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DEPRESSING FIC TIME
Title: Love, Part I
Fandom: Tales of Symphonia
Characters/Pairings: Zelos, brief mentions of Mylene
Summary: Talk about love and marriage in Meltokio. First part of who knows how many.
Warnings: Some brief mentions of statutory rape, child neglect and pretty much this thing is a pile of effing depressing. The other parts when I type them up should probably be better.
Word Count: 1,953
One of the numerous things Meltokio society prided itself on was that the people were privileged, unlike so many civilizations before in Tethe'alla, to choose their own spouses.
Unlike days past, people were not victims to the luck of the draw, they'd say. Everyone had the freedom to choose who to spend to wed in holy matrimony. Marriage was about love, they'd say, that was the principle priority when choosing your spouse. It was seen as progressive, remarking and liberating.
Chosen marriages were not so fortunate to be so progressive. Pedigree and the insurance that another Chosen would be born were still far too important matters to let such a thing occur. For a Chosen, marriage was meant to be with a spouse could come from any corner of the world. There was no concern with courting, marriage proposals or asking of consent. That instead they were chosen from a very selective process. When a candidate was found, the church would come to snatch them from their homes, all while citing the claim it was the decree of the angels and for the sake of the world. The new chosen partners were carted off to Meltokio, where the Chosen was held, to be wed. Zelos would hear the stories from the maids that his mother had only been in Meltokio a day before she was wed. That they recalled needing to do her make up ("Not that she needed much, such a naturally beautiful girl she was") twice simply because her quiet tears would keep making it run.
Only years later, after the worlds were one again, did Zelos even learn of his mother's maiden name and hometown. It was in an old records book some unknown yet clearly meticulous pastor had recorded. He would imagine that pastor, simply for the sake of records, was the only one to ever learn such information from his mother. It did not matter to anyone else. The young beauty from Flanoir had vanished the day the church officials had come to her family's door, replaced in her stead by the Chosen's bride and later, mother.
With stories like these it was no wonder than when Zelos was young, he envied the ones lucky enough to choose their own partner. Listening to the chatter of love with his young ears, he would yearn for the fantasies they would spin. The fairy tale ending that was so very different from the hell he witnessed every day of his parents' marriage. Many evenings he would spend simply watch from the window as couples walked together, their hands intertwined together and their entire worlds being one another. The look of love on their faces seemed more sacred than any vigil or prayer.
Some nights before he became orphaned and yet still up to him to tuck in and prepare for sleep, he would console himself with the fantasy of the church lifting the rules of marriage for the Chosen. That he'd meet a girl with an angelic face and long flowing hair that would be his one true love. One that smiled warmly when he came into the room, instead of turning her head to face the window instead as his mother always did.
Once the red snow fell, he slowly stopped using such a silly fantasy. It never did much good against the nightmares, the ones that left him panicked and tearful in the middle of the night. He would try to recall it's old familiar details as he wrapped his own arms around his shivering and quaking body in a pathetic attempt to mimic embraces he had read about. Tried to use it to comfort him like a blanket as it once had, but the fears and pain were too much for it to have much use. Like using a bucket to scoop up an entire sea.
No one like him deserved such a happy ending, after all.
Sometimes, when he was older, he mused that it was a good thing he had begun to discard such a fantasy. For when he was a teenager and his childish looks gave way to adult features that left people breathless when he walked in a room, did he begin to see what a true fantasy his views on the loving marriages had been.
He was twelve when he received his first kiss. A sixteen year old noble that he always thought was beautiful when he spotted her at church or at functions. Her long dark hair always carefully braided in a way that could only have been done by a caring hand, her voice in choir always seemed to soar above the others. She must have caught his occasional staring, for during one event she led him away to a more private area, someone's bedroom. She smiled at him and told him that even if he was so young, she found him so handsome. That she sometimes would dream of him one day being her brave knight. She stole a kiss from him, quick and light, before returning to the public. He remained behind, feeling speechless, confused yet elated.
A week later the girl's family sent a letter of proposal, something not uncustomary for the noble class of Meltokio. He sat in the kitchen (an unrefined place to be for a noble as that was for servants, but they had long stopped chiding him for such behavior years ago), opened the letter and read it. His eyes widen, dashes of hope that still remained began to rise up again. Youthful optimism for a moment won out over reality, as he began imagining how to convince the church to accept the proposal and over look the arrangement rule.
His butler Sebastian must have been reading the letter over Zelos's shoulder (a habit he had, for the master was still so young). Being much older, his eyes were not victim to the rose colored tint that youthfulness naivety can bring. He saw the mistake on the letter before Zelos did. Instead of pointing it out, he instead cleared his throat and began to make a pot of tea. Sebastian always seemed to think the answer, the only proper answer when something was wrong, was a cup of tea. After all, there were many rules of what was proper and improper when it came to the dealings of noble children- much less the Chosen One. Zelos, who had long grown accustomed to this answer of Sebastian's, felt his hopes start to get gnawed by fear the moment he heard that kettle be placed on the stove. That fear gnawed enough at the rose tint to make him look again and see what Sebastian had saw.
His first name had been misspelled. A proposal of marriage that claimed love and yet they could have not been bothered to check the spelling of his first name.
He threw the letter in the fire. A few weeks after he had sent a polite rejection (one that Sebastian had after he realized the young master was far from in the mood of being cordial when the first few drafts contained unsavory terms Sebastian surmised he found in one of the older books on his shelves), he was asked to attend a brunch as he often was even if no one spoke with him the entire time. During this, he overheard that the same girl had recently become betrothed with the oldest son of a wealthy noble with connections to the king. One that Zelos could barely ever remember seeing for he was out of Meltokio so often. They all praised how wonderful that young love stirred between two people of the right class, and how proud their parents must be that they had found one another. Zelos, even as he said nothing, heard every word as he did in all the times past about stories of love. But this time, he heard it with fresh and informed ears, heard what the people were saying between their words, the true conversation.
Even in marriages that were by their own choosing, love was not a part of it. Money, connections, pedigree, power- those things shined even brighter than actual love in their eyes.
This new found knowledge was only confirmed by the piles of proposals and attempts to court him that followed after through the years. They happened so frequently that it wasn't long until he pinpointed the exact reason why. By the time he was fourteen he felt so sure of the games and tricks, as many often mistakenly do at such an age. One night at yet another function he let an older noblewoman take him to her room and have her way with him. He thought he fully knew well what he was getting into, that he had consented to this all. Yet he found his head was turned to the side and he stared at the drawn curtains the entire time, doing his best not to shed tears. If he succeeded or not, she never seemed to notice and once it was over, she cleaned herself up and returned to the public. He remained behind, feeling empty.
He would avoid that woman after word spread of what happened. Yet he couldn't deny he was grateful that she didn't follow up the deed with a proposal or a false claim of love. In this world, love had nothing to do with such acts like that.
The years continued and the only thing to change was him. He soon learned better to play the game, how to take full advantage of their attempts all while remaining the unobtainable. Zelos became the fantasy that so many of these women seemed to want to grab onto, the impossible fantasy. He'd receive marriage proposals weekly, but he learned how to reply to them himself without giving them a second thought. Others would lead him to their bedrooms, but he learned how to be the one to control how the rest of the evening went, how to fully enjoy it. It wasn't too many years before he perfected his art, a smile alone could cause someone to swoon. A few words and they would be in his arms, lost in their fantasies. The only ones that ever seemed truly unaffected, Zelos found, were the ones who had been lucky enough to actually find the love that everyone claim they did.
Needless to say, that was a rare occurrence in the noble district of Meltokio.
Sometimes he'd wonder why people kept bothering sending him proposals, kept trying to win over his affections. He knew their reasons why were simply out of their own advantage, but for moments he'd be perplexed at the fact surely they knew it was futile.Maybe they didn't know the full story, the true nightmare that it was- but surely they knew it had to do with an arranged marriage didn't they? Eventually he grew to realize that it wasn't that they didn't know, they simply felt ambitious enough that they felt such a rule could be waived if they played their hand right. They overestimated their own and the Chosen's power, their desires were that great. But he still remained with the cold hard truth. Unless he found a way to be free, there would be a day where a girl would be carted in from a corner of the world to be his bride, as his mother once was. That even if a miracle happened and he could accept any one of these numerous proposals instead of being married off, there would be no love waiting for him. Either way, he would lose. It was a good thing he had finally given up on the idea of finding love.
Nothing like him deserved such a happy ending, after all.
Yet one day, things started to change.
Fandom: Tales of Symphonia
Characters/Pairings: Zelos, brief mentions of Mylene
Summary: Talk about love and marriage in Meltokio. First part of who knows how many.
Warnings: Some brief mentions of statutory rape, child neglect and pretty much this thing is a pile of effing depressing. The other parts when I type them up should probably be better.
Word Count: 1,953
One of the numerous things Meltokio society prided itself on was that the people were privileged, unlike so many civilizations before in Tethe'alla, to choose their own spouses.
Unlike days past, people were not victims to the luck of the draw, they'd say. Everyone had the freedom to choose who to spend to wed in holy matrimony. Marriage was about love, they'd say, that was the principle priority when choosing your spouse. It was seen as progressive, remarking and liberating.
Chosen marriages were not so fortunate to be so progressive. Pedigree and the insurance that another Chosen would be born were still far too important matters to let such a thing occur. For a Chosen, marriage was meant to be with a spouse could come from any corner of the world. There was no concern with courting, marriage proposals or asking of consent. That instead they were chosen from a very selective process. When a candidate was found, the church would come to snatch them from their homes, all while citing the claim it was the decree of the angels and for the sake of the world. The new chosen partners were carted off to Meltokio, where the Chosen was held, to be wed. Zelos would hear the stories from the maids that his mother had only been in Meltokio a day before she was wed. That they recalled needing to do her make up ("Not that she needed much, such a naturally beautiful girl she was") twice simply because her quiet tears would keep making it run.
Only years later, after the worlds were one again, did Zelos even learn of his mother's maiden name and hometown. It was in an old records book some unknown yet clearly meticulous pastor had recorded. He would imagine that pastor, simply for the sake of records, was the only one to ever learn such information from his mother. It did not matter to anyone else. The young beauty from Flanoir had vanished the day the church officials had come to her family's door, replaced in her stead by the Chosen's bride and later, mother.
With stories like these it was no wonder than when Zelos was young, he envied the ones lucky enough to choose their own partner. Listening to the chatter of love with his young ears, he would yearn for the fantasies they would spin. The fairy tale ending that was so very different from the hell he witnessed every day of his parents' marriage. Many evenings he would spend simply watch from the window as couples walked together, their hands intertwined together and their entire worlds being one another. The look of love on their faces seemed more sacred than any vigil or prayer.
Some nights before he became orphaned and yet still up to him to tuck in and prepare for sleep, he would console himself with the fantasy of the church lifting the rules of marriage for the Chosen. That he'd meet a girl with an angelic face and long flowing hair that would be his one true love. One that smiled warmly when he came into the room, instead of turning her head to face the window instead as his mother always did.
Once the red snow fell, he slowly stopped using such a silly fantasy. It never did much good against the nightmares, the ones that left him panicked and tearful in the middle of the night. He would try to recall it's old familiar details as he wrapped his own arms around his shivering and quaking body in a pathetic attempt to mimic embraces he had read about. Tried to use it to comfort him like a blanket as it once had, but the fears and pain were too much for it to have much use. Like using a bucket to scoop up an entire sea.
No one like him deserved such a happy ending, after all.
Sometimes, when he was older, he mused that it was a good thing he had begun to discard such a fantasy. For when he was a teenager and his childish looks gave way to adult features that left people breathless when he walked in a room, did he begin to see what a true fantasy his views on the loving marriages had been.
He was twelve when he received his first kiss. A sixteen year old noble that he always thought was beautiful when he spotted her at church or at functions. Her long dark hair always carefully braided in a way that could only have been done by a caring hand, her voice in choir always seemed to soar above the others. She must have caught his occasional staring, for during one event she led him away to a more private area, someone's bedroom. She smiled at him and told him that even if he was so young, she found him so handsome. That she sometimes would dream of him one day being her brave knight. She stole a kiss from him, quick and light, before returning to the public. He remained behind, feeling speechless, confused yet elated.
A week later the girl's family sent a letter of proposal, something not uncustomary for the noble class of Meltokio. He sat in the kitchen (an unrefined place to be for a noble as that was for servants, but they had long stopped chiding him for such behavior years ago), opened the letter and read it. His eyes widen, dashes of hope that still remained began to rise up again. Youthful optimism for a moment won out over reality, as he began imagining how to convince the church to accept the proposal and over look the arrangement rule.
His butler Sebastian must have been reading the letter over Zelos's shoulder (a habit he had, for the master was still so young). Being much older, his eyes were not victim to the rose colored tint that youthfulness naivety can bring. He saw the mistake on the letter before Zelos did. Instead of pointing it out, he instead cleared his throat and began to make a pot of tea. Sebastian always seemed to think the answer, the only proper answer when something was wrong, was a cup of tea. After all, there were many rules of what was proper and improper when it came to the dealings of noble children- much less the Chosen One. Zelos, who had long grown accustomed to this answer of Sebastian's, felt his hopes start to get gnawed by fear the moment he heard that kettle be placed on the stove. That fear gnawed enough at the rose tint to make him look again and see what Sebastian had saw.
His first name had been misspelled. A proposal of marriage that claimed love and yet they could have not been bothered to check the spelling of his first name.
He threw the letter in the fire. A few weeks after he had sent a polite rejection (one that Sebastian had after he realized the young master was far from in the mood of being cordial when the first few drafts contained unsavory terms Sebastian surmised he found in one of the older books on his shelves), he was asked to attend a brunch as he often was even if no one spoke with him the entire time. During this, he overheard that the same girl had recently become betrothed with the oldest son of a wealthy noble with connections to the king. One that Zelos could barely ever remember seeing for he was out of Meltokio so often. They all praised how wonderful that young love stirred between two people of the right class, and how proud their parents must be that they had found one another. Zelos, even as he said nothing, heard every word as he did in all the times past about stories of love. But this time, he heard it with fresh and informed ears, heard what the people were saying between their words, the true conversation.
Even in marriages that were by their own choosing, love was not a part of it. Money, connections, pedigree, power- those things shined even brighter than actual love in their eyes.
This new found knowledge was only confirmed by the piles of proposals and attempts to court him that followed after through the years. They happened so frequently that it wasn't long until he pinpointed the exact reason why. By the time he was fourteen he felt so sure of the games and tricks, as many often mistakenly do at such an age. One night at yet another function he let an older noblewoman take him to her room and have her way with him. He thought he fully knew well what he was getting into, that he had consented to this all. Yet he found his head was turned to the side and he stared at the drawn curtains the entire time, doing his best not to shed tears. If he succeeded or not, she never seemed to notice and once it was over, she cleaned herself up and returned to the public. He remained behind, feeling empty.
He would avoid that woman after word spread of what happened. Yet he couldn't deny he was grateful that she didn't follow up the deed with a proposal or a false claim of love. In this world, love had nothing to do with such acts like that.
The years continued and the only thing to change was him. He soon learned better to play the game, how to take full advantage of their attempts all while remaining the unobtainable. Zelos became the fantasy that so many of these women seemed to want to grab onto, the impossible fantasy. He'd receive marriage proposals weekly, but he learned how to reply to them himself without giving them a second thought. Others would lead him to their bedrooms, but he learned how to be the one to control how the rest of the evening went, how to fully enjoy it. It wasn't too many years before he perfected his art, a smile alone could cause someone to swoon. A few words and they would be in his arms, lost in their fantasies. The only ones that ever seemed truly unaffected, Zelos found, were the ones who had been lucky enough to actually find the love that everyone claim they did.
Needless to say, that was a rare occurrence in the noble district of Meltokio.
Sometimes he'd wonder why people kept bothering sending him proposals, kept trying to win over his affections. He knew their reasons why were simply out of their own advantage, but for moments he'd be perplexed at the fact surely they knew it was futile.Maybe they didn't know the full story, the true nightmare that it was- but surely they knew it had to do with an arranged marriage didn't they? Eventually he grew to realize that it wasn't that they didn't know, they simply felt ambitious enough that they felt such a rule could be waived if they played their hand right. They overestimated their own and the Chosen's power, their desires were that great. But he still remained with the cold hard truth. Unless he found a way to be free, there would be a day where a girl would be carted in from a corner of the world to be his bride, as his mother once was. That even if a miracle happened and he could accept any one of these numerous proposals instead of being married off, there would be no love waiting for him. Either way, he would lose. It was a good thing he had finally given up on the idea of finding love.
Nothing like him deserved such a happy ending, after all.
Yet one day, things started to change.