Summary: "What more can you do at this point," he said, "besides kill me?" The Golden Queen finds in his passiveness the kind of defiance she craves.
'Obstinate and audacious,' was her first thought. Her dark smirk left a wicked impression of her on the dark-haired young man who stood in front of her.
"You really are quite bothersome, do you know?" she taunted. She gave him another crafty, condescending gaze, sizing him up and down. Pity. He would make quite the bedfellow if she could have him.
He stared at her stonily, bemused and somewhat calm, which surprised her. So, he wouldn't be as easy to break as she thought.
"I won't say it again," he responded coolly, "Give her back to me."
"And why, pray tell, should I do something so pitiable? The least you could do is put up a fight, if that redheaded little chit meant anything to you." She retained her role as chessmistress, always with the upper hand, always with others at her mercy.
Which was why it briefly stunned her when suddenly she was forced down into her throne roughly. She first let her shock fill her senses, not believing that such a man could have the audacity to lay a finger on her, let alone tackle her down as he had.
Then she began to struggle against his grip. She hissed in frustration when he only pinned her down more roughly.
She glared at him, trying to see if it were possible to turn him to ashes if her furious gaze was upon him for long enough.
He leaned down towards her, coming face to face and making sure they had full eye contact.
"I won't hold it against you; I won't do anything to you. Just please," he sighed with a melancholic air that she didn't expect him to have, "Give her back to me. I know you can."
The Golden Queen was about to snap in defiance towards him, but found she didn't have the words. His sapphire stare seemed to penetrate her soul, and for a moment, she relaxed.
She'd never really known the touch of another person, let alone a man. She had been so alone, so jaded her entire life that she'd given up hope in finding any sort of human contact. Suddenly she felt the most insecure she ever had in her short lifetime, and she wanted nothing more than to stay here like this for eternity, Chaos and the destruction of the cosmos be damned.
He still looked upon her with his accursed eyes, the same color as the amulet that housed her soul. She would never admit it to anyone, not even herself, but right then and there, she wanted him, in every way. She'd give herself to him, hale and whole, with no complaints.
He didn't seem to notice his effect upon her, however. That was when the fantasy shattered all around her. He could care less for what she wanted. He didn't know her, and worse, the only twist of fate that had brought him here was her thievery of his loved one's soul.
Her body heated up in rage, remorse, and lust. Her relaxed form went limp and she closed her eyes. When any turn of inevitability might be kind to her, she would never know. The divine only seemed to provide her with misery, and she'd had enough.
"You know, you're not the only one." His suddenly pleasant voice woke her from dark reverie.
She opened her crimson eyes to see he had backed off somewhat, still hovering over her, still giving her that damning stare, but keep her wrists restrained – smartly, over her bracelets, to prevent her from ideas of murdering him on the spot.
He didn't trust her. So this was the feeling of a broken heart.
But her brow creased in confusion when she finally absorbed what he had said.
"I'm not the only what?" she said, coming off more indignant than she wanted.
"The only one to have suffered pain," he replied promptly.
He released one wrist to tenderly bring his hand to her face.
"What are you-," she was cut off by the realization that he was wiping away tears.
What was this? It was humiliation and relief, all at once. In a mere matter of what seemed like seconds, this man had her at his mercy. And all he had done was basically reprimand her insult and give her brief words of pity.
He was doing everything she wanted and everything she didn't want.
"How can you possibly know?" she spat out. She shakily refused his hand from her face, but found herself clutching it within her own.
He could sense her fear and desperation. He knew why she had done what she had. There was no point in even asking him, because he simply knew it.
He could feel every bit how terribly lonely she was. Her mind was poisoned and she was damaged.
He knelt down to rest his tired legs. He knew long ago what being consumed by hate and confusion could do. He didn't want this woman to suffer the same fate he had.
But she already had. She still was. And there was no one to release her from her pain, as he had.
She looked at how he had lowered himself at her feet. It was not an act of reverence by any means. And somehow, she knew this was right, that this should've been her from the beginning. What she wanted was someone to challenge her, someone to destroy her evil perceptions, someone to tell her that nothing was wrong with her.
Above all, she had never desired reverence, but acceptance.
She divulged into more tears, this time, hiding her face within her hands. She didn't have the strength to maintain her transformation for much longer and let her brooch slip, her severe golden armor replaced with the silky, white virginal gown she wore normally and her knotted hair falling far past her shoulders, gold melting into auburn, all spilling on the floor.
This time, he stood. She ended her sobbing to view his lithe form. Only now she realized how tall he was, and how foolishly she had mistaken his youthful demeanor for juvenile impulsiveness.
He backed off, letting go of her other wrist. He was about to allow her space to rise, when she grasped his hand once more.
"I need…something," she choked out, trying to clear her throat. "Would you…let me…?"
"What more can you do at this point," he said, "besides kill me?"
A force of defiance took her over. No, she was not some soulless twit who was giving in to megalomania. She would show him her true nature, whatever that was.
She surprised the both of them by leaping forward, adhering herself to his form, arms reaching upwards to settle around his neck.
She breathed into his chest, her every motion pleading him to accept everything she was, take everything of her that he pleased. A jolt of excitement and terror filled her when his arms came around her waist.
But the gesture was not intimate. He'd raised his arms in order to support her, as her feet barely brushed the ground at her toes and the train of her dress twisted around her legs. He'd made no further move to bring her closer, to give her any sense of comfort.
No, he would not betray the fiery young woman that he desired. A brief flicker of thought gave her the idea to hurl that scarlet gem back into the Cauldron, where he would never see it again. Then he'd have no choice…
Then he'd loathe her even more. There was no winning for her. She growled in defeat, though muffled into the dark fabric on his chest, it came about as a whimper.
"Please, just give it back." He'd returned to pleading with her. Ashamed of herself, she realized that he was doing the exact same thing she had. And she was tired of this charade, this front she had built of herself.
She was not ruthless. She wasn't really so much of a killer. She only wanted to be surrounded by others, to know true emotion and affection. She needed that, and only that.
"You lo-love her…" she stuttered on the word she'd never had use for.
A sigh and then a prompt, "Yes," gave her the answer.
She flicked a wrist without much effort, the space behind and surrounding her throne warping to show the many starseeds she already had collected. His face contorted in a disturbed expression that she expected was disgust. She breathed softly and slowly, refusing to break into even more hysterics and motioned inelegantly to bring forward the star he was searching for.
The crimson jewel pulsated with life, the soul of its owner obviously responding to its significant other. She felt his body lose all tension, and thought she'd caught a brief glance of a smile on his face.
Those sad blue eyes kept haunting her, which intensified all the more when he looked back down at her. How she wished she could make those eyes shine with a certain happiness. She looked once more with a pleading sort of desperation and, taking in his response, breathed outwards, and brought the gem forward.
"Before I give this to you," she said, trying to withhold every sort of emotion she was currently experiencing from her voice, "I expect some manner of payment."
She half expected him to scowl at her, give her scathing words of discord, but instead he nodded in silent understanding. Her breath caught in her chest, and words could not describe the release of joy that embodied her right then.
The Golden Queen closed the distance between herself and this distant young man. She pressed her lips to his, tasting, feeling, enjoying what she knew would be a brief moment never to occur again.
The thought made her choke. She would never see him again, she knew. She wouldn't even be able to watch him from afar, because she would never have the strength or resolve to try and find him.
More tears escaped her, but she stopped caring about her shame and only thought of her insatiable desire. This was not love, but it was not lust, either. This was…confusion….and need.
To her surprise, as she lamented the pain and agony that she knew would result from this event, she felt him respond to her. He returned her lonely kiss and ran a hand briefly through her hair, if only to give her some form of comfort. It only served to tear at her even further, to think that he had not a lick of callousness to refuse her.
It was over too soon; he pulled away from her and set her down carefully. The blazing red starseed flew to him, and he caught it in his outstretched palm. It momentarily glowed brightly and vanished, gone back to the body of the redheaded spitfire he knew and loved.
Galaxia looked to him one more time, her eyes dead of emotion and her form heaving in restraint. She wanted him to leave right then, if only to ease the constant aching in her chest. Her breathing was beginning to shallow and she didn't want him to see her any more vulnerable than she already was.
But, her pain and her sorrow overtook her, and the world was darkness. She was once again falling into the abyss of her nightmares, of oblivion.
When she awoke, she found herself lying comfortably on her bed. She must have fallen into a stupor and he had likely carried her into the room.
She hissed at the thought of being cradled in those forgiving but unforgiving arms. She wanted nothing more to throw herself to them once more, to drown in sweet bliss and for once think of joy, love, and all things of true happiness she had been deprived of.
But, she gave up on love. Yet her thoughts were still brimming, poisoned with utter obsession for the one person who had ever stood up to her, understood her, and pitied her.
And when she found the next man who remotely resembled him, she tore out his Crystal without mercy, knowing she would never again be the cruel queen she once was.
Okay…so I don't know where this one came from. It's an idea that's been in my mind for a while, because I saw the parallels between Chaos and Shagon long, long ago. It got me thinking, "If Galaxia were ever to cross paths with someone who really understood her…" That someone is Matt, in my opinion, because self-loathing and a need to destroy everything personified are things he knows all too well; the difference being, he had someone there for him (Will), whereas Galaxia had no one.
This wasn't really supposed to be a pairing of any sort, but it can be interpreted that way, if you're into that sort of thing. I'm much too much a lover of Will and Matt to ever split them up, even if Gal does need some loving.
Anyhow, thoughts? Feedback? I'd love to hear whatever responses you have.