A/N: Well, I haven't updated this story for a VERY long time, and for those who have read it, I sincerely apologise. I'm a very easily distracted person- all it takes is a load of things such as schoolwork or writer's block, a new plot bunny, and I'm off like a shot. Anyway, I rather like writing this story, and I had some spare time, so I decided it was long past time for an update. I've forgotten some of the things that were supposed to happen, but I've remembered the basic jist, as well as most of the important details, so it should be fine. Hopefully there are people out there who'll enjoy this. ^ ^
Whistling to himself in a very pleased fashion, Edgar strutted off to bed. Oh, he was good. He was VERY good, if he did say so himself. Locke's outraged screams would be a source of amusement for ages to come, that was for sure. Laughing to himself as he sat down on his bed and pulled off his boots, Edgar shook his head. It was good to have Locke back, even if the circumstances were so very unfortunate.
Flopping backwards onto his bed, Edgar let his arms fall limply above his head and sighed. It was impossible, not knowing what had caused this chain of events to occur. No, it was more than in impossible- it was frustrating. Completely and utterly frustrating. Edgar was king, dammit, and he was used to getting what he wanted in a roundabout kind of way. This was most definitely not what he wanted, that he was sure of.
The problem was, Edgar wasn't quite sure what he did want, when it came right down to it. Presumably, he was supposed to want to marry a beautiful and virtuous lady, be a good king and sire heirs to the throne. Well, he knew he wanted to be a good king, if that counted for anything. He wasn't too positive about the other two points, however. And could he be a good king without a wife or heir? His advisors certainly didn't think so- they had made their opinion very clear on the matter.
Once, Edgar had thought himself in love with Terra. He had gone out of his way to assure her that his advances went beyond his usual flirtatious manner, attempting to woo her and win her over. She had remained unimpressed, informing him gently that she wasn't looking for romance, at least not yet, and even if she were it would definitely not be with him. Was it just him, or did she cast a wistful glance at Celes then? Regardless, that had been a very sobering experience. He had very quickly realised that his feelings for Terra were little more than an infatuation, inspired by her exotic nature and his need to conform to the restraints of his position.
Very sobering indeed. After that, Edgar had found himself very confused. Every time he considered flirting with a girl, he began to wonder whether he really liked her or whether he was just doing it because he felt he had to. He never knew, and it was incredibly headache inducing. He had found himself unable to lavish attention on every female with two legs, or in fact any, and it had concerned his advisors immensely. More than that, it had worried Sabin and Locke beyond reason. Was his lack of flirtation really that shocking? Upon retrospect, Edgar had to acknowledge that it was.
It had been during that period when things had gone wrong. Or more wrong, whichever way one viewed it. Sabin and Locke had spent extensive periods of time trying to coax the problem out of him. Sabin had a very direct method- a blunt and ruthless third degree that generally people caved in to because they could take no more. This time, however, it had yielded no results, and Sabin had given up in disgust. Ostensibly, he was going on a journey to train. In reality, he was handing the reigns over to Locke.
Locke, being a thief, was used to employing much more subtle and cunning devices than Sabin. Thus it was that he had conspired to get Edgar drunk by whatever means necessary. It hadn't taken too long- drinking games were always a favourite with Edgar. They were both completely pissed not long after, and Edgar assumed Locke had weaselled some form of concession out of him purely because it was, after all, Locke they were talking about. Edgar very rarely remembered what had happened after getting toasted- he would generally wake up with a hangover, no memory and an abundance of friends prepared to laugh at him and deflate his ego. Sabin and Locke, most specifically.
This time, though, he awoke to find a hangover and a sense of wrongness. As per usual, he had absolutely no recollection of the events leading up to his current state, but beyond that… there was something wrong. He knew it, even if he knew nothing else.
He had ignored his pounding head, throwing a cloak over his rumpled and barely clad form before going out in source of the problem. It hadn't taken too long for him to realise that Locke was gone, had disappeared without a word of goodbye. It did briefly occur to Edgar that Locke may have mentioned something when he was drunk, but he dismissed it quickly. Locke knew how bad he was at handling alcohol, knew not to tell him anything he was supposed to recall. Besides, it didn't explain the feeling of trepidation, dread. Something really wasn't right.
Edgar had been a bit useless in the days that followed. The chancellor would ask his royal majesty for his opinion or suggestions, and Edgar would merely stare at him blankly. Sabin had returned shortly afterwards to find a twin that was listless or in a panicked frenzy by turns. Over the course of the next month or two, all their friends had made their appearance and attempted to console him, coming up with explanations and consolations. Edgar hadn't been convinced. He was sure Locke had left in a rage or something of the sort, that he didn't intend on returning any time soon, and he could only imagine that it had to be the result of something he had said or done whilst under the influence of the alcohol he had consumed.
God knew what he could have done to drive Locke to prostitution. Edgar shoved a hand through his hair and clenched his fist, yanking slightly in irritation. It was the last thing he'd expected, and none of the others had ever offered up that particular reason for Locke's disappearance. Dear gods. He was fighting the intense urge to go and get smashed- that was what had started the whole mess, and it was hardly an intelligent course of action given the situation.
Meanwhile, however, there were more pressing concerns to attend to. More practical ones, at that. Like, for example, what he was going to do with Locke. He could hardly keep his friend locked up incessantly, could he? That was just silly. For one thing, there was the need for Locke to eat, which meant the door being opened for the giving of the food. Edgar had no doubt that the slippery cat-like dweller of shadows would have no trouble in making his escape given such an opportunity. Furthermore, there was the issue of clothing. Locke could hardly remain in his dirty and barely clad state, whether or not he was permitted to wander around the castle. And that was another thing- how was Edgar to keep him from escaping? This was most troublesome. It had never been a problem before, primarily because no one was as good as escaping as Locke and because Locke had never wanted to escape before.
Oh, curses. This was just one big mess. Edgar needed Sabin, and fast.
A/N: And after months, a new chapter is concluded. Please update- it's what reminds me I need to write. I tend to get distracted by other projects, otherwise. ^ ^
