She awoke in the hot dark, her first breath upon consciousness choked with ash and smoking dust. The air felt thick and heavy, compressed by the immense weight of fallen, crushing stone she could feel pressing down upon it, the groaning of punished timbers and struggling foundations roaring all around her; Alexandria, or perhaps Alexander's final, wilting protests.
The very thought threatened to break something in her, something fierce immediately wailing against her emotional defences built up around what she had seen, and all she had lost, and in a frightened panic, she suppressed it, ignoring it. She could not think of these ruins as hers, or else her sanity would next be on the list of impending tragedies in Garnet's name. Her head swam with pain, but nothing so debilitating she couldn't squint, through eyes blurred with sweat and dust-clogged lashes, into the suffocating blackness of her confinement. Searing fire burned some way off, tingeing the dark with a hellish red glow but illuminating very little.
Garnet released a spluttering cough, lifting her head from whatever uncomfortable pillow it had managed to land on. Immediately, a warm trickle sliced through the dirt caking her face. Blood? From where? Her heart pulsed so intensely in her ribcage she thought it might burst, and when the bulk pressing heavily against her from above prevented her from lifting a hand to explore the injury, fresh panic raced through her.
She angled her head, sharply enough to make tears spike her eyes. Her left arm could move freely, and when extended it swept into an area of open space, but the weight against her right side and back felt warm and familiar, and the sight of one gloved hand dangling limply over her waist drew from her a horrified sob. Garnet grabbed it with a shaking hand, tugging it for some response . . .
Nothing. Garnet gritted her teeth against the tears and the terror, no longer solely driven by her own suffering, and gave an immense heave sideways, her tendons and aching muscles stretched to breaking point as she sought to escape her confinement. Bricks clattered at the disturbance, a warning sign she would have been foolish to ignore, but she could do nothing pinned beneath debris . . . and beneath him.
Her right hand slid free, and was accompanied by a soft groan from her saviour, the sound instilling fresh hope in her. Garnet writhed, her entire upper torso loose from the ruins now; the tough leather of her gloves tore straight through to her bleeding, stinging fingers as she used them to drag herself forward across crumbled stone and mortar – and then her ankle snagged against something, pain enough to drive a startled cry from her pumping lungs streaking up her trapped leg.
Garnet sagged, her sticky cheek touching the dirt as she tried to catch her breath. That relief she had felt when Zidane had saved her atop Alexander's platform . . . when he was there, everything always worked out. She was always safe, whether he was acting as protector or rescuer. She thought she had lost him when he'd left Alexandria, lost him through as stupid a reason as stubborn determination to be a good queen. But how could she be a good queen, when without him she was nothing? If not for Zidane, she would have been dead or doomed a hundred times over by now; she owed him everything, and if she didn't do something, Garnet was going to lose him for real this time.
She twisted, her throat locking against the pain of her pinned leg, but she could move enough to finally glimpse him; Zidane, the left half of his body protruding from the debris he had taken the full brunt of, in place of her. His face was turned towards her, bloodier than hers surely was, eyes closed, though his lips were parted. He looked ridiculously peaceful, and yet at the same time, more vulnerable than she had ever thought . . . ever wanted to see. If that weren't perturbing enough, his expressive blond tail was perfectly still; even when Zidane was cool or composed, the endless swaying motions of that tail of his would give away what he really felt. Just when she had started to grow used to reading its own variety of language, their journey had ended . . .
Garnet inhaled a steeling breath, wiping blood from her eyes as she leaned awkwardly forward, one hand extended to touch his shoulder. Her shake was merciless, but sheer panic fuelled it. She hissed his name in desperate hope.
"Zidane! Zidane, please!"
Relief flooded her when the tail twitched, and one eye slid open to a dazed slit, Zidane's voice as it emerged breathy and weak but nonetheless raising a delirious smile in her.
" . . . Dagger?"
He slurred her name, her real name, the one that mattered. Without Zidane, she was simply Garnet; the weak, useless princess of Alexandria, the child with delusions of grandeur who could do nothing but bemoan her losses and pretend to be capable of achieving solutions to the most pressing problems. Every time she left to do things on her own, catastrophe would descend upon her and everything she cared about as though just waiting for her to lose his guidance.
She took his hand, biting back tears and squeezing it to encourage further response. When it came, the selfless sentiment made her ache deep inside.
"You're okay?"
Garnet nodded furiously, and felt herself sag at his weak smile of relief.
" . . . good."
"Zidane, I – Oh, no, please don't!"
She squeezed selfishly, so tightly he surely couldn't ignore it, but Zidane was already sinking back into unconsciousness, and no further action seemed able to rouse him. Garnet choked on her anxious tears, clinging to his hand like a lifeline.
Was he going to die? He would take Dagger with him, if he did! She couldn't let that happen – Dagger was the only part of herself worth saving, and Zidane would never have risked his life for her in the first place if he hadn't wanted her to live.
Garnet dropped her elbows back to the dirt, bracing herself for the pain she knew was about to come, but it was something that had to be done. With a cry restrained behind clenched teeth and trapped in the depths of her aching throat, she heaved against the rubble, her leg flaring with such pain she teetered on the edge of blacking out. By some miracle, the jerk moved bricks aside and her limb was swiftly loose. She curled, foetus-like, on the hot ground, clutching her calf so that her thigh brushed her chest, her fingertips pulsing with threads of white magic that seemed to take an age to have any effect at all on the dark agony that had settled in the bone. She wasted several precious moments gathering her ragged breath, waiting for that pain to dull enough to enable her to do something. Getting Zidane out of the debris was paramount – but how, and what then?
Creeping anxiety filled her gut with ice as she climbed to her knees, and then unsteadily to her feet, her wounded leg still sensitive to pressure but pumped with enough white magic that she could just about use it, for now. What was she meant to do? If only she had Steiner's strength, or Beatrix's confidence. Where was Eiko? Was she safe? Her certain knowledge, like with Alexander – don't think about that! - would surely have given rise to some ingenious idea . . . or little Vivi, whose black magic could have helped in place of physical strength.
But, no. She was alone, and without Zidane's inspiring voice, humour, or confidence in his own abilities to encourage her to possess the same. Weak! If her mother had been misguided, at least she'd had the fortitude to carry through with ideas and make decisions. What a pathetic addition to the royal line Garnet would eventually make – if there was any city left to rule, of course.
No, she couldn't think of that. It would destroy her. Garnet sank her teeth into her lower lip, moving for the flat stone that had fallen on top of the bricks and rubble that currently pinned Zidane down. Unsurprisingly, she couldn't move it an inch, and Zidane was still trapped. Perhaps she could pull him out as she had pulled herself . . . but he was the last cornerstone beneath the pile. If everything should come tumbling down when she moved him . . .
Garnet stood, rigid with indecision, her tear-marred eyes glued to what she could see of Zidane's still form. She was so afraid . . . Zidane was so different to her other guardians. Steiner and Beatrix had sworn fealty, and though she knew they cared for her personally, Zidane was a knight without an oath, without duty. He followed her because he wanted to – and he had come back to save her at the last moment for the very same reason. She couldn't lose him, not ever!
She dropped to her knees, possessed by desperate energy as she reached for the nearest brick and dragged it out, tossing it to one side. The stone above groaned, but she paid it no heed, tossing out more and more crumbled masonry with hands that were rapidly becoming bruised and pained by her exertions. Sooner or later, the debris above would fall . . .
But she would have Zidane free by then. Satisfied by how much she had cleared, she encircled his torso with her arms as best she could in the limited space, giving an experimental tug. He barely budged, but the stone above them suddenly screamed in protest. Garnet shrank in fear, clinging tightly to Zidane with her head against her back, eyes squeezed closed against the expected crushing hail –
Which never came. Garnet trembled, glancing skyward to spy the large, flat stone teetering in its place, but still standing, the pair of them spared for a moment. But it would only be a moment if she couldn't get Zidane out. She withdrew from her impromptu embrace, shaking her head in hopeless despair. What else could she do?
A distant, muffled sound drew her chaotic attention, and she glanced at first to Zidane. He hadn't moved, and for a moment she sank into further depression, her energy gone, until the sound was repeated. Distinctly closer, this time! Garnet waved a silent apology to Zidane, and then began to hobble away from him, climbing past rubble, her eyes drawn by chance to the fractured ceiling and the fires that burned above, visible through its holes.
"Is someone there?" she called tentatively, her voice hoarse but carrying surprisingly far. Garnet almost fell to her feet when she heard someone respond, her relief insurmountable and shaking her to the very core.
"Princess, is that you? Where are you?"
The voice was too distorted to distinguish, but she didn't care. Garnet cupped her hands around her mouth, yelling as loudly as she thought might be safe. "I'm down here, below! Please, help us!"
A moment of worrying silence passed, and then to her surprise, a red pompom sprang into view at the edge of one of the gaps, swiftly followed by a moogle's squinting eyes. Immediately as it saw her, it leapt into a frenzied dance, squealing for attention. She'd seen only one moogle with such a thick collar of fur before . . .
"Eiko! You're all right!"
The violet-haired girl peered down past Mog, her eyes huge with concern, but she nodded and briefly vanished again, causing no end of panic in Garnet until a third face blocked the view. It was Blank, Zidane's red-headed fellow thief, and although slick with grime and sweat, he seemed equally unharmed.
"Princess, are you okay?"
"I'll be fine, but I need your help!"
He grinned, crafty as ever as he swung a leg over the gap, intending to drop down. "Don't worry, we've got you."
Garnet began to retreat, waving frenziedly towards the back of whatever recess she and her friend had managed to fall into. She felt hot tears well in her eyes and cursed again her uselessness; she was behaving like a stupid little girl, and despite knowing this, was somehow unable to control her surging emotions. The frustration of it all only made her want to weep harder. "It's not me who needs the help! Zidane is stuck, I can't get him out . . ."
"Zidane?" Blank's movements became swifter, and he dropped onto a tall pile of rubble, almost tumbling over himself just as Marcus loomed over the edge of the gap to grab his wheeling hand and steady him. There was a brief muttered exchange of appreciation between them, and then Marcus was clambering down, too, yelling at Eiko to fetch a rope. Garnet felt so dazed watching the descent that Blank's sudden proximity as he skidded down to her startled her half out of her wits.
She immediately turned and staggered back towards Zidane, Blank following with barely-concealed agitation.
"Where is –"
Only stony silence followed as they caught sight of him, still pinned beneath the rubble and perfectly motionless. Garnet almost didn't dare look at them, her eyes burning with guilt and anxiety. Blank didn't move an inch further until Marcus was able to catch up with him; the two exchanged a hard look, a dozen useful signals seeming to pass between them in that single glance. The bulkier thief then immediately moved to take Garnet's arm and draw her away, his voice hard.
"Get back a bit, Princess."
Garnet was almost unable to remain standing. Blank moved forward, first stooping to remove a glove and press his fingers to Zidane's throat. She almost protested; of course he was alive! But Blank blew out a relieved breath, directing a brief nod back to Marcus, who exhaled right beside her in mimicked relief. Then he abandoned her to take Blank's place as the red-head began to climb the framing rubble, toward that ominous, teetering slab of granite. As soon as he was close enough, he pressed all of his weight against it; Garnet prayed he was strong enough to replace what forces shifting Zidane would remove from the delicate arrangement.
As they worked, she felt consumed by remorse. How the pair must hate her! Zidane had left Tantalus because of her; all the trouble he'd been in since then was directly her fault! And now he was injured, having leapt in to save her yet again when she was too weak and useless to save herself. She expected they wished they'd never encountered her at all . . .
"There!"
She blinked tears away, staring in astonishment; Blank was straining to keep the stone upright, while Marcus had successfully cleared more of the debris and was now dragging Zidane from beneath it. Their combined strength was far superior to hers, but still she berated herself for not having done more to help. Marcus motioned for her to continue backing up towards their makeshift exit, where Eiko lurked, rope in hand, gesturing for them to get a move on.
As soon as they were clear, Blank released the stone and just barely managed to skip backwards as it slid down over the debris, scattering rocks and bricks and hitting the dirt with a dead thump that shook the rubble-ceiling above, cinders and dust raining down on them.
"Zidane, wake up, you girl," Marcus growled, giving the unconscious thief a shake, but Blank shook his head as he ran past them, clipping his companion's bulky shoulder with one fist.
"Forget it, he'll have to come to when we're out of here. Staying here any longer will be suicide – who knows when it'll all come down?"
"Right . . ." Marcus grumbled agreement, shifting his grip on Zidane and throwing him most unceremoniously over his shoulder. From here, she could see how bloody the side of his head was – there was little doubt of him being concussed after such a blow.
Garnet's brief protest at the rough-handling was stifled by Blank's waving hand as he got ready to mount the rope.
"You can give him all the tender loving care you want once we're out of here, Princess. 'Til then, he's better off in Marcus' not-so-caring hands than he was under that pile of rubble."
A point she would have been foolish not to concede. Garnet nodded dismally, climbing the rubble pile with some difficulty even as Blank managed to clamber up over the edge of the hole. His hand immediately thrust down towards her, and when she took it, his fierce grip stung her abused hands enough to make her cry out in surprise. She almost let go, but by some miracle, she managed to grab the edge of the hole and haul herself up. Eiko was immediately at her side, reaching for her bashed and bloody brow with hands glowing with white magic, her lips moving to utter the spell between enthused assurances that everything would be all right now. Garnet wanted to laugh; she found the young summoner's words to be anything but truth.
Eiko seemed unscathed, though how that was possible, Garnet didn't know. Her head reeled with all the complications of their situation, so much so that she couldn't voice any of her thoughts – they were too consuming to spare the concentration required to form words. Her lower lip trembled, and for a moment she thought she might just burst into tears – but behind her, Marco and Blank had succeeded in elevating Zidane through the hole. Blank left the thief on the ground beside them while he helped Marco up, and he was as motionless as ever.
Garnet's injuries were superficial, for the most part, so it was brief seconds before Eiko apologetically abandoned her to flee to Zidane's side and begin weaving her magic for him instead. Garnet herself felt unable to move, slumped on her knees on the creaking floor. Zidane would have given everything to help her – had almost given his life – and yet Garnet couldn't even find the words for a curative spell. She was tired, so tired . . . so undeserving of her unconventional knight's efforts and attention . . .
"Heal him later! Princess, can you stand? You gonna make it?" Blank's face abruptly appeared in her line of sight, and she nodded weakly, clambering to her feet like a stiff puppet. Marcus scooped up Zidane like a doll, once more tossing him over his shoulder, much to Eiko's audible dismay.
"Hey, be careful with him, you big thug!"
"Stop whining. He'll be grateful once I've shifted his backside to safety."
Eiko shook a fist at Marco's back as he plodded off, swiftly returning to Garnet's side. Mog had apparently retreated back inside her dress, for the moogle was nowhere to be seen, but the girl was unconcerned, taking Garnet's hand to motivate her into moving through the wreckage of the tower. The path was strew with flames, smoke and debris, textures that were so familiar to her now crumbled and distorted at her feet. She daren't think of the mess as having been her home . . .
"C'mon, Dagger! We're almost safe. The others are waiting just beyond the tower ruins." Eiko tugged the princess' hand harder, almost running to keep up with Blank and Marcus. "And don't you worry, I'm just fine. I don't know how, but when I woke up, Mog was with me and we were landed somewhere safe! I was worried about you, though, so I quickly ran to get help! I – hey!"
Eiko's energetic monologue came to an abrupt halt as she almost collided with Blank. The two thieves had stopped in an area Garnet could just barely recognise as the castle courtyard. Its state of utter disrepair made her sag on the spot, and if not for the dire need to keep moving, she thought she would have collapsed into a sobbing heap there and then. She barely saw the reason for the thieves' disillusion – the boat into town, sunken and ruined by falling rubble and little more than ripples on the moat surface.
Marcus grunted. "Well, now what?"
"Princess!"
The voice came from the direction of the west tower, in deep intonations she would never be able to forget, and as Garnet turned, she caught sight of Steiner's gleaming armour, dented in places now, of course, but still obviously belonging to the knight she knew so well. He charged towards the group, metal clanking, and immediately swept his hands to her shoulders, examining her and despairing at her ruinous state.
"She's fine," Blank said quickly, grabbing for the knight to seize his attention. "Where are the others?"
Steiner's gauntleted hand pressed comfortingly across her shoulders, and Garnet emitted a shaky breath in response. The knight gave Blank a glare that suggested he thought the Princess was far from all right, but he would deal with the thief's disregard at a more opportune moment. "They've escaped to the harbour – there is a boat with only minor damage still at the dock. We are to use it to flee Alexandria!"
"Sounds good to me!" Blank stormed in the direction of the west tower, Marcus charging after him and Eiko yelling at them to slow down with such precious cargo, though she was easily as quick on her feet as they were. Garnet shook her head, slumping weakly against Steiner, everything around her seeming to distort. She couldn't keep up; her own worries were distracting her far too much. Escaping seemed as important as an afterthought.
"Princess," the knight said, more softly than she'd ever heard him, "forgive me, but, at present, I do not think you are fit for such running around." With little other warning, he swept her up into his arms, and Garnet was simply too dazed to protest. He began to clank again, running after the fleeing thieves with a steely determination locking his strong jaw. Held firmly in his arms, Garnet could at least spare the concentration that had been used to put one foot in front of the other – unfortunately, it was immediately diverted into her self-reproach.
There was nothing she could do. Her home, her responsibility was crumbling and burning around her, and she had been unable to prevent it. But she had tried . . . though had it been hard enough? For a moment, when she had summoned Alexander with Eiko's help, she had really thought she might be worthy of being Alexandria's ruler. But she couldn't have done even that if Eiko had not been there to tell her what to do. And now Alexander was slain, killed by her city's own prominent sword symbol. It was almost ironic – like a poorly-suited, would-be queen the cause of her own city's demise.
She was nothing on her own. She needed her friends – she needed Zidane. Without them, she couldn't do anything right. Everything was her fault!
"Hurry it up, Steiner!"
Garnet glanced up, surprised to see the Neptune statue dead ahead. Everything around her swam in drunken, dizzy straits, filling her with nausea, but she knew where she was now. Blank and the others waited on the statue, and Steiner growled at them as he joined them, further securing his grip on her with a flurry of questions she was simply too tired to attempt to answer. Cowardly, she closed her eyes, praying for the dizziness to stop and for Steiner to let her be.
She kept them closed throughout the journey on the statue, through the damp darkness of the water system. Her companions were quiet, even Marcus and Blank grimly silent, though she couldn't doubt the sighs of relief as the water flooded out of the harbour gate and they emerged, floating toward the platform. Just a little further, and then . . .
And then what?
Another barbed question to add to the painful maelstrom whirling in her head. If they all survived, and even if Zidane survived, she was princess of a dead city. She had failed her people, and she had almost failed Zidane. Garnet had failed everyone. Why did they continue to help her? Weren't they sick of carrying her dead weight by now? Hadn't she proved often enough that every independent choice she made was a mistake?
If Steiner noticed the tears blossoming from her closed eyes, he said nothing. To be so loyal to her . . . they all must see something in her that simply didn't exist. Even her unconventional knight was deceived. And try as she might, she couldn't live up to their expectations. She could do nothing right.
"Don't worry, Princess," Steiner said to her as they boarded the ship waiting for them. "Alexandria can still be saved."
Garnet said nothing. Steiner was sweet, but there was more to her silence, her distress, than the destruction of the city alone. The fuss as the crew of their saviour ship, constructed of many of her friends and acquaintances, converged on her was almost unbearable. She wanted to turn them away, direct them towards the person in real need – Zidane! But she could conjur no words and was forced to endure it.
It was up to Eiko to heal Zidane; her friends dismissed Garnet as injured, hurt, in shock, and thus excused her again for her inability to help. Garnet was instead showered with blankets and worry, a hot drink and a brief lookover by Doctor Tot. Her old tutor seemed to suspect something wrong in her distant, distracted gaze, but he said nothing of it. She was moved to the most comfortable cabin in the ship, where it wasn't difficult to distantly listen to the urgent murmur of conversation from beyond the walls. Her friends and associates, discussing all the problems she had caused, attempting to solve them for her yet again! The guilt-wracking thought was enough to keep her from sleep.
She hadn't been lying in one of its two beds for long when Zidane was carted in alongside her, tucked into the opposing bed by a doting Eiko and two thieves who were failing entirely in their attempts to look unconcerned. Eiko's best work had left him looking cleaner, his face not so ashen, though the wound on his head had still required binding. Garnet squeezed her eyes closed, desperately pretending to be asleep. She felt Eiko's boisterous presence waver over her, and then the little girl hissed at the thieves to keep quiet. Only when the trio had left did she open her eyes, and then she felt able to do nothing but stare at Zidane's unconscious form. Crimson and white moonlight streamed over him from the window, casting him in unnatural shades. He looked so peaceful, like he might never wake up – the prospect terrified her, and she immediately reinforced the surety that he would, unwilling to risk that possibility that merely thinking he might die could somehow make it happen.
Why do you have so much faith in me? Zidane didn't answer the question, but this was unsurprising as she hadn't voiced it and he wasn't awake, even if she had.
I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment, she silently told him. I wish I were strong, like you. You'd be better off without me. I want you to stay away from me, when you wake up. Then I'll never have to see you hurt or suffering because of my failures ever again.
Garnet lay still and silent in her bed for a long moment, but a terrible fear gripped her, and within moments she had climbed off the mattress, pushing the covers aside. She half staggered to his bed; he wasn't aware, so he wouldn't remember the soft, appreciative kiss she placed on his forehead, or the tears as she sank to her knees beside his mattress, clutching his limp, gloved hand to her face.
She didn't, couldn't mean it. She didn't want him to ever leave her. She wanted to be Dagger, the person he thought he saw in her. Garnet knew she was dangerous, that her penchant for being useless and failing at everything she attempted would drive Zidane only further into disaster, but her selfish, selfish heart couldn't let him go. Only with her unconventional knight by her side had she ever managed to achieve what little she had.
I'm sorry, she sobbed into the back of his hand, praying for his forgiveness. I'm so very sorry. But please, stay with me, just a little bit longer. I . . .
A noise from the cabin's door almost drove her to her feet, but whoever was shuffling about behind it seemed to have no inclination to enter, the footsteps moving away almost immediately. Garnet sighed, laying Zidane's hand gently at his side, her final squeeze one of abject apology.
. . . I can't face my failures alone.