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To his credit, Fandaniel played the role of court jester well. Perhaps too well, with the level of theatrics he employed. Arms waving around, gesturing nearly as loudly as his voice as he pranced about. He did not recall much of his great-grandsire, but Emperor Solus was a lover of the arts. He had to imagine he would be either entirely too entertained, or viciously critiquing his performance.
Zenos landed in neither camp. The drama failed to impress anything of worth onto him. He could not tell if the Ascian acted this way as a way of currying favor; royalty were supposed to like this sort of thing historically, no? Act the fool, make the ruler crack a smile. Worm their way in from there, into the apple's core.
Trite. It wouldn't work on him.
Especially when Fandaniel dropped his friend uncemoniously onto the floor.
Altani Akagane's unconscious form was an eyesore. She should not be laying there, lifeless but standing strong, eyes filled with that fire that set his soul ablaze. The way he thought of her. Like this, it was tantamount of offering him her corpse.
The very last thing he could ever want. Her corpse would be created by his hand, and his hand alone. His very own father met his demise for daring to hunt the beast he had claimed for his own.
Zenos's eyes strayed from the catatonic warrior to the harlequin. Whatever words he been blathering about had gone in one ear and out the other, only coming into focus now.
"—And so that is that. I will say, she is much more agreeable like this, wouldn't you say my lord? My, you should have seen the look on her face. Our dear Warrior of Light was—"
"'Tis not much of a dinner if she is not conscious for it." Zenos drawled, the cold blue of his eyes finding their mark in Fandaniel's inky black ones. An abyss. Suited him.
A hand circled around, once, twice as the Ascian turned away from him. Feet hopped from one to another in a little jaunt. "While I will concede that she would find it difficult to consume the most wonderful meal I am preparing, I believe it would be even more difficult to subdue her for our little experiment. Unless you do so believe she would be amicable to such a thing, but something tells me otherwise."
Fandaniel suddenly swooped back towards him and the body. Gloved hands took her own, lifting the Au Ra up in one smooth motion. The heels of her boots dragged along the floor as he held her close, a dead dance partner as his fingers interweaved with hers, arms stretched out. A false waltz.
What an attempt to get a rise out of him. By now Zenos had known that was one of Fandaniel's goals, as it were. Not the first man to try, but would likely be the last at the rate they were going.
As to why of it, he couldn't care. As long as his friend was at the end of this road, he would walk it.
"However, she is a marvelous dance partner, even like this. I see why you are so intent on your little choreography…"
A muscle was clenched in his jaw for a brief moment before it relaxed, his hand resting on the arm of his seat as Zenos rose up. Enough was enough with this idiotic farce.
Right as Fandaniel was turning in a grand spin, his hand caught Altani's free arm, easily wresting her away from the dark-robed Ascian. Fandaniel tumbled, nearly tripping over his own two feet but quickly recovered to Zenos's distaste. It lasted only a moment, the other man disgarded as blue eyes honed onto their real quarry.
She was just as much as the star she was in Ala Mhigo.
Even unconscious did nothing to dull her light. Did the sun not burn in the sky, regardless of the ongoings below it?
"Ah, forgive me my lord," Fandaniel spoke, but it sounded far away. As if he was in some other room. He might as well be for all that Zenos cared. "It does seem I got a bit ahead of myself. This is the first time you've seen her since Ala Mhigo, no? Star crossed lovers finally meeting once again! Who would I be to get in the way of such an… intimate moment."
"Who would you be, indeed."
Fandaniel's head jerked a bit, eyes blinking. Was he not expecting such a response? Had he been anticipating a rebuttal? Star crossed lovers was not how Zenos would describe him and Altani; there was no maligned star that led them astray. She was the comet that finally lit the darkness he had swum in, the moon in a starless sky. The path before him was finally illuminated, revealing the way. He had simply needed the strength to move one foot over the other. And when he reached it, the pinnacle, not even in his dreams could he have conceived the joy that awaited.
His ending, the one he had deemed worthy and had executed, was idyllic. Their new ending that awaited beyond the horizon could—would exceed that, he was certain. All he had to do was to set the stage. Scatter the ashes of the pyre as one would rose petals over a bed.
The footsteps of Fandaniel were light, a spring in his step as he was already halfway out the room. "Oh, one last thing before I take my leave. That spell she's under will only last so long. If you are going to… I would suggest doing it now, rather than later."
Zenos didn't even move his head as finally, the charalatan was gone. When he could no longer hear the subtle swish of robes, he continued.
His movements were slow, mindful in execution as he moved Altani up, higher, until she rested over his shoulder, his arm securing her waist. Her weight was negligible, as if he had thrown a coat over. He knew better than to underestimate based on appearances, and yet there was still something to be said on how a woman that stood below his chest could defeat him. To have the strength to do so fasincated him. But when the Warrior of Light had the might to slay gods, it all made sense.
A gilded staff laid on her back, in contrast to the wooden white one she possessed in Ala Mhigo. The metal was expertly wrought, with a large frosty crystal at the apex. Cold to the touch as he collected it from her, taking in the craftsmanship. It took a moment for the crystal to bloom. A lily.
The corner of his lips twitched. Of course, because what would have been more befitting her? He still remembered that blow. How that sanguine blossom burned his eyes, scorched the oxygen in his lungs. The perfect smite to strike him down, sending them both careening through the skies until they had crashed into the magarenie below. Into more sanguine blossoms, him and her both spitting out the bloody petals.
What bliss.
"I do say this weapon suits you far better then your old one, my friend," Zenos spoke out loud. Altani did not dignify him with an answer. "I too have sought out a new weapon for our soon-to-be dance. The process took longer than antipicated, but the wait shall be worth it."
Heavy footfalls echoed against the metallic floor, destination in sight. The throne, similar to the rest of the imperial palace, had its form twisted into something new. Vertebrae added texture along the sides, two spires stabbing the space above. Reverence dusted his actions as Zenos kneeled, moving his friend off of his shoulder and into the seat proper, her staff to the side.
Altani's head dipped forward, still deep in the throes of Fandaniel's spell. Two fingers gently came to rest underneath her chin, lifting it until it was level with his, thumb pressing lightly against her lower lip.
This had been the closest he had been with her, excluding the times admist battling. Even then it had been a delicate dance. She dashed back, he closed the distance. Weapons clashed and kissed as magic spiraled around them. Already he could feel his breath beginning to hitch at the thought.
Zenos would wait though. The preparations were nearing completion. If they were going to reprise that one singular beautiful moment, then he would make sure that they would do so in a way that exceed it. All in service for that euphoria, so that they could both drink deep from its cup.
He held her head steady as his other hand came over to one of her horns. A silver ring decorated each one, etchings akin to whorls flavoring the metal. Delicately, he slid it off, letting it rest in the palm of his hand. On the inside was yet more engravings. Small letters laid in the center.
A warrior you shall be — Batu
A warrior she was indeed. Were you proud of that, Batu? Did you saw what Zenos saw?
He wondered who actually did. Many would doubt the woman who devoted herself to aid and succor could bring about such violence. Was that not what she sought to prevent?
But how can you prevent such a thing without knowing it so intimately? How well can someone mend a bone without knowing to break it so thoroughly?
You could not save a life without knowing how to take one.
Of course the white mage, a healer so dutiful in delivering salvation to her allies, would also be the one to bestow such perdition to her enemies.
Perdition he was oh so ready to experience once again.
The ring was returned to its rightful place, Zenos letting his finger trace the bottom of the indigo horn. Feeling how the ridge of one scale lead to another, until he got to the tip, feeling the sharp point. If they were just a bit bigger, longer, they could gouge out eyes. What a sight that would be. The victim might not be able to appreciate it though.
More scales adorned her face, the space between her eyes, down the ridge of her nose. Around her cheeks, crossing over her chin and down her neck. Near the center the skin was exposed, akin to the shape of an upside down butterfly. The perfect place to settle his thumbs in, press down and stop the air flow. Be so easy. Be too easy. Tranquilized prey made for no sport.
Zenos's eyes kept trailing below. The coat she wore was appropriate for the icy climes of Garlemald, soft fur lining the top and arms of the cuffs. The boots less so (would those heels not be so cumbersome?) but it at least protected her legs enough from the snow. If one could look past the horns and tail, she might have passed off as a typical Garlean woman.
He wondered if she had been. If instead of the other nobles they had tried to have him connect with, it was Altani. If the fates has been a hint kinder.
"My friend," Zenos began, voice a rumble in his throat. "Would you have accepted that proposal all those moons ago?"
Would he had accepted her yes, even if she had?
The immediate answer was a resounding no. The hymn of blood roared in their ears too much for either of them to ignore. The moment the Warrior of Light entered his hunting grounds was the moment their destinies were sealed. All they had to do was to take their places on the stage, recite their lines, and take their bows. They both played their parts to perfection.
And here they were now, in the epilogue. In transit for the sequel.
He still had his thumb on her lip, feeling the gentle, warm breath. There were so, so many things he wanted from her. More than just the battle. More than just the companionship. Everything; the defiance, the acceptance, the rage and rancor and elation and sweet sweet ectasy as her blood mixed with his—
It was not the touch of her hair against his flesh that pulled him out of it, but the throbbing in his trousers.
A smirk lazily snaked its way to the corners of Zenos's lips. Ah. And to think of before, he believed himself above this. The times he had attempted coitus did not spark for him. Novel, but not much else. But with her though?
They did say that violence and sex weren't so different. Bedfellows, as it were.
And what a bedfellow she would make. Surely as fierce as she was on the battlefield. Hot bodies pressed up against one another, teeth sinking into flesh, red spilling over. Ever in motion until someone, something, gave out. Exhilarating.
He could do it right now, but it would be equivalent to fucking the chosen corpse for Altani. No, he would bite his tongue, ignore the sensation below the belt. That peak would be conquered, but only when their next duel had commenced. Zenos had awaited this long, a little bit more was of no consequence.
"I hope your hunts have sharpened your claws," He muttered, ilms away from her face. "May those beasts only serve to have whetted your appetite, for I have prepared a feast for us both. I will not be sated until I have had all of you—your gods, your companions… you, Altani."
Her name was wine on his tongue. Intoxicating.
The warrior's head dipped back down as he released his hold on her, rising back to his full height. Dinner would be ready shortly, the stage almost ready for the next act of the play.
There just needed to be a costume change for one of the actors.