Chapter Fourteen: At the well
Squall slipped through the sleeping city. His pale skin made him glow under the moonlight; he was like a ghost drifting through the streets--a lost soul amidst those who felt most at home in their small stone houses. His eyes were empty and dead, breaths invisible and cold. Squall felt like dying, so his appearance was fitting; making him halfway to the grave.
Why did he have to do this? Did he really have to break his promise to his beloved sister—the singular person he cared about the most? Why did it have to be her promise that he broke?
Because I have to, in order to –protect- them. All of them..
Squall frowned at the burdening thought and continued to weave down the streets in silence. He could see the well up ahead. It was built low to the ground; or perhaps the stone had sat higher at one point in time, but years of use had torn away the rock. It rose to just the right height for Squall to lean against using his hands.
He almost smiled bitterly at the sight but paused when his eyes saw that a cloaked figure was standing by the well. The stranger's back was towards Squall, giving no chance to glimpse their face.
It's just a weary traveler hoping to get a drink. Nothing more.
Somehow those words did not provide comfort. Squall stood next to the wall of a building and just stared at the well. He had hoped to be alone tonight. Now that someone was here to play witness, Squall felt extremely childish and dumb.
I came all this way, no point in backing down now..
Squall squared his shoulders and strolled out into the open. He just hoped this stranger wasn't a bandit. Just a few feet farther now. Squall lifted a fisted hand to his chest; inside the metal of his necklace dug into his skin. The pendant gave him a sense of courage and so he pressed forward.
Goodbye.. Griever.
Squall stretched his hand out over the well. Fingers hesitated to release. The stranger finally noticed Squall's presence and flung around. Whoever this man was he must have been just as worried about running into someone as Squall was because he backed off a few steps before stopping.
Blue eyes glimpsed a chin stubbled with a week's growth of an unshaven face; but that was all that was noticeable. The large hood of the man's cloak was pulled over his head, casting shadows over his face. Even though Squall could not see the man's eyes. He could tell the other was staring at him. It made him uneasy to be watched. Squall slowly pulled back his arm that still held tight to the silver necklace.
Turning, Squall could feel his courage fading as the hairs on his arms and neck rose. He walked away from the stranger. Sounds of footsteps in sand caught the brunet's attention. Squall pivoted to see the man had begun to follow him.
Narrowing his eyes in silent threat, Squall backed off a step while squeezing Griever in his right hand. His arm began to tingle as he drew energy from the mysterious object. Squall was going to make sure this man regretted ever trying to bother him. There was always that flipside of being magically endowed; you could knock someone off his or her feet without even lifting a finger.
"Squall.."
The voice broke his concentration and the energy dissipated. Squall's fingers slacked on the lion cross. His stern glare turned into that of bewilderment. The voice was familiar, and so were the light jade eyes that stared earnestly at him.
Seifer..
It was the missing prince. Here. Now. At this late hour and secluded place. What kind of madness was fate suffering from to put Squall in this awkward situation? And just where had Seifer gotten that cloak? Where had he been?
Why should I care?
Squall turned and began to walk away. He told himself that the prince was lucky that he didn't have some sort of weapon at hand, because anger quickly took over his initial shock. The brunet remembered quite well that Seifer had used him. Cut him, hurt him, just to make Rinoa angry. Squall was a slave, but he was not a person to be used like that.
"Squall, wait!" Seifer's voice came out strongly and to the brunet's surprise the blonde did not try to grab his arm to make him stop. The words were different—not commanding like they had been in the past.
Was it the slightest show of respect?
Squall slowed and eyed the cloaked figure. It had been a while since anyone had show respect towards him. Seifer was the last person the brunet expected it from. A moment passed where the pair just eyed one another, waiting for the other to speak. Finally the blonde shattered the silence—stumbling over his words in an uncharacteristic manner.
"I want to talk to you," Seifer tested the ground between them to see if it would shatter. He watched Squall's face keenly, waiting for a sign to continue.
Squall arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms. He couldn't possibly pass up what the prince had to say. Seifer had been in the desert for the good part of the week; what could he possibly have to say to him after all this time?
"I've done a lot of thinking while I was gone," Seifer picked up on the gesture to continue. He glanced to the side in a gesture that Squall read to be nervousness.
And..?
As if hearing the mental question, Seifer's jade eyes snapped back to the curious gray. "I came to a few conclusions about my life. First, I realize I'm not the sun and the stars—Wait, Squall!"
The brunet had tried to walk off for a third time. He was no longer interested in hearing the blonde's revelation. There was no way in the deepest pits of hell where Squall was going to listen to Seifer gloat about himself, thinking he had reached some new level of self-understanding. If the man wanted someone to humble himself to, then Seifer should have gone to one of the gods' temples; not to Squall.
"Wait! Listen, I'm sorry," Seifer was still standing near the well, showing no signs that he would give chase. "Please.."
The apology made Squall freeze in place. The words Seifer spoke sounded unreal. The brunet was sure the word 'please' was not in the prince's vocabulary. It pulled at Squall's curiosity so much that he found himself slowly turning. "What?"
"Please?" Seifer repeated his last words in similar question.
"No," Squall let his head shake side to side. "You're sorry..?"
Seifer's lips twitched. He probably didn't want to repeat himself. An apology from a prince was quite the rarity. So it seemed there was still a sense of stubborn pride within the man. "Yes. I am.."
Squall narrowed his eyes in suspicion, "What for?"
The prince grumbled under his breath while shifting his weight. "For everything? Geez.."
Not satisfied, Squall fixed the blonde with a venomous glare. Instantly Seifer returned the harsh look. "Do you accept my apology?"
"No," Squall quickly retorted.
This refusal seemed to shred the last of the blonde's patience. "Why the hell not?"
"You didn't apologize for anything," Squall eagerly answered. There was something about seeing Seifer frustrated that amused the brunet to no end. "You don't even know why you are sorry. People like you don't know what guilt and regret are. Saying you're sorry isn't going to magically make it go away."
"And people like you don't know how to accept apologies. Get over it!" Seifer's voice was rising, as was his temper.
Get over it? How could Squall just forget about what Seifer had done? The man didn't have to remember every time he caught his reflection in the water. He didn't have to put up with all the people making fun of him. He didn't have to listen to his only friends talk about him like he wasn't around.
"Whatever," Squall shook his head in disbelief then turned his back. This time Seifer pursued—fueled by his hot anger.
"Damn you—Listen to me," The blonde roared as he gained on the brunet. "I'm not finished with you yet. Stop walking away when I'm talking to you."
Ah, there was the demanding tone of voice that Squall had come to expect from Seifer; so much for being civil and polite. A ghost of a smirk passed over Squall's lips. He felt strong fingers grip his arm. Suddenly he was pulled around and was staring up at the burning Jade. Squall sucked in a terse breath, the intake sounding more like a pained hiss.
The fire in Seifer's eyes died down to a faint flicker, but Squall could still see it dancing in the depths of the man's jade orbs. It would only take a slight stir of wind, or a piece of kindling to make it burn lividly once more. Seifer pulled back slightly as he remembered what he was going to say. "I always thought Rinoa had wrapped some spell around you. You always looked perfect."
What the hell is he talking about?
Squall's eyes narrowed at the strange comment. If it were not for the hand holding his arm, Squall would have distanced himself from the temperamental prince at once. He did not like the where the conversation was heading.
"I found out that it wasn't Rinoa's magic that made you desirable—"
Oh hell..
Squall stared dumbfounded as Seifer continued, "—I guess there really is something about you that I like, and its not some trick. I really do want—"
"What?" Squall cut off the other. Gods, why was the world making him suffer? Seifer liked him. In what way? What kind of game was this?
Seifer let out a frustrated sigh, but it sounded closer to a growl. The prince seemed to be searching for the right words. "You're.. beautiful Squall."
Apparently, these were not the right ones.
Squall snapped out of his shock and jerked his arm from the blonde's grasp. He sneered at the man with distaste. "I am not one of your whores."
He remembered being led into that room in the palace. Girls of all kinds had been draping themselves over Seifer. All of them cooing compliments, smiling at him, running their hands over his well toned body..
"That's not.." Seifer looked at a loss from Squall's outburst. His eyes suddenly began to burn angrily once more. "Why did I even bother? I knew you wouldn't listen."
Squall mentally noted that he had made a bad choice. He could see the self-control beginning to break behind Seifer's jade eyes. Squall could only glare at the beast that was threatening to awaken.
"Why?" Squall chose not to back down, and finally ask the question that had haunted him for days.
Why did Seifer let him come to the palace? Why did Seifer want to scar him? Why did Seifer save him? Why did he run away? Why was Seifer saying this nonsense? Why did he think he was beautiful? Why was Squall so stunned? Why the prince? Why him? Why? Why?
Squall finally tore himself away from the other's mixed gaze when no ready answer came. The man was angry, there was no doubt about that. But there was something else lingering behind the fire, something that resembled pain—the anger was just a protective mask.
Squall winced as he felt Seifer reached forward and grabbed his arm once more. Whatever respect Seifer had been showing before, it was gone now, and they were back into the roles of prince and slave. It had all been fake before.
Seifer's hand left Squall's arm and fingered the back of the brunet's gray tunic, "You were in the palace again. I guess Rinoa is alive and well.."
What is that suppose to mean?
Squall remained rooted to his spot. He knew the prince wouldn't let him go without becoming angry. As long as he didn't move, resist, or argue, the blonde would be docile—but there was only a slim chance of that happening.
Suddenly Squall remembered the black wood box sitting in Rinoa's room with an ominous cold air circling it. Whatever that was, the gift was not going to please the prince. Squall only wished he could be there to see what Rinoa wanted to give Seifer. Then there was the incident that had happened to Fujin—Seifer's servant; that ought to be enough to deal a devastating blow to the blonde. Squall almost pitied him. Almost.
"Do you.. want to come back to the palace.. with me?" Seifer mumbled; an uncertainty was in his voice. It contrasted sharply with the rage he had been ready to unleash seconds before.
Squall felt the faintest touch of Seifer's fingers at his waist with the question. His breath hitched in his throat. The brunet didn't know whether to be disgusted, or flattered that the prince of Zamir was fawning over him—out of all people, the blonde had picked him.
..but this was probably another ploy just to get under Rinoa's skin. Squall felt something whither inside of him. He swiped his arm down, skillfully knocking away Sefier's hand. "Never."
Seifer's fingers curled into a fist. Surprisingly the blonde didn't retort. He merely glared from under the hood of the cloak. Instead it was Squall that spoke—angry and voice rising in volume. "Don't touch me."
The blonde bit down on his lip, but it was like placing a single sandbag to stop a flood. "Why do you do that?"
Just let me leave..
"Just who are you?" Seifer narrowed his eyes at the back of Squall's head. "Why won't you tell me?"
Squall could tell Seifer was trying to be sincere. His questions were not biting or mocking. Though, Squall could care less. To the depths of hell with this man and his absurd desires.
"That's none of your business," Squall growled.
Seifer went silent again. His eyes grew cold, yet burned dangerously at the same time. He stared at the brunet like he was searching for a hidden answer. Squall froze as the prince took a step closer. The brunet held his ground and returned the icy glare.
The prince held Squall's gaze, prying for a secret. Squall suddenly felt uneasy and tightened his hand on the silver necklace and shifted his arm behind his back. Seifer picked up on the action as if he had been the one to provoke it. He went to snatch Squall's hand. The brunet felt a moment of panic. He lifted his other arm and brought his fist across Seifer's face—not hard, but enough to make the prince step back.
"Always hiding something, aren't you," Seifer calmly spoke while lightly touching his reddening cheek. His eyes were nearly glowing with a mixture of emotions. It confused Squall, he didn't know if the prince was going to attack, or keep talking.
At all costs, Squall couldn't let Seifer see the pendant of Griever. Any noble figure would recognize the silver lion—if Seifer found out, that could only mean execution for Squall. Anything remotely resembling Griever was absolutely forbidden. And despite his bleak existence, Squall did not want to die.
"Well, there really is no one here to stop us this time," The taunting smirk appeared on Seifer's lips, causing Squall to tense in anticipation of a fight. The blonde glanced down at the hand fisted around the necklace, "I might as well stop expecting you to answer me. I think I shall just pry the answer from your fingers."
"It will have to be from my cold, dead fingers," Squall easily picked up on Seifer's challenge and smoothly laid down his own. It was so natural and comfortable that it scared Squall.
Seifer was smiling at him wit the same kind of ease. Squall kept a cold expression, internally wishing that they would be facing each other with steel in their hands—Swordplay had more feeling, expression, and a sharp edge to sweeten the fight.
But when it was Seifer's broad shoulders, toned muscles and advantage of height over Squall's lean, lithe frame that was half-starved from the unhealthy lifestyle of a slave—Squall was at a disadvantage. It was simply stubborn pride that made Squall turn to fully face Seifer.
"I'd rather have you alive when I pin you to the ground," Seifer flashed a feral grin at his opponent.
Squall narrowed his eyes at the impish twinkle in the other's jade eyes. If he didn't know better, Squall would think that the blonde was being suggestively flirting. However, he didn't have time to think over the words because Seifer had lunged, making a grab for Squall's hand.
The prince wanted to see the necklace; Squall new this and lifted his arm out of reach. He spun aside so Seifer passed by—like a matador taunting the bull with the red flag. Squall wondered how he was going to win this dance. He had one disadvantage when compared to a matador; Squall could not kill the bull at the end.
Squall extended his leg to catch Seifer's passing feet. The prince went down—but it looked to be on purpose. Squall soon found out why when hands grabbed his outstretched leg and jerked him down as well.
Unprepared, Squall went face first into the hard packed earth. The air was knocked out of his lungs. He drew in rasps of cold air. Seifer was quick to act. The blonde was already up and standing over his foe. He waited for the brunet to stand, then frowned disappointedly when Squall remained on the ground.
Squall coughed from the ache in his heaving lungs. He began to push himself up but a heavy pressure on his back made him meet the ground a second time. He turned his head to see Seifer over him—a knee resting on Squall's back to keep him pinned. The prince looked unhappy at what appeared to be a victory.
Seifer leaned forward, applying more weight to his knee that rested on Squall's spine. The action caused a dull pain to throb down Squall's back. Seifer brought his own face up close to Squall's while laying his hands on Squall's shoulders.
Squall could only glare to the best of his ability and grit his teeth with a growl. He was defeated so quickly that it disgusted him. Seifer had overpowered him too easily. Squall fisted his fingers into the dirt. He was not a wrestler, not a grappler! He spoke with steel—he shouldn't have taken the challenge.
I'm so stupid! Argh..
Squall shut his eyes tightly. When he opened them again he noticed Seifer's gaze had focused elsewhere. There was no fight left in his green eyes, just annoyance.
"You there! What's going on?"
Squall ceased his angry growling and picked up his head far enough to look towards the new voice. The darkness made it difficult to see anything over a few feet away. The stranger moved closer with a spear leveled at them.
Oh great, night watch finally arrives..
It was only a matter of time before the duo's loud voices and rough housing caught the attention of the guards that scouted the city at night.
Seifer slowly stood to his feet, allowing Squall to quickly regain his composure and stand up as well. Dirt clung to the front o his garments, but Squall didn't bother brushing it away. He glanced at Seifer—the prince looked like a suspicious character; a man wearing a cloak with the hood pulled over his head. The guards found him assaulting another in the middle of the night. Maybe Squall could get away from whatever punishment this guard had in mind.
Idiot. He's the prince, he doesn't get into trouble.
"Hey!" The guard cried out, yelling over his shoulder. His voice was deep and seemed to echo off the buildings. It was enough to wake the whole west side of Zamir. "We got a couple of thieves here!"
A couple? Wait..
Squall stared disbelieving as two more guards came to join the first. Three sharp metal points were aimed menacingly at the pair. Squall would never understand the daftness most guards seemed to possess. Didn't they recognize the prince? And why wasn't Seifer doing anything to stop them!?
Blue-gray storms glanced over at the said prince. The blonde had the nerve to grin amusedly at the situation. Squall felt his rage boil. He was lashing out before he could regain his impassive nature. Squall's fist connected with Seifer's jaw. "Jerk."
The commotion started at once. The prince threw himself at Squall just as the guards jumped to separate the brawl. Seifer didn't put up a fight towards the guards. He just smiled as one man took his arm in restraint. Squall, however, was struggling—fueled by his anger. Two guards were trying to seize his arms but the brunet was lashing out, jerking away from their touch. Finally one of the guards landed a heavy punch in Squall's gut, making the brunet still then sink to his knees.
The grin vanished from Seifer's face. He pulled away from the guard on him. Seifer grabbed one of the two men around Squall, "Don't hurt him!"
Squall managed to look up as the blonde attacked the guard. The two men struggled for a moment before a second guard decided to intervene by striking the prince with an upper cut. Seifer's head flew back, causing the hood to fall off. One of the guards instantly froze, and then dropped to his knees with his forehead nearly brushing the ground in a bow.
"P-prince Almasy!"
The other two looked at Seifer in question. Not all men were familiar with what the prince looked like. They all knew who the pharaoh was, but to recognize the prince on sight was not one of their concerns. Despite their lack of knowledge, the two bowed down as well. One seized Squall's arm and jerked the brunet to the ground to force him to into a messy bow.
Seifer recovered from the blow and surveyed the four figures that were on their knees and faces turned down—except for one. Squall had craned his neck upward to sneer. Squall hated this. He did not want to bow to him. Just because Seifer was the pharaoh's son, he could get away with everything. It wasn't fair. Squall was going to get punished for the prince attacking him.
The blonde glowered over them. His lip was bleeding, sending a small trickle to run off his chin. A hand came up to wipe away the liquid, leaving a reddish smear in its wake. "Let him go."
The hand restraining Squall's arm was pulled away. The brunet rose to his feet, but wobbled at the pain in his abdomen. Seifer stepped forward with arms out to steady him, but Squall backed away. He turned and headed down the dark street. At first it was just a staggering walk, then he felt his pain tolerance kick in and began to jog. For some reason he knew Seifer wasn't going to follow him.
Stupid Seifer. Why did he have to come back? Gods, it felt so strange to have someone like him. No, it wasn't that. Because plenty of people had liked Squall; Rinoa was one of them. It was different because it was another guy—and it had never been someone like the handsome prince. And never had Squall felt the flight of his heart when he thought about it. It did that, when Seifer had said he was beautiful. Squall just felt the tiniest bit of fondness towards the prince and it was very bizarre.
But the man was so stubborn, prideful, neurotic, rough and vulgar. No self-respecting individual could like such a man. It was impossible. Who cared if his hair the was the color of the golden sun at the evening, skin lightly tanned to resemble the desert sand, eyes that sharply expressed emotions with different shades of green, a sense of pride that could make the man stand face to face with death and smile, a body that any woman would yearn for, or any man..
…
Dear gods, I have been cursed..
Squall let out an exasperated sigh making a sharp pain stab at him with the action. He continued to flee, back to his bed where he could curl up and disappear, play invisible to the rest of the world. As he moved through the familiar streets, he didn't notice that his hands were empty.
End Chapter.
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Author's Note: Heh, seems I have lost reviewers. Ah well. I've been kicking out chapters slower now because Ragnarok has been stealing away my time. Anyway, Rar, I hope you guys like my story so far. In the last chapter I really wanted to portray Selphie as a cute caring person, because she is, even though she's really annoying in the game. I like her in my story, along with my evil Rinoa. Mwahah, Villains rule! I know chocobos are more of FFVII's things (Black, gold, etc) but I didn't think it'd hurt to add them.
Insane Keyblader: Heey! Someone is paying attention. Since Squall got his scar, Fujin will now have her eye patch. We shall wonder what is in store for a desert prince :3