Chapter Thirteen Business was down to a dead crawl. There had only been one customer in the last week; the innkeeper needed some more tea. Filia wasn't too worried about the drop-off of clients. The howling wind and blinding, thick snow swirling outside in the blizzard would be daunting even for humans. All things considered, she wondered why she had been so uneasy. Her sources of stress and fear were all but gone, and over the three months since Jillas and Gravos left, an easy sort of routine and understanding had been forged with Xellos. She let him take over her life completely, and he saw to it that she wanted for nothing. A tray of tea to wake her each morning, measured out and ready to go, just add hot water? Check. A neck massage when she grew stiff from too many hours at the wheel or painting table? Check. Plenty of firewood, and never having to tend to the flames herself, or clean the hearth, or a variety of other chores? Check. He chose for her each day what she would wear, and anything she needed from the market, he was there and back again with the desired items before she could finish buttoning her coat. It was only while considering the effect the weather had on the absence of customers that Filia realized she hadn't left her home since before Jillas and Gravos' departure. Even the trips out back to the kiln and the pump had faded into a memory, although she didn't mind so much. It was bitterly cold, and Filia readily admitted that she might not have been able to endure the winter if not for Xellos' aid. She could live like this, she supposed. Maybe he had been right all along, and she had merely been too stubborn and set in her prejudiced ways to realize it. Even the nights when he would visit her were no longer a dreaded occurrence, endured out of sheer necessity. His touch, even though it sometimes hurt, never crossed over into the realm of unbearable. She complied, and he rewarded. It was always that simple. He couldn't be as evil as she was taught. Filia lulled herself into that belief, for anything else would drive her mad. He cared for her, even loved her. He had to. And in time, she would learn to love him. In time, she would learn to forget, and even the numbed ache inside would disappear. That was what she told herself, every minute of every day, until she started to believe it. It was so easy. Give up all she was, all her needs and wants, and in exchange, every need was met. All she needed was Xellos. Filia still worked, especially in her shop. She was never one to stay too idle, and he allowed her certain chores to occupy her time when he had no need of her. Since no customers were predicted anytime in the near future, it was a good chance as any to run an inventory and do a deeper cleaning of the corners and shelves which normally only saw a brush of a duster. With a tally of the merchandise on the floor complete, Filia took her clipboard into the back room. Once she knew how many sets of what she had, she'd know if she could pack some into storage, and have an idea of how much of a buffer she had to work with before her products were depleted. Filia climbed a short stool to reach the top shelf, and pulled down a large bowl. "What were you doing up there?" she muttered to herself as she inspected the pattern. "This goes with the rose trellis set." She stepped down and carried it out of the storeroom, and raised an eyebrow in surprise at a bundle of cloth nestled inside. "Huh." Filia set the bowl on the counter and reached inside, half-expecting something to leap out and bite her. The cloth unwrapped to reveal a black bowl, and Filia immediately started scanning the shop for the parent set. "There we are," she said in triumph, walking over to a full place setting she made, painted up with a glossy, elegant black. She started to set the bowl down with its mates, and truly looked at it for the first time. The simple black bowl, inlaid with a fine detail of gold paint, didn't belong to that set. It didn't belong to any set at all. Her heart thudded against her sternum with enough painful force that she thought something might break. She held it carefully, and tried to force a measure of steadiness into her trembling hands. Reflected in the glossy sheen to her mind's eye was the bowl's creation, as vivid as if it were yesterday. For all the months that had passed, she could still see him, every last detail. The way his aqua bangs parted and framed his face in a cowlick so similar to her own, the tawny scars that striped his face and his strong arms, arms that held her, hands that molded the very bowl she held under her own guidance. The gentle, the safe passion in those hands, his lips... Their child. She hadn't forgotten. She thought she had buried it, and that it was all for the best. Buried alive, but buried nonetheless, and it would die in time. Sometimes they come back. Grief, remorse, rage, and a soul-shattering loneliness coiled together tightly around her heart, squeezing out a low moan as she pressed the cool, painted clay to her cheek. Love, my mate... "That might fetch a nice price." Filia jumped, screeching quietly in startled surprise as she turned around, and the bowl slipped from her fingers. She tried to catch it, but was too late. The sound of it shattering on the wooden floor was surreal, and echoed in her heart. She stared at the numerous small fragments numbly, trying to will time itself to be kind, to curl back to a point where she could have the bowl in her possession once more. Whole, unshattered. She tried to will back time to a point where her heart wasn't a mirror for the bowl's condition. "Oh dear," Xellos said cheerfully. "Well, you can always make another." Filia didn't look at him, didn't move, save to sink to her knees, ignoring a shard that was digging into her flesh. Her hands quaked as she picked up one of the bigger fragments. There was no way she could even attempt to piece it together again. Yes, she could make another. But she couldn't make another with Valgaav. Not the way the shattered one had been made. Agony wrenched at her insides violently enough that Filia wished it could kill her. It was blinding and breath-robbing and paralyzing. No matter how hard she worked to try and persuade herself that she was getting over him, it was all a lie. "Miss Filia?" She tried to speak past the hot tears burning her face, but all that came out was a keening moan. It took several attempts before she could whimper out his name. Xellos crouched down beside her, moving to eye level. "It's just a bowl," he told her, his tone cheery but firm. "Hardly worth getting yourself all worked up over." "It's not the bowl..." Her words were garbled, tangled up in tears. "Go away. Please, please go away. Please don't come back, please," she begged fervently, wailing. "I want him. I just want him back, please, I don't care about anything, just go away and let me have Valgaav back!" Her words twisted into shrieking, hysterical sobs. She clung to his cloak, staring at him, her vision impossibly blurred even though she had them opened wide. Desperation overrode reason, and she couldn't fathom the alternative. He had to agree. He had to. "I'll beg, I'll do anything, just please! Let me have him back!" Xellos' face was impassive, his eyes open, regarding her calmly. Finally, he stood, pulling free from her grip. Her own breath strangled her as she choked and gasped on the tears, staring up at him with desperate hope. "No," Xellos said calmly. "Wha...why? Oh, Xellos, please!" "Mazoku are very powerful creatures, this is true." He adjusted his cloak, and casually flicked off a bit of lint. "However, the ability to resurrect the dead is quite beyond us." Filia stared at him, wheezing against the sob stuck in her throat. The world tilted on end violently, and it felt as though she might vomit. She did not just hear that. She didn't. She couldn't. It couldn't be true. It couldn't... With a shriek of rage made insane by grief, Filia lunged at him, clutching the broken shard in her hand like a weapon as she stabbed at his face. Everything around her faded to black, everything but him. Nothing else mattered. "You thrice-damned bastard!" she screamed, her body trying to transform. Even through her rage, she could feel something blocking it. She could feel him interfering with the magic, with the portal, preventing her from transforming into her more powerful body. So her breath weapons weren't an option, but... Filia kept trying to injure him through any means possible, stabbing and slashing at him, kicking and scratching, her voice trembling with a rage that surpassed all reason as she tried to recite the Chaotic Disintegrate spell. He warded off her attacks with as much casual disdain as one might brush away a fly, then seized her wrists painfully, locking her arms behind her, halting a necessary channel for her magic. Filia still struggled, kicking and snarling in rage, snapping at him, trying to bite him. Xellos seized her jaw tightly in his free hand, his other locked around her, gripping her wrists, pinning her body to his. "Filia!" he snapped, and gave her a quick shake. "Cease this behavior immediately!" The cold smile that formed on his lips made her scream in fury, resuming her struggles anew. "Unless you want me to go to Seyruun." As his words penetrated her fog, they hit true to their target, the maternal side of Filia, logic and reason. She stared at him, her attempts to kill him coming to a stop, and the fury left as fear moved in. "You...Seyruun?" "You thought you could presume to hide something from me, little Dragon?" he asked, smiling coldly. "I knew all about the child you carried even before you did." "No..." "I quite enjoyed watching your attempts to outwit me. Had I not paid attention, had I been a lesser sort, I daresay you may even have succeeded." A harsh sob of defeat tore at her throat, and she squeezed her eyes shut tightly, every last vestige of fight draining away. "I chose well, Miss Filia. I knew from the day we met that you were worthy of me. Your careful attempts at manipulation only served to prove that." He cupped her jaw, forcing her to look at him. Filia opened her eyes, unable to see more than a blur past her tears. "But the humans have a saying, one which you perhaps should have remembered. You cannot con a con man." "I hate you," she mumbled, closing her eyes as another sob wracked her body. "Of course you do." His tone was patronizing. "Need I remind you, Miss Filia, it was you who made the choices here?" She sniffled, narrowing her eyes as she looked at him. "What?" "You chose to get rid of that half-breed's things. You chose to take me as your mate." "I did not..." "Who made the first move?" "You tricked me..." "Do you really think that half-breed would have wanted you back if he knew what you'd become?" "And what have I become?" Her voice was strained, raw against her throat. "True love he spoke about, yet you proved yourself true by your race's standards." "No..." "You wanted me, Miss Filia. Even while you still carried his child, you wanted me." She didn't have to look at him to know that infuriating smirk was curling his lips. Then she felt as though she might become sick when she opened her mouth to protest...and realized she had no room with which to do so. "But that's a Golden's brand of true love, isn't it? As treacherous as your race's crimes, as duplicitous as a Mazoku. You would have made a fine one, Miss Filia, with your jolly song and dance." "Shut up..." she whispered. "Out of sight, out of mind, and you couldn't get rid of your child fast enough." "I was trying to protect it!" she shouted, her voice a harsh croak under the weight of the sobs. "From what? And why send it to Amelia? Why not his father? It might have been quite amusing to watch you explain that. If the child was in any danger, it wouldn't still be alive, not since I know where it is." He leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear. "Or, maybe you were right. Maybe I would have killed your child if you tried to keep it, evidence of your disgusting alliance with that half-breed..." "Which is it, Xellos?" she whispered wearily, knowing his answer even before she asked. "Sore wa himitsu desu." Then he pulled away and she felt him scoop her up easily, as though she didn't weigh a thing. "Come now." His tone was back to normal, far too cheerful and too grating against the broken weights over her heart. "You're not well, Miss Filia. A bit of rest, a spot of tea, and we'll have you back to rights in no time." Why should she fight a moment longer? It was over, and he had won. "I declare, babies always seem to get themselves born at night, and stormy ones at that." "Amelia wasn't born during either," Philionel protested, then scratched the back of his head. "Her sister, on the other hand..." Amelia took a break from watching the egg to yawn and rub her eyes tiredly, then returned to her previous position with her elbow resting on the table as she listened to the nursemaid and her father. Every so often, it wobbled on its own with little pecking and scratching sounds from within, and that every-so was becoming more often with each passing hour. "Shouldn't we be boiling any water?" "Whatever for?" The nurse looked at the Crown Prince of Seyruun as if he'd grown another head, and put her hands on her generous hips. "Do you boil water when an egg hatches?" "Only if you're making stew!" Gravos piped up, earning him a dirty look from everyone except Amelia, who struggled to hold in a sleepy giggle. Fatigue and the fact that it reminded her all too much of Miss Lina or Mister Gourry made it a bit more amusing than it was in actuality. "Oh, that reminds me!" The loud, sudden sound of the nurse clapping her hands together made Amelia sit bolt upright in an adrenaline-fueled spurt of surprise, which was quickly swallowed up by another yawn. "We need a steak." "I could go for something to eat, now that you mention it," Philionel said. "You men!" The nurse shook her head. "It's for the baby." "I thought babies ate milk..." "Not Dragon babies." She looked to Jillas and Gravos. "One of you, get useful and run down to the kitchen and tell the cook we need a nice prime cut of tender beef, chopped into little morsels, and to not bother with cooking it." "I'll get it," Gravos said, pushing himself to his feet. "And if you try helping yourself to any samples, I'll give you what for!" Amelia bit back another giggle as Gravos gulped and nodded. "Yes, ma'am." The small clock in the room chimed three, and Amelia lay her head in her arms, giving in to a jaw-cracking yawn. "Now as for you, child, are you certain you want to do it this way?" the nurse asked, tapping Amelia's head to be sure she had her attention. "Hm? Oh, I can do it, Nurse Zeeki." Amelia rubbed her eyes and nodded. "Miss Filia sent the egg to me, it's my responsibility." "It'll be a big one, you know. That babe won't let anyone care for it but you for a while yet." "I can do it," Amelia said, not mentioning the fact that it would get her out of the normally required diplomatic functions. They'd help each other out. "How many Dragon babies have you taken care of?" "None, actually," Nurse Zeeki said, her tone brisk. "I knew some people who had a Black when I was a girl, and this is what they told me. But whether it has skin, feathers, or fur, or even scales, a baby is a baby is a baby. And those are my business." "How much longer do you think it will be?" Amelia asked, fighting down another yawn. "Well, if this is anything like a baby chick or duckling hatching, I'd judge by those cracks it'll be within the hour now." Nurse Zeeki studied Amelia and clucked her tongue. "You should've slept when I told you to." "I'll be fine." Amelia reached for the teapot, only to find it empty. "I just need more tea." "I'll make it," Jillas offered. "I know how oneesan liked it when she didn't get enough sleep, strong enough to curl your hair." The pot of tea was emptied, Amelia was on an artificially-induced bout of awareness, and the early spring storm had worn out its fury by the time chunks of the leathery-hard gray and green speckled shell began to tear away under the force of tiny little black talons. "Hey, I can see 'im!" Gravos called out, looming over the table as he studied the egg. "There, Lord Valgaav's baby." "And oneesan's! Don't forget oneesan!" Jillas tried to get a good view, planting a foot on Amelia's chair by her leg to hoist himself up to see over Gravos' shoulder. "Back!" Nurse Zeeki ordered. "And that goes for you too!" She thrust a finger under Philionel's nose. "You three get over there in that corner, plant it and be quiet, am I clear?" Jillas was the first to reach the couch. "Yes, ma'am." "All right, child, it's about time. I'll be over there with them, and out of immediate sight. It's up to you now. You know what to do?" Amelia nodded. "I can handle it." "Good. You're going to be the first thing that baby sees, and there's no undoing it until it's old enough to understand. Last chance, now." "I'm ready," Amelia told her. "I know what I'm doing." "I'm just making sure. Remember, don't help with the hatching, they have to do it themselves." Nurse Zeeki walked away from the table, joining the three males, and shushed them into silence. For the next fifteen minutes, the only sound was the egg as the hard, leathery shell cracked and tore, and the scratching sound of little talons as they continued to work through the egg. A little snout with damp, black fur nosed through an opening, forcing it to get big enough for its head. Two blue eyes blinked up at Amelia, staring at her for all of five seconds before the Dragon started squalling at such at an ear-splitting pitch Amelia winced. "There, there, take it easy," she said, reaching out to try and console it. When her fingers touched its head to pet it, tiny jaws tried to clamp on. "Hey! Don't bite me!" The Dragon wailed louder, and the egg tumbled over onto its side as it flailed about, struggling through the shell. Finally it crawled free on shaky limbs, and attempted to sit up, only to fall over again, which prompted another bout of crying. "Shush now," Amelia said quietly, attempting to pick up the hatchling. It nuzzled close to her hands, its black fur starting to dry. She had to stand in order to lift it; the hatchling was just a bit heavier than the average newborn human baby, and a little longer, not counting the tail that coiled tightly around her wrist. The hatchling nuzzled closer to her, seemingly content to sleep until she tried offering it a bit of the steak the nurse had handy. Amelia yelped and jerked her hand back as the baby Dragon greedily snapped its tiny fangs onto it. "Oh, brother. He eats like Miss Lina." "All right, we can go over now," the nurse said, then added, "but don't crowd too close, and don't try to touch him unless you don't care to keep your fingers." "Isn't he just the most adorable thing you've ever seen?" Amelia asked, her fatigue forgotten as she continued to feed the hatchling. Nurse Zeeki made a startled sound as she inspected it. "I've never seen a Dragon with fur before, and feathers! What on earth is this?" "I think he's taking after his father," Amelia said. "Lord Valgaav is an Ancient Dragon," Jillas offered, starting to reach for the hatchling, only to get his hand jerked back by Gravos. "An Ancient? I've never heard of those." "Very few have," Amelia said softly. "His father's the last one." "He's got oneesan's eyes," Jillas pointed out. "I know, he's just adorable." Amelia sweatdropped as the hatchling gulped down another bite of steak, and started wailing for more. "Miss Filia's eyes, and apparently Miss Lina's appetite." "Well, a growin' Dragon needs his food," Gravos said. "What are we gonna name him?" Jillas asked. "I've been thinking about that," Amelia said, "and doing some research. His name is Von." She stroked the hatchling's head gently. "It means 'hope'. Right now, there's not enough of it. Maybe that will change."

to be continued...
Epilogue