Mystic: Er, let's just say I couldn't resist to torture Kuja a little bit. Every villain must deal with the consequences of his actions eventually.

"No, my lady. Please. Just don't." A black mage tugged and pulled at Lady Hilda's hand. "The master is in a very poor mood!"

The Lady of Lindblum wrenched her hand free of the mage. "How can anybody return from Treno in a poor mood? That city is an endless orgy!" Which perfectly explained why she forced her ladies-in-waiting to detox and douche their systems after a journey to the city that never slept or danced in vertical directions. And also why she gave Minister Artania stern, and boy was it stern! orders to watch her husband's every single move.

Hilda guarded her dignity with a steel chastity belt armed with teeth and laced with a thundara spell. Bad news for a potential attacker, but the tingling sensation felt great every time she took a step.

For whatever reason, she never felt the need to wear it around Kuja. Chances were quite high that he knew a way around such devices, though not once did he ever try a seduction spell. It's not like the lady was completely immune.

"Madam," said the black mage beneath his hat, "what's an orgy?"

Hilda rolled her eyes, turned on her heel, and stormed her way into Kuja's bedchamber. Not the best way to ignore the poor puppet's question, but she didn't quite want to go into details about flailing limbs, who on who, what goes where, and oh - her warden wasn't in the best of moods. Maybe that black mage still wanted to know all the torrid and explicit details of multiple partners at once. Maybe he was still ...

"What do you want, lady?" Kuja's voice was low, harsh. He stood hunched over by his dresser, hung his head in front of the mirror. "I made it clear that I was not to be disturbed."

She faced his back. "I ... I, um."

"Well? Spit it out!"

Not a very nice command considering the conversation she almost had with the little mage in the hall. "I harvested some garlic from your garden. I made chocobo with twenty cloves."

"Hmph."

"Alright then." Lady Hilda turned to leave.

Kuja sighed, heavy and with a hint of shame. "You're a sorceress, are you not?"

"I can conjure," she answered.

"Come here."

"Um."

"Lady, I will not ask twice."

Hilda collected her courage and walked over to where he stood by the mirror. The very moment she stared up at his reflection, she bit her lip to prevent an unladylike burst of laughter. He turned sharply, gave her a pointed glare, but his frustration harmed her very composure.

Her smile grew, along with muffled chuckles behind her hand. On her warden's upper lip, near the corner of his mouth, sat a red and inflamed crusty blister. "Oh, my!" Hilda tried, she reallyreally tried, but the laughter started to grow despite his anger and ability to massacre her city. "Hahahahaha!"

Kuja slammed his hands on the dresser table. "Cease with the noise, Hilda!"

She stopped. "Sorry." She still grinned.

"Yes, I have a cold sore. And despite my knowledge of the body, I can never get rid of them quickly enough." He frowned again in the mirror. "I look terrible."

"You look cheap."

"Then do something, sorceress." Kuja poked at the blister, grimacing. "Stop laughing at my expense and prove your usefulness. Make me glad I kept you alive at all."

Hilda huffed, placed a hand on either side of his face, forcing him to look at her. "It's not bad, Kuja. Very noticeable, but not bad."

He surprisingly stayed still, let her examine him. "It stings."

"I'll go get some lemon balm. That will clear it up."

"Melissa?"

She pulled away, violently. "Oh. Is that who it was? Melissa?" Hilda turned her back, crossed her arms.

Kuja rolled his eyes. "Lemon balm, lady. My books refer to it as Melissa." His prisoner softened, glanced at him over her shoulder. "Honestly, your jealousy tends to fly off the nearest cliff. Gaia forbid I kidnap anybody else."

xxx

The mages sat on a bench in his cellar, surrounded by dried specimens and extracts. One such extract sat clutched in Lady Hilda's palm. "My people have a different name for cold sores, Kuja. It's not exactly accurate, but neither is cold sore for that matter." She started to dab at his blister with a clean cloth.

He flinched. "Oh, why not? What do your people call them?"

"Promise you won't get angry?"

"I promise nothing, lady."

"Will you at least not kill me?"

Kuja hesitated, but smiled. "I won't kill you, Hilda."

The lady still scooted back a bit. "We call it whore lip."

"What?!"

"Well, my grandmother mainly," she added quickly. "She sometimes spoke without thinking!"

Kuja grabbed her wrist, pulled her back. "Do not say anything else."

A part of Hilda wanted to chastise the man for his poor decisions with his travels, with whatever company he kept. Another part of her wanted to attempt an escape despite the danger of the desert. Kuja made her listen to everything he had to say, but the secret area in her mind and emotions never wanted to leave the palace. She did as she pleased most days, not held back by rules or manners like in the Lindblum courts. And at those moments, Lady Hilda realized she was not a very nice person like most people thought.

"Her name was Nia," he finally said. Hilda glared, sharp and cold, fingers twitching with a similar spell that forced the regent to 'gwok' instead of talk. "I'm immune, lady." His voice halted whatever spell she dared attempt. "Stop your petty jealousy! You are not my wife."

A part of her heart snapped and fell away to Ifrit's domain. "And here I thought you weren't a skirt-chaser." Her voice was a mere whisper.

"If you think I'm like Cid," he said, "you'd be quite wrong. I don't procreate with anything that walks." Hilda still dabbed, silent, so he continued. "I simply had an arrangement with a courtesan who lived near the opera house."

She stared at him, not once breaking eye contact. "Is that right?" At his nod, she said, "you care for her?"

"Not particularly. Her parents recently married her off to a nobleman; I sent her a letter of well wishes." He dropped his gaze, pushed away her hand.

"Keep it clean," advised Hilda. "Use the Melissa four times a day."

"Of course."

The entire moment suddenly seemed awkward and uncomfortable. Hilda made the decision to leave the room, but not before pausing at the doorframe to ask a simple question. "Wizard, what exactly am I to you?" Well, it sounded simple in her head.

He sighed. "You, good lady, are one of those wise women of the old days." A wry smile graced his delicate features. "It's why I keep you at a distance from the broom closet."

"We don't fly on brooms!" Pause. "Well, anymore." Chocobos were determined to be much safer because they don't leave splinters on the backside. (Or so said the elders.)

"I cannot consider you just a prisoner, because I'd rather not see you rot in my dungeon." Though he did seriously daydream about gagging her when she nagged him like some henpecked farmer in Dali Village. "Mm, I haven't brought you into my bed yet -"

"Yet?!"

" - so you're not a mistress or lover." His eyes trailed her curves for a moment. "I think, Lady Hilda, that you are a companion for the time being."

"A companion." Her response was flat, broken.

Kuja stood, gave a wave of his hand. "But, of course, that is subject to change at any moment." He brushed past her, walked out into the hallway. "You said chocobo and twenty cloves earlier? Join me in the dining hall."

His suggestion was non-negotiable. Lady Hilda followed him, but made a clear mental note to search for that broom closet.

"It's on the ground level, three doors to the right." Kuja grinned, hands on hips. "And sealed by one of my spells. I dare you to break it."

Hilda returned his smile.

Melissa officinalis: Also known as lemon balm. Frankly, I'm in love with this little plant. It's a gentle sedative, mild pain reliever for headaches, safe for kids, and even anti-viral (hence it's usefulness for herpes simplex I and II). Leave a little review, and I'll see you next time!