Mystic: Okay, okay. I'm sorry, alright?! I experimented with a shortfic the way some girls experiment in college. You're welcome.

Dream Weaver

I fear I must apologize to whoever chose to read my words. Certain plants in my garden are not classified as 'GRAS', a term we blood mages use that means 'generally recognized as safe'. There are a few that rank as poison because of the dramatic effects on the respiratory system. With extreme caution, they are useful for surgery or last resort pain relief. But I digress, back to my apology.

You see, one beautiful plant is so dangerous that not even us blood mages care to look at it. I'm the rare exception. Another mage of other rank might treasure it for its effects on the mind, the subconscious really. Deadly nightshade: the name alone gives one a chill down their back. It opens a level of euphoria, a feel of flying, and is a slight aphrodisiac. Certain rogues ingested it prior to, er, adult get-togethers. So to speak.

Alright, alright; I'll assume that whoever is reading this is an adult. Orgies.

(I recall in my early travels with Lord Kuja, I almost explained the mechanics of an orgy to a quaint black mage who seemed unnaturally curious on why his lordship liked to frequent Treno. Thankfully, before any explanation of flailing limbs and who-on-who or what-goes-where, Kuja required my assistance in healing a cold sore he acquired on his lip because again - Treno. No woman of class should dare walk around without a chastity belt. How my niece left the city intact is beyond me.)

Back to the nightshade.

Blood mages don't like it because along with it opening the mind or other areas, it is the one 'poison' that instantly stops our hearts. Dead. No detox, no antitoxin. Dead. As for why I'm the brave fool, well, I'm sorry. Look back to part four of this story of mine. Chaste tree is an anti-aphrodisiac, and I needed the extra help to prevent myself from jumping into Kuja's bed.

It's the codpiece; it excites me.

No, I have no idea why.

Alongside the chaste tree extract, another secret ingredient was in that tea of mine.

Catherine found the body first, and screamed. Her mistress, the woman who saved her from the brothel and her mother's lack of footsteps, lay unconscious, slowly dying. Blood trickled from the lady's mouth. She screamed again, yelled for somebody, anybody. A silver-haired sorcerer would be preferred. Catherine wanted to move her away from the balcony, but feared to do so.

It was the silver-haired sorcerer that reached them first. "Hilda!" he exclaimed, voice wrought with worry. "By the scales of Bahamut, what has happened?!" He bent down, cradled the pretty blonde against his chest.

Catherine choked. "I just found her! Billie gave her tea, chaste tree."

A slender hand felt Hilda's forehead, grazed her pale lips, then rested against her bodice. His eyes widened. "One of her hearts still beats." Though slow, weak. "The tea, where is it?" They found it empty by Hilda's outstretched hand. One sniff, and Kuja knew. He crushed the cup with little effort. "Belladonna," he said.

"What the hellfire is that?"

There was no time. None at all to spare. Kuja snapped his fingers at the maid. "Hawthorne," he ordered. "Now. And a syringe. And for Shiva's sake, run and do this quickly before I light a fire under you!"

She took off, red hair flying, skirts gathered in her palms. Kuja wiped away the blood, placed both hands at the lady's temples. "Curaga," he said with haste. The spell bought him some time anyway. Her body seized in his arms. "My lady, I did not earn a stupid pardon from that canary just to see the only good thing in my life die!"

"Here, here!" Catherine nearly threw the sorcerer the necessary supplies. She supported her mistress' head with a small pillow. "I knocked down Artania."

Kuja worked with a speed the maiden had never seen before. "Who cares?" Filling the syringe with the extract of Hawthorne, he ripped open Hilda's bodice with a ferocity similar to men in brothels. "Whoever did this was a moron. She ingested half of a lethal dose. Keep her still." The maiden did as instructed, while the sorcerer plunged the needle through skin and tissue.

"Revive!" he said.

Hilda breathed, coughed up blood. Catherine carefully rolled her lady over on her side, while Kuja rested back against his heels, relieved. Against the fabric of his robe, he felt gentle fingers squeeze his leg. Another cough came from Hilda, and he took her hand while she stared at him through lidded eyes. "I'm no moron," she whispered. "I knew exactly what I was doing."

Catherine gasped. "Are you mad?!"

"There's a very thin line between madness and cleverness," Kuja stated. "Believe me, I know." He didn't bother to readjust Hilda's bodice to a more appropriate appearance. As he scooped her up in his arms and stood to his feet, the flash of bare breast almost made the ordeal worth it. "Clean this up," came his order. "And when you're done, meet me in my chambers. Bring those two friends of yours."

For a whore's daughter, his request barely ruffled any feathers. She'd seen and heard worse.

There was a stethoscope on her chest, that much she knew. And a thermometer in the corner of her mouth. She was propped up on a bed, surrounded by pillows and the overwhelming scent of sage, and someone had their fingers on her wrist. She groaned.

"Quiet," said a voice. Kuja. "I get grumpy when I lose count."

No argument there. There were others in the room, but her mind was still hazy, like in a fog after a rainstorm. She wanted to look at the sorcerer, but at the same time, she didn't dare. Her subconscious gave her plenty warning of what might be if the pair ever ran away together. Not that it was completely bad, mind you. If she relaxed and shut her eyes, she still felt the dirt and leaves against her back while they tumbled roughly outdoors in the realm. Again, not a poor image.

The fingers left her wrist. "Pulse steady," said Kuja. "How is her heart?"

No more stethoscope. "Strong, no damage." Freema.

"The other one?"

"She's fine."

Another pair of hands removed the thermometer. "A bit feverish, though." Billie.

A knock resounded on the chamber door, opened when Kuja gave his permission but which he deeply regretted when Regent Cid waltzed inside. "Hilda!" His wife looked comfortable, but pale and sickly. Two handmaidens stood by her side, Billie and Catherine, the third sat a desk, Freema, still recovering from a bout of plague. A silver-haired sorcerer stood at the foot of the bed, hand on his hip and not pleasant. "Hilda, what did you do?" He wanted to rush over to her, hold her hand, something anything, but he'd have to brush past Kuja first.

Hilda shook her head, softly smiled. "I can't clearly remember; it's all fading away. Like a dream."

"Deadly nightshade," answered Kuja. His tea pot began to bubble and boil.

"Quiet," Hilda said. "You both lied to me." Both men stared at her, questioning. "Cid, I'm sorry; we never were really married. You know that and we do not need some piece of paper from my senator to prove it."

"But you gave your full consent."

"A consent I had no right to give by blood mage law. Our tribunal debates are meaningless. That was my mistake, Cid, and you have my apology."

"Darling, it wasn't all you."

"Of course, it wasn't," she breathed. "You deceived me on our wedding day."

Kuja smirked, the handmaidens remained silent. "The affair was my mistake," said Cid. "I never planned for it to happen."

"That's not what I'm talking about." No tears, not now. Her heart couldn't handle it. "You can't have children."

Two handmaidens gasped, the third bit her lip to stifle unprofessional laughter.

"That was your deception," continued Hilda. "A lie. We vowed to be open to life, and you withheld necessary information of your sterility."

Kuja almost laughed alongside Catherine. "That invalidates a marital union?"

"Not the infertility itself, only the fact that he hid it from me."

A false vow, one he could never disprove. The regent, born into nobility, always suspected his inability to father children. More than a few noblemen throughout Gaia have a handful of illegitimate children. Hardly worth the scandal, it was almost expected of them, but no former lover of Cid's ever came knocking at his door demanding monetary retribution nine months later. And it wasn't as if he were ever careful.

No one came knocking at Kuja's door either, but only because a true sorcerer knows how to prevent anything unplanned. (Once though, at the old opera house, he noticed a loudmouth toddler with a lovely shade of silver hair. It might have been the wine playing tricks with his eyes, but he could have sworn he saw a tuft of a tail peeking out from the little girl's skirts. He never did get a good look at the mother, just in case he recognized the woman.)

The teapot whistled. "My lord," said Billie.

"Yes," answered Kuja and Cid simultaneously.

"I meant the sorcerer. The white willow is ready."

Another herb with heart benefits. "Give ten ounces to your mistress. The remainder can be given to Freema."

Freema nodded her gratitude.

Regent Cid had no other words other than, "you're right."

"May we please stop the tribunal courts? It's not needed."

"We can."

"I will stay and take care of the plague as best as my ability allows; myself and Kuja. Afterward, I will take my leave." Her speech came quickly, easily. "You may see Eiko whenever you wish, I will not keep you from her."

"That's fair. Hilda, where will you go?" As if he didn't already suspect the answer.

Hilda glanced at Kuja. "Why do you think he's here? That pardon from Garnet was never for his own self-gratification."

"Well," the sorcerer teased, "I wouldn't go that far."

White willow bark tea steamed and offered healing; Hilda drank a mouthful. "Now," she said seriously, "I wish to speak to a certain plague doctor alone."

"My lady, I never lied to you."

Pfft. "Do not underestimate deadly nightshade, Kuja." She tapped her temple. "A tiny half-dose was all I required."

"Madness," he said.

"You were here; I knew you'd revive me."

Regent Cid already shut the door behind him, the three handmaidens gathered their supplies in order to take their leave. Kuja, not one to forget his manners, gave them a sweeping bow. "My gratitude to you, ladies. Very well done."

Catherine winked. "Yeah, I've heard that before." Her companions shared a giggle.

"Before you go," Hilda smiled. "Catherine, Freema; you two will remain under my employment as I don't want either of you returning to your mothers."

"Thank you."

"What?"

"Billie, I'd like for you to remain here and keep an eye on Artania. Can you do that for me?"

Billie didn't answer with words, but nodded, a noticeable blush about her face.

"Oh, come on!" yelled Catherine. "At least let me see my mother for a few weeks. Just a visit anyway, she's retired."

"Is she?"

"Weeeelll, let's call it 'upper management'."

"You three are dismissed."

Supplies were gathered, skirts were curtsied - well, except for one redhead who tossed her hair back and flounced away without any act of respect. Freema took the opportunity for a long nap herself. That left two blood mages alone in a quaint bedchamber, one already lying on the bed.

Lady Hilda flexed her left wrist, a scar ached and throbbed, red and very swollen. "Well then, sorcerer, how goes the day? When you spoke with my daughter, what fairy tale did you recite for her?"

Kuja, in all his years and experience, made a mental reminder to remove Deadly Nightshade from his inventory. "You were not supposed to be aware of that yet."

"Do you wish to know how I know a man is lying to me?"

"Reveal your secret then."

Her grin was not that of a proper noblewoman. "Because his mouth is moving."