Summary: If there's one thing to cause the champions of Chaos untold grief, it's their access to cyberspace...

Disclaimer: Yeah, I wish I owned it... Maybe then I wouldn't be up to my neck in tuition-debt!

Queen's Quornor: I realize it's been awhile, but that pesky little thing known as "college" keeps getting in my way. So here's a new chapter, and this time I decided to focus on two characters I don't really like that much. In other words, there's no Kuja or Seph in this chapter (laughs). Well, okay, not in central roles...

Time of Discovery

Ultimecia froze time and began strolling down the upside-down corridor, eager to see what unfortunate circumstance had been caught by her spell. It was a silly vice, but it appealed to the voyeur in her. She could witness any number of private pastimes, and her peers would never realize why she always counted herself as superior to them.

The time crush would not last long. It could be sustained for nearly an hour in real-time, though she usually terminated the effect after a few minutes at the most. When she wanted to spy, she would allow it to continue to its own conclusion.

On this particular circuit around the suspended Shrine, Ultimecia observed a number of events to which she alone was privy, including:

-Exdeath slipping a silky blue cocktail dress on over his armor, his helmet dusted with cosmetics where the appropriate features might be.

-The Emperor playing chess with Sephiroth and losing, badly.

-Kefka clipping his toenails and putting the yellow crescents inside a large glass jar.

-Golbez, sans armor, combing out his long white hair before a mirror mounted on the wall next to the wooden stand.

Ultimecia admired the latter for a time, enjoying the thaumaturge's muscular form. In her opinion, were Golbez and Cecil to be placed side by side for comparison, it would be impossible to decide who the prettier brother was. Mateus kept her satisfied, but she could not help the involuntary attraction to such pale perfection. How that esper girl kept her hands off Cecil was beyond Ultimecia's ken.

Continuing along the corridor, the sorceress noted a splash of light on the floor above, issuing from the computer room. Her lips curled upward; she rarely caught people using the terminal. The last time she had, it had been Kuja ranting about an indecent picture of himself and the other monkey. Eager to see who was doing what, she glided inside the doorway.

The massive horns of Garland's helmet filled her vision, almost obscuring the monitor. Ultimecia paused, a little surprised to see him sitting there; Garland was one of the people who did not often go near the computer. Her curiosity heightened, the sorceress walked to his side and peered up at the screen.

"Oh, my..."

She felt her eyes widen. Displayed on the monitor was an extremely detailed picture of herself and Squall, and beneath it a second containing herself and the Emperor. There was another full-screen window obscured behind them, but all Ultimecia could see were the tips of golden spikes. The pictures were very good, and very explicit.

"To think that you saw me in this way..." She shook her head and traced her fingers along the underside of his arm, smirking at the warmth of the metal. "How it must burn, knowing that I spend my nights with the Emperor and not you. Is this the only outlet for your chained passions?"

The sorceress craned her neck and chuckled. "Yes, I see that you find me desireable, indeed. You did not anticipate discovery. I must admit, I believed your sword was mental compensation for a physical lack of pride. It is a bit disheartening to see that I was wrong." She traced the exposures with an appreciative eye, and licked her lips. "Should my goals ever diverge from those of the Emperor, perhaps I shall use you to fill his place at my side."

She peered at his helmet, trying to see into his eyes. During these voyeuristic time crushes, Ultimecia did not disturb the people she observed. When time resumed its march, they would experience any touch or physical sensation to which she subjected them, even if she was no longer in the vicinity. That would raise suspicions about her involvement, so she was careful to restrict any touching to armor or furniture, and then only with the lightest of pressure. Garland would never know she had been here.

But she wanted to see his expression.

Ultimecia tapped her chin thoughtfully, then shook her head. It simply wasn't worth the risk.

The time crush was nearing its end. The sorceress felt the telltale shudder of time straining against her control, and she began to teleport back to her own room, but then caught sight of a small black book laying beside the computer's mouse, a little gold pen sticking out from between the pages.

She, and the book, were gone the moment before time resumed.


12:47 pm - She has returned from her castle, and I doubt her time was peaceful. Her hair has spilled from its proud horns, wreathing her body in wisps of silver cloud. She is gleaming with sweat, and traces of blood mingle with her tattoos. How I long to witness her in battle again.

1:03 am - She sleeps, a succubus in respite. Her long body is cradled amidst the blankets, a smooth leg pale and exposed. How can she be so merciless even in sleep? I yearn to be the pillow embraced by her arms, held tight to her breasts. Instead I must watch, thirsting for the regard of my sweet, dark angel of time.

9:27 am - She lays with him now, having gone to him in her lust. I hear her haunting cries, and my body aches to touch her, to wring her passion from her painted, writhing form. Her wings brush the wall in time with the headboard's rhythmic tempo; she seems innocent even whilst drenched in sin. I hunger for his blood, knowing that his death would only hinder their plans and continue the cycle anew. If I could have her, I would fling his innards to the far corners of this piecemeal world.

10:38 am - I watch her at her bath, envious of the water slicking the length of her perfect body. She slides the soaped cloth across her abdomen, leaving swirling trails in her wake. She tilts her head back to accept the water's kiss against her throat, and her lips part as if on a moan. My dark angel is a sensual creature, enticing even when alone. I despise the time I must spend away from her, unable to witness her effortless glory. Will I never find the courage to touch, to hold, to worship her as she deserves? I watch and I ache for her. She is made for me: I, the knight forsaken by time, and she, the goddess who governs its flows. Ultimecia, my sweet angel, have mercy on your tormented devotee!

Ultimecia shook her head, unsure how she felt about the revelation that Garland was stalking her. On one hand, she was disturbed that her privacy was only perceived, that every minute aspect of her life was observed and recorded within this slender black volume. Her security was now effectively gone.

But another part of her was preening, relishing every iota of praise written in her honor. Garland thought she was beautiful, with a brilliant mind. He was suffering because he couldn't touch her tattooed flesh or trace the stiff lengths of her molded hair. He boiled with envy whenever the Emperor came near her. The knowledge was heady, and Ultimecia enjoyed the sense of power.

She closed the book, tapping her fingers against the soft leather cover thoughtfully. Now that she had this information, what was she supposed to do with it?

Well, the first order of business was to ensure that Garland didn't realize she knew.

"Time." Perception flipped, and the sorceress teleported herself to the computer room. Garland was crawling about on the floor, apparently in search of the book she had taken. Ultimecia smirked at his futile attempt to search behind the desk, amused by the hindrance of his helmet, and carefully placed the book between the desk and the processor on the floor. When the time crush ended, Garland would find it and think that it had simply fallen there.

Once the book was secure, Ultimecia was distracted by another image stretched across the monitor. She felt her eyes bulge at the display.

Herself, Garland, and Squall. Naked. Together.

And the boys with...appendages...of a truly frightening size.

Ultimecia stared. It wasn't the nudity or the sex that she minded, nor the idea of Squall and herself (the idea was more than a bit intriguing, truth be told). What struck her was the expression of sheer agony worn by her depicted self, the tears streaming from her tight-shut eyes. Squall looked as grim as ever, but there was a certain meaure of sadistic glee somehow visible on Garland's metal visage. In this picture, he enjoyed hurting her.

The sorceress turned her gaze on the frozen knight, feeling her heart race. The book had been written in such a way as to make his affections sound tender, if not loving, and utterly devoted. That picture, and the very fact that he had selected it from any number of artistic renditions, spoke of much darker intentions.

She stared at Garland, suddenly cold. She knew how to defeat him, should need arise to defend herself. She was a witch of matchless power, a chronomancer freed from the shackles that bound her many peers, even the god she deigned to serve.

And yet...

"So this is what fear feels like," she mumbled, rubbing her arms.