A/N - Because there should have been more about these two in the game.
Thanks to - Su-chan, for beta-ing and encouragement, and to a special friend, whose words I value more than I can express.
Dream
An individual tends to carry out Existence driven by the desire to find Place and Purpose. Be it large or small, personal or entirely selfless, those fortunate enough will accomplish their Purpose before their license for Life expires - to guard, to conquer, to accomplish.
For Vaan, this decision was simple.
From the time he was old enough to understand what it meant to aspire, he had firmly made up his mind; however, it was never to be a hero of war, or a saviour of his nation. At the age of barely four years old, in awe of he who was hardly two years his senior, when prompted (if ever), Vaan would proudly declare that when he grew up, he wanted to be just like his brother.
It irritated Reks to no end, being forced to endure Vaan's insistence on mimicking everything from the way he dressed to the way he ate his daily meals, and when it finally proved too much to suffer, displeasure erupted into sullen disagreement and would send the younger of the usually inseparable pair into the market to fork out the last of his painstakingly acquired gil to bring home a peace-offering of scarlet lilies.
Forgiveness was always as sweet as the scent of Galbanas.
The passage of years saw the brothers grow - distinct in demeanour, and bound perpetually by this, for each acted as the counter-weight for the other: Reks, quietly patient and unbearably shy, while Vaan strove to drive those around him to distraction, brash and impolite - though always quite harmless. One presence defined the other, essential to the completion of his being, like the stone within a fruit, or the sheath for a blade, and somehow, in dependence, existence became bearable.
When Fate stole their parents, they still had each other.
But when Archadia stole their homeland, they lost everything.
Dalmasca stood no hope against the forces of the Empire, and yet the spirit of its people stood defiant despite the terrible odds. Even in the midst of the darkest and most treacherous of storms, there was a chance, regardless of how small - a sliver of faith that might, against all reasoning and rationality, overcome the horrors of the reality that was upon them. Reks found this sliver, this splinter, and drove it into his being, deep enough for it to find foundation, establish and ensure itself of conviction, before he took up his sword and walked out on his brother who shamelessly wept even though he had sworn not to.
Months later, hope dashed, kingdom laid forfeit for peace, they returned Reks to him.
"Be grateful, lad. Your brother should've died that night."
But Vaan found it hard to, and it only got harder every time he saw the broken, empty shell that was all he had left of Reks. Unresponsive, unseeing, unfeeling. The touch of a hand brought no comfort in warmth, the sight of a face, no recognition, the delivery of those scarlet Galbana Lilies no longer won that smile of delight and pleasure at the notion of unconditional affection.
Perhaps it might have been easier if he had died that night.
He faded, eventually, as all figments do, yet he left an impression, a burning imprint in the back of Vaan's memories, unwanted and alone beside the recollections of a kinder yesterday, and he forced them to stay there, dreaming instead of endless blue skies and the liberty of defying authority on a whim to keep the nightmares at bay.
"Someday, I'm gonna be a sky pirate."
But as ever, his dreams were only a front - a hero of war, salvation for Dalmasca - all sincere excuses to run and run and never look back.
His Purpose was lost.