"Very mysterious indeed." The tall man lifted a fist slowly to his chin as
he contemplated the news. Emryal watched him, watched his actions and
reactions slowly - pensively. Emryal hated Menoth - he really did, but he
couldn't help but respect the man. If Emryal had ever found the chance, he
would have killed the Ruc Tzai in a heart-beat, but there were no chances -
no uncertainty with the strong, darkly shrouded magician. He was always on
guard, always completely aware of his surroundings, never unsure of
himself. It had come to the point at which Emryal almost didn't even try
anymore...almost. But Emryal was also just as completely aware and sure of
himself...perfection was for the gods, Menoth had to let down his guard
sometime - and then he would have his chance.
It wasn't really the person himself that Emryal hated. He did respect the tall man, his body melding in with the shadows of the wall. Menoth's entire demeanor was dark - his eyes were black, cold and rigid - his hair had been died black and pulled behind his head, a bold sign of individuality and mark of his leadership. The clothes he wore were all dark and loose, luxurious silks from the various realms they had visited in the glorious raids of Tialtor. No...it wasn't the man himself, not the harsh, calculating warlord. It was what Menoth thought about the Ellians.
Emryal looked down at his own clothing, his own pallid skin. Every Ellian was spawned from the black exactly the same, precise factory models with one purpose in mind. Each Ellian on his own was fairly powerful, but together they made a mighty force, an army that could defeat anything that blocked their way. Some ancient writings from the libraries claimed that Ellians were the soldiers of the gods, others claimed that they were the earlier, stronger version of the humans.
Which was probably true - Emryal looked human, letting him blend in with society on other planets, but a group of Ellians would scare any human into a mindless stupor. Blood-red hair, white skin, broad muscular bodies - they were machines, ruthless killers - not created to think or learn but simply to destroy.
Which was what made Menoth and Emryal such odd cases. For the most part the Ellians were only semi-intelligent, smart enough to follow orders and live pleasant lives, but not ambitious or tactical in any way. They had no goals, they had no dreams - no past or future. Since the Ellians were spawned, there were no women or children, so there were no families, no social events, no towns. The Ellians lived in tall, barracks buildings built precisely and frugally. The residential buildings surrounded the core, the military center of Tialtor...most of the rest of the 'planet' was devoted to the engines, powerful fire breathers that hurtled the orb through space, seeking out any target they could devour. Ellians did not age, they simply lived until they were killed. Their lives consisted of the journeys they took to other planets - where they killed, stole and destroyed to their content, then Tialtor consumed the planet's energy so she could continue...and then they moved on to the next location. It was a very straightforward, very fulfilling life for most Ellians.
Emryal, on the other hand, was never satisfied. He was filled with the lust for power - with a hatred for mankind. He wanted to kill everything, to destroy everyone, to take over and rule, to raise from their pathetic existence on 'The Pirate Queen' as the humans called her, and begin a true reign of glory. He urged his brethren, the Ellians, time and time again to rise up and begin a new way of living - but they really didn't care. They didn't know anything different from what they had - and they didn't want anything different either...they were content, but not happy. Menoth, on the other hand, wanted something that Emryal couldn't really understand or grasp. He didn't hate the humans like Emryal did, he respected them - wanted to learn from them. And so he digested the information Emryal had gleaned from Gaia, running it through whatever flawed moral system he had established for himself, then spoke calmly,
"So...this 'human' contacted you once you landed, and said he knew who you are and wanted to help you...and so you are going to help him - is that it?"
"The old man Yon believes in mutual agreements, and I cannot argue with that." Emryal grinned wolfishly, "Besides, he is working in the same direction as we are - it will just be a short stop along the way."
"Some pathetic revenge scheme pointed at a few individuals is hardly 'on the way'."
"But he claims these are the powerful heroes of the earth - if we can get them out of the way first, nothing can stop us."
"Of course..." Menoth murmured quietly, tracing his chin with a long, smooth finger, "And what of the Zetai? Any word?"
"Ah!" Emryal grinned again, even broader this time. He had almost forgotten, "There is one left - the old man claims. He says she has faded away in the past few years, but if we are helpful he is sure he can find her again."
"A Zetai." Menoth rasped, his face lighting up in a smile, "That means..." His eyes narrowed as they met Emryal's, cold sparks flying between them, "She is mine. By right."
"Hmph." Emryal growled, his finger reaching out to point at Menoth's chest, his long steel claws shining brightly in the dim light, "She is ours. You are no more worthy than I am."
Menoth glanced down at the claw, pausing for a long moment as he contemplated the events. The overall news was much too good for the Ruc Tzai to stay down, however, and the thin smile returned once again to his lips, "Of course...then we shall deal with that issue when we cross it, no?"
Emryal dipped in a sarcastic bow, "Of course."
"Hmm..." Menoth's lips curled upwards in a dangerous arc. Emryal knew he walked dangerous ground - but he walked that every day - he neither loved nor respected Menoth. Menoth was, by his power, the Ruc Tzai - the Ellian title of 'leader of mind', while Emryal was the Alc Tzai, or 'leader of might'. Legally, they were supposed to be equal in power and gain - but since no one ever seemed to question the laws, no one really followed them either. Thus...Menoth thought himself the best, above the weak, mindless Ellians. Emryal snorted...only a short time remained before his day would come...
"When will our mother reach this 'Gaia'?" Menoth queried, his elated mind carrying his body hungrily toward the docks.
"Only a matter of days...five - six? Not very long, whatever the case." Though the 'mother', Tialtor, traveled fairly slowly - the Ellians had been blessed with smaller one-man carriers, called the Geshan, which could carry them short distances through space, effectively hopping them from Tialtor in case of attack. To a Geshan Menoth headed with a vague nod, and words that made Emryal curl his lip in a loathing sneer,
"Come, my great Alc Tzai. We shall walk together among the sands of fate."
--
Shade glared thoughtfully down at the letter he had just written. The words explained everything that he wanted them to, detailed instructions of how everything had to be done to bring his plans into fruition. Everything was perfect - but he still couldn't help but be angry. His words were never as perfect as his thoughts, he couldn't put on paper the entirety of a dream, it was impossible. He wished his blessing hadn't been immortality, but rather a hundred years of enlightenment - for immortality endowed enlightenment in very short, painful steps.
He glanced once more around the grand inn in its glassy white marble and flowing red curtains. The humans certainly had a high opinion of themselves - always trying to impress each other with wealth and taste...sadly he fell victim to those useless pursuits. He was, after all - human. He couldn't be completely impervious to mankind's pull on his soul. But he was better than they were. The inn was almost empty, a few loafers staggered around the bar, a few of the staff wandered around with menial tasks. And he was leaving. Deftly he folded his note and slipped it in the letterbox next to the door. She would find it within a few hours, and begin her own campaign...what a wonderful girl - so intelligent and faithful. If only the humans could be half of what she was.
Night was falling - slowly the sands of time trickled away grain by grain. Shade hastily straightened and headed for the door. It was well past time to leave. "I'm going." He murmured, softly but loud enough so he knew his pursuer would hear. "You can go tell your master I won't dabble in his plans."
A shadow shifted on the stairway - a small movement, but one he caught. He never missed anything. "And how do you know who my master is, Shade?" Hmm...the voice was female - interesting. So Yon had a whore of his own.
"I don't need to mirror his pitiful attempts to spy, I already know everything that is going on, everything that will transpire. He should stop worrying so much and start using his gift - we're supposed to be allies, you know."
"Hmph." The voice snorted contemptuously. If Shade had been someone else, say...Yon, he would have killed her for making light of him. But of course he wasn't - Shade was completely immune to anger, or any of the lesser emotions of that kind.
"One thing that I don't know...however, is how Yon managed to get his hands on a morph. An interesting story, I'm sure - maybe we can sit down and go over it at some later date."
"I'm not a morph, entik! I'm an elder dragon!" She hissed, "My power is beyond that of a morph."
"Ahh..." Entik was the elder, derogatory term for 'human', used mainly by...morphs. "Well, whatever you call yourself, it's been nice meeting you - but I have to be on my way. Tell your master that I'll be vacationing in Tyen - very lovely town I've heard - especially this time of year. I won't meddle with his affairs, but I'll still be close enough to keep an eye on him. Tell him not to do anything...rash."
"He doesn't take orders from you." The voice muttered, slipping up against the wall to let Shade pass by, "But don't worry - there will be no mistakes."
"Ahh..." Shade smiled. There was no such thing as a mistake. He could see the threads of fate - he could almost taste what would happen. Yon was a bigger fool than Shade had imagined if he believed that he was controlling fate. "Of that...I am absolutely certain."
--
Steiner didn't really remember much after the moogle ran from the kitchen...all he knew was that suddenly time sped up and his thoughts slowed down. He didn't remember finishing his food, or paying the waiter. He didn't remember the walk home, talking to the guards, stealing through the dark castle to his apartment. He and Beatrix had shared adjacent rooms in the officer's quarters of the castle, broad, well-furnished military dorms with a thick wooden door in between their rooms. However, he could not remember the door between the rooms ever swinging ajar. He was too noble of a man for something so indecent to happen...except for...this particular night.
When time slowed down again he found himself lying on his back on his bed, the coarse blanket chafing against his cold skin. Suddenly this provided him with a slow revelation...he wasn't wearing a shirt. Where had his shirt gone if he wasn't wearing it anymore? Someone must have stolen it! With conviction he jerked up from his reclining position. Only the worst brigand would do something so vile and low as steal another man's shirt - this behavior would desist immediately!
Almost as quickly he was pushed back into his relaxed position, where he lay, staring at the bland white ceiling, and the slender, strong arm that had pushed him on his back. The arm was tender white, with a blush of pink blended in gently, a heavenly color sent straight from the sun. The aroma was overwhelming, the strong pleasing scent of a real woman. Palace girls smelled all of perfume and flowers, starch and too many baths. This smell was much more enticing. It was like catching the purest scent of the grass and trees and life of the planet and blanketing her with it, blessing her. Often times he could remember pressing his face up against her neck and drawing her in - feeling like if he took in enough breath perhaps he could consume her and be with her forever.
Now as he stared up at his angel, the questions he had asked himself before seemed silly. Of course he loved her - how could he not love her? A glance from her eye pulled him in on an unbreakable chain, a touch from her hand seared his flesh away until only his bleeding heart remained. He loved everything about her. He loved the way her long, dark hair flowed down over her shoulder and trickled against her strong arm. He loved the way the muscles in her wrist tensed as she pressed her palm against his stomach; he loved the way her fingers quivered as they slid up and down against his skin. He loved the way she bit her lip when she smiled, the way she ducked her head shyly when she blushed.
Suddenly the beauty of the whole situation overwhelmed him - driving back his wants and rules, making all his thoughts and resolutions seem very silly and childish compared to life at its fullest. He drew the woman he loved to him, clutching her hand in his - melding the heat of their bodies, mixing their sweat together. Beatrix opened her mouth and Steiner devoured her smile as he tenderly kissed her hair, trying to prepare himself for the strange plunge into the unknown. But then...it was probably better not to worry - worry could only ruin the perfect moment.
"I..." Steiner whispered into the silk locks, his throat nearly to dry to speak, "I am yours to command, my lady."
--
Zidane watched Garnet brush her hair, his heart falling further with each stroke of the brush. Everything that he had tried to ignore during the day, talking to Tot and Mikoto, seeing people and going places, all a desperate attempt to push his worry aside. But apparently nothing had changed...or more accurately - something had changed. He just wasn't really aware of what it was that had changed, or what he could possibly do to help her - but anything was better than watching her pull lifelessly at her glowing hair, her face proclaiming that she was trying as hard as she could not to cry.
For the first time in his life Zidane was feeling despair. All of his life, no matter how grand or grim the situation, there was always at least something he could do, someone he could fight. He didn't understand the silent warfare, if there was no threat he could see, no enemy to face, then how could anything be wrong? Garnet had always loved him before, and so had been open and honest if anything was ever troubling her...but perhaps this time...
He didn't even want to speculate with something that rash - he trusted Garnet as much as he found possible, trusted her with his life. She would never willingly break his trust - he had enough faith in her to know that. Garnet's eyes turned to look at him, and sorrow washed over him in a great flood. Suddenly, without knowing the reason, Zidane felt the great urge to cry.
Slowly and deliberately Garnet set the brush aside and rose to her feet. Their bedchamber was a huge, luxurious affair, one whole side of the room devoted to a bath and wash area, the center for clothing and lounging, and the other end of the room containing a massive full-post bed. Garnet stepped over to her dresser and began to disrobe for the night, very plainly averting her eyes from her husband.
Zidane gazed at her as the clothing fell away, the ache of his heart pushing stronger than the loud throbs of passion it contained. He loved every inch of the woman that stood there - in her form was enfolded his life, his treasure, the accumulation of all he had lived for to that point. He had earned her, and would do it over and over again to stay near her. Zidane knew he would die for her, over and over again if it would keep her happy.
Zidane let his eyes trace the strong line of her shoulder as she bent to pull her nightshirt from a vast assortment of gowns and blouses filling the massive wardrobe. Zidane felt a pang of shame as his gaze trickled across her unblemished skin. Her muscles were far too trained, overused for a lady of her position. She never should have been subjected to the torturous journeys of the years past, the harsh stress that she faced now in running a kingdom. There must have been a way it could have been avoided. He could have...he could have...
But he couldn't! Her smooth and slender back rose into the beautiful curve of her hips and thighs. Fate had ordained their lives to be this way, it was all said and done, there was no room for regret. He just had to stop being such a baby, turn into a man and be there to hold her up - no matter what. No matter what.
As if moving to test his resolve, Garnet turned to face him, the nightshirt she had donned barely a wisp across her voluptuous feminine form. Zidane barely saw this, all he saw were her looming eyes, the tears that bloomed readily around them, her trembling lip, her flowing hair curling shamefully around her face.
"Zidane...do you hate me?"
Zidane didn't understand it - he didn't understand it at all, what the question meant or why he was so upset. In a transient moment he suddenly found that he was sobbing, his body convulsing as tears swept through him. With a few falling steps he tumbled his way to the bed and curled up over the covers - feeling much like a child who doesn't understand why his parent went away. "No...I do-I don't hate you G- G...Garnet," His words bubbled forth clumsily as he stared across the room at her through tear-stained eyes, "Please, just...just let me love you. Please!" A shattering silence echoed through the room, broken only by Zidane's heavy shuddering. A few moments was all he could take before his emotion rang forth in full force, a helpless scream, "PLEASE!"
Garnet stared at him for a few agonizingly long moments, then her shoulders sank, and a long breath forced its way from her system. Finally, in a voice on the verge of tears, she whispered, "Zidane..." Hesitantly she walked toward him, her stride uncertain if she was being the queen of Alexandria or Zidane's lover, her step faltered between a delicate sway and a hurried rush to the bedside. There she collapsed against him, clutching his head in her hands as she pushed his face to her chest and joined him in shedding tears. "Zidane..." She whispered again against his hair, "Please...no matter what happens you have to trust me. No matter what."
"I do, Garnet." Zidane sobbed, pulling at her desperately, "I always did."
"I should never have doubted you, Zidane...I'm a miserable person."
"You're too perfect. I just want to love you, Garnet...nothing else matters." And truly, nothing did matter. Anything that had been doubted or contrived in the days that had separated them dissolved as they clung to one another, murmuring their love into the deep hours of the night, a night that would be remembered for ever and ever, burned into memory by the flames of love.
The last night.
Little angel go away
Come again some other day
The devil has my ear today
I'll never hear a word you say
He promised I would find a little solace
And some piece of mind
Whatever, just as long as I don't feel so
Desperate
And Ravenous,
So Weak and Powerless,
Over you.
Weak and Powerless - A Perfect Circle
It wasn't really the person himself that Emryal hated. He did respect the tall man, his body melding in with the shadows of the wall. Menoth's entire demeanor was dark - his eyes were black, cold and rigid - his hair had been died black and pulled behind his head, a bold sign of individuality and mark of his leadership. The clothes he wore were all dark and loose, luxurious silks from the various realms they had visited in the glorious raids of Tialtor. No...it wasn't the man himself, not the harsh, calculating warlord. It was what Menoth thought about the Ellians.
Emryal looked down at his own clothing, his own pallid skin. Every Ellian was spawned from the black exactly the same, precise factory models with one purpose in mind. Each Ellian on his own was fairly powerful, but together they made a mighty force, an army that could defeat anything that blocked their way. Some ancient writings from the libraries claimed that Ellians were the soldiers of the gods, others claimed that they were the earlier, stronger version of the humans.
Which was probably true - Emryal looked human, letting him blend in with society on other planets, but a group of Ellians would scare any human into a mindless stupor. Blood-red hair, white skin, broad muscular bodies - they were machines, ruthless killers - not created to think or learn but simply to destroy.
Which was what made Menoth and Emryal such odd cases. For the most part the Ellians were only semi-intelligent, smart enough to follow orders and live pleasant lives, but not ambitious or tactical in any way. They had no goals, they had no dreams - no past or future. Since the Ellians were spawned, there were no women or children, so there were no families, no social events, no towns. The Ellians lived in tall, barracks buildings built precisely and frugally. The residential buildings surrounded the core, the military center of Tialtor...most of the rest of the 'planet' was devoted to the engines, powerful fire breathers that hurtled the orb through space, seeking out any target they could devour. Ellians did not age, they simply lived until they were killed. Their lives consisted of the journeys they took to other planets - where they killed, stole and destroyed to their content, then Tialtor consumed the planet's energy so she could continue...and then they moved on to the next location. It was a very straightforward, very fulfilling life for most Ellians.
Emryal, on the other hand, was never satisfied. He was filled with the lust for power - with a hatred for mankind. He wanted to kill everything, to destroy everyone, to take over and rule, to raise from their pathetic existence on 'The Pirate Queen' as the humans called her, and begin a true reign of glory. He urged his brethren, the Ellians, time and time again to rise up and begin a new way of living - but they really didn't care. They didn't know anything different from what they had - and they didn't want anything different either...they were content, but not happy. Menoth, on the other hand, wanted something that Emryal couldn't really understand or grasp. He didn't hate the humans like Emryal did, he respected them - wanted to learn from them. And so he digested the information Emryal had gleaned from Gaia, running it through whatever flawed moral system he had established for himself, then spoke calmly,
"So...this 'human' contacted you once you landed, and said he knew who you are and wanted to help you...and so you are going to help him - is that it?"
"The old man Yon believes in mutual agreements, and I cannot argue with that." Emryal grinned wolfishly, "Besides, he is working in the same direction as we are - it will just be a short stop along the way."
"Some pathetic revenge scheme pointed at a few individuals is hardly 'on the way'."
"But he claims these are the powerful heroes of the earth - if we can get them out of the way first, nothing can stop us."
"Of course..." Menoth murmured quietly, tracing his chin with a long, smooth finger, "And what of the Zetai? Any word?"
"Ah!" Emryal grinned again, even broader this time. He had almost forgotten, "There is one left - the old man claims. He says she has faded away in the past few years, but if we are helpful he is sure he can find her again."
"A Zetai." Menoth rasped, his face lighting up in a smile, "That means..." His eyes narrowed as they met Emryal's, cold sparks flying between them, "She is mine. By right."
"Hmph." Emryal growled, his finger reaching out to point at Menoth's chest, his long steel claws shining brightly in the dim light, "She is ours. You are no more worthy than I am."
Menoth glanced down at the claw, pausing for a long moment as he contemplated the events. The overall news was much too good for the Ruc Tzai to stay down, however, and the thin smile returned once again to his lips, "Of course...then we shall deal with that issue when we cross it, no?"
Emryal dipped in a sarcastic bow, "Of course."
"Hmm..." Menoth's lips curled upwards in a dangerous arc. Emryal knew he walked dangerous ground - but he walked that every day - he neither loved nor respected Menoth. Menoth was, by his power, the Ruc Tzai - the Ellian title of 'leader of mind', while Emryal was the Alc Tzai, or 'leader of might'. Legally, they were supposed to be equal in power and gain - but since no one ever seemed to question the laws, no one really followed them either. Thus...Menoth thought himself the best, above the weak, mindless Ellians. Emryal snorted...only a short time remained before his day would come...
"When will our mother reach this 'Gaia'?" Menoth queried, his elated mind carrying his body hungrily toward the docks.
"Only a matter of days...five - six? Not very long, whatever the case." Though the 'mother', Tialtor, traveled fairly slowly - the Ellians had been blessed with smaller one-man carriers, called the Geshan, which could carry them short distances through space, effectively hopping them from Tialtor in case of attack. To a Geshan Menoth headed with a vague nod, and words that made Emryal curl his lip in a loathing sneer,
"Come, my great Alc Tzai. We shall walk together among the sands of fate."
--
Shade glared thoughtfully down at the letter he had just written. The words explained everything that he wanted them to, detailed instructions of how everything had to be done to bring his plans into fruition. Everything was perfect - but he still couldn't help but be angry. His words were never as perfect as his thoughts, he couldn't put on paper the entirety of a dream, it was impossible. He wished his blessing hadn't been immortality, but rather a hundred years of enlightenment - for immortality endowed enlightenment in very short, painful steps.
He glanced once more around the grand inn in its glassy white marble and flowing red curtains. The humans certainly had a high opinion of themselves - always trying to impress each other with wealth and taste...sadly he fell victim to those useless pursuits. He was, after all - human. He couldn't be completely impervious to mankind's pull on his soul. But he was better than they were. The inn was almost empty, a few loafers staggered around the bar, a few of the staff wandered around with menial tasks. And he was leaving. Deftly he folded his note and slipped it in the letterbox next to the door. She would find it within a few hours, and begin her own campaign...what a wonderful girl - so intelligent and faithful. If only the humans could be half of what she was.
Night was falling - slowly the sands of time trickled away grain by grain. Shade hastily straightened and headed for the door. It was well past time to leave. "I'm going." He murmured, softly but loud enough so he knew his pursuer would hear. "You can go tell your master I won't dabble in his plans."
A shadow shifted on the stairway - a small movement, but one he caught. He never missed anything. "And how do you know who my master is, Shade?" Hmm...the voice was female - interesting. So Yon had a whore of his own.
"I don't need to mirror his pitiful attempts to spy, I already know everything that is going on, everything that will transpire. He should stop worrying so much and start using his gift - we're supposed to be allies, you know."
"Hmph." The voice snorted contemptuously. If Shade had been someone else, say...Yon, he would have killed her for making light of him. But of course he wasn't - Shade was completely immune to anger, or any of the lesser emotions of that kind.
"One thing that I don't know...however, is how Yon managed to get his hands on a morph. An interesting story, I'm sure - maybe we can sit down and go over it at some later date."
"I'm not a morph, entik! I'm an elder dragon!" She hissed, "My power is beyond that of a morph."
"Ahh..." Entik was the elder, derogatory term for 'human', used mainly by...morphs. "Well, whatever you call yourself, it's been nice meeting you - but I have to be on my way. Tell your master that I'll be vacationing in Tyen - very lovely town I've heard - especially this time of year. I won't meddle with his affairs, but I'll still be close enough to keep an eye on him. Tell him not to do anything...rash."
"He doesn't take orders from you." The voice muttered, slipping up against the wall to let Shade pass by, "But don't worry - there will be no mistakes."
"Ahh..." Shade smiled. There was no such thing as a mistake. He could see the threads of fate - he could almost taste what would happen. Yon was a bigger fool than Shade had imagined if he believed that he was controlling fate. "Of that...I am absolutely certain."
--
Steiner didn't really remember much after the moogle ran from the kitchen...all he knew was that suddenly time sped up and his thoughts slowed down. He didn't remember finishing his food, or paying the waiter. He didn't remember the walk home, talking to the guards, stealing through the dark castle to his apartment. He and Beatrix had shared adjacent rooms in the officer's quarters of the castle, broad, well-furnished military dorms with a thick wooden door in between their rooms. However, he could not remember the door between the rooms ever swinging ajar. He was too noble of a man for something so indecent to happen...except for...this particular night.
When time slowed down again he found himself lying on his back on his bed, the coarse blanket chafing against his cold skin. Suddenly this provided him with a slow revelation...he wasn't wearing a shirt. Where had his shirt gone if he wasn't wearing it anymore? Someone must have stolen it! With conviction he jerked up from his reclining position. Only the worst brigand would do something so vile and low as steal another man's shirt - this behavior would desist immediately!
Almost as quickly he was pushed back into his relaxed position, where he lay, staring at the bland white ceiling, and the slender, strong arm that had pushed him on his back. The arm was tender white, with a blush of pink blended in gently, a heavenly color sent straight from the sun. The aroma was overwhelming, the strong pleasing scent of a real woman. Palace girls smelled all of perfume and flowers, starch and too many baths. This smell was much more enticing. It was like catching the purest scent of the grass and trees and life of the planet and blanketing her with it, blessing her. Often times he could remember pressing his face up against her neck and drawing her in - feeling like if he took in enough breath perhaps he could consume her and be with her forever.
Now as he stared up at his angel, the questions he had asked himself before seemed silly. Of course he loved her - how could he not love her? A glance from her eye pulled him in on an unbreakable chain, a touch from her hand seared his flesh away until only his bleeding heart remained. He loved everything about her. He loved the way her long, dark hair flowed down over her shoulder and trickled against her strong arm. He loved the way the muscles in her wrist tensed as she pressed her palm against his stomach; he loved the way her fingers quivered as they slid up and down against his skin. He loved the way she bit her lip when she smiled, the way she ducked her head shyly when she blushed.
Suddenly the beauty of the whole situation overwhelmed him - driving back his wants and rules, making all his thoughts and resolutions seem very silly and childish compared to life at its fullest. He drew the woman he loved to him, clutching her hand in his - melding the heat of their bodies, mixing their sweat together. Beatrix opened her mouth and Steiner devoured her smile as he tenderly kissed her hair, trying to prepare himself for the strange plunge into the unknown. But then...it was probably better not to worry - worry could only ruin the perfect moment.
"I..." Steiner whispered into the silk locks, his throat nearly to dry to speak, "I am yours to command, my lady."
--
Zidane watched Garnet brush her hair, his heart falling further with each stroke of the brush. Everything that he had tried to ignore during the day, talking to Tot and Mikoto, seeing people and going places, all a desperate attempt to push his worry aside. But apparently nothing had changed...or more accurately - something had changed. He just wasn't really aware of what it was that had changed, or what he could possibly do to help her - but anything was better than watching her pull lifelessly at her glowing hair, her face proclaiming that she was trying as hard as she could not to cry.
For the first time in his life Zidane was feeling despair. All of his life, no matter how grand or grim the situation, there was always at least something he could do, someone he could fight. He didn't understand the silent warfare, if there was no threat he could see, no enemy to face, then how could anything be wrong? Garnet had always loved him before, and so had been open and honest if anything was ever troubling her...but perhaps this time...
He didn't even want to speculate with something that rash - he trusted Garnet as much as he found possible, trusted her with his life. She would never willingly break his trust - he had enough faith in her to know that. Garnet's eyes turned to look at him, and sorrow washed over him in a great flood. Suddenly, without knowing the reason, Zidane felt the great urge to cry.
Slowly and deliberately Garnet set the brush aside and rose to her feet. Their bedchamber was a huge, luxurious affair, one whole side of the room devoted to a bath and wash area, the center for clothing and lounging, and the other end of the room containing a massive full-post bed. Garnet stepped over to her dresser and began to disrobe for the night, very plainly averting her eyes from her husband.
Zidane gazed at her as the clothing fell away, the ache of his heart pushing stronger than the loud throbs of passion it contained. He loved every inch of the woman that stood there - in her form was enfolded his life, his treasure, the accumulation of all he had lived for to that point. He had earned her, and would do it over and over again to stay near her. Zidane knew he would die for her, over and over again if it would keep her happy.
Zidane let his eyes trace the strong line of her shoulder as she bent to pull her nightshirt from a vast assortment of gowns and blouses filling the massive wardrobe. Zidane felt a pang of shame as his gaze trickled across her unblemished skin. Her muscles were far too trained, overused for a lady of her position. She never should have been subjected to the torturous journeys of the years past, the harsh stress that she faced now in running a kingdom. There must have been a way it could have been avoided. He could have...he could have...
But he couldn't! Her smooth and slender back rose into the beautiful curve of her hips and thighs. Fate had ordained their lives to be this way, it was all said and done, there was no room for regret. He just had to stop being such a baby, turn into a man and be there to hold her up - no matter what. No matter what.
As if moving to test his resolve, Garnet turned to face him, the nightshirt she had donned barely a wisp across her voluptuous feminine form. Zidane barely saw this, all he saw were her looming eyes, the tears that bloomed readily around them, her trembling lip, her flowing hair curling shamefully around her face.
"Zidane...do you hate me?"
Zidane didn't understand it - he didn't understand it at all, what the question meant or why he was so upset. In a transient moment he suddenly found that he was sobbing, his body convulsing as tears swept through him. With a few falling steps he tumbled his way to the bed and curled up over the covers - feeling much like a child who doesn't understand why his parent went away. "No...I do-I don't hate you G- G...Garnet," His words bubbled forth clumsily as he stared across the room at her through tear-stained eyes, "Please, just...just let me love you. Please!" A shattering silence echoed through the room, broken only by Zidane's heavy shuddering. A few moments was all he could take before his emotion rang forth in full force, a helpless scream, "PLEASE!"
Garnet stared at him for a few agonizingly long moments, then her shoulders sank, and a long breath forced its way from her system. Finally, in a voice on the verge of tears, she whispered, "Zidane..." Hesitantly she walked toward him, her stride uncertain if she was being the queen of Alexandria or Zidane's lover, her step faltered between a delicate sway and a hurried rush to the bedside. There she collapsed against him, clutching his head in her hands as she pushed his face to her chest and joined him in shedding tears. "Zidane..." She whispered again against his hair, "Please...no matter what happens you have to trust me. No matter what."
"I do, Garnet." Zidane sobbed, pulling at her desperately, "I always did."
"I should never have doubted you, Zidane...I'm a miserable person."
"You're too perfect. I just want to love you, Garnet...nothing else matters." And truly, nothing did matter. Anything that had been doubted or contrived in the days that had separated them dissolved as they clung to one another, murmuring their love into the deep hours of the night, a night that would be remembered for ever and ever, burned into memory by the flames of love.
The last night.
Little angel go away
Come again some other day
The devil has my ear today
I'll never hear a word you say
He promised I would find a little solace
And some piece of mind
Whatever, just as long as I don't feel so
Desperate
And Ravenous,
So Weak and Powerless,
Over you.
Weak and Powerless - A Perfect Circle