Tired Songs

Don't own Chrono Trigger, to my great regret. Too damn bad I don't have the Epoch, or I would travel back in time and fix that.

Magus was visiting Schala in her room. She was still tired from the aftermath of the Mammon Machine, and it had already been three days. The Queen hadn't had time to visit, as she was explaining the function of the machine to her people.

Queen Zeal was already quite devoted to the machine. Replacing all the functions of Zeal Kingdom that used to rely on the SunStone were underway. She wasn't wasting any time whatsoever, and it would take around two weeks to make sure everything had transferred smoothly and correctly. Everything relied on magic, and so everything in turn had relied on the Sun Stone to work properly.

Magus didn't care about any of that right now. He was more concerned with the health of his sister.

She was awake now, but tired. He had been sitting with her most of the afternoon, after Janus had been forced to leave for his lessons.

"Are you saying that I am the power source for the Mammon Machine?" Schala asked him, skeptical, but forced to believe him.

"Yes, it was unforseen, but your pendant reacted to the power, and started it automatically," Magus explained.

"But, how?" she asked, perplexed at the entire thing. Magus wasn't sure how to explain that. He knew the reason. Lavos ate life force, so it made sense that something attuned to it's frequency and energy signature, waiting for something to react to it, would take her life force to start it up. Except this time, instead of feeding off the planet, it had fed on her.

"Your innate power with magic, plus the pendant, and the matrice that powers the machine all combined, started a chain reaction, and used your energy to start the machine," Magus told her, not really lying to her, but not fully explaining it either. Schala just looked at him, absorbing what he had just said. She understood, but not fully. She was tired though, so she didn't inquire further.

"Strange," she muttered. "It felt so terrifying, as if something had jumped up and started draining me," she told him, pale and somewhat shaky. Magus, his heart going out to her, gently took her hand and squeezed it as reassuringly as he could. She smiled at him. "Next thing I knew, I was in bed, and Janus was asleep in the chair."

"He has been standing guard over you whenever he isn't forced elsewhere," Magus said, not mentioning the chilly atmosphere whenever anyone, especially him, entered the room. "Your brother, it seems, is quite devoted to you"

"Janus really does need to make friends," Schala muttered absently, her free hand rubbing her eyes. Magus disagreed, but didn't say so. He didn't need anyone other than Schala. As much as he didn't like his past self, and wished that the brat would go away so he could be with their sister, he knew that it shouldn't matter. Magus felt silly being jealous of himself, so he dismissed the feeling.

"If you say so, princess," he said, smiling gently at her.

"I do say so," she laughed lightly. And then the sudden tirade of questions started once more. "Why do you always wear gloves?" she asked, fiddling with them.

"I...mislike contact with other people," he replied, not elaborating.

"Not even me?" she asked, smiling, a twinkle returning to her eyes. It wasn't meant to sound coy, or anything of the sort, but Magus was filled with a strange feeling, being used to the clumsy advances of the mystics and humans of his forced home.

"To the contrary, I don't mind contact with you," he said, and smiled at her in a way to make her blush. His grin had been mischevious, and she had seen his face. It had almost been predatory. His hair being brushed back as it usually was didn't help.

"Oh," was her small noise. Magus relished her surprised or abashed noises. It was a great joy he had found, making her blush with small comments or motions. He just had to look at her a certain way, a quirk of an eyebrow, the tilt of his mouth.

"I can take the gloves off if you wish it," was his next sentence. Magus was looking at Schala intently, eyes serious, noting every twitch and shift she made.

She couldn't take the scrutiny anymore. "Only if you don't mind," was her trailing sentence. And with that, Magus let go of her hand, and slowly removed his gloves, loosening a finger at a time, revealing hands with almost claw-like nails, fingers delicate, long and dextrous, but also calloused from years of combat.

Schala took his hand timidly, soft, small hands exploring his larger ones. The touch of her fingers was so light, as she was absorbed in finding every minute detail of his hands. Her touch was light enough to tingle. Magus himself was transfixed watching her hold his hands in hers.

"Are your nails like your ears?" she asked absently. It was an earlier topic being revived.

"Yes, it is a trait of my chosen race," Magus answered. His chosen race had been mystic. The dark magics he had learned had twisted his body in small ways. It might be why he was so large. His eyes had changed, his ears, even his teeth were sharper. His toenails were similar to his fingers. He had lost pigment, and become a machine finetuned to killing. Magus didn't want to explain that either.

"How come you always say 'chosen' race?" Schala asked him, another topic she brought up sometimes.

"My people had different ways to express themselves, and those different ways became known as races, such as the peoples of Zeal being known as Enlightened, and those on the grounded continent being the Earthbound," Magus told her, almost a lecture. His tone was light, and unwavering.

"This was your way of expression? What does it stand for?" Schala asked next, watching his face now, but still holding onto his hands, which were resting in her lap.

"I am a mage, and this is how I turned out," Magus said, suddenly concise, not saying anything else. He didn't want to tell her it was the result of dark magicks. The enlightened used a refined, light sort of magic, and it had only made them more beautiful and fragile to behold. The children who had stopped his plan had a cruder magic, and it wouldn't really change them as much, except that they might begin to resemble their innate elements more over time.

"How can magic change you? Or did you look much the same before?" Schala asked next, not having much to do besides talk, as she was still a bit tired to get out of bed and walk around.

"I was similar to how I am now," he replied, not wanting to speak of his alterations. The subject of why the magic had changed him to something more monstrous was not what he wanted to remember. "Did you know that you Enlightened were probably much the same as the Earthbound were in the past?" he asked her, changing the topic to something he found safer, but not too far off what they had been talking about.

"Well, the gurus have mentioned something similar," Schala said, suddenly musing. "Why?"

"The nature of magic is that it changes the user to represent something closer to itself," Magus said.

"Closer to itself?" Schala echoed, questioning. She hadn't quite realized what that meant, as she had been around magic users all her life, and they all used the same sort of magic, so none of them varied, and appeared as a race.

"It reflects the nature of the magic used," Magus told her. "You enlightened use a delicate magic, and so you are fragile beings, but also lovely."

"The nature of magic..." Schala trailed off, thinking it over. "Why is it that you look the way you do if magic changes the user to reflect itself?"

Magus almost wanted to facepalm. He had just explained how he had come into being, without realizing it. Schala had put him off his guard once more.

"Magic reflects its nature, but not the nature of the being using it," he said, trying to put it as factual as possible, and being more careful in his wording now.

"How do you know all of this?" Schala asked him, and now it was her turn to watch him intently.

"Where I lived, there were more varied forms of magic, and so there were multiple races, even if everyone was of the same origin, which is why the races developed," Magus explained. "Some might even be called monsters to outsiders, or fiends, due to the nature of magic, and those unused to it"

"Would you be called a monster?" Schala asked softly, squeezing his hand tighter as she asked the question.

"To some I would be a monster," he answered her truthfully. To most he was a monster. He had even thought of himself as a monster for some time now.

"I don't think you are very monstrous," Schala said, quiet, almost sad sounding. Magus put his hand up and cupped her cheek, relishing her soft skin beneath his hand. He almost wanted to tell her that was only because she had never seen him as he had been most of his life, or heard of the acts that he had commited in the name of revenge.

"And for that, I am most grateful," Magus said instead. Schala tugged his hand somewhat insistently, and he followed the direction of the pull, and found himself sitting on her bedside being hugged tightly. He heard a small sniffle. "Are you well, Schala?" he asked, somewhat alarmed.

"It is alright, Magus," Schala answered. "I think that you are perfectly lovely" And she continued to hold onto him tightly. Finally Magus gently prised himself loose, and planted a light kiss upon her forehead.

"I am most grateful to you," he said, again, reiterating, holding her close, but with enough distance to look at her easily. Schala blushed, and shook her head slowly, not sure how to tell him that he needn't be grateful to her. Magus knew this, as he knew the true nature of his sister better than anyone else. Not that it was hard to tell who Schala was. She was one who wore her heart upon her sleeve for all the world to see. And it was that very reason most people loved her within moments of meeting her.

Magus' hand came up, and tilted her head up to meet his eyes once more. "You are the only person I have ever met whose nature is reflected in how they look so perfectly," is what he said, right before kissing her. What he left unsaid is that he thought her the most beautiful being he had ever seen. Unlike the first time he had kissed her, this time he was thorough. And he left her breathless. But he stopped there. She was tired, and he wouldn't strain her. She made a soft sighing noise into his chest. He felt her accelerated heartrate, and began to stroke her hair, holding her close. "You should rest now and replenish your strength."

Schala made a small disappointed noise. Magus held her a moment more. "Do you need help sleeping?" he asked her.

"No thank you, I feel tired already," Schala replied. She was still blushing, her pale skin making her incapable of hiding emotion very well. Magus repressed a sigh of his own. He actually needed to return to the Mammon Machine, to help the finishing assessments, then the Queen wanted to see him once more. All he wanted to do was stay with his sister. His plans had other ideas.

"Sleep well, my lady," he said as a farewell, before leaving. He actually made a small bow as he left. Schala was the only one he could ever bow to without brushing up against his pride. He didn't even bow to his mother.

"Are you telling me that the data we have begun to collect from the Mammon Machine has pinpointed the location of Lavos?" asked Queen Zeal, demandingly. She appeared slightly fevered.

"Yes, majesty," Belthazar replied. "The energy we gather from the Mammon Machine comes from a certain location underground"

"Underground? So is it like another Sun Stone?" the Queen asked next, curious. Belthazar new what she was asking.

"I don't think it is quite like the Sun Stone, the energy is different, so we were lucky to come across it at all," he told her.

"So are you saying we can or cannot bring it here?" the Queen asked, wanting an answer. If brought to Zeal, the power would be more easily manipulated if it was like any other power they had ever used.

No one knew the answer to her question. They just shrugged. And that was when the Queen whirled to face him in this discussion. The Prophet might know the answer that eluded others.

"Prophet, what can you tell us from your visions?" Queen Zeal beseeched him, more polite to him than others. Dalton, who was standing in on the discussion, as he usually was, sneered.

Magus, his hood down, didn't quite bare his teeth back at Dalton. Barely. But instead answered the Queen quietly. "I cannot see being able to bring the power source to us, my Queen, but that doesn't mean that we cannot get closer to it," was his cryptic, vague answer, as he was leading them all to the conclusion which would take years to undertake to completion.

"Closer..." the Queen was at a momentary loss, before she smiled. It was as if the sun was lighting her face. She turned to face the gurus, who had come to the same conclusion that she had.

"We could go to it, but the area where we have triangulated to be the closest point on the surface is under the ocean itself," Gaspar said. "How could we go under the ocean itself?"

"You know how our past excursions under the ocean have gone," Melchior reminded the Queen. But already she was dead set on getting closer to the energy source. "Many researchers have died due to the pressure that far under the surface of the ocean," Melchior said, trying to dissuade her.

"No, we must get closer," the Queen insisted. Already, Magus could see the influence in Lavos. Although the Queen wasn't even close to mad yet, he could see the beginnings of it.

"Why are you arguing with the Queen?" drawled Dalton, earning an approvinglook from Queen Zeal. "Your job is just to find out a way to do it as an extension of her will"

The gurus grimaced. They didn't particularly care for Dalton, who was rude, loud, but cunning.

"You could build something," Magus suggested, making his voice sound as if he had seen it already, getting into the swing of his position as 'Prophet'. "I've seen the wonders built upon this kingdom"

"You will build me something that can take us to the bottom of the ocean," the Queen said, her voice brooking no argument whatsoever. Magus knew that over time, as the plans for something to negate the pressure of the ocean was being designed, Lavos would begin to intrude upon the Queen's consciousness, and the Ocean Palace would be the ending event. If it wasn't something so horrific, he would feel more triumphant at the acceleration of his plans. He knew he would have around two years before the Ocean Palace would reach completion. He wasn't in any hurry, and over time, as he remembered more details, he would become more indispensable. It left a bad taste in his mouth, but he knew he would have to take advantage of the madness that would slowly consume his mother.

The meeting was adjourned, and Magus left the room after everyone else left, hating the feel of the energy the Mammon Machine was emitting. The room was scheduled to be opened to the public after the power transferrence was completed.

Dalton was waiting for him outside the room, lurking behind one of the graceful, whimsical statues in the corridor.

"I've noticed that you've been rather...close to the Queen's daughter," drawled Dalton, his voice oozing like honey. "Why is that?"

"The Princess Schala is very kindhearted, and has chosen to be my friend," Magus said, not being baited by Dalton.

"I've noticed that the Queen has been rather dependent on your opinions as of late as well," Dalton mentioned.

"I only tell her what I can, when she asks," Magus said, sounding humble. Dalton sneered at that.

"You don't fool me," he growled suddenly, eyes narrowed. "You just want to improve your position here."

"I am not here for anything," Magus said, quietly, voice cold once more, no emotion tinging it, as he rarely let emotion color his voice.

"Yes you are, everyone is here for something, and no one gets in the good graces of the Queen as quickly as you have without wanting something," Dalton said, contradicting him on purpose.

"I was lead here, and will stay until I am lead somewhere else," Magus said, and began to walk away, his smooth stride uncaring.

"I had claims on the princess first, you know," Dalton called after him. Magus found his fists clenching suddenly, jaw tight. He didn't slow down, stumble, or say anything. He gave no indication that he had heard what Dalton had said. Magus had no intention of reacting to anything that Dalton said or did. But he also had no intention of letting Dalton anywhere near Schala if he could help it.

Magus went to his room where he practiced with his scythe alone. He couldn't visit Schala because Janus would be back there once more, and he couldn't sit still and study, or sleep. Plus he was angry at Dalton...again.

He snarled, and when he thought of Dalton, a whisper went through his mind. He knew Dalton warranted watching, and that nothing good could come of him. With Dalton in mind, he cut at the air, picturing Dalton being torn apart.

The imagination that Magus possessed was quite vivid. It helped that he had actually ripped people apart before, so he knew what it would look like.

When he was satisfied that Dalton had died enough in his mind, he just teleported to his room. It took a minor power expenditure to do so, but he wasn't in the mood to walk. There wasn't a flash when he disappeared or reappeared. It was as if just faded away, and stepped into existence in his room.

Magus found himself brooding once more, as he thought about the future to come. After a while, he became tired, and as he was falling asleep, he returned to sweet thoughts of Schala. He remembered the scent of her, her warmth, and the taste. He hadn't touched her in such a way since flying to Enhasa with her, and he slept quietly, if not without sin. He dreamt of Schala.

a/n: Well, this was a shorter chapter, but I think I say that every time. But I just write till it feels like a good break point. Can't wait till all the drama comes along. Drama is always fun. Always...Dang, I want to dirty it up, but that just wouldn't be right.