Chapter Six
For the first time in six years, Lightning bowed her head and ever so quietly spoke into the ringing silence of the empty house: "Etro, you must be sick of me running to you only when there's no place else to go, but the truth is I am at the end of my road. I don't have any place left to go. I don't have anything left to give. Help me…please."
I can barely hear you, E'Claire Farron. I thought you were stronger.
Lightning sat on her deck, watching the sun go down, ignoring her buzzing cell; she debated why she was trying so hard with people who simply didn't want to try with her; why she was trying so hard to hang onto her mother's house and nearly cried, thinking of her father. She was so far from the woman he had wanted her to be; she longed to return to military life and get out of Academia, period. She was unloved by her own flesh and blood, and again longed for the days of childhood, the happy innocence of believing life was good, people were good, there was no evil and so chastely, simple-mindedly knowing nothing at all. Tears dripped as she remembered the gold armband of her father's she'd sold to pay power bills and the dresses she'd owned sold for food; her father's gunsaber which she never, never, should have parted with traded for taxes; the coming-of-age party she'd never had; flowers, romance, birthday cards, the strong chest beating against her ear with a solid thump-thump of Edward Farron's heart, and his stronger fist to defend his precocious, talented, gorgeous 15 year old daughter from a molesting neighbor; all she'd had were her own weak fists, split and bleeding and her wits then.
She daydreamed of how it was supposed to be, she the daughter of a military officer, growing up respected, honorable, a lady ; and cried even harder at having to grow into a tough wary fighter, without the gentle influence of a woman on her; she feared she'd never be able to put aside the mask of Lightning, Valkyrie of Valhalla, and be a warm gracious woman, with a family, a mate…she knew the difference between herself and her reflection in the mirror before she strutted out on Valhalla's stage, but could not help but wonder: Which of us do you love, Etro?
She sat in silence before her dressing room mirror, waiting for her heart to crack into pieces and the despair to fill her soul, but somehow, it wasn't happening. Something just stubbornly refused to accept this. Why was she sitting here, meekly accepting the dish that she had just been served? She had a…right…to pursue happiness; and somehow, Noel Kreiss was fulfilling something in her. Having a family was something, too. The kernel of stubbornness in her slowly sprouted and grew, tendrils weaving in and out of her psyche until she slowly straightened her back and let determination fill her: "Etro, I am going to survive this. I survived my father going missing and declare dead, I survived being a mother to Serah, I survived a war, a…lot of things…I will not stop believing there's room for Claire's heart too, somewhere on Pulse."
I hear you, loud as the thunder that announces your lightning, E'Claire Farron.
Etro was listening, and never did she feel so close as she did now, closer than close to the favorite child of her personal servant, now standing alone in room in a city, stripped of her illusions of family and love; Ahhh…now the real transformation begins, the work for which all other work is but preparation. Just keep your heart open, Valkyrie. I heard you.
She threw herself into her client appointments that evening, and was a bit shocked as Noel ghosted behind her reflection in her private lounge; he did not frown or glare, just returned her look steadily and squatted behind the curtains as clients drifted in and out; then he very respectfully held the door open for her, and insisted on leading her down the hall with a hand on her waist and holding her hand lightly, as if she were made of glass. He smoothed her leather jacket and tucked a stray icy rose strand in place after he'd set her on her 'cycle in a most lady-like fashion, faintly smiling at her before mounting and roaring off into the night; he immediately leaned back into her and clamped her hands around his waist, holding onto her one handed on a long straightaway.
He shyly asked if he could come in, and fussed over her some more, removing her jacket and seating her on the couch, then brought a pair of cups filled with tea before seating himself next to her. After a few sips he turned to her and began to converse: "You know, I am sure yesterday's events were trying for you; I didn't know how much of yourself you put into holding your family together after your father died, and even more so after your mother. In my tribe, family ties are held very highly, the only thing held higher is our ties to the goddess. I...I wanted to say how much I respect you for that." He savored another sip of tea and continued a bit more softly: "Hope and I had tried to contact you several times today. He sent me as messenger, thinking you'd thrown your cell in the river again, or some such thing. I took Serah to Hope; after hearing what I heard, I thought it best – she first wanted to go someplace I knew you'd not approve of. I didn't think it was prudent of her, or a safe place to be. Hope tried to talk to her, but she is still not hearing her family. He has insisted she stay with him for a few days, until school starts again, so she will not be unduly influenced by her peers. Someone has been telling her she can handle living on her own and…other things. I don't know who, except a text name: angiusinherba."
He lowered his cup and very quietly said: "I have to tell you as a shadow hunter…I sense…evil."
Lightning gave nothing away, but her eyes held his in a hunter's unblinking gaze over the rim of the tea cup. Noel slowly nodded, set his tea cup down and laid a hand on her knee, keeping his gaze steady before dropping the bomb: "I've seen that name before; a prior case. I never saw the being behind the name, but I have no doubt it's the same creature; he is part of a Fal'Cie's household."
"The name? Would it be…Barthandeus?"
Noel nodded slowly again.
"Thank you."
The silence grew between them; Noel was puzzled that she didn't immediately beg him for help, or burst into tears, or ask about Serah; she just continued to look over the rim of her teacup with the same intense gaze. He returned it with equal intensity, waiting for her to break, but she didn't; he felt a slow pulse of warmth under his hand on her knee and he dropped his eyes to surreptitiously admire the luscious legs crossed in a composed manner. He didn't quite understand why he'd come back, Hope could have delivered the information; it was like he and she were opposite polarity; he pushed, she pulled away; she pushed and he pulled away. But then, underneath it all, a hot river of desire flowed, eroding his resistance with every encounter. He gave into his desire and slowly moved his hand, palming the warm flesh, his own blood starting to pulse in time with the pulse of the beautiful creature sitting next to him; he quietly said, never raising his eyes: "Are you ok?"
"Do I look like a frightened sheep, shadow hunter?" She smiled faintly, remembering she was the daughter of an officer and allowed the luxury of anger suffuse her briefly. She had her enemy in her sights now. And she was going to win. "So…are you ready to take a visit to the upper city tonight? I am prepared to offer a hazard bonus…and…" she shifted on the couch, her other leg gently settling on top of Noel's hand on her leg, a pair of slim fingers trailing down the side of his face, running across his full lips as he caught his breath and let it out slowly. Her voice shook a bare syllable, betraying her desperation behind her actions: "I'm sure you'd understand how much gratitude I can put into my thank you, Noel Kreiss." She leaned closer and breathed into his ear: "Ismii qalil walah – it is only desire, yes?"
Noel had never been more tempted in his life than now and it was all he could do to not move; the slightest movement would make his will dissolve into the flowing magma of hot nomad blood beneath his skin. Ohhhh Etro, Ismii qalil walah, riiiiight…it's not just desire…she knows something, she made a connection and she's not telling me…hang on, just hang on…Etro, damn…I want her…if this is what I think it is, I'm going to baste her for three days straight, once I get her all to myself.
"Lightning. I am your guardian. I'll follow you to the shadows of hell, if it solves this. And I've been there before, so I am not frightened. Worry about fees and gratitude later." With a supreme effort he looked at her: "Let's go kick some Fal'Cie ass." He whispered.
An hour later they were walking up to a discreet door set in a pretty rooftop garden; Noel was tense, but armed to the teeth with his double sword, a custom alloy knife, and a bandolier of some of lightning's leftover pyrotechnics from GC days. Lightning made him wear a spare set of her leathers vs. his normal nomad gear for the visit, and threw her blazefire gunsaber over her own sleek clean leathers.
She walked in like she belonged to the upper city when admitted, then seated herself in a banquette, ordered an untouched glass of intoxicant and settled in to await the arrival of Barthandeus in his favorite haunt. Noel stayed in the shadows, nerves zinging, the mantra of Etro a constant refrain in his mind.
The Fal'Cie Barthandeus enjoyed the sight of the Farron woman sitting with no fear waiting on him. It titillated his senses in a way he hadn't felt in so long …everyone feared him, it was rare to see someone unafraid and he lapped up her courage like cream.
"What do you wish, Lightning Farron? A favor? A service? Revenge? I can do all of these and more…but what coin have you to pay in? "
"No favor, no service, and I am not vengeful…tonight, Fal'Cie Lord Barthandeus. I simply come to claim what is mine. "
"Oh? What do I have of yours, lady Farron? I am all…appetite…my ears are hungry for a new novelty."
Noel drew three inches of blade in the shadows and dared not breathe. However, Lightning laughed. 'Oh come, come, master of the night, do you not know everything there is to know, especially in your own house? How could a poor simple dancer from the dregs of Oldtown amuse you? Of course, I could dance for you, but I think you like your honey dark and strong, oh honey of the night."
He bared his teeth in amusement and waved forward a suave server with a dully gleaming tray balancing a bottle: "Will you drink, lady?"
"Nay, Lord Barthandeus, but I will pour you a draught if it please you and I will amuse you with my search for what is mine." She perched prettily by him on the low banquette, and poured a precise measure in perfect crystal, then presented it with a flourish. He slowly quaffed his drink, and ever so slowly Lightning extended her arm, laying on the table, wrist up, where one could see the faint blue tracery of veins throbbing with the same drink in the Fal'Cie Lord's pretty crystal goblet. She spoke just as slowly and carefully: "Lord, I regret to inform you that your servant has been cheating you of your bounty of souls; I have discovered my sister has been mistakenly used as a focus to bait a failed candidate, and I simply wish to reclaim my sister. You may see the truth of my words in my blood. Drink."
Noel felt the ground beneath him drop, seeing tableau of the Valkyrie offering her blood and the singing memories locked within open to the all-knowing, hungry, not-quite-Pulsian eyes of the Fal'Cie. Etro, she has courage, limitless courage and no hesitation; what bloodline is she, really? Few are raised so fearless on Pulse! What a temptation for him! Gods!? What if she is made into L'Cie just because he fancies it? He armed a charge, a pinprick of light faintly glowing blue in the shadows he stood in.
Barthandeus paused, then gently stroked the flesh presented with cool white fingers, glittering with sun's eyes gems in ancient settings of white iridium before daintily placing his mouth on the pulsing wrist and biting down to suck the red life swirling beneath the surface; Noel ever so slowly drew his blade, waiting for the moment the Fal'Cie would lose control, but it never came. Barthandeus sighed and withdrew; he challenged Lightning with his eyes, but she never backed down, returning look for look; it seemed there was a faint shimmer in the air between the Pulsian and the Fal'Cie, a silent battle of wills hanging in the air. Barthandeus attempted to dominate with his dark, bringing shadows and things in the shadows crawling forward, but something in Lightning blazed and lit the space between them; she seemed to burn with a clear and steady light, sending the dark things scurrying and scuttling back into the safe dark. Barthandeus seemed to quiver and wilt, unable to hold her gaze. He gnashed his teeth and tore his gaze away, a hand coming up to shield his eyes at last.
" I…see the strength of your will, lady Farron. Your claim is valid. My servant has overstepped. Thy sister is yours to claim by blood."
"I thank the lord for his consideration. Now, where is the servant? I would debate his grievance with the shadow hunter. "
Barthandeus looked to his right, and a slim form dressed in cool whites, yet somehow dark and sleek as an oil slick slithered forward and bowed mockingly. Noel stood frozen to his spot, struggling for courage, keeping his sword at the ready, never trusting the familiar face that he remembered…and remembering choking in dark coils, screaming for Etro to save him, because he had no strength in him, his soul being eaten alive by darkness…Etro, send an angel of a light unto me in this darkness, look at Light, she is of light, remember you are light, keep your eyes on Light…
"Whaaat isss the lady'sss pleasure with the ssservant of Barthandeussss?" He asked in a sibilant whisper, swaying slightly in the soft candlelight.
"My pleasure ? I have no pleasure when the Lord's name has been taken in vain. Tell me, servant: what grievance do you hold against Noel Kreiss, shadow hunter? I request particulars; be kind enough to parley and share your grievance."
"Do you come asss proxy to pay hiss debt to me?"
"Exactly what debt might that be, servant?"
" A pact of blood…a promise sssealed with his word in his blood to bring me the seeressss, lady. A favor was requested in exchange. A prior incarnation of the ssseeress wasss to be hisss. "
"And he bore the exact face of the shadow hunter? What was his weapon like? What color were his eyes? – Were they exactly as this? Or perhaps more…this color at times? Did the sword look like this? Or was it like this?" She tapped her cell, bringing up pictures; the servant stayed silent, gently weaving his head back and forth, staring at the images, but a flicker of nervousness gave him away. She knew she had him. And had him in full sight of Barthandeus. Very gently she continued:
"You have laid your debt at the wrong door, sir – Caius Ballard is your seeress thief, not Noel Kreiss."
"Hiss form has changed? I ssssssee not, lady." The servant grinned, a tongue gently, as it flicked and tasted the air as if he could taste Noel's shrinking gilt flesh in dark.
'Yes, his form is changed; allow me to raise the veil from your eyes: a doppleganger glamoring was conjured & you must have been in a place with much light when the bargain was struck; you made th epact during daylight, did you not? You were fooled by Caius – he had many years to plan his favor. He took Noel's form, but doppleganger spells cannot work on metal; and the eyes will give the cheater away in certain light also. I would also point out you know a shadow hunter cannot lie to Fal'Cie, since the appointment is also by blood; and you, his servant would know, are you not clever, like your master? Did you not taste the shadow hunter's blood? Caius knew Noel Kreiss would be asked to hunt for her after she was taken, so how perfect of a ruse to make the servant of Barthandeus believe that the rescuer was the thief? Do you now see?"
A crackling hiss was the only answer.
"Since you were mistaken and cruelly deceived, you cannot have any further claim on the shadow hunter. I claim Noel Kreiss for mine own, servant. Now back off, or I will sting thee with light to crack thy pretty eyes to shards. I care not how much you desire revenge or his pound of flesh; he is bound by oath to serve ones even greater than the great Lord here tonight. He must be returned to the House Imperate. He. Is. Mine. " She was almost nose to nose, her will beating into the servant, who was cringing. Barthandeus was leaning back, and openly enjoying the spectacle; she was right, he was amused; and he would amuse himself more with his servant's punishments tonight. Clever woman; she was a Farron, alright. He looked forward to seeing her again.
She rose, bowed extravagantly at Barthandeus, then threw the micro tablet at the servant: "Here. Hunt for thine own debtor. See the favor I do thee?"
A long hiss was the only answer to be heard and Noel's back shuddered at the memory, as the tone of it was far too familiar. But Lightning merely smiled over shoulder and sweetly wished it: "Etro guide your bite, servant."
Noel was profoundly silent on the ride back; he was at war with himself: at first, he was amazed Lightning had solved the case; but at the same time angry that he, the shadow hunter with the experience had overlooked the markers of the servant. He then grew deeply terrified of Lightning, as he slowly realized she'd just faced down a servant of a Fal'Cie, AND the Etro-damned, freaking Fal'Cie himself and lived. What the hell was she really made of? Was she that well connected with other Fal'Cie she could command that kind of respect? Holy Etro, who the baste are you, Lightning Farron?
Lightning nearly fell off the bike, as she was weak from the Fal'Cie's bite; it was not deep , not even close to fatal, but Barthadeus had been thirsty; Noel carried her in, and carefully put her in her bed; when he finished rummaging for bandages, she was completely passed out. He bound her wrist after cleaning it, then called Hope for advice. Hope was startled, but reassured Noel she was alright and recommended he stay close for the night, call him if the slightest thing happened, and rapidly listed a diet to restore her blood quickly. He would be by tomorrow and do any requisite spells to bring to a full restoration of spirit and flesh as needed. Noel sat by the bed looking at her for what seemed like hours; he memorized every strand of ice rose hair, every eyelash, the smooth ivory of her skin, the exact curve of her cheekbones, the lush bow of her satiny upper lip before he gained the courage to touch.
It was so like the angel he'd seen in his dream; the rose hair, pale skin and aquamarine eyes were so familiar… His terror had fallen away and he was now wildly exhilarated, excited, sexually electrified. His tanned hand slowly traced down her face, the smooth shoulder and picked up the long fingered hand; he couldn't help it and slowly kissed the soft warm flesh gratefully, tenderly ashamed he'd not done so when he realized she had freed him from the evil focus of the L'Cie. Then it seemed he couldn't stop; his lips travelled up the arm, dropping soft kisses on her forehead, her cheek, the soft lips until he was breathless with desire. He started to eagerly strip off the leathers Lightning had lent him, his battle shirt, the left hand gauntlet, intent on climbing in bed next to her to cradle and protect this exquisite piece of Etro next to his worshipping body until she woke; then he would claim the sweet reward she promised…and he would see to it the pleasure would certainly NOT be one-sided, despite not having been with a woman before.
The mirror on the wall glinted as he threw his battle shirt on a chair then he stopped as he caught glimpse of himself: he saw himself in the near dark, a being of shadow, not light…with disgusted eyes he saw his half nude body, panting with lust for a woman he barely knew, a pole dancer who was clever enough to solve his case before him; what the hell was he doing, falling into bed with his client? He was a purebred, for Etro's sake! A Shadow Hunter bound by oath! He struck down his desire and caged it as it howled and screamed, beating itself to shreds against the walls that now boxed it in.
He walked to the shower and turned it on full blast, then dialed it to cold, then hot; he repeated it two more times until he felt his desire wash away down the drain. He called Hope back, and convinced him to trade guard duties, the desperation in his voice puzzling to his friend on the other end.
Lightning woke up to her cousin slouching elegantly on her deck chair, re-aligning her computer drives on her tablet to amuse himself and drinking her tea. He informed her Noel was guarding Serah in his apartment and would contact her soon, but kindly asked her to rest, as he knew the strain of being close to a Fal'Cie up close and personal. She was disappointed, but then it was a risk she took, keeping her answers to herself.
Noel was politely distant when he called, and set up an automatic transfer of funds to conclude their business. She misunderstood Noel's distance and interpreted it in the worst possible way; she felt jilted, and out foxed by her own sister no less. So, when she heard Serah's tinkling crystal laugh in the background, Lightning ground her teeth in silent frustration, and some part of her broke inside. She decided to just give up on Noel Kreiss; so she coolly cut him off, and wished him well, but doubted their paths would cross again, unless she was invited to the upper city again.
Serah did not come back to the house to live when the fertility festival break was over, and had taken a campus studio apartment at Hope's insistence; Lightning simply got her voicemail every time she called, so after 2 weeks, she decided to just stop calling and just let go.
It hurt like hell, but Lightning kept the news to a minimum; however, the whole of Valhalla knew of the change in Serah, and the shadow hunter's infatuation with the girl, and as a show of support, they all decided to cut Serah from their little family, unless they saw a heartfelt change in behavior. So when one of the pole girls saw Serah with Noel at a tent party, looking like a lovestruck lapdog dressed in city clothes, a far cry from the stern disciplined nomad that watched over the Valkyrie, she deliberately said a few choice words under her breath to Noel's back and kept it from Lightning. She knew her friend was hurting, and not just over Serah. Serah's birthday was approaching, and she was laughingly inviting people in the tent, but Daria had heard Serah wittily retort: "Oh, family? I am have become a self-proclaimed orphan!"
Then another 3 days later, another attempt occurred.
Seething, Noel was knocking on Lightning's door with Serah that night; he was so frustrated with the way this was going, and half wondered if he was cursed; it seemed he kept getting thrown in a certain rose haired Valkyrie's flight path no matter what direction in life he took. Hope let them in, and waved them to the table where Snow and Light were poring over the security cam recordings. She flicked an aquamarine gem of an eye towards them, but ignored the couple until she was quite finished with Snow.
She silently stood with her arms crossed as the pair stumbled through the niceties of greetings and gratitude for a safe place to stay for a few days. She kept her eyes on Hope, steadily gazing back to loan her strength to go through with it as she briefly spoke, indicating there was only the couch and her old military bedroll to sleep on, since Serah's room was emptied of furniture. She would stay at Hope's, or at the club and instructed them her bedroom would be locked. She had privately determined no way was either of them was going to be sleeping in her bed. She turned to go very quickly, refusing to meet anyone's eyes, then she was gone with Hope, leaving Snow, who greeted them with: "Welllll now, how does it feel now to be back in the old neighborhood? Nothing like the stink of stale piss and used underwear in the morning, eh?" he grinned, then broke into a bellowing laugh as he upended his beer , then unerringly threw it to the trash can, grazing Serah's pink ponytail.
The incident seemed to blow over, no leads to the last attempt were to be found; so Serah went about planning her birthday party. The party news made its way back to Hope, who was invited and was stunned that Light and the staff at Valhalla had been deliberately not invited; when bluntly taken to task by Snow, he was told she was embarrassed by her sister who looked like she belonged in Oldtown, not in the least giving the appearance of a lady. Hope decided to peacekeep and invited Light as his date, then took her shopping for a dress; he enjoyed it, as she was gorgeous in anything, her body was fit, and she always gave in to anything he asked. He gently made the point in between compliments about each dress she tried that Serah was simply trying to fly on her own, and advised to simply let her go to fall on her face a few times to teach her some humility and appreciation for her family.
It wasn't often he got Light to himself, and soon the two were hanging out all the time like they did when he was a teen; except this time he was armed, and there was a more pronounced sexual undercurrent; Lightning wasn't the only one to have grown up and had milk do them good. Despite Hope's Academian pursuits, he was a man through and through; he had that rare male beauty that seemed to be eternal youthfulness, like a young Adonis; something alike mirrored in each other's faces, and the undercurrent shimmered in any room full of people they were in lately, so rumors of the two pairing off began to arise. Noel would have been jealous to the point of snarky, had he not become totally infatuated with Serah.
Noel often wondered at Hope and Lightning's relationship himself as he went back into his routine of escorting Lightning to work each night; she seemed hell bent on ignoring him and kept her distance with a brittle arrogance that felt like pure Fal'Cie instead of Oldtown trollop. She's changed, he thought; but then so have I – he let himself smile at the memory of melting violet eyes raised to his and begging him to be careful in Oldtown, he knew she was the right one, all he needed was for Etro to show him the right place and the right time, and he would give himself to her, then propose. He would never be alone again.
Of course, Etro bought none of it. She had other plans than a rose haired trollop for her shadow hunter. And she was going to show him exactly what it meant to be a servant of the goddess.
The birthday came and Light slowly dressed at Valhalla, and paraded by the girls who whistled and clapped; then Hope was at the bar, a grinning silver wolf with a sexy glint in his emerald eye in matching black formal clothes.
" Awesome. Look at the director – oh! Is that…her?"
" That hair should tell you – who'd have thought she'd have the sand in her shoes to show up? But in that dress, she could get away with a Fal'Cie formal ball! Man, I wish I had legs like that! "
"Holy Etro – the director came with a Valkyrie! No wonder he never dates anyone on campus! That's some fine honey! Ow!"
A well placed jab silenced the gossiper as the elegant couple made their way through the restaurant to the private room in the back, where Serah was holding her first formal affair. A number of interested eyes followed the backs clad in matching black making their way to Serah's table, lavishly decorated with roses the color of her tanzanite eyes; it was going to be a lovely sight to see the proud Valkyrie, the one who had every man fall at her feet for the past 4 years get snubbed by her pretty younger sister and with her own handsome ex-guardian hanging on the girl's arm. They'd heard Serah's stories of hardship and verbal abuse and they were ready to rip Lightning to shreds at the least sign of weakness they could find.
The gossip-mongers were silent, watching the two sisters eye each other up; it was Hope who courageously stepped forward under the scrutiny of all those hard gazes, and offered his arm to his Light, now elegantly clad as a lady in an evening gown, her hair up and even wearing perfume. He slowly took her around and introduced her to Serah's guests, then put an arm around her protectively as she approached Serah. She spoke clearly and quietly to her sister expressing birthday wishes simply, stating : "Here. Mother would want you to wear this." It was her silver armband, and though it grieved Light to let it go, she did.
Hope swept her off to the dance floor, where they moved elegantly as one for a dance; another rather infatuated guest tried to cut in, but he firmly refused, smiling with his eyes before quietly whispering: "Steady on those sooty wings, angel; they'll warm up after tonight. Just don't let them see you sweat." She clung a little tighter and let her eyes speak; it was working. She was going to make it through the gauntlet after all. She started to smile herself, slowly breaking into a radiantly beautiful expression like the dawn itself, like the 15 year old Claire Farron before she had become an adult before her time. She could almost imagine her father smiling at her, saying That's my sweet Claire, I am so proud of you, you're a Farron through & through… Then her gaze was caught by her secret sin, Noel Kreiss.
Light was stunned to see he was dressed in a set of city clothes, a sleek suit and formal shirt in the latest style, all one color and no tie which he wore with a somber elegance; however, the blue eyes held the same wary hard look of the gossip-mongers; she saw Serah lean over and whisper in his ear, laying a hand intimately on his arm and the look slowly morphed into a well-mannered disgust, the eyes hardening to ice, the cheek stiffening with an expression of total disdain as he took in Serah's comment. She was just puzzled at first, wondering what lie Serah just told, but then Lightning's heart abruptly broke when he put his hand on Serah's when cutting the cake up and smiled with an intimacy she'd only been able to dream of.
She knew right then and there he had fallen for her sister. Lightning imperceptibly stiffened and she gave the pair a soldier's stare, but her hand tightened over Hope's. Hope looked at his Light's clean profile and took in her stare, which he knew very well; it was the mask she put on when something had disturbed her or hurt her. He followed her line of sight and saw Noel's tender look of admiration directed at Serah and the way he hovered far too closely for a mere bodyguard; he'd read the signs of infatuation earlier, but never knew it had gone this far. What in the name of Etro's seven hells is Kreiss doing with that little idiot? Nomad or not, that's a damned stupid choice for a lover. I have judged him wrongly; I thought he felt something for Light – he was all about her for the longest time, I just don't get why he did this 180 degree change.
Hope's disgust at Serah rose in him and his stomach turned when he thought that Serah must have done it deliberately because Lightning had been attracted to the nomad; he decided to leave right then and there, then call Serah to his Director's office at college Monday and take her apart, even expel her if he had to; after all that Light had done to ensure the girl grew up with family instead of being part of the government's official orphan's and widow's system, she was a damned ungrateful fool. She was not behaving as family, she was all for herself. Serah had no idea what her sister had sacrificed. Well, if she didn't want the protection and support of her family, so be it. He wasn't going to protect her any longer, and he was going to protect Light.
"Light? Light, hey, look at me. Let's leave. I'm disgusted. Come on. You don't need to see any more of this…this…petty bitchery."
Silently, she nodded tersely. They both abruptly turned and walked towards the door, steadily, hand in hand; never had the pair looked more like aristocrats, almost Fal'Cie in their haughty indifference at the stares and shocked whispers rising behind them. Hope calmly lifted a glass from a table and downed 2 swallows for courage as he kept going with her to the door. Puzzled, guests looked askance at the pair then at Serah, wondering why her sister and her cousin, the closest family she had, were leaving like the place was an Oldtown hell instead of a classy New Town bash. Serah ever so charmingly called out: "Hope? Are you leaving so…soon? Have some cake at least!"
"Absolutely not. I'd sooner eat shite off the floor of an Oldtown pissroom than your damned birthday cake." Hope calmly upended his glass of champagne on the floor and let it drop, the shards flying everywhere like the small explosion in his head happening right now. "This house of Serah has no hospitality to offer House Estheim…or House Farron. " A shocked silence reigned as the formal insult that indicated a final, irrevocable parting of the ways sank in; then it was followed by the snick of the door softly being closed.
Hope and Light quietly observed the city lights of Academia all the way down the glass fronted elevator, and somewhere during the 3rd round of alcohol, at Academia's second-best restaurant, she did crack a smile at him. "Damn, Hope. I knew you were a tough bastard even at 14, but I never expected you to deliver a killing blow like that. Thanks may be a too simple a word, but I hope it'll do until I can find some more words. Um. Glad we're cousins. At someone understands the word family."
"Hush, and don't let all that soot around your eyes run. It matches the wings.' He eyed her with genuine affection before continuing: "I got your back. So do a lot of other people. Like Snow. Everyone at Valhalla, a couple of crime lords for all I know…The Estheims , all of them. Lexis looks at you like a daughter. Maybe it's time we looked for the Farrons, too."
They shared a companionable silence for the remainder of the drink, then Lightning sighed and said: "Hope, I think I'll call it a night in the social arena of Academia. I feel like wallowing in the dregs of society. Talk to you tomorrow?" She bent down and softly kissed him before leaving in a swirl of black chiffon and clean Tamarisk wood perfume.
"Go, angel. Burn it out."
"You mean demon of darkness, muh-hah-hah."
She smiled in recognition of their old bond. He knew. She knew. And she knew what she had to do.