A/N: I apologize, this chapter got dark real fast. Despite the disturbing things written in here, I hope you still enjoy. Thank you!
There was a sour taste upon her tongue as she stirred; her eyelids heavy, her body stiff. Streams of thought began to gather and collect as her consciousness returned. A wave of nausea roiled through her stomach and her eyes snapped open as she clamped her jaw down, gritting her teeth to abate the urge to hurl. Her eye's watered at the intense onset of light that met her, forcing her to close them once more as she turned her head away from the offender.
"Careful…" The warning was low, amused.
She slowly opened her eyes again to see a set of vicious spikes mere centimeters from her nose, an insect-like swarm of dread humming within her abdomen. Cautiously, she made to rise. And alarm soon replaced her dread.
Jerking her arms and legs up in protest resulted in the bite of metal against flesh and she turned her head back up. Restrained in a manner that did not allow her to peer down to what was binding her body, she looked up, and into a large laurel-designed circular mirror with a dark menacing bat atop mounted on the wall behind her head, titled at an angle that allowed her to see herself bound with metal structures on a rack. Surrounding her head was a horrific arch of spikes, so close that wisps of her hair was spread in-between them. In the mirror, she could see the culprit from which she had initially been blinded, three stone structures with open burning flames blazed around the head of the rack, creating an eerie glow about the room. Through the mirror, she could see a cage large enough to house a human on the floor, a smaller, suspended one by its side, shackles hanging ominously behind the two.
There was a chest beside two large ornate jars and just within her vision was the edge of a standing candelabra, lit and flickering. Taking her eyes off the mirror and gingerly turning her head to the side, she could see a small alcove within a larger alcove in the room, a strange mechanism with an hour glass inside, the sand a deep crimson. And to her other side was a small intricately designed table with a whip, shears, and various other instruments. She willed herself to not shudder.
"You haven't been in this room. "His observation was confirmation enough, he needed no answer from her.
Even though she couldn't see him, his voice was close enough to signal at his nearness.
A second wave of nausea hit her and she clenched her teeth against the tide, the after effects of whatever it was he had put in her tea racking her insides.
"A sleeping spell would have worked just as well," she spat weakly.
"I was angry."
She thought to the tools to her right. And then he was above her, a slight grin at the corner of his mouth.
"I think I've calmed down now."
His hand settled around one of the spikes at the side of her face, grasping it firmly before releasing it, trailing his fingers along the edge of the table, as if in whimsy.
"I like to think myself a gentleman."
He moved toward her head where she couldn't see him. She felt a small tug on her scalp, and in confusion, she looked to the mirror against the wall to see just his hand and wrist extended in the glass, his fingers twirling a strand of her gold hair.
"I think it's time we re-affirm our relationship. Are you frightened, Hilda?"
She said nothing, could say nothing, her body and mind waring with the illness that was trying to consume her and the fear that was creeping along her nerves.
His hand moved closer to her scalp, petting.
"I think that you are. Which would be beneficial for the two of us. Fear is a warning concerning self-perseveration and I believe it would be nothing short of kind of me to avail myself to you in order to instruct you on its merits."
Disentangling his fingers from her hair, he appeared in her sights again, next to the small table. He was in a robe with large sleeves with a blush of dusk at the edges. Fingers peeped from the sleeve and wrapped around the shears at the table, plucking them in decisiveness before leaving again, moving toward her feet.
She was finding it hard to breath all of a sudden, her head jerking up as she looked to the mirror behind her. When he came into view, she watched as he paused by her legs, grabbing hold of the hem of her dress. Without hesitation, he began to snip at the fabric, cleanly and quickly making his way to her abdomen.
"Wh-What are you doing?" She couldn't hide the panic that had creeped into her voice.
The slicing sound of the fabric became louder, closer, the weight of the metal grazing against her chemise.
"Do you have secrets, Hilda? I imagine you do. I have secrets too. I'm beginning to understand that some of my ire is stemmed from the fact that while you do not relinquish your own, you continue to sniff out mine."
The sound of the shears continued until they reached the top of her bodice and with one clean 'snip', the fabric slid to the side, revealing her corset and under garments.
"Strange that you're dressed in so many layers so late at night…" He mused aloud.
She had redressed fully after her bath, unknowing if he had intended to remain in her room again now that he was healed. She began to shiver, unsure of what was happening.
And to her dismay, she felt the tool slipping between her chemise and corset, the slicing sound resuming in the almost quiet room save for the crackling of the fire. It took only a handful of seconds before the garment was sliced open and he made for the bottom of her last garment.
"What are you doing?" She repeated, her voice taking on an edge of anxiety mixed with fright. She pulled against her restraints but was met with nothing but resistance.
He seemed focused on his task but his hands became slower, the slice of the blades coming down almost to a halt when next he spoke.
"During my first years here, I experimented with creating new species. Some were the result of cross-breeding, others from genetic manipulation, until I resolved to using mist…"
Mist?
"What you met in the lower levels is part of the end results. Although their differences came about the methods in which I created them, some were born with siblings."
She didn't know what he was on about, concerned about her inevitable nakedness and the other tools sitting on the little table.
"One such creation bore three. Two males and a female. Large, disgusting things with protruding jaws that had ironically grown rows are sharp jagged teeth on the outside, one of my many early failures. Anyhow, they grew at a rapid rate, reaching maturity within a weeks' time. I wondered then if they would perhaps be of any use, if they would expire just as quickly as they had been born. I was essentially working with unknown materials, completely in the dark, so I had no basis of comparison when I began this task."
He continued to use his tool, her legs now exposed. She was unclear of the meaning to his twisted tale but she would not dare to not heed his words. Since he began telling it, not once did he smile nor part with his normal jovial mockery. This was meant to be listened to and she made to hear every word.
"Peculiarly, one of the males seemed to have a voracious and violent sexual appetite and when next I checked on them, I discovered he had ravished the sister to death. Although it was curious, it didn't lend to my needs and I left the remaining two males alone, thinking any harm that was to be done was done. To my amazement, he attacked his brother in the same manner he had his sister and before I could separate them, the brother had met the same fate as his sister. Stranger yet, even though he had been the ruining of his siblings, he still cries at night, an awful wretched sound. I think maybe he is lonely. Craving for a physical kind of comfort he doesn't understand but his instincts will him to execute in the only manner he can."
His work was now such that she no longer had to watch the mirror to see what he was doing, her chemise now open to expose her stomach, the scissors paused in his hand, resting in between the underside of her breasts, standing over her, his hair falling on either side of his face.
"I think perhaps you might be so kind as to keep him company."
His eyes lifted from her stomach to her own, the serious blue of them like a guillotine falling upon her. She swallowed convulsively, shaking her head to the side, abating tears of fright that were pulling at the corners of her eyes.
No! Never not! Never ever, please!
The reality of what he was doing was swallowing her, forcing her into a terror she had never known. His actions now made sense, he was preparing her body for this dreadful thing of which he had described to her.
"No? Then whatever shall we do? Surely you have a solution or two to run by me?"
To her shame she began to break down.
"I'm sorry! Truly! I was frightened, I never wanted to harm-"
"Ah!" He cut her off, "No need for lies, Hilda, they make your apology insincere. You and I are both very much in agreement that if doing me an injury would gain you any kind of advantage, you wouldn't hesitate. You're a villain, the same as me, don't ever try to delude yourself that the ends justify the means, when at then end of it all you're a schemer and a cutthroat that does what is necessary to get the job done."
The damning truth to the meaning of his words unsealed the tears she had been holding back, two streams flowing on the sides of her face as she unflinchingly kept his gaze.
Something in his eyes shifted, lightened, and his hand rose up to caress her hair once more.
"I do believe this is the most beautiful I have ever seen you," bending down, he plucked a lock of her growing hair, wrapping it around his index finger, watching the light set the gold ablaze. "I admit, I have a distaste for blondes. It's a flooded genetic trait where I come from," he remarked, his voice sounding bitter. "But I can't help but take exception to you just this moment."
He turned his gaze back to her, the shears forgotten as his other hand came to her face, a thumb wiping at the stream still falling along her cheeks.
"I would bet a fortune that the Regent has never seen you like this." His voice came out as a whisper, soft, lover-like. "Perhaps your restraint is what makes him seek the comfort of others."
His words, no matter the cadence, pierced her chest like a dagger. Something must have flashed across her face as his eyes widened, some of his twisted humor returning.
"Oh? Did I strike a nerve? Surely we've reached a stage where I no longer offend your sensibilities?" He stood straight, his robe shifting with the movement, back to business.
"I believe our current issues lie with the fact that you're are used to being the queen of your own castle, as it were. One such as yourself is unaccustomed to not being in a charge. I imagine most, if not all, outcomes are a result to your designs where you are from. Your lifestyle has created habits of which you know not how to brake, ones in which you attempt to manipulate an environment to the best of your advantage and take chances in order to garner favor to those ends."
Everything stilled when he spoke next.
"So, let me be clear. In this fortress, in my domain, you are no one. Here there is no merit in belonging to the house of Fabool. The machinations of Lindblum hold no bearing in the working of this palace, and I have no need for a Chief Advisor."
He turned back to the little table and began stroking one of the other instruments, something cruel and violent looking, something of which she had no name for.
"So if you desire me to be the gentleman that I endeavor to be…" he turned back to her pointedly," you will desist in every and all labors that displease me. Are we in agreement?"
She nodded violently, so much so that she thought her neck would snap.
He turned back to the rack, disengaging the binds on her limbs, taking her hand to lift her into a sitting position and to the edge of the table.
Her bare legs hung over the edge and she sat before him with her hand still in his own, exposed, humiliated, and frightened to her wits end, her head bowed.
He had told her before he had yet to find a purpose for her. And he had. She had all but confirmed her husband's current status and with her in his residence, their government was also missing their Chief Advisor, weakening the state dramatically. At the moment, Lindblum would be no match from an attack with the princess' eidolons.
Despite the fires in the rooms, a shiver shook through her every so often, her hair covering her eyes. He observed her intently in the quiet room, his interest piqued. He was still learning about the ruling parties of Lindblum, having thought his previous knowledge being adequate enough to suit his needs but finding these new characters to be more and more interesting the more he learned of them. He would not have had the quick success he had with Brahne had he opted for Hilda and her minister. And something told him that despite the Regent's degenerated mishap, the man was not to be underestimated in the slightest.
Lindblum's Chief Advisor sat before him now, shamed and scared out of her mind. Normally such a triumph would make him ecstatic with pleasure. But something similar to pity curled at the corner of his mind and he wondered at it. Perhaps it was because of the various similarities he seemed to be finding within the woman before him he recognized within himself. Perhaps it was despite the trouble she seemed to cause; he couldn't help but respect her.
Despite this newfound emotion, he didn't comfort her, nor lend her any garments to cover herself. He merely ordered her to her room, a walk of shame of sorts, and to remain confined until he was to call for her.
She left quietly, never turning his way, almost naked and unsteady on her feet. He doubted the fight had left her completely when she was over her shock; yet he felt confident that she would be much more complacent in the days going forward. However many he allowed her to have, that is.
Regent Cid Fabool concentrated on his reflection in the mirror, working to tie his cape into a simple bow, his arms growing tired with the effort. After an arduous effort and a few more tries, he smiled at himself in the looking glass in success. Turning to his chief engineer Erin, he asked, "How do I look?"
"…You look awful, sir. " She replied helplessly, sympathy undisguised within her voice.
"Yes, you do indeed look awful. " Looking to Artania in anger, Cid's frustration grew at the bored expression plastered on the man's face.
Looking to the mirror once more, he assessed that an oglop by nature was ugly. An oglop in a cape was just silly and even a little sad. Shaking his head, he hopped away from his reflection and toward a seat. Once he arrived, he mentally growled at the fact that his engineer had equipped the chair with a make-shift booster seat. He didn't thank her.
At first he had been outraged by Hilda's heinous act. Not only had she taken his most prized and newly developed ship, but she had left him in the form of an oglop with no hint at a cure. After a few days, his anger had cooled to regret. Yet as the weeks began to pass, his regret had swiftly turned to worry. Not only was he enslaved within this body, but his wife was missing. No sign of either Hilda or the ship named after her had been sighted across the continent according to his informants. And now as the weeks began to number, he was beginning to fear the worst. Although this "tantrum" was out of the norm for her character, Hilda took her role within the Lindblum government very seriously. He felt sure she would have returned by now.
Rumours were flying across Lindblum and Alexandria about the Regents reclusive state and his absent Advisor. Her council was amiss within the Lindblum city and there was even talk among the townspeople within the capital.
In the beginning he had cursed her name every chance he was reminded his capacities yet now he silently whispered her name in the dark, praying for her safety and her return. And it was his fault. And those closest to the two of them knew it.
His youthful foolishness had caused Hilda to become cold and judgemental with time. Once he had a young and mischievous girl of a wife who was quick with a witty joke. Now he had a calculative and clever woman who could see through him with eyes like daggers cutting through cold water. Hilda was still ever beautiful but her smiles were for public sake and rarely held for him.
At sixteen, they had held something akin to wonder and absolute love, something which made Cid feel very needed. He gave a sad half-smile at the thought. He felt like he could do anything at the time. For anyone to place so much feeling for him made him feel very suited to being Regent and to being a good husband.
However his thoughtlessness at his flirting and his youthful fondness of the drink got the better of him. A face that once held so much respect soon turned to disappointment. He grew angry. Angry at the sadness and the broken expectations that showed so clearly in her eyes that he felt betrayed. Betrayed that she had taken something so wonderful away from him. That she no longer loved him. And so his actions were no longer mistakes but intended affairs. After every one, after every woman he soon despaired, disappointed in not finding the ardour and feelings he once saw within his wife. He even used them at times to maliciously hurt his wife in retaliation for what she took from him.
It wasn't until recently that he come to regret his actions, their intended purpose not extracting the results in which he had meant. She was never at fault as he had selfishly accused. And even more so, his newly found discovery only added to his guilt. Assessing over the last years of their marriage, he understood that he had never truly lost his wife's love. In the way she had kept to his bedside on his ill days or the manner in which she would scroll small notes upon his airship blueprints and templates to remind him of scheduled meetings or duties. Or how she would place her hand upon his head and look into his eyes with worry when he would contract a headache. No, even if her affection was absent, her love was still there. It was merely buried within years of hurt and a bruised heart.
And he was sorry.
So very sorry.
"Sir? Minister Artania is speaking to you."
He shook himself from his heavy thoughts and turned to his minister. "You were saying?"
Artania was looking at him intently, a serious expression etched delicately upon his aging face, "All inquiries for an Alexandrian visit have been denied and the Queen not only refuses our own invitation but had demanded limited access to the Princess. I assume all our letters to Princess Garnet have also been intercepted."
Cid mulled over this, his confusion over the Queens sudden desired isolation growing. Much like his worry over his wife, he was beginning to fear for his niece. After the death of the King, the distressed queen had begun to act irregularly. He wondered not only what was happening inside the palace walls but also the implications that the Queen's actions might have on the Princess.
"Schedule a meeting with Baku of Tantalas. If necessary, we might need to take more effective measures in the near future. "
"He's going to laugh at you, sir," Erin despaired.
He was slightly aware that a twitch was occurring near his right eye. Glaring at his engineer he had an uncontrollable urge to un-gentlemanly flog her, even in his limited capacities. He even momentarily weighed the merits versus the means, coming to the conclusion that as an oglop, he was horribly incapable of taking on such a feat.
"Thank you ever so much for pointing that out, Erin."
"You're welcome, sir. "
It took her a day to come of out her state of shock, her fear subsiding slightly long enough for her to think of other things besides it. Reassessing her situation would do no good. Taking chances of any sort were a poor decision. The days of using her curiosity to bid her time and what she had ill-perceived as a measure of freedom were gone. She was a prisoner to something that she could not measure, manipulate, nor deceive and she had neither allies nor means of calling out for help. How was she to stay sane in such a place as this?
To what ends did letting her live even benefit him? Did the purpose of terrifying her so equate to a single airship? None of it added up. There had to be more to it. But she was too afraid to question him.
And somehow he had discovered Cid's wretched fate. How? Surely Cid had not revealed as much to the public. And why had he not found someone to cure him by now? This led her to worry that as the caster, perhaps she was the only one who could undo what she had wrought. Such knowledge in the hands of a man such as Kuja could bring nothing but disaster.
In the afternoon, a mage came with a note in his hands, written instructions of a summons. Bathing, dressing, and assembling her hair in an understated style, she followed the little silent man to a chamber she had never been before. Opening the door for her, he did not follow, closing it once she passed the threshold. The room was large, circular, it's decor in very much the same taste as the rest of the palace, stone and marble in silver, gold, and hues of various deep purples. Plants littered the room by the dozen, large, green fronded things, spindly and lush. The was a wooden case the size of a wardrobe with glass panes, filled with books, more books piled and open on small rounded tables. Jars and containers of various sizes stood aloft on chests, larger ones on the floor, more furniture and bookcases tucked away in the recesses of the room where the light barely touched. Strangely though, in the centre of the room was a raised metal cage-like structure. Moving to peer inside of it, she was waylaid by a command from an adjoining room.
"In here..."
She realized this was Kuja's private rooms and moved forward to what must be his bedroom. He sat at a desk littered with papers, fastidiously writing something on one of them as she entered, gazing at his chambers. The bed was much more large and sumptuous than her own, shear tapestries almost closed on all sides but still revealing their contents. More plants, cascading things, dripping with ivy and sharp looking flower-like leaves in hues she had never seen, bottles of unknown liquids piled on a stone casing within a wall, an empty fireplace opposite the bed. Rather than a wardrobe like her own, she could see an open alcove into a small, darker room, the light of candles flickering enough to show hints of fabric in the shadows, revealing a dressing room. Before her eyes could wander further, his fingers flicked in the air, signalling for her to sit at the seat opposite him. She obeyed, silently sitting, smoothing her dress in her lap before folding her hands, waiting for him to finish. She could not decipher the language in which he was writing in, the figures resembling something more mathematical that literal. Even so, she observed, his penmanship was the worst.
It was several minutes before he finished whatever task he was labouring under, setting quill and parchment aside, turning to pluck a book from the corner of his desk, pushing the novel-like thing in front of her, leaning back with his arms crossed, nodding toward her to accept his offering. Looking at the book, back to him, and the book once more, her hands raised from her lap and fingers curled at the edges before smoothing over the top and lifting the covers from its pages, yellow and aging but still legible.
She read aloud the words scrawled boldly on the first page what she assumed was the title.
"Condie Petie?"
Nodding, he gestured to the book in her hands, "You'll find it's a small town within this continent, occupied by sentient creatures. There's not much to glean from the words written in that book but I thought it might take your interest."
Confused and cautious, she slowly asked him why.
"How so?"
"You are to accompany me to this town. I have need of more research this place bars the way to my destination."
Leave the palace? Her?
"Why am I being allowed to come?"
At that his lips lifted. "You'll read as much in that little book there. Condie Petie comes by outsiders few and far between. According to the information written, only married persons are allowed passage within the town."
Her brows drew close to one another in thought, staring at the book as she turned the pages, not liking the direction of this conversation.
"...I am to play your wife?"
Her voice was quiet, subdued, her body language somewhat submissive, he noted. She was still afraid, despite the refined posture of her spine and the softness within the air about her. His lesson had been harsh but necessary. Hilda had needed to be educated on just how much danger she was in. And what a mistake it would be to make an enemy out of him.
"A ceremony needs to be witnessed."
She stilled, her gaze locked in front of her but seeing nothing. Her blood ran cold. Lifting her eyes to him, the unspoken fact that she was already married lingered in the air.
"Your marriage to the Regent will not be recognized there. Their laws are such that marriageable partners must either marry or reaffirm their marriage through their customs within their domain."
Even so, even in another place far removed from her home, she would be his wife in some fashion, bound to him a manner that unsettled her greatly.
Looking to her lap, she knew she had no choice.
"When do we leave?"
"In two weeks time."
She nodded, accepting her fate for what it was. He was in need of a biddable servant and to save herself from an awful demise he would not hesitate to deliver, she readily agreed. If her marriage to Cid was not recognized in this continent, then her marriage to Kuja would not be recognized in her own she decided, if she ever had the fortune to return home. With each passing hour, she was beginning to doubt the likelihood of that outcome.
"Is there anything else you require of me?"
He shook his head, the silver of his hair catching the light.
Rising from the chair, she left, relieved by the reprieve but anxious at the future that awaited her in fourteen days. And darkly she couldn't help but reflect on the irony that the wedding night would be just as cold and empty as her one to Cid.
Her gown was spidery lace against her small frame, an ivory butterfly, her hair brushed with almond spice and corded with spun moonstar thread. She had embroidered her veil herself, toiling away for seven consecutive days, a labor of love. She could feel the heat on her neck as she entered the Grand Hall, appreciative gazes and complimenting gasps being thrown in her direction, all eyes on her. She wasn't shy by nature yet she was not accustomed to having so much attention on her so. And despite the positive nature of everyone's interest, there was only one to which she wished would look upon her so favorably.
Clasping her hands around the stems of her flowers perhaps too hard, the music forgotten, she almost paused in her walk at the man waiting on the steps in front of her, the morning sunlight streaming through the glass, bright and almost blinding, but not so much so that she could clearly see the swell of pride in his chest and the amazement on his face as he looked to his intended, love and affection displayed openly, making him so heartbreakingly handsome, she wondered if it was all a dream.
She ascended the steps ahead, he taking her hands within his own, the differences in their heights great. Vows were spoken with meaning, her heart full with love and loyalty. His eyes, that rare cinnamon that made her heart skip, was gazing warmly at her and she marveled at how such a circumstance had come about. Officially, she was made his wife, her title as Chief Advisor would come within a month's time.
Through the festivities of the reception, she was almost dizzy, cordially greeting all of the state nobility in her new position as the Regent's wife as well as being swept in hugs and lavished with well wishing kisses and hands clasping her own from family, friends, and previous student's she had studied with in the university. Hours passed in this manner, her husband having gone amiss, a warning from her father that he believed the Regent was enjoying himself a little too much by way of drink.
At twilight, she was whisked away; the party still loud and lively, ushered to her rooms and prepared for her first night alone with her husband. Young and nervous, she waited alone in Cid's chambers; the room dark, save for the crackling fireplace, her gown sheer and revealing in a manner that added to her trepidation.
Would he like it? Would it make him…want her?
She could feel her cheeks burn. The minutes grew. Grew so much into they fell into an hour. And another. Followed by another.
Utter humiliation befell the newly made Lady Fabool when her husband was found the morning after suffering from a debilitating hangover and in the room of another woman.
She finished the small book in half a day's time, the information within the pages vague and repetitive, the town mostly an unknown, containing a populace of dwarves with strict laws concerning passage in the ways of a marriage ceremony, their rituals and ways of life centering on worship from a great tree that was apparently nearby.
Her captor's attitude returned to his accustomed "gentlemanly" attributes, their evening meals shared, their conversations based on politics, past scandals among mutually known nobility, and god-awful plays that he seemed to adore. She could perceive how one could be swept off their feet by him, his quick wit and ability to always be ready with a joke refreshing, his physical features stunning and almost otherworldly, could make one feel part of a special sect if allowed within his inner circle. She recognized these qualities for what they were. He was a manipulator, a schemer, a perfect actor. He could be anything one would wish him to be. An object to be desired, and ally of exceptionally skilled means, a strategist with all the best cards at his disposal.
From his stories, he was acquainted with the best houses within Alexandria and she had long deduced that he maintained a vast amount of wealth. She was beginning to discover more of the power that hummed within his aura, no longer finding the need to mask it from her, the hairs on the back of her neck standing tall at the sheer weight of it. Someone like this did not make merry in polite society and go about their life in pursuit of their own affairs, unobtrusive to those around them.
They tricked, invaded, and conquered.
Who exactly was this "genome" named Kuja? Where was he from? And what did he have in store for her?
A/N: I cut this chapter short because this seemed like a good stopping place however now chapter seven is probably going to be overly long since I have so much to fill in before moving on to eight. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!