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: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. You're all so kind!
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It did not take long to get back to the inn. He stopped in front of the door and turned his attention towards her. She had woken up along the way and had taken to occasionally trailing a finger along his jawline and shifting her weight in his arms. The squirming was positively maddening. As if it wasn't tempting enough that he was carrying her bridal style through a darkened town, towards an inn, no less, it seemed as though she had taken it upon herself to remind him just how close she was.
He was terribly tempted just to pull her closer and kiss her.
What would her lips feel like? They looked so soft and perfect, even in the dim moonlight, and they were probably very cold right now. A kiss would warm them up perfectly.
He looked down at her, and, for a moment, their eyes met. Something passed between them. What it was, he could not tell, but it sent an electric shiver down his spine. He stopped walking when she, again, laced her arms around his neck. She pulled herself closer, nuzzling against the side of his neck where she had kissed him earlier. She mumbled something, but he could not comprehend it. At the moment, his mind was too full of plans—what he would do both now and when they got back to the inn.
No.
It was wrong to pursue that train of thought. He wanted more. He wanted to kiss her, to love her, to stay by her side all the days of his life. He knew he wanted it. But, he did not know what she wanted. In this situation, he could not trust her actions. She was obviously distressed over the Emperor's proposal as well as other things. Not only that, but she was tired and very cold right now. She was not in the best shape to be making such decisions.
She had made it clear to him that she would follow through with her duty, regardless of her personal feelings. Even—even if she did want something more, it would not be fair to her if he did something when she was questioning the duty that she had sworn to follow. Even if it made her happy now, it would only cause her terrible pain in the future. And he would not do anything to hurt her.
He shifted her position to make her move her face away from his neck. She seemed startled at his response but did not attempt to return to her previous position. Instead she simply looked away toward the ground.
"We're here," he said after a moment.
She did not respond.
His heart fell. "Now you can finally get some rest," he said, trying to sound cheerful. "Let's just get you inside. But, it looks like I'll have to put you down now. Do you think you can stand."
"Of course I can. I could all along," she said.
He could not help feeling guilty at the bitterness in her voice, especially since he was partly at fault. He had sworn not to let his feelings show, but he had not been able to keep his word. And now, she was suffering for it.
He set her down gently, extending his arm to support her. She stumbled at first but chose to lean against the nearby wall instead of taking hold of his arm. The rejection stung him terribly, but the remorseful look in her eyes told him she had not meant to hurt him. Her reaction had simply been reflexive. He had, after all, hurt her first.
The door swung open silently, and, thankfully, the receptionist was asleep at the desk. So long as they didn't make any noise, they wouldn't be noticed.
His voice dropped to a whisper. "Come on." He held out a hand to guide her but was not surprised when she did not take it. Instead, she hobbled forward, letting out a low hiss of pain whenever she put weight on the injured limb. She was all right until she came to the base of the stairs. Using the railing for support, she tried to haul herself up the stairs.
Enough was enough. She should not torture herself like this just because of his foolishness. He walked over to where she was clinging to the railing and, with a single, swift motion flung her over his shoulder, ignoring her muffled squeak of protest.
"Put me down!"
"I thought we'd already had this discussion. You shouldn't be putting weight on that leg—"
"That's not it!" she hissed. "It's my skirt…"
Reflexively he glanced over. Her usually modest skirt had conspired to fold and ride up to the point that the tops of her stockings had begun to show.
He muffled a scream only by snapping his jaw shut so hard that he swore he felt his brain shift in his skull. His other reflex, besides the scream, was to effectively toss her away. Luckily for them both, they were only a few steps away from the landing, and she managed to fall there, though she landed rather hard on her rear.
It took a moment for his brain to start working again, but when it did, all coherent thought flew out the window. Oh gods! He had thrown her! He rushed to where she sat adjusting her skirt and began apologizing profusely.
She fixed him with a menacing glare. "You threw me," she said in a dangerous tone.
He could not think of a response. The only thing currently running through his mind was that in the span of less than a week he had managed to make a complete fool of himself in her presence.
His wandering gaze lighted on the hem of her skirt which she was currently tugging at. Blasted skirt! Confounded thing! Why was it so short anyway? She was a princess. She should be wearing longer skirts. It wasn't that she didn't look good in this skirt, but…
His mind strayed down a dangerous path that became even more dangerous when she noticed where he was looking. His eyes snapped immediately to hers, and he noticed—with no small amount of trepidation—that she was positively livid.
Her hand shot out faster than a coiled viper, and she smacked him hard across the face.
"Pervert! Miscreant! Get away from me!" she screeched.
"Look, I'm sorry—!"
She smacked him again. "It's just like that time at the spa!!"
"That was an accident! I told you! Luke and Jade—!"
She glowered at him. "And what, are you going to blame them again?"
"No, I—! Look," he said, having regained some of his composure, "I was just trying to help you!"
"Help yourself, you mean," she retorted.
His face flushed a shade of crimson heretofore unknown to mankind. "No, that's not—"
"And just what was it then?"
"I just…if you would've just let me help you up the stairs this wouldn't have happened!"
She glared. "So you're blaming your own depravity on me? That's terrible."
"No! I'm not! I—"
A sound from upstairs interrupted him.
"Hey buddy!" came a man's irate voice, "people are trying to sleep up here so take your lover's quarrel somewhere else!" He punctuated his words with the slamming of a door.
Guy buried his face in his hands. Why did this sort of thing always happen to him?
When he finally dared a glance toward the princess, he found that a blush had blossomed on her face. She looked down towards the ground, up at him and back again.
"L—lovers?!" she sputtered. "Us?! Impossible! Why I never...!"
Her voice trailed off when she looked back up at him. He did not know what she saw on his face. He couldn't tell. He felt, for lack of a better word—detached. Was she really that opposed to the idea of their being lovers?
But what about earlier? She had seemed so comfortable then. Maybe—he thought with a painful start—she was only toying with him. Maybe there were no feelings on her part. Maybe she only saw him as a diversion before she married the Emperor.
Deep down, he knew that she would not be that cruel, not to anyone, but, the idea made sense. Maybe she was scared, maybe she was bored. So many "maybe"s, but to him, they all made sense. After all, why else would she choose him?
He heard her make a sound, as though she had started to say something, but when he looked back at her, she looked away and fell silent.
"Is something wrong, Your Highness?" he asked after a long moment.
She hesitated. "I—I'm so—I'm tired," she said to the ground.
Oh. Of course.
He stood and extended a hand to her. "I'll walk you back to your room then, Your Highness."
She placed her small hand in his, but it was cold. There was no spark, no electricity as he had felt before at even the slightest touch. She would not even look at him now. He felt further away than ever before.
He helped her up the stairs and guided her to the end of the hall where they stopped in front of the door to her room. She took her hand from his and pushed the door open. She stepped inside and began to close the door, but stopped halfway.
"Is something wrong, Your Highness?"
She did not answer.
"If all is well, Your Highness, I suggest you get some rest. It is almost morning."
A pained look crossed her face. "Yes," she said at last. "I suppose I should."
They lingered for a moment, until he turned away. To his surprise, she took hold of his arm to keep him from leaving.
She drew a deep breath then said, "I—I apologize for my conduct earlier."
He placed a hand on hers, surprised when she trembled at the touch. "I already told you that there was nothing to apologize for. As long as you are safe, that's all that matters."
He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but the gesture seemed fake to him. He was certain it appeared fake to her as well. Her face fell and, for a moment, he wondered if he had somehow offended her.
She nodded and moved to pull her hand back, but before his brain could register what his body was doing, he reached forward and took hold of her hand, clasping it in his.
"It's all right," he said, bringing her hand to his lips. "It's all right."
He did not know what he was assuring her of or even why, but the words seemed…right somehow. Tears spilled from her eyes, trailing down her face, and she seemed to stifle a sob.
His hand tightened instinctively around hers in a comforting gesture.
"Thank you," she breathed, "thank you."
For just a moment, her grip on his hand tightened before she pulled away.
"Good night, Your Highness," he said.
She gave him a teary smile and nodded. "Good night, Guy." She hesitated for a moment before shutting the door.
He stood for a moment, staring at the door, trying to distract himself by studying the wood grain.
What had she been apologizing for? Running off? Why had she run off in the first place? Did it have something to do with Asch? With the Emperor? With him?
He wanted to ask her, but now was not the time. Whatever it was had obviously upset her. And whatever it was had made her feel responsible for his own weaknesses. She had apologized for something that could in no way be her fault. Or was she apologizing for something completely different?
The answer was there, but he could not see it. His mind swirled. He slumped down against a nearby wall and slid to the floor. His room was only a few doors away, but there was little point in going there; he would not sleep tonight. If he did, he would only dream of her—of the feeling of her in his arms, of her perfect lips, and of her small, soft hand in his.
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Author's Note:
Kyaa! This was such a busy weekend, and I didn't have internet access either. –sigh- Anyways, this part was supposed to cover up to Grand Chokmah, but it got kinda long so I cut it and moved the arrival at Grand Chokmah to next chapter, so, um, sorry about that. But the next chapter should be up by the end of the week. Oh, and I know I'm not portraying Natalia in the best light, but I promise, you'll get her side of the story soon. Until then!