Mystic: Did I scare you guys off or something?

A Young Ward

Even in the guest chambers of the revered senator, the scarlet drapes did not close completely. One ray of sunshine filtered through a tiny sliver where the fabric refused to meet, casted its light into the room and directly into Hilda's eyes. She groaned, achy and exhausted, and rolled over. Her arm hit skin that wasn't her own. Another person shared her pillow.

A tangled mess of silver hair appeared in her groggy line of vision. Kuja lay still on his side, eyes shut in contented sleep; his breath came slow, though steady. Every few seconds his tail twitched against her legs. The room held the odorous remains of perfume, strong wine, and sweat; torn and wrinkled clothes lay scattered on the wooden floor. A pitcher of water sat on an end table. If able, Hilda would sleep away the morning hours, relaxed and satisfied with the circumstances.

Responsibilities in Lindblum prevented her from drifting back into gentle sleep. Plague still ran around in the districts, the tribunal court still expected her attendance. The scroll of evidence sat boldly on the windowsill. She could run though, run away from what everyone expected; the citizens would die and the regency would collapse. Wouldn't that be easier than returning now? It sounded better in her head, anyway, instead of going back to Lindblum as Kuja's whore.

That's what the councilmen and judges might call her, but one snap of Hilda's fingers would set the room aflame and shut their mouths permanently; the lowliest citizen knew that the regent, along with his politicians, feared her abilities and especially her temper. She smiled to herself. Seeing the shock on Cid's face when she admitted her deed with the sorcerer almost made her want to jump out of bed now and rush back to the palace ...if jumping were physically possible. Kuja was ...active, a bit aggressive, but took great pride in seeing her writhe and moan.

How would Catherine put it? Oh, yes: "Some men get off when the woman does." Crude, to be sure, but also highly accurate.

Hilda lost her virginity ages ago, wasted on Cid, a man who didn't appreciate the gift of a woman's virtue. He laughed when she bled, gave her no pity when the pain made her sob. Pleasure and climax seemed nothing short of a fairy tale. For a long time, Hilda regretted turning down Sir David's offer of luxury and comfort as his courtesan.

Kuja's tail quivered on her thighs, and she smiled. Run away with him, tempted her inner demon. Steal away into the night and forever open wide your legs. Like her former suitor, Kuja offered luxury and companionship, the comfort of a nobleman in exchange for her body. She'd be Kuja's mistress, his plaything, his trophy, and there would be no politics of a regency. Let it fall, let them die.

And if Kuja ever died?

Her breath caught in her throat. He was a blood mage; she had turned him. Garland put a limit on his life, but she extended them by a significant amount.

But how much?

Courtesans should not be left alone without a gentleman friend. When a lord or duke died, his courtesan usually transferred to another household of his choosing. If Hilda ran away with Kuja now, she'd resign her life and body to that of eternal night and ecstasy. Or a possible arranged marriage to a noble who liked a wife with previous experience.

Let Lindblum burn.

Much like the flames of passion that Kuja stirred within her nerves. His tail started to snake up her thigh, his arm trailed around her waist. He cuddled close, buried his face in her neck. It was similar to their nights in his desert home, only back then, they were fully clothed. His chambers in the palace held riches of marble and stained glass. A greenhouse stood in the sunlight, her place of refuge and relaxation. Freedom called out to her, the chance to do as she pleased. No running around the Lindblum districts trying to play nurse.

May the Black Death triumph.

When Kuja finally woke, he found Hilda out of his arms and sitting on the windowsill. She was nude save for the string of pearls that still hung about her neck. Her gaze focused on the landscape, the trees, the occasional farm animal. Sunlight poured over her skin and hair, making them glisten. He gave a lazy grin. "Remind me to thank your senator."

Hilda chuckled, slight and with a plan. "I wish to see Eiko before we leave here."

"As you wish, lady." He shifted, raising up to rest against the headboard.

"Will you truly give her a home in your palace, Kuja?"

"I'll provide her care and an education," he answered. "And when she's of age, I'll marry her off to some rich nobleman."

Another curt chuckle. "He'll have to be a mage."

"There's plenty of those wandering about." Kuja reached for the water pitcher and poured himself a glass. "I'll most likely find one here." A knock resonated on the door, interrupting his train of thought. "Enter," he said.

Hilda didn't bother to cover up. The servant girl from the previous night walked inside, a folded gown in her hands. "Noel thought you'd require a change of clothes, madam."

"Thank you, dear. You may place it on the bed."

For such a young thing, she showed no shock or blush at a naked man and woman. The girl curtsied and left. Kuja said, "Why do I think she serves the senator in ways that go beyond cooking and cleaning?"

"Because she does," said Hilda, matter-of-factly. "Girls know what to expect when they offer their services in Noel's household."

"Hm," the sorcerer mused.

"Don't pity them, Kuja; Noel treats them very well. He even arranges good marriages for them after he's had his fun."

"You obviously never worked here."

Hilda laughed. "No." The sight of him sparked more interest, curiosity. She crawled back on the bed and straddled his hips over the sheet, leaning forward so their foreheads touched. "Tell me, sorcerer. How much have you truly reformed?"

He kissed her. "Enough to take you back."

"So your time in Alexandria saving lives," she said, weaving her fingers through his hair, "along with the life of the queen, was nothing more than an act? A scene from a new play?"

Another kiss, deeper and longer. "Not an act, lady; more like an obstacle."

"An obstacle to what?"

"To you. I cannot freely walk about Gaia without a pardon."

"So. An. Act." His love of theatre and the arts followed him wherever his boots tread. "You even wore proper costume."

"And you're on the wrong side of this bedsheet." Kuja flipped her, pushed away the cotton fabric. He entwined their fingers. "Give me another romp before we leave, Hilda. I want to see you walk into Lindblum covered with my scent."

She wrapped her legs around his waist, eager to waste away the morning. "Oh, Kuja," she moaned. "You just made my decision so much easier."

Her black cloak matched the new gown from Senator Noel. More modest than the one from Catherine, it still dropped off the shoulders and was lined with a purple corset. Every mark from Kuja lay displayed on her throat and upper chest. What Lady Hilda desired most was a long soak in a hot bath sprinkled with chamomile flowers. Her muscles ached and needed massaged.

Kuja held the scroll of evidence. "Eiko stays with your old tutor, correct?" His back stung from the numerous scratches Hilda left him in the earlier encounter. "Third tree house on the right, past the oratory?"

Hilda stared at him. "I never told you that..."

"Come along then, lady." His grin told a story, a story of secrets and mysteries and more clever acting. He mentally reminded himself to write this all down for future generations.

"Kuja," her voice trailed. Still, she followed him to her childhood tutor's home. "It's several feet off of the ground, sorcerer. Do you wish to use a broom or a rope ladder?"

"Rope ladder," he said quickly. "Ladies first."

An individual who lacked eyesight knew why the sorcerer beckoned his female companion to go on ahead. Kuja did share genetics with Zidane. "Oh, honestly." Hilda pulled herself up, carefully minding the long hem of her gown. Kuja enjoyed the image of her shapely legs.

"MAMA!" yelled an excited young summoner. Eiko bounced on her heels before glomping her mother in a death grip. "Kuja said you wouldn't be here for another week or so."

Arms around her daughter, Hilda turned her head sharply to the man smiling at them from the ground. "Kuja, you lying bastard!"

Eiko erupted into giggles.

One graceful leap, and he joined them on the wooden pathway. "My word, lady; you truly didn't figure it out?" Whenever his eyes twinkled, it meant arrogance and a condescending attitude. "You turned me, gave me your blood. Did you seriously expect that I wouldn't be clever enough to find my way here? How else do you think I learned to master these new powers? Honestly, you were more stressed and exhausted in Lindblum than I thought."

"Is plague still really bad?" asked Eiko.

Kuja nodded. "Terrible."

"And Dagger's all better?"

"The canary is fine."

"Yeah, it's still creepy when you say that."

"Your penmanship is creepy."

More like tilted and crooked and smudged on the parchment. "Kuja, she's left-handed," said Hilda. "Wait ... what is -when-?" The lady looked at the sorcerer and summoner, mouth agape, wondered if she was still asleep in the house of Senator Noel. "How are you two on speaking terms?"

Eiko giggled again, scrambled up the tree trunk and plopped herself on a branch, dangling her legs over the side. "He gave me shell paints for my birthday."

"You mean that art set I saw in your palace?" Hilda asked, still caught in the middle of an odd friendship.

Kuja plucked an apple from an extending branch and wiped it on his cloak. "Better that she draw instead of working on that blasted sampler."

"What? Kuja!" Hilda's hands flew to her hips; her foot tapped menacingly with each raise of her blood pressure. "She needs to learn how to stitch! That's it, where is Miss Rosemary? Miss Rosemary!" She stormed inside the home, nagging clouds and irate thunder claps in her wake.

Her lover and daughter stifled their laughter. "So, why are you guys here early?" Eiko rested her back against the rough trunk.

"Your mother's idea, actually." The apple was sweet, yet slightly tart; a bit like a certain herbalist. "She dragged me here last night."

"Why didn't you visit me last night then?"

" ...We were busy."

"Doing what? ...Nevermind." Those bruises on her mother's throat and collarbone didn't look like they came from a fall or bad burn. "What about the annulment?"

"Senator Noel gave her the evidence she required; it should be granted once we return to Lindblum."

"What about me?"

Kuja tapped his finger against his chin. "I assume your mother will want to clear out the last two districts. Don't hold me to that, however; she was lost in thought this morning." He shrugged. "Either way, we'll retrieve you shortly."

The young summoner sighed. "The regent used to be really nice to mama; you know, after ...everything." Kuja gave an indifferent snort. "But, I don't know, something happened. He just, I don't think he wanted her anymore. It's like he just stopped loving her."

"Oh, Eiko," said Kuja, rolling his eyes. "Tell me you are not that stupid. Do you really think he loved her at all?"

"Well, I don't know. I called him father once."

"Child," he stated. "It's time you realized, like it or not, that the traditional family unit will forever be mother and child. Fathers die in war, or find comfort in other women. They will not always be around to protect what is their own. Far too many cast aside their responsibilities."

She blew a raspberry. "Zidane said something like that too, only, not as fancy."

"The truth can be very blunt and hurtful. You best get used to it."