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rose_in_winterCharacters/Pairings: Delita/Ovelia
Rating: PG
Contains: Endgame spoilers
Notes: Written for the December 2010 round ofareyougame
Wordcount: 873
Summary: Ovelia sees the dead in her dreams.
Beta: None
Delita had at least the grace to tell her of Agrias's death in private. It is not mercy, or at least she does not think it is; he can ill afford to have the Queen weeping at the news of her only true friend's death in the midst of the court, especially when Agrias has been branded a traitor and a heretic. He tells her in private, and times it so that she will have much of the day to grieve by herself, not having to face the strained and silent relief of Captain Oaks upon hearing that the disgrace to his family tree is properly dead.
She weeps until she can weep no more, and pounds the pillows with her fists between sobs. Agrias had stood loyal guard by her side, had defended her from threats political and physical, and ultimately Ovelia knows it is well that Agrias stayed with Ramza, but she misses her, and knows herself to now be without true allies. Delita is kind, in his fashion, but she is a method to legitimacy and knows herself as such.
How horribly amusing, that the path to rulership acclaimed and acknowledged winds through the bed of a false princess.
When she appears at dinner that night, her maid has masked the stains of tears with cosmetics. She is polite and gracious, if not joyous, and it seems to suffice. She does her duty in the dining room, and later in the bed. When Delita has fallen asleep, she lies awake for hours, fretting over the things she cannot control.
She sleeps poorly, and when she sleeps, she dreams. In the first dream, Agrias appears to her as one drowned, with fish-pale face and bulging eyes, seawater dripping from her tattered clothes. "I have failed you," she says, in a hoarse bubbling whisper, to which Ovelia shakes her head.
The next time, she dreams of Agrias with a gaping crimson wound across her throat, and blood soaking her tunic. "He uses you," Agrias says, and Ovelia can only nod.
Delita comments more than once on her pallor, and sends a white mage to attend her. The white mage has trained in black magic and she uses Sleep to force her into dreamless surcease; after the first time, Ovelia stops to purchase a Protect Ring while she is out shopping. It lies innocuous on her hand, and she closes her eyes and feigns repose until the mage leaves, her duty satisfied.
She dreams of Agrias, hanging from the gallows at Golgorand, face blackened and limbs limp like a doll's. "You were born to this," says the crow that lands to peck out her eyes.
"Not this," Ovelia protests, and the sound she makes in her sleep awakens Delita.
The white mage does not return.
Delita is solicitous, and Ovelia wonders if he will let her live after she produces his heir. She is losing weight, and goes through her day as though in a daze. Delita does not need her to run the government; as her role is primarily decorative, she is not required. She keeps to her rooms, save for when she must be in public for appearances' sake.
The weeks go by, and the dreams do not stop. "He lied to you," says Agrias with a crossbow quarrel protruding from her heart. "'Tis neither your birth nor your faith that wronged you, but men. Men like him."
Ovelia is mute in reply.
The next night, she is bruised and battered beyond recognition; her swollen face slurs her words. "You can stop this," Agrias tells her.
A raven screams in the distance.
Ovelia's lips feel wooden. "How?" she asks.
"I taught you enough," Agrias says.
"He uses you," the raven caws.
The crow pecks at Agrias's eyes.
"Finish it," Agrias says.
When Ovelia wakes, it is with a sense of purpose that she has been lacking ere now.
It is her birthday. Perhaps there is fitting symbolism in that.
She garbs herself with care, and bids her maid do her best. She goes to the ruins of the chapel to pray for them, or so she tells her guards. She hears the footsteps of Delita's chocobo, and knows it must be now. Within the folds of her gown, she holds a dagger. Agrias taught her the use of it, because Ovelia insisted. All things have a purpose.
"I thought I might find you here," Delita says. "Everyone has been looking for you." He dismounts.
Ovelia turns to face him, and sees the flowers in his hands. He smiles at her, the awkward smile that he seems to use only for her. "Today is your birthday, is it not? I brought you—"
It must be now.
His blood is startlingly warm on her hands.
"O-Ovelia?" He seems genuinely shocked as he staggers back.
She is near tears. "How could you? You...you used them, and all the others! And someday you'll cast me aside, just as you did him!"
She thinks she might see regret in his eyes, before he plucks out the dagger and drives it into her heart.
She feels his arms around her, surprisingly gentle, as the light fades, and hopes Agrias is not too angry with her failure.
Rating: PG
Contains: Endgame spoilers
Notes: Written for the December 2010 round of
areyougameWordcount: 873
Summary: Ovelia sees the dead in her dreams.
Beta: None
Delita had at least the grace to tell her of Agrias's death in private. It is not mercy, or at least she does not think it is; he can ill afford to have the Queen weeping at the news of her only true friend's death in the midst of the court, especially when Agrias has been branded a traitor and a heretic. He tells her in private, and times it so that she will have much of the day to grieve by herself, not having to face the strained and silent relief of Captain Oaks upon hearing that the disgrace to his family tree is properly dead.
She weeps until she can weep no more, and pounds the pillows with her fists between sobs. Agrias had stood loyal guard by her side, had defended her from threats political and physical, and ultimately Ovelia knows it is well that Agrias stayed with Ramza, but she misses her, and knows herself to now be without true allies. Delita is kind, in his fashion, but she is a method to legitimacy and knows herself as such.
How horribly amusing, that the path to rulership acclaimed and acknowledged winds through the bed of a false princess.
When she appears at dinner that night, her maid has masked the stains of tears with cosmetics. She is polite and gracious, if not joyous, and it seems to suffice. She does her duty in the dining room, and later in the bed. When Delita has fallen asleep, she lies awake for hours, fretting over the things she cannot control.
She sleeps poorly, and when she sleeps, she dreams. In the first dream, Agrias appears to her as one drowned, with fish-pale face and bulging eyes, seawater dripping from her tattered clothes. "I have failed you," she says, in a hoarse bubbling whisper, to which Ovelia shakes her head.
The next time, she dreams of Agrias with a gaping crimson wound across her throat, and blood soaking her tunic. "He uses you," Agrias says, and Ovelia can only nod.
Delita comments more than once on her pallor, and sends a white mage to attend her. The white mage has trained in black magic and she uses Sleep to force her into dreamless surcease; after the first time, Ovelia stops to purchase a Protect Ring while she is out shopping. It lies innocuous on her hand, and she closes her eyes and feigns repose until the mage leaves, her duty satisfied.
She dreams of Agrias, hanging from the gallows at Golgorand, face blackened and limbs limp like a doll's. "You were born to this," says the crow that lands to peck out her eyes.
"Not this," Ovelia protests, and the sound she makes in her sleep awakens Delita.
The white mage does not return.
Delita is solicitous, and Ovelia wonders if he will let her live after she produces his heir. She is losing weight, and goes through her day as though in a daze. Delita does not need her to run the government; as her role is primarily decorative, she is not required. She keeps to her rooms, save for when she must be in public for appearances' sake.
The weeks go by, and the dreams do not stop. "He lied to you," says Agrias with a crossbow quarrel protruding from her heart. "'Tis neither your birth nor your faith that wronged you, but men. Men like him."
Ovelia is mute in reply.
The next night, she is bruised and battered beyond recognition; her swollen face slurs her words. "You can stop this," Agrias tells her.
A raven screams in the distance.
Ovelia's lips feel wooden. "How?" she asks.
"I taught you enough," Agrias says.
"He uses you," the raven caws.
The crow pecks at Agrias's eyes.
"Finish it," Agrias says.
When Ovelia wakes, it is with a sense of purpose that she has been lacking ere now.
It is her birthday. Perhaps there is fitting symbolism in that.
She garbs herself with care, and bids her maid do her best. She goes to the ruins of the chapel to pray for them, or so she tells her guards. She hears the footsteps of Delita's chocobo, and knows it must be now. Within the folds of her gown, she holds a dagger. Agrias taught her the use of it, because Ovelia insisted. All things have a purpose.
"I thought I might find you here," Delita says. "Everyone has been looking for you." He dismounts.
Ovelia turns to face him, and sees the flowers in his hands. He smiles at her, the awkward smile that he seems to use only for her. "Today is your birthday, is it not? I brought you—"
It must be now.
His blood is startlingly warm on her hands.
"O-Ovelia?" He seems genuinely shocked as he staggers back.
She is near tears. "How could you? You...you used them, and all the others! And someday you'll cast me aside, just as you did him!"
She thinks she might see regret in his eyes, before he plucks out the dagger and drives it into her heart.
She feels his arms around her, surprisingly gentle, as the light fades, and hopes Agrias is not too angry with her failure.