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Chapter Fourteen After an aborted attempted to try and grab a bit more sleep, Valgaav took Gravos up on the offer for tea. Sitting in the silence of the dark living room, staring at the dying embers in the fireplace, he slowly sipped the hot liquid, trying to banish the image of Caitarina from his mind. He didn't want to remember her like that. If he had left just a bit sooner that day, maybe he would have been there before the Goldens broke through. Maybe he could have gotten her out, kept her alive somehow. But what ifs and maybes were useless. She was dead, and that was all there was to it. He hadn't been able to protect her from the Goldens, and he was at a loss as to how best to keep Filia safe from Xellos. Was this the Fates laughing in his face again, or was it a second chance? As he considered this, Valgaav narrowed his eyes. If it was a second chance, then he wasn't going to blow it. If it was the Fates mocking him, then he would just have to see to it that he had the last laugh. It was that simple. What wasn't quite so simple was the how, but that was trifling. In the meantime, he would just have to take each day as it arrived, starting with that one. After a few more minutes of quiet contemplation, an idea of where to start surfaced, and he went looking for Gravos. "Gravos, what time does Filia usually get up?" Valgaav asked, walking into the kitchen. "Usually 'round dawn," came the reply, and Gravos looked out the window. "Half of an hour or so, I think." "Think we can get breakfast prepared before then?" "Well, we can always try. Why?" Valgaav shrugged, standing. "Filia's been pushing herself hard enough. Thought it might be nice for her to take it easy this morning for once." Gravos grinned broadly over his shoulder at Valgaav as he ducked into the larder, gathering up various foodstuff. "She's turnin' out to be a nice one, huh? Not like them others she was travelin' with." "Yeah, she is. Come on, let's get to work," Valgaav said before Gravos could offer further commentary on the subject. Not only did he not want to think of that Inverse woman, but he still felt aggressively protective over his feelings, wanting to keep them to himself, secret, private. It was easier to show them than to say the words, at least the more unfamiliar emotions. Things like rage and hatred, those were familiar old friends. But not the tenderness he felt whenever Filia came to mind, the warmth that would ignite around his heart and spiral outward. The emotions were there, he would acknowledge feeling them, but talking about them? That was an entirely different story. It didn't matter how unlikely it was that no one had noticed yet, it was just the principle of the thing. Slowly and drowsily, Filia started to awaken, gradually taking in what information there was to be had without actually opening her eyes. It was comfortably warm, she could smell the delicate sweetness of tea underscoring the stronger, tangy scent of fresh fruits offset by the more earthy aroma of porridge. Distantly, she could hear the now-familiar trilling of a few local songbirds as they began their day. But above all, there was the soothing, warm sensation of a gentle hand softly stroking her hair back away from her face. It was that which had first began to pull her from slumber, but its very tranquillity did not lend itself to a prompt awakening. Finally, though, she had ascended far enough out of the layers of sleep to feel capable of opening her eyes, stretching a little and yawning slightly as she did, rubbing her hands over her lids before opening them to the soft glow of the light filtering through the curtains. "Finally awake, I see," Valgaav said softly. He was sporting that tender, tiny smile that never failed to melt her heart. Filia blinked, and smiled sleepily. "Well, you weren't trying very hard," she murmured, rolling onto her side to face him and curled slightly into a fetal position, hugging her pillow. "Is breakfast ready?" "And served." He gestured to her bedside table and Filia blinked, seeing the tray for the first time. "What's this?" she asked, pushing herself up into a sitting position. A sensation of apprehension settled over her. Something bad had happened, she was certain of it. "A leisurely morning?" Valgaav suggested, turning away from her to pick up the tray. "At least until it's time for the shop to open?" Filia forced a shaky smile, bewildered and nervous, as he placed the tray on the bed over lap. Only twice in her lifetime could she remember ever being catered to, waited on hand and foot in bed, without being ill. It was always a harbinger for crushing news. Her fear only increased as she studied Valgaav, noting that he seemed somewhat ill at ease as he began uncovering things. "What brought this on?" she asked, watching him warily. He shrugged, opting to look at the dishes he was uncovering rather than at her. "You've been working hard." She studied him, trying to figure out if something was going on. "No more than the rest of you, and I'm the one who gets the full night for sleep. I don't mind at all, I'm just curious as to why you're doing this," Filia said carefully, watching him as he poured her a cup of tea. Her lungs felt constricted in apprehension, steeling herself for the worst. His reaction wasn't what she expected, though. "Damnit!" Valgaav snapped, setting the teapot down a bit forcefully. "Why can't you just accept it instead of giving me the third degree?" Filia grabbed the sides of the tray to keep it steady, staring at him in wide-eyed shock as he stalked away from the bed, raking a hand through his hair viciously. "Valgaav?" she inquired softly, watching him as he looked out the window. "What is it?" He didn't answer immediately, and when he did, his voice sounded exhausted. "Just eat your breakfast, Filia," he said quietly, turning toward the door, walking away. She picked up her teacup timidly, blinking back bemused tears. This was doubtlessly one of the more tumultuous mornings in her life. What had he been up to? Was there something going on? Some bad news he had yet to break, and was dreading it? Or had it merely been a gesture intended in kindness? In retrospect, Filia, reasoned, perhaps she should have just thanked him graciously, kept her mouth shut, and left it at that. Wait for the news, and let the blows fall where they may. But the self-consciousness evident in his behavior, and her own sleep-addled mind had her mouth working long before her brain. Such a wonderful way to start off a morning. The food was good, but Filia could barely taste it, trying to keep the tears back. She wasn't fully awake, and already her emotions were being flung about in a windstorm, and for no one's fault but her own. It didn't help that there was the unanswered question, wondering if harm had befallen someone in their tiny family, or if... Icy fear gripped her heart. Maybe he was planning to leave after all. Maybe he decided that she had been right, that they would be safer if he left. It was growing impossible to eat for all the tears, and the fear constricting her throat. Choking down a sob, she reached for her teacup, staring at the tray. Through the shimmering veil of tears clouding her eyes, the tiny bouquet of wildflowers resting by the plate finally registered in her mind and sank in. What were the odds that there wasn't in fact any bad news in the wings, but instead, the whole morning was just an attempt to do something nice for her? The more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed. It was even harder for her to attempt to bring the tears under control as she thought back, noting with a sick sensation of guilt that to her reckoning, it seemed that every time Valgaav tried to do something for her, she wound up upsetting him somehow. Barely able to breathe as she tried holding back tears, Filia choked down small bites of food, determined to try and eat it, knowing both that she did need to eat, and afraid that by not doing so, she'd be doing something else wrong, sending another wrong message. Filia used the napkin to wipe away the tears, sniffling as she continued to eat, trying to breathe. Valgaav had tried to do something nice for her; it was her own fault the morning started off on such a sour note. With a deep sigh, she settled back against the headboard, sipping her tea as she tried to formulate an apology. Beautiful, Valgaav. Just...that was a real class act. What are you gonna do for an encore, slap her face? Eyes closed, Valgaav leaned against the hallway wall, letting his head thunk back against the wood, feeling extraordinarily disgusted with himself. It wasn't Filia's fault that every chance he had to elaborate on how he felt, he found himself doing the exact opposite. Maybe this was all a mistake. It felt like he had seen that stricken look in Filia's eyes far too often, and more often than not, he was the one who put it there. He couldn't seem to stop himself from taking out his frustrations on her. Which was more foolish, to think an Ancient and a Golden could be together, or to think that blood history could keep them apart? Hinges creaking prompted him to open his eyes, and when he glanced over to the source, he bit back a curt epithet, feeling even more vexed with himself. Filia stood in the doorway, her golden hair still mussed from sleep and filtering the morning sunlight behind her, giving her a slight halo. Her face was pale, looking even more so by her reddened eyes, large and solemn, and her cheeks were accented with faint suggestions of tear tracks. "Filia..." "Was this just to be nice, just meant for a nice gesture?" she interrupted, whispering softly as she watched him with the large, sad blue eyes. Valgaav hesitated, then nodded. Before he could say anything more, she started talking, speaking so quickly he couldn't get a word in edgewise. "I'm sorry. Every time you do something nice to me, I seem to upset you. I'm--" Valgaav cut off her rambling apology in mid-sentence with the only way that came to mind. She stiffened in surprise momentarily as he covered her lips with his, holding her tightly, then relaxed as her hands slid up to his shoulders. "Wha--" she started to murmur as he broke the kiss. "I love you, Filia," he whispered, interrupting her. Her blue eyes widened even more. "That's what I wanted to say, what I was trying to find a way to say." "So, there's no bad news?" she whispered, her expression still stunned. Valgaav couldn't keep from smirking a bit. "Not unless you consider what I just said to be bad news." Filia hugged him so tightly then that oxygen was well on its way to becoming an issue. "It's not bad news," she murmured. "It's wonderful, good news, and I love you too." He held her to him gently, resting his head on hers, stroking her hair. "Filia, why did you think I had bad news?" "Hmm." That soft sound was all she made as a response at first, nuzzling his chest. Then he felt her draw in a deep breath. "Because the only times I've ever been catered to like that without being rather ill is when there's been bad news. Only twice. First, when my mother died, then, my father." Valgaav kissed her hair, closing his eyes, tightening his arms around her a bit more protectively. "I'm sor--" "No, no apologies. Didn't you once say there were too many of those between us? You didn't know, you couldn't know." Cupping his hand under her chin, he tilted her face up to kiss her gently. "I suppose you have a point," he whispered, stroking the back of his hand against her cheek. Filia closed her eyes, nuzzling against his hand. "You meant it?" "What?" "That you love me?" "I don't have a clue when it happened, or what brought it on, but yeah." He pressed his lips to her forehead softly. "I do." "And to think I once believed the best I'd ever be able to hope for is that you wouldn't hate me quite so much." He shut his eyes tightly against the painful grip of emotion that coiled around his heart, holding her firmly in his arms as he buried his face in her hair. "Have I ever told you that you're far too good to me, Filia?" "Oh, Valgaav..." "After everything I've done--" "Shh." She pulled away, looking up at him as she placed her fingertips over his lips. "What's past is past. I love you, Valgaav." Even with her hair still mussed from sleep, her face pale, her eyes red, her cheeks streaked with tears, he though she never looked more beautiful than she did at that moment. Turning his head slightly, he pressed his lips against her palm, not breaking eye contact. He started to lean toward her, reaching for her cheek to pull her to him in a kiss, when a sudden flurry of running footsteps caused them both to look up as an agitated Jillas came flying around the corner. "Oneesan! Good! You're awake!" Filia blinked. "Why, what is it, Jillas?" "What's going on?" Valgaav demanded, reflexively holding Filia to him even tighter. "We have customers, I think." "This early? The shop's not open, and what do you mean, you think?" Filia asked. "Well, a carriage just pulled up out front, and I don't recognize the seal offhand, but it's a royal coach," Jillas explained. Filia blinked. "Oh, my. Go out there, Jillas. I'll be out just as soon as I can. Find out if they're actually planning to stop here." She kept blinking, looking up at Valgaav, her voice turning into a high-pitched squeak as she started to hyperventilate. "Royalty? Here? The place is a wreck! I don't have time to fix up my hair! And clothes! What am I--" "Filia!" He gave her shoulders a gentle shake. "Get a grip! Breathe. Remember how to do that? In with the good air, out with the bad? Go get dressed, don't worry about anything else. It'll be fine. If they raise a fuss, the least they could have done was to call ahead. Chances are, Jillas has interpreted things wrong." "But if it's--" "No buts. Calm down." He stole a quick kiss then turned her about, giving her a gentle shove back to her room. "We'll manage." Filia paused in the doorway as she started to shut the door, looking back to him. For a moment, a tiny, lopsided smile appeared. "We always do, don't we?" He smiled, watching her as she closed the door, then turned away. From the distant commotion, he could tell that the carriage Jillas had mentioned had likely stopped, and he was willing to bet it was right outside at that. Valgaav glanced down at himself, considering what he was wearing; pants, a loose shirt, no shoes, hair uncombed, and debated cleaning up first. That debate only lasted a few seconds. If their guests had a problem with his unkempt appearance, then they should have sent word ahead first, or arrived at a much more reasonable hour. Shrugging his shoulders, he raked a hand through his hair to smooth it out a bit more as he headed for the front door. When Valgaav glanced out the window, he noticed that it was indeed a very expensive coach. Perhaps not royalty, but adorned with that gilded crest, it was certainly owned by a nobleman at the very least. He was about to head to the door when a somewhat familiar voice reached his ears, and he froze, staring intently out the window until he found the source. It was her. Fighting down a sigh, Filia frantically pawed through her drawers and closet, wishing she had something at least somewhat elegant. All her attire now just screamed homespun and country bumpkin. It was all they could afford, with buying supplies for the shop, and keeping four people fed and clothed. The dainty pink dress and white silk cloak she had worn as part of her priestess attire had long since worn out, used for rags, patchwork, or converted into other things. With a twinge of regret she settled for the nicest frock she did own, a dress she hadn't worn yet. The material was ordinary cotton, but it was dyed such a charming, delicate shade of blue she hadn't been able to resist buying a few yards when she saw the bolt at the store. The white eyelet lace, though inexpensive, added a certain charm to the trim. There wasn't much time for Filia to do anything with her hair beyond brushing out the tangles, although she spared a few moments to pin it back with the barrette Jillas and Valgaav had bought her. Checking her reflection, she noted that at least the tiny sapphires set in the gold ivy pattern went well with her attire. Filia ran all the way down the hall to the front room before she remembered she forgot her shoes. Valgaav was standing in the corner shadows, wearing a dark, unreadable expression on his face as their eyes met. Before she could ask what was wrong, before she could turn around and run back to fetch her shoes, the door swung open, leaving her caught like a rabbit under the gaze of a wildcat. "Oneesan! You'll never guess who's here!" Jillas announced as he ran in. Filia only had time to blink before a young, feminine voice shouted her name, and she caught a glimpse of a flurry of white hurtling toward her in a massive pounce and hug. She staggered backwards, catching the girl, blinking in astonishment. "Amelia?" The young princess pulled back, grinning broadly and adjusted the small taira on her head. "I knew it was yours!" "Huh?" "I was two days travel away, on a diplomatic mission for Father, when I saw a woman wearing a headdress that was just all too familiar. I asked her a few questions and found out that this is where she bought it. We arrived late last night, and my guards asked around and found out about this shop. I was pretty sure it was yours, and I'm sorry for arriving so early, but I was too excited to wait!" Filia smiled warmly, this time prepared as Amelia hugged her again. The pressure of looking presentable for royalty was gone. Amelia wasn't the type to care about that. "It's good to see you. How have you been?" "Busy, terribly busy. I haven't seen any of you, or even heard hardly anything since we defeated Darkstar. How long has it been? Six months?" "Longer, I think," Filia said. "Won't you come in?" "I'm so glad to see you're doing well. I've been worried about how you're getting on. Have you seen any of the others?" "Well..." Filia hesitated. "In a manner of speaking. I haven't seen your companions, though." "I was surprised to see Jillas and Gravos," Amelia said, glancing to the two servants. "But it's so good to see you're not alone." "No, I'm not," Filia agreed, and glanced over to Valgaav, wondering how to handle this. She didn't need to, for Amelia followed her gaze. "Oh! Hi! I'm Princess Amelia Wil Tes--" She abruptly cut herself off, her eyes widening as she belatedly recognized him. "M-mister Valgaav!" she stammered. He just watched her coldly, his arms crossed, not moving from the corner. Filia bit her lip. "Amelia, this is, well, um, Valgaav, this is Amelia." Nervously, she toyed with her hair. "Things are different now." Amelia blinked again, nodding. "I'll say..." Valgaav just snorted, and stalked toward the kitchen. Filia had to fight down a wince as she heard the back door slam. "Gravos, Jillas? Could you two please tend to the shop this morning? Come, Amelia, let's get some tea. I think there's a lot I need to catch you up on." |
to be continued...
Chapter Fifteen