//read more for length, a story from Hilda and Zelos’s childhood//
It had been a week since the whispers had started, and despite the festive garlands strung gaily about the town, Hilda’s mood was far from suitable for the holiday spirit. While she had been pleased and excited to discover the white blanket coating the ground a week ago, now she was sick of the wet, grey slush that remained. Snow was far from beautiful after being trampled upon and shoveled into corners. The streets were slick with ice and she demanded to hold someone’s hand anytime she went outside. Despite the cold, she made daily trips outdoors, always with the same destination in mind, only to be met by the same words each time.
“I am sorry Princess, but Master Wilder is not seeing anyone today.” Each time he turned her away, the butler gently handed her the unopened letters she had tried to send the redhead who had sealed himself in his room. She was beginning to grow irritated by the whole routine, and complained loudly to the maid who was acting as her escort on the way back to the palace. The pile of unopened, returned letters on her small desk grew a little higher and she glowered at it petulantly, her small arms crossed over her chest. Tomorrow she would not take no for an answer.
The next morning was cold and grey, but this time she did not have to ask her maids to lay out her coat. They had it ready and waiting for her already, both wearing solemn expressions. She was puzzled by this. At the beginning of the week they had agreed easily enough to escort her, despite the cold, but their enthusiasm had quickly waned day by day as they had been turned away. The pair who now prepared to accompany her wore all black, and they had laid out a black dress for her as well. Sudden understanding dawned, and she lifted her arms for them to pull the dress over her head. Today she would see Zelos, because there was no way he would miss his own mother’ funeral.
She was not precisely clear on what a funeral was, aside from a very serious party that mostly adults attended. Her father had attended several, including the one for Zelos’ father several years ago. She had been too small to attend herself, or so she had been told. At the time, she hadn’t thought much of the matter, as she and Zelos had not really known one another yet. Her father had told her it was a going away party, for someone who was never coming back. Eventually she had managed to put two and two together and realized that it was a farewell to someone who had died.
Her eyes swept the rows of somber people as she entered the church flanked by a pair of maids, a hood over her bright curls. She didn’t want to be greeted as the Princess today, she just wanted to see her best friend. He wasn’t there, and her heart sank. There had been whispers that it had been an attempt on his life that had killed the Lady Mylene, and she worried fretfully that someone had come back to finish the job. Finally her eyes caught a bright flash of red high above the main room. He was up on the balcony, alone. His cheeks were dry, his face expressionless. She wanted to sneak up there and see him, but her maids escorted her to a seat and hushed her as the services began.
She had not really known Lady Mylene, though she had seen her a few times. Zelos had told her his mother had frequent headaches and stayed in her room a lot. He had also mentioned once that he thought the headaches were his fault, but she told him he was being stupid. The words of the eulogy washed over her without any meaning, her thoughts instead on the solitary figure above her. Throughout the ceremony he stood unmoving, staring straight ahead. He wasn’t even looking down to where the people where, but staring at nothing in particular. She suspected he wasn’t listening any better than she was, but she couldn’t read his expression from so far away.
When the priest was finished speaking, Zelos disappeared from the balcony, dismissing himself before she could find an excuse to slip away from her maids and speak with him. She sank back into her seat and irritably refused to move until the church was empty. Once again she had failed to meet with him, but at least the whispers that he had died alongside his mother had proven false.
Her visits to the Wilder Manor continued, her letters becoming more and more irate as they continued to be returned unopened by Sebastian when he met her at the door. Even being the Princess was not enough to gain entry, as Zelos’ rank was almost equal to her own as the Chosen. Christmas came and went, her gift for Zelos laying forgotten alongside the pile of returned letters. The holiday left a sour taste in her mouth despite her father’s best efforts to cheer her up. She grew sullen and often snapped at her maids as the cold weather dragged on and Zelos showed no sign of emerging from his self-imposed solitary confinement.
She visited Wilder Manor twice the next day, only to be turned away with the same words yet again. The third time she snuck out without her maids and without her coat, despite the ice. Instead of heading to the main door, she crawled under the barren garden hedge, ignoring the twigs tangling in her curls. She found the kitchen door unlocked and let herself in. A pair of maids gossiping over tea looked up as she entered, but she met them with a defiant and imperious glare and they were silent. One made her a tentative offer of tea, but she refused it and headed for the main hall.
The house smelled cloyingly of lilies, and she nearly knocked a vase over as she entered the hallway. She knew where Zelos’ room was from previous visits and she headed straight there, stepping around countless flower displays. Knocking seemed pointless, so she didn’t bother, pushing the door open and barging right in. The room was dark, the curtains pulled tightly over every window. She stood for a moment in the doorway, eyes adjusting to the gloom.
“…Zelos?” she ventured cautiously, stepping into the room but leaving the door open to allow the light from the hallway to spill in behind her. There was no answer, but she spotted the small figure curled up in the bed. Moving closer, she stumbled over a chair laying on the floor. Now that her eyes had adjusted some, she saw that the room was in complete disarray. There was broken glass on the floor around the dresser, glinting slightly in the light filtering in from the hall. She perched gingerly on the edge of the bed, but Zelos didn’t move. His back was to her, his gaze fixed firmly on the wall, eyes red-rimmed and expression hollow.
“Zelos,” she repeated, reaching out to shake his shoulder. He didn’t respond or even acknowledge her. She shook harder, scowling. “Get up!” she ordered. He shrugged her hand off his shoulder and pulled the blanket tighter around himself, curling into a smaller ball. Hilda let out a huff of displeasure and shoved him right off the other side of the bed. “You can’t keep ignoring me!” she told him, crawling over the bed to stare down at him. He sat up slowly, but did not look up at her.
“…Go away” he muttered eventually. “You shouldn’t be here.” She huffed again and crossed her arms over her chest.
“You skipped my Christmas party. You don’t answer my letters. You won’t let me come inside. You can’t just stay in your room for the rest of your life!”
“Go away Hilda,” he repeated, but there was no venom in his voice. In fact, there was no emotion at all. The words were as empty as his eyes, which seemed to stare right through her as she maneuvered into his line of sight.
“I will not go away. What do you think you’re doing, staying in bed all day? Why is it so dark in here?” She stood and strode over to the windows, attempting to throw the shades open dramatically, but they merely billowed briefly open before falling back around her. They were quite large for her small stature, but she managed to drag them aside with some effort. “Ugh, this room is a wreck! What have you been doing in here?” she asked, surveying the chaos of the room.
Returning to the bedside where Zelos still sat, staring hollowly at the wall, she said “Even you’re a mess. You need a haircut.” She reached for the red locks that were longer than usual, and for the first time Zelos reacted, slapping her hand away.
“Don’t! ...don’t.” He cradled his head in his hands, fingers curling into the strands. “She…she always cut it for me. Only she can cut it.” Hilda faltered briefly.
“…Lady Mylene? But Zelos…she’s…”
“Don’t!” he said again, curling in tighter on himself. Hilda scowled.
“She’s gone” she finished firmly. “She’s not coming back.” She crossed her arms again. “And you can’t just sit up here forever!” Zelos didn’t respond. “You have a job to do Zelos. We’re important people, the city looks up to us!”
“No one looks up to me” he muttered. “No one would care if it had been me.”
“You’re the Chosen, of course they care!” Hilda retorted. Zelos flinched as if she’d slapped him.
“…Is…is that all I am to you too?” he whispered. “The Chosen One?” Hilda realized her mistake too late.
“No, of course not,” she began, but he had already dropped his gaze again, curling his body away from her.
“It should have been me…” he whispered. “It should have been me…”
“Zelos, stop!” Hilda grabbed his shoulders and gave him another shake, but he just continued to murmur the phrase over and over, eyes empty. Frightened by his behavior, Hilda began to cry. “Stop saying that, stop saying that!” she wailed, covering her hands with her ears. Zelos continued to stare blankly at nothing, though he did stop muttering. A single tear leaked down his own cheek.
“It was my fault,” he whispered eventually. “It was all my fault.” Hilda continued to sob, caught up in her own hysterics, barely even hearing his words.
“N-no it wasn’t!” she managed between gasps, scrubbing furiously at her eyes as tears continued to leak out. “D-don’t say t-that!”
“My mother died and it was all my fault” he said again, with more conviction, but his voice cracked on the last word. His shoulders shook and he buried his face in his hands. For a few moments there was no sound but sobbing as Hilda struggled to get her own emotions under control and Zelos finally released the tears he had been bottling up.
“It’s not your fault.” Hilda finally managed. Zelos’ only response was a shuddering sob. “It’s not your fault,” she repeated. She reached gingerly for him, but dropped her hand halfway through the gesture, uncertain how to offer comfort.
“Why?” Zelos asked, his voice cracking again. “Why wasn’t it me?” Hilda had nothing to offer but a helpless shrug.
“My father says that everything happens for a reason…” she said softly, fingers curling uncertainly in the fabric of her skirts.
“I was the reason” Zelos sobbed. “T-they tried to kill me, and she…she…”
“Zelos…” Hilda began, but he interrupted her.
“She’s dead Hilda! She’s never coming back! She’s never coming back…” He sobbed even harder now, but his words provoked Hilda to anger rather than sympathy.
“My mother is dead too!” she snapped. “Dead forever and never coming back!” Zelos stopped sobbing, shocked into sudden silence. “You’re not the only one who has no mother!” she continued angrily. “So don’t pretend that you’re the only one who has problems!”
“You never even knew your mother!” Zelos protested, rubbing away some of the tears that still leaked from his eyes.
“And that makes it all ok, does it?” Hilda retorted. “I never knew her, so it’s fine that she’s dead?” Zelos protested weakly, but her temper was running hot and she ignored him. “It’s fine that she died because of me? If your mother’s death was your fault, then why shouldn’t I just go around blaming myself for my mother’s death?”
“It’s different!” Zelos said angrily, fists clenching in his lap.
In a matter of seconds, the two were yelling back and forth, screaming insults at one another. Zelos’ house staff appeared in the doorway, alarmed at all the noise, but the two children ignored them. Hilda threw a discarded shoe at Zelos, he retaliated with a chair cushion. She pushed him, he pulled her hair, and all the while they screamed at one another, releasing their pent up anger, sadness, and frustration. Sebastian waded in to peel them off one another as they started to kick and hit each other, dodging wild swings from both children. Though separated, they continued to hurl insults as two of the maids bodily hauled Hilda toward the door. Zelos could still hear her screaming all the way down the hall, but he calmed down under Sebastian’s reproachful gaze.
“I thought perhaps the Princess might do you some good, but this is not what I expected…” his butler said, lifting Zelos’ hand and inspecting the bruise blossoming on the thin fingers where the redhead had hit the wall in his flailing attempt to get at Hilda. “I do hope you will send her an apology. She went through a good deal of trouble to get in.”
“…There were sticks in her hair” Zelos suddenly recalled. The absurd detail had not clicked until that moment. “She snuck in, didn’t she? You didn’t let her in at all.”
“Indeed I did not, Master Zelos” Sebastian affirmed. “Though I did allow her to approach you unhindered.”
“…She’s right” Zelos muttered. “I can’t just…stay here forever.” Sebastian nodded, and Zelos closed his eyes. “I’ll have to…move on.”
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