Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ JOURNEY ❯ Restoration ( Chapter 5 )

Part Five: Restoration

The talk with Steiner had done wonders to Beatrix's mind and body. She could not have shrugged off the huge feeling of relief that washed over her if she wanted to--not that she tried, of course. Relief was probably one of the most powerful and welcome emotions that the lady knight experienced, and with the exception of hate and love, there were few others so blatantly powerful.

Hate and love… Beatrix had never really experienced much of these two. Sure, there were times when her fury burned so brightly that hate was an understatement, and there were times when Beatrix was protecting Garnet that would issue in a strong feeling of love, but aside from those rare occasions, Beatrix could honestly say that she knew neither hate nor love. She didn't know whether to feel fortunate or miserable.

Another emotion, one so powerful that it almost killed off her relief, took over Beatrix as she wandered around the castle. Lunch was gone, and a trusted friend had taken her watch, so with nothing else to do, Beatrix experienced the most dreaded of emotions, Boredom. And when Beatrix experienced boredom, things started to get sour.

Having given up on her routine of instructing Zidane (her schedule was as indeterminate as the shape of a passing cloud), the bodyguard of the Queen had nothing else to occupy her free time. The woman had very few friends, and even in these circles she was not a social moray, and she was not one to go to many places by herself unless duty was involved. Her job filled up most of her day, but Beatrix had been given the rest of the day off, to her dismay, so finding something to occupy the afternoon, and the evening, was her top priority.

Since Beatrix never was any good at finding something worthwhile to occupy her time, she merely settled upon climbing up to the hidden balconies and looking out across the land. She was in the mood to sit and think at the moment--normally very dangerous if the circumstances were wrong, but what other choice did she have? Go out and fight monsters? Hunt down some new romantic interest? Beatrix nearly snorted at the thought.

So, she resolved to climb the stairs that led up to one of two private balconies. Twenty-eight years old and heavily trained in advanced warfare, Beatrix scaled the staircase in record time, though her running was unnecessary since she had the rest of the day to herself. Perhaps, though she doubted it, she would be late for something if she didn't hurry. What she could possibly be late for was a mystery.

Sighing to herself, Beatrix numbly opened the door and looked out to see the beautiful landscape, the bare terrace that (Steiner was right) needed a few gardens, the marble columns that suggested a more mythical setting, and a figure cloaked in red standing on the railing. Beatrix gasped sharply as she saw the figure raise their foot, almost as if they were about to leap off, and her eyes widened in horror as the figure arched her head back and leaned forward slightly.

"Freya, NO!!!!!"

The time--One week after Beatrix returned from liberating Burmecia.

The place--The hidden balcony of Alexandria Castle.

The players--Beatrix, a holy knight sworn to protect the royal family; Freya, a despondent dragoon who has suffered great physical and emotional trauma.

Status--Desperation.

Rushing forward as fast as she knew how, Beatrix wrapped her arms around Freya's waist, and yanked so hard that both warriors plummeted backwards in a heap. They tumbled together towards the floor of the terrace, landing one on top of the other in a disheveled pile, and together they stayed for a brief period.

Wheezing out horrible gasps of air, Beatrix stared at the woman in her arms, who was herself too dumb-stricken to even move. Horrified at what she had seen, Beatrix did not even realize she was still holding onto Freya, but as the dragoon began wheezing, the knight released her and stared back at the mousy woman in ghastly awe.

For a long time, there was nothing but silence conveyed between the ladies. Beatrix could not avert her vision from Freya: the ghastly woman who looked more haggard and horrid now than she ever had been, the dragoon who had gone into the mouth of Hell and was subsequently vomited out, the same knight that nearly cost Beatrix her life upon first arriving…

Now, there was nothing there, not even a shell, just a mass of cells no longer containing life in them. Freya stared back, wheezing just slightly.

"Freya…" hissed Beatrix, "what in the name of everything holy and sacred were you doing?" No response came. Freya merely stared back at Beatrix, a look so empty and dead that it would have made a demon break out in a cold sweat. Beatrix shook her head, appalled at what she had seen, and a slight snarl came to her mouth.

"…Why?" was all she could say. "Freya, what on Gaia were you thinking? Did you…… Did you really mean to kill yourself?" No response. Beatrix growled and grew fierce as she only received silence. "Talk!! Tell me what you were doing! Did you think that killing yourself would solve all your problems, huh? Did you think that ending your own life would only make things easier, huh? You… You make me sick!!"

Silence.

"You disgust me, you worthless vermin," snarled the knight. "I thought you were stronger than that. Yes, I know you are sad, but that is no reason to end your own life! Think, Freya, think! Are you so absorbed in your own despair that you would drag everyone else down with you?! Did you ever think about how everyone else would feel? Huh? Did it ever occur to you that we would grieve over your loss just as much as you're grieving now? Huh? Or are you too sick with your own depression to consider such things? What a selfish, cowardly, waste of a worthless creature you've turned out to be! You're not fit to vomit on!!!!" Silence. Freya swallowed, though her face did not reveal any emotion at all.

"Kill me," was all she could say. Roaring out, Beatrix produced Save the Queen and pointed it straight at Freya's forehead.

"Do you desire death so much?!" she yelled. "Do you want to feel the kiss of the blade? Do you want an honorable death? Then come, you rat! Come and face me!! I will be glad to rid this world of such a horrible coward! Come! If you want a noble death, then do battle with me, and I swear I shall make you regret your decision!!!" Freya only stared at Beatrix's sword, too hollow to move. She noticed that, in her depression, she had carried her spear with her, almost as if it desired to follow her.

Beatrix took a step forward, and held onto Save the Queen.

"By my code of honor, I am forbidden to attack an unarmed foe," she spat darkly. "So if you wish to die so badly, pick up your spear and fight me to the death! Believe me, you insignificant rat, you will get your wish!" Freya pursed her mouth, and without knowing it, her hand grabbed the shaft of the Dragon's Whisker. A sudden surge of animation caused her to stand, and she mechanically held her weapon in an offensive position, as if the movement had been sewn into her DNA structure. Beatrix smiled a sick grin upon seeing her challenger.

"Good girl," she hissed. "Now come, Freya, and I shall grant your wish of death. It is altogether fitting that I do this; after all, I despise a coward." Wordlessly, Beatrix charged forward, swinging her sword towards Freya's head. The dragoon, eager for death, had no control over her hands as they moved the spear to block the attack, nor was she able to prevent her legs from jumping up into the air and delivering a kick to the knight's head.

The only thing Freya had any control over, in fact, were her eyes. All she could do was watch as her body performed forbidden moves--moves that Freya had not authorized at all. Wordlessly, like a ghost, Freya moved around, her limbs acting out of their own accord to defend what little she had left of her life. A swing, a swipe, a jab here and there, and Freya almost cried as she saw herself fight Beatrix.

The holy knight was secretly fascinated that one who had suffered so much could still have so much fight left in her. To be frank, Beatrix was having a hard time fighting. She was completely serious when she vowed to kill Freya--completely serious, and would have ended the dragoon's life if she had the opportunity. Such cowardice made her sick to the stomach; it was one of the few things that spurned hate in her soul.

But try as she might, Beatrix could not strike Freya. Some foreign power had taken over the dragoon's empty body, and was controlling it in a way that rendered Beatrix's attacks useless. Beatrix could increase her ferocity as much as she wanted: every strike, blow, slash, and cut was deftly avoided or blocked by the dragoon, and a few offensive maneuvers were even returned as well.

Suddenly, Beatrix managed to slice at the knight. A very light gash erupted on Freya's cheek, spilling just a hint of blood on her furry face. Freya did not even flinch as Save the Queen cut at her--in fact, she did just the opposite. From out of the depths of her tortured soul, Freya screamed out viciously, piercing the quiet air and the hearing capabilities of her opponent.

Shrieking so loud that the terrace crumbled, Freya suddenly flew into a maniacal rage, slamming her spear against Beatrix. The knight gasped in terror, and just barely prevented her face from being cut in half. Her eye widened open in shock as she saw Freya's face. Once contorted in a drooping mask of depression and despair, Freya now had a sickening visage of insane animalism that Beatrix had (unfortunately) seen before.

She had that same look on her face when she first attacked Beatrix.

Roaring out viciously, Freya continued to hack at Beatrix's defenses like a lumberjack against a tree, only with the power of a bolt of lightning and the speed of a clap of thunder. Beatrix had trained under one of the greatest fighters in all of history for ten years straight, yet this barbaric and berserk attack rendered all her lessons useless. She was forced to call upon the special defensive techniques that were only reserved for emergencies, so great was Freya's assault.

Again and again, like a smithy forging swords, Freya bashed her spear against the sword of Beatrix, hammering away with such an uncontrollable fury and passion that only Atma himself could have countered. Even so, the insane look in Freya's eyes and the unholy snarl coming out of her mouth might have given even the great one a hard time--leaving Beatrix, a mere student, with no chance for survival.

Suddenly, a flash of light and a hideous stab of pain slammed into Beatrix. Both sensations were like getting hit by a charging ox from four sides--only much sharper and more gruesome. As she winced in agony, her eye gazed down at her body, and nearly fell out of its socket as she saw the spear of Freya digging right into her left shoulder. She paled in horror, and beads of sweaty iron fell down her face in a terror-stricken perspiration. Slowly, unbelievably slowly, Beatrix crumbled to the floor, the fall freeing the tip of the spear from her body.

As she slammed against the terrace floor, her eye threw tears out as the maniacal Freya leered over her, a sick smile glaring back and burning green eyes screaming for blood. Fierce hands held the Dragon's Whisker directly over Beatrix's heart, and the knight froze as a wave of fear became her new emotion. Death stepped forth to embrace her.

But, just as sudden as the storm started, it ceased, and Freya dropped the spear on the ground. It made a clanging sound, relieving Beatrix only slightly (for the wound hurt like all creation). Wailing out miserably, Freya cried out and covered her face in shame.

"Oh, God…" she squeaked. "I cannot even die right!!!" And with that, the dragoon crumbled to her knees, staring with eyes of terror at her handiwork. Beatrix felt something wet fall on her body, but since she was close to passing out, she couldn't tell whether it was Freya's tears or the oncoming droplets of rain. Maybe it was both.

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Grunting out in pain, Beatrix blinked her eye as the rain started to fall. Her shoulder felt like it was on fire, but what else could she have expected from a spear wound? With her injured arm singing out in pain, it was left up to her good hand to cast a cure spell. Unfortunately, the sudden attack that Freya had launched took too much out of the knight, and the injury didn't make things any better. For now, her shoulder would have to settle for a low-level Cure spell.

Sighing with relief as the wound closed shut partially, Beatrix found the strength to sit up once more. The rain that was falling from the sky was a gentle trickle, as if there was still some bad blood in the land that needed to be swept clean. Taking a deep, painful breath, Beatrix touched her arm gingerly and winced. Though cured, it still felt like a knife was cutting into it.

After examining herself, Beatrix turned her focus towards Freya, who five minutes ago had been a stark raving-mad lunatic bent on Beatrix's gruesome death, and who five seconds ago had declared herself so inadequate that even a proper death evaded her. Though she had openly declared her hatred for the woman's cowardice, and although she had not won their duel, Beatrix couldn't help but feel remorseful.

"Freya?" she croaked. Her voice was pretty beaten up as well, but that was of no concern. "Freya, are you okay?" Silence. The dragoon merely sat there, tears and a droplet of blood being mixed on her face. Her mouth hung open just slightly, as if she was too stunned to even speak. Beatrix swallowed and let out some air.

"…I'm sorry for what I did, Freya," she continued. "I really am. I… would never cause you any harm. You know that. It's just that…!" She sighed, snarled, and clicked her tongue. "It's just that… cowardice makes me so mad sometimes that I, uh, fly out of control sometimes. I'm… uh, actually almost glad that you, uh… stopped me." Another pause followed. Freya let out some air, and to Beatrix's wonder, her emotionless mouth curled up in a smile. Then, from out of nowhere, Freya began to laugh out loud.

"What?" said Beatrix, more confused than relieved at the other woman's laughter. "What's so funny?" Freya dodged the question and continued laughing. She let out a guffaw so powerful that it was hard to believe she had been contemplating suicide a moment ago.

"What's so funny?!" insisted Beatrix, annoyance clear in her voice. Freya stopped giggling just long enough to talk.

"…I beat you bad!" she snickered, and Beatrix's face turned red with anger. "I beat you bad! I kicked your sorry butt all over the place!! Hahahahahahaha!! I mopped the floor with you! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!"

"Why you little…!" Beatrix snarled in a rage, and her facial expression alone was enough to convey her anger. Freya continued to laugh, though, and giggled so hard that she rolled over on the floor and pounded the paved terrace. Her snickering became contagious, and despite her irritation at Freya's gloating words, Beatrix couldn't help but laugh a little herself.

"Yeah, you're right," she smiled. "I got beat pretty badly."

"That's the under--(G'hahaha!!)--the understatement of the… of the century…" chuckled Freya. Smiling broadly, she stopped laughing just long enough to gaze up at Beatrix and grin. "I never knew you were such a wimp!"

"HEY!!" Beatrix once again assumed the role of an angry knight, and Freya continued to chuckle until at last all the giggles left her system. By the time Freya caught her breath and her senses, Beatrix's anger had died away again, and the knight couldn't help but smile warmly at the Burmecian's happy face.

"Ho… ho…" wheezed Freya. "Ha… ah, that felt good…" Beatrix grinned, and pulled on Freya's arm.

"Come on, you dirty old rat. We'd better get indoors before we drown."

"Ah, and is little miss Beatrix afraid of getting wet?" grinned Freya slyly. Beatrix grunted and gave Freya a sour expression. Laughing, the dragoon apologized and together the two of them walked back into the castle.

Dripping water across the stairs and the hall, Beatrix and Freya ducked into a private room, where the former stripped off most of her outer clothes. Freya merely shook herself like a dog, the water having no effect on her specially-designed clothes. Beatrix, punishing herself for thinking of such a bad joke, couldn't help but think that Freya looked like a drowned rat.

Clad only in a light white shirt and white boxer shorts (and her patch), Beatrix and Freya sat down at a table, and gazed at each other. The dragoon, to Beatrix's surprise, was still smiling.

"Thank you," whispered Freya lovingly. "Thank you, Beatrix, for rescuing me back there. I… well, you were right. I don't know what I was thinking. I… guess the depression got the better of me for awhile. I'm… I'm, ah, sorry for what I put you through… again…"

"…It's all right," assured Beatrix with a nice smile. "But please, Freya, don't ever pull another stunt like that ever again. You, ah…… ah, um… well, you know."

"I had you worried," replied the mouse wryly. She crossed her arms and grinned; Beatrix was not so jovial.

"I didn't say that," she snorted. "But anyway, you're welcome." For awhile, there was nothing said between the two ladies. Freya had just stared straight at Death's face and had just barely been rescued by a one-time enemy; Beatrix had just fought her very soul out and lost, and to a suicidal rat to boot! Neither woman could quite find the proper words to continue their conversation--not just yet, anyway.

"So," said Beatrix after a brittle pause, "are you feeling all right?" Freya nodded her head, and gently folded her hands in her lap.

"I came so close," she said, probably to nobody in particular. "I came so close to dishonoring myself… and running away like a blatant coward. I came so close to making others suffer needlessly… so very, very close…" She smiled and forced a laugh out. "It's almost funny."

"I don't see the humor," admitted Beatrix flatly. "But… Well, I guess you're all right now. Right?"

"Thanks to you," pointed Freya. Beatrix smiled warmly and stared down at the table in humility.

"Thanks… Ah…" Another brittle silence followed. Neither girl could find the right icebreaker to shatter such a strange tension. True, Beatrix had rescued Freya from death, and the Burmecian had started a riotous laughing spree, but things were still pretty awkward between them. Sighing, Freya rested her head in her arms and kicked at the floor.

"…This is so crazy," she whispered. "I thought I was stronger than that. I really did. And, I thought I was beyond all that. When I left Burmecia, I thought I had put my past behind me. I thought I was moving on, proceeding to my next stage of life. Ha, what rubbish! And when I finally do come back… who else do I meet but you?"

"What's your point?" asked Beatrix politely. Freya shrugged.

"When I tried to come back home, I was beaten by you. The whole place was deserted, or else it stank of death. Anyway, I was more or less forced to leave Burmecia again. What a drag, eh?

"Cleyra was sort of the pseudo-Burmecia to me. It had a sense of home to it, without ever actually being home. I thought, that if I stayed there, I could… I don't know, have a sense of purpose or belonging. And do you know what happened?" Beatrix frowned in defeat, and grumbled to herself. Freya didn't need to ask that question. Beatrix knew better than anyone what had happened at Cleyra.

"Yeah," she croaked. "You met me."

"And got beaten again," added Freya. She smiled, and waved at the air with her hands. "Then the whole place got destroyed. Call me paranoid, but I think Fate was sending me a message. Maybe I was being told that… well, my home was elsewhere. Maybe I belonged elsewhere. I don't know. I'm not as spiritually in-tune to the world as others. I'm just guessing that, well, maybe I wasn't meant to have a home, at least not in Burmecia or Cleyra.

"When I found Fratley again, after the defeat of Kuja, we returned to Burmecia. I thought I could finally get some peace and quiet, and maybe then I could finally call somewhere home. Augh, I'm starting to sound like Zidane now." Beatrix smiled at the mention of the boy (and his desires to find his own place of birth), and easily saw the parallel between the two lives. However, Zidane found what he was looking for… and the results were far from heartwarming.

"But sir Zidane found what he was looking for," pointed Beatrix. "Did you?"

"I'm almost glad I didn't," whispered Freya slowly. She smiled again, only more conservatively than before. "A year or so passed… and Burmecia got attacked. Fratley and I fought, as did whoever had survived the previous massacres, but… well, we just couldn't win. As far as I know, and I pray I'm wrong, I'm the only survivor of my race. Ha… just think about that…" Despite her smile, it was clear that Freya still clung onto a bit of her sadness. Beatrix frowned sadly, and reached out to touch her hand.

"I'm sure there were others."

"What does it matter now?" snorted Freya. "I failed my people and my past, and I almost killed myself out of grief. Ha! Why I'm still alive now is a mystery--no, wait, it's not."

"Hm?" The confused look on Beatrix's face told Freya to keep talking.

"It's not a mystery at all," resumed Freya. "Remember me talking about how Burmecia might not have been my home?"

"Yes." A pause.

"…I think I was driven away from Burmecia for a reason," suggested Freya. "And you know what? It's taken me all this suffering and so much death to realize it. Burmecia's not my home--not my home at all. Oh sure, I was born there, and raised there, but… it's not my home. It's not where I live."

"…And, where might that be?" asked Beatrix gently. Freya chuckled and shrugged.

"I haven't a bloody idea," she admitted. "I know it's not drowning in some ridiculous pool of guilt, or wallowing in a slough of despondency. It took me a pretty rough battle to realize that. Oh, speaking of which, are you all right?"

"Huh?" Beatrix, who had become engrossed with listening to Freya, had completely forgotten about her wound. She touched it, and it stung horribly, but it was also healing nicely. "Oh, that. It's, ah, it's nothing… Nothing that a little time won't heal."

"Oh." Freya smiled, and tilted her head over to the side. "I'm glad to hear that. I'm really sorry for what I did, Beatrix, I truly am. I know I cannot make up for it--"

"It's all right," shrugged the knight. "I'm sure I deserved it for some past sin. Anyway, I'm glad you're feeling better. You know, Freya, you're much easier to get along with now that you're not so moody or insane."

"Moody?!" blurted the mouse, her smiling face betraying her angry words. "Excuse me?"

"For real," said Beatrix coyly. "You were so depressing to hang around that I felt like putting you out of your misery right on the spot."

"Hm," sighed Freya, "then I would have beaten you up, just like I did before."

"Okay, I think we need to drop that," grumbled Beatrix darkly. Freya grinned, and apologized for boasting. The girls took a deep breath, and the environment lightened considerably. Beatrix briefly excused herself to check up on her clothes, which were still too soggy to wear. Freya excused herself as well, and thanked Beatrix for her time.

"Oh, wait…" The Burmecian, her spear on her shoulder, turned around to hear the other warrior. "…Won't you stay for some tea? Maybe we could talk a little more?" A pause, and a smile.

"I'd be delighted."

"What's on your mind?" asked Freya, holding a cup of steaming green tea. Beatrix shrugged lazily and sipped at her drink.

"Sir Fratley… you loved him a lot, right?"

"Yes, of course," replied the mouse. "We, ahhh… ahh, hehe… well, we planned to, ahh…"

"I see," smiled Beatrix gently. She coyly added, "'The best-laid plans of mice and men', eh?"

"Cute," muttered Freya. Beatrix laughed lightly and drank more of her tea. Outside, the rain was just now abating, and the dark clouds were parting to reveal a happy sun.

"Anyway," continued the slightly older knight, "I brought up Sir Fratley so we could talk about our loved ones. Now I'm not going to divulge on Steiner--we've agreed to keep our position as bodyguards for the Queen, and that's that. God knows I can't have a loving relationship with anyone and protect the Queen at the same time."

"Unless it was with the Queen herself," noted Freya wryly. Beatrix sneered in disgust.

"Ugh, that's sick. Besides, even if I was madly in love with her highness, and thank God I'm not, I'd have a level head about it all, and I'd continue to serve and protect her. Isn't that the best form of love?"

"You say that now," pointed Freya smugly, "but if you ever were in love with anyone…"

"Anyway!" Beatrix spat out her irritation, and gave Freya an icy glare that indicated the topic should be kept on track. "I was saying that it would be nearly impossible for me to have a meaningful relationship with anyone. If I did, I'd have to retire from my service and focus on that other person. If I had that kind of relationship with Steiner, who would protect the Queen?" Freya shrugged, and stirred at her tea before sipping at it. Beatrix certainly had a good point to make. Duty forced people to make so many sacrifices. She, of all people, knew that well.

"I see what you mean," she said. "But at least now, you'll be close to those you love."

"I suppose," shrugged the human. "But… well, it's not the same. You'd know better than I would, what with Fratley and all." Freya merely shrugged, and finished off her tea. Beatrix kindly poured her another cup and allowed the conversation to continue.

"It seems we're both in the same boat now," sighed Freya. "We've both lost our loved ones to our duty. One way or another, the ones we have loved, or could have loved, have been taken away from us. Such a pity…" Beatrix shrugged, and finished her tea for the day.

"I don't mind," she said. "I can handle it. It really doesn't bother me as much as it should. I've lived most of my life by myself. My parents died when I was five, and I was raised by a traveling circus for most of my life."

"You're kidding!" blurted Freya. "A circus? YOU??"

"It's a part of my past," admitted Beatrix with a shrug. "And it's not embarrassing in the least. I was raised by a very kind man who took in a lot of other orphans into his circus. Those were, I believe, the happiest days of my life…" Beatrix sighed nostalgically, her single eye staring off into space. Freya smiled, memories of her own childhood crawling back into her mind.

"So," she concluded, "we've both lost parents at a young age, and we've both lost loved ones…"

"You were an orphan, too?" whispered Beatrix. Freya smiled and nodded her head.

"I was. I didn't get caught up in a circus, obviously; my aunt and uncle raised me. I spent my early years in that rainy city. It would be strange if we both were recruited by a circus. What was yours called?"

"The P.S. Circus." Freya's green eyes shined, and her mouth curled up in a smile.

"Ah, I've heard of that before," she said. "I believe my aunt and uncle took me to see a performance when I was still young."

"Hm… I do remember visiting Burmecia once, and I think I met an impressionable young female during my sojourn. She was clinging onto someone with an 'Iron Tail'. You don't think…?" Beatrix gazed at Freya, her eye glimmering as a new revelation hinted at a past life, and a past encounter, and a time where everything was simpler and more innocent and more fresh.

"I… wonder if…" began Freya. Both women smiled playfully.

"Nahhh," they said simultaneously.

"I don't think it was the same rat-girl," smiled Beatrix.

"And I don't recall seeing a Cyclops-woman," countered Freya. Beatrix gave her companion a sour look, and wordlessly put the two empty cups and the kettle of tea away. When she came back, her clothes were still damp but otherwise dry, so Beatrix wedged herself into her outfit and wiped the hair from her eye.

"It really was good talking to you, Freya," she said. Freya stood up, and bowed her head in thanks.

"And thank you, Beatrix, for so many things." The two women grinned at each other, and performed salutes. Beatrix scoffed as she saw the mousy woman salute.

"Hey… Freya?"

"Yes?"

"Could we… well… start over? As friends?" A pause. Freya's furry face beamed with a warm glow, and the Burmecian bowed her head.

"Of course, Beatrix, of course. I'd be honored."

"Then, take care of yourself, my friend."

The words, noted Beatrix, came out rather naturally.

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Things that are exceptionally light

1: Feathers

2: Sheets of paper

3: Clothing

4: Aluminum

5: Pebbles and small rocks

6: Babies

7: Grass

8: Pillows

9: Hair

10: Beatrix's heart

This final one was the lightest one of them all. Beatrix woke up that morning, not only refreshed, but invigorated and feeling so light that she nearly defied gravity. She had never felt so wonderful before, or if she had, it had been too long since her last period of elation and ecstasy. The smile on her face was just one sign of her happiness; even her patch looked happy.

Of course, she had every reason in the world to be feeling light. Beatrix had recently saved the life of a (new) friend--and not only that, she had helped this friend back into the world of light once again. Beatrix knew that helping other people was satisfying--after all, that was a part of her job--but she never really experienced it this way.

Freya, her friend, was starting to fare much better since their talk the previous day. It had only been a little while ago that she was flat out on rock bottom--in fact, she was so low that suicide had been contemplated, and was very nearly carried out. Thankfully, Beatrix prevented this death, and had helped Freya back into a life of normality. Now, though she was still mournful at times, Freya had returned to her usual self, and was smiling significantly more.

Which, in turn, made Beatrix smile.

She smiled all the way to the Alexandrian tavern, in fact. The bar was just opening, and the keep was still preparing for the day. When he saw Beatrix, he waved and asked what she needed.

"I'm not sure," sighed the General. "I don't want any alcohol, thanks, so you can just give me what's left." Shrugging, the tender reached into his supply and handed Beatrix a cup of hot tea. She smiled faintly and regarded the cup with false amusement. The brew was good, though, and well worth the small amount of money she had paid.

The door to the bar opened, and an old friend and one-time student of Beatrix strolled in. He called out to the tender, and ordered "the stupid special". Smiling, he leaped onto a stool and pushed Beatrix gently.

"Hey, Bea! What's up? You're looking lovely today!"

"Why thank you!!" beamed Beatrix in a surprisingly bubbly voice. The young man literally fell out of his seat as he heard her squeal.

"Whoa! Hey, what the…?"

"Don't worry, sir," sighed the knight. "I just wanted to see if you had your guard up. Poor, foolish Zidane. You really need to work on that. I fear for Garnet."

"Ahh, no worries!" he assured her. "It's all good with me and the Queen! Oh, uh, speaking of which, that's why I came here. I need to talk to you about something."

"All right." Beatrix bade him to sit again, and she bought a drink for him. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, first of all, how's things with you?" he asked. "I heard you and Freya had a little scare last night. What happened?" Beatrix smiled faintly, and shrugged as she sipped at her tea.

"…Just something personal," she replied. "Though I think that, from now on, Freya and I will be spending more time together."

"Oh." He smiled, perhaps a little too broadly, and poked her shoulder. "You're not--"

"We are good friends, Zidane," answered Beatrix emotionlessly. "And I plan on keeping things that way. I do not care for your perversions."

"Yikes," he sighed, tapping his chest. "It hurts me right here to think that I hold such a lack of esteem in your mind."

"Been brushing up on vocabulary?" said Beatrix coyly. She grinned, and gave him a poke herself. "Don't feel so glum, sir. Truth be told, I respect you very much. You only bring these stereotypes on yourself by acting childish. Were you to become more of an adult in mind, I would not be so quick to jibe you." Zidane smiled, and drank from his cup as he let the silence hang between them.

Slowly, both liquids vanished as the duo sat in the bar drinking. Beatrix was the complete opposite of Zidane when it came to socializing with others. She tended to be withdrawn and just a little bit impersonal when it came to people; him, on the other hand… Well, Zidane was just Zidane.

"Hey," said the boy with the tail, "like I said, I wanna talk to you about Garnet."

"Hm, feel free, sir."

"Thanks. Anyway, uh, I love her a lot, y'know?"

"So I've noticed…" A pause.

"Okay, okay. I'll let that one slide. Anyway, I love her a lot, and we've been through so many things together. I want to be by her side always, and well, I was thinking about asking her to marry her." Instantly, Beatrix spat out the hot tea she was drinking, nearly scalding the poor bartender in the process.

"You're not serious!!" she blurted. Zidane gazed at her in horror.

"Sorry about that. Maybe I shouldn't have been so blunt--but, you know me."

"You, marry Garnet?" continued Beatrix, almost as if she didn't hear him. Zidane gave her a mad look and pouted.

"Well, yeah! What's wrong with that?" She sighed, and helped the tender clean up the mess she had made as she replied to his question.

"On the surface, nothing. You are a noble soul, sir, and a fair warrior. I may be halfway blind, but I can tell that her excellency loves you very much. I do suppose that, initially, the two of you would make a fine couple."

"But…?" Beatrix sighed.

"…I still do not think you are worthy of ruling this country alongside her," she resumed. "You are but a mere thief. You know nothing of politics or of the military or economics or anything. All you know are stealing, fighting, cursing, and adventuring."

"Hey! Didn't we just have a talk about stereotypes?!" The female sighed in irritation, and gave the one with a tail a tired look.

"Sir, you must know that these are all true," she pointed. "I know you have many good points to you. But you are heavily inexperienced when it comes to running a country. I do not believe that you could make a good King. I apologize, but I cannot allow you to marry her majesty."

"But… but…"

"And besides!" growled Beatrix. "You flirt too much! Poor Queen Garnet will be heartbroken before your honeymoon is over!"

"Now that's just not true!" growled Zidane. "I love Garnet a lot! I'd never hurt her like that, not when we're like we are now! Besides, when was the last time I flirted with a girl? And who was it?"

"When you were with me," uttered Beatrix flatly. Zidane smiled and scratched his neck nervously.

"Yeah, well, can you blame me?" Beatrix gave him a cold glare. "Yikes, sorry! Anyway, I was just teasing you there. I like you a lot, Bea. I respect you, and I want to see you happy, but it's not like I'm in love with you or anything!"

"………Right." The older knight snorted, and finished her third cup of tea. She stood, and saluted Zidane. "My dear comrade," she said, "you still have much to learn. I have my doubts, but you must understand: I only want to protect the Queen and this kingdom. I cannot allow her majesty to have anything less than the best, and until you prove otherwise, I cannot give you my blessings." He sighed in defeat, and kicked at the floor.

"Man! That stinks!"

"…bye, Master Vivi! Take care! Your skills at Tetra Master are increasing daily! …Oh!" A loud voice interrupted the tavern's quiet, and as Beatrix and Zidane gazed at the door, they found Steiner standing there in a daze. "Ah…"

"Oh, hey Rusty George!" greeted Zidane (this was his new nickname for Steiner). "How's life treating you?"

"…I suppose it's been well," replied Steiner civilly. The armored knight had long ago learned to endure Zidane's childish nature, and though the two were still far from being friends, they certainly could work together well if given the chance. Noticing Beatrix, Steiner smiled and saluted.

"Ah, good morning, Lady Beatrix! I do not wish to copy off of this rascal, so I shall instead ask how you have been fairing."

"I'm fairing fairly fair," smiled Beatrix. Steiner chuckled, and Zidane rolled his eyes. "Seriously, though… I'm actually doing quite well. But I fear I will not be doing so good in the next few days. Sir Zidane here has, ah, caused me to worry."

"Oh? About what?" Steiner stepped forward, and gallantly grabbed hold of the hilt of his sword. "If you have caused Lady Beatrix any strife…"

"Hey, relax Tin Man!" grinned Zidane. "I'm just asking her blessings for something."

"Oh? What?" A pause. Beatrix sighed, growing more and more reluctant to reveal the piece of news she had received from Zidane. She didn't know whether she was the first one to hear about it or not, so she was unsure as to how she'd get the information across.

"…I suppose you can keep it confidential," she said. "Sir Zidane here has more or less asked for my blessings. He plans on proposing to the Queen!"

"Eh?" Steiner gazed over at the thief, a combined look of amusement, confusion, and intrigue on his face. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," replied Beatrix blandly. Steiner nodded his head slowly.

"I see. Well… I suppose, then, that I shall wish you good luck. I suppose you are the best man for the job. I don't know if she'd ever agree to marry another."

"Steiner!" hissed Beatrix. "What the devil are you saying? This boy here hardly qualifies as King material!" Steiner smiled and laughed out loud at the slightly-younger warrior.

"I thought the same thing, too, when I first met him," he replied. "In fact, I couldn't stand the little monkey. But slowly, over the course of our travels, I grew to respect and even admire him. I must admit, when I saw him run back into the Iifa Tree to rescue an enemy, I knew right then that he was the right man for the job."

"…But!" stuttered Beatrix. "Surely not!"

"Oh, my dear lady…" sighed Steiner. "We need to have a talk. Sir Zidane, please allow me to vouch for you, and maybe if I convince Lady Beatrix that you are indeed a noble man, then perhaps she will agree with me."

"Uhhh…" He smiled, scratched his head, and waved at the knights. "Sure, whatever. Go knock yourselves out." Steiner promised to be back as quickly as possible, and led Beatrix as the two of them secluded themselves to a private area to speak. Zidane, wanting to hear Beatrix's new decision, waited around and had another drink.

A few minutes passed, and Zidane was growing bored. He wanted to hear what Steiner and Beatrix were saying about him, but because the two had wandered off to a place unknown, he could neither hear nor see them. He hoped that Steiner was saying good things. Beatrix was starting to sound a little too overprotective, and even though she had reasonable cause for concern, Zidane didn't think she had that much to worry about.

As he contemplated, the door to the tavern swung open again, revealing a proud Steiner and a smiling Beatrix. The one-eyed knight stepped forward, and performed her finest salute.

"Please forgive my earlier actions, sir," she said. "It seems as if I really have misjudged you. Hearing an account of your tale from Steiner has made me see that maybe, you are the right man for the job after all.

"True, you have much to work on, but like her majesty, your heart is in the right place. The two of you, working together, might bring this country back to its former glory, and perhaps beyond." To his surprise, Beatrix knelt down and hung her head, allowing her wood-brown hair to fall freely. She took his right hand and kissed it dutifully.

"I would be honored to have you as King, sir. You have my blessings."

"Ahhh…" Zidane smiled joyously, too embarrassed to speak. "Uhhh, thanks, I guess. You too, Rusty George. I definitely owe you one!"

"Ha!" snorted Steiner. "It seems you owe many of these 'ones', and yet you never pay me back!"

"Ehh, don't worry," smiled Zidane. "I'll buy you a suit of armor when I'm King."

As the three of them laughed and joked, the bartender silently polished another mug clean. Their conversation, while important, was none of his business. As long as he kept his place clean and got his due pay, they could have been talking about an invasion and he could not care less.

Though, he had to admit, there would be plenty of people who would pay good money for this delicious rumor…

--------------------

I need to sort some things out. It's obvious that we're all going through major changes, and I feel as if we'll go through even more by the end of the year. It would do me best, in this era of peace, to contemplate upon the future. I know Master Atma told me to never think about the future, for it is never certain, but still…

My greatest concern is, of course, Zidane--more so than usual, at least. He's always a handful and I feel as if I'm babysitting him most of the time. I know that a knight such as myself cannot baby-sit a future king--what an outlandish thought! And yet the poor naïve boy already has thoughts about proposing to her highness! …I have reason to worry.

I realize that he can be very noble, selfless, and bold if the circumstances are correct. From what Steiner has told me, Zidane could very well become a great king. Still, I have my doubts. The boy was a thief, and his behavior towards other women is appalling. He cannot take anything seriously, and I highly doubt his ability to protect the kingdom in times of danger. And trust me, sir, there will be times of danger in the future.

Yet for all my worrying, I do believe that fate will bring Zidane to the throne. I know her majesty loves him very much, and if he were to propose, I am almost certain that she would accept. If the two of them work together, then perhaps this kingdom will experience a golden age. I pray it does.

But I still have doubts. I now know that her highness is not of royal blood--and yet, she has handled this kingdom very well since the death of her mother. ……Perhaps I am being too hard on the boy. He has no more royal blood in him than Quina does, and yet… well, perhaps he'll do well. Maybe I shouldn't be so concerned over things, but I am.

I guess it's just an old habit of mine.

After leaving the bar, Beatrix took some time to mull over the things that had happened in the past hour or so. Zidane had revealed his intentions on marrying Garnet, and if she were any other girl, Beatrix would not be concerned in the least. He might have been young, but the boy had the right to marry anyone he wanted.

But this was the Queen here! He wasn't just marrying any normal girl off the street--this was a Queen! True, Garnet herself was not of royal blood, but she had been raised like royalty, whereas Zidane had not. Beatrix had every right in the world to worry--the kingdom's fate seemed unsure if he were to become king.

But, then again, who else would Garnet marry? She loved no one else, and although an arranged marriage with another noble or prince might be possible, the kingdom would probably not prosper as well if she had wed a loved one. Beatrix was caught between the proverbial Rock and Hard Place; no matter which direction fate took, and it was a guarantee that it would take one or the other, things did not look too great.

As she walked along the streets of Alexandria, Beatrix bumped into one of the many Vivis--literally. After apologizing and helping the mage up, Beatrix decided to have a chat with one of the few individuals who could really understand her. Vivi understood, and took Beatrix by the hand as she led him to the church by the docks.

Aside from an ever-present moogle, the two were alone in the church. Vivi had to convince the moogle to give them privacy before anything could be said. The conversation would have to be short--there was nothing to be seated in, except the dusty floor.

"So what do you wanna talk about?" asked the young mage. Beatrix brushed the hair out of her eye and sighed.

"…The future," she replied.

"Oh?"

"…Yes. Vivi, can you keep a secret?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding his head.

"Well, don't tell anybody else, but I think Zidane plans on asking her majesty to marry him." The Vivi seemed to smile, even though his mouth was invisible.

"Oh, really? Wow!"

"On the surface, it does seem like a wonderful idea," admitted Beatrix. "But think about it. Do you believe Zidane is really King material?" Vivi took a moment to think about things, and shrugged after awhile.

"…I guess so," he replied. Beatrix made a sour face.

"You guess so… Well, think about this. Zidane knows nothing about politics, at all. He has no experience in military strategy, he knows nothing of economics or trade, and I fear he'll resort back to his flirtatious ways after a few months." Vivi silently hung his head in thought, the words of Beatrix running through his mind. Everything Beatrix had said was true, to a degree, and Vivi had to admit that.

"But… he's a really nice guy…"

"I know that," sighed Beatrix sadly. "I know he's a nice guy. He's a great friend, he's loyal and kind, he's very brave, and to my own surprise, he's quite the battle strategist. He may not be the strongest warrior in the army, but his heart more than makes up for it. Do not misunderstand me, Vivi. If this were any other woman, any woman at all, I'd support his decision with all my heart.

"But…" She cut herself off, shaking her head in defeat. "…It's the Queen. He wants to marry somebody of royal blood. I know of no rules that state a monarch must marry someone of noble birth; no, they can wed common street thugs for all my knowledge."

"Well…" Vivi paused, making sure that he got his words out just right. "…Umm, Garnet--I mean, Queen Garnet, she didn't know about any of that stuff either, right? She didn't know about war and ruling countries…"

"But she was raised to," replied Beatrix. "And as we all know, Zidane was not. Don't misunderstand me, I like and admire the boy very much, but you must admit that he's not the first person you think about when you think of Kings."

"……Yeah," admitted Vivi after a pause. "…I guess you're right. But… if Queen Garnet didn't marry him, then who?"

"That's another problem," sighed Beatrix. "I know her majesty doesn't love anyone else the way she loves him. She just wouldn't be happy unless it was with that silly monkey. I'm pretty sure I know why that is… Anyway, you can see that I'm in a dilemma. As protector of Alexandria, it's my job to be concerned over these things."

"Yeah, I know," agreed Vivi. "It sounds like a tough job."

"Oh, you have no idea," grunted Beatrix wearily. "…Sometimes… I just want to give up. Technically, I can retire anytime I want. I've served my terms, and there are other people that are competent enough. If I did retire, I suppose I'd end up with Steiner, but then I'd be in close proximity of somebody who protected the kingdom, and I'd have a fit of nostalgia and I'd be right back where I started. So… I guess I can't give up." Smiling in defeat, Beatrix shrugged to herself and prepared to leave.

"Hey, umm…" She turned towards Vivi.

"Yes?"

"…Umm…"

"Don't worry, little one," she said with a smile. "As long as I have breath in my body, I shall always be loyal to this country. I suppose I have no more power to stop the inevitable than you do. Perhaps this arrangement will be best after all." Vivi seemed to smile, and nodded his head in agreement.

"Yeah!" Both of them said their goodbyes as they left, the little one waddling off to play with the other children. Beatrix blew out some air, pushing away the strands of her long hair, and walked right out of the church--

--and straight into Freya.

"OOF!!!" With a slightly comical collision, both ladies slammed into each other and fell to the floor. Beatrix was angry for only a few seconds, but upon seeing her new friend, her mood lightened and she apologized.

"Clumsy human," muttered Freya. "It's a wonder you can move around at all, what with that patch of yours."

"Good seeing you too," retorted said clumsy human. Freya grinned, and helped Beatrix stand up.

"Sorry," she said, dusting herself off. "I'm never in a good mood in the morning. But what is that eye patch for, anyway? I've always wondered about that! Did you lose your eye in a fight?" Beatrix shook her head no and lifted the patch up for Freya to see. Behind the cloth sat a normal, healthy eye, completely capable of vision.

"Ah. But I don't get it. Why do you wear it if your eye's perfectly fine?"

"Well, for two reasons," explained Beatrix. "First, having only one eye is good training. The eye I normally use is my weak eye, so I've spent a good deal of my life strengthening it, and my skills."

"Ah, so it's a training method," mused Freya. "…And the second reason?" Beatrix paused, clenching her teeth tightly. She took a deep breath, and shook her head.

"It's…"

----------

Luke! No! You won't die! Please, no! Luke, please get up! I won't allow you to die! Get up! Please!

----------

"…It's personal," replied Beatrix softly. "…Something I'd rather not talk about. Something traumatic…"

"…Ah," said Freya, a tone of understanding in her voice. "All right. I suppose it's none of my business. Anyway, how are you doing? I haven't seen you since our talk yesterday."

"And you're already missing me?" smirked Beatrix. Freya made a face and gazed at her friend strangely.

"…Cute," she muttered. "Anyway, I suppose I have. Would you like to come over and see the house I'm renting?"

"Oh, you have a new house?" Freya nodded her head, and led Beatrix to the hovel that she had been given during her stay. It was decided that Freya, though recovered from her morose state, would not be left in a city where she was the only resident. Kind-hearted Alexandrians thus scouted out a simple three-room house for her in the district, and she fell in love with the quaint place since the minute her furry feet stepped through the door.

"Nice!" complemented Beatrix as she stepped inside. "It's small, but I don't see why you'd need any other place. Reminds me of the home of a dwarf."

"It's more along the lines of the houses in Madain Sari," pointed Freya. "And you're right, it is awfully small, but then again, I don't need large estates to live in. This house makes me feel like I'm not by myself. Oh, would you care for something to drink, or to eat?"

"No," groaned Beatrix, "I had plenty at the bar this morning." Freya smiled, and fixed herself a cup of wine. Beatrix, not one to judge her friend's reasons for alcohol at an early hour, merely sat down at the nearest table.

"…Oh, Freya?" The dragoon, who herself had just recently sat down, hummed softly as she gazed at her friend. "Can you keep a secret?"

"I've been renowned for my silence from time to time," she answered coolly.

"All right. Don't tell anyone this……"

--------------------

Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos cackled wildly as they guided a golden-haired boy with a tail towards the castle of Alexandria. Lachesis especially took great pleasure with this new turn of events--after all, the Genome's life would become very interesting in the next few decades, if all went according to plan.

Usually, Zidane Tribal was a confident, spunky, energetic, and feisty young lad, but today he was abnormally quiet. In his pocket was a ring, a ring in which he had actually bought, with money he had actually earned. Though he still clung proudly to many of his bandit ways, Zidane did not want to keep his reputation forever. Besides, he had to go honest sometime, and he figured the ring was a pretty good place to start.

Zidane knew all to well that the path he was taking would be a difficult one. Being King meant that he had to give up on a lot of things he enjoyed, such as womanizing and sleeping in past lunchtime and drinking and cursing and stealing. Once he placed that ring on Garnet's finger (if she accepted), his past life would be over forever and a new one would have to take its place.

Zidane would have to be responsible from now on, God forbid. The word scared him more than anything Kuja or Garland could have thrown at him. Being King didn't mean he could make or break any rules he wished, or that he had servants waiting on him all hours of the day, or he got to order people around, nor even he got a beautiful bride with the deal.

No, being King meant that he had to use a spade and a plow to raise food out of the earth. He had to rule every citizen kindly and fairly, remembering that not a one of them was a slave, but a free subject, and he would have to bring up any children to do the same. He would not have favorites either, neither with his children nor his people. If enemies came, and they most certainly would, he would have to be first in the charge and last in the retreat.

Zidane hardly had experience in most of these fields, but when it came down to it, these requirements were all he really needed to know. Governing, trading, war, economics, and everything else fell under one of these requirements or the other, so truth be told, all he really had to do was his best.

Breathing slowly and methodically, Zidane hopped off the raft that shuttled people between the town and the castle. He waved at the guards and tried his best for a smile, but to be honest, he was just plain nervous. Asking a common girl to marry him would have been unnerving enough: all that commitment, loyalty, love, and honor would have to last their entire lives. Wedding vows did not ask "for better for worse, til' we don't feel like doing it anymore"; no, it was until death alone parted them, and no exceptions were ever made.

Marrying a common girl would be unnerving, but marrying a Queen was downright mind-blowing. It was true to say that Zidane loved Garnet very much, and he wanted to spend his remaining years with her, and so on and so forth, and it was also true that Garnet loved him, and so on. They both loved each other intensely and immensely, and at first, marriage seemed logical.

But, not only would Zidane have to be faithful and loyal and loving to his new wife forever and ever until death took one, but he was also required to be King as well. Just one of these responsibilities made his stomach do flips; two of them sent his entire body into convulsions. It was not as if he feared marriage or love, he just feared his own inadequacy.

Beatrix was right--Garnet deserved the best there was, and Zidane knew he was anything but. His own feelings of insufficiency were the only real things preventing him from sprinting up the stairs to her room and showing her the ring right then and there (he was in the hallway at the time, and just at the first step).

He knew he would never be worthy of Garnet's affections. It was a classical fairy tale romance between the two of them: he a not-so-humble thief, she a refined Queen of a powerful country. He had slowly grown to love her, ever since the kidnapping way back when, and life without her seemed impossible at best. Zidane truly did want to be with Garnet for ever, and he was darn willing to sacrifice all the "fun" things he enjoyed for her.

Sighing, Zidane knew he was going to regret every single movement of his body as he ascended the staircase. Thankfully, it was a long series of steps, which delayed the inevitable. Deep in his mind, Zidane did not want to go through with any of this. He knew he would never be able to give Garnet the life she deserved; his presence just might have brought only hardship, and maybe even destruction to the kingdom.

But somehow, he moved onward, and got to the top of the stairs in horribly quick time. He grunted as he realized the fates were against him. One of them must've made the steps short that day, or else they gave him wings to fly above the heights. Whatever the reason, Zidane's feet continued walking, his ultimate destination but a few paces away.

Three knocks, three fates, three times he could have turned back.

"Come in!" said the melodic voice of Queen Garnet. His stomach feeling sicker and sicker by the hour, Zidane put on his acting cap and painted a bright but false smile on his mouth. Thankfully, Garnet was not so close to him that she could tell something was amiss.

"Hey, Dagger!" smiled Zidane. Queen Garnet, dressed in her usual white gown, stood quietly and smiled as she saw the young boy.

"I told you that you may stop calling me that," she said. Zidane shrugged and kept his faux smile.

"Ehh, old habits die hard." Casually, as if he did it every hour, Zidane plopped down on the Queen's bed and made himself comfortable. He did not even take off his shoes.

"Zidane…" said Garnet in a very scolding tone, "what did I tell you about lying on my bed?"

"Sorry." Lazily, Zidane sat up, planting his shoes on the ground. "So anyway, Dagger, I came by to ask you a question." She smiled, and like a true girlfriend would, offered him a glass of iced tea. He guzzled one cup down in a single swallow, and she couldn't help but laugh at his poor manners.

"You're going to choke," she warned him.

"Nahh, I'm fine." Smiling, Garnet sat down and slowly began sipping at her tea.

"So what was it that you wanted to ask me?" Grinning, Zidane pulled the ring from out of his pocket, and thrust it out for Garnet to see.

"Well, I was gonna ask you if you wanna marry me." Suddenly, Garnet spat out her tea, drenching a part of the room with the surprise spit. She coughed uncontrollably on a few droplets that had lodged in her throat, and Zidane winced as he ran over to help her. Several slaps on the back ceased her choking, and with a face flushed from top to bottom, Garnet squinted at Zidane in all his bravado.

"…Say what?" she managed, a choking sound still in her voice. Zidane's grin was so weak that even a blind man could tell it was fake, and he scratched his neck in embarrassment.

"…I wanna know if you'd be my wife," he said, and this time he kneeled down in traditional manner, showing her the gem he had bought (fittingly enough, the stone was a garnet). The Queen's eyes lit up in wonder, and her mouth hung open in awe. She knew that Zidane was never one to beat around the bush… But asking her to marry him cold turkey??

"I… I…" She swallowed several times, gazing at Zidane with eyes full of hope and love, and at the ring with her personal stone embedded in it. Her hand went to his, and she smiled just faintly. Taking a deep breath, she made up her mind and gave the young Genome her answer.

To be continued…