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Note to Readers: Sorry it's taken longer than what I try to shoot for with getting new chapters out. Muse got sidetracked and hit me upside the head with an urge to do fanart -- when I DON'T do fanart O.o I rarely draw, and almost never anything other than horses or landscapes, and never anime. But... the muse is demanding I start trying for some fanart for this 'fic. Stupid muse... here's one of the first ones I've done, if any of you are curious: http://zchaos.fanficnetwork.com/zfanart/fa-filia01.jpg ~ Zanne Chapter Nine Sipping her tea, Filia stared blankly across the kitchen, partially grateful for the solitude, and partially apprehensive about being left alone. Valgaav had excused himself to see how Gravos was settling in, and Filia's nerves were still too raw for her to be able to turn in. Still half-expecting for Xellos to show up again at any moment, she clutched her teacup tightly, trying to focus instead on the soothing scent and flavor of her own special blend. The only sound was the light swish her tail made as it brushed over the floor on the lowest point of its sweep as she flicked it back and forth, the motion more subconscious than anything else. At least it was night. The day was already entirely too long, and she was more than ready for it to be over. Dimly, she wondered why she was so surprised to see him there. It seemed folly to her to not to have anticipated that Xellos would show up sooner or later. He had a knack for it, it seemed, to never be around when he could actually be useful, and for returning when it was the worst possible time for him to put in an appearance. Until she met Xellos, Filia had never understood how a saying so innocent as 'may you live in interesting times' could be considered a curse. Whoever thought that up probably had that namagomi in mind. The worst part of it all was that during their time together on their quest to stop Darkstar's summoning, there were moments -- brief, rare, few and far between, but nevertheless there -- when Filia had actually thought he didn't seem so bad. It scared her to realize that if it were not for her concern for Valgaav's safety, that tiny part of her deep down inside that had thought that maybe Xellos wasn't quite the monster she'd been led to believe would have welcomed his visit. Logic and common sense argued against that part of her passionately. His behavior tonight had chilled her. He was right, she had forgotten who he was, in a way. Xellos normally seemed so civil, soft-spoken and pleasant it was hard to remember how powerful and deadly he truly was. He sent such conflicting messages. Like the time he saved her from the falling rocks, only to drop her on her, well, her dignity immediately afterward. He had used her against the Supreme Elder, trying to threaten him, using her for a pawn, saying he would kill her. Xellos didn't make idle threats, yet he had not carried it out when the Supreme Elder dismissed them. Sudden hot tears sprang to her eyes as she remembered the exchange of words. The sting of them was still fresh. The Supreme Elder hadn't cared that Xellos might kill her. In fact, he had pointed out to the Mazoku that she wasn't even valuable in the scheme of things. Being so casually disregarded by her own people and tossed aside, being basically told she had little value to them... That wound was still painfully raw. It wasn't all that hard then to believe what Valgaav had told her about the massacre was true. If the Supreme Elder would turn on her, and she was a Golden too, how easy it must have been for them to turn on another race of Dragon. Filia closed her eyes, resting her forehead against her palm as she set the cup on the table, her fingers still wrapped around it. The idea of just going to sleep and staying asleep until it was all over held a tremendous appeal. The only problem was, she wasn't sure what 'it' was, exactly. Life, maybe. Or perhaps just the hurting. "You look exhausted." Valgaav's voice was soft enough not to startle her. "Why don't you turn in?" "Hmm." She lowered her hand, sitting up a bit more, but still slouched forward in her chair, shoulders slumped. "I will. It's just..." Filia trailed off, unsure how to phrase it. "It's just what?" He walked over to the table, sitting at an angle from her. Filia studied her teacup as if she might somehow find the answers within. "This will probably sound crazy, but it just feels like this day's too long to be able to end." Valgaav was silent for a moment. "You want to go to sleep. You know you should go to sleep. You're exhausted in ways beyond merely physical, but it's like you're afraid to stop and take time to even breathe, that it'll fall apart somehow if you do?" She closed her eyes tightly against the burning sting as tears began to form, nodding silently. After a moment, she exhaled the breath she'd been holding. "Had days like that, then." "It's not going to fall apart if you go to bed, Filia." "I know." She finished off her tea, and looked out the darkened window. "Does it ever get easier? Does it end?" "Does what?" She looked down, trying to figure out what she was asking. "Everything, I guess. I don't know. Life, pain, loss, days like these..." Valgaav didn't answer. Closing her eyes, Filia bit her bottom lip. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "That was--" "A damn good question," he replied, cutting her off. "I'm just not sure how to answer it either." Filia glanced over at him. Valgaav was studying his hands intently, frowning a bit. It was a long time before he spoke again. "I don't think it does, no." She turned her head away, tears spilling down her cheeks as she closed her eyes. Pain, she was sure she could deal with. It was the endlessness she wasn't sure how to handle. "Mind if I ask what brought this on?" Filia concentrated on breathing, considering her words. "Xellos was going to kill me," she said softly. She could feel Valgaav's gaze suddenly snap to her. "When?" His tone was sharp. "Back...before." She shrugged. "He wanted the Supreme Elder to lower the shield around Galvayra. He took me hostage as a pawn." Filia hesitated as Valgaav growled softly. "It didn't work. He -- the Supreme Elder -- didn't care." Her voice cracked, dropping to a hoarse whisper. "I've known him as long as I can remember, and he basically told Xellos I'm worthless." Valgaav snarled. "He was a fool." Hearing that didn't make her feel any better. He stood, rounding the table to stand beside her, gently pulling her arms to make her get to her feet. "Come on. You're exhausted, and your nerves are frayed. That's never going to help anything." He was right; the idea of going to sleep was terrifying. She couldn't shake the impression that if she did, she'd lose what precious little control she still held, and the earth itself might spin out from underneath her. Struggling for reasons not to turn in, Filia looked around and reached for her teacup. "I need to--" "Leave it. I'll take care of it." Valgaav pulled her away from the table. "Come on. And one other thing. We're switching rooms." "Huh?" "You're taking the bedroom," he told her. Filia started to stammer out protests, each one only half-forming before a new one bubbled over. "Filia, knock it off. You're not going to win this discussion, so just give in now." She fell silent then, letting him lead her down the hall, lacking the energy to protest. Sinking down on the bed, she hugged herself as he lit the lamp on the bedside table. A sense of drained lethargy was starting to replace the pain, but it wasn't a better state. Just a different one. When it finally sank in that he was standing there, just watching her, she looked up. After a few seconds, Valgaav gave her a tiny smile that brought back the look he gave her toward the end, before the whole situation with Darkstar came to a head. There was something in that smile that opened the window somehow, giving her the faintest of glimpses of how she thought he might have been all those years ago, before his world came to a halt, the way hers recently had. "Get some rest," he said, in a voice so soft she wasn't quite sure if she actually heard him, or just read his lips. The click of the door as it shut heralded the stillness that settled over the room, left unbroken until she finally rose from the bed, changing into her nightgown. Now if he were only able to follow his own advice. Filia's tea things had been washed and put away, but there wasn't much to do. Her kitchen was always so tidy to begin with, and by then, he already knew where everything went. It was doubtful it would ever change, not without a good reason. All dragons had an urge to form a hoard, but the life she'd led before hadn't contributed to building a normal one, of gold or other riches. Valgaav wasn't even certain if she were aware of it, but her teacups and pots served in that stead. She picked out the ones for her personal use with the utmost care, and kept them in their own cupboard, each set having its exact, specific spot, and all the pieces arranged just so. It wasn't hard to tell where the teapot and cup belonged, and just a quick glance to the others told him how to position the handles. After that, he had prowled the house, looking for anything amiss, checking doors and windows to make sure they were locked, memorizing the location of everything. He knew that a locked door wouldn't pose the slightest bit of an obstacle to Xellos, but it still made him feel a bit more secure. Filia was worried about him, and while there was no lost love between him and that Mazoku, she couldn't, or wouldn't, see the danger she herself was in. Xellos had a vested interest of his own in Filia. Valgaav had seen that before. Maybe it was because he too had once been a Mazoku, but he knew that Filia was in greater jeopardy, if Xellos was interested in her for any purpose. He was hesitant to turn in for that reason. But at the same time, Valgaav doubted Xellos would put in another appearance that night, because it would be expected of him. Then again, he might know they would feel it's expected, and therefore not expect him to return that night, which would motivate him to do just that. Valgaav decided if he followed that train of thought in any more circles, he'd get dizzy. That was the problem. Xellos was predictably unpredictable. Valgaav was sure he might be able to second-guess the Mazoku, but the stakes weren't worth the gamble. He tried to settle down and go to sleep, only to wind up tossing and turning, unable to shake the unsettled feeling that kept harrying him. After an hour or so, he threw in the towel, kicking the covers back and getting up. Raking his hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes, he walked to the kitchen, his vision long since adjusted to the dark. Hands braced on the back of a chair, he stared out the window, trying to pull his thoughts, scattered every which way from the aborted attempt at sleep, into some semblance of coherency. Valgaav wondered if Filia was having better luck at getting some rest than he was, and decided it was likely, since he'd neither seen nor heard anything from her in almost three hours. Hello, paranoia. He hurried down the hall, even while trying to tell himself that he was just jumping at shadows. Opening the door as quietly as he could, Valgaav peeked in, his gaze searching the room before coming to rest on the form on the bed curled up under blankets. Closing his eyes with a sigh of relief, he rested his head against the doorframe, just listening to the almost inaudible sound of her breathing, slow and even in sleep. Chiding himself for being so easily perturbed, he silently closed the door, returning to the kitchen. It couldn't be helped; his trust factor in Xellos was so low, it was a negative number, and the knowledge that he had been here brought out the worst of his dragon nature. This was his home too, and Xellos was a threat, an intruder. Filia, Jillas, Gravos; they were his family, in a manner of speaking. The only ones left in all of creation who he trusted. Valgaav regretted letting Darkstar take him then. While it was nice being able to access his dragon body again without any pain, Valgaav wasn't deluding himself into thinking he could face off with Xellos again and pose the same kind of threat as before. His first instinct was to take them all away someplace where they would be safe, but the reality of logic pointed out that up against an astral being such as Xellos, if there was such a place, Valgaav didn't have a clue what it might be. A sudden, soft sound set every fiber of his being ready for battle, and he spun around, pinning the figure behind him to the wall in a heartbeat before conscious thought could even get a word in edgewise. As his gaze focused on his captive, Valgaav found himself looking into two enormous and quite frightened sapphire eyes. "Oh, hell," he said softly, relaxing as he let his forehead thunk against the wall. "Valgaav?" Filia asked, her voice tiny and high. Stepping back a little, he held her by the shoulders. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" "No, but...what's wrong?" He shook his head, letting her go and turned away. "Just reflexes," he told her. Leaning on the table, half-sitting, he crossed his arms, studying her. "I thought you were asleep." "I just woke up, and really didn't want to fall right back to sleep." She walked over to the fireplace, picking up the poker. "Dreams?" Valgaav asked, watching her. Filia just nodded slightly. "Can't sleep either?" "No," he replied a bit ruefully. She picked up the bucket, reaching for the back door to fetch some water. Finding it locked, Filia gave him a quizzical look. "It's locked?" "Yeah," he admitted, feeling just a little sheepish now. "Um, so are all the other doors. Windows too." Filia looked at him. "Um, Valgaav? A locked door isn't going to keep him out." "I know," he retorted, feeling a little irritable. "Just...look. Just humor me, all right?" He walked over, taking the bucket from her. "I'll get the water." "You know, you don't have to stay," she reminded him quietly, following him out into the back. "What's that?" he asked, starting to prime the pump. "You want me gone?" "I want you safe!" Filia sighed, stepping back to avoid being splashed by water. "If you're...concerned about Xellos, I understand completely. You don't have to stay here." "I'm staying right where I am." Valgaav picked up the bucket, pointing to the door to indicate for her to go ahead of him. "It's all of you I'm worried about, and I'm not deserting you." "But it was you he threatened," Filia replied, pulling the water kettle off the shelf, setting it on the table. "You obviously don't know the Mazoku very well then," he said, pouring water into the kettle. "And what's that supposed to mean?" she asked, her tone annoyed as she picked up the kettle, using the poker to swing the iron hanging arm out of the fireplace, and hooked the kettle on it before pushing it back to hang over the embers. "Are you denying it?" "Well...no." Her voice was meeker now, and she busied herself with throwing another log into the fireplace, stoking the flames. "Not as such..." "Trust me, then. If he really wants to come after me, what makes you think I'd be safer if I left? All that we'd accomplish is dividing our strength. No, we're getting through this together, or not at all, all four of us." She straightened up, adjusting the shawl draped around her shoulders. Silhouetted by the faint glow from the growing fire, her long hair mussed from sleep, it was easy to remember that Filia was just barely older than a child. She was only perhaps about as old as he himself had been when his people were killed, give or take a hundred years. Their eyes met, and he when he noticed the dark smudges of exhaustion under her eyes, she suddenly looked much older. Her expression was so solemn that he briefly wondered if it would even be possible for her to smile again. A momentary chill raced down his spine, bringing with it a conviction that everything was far from over. Thoroughly unsettled by the sensation, he turned away, opening a cupboard. "Get a cup for me too, when you pick out a set," Valgaav said. As Filia started to prepare for the tea, he sat at the table, just watching her. Pausing in measuring out the tea leaves, she looked over to him, meeting his eyes. It was only for a moment, for she quickly ducked her head, turning back to her work. Her motions ceased to be practiced and efficient, becoming somewhat flustered. Valgaav frowned slightly, studying her. "Is everything okay?" "I...uh, sure, yeah, I'm fine," she stammered, her words quick. He didn't believe her for a moment. Mulling over possible causes, he watched her as she returned to the fireplace, waiting for the water to finish reaching a boil. "Are you afraid of me?" he asked hesitantly. Filia's gaze snapped up to him, surprised. "No, I'm not. Why?" "Well, you just seemed a little ruffled just now..." Even with the orange-red glow of the flames masking things, he could tell her cheeks turned a deep crimson before she looked away. "Ah, I'm just...I, uh..." Filia stammered a moment, then sighed, trying again. "I'm just not accustomed to this." "What's 'this'?" She was quiet, considering her words. "It's hard to explain. Living with the three of you, I suppose." Her voice was soft, and difficult to hear over the fire's crackle. "You never had much of a life outside that temple of yours, did you?" Filia shook her head. "The prophesy was the first task I'd been given to complete on my own that took me away from the temple." He just watched her. "And up until recently, the whole world was just black and white to you, I'm guessing?" "Yeah," she admitted softly. "Another reason I'm staying." "What's that?" She looked over to him, leaning on the mantle. Valgaav quirked a small smile. "The world's not black and white, Filia. It's nothing but various shades of gray. You could use someone watching out for you." She blushed furiously again, turning her attention back to the kettle. "I'm capable of taking care of myself." "I don't doubt it for a minute," he replied. "If you had to, I have every confidence you'd find your way around this world somehow or other all on your own. But here's the thing. You don't have to go it alone." "Please don't feel obligated to me," she murmured. "It was all I had that I could do to try and make amends for the past." "You said earlier that you missed me." "I did." "Those amends got anything to do with that?" Filia shook her head slightly. "Why is it you missed me, then?" "I..." Her voice faltered for a moment. "I like having you around, is all." "So I'm staying. That's final." She sighed, but nodded in acquiescence. Reaching for the poker, she pulled the water off the fire, wrapping a towel around the kettle handle and carefully carried it to the counter, pouring the boiling water into the teapot. After setting the kettle aside to cool, she carried the set to the table, sitting across from him. He watched her as she picked up the teapot, carefully pouring the hot brew into the cups. "Is that why you act so jittery around me sometimes?" Filia almost spilled the hot tea as she poured it into the cups, not expecting that question. "What do you mean?" she asked carefully. "The nervousness, blushing, stammering, that time when I was trying to teach you how to build that shelf..." The teacup rattled on the saucer as she picked it up, her hands shaking as she set it down in front of him. "Well?" he asked after it became obvious she wasn't going to answer. "I don't know what you mean." Valgaav sighed, lacing his fingers together, elbows resting on the table. Propping his chin on the back of his fingers, he looked at her. "Filia, I really don't have any use for games or social niceties. I'd much rather know exactly where I stand. I see you acting nervous, and it could be for any number of reasons. I'd just like to know why." She didn't answer immediately, sipping her tea, staring at the table. Lowering the cup back to the saucer, she held it between her hands, keeping her eyes lowered. She mumbled a quick reply that he couldn't catch. "What was that? I'm sorry, you'll have to speak up a little. I can barely hear you, let alone what you're saying." Filia blushed furiously, ducking her head. "I said, I...ah, I..." She bit her lip. "I guess you could, um, say I...I think, um, that is, uh, I care about you," she whispered, stammering. Valgaav blinked. Part of him suspected it, but it was certainly nice to have it confirmed with the half-dozen other and less desirable explanations that had been plaguing him, such as her being afraid of him, or still pulling the guilty kicked puppy act, among other things. She stood so swiftly that he startled a bit, not expecting that. "I'm sorry." Her words were rushed, almost tripping over one another. "I won't bother you with it, I swear. I wasn't even going to say anything." He could just stare at her incredulously as she busied herself with tidying up an already immaculate kitchen. "Why?" he asked. "You were planning on never saying anything?" Filia nodded slightly. "Okay. Mind if I ask why the hell not?" She was silent for so long he started to doubt she was planning to answer. Just before he could speak up, she finally did. "Because I didn't want you to leave." He just looked at her. Females had the oddest thought processes sometimes. "Okay." Valgaav closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, thinking. "And how, pray tell, exactly would telling me you cared about me cause me to leave? I'm not following your logic here." He waited for her to answer. And waited. Growing impatient as he finished off his cup, he stood. "Well? Are you going to answer?" She kept her back to him, staring down at the counter. "Well, you can barely tolerate me as it is..." she whispered. That effectively rendered him speechless. He just blinked, trying to process what she said. She still believed that? Was he still giving her that impression? "Forget this conversation ever took place," she muttered, turning on her heel for the door. That knocked him out of his astonishment, and he quickly stepped over to her, gently grabbing hold of her arm, stopping her from leaving. "Hey, whoa, wait. Filia? Filia, look at me." When she did, her expression was wary, her eyes shuttered. "I..." He trailed off, not sure how to phrase what he wanted to say. If there was one thing he did know, it was that talk was cheap, in the grand scheme of things. He pulled her closer to him. If his actions had been conveying an appearance that he still held what she was against her, then words wouldn't assuage those concerns. Wrapping his arms around her, he hugged her gently, one hand lightly resting on the back of her head, holding her to him. "I...I stopped 'just tolerating' you a long time ago, Filia," he admitted hesitantly as she started to hug him back. "If I haven't made that apparent yet, I'm sorry. That's...this is one of the reasons I'm staying. I don't want anything to happen to you either. Any of you. I don't want to lose anyone else." She relaxed then, in no hurry to pull away. "I'm sorry, it's just--" "Part of the problem." Filia paused, then looked up at him. "Huh?" "I think that's part of the problem," he replied, looking at her. "Too many apologies between us, and not enough between our people." She looked down, and he moved his hand around to cup her chin. "But here's the thing. They're dead. We're not. As I've said, you're not one of them, and never have been. You don't have anything to make up for." She nodded, closing her eyes, clearly wearied emotionally. "I've got an idea," he said. "What's that?" "How does starting over sound?" Filia managed a weak smile, opening her eyes again. "I think I'd like that," she whispered. He smirked slightly and let go of her, stepping back. "Hi. What's your name?" She slowly raised an eyebrow, looking at him oddly. "Huh?" "What's your name?" he repeated, keeping a straight face. "Wha..? You know my name." "No, I don't. We've never met, remember?" Then he added, sotto voce, "humor me." She giggled slightly from the absurdity of it. "Filia." "Filia. Nice name. I'm Valgaav. Nice to meet you." Filia grinned, chuckling a bit more. "Nice to meet you too, Valgaav." He crossed his arms, looking around the kitchen. "So. Come here often?" That caused her to start laughing outright. "What? Did I say something funny?" He shot her a confused look. "Now you're just being silly!" she protested, still laughing. Valgaav smirked. "And if you tell a soul that, I'll deny it with my last breath." "You mean you'd lie." "Like a rug," he replied, not missing a beat. Filia grinned at him. "Your secret's safe with me, then." She smiled. "I think I'll be able to sleep a little easier now." "I get the feeling we both will." He watched her as she moved to start putting away the tea things. "Don't forget how to laugh, Filia," he said softly. She blinked, glancing to him. "I won't," she replied, studying him curiously. "What made you say that?" "I don't know. Just...something, I guess. Once you forget, it's hard to remember how to do it again." Her expression grew solemn again for a moment, then she gave him a small smile. "Then I'll just have to work on refreshing your memory." |
to be continued...
Chapter Ten