Chapter 2 - Kratos/Anna
Jul. 25th, 2006 08:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seikilosTitle: Currently untitled
Fandom: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Angst/Romance
Rating: PG-13; later chapters may hit R.
Summary: One woman's take on the untold love story between Kratos and Anna.
Chapter Title: 2 - Bastard
Chapter Rating: PG for language.
Words in Chapter: 1126
Disclaimer: I don't own Tales of Symphonia.
Author's Notes: I've never had a fic come to me so quickly and so crystal clear as this one. For all I know, I may be pumping out a chapter day until I finish it. It certainly feels like it right now.
At thirteen fifty-five the next day, Kratos stepped off the transporter pad into Asgard Human Ranch, a folder tucked under his arm. Once again, all the Desian soldiers stopped to kneel. Kvar, who had been waiting for him, merely bowed and moved forward.
“Lord Kratos, I’ve prepared a room for your examinations,” he said. “It is in a more isolated part of the ranch, where you will not be disturbed.”
Kratos gave a curt nod. “Where is this room?”
“Follow me, my lord.” Kvar turned and started walking.
It was not long before Kvar stopped outside a sliding door. “The host body is in here. If you need any additional materials, there is an intercom in the east corner of the room.”
Kratos nodded again. “Good. You are dismissed.”
“Yes, my lord.” Kvar bowed and left.
Kratos strode into the room and surveyed it. The room was mostly bare, except for a table and two chairs, and a pile of Desian disciplining devices in the corner. Host Body A012 was seated in one of the chairs, shoulders rolled in, back curved, head bowed. If defeat had a physical form, that form was Host Body A012.
He walked over to the empty chair across from the host body and sat down. The host body did not look up or otherwise stir. Kratos brought out a few papers and a pen, arranged the papers, picked up the pen, and then looked at the host body.
“You are Host Body A012?” he asked. It would not do for him to interview the wrong host body through a careless mistake. The lighting had been too poor for him to be certain this was the same host body.
The host body gave a reply, too quiet to be intelligible.
“Speak up.”
“Anna,” the host body rasped out. Due to the shortened water rations given to those in the isolation cells, her voice was barely more than a breath.
Kratos raised an eyebrow at her.
“My name is” —she went into a coughing fit— “Anna.” For the first time, she raised her head to look at him. Her gaze was not quite as defeated as her posture. “You—bastard.”
Then she flinched as Kratos moved his right hand. It was not to strike her, as she clearly had been anticipating, but to set down the pen. Kratos rose to his feet and walked over to the intercom.
He pushed a button on the intercom. “Bring in a pitcher of cool water and a glass.” Then he shut off the device.
There was little point in asking questions if the host body had no voice to answer them, after all.
Kratos went back to his seat. He took up his pen again. “So. You are Host Body A012.”
“Anna.” She did not lower her stare this time.
Kratos sighed. “Anna. You have been assigned the number A012?”
“Yes,” she finally answered. She said no more, as the door to the room slid open, admitting a soldier.
He came forward, carrying the requested pitcher and a glass. “My lord, I’ve brought you the water you requested.”
“Set it down on the table,” Kratos commanded.
Kratos noted the way the host body’s eyes followed the water, although he did not write that fact down down. Waiting until the soldier had knelt and left, he took the pitcher, poured a glass, and then pushed it toward the host body.
“Drink,” he ordered her. “You will need to be able to answer my questions.”
Despite her obvious thirst, the host body did not take the glass. “You had someone poison it. Bastard.”
“That would serve no purpose and would run counter to the goals of the Angelus Project.” Kratos felt a brief flare of impatience. “We need you alive and able to answer questions on your condition.”
She must have understood. Either that, or she was unable to resist any longer. Regardless, the host body seized the glass and drained it quickly. She reached out to pour another, but Kratos moved the pitcher away.
“If you drink too quickly after being deprived, you will sicken,” he said when she glared at him. “You may have more once you answer my questions.”
“Bastard,” she said again in response.
Kratos ignored the insult. To him, it was as insignificant as a single ant is to the stars.
Systematically, Kratos began working his way through the list. The questions were standard for any host body equipped with an Exsphere; her answers would determine new questions for him to ask the next time.
Had she been feeling any unusual flares of heat in her hand, the location of the destined Cruxis Crystal? Had she been running a fever? Had she noticed any change in her strength or response time?
The list was long. The host body answered the questions sullenly. When her voice began to give out again, Kratos poured her another glass, which she guzzled just as greedily as the first time. When he had finished his questions, he poured her another, which she drank a little more slowly this time.
At the end of the session, Kratos ordered her to give him her left hand. She did so. He held it and ran his finger around the skin where the Exsphere had begun to sink into her hand. There were no signs of corruption as of yet; her hand was mostly whole. He put a finger to the Exsphere itself, feeling its surface for any pits or other changes that would herald a problem.
“Very well.” Kratos poured the remainder of the water into the glass and pushed it toward the host body. “That is all for today. I will be examining you at the same time every day from now until the project reaches its completion. For now, I am done, Host Body A012.”
“It’s Anna, you bastard,” she replied, her voice stronger than before, thanks to the water she had received, the equivalent of two full days’ rations, perhaps even three.
He sighed again. “Kratos.”
This caught her off guard. “. . . What?”
He rose from his seat and folded his arms. “My name is Kratos. Not ‘bastard.’ You will address me as ‘Lord Kratos.’ Anna.”
The host body set the glass down and got to her feet as well. “. . . Yes, Lord Kratos.”
Kratos gave her a curt nod and walked over to the intercom. He turned it on and said into it, “The interview is complete. See that she is returned to me at the same time tomorrow.”
Then he returned to the table and moved the water glass and pitcher to the end of the table nearest to him, just before two Desian soldiers came to take the host body away.
Fandom: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Angst/Romance
Rating: PG-13; later chapters may hit R.
Summary: One woman's take on the untold love story between Kratos and Anna.
Chapter Title: 2 - Bastard
Chapter Rating: PG for language.
Words in Chapter: 1126
Disclaimer: I don't own Tales of Symphonia.
Author's Notes: I've never had a fic come to me so quickly and so crystal clear as this one. For all I know, I may be pumping out a chapter day until I finish it. It certainly feels like it right now.
At thirteen fifty-five the next day, Kratos stepped off the transporter pad into Asgard Human Ranch, a folder tucked under his arm. Once again, all the Desian soldiers stopped to kneel. Kvar, who had been waiting for him, merely bowed and moved forward.
“Lord Kratos, I’ve prepared a room for your examinations,” he said. “It is in a more isolated part of the ranch, where you will not be disturbed.”
Kratos gave a curt nod. “Where is this room?”
“Follow me, my lord.” Kvar turned and started walking.
It was not long before Kvar stopped outside a sliding door. “The host body is in here. If you need any additional materials, there is an intercom in the east corner of the room.”
Kratos nodded again. “Good. You are dismissed.”
“Yes, my lord.” Kvar bowed and left.
Kratos strode into the room and surveyed it. The room was mostly bare, except for a table and two chairs, and a pile of Desian disciplining devices in the corner. Host Body A012 was seated in one of the chairs, shoulders rolled in, back curved, head bowed. If defeat had a physical form, that form was Host Body A012.
He walked over to the empty chair across from the host body and sat down. The host body did not look up or otherwise stir. Kratos brought out a few papers and a pen, arranged the papers, picked up the pen, and then looked at the host body.
“You are Host Body A012?” he asked. It would not do for him to interview the wrong host body through a careless mistake. The lighting had been too poor for him to be certain this was the same host body.
The host body gave a reply, too quiet to be intelligible.
“Speak up.”
“Anna,” the host body rasped out. Due to the shortened water rations given to those in the isolation cells, her voice was barely more than a breath.
Kratos raised an eyebrow at her.
“My name is” —she went into a coughing fit— “Anna.” For the first time, she raised her head to look at him. Her gaze was not quite as defeated as her posture. “You—bastard.”
Then she flinched as Kratos moved his right hand. It was not to strike her, as she clearly had been anticipating, but to set down the pen. Kratos rose to his feet and walked over to the intercom.
He pushed a button on the intercom. “Bring in a pitcher of cool water and a glass.” Then he shut off the device.
There was little point in asking questions if the host body had no voice to answer them, after all.
Kratos went back to his seat. He took up his pen again. “So. You are Host Body A012.”
“Anna.” She did not lower her stare this time.
Kratos sighed. “Anna. You have been assigned the number A012?”
“Yes,” she finally answered. She said no more, as the door to the room slid open, admitting a soldier.
He came forward, carrying the requested pitcher and a glass. “My lord, I’ve brought you the water you requested.”
“Set it down on the table,” Kratos commanded.
Kratos noted the way the host body’s eyes followed the water, although he did not write that fact down down. Waiting until the soldier had knelt and left, he took the pitcher, poured a glass, and then pushed it toward the host body.
“Drink,” he ordered her. “You will need to be able to answer my questions.”
Despite her obvious thirst, the host body did not take the glass. “You had someone poison it. Bastard.”
“That would serve no purpose and would run counter to the goals of the Angelus Project.” Kratos felt a brief flare of impatience. “We need you alive and able to answer questions on your condition.”
She must have understood. Either that, or she was unable to resist any longer. Regardless, the host body seized the glass and drained it quickly. She reached out to pour another, but Kratos moved the pitcher away.
“If you drink too quickly after being deprived, you will sicken,” he said when she glared at him. “You may have more once you answer my questions.”
“Bastard,” she said again in response.
Kratos ignored the insult. To him, it was as insignificant as a single ant is to the stars.
Systematically, Kratos began working his way through the list. The questions were standard for any host body equipped with an Exsphere; her answers would determine new questions for him to ask the next time.
Had she been feeling any unusual flares of heat in her hand, the location of the destined Cruxis Crystal? Had she been running a fever? Had she noticed any change in her strength or response time?
The list was long. The host body answered the questions sullenly. When her voice began to give out again, Kratos poured her another glass, which she guzzled just as greedily as the first time. When he had finished his questions, he poured her another, which she drank a little more slowly this time.
At the end of the session, Kratos ordered her to give him her left hand. She did so. He held it and ran his finger around the skin where the Exsphere had begun to sink into her hand. There were no signs of corruption as of yet; her hand was mostly whole. He put a finger to the Exsphere itself, feeling its surface for any pits or other changes that would herald a problem.
“Very well.” Kratos poured the remainder of the water into the glass and pushed it toward the host body. “That is all for today. I will be examining you at the same time every day from now until the project reaches its completion. For now, I am done, Host Body A012.”
“It’s Anna, you bastard,” she replied, her voice stronger than before, thanks to the water she had received, the equivalent of two full days’ rations, perhaps even three.
He sighed again. “Kratos.”
This caught her off guard. “. . . What?”
He rose from his seat and folded his arms. “My name is Kratos. Not ‘bastard.’ You will address me as ‘Lord Kratos.’ Anna.”
The host body set the glass down and got to her feet as well. “. . . Yes, Lord Kratos.”
Kratos gave her a curt nod and walked over to the intercom. He turned it on and said into it, “The interview is complete. See that she is returned to me at the same time tomorrow.”
Then he returned to the table and moved the water glass and pitcher to the end of the table nearest to him, just before two Desian soldiers came to take the host body away.
