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Circle Of Gold

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Fate

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Have you known what it is to feel alone even when surrounded by hundreds of people?

A crowd. Faces upon faces that mean nothing to you.

Absolutely nothing.

Yet… you keep pretending.

Before long you forget who you had originally done it for, yourself? Family? Friends? It becomes a blur.

There are many fake smiles and the echoing sound of glasses being clapped together in worldly praise. Such a thing is only expected at a ceremony such as this, a ceremony marking my coronation.

One might think that this is the part where things change, my life is drastically altered. I see no need for this, I have grown up my whole life preparing for this day and the days to follow.

I am completely prepared.

'Rinoa Heartilly, it is a pleasure,' a cool and confident voice addresses me from behind and startles me to the point of me jumping on the spot.

'Sir,' I simply mumble out when I see the man before me, Cid Kramer, the leader of some military force or another. I cannot tell them apart anymore.

'You are looking very nice tonight,' he comments, but his words are as false as the mouth that utters them. That everlasting grin marring his aged features. Such a man frightens me, a man who's face is unreadable no matter to what extent you search it for your answers. There will never be a result, just pure confusion and awe.

'Why thank you, you are looking quite dignified yourself, Sir,' I continue with the honorific speech as I light-heartedly set a hand on his arm and we share a chuckle. Fake.

It is quite hard to hear each other over the chattering amongst the couples which litter the enormous ballroom and the sounds of plates being moved from one table to the next. I glance around quickly, hunting for another spot to carry on our conversation.

The balcony.

I do not say a word, only slowly ushering him towards the predestined area by looping an arm through his own.

'There is a reason I have come to speak with you tonight, Miss Heartilly,' I do not like the sound of his voice, but I let him continue nonetheless, 'It is concerning an issue your father has brought up,'

Gagging seems to be my only possible reaction. My father, that despicable man. Must he infest every last corner of my dismal life?

He continues after taking in my silent brooding for a few moments, 'It is concerning your safety now that you are an official member of the assembly… as you well know, prestige comes with a high price,'

I only nod wearily and suddenly find myself becoming very paranoid of the outside world. My eyes scan heavily over the foliage of trees among the forest below me and down further yet unto the courtyard right below me. A fair two story drop.

'It was asked of me to find you… a suitable companion,'

'You mean a bodyguard?' I spout almost bitterly at the man, glaring slightly in his direction.

In reality, the only bitterness I feel is directed towards my father, whom does not seem to think I can do anything correctly without a watchful eye.

A life being dictated for me from behind the scenes.

'Well, not exactly,' Cid pauses, an anxious gleam in his eyes as he searches for the word, that perfect word which will captivate me.

'A knight,'

A knight?

'If this is what my father wishes, then I do not have much say against it, do I? However, I do appreciate you coming to tell me of this, it is quite necessary I would think. Rather, it would be quite startling to awaken in the midst of the night to some stranger of a man standing next to my bed, that is, assuming that my knight shall be a man?' I chuckle and this time it is a little less fake then before. Still fake though.

He laughs along with me but his diverted gaze alarms me.

'You should not have to worry about such things, the man who will assume the role of your knight is one of our best, I can assure you,' he chuckles yet again in one of the ample attempts at keeping the conversation optimistic.

'I trust you,' I say, but it comes off quite coldly.

Then that long, ill at ease but completely and utterly expected silence ensues. The wind, the light yet muffled chatter coming from the ballroom, and then the sounds of echoing footsteps coming down the short hallway towards us from the activity.

I turn to face the oncoming stranger.

The shape is a mans, most likely the man who is to be my knight. I hold my breath as slowly the form enshrouded in darkness becomes more visible with each passing step. I can tell just by the way that this man is walking that he has no problems with his own self esteem and just one look at that smug smile would be enough to make any person think he owned whatever land he was to stand upon.

Then there are those eyes, catching glimpses of the reflective moonlight and illuminating them to an almost iridescent glow of emerald green. He looks like a man who has gotten in one too many scuffles at the pub, the long and thin scar running from just below his right eye to the left of his forehead only serving to amplify this thought. My eyes scan indifferently down the mans tall frame, from his large, black boots and black cargo pants to his gray, crossed vest and oversized trench coat, also gray and with padded, black lining. A ruffian in appearance, but looks can most definitely betray, I have been taught such from a very young age.

'Hey,' he states coolly to me and looks me up and down. He seems pleased with what he sees and I work to the best of my abilities to repress a blush from entering my cheeks. This only serves to work me up more, as always.

He smirks at this yet again, 'Looks like you're happy to see me,' he responds, not even bothering to address his General or whatever a military official of his stature might be called by.

'Excuse me?' I ask calmly but with that irritated tone that lets any and all people around me realize that I am in complete shock or discomfort.

He laughs at me, that airy little noise through his nose which only makes him seem more manly and unlikely for me to feel comfortable around.

For being royalty myself, I tend to put people on pedestals much too often, and therefore create a distance between me and that person before even being given a chance.

'This is Seifer Almasy, he will be escorting you to your various social and political events and will now be head of your security for the following year, your father has already had the courtesy of signing the contract with us before leaving on his trip. Normally we only do such things face to face but we were willing to have the papers signed via mail since your father had explained to us the importance of his meeting with the Generals of the Estate and also your father and I go a ways back, so exceptions were made,'

I dismiss Cid's clever grin and useless chatter after that point and realize soon that he is bidding me farewell. I walk him to the entrance of the vast castle I call my home and fall silent shortly after two of my servants close the doors behind him. I take in the delicate carvings on the doors, gold contrasting with the dark navy of the paint, my eyes shoot upwards to the faulty doors, the ones that are there just for show.

Then, I relate myself to these doors… and this is when I know that this process, this whole lifestyle has slowly been driving me insane.

Then I feel a hand on my shoulder.

'Whoa! What're you so scared about? Jeez! Can't tell me you forgot about me already?'

I turn sharply towards the man, his blonde hair seeming to spark alive in the hallow lighting of the entrance hall. I put a hand to my chest but my gaze is intense and fierce.

It is then that I realize, I may not be as prepared as I had thought.

'It can not be that horrible, Rinoa,'

'But it will be!' I shouted at her, taking the gorgeous young woman off guard. She stood a good head above me in that slimming brown dress, her long, waist length blonde hair cascading in little ringlets over her shoulders, the bulk of it tied up in the back in that trademark manner of hers. Even in her fighting gear she maintained an air of absolute composure and dignity. I always think, 'Quistis Trepe should be the one in my position'... she already has a fan base amongst the castle guard.

She yanks my blankets back without any regard as to the fact that I have been sleeping in just my underwear, and my arms immidietly fling around my chest.

'It is not like there is anything I have not seen before,'

Quistis says, then commences in doing that cute little laugh where she cups her mouth with her hand while trying to avoid my gaze. She can be the most blunt person in the world sometimes, but she will always think back later and regret any time that she has hurt somebody else's feelings.

An honorable and yet naive trait.

However, that is the least of my problems right now.

'Hey I got-! Oooohhh, Rinoa in the nude!' came the chirper remark from across the room, I only glare in the brunettes direction.

'Selphie, get me some clothes, now!' I yell, frustrated at the smaller girl, but trying my best to keep my voice as un-squeaky as possible. I have failed miserably at this. She finally comes romping back over with some clothes hanging off her shoulder until she eventually is nearly on top of me.

I shove her off uncomfortably and grapple for the clothing, not sparing a moment before slipping a long, flowy white piece of material over my head. It appears to have been meant as a shirt, but on somebody much bigger then myself. We all get a good laugh out of me as I stand with my arms out to my sides, admiring the way the shirt hangs just below my knees.

'Perfect fit!' Selphie cries eventually with that charming smile on her face. Over the years that I have been with them, I have seen all my friends grow older, but nobody has changed more with each passing day then Selphie Tilmitt, especially in appearance.

She used to have a short little bob cut that flipped outwards on the bottom, but then that became the fashion so she decided she needed to change it even further, never standing to be like somebody else for more then a minute. Her hair has now grown past her shoulders and flips in, surrounding her face in a choppy little frame. Her fashion sense is still that typical yellow, well, dress if you could still call it that? She has hemmed it so much that it now resembles a miniature skirt which cuts off at mid-thigh, and she has also completely devastated the middle piece of the clothing. It is more like a belly shirt and a skirt now, with some fine black lace detailing the parts she had had to cut. Selphie, of course, is our castles seamstress and also one of my bodyguards and closest friends.

I completely blank out when I see Quistis pulling out that small, scroll-like piece of tapestry.

That, right there in her hand, that is my life.

Planned out specifically for me, to the very last second. From my waking moments to the time where I close my eyes to fall asleep at night, planned.

When I was little, this had not bothered me so much, but this goes beyond parental control. I hate him, I hate my father.

If you want to know who is a self absorbed, over confident, idiotic stooge no better at their job then their lack of ability to give any kind of guidance when needed, I will tell you, it is-

'Rinoa!' Selphie shouts in my face and I jump so hard that I fall back into the antique, wooden dresser behind me. I reach out dumbly as I fall, trying to grab a ledge but only ending up having my hand cut wide open by a jagged corner which had been broken off previously by an earlier spell of my inelegance.

Quistis spares no time in racing to my side, carefully inspecting the bloody and splinter-infested wound.

'I am alright, Quistis, it is fine,' I withhold the childish tears threatening to fall from my eyes as the stinging pain wells up and then resides time and time again. Looking down I see that the wound is very noticeable, leaving a large, open cut right in the middle of the top of my right hand. Tiny little spikes of wood are framing the cut and also embedded inside of the spongy red surface. The blood alone is enough to make me feel faint, but then there is that one, enormous splinter sticking directly out of the middle. The one that is lodged in so deep that I can feel it between the bones in my hand whenever I move a finger.

'We have to get you to the doctor straight away!' Quistis announces hurriedly as she takes me by my other hand and cradles the injured one in her own. I dare not look at her now, ashamed at how easily I had injured myself and how now it is her problem. A waste of her time.

However, in a very royal fashion I do not apologize either, knowing that it would be politically incorrect to ask forgiveness of somebody who is technically a slave that my father has hired. We used to be friends before her and Selphie left at the ages of fifteen and fourteen and joined some military force. Then they had come back only a year ago, after three years, wanting to see me again only to be surprised by the jobs that my father had offered them.

Now they are both just human resources in this large, political world that I live in.

'I hope Ms. Kadowaki can bandage that up as inconspicuously as possible, you do not want anybody noticing it tonight at your coronation,'

'It will be perfectly fine,' a lie.

Yet, Quistis turns to me and smiles and I admire the rose color of her lipstick as she does.

'If you say so'.

A slave.

'So what did you do to your hand?'

'Leave me alone,'

'No, what the hell happened to your damn hand already?'

'Do you not understand the meaning of an order?' I yell, frustrated with the completely clueless man.

Thirteen days, thirteen days. I am dying, I cannot stand this arrogant man for another minute.

'You are so annoying! Why can't you just tell me already? Christ!'

Yes, arrogant, foul-mouthed… who cares if he has an excellent body? And… amazing eyes, and a self-confidence that is completely infuriating but at the same time, arousing.

'Because it is none of your business! That is why!' I slam the door to my bedroom in his face and lock it, soon after hearing the pounding of his fists on the door.

'I hate you snotty royalty, you don't think you gotta answer to anybody, which normally I'd agree with, but you do it in such a stuck up way that it's fucking impossible not to hate you for it!'

I feel hot tears burn the backs of my eyes and blink furiously to stop them from coming, again, I fail at this.

'Shut up and go away!' I yell at him, my voice only slightly shaky.

'Don't go and start the tears because I'm not going to feel sorry for you!' he said it and I could hear in his voice that it wasn't a lie. His voice illustrated utter disgust and hatred towards me, and the stomping of his feet as he marched away from my room was enough to let anybody know that something… or somebody had just really angered him.

I do not care. I do not. I keep telling myself this, that I do not care what he thinks of me. Why should I?

But it is so intensely frustrating that nobody ever bothers to listen to me, to see me as more then a stereotype. I voice my opinions regularly but they never seem to get heard, even at such a high standing I am powerless… is it just me? Am I the problem?

No.

'No… no I am not,'

'Seifer!'

The man standing in the corner of the room jumps and after glaring over in my direction, throws something out of frustration onto the floor. There is the sound of metal scraping across it as whatever it is slides out of sight.

'Jesus Christ!' his screams go far beyond any kind of noise I could ever imagine making, almost shaking the floor beneath me, or maybe that is just my knees shaking?

'What the hell do you want?'

'You do not know me!' I hate it, when the tears start coming and you cannot hold them back. I have a will but it is never enough, my body decides for itself.

He is startled for a moment and I feel a hot tear stream down my cheek, I try not to let the embarrassment show. In the exact fashion I presumed he would, Seifer pulls back, his face becoming hard as stone, a reflection of hatred in his eyes.

'Sickening,' he stares me straight in the eyes, and they burn, '… ha,' his head tilts down and he inspects his shoes, then whatever it was that he had been holding.

'And I don't want to know you'.

My mouth drops wide open and he meets my eyes again, there is a something there, an emotion that is unclear but concentrated in all of its supremacy.

'Uh… excuse me?'

Both Seifers and my own head whip around to face the source of the voice, and I see one of my servants. A skinny, tall man, hunched over himself in an unsure manner. He is eyeing me every other moment beneath his small blue soldiers cap and tugging at the straps across his chest holding the musket to his back.

'Miss Rinoa?'

I wipe the tears from eyes and stand straight, blinking furiously but maintaining my composure.

'Yes? What is it?'

He tilts his head to the side and gives Seifer a curious look before continuing.

'There is a man here, he would like to see you, both,'

'Both of us?' Seifer asks, but his voice renders him uninterested.

The young soldier nods and I turn from him to Seifer and back to him again.

'Tell me his name,'

'He says his name is-'

'My name is…'

I flinch, surprised by the man now standing in the corner of the room. He is dressed in very skin-tight black clothing, and his face is covered by the rim of his own soldiers cap, a darker color identifying him as higher general. Although, the air about him makes me extremely uneasy.

Then he looks up and I gaze into his eyes. They are familiar, but at the same time, so very different.

Such a man frightens me, a man who's face is unreadable no matter to what extent you search it for your answers. There will never be a result, just pure confusion and awe.

'Leon'.