A/N: Just mindlessly and shamelessly manipulating in game events to suit myself, I apologize. Is anyone even reading this fic, lol?
Damn it.
Damn them all.
He was seething fury contained in a singular embodiment and he felt he would soon shatter violently and lash out against anything that crossed his vision.
His mind was racing, trying to determine where it had all gone wrong.
He had been reviewing a copy of his current ledgers from King, showing little interest in the increases of his finances, rather, anticipating the "after-party" that was scheduled after the play and festivities had concluded for the night. He had opted to remain within the castle for the night, hidden from the princess' view as he usually did, his presence in regards to her kept to a minimum to reduce any suspicion she may have for him being in and out of her residence within the last year.
His precautions had been for naught.
He could hear the uproar from outside, even within one of the studies, voices and rapid motion becoming a whirlwind din. He threw open one of the doors and grabbed one of the uselessly incompetent male knights scrambling about by the arm, looking down at the man to ask him what all of the fuss was about.
He was livid by the end of the knight's explanation, stopping himself within the last breath of the perceived motion from shoving the guard to the floor.
The princess had been kidnapped, right under their very noses; the Elephant Lady, General Beatrix, the Rose Guard, and to his growing humiliation, even his own!
And as if that wasn't enough, that rotund clown of a woman had a firing squad set a canon on the ship the princess had fled upon with a bomb! It had been sheer luck on his side that it had not killed Garnet on the spot. He could set the Queen alight for her misstep, so incensed was he.
She had ordered those foolish jesters of hers to send one of their waltz's after her. Surely it shouldn't be too troublesome for the puppet to procure the girl, so naïve and quiet was their Garnet. She could not survive alone in the world. Brahne and her jesters had created two creatures of their own but he had been commissioned to create the third by his own design. He knew the Third was far more superior to its "siblings" and wanted to feel sure that it would not be needed to be put to use, however with this erroneous slip-up, he felt taking precautions would be best, deciding to send a missive to the Desert Palace to request for the mage to be released to his custody. Having the thing on retainer seemed a wise choice.
Even though his thoughts were collecting and redirecting into a semblance of organized re-routing that would smooth over this slip-up, his anger would not die down.
His steps were ruthless against the carpeted stairs as made for his chambers, practically frothing at the mouth at the gall of Brahne as she screeched accusations and orders at the lot of them, as if he too were to be judged among her subjects.
He wasn't prepared for what met his sight, so riled was he, that the added surprise only stoked the flames of his ire with a deadly calm that instantly permeated the room with a fatalistic dread.
He hadn't been quiet about opening the door, so the woman within his room had immediately straightened herself from what she had been on about the instant he entered, her mouth setting in a rigid line, obviously displeased that he had found her.
Despite the dress and the pins in her hair, her posture gave her away. She was no doubt another one of Beatrix's spies. He thought he and the General had moved past that. And despite his previous acts of open defiance of humiliating her whenever he would sniff out one of her rats, he was now far from in the mood.
He sighed, pretending to feign charmed annoyance, but even an actor such as he couldn't completely pull it off with his temper flared the way that it was, his smile coming off grim rather than playful.
"Your General is distrustful of me. Unimaginatively, you're here to find something in the way of proof to incriminate me, validating her suspicions, yes?"
He began to circle her, crossing his arms over his chest, using his height to his advantage.
She said nothing, her spine seeming made of steel, her fists clenched to her sides as she eyes him wearily.
"And you're to remain silent lest you get caught," he added, un-amused.
Her silence merely confirmed his theory.
"I'm afraid I've spent all patience I've had over the last year, yet fortunately for you, in my dilemma, my weariness shall be your aide."
He put his hands up in a show of conciliatory peace and walked alongside the room to open a simple drawer in a desk, whispering 'Dispel' softly to reveal several notes tucked away in what would appear to be plain sight. Walking back to his "guest", he handed the woman the sheaves of paper, his smile still holding no humor within it, making the skin on the back of her arms prick up.
She took them wearily, snatching the things in a jerky movement, her eyes devouring the information written there fastidiously.
In her peripheral vision, she could see his feet inching closer to her; as if he too wanted to look and she unconsciously backed aware, absorbed in what he had willingly offered her.
Deciphering his haphazard scrawling, she noted all pages were filled with times and dates, a schedule of events, seeming meaningless and useless. She felt him draw closer once more and she drew back again, annoyance whispering at the back of her mind as she continued to scan the papers.
There where meals that had been had by the Queen, rooms she had entered, various meetings, things a secretary would keep note of. It didn't make any sense. She continued on, looking up at him, deeming him to be too close, stepping back lest she come within his reach. Despite his height, he looked too delicate to do any harm to a soldier such as herself but the General had been very specific to not let her guard down around him.
It wasn't until several pages in how eerie the notes suddenly seemed. Details about her Majesty's routine that seemed secreted, things he shouldn't be privy too. Things so specific, it was as if an invader had been watching and waiting, lying in wait for an opportunity to…
Her head shot up to meet his gaze, knowing registering on his face.
But why…why would he just give her something such as this?! Surely he knew that such information would not bode well for him when she reported to General Beatrix. Why would-
And she paused, only feeling then a cold air on the back of her neck, her head whipping about, suddenly understanding that the two of them were now out on the balcony.
And she looked to him once more, that grim smile of his remaining in place, his hands no longer across his chest, his head tilted to the side, watching her, his bangs dripping silkily over half his face with a hand fisted on his hip.
He had knowingly given her that damning evidence. And she had let her guard down and had allowed him to maneuver her outside.
Her voice was hard as she finally spoke for the first time.
"What? Are you going to toss me over the balcony?"
The sarcasm was short lived at the hard glint in his dark blue eyes, her shivering pricking needle sharp at her spine, the moon above suddenly disappearing behind an overcast of clouds that seemed to be conjured from thought alone.
"No," he said simply, his voice calm but making her feel anything but, his hand rising slowly toward the sky, "I don't want there to be any evidence to be explained away. And out here gives me a little more…room to work with."
Confusion masked her thoughts but it didn't last long.
She heard a crackling thunderclap as her body was set aflame, electrified, the pulses and bolts of Thundaga raging through her system before every piece of her being was incinerated, not even a speck of ash left to whisper in her memory.
By the time streaks of light began to break apart the shade of night, Beatrix new her guard was lost to her. Hours had passed since she had been dispatched and she knew that Kuja had returned to his chambers the night prior. Which meant if she had been caught, her majesty's weapons dealer had not let it slide as he had done before. And the fact that she had not been found crept into Beatrix's growing anxiety even further. Without a body, she had nothing in the way of evidence to even accuse the silver-haired man on any wrong-doing or ill-intent. Her guilt ate at her, something within her firm in her belief that her soldier would never be returning and her demise, whatever it had been, was no fault but her superiors. She knew it was totally within the man's ability to prod at that wound as they both knew she could not reveal what she had ordered her retainer to do.
And she waited for it.
But it never came.
He came and went as he always did, cordial, polite, a sickeningly sweet gentleman who, like a snake, ensnared any who crossed his path.
Giving what little hope that had remained to be quashed, snuffed out like nothing more than a solitary flame within the night.
Once again he had silkily slipped through her fingers and now things had turned suspiciously deadly.
Hilda had decidedly made to observe the strange little task-masters but that endeavor quickly became dull within the hour. She was almost embarrassed at her initial idea, quickly realizing that they were merely doing what they had always done these past several months, and no matter the creature, chores were a droll fact of life and nothing more.
Even though she had seen what they were capable of on two separate occasions, she still found it difficult to reconcile the cold blooded murderers that had relieved her of her crew to the almost gently quiet servants of this underground fortress.
She sat atop a counter, her chin within her hand, as one of her legs kicked back and forth like a child's. Finding no need for propriety, she allowed herself to relax and she watched the coming and going's of the kitchen. It was nothing remotely grand like the enlarged staff of Lindblum Castle; it was wholesome and somewhat warm, watching flour dust powdered onto thick gloves, glowing eyes burning into soft crescents in concentration.
She imagined that had they been children, should could find them immensely adorable.
And even though they had apparently been given permission to converse with her, they paid her little mind, only silently offering her pieces of the various breads and pastries they were baking. She accepted them cordially, waiting for a response, but as soon as she took what they gave, their attention was immediately enraptured by their tasks once more. Whether her presence was forgotten or merely dismissed, she knew not.
The hours passed slowly in silence, a type of calm that objected to the hurried lifestyle she was accustomed to, the desert air an invisible reminder that she was far from her mist-enshrouded home. She recalled the industrial metropolis she called home. Despite the current relaxed atmosphere of the Kiera Desert, she would always miss the busyness of her city; the swiftness of the cable cars and the smooth mechanics of the airship docks on Tier Two. From the flourishing businesses within the Industrial District to the mechanical and design engineering students that flooded the university. Every day had been filled with challenges, schedules, and progress, yet in these things, she felt fulfilled. A part of her ached at the thought that she might be unsuitable as Cid's wife, yet she knew without a doubt that she was meant to be his Chief Advisor. She lived for that feeling of accomplishment, the knowledge that she strived to give her best and her efforts were rewarded in favorable results.
She wondered at how much longer she would remain here.
And how would she face her husband if she were allowed to return? Could she find it within her to equate his sins with her own, deeming them on common ground? Discretions among equals? How could she bear the guilt?
It was so much easier to weigh herself down with shame, rather than the alternative. During her lucid moments, she could acknowledge her loss of face and know she was wrong, and that such an incident could never occur again.
Yet at night, within her dreams, nothing could save her from the memories that plagued her when she slept, nor could they absolve her from the waves of rapture that engulfed her, resulting in a ruthless rent against her pride.
His hands were not like her husband's.
They didn't look like them.
They didn't feel like them.
And it was his that she remembered snaking so deliciously around her thighs, long, delicate fingers that pressed in demand and scratched warningly when she was trying to withdraw herself.
He wouldn't allow her to look away from him, so intent on locking his blue eyes with her own. Was he aware of what he had done? Had it been his purpose to leave an irrevocable scar upon her person, imprinting himself upon her so fiercely, so that she might never forget?
She shivered despite herself, once more feeling that she may have given away more of herself than she initially thought.
Her attention drew back once more to the present when the door to the kitchen swung open, a moogle greeting them delightedly with a small satchel around his fur-thatched chest.
"Kupo!"
Even though she dare not touch him, she could see the warmth of the desert on the sheen of his fur, his chest heaving slightly with exertion, no doubt from his travels. The four mages working among the counters paused in their labors, looking over to the small, joyful creature as he began to rummage through his small bag, procuring letters within his little paw. He smiled to the puppet closest to him as he extended one of the two letters out to be received.
The servant took the missive, his thick gloves clumsy with opening the envelope, tearing the things despite his best efforts. She watched curiously as his glowing eyes softened in concentrations before turning to one of his brothers, the paper turning to an ash in the blink of an eye as he set fire to the paper in one smooth motion.
"Master says…to release the Third," his voice explained gently, turning to the mage closest to the door, nodding in turn.
"What is the Third?" Hilda asked aloud, not expecting an answer to her query.
And she wasn't wrong.
Wordlessly, one of the puppets exited the room, doing as his master bid, she assumed.
The mage closest to the moogle held his gloved palm out for the second letter but the moogle shook his head, holding the envelope aloft.
"This one is for Lady Hildaguard, Kupo!"
She thought perhaps she had heard wrong but as the little creature's feet tapped gently against the kitchen floor in her direction, her heart almost hammered out of her chest. Briefly, she couldn't help but wonder, who was it that knew she was here? But she dismissed the initial thought just as quickly, knowing of only one outside this domain who knew of her whereabouts. She was slightly embarrassed with herself at the silly thought, knowing full well that no one would ever think to look for in her in the Outer Continent, much less know where to begin. And any rescue attempt would not be facilitated through courier, much less the same one utilized by her captor.
Sure enough, her name was scrawled in the most awful handwriting she had ever seen, reflecting that even a chocobo's claws dipped in ink would have been an example of finer penmanship that what her eyes were currently trying to decipher, leaving no doubt as to whom the message was from.
She delicately slipped off of the counter top, smoothing out her skirts before reaching down to accept the letter, her fingers brushing slightly against the moogle's small paw, the feel of his soft fur delighting her.
She couldn't possibly imagine whatever it could be Kuja would need to tell her by way of letter. The only thing she could think to hear from him was a snarky comment about not doing anything "idiotic" but surely he would have said as much within the letter addressed to his servants. Were they limited in their understanding of his instructions? Did he need her to relay something far more complex? Surely he knew she would have no interest in doing such a thing but on the other hand, would she even have a choice? She had to hand it to him, having the threat of her life constantly on the line was a powerful motivator.
She grabbed a paring knife from the counter and unsealed the note joylessly, unsurprised by the shortness of the message, her eyes scanning the length before reading.
Lady,
Should this reach you, you have not expired through your childish curiosities or your inability to understand what is good for you. If you wish to remain intact as you are now, then I need you heed my warning with all the seriousness in which you rule your precious city. Should you happen to see a black mage unlike the other's within the palace, do not approach it under any circumstance. You are too far from within my reach to offer my protection. However, if something should go awry regardless of precautions, head for the docks and shout "verra naestra" as loud as you can.
His signature at the bottom was the only elegant thing within the missive yet despite the dichotomy of the note visually, his words were haunting. She should not be surprised but she was alarmed.
Frighteningly so.
Her head whipped up to find the small courier but he was nowhere in sight, any chance she might have had to get word to Lindblum gone. She imagined he had been instructed not to accept any letters from her person that she may have pressed upon him. And as disheartening as that was, dread began to seep within her nerves, a feeling of foreboding and doom feeding upon her thoughts, the air that had once felt warm now so terribly chilled.
The mages still within the room began to shift, as if unsettled, looking to one another before one made the decision to voice their mutual feelings.
"Brother…has not returned."
The other two nodded in agreement, their silence adding to the already disturbed atmosphere. She could deduce that between both letters, the "Third" was the "other" black mage, unlike the ones in the room with her. Her captor had warned her to stay away from harm, yet she thought it wouldn't be improbable to speculate that one of his servants had met with a terrible fate.
Her finger's unconsciously gripped the tiny knife in her hand reflexively.
One of the mages turned to her then, his hand held out in offering.
"Best for you in your room," he murmured mildly, opening the door to the main dining hall.
She nodded in acceptance, feeling far more secure with him than the unknown.
Her bitter-ridden thoughts began to echo a reoccurring idea that right before her initial capture, she just might have used up all her life's worth of luck on her career and things were only going to continue to go downhill from here on out.
She followed quietly, looking about herself but only seeing other mages askance as they went about their business, the silence permeating the palace becoming eerie. She dare not grasp his hand or anything that might put the creature out of his comfort zone yet she was so close to his back, she would have ran right into him had he needed to stop.
"This is another experiment from the labs in the basement?" she whispered, not actually expecting a response.
She almost jumped in turn when he quietly replied back.
"Yes."
She blinked but kept her pace, too weary to be left even an inch behind.
"Is that where you come from?" she pushed further, her curiosity getting the better of her.
"No. We're made elsewhere…" he supplied plainly.
It seemed so very much within their character to not go much into detail. Something about it somewhat charmed her. She would have smiled softly to herself at the thought had everything not suddenly seemed so perilous. And just as she feared she might crash into him lest he pause, she did just that.
She didn't apologize.
She didn't look over his shoulder.
She just knew.
"What is it that you're hiding?"
The hairs on the back of her neck rose, the voice within the hall much more practiced and humanlike than she was used to.
The mage in front of her remained silent and unyielding.
She held her breath, her eyes remaining at his back, willing herself to become smaller.
"I asked you a question. What is that behind you?"
She heard heavy steps move in their direction and the mage that guarded her like a wall reached a hand behind himself to grab her.
"This belongs to master," he explained, unmoving.
"If its existence is no better than yours, then it is useless. I exist only to kill!"
The mage shoved her backwards, bracing itself for the arcs of lightning that crackled within its direction.
"Run," he plainly instructed, his hands crossing in front of him as flames whispered to life within his palms.
She didn't need to be told twice.
There was no doubt where she needed to go, fisting her skirts within her hand to give her legs more room, building momentum as she made her way to the cavernous dock. At the sound of a crash, she chanced a look behind her and her terror increased twenty-fold.
Like a black mage, its eyes burned into the depths of nothingness. Yet that was where the similarities ended. He was huge, monstrously so, with large dark wings like a wicked raven messenger sent from the underworld. And he was tossing about black mages that dared crossed his path, strangely fixated on her. She fled downstairs and through the grand hall, her heart feeling as if it would burst forth from her chest.
She could see the transportation sigil ahead, small wings of hope fluttering within her stomach, making her feel alight and nauseous all at once.
She cried out at the fire that suddenly raged across her scalp, her hair being violently wrenched within a gloved palm, pulling her from the floor, her feet kicking beneath her.
"There is no need for inferiority," he glared down at her, rising his other palm up slowly.
Her hand lashed out with the paring knife, her teeth gritting against the pain as she hacked wildly at her hair, slashing at the mass until she fell free before her attacker realized what she had been about, thinking she had meant to strike him. She dropped down to the marble floor below and made for the sigil, knowing without looking that he was almost upon her once more.
She felt the lurch in space and wanted to hurl along with it but she merely ran forward in the open space that appeared before her, her voice screaming a tearful echo in the empty cavern like a panicked mantra.
"Verra Naestra! V-verra Naestra! Verra Naestra! Verra Naestraaa!" she howled, the wind whipping about uselessly in the cavern, the sound of heavy steps quickening upon her.
She looked behind her, trembling, her fear surmounting as the thing began to slow, knowing he had her cornered. There was no mouth to be seen but she couldn't help but to think there would have been a sadistic grin had his design allowed for it.
She almost fell backwards as she slipped on a rock and shouted as he lunged for her; only for her to be thrown down against the ground by a fierce gust of wind, a violent roar causing the earth beneath her to tremble, her ears ringing with it. She looked above her in horror to see none other than her captor's silver dragon looming over her, its mouth snapping forward at her offender with fangs dripping silver poison.
The reptile's neck lunged forward in warning with an audible snap of its jaws at the mage, its claws digging into the ground around her, its tail lashing about in a unveiled threat.
Her head whipped to the monster that had chased her, its crescent eyes looking back and forth between her and the dragon.
Clicking what sounded like his tongue, he turned away, quickly deciding against a further approach, moving toward the opening of the cavern. The dragon growled ominously in its direction as the mage spread its wings before taking off into the desert, not bothering to look back.
She was rooted to the spot, refusing to move until she could no longer see those horrific black wings in the air. And when they had disappeared into the horizon, she looked above at her savior, confused and shaking.
The serpent looked back at her for only a moment before crawling away, dismissing her altogether as it exited the dock as well.
She lay there on the rocky ground until the sun began to set and the air was cool, her breaths even, her mind no longer frazzled.
She wanted to scream, cry, and beg into the blackness of the night to be released from this hell but she wouldn't allow it. Her will wouldn't move an inch.
She would endure.
She would overcome this.
She had come this far.
And when she finally returned to her city, her homecoming would be all the sweeter.
Allowing herself to believe anything otherwise would only be her undoing.
She later learned that the palace was now three black mages short.
And when she quietly enquired as to why they had interfered in the "Third's" strange pursuit of her, costing two their lives for her sake, the response was said in a way that seemed obvious to them.
"You're Master's."
She nodded, not disagreeing with their explanation, silently apologizing and thanking the brothers that had given their lives for her own.
One mage, in a stroke of kindness that almost brought tears to her eyes, gestured for her to sit within the kitchen, and he began to wordlessly cut her hair with a pair of shears, trying his best to right the havoc that she had wrought upon her locks, the varying lengths less noticeable when he had finished.
She thanked him profusely, leaving him quiet and seeming confused, before she made her way to her chambers to reconcile with another onset of newfound nightmares.
A/N: I really need to expand my repertoire, all I write about is people rifling through each other's rooms and some noblewoman getting the bajeezus scared out of her at every turn. How does Hilda even sleep at night?