Author's Notes: I definitely pulled an all-nighter for this. Love me for it. Almost all of this chapter is new content, save for the scene in the training room, and even that has been tweaked.
Summary: After living in seclusion for nearly three years, the only thing that Zelgadis wants is to continue his life in such solitude. But the nightmares that have been plaguing him for months became too painful to ignore, and he finds himself traveling the familiar path to Seyruun once again...
Chapter Four
'listen'
Am I made of glass? 'Cause
You see right through me
Trapt
- -
When her father summoned her to their private tea room, Amelia was suspicious, but glad to oblige. She enjoyed spending time with him, yes, but it was rare for him to make an official request for her company on a spur of the moment like that. And so with a rather quizzical expression, she pushed the door open to grant his call.
The sight before her quickly made her grin. Her father, so massive in size and personality, was nestled cozily in a small wing chair and politely sipping from a tiny teacup. Her admiration for him was greater beyond words, but even Philionel's own daughter could find humor in many of his postures and positions.
"Good morning, Daddy," she chirped and closed the door behind her.
Phil beamed at her in return, placed his teacup on the small table beside him. "Amelia, sweetheart, take a seat," he motioned to the other armchair. She sank into it and was immediately handed her own cup of tea, mixed with milk and honey, just how she preferred it. She nodded her thanks to the maid, and blew on the hot beverage softly to help cool it while her father made conversation. "How are the preparations going for Lina-san's party?"
She took a small sip and flinched slightly. Still too hot. "Just fine – Delor handed me the menu yesterday to approve, and it looks delicious so far. I should be through with it sometime this evening so that his kitchen staff can begin."
"Excellent! And you are sure of the guest count? Martina-san, Zangalus-san, and Sylphiel-san are all attending as well?"
"Absolutely! Everyone is coming together again, it should be quite lovely."
"I see…"
Phil braced his hands on his knees, nervously slid them along the thick fabric of his slacks. Amelia could feel the hesitation and discomfiture radiating from his rigid form in stifling waves, and she smiled understandingly at him before taking another small sip of her tea. "If you have any other questions, Daddy, just ask."
He looked down at his hands then and chuckled awkwardly. "I'm not very equipped to deal with these types of situations." When she raised her eyebrow at him, he cleared his throat. "Yes, well…you said that everyone is coming together. Is that why Zelgadis-san has returned?"
Oh…
Her tea was still too hot, but she took a sip anyway, welcoming the distraction. She idly toyed with her sapphire pendant as she attempted an expression of disinterest. "I'm not sure. I doubt it."
"Did he not give you an explanation for his sudden arrival?"
"I may not have given him much of a chance to." She meekly raised one shoulder in a half-shrug before smiling at him sheepishly. "I haven't seen him since he first got here. It's already been a few days and he still hasn't budged from that guest room, so I assume he'll still be around for Lina-san's party."
"I do so hate to be the pessimist." Phil restlessly tapped his fingers against his knee, his other hand moving to wipe the thin veil of sweat that was quickly forming at his brow. "But it's no shock that great catastrophes arise when all of you come together. I am very concerned, Amelia."
She lowered the teacup to her lap, folded her hands around it. Its warmth seeped into the creamy skin of her palms as she stroked the porcelain absentmindedly. "It's just a birthday party, Daddy. You have nothing to worry about." She wanted to smile at him reassuringly, wanted to ease all of her father's doubts, because she knew he didn't deserve any of it. But when she saw the fear and skepticism that clouded his eyes, she felt her heart sink deep into her belly with failure.
"Popping up like that, out of nowhere…he came here for a reason, my daughter. And he's not leaving."
"He will eventually. He always does."
Her calm voice and hollow expression twisted Phil's heart in painful sympathy, and he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "You have always been a sweet and considerate person. That's how your mother and I raised you. I think it would be the right thing to do if you talked things over with him, dear."
"Oh, we talked alright."
"Did you listen?" He was smirking at her now, her own father! She pursed her lips and promptly looked away in silence, but the answer to his question formed harshly in her mind, sharp as an axe.
No, I told him I was through with listening. Let him know how it feels to be left waiting.
"Your mother was always the patient and understanding one, Amelia. She was always so calm. But your fiery temper – and yes, you do have one," he added when she shot him a very offended look, "well…I'm afraid you get that from me."
She glared down at the floor in a childlike pout. "I am very patient…"
He threw his head back and laughed and then drained the rest of his tea. "My daughter…try talking to him again. For me."
She looked up into the pleading eyes of her father, and nodded desolately. After all, Daddy's word was law.
- -
His sword was humming in his hands, calling out to him and dragging him deeper into the focused mindset that he always embraced to perform his drills. It thirsted for life and power as it slashed through the dusty air, craved for its proud energy to be released, and Zelgadis lost himself in the sensation. He had been cooped up in his guest room for three days now, could feel himself slipping into madness while he carefully avoided the princess, practically sitting on his hands to keep from wrenching out his hair. When he stumbled upon an old training room early in the morning, he counted his blessings.
The floor and weapon racks were covered in a thin layer of grime, but it was only the space that he needed and was grateful for. He wasted no time in hurrying into a pair of sweatpants and grabbing his sword from his suite, eager for a release from the emotions that had him so antsy and flustered. But it seemed that with every strike he made, a string of harsh words would immediately reverberate through his skull, inscribing themselves into his movements. Everything she said had had days to register and sink in, but willingly came spilling out in his flurry of powerful strikes.
Straight thrust, side kick, crescent slice.
'Waiting and listening…'
Spin strike, middle slash, elbow thrust.
'Waiting around while I listened for an announcement that a letter has come for me.'
Spinning hook kick, cross slice, axe kick.
'From you – one of my best friends.'
Hook slice, twist slash, sweeping ground kick.
'But I only received banquet invitations, gifts from suitors, marriage proposals…'
With an enraged bellow, he callously slammed his fist into the stone ground where his opponent's head would have been after being swept off their feet. He sadistically envisioned some snotty prince or nobleman sprawled across the floor, his royal skull brutally crushed in from the powerful blow.
Panting heavily more from his raging emotions than from the workout, Zelgadis closed his eyes and wearily fell back onto the floor, arms draped around his knees.
I'm here to help her, not waste my time pretending to pound her suitors into bloody pulps.
Although he had to admit, the imaginary fight had felt quite satisfying.
It was a mistake to feel that way, he knew. He had no right at all to feel possessive towards her. He had no reason to feel any remorse for his past actions. He didn't do anything wrong. So why was there an insistent sting of jealousy that was constantly chipping away at his heart? Why was guilt running through his veins, poisoning him with regret?
He stared at the scars that trailed the length of his bared flesh, remembering how he had wanted to keep them as badges of honor after regaining his human form. He had been so amazed that his skin was able to split open like that again that he couldn't bear to get rid of the scars completely. But now they only served as a painful reminder of the heated conversation between him and the princess, of the tears that had threatened to leak down her rosy cheeks – tears that would have fallen because of him.
Zelgadis slowly raised his sword before him, the reflection of his eyes glaring back at him in the mirroring surface. They were cold and distant, impenetrable blocks of ice; the exact opposite of her twin sapphires that had always held care and acceptance for everyone around her. And ever since he had first met her, whenever he gazed into those oceanic depths, he could feel his ice melting away, dissolving at her whim. And it wasn't supposed to – that wasn't the type of person he wanted to be. He strived to be the cold and heartless swordsman, took pride in it. Maybe now she would finally believe it too.
He groaned inwardly. Yes, because I was so heartless when I jumped in front of Gaav's attack to save her life. And I didn't feel a thing when she died in my arms in Phibrizzo's lair. He swept a hand through his hair, sighed at his reflection. What have you done to me?
"Zelgadis-san…"
His head snapped up with such a force that he felt a pinch of pain in his neck, but he ignored it, staring hard at the source of the delicate voice. In the doorway stood the princess that now invaded his every thought and dream, clothed in a pleasing pale green dress with her hands folded neatly in front of her. Her head was held high in confidence and bravery, but he could see the torment and sadness that marred her features, so unlike the cheerful expressions that he knew were better suited for her.
She was openly gazing at him as he slowly got to his feet, her soulful eyes running unabashedly over the span of tanned skin that stretched tautly across the toned muscles of his chest and arms. A thick lump formed in his throat, and he suddenly wished that he had brought a shirt to wear while he trained.
Amelia stepped forward into the training room, the heels of her dainty slippers clicking melodically across the stone floor. She stopped several feet away from him, gnawing at her bottom lip in apprehension. "Wow…look at you," she spoke in almost a whisper. Zelgadis only averted his gaze, choosing to stare at the sword held slackly in his hand. "Have you been training this whole time? While you were gone, I mean."
"Every day."
"Oh…" She nervously sculpted her bangs to one side. "You know we have a nicer training room on the first floor that's much cleaner. We haven't used this one in years."
He shrugged, twirled the sword in his hand absentmindedly. "It was convenient. I just needed the space." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her bite her lip again, and glared down at his sword to ignore the tantalizing gesture. He stood there like the stone statue he used to resemble, unmoving and unflinching, and only lifted his gaze again to follow her as she walked around him to stand in the middle of the room. Her back to him, she opened her arms to the aged and dusty room.
"It does bring back memories. This is where I trained."
"Trained?" he echoed. "With magic, you mean?" The small talk, while not exactly pleasant, wasn't quite forced either. It surprised him how easily they could still talk to each other even after having a huge argument, however bland the conversation was. Hells, he was just thankful that she was talking to him, period.
"No, no…with a sword."
He blinked. "What?"
She slowly turned around in a circle, arms stretched wide. "Yes, our general – though he was just a captain at the time – used to give me and my sister lessons. That was years ago, though."
She plunged the gleaming blade straight into her heart…
He shook his head to dissolve the gruesome image, cleared his throat. "I didn't know that."
When she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, her face was twisted into a glare that could have even been described as bitter, but her voice retained its softness. "Yes, there are a lot of things that you don't know that concern me."
He didn't blanch at her words, recognizing them for their truth instead. She fully turned to face him, dropping her arms back down to hang limply at her sides.
"You still wanted to be stronger, didn't you?" She made it sound like such an accusation, and he almost did cringe at that. "That's why you were away for so long, training every day. Even though it was that same desire that had turned you into a chimera in the first place. It's ironic…" She distractedly plucked a piece of lint from her sleeve before locking her hands together in front of her. "You must have wanted it pretty badly. I remember how I tried to find you, sense your location, but my training was incomplete at the time…"
A distant confirmation made itself known in the back of Zelgadis's mind; that's right – she wasn't an apprentice anymore. She must have become a full fledged shrine maiden when she turned eighteen.
"…and you must not have wanted to be found." She swallowed and looked down at her clasped hands. "But I did try. I even blacked out once. It was strange, actually – I tried to stretch out my senses and pinpoint where you were, but all of that energy just bounced off...like you had a special shield formed so that you couldn't be found."
Maybe putting up a protection spell had been a little harsh, but he didn't expect her to go that far to try to find him. As far as he knew, attempting something like that without having attained the proper training first had serious consequences. Even knowing that, had she still gone through with it?
'How could you do this to me?'
"Amelia…I'm sorry." He turned away from her, swinging his sword a few times so that he wouldn't have to look at her. "I know you expect me to say more, but that's all I have. I know I hurt you, and that bothers me more than I'd like…" He paused in his actions to let his arm drop, and set his gaze upon a mural of Cepheid set against the far wall. It was faded and cracked with chipping paint, but it was something else to occupy his attention. "But I had to do it. You should have seen me when I became a human again. I was so weak…it was disgusting."
He heard the princess give an impatient and very un-ladylike snort. "I don't –"
"I know you don't care," Zelgadis cut her off, suddenly turning on her with his jaw set in resolve. "But I do. And maybe it was selfish of me. But Amelia, I spent years as a chimera, a freak. I had to endure watching people run away at the mere sight of me. When I regained my human form…I was a freak all over again. Only this time, it was on the inside."
"My gods, nobody is perfect!" Amelia retorted, though her voice was still gentle, a soft cry. "That's what being human is all about. Zelgadis-san…you're only human."
He stared intently at her saddened expression, his brain fumbling over the words he wanted to say to her and disappointing him with the blank it drew instead. He settled for running his hand through his hair frustratingly.
Amelia sighed. "Lina-san's birthday is this week, you know."
He didn't know, but he let her continue anyway. "I'll be throwing her a party. If you're still here by then, you'll be attending." She brusquely walked around his rigid form and strode towards the room's entrance.
Zelgadis stared after her in brief shock before taking a step and reaching out one arm towards her retreating form. "Wait, Amelia!"
"Please, Zelgadis-san," she quietly begged in the doorway, "let's just leave it at that for now."
And as she walked away, Zelgadis heard her distressed sigh echo down the hallway.
- -
"Love is a dangerous emotion. It'll degrade you. It'll mock you. It'll toss you into the dirt and leave you there to rot in your own depression. But hatred…hatred is always there. Hatred will always comfort you."
"Do you really believe that, Gracia?"
Her smile was sarcastic when she placed her hand on her little sister's shoulder. "For me, yes. But you and I are different. No man in his right mind would walk away from you, Tesla. And if he does, I'll kill him."
- -
The trim of his billowing cape gathered bits of dirt and moss as it was dragged along the ground, but Philionel didn't mind, too pleased with the sense of tranquility that the castle garden always brought him. He relished in the perfumes of azaleas and carnations, savored in the fragrances of periwinkles and gardenias. A cheeky, satisfied grin made its way across his face as he bent over to stroke a thriving daffodil.
"I gather there will be a bit of rainfall tonight," he spoke directly to the sunshine-colored flower. He didn't know anything about gardening, but he could feel the precipitation building in the air, the musky smell of a promised rain mingling with the sweet aromas of the garden. "You all can withstand it, I hope. We wouldn't want to disappoint our precious Alana. She did love tending to you so."
The garden had been one of her most passionate hobbies, seen to by the tenderness of her own hands. It was unheard of for someone of royal status who had hundreds of people on staff waiting to do the job, but it was something she had truly enjoyed immersing herself in. It was a thrill, she used to say to him, a type of excitement that she felt through growing life from the earth itself. And she had always claimed that plants could hear; how that could be possible, he could never wrap his mind around, but he still carried on her tradition. Phil himself was never blessed with a green thumb, but he tried to make up for it this way.
He stopped at a patch of snow white daisies, her favorite, and crouched down before them. Phil was quite the literal man, believed in black and white and things he could only see with his own two eyes. His late wife had been the opposite – a dreamer with a mind far more open than his. He could sometimes feel her glowing optimism in the flowers, wished to have a piece of it with him always.
He gently ran a finger down a smooth green stem. If chatting with these plants somehow connected him to her spirit, then by gods, he'd do it every day. And he needed her now.
"My dear Alana, what a troublesome past few days it has been," he sighed, his thumb smoothing over the wedding band still worn on his ring finger. "Our daughter is in distress, and I cannot do anything about it."
A breeze rolled in, scented with the forthcoming rain. "I am too clumsy with these matters of the heart. He is a good man, Alana, but he hurt our Amelia. These things happen, but what's a father to do?"
Another trickle of wind caressed his skin, and he closed his eyes to enjoy it. "Yes, my love, I know. It's for her to resolve. I can only support her with whatever decision she makes." He rubbed a white petal between his fingertips, soft as his wife's skin once was. Indeed, he thought to himself, it was not up to him to interfere in Amelia's personal life. He had already said his piece earlier, and he needed to leave it at that.
"I won't lose another daughter."
With a great sigh he stood, adjusting his cloak while he continued on past the daisies. There were still more flowers that he wished to admire, particularly the colorful array of wildflowers that bordered the forest behind the castle.
His oldest daughter's favorite. No one even knew where she was.
But as he neared his destination, a movement in the woods was quick to arrest his attention and put him on guard. Alert, he squared his shoulders in commanding authority.
"Who goes there?" his voice bellowed strongly. The sound of snapping twigs and crunched leaves was the trespasser's only response, and he strode closer to the suspected area of intrusion. "Show yourself!" he dared. He could only see a faint shadow slithering within the trees as it contemplated coming out into the open.
More so out of surprise than fear, he swiftly halted when he saw the large black wolf emerge from the woods, its thick coat of fur gleaming beautifully beneath the afternoon sunshine. It slowly and carefully eyed Phil in an unnerving study, and he held out his hands soothingly in return.
"There, there," he murmured. "We don't see many wolves near the castle. It's just surprising."
The wolf's eyes stared unflinchingly into his, and he shifted his weight. "I don't want to kick you out, now, but I'm worried you'll trample the flowers. They're for my wife, see. She had a real knack for gardening."
It was still watching him calmly, and his brow furrowed in thought. "I'm sure we can work something out," he tried to reason with the animal.
Without breaking its gaze, the wolf lied down quietly, much to Phil's astonishment. With raised eyebrows, he nodded approvingly. "Well now, I suppose there isn't any problem if you're just resting," he admitted. "But I do have many other things to cross off of my to-do list today, which I'm afraid I must return to."
He considered reaching over to pat the wolf's head, but voted against it. It was better to leave while peace still hung in the air between them. He nodded in its direction instead, and retreated.
And on his way back through the garden toward the castle, he stopped and bowed before the daisies.
- -
Zelgadis was back in his room again, freshly showered after his workout and garbed in a clean pair of sweatpants, a towel thrown around his neck to catch the droplets of water that trickled down from his damp hair. He immediately went to his window, which had been left open for fresh air, and shut it against the incoming rain. Only a slight sprinkle had been falling from the graying heavens before his retreat to the shower, but already it had accumulated to a nasty downpour that crashed furiously against the glass.
Seyruun always cried when he was there.
He pressed the towel against his forehead in exhaustion, plunked himself down on his bed. His head had developed a persistent ache since his second confrontation with Amelia, leaving his temples throbbing from the aggravation of it all. He tried to tell her everything, explain to her how he had felt when he first woke up as a human – that feeling of weakness and frailty that left his stomach roiling in shame for what he had become. A human, yes, but a powerless one. But she had a rebuttal to every excuse he gave her, a counter to every argument he had ever made for himself in support of his decision to stay away. She was good at that, snatching away his words until he had nothing left for his own defenses.'
Yes, she definitely had her way of burrowing under his skin.
What he didn't know was what to do now. It all started with the grisly nightmares, vivid and horrifying images of the princess being ripped apart by snakes of black vapor. He had been willing to ignore them at first. And sickeningly enough, he probably still could. He could just fly right out of there and never look back, place his faith in that general who had once put a sword in her childish hands and trust Lina to save the world again. Amelia held no expectations of him, had even used the word 'if' in regards to him staying around for their friend's birthday celebration.
She doesn't need me.
He reached over to his nightstand for his comb, and saw a thermos with fresh coffee innocently perched on the polished oak surface. He had been regularly receiving them throughout the past few days, a little fetish of his that only Amelia could know about.
His heart stirred and he sighed. He was stuck, and sooner or later he would have to tell her the real reason for why he came, and face it with her.
He grasped the thermos and unscrewed the lid, was about to take a long and rejuvenating gulp when he thought he heard a shout – a cry that rose even above the pattering rain outside and reached his ears through the glass. He squinted as he leaned over his bed to look out the window, screwing up his vision to get a better picture, but the glass was too blurred for him to see. He strained his hearing instead to listen to the yells.
"…sama!"
He groaned in impatience and set his coffee down on the ledge, making the brave decision to open the window again. Lukewarm rain splattered against his face in angry waves as he leaned out into the malicious weather, surprised when he saw the small image of a little boy barreling through the front gates and across the castle lawn.
"Amelia-sama!" he was screaming at the top of his lungs, and Zelgadis dumbly stared down at him and the watchmen that stumbled in his wake, trying to catch the little intruder. How the boy had even gotten through, he couldn't imagine. They had certainly given him the third degree before allowing him through upon his arrival.
"Amelia-sama, please!"He was frantically waving his arms, drenched to the bone and crying above the whipping rain and harsh winds to make himself heard. And heard, he was. Zelgadis hastily shut the window and donned a thin tee-shirt and his traveling boots before rushing down to the ground floor, cape in hand.
Through the several hallways, other guards emerged, muttering questions to each other about what all of the commotion was, raising eyebrows and shrugging shoulders in all their cluelessness. When the focus of the little boy's screams scurried gracefully down the grand staircase, all eyes were on her and her puzzled expression.
"What in the 'verse is going on?" she inquired loudly from her elevated position on the third stair, her confused gaze sweeping around the entire foyer for an answer from one of her men. When one soldier strode confidently through the room to the bottom of the staircase where she waited, her questioning eyes turned on him. "Trevor-san…" she pleaded, her eyes begging him for information.
He extended a hand out to her caringly, his voice smooth and warm. "Amelia-dono, let us handle this little nuisance of a situation. Your father is in his study, I can take you to him if you'd like."
Zelgadis watched the exchange between the two, felt an odd sting of resentment against the man that acted so familiar and affectionate toward the princess. He felt his jaw clench when she reached forward as if she were going to accept, but she halted her gesture before her hand could touch his. He didn't notice why, his gaze instead fastened on the soldier, scrutinizing the middle-aged man.
Face still contorted in a look of befuddlement, Amelia stared past the general's offered hand and into the hard crystalline eyes of her old companion. What she saw there took her breath away, the annoyance and dislike that were stewing beneath a scarily indifferent expression. His arms were folded across his broad chest as he stared rigidly at the man at the foot of the stairs, feet planted firmly into the ground just a foot apart. The damp locks of chestnut hair that fell haphazardly into his eyes only added to his mystery, and she lifted her hand to her heart in wonderment.
"Amelia-samaaa!"
The cry of her name shattered her dreamy reverie, and she quickly turned her attention back to the general. She tilted her head towards him with a tentative smile. "I think I should see what is going on out there, Trevor-san, but thank you. I appreciate your generosity."
Gathering a handful of her skirt's fabric in one hand, she brushed past the general and closer to the grand entrance, where she stopped at the colossal doors to peer at the stony figure beside her. Zelgadis was still openly staring at the other man, who had not even acknowledged her companion's presence, and had only shifted when she reached for the door handles. His movements were lost on her, however, when she threw them open and ran out into the rain to greet the disturbance.
The little boy, now wrangled beneath the burly arms of one of the watchmen, was squirming within the cage of limbs and hollering at his mightiest. "I need to see her!" he cried out, kicking and screaming as the guard lifted him up off of the ground.
"Now listen here, you little squirt--"
"Who're you callin' a squirt, you abominable tinman!?"
"Abominable!? Why I ought to--"
"Bring it on, geezer!!"
"Enough!" The voice of their princess, powerful and commanding, sliced through the turbulence of the weather and ceased their struggles immediately with just that single word, her hand raised to them for emphasis. Safe and dry beneath the overhang of the grand entrance, she commanded authoritatively, "Let him speak."
"But Princess, he just barged in through here without following the proper protocol and -- OW!"
The boy viciously bit down deeper into the guard's hand, flailing his legs out as he was dropped unceremoniously onto the grass lawn. Mud splattered across his already stained peasant garb, but he scurried to his feet without giving it a second thought and raced toward the beautiful woman mere yards away from him. When drew closer to her, he fell to his knees, head lowered onto his tiny hands that splayed across the mud-covered grass, rain beating down against his back.
"Princess!" His words were muffled with his face to the ground, but he shouted to be heard above his bowing position and the howling wind. "Please, Amelia-sama, you have to help me. You're the only one!" He hiccupped as he began to cry, hating himself for the cowardly tears that rolled down his face and pounded a small fist into the earth. "Please help me…"
He felt cool chiffon brush against his wet cheek, and he looked up in awe when he saw the princess kneel beside him, now completely unsheltered from the nasty downpour. Her stunning gown was quickly blotted with raindrops, her beautiful ebony hair already growing limp with water. But it seemed that she didn't even notice as she smiled down at him charmingly with the kindest eyes he had ever seen on a stranger.
She dropped her hands onto his shoulders and gently pushed him back up into a sitting position. "There's no need for that here," she chided him. "Now, why don't you tell me what the problem is?"
He wanted to bask more in the godlike presence of the princess, wanted to gape in wonder at her close proximity, but his mind clicked at her mention of his problem. He jumped to his feet and reached for her hand. "Amelia-sama, it's my father. You have to come help me, please…" He began tugging at her hand, throwing his entire weight into dragging here towards the front gates.
Dumbfounded, she stumbled behind him with wide eyes, clutching onto the little hand that fit directly in her palm. She threw a glance back over her shoulder, caught sight of Zelgadis's strong and imposing form in the great doorway, and shrugged helplessly at him before she was tugged roughly through the gates. She barely saw him step out from under the overhang as the little boy pulled her down the slope of the hill that led into the city of Seyruun, her gown drenching in mud and rainwater.
There were not many townspeople brave enough to shop under the heavy downpour, but the few that were stopped their routines to gawk at the sight of the princess being tugged through the streets by a little boy. The wind rushed by her ears, chilling and numbing them to the astounded whispers that she knew were circulating. She waved and smiled embarrassingly to each one of her people, trying to portray to them that nothing was wrong or out of the ordinary.
The boy dragged her on farther, and she squinted through the veils of rain when she thought she saw something huddled on the cobblestone ahead of them. As they drew closer, worry quickly carved its way at her heart and she gripped his hand tighter, the form of a human being coming into clearer focus. He was dressed in gray garments, drenched and laying on his side, groaning in miserable pain. The little boy let go of her hand finally to kneel by the man's side, crying as he placed his hands on his shoulder.
"See here?" he hiccupped as he looked up at her, pointing to the man's neck. Amelia crouched down to see, shifting her sodden garments around her slick legs. When she saw just what exactly the boy was pointing at, she nearly gagged.
Ugly blue and black blotches were steadily spreading outwards from a particular spot on his neck, threaded through purple and green bruises and dotted with specks of crimson red. The wound looked like it had started out simple, a small puncture close to his collarbone, but the effects had bled across the entire side of his neck, trailing down to his chest and up to his ear and jawbone. Foam was forming at his mouth as he writhed on the cobblestone, clawing at the ground in agony while blood surfaced at his cuticles and eyesockets.
"He was bitten here by a spider this morning when we went hikin' through the woods. He said he was fine…"
"A spider," she echoed, her heart frozen in dread. She sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth, oblivious to the crowd of people that were slowly accumulating to form around the spectacle in their streets, so focused she was now on the blend of colors that expanded all along his neck. "These symptoms…a plagueblood spider."
She closed her eyes at the sickening feeling that exploded in her stomach, and she prayed.
Not far behind her, Zelgadis stood amongst the growing crowd of whispering townsfolk, watching the scene with careful eyes and somewhat protected from the rainfall's fury by his well-invested waterproof enchanted cloak. When he saw her entire body stiffen and her voice crack as she spoke the name of the spider that bit this man, his shoulders tensed as well in ugly trepidation and he cursed under his breath.
The infamous plageblood – an almost extinct spider that inhabited the very deepest of country woodlands, bloodthirsty predators that were just barely smaller than a porcelain teacup. He had only seen a couple of cases in his lifetime, and both victims had died before the day was over, their entire bodies covered in sickly shades of black and violet. Even the strongest healers in those towns couldn't do anything to cleanse the venom that swam through their veins, their patients succumbing to the poison quicker than the white magic could root and take hold. He took in Amelia's ramrod posture, her clenched fists and bowed head, and knew that she was fully aware of the situation as well as he was.
She had seen it in the infirmary before, of soldiers who had fought against greedy and unjust men and brought home victory from vicious wars and grisly bloodbaths, only to suddenly fall ill to the fatal bite of the plagueblood spider. The most experienced shrine maidens at the time were unable to do anything, and Amelia remembered the terrifying hopelessness she felt as a powerless apprentice.
Panic knotted at her stomach so painfully that she wanted to throw up.
"You can heal him, can't you?" the little boy nudged her. "You're the best healer in the country, Amelia-sama. You can save my father!" His lower lip trembled, his hopeful green eyes wide and begging for his princess to accomplish the tremendous task. Her gaze switched from his stricken face to the trembling man that lay between them, back and forth and then back again, and she gave him a small, scared smile. She was soaked and freezing, on the verge of trembling even, but still she nodded and gathered every ounce of courage she'd ever had.
"You should have brought him to me sooner, but yes. I'll do what I can."
On her right ring finger, she wore a silver band, Cepheid's emblem displayed proudly across it with diamonds for eyes and emeralds for talons. She was only supposed to use it in extreme emergencies, and she hoped that He would understand the direness of the situation and not punish her for calling upon His power to amplify her own. Without His help, she had no chance of accomplishing this by herself. With a deep and collective breath, she raised her hand high above her head, facing Cepheid up into the crying heavens.
"Lord of all purity with a brilliance beyond the dawn, grant me all the power that you possess."
She felt the rush of energy sizzle through her hand, trickle down her arm and spark her heart with power and supremacy. Teeth chattering from both cold and adrenaline, she placed her hands above the wound in the man's neck, poured her life force into that one spot as she recited the most advanced Resurrection spell known to a Seyruun priestess.
Astonished gasps and awestruck murmurs arose all around him at the display of the princess's breathtaking power, her people beaming at the scene with upmost loyalty and admiration. He circled around to get a better view of her actions, saw her eyes screwed shut as she channeled everything she had into this one spell, her hands glowing a blindingly bright white from the boost that Cepheid granted her. The little boy was kneeling forward, staring down at his father as the seconds ticked by, waiting for any signs of improvement.
Ten minutes went by and turned to twenty, which rolled into thirty, and still she sat with her hands poised over the sickly wound. From where he was standing, Zelgadis couldn't tell if any of it was fading; he only saw the color from her cheeks slowly begin to drain away as her skin grew more and more pale, her shoulders shaking from the cold.
She felt the coppery tang of blood rise up her throat but she held it back, cracking her eyes open to look down at the wound. The bruised colors had drawn away from his jawbone and chest, but at such a tantalizingly slow rate that she wanted to cry in fear that her power would kill her before she was done healing the boy's father.
No, it has to be enough. It doesn't matter what happens to me.
When she felt a sudden warmth wrap around her shivering frame and the smell of lavender and sandalwood seep through her nose, she stared sorrowfully at the towering figure that stood above her, now without a cape of his own. Her hands continued to blaze in dazzling white flames as she burrowed herself further into the thick cape. "Thank you," she whispered.
With a grim look, he crouched down across from her, next to the little boy. "Let me help," he gently requested of her. "My healing can't compare to yours anymore, but you're going to end up killing yourself from burnout if you keep this up." He didn't give her any chance to argue with him, though she wanted to bat away his chastising comment, and he immediately raised his hands above the figure, a soft glow emitting from them as he cast Recovery.
They didn't have time to toile with any emotional moments; his spell was much more minor than hers, and still he could feel the fatigue from how much of his life-force that this wound demanded. It tugged at every strand of his spell, pulled at his soul like a giant leech, but that just made him all the more aware of how intensified the tiring process was for her. He didn't know how much more time had passed – an hour or two, maybe – until the form between them sighed groggily and the little boy yelped in relief and excitement. Both mages dropped their hands.
"Look, it's almost gone, he's comin' to!" With nimble fingers, he tugged on his father's gray garments, shook him slightly as the man opened his eyes and rubbed his neck. "Dad! You're okay!"
"Eh?" Confusion took residence in the man's vacant expression, and he slowly sat up in the drizzling rain. "Tilud, what are we doing out here in the rain? What happened?"
Amelia opened her mouth to say something to her patient, but the little boy – Tilud – quieted her with a small tug on her soaked sleeve. "No, Amelia-sama, it's okay, you have done enough. I'll take him home and tell him everything." His eyes were wide and thankful and brimmed with tears, and he leapt forward to embrace her in a grateful hug. "You're the best princess ever."
Her arms, so weak and heavy, reached around his little frame to pat his pack reassuringly. "I'm glad I was able to help." She leaned back, gave him a tired smile. "Take him home and make him some tea, ne? He'll still need rest."
Tilud nodded emphatically and grabbed onto his dad's hand, yanking him to his feet and pulling him off into the direction of their home, the old man muttering angrily behind his son. Amelia would have chuckled if she hadn't felt so worn out, and she wrapped her cloak more tightly around her trembling body, forgetting for the time being where it came from.
Her face frightened him; the pale and translucent skin, faded blue eyes, and haggard expression, all gave away how much of a toll everything had taken on her. She gazed up at him now with those empty eyes, lids drooping in exhaustion, and all he wanted to do was get her home safely and into her warm bed. He stood up and offered her his hand.
She stared at it for a moment before accepting it, and he drew her to her feet. "You helped me save that man's life," she broke the silence. "He would have died if you hadn't have been here."
"No, you could have done it by yourself. I just made it so that you wouldn't get injured in the process." She blinked at him tiredly, and he waved the topic away in indifference. "It doesn't matter. We need to get you home."
She nodded in agreement, took a shaky step forward without too much trouble. It was her second step, however, that had her knee giving out from right underneath her, and she stumbled toward the cobblestone with a quiet yelp of surprise. But she knew, long before she saw her descent toward the hard ground, that her old companion and once upon a time savior would somehow catch her. And he did, resting her weight against his immovable body.
"Whoa, easy there, Amelia. Just lean on me, okay? I'll walk you back."
She stared up at him blankly. "You caught me."
With one arm still curled around her waist, he met her apathetic expression with his look of confusion. "Of course. It's bad enough you just completely drained yourself on healing a stranger. I wasn't going to let you crash to the ground too…"
'Is it wrong to want to be caught in the arms that are already filled with the task of taking care of himself?'
"Is that all?" she probed.
"Er…yes, that's all."
They still had a ways to go.
Disclaimer: I do not own slayers.