"Fine clothes may disguise, but foolish words will
disclose a fool."
But I will explain a few things. Zamir and Aldazir are fictional places. This world has a culture and landscape like Egypt, but it is not in Egypt. It's in my own little world that I have yet to name. This is going to be the last update for a while. I'm heading to Mexico for a family vacation. Expect updates after the 15th. ^^
_________________________________________________ Chapter Four: Fire and Ice
The sun lowered to sit lazily on the wave-crested horizon. The sand-filled sea was now an ocean of fire. Large dunes reached up into the sky in a frozen dance of a raging fire. Even the sky was burning in streaks of dark oranges and reds. Dusk was upon Zamir, and with each passing minute the sand swallowed the sun just a little bit more.
Seifer admired the sight of the desert from his room window. There was nothing else in the world, that Seifer knew of, that could capture so much beauty. The endless dunes of sand also portrayed a wide spectrum of different emotions. The most contrasting were the ones that were also the closest together in terms of time, and Seifer had the pleasure of watching this particular duo.
The desert evenings were fire; it was passion; anger; pride; determination—all wrapped into the burning colors of the fading sun. In a few moments the scene would be the complete opposite. When the sun would sink below the horizon, the moon would rise to take its place. Then a sheet of ice would replace the desert that once was a rolling land of undying fire. The land would be draped in shades of ethereal blues and soft grays. It would portray sadness; tranquility; silence.
Seifer turned away from the window before he became too entranced with the scenery. He didn't want to find himself admiring those colors again. Blue-gray; it was beginning to haunt him.
Shaking the thoughts from his head, Seifer headed out into the hallway, then towards the main section of the palace. He was already late for dinner. Seifer knew this, but he could care less. His delayed arrival was because he had decided to take a hot bath to erase earlier actions. He had to clean himself of the filth he felt clinging to his skin.
Slaves were dirty and diseased. Seifer was a prince and could no afford to risk contaminating himself. What would his father think?—He shuddered at the mere thought of his father and instinctively began to shell himself away in his mind to hide the momentary weakness. He never cared to be close to his father, but there had always been that underlying pressure he felt to sum up to his father's expectations. It wasn't a simple task; the pharaoh was not an easy man to please.
A servant saw Seifer approaching and obediently drew the curtains back to open up the pathway into the dining hall. As soon as he passed through the doorway, he could feel the tension in the air. More than likely it was a direct cause of his late arrival, but Seifer couldn't make an appearance before his father when he had been so unclean.
"How nice of you to finally join us," Rinoa's voice shattered the silence. She smiled knowingly at her cousin, causing Seifer to arch an eyebrow in question.
Seifer couldn't find his voice to retort to Rinoa's mocking. He trained his eyes on the far wall and quietly sat in his usual place; across from the sorceress and to the left of his father. It felt like it had been years since he had sat here with this particular company. It was an uncomfortable situation that Seifer wished to be over.
He glanced down at his empty plate, then to the few items of food that were left on the table. It seems they had eaten without him.
"I would expect a pharaoh's son to be able to keep track of time," The man to Seifer's immediate left spoke. It was a deep and powerful voice that belonged to his father. The words caused Seifer to cringe like he just had one of his fingers broken.
A pharaoh's son.. Why can't you say 'my son' at least? You've become so infatuated with that title. Seifer bitterly moaned to himself while staring listlessly at the gold plate on the table. The burdening thought began to trouble him: he would never be good enough in his father's eyes.
"I've been informed about your recent behavior," the man started again. Dark green eyes burned into Seifer, "Do you realize how bad your childish behavior is making me look?"
No, Seifer replied mentally. It was always about his father, always. Seifer's head slightly fell forward under the harsh gaze. He wished at time like this that he had longer hair to block out his eyes completely. Kind of like how Squ—No, not like a slave's.
"Rinoa tells me that you are also attacking servants for no reason," Seifer's father continued as if the silence was the most common thing between father and son. "It puts a bad reputation on our family name. You will stop this behavior at once. I don't need a son that can't take care of his problems without resorting to violence."
You don't even want me as your son, is that what you are saying?
Seifer slowly lifted his eyes to glare menacingly at the black haired girl across the table. That witch. This was all her doing. How pathetic could she be to tell his father about that little situation? Why can't she fight her own battles? This was weak; to resort to these measures—whining to the pharaoh, his father.
"I don't see anything wrong in what I did," Seifer finally found his voice; albeit weak, but at least he was speaking. Besides, he couldn't just sit by and let Rinoa win. "I'm not the one bringing dirty slaves in from the quarry to work in the palace."
The pharaoh's attention shifted to the frowning sorceress, "Is this true?"
Rinoa lightly sneered at Seifer before putting on an innocent smile and turning to face her Uncle. She tilted her head to the side in a child-like pose. "Yes, it is true. But I had him cleaned up. Besides, he doesn't really belong down there anyway."
Seifer resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the misguiding voice Rinoa was using, "You have no right to do such a thing."
"Seifer," his father cut off the argument before it had a chance to flare, "Rinoa is here as our guest and has the freedom to do as she pleases. As her cousin, you should respect that."
"She is not my cousin," Seifer growled but adverted his eyes away from his glaring father. "You have three wives. I consider none of their family to be our family."
"-I- will say who is family and who is not!" Seifer's father voiced raised.
Seifer instantly went silent. He absolutely loathed Rinoa at this moment. Everything was her fault. If it weren't for her meddling, he and his father would be getting along. But no, she had to come and cause trouble like the snake she is. How in Bahamut's name did she manage to get his father, the pharaoh—the rising and setting sun of the people—how did she get him to eat out of the palm of her hand?
Seifer glanced over to his cousin to look for an answer to his question. She was ignoring him and focusing all her attention on the pharaoh. Rinoa smiled and raised both arms to push her hair back over shoulders. This action caused her to arch her back, making her breasts push forward against the thin white dress she wore.
Disgusting, Seifer adverted his eyes to look at his father. It only took a second to estimate where the dark eyes of the pharaoh were aimed. It was the most disturbing realization that Seifer had ever experienced. His father was looking at Rinoa with lust and primitive desire.
As I said, she is not considered family, Seifer felt his throat close off, making it difficult to breath. It was no longer a mystery to why his father allowed Rinoa to constantly visit the palace. Seifer managed to let out a weak, bitter laugh then pushed himself away from the table. Two pairs of eyes were on him in question, but Seifer offered no excuse for his actions; he simply turned and briskly walked out of the room.
He needed to breath. The air in the dining room had become too hot and think. It was choking him, making his eyes water. Seifer was going to pass out if he didn't get as far away as possible from that room—escape from that shame his father made. If it had been anybody else that his father had been eyeing, then Seifer would not have cared. But it wasn't just some random woman; it was that seducing sorceress. She was using the pharaoh, his father, as a tool against him.
How could his father be so weak? Almasys are not suppose to fall into the traps of their enemies. Almasys are suppose to be two steps ahead of everyone else. Why?
Seifer drifted blindly down the hall as he tried to sort out the disorder in his mind. Silently he prayed to the to the god of Chaos, Diablo. Seifer prayed for the deity to take away the confusing darkness; to leave him in peace.
He stalled in a hallway that had covered windows lining the right side. This was where Rinoa's room was, how had he subconsciously wandered here? It didn't matter at the moment though. Seifer stalked over to the nearest curtain and pushed it aside so he had access to the open space in the wall. He climbed onto the windowsill and let the curtain fall back in to place behind him.
Tranquility..
Seifer leaned forward faintly to look down upon the sleeping city. The small windows of the homes were shadowed and lifeless. Seifer was alone here. No one was around; he was completely, utterly alone. But now he also had peace, and it was from the desert. He could see it just beyond the edges of the city. The soft relaxing colors of the blue gray sand drove away the chaos at once. Seifer sank down to sit on the sill with one leg hanging over the edge. He stared out into the peaceful desert—it was truly an ocean now. At least it would be, if only the sandy waves could move. And then, it would be the very scene of Siren.
Seifer laid his head on his up-bent knee. He began to imagine the goddess out there among the tall waves. She would be singing a sweet serenade that could express all the emotions of the blue desert in a single note. Seifer began to close his eyes as the spellbinding voice of Siren started to lull him to sleep.
Briefly his mind drifted over the events of the past few days as he relaxed. Just as he was about to drift away, crisp footsteps on marble broke the sweet melody. Seifer stirred then froze against the window to listen intently to the noise. Slowly he lifted his arm and pushed aside the curtain to peer into the dark hallway. A streak of white disappeared into one of the nearby rooms.
Rinoa.. Seifer's chest tightened as his eyes flared up with immense hatred. All of the lulling notes of Siren's soothing song drifted into silence. It was for the better, her voice was not only beautiful; it lured men into danger. If Seifer had fallen asleep, it was more than likely he would have fallen out of the window—not just a little fall into the sand either. The palace was built up high to be closer to the Gods. The window that Seifer had decided to perch upon was around two to three stories high, and the ground below was hard-packed earth, not cushioning sand. Seifer would have hurt himself, if the fall did not kill him.
He stood and silently walked into the hallway. Ifrits fury burned savagely in his jade eyes. Seifer was going to kill that woman. It wouldn't be that difficult. He would just wrap his hands around her small neck and easily cut off her air supply. First she would struggle, and then she would begin to turn blue around the lips. After a while she'll fall still, but Seifer would continue to throttle her to make sure. He would strangle her until he was sure Tornberry had taken her soul.
Stilling by the curtains to Rinoa's room, Seifer listened to a muffled voice inside. It moved and drifted to a distant part of the room. He slid in between the layers of silk and stalked across the marble floor. There was a flickering light, probably candles, coming from the bedroom area. Seifer hugged the wall and paused before turning the corner.
Was he really going to kill Rinoa? He had never taken anyone's life before. He wasn't even sure he could go through with it. Yet, Seifer had to stop this game from continuing. Rinoa was going too far by messing with his father. Most of all, Seifer couldn't stand to lose. Almasys never lost.
Carefully Seifer leaned to the side in order to peak around the corner. Candles burned along the wall giving a partial lighting to the room. Seifer peered at the see-through curtains that circled the bed. There was a figure sitting on the bed. Seifer leaned a bit more for a clearer view.
Suddenly a second figured sat up from the bed and leaned over to the first. So, it seemed Rinoa was with someone. No matter. Seifer was already dedicated to his plan. Both of them would have to die.
"You know what I like?" Rinoa's voice caused Seifer to jump in surprise. He pressed against the wall to hide himself. A hungry curiosity took over him, so Seifer simply watched and listened.
Rinoa's figure moved behind the man (not like anyone else would be in her bed. The question was: who was it this time?) She draped her arms over his shoulders and lightly played her fingers over his bare chest. Rinoa rested her chin on his shoulder and turned her face towards him. The man turned his head away from the sorceress. With that single action, Seifer found the answer to his question.
Squall..
"I like it when someone caresses me," Rinoa whispered suggestively into Squall's ear. She ran her fingers up his chest, over his strong shoulders and then began to slowly move her hands down his arms; making sure to trance her fingers feather-light in the defined lines of his muscles. "Like this."
Seifer felt his chest tightened for the second time. Was it anger? Pain? Disgust? What was he experiencing by watching these two exchange foreplay—or rather, watch Rinoa slither her hands over Squall's smooth, warm skin. Seifer didn't have to imagine to know what Squall's skin felt like when touched.
But this scene was sickening, he decided. Rinoa was tainting Squall with her touch. She was a venomous snake coiling possessively around the brunet—Wait, was it not the other way around? Squall, the slave, was contaminating Rinoa—but she was a vile serpent that needed its head severed—but he was a worthless slave that deserved the biting end of a whip.
What was he so upset for?
Seifer continued to wordlessly watch. Rinoa had moved so that she sat in front of Squall. She took one his hands and pressed it to the side of her face. Squall kept his own face adverted. Seifer silently praised the man for resisting—for seeing Rinoa for the despicable person she truly was.
She slid the left strap of her dress off of her shoulder and pushed it down. From his position, Seifer could only see Rinoa's back—but he knew far too well what the woman was doing. Rinoa began to move Squall's hand down the side of her face, her neck, then finally over her chest where she held his hand over her exposed breast. Seifer saw Squall shift on the bed and try to turn his face further away from Rinoa. If only that curtain were not in the way, perhaps Seifer could see the look of distress in the brunet's eyes.
"Do you like what you feel?" Rinoa purred.
Seifer couldn't take it anymore. He turned away and left the room as silently as he had entered. His heart was caught in his throat. Each beat pounded in his head and seemed to choke him. Seifer didn't know why, but what he had seen hurt. Rinoa was going too far. She was not playing fair. Do women even know how to fight properly? He should have known! He should have realized that Rinoa would sink so low..
Women were pathetic..
Seifer began to jog down the dark hallway. The steady pounding of his bare feet against the marble floor echoed down the hall, and mirrored the rapid beats of his heavy heart. Seifer couldn't see where he was going, but he knew the twists and turns of the palace like the back of his hand. He came to the end of the hall and halted in front of a slumped guard. Seifer grabbed the long spear the man was using as support. He then tore it out of the guards grip, sending the man sprawling to the floor.
"Get up you dolt," He hissed while dropping the spear to clattering against the floor next to the fallen guard.
Raijin pushed himself back to his feet and wilted under the harsh glare from the vehement prince. "Do you need somethin', or somethin'..?"
Seifer panted on the spot for a while. A wry grin passed over his lips. He absolutely refused to lose, "I need you to do something for me.."