Author's Notes: I apologize for the long wait, I have some outside issue's crop up that have nothing to do with me but required me to take care of none the less. Not going to get into that. I hope this chapter can meet your expectations and I hope you enjoy it even just a little. Thank you!
Leaning languidly against the balcony outside of one of Queen Brahne's private rooms, Kuja rested his cheek against the crook of his arm, looking to the city below as the Alexandrian breeze ruffled his hair. The fabric of his sleeves brushed against his lips as he tried to bury his head further against his crossed arms to abate the headache pulsing at his temples. His audiences with the Queen were no longer filled with cajoling and sickeningly sweet empathy but now obedient reassurances and pacifying compliments.
The former was no better than the latter; both enough to make him hurl.
No longer was she wallowing in her grief but now how the audacity to command him to expedite his production of black mages and mistadons, sneering down at him as if he was nothing more than a commoner. His fist clenched at the memory of it.
How much longer would he be in the service of others, smiling, placid, until he swore he felt his face begin to crack?
Many images of her demise had coursed through his mind over the last few months and despite not having worked out just how he would dispose of her in the future, he always saw her engulfed in a cloud of scorching flames.
His head rose once more at a peel of laughter down below, his curiosity caught by the familiarity of it. Peering down, his chin still resting on his arms, he could see the princess talking animatedly with her tutor, the hulking feathered creature looking just as ridiculous as he ever did. He was at a distance where he could hear nothing of the conversation and he doubted he would be interested to, although he observed none the less.
The girl truly was a thing of beauty, her hair a dark obsidian that absorbed everything and gave nothing, the same likeness as her eyes. Had he been closer, he would have heard the tell-tale rumbling of the eidolons within her, sometimes their whispers so loud he swore he could feel their vibration within the marble beneath his feet. He found it curious that no one other than himself seemed to be aware of them.
Watching her, admiring her, he found it ironic that a being of such dark attributes was a vessel of such innocence whereas he himself was so fair and yet admittedly a rather devious villain. A stray thought, something perverse, danced across his mind momentarily and he almost grinned with it.
He wondered as to the similarities between the former princess and the one below him now. Did they truly resemble each other enough for one to take the place of another without anyone batting a lash? And if so, Garnet's mother must have been devastatingly beautiful, the girl a product of King Alexander and one of his mistresses after his first wife's passing and before the marriage of his second, Brahne.
He was the very definition of the rule to not be mistaken by appearances and yet he still could not fathom the appeal the elephant lady had held for the King.
Bastard must have gone blind.
Lost in his musing, he never heard his "guest" until they were upon him.
"Don't you have your claws sunk into enough birds?"
Beatrix.
She wasn't looking at him but down below, her eye also following the princess along with his. He stood then, a quick grin on his face as he greeted the general, sweeping into a low bow before resting a hand on a hip.
She looked at him then, her brow furrowed, "I had hoped I might have surprised you."
His grin grew at that, drawing a small sigh of disappointment from her.
She had in fact, several times, but he would never let her know of it. She was one of three that had the capability to sneak upon him unawares, the others being his creator and his would-be "sister", the dull little drone that she was.
Despite the small amount of amusement he had gleaned from her expression, the broad smile on his face was making his head pulse even worse. As much as he enjoyed their verbal sparring matches, he wasn't in the mood.
"Sometimes I forget how tall you are. "
"Whatever do you mean," his grin fading, perplexed at her comment.
"Hmm…hunched over like that, you look somewhat like a child. "
It sounded like something King had said to him once.
She leaned into him, her face suddenly a mere two inches from his and this time he could not mask his surprise at her sudden invasion of his space.
" The freckles on your nose don't help either, although I doubt you ever let anyone close enough to notice them. "
She stood back, her expression giving away nothing as he tried to ease his features back into something more like himself. Damn her.
"Our spy has returned back from Lindblum."
"Oh?" He crossed him arms over his chest, the migraine beginning to take its toll, "And what of it?"
"It's just as you said, the Regent has been absent for some time. It is reported that he is ill, but of what ailment, no one can clarify." Her eye narrowed at him then, "How did you know?"
"Mere speculation on some gossip I've been hearing as of late. Naturally I wanted this matter investigated in order to better inform our Queen." He shrugged casually with it to emphasize the seeming unimportance of his query.
Her gloved hands found her way to her hips and she half turned, looking back out at the city beyond, "No one can get past the Minister. Even the Chief Advisor is not receiving anyone. For a minute there it made me wonder if she had finally done him in."
"She?" He knew who she was speaking of, but didn't let on, enticed but what she might have meant.
"Lady Hilda," she glanced at him sidelong before returning to the view of the capital, "Everyone knows what a notorious rake the Regent is. Cid has been caught in as many skirts as he has fingers."
Schooling his features to boredom, his mind was racing.
How interesting.
When he had first embarked on the HildaGuard, there had been Lindblum Fleet Guard aboard. Had Hilda been on the run for a murder or injury, she would not be surrounded by soldiers there for her protection and guidance.
He thought back to the books she had been perusing when last he had been in the Kiera desert.
Perhaps not maimed or killed…but incapacitated?
Transformed.
If Hilda had done what he was beginning to suspect, that made Lindblum all the more vulnerable. He needed to excuse himself from Beatrix in order to ponder this new prospect properly. He needed to go to his room and lie down first.
Another peal of laughter and the two of them turned again to the source of the sound, the princess below filled with mirth, her hand grasped onto the arm of Dr. Tot.
He turned to Beatrix, watching her as she watched Garnet, eye zeroed in, focused.
Returning the favor, he leaned in close, his lips almost brushing her ear as he whispered, "I imagine the Queen wouldn't even as much as sniff at you if you took the girl for your own."
She never even flinched. Turning to the pale man above her, her expression still gave away nothing, "If I had wanted her, she would have already been mine."
A genuine smile of pleasure curled about his lips despite himself, a small chuckle shaking his shoulders, "I really do like you General."
She closed her eye as she flipped her hair from her shoulder, unimpressed, making her way back to the suite and the door, "I hardly believe anything that comes out of that mouth of yours."
As she should. She had observed his many facades and fake civilities these past several months, noting he was nothing better than a slippery snake with a silver tongue, sweet poison all but dripping from his concealed fangs as he won over every member of nobility within her Queen's court. Every spy she had sent to monitor his movements within his first few weeks in the palace had been sniffed out immediately, messages relayed back to her in a condescending and humiliating manner that had hit hard at her pride.
All she could do was watch and wait and protect.
"But this time I truly mean it," he smiled at her, nothing neither fake nor sweet about it, a hard glint to his eyes.
She left, sensing his humor twisting as it did from time to time, now wanting to get involved.
He heard the heavy door shut within the suite beyond and couldn't help but sigh in relief.
His hand found his way to his eyes and he all but gritted his teeth. He wanted to pen a missive to make his excuses for the evening but the elephant lady had already made her displeasure known that his black mage army would not be ready for another two months. He would have to rest and medicate for the next two hours in order to alleviate the pain behind his eyes before tonight.
He had almost thought himself past these episodes, but once in awhile he was reminded that some alien aspects about his person just did not go away with time. The atmosphere around Terra acted as a barrier for the light source that illuminated the neighboring planets, the muted light of Terra and the blue pools of Bran Bal had caused him to develop photophobia in his earlier years, the bright sun of Gaia dazzling and impressive to his younger self when he first stepped onto the planet, awe struck and slightly fearful of its illuminative prowess only to cry out in agony after a few short hours in its presence. The migraines he suffered in his first few months were so debilitating that it was all he could do but to curl in on himself and muffle his cries. He became accustomed to the stars foreign strength over time, exposing himself to its elements more and more until his sensitivity to its light became almost nonexistent.
Leaving the balcony and room as well, he made his way to his current chambers within the Alexandrian palace, closing the door and making his way to the side of the bed as he went. Disengaging the buckles of his mantle before shrugging out of it resulted in a dull thud in the quiet room as it slid from his shoulders and onto the floor, his fingers quick in removing himself of his vestiges and boots before he moved to close the curtains at the window, making the room as dark as he could. He slid naked on top of the covers in the large canopied bed, his arms under the pillows as he attempted to grind the thing into his eyes, the pain steady and thrumming. His tail was limp next to his leg as he willed himself to relax his breathing, years of practice dictating that sleep was always the best curative for these spells.
Sighing into his pillow, he pushed away thoughts of politics, eidolons, freedom, and most definitely nosy little women who had no idea just how much trouble they were in.
She threw her hand over her mouth and willed herself to not hurl the contents of her stomach to the floor as her body lurched from one place to the next in the span of a second.
She had to take several deep breaths to calm the sudden onset of nausea that had come about. Once the feeling fled, she straightened herself up to stare at the open cavern beyond, the glowing sigil beneath her feet dimming slightly. Her captor had gone amiss two weeks prior and the itch within her mind had escalated as the days numbered, her curiosity eating away at her boredom.
She thought to when she had first arrived, merely getting a small glimpse of the desert beyond, wondering what the Outer Continent truly looked like. She could hear the howl of the wind as it whipped about the cavern, kicking up her skirts, the air hot and dry. The ship was missing, giving her a wide view of the landscape beyond. Walking forward, the sound grew louder until it was the only thing she could hear.
She had spent weeks attempting to open the many windows on the upper level floors but most were not made to be open and those that could would not budge, the sand and grit of the desert air wearing away at the hinges outside making them immobile.
She stopped a dozen feet or so away from the edge, opting to sit and take in the view lest the wind take hold of her and throw her asunder like a doll. She looked to the many dunes in the distance, watching the endless rolls, marveling at the random geysers of sand that shot through the air every now and then, the wind too loud to hint at what could be the cause.
Taking it all in for several moments, she was unsure of how much time had passed, merely that her throat had become unbearable dry and parched, licking her lips that were beginning to chap. She took it as a sign it was time to leave when the cavern began to dim, standing, bushing at her skirts before realizing the futility of the action as they had become filthy and heavy with sand. Slapping her hands together, she turned back to the depths of the darkening cavern and to the sigil.
She paused when she noticed two glowing orbs in the recesses of the darkness staring at her.
She could see the little man below, silently watching her, and like a thunderclap, panic raced in her chest. He blinked once, twice, and made for the sigil, quickly. In fear, she began to think of what she was to do lest he report to his master what he had witnessed. She had yet to ever hear a voice emitted from any of the mages that worked diligently about the palace but she had witnessed from afar as they communicated to their creator, a conversation always too far away for her to hear but being spoken none the less. Before she could make a move however, she could hear the loud rumble of an airship engine in the distance. Afraid, she turned back to the opening of the cavern to see the HildaGarde in the distance. It was still a long way away but with her speed, it would be here momentarily.
She bolted.
Racing after the little man that had left before her, she made her way to the sigil, the glowing device teleporting her faster than a thought and into the palace.
To a hall that she had never been before…
It was dark, damp, and the air was stale. She began gingerly walking, her fingers trailing along a wall to steady herself as she could hardly see, the sound of scuffling above her head alarming. Reaching the end, there was an open archway with stairs. Climbing them slowly, light began to filter through the mass and as she reached the apex, she stepped into another hall. One she was familiar with. Dull light illuminated the closed chambers with their strange symbols and knob-less doors, her mind connecting the scuffling noises to the monsters housed within the rooms of the floor. She now knew where she was, surmising that she had somehow teleported into what she thought must be the basement, working her way out of the horror she was currently in now. She tried to swallow her fright, knowing it would take her almost a half hour just to return to the main entrance hall much less her own rooms on the upper levels.
Confused as to what had went wrong with the sigil, she quickly began making her way toward the stairs, wondering how much time had already passed, calculating that the airship had surely landed. She tripped twice in her haste to make her way up the submerged fortress, her anxiety growing at the time that began to eat away from her. She almost cried out in relief when she made it up the main entrance and began taking the grand staircase up toward the guest chambers. Several flights higher and her breath began to ease out in calmness, her panic dying down, so very close was she to her own room.
And then her heart dropped at the click of metal boots behind her, causing her to pick up her skirts, quickening her pace as the dreadful sound got closer, louder, almost deafening to her racing heart.
He wanted her to hear him.
All but scrambling up the spiral glass corridor, she could see her door, tears almost reaching her eyes, fear mounting within her. He was becoming so very close, she was sure he was mere feet behind her.
Damn this climate.
Her dress was so very telling of where she had been. He had been absent for weeks, but of course her damning luck would beckon him home once she decided to go astray.
His voice did wonders for frightening her to death.
"Lady Hilda. I have just been informed you had made an attempt at escape."
She could hear the deadly threat in his voice.
She didn't slow her pace as she threw her head over her shoulder, her words all but biting in turn.
"Your doll is a liar!"
Merely a glimpse, but the look on his face was so very dreadfully beautiful while promising something final and unpleasant. She almost cried out as her hand reached the latch of her room, disengaging the lock and almost falling in, knowing it was pointless to close the door behind her, the man reaching the appendage within mere seconds. Moving to her armoire, her hand reached a double pronged hairpin, clasping it desperately in her hand before turning to face him, watching as he quietly closed the door, as if his full interest was tagged onto the motion alone.
She heard the click of it close and watched as he slowly turned his head toward her, making it obvious she was the center of his undesired attention, his steps quiet and soft once more as he came closer.
"I'm curious as to how your masochistic tendencies align with the success of your career?"
"I'm not a glutton for punishment. I was not escaping. You yourself dictated that I could peruse this facility to my own discretion!"
It took everything she had not to stutter, her fright almost turning her into a caged little bird, fearful to have its wings plucked. She wanted to hurt him for turning her into this wretched, pathetic thing. Never had she been so scared of anyone, her fate mandated by his leave!
Nothing of which she had parted to him registered on his features and his arm darted out like a serpent for her. Her own arm moved faster than she could think it, thrusting forward, her hairpin sinking hard into his exposed abdomen. Surprised by her own actions, she looked up to his much taller stature, her mouth agape at the open shock on his face. After several blinks, something which was akin to fury began knitting his fine brows. Wrenching the pin from him, she watched in horror as blood all but flowed from the wound, his hand shakily covering the injury as he reached for her again, grasping her arm with trembling, hard fingers, biting into her flesh.
"U-Use a cure. Now!" she all but commanded, her voice not her own.
The hand that grasped her no longer shook, his nails digging into her painfully.
"No." His eyes were pinning her in place. "You will mend this."
Confusion spun her mind in a torrent," I am not a doctor, can you not see you are bleeding?! Heal yourself!" She would become hysterical if he did not come to his own senses!
"No."
He pulled her against him then, bending her arm backwards so hard she thought it had surely broke, crying out at the pain racing up her shoulder, "You will fix this," he bit out, "Now hurry!"
He shoved her away from himself with a rough jerk, almost giving her whiplash, looking down at the mess she had made of him, assessing the damage done. Her hands flew over the items on her armoire, grasping a piece of cloth desperately as she watched him sit on the edge of her bed, fast on her feet as she moved his hand from the wound, pressing the cloth firmly against him. Grabbing his hand once more, she silently willed him to hold the cloth in place while she moved to pour water from her pitcher into the basin from a little table on the side of her bed, adding handkerchiefs to the bowl, and then searching for needle and thread.
Using his other hand, he had already removed his garments and amour from his chest, discarding clothing to the floor. Shakily, she climbed alongside him, grabbing pillows to shove behind him as he eased backwards delicately. Exchanging his cloth for a wet clean one, she began wiping away the red obstruction in order to work. She whispered Slow into the air, the blood loss halting. She bent her needle with a thought, her voice trembling as she added a binding spell to her flimsy thread, watching as the material thickened and stiffened.
She pierced his flesh, almost jumping at his hiss, the act making her cringe. He was so very pale, likening his skin to moonlight.
"If this is meant to teach me a lesson when you could have already been on the mend, I do not understand," she was weaving in and out of flesh with the same precision she mended her own clothing, the skin puckered and red. She met his eyes and paled at the deadly quality to them, the henna at his eyes suddenly looking crimson in the dimming room.
"What would a flawed creature like you know?" She stilled, something in the inflection in his voice giving her pause. It was the closest she had ever heard him come to a yell, his voice deepening with what sounded like raw emotion.
"Whatever does that mean?"
She blinked several times, not understanding. After several minutes of reflection on what his meaning could possibly elude to, she could only conclude one.
"Surely this is not related to your vanity?" That would be madness.
He didn't reply, trying to still her trembling hands to finish the job, the situation spiraling into something she could not keep up with. One finished, slipping further into a confused state, she began removing his boots and the rest of his garments, her normal propriety far from her thoughts, thinking she needed to get him to lie in the bed.
Removing the last of his clothing, she gasped.
He merely blinked lazily at her, an arm propped on a pillow, naked and unabashed, watching her silently. A silver tail lifted next to his leg before falling back to the bed, the very same color of his hair and lashes.
"…You're not human."
"No, that I am not."
She looked at him but his face gave away nothing. Never had she met another individual that resembled a human such as him and not yet be one.
"What are you?"
"A creature made for perfection." To anyone else it would have sounded vain or melodramatic. But the serious set of his jaw and the way he watched her let her know it was anything but.
He snaked his fingers around her wrist and brought her face an inch from his, the breath from his words against her lips making her shiver.
"And if I do not heal without a scar, I'll make sure to give you one you will never forget."
She closed the door quietly behind her save for the click of the latch, peering into the darkened room to ensure her guest remained sleeping. Once her eyes adjusted and she verified he indeed was, she moved to the small table next to the bed and placed the tray she had been carrying upon it, a small spread of light fare and herbal tea sitting atop. He had chosen to remain in her room, a decision that her left her worriedly wondering where to sleep herself, outright refusing the idea of prompting him to share the bed and too distraught to sleep elsewhere, fearful of his wound becoming infected lest she not keep a vigil over it.
She had opted to rest in a chair next to the bedside overnight, an awful ache biting into her neck and shoulders at the wake of morning. He had remained asleep the entire day due to the sleeping aid she had placed within his tea, deeming rest the best curative, his injury not remotely life threatening but still enough to keep her afraid and wondering her fate lest is not heal in the manner in which he had dictated.
It was nighttime again, a full day now past since her little trick with the hairpin. The room was dark save for the dull light from the lantern on her armoire, casting light across a tiny portion of the bed, her captor's profile seeming soft and delicate as his exposed chest rose and fell, his breathing the only sound in the room. It had been evident that the man had absolutely no body shyness as he had remained naked during the course of his stay. Only when he had fallen asleep from the tonic she had administered to him was she able to cover him with a blanket, trying to keep her features stoic and almost nurse-like, but her mind had reminded her that she has never been so close to another man undressed as he except her husband.
Gingerly setting herself down on the edge of the bed, she watched the man as he slept, his hair seeming lavender in the pale light and curling beneath his cheeks. She looked to the feathers at his crown, marveling at their structure as she never had before, leaning forward slightly to get a proper look. She had always assumed them to be a play at fashion but the closer she looked and knowing what she now knew, she could clearly see how the silver of his hair began to merge at the base into the plumage that stood aloft, fine things that ruffled easily in a breeze. Indeed, he was not human.
Point of fact, the more she studied him, the more obvious it became. His whole anatomy just seemed wrong. There was no doubt he was male, he had seen to show her of that. However, in as just as many places as he was solid and hard, there were just as many that were soft with curves, delicate structured planes that morphed into defined sinews of muscle. It almost seemed an amalgamation of genders while also having two distinct features that were un-humanlike in nature.
She marveled once more how she had never seen someone resemble a human almost entirely so and not be one.
No. That wasn't right.
She remembered a dirty and shining little boy years ago when she was twenty, maybe twenty-one, crashing into her on the streets of the city proper, overly polite and apologetic for the accident, his smile large and as bright as his golden hair. His clothes were two sizes too large, worn and ragged, and bobbing behind him was a tail just as spectacular in coloring as the hair atop his head. More than the tail however, it was his eyes that had given her pause, such gorgeous sapphire depths the likes which she had never seen. Taking his apology without a thought, she has sent him on his way, the boy dashing off faster than lightning. It was only moments after he disappeared that she realized her reticule had gone missing. It didn't take long for her guard to find him by her description, presenting the little thief with her bag, the coins long gone and a sheepish yet charismatic smile still on the child's face. He had been sent to her father's garden for a week, pulling weeds and replanting the gaurdia lilies as punishment.
"I'm unsure on how hard he's taking the lesson, Hilda, the boy is clearly enjoying himself," her father had told her, a little wonder in his voice as he watched the boy happily work through his task.
It had been pure coincidence that she would see him again years later, one of Baku's boys, laughing and smiling with one of his comrades, the set of his shoulders and the casual way he rested his gloved hand on his hip read of a sure individual brimming with confidence and mischief. The sight had made her smile. There was something about the tailed-boy that projected unto others whatever it was that was overflowing from within him, the very brilliance of it reflecting in his eyes.
But that boy did not have feathers such as this one did. Perhaps the two were still related by the same species? She would be lying to herself if she denied that she wanted to touch them. Yet her fear allayed her, unsure of what he might do if he woke. She could surmise that he could tease her for unwittingly being attracted to his person as well as she could deduce that he could command her not to touch him so familiarly, his gaze scathing.
He was unpredictable, exasperating, and unfathomable.
She had let her curiosity rule her too much in her recent circumstances, much to her shame. With finality, she decided she would not allow herself to do so anymore.
Stilling her willfulness to touch the striking feature within his hair, she pulled his covers down to his hips, her fingers pressing slightly on the pale skin around the puncture wounds. She questioned her sight as she peered between the threading, unsure at the trickery before her. Gone was the swelling and redness there just hours ago, in its place smooth flesh. She would need to get her little scissors to snip at the thread to confirm if he was indeed healed, but this was unheard of without a spell.
Plucking scissors from a drawer, she scooted back to the sleeping man, turning so that the light of the lantern fell on the threading in order to better see. Snipping and pulling the material away, she let out the breath she had been holding, the only thing marking his skin were the small holes from where the thread had been. Those were paltry and would be gone quickly enough, but how was there no trace of the injury she had inflicted upon him?
"Is it healed?"
His voiced was thick and laced with sleep and when she pulled her eyes from his abdomen to, she could see he was still very tired.
"Yes. And unnaturally quickly, might I add." No longer touching him, she sat up, feeling slightly haggard. Nothing made sense anymore.
"It's how I'm made." It almost came out as a mumble as he moved to stretch out his spine, something feline-like in the motion before he settled back into the pillows, leaning into them.
"Made? And what exactly are you? Or are you refusing to tell me that too?"
"You wouldn't know even if I did tell you."
"Then if it would give away nothing, why bother concealing it?"
He studied her a moment, his knee coming up, the covers slipping from the limb, his left arm stretched out to the side on the pillows. After moments of weighing, he spoke again.
"I'm…a genome."
"Genome," she repeated the word aloud, but more to herself in an attempt to understand it. "Do all…genomes…have tails?"
His head inclined slightly back while tilting to the side and he continued to study her, "Yes."
"What about the feathers?" Her hand motioned to the crown of her head.
"…No. Only…only I have those." She mistook his halting reply to mean his throat was parched, or so he assumed, as she moved to the tray next to the bed, pouring a strong-smelling tea into a cup and handing it to him. Instead of resuming her perch on the bed, she deigned to sit in the chair next to him.
The flaw in his genetic make-up was his own, the feathers a mistake only given to the prototype.
"Are these for me?" He pointed at the tray, grabbing a sliver of cheese at her nod, chewing thoughtfully at the information he had just given her. She was right of course, he had given away nothing. He shouldn't feel ill at ease. However, what she said next made his heart almost stop.
"I see. The other genome I met only had the tail. With blond hair and blue eyes….very much like your own, now that I see the connection. I-"
She paused at the undisguised expression of surprise on his face, his eyes wide, almost not even looking at her, it seemed. She was taken aback, unaccustomed to him giving away any feeling of his own that he was not in control of.
"Where did you see him?"
Ah.
She had never mentioned it was a him.
Her inquisitive nature was what fueled the success of her career all these years but it was only with Kuja that it garnered her more trouble than not. It was because her analytical skills were useless with it came to this man, an accomplished actor who gave nothing with an impenetrable mask and who held her in his own turf, away from her spy's, her acquaintances, and her most trusted and valuable minister. Had he been within her domain, there would not have been a move he could have made without her being aware of it. Everything around her within this fortress was alien, even the very nature of the person that called himself her captor. She would not give away something so easily, no matter how fearful she was of him.
"Treno, "the lie was said with practice smoothness. "It was only in passing. Like yourself, I had thought it peculiar someone could look so human and only retain a slight feature that was not."
Staring at her, weighing her answer, he dismissed her from her own room and she was all the gladder to do so. His answer about the tails was enough to lead on there were several of his kind in existence however the fact that she had come in contact with one had alarmed him. Were they not from the Mist continent? And if so, where could they have possibly thrived? And why was it so distressing to him that a "genome" like him was spotted while he himself travelled to wherever his heart desired? The little fragments of things she learned seemed to boggle her more and more as she collected them.
It was after midnight and she was feeling fresh after her bath, her hair still wet as she made her way back to her room after having borrowed a tub from a seemingly empty room. Her room still remained dark, only lit by the small little lantern at her armoire, her guest in a robe but still there. He had moved to the small table in the center of the room, finishing the food from the tray she had brought earlier. Closing the door behind her, she wondered how much longer he intended to stay, now that he was healed. He didn't even bother looking up from his meal as he flicked his fingers in the air, gesturing for her to take the seat across from him.
She did as he bid, feeling strange sitting so close to him, the table in her room so much smaller and intimate compared to the one in the dining hall. He was making quick work of the snack, the only remnants being a few crackers and a slice of hard meat. That was gone too within minutes, eating quickly and neatly, wiping his mouth with the folded cloth on the tray before looking at her, his eyes stopping momentarily to her wet hair.
She wanted to grasp it out of self-conscience habit, her lack of propriety becoming clearer with each passing day. No one within her home would ever see her in such a state of undress except for her husband and a few select servants. Looking to the sorcerer across from her, her face began to burn at the realization that now the both of them had seen each other with nothing concealing themselves. How was she ever going to describe these indecent events to Cid if she ever saw him again? Her thoughts were becoming darker the longer the silence stretched and it took her several moments to realize a tea cup was being held up to her in offering. Blinking, she took it from his handa, her fingers grazing against the coolness of his own before encircling the painted porcelain and bringing it to her lips.
She sipped at the steamed laudenberry, the sweetness welcoming, and the liquid warming her from the inside. Before she knew it, she had finished the cup, setting it down in mild embarrassment. Kuja was observing her, a small smile at the corner of his mouth at her blush, amused.
"Another?"
"No thank you," she whispered, turning to look in every direction but his. The table was much too small. If only he leaned forward would his head be nothing but a few inches from her own. She hoped he intended to leave soon.
"Lady Hilda?"
"Hmm?"
At his silence, she realized he was waiting for her to look at him. Wanting to sigh but never daring to do so, she turned to meet his gaze. His smile remained in place, although now he had sat back in his chair, casual, relaxed.
"Did you turn Cid into an oglop?"
Her heart stopped, their gazes locked onto another, his smile one of genuine pleasure.
"W-what…?" It came out breathy and whisper like and she hadn't meant it to. She was suddenly feeling dizzy.
She blinked, trying to clear her head but something wasn't right. The more she tried to focus, the more distorted everything became. Her fluttering heart was calming, slowing down, muscles suddenly not abiding by her will. She looked to him in confusion, not sure what was happening.
"They say poison is a woman's weapon of choice."
Dawning horror caused her to turn her sluggish head toward her empty tea cup and then back to the man across from her.
His smile was wicked, carnivorous.
"I say they have the right idea."
Her vision swirled and she slid from her chair, everything becoming a pitch black nothingness.
A/N: Sooooo, I was going to stop with the revision's here but chapters 6 and 7 are crap too, so I'll be rewriting those entirely as well. *setsfiretoeverything*