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Wow, I can't believe that I forgot to post these. Apologies D:
Title: Oraciòn
Author: kanthia
Pairings/Characters: Regal Bryant, Lloyd Irving
Prompt: Regal - "If I could change one thing, I would..."
Rating: G
Warnings: Spoilers for Regal's and Lloyd's pasts
It took Regal a week until he could visit Alicia again. When he finally stumbled out of the elevator to the pristine garden on the roof of Altamira his eyes were already heavy with tears, his knees weak, his body limp. He stumbled through the flowers- why were there pink ones, he told George to get rid of them all- and collapsed by the horrible flat gravestone and wept.
But salt water would corrupt her beautiful corpse; he still clung to the ridiculous notion that the woman with green hair and dark eyes would make good with her promise and give her back to him. So he dried his bloodshot eyes, picking himself up, brushing the dirt off his pants and adjusting his shirt.
“If I could change one thing,” he whispered, “I would bring you back.”
x x x
He let himself be taken in with little fuss. He was more than guilty of manslaughter; he had done it knowingly and while of a sane mind. He was a murderer.
His only protest was when George handed the Palpal Knights a substantial amount of money and a note. Regal had vehemently opposed this immoral concealing of his identity, but George silenced his protests with a wave of his hand. Master Regal was not thinking logically, he had said. If his identity is not hidden, he will have no company, no home to return to when these matters were dealt with.
It seemed unfair. He never wanted to go back to Altamira again.
But he languished in his cell nonetheless. Used to the life that comes naturally to the wealthy, the tiny piece of hell afforded to him was slowly driving him mad. The walls were constantly that unchanging brown, constantly dripping, and he was certain the smell of mould was strong enough to germinate fungus in his brain. The cries at night, the screams, the moans of the living and the groaning of the newly deceased. The handcuffs chafed and left angry red marks on his wrists. It was a small consolation.
“If I could change one thing,” he would say each night, his hands chained but with enough give between them to pray, “I would bring you back.”
x x x
The Gaoracchia Forest was dark and damp and yet a refreshing interlude from his cell. The Chosen’s Party would be arriving at any moment; he took a deep breath to calm his wild heart and contemplated suicide.
He had no idea as to exactly why he was to kill the girl and stall her party until the Papal Knights arrived. There was a promise that somehow Martel would forgive him for both murders if he completed this act- not that he believed in Martel anymore, but perhaps by doing this he would be able to save himself.
He could hear them now, racing as though they had somewhere to be. Someone was shouting. Someone else was on the verge of tears. And then there was the sudden realization that there was no difference between killing Colette and killing Alicia. It was enough to make him pause, a chill corrupting his skin, his wrists burning with the deliverance of judgment. It’s enough to ensure his loss.
“If I could change one thing…” he murmured as he prepared to jump, but he couldn’t finish.
x x x
Lloyd did not drink wine. It was less a conscious choice and more a quality of his character; there was still a bright-eyed boy in him, even after everything that had happened.
Still, he left a bottle out on the table between them as they sat on his patio overlooking the city he had built with his own hands. The scent of charred angel feathers carried faintly from the direction of New Ozette, and for the first time in longer than he could remember, he was happy.
“It’s a good world,” he suddenly said despite his better judgement. Lloyd turned in his direction.
“Yeah.” The boy turned his gaze back towards the city. “It’s a good world, and it’s all ours.”
“Not perfect, but almost there.” He reached for his wine glass, still half full.
“Not perfect?” There was an unconscious hint of a challenge in his voice. It came from his father. “So, if you could change one thing, what would it be?”
There was a long silence. When Lloyd looked towards Regal, he found the man smiling, his eyes shining with tears.
One thing? Eons ago, when he was half the man he was now, every waking moment (and many of the ones spent asleep) was spent in the futile longing for his previous answer. But if there was one thing the little boy from Iselia taught him with his open arms and carefree smile, it was that the future was a better bet than the past.
“Nothing,” he said finally.
Title: Oraciòn
Author: kanthia
Pairings/Characters: Regal Bryant, Lloyd Irving
Prompt: Regal - "If I could change one thing, I would..."
Rating: G
Warnings: Spoilers for Regal's and Lloyd's pasts
It took Regal a week until he could visit Alicia again. When he finally stumbled out of the elevator to the pristine garden on the roof of Altamira his eyes were already heavy with tears, his knees weak, his body limp. He stumbled through the flowers- why were there pink ones, he told George to get rid of them all- and collapsed by the horrible flat gravestone and wept.
But salt water would corrupt her beautiful corpse; he still clung to the ridiculous notion that the woman with green hair and dark eyes would make good with her promise and give her back to him. So he dried his bloodshot eyes, picking himself up, brushing the dirt off his pants and adjusting his shirt.
“If I could change one thing,” he whispered, “I would bring you back.”
x x x
He let himself be taken in with little fuss. He was more than guilty of manslaughter; he had done it knowingly and while of a sane mind. He was a murderer.
His only protest was when George handed the Palpal Knights a substantial amount of money and a note. Regal had vehemently opposed this immoral concealing of his identity, but George silenced his protests with a wave of his hand. Master Regal was not thinking logically, he had said. If his identity is not hidden, he will have no company, no home to return to when these matters were dealt with.
It seemed unfair. He never wanted to go back to Altamira again.
But he languished in his cell nonetheless. Used to the life that comes naturally to the wealthy, the tiny piece of hell afforded to him was slowly driving him mad. The walls were constantly that unchanging brown, constantly dripping, and he was certain the smell of mould was strong enough to germinate fungus in his brain. The cries at night, the screams, the moans of the living and the groaning of the newly deceased. The handcuffs chafed and left angry red marks on his wrists. It was a small consolation.
“If I could change one thing,” he would say each night, his hands chained but with enough give between them to pray, “I would bring you back.”
x x x
The Gaoracchia Forest was dark and damp and yet a refreshing interlude from his cell. The Chosen’s Party would be arriving at any moment; he took a deep breath to calm his wild heart and contemplated suicide.
He had no idea as to exactly why he was to kill the girl and stall her party until the Papal Knights arrived. There was a promise that somehow Martel would forgive him for both murders if he completed this act- not that he believed in Martel anymore, but perhaps by doing this he would be able to save himself.
He could hear them now, racing as though they had somewhere to be. Someone was shouting. Someone else was on the verge of tears. And then there was the sudden realization that there was no difference between killing Colette and killing Alicia. It was enough to make him pause, a chill corrupting his skin, his wrists burning with the deliverance of judgment. It’s enough to ensure his loss.
“If I could change one thing…” he murmured as he prepared to jump, but he couldn’t finish.
x x x
Lloyd did not drink wine. It was less a conscious choice and more a quality of his character; there was still a bright-eyed boy in him, even after everything that had happened.
Still, he left a bottle out on the table between them as they sat on his patio overlooking the city he had built with his own hands. The scent of charred angel feathers carried faintly from the direction of New Ozette, and for the first time in longer than he could remember, he was happy.
“It’s a good world,” he suddenly said despite his better judgement. Lloyd turned in his direction.
“Yeah.” The boy turned his gaze back towards the city. “It’s a good world, and it’s all ours.”
“Not perfect, but almost there.” He reached for his wine glass, still half full.
“Not perfect?” There was an unconscious hint of a challenge in his voice. It came from his father. “So, if you could change one thing, what would it be?”
There was a long silence. When Lloyd looked towards Regal, he found the man smiling, his eyes shining with tears.
One thing? Eons ago, when he was half the man he was now, every waking moment (and many of the ones spent asleep) was spent in the futile longing for his previous answer. But if there was one thing the little boy from Iselia taught him with his open arms and carefree smile, it was that the future was a better bet than the past.
“Nothing,” he said finally.