Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ When I Faltered ❯ Chapter 9 ( Chapter 9 )

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

 

A/N: Forewarning, this chapter contains a lemon. I apologize for letting this go for so long, I do not have an excuse. I will be better and for anyone that is reading this, if you receive any enjoyment from this work, then that is happiness for me. Thank you.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-

 

 

 

 

 

“I think you should get an annulment. “

 

The room was silent, heavy. The only audible sound was her father exhaling smoke, his fingers pinched upon a cigarette. Most of his colleagues preferred a pipe to accompany their tobacco, but Mr. Garrison always preferred the thin paper to the wood, a habit he developed in his early years. During this crucial hour, he watched his daughter closely, his posture languid and relaxed, a complete contrast to the hyperactive cogs of his mind. Looking to his only child, he studied her through the haze of smoke that had begun to gather around him, his face expressionless. He said nothing of his sister-in-law’s opinion; never even took his eyes away from his daughter when her aunt declared her thoughts. He only waited.

 

Hilda was sitting in a chair, her spine straight, her posture derived of pins and needles rather than proper etiquette. And her eyes were dry and red; her face blotched and stained with it. Mr. Garrison observed this silently as well, mentally noting that he had not seen his daughter cry sense she was but a child.

 

She still is, he thought to himself, filing that away as well.

 

“Have you seen him sense his…discretion?” Despite Aunt’s calm question, her eyes and voice were dead. Everything came out monotone from her mouth.

 

“…No.”

 

It came out more softly than she had desired. She was weak and sounding of it. It made her fists clinch involuntarily.

 

Mr. Garrison took a long inhale of his cigarette.

 

“I have taken care of it. The contracts are underway. I will be granted an annulment within hours once Cid and I have signed the agreement. I-“she stopped there, detesting the effort it took her to choke back her tears, “I hope you can accommodate me by letting me return home. “

 

Aunt’s face softened, her hands clasped below her stomach, “Of course child.”

 

It had been three days sense her wedding and she had not seen Cid once. He had called on her time and again. He had requested her in the afternoon immediately, when the confusion about his whereabouts was solved and he had his wits about him. She had declined and would continue to do so for every messenger that arrived. The next day however, when her maid answered the door for her, her messenger informed Tessa that Hilda’s presence was no longer a request but a demand.

 

Hilda had stood up then, prepared to leave with the messenger, when Tessa merely shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips.

 

“I’m sorry sir, but I have no idea where the Lady is. She frequents the High Gardens, perhaps you should try there. “

 

Shock had enveloped her senses at this small form of protection this girl had offered her. There was no reason for Tessa’s loyalty to lie with Hilda and yet, she couldn’t help but feel a small ounce of warmth at this alliance. Tessa turned to her then, a sympathetic smile on her face, “Maybe you should go out into the city for a few hours, hmm?”

 

Again, she was in the kitchens, when Cook intervened when he saw the messenger.

 

“Not here, I’m ‘fraid. Said somethin’ about visitin’ her old man. “

 

He had winked at her when the messenger left, handing her a fruit turnover, flour coating his arms as he rolled his dough.

 

Such instances became common within the next few days, the kindnesses given to her warmed her over and gave her a small bit of security and safety within a household that should feel everything but.

 

Now her father and aunt were here and noticeably, with their presence, the messenger was no longer about.

 

“Well, I’ll go see about having your things packed. There’s no need to stay a moment longer once the contracts are ready and signed, “ Aunt left the room then.

 

Mr. Garrison stood then, putting out his cigarette as he did. Walking toward Hilda, he pulled out another chair next to the one she was sitting on and with one quick motion, he placed his arms underneath her knees and shoulders, gathering her up and sitting down in his own chair.

 

She sat there, curled into her father’s lap, initially surprised. When the shock wore off, she began to cry into his chest as he petted her hair, her father diligently quiet as he listened to his child’s heartbreak.

 

When the clock was creeping toward ten o’clock, the sun long gone and resting for the night, Mr. Garrison made a large show of inquiring about the contracts.

 

“The marriage council has been quite busy with their tasks and has asked for patience. Perhaps they shall be ready by tomorrow, “ Cid’s retainer replied at the door.  

 

Mr. Garrison’s lips formed a thin and dangerous line, clearly acknowledging the Regent’s hand in the ordeal.

 

“Very well. Tell the Regent my daughter will be staying with me in the meantime. “

 

The man inclined his head, no compassion written on his face, merely irritation, “ As the Lady is married to the Regent, it will be his decision whether she stay or go, not yours, sir. We would be happy, “and he didn’t sound very happy in the least, “to accommodate you and your sister-in-law if you wish to extend your stay. “

 

Hilda’s father sucked in his breath, his anger beginning to reach its turning point. She intercepted her usually collected father, stepping in front of him to address the man.

 

“Then might I speak to the Regent. “

 

“I’m sorry my Lady, but he is very busy at the moment, it may be some time before he can see you. “

 

Jaref. That was the man’s name, she remembered. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to deal with the man much longer.

 

“Make the request none-the-less. I can wait. “

 

Annoyance clouded his features, yet he did as his was bidden to. She held no political power as she had not yet been formally inducted into the Regency, yet she was still Cid’s wife.

 

Unlike what Jaref had belied, she had to wait merely minutes until she was called into Cid’s private quarters. She had been in the rooms only once. She had fallen asleep in a chair that night, waiting for him.

 

He was in his study, standing over his desk, sifting through letters, his face tired and haggard. It didn’t give her the small sense of happiness she would have thought it have only moments before she saw him. She shut the door behind her, causing him to turn. It was smooth action, almost causing him to stumble. She leaned against the door, her hands still on the turner behind her.

 

They merely looked to one another then, assessing each other from across the room.

 

She was small in comparison to him and always would be. But the dead-fall look in her eyes more than made up for her diminutive height. It was these aspects about Hilda that would fool many politicians early on in her political career, these very aspects that would make a name for her.

 

He sighed, heavy with it, and gestured to a chair, “Please, sit Hilda. “

 

He sounded exactly how he looked and she was confused about what was troubling him. She did as he asked, never a protest emitted from herself. She sat at his desk, making him sit in turn across from her. She thought it appropriate this way, the business aspect of it.

 

“You want to return to your father. “

 

There was no emotion in his voice when he said this. She nodded in agreement, trying to fissure an argument that was sound.

 

“Yes. Despite the delay in the contracts, I see no purpose of extending my time here. Furthermore, it would only be appropriate. It does my reputation no good to remain under your custody as it-“

 

He slammed his fist against the desk, cutting her off, “Is that all you care about?  Your damned  reputation?!”

 

She flinched at his outburst, despite herself. She meant to come here without allowing any amount of emotion to show about her being.

 

“What else should I consider, Regent?” Although her voice was calm, almost monotone, she wanted to scream.

 

“You’ve been evading me for days. You haven’t given me the chance to explain-“

 

It was her turn to cut him off, yet unlike his outburst mere seconds ago, her voice remained soft and cool.

 

“I apologize for any discomfort I have caused you, Regent. “

 

His hand fell to his eyes, rubbing at them hard, as if to erase the images before him.

 

“Don’t call me that, Hilda. And don’t apologize. I…” He trailed off not knowing what to say, the tiredness seeping back into his voice.

 

“You were about to explain your actions, sir, “she prompted him.

 

He peered at her through his hand, slowly sliding it away and into his lap. He was silent, unable to find a proper excuse, because as they both understood, there was not one he could summon to his lips that could wash away her pain.

 

“There is nothing for you to say sir. It is I that am wrong. I was in fault by believing that perhaps I could sway you from your reputation, however, I was foolish in my thoughts and my endeavors. If anything, I do apologize for thinking more of you than you really are. I assure you I will not make that mistake again. “

 

He flinched, her words hard and frost bitten like a arctic tundra.

 

“Furthermore, I would like to apologize for misleading you. I cannot be married to a lech, I refuse to be. I understand this marriage is wasted as you and I both were under different assumptions, but I believe this is salvageable since you have brought this to my attention so quickly that a divorce is not needed, merely an annulment. I am sure that within a short amount of time, you can find a dutiful wife that will not desire your heart alone and wouldn’t mind her husband frequenting other ladies beds. “

 

Tears bled into her eyes at the last part, even though her voice never wavered. But he didn’t miss it, he couldn’t. His face fell, not from her harsh words but by the tears in her eyes, the dreadful waters that she was attempting to abate with her rapid blinking.

 

“Hilda…” It was apologetic, it was torn, it was guilty, and so many other things as he said it.

 

And in turn, she said nothing. She said nothing in fear she would say everything. Everything of which she felt.

 

“Leave with your father, “and at this, her head snapped up to attention, gazing at him in surprise. He was leaned over the desk, his hands open apart, imploring.

 

“Leave with your father, but do not take your things. Please. Stay with him as long like as you like but do not leave me. “

 

“Why?”

 

“In the small amount of time I have known you, “and he faltered here, trying hard to put his thoughts into words. Putting away his pride, he continued, “I have become a man I didn’t think was possible. What happened was an accident, a stupid incident on my part, something I would never ask you to forgive me for. But I can be a good man for you; I can be a good husband. I’ve made an awful start but it will be the only time I will disappoint you, Hilda. There’s nothing I can say for myself, nothing that can explain my actions in a manner both you and I could understand. But what I do understand is that I love you and will make every motion from this second forward to ensure that you know it.”

 

He stopped there, waiting for her response, his eyes flitting back and forth, searching within her own.

 

 

-.-.-.-.-.-

 

His eyes cracked open, almost disjointedly in their sluggishness, soft light piercing them as he tried to adjust, the illumination of the fire still crackling and dancing about in its place. He could tell it was still night, the room warm and draped in the afterglow of the heat generated from the fire. He stared at the ceiling, his chest filled with a building sigh. Lost, desperate, regretful-

 

“You look quite awful.”

 

His head snapped to the side, his sigh expelling itself into a rush of air instead, trying to gather his wits about him as his lungs and heart began to work in overdrive to keep up with what his eyes were seeing.

 

“But I imagine you already knew that.” Softly spoken, the last word almost breathy as it dusted itself from her lips.

 

“Hilda…” The name almost hadn’t come out, so full of wonder he was.

 

She sat quietly in a chair beside his bed, her small self regal and beautiful; her black lashes brushing against her face as she blinked slowly, her pink and golden dress glowing from the light the fire casted against the fabric. Her hands were folded in her lap, her head shifting to the side in inquiry, one shapely blonde brow arched. Her hair was pinned in a fashionable but sensible style, making him absently wonder why she never wore it down. She knew how he loved it when it was down, golden and soft within his hands, silk heather against his lips.

 

“Would you like me to change you back?”

 

Snapping himself out of his wayward thoughts, he brought his attention back to her question, trying to pool his thoughts in a collective order.

 

“Back?”

 

“From an oglop, of course. But only if you’re truly regretful for what you’ve done!” She said playfully, standing up in a slight motion, one finger in the air, a delicate hand on her hip. There was a small smile at the corner of her lips, the dancing light of the fire just as mischievous as the grin on her face.

 

“Absolutely!” He rushed out, his tiny body standing, working against the sea of blankets atop his bed. “Whole-heartedly! “

 

“Truly?” She queried, still playful as she pretended sternness within her demeanour, “Or are you simply trying to pacify me in order to rush your transformation?”

 

“Never not, girl! I’ve been going mad wondering where you’ve been! For you to have been gone so long, everything I have tried not to imagine happening to you, I cannot fathom how I could even begin to make amends. And I am sorry. For the rest of my life I will be sorry, I cannot breathe without you, little one!”

 

“My, that does sound rather nice! A kiss then, to seal the deal, if you will darling. “ She smiled, crooking a finger at him as she leaned down. As elated as his heart was, something didn’t feel right. This Hilda was quite happy and unconcerned about his recent, if not all, betrayals. Perhaps his penance soothed her heart? Unsure, he looked into her eyes in question…

 

And awoke to an empty room, the fire long gone, only a handful of embers pulsing, the coldness of the room causing him to shiver. And a crushing weight resumed itself on his chest, heavier today than before, as if to remind himself of the futility of such a silly dream.

 

Hilda was still gone.

 

Sighing to himself, he decided it was time to ready himself for the day.

 

 

 

-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Artania had been missing for the better part of the morning, Cid’s messenger relaying that the Minister was dealing with a matter most urgent and would be at the Regent’s attention immediately once whatever his task at hand was finished. And when he finally did arrive, his face was grave and devoid of the small amount of colour it normally maintained, another man beside him, younger but stiff looking to the Regent in all his seriousness.

 

“Forgive me my delay, this is Dr. Theo Liddel. We have retrieved him to look into some bodies that have come under our attention. I will get straight to the point. Fourteen bodies were found between Cleyra and the North Gate over the course of 12 miles, eight of them bearing Lindblum Fleet Guard uniforms.”

 

Cid felt his heart stop as he stared down at the men from his perch, his throat becoming dry in an instant.

 

“Eight? Then who are the others?” His voice sounded calm to even his own ears despite the chill running down his spine.  

 

“Also the Fleet Guard. “ This time it was the Dr. who spoke up. Despite his slight build and apparent youth, his eyes were cut coldly and he stood offhandedly lithe in what the Regent wilfully assumed was a professional demeanour. “Those in uniform remain so because they fell to their death. The others however look to have been killed from secondary level spells. My examination leads me to believe that those without uniforms were burned alive or cooked from the inside out, presumably with fire and lightning. “The crispness in his tone left a feeling of dread creeping along the Regent’s neck he had never felt before.

 

“And the bodies accounted for are only...“

 

“Fourteen guards only. This matches the log book of the HildaGuard’s departure. Only the Chief Advisor and the ship itself still missing, “Artania cut in, his brows furrowed.

 

The room grew quiet and panic began to consume the little oglop. He couldn’t breathe. There was no damn air in the room!

 

‘Oh Hilda...oh little one, where are you? Who has you? What are they doing to you?!’ His thoughts were jittery, skittish things, his chest rising and falling in fast breaths, his mind refusing to assume that his wife in all likelihood was lying cold and still somewhere on the continent where no one would ever find her.

 

“You said fire and lightning...black magic? Then this is the work of a mage”? He tried to put it from his mind before it overtook him, his best bet to his wife’s return, be it alive or not, was to put the pieces together.

 

“We are unclear as to whether this is the work of one or many. There isn’t any evidence that points to either. “ Artania replied, his hand going to his chin in fatigue, his fingers running down it in a half hearted gesture. “We are still expending efforts in searching for the ship and the Advisor. The manner in which the airmen were found leads us to believe that the HildaGuarde has been moving north”.  

 

Between Cleyra and the North Gate he had said. But there was nothing there but flat plains that led to miles of ocean...

 

‘Damn it. Damn it all!’ Cid thought viciously, his tiny hand clenched into a sad fist. Everything was going to hell and he had nothing to work with. Between this and the rumours trickling in from Alexandria, he was starting to come at a loss on where to move the chess pieces. This was more than his misdeeds creeping back to haunt him. There was something bigger at work here. He could do nothing as he waited on Baku and his spies dispatched to Alexandria to return.

 

He finally received a clue as to the whereabouts of his wife but they were so damning and fruitless that he wanted to scream. Violently. Lost and panicked, he left his perch to stand next to Artania, willing his Minister to put his head together with his own onto what would be their next move.

 

 

 

 

 

-.-.-.-.-.-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A secondary knock at the door, this time impatient, drew her from her open mouthed stare at herself in the mirror.

 

“I’ll be out shortly, “she called out, willing the little roly-poly man to relay her message accordingly. She was at a loss about what to do, she didn’t think-

 

The door opening gave her pause, freezing her where she stood, her hands unconsciously reaching toward her thighs.

 

“We’ve long lost daylight, it is time to go before the entire village is asleep, “her captor warned, her back burning, refusing to turn around to meet his gaze. Of course he knew what the dress looked like, he had procured it for her himself, but it was nothing like she had ever worn nor seen, surely not something meant for any kind of polite society. She couldn’t will the courage to turn around, embarrassed, as she admonished herself for acting like a girl of twelve.

 

Amusement tinged his voiced as he called behind her, “Lady, surely it isn’t as bad as all that? “ He felt a chuckle in his chest as he walked toward her, recognizing from the stiffness in her shoulders that without a nudge, she wasn’t moving an inch. Grasping one of her slight hands in his own, he walked around her, in front of her, the childlike need to bully her once he saw her disappearing as she looked to him in worry, her blue eyes looking up at him almost demurely, a faint blush on her cheeks as she tried her best to retain her ladylike posture, her pride preventing her from running to the dressing screen.

 

She saw his face still and her brows un-furrowed, curious, as she had been quite sure she was to be the target of some vigorous teasing. Her little hand still resting in his slightly larger one, the room grew quiet, neither saying anything for some time.

 

He had conjured the dress out of mere whimsy, recalling a picture he had seen in an aging book within Bran Bal. It had been one of the very first that had ever taken his interest as a child, with an artistic rendering of the Empress Arcaecia of Nakarq within its pages, a queen of a Terran country whose rulers were born of power rather than lineage. He had been entranced by the historian’s recordings of her poverty stricken origins and her subsequent rise to the throne through strategy, raw strength, and impossible beauty. It was a fancy of his alone, a mere childhood memory that had caused him to make such a garment.

 

And for a moment he had seen an illusion of the ruler within the confines of the tiny yet ever efficient room, the posture and poise of a ruler before him. Shaking his head, he suddenly remembered too that Hilda had not been born to royalty, her carriage, mind, and tongue being traits of a commoner born to rule none the less. He had likened himself then to the empress but he now understood he could also relate to Lady Hilda. He too was born from the dregs of base materials, fated to rise and rule among all he saw before him.

 

Smiling something not so sinister, he looked down at his captive with a little pride in his creation, willing her to open up to the possibility of wearing such a fantastical gown.

 

The sleeves were sheer and bell-like, slit open from shoulder to wrist, capping at the wrist, revealing her small hands, black clasps contrasting to the clear yet pearlescent sheen of the material around her arms. A network of black interwoven lace formed a wasp-like structure where she would normally wear her corset, the spaces in-between disclosing her flesh, the material fading in a hue of gold and converging in to solid fabric to cover her chest, her décolletage exposed, her long, thin neck revealed. Beneath the woven wasp, material draped out in yards of white, a black and gold design banded like a snake, its patterns slithering in and around the material in an alien yet regal fashion. To her dismay, the dress slit open at her hips, pooling in front of her abdomen to drape between her thighs, the material in the back much larger and fuller.

 

“This...this is not apprio-“

 

She stilled at his finger pressed softly against her lips, the motion pausing her in her slight panic as his eyes studied her from head to toe, pausing momentarily here and there as something about her caught his attention. She could see the appraisal in his eyes although she was quite sure it had more to do with himself rather than how she looked in the dress.

 

“Lady...you are breathtaking, “ he said cordially, that elegant courtly courtesy he was so accustomed to dripping with in spades masking whatever had been on his mind, his hand that had been holding her own pulling her closer to him. His head cocked to the side, silver strands fluttering against his cheek as his eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curled up in a slight grin as he peered down at her small self, making her feel as if she was being entrenched within his being, a private space made all the more intimate within the small room. “Your hair grows quite quickly. I remember it being a lot shorter when we first...met.” He finished the last part with a little laugh, the meaning behind it something she could never forget. His random observation threw her for a loop though, not quite able to keep up with his strange pace, as she felt his hand shift from her own, his fingers prying at something on her own before she could realize what is was he was doing.

 

“Your ring, madam.”

 

“What?” Looking down, she realized then what he had been working at. Her marriage ring sat heavy and almost imbedded upon her finger.

 

Looking back at him, his grin still in place, his face seeming even closer than it had been before. She could feel his breath upon her lips as he spoke. “Remove it. Lest I hurt you in doing so myself.” Although soft in enunciation, the words were a command none the less. He pulled away from her then, his hair trailing down on both sides as he looked between them, his thumb stroking the rose-gold band in thought. “It seems quite affixed.”

 

Her opposite  hand shook slightly at her side but she stilled in quickly before he could notice, bringing it to her other and removing the band in a smooth and almost nonchalant manner, not wanting him to see how bothered she had been by the action. Peering up at him, he smiled in approval, straightening himself as he pulled her forward, taking the ring from her hand.

 

“Sir, the ring? So I might put it away?” She reached her hand out, willing him to give her the precious item back.

 

“Whatever for?” He looked back, the smile he gave her unreadable but chilling none the less. She paused then, her body running cold as she reminded herself that it would be in her captor’s best interest to not let her survive this little adventure. She had almost forgot, had allowed herself to be swept in whatever relationship they had been carrying on in the last several months.

 

“Never mind, “she quietly replied, willing her composure into action as she walked forward with the silver mage, his smile and narrowed eyes unmasked in his obvious delight at her obedience.

 

 Lacking a proper place to dock, the steam powered vessel hovered as low as it could go, a whisper of ‘Float’ pulling the pair in a gust above the deck before sending them falling into the night, the breeze breathy and buffering against her hair as she wound her arm around his to better her bearings. Their feet landed softly against the ground as she released him, his gait quickly becoming brisk as his boots crunched the dried grass beneath him. She followed in tow, trying to keep up with his pace, strange and unnameable sounds reaching her ears, the nearby fauna that she could see in the peerless black unrecognizable to her, leading her to understand that the alien noises could very well belong to creatures she had never even read about, waiting in the darkness.

 

A rapid screech pierced the night and like a child, she suddenly swallowed in fear, quickly grasping for the mage’s hand, her panic taking precedence before her common sense could. She was thankful that he did not make fun of her as he tightened his grip in turn, not bothering to look her way but smoothly pulling her alongside him until he could slip his arm around her lower back. He didn’t have to tell her to be quite, she could easily see from the way his eyes darted around their surroundings and how he didn’t let up on his gait that he was serious in his observations and that he didn’t want any surprises on the way to their destination. After 20 minutes of brisk walking, her breaths were starting to come in little pants. He didn’t ease up for her, knew he wouldn’t, and she was relieved to see tiny twinkling lights over the crest of a barren hill.

 

“Condie Petie?” she whispered.

 

“Condie Petie, “he simply replied. His eyes slid down to her before resuming their watch, blue fluorite intense as his body was rigid. Another hour passed before they reached their destination, unscathed. She deduced the walk was made in efforts to keep the ship concealed, her captor wanting to keep sightings to a minimum.

 

Within the consuming darkness laid a little town perched upon roots, the strange architecture unlike anything she had ever seen, blazing torches abating some of the darkness as Hilda peered at the structure, its archaic design naturally beckoning to her sense of curiosity. If she were ever to return to the Desert Palace, she would look again to the little book within the sorcerer’s library.

 

At the entrance stood two dwarves, crude spears at the hand.

 

“Tis mighty late for travelling,” quipped one, his green grip twisting against the pole of his weapon.

 

“Or treasure huntin!” said the other, crooked teeth gnashing against one another with each word.

 

They looked positively silly, she thought. She would have laughed out loud if the situation had allowed but like the man at her arm, she remained silent, schooling her features into neutrality, much in the fashion she did in Lindblum. Two small men and a spear for each against a man capable of the rumoured and long thought non-existent black magic. She wondered what the silver man would do, given the small obstacle in their way. She almost balked as he smiled serenely, his other hand slipping over her own that was on his arm, being overly free with his charms.

 

“Neither, sirs. Simply an elopement.”

 

Both men took his explanation with ease, shrugging into his reason with no concern, their little weapons turned to the ground. “Father David Heavenguard is whom you be needin’, “said one, turning to the side, gesturing into the moss covered building.

 

They stepped forward before a spear came down, blocking their path, causing her partner to sharpen his eyes at the little man as his head slowly turned in his direction.

 

“Password!” the second dwarf cried out almost cheerfully, obviously protocol still in effect despite the “lovers” quest.

 

All of the man’s courtly manners were missing as Kuja coolly responded “Rally-ho..., “a deadly quality curling at the edge of his words as he watched the little man and his spear baring his path. Not liking what she could see unfolding, Hilda tightened her grip on the man’s arm, quickly responding with her own “Rally-ho, “wanting to cross the threshold before any unpleasantness ensued. She knew what the silver man was capable of and didn’t feel the need to enlighten the little men before them.

 

With a crooked smile, the man lifted his spear and gestured for them to enter. The inside of the structure was well lit, sconces set alight in every safe corner of the building, people still milling about despite the late hour. She took the initiative to ask for Father David, still clinging to her captor, unsure as to his current mood. “They’re not too much unlike anyone I’ve ever seen, but I had no idea anyone sentient lived beyond the Mist continent.” She couldn’t help but wonder aloud, soaking in all the sights and sounds around her. She could smell steamed pumpkin bombs and fruit being steeped in some strong tea.

 

“They’re disgusting,” he responded absently, looking to his surroundings much in the same manner as she was, his curiosity matching her own.

 

“Surely you’re not still upset by the little man and his weapon?” she asked reasonably, pulling him along as she continued to look about the food stalls, a lovely smell wafting about the air, her appreciating senses causing her stomach to shift in hunger.

 

“They’re imperfect,” he simply stated, quickening himself to keep her pace.

 

Before she could ask him to expand upon his explanation, she had found what her sense of smell had delighted in and her stomach dropped, the colour pooling her from face at the horror before her, her appetite long gone.

 

“Steamed oglop, “Kuja observed, his devilish sense of humour fastidiously returning. “Looks to be seasoned well at that. Care to try?” he turned to her, his arms folding into his sleeves as he watched her face in delight, her disgust undisguised as she began swallowing. He laughed out loud, heartily and bodily, extricating his arms from his sleeves to hold his abdomen, his hair falling forward as his body shook. As the last of his mirth died out, a man quipped up behind them, relieving Hilda from her current predicament.

 

“Pardon me, but I believe you be needin’ me?” He inquired politely, his little hands resting within one another. His robes were an obvious mark of his position, a little smile curling the sides of his lips.

 

“Father David then, is it?” Hilda turned away from the steaming insect, drawing her attention to the smaller man, a slight bow punctuating her query. Kuja slid an arm around her hip, drawing her in, reinforcing the facade he had put into place, smiling in turn at the man before him. The man stepped to the side, gesturing lightly with his hand away from the stalls and down the hall, his approval at the man’s open affection evident in his eyes.

 

“This way it be.” With that, he made his way down the corridor, the couple following in turn. They arrived at what looked like a shrine, a little kirkboat standing aloft two wooded structures, a black empty hole beneath it, swallowing any light that dared penetrate its recesses. Four trees stood at the corners of the squared room, torches flickering light about, a canopied atrium standing above the boat. Father David gestured for the pair to enter, turning to climb the stairs to the pedestal. Kuja moved first, his steps agile and balanced as he crossed the wooden pole, his hand gripped firmly on her forearm behind him to keep her steady as she trailed along.  

 

Alighting to the boat, she stepped down and into his grasp, as he helped her into the vessel until her footing was sure, looking at Father David for further instruction. Clearing his throat, the little man spoke softly, the quiet air in which he seemed to carry himself creating a placid and serene ambience in the flickering room, Hilda turning back to Kuja, looking at the slightly younger man as he stared at Father David, the light catching lavender highlights in the silver strands.

 

“Join ‘ye hands, and look not to me but one another, “he instructed, their hands perfunctorily sliding into each other as they adjusted their stance, blue on blue, lapis unto lazuli, as the two looked to one another. She could feel the wind from the abyss below blowing against her exposed thighs, causing a small shudder to run down her spine.

 

“Spirits ‘O the Mountain, Spirits ‘O the Woods, “Father David began, his voice echoing in the silent, fire lit room. Perilous thoughts were fighting to overtake her but she had promised herself not to give into them until this was over. She would think about her betrayal after the fact. This thing...this thing that needed to be done would benefit her none by any protest. It wasn’t willingness that had brought her here...

 

“Watch o’er the man an woman as they begin their journey...”

 

Looking toward the man before her, she could read nothing from his expression as his eyes bored into her own, his focus she assumed on the deed at hand.

 

“In sickness an’ in health...”

 

She saw Cid in a chair; his head in his hands, a broken kingdom alight around him.

 

Unconsciously, she tried to pull one of her hands back but the silver sorcerer’s grip tightened, his eyes narrowing slightly, henna dark at his lids, his lips still and unmoving as his stare held her in place.

 

“...have the strength to carry ye through the trials...”

 

His steel like grasp and azure gaze pierced her, left her breathless.

 

“An the wisdom to follow the path...”

 

Why had she thought she couldn’t understand what he was thinking? Why had his eyes, only moments ago, seemed so unfathomable? What had been so mystifying seconds before was so evident now. She could see it. Oh Holy! She could hear it. Without words, she could hear what he was bearing into her with his stare, with his grip.

 

Mine.

 

She had not the power to will herself to move. Silently, he was overpowering her. Without physical strength nor spell, she was bound to him none the less.

 

“Do ye have a token to mark your bond?”

 

She could only watch as his grip loosened, his fingers curling lightly against her wrist as his thumb brushed against the veins in it, bringing her fingertips to his lips. She looked on as his tongue silkily darted out across her ring finger, the hot wet sensation only a quick prelude, his eyes locked unto hers, his mouth engulfing the digit, his lips closing at the base with a slight sucking motion before he bore his teeth down, piercing flesh.

 

Gritting her teeth and swallowing her cry, she watched as crimson tinged the inner most parts of his lips, releasing her finger from the confines of his mouth, red staining his teeth. His tongue flicked out to swipe at his lips, removing the traces of blood on them. The finger that bore the symbol of her attachment to Cid now bore another, more permanent mark.

 

A binding that cannot be undone.

 

She was waiting for his laughter, his mischievous grin, but there was nothing of the sort to be found as he raised his own hand before her, bringing his fingertips against her own lips. She didn’t dare allow herself an opposing thought, the seriousness of the situation evident in the pulsing, dripping pain of her hand. Mimicking his earlier actions, she brought his finger within her mouth, curling her tongue around the appendage before biting down.

 

Hard.

 

Imagining herself sinking into flesh, into meat, unto bone, she bit down, wanting to shout with it, wanting to hurt him for putting her in this predicament, for making her disloyal, for making her do harm onto others with her complicity in order to survive. She could taste blood, the bitter sensation pulling her from her thoughts, bringing her back to the present, her teeth quick to extract themselves from his flesh. She watched the tendrils of red flow around his knuckles as he withdrew, staining his fingerless gloves, his fingers twitching and flexing to reaffirm their dexterity before reclaiming her hand within his own.

 

“May the blessin’s of Heaven be upon this man an’ woman!” Father David called out, arms raised to the ceiling. Bringing his arms down toward the couple below, he decreed they seal their vows with a kiss.

 

The silver man slid an arm around Hilda’s back, closing the small distance between them, his other hand sliding softly along the back of her neck before clasping her lips with his own. His hair cascaded alongside her cheeks whisper soft as he brushed his lips back and forth against her, urging her to open her mouth. When she refused, the arm around her back slid across her exposed thigh, causing her to call out in surprise, the motion giving the man what he had intended, bringing his arm back around her as he deepened the kiss, his tongue darting inside, finding her own, skilfully stroking her until she could no longer breath, her knees becoming weak.

 

Her lungs burned as he released her, hands grabbing for his arms to steady herself as he addressed Father David, her chest heaving rapidly as she tried to calm her heart.    

 

She was still trying to catch her breath before she realized she was being helped along the wooden walkway, out of the kirkboat. Looking to the man holding onto her he answered her unspoken question smoothly, seeming undisturbed by the events that just transpired.

 

“There is an inn here. We will retire there until morning.”

 

They continued down the corridor until they arrived at their destination, money exchanging hands, a female dwarf guiding them to their room. A fire was already lit, barring out the cold night air in the small space, the bed of a medium size with layered quilts, a chair, basin with pitcher, and a chest of drawers with a tiny rounded mirror being the only other furniture in the intimate space, making the room that much smaller. She went for the pitcher, pleased there was already water inside, pouring the cool liquid over her pulsing hand. Once the water ran clear, she could see the injury would need to be kept clean to prevent infection, estimating a quick healing time. There would be a definitive scar, something that could only be concealed once she placed her wedding band back on. If she would receive it back, that was.

 

She looked over to her captor to see him sitting on the bed, one silver boot propped on the ledge of the wooden frame, his elbow resting on the propped knee, his palm under his chin as he watched her contemplatively, his other hand lazily extended out toward her, the blood dried and flaking as he beckoned her near. She searched the drawers and finding a cloth, she soaked it in the basin, wringing it out. Standing before him, the only movement he made was to crane his head slightly to look up at her as she grasped his hand, running the cool wet cloth against it as she cleansed him, looking to see if she had done him any more damage than he had done her. When finished, she returned to the basin, soaking the cloth in the reddening water.

 

Looking over her shoulder, she noted there was no dressing screen in which to disrobe, not thinking she could muster the courage to ask the man to turn away as she undressed. She understood that they would need to share a room lest to raise any suspicion but this space was tinier then she had imagined. Even to undress, the garment she was wearing had not allowed for a corset nor a chemise, a small panic nesting in her chest. She looked again to the mage as he merely watched her, bored elegance giving away nothing as he observed her, his eyes following uneventfully from the bed.

 

She turned to face him fully, wanting to impart the severity of her situation to him. “I cannot remain in this dress.”

 

His head titled slightly as he concurred, his voice matter of fact, “No, you cannot.”

 

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she tried once more to implore him of the meaning of her words, “I need to undress. I-“

 

“Do you need help?” he interjected, his voice retaining all the calmness she did not feel. She froze, the gravity of his meaning finally sinking in. He stood as he recognized her expression of understanding, taking all of a second to reach her in the tiny room as he took advantage of her panic, his hand reaching for the fabric pooling between her legs, using the material as leverage to  pull her closer until her thighs brushed with his own.

 

“Turn around, Lady,” he whispered, bending slightly to breathe in her ear, releasing the fabric in his hand.

 

She pulled back, her poise rigid as she looked to him, her voice solid and firm.

 

“No.”

 

He closed the space once more, his eyes locking on her own.

 

“Hilda. Turn around.” It wasn’t a command. But it wasn’t a question either. He lightly grasped her arm and guided her into a slow spin, until she was facing the basin, her hands grasping the sides of the small table, not sure what it was she should do.

 

“Just tell me when to stop,” he breathed against her ear, causing her to shiver, his lips brushing softly against her ear.

 

Her response was immediate, “Stop!”

 

She could feel the slight curve of his lips against her ear as he sighed into it, “Ah, but the trick of it is lady, you have to mean it. “

 

Moving to retort, she could hear her own breath catch as she felt his fingertips on either side of her from behind brushing against the outside of her exposed thighs. The gesture was feather light, but its seductive spell was quick to enrapture. She trembled at his touch, her eyes momentarily fluttering closed. Sweeping her hair to the side, he brushed his fingertips against her flesh once more, whispering against the base of her neck, another shiver coursing through her system. Reaching her hand up to stop him, her hand froze in midair as she felt his hot tongue against the side of her neck, slowly drawing a wet trail toward her ear, his teeth lightly raking against her skin, his other hand sliding around the inside of her thigh, moulding the flesh beneath his grasp.

 

This was madness! This was beyond insanity, this was-

 

Her thoughts cut off mid-kiss, his mouth claiming her own hungrily, relentlessly as she craned her neck back, his tongue seeking entrance and invading her demandingly. His tongue thrust in and out suggestively, only breaking away long enough for her to breathe before he seared his mouth with hers once more. His hips rocked against her backside and she shuddered at the tease, torn as to how she should respond. He released her mouth, his index and middle finger delving in, brushing against her tongue as he looked down at her, lust clouding his eyes. She was unsure of the meaning of his gesture but taken in none the less when he began to thrust his fingers in and out of her mouth slowly, her mouth closing on the digits as she stared back, her saliva coating the appendages that plundered her.

 

His other questing hand dove into the yards of fabric between her thighs, finding the center he was looking for, a slight touch causing her to still at the realization of what was to come. He dove his fingers into her mouth further, his own mouth clasping onto the pulse in her neck, his other hand playing with the folds of flesh that were entirely female between her legs to prevent her from thinking of anything other than him.

 

He released her mouth in order to hear her stifled cries, the noise satisfying him in his most basic core, his tongue licking his lips as he rocked his hips against her backside once more. He was manipulating her confusion and drinking in her surprised pleasure, one hand quick at her back as he began to remove her dress. Her eyes snapped open at the air she felt against her back, realizing her clothing was falling, grasping at the fabric before her breasts were exposed. Trying to regain some form of composure, she whipped around only to be pinned against the little table by the man’s hips, his eyes slightly clouded as he watched her, his hands reaching for clasps, unbuckling and shrugging out of his own garments as they fell to the floor, baring himself, naked, his eyes willing her to look at him.

 

He crooked a finger at her décolletage, pulling the loose dress down, exposing herself to him, the material slipping from her fingers, a red stain embellishing her freckled nose.

 

“Stop,” she said again, her voice trembling with embarrassment, her fists clenched, wanting to hide her nakedness but knowing the futility of covering herself with her small hands.

 

“Do try to be more convincing,” he drawled, scooping her up in one swift motion to carry her to the bed, dropping her unceremoniously in a heap. Confused, she twisted to right her bearings before she felt herself jerked down half the bed by one of her legs, causing her to cry out. Sweeping hair from her face, the mage was crouched before her, propping her ankle on his shoulder almost nonchalantly, his hand then sweeping the inside of her calf, “What part of it do you want me to stop, hmm?”

 

He raked his fingernails down the inside of her thigh, “Here?” His tongue flicking against her calf, his eye’s clasped to hers as he spoke against her skin, “Here?” He pulled her up in one quick motion, making her almost dizzy. She was straddling his lap, her hands on his shoulders, feeling his manhood pressing against her center, teasing her as he rocked slightly.

 

“This is your last chance,” his lips crooked up at one corner in a sly grin, a silver eyebrow encouraging her response. She opened her mouth to speak but before she could utter a syllable, he pulled her hips down, impaling her, causing her to arch at the sudden shock, a sharp shudder racking her spine. Before she could gather her bearings, he withdrew and plunged in again. Again. And again. His fingers bit into her hips as he thrust into her, her hand clasping over her mouth to quiet her cries as she trembled, primal pleasure shooting through her nervous system, electric. Her thighs propelled her to ride him in turn, looking down to see him with gritted teeth, his chest panting heavily as he continued to thrust into her, his narrowed eyes masked with lust, his gaze heavy and just as demanding as his body was.

 

This was unfair. She was overwhelmed. She was being consumed. Eaten alive!

 

“Let your voice out,” he ground out between pants, his hips like a piston, unrelenting. She knew she would be bruised where his fingers dug into her flesh. He wrenched her palm from over her mouth, his hand sliding down and grasping tightly onto her forearm as he sent them both over the edge. She called out something that sounded like his name, shuddering convulsively above him as she came, hard. He bit out a shout, his back arched as he poured himself into her, overflowing.

 

She could feel the wetness between her thighs seeping out of her as she fell forward, her head against his shoulder, gasping for air, his shoulders rocking beneath her as he did the same. When their breaths began to steady, she watched drunkenly from her perch on his shoulder as he reached behind him, pulling a pillow from behind, down the bed, gently pushing her onto it. She turned into the cushion, both hands wrapping underneath as her cheek savoured the cool fabric, her heart finally finding its natural rhythm.

 

 She yelped in surprise when she felt her hips being heaved from the bed, her knees shoved toward her abdomen beneath her, her derriere in the air. She turned to look at her partner as he positioned himself behind her, hard again, pressing once more against her entrance.

 

“Are you not satisfied?!” she sputtered, her mind warring with confusion and embarrassingly lewd anticipation.

 

His smile was perverted crudeness as he gazed down at her, licking his lips, “Hardly, madam.”