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: Oh! Hugs to all the reviewers! Thank you so much!
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Morning was awkward to say the least. Natalia had been unable to sleep whatsoever and, as a result, spent most of the following morning in a trance-like state somewhere between sleep and awareness. Guy had knocked on her door at some ungodly hour in the morning to inform her that they would miss their boat if they did not hurry. The noise had startled her so badly that she, disoriented and sleep deprived, had walked out the door to confront him in little more than her nightgown.
When they realized what she had done he had blushed all the way to his hairline and she had screamed, run back in her room and shut the door behind her. After a few minutes she re-emerged, fully dressed, her ankle bandaged, and her small travel bag packed. He had retrieved her travel trunk, and they had headed for the harbor without so much as a word or a glance passing between them.
Luckily, they were traveling on yet another private vessel so even though they arrived at the dock about ten minutes after the scheduled departure time, they did not miss their ship.
It was only when she was settled safely in her private cabin that she was able to relax and reflect on the previous night's events. She flopped back on the mattress and covered her face in her hands.
How could she have been so foolish?!
Not only had she caused him to worry by running off, she had injured herself carelessly, forcing him to carry her through the town when she knew he had his phobia. Not only that, but she had shamelessly flirted with him when she knew that, no matter what she felt for him—that no matter how true and real it was—she would end up marrying the Emperor.
And then, after all of that, she had practically insulted him to his face! She rolled onto her side and pulled her knees up to her chest. She had been embarrassed when they had off-handedly been called "lovers". She couldn't tell him that it was something she actually wished would happen.
The only thing she could think to do was deny the idea completely. She hadn't counted on the hurt she had seen in his eyes—the look of absolute betrayal, and, for a moment, she thought that maybe, just maybe, he had wanted the same thing as she had.
The pain in his eyes had shone more clearly than tears and had taken her breath away completely. She had not been able to say a word. She had tried to apologize, but, somehow, could not bring herself to say the words. Something had stifled them—something that sounded suspiciously like pride.
Despite her cruel treatment, he had still helped her back to her room. He had called her by her title, not by her name. The action had hurt her. He was re-establishing the distance between them, but really she could not blame him for it. He was protecting himself from her careless cruelty. There was no weakness in that.
Still, he had extended his hand to her; to tell the truth, she had been scared to take it. His hands had been so warm when he had touched her face at the port. When he had held her, she could not help but feel comfortable in his arms. She had felt safe with him, and she could only assume that, to some degree, he had trusted her as well. But she had shattered whatever they had in a single moment of carelessness.
When she had placed her hand in his she noticed with some regret that he did not take hold of her hand as she had hoped but, instead, had let it lie limply in his. She had tried to apologize again when she had reached her room, but he clearly misunderstood her reason for apologizing. But he seemed to realize that he had misunderstood and had, ever so kindly, comforted her, without even asking her for anything in return.
He was too kind, too good. Truly, she deserved to be vilified for her behavior, but he had not offered so much as a single harsh word. She did not deserve his kindness, and she knew it.
This morning even, he had taken the blame for her own carelessness. She had wanted to apologize again, but he wouldn't hear of such a thing. He blamed himself for her own weaknesses.
Tears squeezed out from the corners of her eyes against her will. She shouldn't be crying. She had to be stronger than this, or he would just end up worrying about her. She had already caused him enough grief; she did not want to cause him any more.
A loud knocking on the door broke her train of thought. She wiped her eyes and adjusted her clothes as she sat up. "Come in," she called.
The door opened, and someone peeked around the corner. Her breath hitched in her throat.
"Guy!"
She could not conceal her surprise. He stepped into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. She noticed—with no small measure of regret—that he avoided looking directly at her.
"Your Highness, are you well?" he asked, his eyes glued to the floor. Concern was written plainly across his features.
Her heart thudded nervously in her chest. Had something happened? Something must have, or else, judging from the tortured expression on his face, he would not be here.
"Of course," she said as she stood to greet him. "I am…"
Her voice suddenly seemed to drift off into silence. For a moment, she wasn't even certain why until it hit her that she had stopped talking and her jaw hung slack. She noticed, for the first time since they had set sail that the ship was swaying uncomfortably beneath her feet. Maybe that also had something to do with why everything looked so blurry and why the ground suddenly seemed closer than it had before…
The next thing she knew something locked tightly around her waist and the ground, which a moment ago had been rushing up to meet her, had stalled a short distance from her face.
"I thought so," she heard him say from somewhere above her head.
She tried to turn to follow the voice, but her head swam with the effort.
A gentle hand helped her back onto her feet, and it was only then that she realized that she had almost fallen flat on her face.
"What happened?" she asked, noticing that the ship had once again begun to sway disconcertingly beneath her feet. As she tried to steady herself, she lost her footing and stumbled forward. His arm tightened around her waist, and he took half a step forward so that her head came to rest against his chest.
It happened so quickly that one moment seemed to blend into the next. Something wonderfully electric passed through her at the sudden contact. All thoughts of recent events fled her mind, and for a moment, everything felt right. It was as though the events at the inn had not happened—as though they were still at the docks, staring out at the silent, moonlit sea, their faces—their lips, so tantalizingly close.
The attraction was there—stronger than magnetism and far purer than lust or desire. Yes, she wanted him, but not just him—not just the body which held her in its arms. She didn't just want someone beside her, to tell her simply that he loved her. Anyone could serve for that, but this, this…felt right somehow. She had been kissed by others before—both willingly and unwillingly—but this was different from anything she had ever felt. This wasn't just electric or just passionate; it was somehow both at the same time—a tangible emotion that elicited a very physical response. This—he, she realized with a start, was what she wanted. No. Not "wanted". The way her heart fluttered in her chest told her that this was more than just want. There was something else there, something vital that she had not felt in years, but some part of her—a part that bore a suspicious resemblance to Duty—refused to put a name to it. What is was she would not—no, could not say; all she could do was show it, in the only way she knew how.
She moved easily, willingly into his embrace, letting her body relax at his touch. As she buried her head into his chest, he flinched but, after a moment, seemed to melt perfectly into her arms. She could hear his heartbeat and could feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. The arm that encircled her waist tightened one more time, closing the small gap between them. He cradled her head with his other hand, trailing his fingers through her hair. He buried his face in her hair, and, for a moment, his whole body tensed. Then, he let out a heavy sigh, and placed a trembling kiss on the crown of her head.
The act, as simple as it was, sent pleasant tremors throughout her body, leaving her trembling. The electricity coursed through her veins, leaving a pleasant tingling in its wake and ending in firecrackers in her fingertips.
The hand that had rested on her head slid down to rest at her waist. Cautiously, she brought up her hand and rested it on his shoulder. Truly, she thought that he would pull away at the touch, but he leaned closer, so that his face rested in the curve between her neck and shoulder.
She brought her other hand up to twine her fingers through his short golden locks, letting out a sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh when he placed a soft kiss on the base of her neck.
This was right. This was how it should be. This was how she wanted it to be, and, more importantly, this was how he wanted it to be. After everything she had done, she wanted to do something to make him happy, and, if this was what he wanted, she would gladly give it.
He tightened his embrace, nuzzling against her neck. She was surprised not only by the action but by the desperate tenderness with which he trailed his lips up along her jawline. She tilted her head back, letting out a delighted groan as he lightly kissed the sensitive skin of her throat before placing a slow, deliberate kiss on the tip of her chin.
As he moved, his lips shadowing the curves of her face, she turned, placing a fluttering kiss on his cheek. He flinched and, for a terrifying moment, she thought he would pull away completely. Instead he stood up straight to he could look down into her eyes.
Fear wavered in the depths of his azure eyes. Fear of what, she did not know. Or rather, she did know but did not want to acknowledge it. Her. He was afraid of her.
Her heart stilled in her chest. He was afraid of her. The words knifed her heart. What on earth was she doing to him?! She was torturing him! But…he had seemed to want this. At least, that was what she had thought. And maybe he had wanted it at first, but now…regret shone in his eyes.
Had she hurt him by not refusing?
She searched his eyes, trying to find an answer; he seemed to be studying her just as carefully. Silently, she willed him to find the answers he sought. After a moment, something shifted in the depths of his eyes. She did not know what answer he had found. Instead, she simply closed her eyes and waited.
She felt him move, and, for a second,she thought he had pulled away. But, his arms still remained locked tightly around her waist. He took a long, deep breath, and in the stillness of the room, she could have sworn that she heard his heart pounding anxiously in his chest.
He moved closer. She could tell without even opening her eyes. His breath tickled her skin, and their noses brushed, sending pleasant shivers down her spine. Her lips parted expectantly, and her heart fluttered nervously in her chest.
For a moment there was nothing but expectation. Then there was only gentleness, love, and the soft pressure of his lips on hers.
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He pulled away only when he had to, his head swirling wildly. Whether it was from lack of oxygen or the sheer pleasure of feeling her lips on his, he could not tell. They pulled apart reluctantly.
She looked up at him, her eyes swimming with emotion. A smile graced her lips as she rolled forward onto her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips. It was hard to describe the feeling that suffused every fiber of his being, but it was marvelous, like lightning in his veins. His hands began to roam, tracing her curves, relishing the way she fit so perfectly against him. She arched her back, pressing closer and closer to him until he thought he would go mad with delight.
She slipped her hands beneath the loose collar of his shirt, trailing her fingers tantilizingly along his bare skin. Instinct had long since supplanted concious thought, but, as his fingers fumbled with the buttons on the back of her dress, something even stronger than instinct pulled his hands from her body and his lips from hers. He took a step back, covering his face with his hand to hide the fiery blush that had spread across his face.
Oh gods, what had he done?
He looked back at her, his heart clenching painfully when he saw that her eyes were filled with confusion, hurt, and the beginnings of tears. She opened her mouth to say something, but, in the end, only a long silence stretched between them. Her eyes dropped to the floor, her shoulders shivering with stifled sobs.
He wanted to reach out to her, comfort her as he felt he should, but the memory of her lips coursed through his veins like liquid passion. And he knew that, if he were to hold her now, he would never, ever let her go.
He spoke, his voice cracking with each word. "Princess, I…"
Her head shot up, and she locked her vibrant eyes with his, unspoken hurt and betrayal written on her features. Oh, Lorelei, no. She hadn't…hadn't wanted this. Either that, or she must be regretting her actions.
His reaction to the feeling of her in his arms had been impulsive, spurred on by a series of dreams he had last night that he now blushed to remember in the morning. He drew his arms tight about him as though his body might simply disintegrate if it did not have the support. He turned away, unable to face her.
How could he have done this?! All his vows, all his oaths, broken in a single, careless moment. He had allowed instinct to arrest concious thought, and the result had been disastrous. Again, again, she was suffering for his weakness.
He wanted to look at her, to tell her that the fault was his alone, but he could not bear to see the anger, the disgust, that he knew would be there. She was hurting and should not be left alone, but he could not find it in himself to stay. He would only be drawn to her again, and that would only hurt her more.
Despite the numbness which had settled heavily in his limbs, he managed to turn and start for the door. The deck lurched sickeningly beneath his feet. The storm outside was getting worse. He had come to check on her, to make sure she wasn't sea sick, when this whole disaster began.
He heard her stifle a sound, and, for a moment, thought that she had fallen or that she was sick. But when he felt her hand clasp tightly around his wrist, his blood ran cold. She was angry, likely furious, and rightly so. He had broken the trust she had placed in him by taking advantage of her in a most vulnerable moment. Undoubtedly, she would send him away, possibly for good. He was not certain he could bear that.
But, of everything he expected her to say, nothing prepared him for the next words out of her mouth.
Her voice was low, quieter than a heartbeat. "Please," she said, "Please stay with me."
The blunt pounding of his heart seemed to drown out her words momentarily.
No, she could not have just said what he thought she just said.
He turned slowly to look back at her. Her eyes were wide, her expression, pleading. When he had turned back, her grip on his wrist had slackened, and her hand had slipped down his arm, coming to a rest in his hand. He pulled away, afraid what the maddening sensation of her skin on his might lead him to do.
He drew in a deep breath, trying to redraw the boundaries that he had so carelessly erased.
"Are you unwell, Princess?"
The look on her face stung him terribly; she looked as though he had slapped her. She took a stumbling step backwards, clutching a trembling hand to her chest. She looked away towards the ground, taking a second to formulate a response. "N-no," she said at last, "I am well."
She squeezed her eyes shut as though trying not to cry. He turned away again, unable to bear the sight, starting towards the door. He knew she reached for him again, but this time, he was quicker and pulled his hand out of reach. He opened the door, stepping though and shutting it quickly, trying desperately to block out the gut-wrenching, heartbroken cry that tore from her chest after he had left the room.
He sank down against the door, and, though he covered his ears with his hands, he could still hear the sound. It ripped through his body, tearing cruelly through flesh and bone, blood and brain, heart, emotions, wants, desires, barriers, all the way down to his core where it throbbed excruciatingly. He pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them, rocking slightly in time to the boat as he sang to himself a song that his sister used to sing to him—a song he had not sang since his sister died, trying to drown out her sobs with his own sorrow.
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Two days at sea did little to alleviate the tensions between them. He had not seen her since the incident in her cabin; she had locked herself in, refusing even to take meals. Still, he went down to the galley to bring up trays for her. He would knock on the door, asking her to eat, pleading on the second morning when she had not eaten something in over 12 hours. The first couple trays he had brought remained untouched, to his dismay. Each time, the food got cold, he would return to the galley to bring another tray of hot food for her.
It was only at lunch on the second day that he returned to find the tray empty, placed quietly outside the door with a "Thank You" note tucked inside the empty salad bowl.
For the first time in two days, he smiled. As he returned the empty tray to the galley, he slowly became aware of the exhaustion that suffused his body. Dimly, he realized that he had not slept a full night's sleep since he had left Baticul. He had caught catnaps when he could on the first ferry and had not gotten more than an hour or two of sleep in Chesedonia. And, he didn't sleep at all on the first night spent on the ferry to Grand Chokmah; he couldn't get the sound of her pained cry out of his head. Not only that, but he had stood guard outside her door the entire night, just in case she did something drastic.
It wasn't that he didn't trust her; he just didn't want to take any chances. He had sworn that, when it came to her safety, he would not take any chances. He refused to admit to himself that he simply did not want to leave her side. Grand Chokmah was only a few hours away now. Once they arrived, she would be forever out of his reach.
It was a thought he could not bear.
He returned to his cabin, sinking down on the bed, letting the exhaustion overwhelm him. His mind dropped quickly into the endless void of sleep. He did not dream, and, for that, he was grateful. He could not bear to dream of her again; it would be too much for him. His sleep was nothing but darkness and nothingness, and his mind did not return to him until the boat's horn blared with a note of terrible finality, that they had arrived at Grand Chokmah.
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Author's Note:
Kyaa! This part turned out really long despite how much trouble I had writing it. I had thought about cutting it several times, but I had already put off the arrival at Grand Chokmah for a couple chapters now, so, I just kept on going. Sorry I haven't explained why Natalia ran off at Chesedonia yet, but that's for later in the story. I hope I portrayed her a bit better in this part and that I didn't take her too far out-of-character. The same goes for Guy. It was sooo difficult to write the first two sections of this chapter. I was so worried about making the relationship progress to fast. Kyaa…now that I think of it, this part was really hard to write.
But, enough of that, the next part should cover the first day in Grand Chokmah. It should get easier for me to write then…I hope….