FicWad

Notes: It's been over two years since I've written any kind of story and it turns out that Saga Frontier has emerged as the "hot spot" yet again. Honestly, it's one of those fandoms that just sticks around, even in the background. Rastaban/Ildon is STILL among my all time favorite OTPs. This fic was first inspired by an Essence comment that basically said, "use your imagination." Combine that with multiple references(see if you can spot them), old and new(mostly old) headcanons and "the sheer force of him", this is the result.

FTR, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I wasn't the only one who view Rastaban as Orlouge's son. Well, only one other person from 100 years ago, but still, it was nice. Anyway, enjoy!




"Don't worry, Ildon, he won't kill you," Orlouge said with an amused smile on his face. "He's in love."

In love. Ildon heard it right, but he still couldn't believe it. Rastaban, of all people. Ildon knew that students can and frequently do surpass the teacher, but he never thought it would happen to him. Not this soon. He honestly hoped that it would never happen, but it did. No use lying about it, no use denying the sharp end of the naginata at his throat, no use denying Rastaban's bright red eyes so near his own. No use trying to stop replaying everything over and over again.

"Allegro non troppo," Rastaban whispered, while he kept the weapon firmly on Ildon's throat. "So, what shall it be? Do you yield to me? Or do I do what must be done?" All it took was a single motion and-

"He won't kill you," Orlouge echoed in Ildon's mind. "He's in love..."

"Allegro non troppo..." Ildon whispered while he leaned against a wall. "What does that even mean?"

"Not so fast," Rastaban answered as he suddenly appeared in Ildon's room. "It's a musical term."

Ildon took a deep breath and slowly let it out. He kept his eyes on Rastaban, who wore a long black robe brocaded with gold roses. REAL gold, no doubt. Fit for a prince. Ildon's jaw clenched as he recalled Rastaban shrugging off that same damned robe before the duel. He also recalled that damned smile and the focused, piercing eyes. Ildon willed himself to stop thinking about it.

"Why are you here?"

Rastaban smiled. "Why not?" He took a step forward, his boots echoed on the cold, marble floor. "I won you, did I not?"

"I am not a prize to be won!" Ildon snapped faster than he could think.

"No, of course not," Rastaban held up his gloved hands. "Do forgive me. I did not mean to offend."

"That's rich," Ildon scoffed, "considering that you had a blade to my throat not too long ago."

Rastaban nodded before narrowing his eyes, "Hmm...you're right, but you would have never respected me if I tried to seduce you."

Ildon couldn't help but smile upon hearing that. "Grab and take, huh?"

"Win," was Rastaban's simple reply as he put his hands on his hips. He tilted his head toward one side. "Am I still not sufficient for you?"

"I can't believe you're asking me this," Ildon said. "Lord Orlouge has no reason to lie and he thinks this whole thing is funny."

"He would."

"So, how long have you felt this way? Because if you felt that way as a small child, then ew..."

Rastaban laughed. He had an infectious deep laugh. Ildon never paid too much attention to vocal range, but he had Rastaban pegged as a lower tenor to upper baritone range, much different from when he was younger. It's not like Ildon never noticed him growing, but he only paid attention to the growing power, skill, and progress. He also paid close attention when Rastaban killed the formidable Black Knight Wezen a couple months back, but what he did not do was realize-well, too late.

"Don't worry," Rastaban finally replied, "my feelings are far more recent, but I've always admired you. You trained me well."

Ildon found himself chuckling. "I guess so, considering what has happened, but I just wonder how and why you're 'in love'?

"Shouldn't it be obvious? We have much in common." Rastaban took a few more steps forward. "We are both born Mystics, children of the Code. We are both warriors, mystic princes, and we are quite young compared to many others here."

"Sorry, but that isn't a good enough reason."

"Hmph, that's a bold thing to say, but maybe it's because you know I won't actually harm you." Rastaban kept his hands on his hips, and kept smiling.

Or maybe it's because you're the true born son of the damned Charm Lord, Ildon wanted to say, but wisely didn't. He did, however, say, "You claimed I wouldn't respect you if you seduced me, but honestly, you earned my respect when you killed Wezen. The fact that you even tried was bold." Ildon shook his head. "The fact you succeeded," he sighed, "I have to admit that it was impressive."

"So, you rather I seduced you?"

"Heh, you can try," Ildon smiled in spite of himself. He looked up at the ceiling, thinking of previous people he had sex with. "Honestly, it's been so long."

"They tried and died," Rastaban stated simply.

Ildon looked back at Rastaban and shrugged, "Yea, some of them. I considered them enemies. Others failed and they're terrified of me. I guess some people aren't good at rejection."

"Or being tossed aside."

"Yes." Ildon nodded. "Yes, I did things like that. For me, 'lovers' were like tissue: soft, strong, and easily disposable."

"You will not dispose of me."

Ildon's breath caught in his throat. He felt an odd sort of awe at how certain Rastaban clearly was. He found himself helplessly agreeing.

"No, I wouldn't. Not you. You're different. You've always been different, but I wonder if you would dispose of me."

Rastaban scoffed. "Of course not! I intend to play for keeps."

"You are your father's son." As soon as Ildon said that, he wished he didn't because Rastaban's smile vanished and his piercing red eyes widened.

"I am Rastaban!"

"Yes, you are," Ildon replied. "I know who you are."

Immediately after he said that, Ildon found himself pinned to the wall just as he was during the duel. Rastaban was close again, very close. Ildon could smell the lilac cologne. Not that he couldn't before, but now, it damned near overwhelmed him. Strong gloved hands closed around his arms. Those gloves...made of the finest, supplest leather, no doubt. Ildon finally noticed the gold chains draped across them. They were the sort of gloves that gave the feeling that the animal used was once alive. Ildon had similar gloves, but no chains. He wondered why he was thinking of this now.

"Then know this," Rastaban said, "I want everything from you. Everything." His hands slid from Ildon's arms to behind his neck. "Do you know why I am so in love?"

"No," Ildon whispered, shivering as he felt Rastaban's breath against him. "I, I don't."

"It's because I see what others don't see. You don't even see it. I suppose you do have a reputation to uphold, but I know you." He ran a fingertip down Ildon's face. "Don't misunderstand me. I know what you're capable of, just as you know what I am capable of, but I know that you are not entirely what you seem."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ildon rolled his eyes. "Don't give me crap about deep inside there's good or something equally stupid."

Rastaban chuckled. "There is compassion in you."

"Oh my god..."

"There is," Rastaban nodded as his hands slid back down Ildon's arms. "It's no shock you would deny it." He firmly held Ildon's hands. "I'm not that naive. I know that some people are just vile to the core, like Wezen was, but you are not one of those people."

Ildon kept his eyes on Rastaban's. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you think. You do realize that people have paid with their lives for thinking there was "good" in someone horrible, right?"

"You're not horrible. What do you think would have happened if I thought otherwise?"

"But, you're 'in love'".

"Ah yes, but I told you why. Do you really think I was ever unobservant? I've been watching you for years."

"This is getting nowhere!" Ildon snapped. "Don't tell me you're one of those people who think they can change someone because of 'love'."

"I'm not going to change you. You are."

Ildon wondered just what the hell that was supposed to mean, but he never had a chance to ask because Rastaban laced his fingers in Ildon's hair and kissed him. It was a simple, chaste kiss from a surprisingly soft mouth, but Ildon still felt a jolt course through his body. He could feel the velvet of the robe, he could feel Rastaban's gold silk shirt and hard body under that robe. He quickly turned away, wishing that he would quit focusing on Rastaban's clothes because really, who cared?

"That was my first kiss," Rastaban said with a giggle. "Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"Good." He pressed his cheek against Ildon's. "That's good. You will not be forced to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. You will not be forced…" But, he held Ildon tighter, as if he was some sort of lifeline. "Still, I want us to be lovers."

"You want everything from me..." Ildon repeated, his voice trailing off. "I don't understand you."

Rastaban pulled away, but only to gaze into Ildon's eyes. "You don't need to." He smiled once again. "You're not obtuse though. You simply fear love."

Ildon blinked. "I do?" He blinked even more when Rastaban finally turned and walked away, his robe swirling around him.

"Yes. You fear giving and receiving love." Rastaban turned back to Ildon and narrowed his eyes. "It's not like I don't understand. Love can be a liability."

"It is."

"You see what I mean?" His smile widened. "You're entirely not off on that. Even my Charm Lord father knows that the more one loves, the more vulnerable they become."

Ildon smirked. "Would explain why he loves no one."

Rastaban shook his head. "That's not entirely true."

"He loves himself alone?"

Rastaban laughed. "Actually, he tends to advise to love no one but your children. He does, however, admit, that a good parent would have no choice but to do so. He loves a few others. What do you think charm is about?"

"Enthralling someone."

"Love."

"He charms others though. They love him, but how many people does he really love? And what about you? Do you love him?"

Rastaban's smile faded slightly. "On that front, a good child has no choice. He loved my mother, but she clearly did not return it. At least not for many years."

Ildon knew exactly who he was talking about. Princess Rei. He remembered how she killed herself a few years ago, and he remembered Rastaban's rage and grief. Orlouge was especially angry, but Ildon never thought that it would be about any kind of love unless one counted possession as love. All he knew for certain was that as soon as she was reborn, the hunt began and Wezen died soon afterward.

He felt a sort of dawning creep into his head.

"You really don't agree with me or Orlouge, do you?"

Rastaban took more than a few seconds to respond. He put his hands back on his hips and sighed. "Hmm...I tend to word it a bit differently." He moved a little closer to Ildon. "The more one loves, the more one suffers, but I don't think it's wrong to love. It's all too easy to believe otherwise, especially when one has been burnt or witnessed others going through it. I'm aware of how cruel love can be, how painful it is to lose someone you love, but," he held his head high, "I know what love is capable of. Do you know how I was able to defeat Wezen? Someone who outranked me? Someone far older than myself?"

Ildon narrowed his eyes. "That wasn't love. That was strength, skill, and power. The sheer force of you."

"Oh, yes," Rastaban nodded, "yes, all of that, but he hated my mother and he hated me. Neither one of us ever cared about Mystic rank. My mother defied it by escaping. I defy it by being who I am. Do you really think I would ever allow anyone to harm my mother?"

"So, it wasn't wanting more power for yourself?"

"I'm only saying that love made me capable."

"You could have that without love."

Rastaban shrugged. "Perhaps, but without love, I would have had little reason to do anything." With yet another cheery smile on his face, he grabbed Ildon's hands. "Love is great and terrible, but love will keep me from ending up like so many Mystics here. You've seen them. Hollow, empty, just stagnant."

"Love didn't prevent that," Ildon replied. "Sometimes love isn't enough. You have to know that."

"You're right," Rastaban tightened his grip on Ildon's hands. "Surely you must notice what has happened to Facinaturu. My father is old, very old and he's gotten worse. He..." Rastaban trailed off, took a deep breath and said, "things have to change or we will all wither away into nothingness with beating hearts! Facinaturu will die if things don't change!"

Ildon tried to pull away, but couldn't. "You don't understand. Facinaturu is never supposed to change. That's the whole point of it."

Rastaban shook his head. "Love stops me from agreeing. The love of my home makes me realize that we all deserve better. You deserve better." He was close again, but this time he had his arms around Ildon's back. "I love you, Ildon."

"I…" Ildon couldn't find the words. He couldn't even think properly. Instead, he managed to pull away, but he kept a hand on Rastaban's arm as he sat on the bed. Only his own parents told him those three words, but in his mind, they were said too much. Ildon pressed his ear against Rastaban's chest, feeling his slow and steady heartbeat under velvet and silk. His grip was as tight as Rastaban's, and the cologne made Ildon feel sleepy, but it didn't stop him from saying, "I will not dispose of you."

He didn't say anything more, and thankfully, neither did Rastaban. Instead, Ildon kept his eyes closed, listened to the beat of his former student's heart, and wondered what would happen next.