Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Mine. ❯ Marked. ( Chapter 16 )

Warnings: If you're still reading this… you already know.

 

Pairings: …

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot, and the various creatures herein (their personalities, that is). I make no money off this fic.

 

Author's Notes: My stupid computer has been at the fucking shop for ages, which is part of the reason I haven't updated. I am also lazy. But it has been a long while and I apologise for that. I'll try to be faster.

 

Mine.

~KittyMeowMaxwell.

 

Chapter Sixteen - Marked.

 

It was a weary pair of lawmen that drove their birds on dragging feet the last hour back to town, desperate to get home, but at the same time dreading it. The chocobos managed a stumbling trot when they came within sight of the bleached wooden buildings, and they cooed happily when Seifer and Squall finally slid out of their saddles. The two men untacked and groomed their mounts, then set them loose in the little paddock behind the jail.

 

“I oughtta go tell his parents…” Seifer said reluctantly.

 

“Let's have a drink first,” Squall suggested, but the blond shook his head.

 

“We do that and there'll be a thousand questions, and we'll have to tell every man and his dog what happened. You can bet your arse it won't stay quiet until I have a chance to go up to the Kinneas place. Better that they hear it from me.”

 

Squall nodded silently, then asked; “You want me to come?”

 

“Naw… I'll do it. Don't worry about it. They would already have heard from Dylan that things didn't look good.

 

Again, Squall nodded, then on impulse, hugged Seifer tight.

 

“You did your best, Sheriff. No one can ask anymore of you.”

 

Seifer instantly pushed him to arm's length, jaw clenching.

 

“You've got to be careful with things like that, Squall,” he murmured, and when Squall didn't move, he couldn't resist leaning forward to nose at the deputy's hair.

 

“Seifer…” Squall warned, pulling gently away. There was an awkward silence, then he added; “You have to go speak to Eli and Leanne…”

 

Seifer looked hard at him for a long moment, then turned and left the jail without another word. He took one of their spare chocobos, ignoring Knightly's jealous warble.

 

“You're too tired,” he said, patting Knightly's beak, then swinging up into the saddle and kicking the other bird into a run.

 

- - - - - - -

 

Eli was waiting for him on the veranda when he arrived, having seen the dust from a long distance away. He saw the look on Seifer's face and instantly beckoned him inside. The Sheriff took his hat off and held it in both hands before him as the rancher lead him through to the kitchen, where Leanne was just taking a fresh tray of cookies out of the oven. He glanced around. It looked like she'd been doing a lot in the kitchen. The shelves were lined with jars of jam and several batches of cookies were cooling on the benchtop.

 

“Leanne…” Eli said with a gentleness that surprised Seifer. “Sheriff's here.”

 

She turned, looking drawn and pale, and came to her husband's waiting arms, eyes hopeful as she looked at Seifer.

 

“Tell us straight, Sheriff. You find out what that savage did with our boy?”

 

“Dylan told you, then?” he asked.

 

“Yep,” Eli said shortly.

 

Seifer sighed, fiddling with the brim of his hat.

 

“We don't know anymore than that. Haven't seen hide nor hair of them. Savage laid about twenty false trails and we didn't have the supplies to follow each one. By the time we re-supply and get back up there, all the trails will be gone… I'm sorry… There's nothing more I or anyone else can do. Upwards of thirty savage encampments up in them mountains and the surrounding forest. We can't just waltz into every one of them. For starters, they don't stay still. It-”

 

“It's alright, Sheriff,” Eli cut in, holding his sobbing wife against his chest. “You don't gotta explain to us. You been up there `til you nearly starved to death, and one man already died on account of our boy. You done everythin' possible, an' more.”

 

Seifer nodded, lowering his eyes, then said quietly; “If it makes you feel any better, neither the Deputy or I think he's been killed.”

 

Eli nodded, then turned away, making soft, soothing noises to his wife. Seifer closed his eyes briefly before turning and quietly leaving.

 

- - - - - - -

 

Three days later, they stood again before the HeartSeer's teepi, this time without so much ceremony and so many crowds. They had cleansed themselves together, and come straight to the teepi before the camp had really begun to wake.

 

The four muscled braves sat meditating and the fifth was stirring his pot and he gave them a gentle smile before waving them inside. Zell held the flap aside to let Irvine in and the cowboy ducked inside, heart fluttering again. He waited for the native to follow, then grabbed his hand again and calmed slightly at the gentle squeeze he received.

 

The Seer was nowhere to be seen, but the Heart waited patiently for them, his blue eyes bright against his dark skin. They went and knelt before him and Irvine was struck again by his beauty.

 

“/All that remains is approval of your Mark, Snake,/” he said in his lilting tones and held out his hand for the rolled-up skin Zell had guarded so jealously. Irvine tried to see over the edge of it as the Heart unrolled it and examined it. He heard his taker chuckle at him.

 

The Heart looked surprised and Irvine was further eaten with curiosity.

 

“/Why this?/” he asked directly of Zell.

 

“/He's the god of strength and courage, of fierce loyalty. Irvine brings out these things in me. I'm stronger than I ever was before, I feel the courage to face anything, I could never be disloyal to him…/”

 

The Heart turned the skin to show the Mark.

 

“/And do you think this appropriate, Wild Bird?/”

 

It looked like the ruby dragons he'd seen pictures of next to products that claimed to made of their skin, and cost more gil than Eli would make in three years' time. It had horns and bat-like wings, and a long tail. Somehow, the entire creature's silhouette had been fit into a circle that matched Ahshey and Krerah's for size, each line definite against the pale tan of the skin.

 

“/I… don't know what… that is… Is it a dragon…?/” he asked, glancing at Zell.

 

“/The King of Dragons,/” Zell replied. “/Bahamut, god of strength, courage, loyalty, as I have said./”

 

Irvine traced the black lines of the tattoo with his eyes. He put his hand to the place where it would go and after a long silence, he nodded.

 

“/I like it./”

 

“/As do I,/” the Heart said with a smile. “/Very well then. The Heart smiles upon this Marking, and the Seer will abide by the Heart's decision in this Marking./”

 

“/Our thanks,/” Zell said, and it was heartfelt. Irvine saw the tension drain out of the broad shoulders of his taker. He curled a hand over one of those shoulders and Zell smiled at him, touching his fingers. They stood together and Irvine found himself suddenly in Zell's arms, a warm mouth descending upon his for a deep kiss.

 

The Heart chuckled softly.

 

“/It is takers like yours, Wild Bird, who make me regret the choice I made when the last Heart left our world….”

 

Irvine looked at him as Zell released him, cocking his head a little.

 

“/You've… never…/”

 

“/Never. I am not even Chosen,/” he murmured, indicating his naked thighs.

 

“/That's… I'm sorry,/”

 

“/I am not. …Mostly./” The Heart grinned and waved his hands gently at them. “/Go. You have better things to do than sit here discussing the sex life of a Shaman. Leave me, now, and be Marked. I never want to hear of you arguing or hurting one another, for the Seer will be unbearable if that occurs./” He grinned and it was infectious. They both smiled back.

 

“/Thank you again,/” Irvine murmured and, on impulse, bent, pressing a kiss to the Heart's lips.

 

The man smiled as Irvine stood, giving him a nod, and the two of them left the teepi.

 

“/You're so beautiful, my taken…/” Zell murmured as they went.

 

Irvine smiled knowingly and touched Zell's hip briefly, watching the shiver that ran up his spine at the tiny stroke. He growled softly and his eyes spoke fire to Irvine, making him shiver in his turn.

 

The four braves with the tattooist stood as they approached and Irvine followed Zell's lead when he bowed low to them.

 

“/Your Mark?/” the slender brave murmured, holding out his hand. Zell handed over the scrap of skin and the tattooist nodded approval. “/Very striking,/” he allowed. “/Who will go first?/”

 

“/My taken,/” Zell said instantly before Irvine could even open his mouth.

 

“/Very well. Lay down, taken./”

 

Irvine glanced at Zell, heart stuttering to a faster pace, but Zell smiled reassuringly and lay him on his back, his head pillowed in the native's lap. The four braves took hold of him, one to each thigh and one to each bicep and he swallowed.

 

“/You must stay still, taken. They'll help you with that. Concentrate on your taker, and the love you have for him. You bear with the pain of the Marking to demonstrate what you're willing to endure for him./”

 

Zell stroked his hair and he kept his eyes on the native, but the first prick of the needle seared through his arm anyway. He twitched. He became more and more glad of the braves holding him down when the pain became worse and worse. Pin prick upon pin prick peppered his skin, plunging deep and sure, to mark him forever. Zell's face hovered above him, murmuring soothing words, and it dawned on him that his taker's facial tattoo must have been excruciating, even had he been asleep while it was done. He whimpered the needle hit a particularly sensitive area and Zell bent to kiss his lips upside down. (1)

 

“/I'm here, Irvine… I've got you./”

 

- - - - - - -

 

It killed him to see his taken in such pain, but he was proud of the lack of tears and the restrained noises Irvine was making. He didn't thrash or fight the braves' hold, though it clearly hurt him. He returned Zell's kiss, sending sparks up the native's spine.

 

It seemed to take an age, and Zell knew it was worse for him to watch his cowboy endure the pain than it would be when it came to his turn for the Mark. After all, he had refused the sleep for his family crest and his Choice. (2)

 

“/It's done,/” the tattooist said after a time, and pressed his fingers to Irvine's forehead. “/Peace, taken./”

 

Irvine sat up and craned his neck to see his Mark, a smile tugging at his lips. Good. He was happy, as he should be to have been Marked by such a taker as Zell. They exchanged places after the tattooist had put salve on Irvine's arm, and Zell lay with his head in Irvine's lap, grinning up at him.

 

His cowboy didn't even look mildly surprised when Zell barely flinched.

 

- - - - - - -

 

“/You can do no more than bake meat?!/” Krerah exclaimed at Irvine as they knelt beside a cooking fire in front of Ahshey's teepi some two or three days later. Their takers were hunting, and it was their turn to cook the night's meal, along with three other taken and one switch. The four women were giggling among themselves and making suggestive comments about Krerah and Irvine. All but the switch preferred men. Jirrah lay by Irvine's side, wafting away every so often to do whatever it was he did, but soon returning.

 

“/I never had to before. Ma did it all! I never even went patch-beast driving when Pa went with Mr. O'Leary!/”

 

“/Then watch closely,/” one of the women said, not even bothering to pretend she hadn't been listening. “/Your taker won't stand for a gap in your knowledge like that./”

 

“/Well, I wasn't brought up to be a taken…/” Irvine muttered and they all giggled. Even Krerah chuckled.

 

“/You'll learn soon enough, Irvine,/” Krerah assured him, patting his shoulder.

 

“/How do you put up with it anyway?/” Irvine muttered. “/Being told what to do all the time?/”

 

“/We're taken,/” one of the women said. “/It's always been this way./”

 

“/And our takers are good to us, and treat us with the adoration due to us for our passive and ultimately pleasure-giving ways. Though they're called takers, they don't only take. You must know this, Wild Bird,/” one of the others said.

 

“/But any taker is free to have any taken, whether the taken protests or not. I've heard it…/” Irvine indicated a teepi across the way and the other four all showed their teeth in clear disgust.

 

“/Oora. Yes. He takes whom he pleases and hurts them, usually. But he'll never be able to Mark, and all taken he Feathers go straight to the HeartSeer and have it undone. More, the other takers despise him, and no one will be surprised if he mysteriously disappears when hunting or the like./” The others nodded in agreement with the switch.

 

“/Takers learn things, as we do. You believe your taker was just born with the knowledge of how to take a lover without hurting him? Where to touch you and kiss you, so you relax and allow him entry? Even how to help you learn to please him? No. He learned from other takers, during his four seasons before the Choice. More, they do all the hunting and fighting, while we're pampered,/” one of the women said.

 

“/It's not so hard to cook every so often,/” Krerah put in. “/And you'll learn how./”

 

“/Anyway… takers think they have all the power, but they're easily manipulated!/” the littlest of the women said, and they all giggled, even Krerah made a sound suspiciously like one, but that could have been because Jirrah was pressed to his thighs.

 

“/Siiara's right. Arch your back just right…/” The woman did so, the strip of material holding her breasts out of the way while she worked straining dangerously.

 

“/Whisper his name… Oh, Ferai…/” Siiara said, half-closing her eyes.

 

“/Lift your hips!/” Krerah added, dropping his weight forward on his hands and arching his body so that his hips lifted, dislodging Jirrah in the process.

 

“/Moan!/” they all cried, and threw their heads back so their dark hair cascaded down their backs, giving a collective “/Ah!/”

 

Irvine swallowed reflexively and shifted a bit.

 

“/See?/” Krerah said, poking Irvine's taker tattoo. “/Just a few little things and any taker is in his or her taken's hands! Ask the right way, and you'll receive./”

 

“/We have more power than they'd like to believe,/” Siiara whispered.

 

“/But don't tell them we know that!/” Krerah added, chuckling. “/Now, we have work to do./”

 

A half hour or so later, a group of taken and switch came to see what they were doing, flirting shamelessly with the group around the fire. Irvine asked Krerah softly about it, and the native just chuckled and shrugged - they all knew it was going nowhere.

 

“/What's this then?/” one of the female taken asked, hanging over Irvine's shoulder and poking the shapeless mass that was his attempt at a wheat cake. He flushed.

 

“/I'm not very good at it,/” he said softly.

 

She snickered and stood up, pressing a foot between his shoulder blades and pushing hard so that his face almost ended up in the `cake'.

 

“/Evidently,/” she said, ignoring the growl that gurgled in Jirrah's throat.

 

“/Remove your foot, Vian,/” Krerah growled, standing.

 

That growl, she didn't ignore. She backed off a step, but showed her teeth at him.

 

“/You can't protect him for the rest of his life, Krerah. Is he so weak that he cannot fend for himself?/” she wondered silkily, tossing her head.

 

“/Leave him,/” Krerah demanded, crouching slightly and lifting his hands just a little. She curled her lip, but turned her back and strutted off with the rest of her group.

 

Irvine's new friends all fell silent, to the point that it became oppressive. Finally, Siiara spoke.

 

“/She's right, Krerah…/”

 

“/I know,/” he replied.

 

“/Then do something about it./”

 

“/What do you propose I do?!/”

 

“/Don't snap at me. I'm only trying to help./”

 

“/I'm right here, you know. And I understand you. I'd prefer if you didn't discuss me as though I can't even hear,/” Irvine said lowly.

 

“/You speak above your place, taken,/” Krerah growled. “/If we should wish to discuss you as though you can't even hear, then we may. You have not yet proven yourself above or even equal to us and therefore, you may sit there and listen to us discuss you, or leave./”

 

Irvine blinked at him, then turned his attention to Jirrah, blushing hotly more from anger than from anything else. The creature pressed its head up under his hand.

 

“/Do you see?/” Krerah asked him more gently. “/This is what Siiara speaks of. You must not let the likes of Vian treat you that way. You must stand up to them. And it will come to blows, as it must. But you only need best a strong taken or switch and you are then put above all those already below that taken or switch. You can't be polite, Irvine. You have to fight for your honour, or you'll have none./”

 

Irvine nodded mutely, still stroking and watching the Gayla.

 

“/The next taken who speaks badly to you, don't back down to,/” Siiara said.

 

Again, Irvine nodded, and hoped it would be a long while before the next taken spoke badly to him.

 

- - - - - - -

 

Irvine had discovered there was something he hated almost as much as looking after cows. Digging up the tubers from under a spiked plant the natives simply called “ouch”. It was an apt name, the cowboy had discovered, since it was almost impossible to dig them up without the sharp leaves stabbing at his hands. Thankfully, the job was only done once a month.

 

He'd decided the best way to deal with it was to suck on the paper-thin cuts on one hand while he dug with the other, then switch over every so often. He wasn't the only one working that way.

 

As the sun began to set, a pair of feet appeared beside him and he glanced up to find Nirrin looking down at him.

 

“/Thank you for all of your hard work today,/” he said slyly. “/Ti will much appreciate it./” And he bent, picking up Irvine's basket of tubers.

 

Irvine looked at Krerah, but the native just gave a slight shrug and stood, hoisting his own basket up under his arm and turning towards the camp. Nirrin sneered at Irvine, planted his foot against the cowboy's shoulder and pushed hard enough to topple him. Then he crouched over him, fisting a hand in his auburn hair.

 

“/This is where you belong, taken. As low as you can get…/” And he pushed Irvine's face into the dirt.

 

The cowboy snapped. He didn't care how strong Nirrin was, his parents had always told him he was something. He wouldn't let them down by allowing the native to treat him as though he were nothing.

 

He gathered himself, finding purchase against two tufts of grass with his toes. He planted his hands and pushed upward, sending Nirrin tumbling off his back and springing to his feet.

 

“/This is where I belong!/” Irvine snarled, and threw himself on the other native.

 

Krerah put his basket down and moved closer, as did the rest of the taken and switch out harvesting that day. Irvine felt them watching him, but all he could think about was how angry he was at Nirrin.

 

The native struggled beneath him, and threw him off and they both stood, circling. Nirrin crouched low and showed his teeth, but Irvine didn't back down. He showed his own teeth and made the first aggressive move, rushing at Nirrin and kicking out at his legs.

 

The native just danced back and used Irvine's low stance to tackle him to the ground. He wrapped his hands around the cowboy's wrists and pinned them down.

 

“/Yield./”

 

“/Not a chance!/” Irvine snarled and arched his back then rolled over, sitting up and letting fly with a well-practiced, saloon-brawl right hook. It connected solidly with Nirrin's left eye and he cursed hotly, thrashing beneath the cowboy.

 

Irvine tangled his legs with the native, pinning them there, and put his hand against Nirrin's throat, holding his wrists above his head.

 

“/You yield./”

 

The native spat in his eye and Irvine showed his teeth and snarled. Nirrin fought him, but couldn't get free, and in the end, he went limp beneath Irvine.

 

“/I yield…/” Nirrin muttered.

 

Krerah grinned and stepped forward, helping Irvine up by way of a hand curved over his shoulder. He turned the cowboy and pulled him into a hug, laughing.

 

“/Well done, Irvine! Well done!/” he cried, clapping him on the back. “/Not the most elegant I've seen, but effective nonetheless./”

 

Irvine laughed and extricated himself from Krerah's arms, turning to look at Nirrin who still lay there, shocked. He smirked a little and stepped daintily over the other taken, bending to retrieve his harvest.

 

“/Thank you, Nirrin,/” he said politely, then he and Krerah went back to the camp.

 

- - - - - - -

 

The whole camp was abuzz with the news when Zell and Ahshey returned from their border watch. It didn't take them long to discover what had happened and when they did, of course, Zell felt quite justified in strutting just a little more than usual.

 

He prowled around the edge of the group of natives laughing and talking over their meal, watching Irvine. The cowboy was in animated conversation with Krerah, gesturing and grinning as he fed Jirrah scraps of meat. He was quite obviously proud of himself.

 

Zell was proud of his cowboy as well.

 

All thoughts of hunger fled from his mind as he watched lower taken bring food and drink to Krerah and Irvine, watched the new respect they treated him with, and how it had changed the red-head's whole demeanor. Other hungers overtook him and soon he was stalking further around until he could reach out and curl his fingers around Irvine's waist, drawing him bodily off the log he was sitting on.

 

Irvine yelped and Krerah looked up, showing his teeth until he saw it was Zell and smiled instead, bowing his head in submission. Zell nodded curtly, then removed himself and his taken from the crowd.

 

“/Zell,/” Irvine said, breath a little short from the surprise of being grabbed.

 

“/Irvine,/” Zell growled back, almost carrying his prize back to their teepi. He lay him instantly on the furs when they entered and settled over him. “/I heard what you did today./”

 

Irvine bit his lower lip.

 

“/Are you mad…?/” the cowboy asked.

 

“/Far from it,/” was the native's reply, fingers expertly undoing his lover's loincloth. “/I knew I had chosen a good taken, a strong taken./”

 

“/You chose well…/” Irvine whispered with a grin, making Zell growl his approval. His taker was learning well how to please him, and that in itself pleased him.

 

- - - - - - -

 

(1) Again, I re-iterate; I've never had a tattoo, so I don't know how bad it is. Even so, I imagine compared to the technology we have, this would be slow, and the needle not nearly as sharp. Each and every prick would be felt. That's how I'm looking at it anyways.

 

(27) Masochist.

 

- - - - - - -

 

Author's Notes: Wooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!