Chapter Eight Supper had been a trying ordeal. Xellos was still absent, and Gravos refused to sit at the table, let alone acknowledge her. Filia had known it would be difficult, but nothing prepared her for the reality. The disgust and loathing in Gravos' eyes during the rare times when he did look at her nearly shattered her resolve. Filia wanted nothing more than to pour her heart out and tell him the truth, but she couldn't. Even though she knew Jillas understood, at least somewhat, and that the act he put forth was very likely just that, it was heartbreaking. He dropped the 'oneesan' from his speech entirely, and never said her name at all. She retreated to the living room after the dishes were cleared, and fought to find solace in the scraps of fabric on her lap as she pieced them together in a patchwork quilt. The house was relatively silent save for the crackling fire; the two servants had retired to their room in the attic, and she heard nothing more from them. "I must say--" Filia jumped at the sudden voice, and the sewing needle jabbed into her fingertip. She yelped and winced, dropping the needle on the quilt and clutched the wounded finger as she looked over in Xellos' direction. "Oh, dear. You seem to have injured yourself." He shook his head, making a clucking sound with his tongue. "Silly, clumsy Dragon." "You startled me," Filia protested. He stepped over and took her hand, inspecting the pinprick. It was still bleeding just enough to form a tiny red pearl on her finger, and he opened his eyes ever so slightly, meeting her gaze. He held her eyes with his own, and she shivered. Whether it was from fear or revulsion or something else entirely, she couldn't say. Xellos lifted her hand, and slowly dragged the tip of his tongue against her finger, over the minuscule puncture wound. The touch was surprisingly cool and dry, as Filia observed with surprise, her logical mind feeling detached from the events. It was difficult to breathe, and she swallowed hard. "I must say you surprised me this morning," he purred quietly, not breaking his gaze from her own, brushing his cool lips against her finger as he spoke. A chill raced down her spine, but it wasn't an entirely unpleasant sensation. "Why?" Her own voice sounded thick and soft in her ears. "It was what you wanted." "Hmm." He lazily traced her fingertip with his tongue, coaxing it past his lips just a fraction, barely enough to suck on the tip for the briefest of moments. "Which is precisely why, Miss Filia. You're becoming quite agreeable." Her nerves were on fire from both the sensations and fear. "You want me to be otherwise?" "Not at all, no." He drew back from her finger, but still held her hand, tracing lazy, feather-soft circles on her inner wrist with his fingers. "I said it was a surprise, Miss Filia. I did not say it was an unpleasant one." "Oh," was all she could think to say. Filia managed to break their gaze and looked to the floor; he released her hand and stepped back. "Do not feel too badly for what you have done," he said, circling her chair and moving behind her. Filia remained motionless. "It was necessary, and you will be the better for it." She growled on reflex as his hands came around the chair, moving to her shoulders, and hinted at encircling her neck. The fingers around the base tightened, but in a gentle, flexing motion as he started to massage her neck. "Shh, Miss Filia," he said, not letting up on the kneading motion. "You have had a trying time as of late. Just relax." She closed her eyes, trying to keep a grip on the tension which was slowly escaping under his fingertips. "Why are you doing this?" she breathed. "Because I want to," he replied simply. He released her shoulders to move to her side, sitting on the arm of the chair. Filia shot him a wary glance, which he returned with a small smile, and remained still as he moved her long hair aside. "What are you up to, Xellos?" Filia said, her tone low and husky as his hands returned to her neck. "Tsk, Miss Filia. There is no reason to be so paranoid. I told you, I'm here to take care of you." "I can't figure you out," she murmured, closing her eyes. When several long moments passed by and he still had not replied, she chanced a look up at him. His eyes were closed as usual, and his expression was unreadable, with the barest hint of an enigmatic smile tugging at his lips. Filia looked down to her hands clasped on her lap as a tsunami of fatigued grief threatened to crash down on her. She didn't know how much more she could take. She still loved him, and she still missed him so desperately, ever fibre of her being ached to see him again, to just hear his voice. A ragged breath escaped her lips, and she buried her face in her hands, crying quietly. Xellos' hands left her neck, and she felt him touch her head, the contact soft and light, as he stroked her hair. Part of her wanted to scream at him, to rip into him with all the power behind her emotions, and part of her was desperate not to be left alone to drown. In the end, she did nothing, and it was Xellos who made the first move, taking away the quilt she had been stitching, and sliding his arms under her, picking her up. Filia knew she should scream at him, that she had every right to do so, but instead she kept her face buried against her hands, trying not to let the tears overtake her completely. He set her down on the couch, and joined her, gently guiding her down to recline with her head on a pillow on his lap. A blanket was pulled over her, and when she felt his hand gently soothing her hair back, she lost it. With a low, pained wail, she rolled over to face him, clinging to him, sobbing hysterically. She didn't care who it was anymore; she was just too tired of the pain. "I miss him," she admitted, hiccuping between sobs. "I miss him so much it feels like I can't even breathe. But..." Xellos continued stroking her hair, keeping an arm behind her back firmly. "But what?" he prompted. "But I don't want to think that you might be right." "Yes, I know. You feel guilty, thinking such a thing, hmm?" Sobbing harder, she nodded. "That's to be expected. Your kind generally mates for life, and you did, after all, make the foolish choice of picking him as a mate. You feel betrayed by him, torn apart that your mate could and would willfully bring harm upon you." Filia started to protest, but the words died in her throat. A bone-deep chill sank into her and shuddered up her spine. Was that what she was feeling? At least in part? The terrifying thing was that she was no longer certain. She felt him pull the blanket up higher over her shoulders. "This too will pass in time. I will always be here, and you shall not be harmed," Xellos continued. Filia felt bewildered, trying to sort out up from down. The truth of everything was growing more and more obscure, clouded over in shades of gray. All she wanted was for everything to be okay again, and she didn't know how to get there. He sounded so logical, so reasonable; a buoy on the ocean she could cling to for survival. Right and wrong no longer made sense. "Just rest, Miss Filia," he said quietly, stroking her hair. "You are overwrought from fatigue, and it is quite understandable. Rest. You are not alone." But the last thought in her mind before sleep finally overtook her was that wherever he was, Valgaav was alone. Again. The strong winds were hot and acrid, causing her hair to snake against her like dozens of tiny, sharp whips. She could smell blood and fire, and the billowing sand burned at her eyes. He stood before her, towering high above boulders that jutted forth from the ground, his massive feathered wings flaring out behind him. In his hand, he held the balance of life and death, and his eyes were strangely impassive. She reached out to him, trying to climb the rock, only to be hindered by the wind and sand. "Stop it, please! Come back!" His amber eyes met her own, and she shuddered at the blank indifference. "Why should I?" "I love you! Valgaav, please stop, please come back! I need you!" He crouched, resting his arms on his knees, and folded one wing around himself, brushing her face gently with the feathers. Filia sobbed and nuzzled the wing. "It's always about you, isn't it, Golden?" he asked, in a surprisingly gentle voice. "Valgaav..." "A Golden Dragon has no concept of love." He crouched closer to her, reaching down, gently brushing the tears off her cheeks. "I thought you were different, Filia. I thought you weren't like them. But you are, aren't you?" She moaned, pressing her face against his palm as she sobbed. "I'm not, Valgaav, really, I'm not! I do love you! I do!" "Of course you do." His tone was gentle, but patronizing. "Will you prove you love me?" "What? Valgaav, yes, of course! I'll do anything?" "Anything?" "Yes!" Faster than she could blink, he swooped down behind her and seized her arms, spinning them both around. They were back in the gateway, and he wrapped her hands around the blade's handle. "Then end the world." "Valgaav, I--" His grip became impossibly tight, and she screamed in pain. "You said you'd do anything!" he shouted, and forced her to plunge the Dark Star weapon into its place, opening the portal, summoning the crazed dark lord. "You're just like everyone else! Just like all of them!" He shoved her away and she fell over the edge. The floor seemed to disappear into blackness, and she kept falling, never hitting bottom. Arms wrapped around her and her descent was gradually halted. She opened her eyes to find Xellos holding her, and heard rocks clattering. "Do what you need to do, Miss Filia." "What is that? I don't know!" "Yes, you do. Open your hand." She looked to her hand and saw she was holding the barrette from Valgaav. It was burning her flesh, but not leaving any mark behind. As she watched it glimmer in the dim light, she knew what she had to do. "I'll do it." "That's the Dragon I know." She was standing now, overlook a field of death, littered with corpses of both past and present, and watching Valgaav fly toward her, leaving behind nothingness in his wake. Filia gripped the barrette tightly, then flung it at him, watching as it traveled toward him, striking him in the chest. He landed at her feet in a pool of blood, looking up at her with eyes full of betrayal. "Filia... I thought you loved me..." His gaze drifted down to her side, and she felt a tiny hand grip her own. Startled, she looked down to see a little green-haired, blue-eyed child staring up at her. "Mommy, why did you kill Daddy?" Filia struggled to sit up, screaming and kicking at the blankets holding her down. The fire had burned down to embers, and the living room was dim. She sucked down ragged, winded gasps, and shuddered as the cold air touched her sweat-covered skin. "Are you all right, Miss Filia?" She looked at Xellos, seated next to her on the couch, and started to shake her head, doubling over in a wave of nausea. "Leave... leave me alone... please..." she whimpered, rocking back and forth, hugging herself tightly. Cephied, gods, it hurts, make it stop. It felt like a Giga Slave had been unleashed inside her heart. What was she doing? What had she done? "It was merely a nightmare, Miss Filia. Nothing to worry about." She looked to him, keeping a trembling hand pressed tightly to her mouth. She couldn't stop shaking. He reached out and brushed a damp lock of hair back from her face. "Do you need to talk about it?" It was on the tip of her tongue to spill it out, to tell him everything, to tell somebody everything, just to try to ease some of the weight on her own shoulders. But she shook her head mutely, still trying to get her breathing back to normal. "Would you like some tea?" "Why are you so nice to me?" she managed to choke out. Xellos raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise. "I suppose because I want to be." "You know I hate you, right?" One eye cracked open as his lips curled into a faint smirk. "And you're certain you hate me?" "Of course I... am..." She trailed off, the uncertainty in her tone painfully obvious even to her own ears. "Just... please make me tea..." He smirked and stood. "And damn you for confusing me." Xellos bent down close to her, resting his cheek against hers, his lips near her ears. "Are you so certain it is I who is confusing you, and not you yourself?" he asked softly as he brushed a hand down her hair. She stared at him as he drew back, feeling as though she was perhaps just a half-step away from going stark raving mad. Nothing made sense anymore. The smell of frying bacon roused Filia and she stretched, wincing a bit at the stiffness in her neck. She didn't have much room for that, curled up on the sofa, her head on a pillow on someone's lap. A gentle hand was stroking her hair, and still half-asleep, she purred, nuzzling closer. "Valgaav," she murmured, and then froze a split second later, almost before the hand on her head abruptly ceased its ministrations. Icy fear flooded her as she recalled everything, too little too late. Xellos shoved her away into a sitting position, the force of it almost violently rough, and stood. His eyes were closed and that annoyingly cheerful smile was firmly in place. Filia eyed him warily; the tension in that smile was obvious even to her. "Good morning, Miss Filia," he chirped, his voice deliberately irritating and rather grating on her nerves. "It would seem that you slept very well indeed." "I'm sorry," she stammered hoarsely. "It's still all so--" "I believe your servants are preparing breakfast," he interrupted, cutting her apology short. "Do you think that for once, you might manage to actually eat something?" "I..." No, she couldn't try to eat. She had to. Someone else was depending on her for that now. "Yes." "Good." His tone was clipped, almost bordering on a snap, and then he vanished before she could say anything more. The smell of bacon made her stomach tighten in protest, and she clasped her trembling hands together tightly, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions. On one hand, she missed Valgaav desperately, and loathed Xellos with a blinding passion. On the other, she felt as though she had seen a side to him she never before knew was there, and was it possible somehow that he actually did care for her? That notion seemed fantastically absurd, but there it was. And his actions just now... she felt guilty. He acted almost hurt by her slip of tongue. Underneath it all was the fear of the whole situation. A fear that would not go away, or even diminish for so much as a moment. She had to do better. Filia could see Gravos eating breakfast in the backyard when she entered the kitchen. Jillas was standing at the fireplace, scooping up a plate of food for her, and Xellos sat at the table, sipping tea. "Good morning, Jillas," she said quietly. He shoved the plate in her direction. "Your breakfast." His tone was short, and snapped like a whip over her psyche. Was this an act, or was he truly mad? She didn't dare ask. Feeling crushed, she sat down at the table beside Xellos, and forced herself to begin eating. "I do believe that perhaps I should pay Lord Beastmaster a visit," Xellos said calmly, and Filia glanced at him. "Why?" "It might be wise to ask if she could spare my time for a bit longer, a vacation, as it were. I am rather hesitant to leave your side." Filia almost choked on her food, and coughed, grabbing her tea. Everything in her plans depended on her either getting away from Xellos, or Xellos leaving, when the time came to lay the egg. "Are you quite all right?" She nodded, still coughing. "Why?" she managed to gasp. "Well, you appear to be in distress and choking on your food." Filia shook her head. "Why ask for a vacation?" "Oh. That." He sat back, studying her. "You are in a terrible frame of mind, and I would hate to see any ill befall you, as I have said. You really shouldn't be alone now." "Don't do that," Filia begged, trying to hold in her panic. "I'll be better, I promise. I was just tired last night, and it was all weighing down on me. I'm better this morning, I swear!" "Why, Miss Filia, if I didn't know any better, I would think you were trying to get rid of me." One eye cracked open slightly. Filia swallowed hard, and was keenly aware of Jillas in the corner, tending to cleaning up the mess of food preparation, listening to them. "No, no, it's not that..." "You seem almost frightened at the thought." She shook her head vigorously. "No, it's just, maybe you shouldn't make such a request, she might be upset." "And since when would that matter to you?" "She might take it out on me, or..." Filia saw a chance to try and mend her earlier mistake. She stood from her chair, moving to his side, placing her hands on his shoulder. She summoned up all of her confused emotions, forcing them to the front and into her words. "Or she might take it out on you, and I couldn't bear to lose you too!" Her vision blurred over briefly as tears formed and fell, and Xellos glanced up at her, his eyes opening slightly in surprise. "Miss Filia..." "I mean it." She crouched by his chair, gripping his arm, looking up at him, summoning up all of her desperate, deep fear and loneliness. "Please don't take that risk, please!" she begged. He seemed almost bemused. "And here I thought you hated me." "I don't know what I feel," Filia admitted. Keep the lie hidden in the truth. "I just can't be alone. I'd rather deal with you gone for a little bit than forever, please!" Xellos remained silent for a moment, watching her. Then he closed his eyes, lifting his hand to brush back her hair. A rather self-satisfied smile, like a cat that just helped himself to a pint of cream, curled his lips. "Very well, Miss Filia. If it means that much to you, I shall refrain from doing so." She rested her forehead on his leg with a quiet sob of relief. The relief was genuine as she released the iron grip she kept on her darker emotions, feeling them retreat, letting her have a brief respite. A sharp snarl, followed immediately thereafter by a loud clattering, cut into her, and she looked up. Gravos stood in the kitchen doorway, his lips curled back, glaring at her, baring her fangs. "I don't believe this!" he snapped. "You disgust me." With another snarl, he turned on his heel and stalked off. Jillas put the fragments of the wooden bowl Gravos threw onto the counter, and vaulted the closed bottom half of the dutch door, giving chase. "Boss! Wait!" Filia just stared at the door until her vision blurred so much it was just a mottled swirl of color. A low, shuddering moan escaped her as she shut her eyes, hot tears spilling down her cheeks. "Shh, Miss Filia." Strong hands gripped her shoulders, gently pulling her up, pulling her over to sit on his lap. A gloved hand brushed her cheek, wiping away the tears. "It is not within your control what he thinks. His loyalty is blinded. But you are making the right choice for yourself." "Oh, Xellos," she whimpered, laying her head on his shoulder. "Do try to finish your breakfast, though," he said. "You need your strength." Filia nodded, pushing away after a moment, and he released her, letting her return to her own chair. "Would you care for some more tea?" he asked. "Please?" "Certainly, Miss Filia." He poured her another cup, then refilled his own. "All this stress isn't good on your nerves. You really must take better care of yourself." "I know," she murmured, forcing another mouthful. She chewed and swallowed. "I'm trying." Filia cast a sidelong gaze at him. "So please don't make such a request to your lord. I could do without the added strain of worrying about you." Xellos smirked faintly. "Very well then, Miss Filia." She worried about him, all right. She worried that he would be here at the wrong time. She worried he would find her out. She worried he would kill them all. She worried that if she kept acting for too long, she'd no longer be able to see the line between black and white. As it were, it was already blurring into an indiscriminate gray. She worried that she was slowly losing her hate for the Mazoku seated next to her.

to be continued...
Chapter Nine