Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Winding Roads ❯ Trouble, with a Capital F-R-A-T-L-E-Y ( Chapter 9 )

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

Okay, before I begin the disclaimer I would like to say this: I. Hate.
fanfiction.net!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They
haven't let me access my account since October 10^th! It's now . . .
November 11^th! (I'm soooooooo upset!) So I opened an account on
mediaminer.org (only two people have looked at my story, and neither
of them reviewed it.) Anyhow, where was I? Ah, yes, disclaimer. *ahem*
I don't own FF9, Freya, Amarant, or the rest of the crazy world saving
crew (although yesterday I did purchase my copy of FF10 in advance.)
Now for my shout outs . . .

Thanks to . . . Puddin' (Ha-ha! I mentioned you again!), Magi (you
getting so much better with your writing!), ~*PZD*~ (AKA: P-chan), and
everyone who has reviewed my story.

This chapter started on: 11/11/01

This chapter finished on: 11/16/01

E-mail: [1]confused@crosslink.net

Written by: Peach Goddess

"Winding Roads: chapter 9"

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It was truly beautiful. Looking out over the distant horizon, the
breeze mingling with his hair, coyly taunting him to drop everything
and just sit back and enjoy the wonderful day the gods had bestowed
upon their children. But unfortunately for the taunting wind he had no
time for such things, he was leading his battered army back home.
Fratley sighed and turned his head slightly, discretely looking behind
him at the bloody and bruised soldiers. Oddly enough they all had
grins spread across their faces, even Sergeant Pollard had a smile on,
which disturbed Fratley even more since Pollard had lost one of his
arms in battle.

"I don't see what your all so happy about," Fratley said, having fully
turned himself around on his Chocobo to stare at his soldiers.

"We're still going home, aren't we, Sir?," Commander Thon questioned,
his happy mood falling into one of noticeable disappointment.

"Yes, Thon, we are," Fratley assured his second in command.

"That's why we're happy, Sir. Many of our men haven't seen their
families in ages-"

"And many never will again, Commander! Our casualties were to many
this time around, our population is all ready at a dangerous low, and
we aren't helping our cause by rushing into battles and getting
ourselves killed!," Fratley roared, smothering the joyous aura of the
victorious battle.

"I did not think of that, Sir," Thon spoke meekly.

"Which is why you aren't General, Thon. I'm honestly afraid to kick
the bucket, when I do who knows what kind of insane orders you'll give
my men."

"Sir-"

"SILENCE! Not one more word will be spoken until we reach Burmecia, I
don't care if your being dragged off by a Black Dragon, if I so much
as hear one peep from you I'll have you all on mess duty until you're
old enough to retire."

The caravan was now in a state of hushed silence, many with their
heads bowed, ashamed for their actions while their comrades, brothers,
fathers, and sons were laying six feet under the field of battle.

Fratley sighed and shook his head at the irrational Dragoons, wishing
his old second was here instead of the bumbling idiot he was currently
stuck with. Freya had been the best of the best, someone who he had
been honored to call his next in command. They had fought together
after her quest with King Zidane and the rest, about three years ago,
no, they had fought side by side four years ago, she had left him
three years ago. Fratley's hands gripped his Chocobo's reins tightly
at the thought, making his Chocobo wark gently in protest.

"Sorry, Sarhon," Fratley muttered, rubbing his Chocobo's neck
apologetically. Sarhon preened at the attention her owner was
lavishing her with and picked up her pace from a steady walk to a
swift stride. Fratley grinned at his mount and turned back to the
soldiers who were getting smaller in the distance, many of them
falling out of line and walking around blindly, not being able to
control their mounts properly.

"You know," He called to them. "you're supposed to follow directly
behind your Superiors."

Fratley sighed again and rested his head in his hand, rubbing his
tired eyes. Idiots. The lot of them.

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The crowds parted way as Amarant lumbered though the entrance of
Burmecia, Larkar slunk over his shoulder to keep the damn kid from
squirming so much, but Larkar didn't know that, mostly because Amarant
hold told him that if he didn't shut up and keep still he'd drop him
head first into the waist-high mud. Needless to say that had shushed
him right up. Most likely bored with the lack of conversation Larkar
had fallen asleep on the way back home. The giant re-adjusted his hold
on the child in question just as a woman broke her way through the
crowd that had formed on the left side of the street. Her blue eyes
were wide with fear and she held a hand up to her mouth, as soon as
she saw Amarant tears began spilling down her cheeks.

Amarant looked at himself, aside from his normal ominous presence he
was just a bit muddy, he didn't look loom bad enough to make someone
cry.

"L-Larkar?," She whispered.

The lady took a step towards Amarant, her hands reaching up to get a
hold on the child slung over his shoulder. Amarant looked at the lady
and motioned to Larkar with his head.

"He yours?," Amarant asked gruffly. The woman mutely nodded.

"He's been missing all day long! I was worried, I-I was oh so worried,
but I thought he . . . he . . .," The woman stuttered, before she
began outright sobbing. Amarant gently removed Larkar from his
precarious place on his shoulder, being mindful not to drop the child
as he handed him to his hysterical mother. She greedily scooped her
son into her arms, smoothing down her hair and began her string of
apologies. Amarant looked down at her, a small grin on his face as he
took off looking for a way to get to the `Court', as Larkar had called
it. He really had no idea where it was or what it looked like, but
he'd get there eventually, one way or another. The Giant began pushing
his way through the large crowd that had formed around the mother and
child. He hadn't even gotten three feet before he heard the woman give
a terrified scream.

Amarant turned his head back to the touching scene to see Larkar
spread out on the ground, his mother shaking him repeatedly and
calling his name. Another Burmecian pushed his way through the crowd
and ran to the child, hastily pushing the mother away from her looming
position over her son. The man put his ear against Larkar's chest,
listening attentively for signs of a heat beat. He looked up gravely.

"He isn't breathing."

"Then why are you standing around?! Go and fetch the Doctor you idiot!
My baby . . . he's . . . he's . . .," Larkar's mother sobbed into the
man's chest, fitfully beating her fists against his chest.

"Marna, listen to me. It's to late he's-"

"NO! You listen, My baby isn't gone!"

Amarant noticed the glares that the other townsmen were giving him out
of the corner of his eye. Surely they didn't think that he had . . . ?
His thoughts were interrupted as he felt a rough hand clamp around his
forearm.

"Sir, we have to ask you to come with us," the guard with the hold on
his arm told him. Unfortunately for Amarant the guard was one of many,
he had counted at least twenty in plain vision, maybe fifteen more
hidden in the alleys, making it nearly impossible to get out of this
situation without stirring up a bigger commotion. He turned to the
guard.

"What for?," He asked, making himself look as imposing as he could.
The guard shrank back and motioned with his free hand for back up,
moments later Amarant felt three more hands clamp on his arms.

"Murder."

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"Father?," Zidane echoed.

Freya turned to him, the nervous look still present on her face.

"Your Highnesses, I'm honored to present my father, Freya Crescent the
fifth."

"So, that would make you Freya Crescent the sixth?," Garnet deduced.

"No, I'm Freya Crescent the eighth."

Queen Garnet stared at her questioningly, obviously lost in the
confusion and inanity of the conversation.

"You see, I had two older brothers, Freya the sixth and Freya the
seventh, thus making me the eighth Freya Crescent."

"When will we be able to meet these brothers of yours, Freya?," Zidane
asked.

"I have no brothers, only sisters," Sir Freya spoke.

"No, not you Sir. I was speaking with the other Freya."

"Then call me Sir Freya, and call my daughter Freya Tashii, you
incompetent dolt," Sir Freya spat.

"My goodness this is confusing!," Garnet spoke.

"If you think this is bad then you should have been here when my
brothers were around, they were identical twins."

"I know I'm repeating myself, but when will we meet them, if at all?,"
Zidane inquired.

"You won't. They're dead," Freya Tashii said meekly.

"My condolences," Queen Garnet sympathized "It's not easy to lose
family."

"It's alright, I don't remember them that well, they both died when I
was four."

"Not eight?," joked Zidane, who received a harsh glare from Sir Freya.

"They both died nobly on the field of battle, upholding our family's
honor," Sir Freya spoke wistfully, exchanging a meaningful look with
his daughter, who turned and bowed her head quickly. The doors opened
and closed quickly as a soldier dashed in and ran to Minister Bullon,
who had been in a state of silence since The Royals began to socialize
with each other. The soldier whispered something in Bullon's ear,
causing the Minister's eyes to widen.

"Well," Bullon spoke "It truly was wonderful seeing you all again, but
Freya Tashii is a busy woman, who has many a duty to attend to. We
will be sure to invite you back soon your Highnesses. And Sir Freya,
if you wish to stay a spell I will have a guard show you to your
quarters."

"That will be fine," Sir Freya said, cuffing Mogita on the head
harshly.

"Wake up you useless ball of fluff!" The small Mog stirred quickly
from her place on the couch, where she had nodded off, which seemed
like only moments ago.

"Y-yes master?," Mogita yawned.

"You lazy thing, falling asleep."

"I'm so sorry."

"Say thank you to Freya Tashii and the Minister."

"Thank you both very much," The Mog spoke nervously.

"Think nothing of it," Freya smiled at the small creature as she
stifled a yawn, her lack of sleep beginning to take a toll on her.

"Well, come, come, now Tashii. Busy, busy, very busy!," The Minister
quickly spoke, rushing over to Freya Tashii and extending a polite arm
to her. Freya began to say her `good days', but soon found herself
harshly being pulled out of the room and lead into the hallway by
Minister Bullon.

"Minister, what in the name of Terra is the matter?"

"Your about to attend your first order of business as the new Queen,
Tashii," Bullon gasped, still towing Freya about.

"And what may I ask is that?"

"Today you are arranging an execution."

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*looks at chapter 9* Well, only a partial cliffhanger this time, but
hey, what can you do? Anyhow, lots of stuff happening in this chapter,
after much debate I decided to put Sir Fratley in (no, this will *NOT*
become a Freya/Fratley story, look at the summary, it clearly says
Freya/*Amarant*) Things happening next chapter: Freya meets up with
Amarant, Amarant meets up with Freya (the older, manlier, Freya), and
everyone meets Elvis. Remember, read and review.

-Peach Goddess

[2]confused@crosslink.net

References

1. mailto:confused@crosslink.net
2. mailto:confused@crosslink.net