Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The song is Fireflies by Faith Hill.
Author's Note: This piece is a little weird but that is entirely my fault because I wanted to write something with this song and ToS happens to by my fixation at the moment.
I saw Fast Five tonight. It was a fantastic movie. Totally looking forward to having a Fast and the Furious movie marathon soon.
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I think we dream so we don't have to be apart so long. If we're in each other's dreams, we can play together all night. ~Bill Watterson,Calvin & Hobbes
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Before you met me I was a fairy princess
I caught frogs and called them prince
And made myself a queen
They used to call her a summoner. She was the Chief of Mizuho, one of the heroes of the world, or so they called her. She'd once been able to call upon creatures powerful enough to shake the very foundations of the earth, able to control magic arts long thought dead and gone.
But that was a long time ago.
The children of her home village—she can't say native because she was found in the nearby forest, wandering and crying—think little of her now. They think of her as another aging woman of Mizuho. She doesn't have the heart to tell them how very wrong they were.
Of how she'd seen things they only dreamed of—or had nightmares about. Of how, once, she had not known of maps with the cities of Luin and New Palmacosta on them, of how she'd grown up hearing stories of the moon called Sylvarant.
And before you knew me I'd traveled 'round the world
And I slept in castles
And fell in love
Because I was taught to dream
She can still walk through Zelos' mansion blindfolded if she had to. Sometimes, she dreams that she's back there, waking to the smell of burning bacon and fresh coffee and a sheepish, "Sorry, darling."
She can still remember the precise shade of Zelos' eyes—pale pale blue like ice in the sun—and the exact pitch of his voice. She can still remember the way his arms would settle comfortably around her waist, whether it be when they were walking through town or lying in their bed.
She can still feel the ache of his betrayal, even now, even though it's been so long since she forgave him. It's there, like a stain on her heart, reminding her just what Zelos was capable of if pushed into a corner. She can still remember the feel of his hand in hers, his long pianist fingers tracing doodles on the back of her hand. She still remembers how his wings felt beneath her hand, warm and soft and almost crystalline, and the way they fluttered involuntarily when she followed the veins all the way to the base near his shoulder blades.
More than once, wanderlust has nipped at her. She used to travel more often, when she was younger, but now…things had changed. She wanted to see Iselia's forests again, and the ocean. She wanted to feel the hustle and bustle of Meltokio and feel Time pressing down on her in Asgard. Wanted to see the white world of Flanoir.
But, if she were to travel again, it would be with all of them. Lloyd, trusting and intuitive whose courage was contagious. Colette, who had bravery of a different sort and was stronger than she appeared. Genis, bright and protective and so loyal. Raine, with her suspicion and her sometimes surprising kindness. Presea, awkward and quiet swirled in with ferocity. Regal, patience and guilt and sorrow. Even Kratos, double agent several times over and lost in time, who had quietly supported her and inspired the same confidence that his son did.
And Zelos, who was brightdark and bittersweet. Yes, she missed him the most.
I found mayonnaise bottles and poked holes on top
To capture Tinkerbell
And they were just fireflies to the untrained eye
But I could always tell
"You know what I hate about the city?" She'd asked as they walked back home from one of many dinner parties.
Zelos had glanced at her. "What?"
"There's no fireflies."
"I know what they are, but I can't say I've ever seen one. At least, one not in a picture."
"Ya know, they say that fireflies are Efreet's way of keeping an eye on the world."
"I've never heard that."
She'd shrugged. "That's what I was always told as a kid."
"Mizuho has strange stories." Zelos had said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
"Your stories are weird too." Sheena had pointed out. "Honestly, a cindergirl who has a magic grandmother—"
"Godmother." Zelos corrected.
"Magic godmother and she gets shoes made of glass so she can go to a ball where she falls in love with a prince who she's only just met? It's ridiculous."
Zelos had smirked a little. "So…safe to say you don't believe in love at first sight?"
The look on her face was all he needed for an answer and it had made him laugh. "I thought all girls believed in that."
She'd smiled. "Well, you thought wrong, didn't you?"
'Cause I believe in fairytales Now before I grew up I saw you on a cloud
And dreamer's dreams
Like bedsheet sails
And I believe in Peter Pan
And miracles, anything I can to get by
And fireflies
And I could bless myself in your name
And pat you on your wings
Anna had grown up hearing of angels. She could dimly remember the paintings decorating the pages of the books in Luin's chapel. She heard the prayers in the ranch, heard them every night and every day.
Anna had stopped believing in Martel and her angels.
Now, seeing the man before her, she thinks she might be willing to believe again. He is not a classically handsome man. His skin is browned from long hours in the sun and his sorrows are written on his face. He is a hard man, powerfully built if a little short, who moved with the potential for violence.
But none of this is what catches her attention, nor what makes her want to believe once again in angels and the Goddess who had abandoned her and the other prisoners. It is the pale blue feathered appendages that spring from his shoulder blades. They are sharp-edged and remind her almost of ice. The color is that of Luin's lake, roiling the way it did just before the storm.
And before I grew up I heard you whisper so loud
Well, life is hard and so is love
Child, believe in all these things
He was a kinder man than she had first thought. But he became a little snarly when she got 'pig-headed and stupid' as he called it.
When she asked him for his name, his eyes—a startling brown-tinted-red—had darted to look at her. He hadn't said anything for a moment before replying quietly, "Kratos. Kratos Aurion."
Anna's first thought is that it sounded like one of those sturdy names that rolled off the tongue and that belongs in legends or in history books.
She had no idea how very right she was.
It was difficult to adjust to life outside the ranch, the distinct lack of constant fear and the dank darkness. There are certainly no daily and nightly prayers here. The sky above her—had it always been so very wide?—and dewy grass beneath her feet and fields that seemed to stretch on until forever. She had forgotten just how lovely the world was.
Kratos was patient with her, helping her relearn things like reading and interacting with people—it isn't until she knows him better that she finds the latter so ironic.
"Do you ever feel like there's so much for you to learn that it doesn't seem like it will ever end? That you'll live your entire life learning?"
He had been brushing that enormous 'dog' of his—Anna refused to believe that that was what it was. She doesn't remember very much of her life before the ranch, but she remembers that dogs are not supposed to be the size of a small horse and be silver and pale green—when she asked that one night.
His hands hadn't stopped in their movements and the dog's—Noishe, he was called—tail kept going tic-tok, tic-tok. "Yes, I do. And it has been my experience that life is very much about learning."
"Your experience?" Anna had scoffed initially—Kratos didn't look a day over twenty-eight—but then she remembered blue wings and she wonders how angels keep track of time. "Do the things you have to learn ever pile up on you?"
Kratos simply looked at her for a long time. Finally, he answered, "They haven't in a while, but I remember how it felt."
"Not real good, right?"
"Not at all."
"How'd you get through it?"
He remembers midnight conversations and laughing blue eyes. "I find company helps the most."
Anna had grinned. "Well, it's a great thing I've got you then."
I found mayonnaise bottles and poked holes on top
To capture Tinkerbell
And they were just fireflies to the untrained eye
But I could always tell
It was the middle of deep summer, the nights warm and the days humid. She took a deep breath, still not quite believing that she was free, despite the fact that she'd been out of the ranch for nearly eight months already.
"Y'know, it's easy to forget a lot of things when you're inside a place like that." She doesn't speak very loudly. She's learned by now that Kratos had extraordinarily sensitive hearing.
"Are you referring to something specific?" Kratos asked, arms full of firewood.
"Fireflies. We called them light bugs in Luin. They used to hover over the lake and it'd be the prettiest sight you ever saw."
"We never had those where I grew up."
"Really? Why?"
"Too cold, I think."
"It had to get warm sometime."
"Never for very long. And when it wasn't cold, it was raining."
"Sounds miserable."
Kratos began to arrange the firewood in a circle. "It wasn't so bad."
"Cold and wet? It couldn't have been very fun to be outside."
"I suppose not." She heard the slightest of pauses, of hesitations, before he continued. "I was not the most…outgoing…of children. I preferred to stay inside, with my books."
Anna looked him over. He didn't look like the bookish type, never had. "You?"
Correctly guessing her thoughts, Kratos shrugged, perhaps a little self-consciously. "People change."
Cause I believe in fairytales And fireflies
And dreamer's dreams
Like bedsheet sails
And I believe in Peter Pan
And miracles, anything I can to get by
And fireflies…
It's like something out of a dream, a dream Anna had never known she'd wanted. This place isn't permanent, but she wants it to be. It was abandoned years and years ago, but the wood is sturdy and it's far away enough from civilization that they're usually not bothered. This can't last—won't last, she knows—but she's willing to take what she can get.
Her son—it's such a strange combination of words because that means that she's a mother and she had never once pictured herself as the maternal type—is tugging at her hand. "You have to see this." He'll say constantly because Lloyd is all childish fascination with his father's respect for all things.
"What are you thinking?" Kratos' voice is quiet and familiar near her shoulder.
"I'm thinking that I'm damn lucky."
"Really." Kratos knows that Anna, of all people, should have some room for complaining. She'd lost a decade of her life in that ranch and even now, she wasn't entirely free. The Exsphere on her left hand, as blue as the skies above them, tied her to the ranches, a physical reminder that, for now, she couldn't be rid of.
"Well, that, and what were we thinking when we wanted a child."
Kratos smiled a little. "The way I remember it, that wasn't exactly a planned thing."
Anna watched as Noishe nipped playfully at Lloyd. The two were inseparable. "Ah. That explains a lot."
He chuckled before sobering. "Last night, he asked me when he could have wings of his own."
Anna froze, understanding the tension in Kratos' shoulders about the matter. She doesn't care that Kratos is an angel because that's the way he found her and she can't really imagine him a different way. But Lloyd—her, no, their son—that was something entirely different because getting wings means becoming an angel and Anna doesn't ever want to see that happen. Not to her boy.
"What did you say?"
"I told him he was too young."
"So the standard evasion then."
"Mm."
"Do you think…I mean, being the son of an angel…do you think he ever dreams of flying?"
Kratos seemed surprised by the question. It was a strange concept to him—not the dreaming, but rather, the subject matter—because he didn't like flying. He liked his feet firmly where they belonged, on the ground. (Yuan used to make fun of him for it, used to grin and tease and hover inches above his head to annoy him because flying was something that came naturally to him)
"Perhaps."
Like Anna dreamed of freedom and firefly reflections on a lake. Like Kratos dreamed of the world he remembered, the one he'd grown up in, and of the bright child who stared up at him with his eyes. Perhaps dreaming of flying wasn't so bad after all.
Before you met me I was a fairy princess
I caught frogs and called them prince
And made myself a queen
And before you knew me I'd traveled 'round the world
And I slept in castles
And fell in love
Because I was taught to dream…