Mystic: Writing gives me an excuse to not clean my house. Just thought I'd let you know that.
A Garden Full of Secrets
When I first met Kuja, I had great difficulty keeping eye contact.
The second nightmare began after my airship was hijacked. I knelt in the chapel before the wooden altar, my fingers shaky around the prayer beads. Don't ask me to remember which eidolon listened to my pleas; my face fought back tears of anger and bitter sadness. It was in the middle of the third decade of prayers when the airship shook violently and knocked me to the ground. Then the force of outside magic hit me in the chest. I was no longer the only mage on board.
A true wise woman would have sealed the chapel door and bunkered down in safety. Not me; oh no. I just had to step outside and come face-to-face with the danger. Steepled hats soon surrounded me and, in instinct, I chanted a quick barrier spell for my personal protection. The creatures were honest black mages, cloaked in mist, golden eyes that stared me down. When one stepped forward, another instinct of mine began.
"Kill," it chanted, arms raised.
" ...I shall live." Every wise woman masters a basic vanish spell. We learn to retract and refract light so to hide our form. Once unseen, we can either move in for a knock-out, or retreat to safety. My plan involved running for the broom closet and flying for my life. Lucky for my people, prayer and meditation can rebuild magical ability.
And it worked ...for a while. I successfully outwitted the creatures in the steepled hats, but they unfortunately did not arrive without a master. This particular person did not bump into me or anything else embarrassing; no, far worse. He all out cancelled my spell!
Well, I suspected it was a 'he'. Codpiece.
...what?
Codpiece.
...why?
Um, where was that broom closet again? First door on the left and -
"Well, well," he said. "Your kind does still exist. And here I thought the history books spoke truth. Silly me."
The aura of magic around him stifled my own. "Whoever you are," I began, willing my voice strong and sure, "you will regret ever stepping foot on board my ship." (Is it any wonder who gave all the speeches to the Lindblum council? Regent Cid builds airships, I dictate laws.)
"Oh, so you're Hildagarde." He barely cracked an eyebrow, just stared at my visible person. I willed myself to stare straight ahead and not let my eyes wander south.
Codpiece.
Ahem.
"Hilda," I answered.
Like it or not, most women have one specific fear when captured by a man. His appearance aside, he'd already proven his worth as a fellow mage. It takes years to cancel another's magic, even longer to bind it completely. I mentally prayed that he didn't have any extra years. My virtue was comprimised enough by an adulterous husband. The last thing I needed was to add sexual assault to the list of traumatizing acts soon to be recited to a therapist.
If I even made it alive to see a therapist.
"My, Lady Hilda," he said, now beginning to circle around me. "You've certainly put a wrench into my plans. Why is noble woman like you traveling about without a male escort?"
Broom closet. If I could just - wait a minute. "Where are my attendants?" Elizabeth should have pierced the skies with her screams by now. The girl had a mouth, I'll grant her that.
The mage only shrugged. "Probably caught by my puppets. Oh, well."
Kill, is what those creatures chanted. Kill...
Oh, young Elizabeth. You were supposed to be a bride soon. One of the pilots absolutely adored you. I saw you two dallying about in the gardens beside the palace walls. "How dare you! Leave my ship!" If I am to die, let it be written that I fought my attacker with every last drop of dignity. This wise woman stood her ground. A flame from the sun erupted in my palm.
"If you want to play around, lady, be my guest." He yawned and scraped away dirt from beneath his nails. "But why don't we wait until we land, hm?"
My flame dissolved, but not by my own doing. "Stay away!" I yelled, stepping back.
"I bind you, Lady Hilda."
"...NO!" This man, this mage, young in his appearance, had more years than I thought possible. A sorcerer, I realized too late. No wonder I missed it; he wore no heavy cloak, used no staff to channel his spells. Every ounce of magic in my body became constricted, tight. It was there, but no longer accessible. I began to stagger, a massive headache beginning to form. (A terrible side effect, actually.)
He caught me before I hit the hard floor of the ship. Another one of those steepled hat creatures walked up beside him. "Master?" it questioned.
"Seal off the broom closet," I heard him say before I passed out. "I will not have this one flying off."
"Yes, master Kuja."
Lady Hilda left the sick chamber of her maidservant. She quietly breathed a sigh of relief; Freema's fever broke in the early hours of the morning. The girl was still weak, still achy, but alive. Billie and Catherine attended to her needs, loyal not only to the regency of Lindblum, but of each other. Once well, all three ladies deserved an extra week to visit family, Hilda decided. Not one person could claim she didn't care about their well-being.
In her own private chambers, Hilda washed her face and hands, then splashed her hair and clothes with a mist of rose-water. Just because she chose to care for the sick did not mean she had to smell or look exhausted. A bit of rouge on the cheeks hid tired paleness. Her guests would simply have to overlook her lack of corset and veil.
Not that Zidane particularly cared for political appearances. More than a few rumors claimed he upset the Alexandrian council in one form or fashion. It gave Hilda a reason to chuckle. Most of the rumors she had heard involved a headache or a whore.
The conference room waited for her presence, and her heart skipped a few beats. Nervousness; why was she nervous? Minister Artania stated a sorcerer was here to aid her in her quest to obliterate the black death. No sorcerer walked the earth anymore, she unfortunately believed. She accepted that fact more than a year ago when Zidane returned from the Iifa Tree, alone.
Song and dance only lifted her spirits when done in her people's language. Or his.
"Zidane is here!" announced Minister Artania. "He's here, madam, and he brought a doctor."
Regent Cid Fabool straightened his posture and brushed dirt off his sleeves. "Doctor who?"
"Story of my childhood," murmured Hilda, claiming her throne. "Unless he wears a bow tie or a striped scarf, I will not be impressed."
"A plague doctor." Artania stood guard beside the heavy door frame.
Cid nodded. "Are those white masks really required? They look like a bird ready to consume your soul."
"You claimed sorcerer, Artania." Hilda took a deep breath, fought the pit of dread that settled in her stomach. "I can sense his aura from beyond the door."
Before either of the two men could respond, Zidane burst through, tail swinging wildly. "Hey, guys! How are things?"
They both put on a false smile. Regent Cid greeted the young king first. "Hello, Zidane. Quite a pleasure to see you again, though not in the best circumstances."
The regent received an odd look of curiosity. "You two receive guests together?" Zidane crossed his arms, tilted his head in thought. "But I heard you guys were -"
"Formality," said Lady Hilda. Her eyes flitted to the doorway; a shadow hovered outside. "Now tell me, good king. Tell me how you convinced my little niece to allow this 'doctor' back in her kingdom."
Zidane went wide-eyed. "Oh, yeah; you're a mage too. You can feel him!"
Hilda nodded, Cid wondered if they ingested wild mushrooms earlier. "Will someone just bring him in, please?" he asked.
The figure that entered the conference room was indeed a plague physician. He wore a solid black cloak, face hidden by the starch white of the mask. Its beak stretched long and thin. A simple black hat completed what Hilda knew was nothing more than a clever disguise. "Hmph, you're actually carrying a staff this time."
Minister Artania took this opportunity to take his necessary leave.
"Regent," greeted the physician. Then he turned toward Lady Hilda, voice noticeably softer. "My lady."
Hilda dropped her head in her hand, muffled a curt chuckle. His voice. His voice of all things. Still the same after so long a period. "Zidane, you have no idea what you have done by bringing him here." No white silk, no codpiece, no bare midriff. Only black and covered. "Kindly remove your mask, sorcerer."
Cid saw Zidane stiffen with worry, ignored how his wife extended her hand for a kiss. Formality, of course. Then he saw the flash of silver hair, the soft facial features. "You!" he whispered, harsh.
Lady Hilda accepted the delicate kiss on her hand. "Hello, sweetie."
"WHAT did you just call him?!"
Zidane plunked himself down in a random chair and rested his feet on the table. This promised to be quite the show.
"Oh, relax, Cid." Hilda decided to worry him further and stand straight, inches away from the face of her former warden. "You lost your chance to be a jealous husband a very long time ago."
"WHAT?!"
"Welcome to Lindblum, Kuja. You are in my palace now, and you will follow my rules." She leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "Break them as you see fit."
Kuja grinned, wry and with a plan. "You look well, lady."
"As do you." Hilda felt the suspicious glare of the regent behind her, which she ignored with great pleasure. "Now, how in the name of sanity were you able to waltz back into Alexandria?"
"I can answer that!" Zidane piped in.
Cid gruffed. "Do tell, sorcerer, after you back away several feet." Kuja sent the regent a sharp glare, one that sparked with a spell, but he held back and stepped away from the lady's throne. "Appreciated."
Lady Hilda frowned, shook her head. "What happened, Zidane?" A full goblet of mead seemed rather appropriate.
"Dagger had plague," he said. "Kuja saved her life."
Every person in the room grew quiet, not even the rogue cricket had anything to say. "The little canary almost didn't survive," Kuja said with a shrug. "She's very strong-willed though, and I think that played a part in her recovery."
"You didn't tell us that Garnet was infected," Cid spoke from his throne.
"Because plague comes on quickly," said Hilda. "If you don't catch it that first day -"
" -you're dead," Kuja chuckled. "The canary granted me a full pardon."
"One act of kindness does not make amends for all the torment you caused!" Cid stood now, purposefully in front of his wife.
"Alexandria would have fallen to ruin if it wasn't for my talents, regent." He spat it as if an insult. "You wished for a doctor? Well, you have me."
"And for which I am most thankful." Lady Hilda adjusted the straps on her snood, smoothed her skirts, and took the plague mask in her hands. "We have work to do, sweetie; citizens are dying."
"Hilda!" yelled Cid.
Zidane snorted. Dagger would receive some fantastic gossip after he returned home. He watched his brother and Lady Hilda cross the room toward the door. "Stay safe, guys! Don't you catch it!"
"I'm immune," they both responded. Cid slumped his shoulders, and his heart plopped on the floor, twitching.
Hilda gazed at the sorcerer, smiled in a way that might make a girl from Treno rethink her life choices. "I need to gather some supplies first. It's time I showed you my secret garden."
Kuja took back his mask. "Oh? I've always desired to wander inside your secret garden. Maybe plant a seed or two." His smile would have invigorated the most lonely of bachelors.
"Mm, maybe one day you'll witness it bloom."
The pair of mages finally left, and Zidane cackled into laughter. "Who here thinks they weren't talking about an actual garden? HAHAHAHAHA -"
"ZIDANE!" Cid exclaimed.
The young king cracked a grin. "Sorry."
"Follow them!"
"Okay."
Once alone, the aging regent sat back down, rested his chin on his hands, sighing. For the good of the regency and his own blood pressure, the tribunal council needed to finish with their investigation of his marriage.