Chapter 4: Conjugal "Felicity"
Note: Well, while the board was down (Grrrrr), I took advantage of all the time that I used to spend reading stories to finish my own, and here are those last two chapters. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they belong to Square.
There was no honeymoon. After the wedding, Seifer held a dinner at Deling mansion for the guests. Quistis reluctantly sat through it. There were no toasts, no wedding jokes. Seifer had requested that everyone refrain from making the dinner some big affair. It was simply a gathering of friends…and Quistis, he joked privately.
Quistis conversed stiffly with the others. Unused to personal conversation previously because of her former always higher position, and now because of her lack of friends, she watched the interactions with self pity and bitter regret.
She had friends, though, Seifer noted, as he saw the concern in Rinoa and Squall's eyes, the desperate conversation attempts by Selphie and Irvine…polite inquiries by even Gabriela.
Seifer watched his wife slowly pick through questions and food, both quite resentfully. He surprised himself when he decided not to listen to his companions, but simply watch his wife.
She looked up at him now. The look she gave him made his heart tighten in apprehension. What makes you think that you deserve me? It asked.
Of course he countered with a suggestive smug smirk that indicated that he felt plenty worthy of the Almighty Quistis Trepe, and she had yet to discover all his achievements. But inside, frustration and guilt was a combination that made his thoughts harder to process.
She scowled at him now, and he knew that she resented him even more.
He turned away, smiled at Zone, and replied absently to the question he'd only got the tail end of.
*-*-*-*
They spent their wedding night in their respective dorms. Quistis, pacing the floor, every once in a while looking at the door with dread and considering the horrors of what she had done. Seifer, in his room, fast asleep after a long week of negotiations with representatives, students, and his wife.
They moved into the headmaster's residence the next day. Seifer had already told her that he planned on their living together, and normally, Quistis would not have given a flying fuck to his ultimatums. But rumors around Trabia had already figured Seifer a martyr for Trabia's welfare for his marrying her, and she was determined to keep up some semblance of a good front and destroy all this Seifer-pity.
But if he ever tried touching her, Hyne help him: her Save the Queen was ready.
She moved early in the morning, and had her belongings completely unpacked in the guest room when Seifer entered the flat with his first few boxes.
"Morning, Quistis. You're an early bird," he said easily, noting the lack of personality she'd added to the room. No pictures. No books. Not even one cheesy romance novel tossed on the couch, or an interestingly crocheted pillow cover.
"Good morning, Seifer." The way his name was emphasized showed him that she was using the name reluctantly.
He moved past her to bring his things into the master bedroom, and came out a few seconds later. "Quistis, did you want the bigger closet or the smaller one?"
She met his friendly eyes with smooth patience. "I don't want either. I've moved into the guest room."
"You don't like the master bedroom, huh? Well then I guess I'll take my stuff…"
"Let me make this clear for you. I don't want the master bedroom, and if you want to move into the guest room, I don't want the guest room. I don't want to sleep with you, Seifer."
Seifer took in a deep breath, turned away from her to hide his frustration. When he turned back to her, he had a seductive smile on his face. "You don't know what you're missing…"
"I assure you that in cases such as these, ignorance is indeed bliss," she smiled back sarcastically.
He laughed at that. "Well at least move into the master bedroom. I'll live in the guest room."
"I've already unpacked in the guest room. I like the guest room."
Seifer opened his mouth to argue, but he'd very early on recognized that look on Quistis's face. The one that told him that she was not to be convinced out of her decision. "…Whatever," he turned, and walked out. "I have to get more stuff out of my room."
It took all he had not to slam the door in frustration behind him.
*-*-*-*
"When will you be home tonight?"
She looked up from her records in surprise. "Pardon?"
Seifer against in the doorframe of her office. "When will you be home tonight?"
"Um…" she said stupidly.
She was tired; he could see it. "Not quick to snap, huh?"
She rubbed her temples, and he came into the room, and around the chair to take her shoulders in his hands. She sat up stiffly at first.
"If you don't relax, I'm going to do more harm than good. Trust me."
"I'd prefer not to…" she replied, wryly.
"If you can't trust your husband, who can you trust?" he replied, softly with humor in his voice.
She struggled to keep the moan of relief and relaxation to herself. He was good with his hands. Those soft hands.
He saw the rapture that was struggling to burst onto her countenance. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks were unusually pink, and he smiled. He had a very beautiful wife.
He was unselfish. She didn't understand why, and it often made her apprehensive about these little gestures.
But frankly, she was tired. She opened her eyes. "Now."
"Hm?" he said, as his hands dropped to his sides.
"I'm coming home…" she pushed herself out of her chair, taking care not to let any clothing brush against his. "Now, actually."
He walked to the door. "Great."
She followed him out of the empty offices back to their flat. She was pleased when her nose was greeted with the aromatic, pleasing smell of food.
He seated her, and sat across the table.
"…thank you," she said at length.
*-*-*-*
She didn't understand him, didn't want to.
She knew she didn't hate him.
Who could hate someone who was obviously bending over backwards to make sure that you knew that he cared for you?
He cooked every night for her. If she didn't come home (she'd tried a few times, just to avoid that sickening kindness that she was still far from rationalizing out) he'd show up at work, with the dinner packed away for her. Then he'd stay for five minutes, see that she was eating, and leave.
He didn't ask anything else of her. Just dinner.
The change in her life was just so…sudden, though. It had all…been pieced together in this tight little package so quickly, and she was left at a loss for words or thoughts.
Rebellion was useless because he was not a cruel husband. Picking a fight was just childish and stupid, so Quistis did not look for silly things to be mad at him about. But she'd been hoping that some kind of detail would…come up. Something to give her an excuse to continue her distrust, and her dislike. Nothing was worse than unreasonable dislike.
But there were no unpleasant details. He hadn't even demanded that she tell him how her day was. Just dinner.
A peaceful married life with Seifer?
And so, because she couldn't hate, she decided to do anything. At all.
*-*-*-*
They'd been married a month.
He was ready to leave at dawn. He slipped into her room quietly, and gently shook her shoulder.
Quistis rolled over in her sleep.
"Good morning. No class today, so I'll be going to Deling, and I think I'll be home pretty late…so don't wait up."
"I didn't intend to…" she replied after her yawn, pushing herself up into a sitting position. Her hair was pulled back in a braid and she was dressed in a T shirt and athletic shorts.
Seifer smiled warmly. "Later, beautiful."
And he was gone.
Quistis listened to the rhythm of his footsteps and the soft click of the door, staring at the bedroom door where he'd exited.
She looked at the clock now, and got out of bed. She had some work to do before class.
He'd told her about the ambassadorship position he had with Galbadia, more as an employee to employer a few weeks before. She'd been concerned about the time he'd be spending away from his students, but did not voice her concerns as she feared he'd construe it as concern that he'd be spending time away from her.
Besides, she knew that he'd continue to do his duties in Trabia. Seifer was more than capable of gauging what he could handle. If she admired Seifer for anything, it was that.
*-*-*-*
He said he'd be running late, and she wondered if that meant…home for dinner.
She awkwardly wrung her hands, standing in the middle of the kitchen. It'd been years since she'd actually cooked. Why did one cook when there was a cafeteria nearby?
But since…Seifer, she'd realized the difference between cooking and cafeteria food. One definitely tasted much better.
So he was good for her. She was surprised to admit it. "He's good for me," she said aloud. The words still sounded awkward, but she accepted them. Then shoved them far into the recesses of her mind.
Now how did one make spaghetti again?
*-*-*-*
He came home past midnight, tired and hungry. Even though he'd been at a dinner meeting, he'd had hardly any time to eat, as he was talking through the entire meal with two different and very disagreeable delegates.
He was surprised to see the dining room light on, and his heart gave a jump as he saw that there was a plate of spaghetti left out on the table. She cooked…
Well that was good. He hadn't been sure she'd actually been in a kitchen since following Matron around in her youth.
He took it to the microwave to heat, and as he waited, he slipped into her room to check on her.
She wasn't there.
He finally located her lying sideways on the leather recliner in the living room, glasses sliding down her nose, report in her lap, her head against the backrest, legs stretched out over the armrest.
He moved closer to watch her face but was startled when he heard the microwave. He turned back and shushed at it.
He turned back to her, but heard his stomach growl. Okay, okay… He looked at her once more, and then turned to eat the meal his wife had prepared for him.
After finishing, he went back to his sleeping wife, considered waking her up.
I'm strong, I can carry her. He bent down, picked her up. He knew she was light, but not this light.
She did not shift in her sleep, she did not open her eyes. She simply continued to slumber as he carried her down the hall into her room, and laid her on the bed, tucked her in, and took off her glasses, looked at her face one more time, and left the room.
He went back to his room, showered and changed into his boxers. As he lay in his bed, though, staring at the ceiling, he shifted uncomfortably. Tired and frustrated, he got out of bed, put on a T shirt, and wandered into her room. He lay on the bed next to her, far enough so that their bodies were not touching, turned to her, watched her sleep.
Quistis Trepe was not capable of loving or caring. She'd lost that ability in her struggle to find herself after the battle with Ultimecia. Not given someone to care for her, and to care for, her capabilities atrophied, and left her void of compassion or feeling.
He wished someone had been there in that time…just anyone. To give her a smile, to keep her heart in practice so that she might have been able to exercise it later.
So that she wasn't alone.
Oh, he never once believed that she wasn't alone anymore. He knew he married her, but Quistis, he watched as she shifted in her position on the bed, was always alone. Whether or not there was a paper that said otherwise.
He turned away from her now, and closed his eyes.
And fell asleep.
*-*-*-*
When she woke up early the next morning, she found Seifer sleeping on the other side of the bed, but did not scream, kick or argue. Nor did she bother to question her husband's antics. She didn't care. She simply quietly got out of bed, went to the kitchen, and turned on the coffee machine. As she reached for a cup, she noted that the plate she'd put the spaghetti on the night before was washed and on the dish rack. She then went into the bathroom and washed her face.
She should have been angry that he'd slept there without her permission, but she didn't really care. Somehow, she knew he had too much integrity to touch her while she slept. Casting one more careless glance at his sleeping form, she wandered back out into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee.
As long as he stays on his side of the bed, she concluded, as she took her first sip of cofee, and looked at the front page article.
"Ambassador Announces Preparations for International Peace Conference to be Held a Year from Now"
*-*-*-*
They slept together now in Quistis's room.
They didn't touch. Quistis didn't even look his way.
Seifer looked at her way often, before turning around and falling asleep himself.
When she slept, she didn't sleep peacefully. Her features were not relaxed, nor were they anywhere near tense. It appeared that she was simply…thinking with her eyes closed. But he knew she was well-rested, for during the day she showed no signs of fatigue.
He had more meetings to attend, and had to spend more evenings out. She was fine with that. She'd leave him part of dinner, and go to bed.
She didn't fight with him. She was…resigned. The dying fire breathed its last breath when she agreed to marry him. She held no contempt, she held no regard. She simply lived with him, conversed when necessary.
Being in her company was both pleasurable and frustrating. Most other husbands probably would have stopped bothering by now; she was rather dull. But his heart just…felt full when he was near her. He felt at peace. He only wished he could…repay her.
Sometimes he thought he saw some glimpse of life behind those eyes.
That she still cooked for him meant a lot more to him than anything. He wondered if she did it out of habit or debt, though, instead of concern.
What the hell was he doing, thinking about her so much, trying to understand her? Caring about her was one thing, but caring about her deeply…falling in love with her would be far from desirable. He didn't care what the poets said: unrequited love was worse than no love. Especially when one had to organize world peace.
Negotiations were going slower than he'd liked. Dollet was being a bitch. Because of the time sink that was peace negotiation, he was spending as much time as he wanted on his class. There was certainly no time to join Squall or anyone for some happy repartee. The others were busy themselves, so they hardly had any time to rush by Trabia.
Seifer saw the pieces of his life falling apart little by little and directly blamed it all on Quistis. The obsession he had with finding feeling in his wife was pushing on his nerves. If she even knew she was being psychoanalyzed every time she and him met, she would have kicked his ass.
The situation was escalating, and he was not enjoying the ride. The height was too dangerous. Way too dangerous.
*-*-*-*
"Sabbatical?"
"Yes, I'd like to take a year long sabbatical. It's obvious with my duties as Galbadia's Peace Ambassador that I hardly have any time for my students," he replied.
Quistis looked up from the formal document to her head instructor. "I see."
"Um…I shall be traveling a lot…I tried to come back every night before so that I could do my instructor business in the morning…but now, well things are escalating. With the peace conference in nine months, and nearly thirty nations to appease, I have my work cut out for me…"
"You mean you have to spend time outside of Trabia for long extended periods of time."
"Ah…yes."
She smoothly looked over the document. "I'm sorry to hear that, Instructor Deling. I hope that once your duties are over that you return here. It would be a shame for Trabia to lose you."
He bit back the urge to ask Which Trabia? He'd lost his interest in teasing her when she failed to respond. Seifer nodded. She was all politeness. Disgusting, unwanted politeness. Would she ever scream or shout? Beg? He stood up, "If you'll excuse me, Headmaster Trepe, I have some business to take care of before the end of the day."
"A substitute will be assigned to your class starting next term. I hope you can still finish the term with your students."
"I would like nothing else."
She nodded her head, dismissing him, and without sparing a second glance he left.
*-*-*-*
The SeeD graduation ball was one of the saddest there'd ever been. The Almasians were all positively heartbroken.
Quistis rolled her eyes, and continued to congratulate the graduates.
Seifer was somewhere in the crowd, speaking with his own students. She located him now, and upon meeting his eyes, she made her way over to him.
"Headmaster," he greeted her.
"Instructor." They maintained formalities when on the job. Many had questioned whether or not one of the two would resign when they'd gotten married, but it was apparent very quickly that they conducted themselves extremely professionally when in the office (little did the students know it was the same out of the office as well).
Seifer considered her.
She shifted awkwardly. "Seifer," she said the name softly now. "I am truly sorry that you need to spend your time away from Garden, but I know that your other activities are of true import, and I wish you luck in your endeavors."
"Thank you."
She turned to leave now, but he grabbed her arm before she left. She looked at the hand, and to him. He hadn't touched her in a while.
He cleared his throat. "Before you call it a night, headmaster, a waltz?"
She hesitated.
"Come on, headmaster. Just a nice temporary farewell gesture to your head instructor. Give your husband something to come back to," he teased.
It'd been a while since he'd teased her. The charming smile that accompanied was even more rare.
She didn't say yes, but she didn't say no. So he guided her out onto the dancing crowd.
*-*-*-*
He watched her sleep especially long tonight.
The braid she usually wore to sleep was loosely pleated tonight. Stray hairs framed her smooth, elegant face. Her eyes were closed, her long eyelashes caressing her bottom lids. Her breathing was soft.
Half a dozen times, his hand moved closer to her face.
Half a dozen times, he withdrew his hand.
His breathing became difficult as the need to touch her took over.
The dance had been the worst idea he had ever thought of.
The touch of her hand in his, her body swaying into his…he'd always imagined that Quistis didn't know how to dance; he'd never seen her dance before (it was too bad he (and she) didn't remember that they'd learned how to dance together back in the orphanage). But she was so smooth in her actions that it had been as if she'd been dancing all her life.
After the dance, she'd politely thanked him for the waltz and left for their quarters.
He'd stayed away for as long as he could.
And finally, after the last of the festival committee went to bed, he decided to go back to his quarters.
His fingers trembled now. Every cell that had brushed up against her tingled, oscillated in the rhythm of her heartbeat. His own heart could not match her slow, lazy, restful beat; it was exactly twice as fast.
He threw himself out of the bed, and stood, watching the
peacefully sleeping woman who remained undisturbed. See how peacefully she always sleeps without you, Deling.
Before he'd married
her, he'd stayed in Deling mansion overnight sporadically, never having to
worry. But once he had her…at first,
he'd come back so that he could cook, take care of her. Once he discovered the peace of her bed,
he'd come back so that he could rest. He felt at peace with her. For
no reason whatsoever.
It hadn't mattered
either way to Quistis. The soulless,
lovely Quistis.
How did he ever
find anything to fall in love with? Oh
yes, he knew it was love. Only love
would be able to fuck him up so much. Dammit, you're not the most charming woman
in the world. You're not the most
beautiful. I don't even know why I feel
the way I do. You don't do anything,
and yet you do everything to me.
You ARE everything to
me. He looked at her sleeping form.
Angry. He felt angry.
Anger was a feeling
he was now unaccustomed to. Frustration, he knew well. But
the violence within him burned like it had during Ultimecia's reign on his
mind. And he had no desired to quench
it on anything, anyone. What use would
it be? It was anger at himself, for
letting himself be stupid.
Falling in love
with Quistis Trepe. What was he
thinking?
He stormed into his
room, took out a suitcase, and packed it up with suits and his documents. He had to get away. Now.
As he went towards
the front door, however, he turned back to look at the open door to Quistis's
room. He swore, walked back to the
doorway, and looked at her once more time.
She lay there
peacefully asleep, unaware of his anguish, unaware of his pain.
He walked to her
side, and dared to caress her cheek…it was cold, and smooth, like he'd always
imagined. Dreamt.
He turned
resolutely, and walked out the bedroom, grabbed his things, and went out the
door. This time, he didn't look back at
all, not even when he was far far away, and safe from the Garden.
*-*-*-*
Quistis opened her
eyes to the sound of the front door closing. She sat up.
How the fuck was
she going to get to sleep now?
She looked at the
clock. What was he doing, leaving at 4
AM?
And what was she
still doing up at 4 AM?
Oh, she knew the
answer. She hated the answer. It was because it meant that she depended on Seifer.
She never slept
well on her own. It was always so
fucking lonely. Night was a horrible
time to be alone…thoughts chased the idle mind, and did not allow rest.
When he'd started
sleeping with her, she'd discovered that in her efforts to avoid bedtime
conversation, her "faked" sleep became real sleep.
But soon she
realized that he didn't need conversation, or anything. He just looked at her. And when he focused his eyes on her, she
felt at peace. She allowed herself to
let her guard down, and let sleep come to her.
On sleepless nights
before, when he'd be later, she'd tried to close her eyes, imagine his presence
so that she'd feel that peace. But it
wasn't…the same.
It was as if she
needed to feel his weight on his side of the mattress. As if her body had some kind of sixth sense
just for him.
She needed Seifer
in order to get a good night's rest. And he just went driving off into the sunrise.
Well fuck him! She paced her bedroom floor. I
don't care how resolute I've been about keeping my cool with him, I don't care
if it's immature, or if it's childish, but when he gets back I'm going to slap
him silly for not sleeping with me!
She paused in her
actions. The idea was ludicrous. Quistis kicking anyone's ass for not
sleeping with her?
Silence.
The laugh came
unwarned but when it did come, she surprised herself by liking it, and what it
did for her heart, her stomach, her body.
Silence.
She liked it so
much she laughed even more.
It was surprisingly
strong. She'd thought that without use
her ability to laugh would eventually vanish, or at least weaken.
But she was
laughing, the way she used to, before Ultimecia, when she'd been teasing Squall
and Seifer, when she used to giggle into the early hours when she'd roomed with
Xu as a student at Garden.
She laid back on
the bed now, just feeling emotion and joy coming back into her
eyes. It was so intense that it made
her cry.
And she became a
mess on the bed, crying and laughing at the same time, her body spread out on
the bed, face streaked with tears, chest aching with laughter. A disorderly mess, shaking,
quivering…actions that her body was so unused to.
*-*-*-*
The new Quistis Trabia Deling was slowly acclimating to her name, (she'd officially changed it) and
to her emotional capabilities. She
slowly opened her eyes, and saw the school around her, and the people once
more. She saw the passion of a SeeD
student's eyes, she saw the beauty of a GF's hands. She saw the endlessness of the sky, and all that it contained on
this earth.
She kept the inner
joy to herself, not wanting to share yet with Squall, or any of the
others. This was news that she wanted
Seifer to know first.
Seifer, her
husband, whose reluctance to sleep with her made her feel…human again. The thought was saddening and hilarious at
the same time. And frustrating.
She actually
wondered…how it would be to touch him. Sometimes, at night, the need to have him watch her sleep became so
intense, she buried herself into his side of the bed, tried to wallow in the pillows,
get his fragrance out of the pillows…imagine his arms around her. The last was the hardest, as it'd only
happened once before, she lamented, a long, long time ago.
From the papers,
she could see that he was busy. Very
busy.
A week in Esthar,
organizing the peace talk location, and the future site of the International
Guild. Another week in Dollet, trying
to get their ambassador to listen. A
visit to Timber to negotiate reparations. And back to Dollet once more.
It was
understandable that he didn't come home.
But why didn't he
call?
She supposed that
she could call herself, but…the idea made her uncomfortable. Quistis had never asked for anything in her life. She'd never gone out and reached; rejection, she imagined, was too
painful.
For the sake of
protecting that growing, feeling heart, she had to shelter it from thoughts of
contacting Seifer, or of seeing him. It
was the only way…for now.
*-*-*-*
He'd set up a
temporary home in Deling mansion. He
kept his negotiations going all day. If
one nation was going to bed, there was another one, on the other side of the
globe that was just getting up.
He thought about home often, but never called.
He thought about her often, and so worked harder.
He just could not
handle not having her love. To be so close to paradise…he supposed he could go back, turn up
the charm even more, but no doubt she'd focus those beautiful expressionless
violet eyes.
As if nothing he
felt mattered to her. He imagined that
if he ever let her know his feelings, the surprise and awkwardness, and perhaps
even horror in her expression would be enough to kill him completely. He was already dying inside now…not seeing
her was not making things as easy as he'd hoped.
She was just
so…beautiful. Intoxicating. When he closed his eyes, he'd put together
images of her…piece together her character.
Every time, he saw
her clearly.
"Mr. Deling, the
Secretary of State at Esthar would like to speak to you."
Seifer turned
around, straightening his tie. "All
right. Send him in."
*-*-*-*
Sometimes, she
wondered why he'd chosen to make his central office in Deling. After all, negotiations to and from Trabia
weren't any more difficult.
Surely, with his
traversing the globe every week, he could spare just a few hours to stop by,
say hello, take her out to dinner? Or
at least call?
She sat up in bed,
still unable to sleep. She'd been
restless ever since the night he'd left. Insomnia seized her. Terrible
thoughts followed her to sleep, where no dream, no nightmare lent her any
relief from the continued turmoil of thoughts.
It'd been too long.
Why did he stay
away?
She got out of bed,
put the kettle on. As she prepared a
cup of hot chocolate, she looked back at the newspaper on her desk.
He hadn't even come
back for the graduation. Not even to
see his former students. She'd been
angered, but somewhat appeased when she'd found out that he'd sent each of his
graduating students notes of personal congratulations, expressing his regret
that he could not attend the festivities, being tied up in negotiations in
Timber.
She looked at the
profile of the tired man who was shaking hands with president of Esthar. Why wouldn't he come home?
She didn't like to
contemplate the answer. Because
somewhere deep inside, she feared that he'd finally gotten bored of her.
*-*-*-*