And the Clock Struck Twelve

By seraphimstarlight

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Tales of the Abyss or any of its characters.

Author's Note: Everybody, thank you so much for your reviews! I feel so motivated and insipired now. I'll do my best to get more posted as soon as possible.

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Guy climbed back down quickly and easly despite the numbness that threatened to overwhelm him. Once he was back on the first floor, he let himself back into the guest room through a nearby window, and was relatively pleased to notice that he had not been missed. Likely, the staff had been ordered not to disturb him.

Back inside the safety of his room, he allowed the weakness he had been fighting back to take over. He slumped against the wall and slid to the floor, burying his face in his hands.

How could he do that to her? How could he give her false hope when he knew that every word she had spoken was true—that if the Emperor chose anyone it would most likely be her?

He dug his nails into his scalp as though that might relieve some of the tension that was building inside his skull.

When he had first heard of Jade's plan to help the Emperor find a wife, he had been happy to help, even if the plan had seemed a little strange to say the least. And he had known from the beginning that Natalia, as the Princess of Kimlasca, would have to be involved. He had thought he could bear that, even knowing that when he met her at the dances, she would have come, for all intents and purposes, as the intended of another man.

He had thought then that he could bear it—that he could lock away what he had almost let escape him in Inista Marsh. He had said then that her people loved her, that her country loved her. He could not bring himself then to add the third.

He had known then that her happiness would become the most important thing to him, but he also knew that her happiness was inextricably linked to the happiness of her people. And even though he would do all he could to ensure her personal happiness, he knew he had nowhere near the power to ensure the happiness of her people. In the end, she would choose someone who could. He was certain of that much.

So for nearly four years he pretended—pretended that he had not seen what he saw in her eyes in Inista Marsh, pretended that he did not feel the same, pretended that things would be all right.

He would bear this as he had everything else in his life—silently.

And he had promised himself that he would never do this to her—that he would never let her know what he felt or how deeply he felt it. It was to be his first and only gift to her. It was the only one he had allowed himself to give.

A dry rasping sound worked its way up from his gut and forced its way through his lips. Desperate to stifle the sound, he bit down hard on the side of his right hand. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and dripped down the side of his chin. But there was no one to wipe it away from him.

He stood and moved over to his small bag of belongings and rifled through it for something to use as a bandage. He found a dark colored handkerchief, wiped the side of his mouth and clumsily bandaged his hand.

The wound itself was nothing compared to some of the ones he had sustained during their journeys, but coupled with the desperate ache growing in his chest it felt as though it could easily be the worst of the the lot.

But the pain had served its purpose. Although not enough of a distraction for him to forget his current thoughts, it did stop the tremors that had begun to shake him.

But never before had he felt this strongly. Perhaps it had been easier during the long period of time since he had last seen her to forget just how much he…

He tensed his injured hand again, willing the pain to intensify. A burning sensation blossomed in his hand, breaking his current train of thought. He closed his eyes and sank down on the bed willing himself to be far away—out of this room, out of the castle, out of Baticul, out of Kimlasca even! He thought of his small estate just to the east of Grand Chokmah. It was a place where he could be safe, far away—where it would be easier to forget the light in her eyes, the grace of her movements, the lilt of her voice. He wished he could be there, far away from Baticul. He wished he could still be there.

Although he accepted that the Emperor would have to consider her along with all the other nobles attending the ball and that she would have to be escorted to Malkuth by an emissary, as per both Malkuthian and Kimlascan tradition, he had not expected to chosen for the job. He'd nearly had a heart attack when Jade had recommended him for the assignment. He and Jade had been in a formal audience with the Emperor and the time that the Colonel had made the announcement, so he didn't have an opportunity to vent any of the rage that had built up inside him or to protest the assignment.

He had been surprised at Jade's suggestion, but not at the Emperor's approval. To the Emperor, he was merely an old friend of the Kimlascan princess, but he had at least expected Jade to know—Jade who was so terrifyingly perceptive.

In fact, from the evil smirk that had ever so briefly appeared on Jade's face during his initial suggestion for the assignment, Guy suspected that Jade knew.

Did that man really like—experimenting on—no, torturing people so much that he would stoop this low?! But why else would that damned Colonel send him when he knew the truth of the situation? Still, it would have been wrong to reject a seemingly innocuous assignment to escort the Princess of Kimlasca, especially when said escort had traveled with her before.

Jade, that bastard! He had to have known.

But still, Guy couldn't blame everything on the Colonel, no matter how much he wanted to. It wasn't Jade's fault that he was too weak. It wasn't Jade's fault that he had slipped. It wasn't Jade's fault that he broke the oath which he had made himself swear every day for nearly four years. It was his own fault. And now, he would have to live with his mistake.

He had never meant to hurt her; he couldn't even be certain if he had.

He sighed.

Maybe, he was the only who felt anything. Things had certainly changed since the journey through Inista Marsh. She might no longer feel what she had felt back then—if she had even felt anything at all. Maybe, he was the only one who had ever felt anything.

And if he was the only one suffering, he was fine with that.

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Sunrise followed a sleepless night for the young Princess of Kimlasca. Much to her dismay, she found that dark circles had begun to form under her eyes. She sighed. After barely eating and not sleeping at all what could she expect?

She resisted the urge to just flop back down on the bed and trying to go back to sleep, but she knew that her father would be anxious to see her after her "disappearance" after the audience yesterday.

She ran her hands over the front of her dress, wondering if she could smooth the wrinkles out, but it was a lost cause. As she moved over to her dresser, she hesitated when her gaze lighted on the bowl of fruit cocktail that still sat untouched on the floor. She was uncertain what to do with it. If she didn't hide it, the maids would find it, and it might raise questions that she really didn't feel like answering. But, to move it…

Frowning, she realized that she was being utterly foolish. It was just a bowl, for Lorelei's sake! It shouldn't matter that he had brought it to her, or that they had eaten it together, or that she had done something incredibly foolish and inconsiderate.

How could she have done that to him? What on earth had she expected? He had been afraid of women for the whole time she had known him. Why then had she thought that he would kiss her? And why had she thought she would like it?

Every ounce of her common sense told her that he would not kiss her, or even touch her.But he had. And the place where his fingertips had rested against her skin still burned.

Had he only been humoring her? Playing along with what she would only dare to call her whim? She frowned.But it wasn't a whim. She was scared to say it, but it was more of a compulsion—a need—than anything else.

But it had been her need, not his, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she had used him. She had forced him into the situation, and out of politeness, he had gone along with it.

There could be no other explanation for his reaction. It had been so smooth, and flawless, as though it had been planned for just this siutation. That had to be it.

He could not have done what he had done willingly. Not only had he suffered for most of his life from a paralyzing fear of women, but, before she had come to know him, she had cruelly made him fear her. She had tormented him almost from the first moment she had known him—had dogged him with her taunts and her orders. Yet, he had always treated her kindly, whether it had been out of fear, respect, or pity. The thought of her using him as terribly as she had turned painfully in her gut.

No. She had no right to expect anything from him. She didn't even have the right to ask. And she certainly didn't have the right to do what she had done to him. He was a good human being; he did not deserve to be tortured.

A quiet tapping on her bedroom door startled her. It must be one of the maids, especially at this time in the morning.

"Come in," she called, barely able to keep her tone level.

The door opened, and a maid peeked around the corner.

Natalia relaxed. They had sent poor Laura, the newest of the maids hired at the castle. She had been so timid on her first day that she had accidentally dropped the tray with Alpine's breakfast. She had been so afraid of the man that she cried for weeks until the Princess had finally stepped in on her behalf. Ever since then the two had become relatively close.

"Your Highness," she began quietly, "I came to tell you that breakfast has been served." She paused for a moment, then added, "I thought that you might especially want to know since you missed both lunch and supper."

She couldn't help similing at the young woman. "Thank you, Laura. I appreciate your kindness."

The maid gave a quick curtsy and would have shut the door had she not noticed the bowl sitting in the middle of the floor.

"Umm, Your Highness?"

"Yes?"

"About that bowl?"

Natalia's face fell. "Oh…right."

"Would you like me to take that back to the kitchen?"

"Would you?"

Laura smiled. "Of course, Your Highness"

Natalia hesitated for a second before adding, "And could you tell them that you brought that up for me yesterday?"

The girl looked a bit surprised but nodded. "Of course, I would be happy to help."

Laura took the bowl, somehow managed to curtsy again while holding the bowl, and pulled the door shut. Natalia silently thanked the girl for not asking how she had really ended up with the bowl, knowing that Laura was likely desperate to ask.

Nevertheless, the bowl was finally gone, and it was time to head down for breakfast. Natalia opened her warbdrobe and quickly selected a simple green gown. She changed her clothes, washed her face in the wash basin, brushed her hair, and headed for the dining room.

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Author's Note:

Oh, more angst…sigh, but I suppose in a relationship like their's it probably can't be helped. They remind me of another one of my favorite couples, Seth and Eirika from Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones. I'm writing them in a similar way—both bound by duty and tradition. Thus, this story will likely be angsty for a good portion of the time, but I'll try to squeeze some more fun and fluff in here.