Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ The Sins of Two Fathers ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

"The Sins of Two Fathers" and the general overall concept of "The Sins of Two Fathers" is completely copyright Orin Drake 1999-2003, as is the character Kyrie. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire and Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?) are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said.
Background: To be completely honest, I had no idea this was going to turn into a serious story. I started writing is as a free-for-all squickfic yaoi fan fantasy, but it got so out of my control that the characters are actually... endearing. What have I done?! Ah well. Lesse, there's a real obvious homosexual relationship, but they don't really do anything in this chapter, so... oh, there's language. You know me, I like my nasty language, so look out. Angst, I love putting angst everywhere. That's about it for now. I will warn you, though, that FF characters actually don't make up a lot of this story, especially not in the beginning. I will make it up to you all some day. Enjoy.

She pulled her hair from the ponytail with one hand as she opened the front door with the other. Too hot outside to practice her swordsmanship any longer. She needed a break, a drink, maybe a shower. "Dad?" she called, pulling off her sweat soaked gloves. "Father? Anyone home?"
"I'm home." Her father called. "Just come into the kitchen when you're done."
What an odd order, she thought. Maybe he was playing with the spices again and had concocted something even more sadistic than his infamous chili. Maybe it was super chili. What a life threatening thought that was. He didn't seem able to decide if he was a sadist or a masochist. Either way, it was good chili.
She stepped into the kitchen to see him sitting at the far end of the table, holding a cup between his hands, staring at her. Something didn't seem quite right about that. The corners of his mouth kept twitching like he was trying hard not to smile through his stoic mask. Certainly thinking herself safe enough (not that she'd ever done anything to warrant any sort of negative parental behavior... in a while), she pulled out the chair on the other end and sat across from him. "Yes?"
Seifer let the smile melt into his face. "Guess."
Oh, the guessing games. She never did guess correctly. Always a riddle and never an ability to solve it. Well, ability she had plenty of. It was patience she lacked. Severely. "We're getting a ruby dragon for a pet?"
Even his joking eyes held a sense of extreme importance. "Oh, the hell with it." He reached into his lap and pulled up a piece of very expensive looking paper. "You made it into Garden!" he exclaimed proudly, holding up her acceptance letter.
She was in awe. She? Her? Made it into the academic program in the Garden of her choice? Someone of her relatively short attention span had made it?
"Are you alright?" her father joked.
She snapped out of it quickly. "Yes, I think so. Wow." She kept staring at the paper for quite some time, mesmerized. "Does Dad know yet?"
"He knew before I did." Seifer admitted, relaxing back in the chair while looking the letter over again. "They sent all the paperwork. All you have to do is fill it out and send it back." He glanced at her over the paper as he slid the small pile of forms onto the table and toward her.
She placed only her fingertips on the documents at first, not entirely believing that they were real. Garden had changed a great deal since her parents were in it. There was the soldier academy, and then the academic studies alone, both branching off into hundreds of divisions. Obviously, getting into the academic program was a lot more difficult. Of course, perhaps having the president of Esthar as her grandfather wasn't such a bad thing. She doubted that such a fact had everything to do with her getting in, but it wouldn't surprise her if Laguna had "suggested" some things. She caught the pen Seifer tossed toward her without so much as looking up, and began to write.
Smiling, her father got up and walked over to her. She had good instinct. She paid a hell of a lot more attention to it than he ever had. "Which one are you applying to?" he asked over her shoulder.
"Trabia. So I don't wander too far and cause any nervous breakdowns." She responded, deadpan. "Um... what should I put down as my last name?"
"You better put Leonhart." Seifer sighed unconsciously.
She could just feel the guilt as though she'd tapped directly into it from his body. It was thick in the air, and traveling fast. She wanted to write Leonhart-Almasy, but it wouldn't fit in the spaces. Instead, as her father walked away to make coffee, she placed Almasy as her middle name. Kyrie Almasy Leonhart. Not much of a ring, but it would do. None of the students would see her middle name anyway.
She scribbled away through the seemingly endless questions and demands, seriously considering writing just "yep", "nope", and "plenty". But that probably wouldn't be good on permanent record. A check mark here, a circle there, a personal question to be "forgotten", etc. After a few moments of silence, she suddenly inquired, "Can you write, 'Doesn't play well with others' in the parents or guardian comment space?"
Seifer chuckled, honestly considering it. "Life would have been so much easier if someone had done that for me."
She blinked. "That's a no, then..."
His trademark grin caught her attention. "I think you can handle yourself just fine, Ky."
She smirked at that, but she was in agreement. Sure she could handle herself, but she didn't really want to have to. As the scent of coffee grew stronger, the forms became somewhat of a blur. They all seemed to be asking the same questions and yet trying to trick her into giving different answers. Whatever, she assumed. They probably wouldn't even look.
At long last, the coveted last page looked her in the eye and asked for her final signature. She wouldn't back down to this blank space. She signed it there just as she had filled it out in the beginning. Kyrie Almasy Leonhart. And a nifty little swirly cross on the last "t", even.
She placed the pen on the table and stared at the form, just thinking. Whether her last name could truly be Leonhart or Almasy, she could not say. She knew the powers of her past a little too well, and it plagued her. Not the fact that she'd had two fathers. In fact, she rather liked it that way. It prepared her. She was stronger and had far more instinct than most females she knew. It was the insanity that had plagued her parents and their lives, which they passed onto her. They hadn't meant to, but they had done so regardless.
Her blood mother had been a slight and quickly passing obsession of her dad's. He never talked highly of her, but he must have loved her once. Her mother--certainly not a term of affection--had used her pregnancy to keep Squall with her; there at every beckoned call. Hell, she even used to call him her knight. When they finally decided (rather violently), that it just wasn't going to work out, Squall took his daughter away from her to raise by himself. He said he worried about "that bitch" having her alone, and what she may have grown into.
In the end, Squall always really loved Seifer. Her mother had just been a pressure zone, so to speak, to break tensions and take Squall's mind off of the troubles of the world (and he certainly did deserve some still moments after saving it). It had taken time and pain for her parents to realize a long held and mutual affection, but they'd come around. A few more scars, but nothing too serious. For some reason, Squall was always "Dad", and Seifer was always "Father". It just worked that way. It sounded right. Some of the kids at school had thought it was weird and made fun of them, and her. So she beat the shit out of them. She didn't make any lasting friendships. These days, she just didn't bother trying.
She picked up the pen and turned it through her fingers, thinking of her family history. If her grandfather had put in a good word for her, she'd certainly have to thank him. Personally, on the way there, preferably. She kind of liked him in an insanely irreverent sort of way. He was so damn different than what she was used to. He talked, a lot. So, so much. So often. About anything. She found that oddly comforting.
Squall talked a lot more often than he used to, by the things she'd heard. But not usually with her. It was more to her, in short, uneven bursts of dinner conversation. When Seifer had sensed that she was interested in battle and philosophy around the age of 16 or so, he began to open up some real and intelligent lines of communication. Only then would Squall actually talk with her, as though Seifer were opening up some invisible floodgate that Squall alone could never pass through. She supposed it all made for a strange, interesting, and all around rather fucked up childhood. Seifer had told her that Squall was a rather fucked up child himself, though. As if that made her feel better. Every once in a while both parents would surprise her with fantastically humorous exchanges about the past, mostly about girlfriends. But it didn't happen often.
Come to think of it, Squall still didn't talk with her very often. He seemed to have bursts of fatherly instinct rather than any sort of natural progression. You see, the gunblade was her first love. She didn't have a lot of muscle and couldn't hold either parents' gunblade at arm's length for a long period of time (let alone handle the recoil), but she still loved it and actually grew to be rather good. That's when Squall finally began regarding her as a human being. After 18 fucking years, he'd hugged her once without Seifer having to initiate the reaction. Not that she was bitter. At least, not much. It just didn't feel quite... normal. Then, she'd never felt quite normal. It must have had to do with her mother of long since past being "a little bothered" that she'd been born with red eyes. Not the brown of Rinoa's, not the blue of Squall's, but red. Red eyes that were truly crimson were relatively rare in the world. They remained so for her life without fading, like some sort of religious mark.
Thinking of her mother's instant disapproval somewhat suddenly brought her to another thought. All in all, she had very little female interaction in her life. There was Aunt Quistis, but she wasn't able to leave her duties at Trabia Garden much. She was always busy with this and that, paperwork and SeeD training and ships; the list went on. It was nice to sit and have an actual meal with her though. "You remind me so much of Squall..." she'd say, then giggle. Maybe, Kyrie thought, it was because she didn't talk much. She didn't have a lot of room for conversation. She was carrying some pretty heavy baggage; the sins of two fathers. Quistis was pretty good at getting her to talk, though.
Then there was Aunt Ellone. Elle was the one to instruct her in "feminine matters". Even these days, she was never too busy to lend an ear regardless of how much work she was doing in Esthar. But she was so... feminine. So very "what's wrong honey?" and "do you want to talk over tea and cookies?" She was nice. She was very, very nice. But she was just... too feminine to allow Kyrie to talk freely. Quistis had a much wider and more colorful curse vocabulary. And was never afraid to use it. Elle's birds and bees speech was pretty long and involved. Quistis' was, "Don't have sex or your parents will kill you both."
And then her thoughts made a sharp and nearly unwelcome turn back to Squall. Must have been the sound of Seifer pouring his coffee. Squall was a major coffee drinker with the belief that caffeine got things done. Especially coffee. She waited until her father had settled back at his place on the opposite end of the table before she spoke up. "Why is Dad acting so... distantly appreciative?" she tried to phrase her question to make it make sense even to herself. She didn't know how to express what she'd been pondering.
"Soft in his old age." Seifer half smiled, tapping his fingernails lightly against the side of his coffee cup.
She was silent for a long time. What she was thinking was hidden from even herself, until words fell from her mouth that she hadn't planned. "You two fucked me up, you know."
Seifer blinked. He certainly hadn't expected that. While there was no accusation in her voice, he felt cornered. "Come again?"
Even she was surprised by those words. She hadn't meant to act like such a bitch. Just to get some information. "Uh... nothing."
Seifer showed her one of his patented glares for a fraction of a second. They were never cruel, per se, but they took you down a peg or two sometimes.
She sighed. She didn't want to explain this, not now. In a low murmur she added, "Sorry, Father."
At that, he grinned. He knew better. "No you aren't. Now tell me."
She took a moment to stare at him, judging him like a good fighter would before a battle. There was instinct (i.e.. to lie), and then there was the overwhelming need to express to him that she just wished Dad wasn't such an asshole all the time. Which one? "You know..." she started slowly, "You two were never fit for kids."
Her father laughed so hard he had to push himself away from the table to prevent spilling hot coffee everywhere. "I am aware." He chuckled. "It's because we never really had parents."
She was still quite serious through all of this, her chin in her hand, elbow on the table. "I love you guys, you know that. But I still feel like the goat sent into the desert with all your sins on his head."
A worried expression passed over Seifer's face. "Oh." Her honesty was so blatant that it stung. "It's a little late in your development to be bringing this up, isn't it?"
Yeah, Father, that makes me feel better. She sighed through bared teeth.
Seifer seemed to realize what he'd just said and how it had sounded. "I'm sorry, I really didn't mean that. Once an asshole, always an asshole."
She felt rather fed up at that point with conflicting emotions. "Yeah, no kidding."
He just plain did not know how to respond. His daughter was showing quite a few unwelcome signs of himself. Ones that he had never planned to pass on to her. "Was it that bad, childhood?"
She covered her face with her hands for a moment, just breathing. As she slowly pulled her fingers away, she shook her head. "No. It wasn't. It was good. Holidays, birthdays... it was all good. But it was... cold." She sighed, breaking the conversation. She couldn't take this. She'd just been a complete prick to her father for no good reason. She got up to swallow all of her previous conversation and leave; to walk and clear her head.
Seifer got up quickly and put a heavy hand on her shoulder, turning her around. She would be leaving them soon. Very soon, to make her way out in that huge, unsafe world. He didn't want to send her off with anger and ill feelings. "Look, why don't I get Squall and we can... talk about this?" After all of these years, Seifer still wasn't exactly the "talking type". More so than Squall, yes, but not much.
Hell, the last time she'd witnessed a conversation between the two of them... she realized that she couldn't remember when that was. Months ago, maybe. "No, Father. It's okay, really. I'm just... tired."
His voice was stern. "You always use that excuse."
He caught her that time. Giving in, she stated simply, "I think Dad's as comfortable around me as he is with Laguna. And... that's fine."
A very sad, guilty expression removed the stern one in her father's eyes. But she couldn't take looking at him like that. She was completely ashamed of herself. Of what she'd said, why she'd said it, of everything. She gently lifted his hand from her shoulder and walked out to take a stroll in the woods.
It was another thing she'd inherited from them both. Running away. It was so much easier than... anything else. Peace was always the opposite direction of conflict, right? Somehow she just didn't feel that way when she was walking. It felt more like she was pounding the shards of memories that weren't even her own deeper into her flesh. Truly, she didn't blame them for anything. They'd had hard lives, and had fought to protect the whole goddamn world. Not many people could say that. It was okay to have some deep seeded emotions, memories, demons. But she did kind of wish that they weren't passed on to her.
She sighed deeply, snapping a dead branch off of a tree as she passed. She didn't really think Squall was an asshole. Not at heart. But he acted like one sometimes. He never meant to, that much was clear, but sometimes it built up inside of her. She never brought it up because the last thing she ever wanted to do was cause guilt or pain for either of them. But now, it was out there. Not just out there, but directed toward the wrong person. It just felt awful.

Seifer sighed deeply, seeing her go. He wondered why it was she thought Squall was the asshole. Squall had always been the hero. The golden god. It was he that had been the asshole. The Sorceress' Knight. The plague unleashed upon the world to be hated, feared, and left behind. He'd bonded more with Kyrie than Squall had, but that was because he was around more often. Now that Squall's job consisted of mostly half days and three day weekends attending to relatively boring and easily decided Garden matters, he'd had the chance to bond with her a little. It didn't really seem like that's what was happening, though. They only seemed to murmur hellos in the hallways more often now.

Kyrie walked into her little grove, where the very end trickle of a stream died off into the ground. It was her safe spot. Her hidden place. While her parents knew where it was, they never did disturb her there. She was very thankful for that.
Water, trees, stones; they had a way about them, didn't they? The sounds, the smells, the glistening of a dying trickle of water over rounded stones and wildflowers... it just had a way of calming. No problems would disappear or become spontaneously solved, of course, but it was okay to just let it all go for a while.
She murmured a curse as she realized she'd forgotten her sword. Her little place was the perfect small but open area for practice. She didn't exactly feel like playing with a sword, anyway. She just lay back against a stump she remembered playing with stuffed animals and toy soldiers on, and closed her eyes. Bliss in the darkness while the crows cawed and the sparrows sang. All thought tended to just pour away with the water. All was... bliss...
Until one of the crows must have mistook her collar for a coin and nearly landed on her head. Bliss tends to fade after a bird attack. Woken from her pleasurable stupor of nothingness, she squinted and took note she'd been gone a little over an hour. Unless the sun was moving a little fast. Which she assumed, for obvious reasons, that it was not.
Back home, then. She'd have to go back. They'd probably want her to tell everyone herself that she made it into Garden. Then make plans to visit Laguna on her way out, which was really her own idea. And most importantly, they'd worry. There was no doubt Squall was home by now. She did not want to cause either of them extra concern. A little late on the draw, yes, but she could still make up for it.
Walking back toward the house, she saw Squall standing by the door, still in his casual work clothes. His "uniform"; plain black pants, plain white dress shirt. No tie. Never a tie. He hated ties as much as she hated dresses. This would not be fun, she knew. He had that look about him, one she'd seen every so often when she'd said something that had been building up inside. Not disappointment, and not shame, but sort of kindred of each and a little bit more that she couldn't place. Whatever. With a deep breath, she walked through the trees as naturally as she could manage.
"Hey Kyrie." Squall greeted without having to look up.
It was funny. On his lips, her name was always so... strange. Like he spoke a different language than everyone else. It felt as though he had a tie to her that was at once unbroken and yet never actually fully structured in the first place. That word, her name, felt out of reach on his breath. This time, in particular. It was clear he and Seifer had talked. More so clear was that he seemed quite unsure about talking to her at all. "Hey Dad."
Uncomfortable silences had passed between them every so often, but it was rare. It was more often a tolerable silence. This one was short, but deathly. Slowly, he put his hand in his pocket and brought something long and silver from it.
What he held out for her absolutely shocked her out of her being. Griever. His necklace. The only possession he'd kept from his childhood. It seemed to hold an almost religious significance to him. He never took it off except to shower, and even then it was entombed in a small, locked wooden box in their room. It seemed like it may well have been his most treasured artifact of all.
She shook her head, feeling she absolutely must decline. She couldn't accept something so... heartfelt from him.. "Dad... I can't take this..."
Squall smiled. An expression that both made him look 20 years younger, and was absolutely unnatural. She never did remember seeing him smile. Not like that. "Take it. Honestly."
She hadn't the chance to decline again when he swept his hands around her neck and fastened Griever around it. The chain was huge on her, the pendant hanging just above the crotch of her jeans. She looked down at it, at how surprisingly natural it seemed to look down on it there, then looked up in a mixture of terror and confusion. "Are you dying, Dad?"
Squall smirked gently. "Seifer told me... about earlier." He blushed just slightly, as though a number of different thoughts had passed through his mind, none of them funny. An almost embarrassed sincerity made itself painfully clear in his voice. "I hope you'll visit often. So we can have something to talk about."
"I didn't mean--" she began, not wanting him to feel badly about anything she'd said. It's just that it had been building up for so long...
He silenced her with a hug. Not a stiff, uncomfortable one like usual. An embrace. A father-daughter good-bye embrace. No, it was not completely natural, but it was closer than any he'd ever given. More heartfelt. It was so weird. But so goddamn welcome that she didn't dare address the weirdness.
"I'm not leaving until tomorrow, Dad..." she whispered, not letting the hug break. The feeling of being held was just... so nice. Especially by him. By her fricken' dad who almost never showed affection in the "usual ways".
"I know." He said, squeezing tightly before slowly letting her go. He instead held her at arm's length, just looking at her. Where had the years gone? Why did he waste them wallowing in his own past when he should have been enjoying bringing up his own child? Seifer had had far more joy with her than her own blood father had been able to. She was a lovely young lady now, with strength and qualities that he'd never seen in Rinoa. What more could he ask for?
"You're getting weird, Dad." She murmured softly, trying to hold her emotions in. In truth, she was elated that he knew she was alive. But there was an element of fear in that. Fear almost that she'd scare him off and turn him cold again.
He smiled once more, unable to hold it back. "Yeah. Must be getting old."
"Ancient." She agreed, just glad to talk with him.
A sudden flicker of understanding overtook her intelligent eyes, and her mouth moved before her mind could shut it up. "You just never wanted a daughter, did you?"
Squall paused, shocked. Sometimes Kyrie had these bursts of insight, these times when the whole universe seemed within her hand for just an instant. Sometimes she could see right through his soul. In such times, he could only answer with honesty. "No, I didn't. But I didn't want... anything." He didn't want her to take that as saying he didn't want her, but he expected she knew that well enough. She was never oblivious to subtlety. It had been the subtle guilt and memories that had really torn through her. Her dad, the hero. Her father, the villain. And a world in between.