Fan Fiction ❯ Shielded in Broken Armours ❯ Part 3: Rise of the Phoenix ( Chapter 18 )
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Fantasy / Adventure | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 11.30.2004 | Pages: 2 | Words: 4.1K | Visits: 148 | Status: Completed
by Alice Montrose
completed July 31, 2004
Chapter Eighteen
Marzio made it to Meralda by Midwinter, just as he had hoped. Unfortunately, his other hope - that he would forget about Ignis for a while - did not come true. As days and weeks passed by, he had felt the prince's absence keener than he had before, especially now that he was surrounded by people he knew and who knew him. Their presence was welcomed... but something was missing.
He'd also run across some of his former lovers in Court. And while he liked having his friends around, his former lovers were an entirely different story - especially those who had tried to get him back into their bed for however long they were willing to this time. He found this utterly disgusting - and them rather plain compared to Ignis. He knew it was not at all a fair comparison, but he couldn't help making it every time someone showed interest in him. He found himself looking at red-haired courtiers more than he looked at others, but he was still not satisfied. That something was still missing.
Finally he'd given up on the idea of finding a new lover anytime soon - technically he and Ignis had never broken up, had they? - and abandoned Mnemon for a few quiet weeks spent with his family.
Everyone at Meralda Castle had been overjoyed to have him back, from his family to the lowest servant. He found himself cosseted from the day he'd gotten there, and treated as if he had been gone for ages, not a mere year and a half. He had missed them as well, and delighted his niece and nephew with stories of his exploits.
Still, that did not explain why he spent most of his nights awake, exploring the castle that had housed many generations of the Zain-Reil family and which should have made him feel at home, yet did not. It didn't account for him daydreaming about things beyond his reach.
And it did not account for him being all alone in the library two nights before the Midwinter Festival, leaning against the cold glass of a window with his gaze lost in the distance.
Just like his friends and acquaintances, his family had noticed the changes in him, but had yet to confront him about this. Therefore it was no great surprise when his uncle approached him that night.
Marzio had not heard him come into the room, but he had been lost in thought for nearly two hours so to him it was understandable. There was only one man who could have made him aware of his presence the instant he was in the room, and it wasn't Lord Derek Zain-Reil. Therefore the hand on his shoulder startled him a bit, and he turned questioning green eyes on his uncle.
The Count looked young for his age, which was nearing its sixth decade. He was a bit shorter and sturdier than Marzio, and his hair was nearly white now. Yet his eyes had not changed, of a dark blue colour and betraying wisdom. Derek had been in the army as a youth, but had not made a career out of it as had Marcus, his elder brother and Marzio's father. Instead, he had been the one in charge of the family's estate, and had done a great job in Marzio's opinion. Sadly, he had never married and had no children of his own; it had come as no great surprise when he had practically 'adopted' his brother's family after Marcus' death and had named Marzio his heir.
And now, he was there to confront his nephew about whatever troubled him. And the young general was not sure he was ready to speak about it just yet.
There was a short silence before Derek asked Marzio to sit down and talk to him. The younger Angelian nodded and did as told, not certain what he could tell his uncle and what he should keep to himself. After all, Derek was one of the 'old school' Angelians and there was no way to predict his reaction at the news that his nephew was in love with the Prince of Demonis. Still, there were other matters, such as those Marzio had already discussed with Ceni and Selena, and they were a much safer topic. The count may have been 'old school', but he was also tolerant and open-minded.
Marzio's discoveries about the Demons' nature and the differences between Angelian beliefs and reality were met with a raised brow, but as he continued his explanation as to why he though diplomatic relations with Demonis had to be improved Marzio was amazed to see his uncle nod several times.
"Ideas such as these will be frowned upon in many circles," he finally said. "But I can understand their appeal to you. And while many people will not understand them, the younger generation can be influenced much easier. If a long-term peace treaty between our lands is achieved, mentality is bound to change due to the cultural exchange. Still, I am not overly-confident in this treaty project the Demons have come up with."
Marzio shook his head. "It is a revolutionary concept, uncle. I read it, and could see little wrong with it. I'm sure they will come to a settlement that is beneficial to both sides. From what I have seen, the Demons are very open to other cultures, ours in particular. Think about the Mauri Confederation and what has been accomplished there!"
A shadow ran over Lord Derek's face. "Yes, it is true. The Confederation is a perfect example of cohabitation and collaboration between our two people. Yet I doubt Prince Sagni-Dor will be careless to open his borders to everyone once a peace treaty has been signed. From what you tell me, he is much too clever to make such a great mistake."
Marzio, who had taken care not to talk about Ignis unless he did it in the most detached way he could manage, could not help startle a bit at his uncle's mention of his beloved.
"Yes, he is... an extraordinary person," he replied, his eyes positively glowing at a more private memory of the red-haired Demon. "He had a great influence on me," he finally admitted, to his uncle as well as to himself.
Derek's gaze darkened at that. "I can see that you have indeed changed a lot, and hope it's for the better. But I want you to listen to my advice. I know that the Demons are an appealing people to us, but their influence is not always a good thing. I too have been fascinated by them in my youth, and that experience has left a bitter taste in my mouth. I cannot say it will be the same with you, as your experience was different from mine. But promise me you will be careful, and not take everything you saw or heard when you were among them at eye value. I hope you have not been deceived, but still it would be better to be cautious when it comes to trusting a Demon. You never know what surprises he has in store for you."
Derek's bitter tone was clear, and Marzio wondered what had happened to make his uncle think that way. Yet he did not wish to upset him, so he promised to think things over again. He did not believe Ignis had deliberately deceived him... but could he have done it unintentionally?
The thing was, he realized after his uncle had left, that it did not matter. He still missed Ignis more than he'd thought it possible, and the more time he spent away from him the more his longing grew.
On the other side of the Mauri, things were not going much better.
The Midwinter Day celebration was the usual loud and lavish affair, with all the important families attending the celebrations at Court and everybody reminiscing what the year had been like for them and sharing stories with anyone that was willing to listen.
All those present seemed to be in good spirits... All safe him, that is. Ignis, seated in his regular place at the high table, tried his best not to let his foul mood show and pretend he was actually interested in what was being said to him. He masked a yawn fixing his eyes on the man speaking to him over the table, a young thing he had not seen before but whose parents had to have enough money to introduce their son at Court. He could not remember the youth's name, nor could he remember those of all the others that had spoken to him that evening.
To the Prince of Demonis, life had lost its taste. He was aching. And the worst thing was he had begun to alienate himself from his friends, spending more and more time buried in work. The more he kept busy, the less time there was for memories to invade him, for him to think of Marzio.
Seated next to him, Sanja had made another off-hand comment. He knew that because Tempesta was rolling her eyes, annoyed with the other woman. It was just as well - he had no idea what Lucifer's niece had said. To him, the whole congregation was moving in slow motion. He could see people laughing, drinking too much, dropping their food, flirting, trying to sneak out with a lover or a bed companion and find an empty room.
It was that which bothered him most. He could have anyone in there, had he wished to. But the only one that he wanted was not present, and he did not even know if he would see the man again.
"... and it would be wonderful if you could attend, my lord. Oh please, will you come?"
He sighed. Where did the accursed woman want to take him this time? "I'm sorry, my lady, but I am extremely busy these days. I am trying to improve the efficiency of..." Of what? He had no idea what to tell her, he had already come up with all the possible excuses.
"Our southern commercial routes," Tempesta offered.
"But you were working on that one month ago!" the woman complained.
"Well, I was not satisfied with the result!"
His voice had been loud enough to interrupt all conversation at the adjoining tables. Damn! He held his forehead in one hand and fought the sudden desire to scream. He was getting angry. He never got angry. Jaded, annoyed, nervous perhaps, but not angry. He had to get out of there, and soon!
He got up. "Please excuse me. I am not feeling very well tonight. It must be all the wine. Have a pleasant evening."
"Good night, Your Highness," several dozen mouths said at the same time.
He made for the nearest door and hurried down the corridor with no precise destination. Things were beginning to get out of hand, and that was never a good sign. Not for him, who had always been able to control his emotions. All he felt now was a great emptiness eating his insides, getting hold of him every time he closed his eyes.
'Why do I have to keep going on like this? Why can't I forget him?'
Without realizing it, he approached the palace gardens. Everything was covered in a thick layer of snow, small stars glittering surreally in the night light. No windows here, no candlelight to spoil the moon's gilding on the pure white. Strangely, it was not excessively cold either. Alone under an arch, the prince felt he was part of a large spell that shrouded this little piece of the world, and his heart with it.
He had to try and forget the bitterness. It was not the end of the world. He had to move on, like he had already done three times before.
'Yes, but this time it's different. He isn't dead.
'I wonder what he's doing tonight. Has he found someone to keep him warm, or is he feeling as cold and alone as I do?'
"My lord, there you are!"
He startled and turned to see who dared disturb him. Sanja again. It seemed the woman never got tired of stalking him. He had to put an end to this, and soon; or he might do something he would later regret.
"What is it now?" he asked passively, keeping his eyes on the snow-covered path guarded by evergreens.
"My Lord Prince, I cannot help but notice you have been extremely weary these past weeks."
'And here you are ready to revel in it!' He kept the thought to himself. "Lady, I have an excessive amount of work, and it requires my full attention."
"But you hardly come down to dinner anymore! You missed my coming of age party!"
'I know, you stubborn goat! And I did it on purpose, in case you haven't noticed!' "My apologies, I have had the tendency to lose track of time lately. Now, what was it that you wished again?"
She looked at him with puppy eyes, smiling shyly at him, as if she had been taken aback by his question. "My Lord Prince, if I do not ask too much... I was wondering if you would be free to accompany me to the ball Lady Teresa is having in two weeks' time."
'So you can brag about it for months to come, and have everybody think we do a lot more than share the occasional dance,' he completed the phrase in his mind. 'How predictable.' He pretended to think about it a little. "Let me see... Lady Teresa is having a party when? Oh yes. But I am afraid I have an official meeting that evening, and it would be absolutely impossible to reschedule it."
"Your Highness, why are you doing this?" she suddenly cried out, and gripped his arm as if she was drowning and he was her only way to salvation. "Why do you always push me away? You know I would do anything for you, anything. Just tell me what you wish and it shall be done. Should I lie at your feet and beg for your attention? I can do that. Only please, let me... let me love you!"
He was sick of her, sick to the point of nausea. "You don't get it, do you?" he said coldly, pulling himself from her grip so powerfully she was forced to take a few steps back in order to regain balance. "All that I want - all that I ever wanted - is to be left alone! You irritate me. I don't want anything to do with you, or any of your annoying friends!"
His voice had been devoid of all emotion. He could not feel a thing for her, not even pity. She was just another one in a row. Marzio had been so much more than that...
"But my prince..." Sanja tried.
"Don't call me that! Don't ever call me that!" He took a step forward giving her a look that could have frozen a river. Only Marzio could call him that, on such a tone. "Did you really think that I wouldn't find out about what you and your accursed uncle have so carefully planned? Well think again. I know very well what you are after, lady. And you are not going to get it."
She looked up at him, terrified. "Who told you such lies, my lord? Who told you these terrible things? I swear, they are not true! All I want is..."
"... to get into my bed, have me get you pregnant and then force me to take you as my Consort. Yes, I know." His voice was malicious now. "If you really want to do me a favour, remove yourself from my presence. I want nothing to do with a leech! Are you still here? Go on, run away!" he snarled at her. She took off instantly, tripping on her overflowing dress several times before she was out of sight.
He returned to watching the moonlit garden. It seemed some semblance of inner peace had returned to him. At least he would not have to fend Sanja off on every occasion anymore. He doubted she would still say she loved him after this little display. She was weak - he did not like them weak. He needed someone who could take care of himself, who would be his equal in certain aspects. He needed someone who would make him laugh at his ingenuity, who would be unconsciously overprotective and always willing to experiment something new. Someone who would be content with an embrace and not ask him to do things constantly.
Who was he trying to fool? He needed Marzio. The Angelian High Commander was all he could think of. He didn't know why he had bothered not to admit it
Footsteps made him put his thoughts aside once again and turn to face this new intruder. He sighed; he had nothing to fear from her, at least. He even tried his best to smile as she approached.
"What happened to Lucifer's niece? She burst into the hall in hysterics. They had to carry her to her room."
"Good." He looked at the snow that had begun to fall slowly, reaching out to capture some of the flakes. They fell on his gloved hand and melted almost instantly. He rested his back against one of the columns supporting the arcade and sighed. "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"
"Why won't you tell anyone what troubles you, Ignis? You can't go on like this, you know."
He could sense her honest-felt concern. All she wanted was to know he was not in any danger, and that whatever bothered him would pass. The Prince of Demonis could not afford to show weakness in front of his enemies. They would instantly take advantage of it.
"I tried to forget, but there is no way I can get him out of my mind."
"Marzio?"
He nodded.
"You still love him, don't you?"
"Worse. I am madly in love with him. And you know what the worst part is? I couldn't bring myself to tell him this. I was too busy worrying whether he was really the one or I was just trying to convince myself." He leaned his head back and stared at the sky. "She was right, Tempesta. I am not the only one to decide if this is going to happen now, or not at all."
"Ignis, you are getting cryptic here. I can't understand a word of that last phrase."
Another sigh. "Don't worry, you don't have to. Let's just say that, if he does not come back to me, all I have struggled for might have been in vain, and we might have butchered a few thousand Angelians for nothing. How long do you think this peace treaty will last? Until I am dead, if we get lucky."
Tempesta placed a hand on his shoulder. "You worry too much. You never know... maybe someone will show up and sweep you off your feet. Another handsome soldier, only Demon this time?"
She hit a nerve there, though he could not hold it against her. She was only trying to get him out of this sour mood.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but it is either Marzio or no one at all. He is, after all, my soul-mate. However, to answer your question: yes, I am going to stop acting like all my ships have drowned, and concentrate on more mundane matters from now on."
She glared at him. "How did you...?"
"Know you were about to ask me that? Does it really matter? I'll go to bed now. And when I wake up in the morning, the Angelian delegation would do well and be ready to finally discuss those damned details of the treaty we haven't settled yet."
The Demon Supreme Commander watched her friend and liege leave, curiosity creeping all over her. Ignis had called Marzio Zain-Reil his soul-mate. She wondered if that could possibly be true, if the handsome Angelian had meant a little more for her prince than a lover.
And the puzzling words... who was the mysterious woman Ignis brought up every now and then, and whose opinion had repeatedly topped those of his advisors? She sighed, looking at the marvellous snow-covered vision of the garden. She would probably not find out, the prince could be impossibly secretive when he chose to. She was certain he had told Keefer. Master of the Monastery and Ignis' beloved teacher, the old Dreak was the only Luminate in the land, the only one to be offered the guidance of the Sorceress.
Actually, she had walked in on them in the middle a discussion involving the mystical creature once. And even now, it seemed strange how Ignis had replied 'I know exactly what you must have felt like' when Master Keefer had accounted one of his particular vivid dreams...
Tempesta's hand landed on her forehead hard enough to make it sting.
'Vivid dreams! Why haven't I thought of it before? Perhaps... perhaps the old Dreak isn't the only Luminate in the land, after all!'
But it would be too much, even for Ignis. He was not only a charming and intelligent young man and a skilled warrior; he was also gifted with the Healing Touch, and carried the problems of a whole country on his shoulders. Surely, he was a good ruler, although it had cost him very much to achieve that. His private life was all he had left that was somewhat his own, and that was not much better at that particular moment. Also, all the Princes and Princesses of the House of Sagni-Dor had displayed a particular talent at reading people like an open book. There was even an old story about an eccentric Prince who could read people's minds, though that must have been pure fantasy.
But if you added to all that he gift of Vision that was offered by the Sorceress' guidance, you were presented with a lethal combination. And Ignis was of course Chosen...
Another slap followed the first; then the general began laughing madly. This couldn't be... it was too good to be true...
'Ignis, the Chosen Prince! Lucifer would have a stroke!' And a Luminate also - when it was commonly known that the haughty High Priest had not once been gifted with a Vision, in spite of his position. 'Come to think of it, Ignis also had something to do with that particular revelation... Ah, my sneaky friend, you should have told me something of such proportions was in the making!'
It was all in the Prophecy, and so far she had been completely blind. The thousandth year, the Chosen Prince, a war between the lands, the coming of the Angel of Peace... If these events were indeed the same ones taking place right then, she had a fairly good idea who the latter would be. 'Why General Zain-Reil, no wonder he didn't want you killed. And the two of you were lovers... I never thought you could be that important!'
Holding her head, Tempesta swiftly made her way back into the banquet hall. She needed wine, and badly. Suddenly, getting drunk was a bright prospect to confronting the prince about this matter. A good headache would account for her crazy ideas when she woke up the following day, and she would just blame it on her inebriated mind.
Or so she hoped.