Throughout the many twisting and whirling realms in the worlds, despite all their differences, they all shared two things in common.
Firstly, all the worlds flowed with a Life stream - some planets unaware of it's influences and others tied tightly in to every flow and ebb of the green river of existence.
The second common trait that linked the worlds, a trait that had saved them many times over from destruction, were the beings called Aeons. Supreme beings, gifts of the highest order, given only to those deemed worthy of keeping balance between the worlds. Those that carried Aeons, by whatever name given, were those that changed history, who acted as saviors of their planet's story.
Oh ok, fine.
There are three things all the planets have in common, the last is, well, me.
I have been reborn as many times as there have been planets. For in this cosmic play of give and take, I am the pillar on which the scales sit. If one starts to tip, I act as the weight that pushes it gently (or not so gently as need be) back in to place. Often, the fates deem that I should play not but a passing role, born in a simple form that watches the great heroes of the time bring light to our ever darkening existence. Other times, I am the vessel in which they reach their goals, but never, ever before, have I been asked to act as I have been asked to now.
One of the "heroes" of this world has attracted the attention of a god. I feel like I might have played a part in this. After all, I'm not suppose to have a son. My genetics, my looped and ever returning soul, isn't suppose to be passed on to another. It might be that the gods have taken an interest in making another one like me, another "Cid". Constantly being reborn, constantly twisting the gods carefully laid path.
Or it might just be his cocky, self-assured manner that for some reason everyone seems to be attracted to.
My time in this world had already ended three years ago. Killed by my son and his friends. The very son I was now being brought back to carry the wills of the gods against.
Well, if nothing else, the cosmos have a sick kind of humor.
I took a shaky breath, teaching my lungs how to expand again. Death had always came so easy to me - I who am as old as the Worlds themselves was very familiar with all manners of death - but forcing new life in to an old body was not something I was accustomed to.
Usually when I die I am returned to the Lifestream to await the next time I am needed, given a new form that fits whatever my new role is to be. Reconstructing an old body was rather like pulling on wet jeans, caked in mud and smelly of raw earth. I hoped this wouldn't be something I needed to repeat. Pushing the small frames of my glasses against the ridge of my nose, I looked around the haul of the airship.
So this is where you've hidden yourself away, Ffamran. Pity you could not hide from the sight of the Occuria.
The memories that came with this flesh made what I was about to do harder and easier. Harder because for the first time, my chosen had a familiar face. A face that I had once loved and while still a living man, ignorant to my true nature, I had invested such hope in him. My son. You were to be the one to stand by me as we were finally free from the Occuria's influence. Free from always returning. Free to write our own path. But you-
This is all past now. There is nothing I can do to save you from the "interest" of the gods. You chose to stand out and shine, as I once chose to and now you will find the cost of ambition is high indeed. They will force you to find the strength hidden inside yourself...or they will destroy you.
I had never been inside his ship. Of course I had seen many such ships. A passion for the skies was something that seemed to hold true in all my lives. Perhaps it was the freedom of flight. The illusion that I could travel forever in the endless blue and never have to stop to think. No one to answer to but my own sense of adventure. It never did surprise me that my son, a son of my flesh and soul, would seek the skies to find freedom from me.
As I walked through the empty hallway, I felt a tiny swell of pride to see the adjustments that had been made to the fusion tanks and steam routes; small changes that no doubt had amazing results. The work was a little sloppy and rushed around the edges but efficient. I would expect no less.
Up ahead, hidden behind the doors of the main deck, I heard a familiar rustling of footsteps. Sure and strong steps carried him around the deck of his ship with confidence. Here, my son was at home and untouchable. Hadn't he proven that time and again? It seemed Ffamran's stubborn sense of self worth wouldn't allow for the world to see a single rotation without him at the center.
If only that was the true. Alas, no sense in prolonging the inevitable.
-...-
"Fran, do be a dear and fetch me the docking papers. I would so hate for our departure to be delayed, though I do suspect the good Marquis of Bhujerba will do little to extend our time in his lovely city."
Frowning, Balthier quickly made a few adjustments to the controls in front of him.
"Ah." He muttered under his breath. "Damn coil, top Archadian craftsmanship my ass. Fran!" He called towards the hallways the lovely Viera had vanished down moments before. "Seems the compressor may need tending. I did think it was pulling a bit hard when we landed." Letting the thought trail, long delicate fingers flicked a rather thick looking switch upright. A sensor on the far left of the console flicked to life with a green blink, followed by a loud hiss of steam near the back engine.
"Ahh, bloody hell. Teach me to make deals on the run. Though I can hardly be blamed. I surely could have held out for better equipment at half the price had that damn city guard-" Noticing that the green blinking light began to flash rather demandingly, the young man felt a small smile tug at the corner of his lips. He'd never admit it out loud but he a part of him enjoyed when his ship gave him problems. Because, unlike so many less creative people, problems for Balthier meant solutions - solutions crafted and overseen by the intelligent gentleman. It wasn't an act of luck that the Strahl was a source of envy for even the most well traveled of sky goers. No, it was because of the countless hours he and Fran had poured in to every problem the vessel threw at them. Every original piece that hadn't been able to live up to the sky pirates exceptionally high standards was replaced by trail and error and old fashion hand crafted skill.
If the Archadian coil isn't up to mid-point landings, I do believe a Rozarrian model with a semi- damn, where is that woman?
"Fran!" He called again, spinning up from his chair. As his sharp features turned towards the hall, he inhaled sharply, the words dying unspoken on his lips. Dark brown eyes widened in shock and for a moment, he lost his gentlemanly composure. Whatever he was about to say was lost to the sight that stood before him. An image from the darkest pits of hell, no doubt, he thought darkly as he took a faltering step back, inching his eager fingers to the gun hanging from his hip.
"Been a long time, old man." The youth snickered with a half smile and cold, unemotional eyes. "I should have known the grave wouldn't hold the likes of you." The normal confidence in his voice was missing. Empty, his words rang hollow and chipped. With an ease that left him wounded, Balthier recalled the final battle with his - with the man before him. Clearly, he remembered approaching his fading figure, wisps of Mist eagerly pulling the dying man in to the next life. "...was there no other way?"
As if reading his thoughts, an unreadable expression crossed the old man's face, causing his glasses to slip down the ridge of his nose, a mixed look of sadness and…something else.
"Come to have another go at it, have you? What is it this time? More rubbish about Nethicite or have you found yourself a new obsession from your time in the Mists?" Balthier questioned. He cocked his head and nodded towards the short sword his father held loosely in hand.
"I'd much rather save you the trouble of drawn out ordeal. Neither of us need suffer that insanity again." In a flash, his gun was drawn and pointed… towards empty air. A look of shock spread across his face but before he could recover, he heard the sound of something rustle behind him. There was a sickening pressure against his back, impossibly cold, the pressure forced itself through his jacket and in to his skin. A familiar and strong hand gripped him from behind, holding his shoulder tightly as the blade slipped in deeper, grating through his body.
Horror, pain and disbelief played out on his youthful face in a flash, all too quickly fading to a kind of accepting smile. The ground rose to meet his trembling hands as his father, almost gently, pulled the blade free and Balthier fell forward to his knees. A familiar pair of boots filled his vision as he struggled to breath around the heat filling his lungs.
"Damn…You-you're quicker than you look, old man." Coughing, the sky pirate's vision swam with colors that even his wit lacked words for. This did not bode well.
For a long time, there was nothing but the sound of his heart, raging in his ears and the all too real feeling of thick heat rushing down his arms and pooling around his fingers. Each breath came harder than the last, each trembling movement of his lip betrayed tears that burned his eyes. Fran...where...?
"Gone for the time being, I'm afraid. Not that she could have helped you anyway."
"Damn..it, old...man. Your voice...is not the last...thing I want to...hear."
"No I suppose it isn't." Cid knelled before his son, using a gloved hand to force his face up towards his own. "Fool of a pirate. I have an important question to ask you and given your current state, I'd be quick with the answer. And," he added quickly, "now is neither the place nor time for your sarcasm. Do you know what Esper's are? Or more importantly, where they come from?"
Balthier gave a raw, guttural laugh. "Go away..staring at your face..much...worse than your ...voice.." Balthier's arms collapsed under him, no longer able to support his weakened frame. The floor, covered as it was with his own blood, quickly soaked through the front of his shirt as he lay there. With a weak but bemused expression, his eyes rested on his wrist of his pale right arm. There was a streak of rust colored blood smeared against the otherwise perfectly pressed and white cuff of his shirt sleeve. Isn't that just the way of it?
-...-
Cid watched as his son's face slipped free of his grasp. It seemed that nothing he could say to the boy, even under life and death circumstances, could strangle from him more than a passing note of seriousness. For a moment, he was half tempted to leave the boy lying in his own blood, just to see if maybe dying wouldn't amend some of his more egotistical traits. However, that wasn't in the plan.
-...-
With a tenderness that seemed wrong coming from the man who had just stabbed him in the back, Cid gathered his son up in his arms. Easily he carried his son down the hallway, his steady steps echoing off it's metal frame.
"You're going to hate me for this next part." Cid commented, his eyes fixed at the expanse of sky visible on the deck in front of him. He was answered with a soft chuckle and a whisper so soft, he almost lost the words to the wind.
"oh.. I hate..you for.. much more than..that.."
"Be that as it may, it's almost over now." He stated as he gently laid his son's body down on the exposed deck. Overhead, light gray clouds covered the afternoon sun and the scent of rain carried the promise of a light summer storm before nightfall. The calm weather and the peaceful ocean drifting beneath the docked ship seemed wrong.
Of course, it could be because I'm viewing the scene from a pool of my own blood. Balthier thought as his eyes fixed on a slow moving rain cloud. I suppose in all of this, my last regret should really be that I'm dying at all but...
Unbidden, a stream of memories ebbed at his mind's edge, soaking up in to his fading vision. Clearer than the sky before him, he could see the faces of his companions, the only real friends he had ever known. People that liked, actually liked and admired him, not because he was the Imperial Judge Ffamran or his father's son, but simply because he was Balthier. It had seemed an impossible thing, people able to see past the titles and the history. Even after he had assumed another name and put as much distance between himself and his dominating father as possible, there seemed to be no escaping the fact that, for all his own merits, for all his own thoughts and desires, he would always be haunted by his past.
"Ffamran."
..hate that name..
A warm hand rested lightly against his cold cheek. Cold despite the sun and the touch felt numb, so numb.
"Fine," the voice conceded, "be stubborn, Balthier. Try not to fight it."
Fight what? Death? I do believe you tipped the odds against me with your sword..
There was an audible sigh. "No, stubborn fool. The memories. It's important for the change. Your true nature, the sum of your life, is found in the thralls of death."
..ridiculous..
"Believe what you will. That was always your problem. You completely refuse to see a bigger picture - a destiny you couldn't forge entirely on your own one - as a possible controlling factor for you life. No, not Balthier. If you couldn't measure it, fix it, weight it, improve it, it didn't exist." Cid scoffed. "For one so young, to be so cold and so limited in your passions, to never give in to emotions-"
With you as a shining example of what giving in to one's passions could do, how could I possibly have done other than I have?
"-you're incapable of basic human closeness-"
Not true! It...was always there..
"Even now, as you lie dying, your heart is so tightly closed, you can hardly see past your own limitations."
I was always the first to acknowledge my limits, not out loud, but I never forgot them
"No, you didn't. And that son, was the biggest fault of them all. You can't see yourself for anything more than a cold, calculating pirate. Taking what you think you want and searching for a superficial freedom you can't ever gain because the one you're trying to escape is yourself." The hand moved away from his face. There was the sound of movement from beside him and he could hear the sound of steps retreating in to the distance.
Inhaling weakly, Balthier turned his head, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes.
Don't...leave.
The figure stopped and without turning, "Too little too late, my son. Espers, to answer my earlier question for you...are those souls that the gods deemed beautiful, for one reason or the other. Souls favored most. Like cherished children. But as with all parents, the gods place the highest hopes on the children they love the most. And my son, my foolish leading man, you are very loved."
Pausing, the man reached in to one of his many pockets, pulling something unseen from its folds. "A word of advice. Overcome your shortcomings, show them that their interest is deserved, show them there is more to you than your unfeeling facade; or you'll never be human again." With that, he tossed the small object over his shoulder. It landed, bounced once and came to a rest a few inches from Balthier's tear streaked face.
Through his fading vision, Balthier couldn't make out what the device before him was. There was the faint impression it was some type of crystal but between the tears and the continued blood loss it was impossible to focus his eyes. The rattling heartbeat in his ears distracted Balthier from the problem of his vision. Little doubt remained that he was being left here to die. The best he could hope for was that the old bastard hadn't thrown a explosive device at him. At least if the ship...is intact...someone else...Vann...Fran ...could..remember...Penelo
The thought wouldn't allow itself to play out. There had been too much truth to what Cid had said. Even in death, even with nothing left to lose, the proud man couldn't admit to the feelings he had locked away so deeply he wouldn't have known them for his own.
...forgive me...
The object before him caught the bright light as the sun pushed it's way free of the clouds. The dull gleam quickly grew to a blinding flash that washed over the prone form of the man, sweeping a tangible, breathable light in to his very being.
For a moment, he darkly thought, Bloody bastard is blowing up my ship. But the thought was quickly erased as a warmth folded over him, pressing against him until he felt himself growing smaller and fading away in to it.
When the light died away, nothing remained on deck. Not even the faintest trace of blood to hint that something life altering had taken place.
-...-
"Oi, Vaan, you better get up here." The young girl knelled down, staring at the object with intense blue-gray eyes. Behind her, the blond haired man walked out on desk with a look of interest. "What is it?"
A deep crease wrinkled between her eyes as she looked the object over, gently picking it up in her palm. "Its... it's an esper summon!" Blinking, she turned to Vaan and handed him the crystal-made license. "From what I can tell, it's a pretty weak one but it's definitely a summons!"
With youthful curiosity, Vaan turned the crystal over in his hand, inspecting the runes that would invoke the being within to be released. It was an almost pure white, with light shades of blue caressing the outer rims.
"Yea, it's a summon alright." He said after a moment of thought. "But what's it doing out here?" Vaan looked around, scanning the empty deck for clues. Everything seemed in order. "Huh." The crystal felt warm in his palm. It didn't emit the strong, demanding heat that Belias had, his old summons that he had given up about a year ago at Ashe's urgings. Rather, this energy felt calm and comforting and ...oddly familiar.
"Ah well." The young captain concluded. "Let's get back to wrapping things up here. We're due in Dalmasca by the end of the week."
Penelo rolled her eyes, regaining her feet as she tossed her captain a rueful smile. "Like you need to tell me! I'm the one always reminding you! We'd be halfway around Ivalice right now if I hadn't reminded you this morning!"
The young captain gave her a sheepish grin. "That's why you're my navigator! A busy man like myself can't remember all the small details!"
The pair laughed and made their way back in to the ship. Vaan carefully tucked the crystal in to his front pocket. He intended to explore this new summon as soon as he was alone, away from even Penelo.
Penelo was busy with private thoughts of her own. The runes on it left an unsettling feeling in deep inside. Troubled, but unwilling to say anything about what the crystal had etched on it. Vaan had never learned to read the ancient, magic calling language but she had and she knew exactly what it said.
Ffamran the Empty