X (In Love and War: Chapter 3) X
The next morning, Fayt Leingod found himself trapped. That is to say, he was held quite firmly by someone he almost forgot was there, and therefore was quite alarmed at first, had his memory not jogged itself before he could issue a scream of fright. He soon recalled the cold night before, and Albel - strange, strange man, he was - insisting on sharing the bed with him. It wasn't that he minded (for he was quite warm and comfortable, nestled against the swordsman's chest that way), but it was still... well, awkward. Carefully, so as not to wake his guest, Fayt wriggled one arm free of the blankets, and felt goosebumps rise on his skin immediately. It was damned cold, and he soon found he was in no rush to leave the cozy bed. Still, judging from the position of the sun, it was very, very early in the morning which meant one thing: Evia was coming for breakfast in a matter of minutes.
At the rate of molasses sliding uphill rather than down it, Fayt freed himself of Albel's arm, which was wrapped around his middle, and squirmed from the blankets, wincing as the cold, wood floor sent shivers from his feet all the way up to the back of his neck. He made sure to tuck the Wicked One under the covers appropriately before he padded down the stairs and into the small kitchen. "What do I make today?" he wondered aloud as he peered into the makeshift refrigerator. Most of his food he had used to make dinner, and was running low on supplies. After searching the cupboards, he happened to find a sack containing supplies needed to make a suitable loaf of bread, and so that is what he made. "Two places to set, or three?" he wondered. Did Albel even get up so early, or was he a late sleeper? So many things he didn't know about his guest.
Before he could make up his mind, the door swung open, and in danced a rather giddy Evia. Fayt was amazed to see a sullen Dion trailing behind him. "Good morning, Loverboy!" the former chirped, clapping his hands together. He peered about the kitchen, then asked, "Where's your sexy beast of a visitor? I want Dion to meet him!"
Dion, during these times of war, was a very serious and even more schedule-bound young man. He dressed just as the other Castle Aquaria researchers did, sporting long, black hair and a pair of tiny spectacles that rested on the end of his nose. At his mention, he adjusted said glasses, and looked about as well. "Er, yes. Evia seems to believe you have Albel the Wicked - heaven help him - of all people under your roof." His tone suggested that the idea was absolutely nonsensical.
The blue-haired boy wasn't exactly sure how to explain to his friend that he really did have Albel staying with him, though not exactly by choice on either part. Fayt was sure that if the hot-headed man could have left, he would have by now. The only things stopping him were his injuries, and the fact that he was under the impression that he was in Kirlsa. "I, uh..."
Evia let out a gasp before Fayt could come up with his explaination, and pointed a finger past his younger friend to the stairwell. "There, see? I told you! There he is!" he cried, as if he had spotted a rare animal during a safari. "Handsome, isn't he?" And here a dreamy sigh escaped his lips. Dion and Fayt both looked up, and a stunned silence seemed to settle over the miniscule kitchen.
The Wicked One was barely halfway down the stairs, gripping the railing tightly to aid him in his journey, when he stopped to stare back, peering briefly into one pair of eyes at a time before looking at them as a whole. Confusion wrote itself all over his face. "...What are you staring at, fools?" he snapped, proceeding down the rest of the flight. "I haven't done anything. So what's with the looks?"
Fayt merely reddened in embarassment and looked back at his friends. Evia looked fit to explode, chewing his fingernails while he stared with no thought to how impolite it was of him to look so expectantly at Albel, as if waiting to recieve from him a gift like no other. But what was worst was Dion. It was hard to tell just what the scholar was thinking and feeling, his mouth slightly agape, eyebrows arched and eyes the size of tea saucers. He seemed to stammer an incomprehensible syllable, one that he may never let become an actual word, let alone part of a sentence.
"Dion, this," Fayt took it upon himself to say, "Is Albel Nox. Albel, this is--"
"I don't care what the maggot's name is," Albel interrupted, one hand on his hip. He glowered intimidating at the two dark-haired boys, one after another, back and forth, in hopes they would eventually back off and stop gawking. "Just get him to look elsewhere, for fuck's sake."
The blue-haired boy's ears and cheeks reddened even further at the wicked swordsman's choice of words. He looked desperately at Dion, hoping he would regain his senses, and sure enough, he did. His clear, black eyes darted to the floor, and he cleared his throat sharply before commenting, "S-Such an extensive vocabulary. Her Majesty would be impressed, even."
It was as if a lightning bolt had struck Fayt inside his head. Hadn't Dion sense enough not to mention things like that to an enemy, let alone one who didn't realize where he was? Of course, he forgot at the time that none of his friends knew anything of the facade. All he could do was pray that Albel wouldn't catch that obvious clue. Before a word could be uttered, Evia saved the day once again: "Whatever! Enough about that, let's talk about how sexy you are, Albel!"
Albel merely produced a sound in his throat equivalent to that of a cat that had stepped in a puddle and sat down at the table. Fayt, finally remembering to breathe, exhaled and went to fetch the bread. He tried to sound as casual as possible when he asked, "Dion, would you like to stay for breakfast? I'm afraid it's not much, but I'd be happy to have y--"
"...No." It was unlike Dion to interrupt someone while they were speaking; he was just more polite than anyone else in the room. But the bespectacled man seemed to be very alarmed by the events that had just transpired, and took a small, uncertain step toward the door. When he realized how rude he had been, he blinked hard, and corrected himself, "I have to decline, I'm very busy. Th-Things to see, people to do..."
There was a momentary pause, during which time everyone let sink in the mistake Dion had made. Evia was the first to laugh outright - or more like, burst out laughing and crack up, nearly falling onto the table. "Oh, good one, Dion! I like that!" he giggled, wiping tears from his eyes. Even Fayt had to chuckle some. Albel offered something of a smirk, and shook his head.
"Y-Yes," was all Dion could manage. He blushed, humiliated, and turned away, running out the door without a farewell. This didn't seem to bother the three that remained very much - especially not Evia, for he seemed to never get over the hilarity of Dion making such a silly mistake.
X
The routine went on for weeks, over which span of time Albel's injuries healed completely. In the mornings, Fayt would rise first and make breakfast, Evia would show up soon enough, and Albel would join them just in time to partake of the meal (usually. There were mornings when the swordsman didn't show up, much to the disappointment of a certain fruity, dark-haired boy). During the day, Fayt scavenged, cleaned, andpieced bits of metal and glass together to make dishes and other useful items, and Albel would often be nearby. The two would talk some, but there was never a whole lot for one to say to the other. Again, Albel was never to leave the house. His skin was becoming much more pale, having not felt the sun's rays on it in so long. At night, Albel eventually took to helping Fayt prepare dinner, then they would eat, with Evia, of course. Sometimes, after Evia left, Fayt would light a fire if there was enough kindling, and the two would sit in front of it, staring into the flames in comfortable silence. Then at bedtime, the blue-haired boy became accustomed to being dragged into bed with his guest.
It seemed as if the circle of routine would be the same for all eternity, until the day the Black Brigade came in search of their Captain.
They did not come unprepared for a real battle at the gates of Aquois - when the Brigade appeared on the horizon, they were well-armed and hungry for war, packing even a few dragon-riding soldiers. The Symbologists rushed out to the bridge to meet their opponent before they arrived, knowing it would be a close scrape before it had even begun. Nearly all the units were employed - except, that is, for Nel. Instead of moving to her assigned position on the front line, she ran to Fayt's house.
The incessant, frantic banging on the door woke both Fayt and Albel with a start. Fayt tumbled from the bed, tangled in the blanket, but shook himself loose and bolted to the door, flinging it open. "Nel! What in the world is the matter with you? It's three in the mo--"
"Fayt, you need to send Albel away from here!" Nel insisted, terror evident in her eyes once more, just like when she had first set eyes on the Wicked One. "He can't stay here anymore. Blindfold him and turn him loose in the wilderness - I don't care! Get him out, now!"
Bleary-eyed and swaying on his feet, the blue-haired boy was beyond dumbfounded. He stifled a yawn. "What for? I know you don't like him, but..."
"No, Fayt, that's not it! The Black Brigade is here, all of them! They have dragons. We're not prepared to fight them," Nel explained hastily, speaking so fast that the boy had trouble deciphering it all. "Send Albel out of here!"
"But I can't!" Realization had finally dawned on the boy, and as worried as he was for his homeland, he did not want to set the wicked swordsman loose and never see him again. They had become attached, ever so slightly, in the past weeks, though neither would ever admit it. "He's... he's still too hurt to make it on his own!" A downright lie and he knew it; still, he had to try.
Nel heaved a great sigh, and placed her head in her hand. "Fayt, this is selfish. If we don't hand him over, they'll destroy us in an instant. We just can't take all those soldiers at once!"
"How do you know that giving Albel back to them will turn them around?" Fayt retorted. "Didn't you yourself say that he was a monster, and would kill us all if he found out where he was?"
"Yes, but I--"
"Then giving him back would be adding salt to the wound! They wouldn't turn away; it would assure them victory!"
The both of them stood in anxious silence. Finally, Nel said, "Then what do we do, Fayt? If you're so clever, help me think. They won't leave, and yet we can't fight them. What do we do?"
Fayt opened his mouth to speak, only to feel a sudden tap on his shoulder. He nearly screamed, and jumped five feet in the air, whirling to meet Albel's confused and sleepy gaze. "Wot's goin' on?" the swordsman grumbled. The boy found it a blessing that he hadn't picked up on the conversation between he and Nel.
The red-headed woman gave Albel the usual look of utter contempt, and nervously tapped her foot. "They're coming closer, Fayt... we have to do something!"
"A...Albel." Fayt peered up at his... well, almost friend. "I need you to come help me with something."
"Whazzat?" Albel replied sleepily, rubbing at a garnet eye.
Fayt and Nel looked at each other for a moment. "I need you to... come outside and help me... find Evia. He's... he's er, missing."
The Wicked One said nothing other than something like, 'mfrrffmn.' It didn't seem like he was very awake at all; at least, not enough to comprehend most of what was going on. Nel shot her friend a look clearly asking him what the hell he was thinking, but said nothing. "Will you help me, Albel?"
"Yeashur," came the tired reply. Without another word on the matter, Fayt seized the swordsman's arm and pulled him in a fast walk from the house and up the backroads that led to the exit of the city.
"Oh, dear Apris," he murmured softly to himself in prayer as they slunk through the night toward the battle taking place on the bridge, "Please... please let this work."