MIRROR'S REFLECTION

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Slayers, or any of the characters from the series. This is not for profit…nope no profit what so ever. Why am I doing this then? I have an over active imagination that will not be pacified until it is written down (plus it has a mind of its own…WON'T LET ME STUDY!!!). So now that I've written this, there won't be any reason for anybody to sue me.

NOTES: after watching the first episode of Slayers TRY, my mind began to twist and turn after what was said between Zelgadis and Lina. If anyone notices, Zelgadis seems calmer, but also more…evil I guess (though I doubt Zel would ever be evil!). Also he seems more nervous when being watched. I started wondering what in the world happened to him in the time between NEXT and TRY. So here is what my crazy mind came up with. Enjoy! Actually, this has A LOT of Zelgadis torture…so if you don't want to see Zelgadis get hurt, cry, or anything, then I suggest you don't read it.


A MIRROR'S REFLECTION
PART I

"So Zel, you've been doing okay, haven't you?"

I say nothing, my thoughts far away. I want to tell Lina the truth. I want to reveal to her everything. Lina Inverse, loud-mouthed, rude, greedy Lina Inverse. She was the first one to have befriended me…the first one to have looked beyond this cursed body that I am imprisoned in…the first one to see me as I was before…when I was human in flesh and soul.

Before Rezo…

No. It started before Rezo…

I guess it started with my family…my parents…my home…

Born an only child. My mother was an extremely beautiful, and my father a handsome warrior. I can remember them even now, exchanging the ritual morning kiss on the cheek. I can still hear my mother's smothered laugh as my father rubbed his beard against her smooth and flawless cheek. They loved each other. Yes, love. That love that you read in books…that love that Lina and Gouarry have, though they don't know it yet.

The love that I see when I look at Gouarry and Lina.

I had my father's hair, a deep violet, and his icy blue eyes that he used to stare me down after a childish misadventure. The rest of me was my mother. I was small, thin…weak in body. The total opposite of my father who was tall and muscular. No, I was not sickly…just weak.

I remember coming home after a fight with a boy. I was beaten and bloody. I hadn't been able to touch him. He was larger, heavier, and stronger; everything that I wasn't. I hated him. I hated all those who were around to see my beating, all those who cheered him on as blow after blow struck my frail body. I hated the way they laughed as I cried for him to stop…yes I cried tears, and begged for him to leave me. My father was furious, and my mother near hysterics. Father carried me to a healer, and there I was healed with magic. A healing spell.

I never told them who beat me up, but I guess they knew, for that boy and his family moved away soon after.

Things became peaceful…so peaceful. Father tried teaching me how to use a sword. After all, I was the future master of the house. When my father was gone, I would be the master. I had to be strong so that I could protect my mother in my father's place. I listened and I tried to learn, but as I said…I was weak. The swords were too heavy, and no matter what kind of exercised my father gave me, no matter how firm my muscles became the result was the same…nothing.

Father decided to leave off of sword work, and began tutoring in other things. Literature, art, science, geography, math…everything. If I couldn't be strong in body, than I would be strong in mind.

I made him proud.

I excelled in all my studies, and loved staying indoors, reading volumes of books. My mother and I would sit for hours on end at the fireplace reading to each other. In the evening, my father would come and we'd have a bought with the sword, or he'd playfully wrestle with me. I loved my parents, I loved my home.

One day father hired a magician. His name was Zolf. I like him for he was funny, tall and skinny in a gawky way. He was clumsy, and loved to amaze me with simple magic. I wanted to learn! I thirsted to learn and be strong!

Though when I asked to learn my parent's faces froze, as I had asked something wrong. Father sent me away to my room, and there I sat unable to understand what had I said to have made them react so negatively. Trust me, Father mad was not something pretty…mother mad was even worse…put them together and I guess the fear that I felt would rival Lina's fear to her older sister.

Mother came to me the next morning, and stroking my hair she reassured me that they were not angry with me. I remember her words till now:

"My Zelgadis, why do you want to learn magic? Are you not already satisfied with your studies as a scholar?" He voice was soft and beautiful…so beautiful was my mother.

"I'd like to be strong. I can't protect you with words from a man who has a sword. I want to be strong to protect you. I want to be the master of the house like father." I said earnestly, casting a fleeting glace at my open door. I could see the shadow of my father, listening but not getting involved.

"Do you truly wish this, my Zelgadis? Please answer me truthfully, child."

Why all these question? Why this fear? Why?

I hesitated, staring at her. Then I nodded, for yes, I wanted to learn, I wanted to be strong.

It was decided then, Zolf would tutor me in simple magic. Nothing fancy like Ray Wing, or Fire Ball. Simple stuff like Healing, and Illumination. I wasn't that good, and Zolf was a good or patient teacher. I didn't care though, for though it took me a long time to learn what he had taught me, in the end I mastered every spell he threw at me.

So thing went on peacefully…except the time I tried to use a minor fire spell to light up the fireplace. No one was hurt, and nothing was destroyed, but my mother and father were furious. Instead of igniting a small fire as Zolf had taught me, I tried starting a big one to cut time. The fire shot up the fireplace and through the chimney, so large was the pillar of flames that sprang out of our chimney that the neighbors and city officials came running to our home. Father calmed them down; assuring that it was just an accident on my account. As I said, mother and father were furious, as was Zolf and every other person in the city.

I decided to lay low on the magic, going back to focusing on my scholarly studies and a little sword-work.

The incident was forgiven, and father stopped glaring at me like he wanted to pound me to the ground, and mother stopped giving me nervous looks as if I was some monster who had somehow taken over her son's body. Again, it was this odd reaction to magic that had me baffled. I was positive that if I had done some hair-brained stunt with my sword, my parent's reactions would have been calmer. It was the magic…they feared the magic and I wanted to know why.

I remember while I was still in punishment, I was walking by my father's study. I paused when I heard my name being spoken. Placing my ear on the wooden door I listened in to what was being said.

"Zolf, you promised not to teach him anything powerful, or anything that has to do with Dark Magic." That was my father.

"But Master Greywvers, that spell he cast was nothing other than a simple fire spell to light candles with or camp fires!" Said Zolf in his defense. What he said was true, that spell I had cast was just a small fire spell, nothing more.

My father's angry voice boomed, "That was no candle lighting spell!"

"Master, it was that spell! Listen, please. What young Master Zelgadis did was add some power to the spell, giving it more strength. I never thought that he'd be so powerful at his age, but this is no fault of his or mine!"

"What do you mean?" This was my mother's calm beautiful voice.

"I mean that our young Master has no control of his powers or how to control them. It is not his fault that the power went array."

I then heard my father ask in a low voice, "Do you think that…"

Mother cut him off sharply, "No! Our Zelgadis is not like him!"

"I mean the power." Said father. "Do you think he is as powerful as him? Zolf?"

Zolf answered tiredly. "I have no clue, Master. He is still only thirteen, and has much growing to do. It is too early to tell anything other than that he has potential of becoming a very powerful sorcerer like…"

"Don't speak his name!" Roared my Father suddenly, making me jump.

Swallowing hard, I decided that I had heard enough, and ran to my room. I remember feeling the sweat run down my neck, and that my hands had gone ice cold. Was this fear? Why was it that I was filled with this feeling of dread and fear at what had just been said? Who was this person that my father forbade to even name? Who was this 'him' whom they feared I was like…or I had powers like him?

But then I realized suddenly something that my eleven-year-old mind had not thought of before…or to be exact: what I had not noticed before. It was not only the magic that my parents feared…it was also me.

I hated it. That feeling that I cannot describe. Can one describe the feeling that one feels at realizing that their own parents feared them! My parents feared me, and I hated it. I didn't want it. I wanted to be normal, even if I never spoke another incantation again. I couldn't bear with the fear that I felt that came from my parents.

Oh, have no doubt, my parents loved me. I was their gift from the gods. But they still feared me, and I was ready to do anything to make it stop.

I stopped the magic. I shut it away deep inside and decided to forget I ever was able to turn a simple candle lighting spell to a pillar of raging inferno. I didn't want it, and for my parent's sake I convince myself that I didn't need it. I never went to Zolf again for training, and I never mentioned the incident or the fact I had ever been able to cast a few small spells.

And the fear disappeared.

Two years went by. I was once again normal if weak as a little girl. I studied philosophy and politics, finding fun debated with father and his comrades. I especially like talking with the old veteran Rodimus. I remember thinking that if ever I had a grandfather or an uncle, then he would be the perfect one. He never said anything about my physical weakness, ignoring the fact that I was one scrawny weak little thirteen-year-old boy. I remember that he told me that I had a fighter's spirit, and that if I wanted to that I could become an excellent swordsman.

I thought he was only playing with me, taking pity on me like so many others had done before.

I'll always cherish the memories of those last two years. The time I spent with mother, reading, talking and walking. When I wrestled with father, clashed swords with him, and when I beat him in chess and won arguments. I'll always cherish the times I ran around the estates, laughing in boyish glee, enjoying just being alive and happy.

I'll always cherish those last two years…

For that summer of my thirteenth year, I lost everything and ceased to be happy.

What happened?

What always happens!

War! Meaningless, brutal wars that tear families apart!

Funny how now, after all these years I can't remember what it was about. All I can remember is the anger, the panic, and the fear. Father was leaving to fight, taking Rodimus and Zolf with him as well as all the able bodied young men in the household. I wanted to go, I argued, I pleaded, I shouted and I wept, begging my father to take me with him.

Obviously, father refused. I was too young, too small…too…I knew he wanted to say it.

Weak.

If I had been tall, muscular and able to swing a sword at thirteen, father would have taken me. But no. I was too weak to go into battle.

Father tried calming me by saying that now I was the master of the house, and that my responsibility lay in my mother's well being. I was to protect her with my life if anything happened.

I knew that it was all talk. Nothing was going to happen. Father was just trying to make me feel better because I was being left behind.

Till now I find myself still weeping at how wrong I was.

Father had been gone for nearly a month. Mother and I heard news everyday at how the fighting was going. We were losing the battle, even I could tell, though mother kept on telling me not to think such things. Soon wounded soldiers and refugees from villages started appearing in our city. Mother opened our home to them, giving those unfortunate souls sanctuary from the harsh weather.

I was constantly by mother's side, making sure that when she mingled with the refugees non-ever stepped their bounds with her. None did to my relief, though at times I found myself excited at the prospect of defending mother. I wanted father to return to hear that I had heroically saved her…or al least done something remotely heroic!

I remember listening to what the refugees said, about the enemy army sacking their homes, killing everyone who got in their way. They even told of trolls and berserkers among the enemy, and an occasional werewolf. I found myself doubtful at some of the things they said, dismissing them as stories created by panic and grief-stricken people.

Mother disagreed. As the days dragged on she became more and more nervous. Nothing I did could calm her.

She finally spoke to me, "Zelgadis…something is wrong. We must be prepared to flee."

"Flee?!" I gasped. "Flee where? What are you talking about, mother?"

"The enemy is approaching." Mother whispered, her beautiful voice grave, her eyes narrow. "If they come we have no means of defending ourselves."

"They won't come," I tried to assure mother. "We are in a large city, not some small village. Its different."

Mother looked up at me and raised her hand, cupping my check tenderly. "My sweet Zelgadis, what do you think they will do to you if they come?"

"They won't come." I said, pulling away and clutching her hand. It was so cold. "We are safe." I smiled charmingly at her, and to my surprise I saw her eyes misty with tears.

She wrapped her arms around me, cradling me as if I were once again a small child. "Sweet innocent boy. Have you any idea how much I love you…how much we both love you?"

I found myself suddenly frightened at her words, and I clutched at her, inhaling her scent.

Mother stroked my lavender hair. "Sweet Zelgadis, always remember that we love you. Never forget that. And know that I would die protecting you, my little one."

I shut my eyes, and allowed her to hold me. Usually I wouldn't let her do this, for I had to be a man…but at that moment I didn't care. My mother…my sweet beautiful mother…how I loved her.

That night, Death came crashing through our door.

I was awoken to a large crash and the smell of smoke. Scrambling out of my bed, I grabbed my sword and ran out, heading first toward my mother's room. As I was running by the stairs I saw them.

Trolls.

I stood frozen at the top of the stairs, watching large those large monsters lumber across the hall of my home. Where were the servants? Where were the refugees? I saw that the trolls were not alone. Men in armor and gleaming swords were shouting orders at them. And I like a little fool stood watching them.

Then I heard the shrieking from below, and knew that the servants and refugees were trapped.

Mother.

I snapped out of my shock and sprinted down the corridor. I skidded next to the double doors to my parent's room and froze when I found the door ajar, and the room empty. Shivering in horror, I called softly, "Mother?"

Then I heard crashing footsteps behind me and a shout, "There!"

I immediately slammed the door shut, and crabbing father's favorite reading chair, and jammed it under the knob, to form some kind of barricade. Someone slammed into the door, and I scrambled back in fear.

I turned and ran the window, flinging it open and looking down. To my growing horror I saw that below me, the armored me were dragging out the servants and refugees. Then I caught the site of a white sleeping gown.

Mother. They had captured my mother!

The door shattered behind me, and three large men wearing swords, came in. I immediately drew my sword. It was a small slim practice sword, fragile looking compared to the large sword that the men held.

"It's a boy." Said one.

I raised my sword threateningly, "Stay back!"

They laughed and I could feel my face burning at their mockery.

One smirking man stepped forward, his sword naked in his hand. "Want to try at me with that toad sticker, boy?"

I knew that I had no chance with them, but still I shouted, "Stay back!"

Again they laughed, but this time the man swung his sword savagely at me. I cried out and raised my blade to block it, only to have it go flying out of my hands by the force of the blow. The man laughed and reached to grab my arm, but I twisted away and grabbed a small clock that stood by the dresser next to my parent's bed. I threw it and the man, striking him on the head.

The man howled and staggered back, clutching his bleeding head. His two friends howled in laughter.

"The boy has fire. Better be careful." One said sheathing his blade, finding me no threat to him.

The man grinned, wiping the blood from his face. "I'll remember that." He grunted, staring at me.

I crouched, waiting for a chance to flee, a chance to escape. The man lunged at me, this time managing to grab my arm. I shouted, my free hand going for his face. The man laughed and grabbing my other arm, he lifted me completely off my feet. I shouted and screamed, kicking at him, but only catching air.

One approached and checked to see if I had any more weapons, which I didn't. Then, I was tucked under his arm and carried out. The whole time I kicked and struggled, wishing only to get my hands free. But the man's hold was like iron, and I was too small and weak to break the hold.

I was carried outside, and I heard my mother shout, "Zelgadis!"

I looked up to find her being held by one man, behind them, trolls were guarding servants and refugees. I could see their terror-stricken faces; hear their weeping and prayers. I howled like an angry animal when the man holding my mother yanked at her arm painfully.

The man holding me dropped me to the ground. I landed hard on the floor, but immediately charged at the man who dared to lay a finger on my mother. But the man easily backhanded me to the ground, and I heard my mother shriek for him not to hurt me.

Then a loud voice boomed, "What is this?"

I stood up, and looked at the man approaching. He wore shining armor, and wore a leaders cloak. I shouted at him, "Tell them to let her go! She the Lady of this house and will not be treated this way!"

As the man came closer and I could see he had a thick black beard, and cruel gray eyes. "Is that so?" He said in amusement, stopping right in front of me so that I had to lift my head to look at his face. The man turned to look at mother, who had gone completely gray, and then he looked back down at me. "And what will you do, little man, if I order her killed?"

"I won't allow it!" I shouted, feeling a surge of panic. "She is the Lady of this house, and you are not allowed to touch her!"

"Am I now?" The man then suddenly struck me, and once again I was on the ground, my head ringing, and my eyes watering.

I sat up, and watched with horror filled eyes as the man approached my mother. "No!" I cried, but before I could leap to my mother's defense, I was shoved down to into the dirt by someone's boot. I cried out as whomever had me pinned put more weight onto my back, crushing me.

Once again I heard my mother cry out my name, but this time, the captain said, "Calm down, Milady. We won't hurt the boy too much if you cooperate."

"What is it? What do you want?" Mother asked desperately. My heart slowly began to shatter at hearing the desperation in her voice. Such a beautiful soft voice my mother had. "Please, leave my son alone. He is only a child!"

I growled savagely and tried to lift myself, but the boot continued to crush me to the ground.

A shadow loomed, and I found a boot shoved under my chin, forcing me to raise my head. The captain stared down at me as I glared fire at him. The Captain spoke then, his cruel eyes never leaving mine. "We are the followers of the monster Quexton, and he demands that for every village or city that we take, a member of the leading house must be sacrificed to insure further success in our campaign."

I shivered under the man's cruel eyes, trying to turn away, but the boot on my back, and the captain's boot under my chin stopped me. My mother moaned, and started to weep. And I shouted, "You have no honor! What kind of man are you?! Let me up!"

The Captain laughed and said, "I was thinking that your young spirited son's blood would appease our lord…but it is your choice, Milady Greywvers. It is either you or your son. which will it be?"

Mother's words suddenly rang loudly in my head, "And know that I would die protecting you, my little one."

"No! Mother!" I cried, but my mother's voice rang out clearly over my cries, "Quiet Zelgadis. I am you're mother and you will obey me and concede to what I decide. I will be the sacrifice, sir, and you will let my son and all these innocent people go free."

"Mother…no…" I whimpered, my eyes filling with tears of rage and anguish. The captain pulled his boot away, and my head fell down. I lay there for a moment then looked up at her. The man holding her now had both her arms pinned behind her back, yet she stood straight, her head held up high, and her eyes burning with courage. I reached for her, I stretched my arm toward her and called as my voice chocked with tears and fear, "MOTHER!!!"

Then she looked at me as the Captain came to stand before her, a sacrificial knife in his hand. Mother's eyes brimmed with tears as she looked at me, and she said to me, "Be brave, my Zelgadis. Be strong in heart and you will vanquish anything that is set before you."

I screamed when the captain lifted the knife and slit her throat.

Can one describe the feeling of seeing their own mother sacrificed like some animal? Can one describe the pain, the fear? I don't know how I survived seeing that, for the pain I felt in my heart was shattering. My mother…my sweet beautiful mother who loved to tease my father about his beard, and loved walking outside in the gardens during the day and reading by the fireplace with her son at night. A woman who had never hurt anyone was murdered to appease some monster.

And all for nothing.

The Captain did not free the people. He ordered their deaths. I watched as the trolls tore them apart, as the men took the woman and killed them once their sadistic pleasures had been sated. The dark sky shone red with smoke, and the ground was drenched with the blood of the innocents killed. Why kill them? The only soldiers there were wounded. The rest were just old men, women and children. Yes…even the tiniest of babies was slaughtered.

What happened to me? The Captain took me as his personal slave. I was forced to do everything the bastard ordered. I had to clothe him, clean his horse, shine his armor, and even feed him. He would laugh at me whenever I turned red with fury. I must admit I was a pampered boy, but never spoiled. I had to clean my room and keep my things neat, but never did I have to wait on someone…especially my mother's murderer.

He and his army took over the city, the Captain turning my home into his headquarters. My parent's room became his bedchamber, and my Father's study was his war room. The decorations, the curtains, and paintings were burnt, as well as the lovely books in the library. Some people of the city were spared like me, only to be made slaves. Other slaves soon arrived and were put to work, serving the soldiers and Trolls. My city, my home had become Hell.

For nearly a month I slaved for my mother's murderer. Nearly five times I was whipped for loosing my temper and lashing out at the Captain. I remember one time he was meeting with some of his men in the war room. He ordered me to serve his wine, but once I started to pour the red liquid into his cup he knocked it away, sending it crashing into the wall. I had learned early on that the man had a violet temper, and used my body to vent it on, beating me within an inch of my life. I cowered as he stood over me, but he was smiling evilly. "You look thirsty, son."

The first time he had called me that I yelled at him, swearing that my Father would return and kill him. He beat me after and still continued to call me that. He constantly told me that my father was dead, and that he would call me what he liked. I hated it…I preferred the beatings than hearing him calling me his son.

I immediately shook my head. Actually, I was thirsty, but I knew that whatever he had planned was not going to be pleasant.

"No?" He barked. "I wasn't asking you! I said that you look thirsty!" he yanked the pitcher out of my hand and poured its contents onto the floor. I could here his comrades snickering. "Drink. Lap it up like the ungrateful dog you are!"

I gaped up at him. Then I shook my head and said, "No." It was a pitiful no, but still I meant it.

"You need to train him more!" One man laughed as the Captain grabbed me by my hair and yanked me down.

"Drink!" He shouted, and shoved my head to the wet dirty floor. I cried out as he knocked my head on the floor savagely when I refused again. Then he pulled me up and yanked me to one man who stood, staring at us in amusement. "See this man? You know what he does! You want me to hand you over to him?"

My whole body shivered when I recognized him. I knew what he was! He didn't take any girls to his rooms…he took young boys. I knew exactly what he'd do to me. "No! Please no!" I cried, trying to put some distance between the man and me.

The man looked up at the Captain, "He is pretty."

"I'll drink! I'll drink it all!" I cried, looking up at the Captain, praying that I hadn't pushed it too much…praying that I wouldn't become some toy to some sadistic pervert.

The Captain grinned, and pushed me back to the wet floor. Obediently I went to my knees and started to lick at the wet stones. My tears joined the wine as the men all hooted and cheered on, yelling that I had missed a spot, or that I could drink more. Some even came over and dumped their wine over me, and the Captain forced me to also lick it all.

Once done, I was dragged into a closet and locked in there for two days. When I was let out I was beaten then set back to work.

Then, my father came for me.

I had been once again locked in a closet for not having the Captain's cloak ready for him when he needed it. I had been dozing when the whole building shook and I heard yelling outside. I curled into myself, fearing that somehow the Captain would come and beat me, but instead I heard someone yell, "Zelgadis!"

My head snapped up and I crawled to the door and listened again, recognizing the sound of swords clashing. "Zelgadis!"

Again! This time closer and I recognized the voice.

"FATHER!!!!" I yelled at the top of my lungs, banging my thin skeletal fists against the door. "FATHER!" I yelled and yelled, banging with all my might.

Then right outside the door came his voice, "Zelgadis?"

I wept as an ax shattered the door and I was engulfed into my father's strong arms. I clung to him and wept, and when I looked up, he too shed tears that slit into his ragged beard

.

He was haggard, and injured, but still he clutched my hand, and led me out of the closet. "We must run, my son. We are outnumbered!"

We ran, only to have the Captain's men come in our way. I had to step back as father dealt with them with his sword. Then we continued to run out, making it outside to what used to be the front yard. Then the Captain appeared in front of us, armed. Father snarled at the man and attacked. Their two swords met with a loud clash, sparks flashing in between them.

I stood watching as father slashed the Captain's shoulder, only to get his arm cut. I noticed that Father was weak and worn out, his attacks and blocks slow and clumsy. A wave of dread hit me, and I knew that my father was not going to win this fight. My father was going to loose.

My dreaded prediction was correct as father stumbled and the Captain drove his sword into my Father's chest. Father screamed, and fell face foreword, a pool of crimson spreading beneath him. I stood there, watching in mute horror as the Captain laughed and spat onto the carcass. He lumbered up to and brandished the bloody sword before me. He ran a finger across it then licked his finger, savoring the taste of my father's blood.

"What now, son? You're father lies now dead before you. What have you to say?" He asked, almost kindly.

If I could have said anything, I would have. But instead I fell into unconsciousness, and never did I want to wake up again.

I don't know how long I was out, but when I woke up it was night, and I was tied to some sort of pole outside. Something was hanging from a pole across of me, and when my bleary eyes focused I barely recognized my father's body. They had gauged out his eyes, and ripped the contents of his stomach out; I could see his intestines hanging.

I screamed and once again lost consciousness.

When I awoke again, the body was still there, but this time the Captain was standing before me.

Kill me, I silently begged him. Just kill me.

The Captain then said, his voice oddly nervous. "I received a message today concerning you, boy."

I looked at him in confusion.

The Captain smacked me across the face and snarled, "I don't care who it is! I won't be giving you up, understand!" When I did not answer he hit be again. "You are MY slave! I have claim over you! You are mine! I choose what to do with you, and no one has the right to say anything." He then grinned and pulled out a dagger.

I recognized it as the dagger that was used to kill my mother.

"I have the right to kill you if I will!" He leered. He brought the dagger and touched the tip to my nose. "Well, son, what have you to say?"

I spat in his face.

He howled in anger, and I turned my head away and shut my eyes. I wanted him to kill me, I wanted it to all end. And if I were going to die, I would not die looking into his face.

Then a soft voice said, "Stop."

My eyes snapped open and I looked over the Captain's shoulder to see a tall man in red robes and holding a staff. The Captain whirled around and for the first time I saw him turn ashen. "R…Rezo..!" He stammered, dropping the dagger.

The man, Rezo, turned closed eyes to the Captain. "I said that I would be coming to take the boy. I did not say I was coming to take a corpse."

"He…he is my slave! I will not hand him over to you, priest!" Shouted the Captain.

The man's almost porcelain face frowned slightly, and his mouth tightened. "I do not remember ever giving you a choice, sir. The child is mine, and you will hand him over, now."

What was this? I wondered. Was I going to be handed around like some kind of thing? Who was this Rezo? Why did he want me?

Rezo then said darkly, "You have already killed my son and granddaughter. If you do not hand over the child I will seek my revenge on you."

The man's eye's widened as did mine. "You're…you…" The Captain looked at me as if I was a monster, "He's…."

"The last of my kin. You will release him."

None of this made any sense to me. Son? Granddaughter? What was all this about? Who was this man who had not yet opened his eyes?

The Captain suddenly snarled and picked up the dagger, raising it over his head to stab down at me, as I stood helpless, tied to the pole.

"Aqua Freeze."

Suddenly ice shot up from the ground, and the Captain was incased in ice, the dagger still held over his head, ready to kill me. Rezo walked calmly up to the iced man and simply gave it a push; the ice fell over and shattered, as did the Captain with it.

Rezo smiled down at me and touched the ropes that bound me. "Do not worry. He will no longer hurt you." The roped then dropped, yet I did not move, staring up at him in awe. Rezo reached and touched my face and said, "I can sense that you look like you're mother…with some of your father…your hair and eyes, yes?"

I felt my eyes fill with tears at the mention of my parents. "Who are you?" I asked softly, my voice trembling with tears and shock.

The man knelt down so that his face was now across mine, and I gasped when I saw that he was blind. "I am Rezo, the Red Priest. Have you heard of me?"

I shook my head.

Rezo smiled slightly, "I guess so. You see, child, I am both your grandfather and great-grandfather. I fathered your father with one woman, then years later your mother with another."

My eyes went wide as saucers, and tears slid down my dirty cheeks. "But…"

"They did not know until after you were born. I came to them, and told them the truth, and they hated me for it." Said Rezo.

"That's impossible!" I sobbed. "You…your…young!"

Rezo reached and stroked my hair, "My magic preserves me. I have seen more than a hundred years. Do you believe me?"

I sobbed harder, for I knew he was telling the truth. His hair was the same color of mine, and he had father's narrow face and height, and the white skin, large eyes with long lashes as mothers…as me…

I managed to nod.

Rezo stood then, and out of his large cloak he pulled out a smaller one for me, and placed it over shoulders. Numbly I tied the strings, and cuddled into its warmth. "Come Zelgadis. No one will hurt you any more. I will protect you. Come."

When he turned around, I hastily reached and clung to his cloak, my knuckles white with desperation. I feared that all this was just a dream, which my savior would simply disappear like a puff of smoke. He did not mind, for he smiled and placed a comforting hand on my head. "You're fathers men are not far. We will meet with them, and if they want they may come."

So I walked with him away from my city…what used to be my home. Later I discovered that Rezo had placed a permanent sleeping spell on all of the Captain's men and trolls. So when the innocent people woke up, they found their Masters asleep. I believe they burned the bodies and the city with them. There were too many memories there; the people had suffered like me, and some even more.

When I walked with Rezo, I silently said good-bye to whatever was back there. Thirteen years of happy childhood, with tragic parents who loved me and loved each other. I knew then that things would never be the same, and that even with Rezo I would never be as happy as I was before. I had already been scarred, and I wept inside. That happy weak child was gone; probably he died when his father was stabbed. That child was not forgotten though, his soul still lived in me, he was a happy memory that would help me through nights to come as I recuperated. I said good-bye to that child, for I would not stand it any longer…

I had to be strong…

I was weak, and my mother and father were killed…

So, clutching Rezo's cloak, walking by him I silently vowed that I would be strong.

I had to be strong…

Strong…

Strong…

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's notes: Thus ends the first part of Zelgadis's life! Tragic huh? I know I'm evil, but when I see Zelgadis, I KNOW for certain that his parents were dead, and that they did not die of natural causes. Why else would he want to be strong so much? Something must have happened to make him wish for it and to accept magical power from Rezo. Two things: Trust, and Want. He trusted Rezo to help him, and he really REALLY wanted it bad. Ok! Let me get started on the next part! I think it will go through Zel's life with Rezo till his fateful change and his meeting with Lina, Gouarry, Amelia, and Xellos. Though I am still not sure. But defiantly it will trace the growing relationship between Zelgadis and Rezo and the destruction of it leading to Rezo's death. Wish me luck and new fingers!

Rue Sorrows

P.S. For those who hate this fic so far…check out my name: Rue. I'm not called that for nothing! Hehe…