seikilos

Title: The Importance of Honest, Direct Communication
Fandoms: (This part)

luceti, Tales of Legendia, Tales of Phantasia, Tales of Symphonia, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy IV: The After Years, original, Bomberman 64: The Second Attack, The Legend of Zelda, Eternal Sonata
Genre: Humour/romance
Rating: PG
Words: 4049 this part, 7093 overall
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the above fandoms.
Summary: The early days of Grune and Dhaos' relationship, as seen through the eyes of Fenimore, Norma, and Dhaos. Part 3: Dhaos discovers the perils of embarking on a relationship with one of the most innocent (and most social) members of Luceti.
Author's Notes: This is the part of the fic that's most showing its age. Some characters' situations and relationships have changed significantly since I wrote this in early fall; rather than reworking the fic extensively, I chose to change only superficial details and leave the overall structure of the fic intact.

There are also a number of characters who have become close to Grune in the time since I wrote the fic and its posting (Pao-lin and Seto come immediately to mind--and Robert, but I kind of doubt he'd be giving a talk to Dhaos) who would have gotten their own special scenes. I suppose that's what drabbles are for....

Special thanks to

hickumu for helping me with Giles' section! ♥

Anyway, this is the final part, so enjoy!

Chapter 1
Chapter 2

Dhaos did not miss being known as the Demon King. No longer having that terror-inspired title following him no matter where he travelled or to whom he spoke was one of the extremely few benefits of Luceti.

"Hey, Little D, I gotta talk to you for a sec."

However, he thought as he stared down at Norma, one of Grune's particularly noisy friends, on occasion, a little terror did not go amiss.

It was clear there was something on her mind, as she was glaring up at him with surprising ferocity for one so small. He attempted to recall what he could have done (or what she could have conceivably learned about him) to provoke that level of ire and came up with nothing worth such strong emotion.

"It's about G-Girl," she began, and at last, the situation began to make sense. Being discovered in the garden with Grune had doubtless not had a positive effect on his reputation amongst the members of House 34.

"I just wanna tell you, if you make G-Girl even the little, tiniest bit unhappy, and if you take advantage of her in any way—even just to get an extra cookie or something—then I'll flatten you like a pancake!" She thrust her finger under his nose. She had to stand on her toes to do it. "You got that?"

Dhaos just looked at her. In the silence, Norma's stomach growled.

"Oops, heh." She turned a bit pink. "Didn't have enough at breakfast."

". . . Evidently." The mentions of cookies and pancakes had been something of an indication.

"A-Anyway!" Norma collected herself. "You just think about what I said, got that? And remember, G-Girl's got a ton of friends who'll take you to pieces if you hurt her. So you make sure you treat her right, or else."

Her message delivered, Norma turned on her heel and swept away, leaving Dhaos to level an unimpressed looked at her back.

Once she had gone, he sighed. He supposed it was only to be expected. Grune had the love of more people than Dhaos could keep track of—much to his discomfort. It was only natural for them to be protective of someone so innocent.

Not realizing the significance of his thoughts, Dhaos continued on through the village to the tea shop. A cup of tea (without sweets) would settle him very well.

*

Not long after emerging from the tea shop, he noted another of Grune's housemates falling into step with him. This time, it was the blond girl of undetermined species, Fenimore. Once she was properly at his side, he looked down at her. Her fingers were curled into fists and her lips were pressed tight together. Odd—she was not the sort to be intimidated by merely speaking with an acquaintance.

Noticing his gaze on her, she ducked her head, took a deep breath, then said awkwardly, "Um. Hi, Dhaos."

". . . Good afternoon." Did she need something from him? Perhaps she wished to tell him something about Grune. . . .

. . . He did not like where this train of thought was going.

"Uh . . . nice weather we're having, huh?"

Dhaos didn't respond, but only waited for her to get to the point.

Fenimore fidgeted for a moment, then took yet another deep breath. "Look—can we talk? It's about Grune."

His suspicions all but confirmed, he only replied, "Very well."

"It's just. . . ." Fenimore's gaze slid away for a moment. "Grune means a lot to—a bunch of us. And she's . . . she's Grune. You know what she's like."

A nod. He did indeed know, better than most.

"So it'd be easy for her to get hurt. And I—and we don't want anything to happen to her."

Now Fenimore's gaze returned to him, and she stood very straight. "So make sure to treat her well, all right? We'd all be really upset if anything ever happened to her."

Dhaos tried not to sigh. ". . . I will ensure no harm comes to her."

Fenimore relaxed, just slightly. She gave him a nervous smile. "That's—that's great. Glad to hear it. . . . You've made her really happy, you know," she added in a gentler tone. "Even happier than she already is, I mean."

Now it was his turn to glance away in some embarrassment. Though it warmed him to hear that somehow, he had been able to add to Grune's happiness, he would have preferred not to have heard it from a third party.

". . . I am glad that is the case," he said at last, looking back at her.

She appeared a little red-faced as she said, too casually, "Anyway. I'll see you around, I guess."

"Good day," he said as she made . . . some sort of indecisive attempt at a wave and walked quickly away.

*

Later that day, on the way to visit Grune, he was accosted yet again—this time by Moses, the friend of Grune's who seemed unable to comprehend the function of shirts. Or combs. . . . Or grammar.

By his side was—presumably this was Giet, Moses' "friend." Dhaos eyed the beast's fangs mistrustfully and resolved to have yet another talk with Grune about safety in the face of monsters.

"Hey there, Dhaos! Got a minute?" Moses hailed him.

Dhaos stopped walking and looked first at him, then Giet as the monster strolled over to sniff at the fringe of his cloak. He was almost positive he knew what was coming next.

He was right. "I won't take too long, but this's somethin' I gotta say." Moses spent a moment looking up at him before continuing. "See, Grune's parta m'family, and family's important. Most important thing there is, t'my mind. Family's gotta look out for each other, yanno what I'm sayin'?"

Dhaos nodded, more to allow Moses to conclude his speech than out of any real, personal understanding of his message. It had been a very long time since he'd had a family of his own.

"So I'm gonna watch out fer Grune 'n' make sure nothin' happens ta her, 'n' I hope y'are too. 'Cause if ya don't. . . ." Moses gave him a one-eyed glare; Giet growled. "Me'n Giet'll make sure ya regret it fer what's lefta yer life, ya hear?"

". . . Yes." He understood the message quite well by this point.

Moses kept up his glare for a moment longer before breaking into a wide grin. "Great! Glad to hear it. Damn if y'ain't the luckiest man in Luceti—there's tons of guys 'n' gals out there who'd give just 'bout anythin' ta be in yer shoes."

That was not a pleasant thought. He did not enjoy the idea of Grune with anyone else, particularly given that too many of her friends seemed to be human.

A clap to his back—no doubt intended to be friendly—disrupted those black thoughts.

"Hey now, no need ta be gettin' all stormy—I was just sayin'!" Moses grinned at him again. "Don't worry. We all know better'n ta try ta take her from ya. But a man can't help dreamin', ya know?"

". . . No."

"Yeah, guess when every man's dream's yer honey, ya don't need ta, do ya?"he asked cheerfully, entirely unintimidated by the dark expression Dhaos wore. "Anyway, have a great day, ya hear? Me 'n' Giet'll be seein' ya around. C'mon, Giet."

As the boy and his monster ambled away, Dhaos pinched the bridge of his nose. If he could reach Grune's house with no further interruptions, he would count himself very fortunate indeed.

*

Dhaos was not a fortunate man. He knew this very well. Even so, today, his life seemed bent on reminding him—repeatedly.

As he drifted along the tree-lined road to House 34, Dhaos . . . paused. There was a human mana signature in one of the trees not far ahead. He pinpointed it and scanned the tree, searching for the person concealed within its branches; a moment later, Jay dropped from it to land lightly on his feet.

"So you saw me, did you?" the tiny boy asked pleasantly. "I really must find out how you keep doing that. I hope it doesn't mean all this time in Luceti is making me lose my touch. That would be distressing."

He strolled forward, his hands in his pockets. Dhaos kept a sharp eye on him. Out of all the children from the Legacy, Jay was the one he trusted the least. He seemed deceitful, with much of his good humour false and insincere. Dhaos monitored Grune's friends to the best of his ability, and he watched this boy among the closest of all.

"So far, you've done a fine job of looking after Grune, the way a good partner should. You should be pleased with yourself," Jay complemented him; his tone made Dhaos' fingers curl by his sides.

"Normally, I would have let you conduct your affairs in peace, but a certain stupid bandit insisted that I talk to you." Jay smiled at him. "Consider yourself talked to."

He turned and began walking away, then paused as if he had forgotten something and glanced over his shoulder—an affectation, Dhaos was certain.

"Oh, yes. If I do find you've hurt Grune in any way, unfortunately, I'll have to make sure you disappear from Luceti without a trace, and far more effectively than the Malnosso seem able to manage." He smiled again. "There. I knew I had been forgetting something."

He stepped off the path, back into the forest, and if Dhaos had not been able to sense his mana signature, he might have thought the boy had vanished.

He wasted no time looking for him, but instead continued floating down the path, well aware he was being watched the entire time.

*

"Your friends are highly concerned with your well-being," Dhaos informed Grune as they lay on his mantle in the grass.

Grune attempted to face him properly, but with her head resting on his shoulder it was quite impossible, and so she soon gave up. "Oh, are they? That's very kind of them."

"Mm," was his only response to that. Kind for Grune, perhaps, but not for him.

No one seemed concerned about his well-being—but since his partner was Grune, it was difficult to imagine her doing anything worth even a half-hearted threat. And, despite Grune's best efforts, he was still . . . somewhat lacking in friends. He supposed it was to be expected, given who he was.

He cut off that train of thought before it ruined the better mood spending time with Grune had brought him. Instead, he asked, "Who was the man in armour we met? The one with the silver hair."

"Oh, that was Cecil," Grune replied easily, and as always, he marveled that she could keep all her friends straight without effort where he, with far fewer memory problems, struggled.

"He seemed . . . very interested in our relationship," he said with more than a little understatement.

Grune smiled and this time managed to look up at him in a way he was certain had to be hurting her neck. "He was probably happy to find out we love each other as much as he and Rosa do."

"Rosa?" he asked, his heart leaping at her words. Love. . . .

"That's right. Rosa is his wife."

She snuggled into him and returned to watching the clouds, leaving him to kiss the top of her head and think in wonder that perhaps he was not quite so lacking in fortune, after all.

*

It was not a thought destined to last. Returning Grune to her home in time for supper, they were met at the door by Stella, the oldest of children living in House 34. He braced himself accordingly.

It was somewhat confusing, then, when Stella smiled and said, "Hello, Grune, Dhaos. Did you have a nice time?"

"Oh, yes," Grune replied. "We saw all kinds of pretty shapes in the clouds, didn't we, Dhaos?"

"Mm," he replied eloquently, watching as Stella turned that smiling face to him.

"I'm happy to hear it, Grune. Why don't you wash up for supper and join the others at the table? . . . Actually, would you like to stay, Dhaos? We have more than enough to share."

"Oh, yes, that would be very nice," Grune said instantly, her face lighting up at the idea.

Dhaos avoided her gaze. ". . . I have other plans." Plans that involved not eating.

"Maybe next time," Stella said. . . . Dhaos was really starting to wonder about that smile. "Thank you for returning Grune to us safe and sound. Goodbye, Dhaos."

"Goodbye!" Grune echoed.

". . . Goodbye."

Dhaos turned away from the door, and the entire way back to his apartment, he couldn't shake the impression that he had just been threatened by a master.

*

"I know you probably want Grune to be happy just as much as everyone else," this blond boy with elven ears said earnestly, "and maybe even more. But still—try to look after her, all right? If anyone deserves to be happy, it's Grune."

"I am aware." Very, very aware.

*

"Dhaos had better be nice to Grune or else, myu!"

*

Out of all of Grune's friends, there was one man Dhaos had been avoiding with great determination. His efforts to evade him had begun the very moment his lips had touched Grune's free of the compulsion of anything save his own will, and had continued ever since. He had been highly successful so far—after all, they would be both quite happy to never see each other again—but at last, he was cornered in the tea shop.

"Hello, Dhaos," Giles said mildly; Dhaos wondered if it would be worth revealing his ability to teleport to leave this wretched human behind.

"I've heard you and Grune are dating now," he went on. "Congratulations. You both must be very happy."

He sounded sincere, but that meant nothing. Giles, he knew, was highly adept at feigning benign emotions.

". . . Can I help you guys?" Sheena asked, turning up at his table with what would have been admirable suddenness, if Dhaos were unable to sense mana signatures.

"No."

"No, thank you," Giles said with considerably more politeness. He turned back to Dhaos. "Actually, I'm happy to have caught you. Would you mind terribly stepping outside for a moment?"

He would, but if he refused, he would only be delaying the confrontation. It would be best to let Giles deliver his message and thereby remove the need to speak to him for a very long time.

Giles stopped in the stairwell that connected the tea shop to the Welcome Centre. He could have taken the higher ground had he allowed Dhaos to go first, Dhaos noted, but it seemed he judged such elementary tactics beneath him.

"I was hoping you could help me out with a project—or, well, my housemate's project," Giles began pleasantly. "He studies magic of all kinds, so I thought he'd be interested in yours. Maybe we could even compare our own for him. I'm sure he'd be quite interested in what is and isn't possible on various worlds."

This was something new, and something he did not like. Grune had not mentioned Giles practiced magic—but then again, doubtless she had not considered it important.

". . . You are capable of using magic as well," Dhaos said flatly.

"Yes, that's right." Giles smiled, almost apologetically. "Mostly Filial magic now, but when I was younger, I used quite a bit of . . . other kinds. I imagine I could still muster something—you never do quite forget those spells you should. Do you, Dhaos?"

He refuse to be drawn. He regretted only the pain his mind control spell had caused Grune—nothing else. "Mm."

"Anyway, do you think you could help out Helios? He'd appreciate it very much," Giles said, still speaking in that irritatingly inoffensive voice.

". . . Perhaps."

Dhaos continued down the stairs and departed, extremely aware of the man behind him. Were he not an angel, at that moment, he would never have considered turning his back on Giles.

It was a shame he would be caught almost instantly were he to bespell Giles a second time. The thought was as attractive as it was unwise. All the same, he consoled himself with it as he stalked back to his apartment.

*

The next day, he escaped being further lectured by more of Grune's seemingly endless friends through the simple means of avoiding the ground entirely. When it came time to visit her, he opened the window of his sixth storey apartment, brought out his wings, and departed. The flight to her house was peaceful, and Dhaos savoured the silence.

Touching down in her garden, he was not immediately assaulted by protective friends. He savoured that, too. If Grune were to answer the door when he knocked, Dhaos would consider this to be an ideal morning.

It was not to be, however, as the person to pull open the door was House 34's final resident, the boy, Walter.

"I suppose you're here for Grune," he said, sounding as displeased as always. Dhaos had once thought he had unintentionally offended the boy, until he had come to realize that this was his natural state.

"She's in her room," Walter went on, not bothering to wait for Dhaos to answer, which suited him quite well. "Come on in—you can wait in the living room." He made an abrupt gesture at the couch, then raised his voice. "Grune, one of your friends is here."

As Walter turned to go, Dhaos gave him a slightly curious look. No doubt he should leave well enough alone, but after the past two days, their encounter seemed—strange.

". . . You are not going to lecture me?"

Walter gave him a blank look. "Lecture you? On what?"

"On how to treat Grune."

"Why should I care what happens to an Orerines?" Walter asked incredulously.

. . . Dhaos decided, quite suddenly, that he did not like Walter very much at all. "'Orerines'?"

"A human." He spoke the word with clear distaste.

"Grune is not human," he said sharply. He did not want anyone making such a mistake.

Walter looked at him as though he were stupid. "Of course she's human. What else could she be? She isn't a Ferines, and she certainly isn't an Oresoren."

"Oh, Dhaos, hello!"

Dhaos turned to see Grune beaming at him, and some of the anger he felt at Walter's slander drained from him.

". . . Good morning."

Walter left without a word, ignoring Grune's smile for him; Dhaos was not sorry to see him go.

She came to sit with him on the couch and cuddled up close. Dhaos could feel his face heating. If Norma or Fenimore were to walk into the room now, he would never live it down.

"I wonder what we should do today."

"Perhaps we could go on a flight together," he suggested. The sooner they left the house—and the village—the happier he would be.

Grune beamed up at him. "Oh, what a nice idea! I'll just go pack us a little lunch."

Well aware of both Grune's tendency to insist on feeding him and her continued incomprehension of his dislike of sweets, he said a little more quickly than usual, "There is no need. We will be back in time for lunch."

"Oh, but what if we get hungry? That wouldn't be very good." She rose and went into the kitchen.

He sighed. He loved Grune—there was no question of feeling otherwise—but sometimes it was an exercise in patience.

*

The following day, Dhaos' meager store of luck ran out. The moment he opened his journal, he was greeted by a message written entirely in block capitals, which read, "I AM ALWAYS WATCHING YOU." It was accompanied by a snapshot of a young blond boy glaring blackly at him.

Dhaos closed the journal.

Sometime later, he tried again, only to be trapped in a lecture from Frédéric, the human who shared his voice. After five minutes of a sternly-delivered speech, he considered himself very well informed on the proper way to treat a lady. He told Frédéric as much. Frédéric's response was a measuring look. He took in a breath.

Dhaos closed the journal.

The next time he opened his journal, he was immediately greeted by text:

"Hi, Dhaos. I don't think we've officially met. I'm Ginia, a friend of Grune's. I'd like to talk—"

Dhaos slammed the journal shut and just barely resisted the urge to hurl it against the wall.

Enough was enough.

He opened his window and once again took flight for House 34.

*

It was a sign of how often he visited that Fenimore looked completely unsurprised to see him. Certainly, that would not have been the case a year ago. How quickly a life could change. . . .

"Hi, Dhaos," she greeted him. "If you're looking for Grune, she said she was going to be baking with Helios. Although where she actually is, is anyone's guess."

He shook his head. The assumption was not an unreasonable one, but. . . . "I wish to speak with you, not Grune."

She looked startled. "With me? What for?"

It was with effort that he kept his gaze on hers. ". . . I need to ask a favour."

"This wouldn't happen to be for Grune, would it?" Fenimore asked, and Dhaos determinedly ignored the teasing note in her voice.

"Yes." In a way.

"All right, come on in and let me know what's on your mind." Fenimore stepped back and Dhaos walked past her to stand uncomfortably in the living room.

"Have a seat. Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you."

Unlike Grune, Fenimore didn't press, but left matters as they were. She joined him, taking the side of the couch nearest his chair, then looked at him expectantly.

Gods above, this was awkward. Why did Grune always put him in such strange situations?

". . . Do you know who Grune's friends are?" he finally made himself ask.

"Sure. Most of them, anyway. It's pretty hard to keep track, though." She gave him a curious look. "Why?"

". . . I would appreciate it if you would request that they cease threatening me."

Fenimore blinked, then covered her mouth with a hand. It did little to muffle her brief laugh. "Are they giving you a hard time for dating Grune?"

"Yes. It is growing tiresome."

His irritation only seemed to fuel her amusement. "I bet it would, with all the friends she has." She made an effort to regain a straight face. "I'll see what I can do. No promises, though—some of them are pretty stubborn."

"I appreciate your effort." He rose.

"No problem." She smiled. "Good luck."

". . . Thank you."

*

It took a few days, but eventually the stream of people contacting him to utter threats they couldn't possibly carry out slowed to a trickle, then died away almost entirely. About a week later, he judged it safe to allow Grune to hold his hand as they walked through the village. It was . . . not an unpleasant experience. He noted several villagers watching them as they crossed the square, but he pretended to be unaware.

Perhaps being so observed was beneficial, he found himself thinking. Grune was so pure and innocent where he had lost those qualities long ago, that perhaps it was for the best they were under such scrutiny.

"Dhaos?"

"Mm?" He looked down at her; she was wearing a hopeful expression.

"Will you come to supper tonight? It would be very nice."

Spending time with Grune's housemates, having food thrust upon him and being unable to refuse it, being unable to find a quiet moment with Grune—none of it would be enjoyable for him. But—

". . . Very well."

. . . To see Grune smile up at him, as if his presence at her table would bring her the most incredible joy—it made it worthwhile.

It made everything worthwhile.