Chapter Thirty-Three: Amelia's Vow
Hearts weren't fun.
They would beat no matter how someone was feeling... if they felt like quitting, like dying, a heart would just plod along, reminding the weilder that life would indeed go on through the bad times as well as the good.
It wouldn't let feelings of suffering, emotional agony, or fear stop it from doing it's job.
True to that old country song, hearts 'just keep rolling along.'
But for a single moment, when Ella Rochard crushed her lips against his own, Xaphile's heart stopped the way it wasn't supposed to.
And then, it felt like it was breaking.
He didn't resist her.
There was no point.
He was too weak to force her off of him, and she did whatever she wanted with no regard to the feelings of others. So instead of putting up a fight, he closed his eyes and went deep inside his head, fighting to blot out what she was doing to him. Numbness filled him from the inside out, preventing him from feeling.
He hid from reality the same way he'd done whenever his father had abused him by disconnecting from himself, but not, however, before a small trickle of tears unwillingly slipped out from beneath his eyelids.
Just as Ella opened her eyes and saw them, the doors opened and Amelia walked into the room.
She gasped and froze like a statue.
Ella ignored her, frozen as she was by the sight of Xaphile's tightly squeezed eyes streaming tears of what looked like pain.
Her face looked stunned.
Visibly disheveled, she pulled away and sat up, running a hand through her hair to get it out of her eyes. Still sitting with her legs straddling his stomach, she turned, eyes landing on Amelia.
"Can I help you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at the startled expression on Amelia's face. "We were kind of in the middle of something."
The blue-eyed girl snapped out of her stupor and shook her head as if clearing away a daze.
"Ah, no... erm, this was just highly unexpected," she noted, hesitantly moving forward them and holding out the parcels in her arms with uneasy eyes. "Is it safe to say you two are on better terms now?"
Ella glanced down at him again, but Xaphile's eyes remained shut, long ears pulled back and angled down like a frightened animal's.
"More like I've sealed a contract," she said softly, getting off of him and smoothing the baby blue skirt of the dress she was wearing. "There are things that must be done, and I now have a challenge that needs to be well-thought out before I execute it. So, if you'll excuse me... tend to the invalid."
When she tossed her silver hair and swept out of the room, Amelia stared after her.
"I take it you two have reconciled...?" she timidly asked, finally giving Xaphile a look. "I... I wasn't expecting to walk in on something like that. Tell me... what were you two doing?"
When he opened his eyes and looked at her, he felt dead on the inside.
"Nothing that I wanted or asked for. She's insane," he croaked, dizzily rubbing the tears away. "She just crushed her mouth against mine with no warning at all, no explanation... she's fucking nuts!"
Amelia stiffened slightly.
"I see," she murmured, hefting the parcels and opening them. "Don't take it to heart... she wouldn't have done it unless she'd wanted to."
"But I do take it to heart," he snarled, angrily swallowing his nausea. "She shouldn't have done it. It's sexual harassment!"
"Then I apologize on her behalf," Amelia sighed. "Now, I have a lot of medicine here, and none of it tastes pleasant, but you're still going to be taking everything."
He stared at her in disbelief, then examined the packages with a nervous expression. "Why?"
"Because your illness is a reaction to those candies I gave you the other day," she told him, holding out the first of the packages. "Humor me, okay?"
He reluctantly did as he was asked without another word, feeling sick to his stomach. The medicine was bitter going down, but his thoughts slowly returned to the earlier situation.
"Is what she did illegal?" he asked in a small voice. "She can't just walk up to someone and say they're hers, can she? This world doesn't work like that, does it?"
"Why do you ask?" Amelia carefully inquired.
"Because I want to know if I have the right to say no if she tries to put her hands on me."
Amelia blinked. "Of course you can say no, but she's still a political leader, Phil."
"So she gets what she wants," he sullenly finished. "Perfect."
"Why the sudden interest?"
"Because I don't fully understand the way she thinks," he snapped. "She's... intimidating. I'm trying to put her, and her behavior, into a more understandable context."
"Um... good luck with that."
Xaphile was not going to ask what she meant. It wasn't too big of a mystery, though, considering they were talking about Ella Rochard, the queen of Sadists.
Nobody knew what she was thinking.
After taking the rest of the medicine Amelia handed him, he flopped back down and curled up into the fetal position. His temples were on fire... almost as if something deep within his head had expanded and refused to return to normal.
Amelia sat on the edge of the bed and watched him, not speaking... not moving, not even seeming to be breathing.
All she did was look at him, sapphire blue eyes shadowed with worry and concern.
When she finally scooted closer and felt his forehead, he shifted his eyes and looked up at her.
Her warm hand felt soft and dry against his clammy skin, but for some reason, her touch didn't bother him.
"What?" he croaked, shifting the position of his throbbing head. "Why are you staring at me?"
Amelia blinked.
"I want to know if there is anything I can do to help you," she said seriously. "To alleviate the pain. People suffering from a food allergy sometimes experience a lot of it."
His hands twitched, but his expression didn't change.
"I... don't... want any help."
Her face went tight, but he closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to face what he knew was coming.
"Why do you refuse?"
"It doesn't matter. Please... just... let me be."
She fell silent for so long that he slowly began to slide into an exhausted doze... but then, he felt a small hand lightly come to rest against the side of his head, and the touch intruded on his flickering dreams, rousing him back into awareness.
Skull still pounding, he opened his eyes a little, but Amelia wasn't looking at him, she was staring at the stone floor with a barely-visible glimmer of blue.
Her eyelashes were so long...
"I am saddened," she said softly, lifting her free hand and rubbing her eyes. "I am deeply saddened."
His eyes opened a bit wider and he stared at her more clearly.
"What?" he inquired. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She gave him a look that made him wonder at the solemnness he saw resting there.
"I am not as pretty as her," she said. "Nor am I as courageous, or strong, or even as honest... but even though I know this, I've never actually felt... envious of her until now."
He blinked rapidly, then slowly shifted his aching body and pushed himself back into an upright position, dark hair falling across his chest like a curtain.
"What are you trying to say?" he demanded, giving her a questioning look. "I don't understand."
Her sapphire irises glimmered with something painful.
"When I look at you," she told him, "I sometimes see myself. A self I used to be a long time ago."
And just like that, he suddenly didn't want to hear it.
"Amelia, I can't... deal with this kind of conversation right now."
She looked at him with a frown, but when she crawled forward, he leaned away, wide-eyed with alarm. He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing when she stopped only an inch from his face.
Time seemed to stand still when she gazed at him with an expression of somber gentleness and slowly lifted her hand. Heat radiated from her touch when she cupped his cheek and gently turned his head to plant a small kiss against his jawline.
An electric shock went through him when her fingers traced across his long ear, but then she pulled away and sat down, breathing hard.
Heat flushed through him and he could only stare, bug-eyed, because what the hell, this was Amelia, she couldn't actually...
But then, her own actions seemed to register with her and she stiffened. Flushing bright red behind her glasses, she hid her face with both hands and curled up, quivering violently.
"Forgive me..." she peeped. "I... I-I... I was..."
When she trailed off, floundering for an excuse, he touched the spot where she'd kissed him as a barrage of long-faded warmth came rushing back.
Her kiss.
It was familiar.
Too familiar.
It almost made him cry.
"She used to do the same thing," he croaked. "Amelia... don't get close to me. Really. I mean it."
"Why?" she asked in a small voice. "Why will you not allow me to help you?
"You're different from me," he muttered, frowning at his hands. "Very different. You can still smile, to the point where it touches your eyes and lights them up from the inside. That's something I've lost... I can't do it anymore. The last thing you need is to hang around someone who can't love you."
She swallowed, looking at him with firm resolve.
"I choose my own path," she said defiantly, "and I've already decided to stay right here, Phil. Listen, bad things happen to everyone. You aren't alone."
"True... but you, at the very least, had people who accepted you right from the beginning."
"Eh? Well, yes... but... didn't you?"
He looked at her, then, eyes filling with tears that stung both his pride and his cheeks.
"Me? Nope. Unlike you, when I lost what I loved the most, there was nowhere to hide from the pain. When it mattered the most... when I was hurting the most... when I really needed someone, anyone, to tell me things would be all right and really mean it... I was all alone. Nobody truly cared aside from one person, and she didn't even fully understand me."
"Phil! Enough!" Amelia squeaked, shaking him with reprimanding eyes. "Don't you get it?! You aren't alone anymore!"
"I'm not alone?" he asked, letting out a mournful laugh. "If I'm not alone, name one person who would cry for me if I somehow died right now. If you can do that, maybe I'll take you seriously and maybe... maybe I'll even consider thinking about the future seriously."
Amelia simply looked at him when he waited, staring at her with an expectant expression.
Then, squeezing his shoulders, she blinked back a fit of tears.
"I would," she whispered in a small voice. "I... I would cry for you..."
Forget crying over him dying... just the mere topic of his suicidal thoughts was making her cry.
When Xaphile tried to shrug her hands off his arms, she roughly tugged him forward, scooting close and wrapping him up in a warm hug, holding him tightly.
"Let go," he sighed, "please."
"No," she muttered right into his ear, irritably shaking her head. "I will not let go until you promise me you will put these horrible thoughts out of your head."
"Why?" he asked, voice coming out low and coarse. "No matter what you say, nothing can change the fact that I died once already. My life is over, Amelia. It ended a long time ago."
"No! I refuse to listen to that nonsense!" she snapped, tightening her hold. "Stop it! You're alive, Phil! You're here! Whether by some unfortunate accident or the will of the Gods, something brought you to us... and if there's anything I've learned studying magic, it's that everything happens for a reason. Now, promise me!"
"Why should I?"
"Because I care about you!" she cried, shaking him. "Like it or not, I care deeply about what happens to you! I want you to promise me that you will never take your life, no matter what. In return, I will... I will also make you a promise, and I'll seal it with magic. Will you do this?"
He hesitated for a moment when he remembered the promise he'd made to Ella Rochard, but then, those memories shattered in the face of Amelia's shaking arms.
This warmth was different than the cold, rough hands that had hurt him repetitively.
Hell, despite not being on the lips, even her kiss had been less superficial... less shallow.
In the end, he did the unthinkable.
He gave in.
Nodding in reluctant agreement, he hunched his shoulders, trying not to think too hard when her arms tightened around him.
"I... I promise I won't ever try to kill myself, ever again," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut with a lump in his throat, "but I want you to promise me something, too."
"What do you wish for?" she weakly asked. "Tell me. I shall promise whatever you wish if it is within my ability to do so. Even if it requires magic."
Xaphile shakily lifted an arm and covered his eyes.
"If... when the time comes, I still haven't gotten over the death of the woman I loved," he said quietly, "if you... if you really meant everything that you said to me earlier... and if you really won't leave me alone, even when I try to make you... you have to promise that you'll either find a way to erase my memories or kill me yourself."
She froze, eyes widening in horror, then looked down at his dark hair.
"Why would you ask for something like that?" she breathed. "Gods, Phil..."
He shook his head, bile rising up his throat.
"Just, promise," he told her a little more sharply. "I want you to promise me!"
Amelia's face turned white, but she closed her eyes and lifted her hand: with a grim expression and an arcane gesture, her palm began to glow with golden light.
He twitched when she pressed her own hand against her neck and winced with a slightly pained look on her face.
"Under the Oath of the Magi and the God of Truth..." she whispered, finally pulling away from him and clutching his arms. "I promise that I will either erase your memories or take your life with my own hands if you haven't gotten over the death of your first love by the time everything comes to an end. You have my word."
He gave her a grateful nod of thanks and lay back down, closing his eyes and turning over on his side. Not long after, Amelia left him to get some rest.
However, she wasn't exactly certain what she'd just done had been a good idea in the least.