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As you may not know, for the last month and a week or so I was punished, lost my Laptop, PSP, and PS3, as well as any non-school related internet privileges. This was all due to...either me not wanting to get a haircut, or Sunday School (Confirmation Class), not sure anymore. Anyway, I just recently got my gear back, and I will state the good news and bad news.
First, Bad:
#1: I have spent most of my free time developing these things (and yes, I LOVE EM waves/fields):
+Rods From God Weapon Systems
-Tesla-Tungsten Rod System (Codename: Zeus)
-KSBM (Kinetic Strike Ballistic Missile) Terran ICBMs [if you've read some of my stuff for my book you'd know what it
is] (Codename: Gaia). Terrestrial and Extraterrestrial.
-Laser-based Anti-ICBM Terrestrial and Extraterrestrial Rocket (Codename: Artemis)
-HAMMER (Resonating Impact Missile) (Codename: Terra)
-Space-based Launcher for all mentioned above
+New "open" railgun design
+EM Hexaplate Armor
+EM "Hover" Lift (carries cargo long distance at GREAT efficiency)
+Assisted Slingshot (Gravitic) Mass Driver
-As well as system to carry cargo and whatnot
+Archimedes Hydro/Steam Turbine
-Powered by Microwaves sent in from extraterrestrial satellites in orbit
+New Vertical Launch Rocket (NASA kind) design
+Proposed New Rocket Nozzle
+Behemoth-Class Weapons Platform (So far though, I have NOTHING but name and use written down)
^Yes, this is what I do when I get BORED. This is NOT a joke. The bad news is that I'm a patriot, and a damn good one at that, so... Anyway, NOW does everyone see why I want to be an engineer?
Oh, and another small side bar, turns out most of these things are actually probable, no matter how farfetched they may sound... *Evil Grin*
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#2: I'm posting again
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#3: CRAZY physics
+A mathematical equation to find out how much gravitational acceleration is caused by one gram of matter, as well as
one meter of diameter, and one meter per second of rotational acceleration
+A theory of universal density (actually, difference of universal density)
+Some other crazy crap I can't remember
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#4: My book
+Already done with Prologue, 1, and 3 (although they DO need revision). 2&4 in progress.
^The reason I say this is bad is this: I hate ALL people equally, which also means I "love" (*shudders*) ALL people equally. So to be fair, you will be offended if you are this:
-Catholic
-Jewish
-Hindu
-Islamic
-White
-Black
-Gay
-Straight
-Hispanic
-Christian (ALL denominations)
-Asian
-Atheist
-Deist, Agnostic, and all other things I'm too lazy to post
-German (this SHOULD be obvious, it has an ENTIRE arch called Furher Kamui)
-America (LOVE though)
-Brit (still love you though)
-French
-Russian
-Alien
-If you are a God!
-Other religions I'm too lazy to list
-Jedi (although not as much, because lets face it, a religion where you get an @$@%*#% LIGHTSABER!!!
-Middle-Eastern
-European
-Asians (LOVE the chicks thought, no offense ladies, just my type)
-Canadian
-Australian (btw, "Chaser's War on Everything," FUNNY!!!!!!!- 'cause it's crude)
-South American
-ALL other ethnicities
-Mentally Challenged
-Disabled People
-Women
-Men
-Children
-Babies (to be honest, they scare the shit out of me, they have HUGE heads)
-Racists
-Xenophobes
-Equality (WHICH I HATE!!!!!!!)
-Fanatics
-Love
-Hate
-Religious People
-Religion
-Lack of Religion
-Teens
-Psychotics (to be fair, I think ALL my leads and main supporters are pretty damn psychotic)
-"Sane people"
-Mentally Gifted People
-Normal People
-And EVERY SINGLE OTHER kind of person/personality I can think of!
^Isn't that fair? Oh, and there's a reason why it does all this: 1) Good entertainment; 2) It will lead the plot as you will see (remember this: NOTHING is as it seems)
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#5: My History Teacher asked me to spend the first semester of my Junior year working at Congress (the Federal US one) as a Congressional Page
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#6: 2 things: I found out I'm a Romantic... and I think I fell in love...
Yup, it's the fucking end of the world....
Now, GOOD things that have/will happen:
#1: I've read all the DUNE books up to God-Emperor which I am 1/2way through
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#2: Believe it or not, I have found someone EXPONENTIALLY more annoying than me (and ALL my classmates, even those who HATE me, agree)
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#3: I am still a pacifist at heart (Yes, I know, I know, ironic because of my book and #1 in the BAD section, huh?)
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#4: I am a generous son of a bitch:
BEFORE YOU READ THIS: READ #4 in Bad Section, you've been WARNED! (Although this isn't as bad as some others)
I am still lazy, however, so as far as thoughts go they are usually the only thing outside of conversations used in first person. Also, use your descretion to find out what is what.
Quote
Chapter 3: Caerus
Blood, it was the reason he had never indulged in the sinful research. To take a man’s life! But the result…he could bring them all back! Everything he longed for and had taken, it could be returned to the world, but at what cost? I am a soldier, he reminded himself, a soldier serves his country and her people. But I am also a man, and a man must protect his love, yet… I am also a god…and gods exist only to destroy.
He weighed each decision carefully. What could he do at this point? The only feasible option was to become a god again, to become the very thing he hated and fought against. But the cost? To lose his humanity! Yet she would be preserved…and as long as Monad was saved, he could care less for the interests of the world. He would lose her, but she would live, live and be free, and was this not after all his final goal? His ultimatum was simple: death, or annihilation.
The fine line between the stone and the power he sought to hold once again was very vague. To lose his humanity would leave him a shell of what he was now, he would have to leave this world and become the same tyrant he had been before, an emotionless bastard.
Would the power corrupt him? No, it didn’t before… but he’d changed in that time. Being human-a mortal, was to be weak and powerless, he craved to have a fraction of that power he had once held, would that craving drive him mad? It’s happened before…
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his wooden door. Standing for the first time in hours he stood erect and haughtily, flexing every one of his muscles. Another knock, followed almost immediately by a loud creaking noise.
A courteous bow, followed by: “M’Lord,” a wave of the hand forced Trace to stand rigid again.
Aged eyes examined him, how tired he looked! Trace mustn’t have slept in days, probably much longer, definitely much longer, he thought. That their eyes did not meet made the younger man feel oddly at ease, instead Trace stared directly forward, his eyes meeting some other part of his face.
“What lies beyond those eyes?”
As usual, he responded, “Death.”
“And whom do your hands serve?”
“Mine hands serve only Death,” he responded again, a blank and dead face covering all of the emotion that were kept hidden.
“I ask you, demon, who is thy owner? Who holds thy leash?”
“Only,” Trace’s eyes shifted down fixing on the man’s own, and said, his master in both his eyes and venomous voice, “Monad.” The young man’s shock betrayed his shock. Monad? He scanned quickly through his brain, the name was unfamiliar. Why did he say Monad? It’s supposed to be Li’Adat. Li’adat carefully noted his tone, it reeked of death.
There was an awkward silence in the room, and finally Li’Adat spoke again, a slight tremor of fear in his voice concealing his true emotions. Will he be mad? “Trace, you have served me since childhood.”
“I am pledged to m’Lord.”
“Then who is the Monad you spoke of?” Trace’s eyes betrayed a great internal pain, shifted downwards past his master’s face.
“The one whom holds my chain…” the dread in his friend’s voice burdened Adat.
“When is the last time you slept?” Adat allowed his concern and worry to be expressed in his voice. What are you doing to yourself?
“Months ago, maybe even a year or two,” Years! “I can no longer count.” Years! a sense of fear enveloped Adat, concealed by his years of conditioning but nothing more,
What have you become?
“Do you…want to die?”
“M’Lord!?!” there was a renewed vigor in both his eyes and voice, almost…excitement. “Are you serious?” a simple nod. “I-”
“Before you answer, do you want me to explain why?” Trace’s jaw closed shut and he allowed himself a simple nod. “My sister, she has returned to us.”
Trace felt his heart start to fluctuate, m’lady…she is back… “She is here, now?” his voice betrayed both his curiosity and the war stirring in him. She’s back!?!
“Kashi is back, she says it is for good.” Just like she said ten years ago, he chose it the wiser to not voice his opinion. “I want you to come down to greet her with me,” What will happen? “And after that I want you to do me a favor…”
“You can voice it now, if you wish that is,” M’lord is hesitating.
“Fine, I will,” he approached the window Trace had been peering out of only a few minutes before, What will you do? Trace, you have served me faithfully for years, what will you do if I command this of you? Something so horrible…but something I do out of love, for you, and for her. “First, however, let me say this,” he turned to Trace sending the cloak he wore into the air as he did.
The red cloak shifted majestically in the air, as it had been designed to do, revealing a young body that did not match the aged face. Lean with a good muscle tone, Li’Adat Mehdi was a man in perfect health, young still, very young- to the point where some thought that he had been given too much power at too young an age. But he was also wise, wiser than most other men he’d ever met… His golden hair, accompanied by the emerald green eyes made a face that could be either deadly or charming, and when matched with the healthy body and his skin’s complexion and its perfection, it made a seductive and man, easily desired. Trace found himself wondering why Adat was still single, a thought he’d harbored many times before but quickly enough dismissed the question, I am no one to question or judge m’lord. The long hands partnered by strong and lithe fingers, somewhat thin, but strong enough to grip a blade and cut a man into nothing more than shreds stretched towards him, balanced on a thing leg that hid the power of a horse.
“Trace, you must know this, and I tell you this without regret or conservation. What I will tell you now must not factor into your decision, it is yours and yours alone to make, but before I…assign you this task, there is something that must be known, in case anything were to happen to me, at least you would know.”
“Yes m’lord.”
“Trace…I, I love you,” m’lord! The words hit Trace like a bullet, as if the words were alien to him. A joy hid beneath his shocked face, to a servant- no, a slave, her reminded himself- such as he, there was no greater compliment, it was the sign of a connection between master and servant, both a mutual understanding and a pact that was written in something hundreds of times thicker and more permanent than blood. “I love for everything you have done. For over a decade you have served me well; you fought by my side, you saved my sister from the hell she existed in, and, most of all, you have never faulted, not even once.”
“It is my duty to you m’lord.”
“Yes,” he laid his outstretched hand on the man’s face, gently patting it and then resting it down on the cheek. It was moist, a form of moisture he recognized; there was blood on his finger. “You have drawn blood for me time and time again, from both your own body and that of my enemies. You have given the most precious thing in existence for me Trace, your moisture, your body’s water, your blood. And for that, I love you.”
“M’lord,” he masked all of his emotions with an indifferent monotone, So he’s happy…Adat thought, how well I’ve come to know you, to know how you feel regardless of what you do… Trace, will you ever forgive me? What I must do…it is horrible, but it is something I must do, for the both of you…
“Trace, tell me, honestly, do you love my sister?”
The words shook Trace, breaking through every defense he had, or could have established, by the time he had regained his control, it was already too late, and even then it lasted less than a second before he yet again recoiled from the shock. His eyes shook wildly inside their sockets, Is that fear? Or is it surprise? Or…could it be embarrassment? Trace could only was not able to control himself, his flushed, and although he tried to stop it, a the skin still morphed a slight pink. So, it is the two latter, maybe…
“Well?”
“M’lord…” Trace looked away from his eyes again, Do I!?! He felt like laughing at himself for asking such a stupid question, he’d known the answer for years. It was undeniable, if Adat was asking him to do what he was thinking he was, Trace knew he would be very well unable to do it.
“Answer me Trace,” he withdrew his hand, returning it under the concealing cloak that completely encircled his body, held together only by the two round cuffs at his neck, made of gold and bearing the Ishbalan Hawk the Mehdi family had received its name from, its small eyes in a blood red diamond. Although his voice was calm and friendly, the piercing eyes probed, searching for an answer, he betrayed this purposely.
“M’lord…I cannot answer that…” Not a yes…but, then again, not a no either, Adat thought.
“Tell me Trace, do you?” he allowed a hint of irritation to escape through his lips this time.
“I…cannot answer…but I can say this, Monad is my love Lord.” Monad, that name again… Who is she? Is it possible…that’s another name for Kashi? Maybe the two of them…no, her despise for him is genuine, but- this is something I must look into myself.
Diving deeper into thought, he continued, If he loves there, there is some hope for her happiness. However, love can also be used as a weapon, a weapon against he who loves. If he does not love her, he can protect her, for ever and always. Not only her, the people as well, by refusing to love her, he saves both her and the people, by confessing, and expressing his love, he might just doom them both…
“I need a no or a yes,” his voice was fringing on rage now, something his face followed upon, One last push…
Before he could prevent himself, Trace had already barked, “I said leave it!” Both of them stood there in shock, he’d snapped! Adat couldn’t believe it, he’d done with one simple yes or no question what more than a decade of war, of murder, of politics, had never even touched the surface of. What is wrong with you Trace? What is it that you are thinking? Do you love her… Or is it this…Monad you obsess over?
Trace moved first, trying to apologize, but before he could even bow, he found his face grazed by Adat’s hand again, and he met his master’s eyes. “I love you my old friend. I love you like a brother, although I can never ask you to be my brother for reasons I cannot disclose to you. Trace, my sister, she is misguided and foolish in her youth, you are both so close in age will you help her?”
“M’lord…” A task given only to a most trusted brethren.
“From the moment you set eyes on her, you will no longer be my servant, no longer be my blade, no longer be my guardian and protector. Instead, you will give all you have given to me to her, give it to her and give it to her a thousand fold compared to what you have given me. Trace, from the moment you see her, you will no longer be bound to me, but to her, should you choose to accept.”
“And if I say no?” he asked, not because of choice, but because of obligation.
“Then you will be set free, but I cannot allow you to serve me while she is here.” Sorry, Trace, but I have closed off all other doors, now there is only one choice. Adat turned and walked towards the door, both knew the answer perfectly. Adat stopped at the door. “Be at the chamber in an hour.”
Adat turned towards Trace, “One more thing.” Trace nodded lightly. “Although she might not say it now, or ever; even though she will probably never admit it, she loves you Trace. She loves you deeply and passionately, more than she loves or could love me, and more than I could ever love the two of you put together. So, when you raise your blade for her, when you spill your blood’s water for her, remember it, and fight accordingly.”
“Love can be a weakness, a weapon used against he who loves,” Trace told him. Ahhh…quick…Adat suppressed a grin.
“In the right hands, however, it can be the single deadliest weapon of all. Love her like you love me, and I guarantee you that no harm will ever come within five hundred yards of her.”
“M’lord,” he said in both agreement and submission.
Adat left the room, his emotions and thoughts warring, inside his head he heard a loud voice, it said much louder than every other one of the voices that were his thoughts: What have I started? I play a dangerous game, and I have backed a dog into a corner with no way out, nor anywhere to lean on for support; nothing could be more dangerous! Then, as he reached the stairs, it sounded again, saying louder than ever before, What have I done!?!
Trace had never been able to get over just how large the main chamber was. Entire cities of the old days could fit in it easily, not just one or two, but maybe a half dozen or more! Remembering how the Great Hall why been made, however, it seemed more reasonable. Entire wars had waged in this small chamber, wars between the opposing great houses, wars fought by the tip and edge of a blade, regardless of which weapon carried it. Ballistic weapons were long gone, replaced, instead, by the blade, made obsolete by the potency of Ishbalan life, only by destroying seventy-five percent of the body or more could an Ishbalan be killed, a miracle of both science and nature, and these weapons were forbidden in the hall, lest they do damage and get out where they can harm the people, ballistics had become useless. Blades, however, were so much more potent, one swing could cut a man in half, and the prolonged contact with Orichalcum, compared to the blade, caused permanent, deadly damage.
Now, however, its warrior heritage was gone, as was war in all of Ishbal, not one skirmish had broken out in nearly two hundred years, a sign that troubled many as people grew discomforted by the peace and tensions increased for some sort of conflict. Yes, people hate peace, they wish for the activity and life that war and battle brings to the world, something the Great Hall had once shown, been the symbol and apex of. Now, however, with war dead, its original purpose was gone as well, the terrain instead replaced by pillars and columns there solely to take up space and for artistic decorum. A large space in the center, several miles across in every direction from its center, circular in shape, saw the most action of any part of the hall now, it was where balls and parties would be held, where Adat would preach and console the people when it was needed. War was long dead in Ishbal, at least open warfare, the dangers of everyday life still plagued those worth of power: assassination, poisoning, kidnapping, torture…and even worse.
Presently, however, they stood many, many miles from that large open space. Instead, they were at the Throne Room, one of three, albeit the single most important one, as it was where anything from coronation to imperial announcements were made. Trace came in through the door closest to Adat’s own thrown and stood beside his lord. The section of the room was small and closed off, separated from the rest of the Great Hall by a retractable wall made of a reinforced metal strong enough to resist the power of even an atomic, and, moreover, block the much more deadly radiation, heat, shockwave, and other such aftereffects.
His sense of hearing was the first to react, picking up a conversation between the two about the past. Trace reached the throne, and turned, coming into her view. At the sight of her, Trace’s lips formed an involuntary smile and he felt his heart beat start to speed, how beautiful she had become! Kashi…is…a woman now… it was hard for him to think of her as such, he’d met her as a child, and last seen her as a child, he knew nothing better than that, he’d known her as nothing more than a child. Kashi isn’t a child anymore, she’s a woman, she is m’lady and nothing more; she is Lady Rena Mehdi… my mistress.
His eyes only confirmed his thoughts. She’d finally grown her hair long as he’d advised her when they were younger. The oak colored strands reached down to past her shoulders, almost halfway down her back, moving whenever she did as if it had a life of its own, rising and falling back again, like waves in an ocean… Ruby red eyes, as crimson as the blood that was now boiling in him, deep and complex, bright with life yet holding a the knowledge of life, how painful it was in reality. Her eyes, two perfect circles, deep pits in the centers where the pupils lay, an undeniable beauty hid in them as they veiled her every emotion she felt. Her lips were moist and succulent, perfectly rounded and slightly protruding, as thick as they needed to be and no more. Her features were chiseled onto a perfect face, finely sculpted by the hands of her creator, all laid upon a light-skinned face, perfect without any blemishes or faults to ruin it.
Rena, unlike her brother, wore no cloak, she was not of age nor of position to wear the imperial mantel. Instead she wore the clothes of a commoner, revealing her body for all to see. Behind the cloth lay an adult body, so unlike what he’d seen long ago. She was only almost his age, nearing her twenties when she would finally move on from being a child, and become an adolescent. Beneath the cloth lay the same perfect skin as her face, she’d grown, become taller in time. Her body was in perfect proportion, and the fingers retained the slender and long fingers that her brother had, yet they were small hands.
His eyes probed deeper, examining every detail with scrutiny. Her chest had grown. Carefully, gauged her height at five feet, maybe five and a half compared to his own five-six. The body remained calm and still, maturity had removed all the extra energy wasted in the hyperactivity of youth, and it as remained calm, the eyes judged Adat’s every word searching for anything his face could betray while her ears where, most certainly, searching for any change in his voice that might betray anything he didn’t want known.
His hand flexed into a fist, how much time had passed since he’d seen her? Just over a second, too long.
Rena’s eyes caught him for the first time. In a swift motion they changed from indifferent and attentive to hostile and deadly. Her look hit Trace as if it had been a bullet, it took every bit of strength in his body to remain standing, but his shaking eyes betrayed the pain, his face expressing it as well. His eyes shifted down toward the throne, his face not moving, and then back at her.
With a venomous tone, she spoke again, “I see you kept your lapdog,” she looked back at her brother then back at Trace as Adat noticed the pain written across his face. Then she added, “I don’t like him,” it had been directed at Trace and Trace alone. He looked down, flexing his hand into a tight fist again before loosening and relaxing them.
“Kashi, you shouldn’t speak like that,” Adat corrected her.
She shook her head, a dark grin spread across her face. “Why? He’s a slave, nothing more. A bloody slave! No, not a slave, something even lower, an assassin; a man too insecure to hide in the day, and too weak to fight a man in broad daylight. Brother, you know, assassins are tools of opportunity, used only when needed. When their use runs out, however, they become dangerous, they could turn, or supply an enemy. Just allow me to, allow me to and I will take his life myself.”
Trace drew his blade, the distinctive sound surprised Adat. Trace pointed the blade’s tip at Rena, then he reversed it, turning it in his hand, holding it now by its sharp blade and its handle extended towards her. A brief smile drew on his lips, and then he spoke, “M’lady, I am yours to do with as you please.”
“You pledged him to me!” she snapped, a violent uprising in her voice. “What-”
“I serve House Mehdi, if you wish, I will take it myself,” he sounded depressed, Adat noted. Is he trying to make her feel guilty? No, he’s unable to.
“You’re a slave of my brother’s not mine!”
My initial thoughts were correct it seems, not just love, infatuation…so much more useful a quality in a guard. How hurtful she is, how awful. No, he isn’t acting, he lets all his defenses down.
“Rena, show some respect!” Adat snapped. “This is man has served our House since he was only a child. He’ll give for his life for even the smallest and most insignificant member of our House. Where do you get off insulting him?”
Trace centered all of his attention on her, how cold she had become! He shifted his weight, she’d hated him since that day. What was is that she was so angered at? He’d done his duty, and she’d interfered! If anyone was to be mad, it was him! “What is it that you want from me?”
“I want for you to die!” Trace’s face fell apart, in a slow, depressing stride, he left the room. From the pathway to the Great Hall he could hear his enraged screams directed at Rena. She wants me dead…how interesting, she wants the same thing I do. Milady, your wish will come true soon enough.
“Milord,” Trace bowed to Adat. “We need to talk.”
An order!?! How bold of you! Trace’s weak tone of voice frightened him, it was absent of all life, it sounded dead. Adat looked up toward his friends, his eyes were empty. “Trace, what the hell happened to you?”
In the hour or two since his meeting her, he’d aged considerably. His eyes were tired and empty, the look of a dead man, or at least a man who was soon to be dead. Trace’s jet black hair, normally well kept, was a mess; it looks like he had just gotten out of bed. The eyes, an aquamarine blue somewhere between the blue of the sky and that of the ocean, once a beautiful and attractive sight, no less than seductive, was gone, the eyes remained blue, but all the life that had once supported them and made them so beautiful was gone.
What has she done to you old friend?
Trace’s nearly five-eight body was slightly hunched, tired and whenever he moved, only one foot moved at a time, the other was dragged across the floor. His face, usually an impenetrable wall shielding anything he felt save when he wished it known, was gone, his emotions as clear as if he were looking through glass. The strong hands and body, normally mistaken for a weak boy’s was packed full of powerful lean muscle, providing a deceptively normal body which masked the strength of a killer.
He made a failed attempt to stand straight, finding himself too weak to do so. I’ve waited all this time…and this happens.
“Milord, I have a request.”
“Anything you ask,” Adat, again, allowed his concern to slip through his voice.
“Milord,” Not m’lord, or my lord, as usual, milord. He acknowledges his bondage to her already…but because he does- Love is a cruel weapon to use. How could Kashi use it against someone who loves her so much? How cruel it must be to be bound to someone you love, but at the same time hates you… Again he wondered, What have I done?
“M’lady made a request of me.”
“And?”
Trace was just barely able to conceal his rage, “Don’t play the fool, you heard it as clearly as I.”
“Trace, just because you were ordered to- You don’t have to do it. Use common sense man!”
“I’m a slave of House Mehdi! A slave of my Mistress! I do as I am commanded!”
“You’re blinded by your own grief and self-pity!” Adat’s voice conveyed the rage that he felt.
“I’m following my orders!” Trace responded, matching his own rage with Adat’s. “Milord, please, I’m old, and I want to die now…” the rage was gone, instead there was misery in his voice.
“I won’t do it!” he responded back, showing his disgust of even just the idea in his voice.
There was a silence. Trace had never felt more torn apart before in his life. He was being torn between his duty to his masters and his own respect and love towards them, something which Adat had concluded as well. Trace slumped into a chair, his lifeless eyes dug into Adat’s own. Adat felt disturbed looking into those eyes, or being looked at.
“Milord, I have served the House of Mehdi for years, since I was only ten, my blade has been yours and yours alone. I cannot take this anymore, I just want to die, to rest in piece.”
“And you’d let her rest in pieces!?!” The words hit Trace hard. A wave of fear ran all throughout Trace’s face. As soon as the words took effect, Adat felt sorry for the outburst. His hands started to tremble, then they shook as the rest of the body adopted the tremble as well.
M’lady…die!?! Trace could feel his mind start to break apart, My Lady…die!?! His body regained its straight shape, stopping all of its movements and the impenetrable shield veiled his face yet again. Still, however, the eyes showed no life, and his stride as he walked out of the room was normal, but hinted of a new, deeper depression.
What have I done!?!
Rena was able to control herself until she reached her room. She walked in carefully, shutting the door behind her and locking it tightly. Once she had locked the door, however, her very body conceded, her back pressed against the door and the tears stored from the long day started to flow down her face, her hands at her temples. Rena’s hands moved down to cover her body as the crying started to hurt her body.
Several minutes passed before she could even gather the strength to move, and when she did she ran towards her bed and jumped into her bed. Rena pulled a pillow towards her moist face and curled her body into a ball. The flow of tears, however, only became bigger and bigger as she dove deeper into sorrow.
As hours passed by, however, she was able to build up enough strength to finally slow, and then stop the flow of tears. Rena sniffled, struggling to fight the emotion back and push it aside into her subconscious where it would no longer plague her. Still sniffling she calmed herself down, her red cheeks slowly returning to their natural color.
Still, she couldn’t help but feel guilty and stained. What had she done? Why had she done it? Rena reached under her skirt, opening a pocket and pulling out a square-shaped piece of paper, a photograph. The sight of it calmed her, allowing her to return her thoughts to her memories, remembering, as she always she did the days before this torturous present. She wiped the moisture of her eyes away.
A weak smile grazed her lips. She held it to her chest and embraced it as tightly as she could, careful, however, to not harm the picture. She held it back to her eyes and looked back at his, giggling. With a happier look, a more solemn look, she muttered something under her breath, a prayer of adoration and endearment towards the man. She ran her fingers down his face, and, as she did every night, pressed her lips against the picture before finally letting sleep overtake her.
“My services?” Trace only received an affirming nod, which although he couldn’t see, the silence confirmed. “My services…” It’s been a long time since I last held a blade as an aggressor…I wonder how it I’ll be able to do it again…
“I’m tired of this place already,” Rena complained.
“And how are my…services, supposed to remedy your boredom?”
“You’re a slave, your raison d’ etre is to serve. I’m requesting a service, and since you are bound to me…”
“The bond between us doesn’t matter.” His voice was steadier now, he’d calmed down since the day before, found a new strength. “I swore to serve House Mehdi, I will not provide my services simply for your amusement.”
“But-”
“I will not!” He responded. Trace felt burdened by his refusal, who was he to refuse her anything she wished. He was a slave! A servant bound to House Mehdi and all who resided in it. And she, most definitely was part of House Mehdi, and to say no to such a beautiful face, much less his mistress, was difficult in itself.
“You bore me.”
“I know,” he suppressed a grin, she used to say it long ago too. How long had it been? “My Lady, you woke me up at two in the morning…to ask me to kill a bird…”
“Do I care!?! Learn one thing: you do as I say.”
“I understand that, but why do you want me to kill the bird?”
“It’s keeping me awake,” she responded quickly.
“Can’t you kill it yourself?”
“Are you defying me?”
“No, it’s just that I think you should learn some self-sufficience.”
Rena flustered, Why is why I want so bad? “But…”
“But?”
Rena suppressed a sigh, why was what she wanted so bad? She could remember the days long ago, they’d slept in the same room, and she’d done as she’d pleased back then. “Trace,” She used my name! “please…”
“Fine,” a chuckle escaped through his lips, “I will.”
“Thank you…” Static, he’d hung up. I was too nice… What if he finds out? M’lord…
Rena awoke to a knock at the door. “M’lady, you have an appointment!” It was Trace’s voice. She groaned, turning around in her bed and covering her ears with the soft pillow to block all the interfering sound. “M’lady! You have to come!”
“I have to bathe!”
“I don’t hear a shower running!”
“Let me sleep!”
“Now!”
“Go to hell!” she squirmed in the bed as the feeling returned to her after the numbness of sleep. Her legs and thighs felt moist, her face went a bright red as she climbed out of the bed and covered it so that the moist sheet was covered by a dry quilt, risen slightly to stop it from becoming wet itself.
“M’lady,” he was chuckling! How happy she felt that her outburst hadn’t enraged him. The joy, however, did not replace the shame and embarrassment.
Trace had to wait fifteen minutes as she hastily bathed, changed, and prepared herself, seeing on sight, “Fast.”
“This better be important, waking me up so early in the morning.” It was almost an order as she closed the door. Locked it. They started to move, silence, until a few minutes after their last words, she spoke again: “Trace, about last night…”
“You were tired, I understand.”
“But I shouldn’t have done what I did…”
“M’lady, this is a new side of you!” he managed a smirk while her face turned into a beautiful frown.
“You’re an idiot!”
“How?”
“I meant kicking you out!”
“That’s what I meant too, what did you think I meant?” his gaze dug into her, found an answer, “Oh…I forgot that’d happened…” Forgot!?! “It’s okay.”
“I didn’t apologize,” there was an undeniable arrogance engraved into her voice, “you’re my puppet, my slave, a toy. I can, and will, do you as I wish, when I wish.”
“Of course m’lady, I understand that clearly,” his voice and attitude had changed, becoming more pained, her words reminded him of the day before.
Rena felt a pang of guilt, and chose not to voice it. “You’re an idiot.”
“I am m’lady.”
“Brother should have disposed of you,” her voice had returned to its venomous tone from the day before, “useless…” Sorry.
Trace nodded, “I guess I am,” his hands flexed again, but he regained complete control over his body again, and with his new calm demeanor, he pushed forward a bold step. “M’lady, milord-”
“Trace,” she interrupted, this time she chose to coat her voice with a sweet and loving tone. Rena stopped, turning to him smiling, “About last night…”
“It was my fault ’Mam.”
“No, it was mine,” the darkness of the hall frightened him, how could he let her lead him here!?! She was supposed to have been following him, how had he ended up letting her lead him here!?! No…it wasn’t a strange place, they’d been here before, together, in those days long before the torture that as this life.
Trace allowed his mind to backtrack, remembering the days of old where they had been friends…maybe even more. This place held a lot of memories, for the both of them, this was their own spot, their personal spot, and no one knew how to get here, except the two of them. How much the world had changed since the last time they had been here!?!
But this place still held memories for him, the happiest memories of his life. Here they’d become friends, and here their bond had become strong, he’d held her and helped her in her moments of grief; and she’d done the same for him in the times when his caged up emotions were too much to handle, when he’d been overcome by the demons that plagued him.
“Trace, about last night…” she sounded nervous, scared almost. “Trace…do you remember what we did here?”
“How can I forget?” his tone wasn’t a cold monotone, instead there was a scent of love added to it.
“Then you do remember!” her tone was almost joyous. He remembers! “Did it make you…happy?”
“My memories here are the happiest I have in my life,” there was a sweet sincerity in voice. Rena suppressed her blushing.
“Really?...” Rena noticed for the first time how vulnerable and weak she was now. By saying one of many things, he could either destroy her, or… Please, Trace…
“Of course. M’lady, you I-”
“Trace,” she brought her fingers to her lips, “This was the place we…kissed for the first time…” I just need to push a little further…
“M’lady…” she closed the space in between the two of them. She wondered at his tone, Why do you sound so scared? Why do you sound so…nervous, so timid, so shy?
“Trace,” she wrapped her arms around him, pushing herself against him, “Again. One more time…please.” Rena pushed her face as close to his as she could without pressing their lips together, “One more…” her voice switched to a longing one, “I’ve missed you so much. Just one more kiss…”
Trace stood in both awe and fear of her. His body started to move on its own and it took every bit of control and strength in his body to control himself. She moved her lips towards his, eyes closed, the same way she’d done their first- and only- time. She stopped, an inch or two from his lips, waiting for him to finish it.
Trace fought the urge to touch the tempting lips, racking at his mind to control itself. This isn’t right, she’s my mistress, my master… But was it right back then either? No, it wasn’t, but now it’s even less so. M’lady, why are you taunting me, how cruel you are… How much I want to touch those lips, how much I wan to have you, but, like all great things in my life so far, you are forbidden, and you know it. You’re cruel, m’lady.
“M’lord, please…” her words made Trace anguish, M’lord! Why does she play with me? “M’lord, please…” she sounded no less than lustful that time.
“I can’t.”
“Just one kiss,” she begged.
“I can’t…”
“Just one.”
“I-”
A dark grin grazed her lips as her eyes slowly opened, “Useless.” She was playing with me! She let go of him, walking away in a fast stride.
Rena fought back the tears building at her eyes. Idiot! Useless idiot! Rena broke into a sprint, stopping only when she was safe in her room and then, as she had the night before, broke down, breaking into a strong stream of tears.
Rena tried to look at the picture but the tears completely clouded her view. Rena attempted to wipe away the tears, clearing them of the tears. Still, the picture did not make her happier, instead it filled her with an even deeper grief, depression came over her. Below it all lay a rage she was just barely able to push away.
She started to feel lightheaded, and then she lost her balance, falling from a sitting position to the floor, eyes wide open. She stared at the floor blankly, thoughts rolled through her mind quickly.
Why does he hate me? What did I do to him? Is it because of what I did? I’m sorry Trace! I’m sorry, please forgive me… Even inside her head, every request was like a beg, I didn’t mean to. Plea-
Her body froze stiff and she found herself unable to move. A strange realization of death ran through her, fear approaching, she wasn’t ready to die. Not yet… Her eyes went blank and the darkness of unconsciousness enveloped her.
“M’lady?” Rena could only manage to move her head a little. “Are you okay?”
“Useless…Idiot…” She was asleep.
“Milord, you can come in now.”
Adat entered the room, angered at Trace for what was probably the first time. How dare he!?! He was royalty, he, if anyone, had the privilege to visit his sister. Trace, how dare he keep him from her for a week?
Hiding his rage, Adat stopped at Trace’s shoulder, “Get something to eat…or some sleep at least.”
“We both know, milord, that this will not happen.”
Trace left the room, closing the door behind him as Adat locked it. He sighed, Trace was paranoid, he would be waiting on the other side of the door. Worst of all, he was on a timer. Trace, what have I made you into? But the metamorphisis wasn’t complete yet, no, in the following year, Trace would change radically, become a former of shell of he once, or even now was…but they will both be alive.
“Trace…” Adat turned. Her eyes were struggling to open, she was awake.
Adat wondered how he should she speak. It had been hard for him, almost a week and a half, and he’d not been allowed to see her even in the slightest. A relieving shudder calmed him, she was alive at least.
He worked his way over to her quietly and steadily, stopping to sit at a chair Trace had set next to the bed. It was his room. A flood of questions flooded the man, Why his room? He’d been acting oddly lately, could-
“Addi?”
“Yes ?” his voice answered her probing tone, a sweet undertone.
“Where’s my guard?”
“Trace is keeping them away, I’m lucky I can even get within a hundred feet.”
“How long?” Direct, Adat thought, that is unlike her.
Trace… Question upon question started to rise into his mind. He’s been so strange lately…maybe, just maybe, he may be able to save himself from himself. To lose both of them for them to be able to live…something only Trace can do. Hopefully, it is so, hopefully, I have miscalculated.
Adat looked at his younger sister, how frail she looked, how frail she must be. Trace had been the one thing that had kept him in check. Loyal without question, but also curious with a set of morals he wouldn’t violated lest the ends justify the means. Rena, however, had not had one as such. She’d had a guard, assigned to her by both a reluctant Trace and himself, but the man had gotten himself killed much too early in.
How could he answer? The biggest problem with missing out on the crucial late years of one’s childhood, when both one’s body and mind changed the most, one was unable to relate to that person any more. Adat had been caught by his job to his people, he knew her less than the common person off the street because he could not judge her by looks alone as they would, he would judge her by the now dead persona she had been, a little girl. Adat had lost Rena, to time, and politics.
Once again, I stand behind you Trace.
“A week.”
“A week?” Monotone.
“And a half.”
A slight reaction crossed her face, subsided. “A week?...”
“You’re reacting to it again, aren’t you?”
“I’m dying…”
The word did not even seem to phase Adat. He sat perfectly still, watching her struggle to open her eyes. I thought it would be longer… Adat, however, wondered at Trace, how would he react? Piece after piece was becoming loose in his puzzle, forcing it to fall apart under its own weight.
Adat shook his head, a cold grin at his face, in less than twenty-four hours, the two of them had been able to destroy a plan over five years in the making. Did I think I knew them better than I really do?... Doubt it, I was right, they just…adapted before I could.
“How long?”
“A year? Two, maybe.”
How could a plan have come apart so easily?
After a few more minutes of quiet struggle her eyes finally broke through, revealing to her the face of her brother before the inpouring of light blinded for several seconds. Her eyes adjusted, the colored iris dilating to block some of the extra light.
She set her eyes on her brother again, a brief smile adorned her face and then disappeared as she looked away. “Does he know?”
“No, nobody knows but me.”
“He hates me…” her voice trailed as she finished her sentence. Adat ran a gentle hand down her face assuring her he didn’t. “But he does, I know he does…”
“Come Kashi, I know he doesn’t.”
“Stop calling me that!” her outburst turned her face a bright red, a red of rage. “You have no right to call me that!”
Adat almost fell back in his chair. I what!?! He pushed his fury away, Not now, she’s not feeling well… But… “Why don’t I? I can do whatever I want!” his voice contained an arrogance, that although fake, was enough to fool her.
“Because…that name…is…from…Trace…” the effort that it took her to say those few words showed on her face and body. It was tense, tired, but just before it had been fine. How much damage had Trace done? More importantly, how could he have done this much damage, all with just his name?
“You don’t have any right to call me that!” she continued, almost hysterical in her tone. Her rage died down. Adat’s eyes shifted to her now uncovered arms, they were grasping something tightly. Adat tried to move the sheet, but as soon as she saw her arm moved she turned over, sending her leg towards the edge of blanket as she did to block it.
“What do you have?”
“Leave!” it was not a neither a plea nor a command, but more like a cry for help. It was loud enough, he was sure, to reach Trace on the other side. She’s trying to use him against me!
“Stop being so childish!”
“It’s not for your eyes!” she grasped it tightly. “I said leave!”
“I said let me see it!” Adat was unable to control his rage, raising a hand in the air to hit her.
Rena acted by instinct, but the first syllable wasn’t complete before action was taken. Trace’s ears, sharp as a bat’s caught her voice, she’d said his name!
The doors burst open with a loud sound. Before either could even turn their eyes, Trace darted across the room, caught Adat by the throat in a death grip, and pushed him against a wall. Adat’s eyes struggled to see his assailant as his lungs struggled to breath in air.
Trace stood hunched over him, one hand held out, holding Adat in what was no less than a death grip. Demon-like eyes rose to meet Adat’s own. All life, all humanity were gone inside them. Those were the eyes of a demon, a killer, a fanatic. Not even a second had passed. Trace’s teeth showed through his slightly open mouth, the canines stretched and sharpened; each one a dagger. The eyes seemed to jump in their sockets, the body moved lifelessly, almost with a limp but the speed spoke otherwise.
The free hand, most certainly holding a knife, moved back, past the pale dead face. Then, in a quick motion the hand readied itself, ready to strike, The neck? Or the head? How will I die? The demon chose a slow and gruesome death, the throat. Adat reminded himself he feared nothing, he had no master, not even death.
Trace’s dark eyes, however, bore deep into his consciousness, his very being, his own soul. A fanatical fear shot through Adat as he tried to move his body, the eyes boring deeper and deeper into him as the arms started to move towards him. Too fast too see, Adat closed his eyes waiting for death. A cool breeze passed by face, follow by a grunt and a warm cushion of air, human breath. He heard panting, terrified panting and Rena’s voice squeaked, she was about to cry again.
His eyes opened slowly, saw why it was he was still alive. At first he was startled by the blade, it had migrated up, right between the eyes, the tip just barely touched his forehead, drawing a few drops of blood. The ornate dagger, given to Trace by Adat himself was a tool of only one thing: assassination. He was actually going to kill me! Still, he dared not move.
Adat drew a sigh of relief, moving his head as little as possible, he’d cheated death…for now…
Trace’s hand moved by itself, rushing towards Adat. A sick feeling of pleasure and satisfaction ran through him, accompanied by an indescribable ecstasy. A deathly smile appeared on his face as Adat closed his eyes, the Orichalcum blade rushing towards his jugular at a speed too fast to see.
Only a few inches away from his target, a weak arm struggled to stop him. The ice cold skin reacted on contact with the warmth of Rena’s hand through the cloth. A sweeping realization came over Trace, what was he doing?
Life returned to his eyes, they changed shape and became more human. The fang-like canines had changed shape, becoming human again as the claws at the tips of his fingers became fingernails again. The pale skin shifted in color as blood rushed into it again, becoming his natural light cream tone again. Trace, fully of his metamorphosis, watched in fear, what had he become.
A look of fear spread throughout his face. Every muscle started to shake and tremble. What was I doing? He’d blacked out on his hearing his name. A moist face plunged into his sleeve, M’lady…
Trace stood there, staring back at Adat. Adat’s eyes were empty, shaking in their place, as if he had just seen a demon. Trace let go and started to back away, one step at first, then two, then three and he turned to run before being caught by two frail arms. They encapsulated him, allowing him no movement.
“Leave!” it was directed at her brother, at least the sorrowful tone of voice implied that it was. Nothing as Adat tried to recapture his breath, still looking up at Trace from where he kneeled, with both a fear and an unspeakable awe.
The face, still hiding behind him, dug into his back heard no movement. Again, it spoke, “I said leave!”
Adat got up, walking tightly against the wall to prevent coming close to Trace. As soon as the door was in sight he darted outwards, sprinting to get away from what he had just seen.
Trace tried to move but the weak grasp tightened. The effort caused her to tremble from exhaustion. Trace grabbed her hands, pushed the down and out of the way. There was quiet. “You need sleep.”
“I don’t want to,” she went around him, smiled. It was a forced smile, an exhausting use of muscles that were tired and sore.
“You need to.”
“Brother-”
“If you want, I’ll stay here. He won’t come in, I promise.”
Rena nodded but when she tried to move her tired legs gave under her body’s weight. Trace asked if she needed help, but she refused tried to stand but her body refused to move. Rena felt the fatigue for the first time, felt tired for the first time. Rena felt as if she was rising, looking up only to see him carrying her. He stood still, waiting for some sort of order to move. Rena, embarrassed and blushing, dug her face into his chest and made herself comfortable. As if on command, he moved forward, carrying her across the room and laying her on his bed, it was the softest bed she’d ever felt.
Trace, however, did not remove his hands, they stayed on her shoulders as a brief smile glistened across it. Rena relaxed into the soft bed. A hypnotizing aroma rose from the bed, Trace’s. She breathed it in greedily, although quietly enough so that it was not audible to Trace’s sharp ears. Every time the wonderful smell entered her nose, she let it out, reluctantly with a deep sigh. This was what it was what it was like to sleep in the same bed that he did…
Subaru relaxed into the bed as he tucked tightly in place. “Tell me a story?” Trace almost laughed, and looking down at her, said no. He sat down next to her. “M’lord?” she taunts me again. She taunts me yet again with that word, “M’lord.” Still, he was not able to deny the sweet undertone lying under it, felt part his blood boil because of it.
“M’lord?”
“Yes m’lady?”
“I don’t like it when you talk to me like that, when you call me that. You know?” Trace shook his head no. “It’s just…it gives me bad thoughts, I don’t want to be involved in this world of politics, I want things to stay the way they were before, even if it’s just between the two of us.”
“Then what do you want me to call you?” he examined her face, it was turning red, Fever?
“What you used to.”
“It’s disres-”
“I don’t care,” she broke in, shaking her head, “I just want to be called that again… Not by Addi, or anyone Trace, but you…”
Trace smiled, ran his hand down her sweet gentle face, “If you want me to, I’ll do it.” She smiled, mouthed a thank you. “Trace, do you remember the hall I took you to?”
Trace felt a sorrowful pang. How you played me there… Trace had come close to touching those lips…so close. Once man bites into the forbidden fruit, there is no turning back, he is forever addicted- spellbound to it. You are my fruit, m’lady. Trace ran the moment over in his mind, savoring every moment, So close…
A dirty feeling washed over Trace, what was he thinking!?! Just by thinking my thoughts I am sinning. He looked into her eyes, And the things I think of when I think about her are unspeakable and cruel.
“Do you?”
“It’s a very special place in my memory, m’la-” from the edges of his eyes he could see her grimace, and corrected himself, “Kashi.”
“Why?” Trace was surprised at how much she had changed since the last time he’d spoken to her. The arrogance and haughty about her was gone, Was it because of the demon? Or because of her condition.
Trace remembered what the physician had told him, “She’s not normal…” he’d told him. “Her brain is not right, quite literally. M’lord-” Why did he refer to me as m’lord, Trace thought now, noticing the weird honorific for the first time. “- she’s not going to act…normal for a while. She-”
“I know about her conditions!” he had snapped.
“Well, she’s going to be erratic. For now that will be all you need to worry about. Her brain is in a state of hormonal imbalance, m’lord. I wouldn’t be too hopeful either, don’t expect to see too much improvement in any time soon, in a few months maybe.
“But what will I have to deal with?”
“M’lord, to help her, you will have to be part of her therapy,” Trace’s eyes dug into him, scaring him lifeless. “The symptoms m’lord, are erratic behavior.”
“What kind!?!
The man, scared witless, rolled a list from his tongue. Depression, relapses, seizures, heart attacks, psychotic problems, and even more symptoms. Then he added the coup d’ grace, “M’lord, she will not be emotionally stable either. She could be happy or mad one second and then she could become depressed, incredibly so; and then, only a half minute later she could be a fit of anger, then she could end up…wanting,” he didn’t need to expand on that, “and halfway through end up happy only to fall into a suicidal depression.” Full circle. The man’s words bothered him still. Suicidal…Rena… To lose her would be…unbearable. And when she died, the world…
“Trace?” it was her voice he heard then, snapping him away from the memory. “M’lord,” Why does she keep taunting me!?! his thoughts neared him to rage, “do you remember what we’ve done there?”
“We were young.”
“We still are,” she reached towards him with one hand the other one tight around a concealed object, soft and plushy. “and we will be like that for a while.”
…Wanting, he remembered. “Kashi, go to sleep.”
“I don’t want to,” her protest came out in a childlike manner.
“You have to sleep,” he ran a hand down her face, “but if you sleep, m’lady, I will do exactly what you want, and, listen well, I will take you out of this place.” Rena’s eyes brightened, “I know how much you hate this place, but you have to get some bedrest.”
“How much?” she asked as she relaxed into the soft mattress.
“Two days,” he held up two fingers. Subaru covered the lower half of her face with the blanket, nodded.
“Kiss?”
Trace chuckled, kissed her lightly on the forehead as she squirmed around, and left the room. Once he was on the other side of the door, he threw his back against it, letting her know he was still there.
The smile that had been on his face disappeared. Hopefully when she wakes up she will hate me again…I don’t know how much longer I can resist this Rena.
“What a beautiful display,” Adat told himself, suppressing a grin, he’d never been so afraid in his life. So close to death… “Too much, maybe, but a beautiful display nonetheless.”
“So brother is okay?”
Adat shrugged, “Some progress has been made, but… I can make no guarantees.”
“Meaning?” Kamui’s hand shifted to his blade. Willing to kill for your brother…just like I’m willing to kill for my little sister, Adat pushed the thought aside, he wouldn’t touch him, doing so would only bring about Trace’s wrath.
“She’s in…frail condition, mentally. She has wild mood swings; goes from happy, to depressed, to lustful, to…suicidal even. I cannot do anything to prevent it, it’s part of her condition, and she was born with it.”
“And I can do what you and your medicine can’t. If you do what I asked of you.”
“I will not sell my sister to him!” Adat snapped.
Kamui drew his saber, felt it around in his hand, running it down the length of the blade. The gold, ivory, and jewel encrusted saber shimmered in the light, most of which came from the silver blade. Adat stared at the blade fearfully, the silver in the blade was made of Orichalcum.
“I am not asking you to sell your sister to him. I’m not even asking a trade. I am a…reasonable man. I, and I speak honestly and truthfully, understand where you stand on this matter,” his eyes darted to the man, “however,” the poison in his voice scared Adat, “I will not tolerate insubordination and resistance. You want your sister, I want my brother, a fair price, equivalent exchange.”
“Stop it!” Adat tried to punch the man but missed, hitting only air. He turned, Kamui stood there, the blade still at his side, So fast! “You talk about this as if it were an experiment! People do not work by predetermined laws, not even those of the cosmos. Do not try to justify what you’re doing with that!”
The man frowned. If it had not been for the red eyes and blonde hair, the man would look exactly like Trace. There were, of course, other small deviations, but those were small and insignificant, With contacts and hair-dye this man could bring me and my people to my knees!
Kamui talked again, asking a question regarding Trace’s behavior. Adat responded angrily, yelling at him and when asked if he was afraid of Trace, or if he was afraid of the thing he had seen he answered no flatly. When inquired for his reason, he simply told the truth, he couldn’t be mad at the man to whom he owed both his life and his sister’s.
“How ironic, you are prevented from helping her due to your own family’s idiotic motto.” The Mehdi Motto; Rehkis Abdule Canteri Morude Lagis, written in a long ago spoken language, the Bird Tongue, translating literally into “We Exist to Serve the People, Not One’s Self.”
“Trace, he loves her Kamui. And, more importantly, she loves him back, she might never admit it, but she does. I don’t want to rush- or force anything between them. Besides, in her frail emotional and physical state, it will probably only cause her to develop a hate for him. I just need time, give me more time, a year, she has at least that much time…” there was a certain sense of defeat in his voice.
Kamui thought about his words. He made it sound as if he were trying to hurt Subaru, why would he hurt Subaru? How could he hurt her? He voiced his thoughts, assured the man he wasn’t out to hurt her, hurting her would be the same as hurting Trace, and Kamui was equally by the thought of either.
“I would never hurt little Rena, she’s as precious to me as she is to my sister. Fine, I’ll give you as long as you need…but if anything happens to her, if anything causes her to suffer, you will feel what she felt a hundred fold in the form of physical pain.”
“If I do cause her to suffer, you will already be too late,” Adat told him, depression in his voice. “By then my sanity would already be gone and my life with it.”
Kamui sighed, allowed his eyes to gaze around the empty hall, and held a hand out, sheathing the blade with his free hand, “By the gods, I hope you don’t fail.”
Blood, it was the reason he had never indulged in the sinful research. To take a man’s life! But the result…he could bring them all back! Everything he longed for and had taken, it could be returned to the world, but at what cost? I am a soldier, he reminded himself, a soldier serves his country and her people. But I am also a man, and a man must protect his love, yet… I am also a god…and gods exist only to destroy.
He weighed each decision carefully. What could he do at this point? The only feasible option was to become a god again, to become the very thing he hated and fought against. But the cost? To lose his humanity! Yet she would be preserved…and as long as Monad was saved, he could care less for the interests of the world. He would lose her, but she would live, live and be free, and was this not after all his final goal? His ultimatum was simple: death, or annihilation.
The fine line between the stone and the power he sought to hold once again was very vague. To lose his humanity would leave him a shell of what he was now, he would have to leave this world and become the same tyrant he had been before, an emotionless bastard.
Would the power corrupt him? No, it didn’t before… but he’d changed in that time. Being human-a mortal, was to be weak and powerless, he craved to have a fraction of that power he had once held, would that craving drive him mad? It’s happened before…
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his wooden door. Standing for the first time in hours he stood erect and haughtily, flexing every one of his muscles. Another knock, followed almost immediately by a loud creaking noise.
A courteous bow, followed by: “M’Lord,” a wave of the hand forced Trace to stand rigid again.
Aged eyes examined him, how tired he looked! Trace mustn’t have slept in days, probably much longer, definitely much longer, he thought. That their eyes did not meet made the younger man feel oddly at ease, instead Trace stared directly forward, his eyes meeting some other part of his face.
“What lies beyond those eyes?”
As usual, he responded, “Death.”
“And whom do your hands serve?”
“Mine hands serve only Death,” he responded again, a blank and dead face covering all of the emotion that were kept hidden.
“I ask you, demon, who is thy owner? Who holds thy leash?”
“Only,” Trace’s eyes shifted down fixing on the man’s own, and said, his master in both his eyes and venomous voice, “Monad.” The young man’s shock betrayed his shock. Monad? He scanned quickly through his brain, the name was unfamiliar. Why did he say Monad? It’s supposed to be Li’Adat. Li’adat carefully noted his tone, it reeked of death.
There was an awkward silence in the room, and finally Li’Adat spoke again, a slight tremor of fear in his voice concealing his true emotions. Will he be mad? “Trace, you have served me since childhood.”
“I am pledged to m’Lord.”
“Then who is the Monad you spoke of?” Trace’s eyes betrayed a great internal pain, shifted downwards past his master’s face.
“The one whom holds my chain…” the dread in his friend’s voice burdened Adat.
“When is the last time you slept?” Adat allowed his concern and worry to be expressed in his voice. What are you doing to yourself?
“Months ago, maybe even a year or two,” Years! “I can no longer count.” Years! a sense of fear enveloped Adat, concealed by his years of conditioning but nothing more,
What have you become?
“Do you…want to die?”
“M’Lord!?!” there was a renewed vigor in both his eyes and voice, almost…excitement. “Are you serious?” a simple nod. “I-”
“Before you answer, do you want me to explain why?” Trace’s jaw closed shut and he allowed himself a simple nod. “My sister, she has returned to us.”
Trace felt his heart start to fluctuate, m’lady…she is back… “She is here, now?” his voice betrayed both his curiosity and the war stirring in him. She’s back!?!
“Kashi is back, she says it is for good.” Just like she said ten years ago, he chose it the wiser to not voice his opinion. “I want you to come down to greet her with me,” What will happen? “And after that I want you to do me a favor…”
“You can voice it now, if you wish that is,” M’lord is hesitating.
“Fine, I will,” he approached the window Trace had been peering out of only a few minutes before, What will you do? Trace, you have served me faithfully for years, what will you do if I command this of you? Something so horrible…but something I do out of love, for you, and for her. “First, however, let me say this,” he turned to Trace sending the cloak he wore into the air as he did.
The red cloak shifted majestically in the air, as it had been designed to do, revealing a young body that did not match the aged face. Lean with a good muscle tone, Li’Adat Mehdi was a man in perfect health, young still, very young- to the point where some thought that he had been given too much power at too young an age. But he was also wise, wiser than most other men he’d ever met… His golden hair, accompanied by the emerald green eyes made a face that could be either deadly or charming, and when matched with the healthy body and his skin’s complexion and its perfection, it made a seductive and man, easily desired. Trace found himself wondering why Adat was still single, a thought he’d harbored many times before but quickly enough dismissed the question, I am no one to question or judge m’lord. The long hands partnered by strong and lithe fingers, somewhat thin, but strong enough to grip a blade and cut a man into nothing more than shreds stretched towards him, balanced on a thing leg that hid the power of a horse.
“Trace, you must know this, and I tell you this without regret or conservation. What I will tell you now must not factor into your decision, it is yours and yours alone to make, but before I…assign you this task, there is something that must be known, in case anything were to happen to me, at least you would know.”
“Yes m’lord.”
“Trace…I, I love you,” m’lord! The words hit Trace like a bullet, as if the words were alien to him. A joy hid beneath his shocked face, to a servant- no, a slave, her reminded himself- such as he, there was no greater compliment, it was the sign of a connection between master and servant, both a mutual understanding and a pact that was written in something hundreds of times thicker and more permanent than blood. “I love for everything you have done. For over a decade you have served me well; you fought by my side, you saved my sister from the hell she existed in, and, most of all, you have never faulted, not even once.”
“It is my duty to you m’lord.”
“Yes,” he laid his outstretched hand on the man’s face, gently patting it and then resting it down on the cheek. It was moist, a form of moisture he recognized; there was blood on his finger. “You have drawn blood for me time and time again, from both your own body and that of my enemies. You have given the most precious thing in existence for me Trace, your moisture, your body’s water, your blood. And for that, I love you.”
“M’lord,” he masked all of his emotions with an indifferent monotone, So he’s happy…Adat thought, how well I’ve come to know you, to know how you feel regardless of what you do… Trace, will you ever forgive me? What I must do…it is horrible, but it is something I must do, for the both of you…
“Trace, tell me, honestly, do you love my sister?”
The words shook Trace, breaking through every defense he had, or could have established, by the time he had regained his control, it was already too late, and even then it lasted less than a second before he yet again recoiled from the shock. His eyes shook wildly inside their sockets, Is that fear? Or is it surprise? Or…could it be embarrassment? Trace could only was not able to control himself, his flushed, and although he tried to stop it, a the skin still morphed a slight pink. So, it is the two latter, maybe…
“Well?”
“M’lord…” Trace looked away from his eyes again, Do I!?! He felt like laughing at himself for asking such a stupid question, he’d known the answer for years. It was undeniable, if Adat was asking him to do what he was thinking he was, Trace knew he would be very well unable to do it.
“Answer me Trace,” he withdrew his hand, returning it under the concealing cloak that completely encircled his body, held together only by the two round cuffs at his neck, made of gold and bearing the Ishbalan Hawk the Mehdi family had received its name from, its small eyes in a blood red diamond. Although his voice was calm and friendly, the piercing eyes probed, searching for an answer, he betrayed this purposely.
“M’lord…I cannot answer that…” Not a yes…but, then again, not a no either, Adat thought.
“Tell me Trace, do you?” he allowed a hint of irritation to escape through his lips this time.
“I…cannot answer…but I can say this, Monad is my love Lord.” Monad, that name again… Who is she? Is it possible…that’s another name for Kashi? Maybe the two of them…no, her despise for him is genuine, but- this is something I must look into myself.
Diving deeper into thought, he continued, If he loves there, there is some hope for her happiness. However, love can also be used as a weapon, a weapon against he who loves. If he does not love her, he can protect her, for ever and always. Not only her, the people as well, by refusing to love her, he saves both her and the people, by confessing, and expressing his love, he might just doom them both…
“I need a no or a yes,” his voice was fringing on rage now, something his face followed upon, One last push…
Before he could prevent himself, Trace had already barked, “I said leave it!” Both of them stood there in shock, he’d snapped! Adat couldn’t believe it, he’d done with one simple yes or no question what more than a decade of war, of murder, of politics, had never even touched the surface of. What is wrong with you Trace? What is it that you are thinking? Do you love her… Or is it this…Monad you obsess over?
Trace moved first, trying to apologize, but before he could even bow, he found his face grazed by Adat’s hand again, and he met his master’s eyes. “I love you my old friend. I love you like a brother, although I can never ask you to be my brother for reasons I cannot disclose to you. Trace, my sister, she is misguided and foolish in her youth, you are both so close in age will you help her?”
“M’lord…” A task given only to a most trusted brethren.
“From the moment you set eyes on her, you will no longer be my servant, no longer be my blade, no longer be my guardian and protector. Instead, you will give all you have given to me to her, give it to her and give it to her a thousand fold compared to what you have given me. Trace, from the moment you see her, you will no longer be bound to me, but to her, should you choose to accept.”
“And if I say no?” he asked, not because of choice, but because of obligation.
“Then you will be set free, but I cannot allow you to serve me while she is here.” Sorry, Trace, but I have closed off all other doors, now there is only one choice. Adat turned and walked towards the door, both knew the answer perfectly. Adat stopped at the door. “Be at the chamber in an hour.”
Adat turned towards Trace, “One more thing.” Trace nodded lightly. “Although she might not say it now, or ever; even though she will probably never admit it, she loves you Trace. She loves you deeply and passionately, more than she loves or could love me, and more than I could ever love the two of you put together. So, when you raise your blade for her, when you spill your blood’s water for her, remember it, and fight accordingly.”
“Love can be a weakness, a weapon used against he who loves,” Trace told him. Ahhh…quick…Adat suppressed a grin.
“In the right hands, however, it can be the single deadliest weapon of all. Love her like you love me, and I guarantee you that no harm will ever come within five hundred yards of her.”
“M’lord,” he said in both agreement and submission.
Adat left the room, his emotions and thoughts warring, inside his head he heard a loud voice, it said much louder than every other one of the voices that were his thoughts: What have I started? I play a dangerous game, and I have backed a dog into a corner with no way out, nor anywhere to lean on for support; nothing could be more dangerous! Then, as he reached the stairs, it sounded again, saying louder than ever before, What have I done!?!
Trace had never been able to get over just how large the main chamber was. Entire cities of the old days could fit in it easily, not just one or two, but maybe a half dozen or more! Remembering how the Great Hall why been made, however, it seemed more reasonable. Entire wars had waged in this small chamber, wars between the opposing great houses, wars fought by the tip and edge of a blade, regardless of which weapon carried it. Ballistic weapons were long gone, replaced, instead, by the blade, made obsolete by the potency of Ishbalan life, only by destroying seventy-five percent of the body or more could an Ishbalan be killed, a miracle of both science and nature, and these weapons were forbidden in the hall, lest they do damage and get out where they can harm the people, ballistics had become useless. Blades, however, were so much more potent, one swing could cut a man in half, and the prolonged contact with Orichalcum, compared to the blade, caused permanent, deadly damage.
Now, however, its warrior heritage was gone, as was war in all of Ishbal, not one skirmish had broken out in nearly two hundred years, a sign that troubled many as people grew discomforted by the peace and tensions increased for some sort of conflict. Yes, people hate peace, they wish for the activity and life that war and battle brings to the world, something the Great Hall had once shown, been the symbol and apex of. Now, however, with war dead, its original purpose was gone as well, the terrain instead replaced by pillars and columns there solely to take up space and for artistic decorum. A large space in the center, several miles across in every direction from its center, circular in shape, saw the most action of any part of the hall now, it was where balls and parties would be held, where Adat would preach and console the people when it was needed. War was long dead in Ishbal, at least open warfare, the dangers of everyday life still plagued those worth of power: assassination, poisoning, kidnapping, torture…and even worse.
Presently, however, they stood many, many miles from that large open space. Instead, they were at the Throne Room, one of three, albeit the single most important one, as it was where anything from coronation to imperial announcements were made. Trace came in through the door closest to Adat’s own thrown and stood beside his lord. The section of the room was small and closed off, separated from the rest of the Great Hall by a retractable wall made of a reinforced metal strong enough to resist the power of even an atomic, and, moreover, block the much more deadly radiation, heat, shockwave, and other such aftereffects.
His sense of hearing was the first to react, picking up a conversation between the two about the past. Trace reached the throne, and turned, coming into her view. At the sight of her, Trace’s lips formed an involuntary smile and he felt his heart beat start to speed, how beautiful she had become! Kashi…is…a woman now… it was hard for him to think of her as such, he’d met her as a child, and last seen her as a child, he knew nothing better than that, he’d known her as nothing more than a child. Kashi isn’t a child anymore, she’s a woman, she is m’lady and nothing more; she is Lady Rena Mehdi… my mistress.
His eyes only confirmed his thoughts. She’d finally grown her hair long as he’d advised her when they were younger. The oak colored strands reached down to past her shoulders, almost halfway down her back, moving whenever she did as if it had a life of its own, rising and falling back again, like waves in an ocean… Ruby red eyes, as crimson as the blood that was now boiling in him, deep and complex, bright with life yet holding a the knowledge of life, how painful it was in reality. Her eyes, two perfect circles, deep pits in the centers where the pupils lay, an undeniable beauty hid in them as they veiled her every emotion she felt. Her lips were moist and succulent, perfectly rounded and slightly protruding, as thick as they needed to be and no more. Her features were chiseled onto a perfect face, finely sculpted by the hands of her creator, all laid upon a light-skinned face, perfect without any blemishes or faults to ruin it.
Rena, unlike her brother, wore no cloak, she was not of age nor of position to wear the imperial mantel. Instead she wore the clothes of a commoner, revealing her body for all to see. Behind the cloth lay an adult body, so unlike what he’d seen long ago. She was only almost his age, nearing her twenties when she would finally move on from being a child, and become an adolescent. Beneath the cloth lay the same perfect skin as her face, she’d grown, become taller in time. Her body was in perfect proportion, and the fingers retained the slender and long fingers that her brother had, yet they were small hands.
His eyes probed deeper, examining every detail with scrutiny. Her chest had grown. Carefully, gauged her height at five feet, maybe five and a half compared to his own five-six. The body remained calm and still, maturity had removed all the extra energy wasted in the hyperactivity of youth, and it as remained calm, the eyes judged Adat’s every word searching for anything his face could betray while her ears where, most certainly, searching for any change in his voice that might betray anything he didn’t want known.
His hand flexed into a fist, how much time had passed since he’d seen her? Just over a second, too long.
Rena’s eyes caught him for the first time. In a swift motion they changed from indifferent and attentive to hostile and deadly. Her look hit Trace as if it had been a bullet, it took every bit of strength in his body to remain standing, but his shaking eyes betrayed the pain, his face expressing it as well. His eyes shifted down toward the throne, his face not moving, and then back at her.
With a venomous tone, she spoke again, “I see you kept your lapdog,” she looked back at her brother then back at Trace as Adat noticed the pain written across his face. Then she added, “I don’t like him,” it had been directed at Trace and Trace alone. He looked down, flexing his hand into a tight fist again before loosening and relaxing them.
“Kashi, you shouldn’t speak like that,” Adat corrected her.
She shook her head, a dark grin spread across her face. “Why? He’s a slave, nothing more. A bloody slave! No, not a slave, something even lower, an assassin; a man too insecure to hide in the day, and too weak to fight a man in broad daylight. Brother, you know, assassins are tools of opportunity, used only when needed. When their use runs out, however, they become dangerous, they could turn, or supply an enemy. Just allow me to, allow me to and I will take his life myself.”
Trace drew his blade, the distinctive sound surprised Adat. Trace pointed the blade’s tip at Rena, then he reversed it, turning it in his hand, holding it now by its sharp blade and its handle extended towards her. A brief smile drew on his lips, and then he spoke, “M’lady, I am yours to do with as you please.”
“You pledged him to me!” she snapped, a violent uprising in her voice. “What-”
“I serve House Mehdi, if you wish, I will take it myself,” he sounded depressed, Adat noted. Is he trying to make her feel guilty? No, he’s unable to.
“You’re a slave of my brother’s not mine!”
My initial thoughts were correct it seems, not just love, infatuation…so much more useful a quality in a guard. How hurtful she is, how awful. No, he isn’t acting, he lets all his defenses down.
“Rena, show some respect!” Adat snapped. “This is man has served our House since he was only a child. He’ll give for his life for even the smallest and most insignificant member of our House. Where do you get off insulting him?”
Trace centered all of his attention on her, how cold she had become! He shifted his weight, she’d hated him since that day. What was is that she was so angered at? He’d done his duty, and she’d interfered! If anyone was to be mad, it was him! “What is it that you want from me?”
“I want for you to die!” Trace’s face fell apart, in a slow, depressing stride, he left the room. From the pathway to the Great Hall he could hear his enraged screams directed at Rena. She wants me dead…how interesting, she wants the same thing I do. Milady, your wish will come true soon enough.
“Milord,” Trace bowed to Adat. “We need to talk.”
An order!?! How bold of you! Trace’s weak tone of voice frightened him, it was absent of all life, it sounded dead. Adat looked up toward his friends, his eyes were empty. “Trace, what the hell happened to you?”
In the hour or two since his meeting her, he’d aged considerably. His eyes were tired and empty, the look of a dead man, or at least a man who was soon to be dead. Trace’s jet black hair, normally well kept, was a mess; it looks like he had just gotten out of bed. The eyes, an aquamarine blue somewhere between the blue of the sky and that of the ocean, once a beautiful and attractive sight, no less than seductive, was gone, the eyes remained blue, but all the life that had once supported them and made them so beautiful was gone.
What has she done to you old friend?
Trace’s nearly five-eight body was slightly hunched, tired and whenever he moved, only one foot moved at a time, the other was dragged across the floor. His face, usually an impenetrable wall shielding anything he felt save when he wished it known, was gone, his emotions as clear as if he were looking through glass. The strong hands and body, normally mistaken for a weak boy’s was packed full of powerful lean muscle, providing a deceptively normal body which masked the strength of a killer.
He made a failed attempt to stand straight, finding himself too weak to do so. I’ve waited all this time…and this happens.
“Milord, I have a request.”
“Anything you ask,” Adat, again, allowed his concern to slip through his voice.
“Milord,” Not m’lord, or my lord, as usual, milord. He acknowledges his bondage to her already…but because he does- Love is a cruel weapon to use. How could Kashi use it against someone who loves her so much? How cruel it must be to be bound to someone you love, but at the same time hates you… Again he wondered, What have I done?
“M’lady made a request of me.”
“And?”
Trace was just barely able to conceal his rage, “Don’t play the fool, you heard it as clearly as I.”
“Trace, just because you were ordered to- You don’t have to do it. Use common sense man!”
“I’m a slave of House Mehdi! A slave of my Mistress! I do as I am commanded!”
“You’re blinded by your own grief and self-pity!” Adat’s voice conveyed the rage that he felt.
“I’m following my orders!” Trace responded, matching his own rage with Adat’s. “Milord, please, I’m old, and I want to die now…” the rage was gone, instead there was misery in his voice.
“I won’t do it!” he responded back, showing his disgust of even just the idea in his voice.
There was a silence. Trace had never felt more torn apart before in his life. He was being torn between his duty to his masters and his own respect and love towards them, something which Adat had concluded as well. Trace slumped into a chair, his lifeless eyes dug into Adat’s own. Adat felt disturbed looking into those eyes, or being looked at.
“Milord, I have served the House of Mehdi for years, since I was only ten, my blade has been yours and yours alone. I cannot take this anymore, I just want to die, to rest in piece.”
“And you’d let her rest in pieces!?!” The words hit Trace hard. A wave of fear ran all throughout Trace’s face. As soon as the words took effect, Adat felt sorry for the outburst. His hands started to tremble, then they shook as the rest of the body adopted the tremble as well.
M’lady…die!?! Trace could feel his mind start to break apart, My Lady…die!?! His body regained its straight shape, stopping all of its movements and the impenetrable shield veiled his face yet again. Still, however, the eyes showed no life, and his stride as he walked out of the room was normal, but hinted of a new, deeper depression.
What have I done!?!
Rena was able to control herself until she reached her room. She walked in carefully, shutting the door behind her and locking it tightly. Once she had locked the door, however, her very body conceded, her back pressed against the door and the tears stored from the long day started to flow down her face, her hands at her temples. Rena’s hands moved down to cover her body as the crying started to hurt her body.
Several minutes passed before she could even gather the strength to move, and when she did she ran towards her bed and jumped into her bed. Rena pulled a pillow towards her moist face and curled her body into a ball. The flow of tears, however, only became bigger and bigger as she dove deeper into sorrow.
As hours passed by, however, she was able to build up enough strength to finally slow, and then stop the flow of tears. Rena sniffled, struggling to fight the emotion back and push it aside into her subconscious where it would no longer plague her. Still sniffling she calmed herself down, her red cheeks slowly returning to their natural color.
Still, she couldn’t help but feel guilty and stained. What had she done? Why had she done it? Rena reached under her skirt, opening a pocket and pulling out a square-shaped piece of paper, a photograph. The sight of it calmed her, allowing her to return her thoughts to her memories, remembering, as she always she did the days before this torturous present. She wiped the moisture of her eyes away.
A weak smile grazed her lips. She held it to her chest and embraced it as tightly as she could, careful, however, to not harm the picture. She held it back to her eyes and looked back at his, giggling. With a happier look, a more solemn look, she muttered something under her breath, a prayer of adoration and endearment towards the man. She ran her fingers down his face, and, as she did every night, pressed her lips against the picture before finally letting sleep overtake her.
“My services?” Trace only received an affirming nod, which although he couldn’t see, the silence confirmed. “My services…” It’s been a long time since I last held a blade as an aggressor…I wonder how it I’ll be able to do it again…
“I’m tired of this place already,” Rena complained.
“And how are my…services, supposed to remedy your boredom?”
“You’re a slave, your raison d’ etre is to serve. I’m requesting a service, and since you are bound to me…”
“The bond between us doesn’t matter.” His voice was steadier now, he’d calmed down since the day before, found a new strength. “I swore to serve House Mehdi, I will not provide my services simply for your amusement.”
“But-”
“I will not!” He responded. Trace felt burdened by his refusal, who was he to refuse her anything she wished. He was a slave! A servant bound to House Mehdi and all who resided in it. And she, most definitely was part of House Mehdi, and to say no to such a beautiful face, much less his mistress, was difficult in itself.
“You bore me.”
“I know,” he suppressed a grin, she used to say it long ago too. How long had it been? “My Lady, you woke me up at two in the morning…to ask me to kill a bird…”
“Do I care!?! Learn one thing: you do as I say.”
“I understand that, but why do you want me to kill the bird?”
“It’s keeping me awake,” she responded quickly.
“Can’t you kill it yourself?”
“Are you defying me?”
“No, it’s just that I think you should learn some self-sufficience.”
Rena flustered, Why is why I want so bad? “But…”
“But?”
Rena suppressed a sigh, why was what she wanted so bad? She could remember the days long ago, they’d slept in the same room, and she’d done as she’d pleased back then. “Trace,” She used my name! “please…”
“Fine,” a chuckle escaped through his lips, “I will.”
“Thank you…” Static, he’d hung up. I was too nice… What if he finds out? M’lord…
Rena awoke to a knock at the door. “M’lady, you have an appointment!” It was Trace’s voice. She groaned, turning around in her bed and covering her ears with the soft pillow to block all the interfering sound. “M’lady! You have to come!”
“I have to bathe!”
“I don’t hear a shower running!”
“Let me sleep!”
“Now!”
“Go to hell!” she squirmed in the bed as the feeling returned to her after the numbness of sleep. Her legs and thighs felt moist, her face went a bright red as she climbed out of the bed and covered it so that the moist sheet was covered by a dry quilt, risen slightly to stop it from becoming wet itself.
“M’lady,” he was chuckling! How happy she felt that her outburst hadn’t enraged him. The joy, however, did not replace the shame and embarrassment.
Trace had to wait fifteen minutes as she hastily bathed, changed, and prepared herself, seeing on sight, “Fast.”
“This better be important, waking me up so early in the morning.” It was almost an order as she closed the door. Locked it. They started to move, silence, until a few minutes after their last words, she spoke again: “Trace, about last night…”
“You were tired, I understand.”
“But I shouldn’t have done what I did…”
“M’lady, this is a new side of you!” he managed a smirk while her face turned into a beautiful frown.
“You’re an idiot!”
“How?”
“I meant kicking you out!”
“That’s what I meant too, what did you think I meant?” his gaze dug into her, found an answer, “Oh…I forgot that’d happened…” Forgot!?! “It’s okay.”
“I didn’t apologize,” there was an undeniable arrogance engraved into her voice, “you’re my puppet, my slave, a toy. I can, and will, do you as I wish, when I wish.”
“Of course m’lady, I understand that clearly,” his voice and attitude had changed, becoming more pained, her words reminded him of the day before.
Rena felt a pang of guilt, and chose not to voice it. “You’re an idiot.”
“I am m’lady.”
“Brother should have disposed of you,” her voice had returned to its venomous tone from the day before, “useless…” Sorry.
Trace nodded, “I guess I am,” his hands flexed again, but he regained complete control over his body again, and with his new calm demeanor, he pushed forward a bold step. “M’lady, milord-”
“Trace,” she interrupted, this time she chose to coat her voice with a sweet and loving tone. Rena stopped, turning to him smiling, “About last night…”
“It was my fault ’Mam.”
“No, it was mine,” the darkness of the hall frightened him, how could he let her lead him here!?! She was supposed to have been following him, how had he ended up letting her lead him here!?! No…it wasn’t a strange place, they’d been here before, together, in those days long before the torture that as this life.
Trace allowed his mind to backtrack, remembering the days of old where they had been friends…maybe even more. This place held a lot of memories, for the both of them, this was their own spot, their personal spot, and no one knew how to get here, except the two of them. How much the world had changed since the last time they had been here!?!
But this place still held memories for him, the happiest memories of his life. Here they’d become friends, and here their bond had become strong, he’d held her and helped her in her moments of grief; and she’d done the same for him in the times when his caged up emotions were too much to handle, when he’d been overcome by the demons that plagued him.
“Trace, about last night…” she sounded nervous, scared almost. “Trace…do you remember what we did here?”
“How can I forget?” his tone wasn’t a cold monotone, instead there was a scent of love added to it.
“Then you do remember!” her tone was almost joyous. He remembers! “Did it make you…happy?”
“My memories here are the happiest I have in my life,” there was a sweet sincerity in voice. Rena suppressed her blushing.
“Really?...” Rena noticed for the first time how vulnerable and weak she was now. By saying one of many things, he could either destroy her, or… Please, Trace…
“Of course. M’lady, you I-”
“Trace,” she brought her fingers to her lips, “This was the place we…kissed for the first time…” I just need to push a little further…
“M’lady…” she closed the space in between the two of them. She wondered at his tone, Why do you sound so scared? Why do you sound so…nervous, so timid, so shy?
“Trace,” she wrapped her arms around him, pushing herself against him, “Again. One more time…please.” Rena pushed her face as close to his as she could without pressing their lips together, “One more…” her voice switched to a longing one, “I’ve missed you so much. Just one more kiss…”
Trace stood in both awe and fear of her. His body started to move on its own and it took every bit of control and strength in his body to control himself. She moved her lips towards his, eyes closed, the same way she’d done their first- and only- time. She stopped, an inch or two from his lips, waiting for him to finish it.
Trace fought the urge to touch the tempting lips, racking at his mind to control itself. This isn’t right, she’s my mistress, my master… But was it right back then either? No, it wasn’t, but now it’s even less so. M’lady, why are you taunting me, how cruel you are… How much I want to touch those lips, how much I wan to have you, but, like all great things in my life so far, you are forbidden, and you know it. You’re cruel, m’lady.
“M’lord, please…” her words made Trace anguish, M’lord! Why does she play with me? “M’lord, please…” she sounded no less than lustful that time.
“I can’t.”
“Just one kiss,” she begged.
“I can’t…”
“Just one.”
“I-”
A dark grin grazed her lips as her eyes slowly opened, “Useless.” She was playing with me! She let go of him, walking away in a fast stride.
Rena fought back the tears building at her eyes. Idiot! Useless idiot! Rena broke into a sprint, stopping only when she was safe in her room and then, as she had the night before, broke down, breaking into a strong stream of tears.
Rena tried to look at the picture but the tears completely clouded her view. Rena attempted to wipe away the tears, clearing them of the tears. Still, the picture did not make her happier, instead it filled her with an even deeper grief, depression came over her. Below it all lay a rage she was just barely able to push away.
She started to feel lightheaded, and then she lost her balance, falling from a sitting position to the floor, eyes wide open. She stared at the floor blankly, thoughts rolled through her mind quickly.
Why does he hate me? What did I do to him? Is it because of what I did? I’m sorry Trace! I’m sorry, please forgive me… Even inside her head, every request was like a beg, I didn’t mean to. Plea-
Her body froze stiff and she found herself unable to move. A strange realization of death ran through her, fear approaching, she wasn’t ready to die. Not yet… Her eyes went blank and the darkness of unconsciousness enveloped her.
“M’lady?” Rena could only manage to move her head a little. “Are you okay?”
“Useless…Idiot…” She was asleep.
“Milord, you can come in now.”
Adat entered the room, angered at Trace for what was probably the first time. How dare he!?! He was royalty, he, if anyone, had the privilege to visit his sister. Trace, how dare he keep him from her for a week?
Hiding his rage, Adat stopped at Trace’s shoulder, “Get something to eat…or some sleep at least.”
“We both know, milord, that this will not happen.”
Trace left the room, closing the door behind him as Adat locked it. He sighed, Trace was paranoid, he would be waiting on the other side of the door. Worst of all, he was on a timer. Trace, what have I made you into? But the metamorphisis wasn’t complete yet, no, in the following year, Trace would change radically, become a former of shell of he once, or even now was…but they will both be alive.
“Trace…” Adat turned. Her eyes were struggling to open, she was awake.
Adat wondered how he should she speak. It had been hard for him, almost a week and a half, and he’d not been allowed to see her even in the slightest. A relieving shudder calmed him, she was alive at least.
He worked his way over to her quietly and steadily, stopping to sit at a chair Trace had set next to the bed. It was his room. A flood of questions flooded the man, Why his room? He’d been acting oddly lately, could-
“Addi?”
“Yes ?” his voice answered her probing tone, a sweet undertone.
“Where’s my guard?”
“Trace is keeping them away, I’m lucky I can even get within a hundred feet.”
“How long?” Direct, Adat thought, that is unlike her.
Trace… Question upon question started to rise into his mind. He’s been so strange lately…maybe, just maybe, he may be able to save himself from himself. To lose both of them for them to be able to live…something only Trace can do. Hopefully, it is so, hopefully, I have miscalculated.
Adat looked at his younger sister, how frail she looked, how frail she must be. Trace had been the one thing that had kept him in check. Loyal without question, but also curious with a set of morals he wouldn’t violated lest the ends justify the means. Rena, however, had not had one as such. She’d had a guard, assigned to her by both a reluctant Trace and himself, but the man had gotten himself killed much too early in.
How could he answer? The biggest problem with missing out on the crucial late years of one’s childhood, when both one’s body and mind changed the most, one was unable to relate to that person any more. Adat had been caught by his job to his people, he knew her less than the common person off the street because he could not judge her by looks alone as they would, he would judge her by the now dead persona she had been, a little girl. Adat had lost Rena, to time, and politics.
Once again, I stand behind you Trace.
“A week.”
“A week?” Monotone.
“And a half.”
A slight reaction crossed her face, subsided. “A week?...”
“You’re reacting to it again, aren’t you?”
“I’m dying…”
The word did not even seem to phase Adat. He sat perfectly still, watching her struggle to open her eyes. I thought it would be longer… Adat, however, wondered at Trace, how would he react? Piece after piece was becoming loose in his puzzle, forcing it to fall apart under its own weight.
Adat shook his head, a cold grin at his face, in less than twenty-four hours, the two of them had been able to destroy a plan over five years in the making. Did I think I knew them better than I really do?... Doubt it, I was right, they just…adapted before I could.
“How long?”
“A year? Two, maybe.”
How could a plan have come apart so easily?
After a few more minutes of quiet struggle her eyes finally broke through, revealing to her the face of her brother before the inpouring of light blinded for several seconds. Her eyes adjusted, the colored iris dilating to block some of the extra light.
She set her eyes on her brother again, a brief smile adorned her face and then disappeared as she looked away. “Does he know?”
“No, nobody knows but me.”
“He hates me…” her voice trailed as she finished her sentence. Adat ran a gentle hand down her face assuring her he didn’t. “But he does, I know he does…”
“Come Kashi, I know he doesn’t.”
“Stop calling me that!” her outburst turned her face a bright red, a red of rage. “You have no right to call me that!”
Adat almost fell back in his chair. I what!?! He pushed his fury away, Not now, she’s not feeling well… But… “Why don’t I? I can do whatever I want!” his voice contained an arrogance, that although fake, was enough to fool her.
“Because…that name…is…from…Trace…” the effort that it took her to say those few words showed on her face and body. It was tense, tired, but just before it had been fine. How much damage had Trace done? More importantly, how could he have done this much damage, all with just his name?
“You don’t have any right to call me that!” she continued, almost hysterical in her tone. Her rage died down. Adat’s eyes shifted to her now uncovered arms, they were grasping something tightly. Adat tried to move the sheet, but as soon as she saw her arm moved she turned over, sending her leg towards the edge of blanket as she did to block it.
“What do you have?”
“Leave!” it was not a neither a plea nor a command, but more like a cry for help. It was loud enough, he was sure, to reach Trace on the other side. She’s trying to use him against me!
“Stop being so childish!”
“It’s not for your eyes!” she grasped it tightly. “I said leave!”
“I said let me see it!” Adat was unable to control his rage, raising a hand in the air to hit her.
Rena acted by instinct, but the first syllable wasn’t complete before action was taken. Trace’s ears, sharp as a bat’s caught her voice, she’d said his name!
The doors burst open with a loud sound. Before either could even turn their eyes, Trace darted across the room, caught Adat by the throat in a death grip, and pushed him against a wall. Adat’s eyes struggled to see his assailant as his lungs struggled to breath in air.
Trace stood hunched over him, one hand held out, holding Adat in what was no less than a death grip. Demon-like eyes rose to meet Adat’s own. All life, all humanity were gone inside them. Those were the eyes of a demon, a killer, a fanatic. Not even a second had passed. Trace’s teeth showed through his slightly open mouth, the canines stretched and sharpened; each one a dagger. The eyes seemed to jump in their sockets, the body moved lifelessly, almost with a limp but the speed spoke otherwise.
The free hand, most certainly holding a knife, moved back, past the pale dead face. Then, in a quick motion the hand readied itself, ready to strike, The neck? Or the head? How will I die? The demon chose a slow and gruesome death, the throat. Adat reminded himself he feared nothing, he had no master, not even death.
Trace’s dark eyes, however, bore deep into his consciousness, his very being, his own soul. A fanatical fear shot through Adat as he tried to move his body, the eyes boring deeper and deeper into him as the arms started to move towards him. Too fast too see, Adat closed his eyes waiting for death. A cool breeze passed by face, follow by a grunt and a warm cushion of air, human breath. He heard panting, terrified panting and Rena’s voice squeaked, she was about to cry again.
His eyes opened slowly, saw why it was he was still alive. At first he was startled by the blade, it had migrated up, right between the eyes, the tip just barely touched his forehead, drawing a few drops of blood. The ornate dagger, given to Trace by Adat himself was a tool of only one thing: assassination. He was actually going to kill me! Still, he dared not move.
Adat drew a sigh of relief, moving his head as little as possible, he’d cheated death…for now…
Trace’s hand moved by itself, rushing towards Adat. A sick feeling of pleasure and satisfaction ran through him, accompanied by an indescribable ecstasy. A deathly smile appeared on his face as Adat closed his eyes, the Orichalcum blade rushing towards his jugular at a speed too fast to see.
Only a few inches away from his target, a weak arm struggled to stop him. The ice cold skin reacted on contact with the warmth of Rena’s hand through the cloth. A sweeping realization came over Trace, what was he doing?
Life returned to his eyes, they changed shape and became more human. The fang-like canines had changed shape, becoming human again as the claws at the tips of his fingers became fingernails again. The pale skin shifted in color as blood rushed into it again, becoming his natural light cream tone again. Trace, fully of his metamorphosis, watched in fear, what had he become.
A look of fear spread throughout his face. Every muscle started to shake and tremble. What was I doing? He’d blacked out on his hearing his name. A moist face plunged into his sleeve, M’lady…
Trace stood there, staring back at Adat. Adat’s eyes were empty, shaking in their place, as if he had just seen a demon. Trace let go and started to back away, one step at first, then two, then three and he turned to run before being caught by two frail arms. They encapsulated him, allowing him no movement.
“Leave!” it was directed at her brother, at least the sorrowful tone of voice implied that it was. Nothing as Adat tried to recapture his breath, still looking up at Trace from where he kneeled, with both a fear and an unspeakable awe.
The face, still hiding behind him, dug into his back heard no movement. Again, it spoke, “I said leave!”
Adat got up, walking tightly against the wall to prevent coming close to Trace. As soon as the door was in sight he darted outwards, sprinting to get away from what he had just seen.
Trace tried to move but the weak grasp tightened. The effort caused her to tremble from exhaustion. Trace grabbed her hands, pushed the down and out of the way. There was quiet. “You need sleep.”
“I don’t want to,” she went around him, smiled. It was a forced smile, an exhausting use of muscles that were tired and sore.
“You need to.”
“Brother-”
“If you want, I’ll stay here. He won’t come in, I promise.”
Rena nodded but when she tried to move her tired legs gave under her body’s weight. Trace asked if she needed help, but she refused tried to stand but her body refused to move. Rena felt the fatigue for the first time, felt tired for the first time. Rena felt as if she was rising, looking up only to see him carrying her. He stood still, waiting for some sort of order to move. Rena, embarrassed and blushing, dug her face into his chest and made herself comfortable. As if on command, he moved forward, carrying her across the room and laying her on his bed, it was the softest bed she’d ever felt.
Trace, however, did not remove his hands, they stayed on her shoulders as a brief smile glistened across it. Rena relaxed into the soft bed. A hypnotizing aroma rose from the bed, Trace’s. She breathed it in greedily, although quietly enough so that it was not audible to Trace’s sharp ears. Every time the wonderful smell entered her nose, she let it out, reluctantly with a deep sigh. This was what it was what it was like to sleep in the same bed that he did…
Subaru relaxed into the bed as he tucked tightly in place. “Tell me a story?” Trace almost laughed, and looking down at her, said no. He sat down next to her. “M’lord?” she taunts me again. She taunts me yet again with that word, “M’lord.” Still, he was not able to deny the sweet undertone lying under it, felt part his blood boil because of it.
“M’lord?”
“Yes m’lady?”
“I don’t like it when you talk to me like that, when you call me that. You know?” Trace shook his head no. “It’s just…it gives me bad thoughts, I don’t want to be involved in this world of politics, I want things to stay the way they were before, even if it’s just between the two of us.”
“Then what do you want me to call you?” he examined her face, it was turning red, Fever?
“What you used to.”
“It’s disres-”
“I don’t care,” she broke in, shaking her head, “I just want to be called that again… Not by Addi, or anyone Trace, but you…”
Trace smiled, ran his hand down her sweet gentle face, “If you want me to, I’ll do it.” She smiled, mouthed a thank you. “Trace, do you remember the hall I took you to?”
Trace felt a sorrowful pang. How you played me there… Trace had come close to touching those lips…so close. Once man bites into the forbidden fruit, there is no turning back, he is forever addicted- spellbound to it. You are my fruit, m’lady. Trace ran the moment over in his mind, savoring every moment, So close…
A dirty feeling washed over Trace, what was he thinking!?! Just by thinking my thoughts I am sinning. He looked into her eyes, And the things I think of when I think about her are unspeakable and cruel.
“Do you?”
“It’s a very special place in my memory, m’la-” from the edges of his eyes he could see her grimace, and corrected himself, “Kashi.”
“Why?” Trace was surprised at how much she had changed since the last time he’d spoken to her. The arrogance and haughty about her was gone, Was it because of the demon? Or because of her condition.
Trace remembered what the physician had told him, “She’s not normal…” he’d told him. “Her brain is not right, quite literally. M’lord-” Why did he refer to me as m’lord, Trace thought now, noticing the weird honorific for the first time. “- she’s not going to act…normal for a while. She-”
“I know about her conditions!” he had snapped.
“Well, she’s going to be erratic. For now that will be all you need to worry about. Her brain is in a state of hormonal imbalance, m’lord. I wouldn’t be too hopeful either, don’t expect to see too much improvement in any time soon, in a few months maybe.
“But what will I have to deal with?”
“M’lord, to help her, you will have to be part of her therapy,” Trace’s eyes dug into him, scaring him lifeless. “The symptoms m’lord, are erratic behavior.”
“What kind!?!
The man, scared witless, rolled a list from his tongue. Depression, relapses, seizures, heart attacks, psychotic problems, and even more symptoms. Then he added the coup d’ grace, “M’lord, she will not be emotionally stable either. She could be happy or mad one second and then she could become depressed, incredibly so; and then, only a half minute later she could be a fit of anger, then she could end up…wanting,” he didn’t need to expand on that, “and halfway through end up happy only to fall into a suicidal depression.” Full circle. The man’s words bothered him still. Suicidal…Rena… To lose her would be…unbearable. And when she died, the world…
“Trace?” it was her voice he heard then, snapping him away from the memory. “M’lord,” Why does she keep taunting me!?! his thoughts neared him to rage, “do you remember what we’ve done there?”
“We were young.”
“We still are,” she reached towards him with one hand the other one tight around a concealed object, soft and plushy. “and we will be like that for a while.”
…Wanting, he remembered. “Kashi, go to sleep.”
“I don’t want to,” her protest came out in a childlike manner.
“You have to sleep,” he ran a hand down her face, “but if you sleep, m’lady, I will do exactly what you want, and, listen well, I will take you out of this place.” Rena’s eyes brightened, “I know how much you hate this place, but you have to get some bedrest.”
“How much?” she asked as she relaxed into the soft mattress.
“Two days,” he held up two fingers. Subaru covered the lower half of her face with the blanket, nodded.
“Kiss?”
Trace chuckled, kissed her lightly on the forehead as she squirmed around, and left the room. Once he was on the other side of the door, he threw his back against it, letting her know he was still there.
The smile that had been on his face disappeared. Hopefully when she wakes up she will hate me again…I don’t know how much longer I can resist this Rena.
“What a beautiful display,” Adat told himself, suppressing a grin, he’d never been so afraid in his life. So close to death… “Too much, maybe, but a beautiful display nonetheless.”
“So brother is okay?”
Adat shrugged, “Some progress has been made, but… I can make no guarantees.”
“Meaning?” Kamui’s hand shifted to his blade. Willing to kill for your brother…just like I’m willing to kill for my little sister, Adat pushed the thought aside, he wouldn’t touch him, doing so would only bring about Trace’s wrath.
“She’s in…frail condition, mentally. She has wild mood swings; goes from happy, to depressed, to lustful, to…suicidal even. I cannot do anything to prevent it, it’s part of her condition, and she was born with it.”
“And I can do what you and your medicine can’t. If you do what I asked of you.”
“I will not sell my sister to him!” Adat snapped.
Kamui drew his saber, felt it around in his hand, running it down the length of the blade. The gold, ivory, and jewel encrusted saber shimmered in the light, most of which came from the silver blade. Adat stared at the blade fearfully, the silver in the blade was made of Orichalcum.
“I am not asking you to sell your sister to him. I’m not even asking a trade. I am a…reasonable man. I, and I speak honestly and truthfully, understand where you stand on this matter,” his eyes darted to the man, “however,” the poison in his voice scared Adat, “I will not tolerate insubordination and resistance. You want your sister, I want my brother, a fair price, equivalent exchange.”
“Stop it!” Adat tried to punch the man but missed, hitting only air. He turned, Kamui stood there, the blade still at his side, So fast! “You talk about this as if it were an experiment! People do not work by predetermined laws, not even those of the cosmos. Do not try to justify what you’re doing with that!”
The man frowned. If it had not been for the red eyes and blonde hair, the man would look exactly like Trace. There were, of course, other small deviations, but those were small and insignificant, With contacts and hair-dye this man could bring me and my people to my knees!
Kamui talked again, asking a question regarding Trace’s behavior. Adat responded angrily, yelling at him and when asked if he was afraid of Trace, or if he was afraid of the thing he had seen he answered no flatly. When inquired for his reason, he simply told the truth, he couldn’t be mad at the man to whom he owed both his life and his sister’s.
“How ironic, you are prevented from helping her due to your own family’s idiotic motto.” The Mehdi Motto; Rehkis Abdule Canteri Morude Lagis, written in a long ago spoken language, the Bird Tongue, translating literally into “We Exist to Serve the People, Not One’s Self.”
“Trace, he loves her Kamui. And, more importantly, she loves him back, she might never admit it, but she does. I don’t want to rush- or force anything between them. Besides, in her frail emotional and physical state, it will probably only cause her to develop a hate for him. I just need time, give me more time, a year, she has at least that much time…” there was a certain sense of defeat in his voice.
Kamui thought about his words. He made it sound as if he were trying to hurt Subaru, why would he hurt Subaru? How could he hurt her? He voiced his thoughts, assured the man he wasn’t out to hurt her, hurting her would be the same as hurting Trace, and Kamui was equally by the thought of either.
“I would never hurt little Rena, she’s as precious to me as she is to my sister. Fine, I’ll give you as long as you need…but if anything happens to her, if anything causes her to suffer, you will feel what she felt a hundred fold in the form of physical pain.”
“If I do cause her to suffer, you will already be too late,” Adat told him, depression in his voice. “By then my sanity would already be gone and my life with it.”
Kamui sighed, allowed his eyes to gaze around the empty hall, and held a hand out, sheathing the blade with his free hand, “By the gods, I hope you don’t fail.”
IF you want more I can send it to you, email a request to me at PaulAtreides0@yahoo.com (AND ONLY THIS E-Mail address). However, if you choose to post it, these rules apply:
1)CANNOT be censored
2)ALL credit must go to me and EVERYONE else I list in the email
3)You may borrow stuff from it, but do NOT claim it as your own
4) If any of the above are broke, like the ShW Team, I will hunt you down "and cut your balls off with a spoon" (ladies get jail time, I'm a sympathetic gentleman)
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#5: I made an edit in the Ergo Proxy page of wiki under the characters for Miss Swan. I simply put that it is implied in the show that she is Monad Proxy (this is mainly for Proxy fans- EVE- and anime fans)
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#6: My Church is keeping it's cool and old priest! Hooray for Father Ken! The coolest priest eva!! (he looks like a skinny Santa AND someone else who's name I can't remember at the moment but I know is really cool!)
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#6: The best and BIGGEST news!
Alias and Dr. Stranglelove, you'll LOVE this!
I am officially resigning from the forum. I MAY come back some times, but it will be brief and usually work related. Thank you for everyone for everything you've done (or haven't). Also, thanks to the moderators and admins for not putting the ban hammer down on me (I know I deserve it...). I WILL stay around one more week, but I doubt I'll post much (outside of this thread). Mainly, I'll just watch how this goes before I leave. Have a nice one everybody, thanks for everything, and have fun!
NOTE: btw, ANYTHING can be said here (about me), I don't care. Celebrate about me leaving or whatnot, I believe in god-damned free speech, and I would just LOVE to see how people...express themselves. Also, I learned to get over words LONG ago.
Thanks again, and have fun! To the coolest forum eva! Fallout Studios Forum!!!!!
EDIT: 1st and last post added, and my (bad) sense of humor still shows.
Edited by Zero, 01 March 2009 - 01:59.
I'm a first year electrical student, so as you might imagine, I'm pretty up to date with all the beginner stuff. 
