Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ When I Faltered ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

A/N: Chapter 4 done! Now I need to redo Ch 5 and add to 6. Thank you for sticking with me and taking the time to read this, I hope you enjoy!

 

When her fever broke and she felt she could breathe, she gazed about her room listlessly, her bed covers covered in sweat. It took what felt like ages for her to be able to find the strength to confidently climb out of bed, still naked from the two nights past, hair matted to the sides of her face and neck.

When the pain had begun to crawl and sink it’s fangs into her nerves, she had wondered if someone was coming to give her anything to abate the agony she was plunging into. After several hours, when her vision began to swim, she knew then that no such comfort would be afforded her.

She was being punished.

Slipping in and out of consciousness, her teeth gritted during her more lucid hours, she suffered her penance alone until sleep overcame her.

She stumbled to the tub, mumbling a water incantation, whispering a tiny thank you in the room as she was met with success, slipping into the freezing stuff, sighing in relief at the coolness against her heated skin. She soaked until her teeth began to chatter, looking to the four-inch-long scar above her hip, poking and prodding the puckering jagged thing in mild curiosity and comparing to the still fresh one on her arm.

If she were able to ever be fortunate enough to return home, would she jokingly glorify them as battle scars to her husband in efforts to allay his fright?

The small smile that had come across her features at the thought disappeared as she remembered the reason for their parting, the anger she felt before gone, replaced with hurt.

Perhaps he didn’t need her back, at least not as a wife. She thought of all the times he had strayed, and how each time she had refused to show him her hurt, her pride not allowing her to bend. She had only shown him her disapproval.

And quietly she would go into her chambers in the night and cover her face with a pillow and make muffled sounds that sounded like crying, but never would she admit that she indeed did. And no one would ever be the wiser that the Regent’s Chief Advisor wasn’t anything but a symbol of the strength of Lindblum.

She would admit that there were many times when her roles as Lady Fabool and Cid’s wife were blurred, unable to differentiate between the two. Would it have been better had she told Cid how his indiscretions had made her feel? Would he have still gone out to seek other women if maybe she had imparted the depth of her hurt to him?

She didn’t know. She wondered if he was even looking for her. And could he, after what she had done to him?

Climbing from the tub after scrubbing hard at her skin, she thought it would be best to visit the library in hopes she could find something that might tell her how to undo what she had wrought. Perhaps he was already to his former capacities by a much more experienced and skillful mage, but just in case, if she were ever to see him again, she would need to restore him back to his human self.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

 

Kuja made his way to the library after spotting one of his puppets clearing dishes from the dining hall, the little man informing his master that his captive had requested a meal prior. Assuming she had recovered and most likely occupying her most favored haunt in his abode, he discovered her asleep, her face pressed against a pillow on a chaise, two open books on the table next to the furniture.

He stopped before her, quietly assessing her features as her back rose and fell, her breathing stable and calm despite the lack of color in her face. He recognized that her little nap would be one of many for the next few days as she continued to heal, not sure what to make of the result of his quick actions in healing his captive. He should have thanked the manufactured creature and be done with it. In reality, having what sounded like a very capable public figure removed from one of the very countries he was plotting the downfall of only furthered his goals to his favor.

He remembered how he had been mildly surprised at how very light she had been in his arms as he carried her to her rooms, a mess trailing behind them in their wake. He had angrily muttered a Curaga before they had even reached the floor, annoyed at the situation. Placing her on the bed, he was quick to realize the dress she wore was no longer mend-able between the tears and stains, removing it from her in turn. Having to partially remove some of his own clothing due to the blood that has seeped into the fabric, he began to look to the damage on her person, partially naked himself, his fingers tracing the marred flesh, knowing before he even saw that his spell was nothing if not perfect.

He had cleansed her with a wetted cloth, wiping himself off as well, and her breathing began to stabilize after he had ministered a sleep spell to allow her body to take the much needed rest it would need to jump start the rest of her healing. After his irritation began to ebb away did he look to the woman before him, exposed and unaware.

 His hand slid away from her hip and down to her thigh, his fingers pressing slightly into the soft flesh, as his eyes moved from her incredibly small feet, upward toward her flat stomach to her breasts, her thin long neck, then face, her lashes thick and black, her hair golden and short, curling at the underside of her face. She was beautiful, there was no doubt that Cid IX had procured himself a rather fine prize in a wife, but she wasn’t anything exceptional, her looks better than others but not the kind of face that would start any skirmish among suitors. He imagined it was her clever mind and her presence that drew others in.

From what he was learning of her past and his own interactions with the lady before him, he could develop an idea of the kind of woman others perceived her to be. Strong, resilient, poised, and possibly untouchable. A woman to yield to.

Did her husband yield to her?

He removed his hand, reaching for her bedcovers and pulling it over her body, turning to leave for his own chambers to change, knowing she would still be sleeping before he returned.

Thinking back to the present, he looked to the books next to her, curious at what she was pouring through now that she was able to move about once again. Folding his hands into his sleeves, he bent over, tilting his head to the side to read the open pages.

The first was about magically induced body transformations. And the second…

Oglops?

Frowning in thought, he wondered at the connection of the two. Surely she didn’t think she could transform someone here into such a thing, least of all him? It sounded downright childish.

He looked to the woman again, trying to piece the books together. Such a trick didn’t sound like the woman he was growing to know. If she was interested in besting any magical capabilities while under his care, he imagined it would be something that would kill him on the spot. Not that he thought she held any chance of executing such a feat.

Coming to the conclusion that his initial thought had been wrong, he turned away, putting it from his mind as he left his captive alone to continue to sleep.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

She woke late, unsure if it was still night or day. She was hungry, ravenous even, despite having eaten just before her long nap. Looking to the books before her, she closed them both before scooping them into her arms, making her way to the kitchens.

She had told one of the little men earlier that she was in need of a meal and despite no reply and what seemed like zero acknowledgement on their part, one had quietly brought her a plate of piping hot pastries and cheese with warm fruit tea, saying nothing as the plates were put forth her, leaving just as quietly as they came.

Stepping into the room, she paused, but only briefly, to see the silvery man at the head of the table, pouring through his evening meal in silence. Even though he didn’t bother to look up at her, she dared didn’t think for one moment that he didn’t know she wasn’t there.

Uninvited, she took a place a few seats away, placing her books to the side of her, settling down as a plate, almost out of nowhere, was put before her with food, a glass set down and again, her husband’s wine, poured into the cup. Quietly, she began to eat, enjoying the warmth of each bite as it met her tongue, wanting to hum with the sensation but declining the indulgence. When she was finished, a thick slice of chocolate cake replaced her empty plate and she stared at it in mild wonder, marveling at the dripping icing.

She looked to the man at the head of the table as she realized he was watching her with his arms crossed on the table, his plate also gone, although there was no cake, only his drink. He nodded toward the confection, silently telling her to get on with it.

Plucking a new fork from the table, she did just that, her mouth sliding over the cutlery as the sweetness of the icing and cake enveloped her senses, awakening almost a little girl part of her.

Her father and aunt had always given her a chocolate cake for her birthday as a child, always amused by the enthusiasm she had for the sweet, a slice a day until it was all gone. She thought of the very one she was consuming now, trying to assimilate a murderer with a baker. These little men were becoming more and more a mystery to her. She was constantly shifting from horror to curiosity, the two sometimes melding into one another.

“What do you call them, other than puppets?”

The room was large enough to swallow her voice had she not been only a few seats down from her “host.” She noticed he was watching her over the rim of his glass as he drank, unsure of what was going through his mind, the action elegant and alarming at the same time.

“Officially, Black Mages.”

“Where did you find them?” She took another bite, thinking on whether they were bound to him by spells or if they were naturally in a disposition to be nothing more than servants, wondering about how a species as powerful as them were subdued and under control by one man.

When her ears were met with silence, she paused in her meal, looking to the sorcerer. He watched her for a moment before asking her a question of his own, rather than providing her with an answer.

“What were you so invested in within the library today?”

Her hand almost went to the books on the table and even though she didn’t move, his eyes locked on to the tomes he was referring to. By his gesture alone, she could see he already knew what she had been looking at, most likely happening on the open pages as she slept.

Even though he wouldn’t answer her own query, there was no question that she was to answer his if she knew what was good for her.

“What are you planning?” His voice was a warning and it struck her with confusion before she realized his meaning, a laugh escaping her lips before she could stop it to her embarrassment, the first time she had ever made such a noise since her kidnapping.

“Never worry sir, I wouldn’t dream of turning you into anything as such,” she said in all seriousness, meeting his eyes a few feet away.

She wondered at what he had looked like when he thought she was trying to transform him into a nasty little insect to be squashed beneath her feet? It was so far-fetched but she understood that was probably his only conclusion as he could never possibly guess that she had turned her own husband into an oglop. Nor would she tell him. 

“Then clarify.” A quiet command.

“I cannot perform incendiary nor electric spells like your so-called “puppets” can so I thought to further what abilities I can master in order to protect myself lest I run into any other of your unsavory “creations” , as much as I endeavor to avoid such surprises in the future.”

The lie fell off her lips smoothly, punctuated by a sip of her wine, turning her focus back to her cake.

He watched her for several minutes before he returned to his own drink, his gaze heavy and weighing before the two eventually finished in silence.

He left the table before her, his manners missing, seeming preoccupied, and leaving quietly. She made her way back to the library, making a mental note to not leave out any further evidence that might let on as to what she had done to her husband. She didn’t know who Kuja was or where he was from but the many things he was capable of led her to understand that any weakness given to him would be taken advantage of. And for what purpose, she knew not.  

Several floors beneath her feet were breathing nightmares, apparently created by the man alone. There were a small group of men wandering about under his command that had killed her trained guard in rapid succession within mere minutes. And from the way he spoke, ate, carried himself, and the very place he resided he, she could only assume he was wealthy. For what purpose would any man need all of these things at their disposal? 

She had to put the thoughts away before the worry and panic creep upon her once more. No, a man like Kuja should never find out what her husband had become.

It was later in the evening that her ears recognized the sounds of a piano forte, pausing in her reading as she turned her head in the direction the notes were coming from, her interest pricked. Putting away her materials, she made her way to the music, quite sure as to whom was producing it but unsure if she would be welcomed to spy.

The room was one of the smaller ones within the palace, darker in hues of blues and purples, plants littered about here and there, a few chairs tucked about the instrument. She paused in the open doorway, noting the sounds as dark, striking, and heavy, his fingers rapid over the keys, creating a somewhat melancholy mood. He wasn’t skilled in the way of performing in any grand halls within Lindblum proper, but the notes he created was satisfactory enough to entertain oneself. When finished, his fingers flicked in the air to gesture her inside, not bothering to turn around.

She felt a slight spell of irritation at the fact that he knew she was there but followed none the less, stopping at the corner of the large instrument, looking down at him.

“Do you play, Lady Hilda?” There was a small smile at his lips but it didn’t reach his eyes.

There was that expression again, that look of preoccupation. Recognizing it throughout her years as a politician, she concluded soundly that he was scheming, plotting something. As to what, she wouldn’t even fathom to begin to understand. And she had a feeling that it didn’t even have anything to do with her, his disinterest in her evident. Despite her trespass though, he had still invited her for conversation.

“No, I am afraid I have not mastered any instrument.”

He gestured for her to sit on the bench next to him and she did, staying to the farthest end to prevent brushing against him.

“Then do you sing?”

“Not in tune, at least, sir.”

His smile quirked a little at a corner then, musing aloud,” Perhaps I should have you sing regardless, if only for a laugh.”

At the immediate blush and horror on her face, he did laugh, a small chuckle shaking within his chest. He sighed then, stroking the keys on the piano without playing any of them.

“So, you don’t play, nor do you sing. I am to assume you also don’t bother with needlework nor cooking, “he looked at her then, teasing her,” Not much of a wife, are you, lady?”

She opened her mouth to respond but he cut her off, striking one of the keys, “Let me guess, you are an accomplished politician and devoted partner to industrial endeavors?”

She merely looked at him him, unsure of what point he was trying to make.

“Do you at least dance?”

She sniffed primly at him then, folding her arms across her chest,”Of course I do!”

She knew she shouldn’t allow herself to take exception to his childish bullying but she had such a difficult time handling a personality such as his. She prided herself on reading people, it was her job. But he was unlike anyone she had ever met.

“Then indulge me, “he nodded to the center of the room, turning his attention back to his instrument as he began to play once more. She recognized the tune, a favorite within the Alexandrian court, Nocturne Lumeer.

The dance usually accompanied to the song started with the female partners dancing first, the men joining in after a certain break in the melody.

Annoyed at having to entertain him like a wind-up doll, she closed her eyes to block him from her vision, half convinced he would start calling out to her from the piano on proper form or any mistakes in the dance sequence he felt she had made to his amusement.

She slid a foot forward and twisted slightly to the right, commanding her feet to mimic the Alexandrian dance steps taught to her when she was twelve.

It had been some time since she had been to Alexandria and her relationship with Queen Brahne had become strained after the King’s death. She remembered when Alexander had first introduced Raza to Cid and herself, Hilda newly sixteen and barely engaged, feeling small in the room with the three other larger adults. Alexander had smiled softly at her, quite pleased with Cid’s fiancé, openly commending him on his choice with a clap on his back, the two men grinning at one another like boys. Despite having no blood relation, they referred to one another as “brother”, their relationship a product in the closeness in which they were raised, many a story between the two about young adventures of the troublesome sort. It had been Cid’s father and his armada that had not only put an end to the wars between Alexandria and Lindblum but had prompted a truce between the two, the fruits of the deceased man’s efforts evident before them.

King Alexander Til Alexandros introduced his companion as his new wife, newly eloped, and not having made it quite back to Alexandria yet. Hilda had been shocked, curious as to how his government officials would take the news of his hasty nuptials without their approval but despite the circumstances, she couldn’t help but like the exuberant woman presented to them. Raza was King Alexander’s second wife, his first having died a decade prior within three years of their marriage, not able to overcome the disease that plagued her body. Tall with wide shoulders, she was more handsome than pretty, but her smile was absolutely warm and heartfelt, unknowingly able to influence those around her by her cheerful demeanor. Alexander had looked to his bride with pride and an outwardly shining love that he felt didn’t need to be masked, creating a positive response from his people when news of their new queen began to spread.

Raza wasn’t clever and seemed very absentminded but she had always been very loyal and almost overpoweringly loving. She had accepted the name “Brahne” under Alexander’s administrator’s advice, her new title ranking her as the sixteenth queen of Alexandria. Over the years, she began to gain weight when some very skilled Qu chef’s were introduced to her court, and not once did Alexander’s love waiver. He could never deny her anything, so happy was he in his life with his partner. Even when she had been horribly duped by one of her more malicious ladies in waiting, as she was always too trusting, he still was open with his affections, the woman in question punished severely, albeit by a tribunal as the King’s wrath and fury was too great, that his council had intervened. Looking to turn the King’s eye away from his wife, the woman had been steadily poisoning Raza’s sleeping tonics with Dragon Grass over the course of six months, the nasty herbs’ side effects causing the Queen’s skin to turn an irreversible blue hue much to Raza’s humiliation.

After Alexander’s passing, Brahne had fallen into a deep grief that even her daughter could not pull her from. She wondered how Raza fared as she had heard that the Queen often held elaborate galas and invited many theatre troupes to perform at the palace, her gluttony increasing alarmingly. She thought perhaps she should have made the effort into reaching out more rather than immerse herself in her self-assigned duties to her country.

So lost within her thoughts was she that she had not realized when the music had stopped, a swift intake of breath as she felt a hand slip around her hip, another grasping her hand, joining her in the dance. He spun her smoothly at where the overture would have taken place, facing him, her feet almost tripping to keep up to the silent dance, her partner cool and unaffected as he flawlessly stepped in time, bringing her body against his hip as he lifted her slightly against him in a turn, her arm curling around his neck for leverage, fingers brushing against soft silver locks before he dropped her back down before grasping her hands once more, finishing the sequence beautifully.

They looked to one another in the soundless room for a moment before Kuja lifted his hand in front of her face, tracing a finger along her jaw line, causing her body to still.

“You are not quite recovered. Perhaps you should rest?” His inclined his head to the side slightly with his suggestion.

She didn’t disagree as she was feeling quite dizzy. She excused herself and headed for her rooms, unsure of what to make of the little play that had happened only moments before. The relationship between captor and captive was becoming quite strange and she was unsure of how to act.

She was fast to change and faster into her bed, looking to her ceiling as she pulled her blankets almost to her chin, trying to make sense of the madness that was upon her. Of all the trials and campaigns she had overcome in her career, not one could gain her any insight on how to handle her current predicament.

Cid, what am I to do?

Would she ever be able to return home? Thinking to the silvery man’s sadistic smiles, malicious teasing, and deadly warnings, she didn’t see how that was fathomable. She was no better than the silent men that milled about doing his bidding in this faraway palace. Less than them! For how much longer and in what ways would she continue to be an amusement for him before he grew bored and tossed her asunder, like the soldiers that had sworn to protect her? Or feed her to creatures that resided within the bowels of his home?

Kuja seemed the sort to enjoy amusements of a varied nature but could grow bored of them very quickly, she deduced. He seemed to be more than just cultured and educated; she could see he was intelligent, much more so than her to be capable of the things she had witnessed and experienced so far.

And something troubling whispered to her that she had seen nothing yet.

 

A/N: What is Kuja preoccupied with? World domination, what else! Onwards to fix chapter 5. Thanks again for reading!