Meeting Anna

By Magewriter

…So, I've written stuff about Mithos and that time period, but one day I was drawing some doodles of hypothetical Anna, and I was thinking: Kratos wouldn't fall for some delicate little flower. He'd fall in love with someone who, even after two thousand years, was worth his time. Hence, Anna has to be a strong character, probably in the fighting party before Lloyd was too big (pregnancy would definitely hinder fighting abilities). In my doodles, she has this awesome dress. I might post it on DeviantART if I feel like going to all the trouble to make a human figure on MS Paint without an official reference pic. I'll need to work on her hair first though, because at this point she doesn't have bangs, just a long ponytail with an awesome ribbon or two buns with less awesome ribbons. (For those of you interested in my comics and pictures, they're at sheelos-lover. for the scene: It's almost two thousand years after the great war ended. Mana depletion is beginning to become an issue in Sylvarant and Tethe'alla is beginning to realize the wealth of mana they have. Scientists, not just mages, are beginning to use mana in their work. Mana is being refined in vast quantities. Recently, there have been studies on how exspheres affect the human body (in a few years, these experiments will happen to Presea).

It was a beautiful, clear day of the type that fascinates small children. However, Kratos had seen tens of thousands of such days and they were no longer special to him. He was planning the next oracle. The Chosen of Sylvarant had been located and was soon to be sent on her journey. The Chosen of Tethe'alla was leading a love-deprived life, but Kratos could care less, especially since Zelos didn't know that yet. Sylvarant was coming to the last of its mana. Never in two thousand years had the Cycle of Mana strayed so far from its normal course. If this Chosen failed, Kratos would be assisting the next chosen personally.

As it was, Kratos was already preparing for the next Chosen. Whether or not this Chosen succeeded, she would die and another Chosen of Sylvarant would be conceived within the next two years. All of the details consumed even Kratos' mind so deeply that he had to write them down.

After awhile, his mind got tired from thinking of every little detail, so he walked through the forest into the clearing in which he practiced swordplay.

Swordplay was a kind of meditation for him. He would focus his mind on something while his body did the familiar moves which he had used for two thousand years. He thought of the world he had grown up in, of the innocence of his childhood and his life in Iselia. Of his girlfriend, dead almost two thousand years, who had been so impersonal when he returned.

(See my other ToS fanfic)

Because he was unconscious of the world around him, he didn't notice the woman standing at the edge of the clearing until the wooden ball hit him on the head. Suddenly brought back to consciousness, he swung his sword behind him.

"Aw, you're no fun. You severed my string!" He heard the woman's voice, then managed to find her figure, sitting on a tree branch in a dress, stockings, and Sylvarantian boots. Her hair was twisted into buns on either side of her head, and although she sounded cross, her face was laughing.

Kratos did the only logical thing he could: He picked up her stupid wooden ball and chucked it at her. Somehow, she managed to catch it.

"Nice arm. If you want to play catch, I can come down. There's no reason to be rude."

Now Kratos saw that in her hand was a purple string, probably wool, with a loop on one end.

"And, when we're done, you're going to escort me back to my village. Now that you've broken my weapon, you have to take responsibility for my protection. It's an unwritten rule of a sort."

"Do you know who I am?"

"No, but I wouldn't mind finding out. Be happy I'm not making you pay for a new one!"

"It's a ball with a string on it. It costs about two gald."

"Actually, the reason I'm not charging you for it is that I made it myself. I carve wood professionally, see, and I was test-driving the stringball as a weapon. Basically, I throw it or sling it at something, but I don't have to chase after it for five minutes because I've got the string."

"It's basic. People have been throwing things at each other for thousands of years."

"Yeah, but this is the first time that they've expressed the want to get their stuff back after they throw it away."

"You've obviously never heard of boomerangs." He started to walk away.

"Exactly where do you think you're going?"

He stopped. "To that tower over there."

"My village is that way."

"If you failed to judge my reflexes correctly, that's your fault, not mine. Now, get away from me."

"I played a small joke. My punishment shouldn't be death or serious injury by monsters!"

"Do you know who I am?"

"You're the man who comes to the pretty clearing every so often to meditate while you fence."

"I am Kratos of the Four Seraphim!"

"I don't care. You cut my weapon in two. If I'd been fighting you, I wouldn't be so mad. But I just bonked you on the head. Lightly! My village isn't that far away, anyway. It's just over that hill!"

"Do you know who the Four Seraphim are?"

"Why? Should I?"

"We are the elite fighting force of Martel."

"Then you should have no problem battling one little monster or two. Or are you afraid to walk over a little hill?"

"I should cut you in two!"

"Yes, but see, that's the great thing about unwritten rules: everyone knows that you're not supposed to hit an unarmed opponent! If I had my stringball intact, I would have no problem with you trying, even though it seems like awfully harsh punishment for tapping you on the head through all that hair. But, I don't have it. So, it would be extremely rude of you to even touch me with that sword!"

"You're never going to shut up, are you?"

"Not until you give in, no."

"Then, I guess I only have one choice."

"Finally! Thank you! What's your name again? Kralos? Thank you, Kralos!

"My name is Kratos."

"Kratos, right! Thanks!"

She stopped talking after that, in the literal sense of the word. But she hummed. It turned out that she lived in Hima. When they got to the bottom of the path that led up the mountain, she invited him into the village. He turned it down, saying that he should work on the plans he was going through before he went out to the clearing. She grabbed his arm to drag him, but he twisted his limb and drew his sword. She paused for a second, taken aback, but then she smiled and ran up the path. He turned and left, but heard her yell "Thank you, Kratos!" from near the village.

.-..-..-.

Back in the Tower of Salvation, Kratos went through boring possibilities, each almost identical and most ending with the Chosen dead. Sylvarant was weak; it had no central government and couldn't protect the Chosen because there were no soldiers. Even if the Chosen did survive, there was a chance that she wouldn't be able to receive Martel's soul, and she might still die. That would be a disaster.

Still, things had been going according to plan for two thousand years; they ought to go fine now.

.-..-..-.

Finally, the Ceremony of the Oracle. The Tower of Salvation appeared as more than just a small brick tower in Sylvarant.

This left more time for swordplay, Kratos' only true joy after two thousand years of having a 28-year-old body.

Or, so he thought.

One day, the Chosen of Sylvarant died. She was weak, though: her party had died fighting the Fire guardian. It was the weakest of the guardians.

They would have to wait up to twenty years for another Chosen to be ready.

So, to relax, he went to the clearing to meditate. On his way there, he heard singing. Folk songs that everyone knew, but the voice was beautiful.

As he neared the clearing, the singing stopped, and he heard the woman from before telling herself a story. Was she crazy or something? Then, inexplicably, she burst into song again. She had a wonderful voice. Loud, but nice.

He threw a stick at her. She caught it.

"If you don't like my singing, you can say so."

"Were you… talking to yourself just then?"

"Yeah. I do that sometimes. I like to tell stories, but there isn't always someone who wants to listen, so I talk to the air. Or at night, I'll tell myself the stuff that's been going on, or I'll make up a story or something, and that helps me go to sleep."

"You're crazy."

"Better crazy than fickle."

"I'm not fickle!"

"Sure you're not! And I'm not from Luin."

"Do you remember who I am?"

"You're Kratos of the Four Seraphim, the elite warriors of the Goddess Martel. Kralos is still a prettier name, though."

"I don't care!"

"I improved my stringball. I can't call it that anymore, though. Now I call it a chainsphere. 'Ball' doesn't sound as good with 'chain' as 'sphere' does, so it's a chainsphere. I have a metal ball, and I welded a chain to it. Then I've got this hoop here that I put the chain through, and I hold onto that. The ball isn't solid, though. I practice with it every day, so I'm getting a lot stronger, especially my right arm, but I practice with my left arm too, so I can use that if I need to."

"Are you suggesting that we duel?"

"No, I'm sure you're a lot stronger than me. I'm just a beginner, after all!"

So, somewhere in that stupid head, there was intelligent thought. That was very interesting.

"Would you teach me some things?"

"Sorry. I don't teach."

"But you're so good with your sword! I want to learn! I really do! Do you know any magic?"

"You're too impatient to learn magic."

"Actually, I can concentrate really hard on stuff when I want to! Please, will you teach me magic?"

"Make it worth my while."

"I promise, I will! I don't know you well enough to know what you want, but I promise, I will make it worth your while!"

"Do you know meditation?"

"Yeah."

"Meditate on your mana."

Just a couple of minutes in, she started to glow. It was the power of her mana. Then she opened her eyes.

"I'm bored! I've been sitting here for half an hour! Can I get up and stretch?"

"You had just focused your mana!" Despite the circumstances, Kratos found it relatively funny.

So, Anna got up, stretched, complained about how her knee hurt when she straightened it, (she'd been sitting cross-legged) then sat down again.

"For real now." This time, she started to glow in only a few seconds. Soon, the mist of mana-light became a clear magic circle on the ground, with all of the colors combined to make white. So Anna was a healer. It actually wasn't that much of a surprise. She was lively and energetic, and although she was annoying, Kratos couldn't imagine her actually doing anything mean.

When she opened her eyes, she complained again. "I'm exhausted! When do I learn the real stuff?"

"Meet me here tomorrow morning. Now that you can create a magic circle, we have to refine it, then you can learn magic."

"Why do I get the feeling that this is going to take months?"

"Because you don't realize that it took me months to develop even a slight glow of mana."

"Really? So, I'm doing well?"

"Yes, as much as I hate to admit it."

"Yay! I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Wait. First, can I see your little whatchamacallit?"

"My chainsphere? Sure!" She threw it at a nearby tree and yanked it back. She did this several times, chipping off some of the bark. It wasn't a very powerful attack. Then she stepped back and slung it, using centrifugal force to hurl the ball at the side of the tree trunk. It made a dent in the solid oak, demonstrating power which would seriously injure a human.

"That's why I want to learn magic: all I can do with this thing is hurt stuff. I want to be able to heal things, too."

It was the most poetic, heroic, and sensible thing that Kratos had heard in all his 2,000 years. Apparently, Anna saw the surprise on his face.

"I'm more than just this, you know. I do have a deeper part of me. I just choose to be carefree because it's more fun. It's no fun being serious all the time. I have to work at that. But being happy is my natural state. All my friends say that, when they're sad, I make them feel better. But, I'd better get going. I have to do stuff before tonight! It's a day of mourning tomorrow, so a lot of people are going on pilgrimages. We have to be ready. I mean, there aren't really any other towns or inns or anything in the area, except that old, run-down Desian base. That thing went out of operations fifty years ago!"

"Sixty-three."

"Sixty-three! You would've thought someone would – Hey, wait a second. How did you know that?"

"I like history. It doesn't change."

"I think it does. If you think about it, all the history books are written by men. You never hear about the peace that came after the Great War – it goes all the way up 'till now, with only revolts and Desians, not real wars! But, you never think about the huge advances, just the revolts and wars and negative things, because people like excitement! That's what makes me mad, is that all you ever hear about is 'there were two hundred years of relative peace before the Desian Revolution.' And yet, when you come to the Desian Revolution, there's a detailed analysis of every little strategy and tactic used in every single battle, and there are all of the names of the people who were credited with winning the battles, when it was really the soldiers, and winning a battle only means killing more people than your enemy and not surrendering!"

"Do you always go off on random monologues?"

"Not always. Just when I have something that I can't express with a few words."

"The thing about war is, people remember it. You always remember the people you've killed, but you don't always remember the inventor of the type of machine or system or whatever you're using."

"Exactly! See, that's what ticks me off! People kill people, meaninglessly, and then they brag about it! But then, when you're using a pen, there's no book that says which person or village or area or country started to use feathers instead of brushes to write with!"

"That's because it's impossible to forget the people you've killed."

"Yeah! That's what I'm saying! It's stupid to kill people, but then no one ever talks about the smart stuff that people've done."

"Forget it. You don't understand."

"I think, in a way, I do. Because, I come to this forest a lot. And, I always encounter monsters. And when I can't run away, I have to kill them. And, I don't want to, but I'm afraid. And, I hate doing it because I shouldn't have to kill them."

"Sometimes you have to. It's just the way things are."

"But it shouldn't be!"

"I never said that it was right or justified, but it's a fact. Do you want me to escort you home again?"

"No. People might say we're going out. And, if tomorrow's a day of morning for the Chosen, the Church of Martel must be in a huge uproar."

"Not really. Other Chosens have died. It's the people of Sylvarant who see such huge significance in this. In a little under twenty years, there will be another Chosen. I'm thinking that that one ought to succeed. I might travel with her."

"How do you know it's going to be a girl?"

"It has to do with the process. It's extremely complex."

"Oh."

"Shouldn't you leave?"

"Oh! Yeah! Thanks for reminding me!"

As she left, Kratos realized something: he was beginning to become attracted to her. However, he was relatively sure that it wouldn't be significant because the first thought that came into his head after this realization was "Ew."

Realizing that he was acting like a teenager and rationalizing it by telling himself that he was spending too much time with Anna, Kratos did simple moves with his sword, which, after five hundred years, could only be considered a part of him. When he helped the next Chosen, it would be hard switching swords. He would have to start out with something extremely basic, like steel or iron, to trick her party into thinking he was a normal human. It would have to be of much clumsier construction than his current model. The sword he had now was perfectly balanced and attuned to his grip. He could do anything with it.

He had to admit that he felt differently from Anna on the issue of monsters. Monsters didn't stop to assess the dangers of battles, and they were easily killed. Humans, on the other hand (or half-elves or elves) made a careful assessment of their opponent and, while they might sometimes be overconfident or misjudge their opponent, they didn't just fling themselves into battle without reason.

It seemed like a waste, however, that such an intelligent woman's mind be wasted doing repetitive tasks every day. She was powerful, too. Anyone who could create a healing circle (almost as good as Kratos's, but he didn't tell her because he didn't want her to get overconfident) over the matter of a few minutes in only two tries harbored intense power.

The next day, she didn't come. Kratos didn't expect her to. But, to teach her to be consistent, he went to Hima.

"Kratos!" Why are you here! Are you going on a pilgrimage? …No, that wouldn't make sense. What are you doing here?"

The apron she wore as an inn girl was slightly askew, and she was wearing a more traditional dress, and her hair was in two braids under a white head scarf, but she was still the same, annoyingly cheerful Anna.

"I'm here to teach you the importance of consistency. If you could set aside a few minutes sometime, I would be extremely grateful. If not, you'll be doing magic directly after your shift ends."

"Ugh. Sometimes, it feels like my shift never ends. As an inn girl, I get time off most days, especially during festivals when everyone's at their house, but not tonight. Will you come with me? I'm really busy!"

So, Kratos followed her as she went upstairs, made beds that might not be slept in for hours if the noise level downstairs was any indication. Sure, it was a day of mourning, (note that the word "was" is past-tense) but it was night now.

As Anna tidied up a room, shoving all the luggage onto the bed to more efficiently clean the floor, then making the bed and giving it a good -whap- to get all the wrinkles out. Then she put the luggage back on the floor and went on to the next room, all the time conversing with Kratos about random subjects, such as her pet peeves that inngoers tended to do, (usually having to do with placement of objects or wording, or making it unclear whether they were leaving tips or not) the way she was treated as an inn girl, and then they had a long discussion about magic, specifically healing magic.

Then, they went downstairs, where Anna worked as a waitress. That would account for her good short-term memory. Rather than walk back and forth behind Anna as though he were her sweetheart, Kratos gave Anna a few gald for a mug of beer and went to the corner, where he sat calmly, watching her, also to see how she was treated by her customers. It was strange: whenever Anna looked distressed, he felt the urge to walk over and give the person worrying her a vague threat. However, he managed to ignore these urges by reminding himself that she had taken that sort of thing before and was probably only fatigued by an entire day of work.

When about half of the guests were in their rooms, the woman who was obviously in charge of the inn girls talked to Anna, who then went to sit down next to Kratos with two plates of food.

"This one's for you. My shift's finally over. I guess, after I finish this, I have to work on my magic, huh?"

"Nnh."

"Huh?"

"Don't trouble yourself. What can I say of myself as a teacher if I let my student work herself to death?"

"What?!"

"I said, you deserve not to be forced to study magical arts after working so hard tonight."

"Really?! Thank you! I promise you, after all this madness is over, I'll work really hard!"

"Don't worry too hard."

"Okay!" They ate in silence for a minute, but the excitement of the evening had passed into Anna and she couldn't stay quiet for too long.

"So, do you like it here? Ooh! You have to watch the sunrise here! If you stay overnight, I'll show you! I have to get up early to help cook in the morning, so it wouldn't be hard to wake you up!"

"I honestly couldn't care less."

"But it's so pretty! All of it! Even when the sky's turned completely blue, it's still beautiful! …Because, the world is beautiful. Have you ever just looked up at the sky and thought about nothing?"

"Yeah. A long time ago. When I was a kid. Then I got over it. It's blue."

"I know! It's better than grey, at least! Whenever it gets cloudy and grey and depressing, I start wearing all these bright colors. I just can't stand when things are boring! So, I do my best to make things happy and fun again! Where'd you get the fabric your clothes are made from, by the way? I've never seen anything quite like it. All the thread and the weaving are so even. I wish I could do that!"

"It's from a city that doesn't exist anymore. It's just a little town now."

"Oh. I guess the Church of Martel has all sorts of crazy connections. What town is it?"

"Iselia."

"Iselia?! That's where I'm from!" He nearly choked on his beer, but managed to contain the jolt he got to something easily excusable by the phrase "I swallowed wrong."

"What's it like there now? Last time I went, it was tiny and there was a Desian establishment nearby."

"Yeah! …And there's this dwarf, Dirk, who lives just on the other side of the forest, and he makes all kinds of nice stuff. Actually, I heard the statue in that House of Salvation near the Thoda Geyser? Their Statue of Spiritua broke, and Dirk made them another one! He's amazing!"

"Dwarves' powers are weakened when they come to the surface."

"Even so, he's still a way better craftsman than any humans I know."

"That tends to be true, yes."

There was silence for the next few seconds.

"Have you ever been to Palmacosta?"

"Of course."

"What's it like there? I hear they have a huge university where all the serious scholars go to learn. And they have this theatrical group that does all these famous shows. I want to be in that so badly! But, I also heard the Desians are starting to take people from the city. What does the Church of Martel do about Desians?"

"It's highly confidential."

There was a second or two as Anna processed those words, then a highly disgusted "ew." Then, she probably felt hungry because she ate her dinner.

As she went to bed, she said goodnight to everyone who was still up. Kratos, thinking of nothing better to do, curled up in a corner on the floor and went to sleep.

.-..-..-.

The next morning, he was woken up before dawn by Anna shaking him and telling him to wake up. Reluctantly, he followed her up a dirt path to a flat area on top of the mountain. It wasn't big enough to be called a mesa.

Anna just stood there, transfixed on the pearly light coming from behind the mountains. In the cold, clear air, sitting next to Anna, watching the sun come up over the mountains, Kratos was truly, genuinely happy for the first time in nearly 2,000 years.

Kratos became so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't notice when Anna sat down next to him and put her arms around him. But, when the streaky clouds were neon pink, shaded in blue-gray, and the horizon was orange so bright, the sun had to be coming in less than a minute, Anna shook him to full consciousness. "Isn't it beautiful?" She asked.

And that was the only sound they made, and the only human sound they listened to, until the sun was up and the sky was blue. At that point, the sun was in their direct line of vision, so they decided to go back into the inn.

Inside, the light that to normal vision seemed comfortable and unobtrusive felt dark and shadowy to Kratos, so he went outside to practice his sword fighting. Anna tried, once again, to sneak up on him, but it didn't work because he was on higher ground than her and the land was just desert-type, sandy orange-brown earth.

Kratos sheathed his sword as he saw Anna approach. "What do you want?"

"Well, now that the pilgrimage rush is over, I have some time. Not much, because it's still the second day after the Chosen died, but I ought to have about ten minutes."

"Good. Hurt me."

"What?!"

"Hurt me. Use that chain-ball-thingy, sling it at me, and then restore me to full health."

"I can't do that! I don't even know how to heal!"

"I have full confidence that it is fully within your abilities. And even if I am completely off in my calculations, I know healing arts and I have an apple gel in my pocket."

"Um… Okay. If you way so…" She hurled her chainball in a half-circle, injuring his arm heavily.

"Now, heal me," he managed to say through teeth clenched from the pain.

Anna made a healing circle on the ground with her magic, sustained it for almost a full minute, and yelled, "First Aid!"

Kratos was healed.

"That is the extent of your training."

"What?! You mean, I hurt you and then I heal you and then you just say, 'okay, it's over'?!"

"Well… yeah. You said you wanted to learn to heal. That's the healing art."

"But… Will you teach me more magic then?"

"Of course. You'll have to work at it, though. You're not naturally an elemental mage."

"I can try!"

"You can, and I'm relatively certain you will."

…Okay, so that's it for Chapter 1. It's not overly romantic, but then, neither is Kratos. Not yet, anyway.

Anna turned out to be a lot like me: enthusiastic, cheerful, and yet with flashes of philosophical-ness that are surprising. But, to me, they're not really all that surprising because she's an extension. Towards the end (the second night I was working on this – it was written over a night, a morning, and another night) I started getting really descriptive. I have no idea why.

My theory on magic is that it exists inside of you, whether you find it or not, and there's a type of magic that you naturally have, which helps to determine your personality. Anna is a healer (because I feel like it) so she naturally has healing magic.

Please comment. Even if you have something negative to say (especially if you have something negative to say) I want to hear it. Otherwise, I won't know how to improve my story!