Judge me not Today

Icon Post

2009-02-08T02:07:51Z

Total: Tales of Symphonia - x25
Zelos/Kratos - x15
Collet/Presea - x4
Shihna/Collet - x2
Raine/Collet - x1
Raine/Shihna - x1
Shihna/Collet/Presea - x1
Misc - x1

1	2	3	4	5

6	7	8	9	10

11	12	13	14	15

16	17	18	19	20

21	22	23	24	25

~Textures by freshmakers
~Original art by diverse JPN fanartists
~ This is my first attempt at making icons. Feedbacks $ comments are loved; credits are appreciated ♥

Never Apologize for What You Meant to Do || Kratos &/x Zelos

2009-02-03T03:13:36Z

Title: Never Apologize for What You Meant to Do
Fandom: ToS
Character: Kratos, Zelos
Time: Pre-game. Zelos could be anywhere near 14~18 years old.
Spoilers: -Points at timeline- so none? Oh wait, Kratos kinda mentions his lifespan, so that.
Genre: General, Fluff, Romance if you squint hard?
Length: Around 3.2k. I have this useless(?) talent(???) of writing 3k+ in a setting where two people only talk to each other and nothing else happens, :|
Summary: Zelos got injured in a training session. Kratos is partially responsible. Awkward hospital visit ensues.
Additional Notes: Started this a while ago and got it done. I still like it, but something tells me I'll stop liking it in a bit. :< Theme yoinked from 50_lovequotes; it was originally known as "14. Never say sorry for what you meant to do."

The bedridden Chosen did not bother to turn and look around when the door creaked open behind him.

“You didn’t have to come,” Zelos nonchalantly stated as he glanced out of the window.

“I know,” Kratos replied, stepping in before softly clicking the door close. “How are your injuries?”

“…Better, I guess. It doesn’t hurt like hell like it first used to, I think,” he shrugged. The effort he took to not move certain parts of his arm, however, didn’t go unnoticed.

“You shouldn’t move too suddenly,” Kratos warned, frowning.

Zelos blinked. Yes, Mr. Obvious, and what’s with that weird tone?

“Yeah yeah,” he snorted, “I know. The doc and everyone after him said the same damn thing, and frankly, it makes you lot sound like a herd of annoying sheep. I’ll be careful; I’m not stupid.”

Kratos raised an eyebrow. Zelos, however, cut in quickly before he could make any unnecessary addition.

“ANYWAY. If all you came to do is ensure that the great Chosen of Tethe’Alla was still alive and kicking, so that you won’t be losing your head to the Church and stuff… Well, he’s breathing, even with his gorgeous face perfectly intact, though he won’t be kicking or hitting any douchebags for at least a week,” the redhead chirped, eyes now fixed on a passing cloud.

Kratos by then was beginning to doubt whether he really should have come; it’s not like he didn’t know he wasn’t all that welcomed.

“So, anything else you’d like to know before I politely request for you to leave?” Zelos then finally turned around and met the ever-so-unreadable eyes with the most angelic of smiles he could muster. “I might recover fast, but I DO need my beauty sleep.”

Kratos had the kindness to grace him with a sigh – wow, a reaction. Who would have thought.

“…Chosen,” he started, hesitantly (?) as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Oh?” Zelos tilted his head and feigned innocent curiosity. “Still talking? My my, that’s certainly unusual. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

He wasn’t really sure why, but he still felt quite satisfied when he was shot back with an annoyed glare. The redhead had, however, no time to gloat, for it left as quickly as it came.

“Chosen,” Kratos repeated, eyes growing hard.

Zelos automatically clamped up …It might have only been a couple of weeks, but the redhead knew his teacher enough by now to recognize the signs. Hence, he wisely chose to shut up before he accidentally crosses any line.

“You got injured on my account. Whether this is to your liking or not, it is still my responsibility to ensure your safe recovery, plus the fact that visiting a bedridden person is basic courtesy,” the man stated, trying to retain the previous effect of his glare, though he seemed to be having difficulties with his words.

Just as expected, Zelos gave him a funny look that very clearly conveyed his surprise and indignation that’s something on the line of ‘you gave me that look to tell me this?’

The silence dragged on, and Kratos was beginning to wonder how he got the bright idea of coming here when Zelos spared him with a very loud snort.

“Tchhhhhhhh. And like I said. I’m fine. Or am going to be, if you don’t believe me on that one. ‘Sides, it’s just a scratch; I kinda fell on the wrong angle. My bad. I’ll heal fast, promise.”

Kratos frowned, and it was worse than his usual one. Zelos almost wanted to congratulate himself for being able to tell the difference. He was, however, not buying it and looked rigid and tense, and Zelos would even say the man looked a bit confused and very uncomfortable – though by then he might just be pushing his luck.

“…Chosen, it’s not as simple-”

Zelos groaned.

“Look, it wasn’t you. You warned me. We were at a part of the woods near Mt. Fooji, where travellers usually avoided. The monsters there were getting out of control, and hence the area was on the list of spots that needed a check-up from the city militia. So you suggested that place for training, since I’ve been doing well for the past few weeks. It was also the best place skill level wise because mountain-base wolves weren’t as strong as bears, but also tougher than prairie wolves. You told me that this is the beasts’ mating season and it was dangerous; but I, however, was the one who insisted we go anyway, because obviously I’m good enough and I had my ego to consider,” the redhead went on, rolling his eyes as he vaguely registered the fact that he was actually shedding aside his own pride in an attempt to make his teacher feel better.

Huh, first time for everything? He guessed.

Kratos frowned, irritation beginning to flare anew. Zelos wanted to facepalm.

“That has absolutely nothing to do with what ultimately took place. You don’t need to recap the initial situation, but can you honestly recall what happened after?”

Zelos grunted. Old people.

“Why don’t you just be quiet and listen? I’M STILL TALKING,” Zelos barked, successfully making the other shut up. “…Anyway, we got there and nothing was around, so we went deeper in. It was really quiet, which I found was nice but you seemed to be really edgy and had your guard way up.”

Kratos had his arms crossed and nodded once, indicating for him to go on.

“After I don’t know how long, I was just going to complain on getting tired when it appeared. There was only one: old, too, or so you told me, because apparently you could tell that it was moving much slower than the ordinary ones are supposed to. …I chased after it and I was doing fine, but then another one totally out of my sight decided to crash the party, making an otherwise spectacular entrance with a 4-foot tall and over half a dozen feet wide leap, razor-sharp claws all-out and aimed straight at my pretty throat, and by extension, my fragile existence and delicate soul.” The pitch of his voice varied, and one would think that the redhead was telling epic legends near a campfire and not explaining to his sword instructor just how he got himself bedridden for weeks.

Kratos briefly considered scolding him to drop the theatrical antics, but then he remembered just who he was dealing with.

“But then! Suddenly, a swift jolt of lightning shot down from above, impacting the beast right on its head and KOing it in one shot. It dropped to the ground like a dead weight, charred and smoking and no longer in this world. It was just- right out of the blues,” he gestured wildly but carefully, recalling the blast. “There wasn’t even a single cloud in the sky that afternoon, too,” Zelos mock-frowned.

Kratos had to force himself to not sigh in pure exasperation.

“Zelos, th-”

“I know, I know, sorry for sidetracking, my bad. No more comments about the weather and I’ll save my dramatic tone for my fans and granchildren, I promise,” the redhead chuckled and shrugged it off. If Kratos didn’t know any better, he could have swore Zelos was enjoying himself. “Anyway. Admittedly then everything became blurry; you barked at me sharply to get away and unsheathed your sword, just in time to have two more jump at you – we WERE in the plain middle of a clearing in their territory, so I guess it might’ve been a trap…” His voice faded as the redhead began to ponder.

“I’ve miscalculated. I never thought there would be so many, vicious ones nonetheless,” his tutor frowned, though this time it was probably towards himself. “These wolves should have been the strongest beasts in that region; what need would they have to devise a trap of this kind? It can’t be for food, there are much simpler methods…”

“Yeah? I’d love to hear all about it, but save it for the next lecture and I’ll bring a nice, soft pillow,” Zelos sarcastically added.

Kratos clamped up with a frown. Now that’s the man – no, child he grew to know and… … well, know.

“But you WERE backing away and getting us outta there as fast as you can as you took down whichever one that pounced,” the redhead continued, picking back up where he left. “This I CAN’T forget; you were at my heels the whole time, even if you had to fight along the entire way,” Zelos continued, absentmindedly noting the awe-inspiring fact that he was going so far in doing this to get the other to stop blaming himself.

Kratos let out a heavy sigh; there was nothing he could add to that.

“And then, finally, we got out of the woods. They’ve stopped following us too, probably because you were too strong. I think I tried to apologize when you came out, your sword was dripping with blood – you looked angry, or were you just irritated? At me or at them? Me, right? I can’t blame you.”

“Zelos.”

The redhead grinned back sheepishly in response, loving that tone of exasperate annoyance.

“Annoyed again? I must’ve gotten a new record today; it almost makes having to be bedridden worth the while.”

“…Almost,” Kratos gritted his teeth, unamused.

“Yup,” Zelos chirped. He can’t be the only one enjoying this. “…Anyway. That’s where our little adventure hits its peak, right?”

His mentor looked like he wanted to say something, but ultimately settled for running a hand through his hair and looking away. This is the part he didn’t need to be told.

“They came from the side, but still from your behind. One at your left, the other one at your right,” the young Chosen let his gaze fall onto the bed sheets. “I… I saw them leap. …I might’ve yelled; I THINK your sword was already raised again, but that didn’t help because then-”

“YOU stepped in and tried to save ME, Chosen.” Kratos stared at him straight in the eyes and declared that with the flattest tone Zelos had ever heard. He might as well have just told the redhead that it was the most stupid act anyone could ever commit ever since the birth of mankind.

…Never mind the fact that it just COULD have been.

“…I still don’t like you, by the way,” Zelos pouted, as if trying to take back all he said. A rather lame attempt, if he does say so himself. He was, however, still all but too aware that none of this would have happened if he didn’t try to play hero in the first place.

…Meeeh. We all make… mistakes sometimes, right? …Right?

It was still extremely odd that he didn’t regret his actions in the least – the getting hurt part was just a minor inconvenience.

“Glad to see no love lost there,” his tutor dryly announced. Zelos wholeheartedly agreed.

“And then…Um… I… pushed you, right?” he looked aside and shrugged. He sounded hesitant, though he didn’t look very concerned.

“You shoved me. With all your strength.” Which wasn’t that much, but we’re probably better off with me not saying that out loud.

He also retained his “that was the most retarded thing anyone could ever do” look, which ended up making Zelos look away as he scratched his head.

“Well soh-reee…” The redhead muttered. Way to make someone who tried to save YOU feel better, especially when they started this whole conversation because YOU were the one feeling guilty…

“And in trying to dodge the cross assault, you lost your balance and fell,” the older man continued, ignoring the sheepish apology as he stated the fact with a face so serious it was almost scary. “It was unfortunate that this occurred near a cliff,” he sighed, closing his eyes and dropping his shoulders a bit as he crossed his arms. “It was, however, fortunate that the cliff was not very steep…”

“Yeah,” the younger man glumly nodded. “That’s about- what the hell do you mean, unfortunate?” He blinked, and then raged. Unfortunate? UNFORTUNATE? What kind of word is THAT?

“…Don’t make sudden movements, Chosen-!”.

It was still a bit too late for that as the redhead violently turned around to glare at the older man and raised a fist in midair, an otherwise normal and everyday routine reaction were it not for the fact that Zelos usually did it when he had no damaged ribs.

He barely registered the shift from light relief to sincere worry on his mentor’s face, though a tiny part of him was somewhat aware of the fact that he really shouldn’t be overreacting so much because Kratos probably didn’t say it to offend him anyway.

Pity that that part of lucidity was so tiny.

“Hey! ANSWER M-”

Kratos just winced for the first time in like, ever and looked on dejectedly as he stepped closer to prepare what he can for the predicted consequence, his expression a unique mix consisting of apathy, empathy, disbelief and predictability. He didn’t in the least wish for his rash pupil’s wounds to get worse, but at the same time, there was simply no way to stop Zelos’ hissy fits of anger resulting from his childish love of taking offense at anything Kratos says. He knew he should really just give up and stop caring period (never mind how he started to care in the first place), but somehow there was just something about all of this that made it impossible for him to stay indifferent.

…Well at least Zelos’ll never comment on that priceless (he was fairly sure Zelos would consider it that way) face he just made, since the redhead was now far too occupied with something else much less pleasant.

And as expected, what followed was a short minute of cussing, hissing, and general whining as the Chosen of Tethe’alla tried to remain still and quiet at the sudden jolt of searing pain that flared mercilessly through his entire body. He never was, however, really good at hiding these kinds of things, which is why the poor redhead is now whimpering softly like a wounded kitten as he gingerly clutched his sides and shivered like a leaf.

It was stupidly adorable. And Kratos felt bad even if this was one thing Zelos had no one to blame for but himself. Shaking his head lightly, he swallowed his impending sigh as he leaned over and gently placed his hand on the smaller and shaking one of the young Chosen.

Zelos jerked his eyes open at the careful contact and the soft breathing that feathered his forehead. Miraculously, the shock did not make him flinch back hard enough to injure himself again, though he found it much more puzzling on why he wasn’t inclined to move away at all. …It was just a guess, but it might have something to do with the fact that while he heard nothing, the pain was quickly dispelled as it was replaced by a lazily flooding puddle of warmth.

“…Please don’t move so suddenly again, and I meant no offense,” the older man sighed before pulling away.

The redhead wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Something tells him that this hesitation is worrisome, but something else tells him that he’s sick, so having crazy thoughts is all okay.

He just slowly crossed his arms and scoffed, though he did sigh in relief as he allowed himself to sink back into the pillow.

“…Tch. …Whatever. I’m sorry for being stupid, kay?” He growled, though it lacked its usual edge.

“…Zelos, I came to apologize.” If Zelos didn’t knew better, he’d say that the old man almost looked dumbfounded.

“Yeah, I know, which is kinda stupid coming from you, since there’s nothing for you to apologize about,” the Chosen waved his good arm in an uncaring gesture as he slid a few inches farther into the covers.

“You wouldn’t have fell if you didn’t… push me,” Kratos almost grimaced.

“…Can’t you just try to pretend that it was a… Iunno, accident?” Zelos whined. “Sides, like it or not, you’re okay. Regardless of whether or not you could have diced those two wolves without my interference, this is what ultimately happened, and you’re… okay. So it’s all good, and I’ll just need some more rest and I’ll be good. It’ll be all fine, so can’t you cut us both some slack?” He groaned, leaning back as he crossed his fingers behind his head. “Sheesh. Talk about stuck-up…”

“…” Kratos was stunned.

“Fffffffffff.” The redhead scoffed, not looking up.

“…”

He was still uninterested to take a look at the older man’s face, but he was getting tired of the silence.

“Look, I’m the one who did stuff, so I’m sorry. What more is there?” He growled, eyes still shut and lightly annoyed.

“…I see. So I have been foolish.” The deep baritone sounded… amused.

..Woah. CREEPY.

“Huh? What was that?” Zelos’ eyes flew open as he quickly turned around. Damn good thing his neck was undamaged.

“Nothing important, Chosen,” a ghost of a smile danced on Kratos’ lips. “…No, Zelos.”

The redhead blinked, a tad confused and blissfully unaware of the fact that his cheeks just grew a shade bolder.

“There are many things we do in life that we need to apologize for… But never apologize for the things that you meant to do,” his mentor murmured, in a matter-of-fact voice but also with sincere, warm eyes.

“…Huh?...” Zelos blinked again, actually understanding mentally what he had just been told but still playing dumb on instinct because he wouldn’t have had anything smart to say anyway. …And is it just him, or was his face heating up?

“I suppose you’re right. I do, however, apologize for disrupting your rest,” Kratos smiled, making an effort at the last second to not let ‘beauty sleep’ slip.

“Hey, what’s so funny?” Zelos frowned, getting up slightly.

“No sudden movements, Chosen,” his mentor warned. The smile did not falter.

Zelos grumbled under his sheets and fiercely told himself that it was unimportant whether the upward tweaking of the older man’s lips made him look good or not; it was just plain ass creepy to see that guy smile regardless of time and setting.

“I wish you a speedy recovery, then,” Kratos concluded as he stood up; it was probably not a good idea to let Zelos know right away that he was now going to see the doctor and arrange physical exercises for him to do the moment he’s well enough to perform them. It’ll help his muscles recover faster and prevent him from getting rusty, but he could only imagine how hard of a fit the child will throw if he knew, and he really didn’t want to see the kid hurt himself again.

“For the record, you’re still the most arrogant douchebag I’ve ever met,” Zelos glared as he turned back to watch the clouds, his mind entirely somewhere else.

And you the vainest and most narcissist flower I have in over four millennia, the older man chuckled. Speaking of flowers…

“Would you like some flowers next time?”

“There won’t BE a next time,” the wounded kitten snarled.

“Very well. Rest well, then, and thank you.”

By the time Zelos managed to get up again and stare at the door in astonished disbelief without hurting himself, Kratos was already gone.

…Maybe he screwed his hearing too in that accident?

His Priorities || Guy & Asch

2009-01-17T22:03:28Z

Title: His Priorities
Fandom: TotA
Character: Little Luke(young Asch), young Guy
Time: Pre-game
Spoilers: Hod War, Guy's true motive at first.
Genre: General
Length: Done? 2.7k or so.
Additional Notes: For talesofexchange. Yeah, decided to cut it short.

Little Luke was the only one to notice something odd about the new servant from the first day he started at Fabre manor.

He just finished breakfast with his mother when the blond servant, a few years older than him, was introduced.

“Luke, this is Guy Cecil, and that's Pere. Starting from today, they will work here as servants,” Susanne smiled as she introduced the smiling pair. Duke Fabre was against the idea – after all, what’s the point of getting to know servants? – but Susanne thought that it would be nice for Luke to have a boy around his age to talk with. And hence they were hired.

The greetings were brief, but the impressions, good. Guy was still unsure whether Duke Fabre bought their story or not, but at least Lady Susanne seemed to like him, and Van’s approval definitely helped. All that remained now, of course, was to get close to the heir of the fon Fabre lineage – Luke.

He thought that it would be easy with the madam’s approval, but the Duke obviously had his doubts. It was only after a week of working on dirty and measly chores in dusty and secluded areas that he was finally allowed to work under more open and public spaces such as the garden, and to Guy’s irritation, Pere only laughed it off cheerfully and congratulated the boy on finally earning the Duke’s approval.

He was within reach now, but the next three days were still uneventful: the young master would come and by close enough for them to greet each other, but Luke was always with someone when that happened. He smiled at Guy’s recoil when the latter was formally introduced to Natalia by the suggestion of Madam Fabre, and Guy had the chance to watch a training session between Van and Luke, but that was as close as he managed to get. He had been unable to talk with Van privately too, but he was told that this would happen, so Guy only hoped that the boy would either take up his mother’s advice, or that a chance would present itself soon. Then again, he still had a lifetime; Gailardia had already sworn to stake his whole life on this, ever since the destruction of his homeland.

The blond boy, however, still couldn’t hide his surprise when the young master came knocking on the door to his room, just a bit before his bedtime.

“…May I help you, master Luke? The older youth asked, eyes wide. He then realized that the most sensible thing to do was to send the boy back to his room right away, but a flood of questions of why he was there and what has he come for stopped him from doing so.

“…You’re Guy Cecil, right?” The boy inquired. He was still standing in the doorway, with his hand resting on the knob and wearing an expression much too serious for such a young face.

Somehow, that tone was irritating. Guy knew that this shouldn’t bother him, for he WAS a servant being addressed by his master and Duke Fabre himself was much worse, but it still made him frown unwillingly.

If Luke saw it, he did not comment on it. “Pere told me you’d be here. Can I talk to you?”

“…Here? You should go back to your room, master Luke. It’s late, and there’s no telling that your father will say or do if he catches you at the servant’s quarter at such hour. It would be better to put it off for tomorrow,” Guy mildly chided, chasing away his own curiosity.

“Do you not want me here?” The boy continued, tilting his head.

“Huh? No, it’s nothing like that. I just don’t think this is a good time,” Guy replied quickly, waving his hands.

“Father is busy right now. This won’t be long, I just want to ask you something.”

Guy sighed, and gave in.

“…Alright. What is it?”

“Do you have something against me?” The redhead bluntly asked, his emerald gaze staring straight into Guy’s sapphire eyes.

“H-huh? What makes you say that? We’ve barely talked, and it’s only been three days!” Guy answered, slightly taken aback. Talk about a sixth sense!

“You were watching me. I apologize if it’s a false accusation, but I don’t think you like me, even if it’s as you say that we have never really talked yet.”

“I can’t tell you that because I honestly don’t know you well enough yet… But I’m amazed. You’re very blunt,” Guy admitted, trying to look as humble as possible,

“Everyone is all very concerned about raising me to be a good king. Father says it’s not very important, but Natalia and mother both agree that if I feel like there is something wrong between me and my subjects, I should go talk to them personally before any major misunderstanding happens.”

“…” Guy was unsure whether to be amused or offended, thought he wouldn’t dream of showing it in either of the two cases.

“Well, figuratively speaking,” Luke completed, seemingly have understood that there might have been something wrong with his wording.

“…Haha, are you sure you’re not trying too hard?” The blond servant finally smiled good-naturedly, thinking that there is certainly something special in a young boy trying to act fair and mature at such an age.

“No. I think it’s better to talk it out if it can avoid fighting over a misunderstanding in the long run,” the boy answered seriously.

That got Guy pondering. …Fighting? Misunderstanding? The terms are simple and they are from the lips of a child, but indeed… Can the Score really be considered a ‘misunderstanding’?

“Master Luke!”

The shrill cry surprised them both. Rushing towards them was Lady Susanne’s personal maid, who obviously was not pleased to find the young master here when he should be in bed.

“! Ah, Rosetta…” Guy began, knowing that the diligent maid was not one to let something like that pass.

“…There won’t be time…” Luke bit his lower lip and looked around, muttering in a whisper that only Guy could hear.

Time for what? …And why is he thinking of something so trivial in a time like this!

“I told you you’d get in trouble. You should go now,” Guy hushed despite himself. “If you want me to do something, I’ll come and see you first thing tomorrow morning,” he offered, hoping that it was also enough to explain the situation.

Rosetta was glaring at them both, but Guy’s response was not displeasing. “Come, master Luke. Your bed is ready.”

“…Alright,” Luke finally gave in after a short pause. He didn’t want to get Guy in trouble. “But I still want to say one thing to him,” he looked up to the old maid, a solid glint of determination in his green, shining eyes.

She could not deny him of that, but she will not budge until she personally saw to that the young master would be resting in bed for the night.

“Please, can you go ahead and wait for me in the hallway? I’ll come with you right away after I’m done,” the serious boy quietly said. “It’ll be quick, I promise.”

Rosetta was slightly confused as well now; what has gotten into the young master, all of a sudden? She did, however, relent to the demand.

“…Very well, but be quick before Duke Fabre himself finds us here,” she threatened, though they all knew that it was an empty one… for now.

Luke picked up the moment Rosetta was out of earshot.

“Mr. Cecil. I’m not sure what kind of person you think I am, but I can say that I am not who you’ve already labelled me as. Please let me prove it to you, and then you can judge me however you like.”

Having finally said what he wanted to say, the boy gave him a firm nod before retreating from the room.

“Wait!”

It was Guy’s turn to shout out. Luke stopped, just as he was about to close the door.

“Just call me Guy, okay? We’ll finish this some other time.” He didn’t know what else to say – just that he could never live with being called ‘Mr. Cecil’ again, let it be in the manor or anywhere else.

The boy faintly smiled, and ran back to the maid after bidding him good night. Only Guy was then left to ponder about the significance of that visit.

Luke fon Fabre… certainly has what it takes to make an admirable king. Guy, however, can’t help but feel that he will still end up like his father some way or another, though he does admit to feel a bit bad to think so of the boy, who was still so innocent and had such strong faith in what is good and right.

The moment of sympathy did not last long. Of course all children start off innocent; Luke was just lucky enough that he was born under an empire strong enough to protect him – or rather, fortunate enough to be born on the side to which the Score favored. He was not foretold the destruction of his homeland, and he had not experienced the full force of war and slaughter. He had not seen his whole family get killed under his eyes, and he did not watch his entire life crumble to nothing as he lost everything he had.

Guy glared at the floor and rubbed his temple. Tch, go figure that he was still a nice guy at heart; if he was to really do what he and Van planned, then compassion and attachment should have no room in his thoughts. The boy was born and raised under a tyrant; for all he knew, he might get fired the very next morning if word leaked out that his precious son sought a lowly servant up and some misunderstanding crops up.

He should have been more careful and be more on guard. He knew that it was in both of their best interest if that encounter never happened, but he still couldn’t get the boy’s words out of his head.

…Watch him and then judge, huh?

…Maybe. Just maybe. Only time will tell.

Guy was not summoned by anyone the second day. Luke must have managed to keep the maid quiet; a surprising feat, considering that she loved gossip and like madam Fabre, would never let anything befall their precious baby. The whole thing, however, obviously did not go totally unnoticed, for Guy was given indoors work for the entire week that followed. He did not see Luke, and neither did the latter seek him out again.

As time passed, however, he eventually gained the manor’s faith and grew to be known a cheery and reliable guy for many common chores, just as long as women don’t get too close. He also managed to speak to Van inside the manor without raising suspicion; even Duke Fabre agreed when Van suggested Guy as a sparring partner for Luke, since they were of close age gap and skill level.

It was with shock that Guy came to a seemingly trifling realization as he watched Van and Luke spar one afternoon.

He couldn’t say when it first started, or how long it had been going on. Van’s style was familiar, of course, and he himself used to watch the commandant practice below from his balcony back in Hod. It was just startling to suddenly notice that he was not following Van’s powerful and calculated strikes anymore, but rather, Luke’s shaky but determined parries and counters.

It had been over 6 months. He still can’t say he liked Luke, but he couldn’t lie to himself about the fact that he did not hate him either. Luke had been fair and despite his father’s teachings, still treated Guy as an equal; he did not abuse his power, and if anything, displayed concern several times when Guy showed signs of irritation or fatigue.

There was no doubt that the child had a good heart. Just like he promised on that night so long ago, he tried to show Guy who he was and what he aimed for; what’s important to him, and his unfaltering resolve to better his country when he grows up.

It was simply unfortunate that the country he sought to protect was not one that Guy was associated with: being a good king of Kimlasca simply meant being a great enemy of Malkuth’s. Guy was also fully aware of the fact that he still had never caught a glimpse of Luke’s true self; in struggling so hard to become the ideal that his closed ones cherished, he was obviously killing his own emotions as he trained himself to be composed and cool facing any and all situations.

He was only ten. Guy knew of no other child at this age that spoke so formally, and who only smiled when he was praised about what he could do for the country, and not for himself. He knew no other child who would work so hard for a goal that he wasn’t even sure if Luke fully understood. There will be conflicts, and there will be war. Inside the walls of this manor, all is well and at peace, but does he understand the full weight of the responsibility that comes with ruling over an entire country? The bloodshed, the killing, and of course, the Score?

Maybe he does, which is why he’s suppressing his real feelings so strongly at an age so tender. Or maybe he does not; he was only told to be a good king, and hence worked to be what everyone wanted him to be.

Either way, it was one thing Guy could not approve of. There had been good times, yes; Luke has definitely accepted him and considered him to be a companion, but he still held obvious reservations. Maybe he could tell that Guy still had something against him, or maybe he just did that with everyone and Guy was simply no exception.

In the end, Guy no longer knew how he should feel. The boy was not unlikeable, and he was quite sure that if he loosened more and talked to him more, they could become friends, and no matter what Duke Fabre might say, Lasy Susanne would be delighted if that were to happen. His past, however, was still something that Guy would not forget; one way or another, these are matters that have to be settled someday. If anything, however, things have been going favourably for Luke; Guy won’t deny to have hoped to serve an arrogant and selfish master if it would make him hate house Fabre more, but the honest and strong-willed boy he began to know more and more certainly wouldn’t deserve a cruel fate.

He sighed. …That’s right, he still had time. …Perhaps he’ll ask Luke about it someday, once they get to know each other better. What Luke thought of wars, of the Score, and maybe, even of vengeance. Maybe then he’d know what to do better, because as much as he loathed admitting it, this lifestyle as a servant wasn’t unpleasant at all. He could have certainly ended up worse after the Hod war, but for now… Pere said it was a nice place, and setting aside the maids’ whispers every time he passed, they were all nice people,and he led a peaceful life.

He no longer tried to push all that aside and convince himself that vengeance was all that mattered. He was not giving in either, though; he just knew… that he needed more time.

So for now, he will simply sit back and continue to watch the boy who would be king – just like he was asked.

A Useless Realization || Zelos & Kratos

2008-08-04T04:11:04Z

Title: A Useless Realization
Fandom: ToS
Characters: Zelos and Kratos.
Time: Pre-game. Zelos would be 17 or so.
Spoilers: Kinda. mostly to Zelos' title.
Genre: General, Drama, maybe Angst.
Length: ~850 words. Drabble.
Summary: The Chosen of Tethe'Alla puts two and two together and confronts his mentor about it.
Additional Notes: A spur-of-the-moment ficlet. Under the premise of sensei!Kratos and student!Zelos. Took some liberties in imagining how the Journey of Regeneration should be carried out. They're on good terms; Zelos respects and, to some extend, trusts his tutor.

The redhead sat down with a smile as he calmly dished out a few stacks of papers in front of the unwavering mercenary.

“You shouldn’t be telling me this,” the auburn-haired man coolly stated.

“I know,” the younger man chimed. “I’m not supposed to be telling anyone about this… but it’s a heavy realization,” he meekly admitted with darkening expression. “I’ve always had my doubts, but it’s… hard to take it down alone when-”

“I’m still under the employment of the Church,” Kratos frowned. “If any of this leaks out…”

“You’re still the least likely to talk, aren’t you?” Zelos calmly replied. “…Or am I just being naïve?” He smiled, sweet and innocent, yet painfully bitter and aware.

“…Chosen…”

The redhead briefly cleared his throat as he straightened himself.

“I thank you for giving me the final push I needed to look this up. The evidences… are woefully blatant," Zelos paused, looking up.

Kratos made a small effort to remain completely neutral. Grateful for his silence, the younger man went on.

“First off… the Seals. For a Chosen to regenerate the world, they must first release the four Seals where the Summon Spirits reside, to then finish their journey at the base of the Tower of Salvation. They will then be taken to Heaven and supposedly be reborn as a full-fledge Angel.”

The older man nodded once. This… he knew all this. The current Chosen of Tethe’Alla… No. Any Chosen of any world… should not.

“Tethe’Alla is still prospering, even today. The Seals, however…” Zelos looked away.

“Have already been released,” Kratos completed.

The redhead looked back and grinned.

“Yeah, seems that way.”

“…”

“To be honest… I still don’t know what this means; I’m not yet of age, and my Cruxis Crystal is still being studied by the Sybak people. I, however, do know that in any and all records left by previous Chosens, this has never happened before," he continued as he took a big breath.

“Second…” Zelos lightly grimaced. This is so pitiful.

“They were all females.”

“…”

“I know, I know,” the redhead smirked again, raising his hands and hanging them in midair before giving Kratos a chance . “All I’ve been doing is point out irregularities. I mean, sure, first time for everything, right? So what if the Chosen is male? So what if the job’s already been done? I still need to save the world at some point, right, even if it doesn’t seem to need any saving whatsoever?”

Contrary to his expectations, his sword master remained silent. Suddenly feeling more sober, Zelos went on.

“Something… is happening,” the redhead lowered his eyes, voice uncharacteristically even, and eyes hard.

“… …Haha, this is so unlike me…” he chuckled as he looked up, shaking off the side of him that only a few knew. Kratos, however, still haven’t bat a single eyelash... or spoken a single word.

“But… Iunno. It’s like… I have this feeling. Something big is going to happen soon, and the REAL Chosen is going to reveal herself,” he finished; sighing as he leaned back in his chair and fiddled with his thumbs.

The older man chanced a brief glance outside the window. It was one of the rare times when he was the one who couldn’t look at the boy in the eyes.

Sylvarant’s Chosen.

“…”

“Kratos,” Zelos began suddenly, dropping the usual formalities as he called him by his first name for the first time.

The older man looked back, his glance a trifle sharper than usual.

“You know something about this, don’t you?” The redhead pressed, eyes narrow and tone firm.

…!

“…Oh? What makes you say that?” The older man coolly replied, lightly tilting his head sideways as he rewarded the other with a mildly raised eyebrow.

“You’re never fazed by anything. You’re never surprised at the nuttiest things I say in your face, yet you don’t give me the impression that I’m crazy or stupid,” the redhead logically explained with a playful smirk. He suddenly seemed to be back to his old self, though his eyes still held a rare edge.

“…You’re extremely sharp for one of your status and age, Chosen.”

Zelos would have laughed out loud; again with the word games. Not only did Kratos NOT deny his claim, he also complimented on the Chosen’s deductions.

It was, however, still not enough to confirm anything; none of that came anywhere near of a straight answer. As much as he would have liked to be right and told that he was right - heck, it would have been even nicer if he was told to be WRONG - he was still aware that Kratos did nothing more that express his curiosity towards the accusation, and told Zelos that he was a smart chap.

“Oh, don’t make me blush, M. Know-it-all~ Though you really don't have to worry; I’m just pointing out irregularities. For all I know, Cruxis IS trying all this out for the first time, and the Seals WILL close themselves soon, and in due time, I WILL have to release them again, right?” The redhead cheerfully chuckled, looking not unlike an anticipating kid pawing the mystery box on Christmas Eve. “And then I’ll have to do my job, so there won’t be anything to worry about anymore, right?”

Zelos smiled the whole time while that short silence, louder than any words, lasted.

“…Right.”

And finally, Kratos gave in, voice oddly soft as he gave off a weak smile, not unlike the reaction of a knowing parent, who knew exactly what the box contained. Zelos even had the grace to not change his expression and play along.

Except, of course, both knew only too well that it was empty.

Tribute || Kratos

2008-06-08T21:34:18Z

Title: Tribute
Fandom: ToS
Character: Kratos.
Time: In-game. Before the duel in Treant, after...
Spoilers: Zelos' alternate ending.
Genre: Tragedy.
Length: Roughly 2k words.
Summary: Kratos pays his final respects at the base of the Tower of Salvation.
Additional Notes: Probably the one thing I wrote that I'm still quite satisfied with.

The grave was nothing special – lacking, even, though considering how much of a hurry Lloyd’s group was in, it was only to be expected and sufficiently decent.

The soil was unnaturally flat, and its colour clearly indicated a recent turning. On it rested a sword, carefully stacked atop of a shield. The tombstone itself bore a simplicity that was almost insulting, though in truth, nothing else would have been more fitting.

Zelos would have approved wholeheartedly.

Kratos kneeled down to the small stone tablet: it was harshly chipped in corners, and placed directly in front of the entrance leading into the Tower of Salvation. Such morbid irony, the Seraph thought blandly, as he ran his gloveless fingers over the roughly carved letters with uncharacteristic attention.

Zelos Wilder

It was all it said. Somehow, it was not surprising; perhaps no one dared to add more out of fear and respect, a silent apology to the late Chosen on how much they took him for granted, how little they understood of him, how oblivious they were facing his subtly hinted commentary, and how NAÏVE they were to believe every lie the redhead spawned about himself, to fall for the carefree playboy façade until the very end–

How only when he was dying did they finally begin to grasp onto the mere tip of Zelos’ true character.

Kratos closed his eyes and sighed.

---

Perhaps…

Perhaps he should have done something.

Perhaps he should have interfered in Zelos’ decision, regardless of the fact that it was actually one that the Chosen made completely on his own, for himself.

Perhaps he should have insisted harder when they talked at Altessa’s – or better yet, in Flanoir.

Perhaps he should have spent less time briefing the Chosen on the importance of Lloyd’s success and more on the redhead’s state of mind: he probably knew Zelos better than the whole of Lloyd’s party.

And yet the ending might still be the same. There was only one ‘Perhaps’ that could have changed things, yet it was the one ‘Perhaps’ he knew incapable of giving.

Perhaps, years ago, he should have never left.

---

The Seraph moved the sword and shield aside before standing back up. The air was quiet and still. He extended forward an outstretched arm and took a step back, lost in passive thoughts as he dimly began to gather mana.

---

How many times had he stepped up, giving the desperate a trace of Hope that should not be there? How many times had he then stepped back down again without turning around, letting the now hopeful fall into an even darker abyss that they were in before, because they were falsely incited to believe when they simply should have not? How many times, again, had he found himself kneeling before a tombstone, before walking away with the gradually increasing load of guilt plaguing his every step?

How many times had he the chance to do something to actively help, and yet ended up as nothing more than Tragic Death’s passive spectator?

---

“Grave.”

The murmur was inaudible, despite the complete lack of sound and movement; not the least rustling of leaves could be heard, and not the least current of air could be felt.

With a light tremor, the ground began to open up, shedding aside fresh soil as it gradually revealed what it was confided mere hours ago, to supposedly forever hold.

There have been… undoubtedly… many things he could have done, but did not do.

This, however… was one thing he can do. He should do. He must do.

---

Years ago, the adolescent Chosen of Tethe’Alla was his pupil. Years ago, the narcissistic Chosen of Tethe’Alla followed him. Years ago, the rebellious Chosen of Tethe’Alla looked up to him.

Years ago, the secretly conflicted Chosen of Tethe’Alla trusted him.

---

Zelos wasn’t buried very deep; there wasn’t enough time. It had obviously been done manually; it was the least they could do, to someone whom they never understood.

Kratos kneeled down onto one knee, directly next to the crevice that the corpse rested in, now fully exposed.

Years ago, the bitter Chosen of Tethe’Alla vowed to never make the same mistake twice.

Years ago, the resolved Chosen of Tethe’Alla swore to the Goddess he did not believe in that he will never trust again.

The young man’s face was oddly calm; people who knew him back in Meltokio would not have thought an expression so tranquil and earnest possible, though it was unlikely that they would be able to recognize it in the first place. Then again, Zelos might as well have been asleep, was it not for the traitorous rip and the ugly brown stain that the front of his shirt bore. There was, however, no wound visible: tending to them was only proper, regardless of whether or not the body still held life.

…

It was sin; he was defiling something that was supposedly sacred. It was blasphemy; he was violating the grave of someone who bitterly hated him for so many years.

And yet…

Gently, inexplicably, the older man gingerly brushed away a strand of fiery crimson off the beautifully calm face as he slowly trailed his fingers down the young deceased’s cheek. If Zelos had always been on guard with his misleading grins, wide and forced in life, he is now completely relaxed and his smile, small and utterly sincere in Death.

…Perhaps that is what the redhead sought all along. But was it truly something to be properly desired, much less granted?

Lloyd has taught them all a lot, but Death was certainly not that easily repelled. And in order to reach nobler goals, sacrifices must be made. Kratos himself was fully prepared to greet his own eternal rest tomorrow, but for now, he had to pay his respects; it was much too late for lame excuses and empty apologies.

A faint, quiet glint caught the corner of his darkened eyes. Shifting his gaze, the Seraph’s eyes fell onto Zelos’ chest.

Dimly, the Exsphere glowed.

Kratos frowned and raised his hand. If that was…

Then it must mean-

He located the Cruxis Crystal within seconds; it was left untouched in the younger man’s coat pocket.

The Seraph drew his sword and unflinchingly shattered the jewel, under the space of a heartbeat.

Hesitation, however, made him pause as his palm closed around the small sphere; it was somewhat warm to the touch, and still radiated a weak, translucent light.

Could it be… Was it…

Consciousness?

If it was… Then perhaps he should destroy it later. Perhaps it should witness Kratos’ final tribute, his one tribute – the closest to an apology the Seraph could ever offer – before rightfully vanishing from existence forever.

The small, lukewarm gem still in hand, the older man stood up and backed two steps away, not letting the grave or the body out of his sight.

The surroundings were still silent, yet it was not an ill silence: it wasn’t cold, lifeless and dead. Rather, it was oddly soothing and peaceful, almost religious, as twisted as the term may be. Regardless, it was still a respectful silence, devoid of any pity or meaningless sorrow.

What would be, now is. There is no point in dawdling further. Besides, Zelos hated pity. It was one thing Kratos recalled very clearly.

The Seraph swallowed another sigh, and raising his free hand, started to gather mana once again, now set to finally accomplish what he set out to do in the first place.

His lips moved; no sound came out. At his feet, a small wind began to stir, softly lifting up a few strands of scarlet from Zelos’ serene face as it blew away any trace of dirt or dust that managed to gather themselves.

And without the least of what might have been a warning, the late Chosen’s fiery locks were suddenly engulfed by something much more ferocious, and moments later, Zelos’ entire body was ablaze in a sublime, almost furious fire.

The heat coloured his cheeks and the glow shone off his eyes, simultaneously highlighting and shadowing the man’s unreadable features. With unfazed eyes, he watched his ex-pupil’s slender body burn under an intensely savage yet utterly supervised fire, fully intent on reducing every single inch of material inside the grave down to nothing more than mere ashes.

---

Zelos, even as a child, was never able to stay settled for long. His classmates knew the younger Chosen as someone who, in class, would spend his time either courting next-seat girls, or joke loudly about the teacher.

He was, however, always the first to get out the moment the bells rang off. He always went out of his mansion at least once per day. He always attended parties thrown by renowned nobles, and hosted his own at least twice per month.

But most of all, Zelos Wilder always travelled outside of Meltokio to ‘sunny vacation spots’ twice a year, and once, always, on every winter. Even as a child, every winter: ever since the Church granted him the permission.

‘The Chosen dislikes the cold’, everyone figured.

Select few knew better.

---

The irony was overwhelming. He never had to ask why Zelos ran around so much, even from the safest and most comfortable of buildings and towns. If the Chosen could go anywhere he wished, then why did he act, subtly, yes, but so much as if he was running away, trying desperately to hide from something that no one can see?

Why would he be trapped when he was so free?

It was simple; Kratos knew the feeling better than he knew his sword.

Zelos was never free.

People like them were never free.

They could have the whole world. They could have TWO worlds.

…Yet regardless of where they were, are, will be, they will never be free.

…

Perhaps, only in Death could one be free.

…

For the very least, only in Death was Tethe’Alla’s Chosen free.

---

The Seraph blinked once to regain focus, systematically pulling his thoughts back together as he finally dropped his arm, knowing without looking – though he saw anyway– that nothing remained in the crevice other than ash, one so perfectly burnt down that, like a shadow, it conserved the corpse’s exact silhouette.

Suddenly, without the least bit of a hint, the silence shattered under a single moment as a fierce gust tore through the air, roaring mightily as it whipped up leaves, sand, and inevitably – ash – in its wake, and when it finally died down, the grave was empty.

Kratos would have scoffed. The gale might as well have been conscious; he would have scattered the remains into the four winds personally if the stillness sustained. Approaching the grave for one, final time, the older man bent over and cracked the Chosen’s used shield and blade with his own before depositing the remains into the crevice; there will no longer be any occasion to fight. There will no longer be any need to fight.

The small stone in his hand was almost hot now; it might have been anger as much as approval.

It didn’t matter, though; all the man did was what he believed proper.

The Seraph unfolded his palm and looked down. The Exsphere’s purpose had been similar to that of the sword and shield; unlike the Crystal, however, it was not corrupted nor by the burden of Religion, or the trap of an empty title.

It now glowed as if it was the sun, though it took no strength at all as the man pressed his blade at the gem’s radiant center, watching it coolly as it split into two perfect halves, triggering a magnificent shower of golden, saffron sparks in its wake – or rather, as it was finally granted its righteously deserved slumber.

Then, there was no more light.

---

The sun was setting, and the first few stars of evening were appearing when he finally set off towards the south, gliding away with the cooling air of dusk before utterly vanishing from the horizon. It gave the impression of a fading butterfly of translucent, azure light – a mere trick of one’s eyes, to anyone that might have be watching, from near or far.

Kratos never had a set opinion in the belief of life after death, but if Zelos’ soul was still trapped – which he earnestly hoped to not be the case, as odd as the thought itself might be –

Everything else, for the very least, now freely soared with the winds.

Bargain || Zelos & Kratos

2008-06-06T03:41:15Z

Title: Bargain
Fandom: ToS
Characters: Zelos. Kratos. Yggdrasill
Time: In-game.
Genre: Humor, oneshot.
Length: Roughly 3k words.
Summary: Kratos and Zelos are playing cards on Derris Kharlan. Mithos watches, entertained like he has never been in the past few millenia.
Additional Notes: Originally written for the "Tales of" kink meme. Pretty much made of pure crack, only if the reaction wasn't what I'd label as 'canon'. Also tweaked up from its original version.

One would be mistaken if one believed gald to come rushing in freely solely because one would retain the title of Chosen in Tethe’Alla: Zelos Wilder would not deny to have been left a hefty sum from his father that never cared, but he had to know the city’s economy like the back of his hand, even as a kid, if he wanted any chance to survive. And being oppressed under the Church’s reign (he still had his ways, though; he WAS the Chosen, after all), denying it of its obligatory subvention towards the Chosen's "religious cause" was always fun - anything to piss off the two-faced Pope would forever be a welcomed addition. Of course, that would have to make him a quick learner in everything he'll be touching upon on, but for the young, narcissistic, popular and ingenious Chosen, that really didn't pose any sort of problem whatsoever.

It was that adaptability that prompted Lord Yggdrasill to personally contact him.

Sure, Zelos' reasons for learning that sort of ability could be laughable, but it also explained his connections and answered for some of his abilities, such as his mastery … in Poker.

He was 15 when the Church granted him permission to gamble, convinced that the child would come back his tail between his legs begging for money – and mercy – a week later.

After three, the child in question was richer than the Casino.

It was with the place’s ban – a plea, really, to be technical – and a few years straight of the title “Poker King” (he didn't play for money anymore, so the place was fine) that the confident, with reason, redhead challenged the other redhead to a game - right in the middle of Cruxis’ headquarters.

Yggdrasill seemed to be extremely amused by the notion, and went so far as to change back to Mithos to watch his favorite, traitorous humans duke it all out with a deck that was over 4 millenniums old.

“If I win, you 1)stop stalking us because it’s my job to look after the cabbage patch kids,” Zelos began, taking a small pause in-between requests as he began to shuffle; the deck was definitively smoother than it felt. Looking good.

The great almighty leader of Cruxis nodded with a smile. The stalker in question was putting up a good imitation of a semi-curious rock.

“2)stop trying to convince me in running YOUR errands,“ the younger redhead continued with nonchalance.

The elven boy simply followed along, deeming it of the quirky Chosen’s whim while the older man seemed to almost frown.

“and 3)-”

“…Is it not premature to decide the stakes now?”

“Gramps, when was the last time you’ve done your last bet on earth? Of course you decide on the stakes first; that prevents chickening out later,” Zelos sneered.

“…Oh, you have my word that I will abide by your conditions; it is simply in my belief that we should finish your… contest beforehand.”

“You don’t have to fear there; he might be old and kinda cowardly, but he usually sticks by his word,” Mithos sweetly chimed.

“It relieves me so to hear you vouch, oh greatly esteemed leader!” Zelos exclaimed with sarcasm, the keyword usually far from having been forgotten.

“Ah, but you shouldn’t be too full of yourself either, child; I think you are familiar with what my teacher used to say so often-”

“Who you calling ‘child’?” Zelos cut in, glaring at the blond kid. Snotty brat.

“Overconfidence leads to carelessness, Chosen.” The half-elven boy finished, glowing like the sun.

“Hey, stop ignoring me. And that? Yeah? He still says it. Are you all clichéd or what?” The redhead spat, narrowing his eyes.

Mithos flashed a smile that would have turned Genis to jello.

“Why don’t you deal then? I’m curious to see how this will turn out.”

“Heh! Well then, I don’t know what your stake would be, pops, but if I lose, I’d do anything you want!” The Chosen declared confidently with crossed arms.

“You didn’t hear anything at all, did you?” Mithosl hid a smile and shook his head; his ex-mentor hasn’t been mentor for nothing, and as ingenious as their newest human member might be, he still had, without doubt, much to learn.

“Just don’t end up eating your words, Chosen. We’ll remember them.”

Funny how Kratos actually didn't say a thing; aw well. His voice won't be missed.

“Hah! I won’t!”

Mithos Yggdrasill had to force himself to not unleash an evil cackle; this would definitively prove itself to be very entertaining.

The almighty leader of Cruxis idly asked himself when was the last time he had so much fun WATCHING from the sidelines as he laughed out loud as Zelos, a forced frown on his face, was finally forced to trash his cards and acknowledge, most unwillingly, humiliating defeat.

Kratos didn’t look any different than when they first started; Mithos, however, knew the man enough to know that he wasn’t the only one amused.

Actually, so did Zelos, but he was busy trying hard to ignore that detail.

“So, Chosen, your prediction revealed itself to be false, or so it seems,” the blond sang.

“…Hey, it WAS a close one. We’ve had 5 straight rounds of ties and he won by a HAIR,” the Chosen in question objected.

“Aren’t Royal Flushes supposed to be rare, though?” Mithos put on his most innocent smile.

“I was ONE CARD away to have one myself,” Zelos snarled in reply as he flipped his own hand, showing a Flush of Hearts- he was indeed one ace away. “He just lucked out with the Ace of Spades.”

“So You have to do whatever he tells you now, right?” The blond was seriously too excited for his own good.

“I would request kindly for my most esteemed leader to shut up, seeing that I played his subordinate and not the great Cruxis Leader himself.”

Mithos laughed; Zelos was definitively the most entertaining human he’s ever met.

“…”

“So pops, what’s your request going to be?”

Kratos blinked. Zelos would have growled (and then facepalmed); just what was it with his utter indifference?

“Oh, do what you will. I did request staking after the match, did I not? You’re free to choose.”

“Wha- Oh you are NOT going to give ME your pity!” The redhead shouted, standing up as he slammed a fist down onto the table.

Mithos had to hold back a giggle. Kratos raised an eyebrow.

“I stand by what I said, dude; yeah yeah, I lost. But you can keep your pity for yourself. What do you want me to do?”

Kratos had that vapid ‘I really don’t know what you're talking about’ look on his face – it only served to enrage Zelos further – as he turned to Mithos with a questioning air.

“Oh, you shouldn’t hold back, sensei; I think you should take up the boy on his offer.” ...Would that kid EVER stop with that disturbing smile.

“Hey, who you calling ‘boy’, twerp?” Zelos shot back, getting a distinct impression of dealing with a much crazier and evil version of Genis – perhaps it was high time for him to start being grateful for the fact that he was traveling with a 5-star cook of a mage instead of a 4-thousand years old crazy half-elven kid set on world domination.

Kratos ignored that. “Exactly what would you think I might need that he could offer?” He asked blandly, still looking as dry as always.

...Sure, there was Aionis. But honestly, this was a pretty bad time to bring that up.

Looking up, he met the younger redhead's glance; the Chosen was still a smart one, and instantly picked it up. The reaction he got was all but too clear.

Fortunately, Mithos was much too busy being amused to notice. Zelos mentally grunted. Hmph, he really should expect as much from the old man – old, yes, but definitively not so stupid to be beyond absolute help.

The half-elf’s eyes, however, were still lit with mirth. “This isn’t the time to be shy, sensei! Say something!”

Said sensei bought his hand to his temple. “…If I didn’t know any better, Lord Yggdrasill, I’d say that you want this far more than I would,” he sighed. This predicament is indeed without precedent.

“You don’t have to be so formal, Kratos! I’m quite enjoying this!”

“At our expenses?” Zelos retorts, starting to feel left out. It almost hurt. Almost.

“Hm then, I trust you'd have no objections if I say something in his stead?” Mithos replies, smirking at Zelos.

The redhead looked up with annoyance; this whole charade was starting to get ridiculous (admittedly, if he ignored the fact that it was kinda ridiculous to begin with). What could the kid possibly suggest?

Kratos sighed. “Do what you see fit, milord.”

No ‘your wish is our command’? Zelos resisted the urge to raise a brow himself, but still seconded the notion. “Go ahead, o great leader of Cruxis; the Chosen of Tethe’Alla awaits his sentence," he rolled his eyes.

“Stay on Derris-Kharlan tonight; with your ‘friends’ currently idling in Altamira, your absence won’t be questioned.”

Zelos frowned. Suddenly his sixth sense was screaming out alarms all over the place. “...What for?”

“...You know, I think you’ve been right on one thing; Kratos IS getting old,” the blond smiled. It felt even more evil than before. ...What the heck did he got himself into? Again?

“You mean you JUST noticed?” Zelos snorted, playing along despite the sudden feeling of 'NOT GOOD' prickling him all over. ...So maybe Mithos occasionally picked on him; but at least he wasn’t alone, and nothing could describe the absolute WIN of seeing the kid doing the same – to Kratos. Maybe he'll hear him out...

“So why don’t you do him – us all, actually – a favor, and try things people around your age would do with him? ”

Mithos might as well have been high on something and just used Indignation Judgment in their faces, if nothing else. Zelos had to swallow hard to not look suspicious and Kratos was, apparently, still getting a kick out of acting like a rock.

“…Excuse me, milord?”

“You heard me.”

Zelos had to blink HARD in order to convince himself that Mithos Yggdrasill did NOT just wiggle his eyebrows at him.

“…Elaborate?”

Ogod. Do I even want to KNOW? This kid’s even nuttier than I gave him credit for!

“Aren’t you good at these? I mean, the entire of Cruxis knows that you’re not too fond of my advisor and often complains on his aged attitude, so why not seize this opportunity to teach HIM for a change what you do in your spare time? Perhaps your joviality will succeed in making him act younger,” Mithos continued.

And then they were both greeted by a grin that was absolutely angelic.

Zelos could do very little but gape at him. Are his ears working properly?!

“…Lord Yggdrasill, I must objec-”

“Now now, didn’t you willingly leave this in my capable hands? I think you two will do fine; I’m sure Lloyd will be pleased as well if you two were ever to get along; he seemed disappointed every time you frown upon his mention,” the blond half-elf turned towards Zelos instead – still grinning, surprise surprise – and shoved a thumb in his mentor’s direction.

Zelos scoffed. Loudly. This can't be right. “Soon all this would hardly matter; that’s just a lame excuse!”

Mithos chuckled. “As utterly tantalizing it is to watch you two bicker, I have to note that I deserve at least this much say when most of your verbal confrontations occur under MY very presence,” the boy went on, eyes shining with dazzling mischief.

Kratos sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Zelos slipped a bit in his chair.

“You did lose, Zelos. And Kratos DID allow me to choose something for him. And that’s only excluding my authority over you both as supreme leader of Cruxis. I think it’s clear, isn’t it? ♥”

He did NOT just use a heart. Only I'm allowed to do that! The redhead raged.

But instead, Zelos facepalmed. “Thanks for keeping your mouth shut, pops.”

Kratos snorted. Any other time, Zelos would have made fun of it. “Supposedly you were good with bargains; I should ask YOU why you suddenly opted to be quiet.”

“I’m not going to haggle with a psychotic brat with too much power under his pinky for his own good, EVEN if it meant having to be involved with you,” the redhead retorted, blatantly displeased.

Kratos coughed. “I suppose that’s true.”

Mithos laughed out loud; it’s been more than 2 thousand years since he’d last been talked of as if he wasn’t there, in his face, no less.

“Well then, it’s getting late,” the blond singsonged.

“...Indeed. What would you have us do, Lord Yggdrasill?”

Zelos almost fell out of his chair. How OBLIVIOUS is the guy? He CAN’T be worse than LLOYD, of all people! His lord Yggdrasill was QUITE clear in his undertone; what was there to wonder about?!

Mithos laughed out even LOUDER this time around, going so far as needing to hold onto the table for support as he stood up and turned around. He knew exactly what Kratos was trying to pull; it was just that much more fun to see Zelos misinterpret it and dear MARTERL INDEED that expression was priceless. He also did not recall the last time such a hilarious line sounded from Kratos’ mouth.

Still chortling with undisguised mirth, the elven blond proceeded to adopt his adult form and casually floated his way to the automatic doors. He then stopped and turned around, looking back at the redheads with one eye as he tilted his head sideways.

“...Iunno, ever heard of strip poker? You have a lot of belts lying around in your closet too, don't you? I'm sure both of you will come up with something!” Yggdrasill winked, for sure this time, as he FINALLY left the room.

Zelos loudly bought his forehead down onto the table.

“Owwwww…”

“…Are you alright?”

“Why the FUCK did you have to ask that?”

“It was worth a shot; perhaps he was insinuating something else.”

“…Er, no? If anything, we might have gotten away with it EASIER if he stayed vague; I could have slept in your room and that might have been enough to get us off the hook. But NO, you had to open your mouth and make him SPECIFY. I hope you’re proud of yourself, pops.”

“You do realize that he would know, either way? If we pretend to misinterpret his words, he would only come after you with the pretext that you have not fulfilled your end of the deal, as much as it would alleviate thing for us in our current predicament? ”

“…”

“You can’t possibly tell me he’d watch us.”

“I would not put it pass him.”

“…And you say this because…”

They stared at each other.

Zelos slammed his forehead in his palm. “You can’t be serious.”

“…Me?”

“Forget I said anything. Anything. At. All.”

The next few minutes were spent in utter silence.

“…”

“Do you really hate me all that much?”

“Ugggh. Do you need to ask?”

“I suppose not. Though I would expect you to object louder.”

“… Remember what I said? Psychotic brat with too much power?”

“I suppose.”

“Stop saying that. You got any alcohol in this place? I want to be drunk. REAL drunk.”

“I’m afraid that we can’t accommodate that. Here we are.”

Oh look, his room. …Great.

Zelos had to mentally slap himself – hard – in order to snap out of his current state of blatant sulkiness in order to try this with another approach.

He sank into a couch.

“...Where the heck did you learn to play Poker so well? I know for a fact none of us had the chance to cheat,” he asks with narrowed eyes.

It was a welcomed subject change for both.

“Honestly, it was a way to get money during the war; does it surprise you to know that all Cruxis Seraphim know how to play Poker?”

Zelos stared at him with utter disbelief.

“…YES, I THINK I would have appreciated it if I was told.”

“...But you were so confident.”

“Oh, just shut up. … You’re the best, I take it?”

“Mithos prefers to watch. Yuan hates losing so we never play.”

Zelos snorted. “Why am I not surprised?” He sank further into the piece of not so uncomfortable furniture before taking a look around; there was no dust, and everything seemed pretty neat.

“…You have a deck here?”

“…?”

“I want a rematch.”

“…”

“You heard me.”

“It didn’t turn out well the last time you tried laying down stakes.”

“No, but at least we’re not being watched.”

“…”

“I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE THINKING. SHUT UP. …Not directly, anyway. And that’s that.”

“…”

“Stop laughing at me.”

“I said nothing.”

“Hypocrite,” Zelos snarls, getting out of the couch to settle on the edge of the bed; it was actually much softer than he’d imagined. His face did nothing to hide that.

“Why are you shocked?”

“Dude, I’d think you’d sleep on STEEL. Spikes wouldn’t surprise me either, now that I think about it.”

“… I am still human.”

“Yeah? I would have never guessed. Anyway, at least this time around we’ll be forced to play for something more specific.”

“Indeed.”

“And I suppose we’ll stake out the additional after we sort out the winner,” he hissed.

The shadow of a smile on the older man’s lips only made him more upset.

“You will find yourself in quite the predicament if you play – and bargain – the same way you did before; that I’ll say now.”

“STFU. Remember what I said? Blond psychotic brats? I don’t bargain with these. Emo grandpa stalkers, however, are of an entirely different matter,” Zelos venomously retorted, cracking his knuckles as he glared up like a pissed kitten.

Chuckling lightly now, the said grandpa produced a deck from the nightstand before settling down himself near the bed's headboard.

“And JUST before you say anything else with that smartass mouth of yours, YES, overconfidence MAY lead to carelessness, but ALSO, I don’t GIVE A DAMN, because MY philosophy is whatever will be, will be, and I DARE believe Lady Luck’s smart enough to pick me over you – after all, I can’t picture anyone blind enough to do the reverse.”

...Except Lloyd. He’s just stupid. And nobody will ever hear this.

Kratos was trying very hard – and succeeding very admirably – to not laugh. Zelos doesn’t seem to notice, which was probably a very good thing.

“Now give me the cards. I’m dealing the first round.”

“As you wish.”

“Im case you haven’t heard, I SAID, STOP LAUGHING AT ME.”

“…But I-”

A few floors and dozen corridors away, Mithos Yggdrasill was laughing his pointy elven ears off as his fingers seemed to have accidentally trailed over to the RECORD button of the master monitor – the very instant when the Chosen of Tethe’Alla pounced, in a very impressive imitation of a cub, onto his more or less suspecting sword mentor.

The gleeful leader of Cruxis briefly considered, for a very brief instant, the technical advantages such a footage might provide: he could blackmail the pair, but they were already under his thumb. He could kidnap Lloyd and make him watch it in hopes of causing brain damage, but the boy would probably fail to understand the least bit of what’s going on. He could ALSO leave it on Yuan’s desk and then watch HIS reaction for FURTHER laughs, but his fellow half elf was never around and Yuan’s been a prick for the last few centuries.

Or… Nah, maybe he should just keep this for himself. It was, after all, probably going to turn out to be a very entertaining video.

With an expression of utter, heavenly amusement, the blond got up from his chair, and for the first time, wondered if they left any food or drink on the planet/mass of mana: if that’s how it results every single time, then he should seriously interfere in their business more often – not to mention start getting them to bring this thing called ‘popcorn’ on Derris Kharlan. Humans are such an entertaining race, and it certainly helped his boredom’s cause that he’s got a pair with such a fascination relationship under his hands.

Yes, indeed; he should definitively try this more often.

Nice to Meet You || Zelos & Kratos

2008-06-06T02:40:48Z

Title: Nice to Meet You
Fandom: ToS
Characters: Mainly Zelos. Kratos, Yggdrasill
Time: Various. Pre-game on Derris-Karlan, and then jumps to end-game. Zelos is in his twenties.
Spoilers: Zelos' alternate ending.
Genre: General, oneshot
Length: Roughly 2k words.
Summary: Lord Yggdrasil thought that it would be good to introduce his human lackeys to each other, and hence Zelos and Kratos meet for the first time on Derris Kharlan.
Additional Notes: Story-wise, Yggdrasill knows about Lloyd and that he might be the cause for his demise in the future. He is not pressed to find him, for he is unsure of the boy's location and he is currently harmless anyway. Also almost a total re-write of my first fic concerning the redhead pair, complete with a different ending. Originally done in 2006.

The first time they met was about a few couple thousand feet above ground, in a counselling chamber on Derris-Kharlan.

Zelos disliked him at first glance.

The man was of above average build and a few inches taller than him, with cold, earthy eyes and messy auburn hair. He was clad in tight lavender and a lone scabbard hung on his left side, holding a blade of blaze that was, without doubt, as sharp as his eyes. With an aura of no-nonsense, the man could have easily passed for a general of the Imperial Guard, and rather normal... that is, had he not had that sickening feeling of artificial superiority that Zelos would classify amongst the most snobbish nobles of Meltokio.

Which wasn’t really a good start. …And for that matter, neither was Zelos proven wrong.

“Ah, Kratos. I’m so glad you could make it, unlike some other supposed ‘friend’ I have. Do sit down; we have a guest among us today, and much business to discuss,” Yggdrasill began, voice dripping with hollow pleasantries. That, at least, both magic swordsmen could easily tell.

“So Yuan is off scheming again?” The ‘Kratos’ in question asked, his expression aloof and indifferent as he ignored the chair, standing and glancing past Zelos as if he didn’t exist.

Nice.

Arrogant.

“Call it as you will, he won’t be joining us today. But that is of little consequence, for we have other things to talk about. First, I’d like to you to meet someone.” The blond Seraph nodded at Zelos and smiled(that was one creepy smile) as the latter stood up.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of him. The child is Zelos Wilder, 7th Chosen of the Mana Lineage of Tethe’Alla.”

Zelos nodded, and as a lifetime of training of Meltokio court manners taught him, he ignored the “child” comment, walked up to the other Seraph, and extended his hand.

“Zelos Wilder, and all he said,” he grinned and glanced back at Yggdrasill, trying to lighten the atmosphere as he coated his own voice with artificial sweetness.

Just like the way he always did every time he stepped into the Meltokio Castle.

“Nice to meet you.”

Kratos simply stared at him as his expression seemed to have changed for a split second, and finally – it might as well have been an eternity – took the handshake… with a hesitant squeeze.

“…Kratos Aurion, Seraph of Cruxis. The pleasure is mine.”

A stare of passive recognition, and a handshake of thinly veiled contempt.

Liar.

“So what exactly is he needed for? Is it not on Sylvarant’s Chosen whom we should concentrate on?” Kratos inquired.

The redhead had to exert immense self-control right then and there, to keep on grinning like the idiot everyone always told him that he was.

If you really think someone else is USELESS, then at LEAST do everyone a favor and just come out and say it. He could take a few straightforward comments – the Pope threw them around all the time. Trying to blur it further is just plain STUPID – feel important about yourself all you want, but even the flirtatious Chosen of Tethe’Alla had some basic dignities he must maintain, especially towards bigger assholes.

Self-centered.

“He has made an interesting proposition to me,” Yggdrasill smiled; it was just as creepy as the first time. “You see, Zelos here doesn’t like the idea of being a Chosen. He would like me to transfer the power to his sister, and in exchange, he would keep us updated on the whole of Tethe’Alla.”

Kratos frowned. “But we have no need of updates. It is Sylvarant that we need to focus on, and if you require anything from the flourishing world, I could leave at any time.” He turned to Zelos, his expression suddenly alert and serious. “And why do you wish so adamantly to have your title transferred?”

“That’s none of your business,” Zelos almost snarled.

“But you do reali-” Kratos was about to speak again when Yggdrasill abruptly coughed and cut him off. And at that moment, when their eyes met, something must have passed; did that just actually shut the arrogant asshole off?

“I realize what?” Zelos frowned, fully aware that whatever that Kratos was going to say, as totally irritating (understatement) as the man might be, was definitely something important and very relevant.

The Seraph lowered his eyes. “…”

“What? What is it? You started something, now finish it!” Zelos stood up, feeling the first specks of growing anger.

“Enough. Chosen, sit down.”

The redhead blinked. He would have loved to ignore the comment and go on, but it was the look in the blond Seraph’s eyes that finally sat him back down. …Wonder what’s eating him.

Yggdrasill coughed faintly for pure rhetoric, and subtly gave his subordinate a glare before moving on; looks like he SHOULD have had a talk with Kratos before this after all. …Well, they’ve come so far; he’ll manage. The conversation was just steering into sensitive areas about information that he had no intent whatsoever to let the Chosen know, and he had to stop it before it went too far by picking up where Kratos left earlier.

“I’m aware of that,” he replied, referring to the man’s earlier comment, “but he is known, and you are not. Thus he possesses easier access to information and would prove to be more efficient,” the leader of Cruxis continued, turning around to face his companion of old as he narrowed his eyes. “And do I need to remind you as well that I cannot bring myself to trust you as much for foreign affairs as I used to?”

Kratos’ answering gaze was even, but he nevertheless lowered his head in submission. “As you wish, milord.”

“And do not forget, that we WILL have interferences in the future, interferences which we know of and cannot prevent. There will be pests that will find their way from Sylvarant to Tethe’Alla, and by then, I will need information. Information from another reliable source, and you are not to talk, especially since you yourself played a major role in the creation of said interference. That is why you are to listen to me, and in compensation of its creation, you will, under my command, fully contribute to its destruction. Do you understand me?” The almighty leader of Cruxis folded his fingers and said, with a voice that was but all too sweet and misleading.

A short silence.

“…Yes, milord.”

Ohoho, someone’s finally shut up. Getting chewed by your boss? Where’s that arrogance now? Or course, that’s how hierarchy works; you gotta be careful to not step on the wrong toes, especially twice, from the sounds of it. Isn’t that right, now?

Stuck-up.

Zelos, on his side, was getting tired of all this crap and being treated as if he was not even there, as entertaining as watching the two Seraph argue the finer points of whatever they were planning might be. “So why did you bring us here?” He finally spoke up again, having made an effort to not make his voice sound too dry.

“Ah, for that… I was simply thinking that when the time comes, you two might need to work together. So I thought that it might be good to introduce you to one another just to make future missions smoother,” Yggdrasill answered, suddenly all calm and happy as if his earlier confrontation with his subordinate never happened. And again, that creepy smile. Moving on…

Both men turned around to face each other.

It was then that they locked eyes, and Zelos decided it was then that he should let the opposite side know just exactly what his opinion of him was.

“Ah. Then I… look forward to it,” he gave him the sweetest and most venomous glare he could muster, a stare packed with his own version of arrogance, deceit and contempt as he coated his honeyed voice with thinly-veiled hatred.

“The feeling is mutual,” the Seraph answered, obviously playing the ignorant – really, how much does it take for you to just say ‘alright, you’re useless, you can go home now?’ SHEESH.

“Just… Do be careful.”

The last line caught Zelos completely off guard, but what was even more baffling was the answering gaze that accompanied the reply. The cold brown eyes lost their passivity as they softened, for a split second, to let through things that Zelos completely failed to understand. Later on, he would simply assume that he was dreaming and the last line was never heard, and only recall his hatred for a man, a man of arrogance, a man that was only there to do another’s bidding without second thought, a man who only cared about his own stature and nothing else.

They did not part on good terms. Well at least, Zelos certainly did not.

It was only some years later, as he’d be laying lazily in one of the couches back at the mansion, staring emptily at the ceiling, that his mind would wander back, and only then would he be able to make some sense out of just what the heck was their first encounter all about.

It was only then that he’d fully understand the meaning of that gaze, a split-second gaze of comprehension mingled with strands of sorrow. Understanding of what Zelos will have to do, the choices he will have to face and the rejection he must confront. Sorrow of the unneeded sacrifice, of Yggdrasill’s deceit, and of a premature death of a perfectly able youth who still had so much to live for. For back then, the ex-Seraph already knew about what would happen in the Chosen’s future. One that Zelos himself probably knew as well, but always chose to ignore. Ignorance was a blessing, after all.

After all, like all others on Yggdrasill’s side, he was only a pawn. A dispensable pawn destined to die carrying the hollow title of “Chosen” down to the grave, for he later learned that even the leader of Cruxis had no power whatsoever over a title that’s been passed down by fate and blood, from one generation to another… even if it did almost cost him his own life to find that tidbit out.

So that was what Kratos was trying to tell him at the beginning. Seems like Zelos, who used to be always so right, has been wrong judging someone by first impression, for once, after all.

Because really, who’d expect the one person whose name you always snarled at to come and save you just when you were about ready to pull off a spectacular exit, faked and assisted suicide or not?

…

But in the end, hasn't it turned out for the best... sort of?

“You raised your hand against Lloyd.”

“It wasn’t the first time that happened.”

“You saved me when I had no reason to live.”

“Do you not have one now? If not for yourself, at least for your friends.”

“That’s questi-”

“And your sister.”

“…Get out of my life, pops. Nobody likes stalkers.”

“I’ll take that as a confirmation, then.”

“…I hate you.”

“It’s nice to see that nothing’s changed, Chosen.”

“System’s been demolished, hello? Call me Zelos.”

“As you wish, Zelos.”

“…Just shut up, man. Didn’t you have to like, leave or something?”

“…Yes, I do. Take care, then.”

“Stop being nice. You’re creeping me out.”

“Chuckle.”

And so he left.

…Heh, maybe he’ll be missed.

Maybe.