StarOcean: Till the End of Time
Someday My Prince Will Come
Jamarie
So Kiss Me and Tell Me I'm No Longer Yours
The sun set in a splash of ambrosia and scarlet, the sea of crimson looking exactly like a fresh, bleeding wound gaping out of the heavens, spewing over the land and further tarnishing the ugly of mankind. The village of Arias was burning this evening, the flaming tendrils, the stream of smoke, and the spray of ash spreading itself condescendingly upon the lives of the befuddled and innocent, were more than enough to question her majesty's disputed judgment. The fire roared, dancing as it consumed nearly three quarters of the under populated parish, spiriting away lives which had not yet experienced the full essence of existence. Screams, cries and agonized shrieks filled the air, like water gradually emptying itself into a single glass containment unit; half full. However this did not seem to rouse any sense of inconvenience in their psychotic persecutor.
Albel Nox was a masochist; he preferred to think that the glass was half empty.
He held the wand of flaming inferno in his lose grip, his eyes boring into its luminous flames of destructive erotica, as he pondered, never hesitated. Burning debris creaked and shifted, loosening from their initial structure, before giving way, crashing onto the ground in heaps, yet the captain still stood in the middle of this pit of mass obliteration in his lonesome, no doubt relishing in his own devious accomplishments. He stared at the torch a second longer, before shrugging, tossing it carelessly onto the roof of a nearby house. The building burst into flame like a rekindled candle, shifting forms like the spread of melting wax.
The door was flung open and a woman with a baby in her arms dashed out, a little girl trailing behind her as they cried out in terror, fear gripping them. Albel's eyes flickered, wasting no time into grabbing the young child by the ends of her now grimy blonde locks and tugged her harshly against him. There was a 'shing' as a blade was drawn and the girl whimpered as it was placed painfully close to her exposed throat. She gulped. Albel sneered, tugging harder, merciless. He hissed into her ear.
"Where is Roger S.Huxley?"
-0-0-0-
Fayt gazed out across the horizon, watching as the crimson intensified with little dabs of grey as they mingled, effectively painting a portrait of macabre and false justice. The young prince stood out at the balcony with his female companion, the two witnessing the mindless annihilation of yet another village; the third one this month. Fayt exhaled a troubled sigh, a twinge of longing sneaking its way in as well. Ever since the unstable captain chanced upon him and his humanoid lover in the middle of their ritual make-out session, that action alone had somehow given him the green light towards the path of the insane and sadistically love-sick, becoming more obsessed than ever. Her majesty Romera seemed to have been given an unfavorable impression regarding the young Menodix, thus permitting Albel and his troops to search the kingdom's boundaries and do as they pleased, so long as they captured the boy in the end. She seemed to believe that a period of 'no action' meant the extensive possibility of 'future action'.
Fayt had tried countless of times to persuade his mother that her loyal captain was an insane psychopath bent on the rape of justice, but somehow he just was not getting to her. He did all he could to deter her thoughts away from the issue, even Sophia tried her hand at it, but no such luck. His mother simply allowed Albel control over her kingdom –unintentionally- saying that she best prepare for her trip around the continent to pick out her son's brides. Fayt was aghast; which was more important? Soon, there would be no continent if that mad man was still allowed to run free over the hills and up the valleys, and this was the main reason why he told his young lover to lay low for the meantime. It had been close to a month that he had last seen Roger, had last held him in his arms, had last kissed him breathless and whispered sweet nothings into his adorably tempting ears, had last touched him in more areas than he should have. He sighed once more, fingering the small box in his hand, turning it in his palm this way and that.
Sophia watched him with knowing eyes, happy but at the same time incredibly sympathetic towards her best friend. Somehow, Fayt and Roger just could not be together, fate would not permit so, but that certainly did not stop her friend from trying. This worried her greatly. Fayt was pushing it, challenging the rules of segregation star-crossed lovers were supposed to deal with, by going against most, if not all of his values from his royally-imported being.
Sophia's gaze lingered on the small velvety red box in utmost uncertainty, biting her lip ever so occasionally.
"Fayt?"
"Yes?"
"When are you going to propose to him?" She watched as the male flipped open the lid, stared intently at the single silver ring which lay innocently inside, before snapping the box shut.
"Tonight," was his quiet murmur. Sophia was stunned.
"Tonight?!" she echoed a few good octaves higher. "But her majesty's departing tonight, Fayt. How'd you think she'll feel if you bring back the 'criminal', whom may I add, you proposed to, just before she leaves to pick up your princesses? What are you trying to do? Give the poor woman a royal heart-attack?!"
"I don't care what mother would think! I don't care what the grand council would think! I don't care what my subjects would think! Hell, I don't give a damn what Albel would think!" Fayt yelled in return, gripping the brunette's shoulders and shaking her harshly.
"What I care about is what Roger thinks, if he loves me or not! And if he does, then by Apris he's going to live in this castle with me and together we'll create our own happy ending; a happy ending that'll put all the rest to shame! Come what may, we'd see it through, but I know one thing and one thing alone: I love him!"
Fayt had stopped shaking her and instead stood rigid, his hands still gripping her shoulders and head downcast. Sophia nodded slowly in understanding, placing her hands around the young prince's shoulders in a comforting gesture. Fayt began to tremble, his being gripped by violent waves of emotional instability. He released her, stepping back.
"I love him… that's all that matters."
"Then go already."
Fayt looked up when Sophia shoved his cloak towards him, a soft and gentle smile dancing on her lips.
"Go on, I'll cover for you."
Fayt accepted the garment gratefully, pulled it on and without another word, left the scene in his haste to get to his waiting lover. Sophia watched her friend go, silently wishing him all the best, before clasping her hands together in a silent prayer.
"Apris, may you watch over their souls…"
-0-0-0-
"This is all your fucking fault, you no good son of a bitch!"
Roger screamed in agony when yet another foot connected harshly to his ribs, sending his body into small waves of convulsion as he hacked noisily, curling in on himself to hopefully stifle the mounting pain; it was not working. He had never expected to be so brutally assaulted in the middle of Aquios' town square –he had never stolen anything from this place before, thus no grudges were established- and if he was not wrong, this physical abuse had been going on for a good hour already. Roger whimpered and shifted on his position on the ground, but found that even the slightest twitch of muscle caused his entire form to shriek in blood-curling agony. He had been kicked quite a number of times in the chest and stomach, probably sprouting a considerable amount of bruises, and his chest heaved uncomfortably whenever he breathed. He suspected at least two of his ribs had broken by now. He coughed, grimacing when crimson bloomed on the pavement about him. His fingers barely twitched –they could not- since a few had been broken, rupturing joints. Blood trickled down his temple in rivulets before descending into mattered strands of russet, mingling.
"Wha- what did I… do t-to… deserve this…?" He managed out in between gasps, gazing up into the glares of rage and discontent from his assaulters which surrounded him. His vision was starting to get blurry and he realized that it was due to the lack of blood in his system. He was suffering from both internal and external bleeding; how joyous.
"Hah! Don't play coy with me, Humanoid. It's because of you that I'll never see my beloved daughter again! It's because of you that we'll never see our loved ones again! Why don't you just turn yourself in already?!"
A man shouted, the rest of the townsfolk echoing in choruses of fury-filled agreement. A young maiden sneered resentfully down at the pathetic form before her, her fists balled and shaking from pent-up rage, the knuckles turning white. She spat down at the defenseless boy.
"Let's just kill him now and save Sir Nox the trouble. Things would be better off for her majesty and his highness without this little pest running about and causing unnecessary trouble!"
Roger trembled when the female's suggestion was met with approval. He heard the scruff of footsteps against cobblestone as the angry mob drew nearer, sensed their shadows towering over his slight form, smelled their displeasure and rage radiating off their beings in waves, and braced himself for a trouncing of a lifetime. If he survived this, it would be a miracle.
'All I wanted was to see him again…' was his crest-fallen thought, before a voice interrupted the scene, its familiarity and authoritative nature making his heat flutter ever so faintly.
He came; he came to save him once again.
The crowd parted to allow the newcomer access. The figure paused before the young Menodix on the ground, his form shaking, the mere sight, the mere thought that his lover was being tortured right beneath his nose aggravating him so. He whirled around to face the angry mob, form stiff and voice dripping with malice as well as the promise of possible eradication.
"Ingrates! How dare you initiate such discrimination before the eyes of royalty! This act will not be tolerated and I'd see to it that you'll all pay in blood or –if I'm in a reasonable mood- by mere exile!"
Roger could not help but shudder from his lover's condescending tone. He had never heard his lover so angry before and now that he had, he could not help but pick out the similarities between him and Albel Nox himself. Somehow, that thought only proved to make him all the more anxious and not at all relieved.
"How dare you," a woman interrupted, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Who in the world do you think you are, young man?"
Fayt turned to her sharply and before she could so much as gasp, he grabbed her wrist in a manner that could resemble a boa constricting its prey. His voice came out in an intolerable hiss.
"I order you people to cease this foolish and violent demonstration at once!"
"Why you…" A man lunged at him, but Fayt was faster, turning around swiftly to grab at the man's wrist, twisting it harshly behind his back, grip unrelenting. Once the male began to beg for mercy, Fayt released his hold and kicked him hard onto the ground, no longer caring, wholly consumed with rage.
Enough was enough; things had gone way too far. He pulled his hood back harshly, his glare swimming into view.
"I order you to stop in the name of the Prince!"
The crowd gasped and immediately fell to their knees, reduced to nothing but spineless subjects begging for mercy and forgiveness. They never dared to meet his eyes, ashamed and wholly confused. Fayt scoffed and merely crossed over them, pausing before the small creature that was his lover. His glare melted away instantaneously when large, disbelieving and fearful amber orbs met his, clouding over faintly in the corners.
Roger panted heavily as he fought for breath. He was gazing into emerald, the exact same emerald that offered him so much comfort in the past, but now he was not so sure if he could ever regard them with the same reassurance as he used to. Bewildered was one thing, but feeling incredibly hurt was another, and he did not mean it physically. The last thing that fleeted across his mind was 'The prince…?' before giving into the inviting pillowed arms of darkness.
Fayt watched as Roger lost consciousness and bent down, wasting no time in scooping the child in his arms and cradling him in his own make-shift haven. He frowned down in worry, gently pushing aside the bangs which shielded the boy's forehead. The boy felt immensely light in his arms; had he not been eating? Fayt made sure to be as tender as possible, not wishing to aggravate any of his lover's injuries. He then whirled around to face his subjects, who all immediately returned their gazes back onto the floor. Fayt stared down at them, placid.
"Albel Nox must never know," were his last words before zipping out of town and in the direction of Peterny or more specifically, Dugus Forest.
The mob gradually began to disperse, fearing their majesty's wrath more than the captain's, locking themselves indoors and shutting windows. Things had escalated a little too far for their liking.
Unbeknownst to them, a certain captain of the guards had heard all that he needed to know to confirm his suspicions. Albel emerged from his hiding place in-between the walls of two houses, a predatory smirk inching across his lips as he signaled for his troops to fall in.
"It seems that you're no different from me after all, your majesty…"
The hunt had begun.
-0-0-0-
Roger felt the slightest bit of consciousness prickling at his senses, entering his line of vision in the form of picturesque green. His ears twitched and his eyelids fluttered open, only to blink a good few times to get the vision clarity just right. The lush green forest canopy above him was dyed a deeper, darker green than he last remembered it, blanketed by the spell of night. The canopy parted from where he lay, allowing him full view of the stars which painted a canvas across the sky; constellations could be deciphered. He felt a sting at the side of his head and instinctively made a move to reach up, only to whine in immense discomfort when he found that he could not even do so. Confused and alarmed all at once, Roger's mind reeled, memories flashing before his very eyes, visions of what he had seen and what he feared to have discovered. He hissed in pain, the events being too much for his fatigue-induced form to bear and he whimpered, wanting nothing more than to grip his head but remembered that he could not. He sighed, scrunching up his eyes; an agonizing spectacle.
"Damn, what hit me?"
"Apparently, an angry mob of vengeful citizens."
Roger gave a start and twisted his head –the best he could manage- to the side, regarding his silent companion. He took in the striking emerald eyes, the azure strands that neatly framed the older one's face, and the prefect, regal and alluring features, pampered and bred extraordinarily with the effect of royalty. Just looking at him made Roger feel inferior in more ways than one, his stomach twisting in painfully tight knots from the mere thought of actually nearly taking their relationship that far; done was hugging, playful petting and kissing. Roger swallowed. Somehow, the thought of being with Albel Nox did not seem so bad anymore; that guy would at least be three levels below Aquios' Prince.
Fayt's eyes narrowed. He could sense the boy's fear and… doubt? He could not possibly be having second thoughts regarding their relationship, could he? Somehow, Fayt could not find it in himself to blame him if he did. He had led Roger on, refusing to let him in on the truth and pushing the limits to this secret affair. Not only were homosexual relationships looked down and strongly disapproved of in the society, but a male on male relationship involving a prince and a status-lower-than-a-peasant humanoid was quite evidently the best worst case scenario ever to surface.
"Roger, please listen to me… please?"
The Menodix gave neither reply nor any hint of acknowledgement that he had heard the young prince. In fact, the young prince's gentle pleadings only proved to make the situation worse, made Roger feel even more scandalized and ashamed of actually having the prince beg before him, beg for him. This was seriously far-fetched in so many ways.
Fayt sighed and rose to his feet. He made his way towards the hammock and chose to make himself comfortable, the material sinking slightly from the additional weight. He reached out to stroke the boy's hair fondly, noticing that it was partially caked with blood.
"Roger?" He tried once more and this time, the boy responded.
Roger leaned into Fayt's gentle touch, allowing his eyes to drift shut momentarily before regarding his lover with an unreadable expression. Fayt inhaled deeply. It was now or never.
"Roger, I didn't tell you I was the prince because I was afraid, afraid that you'd fear me, want nothing to do with me, like what you're doing now. As unrighteous as this may seem, I had to lie; I had to lie to guarantee your safety, I had to lie because I was afraid of rejection and most of all, I had to lie because I love you."
A flicker of emotion danced across Roger's eyes but was gone as soon as it came. He made a move to sit up and Fayt helped him, but what the young prince did not expect was Roger crawling over, only to stumble into his lap in a failed attempt to successfully reach him. Fayt immediately reached out to gently shift the brunette so that he was cradled on his lap with his head resting peacefully against his chest. Roger smiled softly from the warmth and comfort his lover offered, listening to the steady beating of his heart against his cheat. He sighed contently, wanting nothing more than to relax in the male's loving embrace. It felt nice to have those strong arms wrapped so protectively around him. It was then that he realized that nothing mattered, that neither his nor his lover's status mattered. The prince was in love with him and that was all it mattered.
Just then, he felt one of his fingers being gripped, heard a sickening crack before crying out in excruciating pain, slumping over, breathing hard. He felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes but did his best to hold them in; men did not cry. The hand reached out for the second finger and Roger immediately began to eat his words. 'Snap' went the appendage and he screamed, burying his head against his lover's chest, the cloak managing to cut off his howls to a minimum. It hurt; it hurt so much more than the process of them breaking in the first place.
Fayt's hand moved to push back the bone of Roger's third finger, all the while hushing the poor boy, cooing sweet nothings into his ear. He knew how agonizing a process this was to Roger and to him as well. It hurt so much so see his lover in pain, but he had to do this and quick. The sooner he snapped all of Roger's fingers back into place, the sooner he could proceed to repair the boy's broken ribs.
Once done with the left hand, Fayt moved on to the next, with Roger's every shriek of anguish piercing straight through his heart. It would be better if the boy actually passed out, but then again Roger was a stubborn one, so Fayt did not plan on that happening anytime soon.
"Stop it! It hurts! Stop it, please!"
Fayt shut his ears to his lover's tearful wails, pushing back the bone of the third digit. He had to do this. 'Snap' went the fourth digit as it popped back to place. Fayt paused, giving Roger a minute or so to cool himself. The boy had been screaming for the past few minutes until his throat had gone considerably sore, and Fayt wanted to give him this time to collect himself besides, it was always the pinky that proved to be the biggest bitch.
"Shhh… Just one more finger, alright? You're my brave little Menodix; you can take it, yes?"
Roger gulped, shuddering. A fresh wave of tears pooled at his eyes as he nodded resolutely, biting his lip. Fayt planted a soothing kiss at his temple.
"That's my boy."
The final snap, the final blood-curling shriek and the final finger found Roger panting heavily in Fayt's arms, the later brushing away his lover's tears with nothing but kisses and affectionate licks. Roger sighed in content but winced visibly when he tried to move his fingers which were still raw from recovery. Fayt seemed to notice this and leaned down to draw one of the digits into his mouth, engulfing it whole and sucking on it with fervor. Roger gave a startled yelp before allowing an appreciative moan to escape his throat, mouth parting slightly and cheeks flushed from the pleasurable sensation.
"Ah… My prince?"
Fayt released Roger's finger with a 'pop' sound and inclined his head to gaze into cloudy swirls of amber, secretly applauding himself for making the boy look so flustered within a span of a minute. He ducked his head in the crook of Roger's neck, nipping at the exposed flesh affectionately, sucking ever so often. Roger threw his head back in a sensual moan, no longer caring how his bruised muscles protested against that very action. This felt so good and he had been deprived of such pleasurable sensations for nearly a month.
"Call me Fayt," said the young prince in-between nips, as he placed the palm of his hand flat against Roger's stomach, slowly trailing up with the shirt gathering towards the top.
"N-no… You're the prince who saved me twice, you're the prince who gave me my first kiss… you're my prince."
Fayt smiled against Roger's throat, planting a kiss on his pulse point to let the boy know how affected he was by those innocent words. It was then that he realized where exactly was Roger coming from; he was not angry and understood him, understood their situation perfectly. As his hand grazed over the smooth expanse of the boy's torso, Roger gave a pained cry which effectively halted Fayt from any further actions. Fayt gazed down at his lover with wide, concerned eyes. That scream sounded pretty critical.
"S-sorry," Roger muttered, blushing as he turned his head to the side.
"I kinda killed the mood, huh?"
"Not unless you count broken ribs as a mood-killer. Here, let's get them fixed."
Helping Roger out of his shirt, Fayt instructed him to lay still, relax, and leave the rest to him. Despite not fully deeming the chances of re-locating broken rib bones possible, Roger nodded his head slightly, trusting him. Fayt crossed the palms of his hands above Roger's bruised torso and closed his eyes in concentration. He exhaled sharply and soon a faint blue light began to gather at the palms of his hands, gradually intensifying, the swirls of lights dancing and darting about in a spectrum of colors. Roger stared on in amazement, but immediately stiffened when he felt something in his chest shift. It felt strange and a little discomforting, but it was nothing compared to the pain experienced earlier. Recalling Fayt's words, Roger forced himself to relax against the odd sensation. After a few more minutes, the glow began to dissipate and Fayt pulled back before rolling his shoulders in an attempt to work out the kinks.
"I managed to shift the bones back into their proper alignment but they still need time to heal on their own. Try not to move about so much, alright?"
"Wha-what was that? The thing you did with your hands?" asked Roger inquisitively, his tail twitching ever so slightly from excitement. Fayt chuckled at the boy's innocence.
"Runology: a special art form passed down from every royal generation to the next. I guess you could call it magic in that sense; however we're only limited to use it for healing purposes. It's never a good thing to abuse such a gift."
"Woah…"
Fayt laughed at the wondrous expression on Roger's face. He reached out, placed his forefinger under the boy's chin and snapped his jaw close.
"Roger, my love, close your mouth. It's not exactly very glamorous." Fayt teased. Roger shot him a sly grin, leaning forward, breaths mingling.
"I beg to differ, my prince. After all, I've never heard you complain about the proficiency of my mouth, or my tongue for that matter; maybe even these lips…"
He trailed off, closing the distance between them in a desperate kiss. The two poured out every ounce of their beings into that kiss; all the passion, the longing and the frustration of being apart for so long were transpired in the form of battling tongues and throaty moans, open kisses and the re-exploration of sacred territories. Fayt groaned at the back of his throat, fingers rushing to tug down the waistband of Roger's shorts. To his delight, the boy did not resist, either that or he never noticed since he was pretty preoccupied in keeping up with his lover's kisses.
Good Apris, he missed this.
"Mmm… My prince," Roger mumbled in-between kisses. "Where- where are we…?"
"Relax, love. I'm just going to get you cleaned up."
Roger allowed himself to be carried bridal-style –Fayt hoped this would become a habit soon- towards the nearby stream, not caring so much for modesty right now. He trusted Fayt with his heart; there was no need to hide. Fayt tugged off his cloak, leaving the garment to settle by the river's edge before immersing both him and Roger into the chilly waters. The brunette gave s startled whimper, shuddering against the icy coolness. It stung, stung like sterilized needles in mid-stitch against wounds, but he willed himself to adjust, to endure it, if not for a while longer.
Fayt proceeded to wash Roger's hair, getting those blood-mattered tresses back to its original chocolate shade, smoothing knots and plucking stubborn scabs. Once he was sure that all the blood had been rinsed off, Fayt then moved on to wash the young one's body in swift, delicate motions, running his fingers over smooth, tanned flesh and occasionally allowing his hand to wander. Roger did not realize that he was holding his breath in anticipation until he gave a breathless gasp when he felt the barest of touches ghost across his most private of regions. Stiffening visibly, he inclined his head to stare into alluring emerald, his own eyes wide in uncertainty and apprehension.
"My prince, I-I don't think-"
"Hush, my love," the older one whispered gently. "Don't worry; I won't force you into something you're unwilling to do… at least not yet anyway."
"Not yet?"
Fayt reached over to his cloak, dug around and pulled out a small velvet box. He brought it before the curious gaze of the brunette and flipped it open. It was at that moment that things were starting to make a little more sense to Roger. Roger stared at the small silver band buried amidst thin silk, delicate and ever so beautiful. A hand flew to his mouth as he did his best to contain his joy and surprise, but those emotions easily leaked through his tears. Those crystalline streams inched down his cheeks and he did not even bother to wipe them away. Roger felt his heart swell with an irrepressible emotion, his stomach doing somersaults and throat having gone quite considerably dry; and somehow those tears could not stop flowing, his smile –for the first time ever- truly beautiful, pure and sincere.
Was this how it felt like to be loved, to be truly happy?
"Oh, hold that thought."
Fayt placed the speechless Menodix on the soft grass, dug through his coat and pulled out a small cream-colored robe and shoes that looked to be fitted just for Roger himself. The robe was made of silk, fine and delicate, ruche and glinted with tiny silver bells as its lining. The sleeves fanned out adroitly at the ends, and a gold belt spun from pure gold thread wound loosely round its middle. Frail ivory slippers sat innocently by the robe's side and folded in-between the silky material of the full-body robe lay an expensively crafted silver chain; a tiara.
Roger blinked dubiously at the fanciful gifts, not at all prepared for this much surprises in one day. Reaching out with shaky hands, Roger let his fingers trace over the smooth coolness of the silken fabric, over the tiny diamonds which made up the circlet and blushed prettily. Fayt was really serious about this.
"Are… are all of this for me?"
Fayt nodded, the kind and warm smile never once leaving his features. Roger had not pushed him away yet; perhaps this was a good thing. Inside, the young prince hoped and prayed to Apris that Roger would really consider this, if not accept and be totally his.
"Yes, yes they are." Fayt slowly rose out of the water, wringing his clothes dry in the process.
"Go on, put them on."
And Roger did just that, donning the rich garments and did a twirl for his lover to give him a once over, a light flush of pink dancing across his cheeks as he did so. Fayt hummed in approval before cupping Roger's cheeks, leaning in for soft and gentle kiss, the slightest brush of lips. Roger's eyes fluttered close, blush intensifying, not from embarrassment but from amorous adoration, of full and unconditional love towards Aquios' very own prince. When he felt his lover pull away, Roger watched the prince through love-filled eyes as he got down on one knee before him. He linked his fingers together. This was it.
"Roger, would you be forever faithful, forever virtuous, forever mine to hold and love until the end of time? Will you marry me, Roger S. Huxley?"
Emerald met amber and time seemed to have slowed down for the happy couple, leaving them in their own little haven away from the prejudice of society.
Roger stared down at the ring, into the eyes of his lover and at the ring once more; he did not need a moment longer to come to a decision, already making that choice from the very day he laid eyes on this handsome man. He accepted the velvet box and flung his arms around Fayt, burying his face in the crook of the male's neck as he let the new rain of emotion trickle down the sides of his face.
"Yes, oh Apris, yes! I can think of no other happiness but to remain by your side, my prince! I love you… I love you, my prince… I love you…"
Fayt hugged the boy flush against him before pulling back to slip the thin silver band around his lover's ring finger. However, before the cool metal could make contact with his finger, the spell-bound moment was shattered rather harshly by the cruel undertones of laughter. The amused chortle reverberated about the forestry area, its owner emerging from the shadows, their bound rat-tails swishing from his movements. Backing him up were at least a dozen men donned from head to toe in armor, one of them with ropes in his hands.
"I expected a subdued Menodix, but his majesty himself, now that's rather interesting don't you think? And in the midst of proposing; my, how much I have missed…"
"What the hell are you doing here, Albel Nox? Who sent you?" Fayt barked out, glaring at the captain through narrowed eyes, tone dripping with inconceivable venom.
The amused grin fell from Albel's features as he returned the prince's glare with double the abhorrence and revulsion. Fayt smirked inwardly. He knew the deranged captain was still pining for Roger's affections and/or ultimate submission, but it seemed he was never going to get it until the next few gazillion light years or so.
"That is of none of your concern, your majesty. The boy's coming with me, so hand him over."
"If you think for one second that I'll just so readily do that, then you've seriously got some far-fetched issues! What part of 'proposal' and 'I love you, my prince' do you not understand? Back off, Albel; game over!"
"Oh, on the contraire –he smirked- it has just reached its climax." He snapped his fingers and the guard with the rope immediately moved forward, binding and gagging Roger against his will, while the others moved to restrain a kicking and screaming Fayt, who was hell-bent on lunging himself at the royal captain at this very moment and hopefully castrating his other arm if he had the chance. However, he was outnumbered eleven to one and like it or not, he was powerless to do anything about it.
"By order of the prince, I order you lug-heads to release me this instant!" Fayt roared, but the soldiers were strangely unresponsive. Fayt was aghast; why were they not obeying him? Obey him, dammit!
"It's no use, your highness," Albel sneered.
"They're under strict orders not to follow your commands because if I knew any better, I'd believe you'd have demanded the criminal his freedom, am I correct in assuming so?"
Fayt bristled when he spied the older male kneeling down to trail his tongue agonizingly slow along Roger's ear, causing said boy to shudder and struggle against his captive's unrelenting hold. Fayt screamed, hurling various expletives at the captain, but alas those comments fell on deaf ears as Albel ordered the guards to "escort" him back to the castle. Roger watched his lover being forcefully dragged away with wide, fearful eyes, leaving him alone in the company of this psychopath once again. As he gazed up into the crimson orbs of blood-lust and perverse morals, he felt the tears of five years ago prick at the corners of his eyes.
Why did he have to come in and ruin his life again; ruin his last chance of happiness? Perhaps his life was never meant to be fair in the first place. Perhaps Lady Destiny had been implying to him all this while that all forms or attempts towards bliss would be met with nothing but melancholy tears of heartache in the end.
"You're mine, boy; you belong to me. Don't ever forget that."
He allowed the tears to fall, giving into the cruel whims and desires of this sadistic harbinger of justice.
"You've been mine since the first day I laid eyes on you."
Perhaps a prince was too much for him. Perhaps he would just have to settle for a knight in shining armor instead.
-0-0-0-
Author's notes: You know what? Don't ever trust me and my god forsaken deadlines. I'm so inconsistent and twisted that I'm putting people like Albel to shame. Anyway, I practically forced myself to finish this chapter before the full and total hiatus of this fic during the period of June all the way to November. Final Junior High examinations can be a bitch, huh? This chapter is of course, dedicated to all my loyal readers and reviewers, as well as all the Fayt/Roger/Albel fans out there, and if you never had a good impression of this pairing in the beginning, I hope I have successfully changed your minds. Thanks once again for all the support this series has received thus far, and my thanks also goes out to the marvelous "taitofan" for recommending me in her fic "Real Love" (which is a great fic so you should all scurry on over and read it). As promised in my update on my profile page (although you should never believe what I type to its full extent), I managed to squeeze in some yaoi goodness between the main pairing. In the next chapter, it'll be between the secondary pairing which is starting to grow on me I must admit. As usual, look forward to it and remember to read and review! Your comments make my sunflowers bloom and rainbows more sparkly!