Mystic: Just when I think my creative juices are all dried out, I climb inside Kuja's head and stay awhile. It's okay. His mind's all squishy.
The Conversion Regeneration - AKA Kuja's Story
Most men hold a very perverse response when they answer the question: why do you frequent the Treno brothels? If you are not a complete moron, you'd quickly realize that I'm not most men. My answer to such a question is thus: I get lonely and don't often like to sleep by myself. The extra gil to engage in certain physical activity that usually precludes sleep is more than worth it, of course.
Stop giggling, moron. I'm no Regent Cid Fabool. Oh, yes; I've heard all the rumours of his whoredom. If my current bedpartner should be believed (and I don't think she lies), he's probably rot with disease as well. Alright, now you may giggle. Not too much, because you'll get on my nerves.
Alright, that's enough.
You see, my current bedpartner keeps me company in way that doesn't really require any lovemaking. I wouldn't mind it naturally, but she's has yet to offer herself to me and I'm not about to force it on her. Even I'm not that evil. Eventually she'll come around and respond to my kindness. (And I hope it's soon. She's blonde.)
...I'm sorry. Pardon my train of thought. (A pretty blonde.)
Oh, fine; she's a pretty blonde witch. And I adore creatures of beauty.
Do you think I care she's technically married? Ah, weren't expecting that were you? Lady Hilda Fabool of Lindblum shares my palace and bedchambers. My description of her as witch is a slight exaggeration, but it sounds less graphic than blood mage. I still sealed off my broom closet. I've read the legends and history books.
Those grim fairy tales failed to mention that blood mages can compel the mind. Here I thought only I knew that technique. Hmph, silly me. That was the day I learned Lady Hilda was a surprising force when it pertained to spells ...and that she liked to cuddle.
Seriously, stop your giggling.
I'll admit, it stopped my nightmare. (Please, do not ask.) Hence the reason she shares my chambers without the price of her body. (An hourglass shaped body, too. Hm? What?) Hilda sleeps beside me at night, and I rest with peaceful dreams. As for the reason my thoughts are rambling like a troll in heat (...what?), that's because it is well past midnight and she is not in my chambers. There is no feminine form curled against my chest, no soft hair nestled beside mine.
I can't sleep like this.
I slid on a silk robe to keep out any chill as I searched for my ...hm, come to think of it, the term prisoner doesn't quite make sense like it used to. A ward perhaps? No, she's not an orphan child I've agreed to raise as my own. Once I'm well-rested, I'll think of an appropriate term to describe our relationship. Wait, that's not right either.
...oh, sweet Shiva. I'm not thinking straight and it's that bloody witch's fault.
Hm, blood. And there's a full crimson moon out tonight. Ah ... I've still got it!
Why is my broom closet smoking? One, two, three ... three? One of them is missing...
How did she break my seal?!
I didn't run outside, I sprinted. She'd better not even try to run off on me. I'll search for her all over Gaia, kidnap her from her private quarters in Lindblum and - oh, there she is. Seated atop my greenhouse. My word, she's a strange little thing. "Lady?" I called out. The missing broom sat beside her.
"Mm?" She leaned down, smiled when she noticed me. "Hello, sweetie."
Lately, her blonde hair's been flying free across her shoulders. I like that; it's pretty. "Is that what you're calling me now?" A person looking in on us would surely get the wrong idea. "What are you doing out here? It's late."
"Come join me, sorcerer."
Well, it's more dignified than 'sweetie'. I acquiesced, and leapt. Almost immediately, the lady plopped herself on my lap. It was natural, how well she fit against me. The scent of gentle lavender and rose-water surrounded her. Very pleasant, very female, very - hold on. There was something else, something more earthy and iron. I grabbed her wrist, not caring that she grimaced out of pain. "What witchcraft did you chant?" A woman's wrist should be delicate and smooth, not wrapped with a bloodied and dried bandage.
"Blood magic," she answered.
She tried to pull back, but I held firm. "So you maim yourself? Foolishness, Hilda."
"A scar is a small price to pay for your safety." I let go at her words. My safety? I'm never in mortal danger. "Drink this and don't make me regret it." She handed me a flask half-filled with my favourite wine.
Part of the liquid was wine. The rest was her. "Hilda, what spell is this?"
"I don't trust Garland."
Join the club, lady. We have t-shirts somewhere. "And you expect me to imbibe your blood like some rogue vamp -"
"No." She put a finger to my lips before I finished the 'forbidden' word. "You know that's not what we are. My blood will protect you, nothing more."
"I don't require your protection."
"Kuja, please." She turned in my lap so she faced me straight and flush, those long legs of hers on either side my hips. "Let me help you. You're bitter and terrifying and I live in fear every day I'm around you, but I'm offering you a part of me so you can survive."
It's not the part I want, lady.
"Excuse me?!"
Oh, I did not intend to say that out loud. My mistake. She scrambled so quickly out of my lap, I swore I almost saw eggs.
"Get up!"
"Don't you dare order me around, Hilda!"
"I wasn't talking to you, Kuja!" My broom floated beside her, remained still as she climbed aboard. I admit, that's rather impressive. "I've been insulted by a man once before, sorcerer. Never will I stoop so low by bedding my warden."
Fine, then. Prisoner it is. "Get down from there, lady, and go to my chambers." It's apparent I've been too kind to the female; I must rectify that and remind her of her place.
Lady Hilda flashed me a grin so unlike her in previous days, one of malicious intent, of witchcraft, of defiance. Nobody of sound mind defies me. "You'll have to catch me first." And she left. She flew off cackling like the old crones that reside in the forests.
Oh, no; she didn't.
"HILDA!"
Don't think of me too crude; any gentleman would take advantage of a woman flying high through the air. I mentioned previously the lady's lovely long legs, and a night-shift and robe don't make for the most modest of attire. Excuse me for indulging in the image.
Alright, pleasure of the eyes over. Now I make chase and capture the little witch. Watch, this is brilliant. Someone should write it all down and turn it into an opera. Maybe I will after it's all said and done.
Hilda gasped when I steadied behind her, screamed when I grabbed her waist. (So slim too.) A hand over her mouth halted that eventual tantrum. "One more word, lady," I warned, willfully making my voice as dark as possible, "and you'll find yourself in another bind." She nodded, eyes wide with what I knew was fear. "Good girl," I said, taking in the scent of her hair. "Now put my broom back on the ground."
Fingers still on her lips, she whispered, "Go down."
Yes, yes; I'm well aware of the perverse and hidden meaning of those two words but mid-air is neither the time nor place. No, the dirt upon which we've landed isn't either. Not in my opinion anyway. I released the hold on her mouth, but not on her middle. Thankfully, she only stared at me, green eyes full of sharpness and steel nerves.
"Well, my lady? Who's cackling now?" I held her flush against my chest. One, because it reminded her of the mage in charge; and two, because it felt very good. "You may speak if you must." No, I'm still not letting go.
"Kuja," she said. "Just take my blood. That is all I will ever ask of you."
Interesting. Every time Lady Hilda speaks my name, my heart flutters for a brief moment. Heartbeat, of course. I told you I'm not thinking straight. My curiosity won out and my palm found its way to her chest. Through the thin fabric of her shift, where her breath caused the rise and fall of her breasts, I felt the steady thump of her heart. Several seconds later, my palm smoothed to the left. A second, smaller heart slowly drummed a separate rhythm.
Patrons of Treno might consider this groping; I call it an examination. "Will I grow another heart?"
She nodded. "Eventually, yes."
"Will I grow another of ...something else?" Okay, now you may think of me a bit crude. I'm simply curious, honest.
The lady sighed. "Every male convert asks that."
"And how many men have you converted?"
"Zero, Kuja. I hope you'd do me the honor of being my first."
Yes, well; pretty positive I missed out on that honor - oh, she means convert. Yet one more mistake due to my exhausted mind. "First and only?"
"... That's the idea."
"Do I grow another -?"
"No," she answered quickly. "And before you ask anything else, it doesn't become double-pronged either."
Hmph, a slight disappointment. "Look at me, lady Hilda. Blink." Smart woman, she obeyed. A flash of black cloaked her pupils. Not quite sure the darkness matched my complexion. "For Gaia's sake," I finally said. "Why even bother?"
"Please, Kuja." My one heart fluttered again, but I think because she attempted to take control and grab me by the collar of my robe. Desperation made women do the strangest things. "Let me help you. Let me see you live beyond whatever you have planned."
"Hilda, I look at you almost every single day and I don't understand a thing about you."
Here stood a woman who claimed she felt fear, yet wanders about my palace like a wife. She rambles in my kitchen, harvests from my greenhouse, reads books from my library. We share a bed together, a pillow even, and she desires I take her blood. I continued to hold her by the waist while we stood together under in the twin moonlight. But I wasn't alone in that action. She held me at the shoulder.
"Sorcerer, what am I to you?"
Hmph, good question. At my hesitation, she asked again. "Am I your prisoner, Kuja, or a random woman who stayed on the wrong airship?" I shall take that as an insult, but she ran her mouth some more. "There are moments when I never want to leave your side, but other times I think I shall risk an escape. You tell me you're cruel, you tell me of Garland, but I don't see any of that toward me. Tell me what I am, Kuja, because I don't know anymore!"
No, no; don't start. Please don't. Ifrit's horns, tears are flowing down her face. What a hassle. After a few minutes of her sobs, I remembered what happens to lady's mind when wrought with distress. It weakens tremendously, almost snaps in twain. Perfect for me.
"Hilda," I said. "Shh..." My fingertips went to her temples, a soft touch all it required.
She realized too late what I was doing. "Kuja, no!"
"Go to sleep."
"...No, I don't want to." Her voice grew quieter.
"Don't fight it." I felt her mind begin to drift. "Just relax. Sleep." Resistance is pointless. When will people learn? I caught her when she collapsed.
Not to worry. I still plan on teaching Hilda her place.
Lady Hilda's place, of course, was beside me in my bed. And yet, sleep eluded me despite the late hours. Like all other nights, Hilda lay her head across my shoulder, her arm over my stomach. Thanks to my sleep spell, she'd remain in such a state for several hours. Two heartbeats drummed against my side.
On my night table sat the flask. The flask. What I called witchcraft, she called blood magic. I ran a finger along the intricate etching; a fancy, swirled 'H' carved into the silver. The potent potion of wine and blood did nothing to my physical form. Only one heart nestled in my chest. For now, I thought.
What was she?
What would she ever be?
Hilda gave a happy sigh as she slept against me, a small smile about her lips. Always clever, the little witch. While I waited for any effect, she shifted closer, tighter. Nay, I think lover is out of the question for the time being. She's still quite broken from an unhappy marriage. Tch, humans. Pitiful creatures.
Moments before I resorted to a sleep spell on my person, I breathed. One deep breath, but something felt ...off. Not necessarily wrong, just -
I exhaled a cloud of golden dust.