Old story, new revision. Now with more lemony goodness. Take the rating seriously, please.

In Dreams
by Quickening

Longing

He was most certainly intoxicated.

Clef stared through bleary eyes at the small, crystal chalice of amber-colored liquor he held, his slender brows pulled together in a concentrated frown as he struggled to remember the last time he had been so thoroughly intoxicated. As near as his alcohol-dazed state of mind could recall, it had been at least several centuries ago. Back when he had still been relatively young, and therefore not half as dignified as he was at his current age of seven-hundred and forty-five years.

Or was it forty-six by now? He'd lost count.

The liquor burned pleasantly in his veins, warming his blood and buzzing faintly behind his ears, and he smiled to himself and wondered why he didn't get drunk more often. It really was a pleasant state to be in, with everything all hazy and dreamy and calm …

Conveniently forgetting, of course, how hazy, dreamy, and calm tended to dissipate under the head-splitting, stomach-churning hell that inevitably took its place. Then again, in over five hundred years, the little memories like hangovers tended to be lost to time.

Clef sighed and stumbled rather ungracefully toward the large, sound-proofed window in his chambers. It opened into the castle's Garden, a place where the residents of Cephiro tended to spend much of their free time. It was quite the hub of their little society, aside from the dining hall, that is; women gathered to gossip amongst themselves, men gathered for much the same reason (although "gossip" was such a womanish word for the kind of talking they did), and children gathered to play their innocent games. It was rather sad to see so many people confined to such a small place—not that the Garden could actually be described as "small" in any sense of the word—but there really was little choice in the matter. As their world had been nearly destroyed by Emeraulde's death, the castle was the only safe haven left in which the people could live, at least until the new Pillar, with the help of those very people, could heal what was left of the devastated planet.

Speaking of which …

Clef's eyes fell upon a trio of young ladies playing with a group of children beside the fountain nearest his window. Three girls who had single-handedly brought the world back from the brink of destruction with their courage, compassion, and determination to help save a country that they, for all accounts and purposes, should have had absolutely nothing to do with.

There was Hikaru, the Fire Knight and the new Pillar of Cephiro, laughing gaily with a little brown-haired girl that Clef vaguely recognized. They were attempting to weave chains of flowers for their hair and necks, which were already well-decorated with the blooms. Hikaru's ever-present shadow, Lantis, looked on with an indulgent smile that Clef briefly wondered if he was even aware he held.

There was the Wind Knight, Fuu. She sat serenely on the edge of the fountain, beside her own love, Ferio, who was now king of Cephiro, turning to scold him every once in awhile as he playfully flicked water at her. They were both smiling as they watched the humerous antics of the third girl playing tag with several of the children.

Almost against his will, Clef felt his eyes drawn to the tall, statuesque figure who was currently engaged in running around in circles, in a rather silly-looking attempt to escape the outstretched fingers of a giggling boy. Her silken hair flowed behind her, adorned with one of Hikaru's flower-chains, the azure strands getting tangled among the gold and crimson blooms trailing down her back. Her cerulean eyes glittered with laughter, and Clef's normally stoic face softened as he continued to gaze at the Water Knight, her name falling from his lips on a soft, entreating sigh. "Umi …"

It was this girl, this mere child, who had caused him to come to be in this drunken state, he thought with a rueful smile, as his eyes followed her graceful form the way a starving man eyes a meal of the finest foods kept always just out of his reach.

It was ironic, really. He, the most powerful, respected man in Cephiro (in spite of his diminutive size and childlike countenance), reduced to sighing after a mere slip of a girl like a love-starved fool. It would have almost been funny, had it not been so damned … disgraceful.

Clef grimaced and tossed back the remainder of his drink, feeling the overly-sweet wine burn a trail the whole way down his throat and into his stomach. He still could not comprehend how she could make him feel things he had never felt in all of his long life. Being the most powerful mage in Cephiro entitled him to certain duties, and these duties were what kept any one woman from turning his head in the past. His job came before anything else, and that included love.

Oh, he'd had his share of flings in his first few centuries, of course. Despite appearances, he was a fully-grown man, after all, and possessed typical male needs. And there were, after all, some women who didn't seem to mind his childish looks, nor his advanced age. He supposed it helped that, in order to make up for what he lacked in height and physical maturity, he'd studied all matters of seduction and both physical and magical technique. As a result, he'd grown quite a reputation for himself among the courtiers as an expert lover, able to pleasure a woman until she could barely move.

He'd been well aware that those women had been after him mostly because of the power (and sexual expertise) he possessed, as opposed to any emotional attachment on their part. That was fine with him, as he wasn't much for emotional attachment to begin with. So, he'd used them as they used him, satiating himself with one woman or another until he grew tired of her and moved on to the next. It worked well for awhile, but as he grew older and more dedicated to his country and his work, even those casual affairs had dwindled to nothing, and he found he didn't miss them.

Until now.

Until Umi.

Loud, opinionated, bossy, disrespectful Umi, who had managed to achieve what few other women in Cephiro ever had. She had managed to make Clef remember that he was a red-blooded male, and that as such, he had certain needs and desires that suddenly could no longer be neglected. Centuries spent achieving the goal of ignoring all of his baser instincts were wasted when those instincts suddenly came rushing back with a vengeance at the first scent of her hair, as heady and sweet as some exotic flower.

He could barely refrain from reaching up to caress her soft cheek whenever the light touched her delicate face in a certain way. When she tilted her head at just the right angle and looked down at him with smiling eyes, it was all he could do not to pull her down to him and kiss her breathless.

And when she stood with hands fisted on narrow hips, yelling obscenities at him for some imagined (or not-so-imagined) insult with her eyes practically flaming in her ire, it took all of his self-control to not push her down and crawl between her legs and thrust and grind against her like some animal in heat.

It was shameful how easily she excited him, stimulated him, just by being herself. As if he was no more than a boy in the first grips of pubescence. He had never been more exceedingly grateful for the loose, flowing robes he wore that kept his constant arousal well-hidden. He didn't know which of them would be more mortified should she discover just how much he desired to lay with her.

He didn't even know when he'd started thinking of the girl as anything other than a temporary student or even a friend. During the Knights' first visit to Cephiro, he'd spent most of their time there as a stone statue, guiding them in spirit as best he could, and so was not able to get to know them as he would have liked. During their second visit, however, he was with them in body as well as spirit, and therefore could interact personally with each of them. They had all started out as respected guests—the saviors of the world, of course, deserved high esteem—but it had soon developed into a sense of camaraderie, and eventually a respectful friendship. Life-threatening situations did have a way of bringing people close together, after all.

With Umi, it hadn't stopped there, oh no. Out of the three, Umi had been the one most in need of comfort when the times got tough. Despite her flippant, couldn't-care-less attitude, Clef was well aware that inside she was struggling with feelings of inadequacy and uncertainty, not to mention deep homesickness.

All three girls had been under such strain, of course, but Hikaru had Lantis to turn to, and Fuu had Ferio. Who did Umi have? Ascot had always been there, of course, making it quite obvious that the feelings he held for her went beyond mere friendship. But it was, surprisingly enough, to Clef she had turned when she was most in need of comfort. It was a role he had done his best to fulfill, offering a friendly ear when she came to his chambers at night, kind words to help comfort and reassure her. Thus encouraged, she had gradually opened up to the Guru, telling him all about her life in the city called Tokyo, of her friends and family and schooling.

Despite the little, niggling warnings in the back of his mind, Clef found himself looking forward to her nighttime visits, which sadly did not come as often as he would have liked. As time passed and he grew to know her better, he began to realize that the feelings he held for her had grown into something beyond the respect a teacher holds for his students, or even the friendship he held with all of the Knights.

He struggled to deny it, at first, but it was inevitable. He had finally discovered true love, and he could not have imagined a more wonderful or painful experience in his entire existence. Wonderful because simply being with Umi was enough to make him feel as though he'd been reborn. But so excruciatingly painful, because he was certain that there was absolutely no way flighty, shallow Umi would ever return such sentiments to a pint-sized old man trapped inside a child's body.

Clef grimaced and tossed back the remainder of his drink, belatedly recalling that he'd already finished it off, and grimaced again as he glared down at the empty chalice in his hand through blurring eyes. What good was liquor to him, anyway? A temporary relief, that was all. Enough to knock him out for a few hours, make him forget his pain. And even then, he could not fully forget, for always her face haunted his dreams.

In a sudden display of despairing rage, Clef hurled the empty chalice across the room, watching it shatter with a satisfying crash against the stone wall. Chips of sparkling crystal struck the floor with musical tinks, glinting in the lantern-light.

With a thought, he was adorned in a simple white dressing gown, stumbling wearily into his bedchamber and to his large, depressingly empty bed. For once, he could feel the weight of his seven-hundred-plus years resting heavily on his shoulders as he crawled under the covers, feeling the alcohol beginning to tighten its hold on him and drag him swiftly into drunken oblivion.

He'd never even noticed the startled countenance of a girl as she stood staring in through the window, ignoring the children who tugged on her hands in an effort to get her to rejoin their game. Her gaze slowly lowered to the scattered crystal littering the floor, her cerulean eyes filled with worry. A moment's indecision, and then she was lifting the outer window latch and stepping down into the room beyond, determined to find out what in the world was wrong with her dearest friend.