Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ When I Faltered ❯ Chapter 6 ( Chapter 6 )

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

When I Faltered

SableFahndu

Disclaimer: I do not own FFIX or any of the characters within the game.

Authors note: I finally wrote a chapter that will take more than five minutes to read. And the next one, if you're interested, is to come quite soon. I want to thank Lucrecia LeVrai for being my fantastic beta and if you haven't read her story Unreachable, then you're crazy. Enjoy.

Chapter Six-

She sat in a solitary chair inside her room within the Hilda Garde, her hands in her lap clenched in tight fists, her knuckles stark white in comparison to her common shade in colour. From a distance, the Lady Hilda was merely sitting demurely upright in her armoire. However, within the mind of the lady, emotions wrestled with one another and fought against each other like a treacherous tide; its creators named Rage and Fury.

The demise of Cid Fabool was far from her mind, put away in the back of her head for further recollection in the future. However, now her thoughts were that of a silvery web latching onto a single idea, twisting and turning until it trapped its prey to face the conceiver for analytical purposes, like a butterfly to a botanist.

Like the scientist, she poked and prodded the specimen in a methodical manner in order to better asses the individual, making mental notes yet too early in analysis to draw a proper conclusion. Inside the mind of the woman was a slip of silver and feathers that danced upon her scrutiny in humour, as if even in her head he found her thoughts and theories amusing.

She thought of Kuja, the manipulator, the mage, the man.

Cid was currently not her problem and she decided she would reserve all thought of him for when she would see him again. If she would ever see him again.

Now she focused on her captor, recollecting every word, every gesture, every move he ever made. She found herself grateful for this unfortunate event, for her kidnapping. It had opened her eyes to her failings. She felt the desire to not fail again. The Lady was not fond of mistakes, nor of committing them. Despite her acceptance of her kidnapping, this did not however make her grateful in any form to her captor.

The circumstance and view point may have shifted, but her view of him did not. He was no hero and no saviour. The fact that she was still alive was charity from him. It was easy to understand the weariness and isolation that comes with residing with mindless drones, that any form of company would seem entertaining. For him, she was merely a voice box that responded with equal wit and intelligence. She grinned bitterly at that.

How fortunate for him.

She had come to the conclusion on the deck of the Hilda Garde that her chapter in life in which Cid Fabool reigned first and foremost was over. Although every bit the Lady she was, she doubted she was hardly in the mood to toss dishes and scream obscenities. Yet subtle and quiet punishments awaited him on her return.

And now another man had come into her life, dangling the possibility of life and death with subtle and sometimes not so subtle threats, beckoning her to take a chance to challenge him, laughing at her within the depths of his eyes. And now that he pitied her, it added salt to the inverted wound and it boiled her blood in a manner she never thought possible.

She would escape.

In spite. In retaliation. In justified proof that she had bested him, escaping his many traps, his monsters, his mages, his magic; the depth of his power.

Her anger subsided slightly. When she thought of it that way, it didn't seem as easy as originally perceived.

She reminisced and recollected on everything she ever knew or witnessed that was Kuja, trying to spot a weakness (she snorted at the unlikeliness of that one), to garner a slip of the tongue, to fissure a fault within the traps he set about the palace.

Their current destination could give her just the chance she needed to escape, however, she held no idea at all as to the possibilities it could propose due to the fact she had never heard anything about this Condie Petie. Her reading of the text gave her little insight as to the area and population of the nation, merely explaining the rituals of marriage needed to gain passage into the city and the faint whispers of descriptions of the people themselves. The book read vague, leaving her with an idea that the people were simpletons and not as advanced in the ways of life as her own world.

Would they have airships? Land taxis? What means of travel did they use as their day to day transportation? Was the land developed enough for such needs, such means?

Who knows, they might all ride silver dragons like Quicksilver up there.

If dragons were in order, then she would need other means of escape. The creature with which Kuja rode upon frightened the daylights out of her, even if she wasn't inclined to show it.

She never held any affection for lizards of any kind. Perhaps her distastes led to the current demise of the Regent, prompting her to choose something else.

Whenever the chance arose to be outside, it watched her every move, its eyes raking back and forth from wherever she walked, ever still, and ever watching. She had casually waltzed outside upon the small docking port in the cave at the Desert Palace, her subtle eye raking over the dry landscape, looking for a means of escape with a practiced, bored expression upon her un-painted face, her hair becoming increasingly windblown from the devastating height of the cavernous dock, when something quickly shifted from the corner of her eye, too fast for her peripheral vision to acknowledge the means of the movement. She quickly reminded herself of her to keep up with her charade and slowly turned to the moving object, hand lazily thrown about one of her hips, too reminiscent of her captor, and looked in instant horror to find the feathered creatures head sinuously move closer, one fluid movement. She was almost unable to withhold her cry of fright when the silver lizard stopped, its great massive head merely inches apart from her own, each eye staring into hers, blinking strangely, its eyelids located vertically upon its eyes rather than horizontally like most creatures and beings she was accustomed to. After what felt like hours, the animal merely gave a snort in her direction, and crawled away, its wings folded behind its back. The dragon's zephyr of a breath forced her body to take a few steps back.

And she was dazed.

The breath alone had no smell. However, she felt inside herself momentary confusion and then all her all her senses began to communicate something else entirely one by one. She tasted calm upon her tongue which for some unfathomable reason she could associate with lemon fizz's at Jerrick's Candy Shoppe in Lindblum, a vice the lady never gave up to this day.

Her ears rang silently despite the tingly feeling of the hard wind clashing against the cave wall, the constant exposure beginning to make the exposed parts of her body feel numb. There was a faint tint to her vision, a colour she had never seen before thus identify, and she began to sway as her senses were being flooded by these new sensations. She looked to the massive beast and it merely gave what she could have swore was a small nod, acknowledging the workings of her body as if it new the effects its mere breath was having on her.

She tried to stay as far away as possible from the creature ever since. Her thoughts on asking Kuja on the matter were automatically rejected as she felt his clever mind would naturally know the means of her expedition and she didn't truly know what emotion that might claw out of the man. She was frightened of the man but no so much so that she was terrified. In the end, she knew her curiosity would win her out and she would ask him anyway.

Perhaps chocobos ran amok the land, providing opportunity to mount one and take off into the distance when the man was preoccupied or amiss.

She gave a half-hearted laugh at that one, imagining herself astride the bird, holding on for dear life as it ran into a plain, jostling her about like she was a ragdoll, Kuja catching up to her in merely minutes, most likely by magical means, interrupting her escape.

She couldn't decide if he would be angry or amused. Probably both; one following after another. The man could switch feelings within an instant, like a child whose interest is continuously grasped by something new.

Her anger was building inside her stomach, the feeling that everyone was getting the best of her kept turning in her mind like a conveyor belt. She was a woman highly capable of solving problems, a great deal of them politics carried upon her belt. However, now her vulnerability and helplessness was starting to get the better of her, making her breath come fast and ragged in short pants, her emotions quickly interchanging from anger to panic, switching over and over again.

Was there really nothing she could do?

Her husband's actions clashed together in her mind, memories she had filed away one by one to be forgotten were wrenching their way through the surface of her mind, fuelling her fury, mocking her for her weakness for "forgetting", beckoning to her for revenge, revenge in which she had no means of dealing.

And now this man.

This new man who had smilingly taken her from her ship and tantrum to name himself as her captor in secret, a man whom she had felt equal in every way of the mind now had another of his many trump cards held over her head, dangling it over here in his amusement. Not so yet, however she doubted it would be long until he could no longer resist and began his childlike teasing at her misfortune.

Before now, she had not felt utterly helpless because he knew so little of her as she had of him. The scales were no longer balanced and it caused her nails to painfully dig into her skin.

No, try as she might, she could not escape.

However, if she could find fault in the man, other than his ego, his vanity, his lust for power, and insensitivity, all the things in which he acknowledged fully and with a smile, if she could find a secret of his that he would never relinquish to anyone then she would again feel his equal in their mental capacities, if not magical.

If he had a weakness that she could play upon then she was sure she could continue to cope with the hand that life had dealt her. She tried to prevent herself from imagining the many looks and expressions that might come across his face once he discovered she knew something very intimate and very private about himself because she knew that if and when she did, nothing should could imagine would ever be plausible. Kuja was nothing less than surprising.

She scanned the facilities of her mental being and began analysing her means of which she could pull information from the silvery man.

Books.

There were many books within his vast library, perhaps she could find something of a personal means. The mage did have notes aplenty strewn about, despite the fact that she could not decipher what any of them would mean. Perhaps the reason why he never bothered to put them away from her curious eyes. She could swear that some were written in an entirely different language altogether! She snorted. She purely blamed that upon his horrible work with the quill. Despite his efforts when he was hard at work, he was never very clean with the ink either, his small hands covered in ink, a stray blotch or streak smudged on a brow. He was quick to wash and hide the evidence, clear embarrassment flushing his cheeks when she smiled a mean grin in his direction; making sure her canines were showing, his delicate sullied hands hidden within his bell-like sleeves, a slick, quick defiant look slashed in her way before he hurriedly made for the door, not realising the ink left on the latch.

She left clear instructions to the mages to leave it there as a small, wicked reminder upon his next visit to the library.

She felt a small chance in this option, however she needed more in the hopes of garnering any information.

Perhaps she could unashamedly partake in a drinking game. Although it would be highly stretched to dub the man an alcoholic, when merry he was easily enraptured by the drink. However, he was not a man of revealing secrets, but a man of many jokes ranging from wit and higher intelligence to the more lewd and perverted ones he had no trouble in telling and she had blushingly enjoyed. Had her captor been a man of lesser means, she could easily see him as a prankster, someone when foxed who was more than happy to play a trick or two on an unsuspecting soul, his cheeks flushed from the drink, the childlike excitement lashing in his eyes like a Flare, his heart racing in his chest just before he ran before he was caught in whatever act he was partaking.

No, he was not into letting out secrets in one of his few inebriated states, however if she played alone and maybe with a little prompting she might be able to sliver out a little titbit about the man himself.

She didn't find this option all the more promising, yet she didn't immediately dismiss it either.

She sighed.

Her best bet would be a war of wit, an act of fake curiosity, perhaps mingled with a true bit, guiding him to give something, most likely angering him to give her an answer, something that would give him the slip of the tongue, giving her an advantage, and most likely giving her his rage.

It was dangerous. He would most likely never forgive himself of giving her something so strong by accident that he might feel the need to get rid of her altogether.

But she needed something.

Anything.

At this point, she felt it was do or die than to meekly sit by and see what might happen. She wanted some control in her situation no matter how small.

And she was determined to get it.

"This is Condie Petie?" the lady asked, looking below the deck at the ground below her that was slowly beginning to meet her face as the ship began to descend to the ground, her mind working around the small information she had gathered from the little text her captor had given her.

She looked to a mage for her answer, the creature blinking quietly to himself.

"No, merely a stop along the way. "

Her small yet increasingly good mood began to ebb away at the sound of the silver man's voice.

She didn't bother to look at him but instead placed her feet along the single elevated plank at the edge of the ship and hoisted herself up so her stomach was resting on the edge, her hair being teased unmercifully out of her tight coif, a small smile working on her features as butterflies rose in her stomach as they fell, fell, fell and she was being slightly pulled forward over the ledge by the gusting wind.

A small chuckle was heard too close behind her and it wasn't too long when she felt small but firm hands grasp her around her waist to lift her slightly up to pull her away from the edge and soundly on her feet. She looked at him from the corner of her eye, waiting for him to let her go.

A non-subtle grin flashed across his face at her antics and gave no hint at releasing her. "I have some business to take care of, nothing official, merely for curiosities sake. "

This piqued her interest. Her neck was beginning to hurt in the manner of which she had to strain to look at him full on.

"I won't be gone long. " And suddenly his hands tightened, on the brink of biting into her flesh. It was definitely not pain he was intending, but a warning. "They will be watching you, " his eyes flicking to a random black mage, " so I advise you to be the reasonable woman you are and not make an escape. " His voice was becoming lower, something ominous and playful at the same time.

She gave a bored blink and tiredly replied, " I wouldn't be so dim-witted to escape into a country I know nothing about, stranded fathoms away from any remote form of civilization in the hopes of obtaining freedom. " Although the thought had crossed her mind several seconds before his warning had been given.

His wicked grin grew wider. It was obvious he could see through her façade of pretend boredom. "That's right, Lady Hilda. How very clever you are! " he replied in mocking approval. He immediately let go of her abruptly and walking away without a look in her direction. A surprised "Umph!" came forth from her mouth as she stumbled, trying to catch her footing as a foot skidded on the hem of her dress. She had not realised he had never properly placed her upon the deck, holding her an inch or so from the floor. She quickly noted that it was easier to breathe without the corset-like hold her captor had been keeping on her.

She looked at him with a bit of surprise widening her eyes, the shock of what transpired between them in the last few seconds slightly overwhelming her. She watched as he placed a hand on the very ledge she had been leaning dangerously upon and with a slight leap, he was gone.

She rushed to the edge peering down below, surprised as the ship had no quite landed yet. Kuja gracefully fell to the ground, most likely casting Float to aid his decent. He did not look up as he began to walk in the direction of the vast woods that spread across the land, thick and closely knit together like a quilt of evergreen.

"Where is he going?" she asked before she thought of who to ask, only a mage flanked at her side, most likely troubled by her close proximity to the edge.

He shifted nervously and replied, "We do not know."

She turned to him with a delicate eyebrow slightly raised, "He didn't tell you?"

The little man fidgeted with the buttons on his clothes and she quietly noted that she had never seen such behaviour in one of his kind before.

"In truth miss, I do not think even he knows. "

"I was under the impression that none of your kind was made to think. "

He blanched at that and suddenly became stock-still, his hands moving straight at his sides. "I'm sorry…"

The cat of ever curiosity was scratching its mental paws at her mind and she began to move slowly toward the stout man, her eyes questioning, eyebrows raised.

"I did not mean to sound unkind. I'm merely surprised that you would speak to me so. Either your brothers are un-inclined to share their vocal habits or they do not inhabit the same faculties as you."

His amber eyes seemed momentarily confused. There was a brief pause before he quietly replied, "I do not know what you mean."

A small smile was almost tugging at her lips, "I mean you're different. From the other black mages. "

A look of understanding crossed his features and he gave a firm nod, shifting his attention to the floor under his feet. "I feel different. In…a small way. But it becomes bigger…everyday." His speech was slow, halting, but ever so gentle.

"And the others? Are they different? "

He shook his head, still looking to the ground.

"Have you chosen a name for yourself?"

His head instantly shot up, his ever smouldering eyes looking to her again in confusion. "A name? "

Her smile grew, "Yes, something to call yourself by. "

He flicker of recognition marked his eyes, "Yes…I have a name. We all do. "

Instantly, she was intrigued, never knowing of such information herself. They had names! Had she known before, she would have been more inclined to call them by name instead of merely referring to them as "mage."

"I am number 178. " She could here the smile in his voice, pride edging in his voice, most likely a new concept to the man.

She instantly felt disappointed. "That's not a proper name! " She immediately regretted her words as a sad look crossed the eyes of the man and he backed away a step, his head turning to the floor again, his shoes beginning to scuff the wood of the deck.

"I mean, that's not the best name for someone like you, although it is a mighty fine name. " She finished off the last part lamely. He was interested however. He looked to her now with curiosity in his eyes and took a step forward, resuming his former distance.

Her guilt began to ebb away, "Well, there's all sorts of names you could choose from. Names without numbers. "

"Like what? "

"All sorts like Eli, Felix, Marco, Balthasar-"

"Balthasar?!"

"Well, maybe not Balthasar." Such a name sounded completely silly coming out of a man so childlike. "Well, what about things you desire or like? Maybe you could have a name that resembles something you enjoy?"

His eyes lit up, " I like sweets."

She bit her lip. She didn't think "parfait" or "cupcake" would prove too well as a name. "Well, what about activities you do? Things you like to look at? "

"I don't get to do much. All we do is work. "

The lady placed an elegant fingertip at her lips. "How about Atlus?"

"Atlus?" The mage said the name hesitantly, a bit of wonder seasoning his surprise.

"For someone who has a lot of work ahead of them."

"But I've already done my chores for the day, " he said frighteningly, fearful that perhaps he had forgotten something.

She laughed out loud, tears almost coming forth from her eyes, "Not chores. Life. You have a lot to learn, that's all. "

He was immediately relieved, something that sounded like a sigh escaping his lips. "Atlus!" he said with a firm nod to his head. "It sounds strange. " He looked to her in question.

She smiled in turn, "It's a good name. " He nodded once more, and then his eyes crinkled at the corners as if he were smiling.

She looked to the sky and realised that it would be little more than an hour before the sky was cascaded with a dark shroud of night. She decided it would be then when Kuja returned.

"If you will excuse me Mr. Atlus, I'm going inside. " It was a shame to end their conversation when it had barely started but she only had a small slot of time in which to garner some private information. The mage gave a brief nod, remaining in his position by the edge, black mages set about the deck to prevent any possible escape. She rolled her eyes. It was unnecessary, really.

Inside the ship, she immediately made way for the kitchen. A few scarecrow-like men were already bustling about, preparing dinner in large dishes that steamed and wafted many flavourings that enticed her senses. As soon as she entered she enquired about a pairing knife and given a blank look, she was also given her tool, and with a pleasant smile, she turned and left, her skirts almost shifting about stray flour on the floor.

She smiled to herself as she hummed Lindblum's " Devout de Linde ", jimmying the knife into the lock of the door, a small giggle erupting from her mouth like a small girl when the door opened. She stuffed the pairing knife under her wasp and made her way directly to the desk of the young magician.

The room favoured nothing of his taste. Perhaps the silver man had not felt inclined to keep the ship permanently. Or perhaps he himself felt nothing of a personal sanctuary within the room. This room had been meant for Cid, however, the Regent never even had the chance with his angry wife sailing away from his city, taking his ship right from under his nose. Hilda smirked at that, a small sense of gratification sweeping her being. "I wonder if he thinks I'm taking care of it? " Maybe not her but the black mages were doing a splendid job. The creatures were much more able and dedicated at their jobs then any cleaners she had ever hired in the past.

She sat down in the chair at the desk and began perusing the many papers and notes she could find there. She soon became bored when she began shifting through cargo receipts and docking permits. All this travelling and tracked information and no one could gather that this was Cid Fabool's missing airship? Yes, the ship had not made its public debut yet, but rumour gets about, someone must know something was amiss. Looking again, she realised that all the papers listed with the ship were wrongly signatured in her name. Good grief, her name looked terrible in what was undoubtedly his penmanship. Perhaps that was why nothing had been said. The lady has already proven once that when provoked she could retaliate. Perhaps the men and women who would know of the ship would also know about Cid's circumstances and not be too quick to let on about the Lady's whereabouts. She sighed. She prayed that her past actions of revenge would not be her downfall now, that her spiteful magic was not the reason why no one was looking for her.

Moving the mass of papers to the side, she began filtering through a draw, finding unofficial notes that caught her interest. Finding something of a personal means to Kuja could only be beneficial. Spotting something lengthy and what seemed promising, unlike the many invitations and auctioning lists she had been finding, she began reading a personal letter to Mr. Kuja from a Lady Edda Afton of Treno. She briefly searched her memory banks remembering a Lord Afton, and assuming the lady to be his wife. Skimming the letter, her eyes scanned the many thank yous the lady wrote pertaining to Mr. Kuja's acceptance of her house's invitation and the party's success would not have surmounted to its magnitude without his quick humour and infectious gaiety. If only Lady Afton knew, she sarcastically thought.

You are most welcomed here at any time, Mr. Kuja, for whatever favours you may need again.

Hilda's eyes widened instantly.

Reading along, the letter immediately turned course into a lucid and very descript play of events that transpired between the Lady and Kuja alone. A faint blush seeped into her cheeks, however, the more she read, the more she could not put the letter down, its intimated details creating visuals within her own mind, her curiosity getting the better of her.

The way Kuja seemed to make this woman feel and the acts they had been committed to left her knowing that Kuja was definitely a manipulator of not only the mind but of the body. She was beginning to feel that the ardour and passion within her own intimate life was rather plain. Once finished, she was quick to put the letter back in its proper place, her face scarlet red, closing the drawer immediately, her mind racing with details.

She shook her head, trying to get a firm grip of herself. "I'm here for information, not some scandal with a married woman! "she reminded herself. She opened the second drawer and it did not take her long to find something that resembled what she was looking for.

A diary.

Flicking through, she decided to start in the middle, hoping the progression of the book would lead to more interesting information.

Lady Elephant was rather fond of showing me off today as her newest counsel. I could have sworn her jaws could not extend the depths of which I had been shown until dinner time. Certainly something to plague my dreams until I leave Alexandria again. Aside from the Queen's tragic onslaught on the continent's food supply I find it quite thrilling to watch the Canary bristle next to her mother, whether in shame by the woman's actions or my stare, I could not tell. The Elephant had me fitted in a suit of her choosing, which prompted me to consider killing her right then and there. The damnable trousers were restraining against my legs, allowing nor relief for my tail-

"Tail?" Hilda thought in wonder, not able to recollect a time when she saw such an appendage on the man.

The man's clothing was quite daring by her cities standards and really left little to the imagination where his body was concerned. Thinking to his attire, she began to wonder where he might put such a thing. However, on thought of his body, she began to remember the contents or Lady Afton's letter and again fell into a blush.

"Focus. If it was in his trousers, he must hide it. " If Kuja had a tail, then that must mean he wasn't human.

He resembled nothing like the animalistic inhabitants of her city and others, and if he wasn't human, then what was he?

"I can honestly say in any of my imaginings I didn't think I would find you here. "

A small gasp escaped her mouth as she stood and turned around. A smile was on his face, something reminiscent of teasing, of having been caught being naughty. She stood up and moved around the chair, and into his view. As soon as she faced him, his smile vanished.

Once his eyes had locked on to the book within her hand, all playfulness had left his face, replaced by anger that was quickly growing into undisguised outrage. His eyes were intensely wide, his chest puffing out as if he were about to unleash a tirade, a slight tremble running through the nerves of his hands which caused them to slightly twitch in jittery motions.

She tasted fear as it flooded her mouth like a massive tidal wave, overtaking her senses and choking her. She had never witnessed his anger at such a dangerous level and knowing only minimally of what he was capable for, she now feared for her life.

"You…have no right…" he was breathing so hard, his anger so consuming, that he was having trouble getting the words out. It was obvious that he was attempting to keep his rage under control and he was failing. Perhaps there was more within the book than the secret of his apparent tail.

It was obvious. An intrusion in his room could prove punishable however his mood. Yet now it was the invasion into his personal life and thoughts, this book in her hands that had brought about the man she was looking at now. With a quickness that startled her, he was in front of her in an instant. She had no time to gasp in surprise. In less than a second, they were face to face, his left arm raising; his actions unknown. There was merely a single inch between them.

Without thinking, instinct taking over, fearing for what could possibly be her life, she ripped the pairing knife from her wasp and wrenched it into his side, where her mind registered his ribcage would be.

Before he could place his hands on her an explosive gasp tore through his lips, his eyes wide in shock, looking to her in absolute surprise. Something hot and sticky poured down her fingers and numbly she looked down to see her fingers loosely holding the wooden hilt, crimson blood oozing between her fingers and within the crevices of her hand, dripping from her wrist to the wooden floor. What started as a slow course quickly accelerated as the red river started moving faster along her arm and her knife. The many details she witnessed had only lasted seconds. In instant panic, she ripped the knife from his ribs, horror ripping through her chest.

His hands fell to her shoulders, grasping into her sleeves, ripping the fabric with his weight.

"You…you…"

"I'm sorry, "she barely whispered, tears suddenly springing to her eyes. She held him beneath his arms, his taller frame leaning heavily on her as she began shouting for help, her voice high and loud, clouted by her sobs. Why was she crying for him?

She was beginning to slip. Despite his slight appearance he was heavier than he appeared and taller than her.

Her body was shaking and she looked to see him staring at her with something akin to wonder, pain still etched about his brow and she was almost to the point of screaming for help before mages arrived to swiftly heal their master. The book lay dead and forgotten on the floor and she could only stare as the little men placed their creator on the bed, working quickly to correct what she had wronged.

Their eyes never left one another, hers filled with guilty regret and his taken over by confusion and pain.

It would be a long night.