Babus's Troubles

In pained repose he opened his eyes. Moonlit darkness, and the stench of what had to be the remains of unfortunate clan members, were the only things to greet him. Lifting his left arm, he winced before the pain hit him—blood showed through his tunic, his limb bent in the wrong direction.

His right arm fared no better—in fact, worse. Babus had landed onto it, in the efforts to cast a Slow spell onto himself. It had worked, partially…but with his energy fading, he didn't know how much Curaga would help. (Besides, when a mage cast it on themselves, the damage done healed with a glasslike quality—anything strenuous, even only standing on an injury, would open it back up.) Biting back a howl of agony, he maneuvered his left hand clumsily into his trouser pocket.

Broken shards. And in the bottom, exactly one bottle of something lay unbroken, but what it was Babus didn't know. Remedy, antidote…eye drops might help; he'd at least see where he was. Uncorking the bottle with his teeth, Babus struggled to drink it.

High-strength potion. At least there was one grace…but he didn't know if his magic would fare well down here. Crippled—his tail was broken in multiple places, he found as he moved onto it—and anguished, Babus managed to moan a Curaga spell before dizziness took him back to the ground in a heap. There were so many things in this oubliette, likely just preserved by the deaths of their bearers. Law cards littered the ground; they were useless in a jagd anyway. Until they discovered a way to attach spells to cards, there would never be a use for law cards in a place like this….

"Let's—see—" Babus moved just the smallest bit, over to a skull that looked more an ancestral relic than anything. The rare facial structure was identical to his own, and the bone itself was so bleached it looked like fine china. Probably ten years old, maybe twenty—even thirty wasn't too old for this skull to be. Aghast, Babus peeled away bare scraps of fur that used to be ears, discovering, 'They're the same color as mine…. And here…here, the same tunic….' Yes, the same make—but older, at least by fifteen years…Bervenia Palace's old standard, abandoned just after he was born. This was a royal Runeseeker…, and likely someone he once knew, even if only from whispers…. 'Oh Ultima…Is this my father? My mother?'

A stone sailed into the oubliette, shattering the skull beneath his hands. Shaking, his thoughts as scattered as dandelion seeds, Babus backed away as best he could, into the darkest area of the oubliette—and he would've stayed there, had he not heard a voice….

"BABUS! Babus, are you down there? Babus, please SPEAK TO ME—!"

Mewt…? Whatever was the Prince doing in a jagd? The first person to take aim at him would kill him—he wasn't armed, and neither was he equipped. Babus heard no familiar clink of opal armor amidst the footsteps up there. But, still, he answered. "I'm here—I'm alive! Prince Mewt, what are you doing in this place? Why do you risk your life for me?"

"I NEED YOU!" Mewt's voice hitched with crying sobs. "Babus! Don't die…please, don't die! I'm coming down to get you!"

Coming down to get him? Babus had perhaps a moment to wonder before a rope came snaking into the oubliette—a dark-cloaked, horned mass hung at the bottom, seated in a precarious swing of cloth. "Babus, hold on—" The Runeseeker could feel the heat of Mewt's anguished weeping, and smell the clean, comforting linen and lavender of his clothes amidst the reek of the oubliette. "Please, Babus, don't die…I don't know what I'd do without you…."

"Your thoughts are mine," Babus quavered, a tear coming to his own eyes. He could only see out of one—a deep red wash almost obliterated the other. His head was bleeding profusely; he didn't need a white mage to tell him that. But still he reached up with the last of his strength, shifting to his left side to rise away from his right arm….

Mewt reached him, and holding out the swing—which turned out to be a wide cloth sheet—he knelt to Babus's side. "I know it's going to hurt, Babus…but hold on. We'll get you home." Reaching into his pocket, he slung a chain over Babus's neck…a card was attached to it. And just from this, Babus felt his strength redoubling, though his injuries remained…. "Ezel sent these. He told me where you were. Oh, Babus…I was so worried…I thought…."

"Llednar is the culprit you are looking for," Babus said quietly. "I knew he didn't prefer my company, but I had no idea he would stoop so low as to attempt my murder. And, my Prince…." Looking back, he closed his fingers around the ruined finery that had clung to those remains, and urged, "Please. I know it's highly irregular, my Prince…but I think these clothes belong to someone I might know…, someone who died down here. I must find out…."

Mewt nodded, reaching for the clothes. He grimaced at the malodorous smell, but balled them lightly up, and set them aside to lift Babus. The Nu Mou's back (and everywhere else) screamed with the Prince's noble effort—Mewt's back buckled, his legs shaking with Babus's dead weight, but he managed to lower him into the sheet. Then, carefully, Mewt set the clothes beside him…wrapped around a book, Babus was alarmed to note. Where had Mewt found it?

"Pull him up, men! And Lotte, as soon as he gets up there, you start healing him! Don't stop until I tell you to!" Mewt's voice cracked with emotion. Leaning down to Babus's face, he nestled piteously there to the Runeseeker, rubbing a tear-streaked face into his torn, soaked tunic. "I love you, Babus," he whispered like a penitent, only for the two of them to hear. "I love you…and I'm so sorry this happened…."

Babus rubbed his cold, wet nose to Mewt's forehead, unable to do anything else. "And I love you, my dear courageous Prince…. I shall never leave your side—on pain of my death, I promise you this…." The sheet lifted, and Mewt stepped back to allow them to pull Babus up—his eyes, even now, glittered with tears from the orangey moon-bathed sky.

"I promise, my Prince," he whispered again, his vision fading, "I shall never, ever leave you…."

 

* * *

He slumped into his great-chair, holding his head as he'd done for several days already. "What could've happened to him? And where in the world is Llednar? I highly doubt all of Babus's injuries came just from that fall…he had water in his lungs, and his fur smelled like the royal baths. I think Llednar thrashed him in the baths, and then took him to Jagd Helje. He's got pneumonia on top of shattered bones…and a bad concussion…." Shaking his head sadly, his horned hair matted with sleepless neglect, Mewt sighed. "I just don't know, Dad. I don't know if Babus is going to live…."

"Don't worry so much, Mewt…we'll do everything we can. And he's strong; I'm sure he'll live through this." Beside him, Cid removed his Judgemaster helm and set it beside his throne. "Remedi, we have to find Llednar. There's no way we can allow his attempted murder of our only remaining Runeseeker to go unpunished…you do remember what happened to the last Runeseekers we had, don't you?"

Mewt's brows rose. "Wait, Dad, there were others? Babus found remains in Jagd Helje's oubliette that look like a Runeseeker's clothing. And I found a book in there…it almost looks like the Grand Grimoire, but it's not near as new…."

"Ultima's Grimoire," Remedi said quietly. "Yes, I know of it—there was only one, and it was entrusted to our royal mages. And it means that the remains down there were not only a Runeseeker, but his or her clan party as well. Which tunic was down there…what color?" The interest in her brown eyes seemed innocent, but Mewt thought he knew better…this world wasn't everything he'd wanted, was it? Not if someone as kind and selfless as Babus could be hurt—maybe even mortally wounded—by a brute like Llednar…. It was like the time Colin had ripped the arms and legs off his teddy bear…, or when Lyle had torn out one of its eyes.

Mewt lowered his head. "Blue. Dark blue…with a powder-blue collar. And the mail underneath was green, like Babus's…."

"Yes…it was Matma, then, and Salome might be down there as well. I'm not informed of whether or not they were Babus's parents, but he might know who Matma and Salome were to his ancestry—I doubt they're unrelated." The flash in Remedi's eyes told Mewt she was lying…at least about what she knew. But he had no right to ask anything of her; the bare information she'd given him, he'd have to trust. "Give Babus the Ultima's Grimoire. He will need it." Straightening up, the Queen lifted herself from her throne and walked away down the carpet, leaving Mewt and Cid to look strangely at each other.

Cid frowned. "Don't worry, Mewt…I'm going to make sure Llednar's found."

"I hope so," Mewt murmured, "because Babus's life depends on it." He couldn't stay here anymore…not when his dearest friend was in pain. Actually, pain probably wasn't even an adequate word for how miserable Babus was. "I'm going to go see Babus…please, do what you can. I'm begging you, Dad, make sure this is the last time Llednar hurts anyone. Not just Babus—he could hurt you. Or Mom. He could t-take Mom away…." His voice quivered at the thought. "If you don't do anything else about Llednar, make him regret he laid a hand on Babus."

The Judgemaster nodded. "I'm not going to let Llednar get away with this—wild Chocobo couldn't drag me far enough away for him to escape. I promise, Mewt…I'm going to make sure he's found."

"Thanks, Dad." Rising to his feet, Mewt sighed, and padded out into the hall.

 

* * *

Limply, he stretched his fingers. Curaga…not his, but someone else's. Still, Babus didn't have the confidence in his shattered left hand to pen a royal order any time soon. And his arm, though it bent in the right direction now, screamed in protest with every move he made. But the worst was his lungs…every time he breathed, it felt and sounded like sisal rubbing against itself. He could barely breathe at all without coughing on the strangely medicinal air around him.

The door opened in front of his bed, and the Prince emerged into the sterile silence of the room. He gave a kindly nod to the white-clad cluster of Viera around Babus's bedside, then took a cooled cloth from a nearby Mog Knight and pressed it to the royal Nu Mou's dewy forehead. "Babus…. Are you all right? I mean, feeling better? I mean…agh, I'm so bad with words…."

"Never mind that…." Babus reached slowly out to touch Mewt's fingers. "I don't feel near as badly as I should…not now that you're here, anyway." Looking around, he silently lamented the presence of all those white mages; they were a kindly lot, but ears as long as theirs would definitely listen to Mewt's adoring words, and surely would mistake them as well. (Viera were notorious gossips, even if they didn't mean to be.) And what had Mewt meant by saying that he loved Babus, anyway? Was it the affectionate love a prince might have for his governess, or something else?

Mewt turned to look around at the whispering Viera. "Ladies, if you please…I need to be alone with my attendant. Royal business—you understand. Why not go take in some sights? The palace Templars should be able to escort you around…and the chef baked vanilla angel cake this morning. Go on, you've been working for hours."

"Of course, your Highness." As one, the white mages packed their necessities and left, each giving a pitying look to Babus before they passed through the doorway—muttering, their ears flicking around, about royal business and how heartless it was, for Mewt to be here with more duties for Babus.

The Templar and Mog Knight set the bar over the door, and both stood silently by—Babus didn't mind their presence. It was rather because of them that Llednar didn't dare to come here. He only felt strange when speaking around women, for some reason…. "I needed a little space anyway. Thank you, my Prince…now what is this royal business you have with me?"

"Do you really think I came here for business, when you're laid up like this?" Mewt's crestfallen expression brightened into a warm smile. "I came here to see you, Babus, and I didn't want them yammering about it. And until you're fully able to perform your duties, I want you to rest—I insist. Don't you dare push yourself…I want you in excellent health when you return to duty. Until then, you're going to relax—you haven't had a lot of it, have you? Relaxation, I mean…."

Babus smiled sadly. "Until I came to the palace, I was an orphan. Believe it or not, Ezel Berbier raised me for a while…that is, until I became what he called a 'palace brat'. I imagine he's feeling rather poorly for what happened to me out there…. Let him know that I'm all right, will you?"

"Of course." Turning his head, Mewt reached for a cup of the feverfew tea the white mages had set out. "Here…drink this. You'll feel better when your fever's broken." He set the cup down on the bed table, and helped Babus into a half-sitting position, pillows behind his back and head.

Babus reached for the tea, his fingers shaking. "Mmm…I suppose I do need something to calm my nerves. Since yesterday, I've been wondering what you meant by saying you loved me."

"Yesterday?" Mewt cocked his head. "You've been unresponsive for a week. It couldn't have been yesterday you were wondering, because yesterday we still thought you were going to die." Sympathetically, he patted Babus's free hand. "You must mean when I found you in the oubliette…."

Babus nodded. "That. I've been wondering…what did you mean, exactly?"

"I meant exactly what I said." Mewt's expression relaxed. "What, did you think I was lying? Or was it something you were confused about…like 'family' love versus 'love' love?" He took the cup from Babus's quivering hand and helped him to drink.

Frowning, Babus confessed, "I almost believed you were…ah…. Well, you know the type…I'm not worried about that anymore; it couldn't possibly be as grave as I imagined…."

"Grave? No…." Mewt shook his head. "I was just so worried about you…, I had to tell you. Before something happened to you that we couldn't fix." He lowered his head, looking away. "And…yeah. You were right when you wondered…. I really do love you." A nervous laugh came to his lips. "Y-yeah, sounds kind of silly, doesn't it? Someone like me being free to love another man…with all the royal duties, and such…. And of course, Mom might worry about it…."

"I don't see why they have to worry." Babus shook his head, quietly admitting, "I meant what I said, as well…I…. Really, I've always loved you. At first it was just an admiration from afar, knowing you were the ideal of royalty, that I'd been entrusted to care for you as long as you were alive…. But then, it…well, it's hard to explain, but after your sixteenth birthday I took it very seriously. You were a handsome lad, so young and impetuous…, and…I just could never imagine being with or around anyone else but you. I imagined I would be caring for you for the rest of my life, and beyond…."

"But there was more to that thought," Mewt continued, as though he knew. "You felt like, in a way, you were dependent on my strength to find yours…As long as I was cared for and happy, you were happy…. That happiness must have felt strange—wrong—at first when you realized it was going deeper. I wondered for a long time if you would even listen to me, or just go on about your duties. For years, I've been trying to think of how to tell you…. And with this—," he gestured weakly to Babus's immobile form, "happening to you, I couldn't wait another day. I had to tell you…I had to make sure you knew before something worse happened."

"There could never be anything worse than never seeing you smile again," Babus whispered. Mewt lifted his head. "To see that silky chestnut hair afire with the sun…, your already tanned skin even darker with the summer heat…. I don't think I could ever live if not for you."

The Prince's cheeks flushed. Without seeing himself, Babus knew his own were a deep rouge pink. "So…." Mewt pulled the pins out of his hair one by one, releasing those weighty horns to settle on his shoulders in a russet mess—still lovely, even as worried as he was. Babus wanted to sob at how much Mewt had already cried over him. "H…how do we go about it? Do we tell people? I mean, would you be in trouble if I told my dad?"

"I hardly think we have to worry about that." Babus reached out to gently touch Mewt's shoulder. The Judgemaster stood solemnly in the doorway—neither of them had noticed him. "He's a very understanding soul…he won't judge you because of who you love. It's not a crime." And with those words, Cid silently nodded, a regal smile touching his lips before it faded away.

Mewt didn't notice his father. Instead, he edged up to Babus, reached out to cup the Runeseeker's perspiring muzzle with large, trembling hands. "I love you, Babus. And I don't care if Mom or Dad disapproves. I don't care if the whole kingdom does! I'm not going to lose you…and especially not to a maniac like Llednar." He leaned close—and even though Babus looked into Cid's eyes, Mewt's gentle kiss warmed his aching lips. Even knowing the Judgemaster was right there, Babus relented to Mewt's advance, allowed the Prince free rein over his mouth. Minutes fled away beneath their notice…, until the Judgemaster cleared his throat.

Slowly, Mewt turned to look up at Cid. "Uh, heh…How much of that did you hear, Dad?"

"Heard and saw the whole thing." Cid's smile widened. "Good on you for telling him. You might think your old man's a little slow on the uptake, but I've noticed both of you staring at each other when you don't think the other person is looking. I've seen the way you behave around each other. What sense would it make to tell you that your love is wrong? No one really approved of me when I married your mother, anyway…."

"I think you're a splendid man of character," Babus protested. "I would sorely like to find out who doesn't approve of you—they should be jailed for such treason against the crown." Though, oddly, his cheeks still blazed with heat. He wondered why.

Cid's shoulders relaxed, and he turned to Mewt. "No worries. Everything's just fine…no one will even give it a second thought. And if they do, I'll simply remind them that as long as the two of you aren't in their bedrooms, they shouldn't be in your business." He shrugged. "Why in the world should anyone worry, anyway? Not like it's horrible or wrong. It's just two people…two hearts…who decided to align. I'm proud of you for what you've done…the both of you. You, Babus, for all your years of service and protection to the realm—and you, Mewt, you've really grown up. It almost seems like yesterday that we brought you home…." Shaking his head, that smile still stretching his face, he murmured, "I'm going to head the search up for Llednar. Jagds, mountains, deserts—wherever he might hide, we're going to look."

"Do that." Mewt smiled, that same gleam of regret in his eyes that Babus had felt earlier. "I'm staying here with Babus…if they need anything from me, tell them I'll take care of it later."

Cid nodded. "Your mother should do well enough while we're gone." Nodding to Babus, he turned around, lifted his helm on, and headed off down the hall. The Templar near the door bowed his scaly head in apology.

"Don't worry…." Babus waved his hand. "I wouldn't dream of keeping the Judgemaster out of my chambers. I knew it was important. However…." He gave an uneasy glance to the window. "I would like a post outside, if there are any available men. Llednar's a tricksy wretch…he won't stop at this. I know there's more in store for me, Cid, and anyone else his Highness loves—to say nothing of the Prince himself. He might be targeted."

"Ssssir." The Templar excused himself and headed out the door, to the left guard tower. Alone with Babus and Mewt, the Mog Knight piped up sheepishly:

"I don't understand what anyone could think was bad about it, kupopo."

 

TBC