Chapter Five Maybe he won't return. Wishful thinking, Filia knew, even as the words formed in her mind, but she could still hope. Two weeks had elapsed since Xellos had departed, and slowly, things were returning to normal. Well, as normal as they could get with a very conspicuous absence. Filia closed her eyes and turned away from the window, moving over to the fireplace to sink down onto the floor, gazing at the low flames. They provided her with a measure of detached distraction, the way they licked at the wood and snaked up toward the chimney like a living, otherworldly creature. Somewhat distant and muffled, Filia heard the faint grinding of hinges as the kitchen door swung open, and voices. Gravos and Jillas, returning from the town. They were talking, and then Jillas cried out in warning, a sound which was cut short by a heavy thud, a clatter, and a few words from Gravos that burned Filia's ears to hear. He must have forgotten to check to make sure the bottom door had opened as well. The latch that could be slid into place to join the two was loose. Jillas had been meaning to fix it. Some things never do change. Pity they were home so soon. She would have liked to savor the peace of solitude a bit longer, now that she was finished with her chores. It was growing increasingly difficult to find ample motivation to leave her bedroom each morning. Nothing sounding more appealing to her than to curl up under her blankets. "I found some prime--" Jillas cut himself off as he walked into the living room. "Oneesan! Are you all right?" He rushed over to her side, jerking his hand back in surprise as she growled softly in warning. Filia's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, Jillas." Why had she growled? At Jillas, of all people? It had been reflexive, instinctive. "What were you saying?" Jillas' ears were drooping, and he watched her warily. "Did you ... fall again, oneesan?" he asked carefully. Fall. His polite euphemism for the moments where blackness would overtake her, and she would wake some time later. Sometimes minutes, once an hour. Filia had hidden it from her two servants as long as possible. Once they did discover the problem, she had talked them out of finding a cleric by somehow persuading them that it was just the effects of stress. "No, Jillas," Filia said evenly, looking back to the flames. She redirected his attention back to his original train of thought. "What was it you found?" "Oh." He made a confused sound, then one of exultation. "Prime squash. Top quality. It will be good cooked up with brown sugar and butter." "No, it won't!" Gravos retorted from somewhere else in the house. Filia's tapered ear twitched. The hall. Toward the kitchen, but not quite there. She could hear his footsteps. "You just don't have any taste!" Jillas shot back in a friendly banter. "I have enough to tell you what that tastes like!" Closer now. The light cast from the hallway sconces no longer formed shadows on the wall before her as he stuck his head in, his huge bulk blocking out the light. "But I won't, 'cause there's a lady in our midst." He gave her a slight salute, tapping his fingers to his head as she looked at him. "Then why don't you both make supper?" Filia suggested. "That way you both will be sure to have food which each of you enjoy." "What about you, oneesan?" "Perhaps by then, I'll be hungry. I should think I would like steak, though. But for now, a pot of tea which I'll have in my room." With a fatigued grace, Filia rose to her feet. Jillas began to put a hand out to aid her, but apparently recalled her reflexive warning earlier, and hung back. "Go get some rest, Miss Filia, ma'am," Gravos said, stepping back from the doorway. "Jillas an' me, we can take care of things, and get ya your tea made up just the way ya like it." "Thank you, Gravos. I believe I shall do that." Filia paused, looking back to Jillas, who remained at the fireplace. "And I should like to try some of the dish you described when it is prepared." He smiled, but that was insufficient to fend off the worried gleam in his eyes. Filia turned away, unwilling to see it any longer, and retreated into the sanctuary of her room. The unusual behavior from Filia hadn't escaped Gravos' notice either. While he worried about her, he just attributed it to everything else that had gone down. Thinking back, he unintentionally hit the steak he was tenderizing to fry just a little too hard, reducing the red meat to a near-jelly consistency. He really had to watch his strength sometimes. It galled him to no end that at the times when they really needed him, his strength was insignificant. He wasn't the brightest star in the sky by any stretch, but he had sense enough to know that he didn't have a prayer at fighting a Mazoku, especially not one of Xellos' power. Poor Filia. Poor Boss. Jillas was always trying to think of ways to fix things. Gravos left that up to him. He wasn't smart like Jillas, and fixing things wasn't really his forte. He knew how to hammer a nail, he knew how to craft an ordinary piece of metal into a sword or battle axe or mace. He knew enough to keep a house in working order, to get by. Something of this level required heavy thinking. As he looked over to his smaller friend, Gravos surmised that was exactly what Jillas was currently engaged in doing. "Wha'cha come up with?" Gravos asked, trying to salvage the steak. Jillas didn't reply instantly, his furry brows knitted together in deep thought as he tended to the yellow squash. "Oneesan," he replied after a moment. "Wish there was somethin' we could do to cheer her up some." "I don't think that would work." "Yeah, we need Boss back here for that." "No, no," Jillas shook his head. "No, it's more than that, I think. I..." He trailed off. "You what?" "I think there's something else wrong with her now." That caught Gravos' attention. "Huh?" He scowled. "Ya think that damned Mazoku did something to her?" "I...maybe, but that's not what I'm thinking." "Tell me!" Jillas looked at him, and his ears twitched slightly. His expression was unreadable as he studied Gravos. "Don't say a word now." "A'course not. What kinda buffoon ya take me for?" Gravos huffed, resenting the implication that he'd betray a confidence. "What kind of stuff have you noticed about Oneesan lately?" "Hm." Gravos started to scratch his head in thought, remembering in the nick of time that his massive fingers were smeared with raw meat. "Well, she growls a lot, especially if anybody gets near her. She's a lot fussier than she used to be. I seen her move stuff around, and ya can't even really tell she moved 'em, it's just a wee bit this way or that. Nothing that'd really matter. Most of the blankets, they're in her room now, and she spends more and more time in there. And a'course, there's there stuff with her passin' out." "Yeah..." Jillas swished his tail, thinking. "What I was noticing, too." "Ya gonna tell me what yer thinkin', or do I have to beat it outta ya?" It was an idle threat, and they both knew it. "I think there's gonna be a little dragon," Jillas said softly. Gravos blinked. Then he gaped. Then he blinked some more. "Say what?!" "Shh!" Jillas shot a look to the doorway, then back to Gravos. "I don't know much about dragons, true, but I know enough to know that mother dragons are the most dangerous thing around." "Dangerous? Filia?" Gravos snorted softly. "Territorial, and ferociously protective of the egg." "So where's the egg?" "I don't think its laid yet." "How'd she..." The train of thought finally pulled into Gravos' station, and pieces fell into place. "It's Boss' kid?" "I can't think of anybody else." Jillas was quiet for a moment. "This could very well explain why she keeps...falling." "Ya think so? That'd be good. I was thinkin' she maybe got knocked a bit too hard on the noggin and just wasn't right in the head no more." Jillas shot him a mild glare. "So, what're we gonna do? She gonna be getting all growly and stuff at us more than she is?" "That's a concern, yeah." "What'll ya think that damned Mazoku'll do?" Jillas' eyes widened until they appeared to be nearly as big around as a dinner plate. If it wasn't for all that fur, Gravos figured he was probably getting real pale. "Hadn't thought that far ahead, huh?" Jillas shook his head, and he knew it was a bad situation. Even so, Gravos couldn't keep from feeling just a bit pleased at catching a passing thought which Jillas had obviously missed. "So whadda we do?" Jillas didn't reply immediately. "First, I think we need to find out if Oneesan knows about all this." "Why wouldn't she?" "Lord Valgaav said she wasn't all that familiar with how dragons oughta be, and the Goldens were pretty tight-laced." Jillas shook his head. "Even if she knows, we need to figure out what we're gonna do. This situation has all the earmarks of getting worse." "Ya gonna go up and talk to her?" Jillas studied the doorway, then shook his head. "Better not disturb her. She'll come down to dinner." Supper was a quiet affair. Filia seemed to be oblivious to the fact that Jillas and Gravos kept up none of their usual banter through the meal, focusing only on her food, as she had done for the last several weeks. She made the obligatory polite compliments as to the quality, but Jillas observed that she dined in such a manner which suggested she paid little notice to the taste. Her fork toyed with the food as often as it raised small bites to her lips, and she chewed without thought, her eyes somewhere far away. An enormous change from the Filia which Jillas once knew, but hardly any different from the Filia of recent weeks. Several times he considered bringing up his earlier concerns, but he would scarce get beyond opening his mouth before his nerve failed him. What if he was wrong? What if she were to be offended? Even worse, what if he were to be right? What could they do? He had no answers to give for any of the questions which rose in his mind. Jillas despised pointing out problems, and having not a single potential solution to offer. Idly, he considered searching for Valgaav, but the possibility of all that could go wrong scared him into inaction. Although he didn't share with Filia the extreme paranoia she had developed regarding Xellos, Jillas didn't trust the Mazoku in the slightest. Even in his absence, there were times during which Jillas would swear they were being watched. The soft thud of metal clattering against wood snapped Jillas out of his musings to see that Filia had dropped her fork onto her mostly-empty plate. Supper was over, at least for her. "Oneesan, a moment, please?" Jillas asked, blurting out the words before he could think. It was now or never. Filia regarded him with a controlled, weary patience. "Yes, Jillas?" He stammered a moment, then cleared his throat. "I need to talk to you." "Yes?" Jillas hesitated. Would she be more comfortable in private, or would she not mind Gravos' presence? His hulking friend settled matters for him. "I'll take care'a the dishes," Gravos said amicably, and gestured to the doorway. "Go on and hit the livin' room. There's a nice warm fire goin' in there and it'd be a shame to waste it." Jillas shot him a look of gratitude and stood. "Shall we?" "Thank you, Gravos," Filia said, and turned for the hallway, walking the short distance to the living room where she curled up on one end of the soft couch. Jillas considered where to sit, and chose the floor, his back to the fire, looking up at her withdrawn expression earnestly. "Oneesan, it hasn't escaped mine or Gravos' notice that you've been acting a lot differently--" "It's been a rough several months, Jillas," Filia interrupted. His ears drooped. "Well, er, yes, we know this. It's not been easy, but it's more than that." He hesitated, watching her impatient expression. "You're more aggressive than I've ever known you to be. You've always had a temper, but this is different. It's quieter, a constant low simmer, kinda like. You're like a different person." "I feel like a different person." Her tone stopped just shy of being a snap. "Oneesan, hear me out," Jillas begged. "While it's true I don't know much about dragons, most of us know a thing or two about not messin' with a mother of any species, and dragons are the most notorious." He swallowed nervously, not liking the look on her face. "And then there's all those times you just pass out for no apparent reason. What I'm wonderin' is, could you maybe, er, could it, could there be a, um, a little dragon on the way?" Filia's lips were pressed together in a hard, thin, white line, and her face was pale. Her large blue eyes seemed to grow darker as the expression in them was stormy. Jillas fought down the urge not to cringe and waited for the impending outburst of rage. It never came. Gradually, the storm seemed to lift, and her expression, although still tense, lost its rage to be replaced by a sort of pensive fear. "I...I had not considered that," she admitted softly, staring at the flames behind Jillas. "I do know I feel -- have been feeling much differently as of late." Her gaze drifted down to the floor. "It would seem that you know more of my kind than I do. Dragons hatched in my clan were not common, and the mothers were kept separated from the rest, tended by only a small sect of priestesses. Knowledge of such things was not encouraged among the unmated dragons." Jillas hadn't considered that. "Do you, er, have any idea what's gonna happen?" Filia didn't answer immediately. "I know the time frames for things." She was quiet for so long that Jillas almost spoke up before she continued. "It will be perhaps three more months before I...before there will be an egg to watch over." Filia shook her head slowly and closed her eyes. "I don't know to do." Jillas hesitated, then reached out and gave her hand what he hoped was a comforting pat. "It's okay, oneesan. We'll figure it out." She started to smile at him, but midway through her expression froze and congealed. Jillas snapped his attention to a shadowy corner as a third voice broke into their conversation. "Of course we will!" Xellos said cheerfully, stepping out of the shadows, beaming his familiar closed-eyed smile. Jillas held his breath. How long had he been there? "We will what?" Filia's voice sounded strangled. "Why, figure it out, of course!" His stomach twisted into knots, and he shot Filia a nervous glance. "You don't even know what we're talking about," Filia said, her tone low and slightly deep from her efforts to keep it steady. "But you'll tell me." Xellos smiled pleasantly. "What makes you think I'll tell you anything?" Filia retorted. Almost lazily, Xellos opened one eye just enough to stare at her. The air felt too thick for Jillas to breathe as he watched the silent, tense exchange. Whatever was in the message of his gaze, Filia heard it loud and clear. "Very well," she relented, her voice thick as she looked down to the floor. "We are concerned with having enough food to last through the winter." "Is that all it is, Miss Filia?" Xellos said, almost purring. "It's a valid concern, although I can see how you wouldn't consider it to be," Filia shot back. "Mazoku don't eat." "Not conventionally." Both eyes opened to slits, and he smiled a chilling, shrewd smile. "But I must say your emotions are exceptionally delicious right now." "You startled us," Filia said. "Oh, my apologies." He oozed insincerity. "Jillas, help me to my room?" Filia asked, standing, not taking her gaze from the Mazoku. Jillas glanced at him, then looked back to Filia, getting to his feet. "Sure thing, oneesan." "I'm sure your friend could use your aid in the kitchen," Xellos announced, suddenly appearing between them. Both Jillas and Filia jumped back a step, startled. Before either of them could react further, Xellos snaked an arm around Filia's waist. "I will assist Miss Filia." Jillas looked at her, and nearly cringed at the livid expression on her face, although it wasn't even directed at him. Her face was pale with rage, and the bright sapphires of her eyes seemed to darken almost to indigo. Time had a strange sensation of slowing down as she raised her hand, clearly intending to strike the Mazoku. Her lips curled back in a feral snarl, accompanied by a soft, infuriated hiss. Just as her hand began its flight toward Xellos' head, the Mazoku glanced at her, opening his eyes. Filia's hand stopped in midair, hovering inches from Xellos' cheek for what felt to Jillas like several long minutes. Finally, she let it drop to her side. Her shoulders slumped just enough that she almost appeared to deflate, and the rage succumbed to fatigue. So sudden and intense was the appearance of exhaustion that Jillas thought she might swoon. "Now, now, Miss Filia, you know you haven't been well." Xellos' voice was so irritating and cheerfully high that Jillas fought the urge to cover his ears. "Someone with your delicate constitution should attempt to avoid getting excited." Filia opened her eyes, looking at him with weary hatred, and he ushered her to the doorway. "You need to rest." Jillas watched them go, wondering how much of their earlier conversation Xellos had heard, and what was going on between the two of them. The Filia he remembered would have flown into a screaming rage, doing her level best to obliterate the Mazoku with little regard to anything around her. But there were unspoken messages being exchanged in the looks Xellos would give her now; messages that had the power to keep even a dragon's formidable anger in check. Shaking his head slightly, Jillas walked to the kitchen. This was looking to be shaping up to be one storm that would get worse long before it ever got better. He just had to believe that somehow, someway, it would get better.

to be continued...
Chapter Six