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A Ragnarok On-Line Fan Fiction
"Falling for Hellish Eyes"
By Bloody Priestess
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Summary: Assassin x Priestess. They couldn't be anymore different, yet that difference bonded them as childhood best friends but now the difference of their jobs and feuding guilds thwart the blooming fondness for one another.
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Author's Notes: Hello there! Apparently, I am still alive. Hehehe.
Uhmm, be warned with this chapter, okay? A little smut (did I used the term correctly?) on the way.
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Chapter Eight: When You Are Afraid
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Adrienne could not remember any living memory that could compare to this wonderful state of happiness.
It was as if they were never apart... They still laughed at the same things, still teased about the same old blunders, chased through the stately trees of a forest... It was like they were kids again... still innocent, still carefree, still battling inner demons unbeknownst by the other but despite that—because of the other, such demons were at bay.
Yes, indeed… they remained excruciatingly still. Still, motionless, silent.
They did not discuss anything about their lives following their parting in Izlude... Much to Aid's gladness, for she was not ready to unearth the past and the pain she held that she buried upon joining the Militia of Sungren, Order of Cerberus. And looking at Zach, she could tell he was NOT offering information about himself and his activities either.
"For the best". She silently reassured herself. Little did she know that she was not alone in that thought.
"Hurry up, Aid! By Thor's Hammer, you still move like a bulky Golem!" The Assassin Cross called sideways to Priestess, who gave him her full attention as she followed up the path.
He had his back facing her while he surveyed the scene beyond the hill they were on as if he was King Tristan III, the ruler of Rune-Midgard himself. His hands were arrogantly perched on either side of his hip in a gesture of long-suffering patience, which she knew all too well. It was the very same gesture he made back in the day as he waited for her to catch up (which happened quite often).
Despite herself Adrienne smiled. A small smile... but a smile, nonetheless.
It was the same back then, he always moved quickly and efficiently—much to her frustration for it meant she had to move quickly too. The only difference was, back then, it was her novice bag filled with potions and sweets that weighed her down... and now, she could compare to his agility training, even with her supportive spells, she still lagged behind him.
Adrienne dragged her sore toes for that one final step before huffing and buffing as the last remnants of her Increase Agi spell wore off. "Oh. Was the statement supposed to bother me? This is NOT race!"
Honestly! She was getting quite irked of seeing his behind for the entire time to their journey! Well, the priestess noted distractedly, the 'behind' of was not THAT bad at all—
Aid cheeks reddened. With a considerable amount of effort, she determinedly focused her gaze NOT on his behi… AGH, for Odin's sake! She forced her eyes to follow the line of his outstretched hand and espied down the valley to which it pointed.
In the corner of her eyes, she saw his mouth moving as if silently grumbling. Adrienne stifled a laugh; it was really quite cute. She bit her lower lip. No. Damn Zachary and his attractiveness. She thought finally.
She abruptly stopped in her tracks.
She'd never forgive him for that… and what his outstretched arm pointed to…
The cold—oh such icy daggers… Her hand unsteadily stole up her mouth. The endless rain… A gaping wound beneath her bloody hands… Darkness pounded heartlessly against the floodgates of her strength of mind.
The picturesque vision brought back all horror she pushed and sealed away in the deepest part of her consciousness mind, as it unsympathetically loomed before her…
Payon.
The last nine days with him had been wonderful...
...until now.
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The sands of time had turned anew.
Veldandi, Skuld and Urd decreed that: Nothing was to be the same anymore.
Cyfton Castle was undergoing an expansion. A new exterior wall will indeed aid in the safeguarding the Keep. Damon was out in the construction site, investigating the progress...
Her pale green eyes have been following him since that day. But she tried to not make it so apparent, and so... she lowered them to the scrolls containing the plans laid out on the table. The head foreman, Herburn Passel was talking to Mackenzie (the appointed head-overseer) and Damon, about the advantage of using quarried stones and specially-concocted gravel but her mind was elsewhere.
Well, any one who had a heart would know that Damon Chantal never quite forgiven the fates for what happened to Adrienne and Genesis. Mackenzie thought, trying not look at Cerberus' Guild Master. Although he may not parade it such fondness, it was apparent for someone who was been clandestinely observing him for as long as she has been.
It has been nine days… and the Iron Maiden has yet to see him sleep and eat properly. He was testing the Three Sisters of Fate. No, she thought, more accurately, he was daring them to take him especially now that he was on a sure course of self-destruction.
Mackenzie had seen this all before… It was not healthy. And ne'er shall it bring about a relevant solution, she tried to tell him so… but, Damon would hear none of it. She was starting to feel the strong stirrings of concern for him… Stirrings that she long laid to rest since…
Her mind wandered back to that rainy day in Payon…
...
She watched a young swordsman caught sight of a fellow guild member, a blonde Mage sprinting away from a Bongun she just hurled a handful of fire bolts at. He picked up his weapon and meddled, leaving the acolyte with long midnight blue hair alone with the Guild Master.
She tore her pale-green gaze from the scene, just as swiftly as the scene tore something from her heart. But the damage has been done; she left the torn piece on the ground to rot. And so, she did the next best thing within her command— Grasping her Balmung steadily with both hands, she returned to the task at hand. She swept the weapon in a concluding upward shift at the summoned Mummy before her—duly destroying it.
She received congratulatory a pat from Alasdair Pipecraft, their guild's resident Priest.
"Well done, Ashencastle." The wine red haired Priest had said. If he was ONLY talking about the vanquished monster or something more... she'll never know.
The noise of death slowly dwindled and with it the sun slowly came out from its hiding place behind the ominous clouds.
Brick red hair caught in the breeze, a free, badly splintered hand tucked the stray strands behind her ear. 'It's over.' She declared indistinctly.
And, to her amazement, Damon whistled to catch her attention (Ha! As if, she never had her attention on him all the time!). Upon turning to him, he tossed a small jar of ointment to her. And as the small vial soared towards her, she stabbed her Balmung to the ground and caught the glass object in one fluid, graceful motion.
"Your hands." He said, turning away to stand beside his father and the female acolyte she saw the pair rescued earlier.
Some part of her scoffed, but the other—and more dominant—part of her was leaping with joy at his thoughtfulness. Just when she was ready to let go—he does something that would make her think twice.
Her fourteen year old self saw that the acolyte saw that look on her face after the kind gesture exhibited by Damon. 'Caught', would have been a more accurate and blunt word for it.
And the truth to it? It was quite embarrassing. She prided herself for being very subtle and clandestine with her true feelings and guarded of her candid reactions. This was the very first time someone caught he unawares.
The acolyte with stunning silver eyes smiled hesitantly at her, obviously catching her in such a position. There was an understanding that was not missed by the other. She smiled back—a smile authenticating a truce of sorts. But deep inside, the young swordswoman was gladden that someone knew (more of less) of her affection for one of the acolyte's rescuers.
There was this wonderful feeling of freedom in having a stranger know something about yourself you'd never tell and show your best friend, she realized. For the reason that, since they don't know anything about you, they have no entitlement to accurately make out your character—and simply disregard the whole ordeal. It was perfect, she thought, for the feeling was stunning to weigh heavily after being kept solely to herself.
And then, Guild Master Derek Chantal introduced her as Adrienne Luex… their newest guild member.
She paled considerably. She knew in the long run... Adrienne would realize everything. She knew this to be a fact for she knew intelligence and perceptiveness when she saw it.
A lovely sunshine-blond mage turned to her, "Are you alright, Mackie? You're blanched as a Whisper."
"Oh? It's simply the cold, Gen." She convincingly smiled reassuringly, "Nothing serious."
Considerately, Genesis cast a fire ball and suspended the floating flame close enough to warm the female swordie.
She was genuinely touched. People have been exceedingly kind to her… they REALLY need not be. She was unworthy of such kindness. Her innate nobleness made her swear to make it up to all them.
From then on, Mackenzie Ashencastle knew that she'd do everything in her power to show her obvious intense dislike of he, who her heart held dear.
Why? An inner voice asked.
Because, she was NOT blind to the intense manner Damon Chantal was looking at her best frien—
...
"Iron Maiden," he said with ill-concealed displeasure, "are you still with us?"
Mackenzie snapped out of her little reverie and turned to him, "Do you want the truth, sir?"
Something in her manner and in her one told Damon that she was not talking about the damnable quarried stones and specially-concocted gravel. By the Gods, he too was not paying any attention to Passel.
Herburn Passel surveyed the young Guild Master then the female Lord Knight. He decided to let these young people work out whatever that is troubling them. Wisely, he brought them back to original flow of the conversation. "What do you think, my lord?"
It took a moment before Damon found his place in the earlier conversation. "Ah, yes." He remembered. "Quarried stones long have been part of this fortress' history, as well as its structure. But… Cyfton's under a new reign and with that I intend to bring the castle and all those who allegiance to keep her string and standing into the future. Monsieur Passel we shall have this specially concocted gravel instead of the quarried stones."
Mackenzie realized that the true reason behind his choice—being the Lord Knight's man-at-arms and Cerberus' second in command, she had some understanding of his personality and (more or less) his way of thinking. Understanding, she noted with a smirk, does not mean that she agrees with it.
The reason was that they had no time to quarry the formidable and historic stones from the mountains north of Prontera. Furthermore, if time was NOT a factor, accomplishing the feat would need man-power... and that too, was another matter Cerberus lacked, given that most of their guild members were still recovering. And not to mention, the lessening to their ranks due to the brave who offered their lives so that a Militia flag with trimming hues of scarlet-red could continue to wave on Cyfton's halls, balconies and towers.
What truly amazed Mackie was the fact that he immediately was all-business and no-nonsense. And not mention that Damon did NOT voice those other reasons to Passel. Cunning, would be the reason—Passel was NOT a guild member but a hired man from town. She could not help but feel glad... Damon was becoming more and more like his admirable, noble father.
"I understand that I am now to send for the Creator who shall brew the concoction for the stones to be used, sire?" Passel queried, waving to someone over his shoulder.
Damon, without lifting his studying gaze on the construction plans, said, "You understood correctly. Send for the man, it is imperative that I speak with—"
"Woman." A testy fourth voice corrected. 'Uggggh, always assume that the man for the job is always a man. Why can't men ever see that a female can do anything as good a male?! For Valhalla's sake, it is not because she has mounds on her chest and flat in the neither regions, it does NOT follow she's complete incompetent.' Or so Damon heard her grumble as she stepped forward to them. "I am the Creator, sir..." And then, the voice's owner noted with a burst of feminine pride, that second Lord Knight with long brick-red hair sitting across the dark-haired Lord Knight was a woman, "...and my lady."
Mackenzie Ashencastle and Damon Chantal looked up and saw—long curling hair swaying gently from under the hood of her cloak and a small, slightly crooked smile.
That smile, the Iron Maiden's heart caught in her throat... Why, it was just like...
"Genesis?"
Damon was already on his feet, openly gaping at the young woman.
A chill crept down Mackenzie's spine... No wonder her initial thought was the preposterous notion that her deceased best friend was ALIVE. If the young Creator (she judged to be around five and twenty) had long, curling hair of pure sunshine gold instead of red-gold and had rich, dark brown eyes instead of a fox's light, amber eyes—the female Lord Knight would have take back everything she said and declare that Genesis Birdeen was alive and well.
But that was not possible—for, with her own two eyes, she saw her friend's body burned in the burial ceremony and the ashes cast into the four winds which carried it off to the sea. This woman was NOT her dear Genesis.
"No, sir." The young lady replied, clearly taken aback. "My name is Eiselle. Twilight Eiselle."
"Twilight." And from the manner Damon addressed the Creator, it is evident that he did not share Mackenzie's suspicious conclusion.
It was happening... all over again. Perfect!
Just when she was ready to hold on—he does something that would make her think twice.
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Adrienne roused from the darkness screaming.
Zach immediately abandoned his post by the small fire pit he made and hasten to her side. She was in his arms when tipped something cool as glass to her parched lips."Here, take this."
It was a tone that seemed so alien, coming from her childhood best friend. It was the tone of voice used by cold people who was used to have their orders done with swiftness that would shame a gale and demanded that no questions to be asked once destruction as been done. Adrienne, in a different circumstance, would have cheekily ignored the command. She had always known that honey catches more flies than with vinegar and she was resolute to have people utilize the learning as well.
There was fire in his eyes that left her surrendering. And so, the priestess allowed him to pour a horrible tasting liquid down her throat. Assassin Cross or not, a mere doting Friend or a great, cunning Foe—she knew NONE of the answers to any of these questions. If the foul concoction was really poison or not—she could AND would not care... for she, foolish it may be, trusted this man completely.
It was something her heart just knew. And for once, she allowed that illogical conclusion to overrule her reason.
Aid snuggled deeper into the make shift cot he made. The drug—or whatever in Valhalla's halls that was, calmed her down. Gradually, her heart rate returned to normal and the searing pain of her head dwindled to a fairly tolerable ache. "Thank you, Zach." She managed a small weak smile. "You should teach me how to make that cure you just gave me."
He knew it was not the best time to tell her she fainted. Instead he employed the safest proven tactic to put her at ease whenever Aid was afraid. "What's this?" He teased. His smile wicked, "A Priestess asking an Assassin Cross for help? Since when did that travesty or better yet, the Adrienne Luex ASK for anyone's help?"
His words hit her with an impact of a sonic blow, but her expression remained unchanged.
He still thought her of being proud. She was happy he thought so— or so, she decided to deceive herself. Automatically, a smile started to form on her lips—but something in her shattered. She was suddenly tried of pretending. There was something in Zach's presence that made honestly flood out of her… Unwillingly tears formed around the corners of her eyes. Adrienne hastily turned to her side, away from him as the tears began to fall.
It was becoming tiresome to be regarded so... Aid admitted, slowing coming to an epiphany... for it meant I had to somehow maintain the façade of the happy girl I USED to be. Everything had been wonderful between us—our childhood and our reunion, I do NOT want to be the cause for THIS sad turn.
And so, she put on her most haughty, holier-than-thou tone, "Oh, you misconstrue, you big snowflake-head, I did NOT ask! I commanded!"
His low chuckle was devastating to her senses. Mayhap that was the reason why she did not anticipate that he would grab her by her shoulders and spin her around to face him.
He stared. Tears?
He gently brushed a stray lock of her long midnight-blue hair off her face, he searched her stunning features for an answer for Zachary just could not put two and two together. If he had any intention of not asking questions that would unearth the 'lost past', he forgotten them… Word spilled faster than he could rein them, "Whatever happened to that strong, rather mouthy priestess back in Cyfton? The very one that has been by my side for the last nine days? The unchanged Adrienne Luex?"
"She died..." Adrienne replied, eyes not meeting his. Her voice sounded so detached, lost and vague, "Of drowning, you see, in her sorrows."
Zach did not hear the tell tale signs... He deemed the angsty avowal to the type of dramatics she always done in the past to make him laugh... In the past. True to his conclusion, he still thought of her as if she never changed.
"How could I possibly say this, Aid? I know for a fact -- after months of surveillance and from what I gathered first hand -- that you, my dear Adrienne Luex, a priestess, of two and twenty autumns, the hailed 'Jewel of Prayer' of the Militia of Sungren's Order of Cerberus, and bosom friend of Cerberus' current Guild Master, Damon Chantal. I know she DID NOT CHANGE."
He interpreted her silence for being caught red-handed in her little ruse. "Why... You are the same—silly, fun-loving, mouthy, self-sacrificing, witty little girl with incredible silver eyes I knew before all this trickster-lopsided things occurred in my life..."
"Please," Aid pleaded, curling to a small ball on the cot and buried her face to her drawn up knees. She did not take notice of the disclosure of how life had been for him… It was not her intent to take him lightly, for if she did not feel so little and worthless, she would have asked him to recount his past days until he was hoarse."You're shelving me to be just that! I am MORE than that, Zach. Peopl—no, everything changes. You can either continue to turn a blind eye, that is your business, but—the very least humanitarian thing you can do is consider the reality and what's before your very eyes... And in turn, you may understand this plight."
Blind eye. Such a statement, if uttered by someone else would not be so taken lightly... The notorious Bloodbath would not have allowed it... but Zachary Reith... who still had some heart left... "All right. Make me understand what exactly you mean... Adrienne?"
"I cannot make you understand. 'Tis life who should teach you that lesson... You'll understand immediately after it has beaten down soundly, taken everything all you've ever known and replaced it with... reality. Reality that always goes hand in hand with suf—"
"...suffering," Zach finished for her. "...that you have suffer silently in attempt NOT to worry those who claim to care for your well-being... but that is just the initial reason isn't it, Aid? The deeper reason would be... you're pride will not allow you to let them you that you are indeed just like them..."
With each word he had spoken aloud... Adrienne curled to an even tighter ball on the cot, there was a curious tremor that raked through her body.
Zach recognized the sight from those forcefully forgotten nights as a young child in Izlude. Silently, he laid down beside her, and pulled her to him that her curved back fitted his front. And he just held her like so... until the tremors ceased and was replaced by ever increasing crying sounds.
Ah, is this what you felt when you held me, mother? Powerful and helpless all at the same damn time?
The midnight blue haired young woman slowly turned into his arms and gave in to the long pent-up emotions to wash over her... And she released them. As Adrienne cried, Zach cradled her to him.
Zach held women before... but never like this. He eased their tension by giving them what they wanted, usually with a certain rhythmic back and forth jerky movement of his hard, agile body. There was an innocence here that he never felt in any of those past instances when he held women... An innocence that he never felt since the last time he squatted beside a weeping little girl with rosy cheeks near that fruit vendors stall eons ago...
His body stirred... and there was absolutely nothing innocent about this one. This was a perfectly natural reaction of a fully mature male to a perfectly mature woman.
Zach could tell from her beautifully expressive eyes, that Adrienne did not comprehend the ways of nature unfolding before and to her, for she unwrapped her arms around her and set them about his waist and flanks.
There was no malice in her, no wily intent to seduce... just plain old innocence.
His mind told him, that if there was any bit of honor left in him—he would have to distance himself from this innocent (...well, innocent in those matters, anyhow). But truthfully speaking, he had none of that. It was hard.
It was really hard to pattern yourself like your (so they say) great father to be noble when all you have were stories and memories not of your own. Zachary felt justified. Placing a hand firmly on the small of her back, he drew her closer to his strength and warmth. Feeling his form upon the contact must have been the reason for her to sharply look up to him with her eyes so damnably innocent and surprised.
Something inside him... cursed her. This tiny bit of enduring innocence in her was not possible. He could not understand where all this growing anger was coming from... Zachary Reith recognized that 'something' to be—Bloodbath. The latter, found it very unfair.
He crashed his mouth on to hers that tore a small, helpless cry from her throat. Firmly, he kept a hand behind her head to keep her from thrashing about— when that failed, he toppled her and held her there—on her back and he, an immovable weight over her.
"What in gloomy Neifelheim are you doing, Reith?!"
She never used 'Reith' unless she was extremely cross with him—Zach did not care. Crossing her wrists over her head, he secured them with an iron grip, he usually reserved for his victims he leaned his face to hers for an even fiercer, rougher kiss.
All of the sudden, she was not so afraid.
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"WHAT YOU ARE REALLY AFRAID OF—"
…
You're not afraid of the dark.
You are afraid of what's in it that you know not and deprived from being prepare to defend against it.
You're not afraid of heights.
You're afraid of falling and doubtful if someone is out there in the abyss ready to catch you.
You're not afraid of the people around you.
You're afraid that they may not accept the person you really are and harshly reject you if you do show them.
You're not afraid to love.
You're afraid of not being loved back by whom you dared to risk of exhausting your feelings on.
You're not afraid to try again.
You're just afraid of getting hurt for the same damn reason.
…
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End of Chapter Eight
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Disclaimer: I do not own "What you are really afraid of" except of course that italized line(s) after the normal text—I wrote that latter text. It was in 'retaliation' to that written in the normal text. I do that, especially when something strikes a chord in me. :)
Author's Notes: No kiddies, before you go and flame me for that 'held women (and all that followed)' bit(s)... I want to say, 'death to all biting plot-bunnies' but hey, that'd be a charge for animal cruelty! Lolx
C'est vous plait don't forget to sign in (if you want moi to reply), and... read and review. Merci.
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