The Mirror

BY : Kashvala
Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 483
Disclaimer: I do not own FFVIII, nor am I making money off of this story. Purely drivel inspired by greatness.

The Mirror
Delta Immortal
Warnings: What? Warnings? Why? Aren’t you people aware of what goes on in these stories?
Disclaimer: I is no owns these people.
Summery: Seifer-Zell ish, and there’s a mirror, and it is very sparkly-shiny. Oh yes.
***

The mirror was as it had always been, in the center of the great hall, propped up by the very feet that had been carved from human bone. It gave no reflection; instead it was easy to assume that the mirror was in fact a large picture with a frame of bones so finely engraved on that they looked like wood. It was before this mirror that Seifer had once stood. She had called it “Dreaming”.

It was before this mirror, this devil, that Seifer stood now. It remained in her castle, and as her knight he was always able to get there. This demon mirror was his reward; standing in front of it the Seifer in the mirror was always so happy, and from that happiness he could also be happy. Every praise was heard in his ears, every handshake Seifer could feel on his hands, every hug from the strange, faceless mother-woman he could feel and as the mirror was covered he was forced to reenter reality, cold and dark and simply not what the mirror offered.

He had seen her standing there, once, with her wings folded, her hair down. Her eyes were filled with bright-red tears as if she had forgotten she could cry, and he had quietly left. It was a world, he realized, of what people wanted, what their secret desires were, and he was better off not looking at its enchantments. When he had realized this, the mirror stopped whispering its sweet nothings to him; rather, it simply offered him a picture of himself escaping this castle it was in.

So he had returned to destroy the demon mirror. It was better off that no one see it, or they would waste away or worse- he had a feeling it was really an extension of his mistress and he knew it was what had invoked him to Knighthood. Standing in front of that mirror, who could resist anything? He couldn't allow anyone else to fall into its traps, so he had come with a hammer and Hyperion, ready to smash that mirror senseless.

The bell sounded and Seifer stared at the painting in the art room; it was behind this fake wall that he could enter. So enter he did, surprised to find someone staring at the mirror. Judging by the look of shock on his face, Zell hadn’t been there long.

“What’s going on?” Zell demanded, his left arm hanging limp at his side. His entire posture was crouched; Zell had probably just finished the major battle. “I’m not dead yet!”

Squall hadn’t finished, then, if this place was still here, Seifer realized. “Chicken,” he called out but Zell didn’t turn, his eyes glued to the mirror.

“That’s… no, that’s…” Zell’s face suddenly turned ashen and he bit his lip, his legs giving way. “Hyne, no, stop,” he uttered, and Seifer cast a life on the boy. Stupid Chicken had looked at the mirror, and his eyes wouldn’t move. In fact, Seifer couldn’t think of what he could say to get Zell’s eyes to move away; it was the hardest thing Ultimacia would do with him.

“Dincht! Can you hear me?” Seifer kept walking towards the martial artist. The bruises and cuts were gone, and Zell’s arm flexed in appreciation but Zell gave a tiny gasp before uttering his response.

“Seifer? Is that you?”

Seifer managed to walk up behind the collapsed man, who was transfixed and shuddering. As he looked at the mirror, it offered him no explanation to Zell’s reaction, only an angry face that stared at him. “It’s me, Chicken. Close your eyes, if you can.”

Zell was shuddering now. “Seifer,” he whispered quietly, and Seifer’s breath skipped a beat. What was Zell seeing? He’d almost completely calmed down. “I can… feel the pictures.”

Oh, shit, Seifer realized, Zell wasn’t aware he was being drawn into the mirror. Even as Zell tried to shake non existent hands off, he hadn’t reached the conclusion that the hands in the mirror were being felt on his skin outside it. Zell was subconsciously leaning closer to the damn thing, so Seifer placed his hands over Zell’s eyes.

“Don’t look at it, Dincht. It’s a cursed thing.”

Zell swallowed for a moment, his breath coming shakily. “Who are you?”

“Seifer.” The words were hushed and coated with some sort of bittersweet desperation. He moved one hand to help Zell stand up. “Dincht, this mirror is what she uses to make her knights. To stare at it is to see her offering you what it is you want most.”

“I do not want that,” Zell said automatically. “Sure, it looked nice and all, but I don’t want it. I’m not-“ he suddenly bit his lip.

“Ah,” Seifer stated smoothly. “So you have learned some control. I’m so proud, Chicken.” He was ragged and defeated and broken and yet here they were, falling into their old habits. Seifer in control. Zell obviously not.

“I gotta get to the others,” Zell suddenly argued, but Seifer tightened his grip on Zell’s head, trying to get him to look up as he wrapped his other arm around Zell’s waist.

“If I let you go, you’ll stare into the mirror again. I’ve got to destroy it. You need to promise to keep your eyes shut.”

“No way! That mirror’s full of lies! I won’t be tempted if I look again,” Zell argued. “I promise.” The shorter man nodded his head.

“Then take a step away,” Seifer countered, knowing that Zell well couldn’t. Seifer hadn’t been able to when he was still under the influence of the Dreaming.

Zell suddenly broke free of his grip, taking a step forward towards the mirror before his knees started to shake. Not wanting the Chicken to collapse again he quickly pulled Zell to him to support the weight, but Zell didn’t even seem to notice. Shaky breaths filled the air again and Zell started squirming a bit. Damn, what was the chicken seeing? Seifer hadn’t thought there was much that the chicken would want in life, except for-

Except for maybe him not being something. That he had argued against. Oh, fuck, little Chicken was gay. Seifer wanted to slap his hand to his head. No wonder Zell was shaking. The damn pipsqueak was in heat.

“Seifer?” came the shaky question. Seifer put on of his hands over Zell’s eyes again. “Which Seifer are you?”

Well, this made it both more complicated and easier in terms of how to deal with this situation. Seifer took a breath. “What am I doing to you in there, Chickie?”

Zell whimpered. “You can see, can’t you? This is what you want, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Seifer replied, lying through his teeth. It would pull Zell away from the mirror at least. “But I can’t see it. Tell me.”

“But I could feel your hands,” Zell argued, his hips swaying. “Please, Seifer, don’t-“

“You felt the mirror,” Seifer told him, suddenly rubbing the moving hip. “My hand feels different, doesn’t it? Much more gritty than the fantasy you saw.”

Zell whimpered, his chest moving up and down, his face flushed and his pulse beating on his neck. Seifer was staring at the man before him, his own ideas flashing through his mind.

Suddenly Seifer dipped his hand under Zell’s shorts, the hand still on the hip, his fingers teasing the skin underneath. “I’ll give you what you want if you turn around.”

“I don’t want you,” Zell argued. “I’m not gay. This is all your fantasy.” He bit his lip and Seifer simply moved his hand from the hip to the front, his fingers finding curls. Zell almost bucked into Seifer’s hand.

“Zell. You don’t want to become her knight.” Seifer found what he was looking for and Zell gasped, his hands tightening around Seifer’s wrist. “I don’t want you to suffer, to spend your days staring at this mirror and seeing dreams fall away.”

“It was your dream,” Zell uttered in response.

“I’m not trying to stare at the mirror, am I?” Seifer was whispering into Zell’s ear, hot and moist air escaping his mouth. The responding body quivered again. At this point, Zell was nothing more than a mess, some body in heat and Seifer controlled him.

“Turn away, Zell. Turn away from the mirror and I’ll do this in reality.” His hand stroked at Zell’s member with light touches. “Come on, Zell.” He tightened his grip. “Don’t become me.”

Zell released, a shock to Seifer as he hadn’t thought Zell was that close, and as Zell fell back into him the mirror suddenly shattered. As the pieces gently fell to the ground Zell whimpered and Seifer withdrew his hand. Seifer kissed his neck and as he looked at the pieces they formed a gentle, smiling face that seemed relieved at the same time.

“Let’s go, Chicken,” Seifer told the martial artist. As he walked to where he’d left the hammer Zell followed, his eyes fixed on the floor. There was an awkward silence as the bell toned again, so to break it Seifer spoke. “It’s hard not to get trapped by that demon.”

“Y-yeah,” Zell agreed. “You won’t…tell anyone, will you?” The martial artist’s face was frantic.

“Nah. I think being on the loosing side of the war will keep me occupied.”

Zell nodded, adjusting his pants. “Thanks,” he stated.

The room began to warp into the Lunatic Pandora and Seifer gave a smirk as he brought his hand to his lips.


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