Heeeeeeeee, another ficcy! ::grins::
Mmmm, I'm sure people don't want to hear me ramble in the A/Ns, even if I like doing it. :;sweatdrop:: So, I'll make this brief and labeled.
Disclaimer: I don't own Tales of Symphonia or any of its characters.
Spoiler Warning: Lotsa spoilers! Lotsa lotsa looooooooootsa! XD In other words, you shouldn't read it until you've beaten the game. But then again, only the first chapter has spoilers. But you can't read the other chapters unless you've read the first one. O.o (See what I mean about rambling?)
Pairing Warning: Yaoi and yuri pairings! It will eventually be Kratos/Lloyd, Mithos/Genis, Sheena/Colette, and Regal/Presea. If you don't like them (especially the Kratos/Lloyd), you really don't have to read it…
Summary: More than a thousand years has passed, and Kratos and Yuan have finally returned to Sylvarant/Tethe'alla, only to find Lloyd dead. Kratos made a wish to the Goddess Martel for a chance to re-live his life, without mistakes, without regrets, not knowing all the heroes have asked for the same. Now, they are reborn, in a new world. But, as many have said, history repeats itself…
Inspiration and explanation of title: The main inspiration is the song "Vincent", by Don McLean. The title is derived from one line in the song, "And when no hope was left in sight on that starry, starry night/ You took your life as lovers often do…" Does the fic have anything to do with the song at all? No. It just makes me think of Kratos, that's all. O.o Also, the titles are kinda, um, connected. So you read it as, "On that starry night… you gave up eternity". And the next chapter would be "On that starry night… whatever the next chapter's title is". Yes, got it? Good.
Dedication: Kukki-chan! For making me a Kratos-obsessed fangirl. XD And for RPing K/L with me. Thankies for everything, and hope you enjoy the fic!
Eh, right. On to the fic!
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…You Gave Up Eternity
He gazed at the screen, his garnet eyes transfixed, unable to bear the sight, unwilling to tear his eyes away. The fabled magitechnology lay here, at his fingertips, on this enormous planet populated by none but two men. Such a blessing, it was, to view the events upon the new world that had been Sylvarant and Tethe'alla… and such a curse. He wondered, sometimes, if it would perhaps have been better to have lived with his curiosity.
"Brooding about that world again?" a familiar voice asked. "Is it not going well?"
He did not turn, did not bother trying to see who it was. There were only the two of them here, after all. And now, even after their millennia, each saving the other multiple times, their polite dislike for one another had not diminished one bit, had never gone beyond a reluctant friendship.
"The world is doing fine. However…" He hesitated, aware of his unspoken comment. However, my precious son is dying.
The other nodded in understanding, a gesture felt rather than seen. "He is human after all, Kratos. Even with your Seraphim blood in him, he can but live the lifespan of the elves. And even elves… are not eternal."
"No. Only we are." He closed his dark crimson eyes, the images shown by the screen burned into his mind. "We… with this curse of immortality." He looked up at his companion, and his next words were bitter. "The mana has too long settled in our bodies. We could not die, even were we to ask for death. We lounge here in eternity, doing nothing but observe, while he… he accomplished so much, but would not live to see the fulfillment of his dreams. My beloved son…"
"Would you ask for death, then?" Sapphire eyes peered calmly into his. "Would you make true your own order to him not to die before you? You know that we are eternal, but not truly 'immortal'. We can be killed. Would you have us kill one another, perform a final service as friends and former comrades?"
Kratos remained silent in thought. When he spoke again, his voice was but a breath barely carried on the still air. "I am still afraid of death, Yuan. I always have been – that is what made me chose this path. I had thought… that I could finally let go, but Lloyd convinced me otherwise. 'There is no meaning in dying,' he told me – told us all. 'You can change things when you're alive.' And look… look who dies now…"
"Then live," the half-elven Seraphim said with a simple shrug. "Live and change the world. Carry on Lloyd's wishes – and Anna's. Make sure his efforts do not go to waste."
Wine-red eyes stared. "And how do you propose I go about that? Derris-Kharlan drifts on its own orbit, too far from the newly made Earth. (1) If I had stayed…" The angel sighed. "A second great mistake in this life… I should have stayed. The world would not so readily accept an angel of Cruxis, but they could learn, the same way they are doing with half-elves. And Lloyd… Lloyd would always have welcomed me." He looked away, seeming to talk more to himself than to his companion. "Lloyd, the last of my family…"
"Do you regret?"
"My life is built upon regrets. In a sense, this is… but one more…"
Yuan regarded him for a long time, a look of consideration apparent in his eyes. "Then let us go back."
A bitter laugh, cut short. "How?"
The half-elf gave the faintest hint of a mysterious smile, letting his discovery spill. "We are slowly approaching Earth. Not headed there, of course, but our orbits run close. I believe this is how the Elves left Derris-Kharlan millennia ago. If we do happen to be close enough… We could modify the escape pod system in Welgaia to transport us to Earth, and, specifically, to the Holy Grounds of Kharlan, where the Mana Tree rests."
Kratos frowned thoughtfully, running over the possibility in his mind before shaking his head. Hope that shone in his eyes moments ago turned to biting despair and surrender. "We have not the mana for that."
"We do!" his companion countered, holding out a hand and counting off a list on his fingers. "All the equipment in Welgaia still work; we could shut them down. There are three escape systems running; we need only one. These surveying instruments use up more mana than anything else; we would need them no more. And finally… there is the mana left in our own bodies, and in the land itself." He hesitated, suddenly unsure of his plan, though he had thought it over time and time again, made sure it was infallible. "We would have but one chance to succeed. If we arrive at the Mana Tree, it would sustain and revitalize us. If we fail…"
He did not need to say more. The other angel understood. "If we fail, we die." There would be no more mana to support them, nor any left in their bodies to sustain life.
"I must see Lloyd." A strange sense of urgency filled Kratos's voice. "If you are willing to take this risk, then let us go. Perhaps it is time… to face all the mistakes I have made. To face my son… and tell him that he was always right."
The azure-haired half-elf nodded impassively, echoing Kratos's words. "Then let us go."
It took not even one week to set up the escape system. The wait for Derris-Kharlan to draw closer to Earth, however, frustrated the two Seraphim for more than a month. Having already shut down all other equipment on the planet, they had no way of finding out the newest events on their native world. And yet, what was a month to those who have lived more than five thousand years?
And so they waited, ready to spring the moment their chance came.
It was the 3rd of June, in the year 1302 of the Second Age. (2)
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The 15th of July, in the year 1302 of the Second Age. Earth. The Holy Grounds of Kharlan.
The giant tree stood in the center of the clearing, its interwoven silver branches so tall as to seem like pillars for the very heavens. All those fortunate enough to view this sight were awed by its beauty. They did not know of the great tower that once resided there, built by ancient technology to reach its angel creators. They did not know of that tower's history of sacrifices, its tragedy finally ending by one brave, rag-tag band.
There was a small, neat row of graves at the base of this tree, Yggdrasill, the Tree of Life. (3) Seven they were in total, with a gap in the middle of the line, as if saving space for one more. Most of the names etched onto the stone that marked these unknown deaths were faint, leaving no more than a slight indent, an odd design or two that exhibited the carver's skill. Only two, yet unworn by the millennium the other marks suffered, could be deciphered:
Raine Sage
4507 First Age – 1289 Second Age
A wonderful teacher
A beloved sister
A dear friend
She will be missed
Genis Sage
4518 First Age – 1301 Second Age
A genius without limits
A precious brother
A treasured companion
May he find peace
Their names were strangers to the people's ears, the relieves of their faces in stone stirring only faint memories. The others had long passed out of even the most ancient recollection. Who now knew Colette Brunel, the Chosen willing to sacrifice all for the world? Who could recall Sheena Fujibayashi, the pure-hearted summoner of peace? Even the ladies did not know Zelos Wilder, the flirt hiding all the pain in the world behind his smiles. Though the Lezareno Company prospered, Regal Bryant was no more than just a name in a book of ancestries, his beloved Alicia recorded next to him by his request. Forgotten by her childhood friends even in her own time, Presea Combatir existed not even in legends.
None of them were made into song; tales even now still told only of the Ancient War, some 5000 years ago, and its great hero, Mithos. None were remembered, not even the "Angel-Child", Lloyd.
Lloyd.
Loyd Irving. Lloyd Aurion.
These names, at least, lay preserved – but only in brief sentences in the most obscure of textbooks that did not even know what he did. The "Angel-Child", they called him. No explanation was given as to why.
Currently, Lloyd lay in the grove of the Mana Tree, between the graves of his two closest friends. No tombstone would mark his passing, he knew. No one would hold him as he breathed his last. They were all gone. Such was the fate of the millennia-long life he had accepted.
Now marked by age, a white head where once sprouted glossy brown, the swordsman rested against the Tree of Life, feeling the mana flow through him, feeling it sustain him past his time. In his hands, he clutched the Eternal Sword, the blade of shimmering rainbows, the blade he had not used for more than a thousand years, the blade said to grant any wish.
He had but one.
"I summon thee…" his voice was old, soft, but still strong as his faltering grip tightened on the handle of the magical sword he could not lift, a ring on his finger. He had not married; that was the only ring he had ever worn, the Ring of the Pact, given to him by the father who gave him life and the father who raised him. "Source of Heaven, Earth, and everything in between, ruler of all… Come, Origin!" (4)
He did not know if it would work. He was no summoner. But it must… It must!
"Lloyd." The voice, seeming so far to his failing ears, made him sigh in relief. It had worked. "It has been long. What is your wish?"
Giving a futile tug on the Eternal Sword, the still crimson-clad man turned his unseeing eyes to the King of Summon Spirits. What was his wish? He had certainly thought about it often enough.
"Dad. Kratos. Let me meet Kratos again."
If spirits could shed tears, this one would. How was he to tell his heroic master that it was too late, that though the mercenary-Seraphim was coming, he would not arrive in time? How was he to deny the last wish of a pact-maker who had never broken his vow? He closed his eyes in grief, murmuring an unheard prayer to the Sword of Wishes, and to the Goddess Martel.
Goddess Martel… Eternal Sword… Grant his wish, for I am powerless to do so…
"Origin…?" Lloyd's voice floated towards the spirit, unsure, and Origin realized he had been silent for too long. The veteran swordsman could only track him by sound now.
"I am here, Lloyd. I apologize for the delay." The King of Summon Spirits hesitated. "It… shall be granted."
"Thank you." A grateful smile lifted the corners of the Angel-Child's lips.
A moment more, and Lloyd Irving was no more.
"He knew I lied…" Origin whispered, loud sounds now seeming like disrespect. "He knew as Dorr knew in Palmacosta, as all men knew in that clear moment before death. He wanted, as all men did, to see the one dearest to him… one more time…"
Bound by no more vows, the pact-maker dead, the Summon Spirit returned to the ether, mourning in silence, again biding his time in eternity.
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The 20th of July, in the year 1302 of the Second Age. An escape capsule of magitechnology heading towards Earth.
"Thank goodness…" Yuan stood at the control panel of the escape pod, checking their status. "We now have more than sufficient mana to make it to the surface; no need now for second-guessing the gravitational pull of Earth. I am sorry I miscalculated as such."
His companion nodded, deep in thought. "It was fortunate indeed that there was such a large release of mana five days ago. Else, we may have crashed the way Lloyd and his group did, so long ago, into the Fooji Mountains. But we…" He smiled wryly. "…would have made a much larger explosion."
"Yes." The blue-haired man peered at the controls. "But I wonder what could have given such a large discharge of mana… And close enough to the Great Tree, too, that it would touch us."
"I am worried."
"Yes, but there is nothing we can do until we arrive."
The rest of the way passed in silence, in nervous anticipation. They had not had news from Earth for a month and a half now. What would they find? Who was still there that remembered the dark legacy of Cruxis and its angels?
The capsule landed near the grove of the Mana Tree sometime in the late evening of that day. The two Seraphim inside were torn by a painful curiosity about the world they betrayed and protected, and a deathly, unreasonable fear.
Kratos was worse off than his companion.
"If something happened to Lloyd; if I were too late, I…" The mercenary hesitated, not wanting to accept his own words, not daring to believe otherwise.
He could feel a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Believe in him, Kratos, as you always have."
"Yes. Believe. I believe in Lloyd…"
It was a cruel trick of fate indeed to betray belief so harshly.
Holding tightly, desperately, onto a slim tendril of faith from times long gone, the auburn-haired man took tentative steps into the stone-encircled clearing where rested the Tree of Life. A figure in red caught his eyes, and, too soon, he breathed a sigh of relief, rushing over with such urgency he had never had before. But all the speed in the world could not help him now. This venture was destined to fail from the start.
"N-no!"
Yuan's head jerked up in startled bewilderment at his companion's cry. He hesitated beyond the boundary of the clearing, unsure. On the one hand, he was indefinitely worried about his friend, yet, on the other hand, it was a moment of such privacy that he dared not intrude. And who knew, perhaps he feared what he would find there.
He did not move.
It was long before Kratos exited the grove, silent, his face suddenly much older than the twenty-eight years his body had aged. He gave no explanation as he sat down on a boulder next to the other Seraphim, his expression tightly drawn, as if in pain. There were no tears evident in his eyes, but they were tinged with perhaps a bit too much crimson, ringed by perhaps slightly too-dark rouge.
Yuan did not ask. It seemed sacrilege of the somber morning hanging in the air. A leaden weight.
"Lloyd is…" A quiver shook the mercenary's normally-controlled voice, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. "Lloyd is dead."
It was not a possibility they had not considered; in fact, both of them discussed the high likelihood of that event. But not one was willing to admit to himself that the idea, that the concept of Lloyd – friend, ally, and enemy all at one point or another – could be dead.
Lloyd, dead!
Lloyd, gone…
Kratos had not wanted to say it. Without giving it words, without placing "concept" in "reality", it seemed almost as if it did not happen. He needed that confirmation of words; he had confirmed his own worst nightmare.
"I… see." The azure-haired man did not quite know what to do, what to give. Sympathy? What of that could he offer to a bond he did not understand? Supplication? To whom, to what? To grant Kratos's unspoken, impossible wish? Oh, what bitterness was here, what cruelty visited upon one who had already suffered much.
Sighing, the half-elf did the one thing he could do and wrapped his arms around the other's shoulders, sharing one moment of intimate comfort with one who was once a friend. They knew now whose immense mana allowed them to reach Earth. It brought no mirth to this irony.
"…Told him… not to die before me…"
Pushing away, the human-Seraphim struggled to his feet, stumbling back towards his son's body, shrugging off the other's aid. "I am… going to give him a proper burial…"
"Do you want me to help?" It was an offer out of politesse alone; Yuan knew well enough that the mercenary wished to be alone with his grief.
"…No." Regaining his composure, at least outwardly, Kratos disappeared again into the circle of stones.
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"Ugh…" Sky blue eyes opened hazily unto much-too-bright sunshine, to an environment much too green. One comment, thoroughly confused, slipped out. "This is not Derris-Kharlan…" (5)
It took a while for the half-elven Seraphim to regain his bearings. Now he remembered. He had left Derris-Kharlan with Kratos more than a week ago, arriving on Earth the evening before and discovering… Lloyd's death.
"Kratos?" There was no answer, and the blue-haired angel mentally cursed himself. He, a Seraphim, actually fell asleep the previous night! And, seeing no bedroll beside him and their provisions undisturbed, he knew the other had not returned. Perhaps Kratos spent the entire night with the eight heroes in the grove, those who gave their all to fulfill a dream, leaving behind no legacy. They were, after all, his only true friends, the only people he had ever loved.
What is our purpose now? The question came suddenly to Yuan's mind. They had both come to Earth to ask sanctuary of Lloyd, to join his behind-the-scenes battle against the discrimination still so glaringly apparent. But now, Lloyd was…
A soft whine alerted the half-elf to the presence of another. He turned, and his face lit in open delight at an ancient and faithful companion.
"Noishe!" Letting a rare laugh escape his throat, Yuan knelt to give the last – and furry – member of their little group a heartfelt hug and rub.
"You are still here, old friend?" He hesitated. "But… what is wrong?"
Another whine was his answer, as the Arshi (6) grabbed his sleeve and tugged, careful not to rip the fabric.
The angel peered in the direction and frowned. "You… want me to go to the Mana Tree?" An affirmative howl answered his question. "But Kratos…"
Noishe would have none of that, and gave a stronger pull.
Sighing in defeat, Yuan followed him into the grove, dragging his feet. He did not want to see his mourning friend, not just yet.
Surprisingly, he did not.
"…What?" It took the angel a moment to process this new information, and he rubbed his eyes, as a human youth would do, and peered at the Tree again. No Seraphim there, just a neat row of eight graves, one freshly dug – presumably Lloyd's.
The half-elf stepped closer, trying to read the newly-raised gravestone, his curiosity overcoming his initial inhibition. Just what did Kratos have to say about his long-lost son?
Lloyd's gravestone was not as refined as the others. It stood to reason; the younger swordsman was dwarven-trained, not the older. Yet, it was formed by magic, cut unnatural wind, shaped by summoned stone. It held a rugged quality of nature's element, a wild beauty. Words were burned on with such precision, such attention to detail that Yuan had barely believed possible. No expenses were spared, so to speak. Nothing but the best magical work of Kratos was this.
Lloyd Irving Aurion
4513 First Age – 1302 Second Age
A warrior without equal
A hero never surrendered
A dearly-loved friend
A precious, irreplaceable son
May your spirit forever shine
May your dreams of harmony ring true
May your efforts ever be fruitful
Be at peace
It would bring a tear to those who knew them.
"Kratos?" the Seraphim called tentatively. Somehow, he knew that he would receive no answer. Now he knew why Noishe was so restless. After all, the mercenary was always the Arshi's favourite owner. If he had disappeared…
"You would not find him here… Yuan."
"What?" Spinning and drawing his sword after millennia of training, the half-elf found himself face-to-face with…
"M… Martel?!"
"Yes, it is I." Indeed, standing there was the verdant-clad Goddess, serene… but sorrowful. "Not entirely the same Martel you used to travel with, but Martel all the same." Tears glimmered unshed in her gentle eyes. "The… whole group has broken, has it now? I have been restored to my true form. My 'brother' is dead, to… pay for all that he had done. You are the last, for—"
"What about Kra—"
"For Kratos… is gone… from this time."
A moment of shocked silence, then… "Gone? What… what do you mean…?"
"He has gone to join his son… as both of them wished." Finally, a tear wended down her cheek. "At last…"
Yuan was alarmed. "Kratos is dead?!" He did not know what to make of that, what to do.
The only other like him, dead!
Perhaps it was cold to think that, to worry that he was alone, but were all people not naturally selfish? But he mourned, he mourned. Kratos was his friend, though they were somewhat less than attached, and they had spent a millennium together. It somehow did not seem… real. It was as if he would wake in his bed at Derris-Kharlan any second now.
"No, not… dead… as you would put it."
"No?"
"But…" Still, Martel could not reassure him as he wished. "He is not alive either, not as you are, not even as I am."
"Then… what?" He was sick of this riddle. He wanted a straight answer, now.
"In another thousand years, he will return." A soft, sad smile flitted on the Goddess's lips. "And… as the world rolls again in turmoil, so again will the young hero Lloyd. Will you… live and watch this drama unfold again?"
"What?! Why would you…?!" The Seraphim turned away in disgust. "Martel… no, my Goddess… let me be frank on this one occasion. Why would you force them to suffer that life again? Neither Kratos nor Lloyd… nor the rest of their companions… are suffering anymore. Why would you not let them rest, as they deserve? Tell some other heroes to take up the torch!"
"And you want to join them, do you not?"
The soft-spoken question caught him by surprise. "I… no, I…"
She continued as if the interruption had never occurred. "If that is your wish, I can grant it… but it was not theirs. They – all of them, but Kratos and young Lloyd in particular – wanted nothing more than to meet again, to be with each other again. They did not want eternal rest, but a chance to try again, to correct past faults, to make it through this time with no regrets."
"With… no regrets?" Yuan could not blame them for wanting that. Yet… how could it be possible? Could every decision really be remade, every mistake corrected? With no memories of the past, guided only by their instincts and "souls", if they could be called that, who could say that they would not make the same choices? History repeated itself; it always did. Only with knowledge could one prevent it.
That knowledge, they were not going to receive. The azure-haired angel understood his Goddess's intentions, and he knew that nowhere in those intentions was she going to let them continue their lives.
Starting anew meant starting anew.
"They will find a way." A faint smile lifted the corners of the Goddess's lips as she answered, seeming to hear his silent arguments. "They always did before, whatever the situation. Have some faith in them, Yuan. They have won the Eternal Sword from Mithos. They have defeated him, the twisted once-hero. They have restored the world… and the tree of the Great Seed. Do you not see? They have done what was thought impossible!"
"But they are still the same."
Martel's head tilted in a small nod. "Yes, they are still the same. They will always be the same."
"Then what's to say the same would not occur again?!" the Seraphim demanded, forgetting, for a moment, to whom he spoke. "Their decisions would always be the same!"
The verdant head tilted again, though this time to the side. "They would make the same decisions for the same situations. But what is to say that everything would be as they were more than a thousand years ago? A remember… that not all choices were made badly. The world is whole and at peace because of what they did. They would need to win that battle again, when the time comes."
Cerulean eyes closed momentarily in thought. When they opened again, there lay a light of weary determination. "A thousand years from now, my Goddess? A thousand years, and Kratos will again start the cycle…" He looked away from her, turning his gaze back to the giant tree that stretched to the heavens, the row of graves before it marking the passing of the world's unknown saviors.
"Yes." Though Martel's voice was behind him, Yuan did not turn. "Would you like to join them?"
It was a good, tempting offer. A chance to start over again, a chance to be rid of this gift and curse of the angels. The half-elven Seraphim considered it for a long time, though there could only be one answer. "No. I will correct my mistakes with my own hands. I will wait for them, and this time, I will accomplish what Kratos and I failed at before – protect you and keep Mithos… sane."
"Then best of luck to you, Yuan." Was her tone slightly mocking? Was her voice resigned? He could not tell as he walked away.
Alone in the meadow surrounding the Tree of Life was the green-haired Goddess. Ten had come to her, and only one walked away alive. Eight graves marked there the nine deaths; Kratos left no body to bury, no evidence of existence… safe a curled-up feather, delicate in its sapphire shimmer as a bluebird's fledge.
The night before, the Seraphim had come, trembling in his silence, to the body of his only son. The night of a new moon it was, and the stars could not cast their lights beyond the branches of the Tree Yggdrasill. There was no glow from the Tree; the nature itself rendered the mercenary's adornments into mourning black. In the shadows, his fiery hair lay calm, could not catch the blaze of light. No tears glimmered; there was not enough light. The dead of night reigned; the dead did not wake.
A pact had been made, the last pact of this era, between angel and Goddess. A humble beseeching, a first and last lapse of pride, made for the most treasured one. A grave built before the silent, emerald watcher, the last contribution from an ancient hero.
Kratos bowed his head. "Let me join him."
A soft blue feather, of angel wings and indigo sky, made his grave.
Slowly, it drifted, until it touched the earth in front of Lloyd's resting place. Lloyd Irving, Lloyd Aurion. No flowers bloomed for him; the earth was still freshly-dug. What marked his passing was, instead, a drop of an angel's life.
"It shall be granted."
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Notes:
1) I'm assuming the world composed of Sylvarant and Tethe'alla was, indeed, Earth. It looked like Earth…
2) Well… The dates are completely made up. ; But I assumed that they would probably start a "second age" shortly after Mithos was defeated. Aaaand, I'm too lazy to make up month names, and I believe it would be better for everyone to judge the time if I just used normal dates.
3) Yes… My friend and I finally decided that the tree probably got named Yggdrasill, firstly as a tribute to Mithos, and secondly because "Yggdrasill" really is the name of the "Tree of Life" in Norse mythology, upon which many of the names were based.
4) I know those are slightly different from the words that Sheena use to summon Origin, and I know Lloyd isn't a summoner, but… Well, he is the one with the pact, not Sheena, hai? And I think of this as more of a formal call to Origin, not an actual summon.
5) I know they usually don't sleep, but I'm assuming even the Seraphim can sleep… I mean, they can eat, right? And even if they don't need sleep, they still do need to rest once in a while, I think…
6) I believe the Elven children said that Noishe's dog-form was called an "Arshi", hai…? I might have remembered wrong…
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Let me just say first of all that if it's a flame because of the Kratos/Lloyd pairing, you're not the first one, and you're probably not going to be very original either. If it's comments, criticism, or even ::gasps:: compliments, it's very welcome indeed.