I don't own Tales of Symphonia
As it was not supposed to be
It should had been a happy event; a perfect denouement to the nine difficult but no less beautiful months in which his wife was pregnant with their first child.
But it came out horribly wrong.
His wife died at childbirth, her blood staining the mattress and sheets, gently splattering the floor as it fell from between her legs. Her face was pale for blood loss and exhaustion, her eyes closing slowly, giving it to the comfortable unconsciousness of death.
He was the one who got to hold the child first, because her wife was far too weak and the midwife gave the child to him while she attended the dying woman in the bed.
He held the little baby, discovering it to be a girl, a beautiful one. She had blonde hair, just like his, and her eyes, full with tears, were blue and perfect, just like his wife's. Her soft skin was pinkish and dumpy, adorable.
He smiled at the little girl, the worry for his wife being forgotten for a negligible instant at the sight of such flawless being. He looked at his wife, still with the happy smile lighting up his face for a moment.
Then his wife voice, cracked and lowed, made him stop. She was asking to see her daughter and he took the child to her immediately, shoving the uneasy midwife to the side.
He brought the child closer to her face, and with weak arms she took her and snuggled her into her chest, that was moving slower with every second.
"She's beautiful" his wife said as a sigh. She looked at the child with sparkling eyes for a moment and the noted something odd. "What's this?" she asked, taking the right hand of her daughter and opening the firm grasp of the child.
There was jewel in her hand, bright and red.
The midwife gasped, murmured a prayer and said something about calling the priest before running out of the room, like her skills weren't needed anymore.
"My daughter…" his wife said with a weary voice.
And he knew what she meant when his wife searched for his eyes with worry. He could read it all over her face, the concern bathing her with more clarity than her blood. He didn't know what to say to her, he didn't know what to say to himself.
He kissed his wife forehead, trying t mask his own disturbance and put an arm around the two of them, embracing his wife and daughter, calming the cry of the last.
Then the priest and his mother, Phaidra, came into the room guided by the midwife. The priest started to mutter something, probably a prayer, and Phaidra looked at them with an unreadable expression. And then she said something he wasn't expecting, not from her.
"The blood hasn't stopped."
It hadn't. It was still coming out of his wife like a deadly cascade, but she didn't seem to matter.
"My daughter…" she said again, holding her baby furiously against her, like she could be taken away at any moment. Probably it felt like she wasn't hers anymore "My daughter is the Chosen of Mana."
There was fatality in her words, not pride nor joy.
He didn't say anything, unsure of what he could say. He was being hit by a torrent of emotions and he couldn't bring himself to pick one and act guided for it, he couldn't figure out what do or say: his wife was dying and no one, not even he, was doing something about it; and his daughter, his first and probably last daughter was the Chosen One.
And his little world, the little fairy tale he and his wife had been living for two years now, shattered before his eyes. His wife was leaving the land of the living and his daughter was not his to love but the world's to take.
There was something as a scream coming out of his wife's throat, but it didn't make it out of her. She lost consciousness and he quickly took the baby girl out of her arms, burying her now into his chest.
He was still unsure of what to do. No one seemed to care about the fate of his wife as her chest slowly became utterly still, no one seemed to care about him, with his face white and his eyes watering and his arms shaking.
All that mattered was the baby and the crystal in her hand.
He didn't know what to do, how to react because this was supposed to be a happy outcome, this was supposed to be his happy ever after.
This wasn't supposed to be like this.
But his wife was dead, and with the little, bright and red gem in her hand, so was his daughter.
Colette didn't ask about his mother. When she was little, four years old or so, he was prepare for the questions, about why the other children in the village had a mom and why she had a father and a grandmother but no mom; about the little framed painting of a beautiful woman over the boudoir and the flower he put there every so often.
But inquires never came. Sometimes he was grateful for that, for not having to tell her that her mother died at childbirth, not wanting to put more weight over the young girl's shoulder, which even then had the bad habit of taking too much responsibility from what happened around her.
Sometimes he was angry, and Frank didn't exactly know who he was angry with; because, why his little girl wouldn't want to learn about her mother? Why should she seem so disinterested about the matter? Why shouldn't she ask?
Maybe it was because it wasn't that weird for her to don't have a mother. Her friend's didn't have a mother as well, Lloyd had a dad that was not even his own blood and Genis had a big sister, so probably not having a mom didn't seem that strange at the girl's eyes.
Still he'd had expect some questioning, but it never came, except for one time he found her looking at the painting with big eyes and frowned eyebrows.
"What's her name?" she asked, not glaring at him.
"Colette, just like you" he said with his mouth dry, preparing himself for the next question, but there wasn't any.
His daughter just stayed there, watching at the painting of her mother with a very concentrated expression.
She didn't ask, she never did, and she just didn't appear to care. There was a horrible feeling sinking in his chest every time he found her watching at the painting but not wanting to know anything else, because it wasn't supposed to be like this.
Colette wasn't supposed to look at her mother's face like it was foreign and out of place. She was supposed to ask questions, to want to know and want to have a mother too, not to believe it wasn't that weird to don't have one.
One time, however, when Colette reached twelve he found her watching at the painting again, but this time her frowned eyebrows had disappeared and in its place was a calm and solemn expression. For a moment she looked way older than twelve, but he was accustomed to her appearing older than she was.
"I pray for her" Colette said suddenly, not glancing towards him just like when she was four. "I pray for her to rest well, and I talk to her. I tell her about the things I do every day, about how you and grandma are." Her voice is sweet and childlike, but her words are heavy and sober: like a sad song sung by a bird at dawn. "Lloyd says that's what he does with his mom, that it helps, that it…"
She didn't continued, stumbling on her own words; she just looked at the framed painting not reveling much in her face.
There was a weight leaving his soul as he heard her talk, but there was also a stinging pain creeping into him: because Colette did care, Colette did love her mother even if she never knew her, and he was there thinking there was something wrong with his child because of her lack of showed interest.
"I've always wanted to know how she was" Colette confessed after a moment, now looking at him, biting her lower lip "But…I didn't ask because I didn't want to bother you, or make you sad" she smiled at him, with that easy and peaceful and soothing smile of hers.
He gave in to the impulse and ran towards her, holding her in his arms as dearly as the day she was born, as she was about to disappeared at any moment.
He felt her smiling against his chest.
"I'm sorry…I shouldn't have say that."
For a moment he didn't know why she said that, but then realized he was crying, very tenderly and quietly.
Frank didn't stop crying, he was unable to hold back. He could only think that this wasn't supposed to be like that, that his daughter wasn't supposed to comfort him but the other way around.
When Colette left alongside her teacher and the sad-looking mercenary, he couldn't bring himself to think that this wasn't supposed to be.
He didn't say nothing but comfort and support words because his daughter had already enough burdens to carry with her in that journey, and he didn't want to be another one. He was never sure if it was a mistake, to let her go without saying how much he was going to miss her, how worry he was, how heartbreaking was to see her go to likely don't come back.
He didn't know if his daughter needed that for him, for him to be a parent and not the man who raised the Chosen of Mana. He wanted to believe she didn't need it that much, because she was strong and she didn't like people worrying over her, and she…
She was his daughter, and as he said goodbye holding back his tears and his love words, he thought if this was really supposed to be like this, if this was really the only way.
One thing was clear on his mind, though, at the moment he saw her pretty silhouette and her golden hair disappearing down the road: He wasn't supposed to let her go.
This day wasn't supposed to came. Both of them knew it as their glances found each other across the mirror.
But there they were, because destiny had showed itself inferior to the enormous faith, love and perseverance of some lost people, his daughter among them.
She smiled at him, so widely and brightly that the light coming from the window seemed dull at its side. She looked so happy and so beautiful.
He didn't remember with certainty when was the last time he saw her so genuinely happy. As she was growing up and learning more about the journey she had been born to conquer, she didn't was as happy as she wanted it to make it look.
But now she was happy, so happy and cheerful, beaming in her simple white dress, making his heart jump, because he was so happy too, for her, for them.
"Are you ready?" he asked, as the girl finally stopped rearranging her veil, satisfied at last with how it looked.
She nodded and smiled at him, walking carefully at his encounter, taking the gown with her gloved hands to raise it just a bit in order of not trip over with it. The little heels she was using made her slightly taller, slightly louder as he walked and extra carefully with her steps.
He took her hand, not wanting to see her fall. He helped her at the stairs of their house and opened the door for her. Just outside was Genis, wearing a simple but elegant blue suit.
The boy smiled widely at the sight of his friend, saying how beautiful she looked and how fortunate Lloyd was.
Frank believed everyone was very fortunate that day.
The wedding was going to take place at the Temple of The Oracle. At first he didn't like the choice, because in that places was in with the suffering of his daughter had started, but they said it was also where they met the Summon Spirit of Heart, and because they were uniting their hearts it was a perfect place.
He agreed then. He was going to agree anyway, without need of a reason for the choice, because it was something his daughter wished.
Genis escorted them to the temple, because in the way they could meet some monsters and Colette was not going to fight, not in her wedding day.
Colette and Genis talked cheerfully on their way to the temple, and he watched them talk with content silence. He saw his daughter laugh and smile and trip and it felt warm in his heart to see her.
They arrived. The ceremony was being held at the higher place of the temple, there where Colette received the oracle and there where they met the spirit. It was kind of symbolic, he supposed, to start their live together in the place that torn them apart.
There weren't that much people in the ceremony. Some people of the town, his mother, the companions of his daughter and some friends they made along the way.
In front of the altar was Lloyd, wearing white and red, and looking nervous but happy as he waited and Dirk told him to stand straighter.
There had been some arguing about who was going to marry them but in the end the Chosen of Tethe'alla seemed the better qualified for the job because 'Who else is worthy of marrying a chosen than another chosen' according to Zelos own words.
Frank took his daughter to the altar, smiled at her and at Lloyd and then went to sit in the front row, besides Dirk.
He watched the ceremony in silence, listening sometimes at the occasional mutters of his daughter friends: Rain saying both of them had grow up so much, Genis saying that of course he wasn't crying, Sheena murmuring Zelos was taking something seriously for the first time in his life…
He watched them kiss, carefully, shyly and innocently in front of the people who loved them.
He watched them with a smile on his face, thinking about his wife and how much she would had love to be here. He thought, reluctantly, about how it wasn't supposed to be like this, because Colette was dead the day she was born.
But she had risen for her metaphoric tomb and now was walking among the living.
It was not supposed to be like that, but he was so happy and thankful it was.
I'm really happy with how this turned out, I think I wrote what I was aiming for and it feels good.
I deliberately ignored some facts like the mana lineage stuff because 1) the story wouldn't work that well and 2) I really don't remember what was it all about and 3) fanfics.
I think it would be interesting to explore the relatioship Colette has with his father because of feels. Also what the hell with Colette's mom, it's never mentioned and the chosens aren't born in cabbages.
I wanted to say more but it's 1 am and i don't think clearly, so I'm stopping now.
I hope you've enjoyed reading as much I enjoyed writting. Thanks for reading every comment is apreciated.