Believe in Me, O Dancer Girl

by Aina Song

It was a secret he had protected for as long as he could remember. And, without even realizing it, she was a part of it.

4. Punishment

Title: Believe in Me, O Dancer Girl

By: Aina Song

Fandom(s): Star Ocean 3: Till the End of Time

Genre: Yaoi

Rating: NC-17

Warning(s): Language; Direct & Altered Quotes; Spoiler Alert; Slight OOC; Much Angst; Mention of past-NCS (Hell, where'd I put that Fluff? This one's gonna need some Fluff…)

Pairing(s): Albel(Peppita) x Fayt (Not the way it sounds, I swear!)

Reviews: Yes, please.

Author's Note: Standard Disclaimer. This story was not written for money.

Another Note: Hate me for this all you want, but in my own little world, Adray does not exist. Useless old coot in battle, and socially inadequate everywhere else. And, even after he joins the party, he's never included in any of the major movie scenes - you don't even see him hanging around in the background! *blows raspberry* Italics = dreams, sword telepathy, and flashbacks. Do tell.

Teaser: It was a secret he had protected for as long as he could remember. And, without even realizing it, she was a part of it.

Chapter Four - Punishment

It was not so difficult a ruse as they had thought. The entire party doubled back through Arias, and then came to a rest in the small mining town of Kirlsa. Fayt bade Cliff to watch over the three women and to re-supply anything that needed it in his absence. Then, in that tone that left no room for argument, he instructed them to wait in that small town until his return - no questions asked. Even Maria Traydor, a woman of far too many opinions, nodded her acceptance to the odd order. With that, the two swordsmen and one dancing gypsy left Kirlsa by the south-western gate.

Good fortune seemed eager to smile on them this once, for their trek along the mountain path was not hindered by snowstorm or icy winds. Fayt was better than his word, helping Peppita along when she needed it and knowing to leave her be when she didn't.

It was perhaps three days of nearly relentless travel before they entered the royal city of Airyglyph, and they rested a night at the inn before approaching the castle. With a silent look, Albel reminded the other warrior of his oath on Peppita's behalf, and then led up to the throne hall on the second floor. The two paused in the center of the hall, while Albel stepped forth to stand before the throne, and his king.

"It's been some time since we last met," Airyglyph XIII greeted. "You simply vanished without notifying me. To where did you disappear?"

Albel gave a single nod of his head in the briefest salute, "Allow me to apologize for that. If I must be punished, then so be it. But there's something I must do first. So I must ask you to lend me the sword."

There was a heavy guardsman standing just to the right of the throne, who made no attempt to hide the fact that he was eavesdropping. "How dare you address His Majesty in such an irreverent manner? Such insolence will not be tolerated. Remember to whom you are speaking!"

But the King only shook his head at the soldier. "It matters not. Do not let it bother you."

"But he's being so…"

"I said, it matters not," the King assured in a slightly firmer tone. "I have no issue with his manner."

"Y-Yes… Your Majesty."

" 'The sword', you said," the King now spoke to Albel, suspect caution slipping into his voice. "And just what sword might that be?"

The dark warrior gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulder, though his glaring red eyes shone with purpose and warning. "You know which one. The Sword of the Crimson Scourge. What other is there?"

"Are you so great a fool?" The guard blurted once more, "That sword is a part of His Majesty's royal treasure. Do you think the king would readily hand it over to so insolent a fool as you?"

But the King turned his head and silenced the man with a single look, and the guard bowed his apology and would say no more. Sighing, the King returned his attention to the captain of his Black Brigade. "It might be late for such a question," he broached. "But allow me to ask: Have you gone utterly mad?"

Briefly closing his eyes, Albel shook his head. "I can't even answer that. But the truth is that we have no other choice. Using that sword's power as soon as possible is the only solution I can think of."

"Power, you say…" The King looked thoughtful, "You want to use it against those monsters that infest our lands?"

"My own sword is sufficient to deal with them," he professed. "But there are greater threats than monsters."

The King's brow creased, " 'Greater threats'…? It is indeed a sword of unfathomable power. It would be a powerful force for us - if you gain mastery of it. However… Are you capable of mastering it? As far as I know, the only person that sword has ever acknowledged as its master was your father. Vox, too, tried to wield it. But he, in part, fell under its sway. What will happen if you lose the battle to the sword and it ends up ruling your mind?"

Albel had thought of this. It was the fear that had for years driven him away from the temptation. But he had made his decision, and he now had the answer - no matter how fervently he wished otherwise. "It shall mean I was not equipped to save our world." He cocked his head toward his left shoulder, behind which stood Fayt and Peppita in quiet witness, "These outsiders will take over for me, I'm sure."

The King was silent for a long minute, obviously reluctant to speak the words he knew must be spoken. Finally, he nodded and came to his feet. "It seems we have a difficult decision before us. Truthfully, I do not wish to lose you, even if it is for the sake of our kingdom. However, we have no other choice."

Albel was instructed to lead, and together the four descended from the second floor hall. At the King's command, they were permitted into the treasury adjacent to the cell where Albel himself had been held prisoner. There, the King and the two off-worlders stayed back while the dark warrior stepped forth and pried open the cellar-like door to the treasure vault. A burst of light sprang forth and flooded the room, illuminating the gold and precious stones within. And in the midst of it all, standing erect as though its blade had sought a victim beneath such treasures, was a silver katana. It much resembled the one already sheathed at Albel's hip, in both size and shape. But the leather of its grip, intricately carved yet with a subtlety that was both simple and threatening, was the dark red color of blood.

"Hey," Peppita whispered. "W-Why's it glowing?"

"It is a legendary sword," the King answered as softly, his eyes never leaving the brigade captain. "Passed down through the ages to our kingdom from the Ancient Kingdom of Aquor. It is said that when wielded by one who is worthy of being its master, the sword could even cleave the sky in two."

Fayt turned his head, "Worthy of wielding it? What does that…?"

"It means exactly that. The sword itself chooses who shall wield it. Consequences most unfortunate shall befall the unworthy who would attempt to use it."

Something in the way those words were spoken reminded the blue-haired youth of the conversation in Peterny's chapel, and a cold chill like liquid ice crept down his spine. "What exactly are these unfortunate circumstances you speak of?"

"In the best case, it takes over it's wielder's mind. In the worst case, it consumes both body and soul."

Fayt had only a sharp gasp at his side as warning, and he swiftly turned and caught Peppita in his arms as the young girl tried to race forward and stop their companion. "But he can't," she whimpered. "I won't let him!"

"Silence," the King suddenly ordered. "It has already begun."

~o~

Albel lowered himself to one knee atop a pile of gold coins. "O, Sword of the Crimson Scourge," he intoned. "I command you to recognize me as your master. And I command you to grant me your power!"

Light that was not from candle nor torch reflected along the blade, and abruptly his skull thrummed with unfamiliar pain. And then his mind was flooded with a blood red light that nearly blinded from behind his eyes.

Seeker of power… What is it that you hate?

"Hate?" He wondered aloud, "What do you mean?"

Hate is the root of power. Those who go against one's will must be compelled by force.

"What utter nonsense! I have no time for stupid questions." Albel reached for his own blade at his hip, a reflex in his anger as he demanded, "What is it you wish to say?"

There is no conflict without hate, came the words, surprising him into slowly moving his hand away from his katana's sheath. Do you have hatred for those monsters that seek to harm you? Do you have hatred for worthless subordinates who do not live up to your expectations? Do you have hatred for the cowardly commoner who is not willing to fight to the death? Do you have hatred for the king who stands above you, handing down selfish commands? Do you have hatred for that arrogant dragon knight who always looked down on you? Do you have hatred for one who is better than you and beloved by the masses? Or… Do you have hatred for that monster who drove your father to his death?

"Enough," Albel whispered. And then louder, "Enough, I said!"

The words bombarding his mind had cut deep, and now his heart was pounding in his chest, making it difficult to continue breathing steadily. Their truth stung, like a dagger had punctured his heart with every question, and he found himself confessing the darkest truth of his heart. "I hate myself…" His eyes closing against the weight of it, a cold burden in his chest shrinking with every guilty declaration, he went on: "I hate myself for the inexperience that makes me a failure in battle. I hate myself for the selfishness that will not allow me to accept others. I hate myself for the arrogance that makes me look down on those weaker than I. I hate myself for my suspicion-filled heart that distrusts the King. I hate myself for the rebellious nature that prevents me from cooperating with others. I hate myself for the jealous nature that makes me envious of those superior to me. And… I hate myself for the death of my father, brought by my own impotence!"

The thrumming in his skull eased off a bit, This, then, is your answer?

"Yes," he sighed, wondering at the ache in his chest that soothed where once a pain like thorns had scarred. "I hate nothing more than myself…"

The thrumming left his skull completely, and the blood red glow dimmed from behind his eyes. A flash of light nearly blinded him, its reflection quivering along the Sword's blade. You may take me in hand, warrior of strong heart. I shall bend to your will. Together we shall destroy all beings cleaved by my blade. And all that we slay shall be cast from this world for eternity.

~o~

Airyglyph XIII witnessed as his second-most trusted captain slowly reached forth and fisted the Sword's grip, and he turned away with a much-relieved sigh. "Well done," he whispered beneath his breath. "A splendid accomplishment indeed, Albel."

~o~

The dark warrior removed his katana from its sheath and let the Sword take its place, tossing the other blade onto the pile of treasure to be claimed by whomever might find it. No sooner had he turned away than he glimpsed Peppita working free of Fayt's arms and racing forth to throw herself into Albel's embrace instead.

Albel caught her against his chest, knowing some guilt in feeling her shoulders tremble as she released her worry in silent tears. "Angel, don't," he whispered, smoothing his good hand along her spine. "It's over. I'm still here."

"We could've lost you forever," she wept, burying her face into the front of his small tank top. "Please tell me you're really going to be okay."

"I am," he assured. "My head aches a bit, but that wasn't so bad at all." He felt her arms tighten around his waist, and he gently squeezed his good arm around her shoulders in response. Looking up, he found Fayt watching them with traces of his own worry. The blue-haired youth caught his glance, and offered a hesitant smile. Albel gave a slow smirk in return, "I am in your debt."

"You don't owe me anything," Fayt shook his head. "The risk was yours to take. So, what now? Feel up to getting out of here, or do you need a minute?"

"No," he declined, though he smirked again to show he appreciated the offer. "I can leave at any time."

Fayt began to nod his acceptance, but then paused, his smile softening. "Perhaps she could use a minute. Or ninety."

Albel quickly glanced down, finding that Peppita had exhausted herself from weeping, only able to remain standing due to his good arm circling her shoulders. She had fallen asleep. Shaking his head, his heart swelling at the sight, he looked up and held his gauntleted arm forth.

The blue-haired youth nodded, stepping closer and setting the fingers of both hands to the first of the leather bands embracing the underside of Albel's arm. He held the dark warrior's gaze for a long moment, then glanced down and effortlessly released the buckle, slipping the band loose and moving his fingers down to the next one. There were seven in all - three above the elbow, and four below. After he had done, Fayt's dark green eyes lifted to find that fiery gaze still patiently watching him. Carefully grasping the clawed glove of the gauntlet, he slowly pulled down.

Something flashed across those blood-red eyes, and a soft growl emitted from deep in the dark warrior's throat as his arm was freed. Albel watched as Fayt's tongue flicked out to wet dry lips, and the sight beckoned a heat to tighten within his stomach. Clenching his jaw, he looked away and bent down, hooking his arm behind Peppita's knees and finally lifting her up against his chest. The moment broken, Fayt crossed the room ahead of him and wordlessly opened the door, leading the way to keep the path clear.

~o~

"Albel," Fayt whispered as the dark warrior carefully placed Peppita into the bed of one of the rooms they had rented. "Can I see you for a minute?"

He tossed the other a look of mild annoyance. Digging briefly into the girl's small satchel of extra clothes and battle remedies, he took out the note he had written once before, slipping it into her hand and pulling a fur-lined blanket over her shoulder before turning away. Finally nodding his permission, he softly closed the door behind them and followed into their other rented room. Closing that door as well, he leaned back against it and folded his arms over his chest. "What is it?"

"This," the blue-haired youth answered, reaching forth and gently pulling Albel's left arm loose to hold it up between them. "The only other time I saw this without the gauntlet was the night Peppita had her nightmare. But it was scarred beyond belief. When- How did…?"

He sighed, "It was her. That same night. With symbology."

"If it were as easy as that," Fayt slowly murmured, "I'm sure you or someone else would have done it long ago. But maybe I'm not getting the whole picture. Maybe the burns went too deep, or the power required was too great-" Those dark green eyes widened, and he stared at the man before him. "That was it, wasn't it. Even if a doctor had come all the way from Aquios itself, it wouldn't have been enough. But then Peppita comes along, and she… Albel. She could've died."

The dark warrior lowered his gaze away and jerked his arm free. "I know," he growled guiltily. "Don't you think I know? I never wanted her to risk herself for me."

"… You care for her a great deal, don't you."

He jerked his head up at the strange lilt in the other's voice, and found those usually unguarded green eyes watching him carefully. His own eyes narrowing, he scowled. "Didn't know you were the jealous type."

"Should I be," the younger swordsman returned neutrally.

Albel knew sudden anger at the other's presuming and, before he could stop it, his good hand flew out and caught the blue strands at the back of Fayt's neck, wrenching the other closer until their faces nearly touched. Hard red eyes glared into alarmed green. "The girl is more important to me than I will ever allow you to know," he hissed. "But I kissed you. I should think that was enough to clue you in on a few details you obviously haven't figured out. Never try to weigh my feelings between the two of you again, or I'll be forced to eliminate you from the equation."

With an impatient growl, he then grabbed the other by the shoulders and whirled them about until Fayt's back hit the door, and he claimed that mouth with his own. He immediately nipped at the other's lower lip, barely seeking permission before he thrust his tongue in and ravished the slick cavern therein. He let his teeth graze painfully against the insides of Fayt's lips, dominating the battle of their tongues and leaving no room for argument. Then he jerked away and shoved the blue-haired youth aside, throwing the door open and leaving without another word.

Fayt stared after him for a long minute, his heart racing with the effort to return blood and sensation to his veins even as he strove to steady his breathing. Finally, he lifted a quavering hand to the door and softly swung it shut. Turning away, he watched his room blur with tears he refused to let fall.

"That was punishment…"