thing towards you. She's right here, in my ship, in my life, and yet she will not be mine. And yet she is in your adversaries forces, in a different world entirely from you, no longer truly in you life, and she is wholly yours. Now tell me, Sir Folken, who is the one with the right to be jealous?" The knight struggled to keep his voice from sounding too bitter, but his words were poisoned with the emotions.
Again, Folken was struck speechless. "But... But she... She..."
"Kissed me?" The knight laughed emptily as he spoke the words. "Wrong, Strategos. I kissed her. She did not return the endearment." Folken heaved a huge, heavy sigh of relief. "Don't let her slip through your fingers. She's worth more than a thousand Zaibach's, a million Asturias, and an eternity of Gaeas. I am not afraid to say that I love her. But she only has eyes for you. If you take that for granted, you're a fool..."
************
Persephone was bent over, on her knees, shaking, pale, staring down at the toilet before her. Her body heaved once more and more food spilled from her mouth. A tremor forced it's way up through her, and her head twitched to the side momentarily. Tears streamed down her face, more of the tears forced out by the vomiting, but some out of pure fear. She held her hair back with one hand, the other supporting her. Strays constantly fell forward and she'd have to reach for them and pull them back so that they wouldn't get dirty. Another wrenching swept through her, and she choked as her body tried to expel food that was no longer there, it already having been taken care of by her sick form.
She felt sick. Much more sick than she had ever in the past. After first waking up, first finding the truth, she had felt fine, despite the detection of a slight fever. And now she felt horrible. She became nautious at anything that entered her stomach, whether food or water, and she had horrible migraines. Atop of that, she would brake into cold sweats and could detect some delirium slipping into her mind before she forced it away. Along with that, she would have times when time would escape her, and she'd find herself laying on the bed, or the cold metal floor. That is how she knew when the seizures had hit, when she couldn't remember how she had ended up in some strange, cramped position. Her body betrayed her. She cried for comfort, wanting to scream out for him, have someone hold her...
'No, I want cry out for him. I can be strong. Plus, I don't want him to see me like this-'
"Persephone?" His voice was cautious through the bathroom's closed door. One moan escaped her that was louder than the rest. Had her body betrayed her once more? Had she called out his name, despite her reasoning why she should not? The door began to open to where she was, bent over.
"Don't come in." She said in a slurred, broken voice, and yet it was desperate at the same time. She would have said more, maybe told him that she just wasn't feeling well, but another wave of heaving hit her and she leaned over the toilet. It was another dry gag, and it left her stomach sore and aching horribly. This times the tears that came were more out of frustration and despair than just physical pain and her shoulders shook with tired sobs. She felt another wave of nasea start to build up, and prepared herself, leaning over the toilet farther, reaching forward to capture a few stray hairs-
Her hand was brushed aside by another. Her face flashed up and was met by Folken's own concerned one. He gathered her hair, his fingertips brushing her fever-red cheeks as he captured those strands which rested against her face. "I told you to stay ou-" Yet she was interupted as the nasea erupted, and she leaned forward again, dry hacking, trembling, and the slowly sliding down, too exhausted to hold herself any longer. Folken slid her collapsing body to him. The heat that radiated off of him onto her merged with her fever, and she felt unbelievably dizzy and yet, at the same time... In need? Lustful? She moaned, leaning further into him, his scent surrounding her, leaving nothing but him in her being, as he picked her up, carrying her out of the restroom.
He laid her down onto her bed and her eyes opened to him. They were back to their beautiful blue, except for a few swirls of that blood red, and her tears were crystal once more. He placed his hand on her cheek. It was so hot that it felt as if it were burning him, and yet the heat increased, spread from his hand throughout his entire body, as she turned her face slightly and kissed his fingertips. At first, it could have been mistaken as a thankful gesture, but with each touch of her lips to his flesh he could see her become more dazed, more drugged. Her lips moved down to the palm of his hand. He jerked slightly as he felt electricity flow up his arms, down his spine. "Persephone..." He whispered out, warning her of... Of what? Of what she was doing to him?
As she looked up to him, he felt even more uncomfortable, even more starved. Had anyone ever looked at him so? Their eyes half lowered, their lips swollen... He shuddered. "Stay with me..." She muttered, inching to the side so that there was room on the bed next to her. He swallowed deeply, everything in his mind screaming at him. 'What are you doing?!' His conscience screamed as he lowered himself next to her. 'She's sick, she's weak, and you... You're acting like a horny teenager!' And yet he couldn't stop himself, drawing closer to her, his lips resting in-between her eyes, his breath blowing calmly at the top of her head.
She was the one that drew the closest, making his breath catch in his throat. She pushed herself against him, fitting her body shape with his every curve, her chest against his chest, her arms around his neck, her hips against his hips... "Persephone, I..." He choked on his own words and she moved her head to the side, kissing the side of his mouth, traveling up to his jawline, his ear... And then she lay still, slumped against him in the most provocative matter, asleep. It took him a while to calm himself, gather his thoughts, and he reached out his arms around her, pressing her even closer to him. An unnoticed tear crept down his cheek and onto her face. Had he ever longed for anyone as he longed for her? He could spend forever just watching her, and yet, at times like these, he wanted more... Despite the fact that she was crushed against his form, he wanted to be closer... Closer... And he knew, well enough, that, in the end, he would be hundreds of miles from her. More tears fell, in longing, in loss, in hopeless hopes...
**************
Folken looked down at her, one last time, as he dawned his coat. She slept peacefully, the slightest smile on her cheeks, the fever leaving at some time during the night. He moved from the bed slowly, making sure not to wake her as he stood. It felt as if a dagger had struck him as he forced himself to ready for departure. And to think, within the next day, he would have to send Zaibach upon this fortress, upon his love, because they had not come to an agreement. There was the possibility that she may be killed (though he doubted that). There was also the possibility that Dillandau might be killed. He didn't know which would please Persephone less.
"Goodbye, Persephone. I..." He stopped, leaning over her, trying to gather his words. "I love you." With a small, light kiss on her parted lips, he left.
A pair of blue eyes fluttered open as the door closed. They brimmed with tears momentarily before she pulled herself up, the only sign of her sickness from the following day was her thirst. She looked down at her trembling hands as three crystal tears escaped, but no more. She had business to attend to. "You know I can't let you kill Dillandau, Allen." She muttered to the empty room before standing and leaving, preparing for what must come.
GoldenEagle
Author's Notes: I enjoyed this chapter. As for Rebecca, I'm actually thinking about following out your request, but it would be in one of the last chapters. I skipped school today (shh! Don't tell Mum!), but I was sick, too, and she was at work till seven so I stayed home. I don't know WHY I'm sick all the time... If we get counted absent six times in one class during a symester, then we have to retake the class, like repeat! Egh... I'm getting close to that number... But, anyways, I hope you guys like this chapter! I sware, I am drawing to a close! Don't quote me on this, but I might be finishing up by the end of next week. So... Read and review! Oh, yeah, and here is a normal sized piece, longer than the last few.
Chapter Forty-Four
"How is she doing?" Folken spun around at the voice, his quick motions added onto his stress and exhaustion, making him light headed. He warily took note of the blonde knight before turning back around, sighing, and taking in the passing scenery that played far below.
"She is taking everything quite well. Emotionally, I think she's torn in several directions. As far a physically, she's not feeling well. I left her asleep after she ate." Folken was too tired, too drained to hold any hate for the other man now. All he held was a strange, ever growing pain, like the tightening of a noose around one's neck.
Allen came to stand by him. He had let the strategist go in and deal with Persephone, knowing well enough that they went much farther back than anyone else on the ship, perhaps excluding the still drugged Dillandau. Allen smiled a little bit, his gaze also being drawn to the passing view. "I know Persephone. She'll get through whatever is going on and in the end, she'll be stronger for it."
"I'm sure you do know her." Folken said, the smallest bit of jealousy creeping into him, tainting his words bitter. Allen snapped out of his daze as he heard the tone, and he glanced at the man out of the corner of his eyes, through his golden hair.
He straightened himself, carefully masking any emotions that might make him look more than just curious. "You were there, weren't you?"
Folken was taken aback by this question, blinking rapidly before turning towards the knight. "Where?"
"At the festival. That would explain why your Dillandau was so far from Zaibach's protection in search of you, and why he was there when we were captured." Allen said, as if it were no big deal. In reality, he had something on his mind that he was leading up to.
The strategist sighed, all his pride and strength completely sapped. "Yes. I was there. I had heard that you and your party were to go speak with the King of Mirama. I had... personal matters with which I wished to discuss with some of your party."
"Oh?" Allen said, his eyebrows raised. "And what were those?"
"They were personal matters." He said, making it obvious that he did not want to delve into that question.
After a long pause, the knight decided to go ahead and delve into the subject he had been trying, unsuccessfully, to bring about subtly. "You saw me kiss Persephone." It was a statement and it took Folken by such surprise that he actually took a small step back, an envious, deep tremor rising in him. When he said nothing, Allen continued. "I have to admit that I hold a certain grudge against you, Folken Strategos. I'm afraid I'm rather jealous of you." He turned back to the window, averting his gaze from the other man.
Folken was even more shocked by this one statement than any before. "Jealous? Of me?" He asked, becoming suddenly aware that he was delving into some rather unstable topics with an adversary. "Why?" He asked, an unreadable paranoia seeping into him.
Allen turned back and smiled slightly. "She loves you." He replied in a sincere tone. "To think, I can hear the jealousy in your voice for me even as I feel the same thing towards you. She's right here, in my ship, in my life, and yet she will not be mine. And yet she is in your adversaries forces, in a different world entirely from you, no longer truly in you life, and she is wholly yours. Now tell me, Sir Folken, who is the one with the right to be jealous?" The knight struggled to keep his voice from sounding too bitter, but his words were poisoned with the emotions.
Again, Folken was struck speechless. "But... But she... She..."
"Kissed me?" The knight laughed emptily as he spoke the words. "Wrong, Strategos. I kissed her. She did not return the endearment." Folken heaved a huge, heavy sigh of relief. "Don't let her slip through your fingers. She's worth more than a thousand Zaibach's, a million Asturias, and an eternity of Gaeas. I am not afraid to say that I love her. But she only has eyes for you. If you take that for granted, you're a fool..."
************
Persephone was bent over, on her knees, shaking, pale, staring down at the toilet before her. Her body heaved once more and more food spilled from her mouth. A tremor forced it's way up through her, and her head twitched to the side momentarily. Tears streamed down her face, more of the tears forced out by the vomiting, but some out of pure fear. She held her hair back with one hand, the other supporting her. Strays constantly fell forward and she'd have to reach for them and pull them back so that they wouldn't get dirty. Another wrenching swept through her, and she choked as her body tried to expel food that was no longer there, it already having been taken care of by her sick form.
She felt sick. Much more sick than she had ever in the past. After first waking up, first finding the truth, she had felt fine, despite the detection of a slight fever. And now she felt horrible. She became nautious at anything that entered her stomach, whether food or water, and she had horrible migraines. Atop of that, she would brake into cold sweats and could detect some delirium slipping into her mind before she forced it away. Along with that, she would have times when time would escape her, and she'd find herself laying on the bed, or the cold metal floor. That is how she knew when the seizures had hit, when she couldn't remember how she had ended up in some strange, cramped position. Her body betrayed her. She cried for comfort, wanting to scream out for him, have someone hold her...
'No, I want cry out for him. I can be strong. Plus, I don't want him to see me like this-'
"Persephone?" His voice was cautious through the bathroom's closed door. One moan escaped her that was louder than the rest. Had her body betrayed her once more? Had she called out his name, despite her reasoning why she should not? The door began to open to where she was, bent over.
"Don't come in." She said in a slurred, broken voice, and yet it was desperate at the same time. She would have said more, maybe told him that she just wasn't feeling well, but another wave of heaving hit her and she leaned over the toilet. It was another dry gag, and it left her stomach sore and aching horribly. This times the tears that came were more out of frustration and despair than just physical pain and her shoulders shook with tired sobs. She felt another wave of nasea start to build up, and prepared herself, leaning over the toilet farther, reaching forward to capture a few stray hairs-
Her hand was brushed aside by another. Her face flashed up and was met by Folken's own concerned one. He gathered her hair, his fingertips brushing her fever-red cheeks as he captured those strands which rested against her face. "I told you to stay ou-" Yet she was interupted as the nasea erupted, and she leaned forward again, dry hacking, trembling, and the slowly sliding down, too exhausted to hold herself any longer. Folken slid her collapsing body to him. The heat that radiated off of him onto her merged with her fever, and she felt unbelievably dizzy and yet, at the same time... In need? Lustful? She moaned, leaning further into him, his scent surrounding her, leaving nothing but him in her being, as he picked her up, carrying her out of the restroom.
He laid her down onto her bed and her eyes opened to him. They were back to their beautiful blue, except for a few swirls of that blood red, and her tears were crystal once more. He placed his hand on her cheek. It was so hot that it felt as if it were burning him, and yet the heat increased, spread from his hand throughout his entire body, as she turned her face slightly and kissed his fingertips. At first, it could have been mistaken as a thankful gesture, but with each touch of her lips to his flesh he could see her become more dazed, more drugged. Her lips moved down to the palm of his hand. He jerked slightly as he felt electricity flow up his arms, down his spine. "Persephone..." He whispered out, warning her of... Of what? Of what she was doing to him?
As she looked up to him, he felt even more uncomfortable, even more starved. Had anyone ever looked at him so? Their eyes half lowered, their lips swollen... He shuddered. "Stay with me..." She muttered, inching to the side so that there was room on the bed next to her. He swallowed deeply, everything in his mind screaming at him. 'What are you doing?!' His conscience screamed as he lowered himself next to her. 'She's sick, she's weak, and you... You're acting like a horny teenager!' And yet he couldn't stop himself, drawing closer to her, his lips resting in-between her eyes, his breath blowing calmly at the top of her head.
She was the one that drew the closest, making his breath catch in his throat. She pushed herself against him, fitting her body shape with his every curve, her chest against his chest, her arms around his neck, her hips against his hips... "Persephone, I..." He choked on his own words and she moved her head to the side, kissing the side of his mouth, traveling up to his jawline, his ear... And then she lay still, slumped against him in the most provocative matter, asleep. It took him a while to calm himself, gather his thoughts, and he reached out his arms around her, pressing her even closer to him. An unnoticed tear crept down his cheek and onto her face. Had he ever longed for anyone as he longed for her? He could spend forever just watching her, and yet, at times like these, he wanted more... Despite the fact that she was crushed against his form, he wanted to be closer... Closer... And he knew, well enough, that, in the end, he would be hundreds of miles from her. More tears fell, in longing, in loss, in hopeless hopes...
**************
Folken looked down at her, one last time, as he dawned his coat. She slept peacefully, the slightest smile on her cheeks, the fever leaving at some time during the night. He moved from the bed slowly, making sure not to wake her as he stood. It felt as if a dagger had struck him as he forced himself to ready for departure. And to think, within the next day, he would have to send Zaibach upon this fortress, upon his love, because they had not come to an agreement. There was the possibility that she may be killed (though he doubted that). There was also the possibility that Dillandau might be killed. He didn't know which would please Persephone less.
"Goodbye, Persephone. I..." He stopped, leaning over her, trying to gather his words. "I love you." With a small, light kiss on her parted lips, he left.
A pair of blue eyes fluttered open as the door closed. They brimmed with tears momentarily before she pulled herself up, the only sign of her sickness from the following day was her thirst. She looked down at her trembling hands as three crystal tears escaped, but no more. She had business to attend to. "You know I can't let you kill Dillandau, Allen." She muttered to the empty room before standing and leaving, preparing for what must come.