Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy or any of the places, characters or storylines mentioned below. I do however, own General Reginald, not that he's interesting enough to steal! I am making no profit from these writings.
A/N: This is a brief one-shot during the war between Zanarkand and Bevelle, in which Yevon is beginning to seriously consider the creation of Sin. However, I realized that he would have needed an Aeon to begin with, to help craft his armor, just as Jecht was absorbed when Braska released the final Aeon. So I just got to wondering who would he have trusted with such a mission and secret? This is just a small scene where Yevon begins to prepare his friend to become his sacrifice.
"This is preposterous!" screeched the voice of the Chancellor of Zanarkand shrilly over the assembly of red faced men, each spouting venom at one another like Cobra's. Arguing voices echoed through the domed building of government, all filled with rage, desperation and arrogance. Hundreds of leaders all fumed loudly around the circular building, each in their own stands, and all ready to continue their bickering until the bitter end. Only two voices were silent, one whos' fingers steepled serenely in front of his face, his wizened skin stretched from the frown marring his weather beaten visage. To his right, a huge colossus of a man towered over all and raised his hands in the air.
"SILENCE!!" he roared, his booming voice blotting out all others. The silence which followed was shocked, and all eyes were on the balding soldier, his bulging muscles visible through his leather clothing, the huge sword attached to his back intimidating to all.
"Bickering over the issue will not solve a thing!" he continued, casting a disapproving eye over the assembly. "Now that we are listening again, here are our choices. Our ONLY choices!"
And with a meaningful glare at everyone which clearly meant "interrupt and you shall never father offspring", he sat back down heavily and motioned for the quiet, thoughtful man to rise. The silent man nodded gratefully and slowly pulled himself to his feet, his long grey hair flowing over his shoulders neatly. As he moved from his set and approached the podium, a nervous young man announced him to the crowd, though every one present knew exactly whom they were watching.
"T-the honorable Lord Yevon of Zanarkand, Grand Summoner and leader of the eastern realms!" a young announcer mumbled nervously, eyeing the stately man with awe.
The elderly man placed his hands gently palm down on the wooden table in front of him, and watched the crowd meaningfully. He smiled calmly and cast his gaze in the direction of the large, behemoth of a man who had silenced the room before.
"Firstly, I would like to extend my gratitude towards General Reginald for coming here today and returning from the frontlines" he spoke softly, gesturing to the large man beside him, the need to raise his voice gone as the room listened in respectful silence.
"...Gentlemen; we cannot ignore the facts which surround us. Our informants have brought nothing but news of this lethal machine the Bevelle authorities have created...a machine more powerful than anything we could possibly imagined! We must step up this war to the next level. You all shirk from the thoughts of conscription, but the choice has long since left us. Unless we wish to fall at the hands of Bevelle, than ALL must fight, whether you wish it or not. All able bodied men shall be sent to the front lines after a months basic training in elemental and curative magic. All Black and White mages shall be placed on the secondary lines, and all Summoners, active or not, are hereby conscripted to the Zanarkand armies and are to be rounded up and reporting for duty as soon as possible!"
Quiet murmurs followed this proclamation warily. Conscripting Summoners? One young politician, ripe from the fields and still untouched by the apathy inducing troubles of Zanarkand stepped forward, his hands wringing nervously. Yevon arched an eyebrow slowly, but motioned him towards him nonetheless. It was with shattered nerves that Lord Roan, youngest of them all, too his pace in front of Yevon.
"My venerable Lord Yevon...Surely you cannot be serious in your request to force the Summoners into death and war? For millennium, in every war, a Summoner has never been forced into violence! You yourself are of their order! It cannot be done!" Lord Roan treated, but relented at the dark narrowing of Yevon's eyes.
"Your complaints have been noted and I shall consider them with all the recognition they deserve...however...are Summoners not people of this land? Why should they feel themselves exempt from laws of patriotism, duty and honor? Does not the blacksmith and the shop clerk fight for this beautiful land? For too long have we been allowed immunity to all things...those times have changed. For Zanarkand to win this foolish war, the Summoners must use their strength. We have no other chance."
And it was with that statement that Yevon stepped down and away, leaving a flood of indignant protesters, audible cries of approval and the forlorn mutterings of the tired. Yevon stormed through the cloister leading away from the antechamber swiftly, being joined by General Reginald, their pace stiff and the atmosphere electric.Yevon sighed deeply, his hands folded in front of his serenely, eyes darkened in thought.
"Reginald, my friend...I tire of these never ceasing battles...Humanity have fallen to the cesspools of morality. Their is no unity, nor sense common interests nor goals...This is not the world I wished to save when I was a boy." he whispered softly, grief etched into his voice.
Reginald nodded, his heavy steps resonating through the hall.
"Mmm, I agree. Sometimes I think that it would take a disaster so terrible to join us together, that the world wouldn't be bearable after it happened. There is little hope for us...However, at least we can hope to live another generation. There is little wisdom in living in the past, nor being too preoccupied with the future."
Yet Yevon did not hear past his first sentence.
"My Lord?" questioned General Reginald curiously at the silence.
"That is a very apt observation, General. Why is it that humanity is at its best, when a disaster bigger than ourselves occur?"
"...My Lord?"
"...Forgive me, General. I am afraid my spirits have been depressed as of late. My faith in humanity dwindles... General! I wish for a world wide retrieval of all Summoners!! One Summoner is worth a hundred soldiers as you know, and we can not afford a single one lost in this battle!" spoke Yevon, his jaw set as they reached his chamber room and office.
Swiftly, they entered the white, gleaming room and made their way towards the single, wooden desk in the middle, strewn with papers and files. Yevon sat behind it stiffly, gesturing to General Reginald to take the seat opposite. Yevon leaned forward on the desk, his fingers interlocked under his chin. General Reginald thought that he had never seen him look more aged than he did now. It was not even a decade ago that he was filled with light and good intentions, trying so very hard to heal the rift between Zanarkand and Bevelle. But when one side's victory is assured, why would they seek a ceasefire?
"Reginald...my old friend. We have been through much in our long eventful lives...Do you remember when I first attained my rank as a Summoner, and together we walked the short pilgrimage assigned to me, you as my Guardian. I remember I was pushed off that cliff near the calm lands, before it was a battlefield, by an enormous fiend and you jumped in straight after me." said Yevon, a fond smile on his face. Reginald released a hearty laugh.
"Aye, I remember it well! I still don't know what exactly I was planning to do! I figured it would come to me as I went! If it were not for your flying Aeon, we both would have been lost!" laughed the booming Reginald, the wide, carefree grin looking quite the opposite of the severe, troubled mind seen by the assembly just moments ago. Yevon released a soft sigh and a gentle smile, looking at the ground.
"My guardian...If I were to ask of you...something terrible...something...that once done, could never be undone...something which would cost countless lives but ultimately aid humanity, would you do it?" asked Yevon, light blue eyes fixed on the confused face of his old friend rigidly. Reginald shuffled slightly, a deep frown on his face.
"I...I have followed you, my Lord, since I was a lad of sixteen. In all that time, I have listened and followed what you have said without thought nor question, because I knew your nature. All you ever wanted to do was help people, see to their happiness. If it were for the greater good…than yes Yevon, I would do what you asked." Yevon fixed his eyes on his, soul stealing and utterly fathomless.
"You swear on your honor Guardian General...that should the need arise, you do anything I asked?" Reginald thought of the youthful friend who carried him out of obscurity, away from the taunts over his large size and simple way. He thought of the countless adventures they had side by side over the years, the laughs, the tears, the shared happiness. He thought of the pride he felt the day Yevon's daughter Yunalesca, married his much loved child Zaon. He owed this man everything he had...
"Yes Yevon. On my word as a general, a Guardian, a Soldier, and most of all, as a friend, should the day arise, I will do whatever you bid me to do!" swore Reginald, trying to ignore the darkness he had seen grow in Yevon's eyes these past ten years, how he no longer stopped to speak with the public on sunny Sunday mornings, nor paused to give gil to the poor. He shuddered, hoping the day Yevon spoke of never arrived.
"Thank you, my friend." whispered Yevon, his eyes shrouded in an un-named emotion. And for the first time in decades, General Reginald was frightened by the abyss he saw in his retainers eyes.