Yuna's eyes were downcast, gazing into the intricately colored floors of the Guadosalam manor. Her hands were fidgeting mess. She couldn't seem to stop herself from moving them about. In her unfocused stare, she was attempting to recall the events of the past few hours or so; after the altercation in Macalania Temple, being chased down and icy path and eventually falling several feet below the Lake, Yuna's head was a foggy cloud of hysteria and amnesia.

Sin's toxin, she thought. The excuse reminded her faintly of her blond guardian. She could only hope the best for the rest of them;it was obvious to her that Sin would inevitably kill them. She winced at their presumed fate.

The Al Bhed came to her rescue, though they paid a hefty price. Yuna barely had time to summon her aeons the minute they blew open the sanctuary. One guado to her left, another to her right. And then, total darkness; her staff was nowhere to be found after that, though one could presume that it was taken from her to prevent any summoning or magic. She found herself regaining consciousness aboard a Machina, halfway through a heavily wooded tunnel towards Guadosalam.

Yuna did her best to remain as somber as possible. She waited there, with the same two guado she saw at the Sanctuary, on other side of her, preventing any sort of escape attempt. Another appeared in front of her, holding her staff with ease. Yuna's eyes followed the guado with her staff; he twirled it about carelessly as they waited for the measter to descent from his quarters. As if on cue, there was a large creaking noise from above that signaled the opening of doors above.

Seymour sauntered out from his quarters, eyes lazily scanning the room until they fell on Yuna. In response, they widened slightly at the small frame starring back at him. He smiled somewhat.

"Lady Yuna," he called to her. Yuna didn't respond. Seymour descended down the stairs. Upon reaching the bottom, he extended a hand forward and took Yuna's staff from the guado who was holding it captive. Yuna watched helplessly and Seymour gripped it with ease, looking at it thoughtfully.

"We have nothing to discuss," Yuna said after a long silence. Seymour turned his head.

"On the contrary," he wanly smiled, "we have much to discuss. I doubt you'll be needing this," he gestured to her staff, "for a while, so I'll have it put somewhere for safe keeping. Follow me, why don't you? I doubt you've had anything to eat since our…last encounter."

Yuna's hands were folded neatly in her lap as she sat tensely across from her captor. Seymour was enjoying himself, that much was clear to Yuna. Her lips formed a straight line as she looked at the food in front of her. Seymour was well-prepared for Yuna's presence; the amount of food said as much, anyway. Yuna, however, noted that the array of dishes were set in front of her and not in front of the maester of Yevon. Trapped within the walls of his private quarters, the dimly lit room offered a gloomy ambience. It was fitting for the quandary. As if reading her thoughts, Seymour began to speak.

"I'm afraid one of the downfalls of being an unsent is that I don't need to eat, so I apologize for allowing you to dine by yourself. Please, do eat something. I am perfectly content where I am."

Yuna made no effort to move.

"You're…not hungry, then?"

"No," she said simply.

"My, you really do have the will of a stone wall," he said casually making a pill rolling motion with his long, pointed fingers. Finally, he sighed.

"So, shall I present to you what I think needs to be discussed?"

"I have nothing," Yuna said firmly, "to discuss."

"Very well," Seymour replied. "I'll just…start with my thoughts, then."

Yuna said nothing.

"I'll take your silence as an acknowledgement, Yuna. What an interesting predicament you're in. First, you murder a maester of Yevon, after agreeing to our engagement agreement, and then I find you conspiring with the Al Bhed. Your crimes again Yevon just keeping piling on, one after another."

Though the same could be said for Seymour, Yuna wisely closed her mouth. Seymour was still a maester of Yevon; Bevelle would hear of this soon enough, and she was wise not to dig her hole any deeper.

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself? You really hurt my feelings when you left me there in Macalania, you know."

"I will apologize for nothing," came her firm reply. "Lord Jyscal's sphere speaks for itself."

"Well, now that it's been destroyed, no one will ever know, now will they? Honestly, Yuna, your naivety is astounding. Do you truly believe that my father's murder is some sort of secret?" he said, half-chortling. "You honestly believe that the maesters of Yevon are so impractical as to believe that he died of natural causes? An amazing resolve you have, Yuna, but your reality of Yevon is…"

"What do you want?" Yuna demanded finally, interrupting his banter.

"I think that's quite simple. I want you, Yuna."

He stood from the table, sauntering to the other end of the room. From the corner of her eye, Yuna could see her staff leaning behind a velvet drapery of some kind. Her eyes flickered to Seymour's movements. She still sat unmoving. His back was faced towards her. She studied his movements and carefully began to stand.

"Following in your father's footsteps is such a noble thing," he waved his hands about, "all I ask is that you allow me to accompany you to this journey – to the end. Together, we can end all of this suffering. Spira can rejoice knowing that our union is not in vain; and your father, I'm sure, would do the same. I simply cannot imagine you summoning the Final Aeon without—"

Seymour turned around to finish her sentence, but was met with Yuna's hard stare. She was clutching her staff, holding it out in front of her, when she began to twirl it without hesitance.

Seymour's speech stopped abruptly, watching her movements dully. A look of discontent slowly formed over his face.

"You disappoint me, Yuna," he said loudly.

Pyreflies began to fill the room, materializing from Seymour's body. His hand came up, curling into a fist and turning, until his outstretched palm yielded Yuna's attempt to send him to the farplane. She dropped her staff instantly, and began to twirl aimlessly. Her vision was blurred; her mind rushed and she started to think of a plan to regain her lucidness, but the confuse spell had already taken its toll. Her staff hit the ground with a loud clatter, and Yuna tripped over a rug, landing into arms of the very man she attempted to send. Her eyes were glazed over, unable to move or to understand his words.

Seymour traced his long, pointy finger across her face, brushing the loose strands of hair away from her face. Her breathing began to speed up, and she felt herself hyperventilating as she lay there in his arms. Amidst her blurry vision, she could see the outline of his face, watching a slow, devious smile form on his lips.

"I'm afraid I've underestimated you, Lady Yuna," he whispered. "Your determination surpasses anything I have ever encountered. Your father would be proud."

The last words provoked a single tear to fall from her face as she struggled to regain her lucidity. Seymour chuckled as he leaned forward to scoop the rest of her body in his arms. She did little to struggle; the entire world was spinning and only his words reminded her of the reality she was in. The otherwise dimly-lit room turned into a spinning void of darkness, which in turn, caused Yuna to cling to Seymour's robes.

Her body hit the soft cushioned surface of Seymour's bed. His nose grazed passed her cheek as he leaned into whisper into her ear.

"Why don't you…take a nap? We can discuss in the morning, can't we?"

Yuna struggled to protest, but the sleep spell cast an overwhelmed sensation. Yuna was asleep within seconds, Seymour looming over her like bird over prey. Yuna felt her head go backwards; she hit the pillow and was far within the deep reaches of sleep. He reached forward to comb the stray pieces of hair from her face, and leaned it to place a kiss on her lips.