"Liquid Karma" - by Allora Atwater
A/N: Wow! Been along time since I've seen the likes of ff.net! Even then I usually lean towards the FF8 section, but this time, I wanted to try something different. Give it a chance, will ya? This is set 18 years after the original storyline, and be patient - the action will build up over time! Please R&R!
Disclaimer: Don't own FF6, just using it for my story. However, Cadence, Ryland, and all other original character belong solely to ME!
***
I must've been about six years old when I first heard of my father's dishonorable legacy. The people of Kohlingen were always smiling politely when he passed, my small hand clasped in his much larger one as we made our way through the streets. He would return the gesture with equal respect every time, and every time his back was turned, I'd hear the whipsers. I'll bet he heard them as well, but was disciplined enough to ignore their rude remarks.
"...heard he thieves for a livin'!"
"... nice young girl, Rachel... all his fault..."
"...poor little girl... her and Celes... too good to be hangin' around that..."
Whenever I'd turn my head to contradict them, to tell them that my father was not a thief, and that my mother and I were quite happy living under the roof he provided, he'd gently tug my hand and turn my gaze forward. He told me it wasn't polite to eavesdrop on others' personal business, and that I should tend to my own affairs before I made a fool of myself.
"It's not good to doubt the intentions of others," he began one morning as we made our Sunday trip to the general store. "I once lost faith in someone I loved, and almost ended up losing her. Always assume that people are trustworthy, unless they give you reason to believe otherwise."
"But Daddy," I protested, struggling to match his swift stride along the cobblestone street. "Do you hear what they say?"
"Yes." he responded quietly, shifting his gaze to the overcast sky. "And I've been hearing it all my life."
"It's not true though." I shook my head vigorously. "They don't know nothin'."
"Don't know anything, you mean," he corrected, pinching my nose when I drew a long, dramatic sigh. I snorted with indignance, and he chuckled. After a few paces, he sobered up again. "You're right sweetie, it's not true. I don't steal things that belong to other people, I claim the treasures that belong to no one and make them my own."
"So why do people say those mean things about you then?"
A pensive expression shadowed his face as I craned my neck to look at him. His stature was not particularly tall or commanding, but towered above my meek frame. Father never lied to me about anything, nor did he ever keep the truth from me or my mother. He pulled me off to the side, kneeling down before me and grasping my arms firmly.
"Sweetie, always remember that people who say things that aren't true are just ignorant. They have nothing better to do than make up stories about events that never happened, and warp others' images to save face for themselves. They don't understand my lifestyle and why I choose to live the way I do. In turn, we don't really understand their background and what causes them to slander others so shamelessly." He stood back up, releasing his sweaty palms and letting me walk of my own accord. "I guess the main thing to remember is to treat others the way you want to be treated."
His words, so selfless and compassionate, struck a chord deep within me that day, in spite of my tender age and budding intellect. My father was not a man of exceptional intelligence, but his sense of justice outlived any of his shortcomings, to which I found none, should I have looked. He was a wonderful human being, and the only person who loved him as much as I did, was my mother. Looking back, I realized how deserving he was of such love and loyalty. Never once did he take his family for granted, and he kept every promise he had the sense to make.
Never would I know what it was like to bask his presence again.
***
"You alright?" he rasped, offering a comforting hand to my numbed skin. His flesh against mine sent chills down my back, the sign of a body long too chaste for its own good. He seemed to notice my discomfort, being able to read me like an open book, and withdrew his digits awkwardly. I sighed heavily, disappointed in myself for not welcoming touch. It had been a long time since I'd felt human contact. I desperately wanted to reach out and cling to him like an affrightened child, to open the dam of my swelling emotions and pour my soul's woes to him. But I knew he had lost just as much, if not more, and could be of little comfort to me. He sat down next to me, slowly, as if in a trance. I pulled my knees up to my chest, hugging them with all my might.
"No," I replied softly. "I'm not alright. I won't be alright for a long time. How 'bout you?"
His fingers raked back dark tresses, a startling contrast to their usual green. Both of us had to alter our identities since departing from Figaro, and his change was far more drastic than mine. Had I not been so tormented, I would've taken notice to the way his rich brown locks accentuated his green eyes.
"Not really." he sighed, leaning back in the grass, stretching his arms above his head. "I don't like this."
"Neither do I," I scoffed, suddenly feeling spiteful towards him, towards life. "But I'm not going to complain about it."
"You already have," he smiled lightly, having inherited his mother's warm heart. "But that's not the point. In a matter of days, we've lost everything that's ever meant anything to us Cadence. We have no family, we have no place to call home, we have no one who would accept us anywhere. All we have right now is..." He stopped, growing apprehensive.
"Each other." I finished for him, in a way only I had ever been able to do. Ryland Figaro tended to keep to himself, his mother's modesty and sense of self wearing off on him at an early age. I guess I was more like my father; adventurous, outgoing, with a deep alligence to those I loved. I had been told as young as eight that I had a face rivaling my mother's, with my father's mischievous smirk. I was the perfect blend of Locke and Celes.
The bottoms of my jeans were frayed from days upon days of travel on foot, and I rolled them up to keep them from catching on anything out in the woods. Bare calves exposed, I laid back in the grass next to Ryland, heaving a sigh of disdain. His head lolled to the side and he eyed me critically. Besides being just and humane, Ryland was also a serious pain in the ass. He had long denied his heritage, the blood of the Espers that coursed through his veins, as well as the blood of royalty. He had chosen a different path for himself, not as the crown prince of Figaro, but as nothing more than a juvenile delinquent and a thorn in his parents' side.
I knew differently of course, but I chose not to acknowledge my feelings of compassion and committment towards him. The last time I had the nerve to love someone, both of those someones were ripped away from me. Hot tears burned my cheeks and I rolled onto my side, wanting to forget. I felt Ryland's arms heft my shaking frame into an awkward sitting position, calmly brushing the tears from my face as soon as they fell. I cried, and cried, and cried anew, mournful sobs robbing me of rational thought.
"Daddy always said to treat others the way you want to be treated," I whimpered miserably, my strangled voice muffled by Ryland's clothing. "I've always been good to everyone..."
***
Really, it had all come to light last summer, the June of my fifteenth year. I had been working for the owner of the arsenal, who I'd known since I was old enough to trace back my memories. The sun effulged radiantly in the equally bright sky, making my usual tasks far more laborous as I struggled to gather a pile of scrap metal into a plastic container. My skin was rich with a toasted almond tan, my upper arms boasting an impressive amount of muscle for my ripe age. I was proud to say that I could do any job just as well, if not better, than the finest men in Kohlingen. Not that there were many, to my dismay. I'd grown to enjoy the company of the male gender, finding them refreshingly less critical than those of my own. However, most of the men were serving in the Imperial army, and were on call seven out of twelve moons. Kohlingen was crawling with busybodies, church hens, and old folks, making it a boring, uneventful little hole-in-the-wall.
I blew away the strands of my light brown hair, settling the container on my knee as I leaned against the crotchety old doorframe and wiped the beading sweat from my brow. The smell of coal and leather wafted through the vent as I used my heel to kick the door closed behind me. Grunting boyishly, I hefted the iron and - was it platinum? sure was nice - on the wooden counter along with the rest of the scraps I'd transported that afternoon. Like every other day, I'd spent my summer outside doing odd jobs for Mr. Alper. He didn't really need the help, and the pay was fairly skimpy, but Daddy encouraged me to take on more responsibilites and help out financially around the house. So, being the generous old man he was, Alper worked out a business deal with my father, and I was basically the resident gopher from 6 in the morning to 1 in the afternoon.
"Mr. Alper!" I called out as I strolled through the door, making my way behind the counter to accompany my boss. Expecting to hear his voice, I was a little surprised to be greeted by the presence of an Imperial general instead. I halted in my tracks, tensed up, and clenched my fists. Mother always told me, along with the obligatory cautions of strangers and crossing the street, that I should never trust a man in Imperial armor. I reached for a rag under the counter, never taking my eyes off the man.
"Can I help you?" I asked warily, wiping my hands clean of ash and grease. Though his eyes were shielded by the blond hair that fell in front of them, I could tell he was giving me an appraising stare, and it made my skin crawl uneasily.
"No." he replied tersely, surveying the store. It wasn't much of a place - wooden panels and dull crimson rugs, flashing displays of metallic weaponry lacing the hollow walls - but I'd grown accustomed to the weathered atmosphere and rugged environment.
"O-okay," I murmured, impatience tingling on the outer edges of my voice. "Well, just let me know if there's anything I can get for you. I'm not sure where Alper is, but he should be back soon."
"I've already spoken to Mr. Alper." Came his harsh reply. I focused on my hands, hot with shame at being treated in such a manner. I guessed that all soldiers acted so rudely, by the nature of their training. Mother used to be an Imperial soldier, and she told me that they were hardened to the horrors of the world.
Alper came back sure enough, with a bundle tucked neatly under his arm. It wasn't my business to question the contents, nor was it my primary concern. All I could note was the strange, predatory way the soldier was staring at me. With a simple gesture, Alper dismissed me from my shift, and I left silently through the back door, resisting the urge to see if the solider's gaze was still on me. I didn't need to look; I could feel his penetrating glower as I scurried away. I shook off the chills as best I could, a surprisingly difficult task in such a blazing heat.
I made my way home through the winding avenues, hands clasped behind my back innocently as I traipsed along. Father said I was the pride and joy of the town, Kohlingen's budding young blossom. I'd always laugh it off, hiding a blush with my own condemning modesty. Despite my fervent denial, I could see the truth behind his words wherever I went; housewives would wave kindly to me as I passed by, the elderly tipping their hats in an old-fashioned manner. I was on a first name basis with practically everyone, and I was always welcomed with open arms and radiant smiles. I grew up surrounded with love and attention; I had a town that cared for me as much as I cared for it.
I hopped Mrs. Rosary's fence, careful not to disturb her careful bed of lilacs, and jumped into my own backyard. I was awarded with the nostalgic scent of cherry bark and clean laundry, and I pulled off my ripped-up old jeans as I walked in the back door.
"Mo-om, I'm home!" I called out, knocking over a planter with my elbow as I fought to remove my shirt. It was getting a little too tight for me apparently, but the task was accomplished.
"Good lord, Cadence Miranda Cole," my mother declared as she walked into the family room, seeing me in all my mismatched undergarment glory. She sounded more exasperated than apalled, being used to my dislike of layered clothing.
"Relax mom," I sighed, unabashedly walking towards her, intending to assist her with the laundry. "Here, let me hang these on the line for you."
"Oh no you don't Cadence," she warned, emphasizing her disapproval. "You are not going outside wearing nothing but your underwear."
"Mother," I started, already knowing I'd lose the battle. "You know everyone in this town as well as I do, and they've seen me waddle around in nothing but diapers during my early years. And don't give me that temptation nonsense... the only boy my own age I've ever talked to is Ryland." In fact, Ryland was the only peer I'd ever known... I never talked to kids my own age, finding them petty and frivolous. The crown prince of Figaro wasn't much to write home about, but at least he was more of a gentlemen than most boys I'd seen around Kohlingen. Mom shook her head and pulled a semi-dry tunic from the laundry basket. "At least put this on before your father gets home."
I had forgotten all about the Imperial soldier, and his business in humble Kohlingen.
***
I tossed restlessly in my bedroll, my porcelain face streaked with dried rivers of tears. I was never comfortable sleeping anywhere unless it was in my own bed, where I knew I had my parents nearby in case anything happened, where the soft hum of our air conditioner lulled me to sleep, where every creak in the house was completely predictable. I tried to take comfort in my newfound independence, straining my ears for Ryland's soft, raspy breath, and reaching out to stroke the cool metal of my Atma weapon, a gift from my mother who wielded the blade during Emperor Gestahl's reign.
Atma glowed with a bluish tint beneath the night sky, holding my attention for mere seconds before I was entranced by Ryland's slumbering form again. We knew it would be smart to have watch shifts, but nothing seemed to matter anymore, not even our own lives. We had no plan for the future, and in all honesty, I was prepared to just sleep forever. But there I lay, my chin cradled lazily in my palm as I watched the boy I grew up with take in his deep, undeterred breaths from the crisp spring air. He looked so peaceful as he slept, hardly fitting of a king it seemed, though Ryland wasn't your average royal-blooded seventeen-year-old boy either.
Ryland was one-quarter Esper, his mother being none other than the infamous half-breed, Terra Branford-Figaro. Father would always make jokes about Terra's marriage to a lech like King Edgar, though I found Edgar's charms to be quite endearing. He was always polite and respectful to others, but you didn't want to take advantage of his kindness either. He packed away a certain brute strength that was passed on to his son, the heir to the throne of Figaro. Of course, Ryland was a balanced mix between Terra's gentle nature and Edgar's straight-forward personality. He had grown up with as much love and adoration as I had, his father's subjects treating him as dearly as the people of Kohlingen treated me.
I sighed and reached out to tuck a stray lock of chestnut behind Ryland's ear, and he twitched at the disturbance. My hand flew to my mouth to prevent a giggle from ruining the moment, though such mirth was quelled with memories of the past. I shook them away, focusing on more private thoughts, ones which were less painful. I stared at Ryland awhile longer; so young, and yet so brave. He and I used to go on all sorts of crazy adventures, ever since we were children.
I wondered, slightly wistfully, if he even remembered those days...
***
"I don't see what's so special about THAT." he scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck. I stuck my tongue out at him, perturbed that he didn't enjoy my treasure as wholeheartedly as I did. Father liked being an original, and harbored great pride when no one else thought his findings were worth keeping. That meant they were a lot less likely to try and take said findings away from you. I could see his logic, but I preferred to make others happy. I wanted Ryland to share my love of treasure hunting, and all the relics that we found.
"You mean you don't know?" I whistled, placing the trinket between my thumb and forefinger. "It looks about your size, why don't you try it on?"
He shrugged, allowing me to slide the ring on the fourth finger of his left hand, full knowing what such an act normally symbolized. It was a simple silver band, curling in an intricate fashion with a jewel encrusted between each spiral. Ryland seemed to regard it with a quizzical, albeit appreciative look.
"It's pretty cool." he finally decided, making my heart swell with a sense of accomplishment. "What is it?"
"I think it's a Hero Ring, judging from the gems. See, that blue one enhances magic power and the red one increases your physical strength." Pause. "Guess it's only good for the strength part now, but back in the days when our parents belonged to the Returners and magic was still around, this must've been pretty valuable."
"Guess so," he turned it at different angles, examining its multiple facets. I bowed my head a little.
"You're probably used to finer things than that, being the crown prince of Figaro and all."
I guess he thought he'd gone and hurt my feelings, because no sooner had the words come out of my mouth then he adamantly refused them.
"Not at all. The treasures of Figaro are polished and put away where no one can admire them." He perched his limber form on a nearby rock, drawing one knee to his chest and resting his chin upon it. "These are definately more intriguing."
I dusted off my indigo jeans and joined my friend on the rock. A little nudge in the ribs prompted him to pull out a handkerchief full of our findings: a Czarina Ring, a Ribbon, and a vial of Tincture. Nothing too exciting for us, considering we were used to bringing home pocketfuls of unique and sometimes rare relics of yore. Travelling with my father, a bonafide treasure hunter extraordinaire, must have spoiled us something awful. I reached over to touch the Czarina Ring, which glinted dully beneath the shreds of sunlight pouring through crannies in the cave.
"I heard that these protect you when you're low on energy or being attacked." I said, looking straight into Ryland's emerald eyes. A chilled moment of silence surrounded us, as if a dark premonition hung over my words.
"Why don't you keep it?" he offered, beckoning for my left hand and sliding it onto my ring finger. I was a little reluctant about letting him return my earlier gesture, but I assumed it was only fair.
"Fine. What about this?" I held up the Ribbon, a sultry green hue. He squinted at it.
"Aren't these supposed to protect you from ailments?" I threw an arm around his shoulders and gave him a congratulating squeeze.
"You're learning!"
"You know," he began, standing up and brushing the creases out of his khakis. "I'll bet these were a lot more useful when magic still existed."
"I'm sure they were." Came my response, as I yanked the cork from the Tincture. "Split it with ya."
"Works for me." he downed half the vial in one swig, and I greedily yanked it back from him. Tinctures and Ethers were used to recover suffering magic spirits during battle, restoring the magic user's ability to cast spells. Since magic ceased to be a part of our world any longer, they were considered obsolete, but Ryland and I liked the taste, and the small rush it gave us. Almost like caffiene, with a sweet taste rivaling those of the kiwi strawberry variety. I consumed the rest, my body feeling the refreshing jolt.
"So where to next, my fearless leader?" he asked, showing full submission in the silliest way he could. Ryland wasn't as accustomed to cave exploration and adventuring as I was. He was good with kids though, I mused. Terra enjoyed the company of children and, as queen of Figaro, took it upon herself to nurture orphans in parts of the world that had been royally screwed over by the Empire.
The Empire. Just the very thought brings a bitter taste to my mouth. A new emperor was elected after the people in the World of Ruin decided they couldn't maintain without one. Emperor Chappelle was less aggressive than Gestahl, and a lot wiser as well. He wasn't seeking impossible amounts of power, but he did enjoy his reign entirely too much. The world, for the seventeen years since the fall of Kefka, had been relatively peaceful. The Imperial army had shown no signs of inappropriate action, and the emperor made no promises he couldn't fullfill. But he turned his head away from the economy, and the now impoverished people of Tzen. Adults were dying in an attempt to keep their children fed and clothed, and there was little the rest of the world would do about it, save for the compassionate rulers of Figaro. Quite a team, Terra and Edgar were.
"I don't know," I finally replied, allowing him to help me down, though I didn't require assistance. Edgar taught Ryland to be a gentleman, and I didn't want to ruffle his feathers by playing my independent-girl role. "Anywhere you had in mind?"
"Not particularly, unless you wanna take the bridge to the meadow." His eyes lit up. "Yeah, I hear there's a killer view up there." Killer it almost was.
Being fifteen, I thought that I was invincible, and that standard rules of life didn't apply to me. Just because my parents survived trauma after trauma, it didn't mean I could float through life pretending nothing could touch me. Ryland and I climbed up the rocky ravine, struggling to find footholds, when we could just as easily take the long, safe way up. I grasped a protruding rock and pulled myself onto the ledge, reaching out a hand to help my friend. I wasn't as strong as I thought I was, and he had been stronger than I gave him credit for. He grinned at me, and I stuck my tongue out. We walked towards the chasm in the cave, through which a rickety old bridge was constructed.
"You first," I joked, giving Ryland a nudge.
***
I remember hearing rumors about my father and a young woman named Rachel some years ago. When I was around eleven or twelve, I asked him about his relationship with her.
"Well sweetie," he began, getting that distant look in his eyes. I was getting a little too big to curl up in his lap, so I settled for hugging my legs to my chest and leaning against his stout frame. "Rachel was my first girlfriend, aside from all my silly childhood crushes. I met her when I was about seventeen."
"What happened to her?" I asked impatiently, curling my toes as he pinched my neck.
"Hold your horses, little one. Rachel used to accompany me on my treasure hunting excursions - much the way Ryland tags along with you and I. I courted her for over a year before I asked her to be my wife. She accepted the proposal, and to celebrate our engagement I took her to my favorite cave, wher I'd show her an exquisite relic I'd found."
"What was it?" my attention shifted. He chuckled and tapped my nose.
"I don't remember anymore, baby. That was years ago." he took a sip of his ale and continued. "So as we were headed down the path, we came to this old bridge - I knew it was unstable, but being eighteen I figured I was invincible. Just in case, I went first, so if anything happened at least Rachel would be alright. But - she wasn't. She saw that the bridge was about to collapse from under me and risked her life for mine."
"Did she die?" My eyes were round as saucers, and mother chose that moment to walk in the front door, paper bag bundled under one arm.
"Sorry, did I interrupt?" mother smiled, tucking a golden tress behind her ear. Father shook his head.
"I was telling Cadence about Rachel." He looked back to me. "No, she didn't die right then. She did suffer from severe head trauma, which invoked a coma and later on, amnesia."
"Locke..." my mother started, setting her package on the kitchen counter. The look in her pale blue eyes softened with sympathy. "Are you sure you want to be telling Cady this story? I know it's still hard..."
"No, it's fine. She has a right to know." I scooted closer to my father, waiting for him to continue. "Anyways, due to her amnesia, Rachel didn't remember me."
"But you guys were s'posed to get married!"
"True. She couldn't help it though, and since her parents blamed me for the accident, I was run out of town. Completely alienated by the people of my hometown. I came back a year later only to find that Rachel had been killed by the Imperial army. The last thing she ever said was my name."
I stuck out my lower lip, depressed by what I had learned. "Do you miss her?" I asked sullenly, noticing that my mother visibly stiffened over her work in the kitchen. She paused in slicing the vegetables, and continued at a faster pace after regaining composure.
"In some ways, yes." he replied finally. "She was a nice girl, deserving of a good life. But I'm thankful that she gave me the chance to live - and to forgive myself. I realize that if I had gone through with the marriage, I would've never found the woman I truly loved, or had the best daughter in the world. Without her death to motivate me, I may never have fought against Kefka and the Imperial army all those years ago. I may not have joined the Returners. I used to beat myself up for what happened, but now it's in the past and I won't make the same mistake again." He gave me a tight hug. "I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure nothing happens to you and Celes."
***
The memory made my skin crawl, and I was suddenly afraid. What if the bridge gave out and I lost Ryland forever? I wouldn't settle for that.
"Wait," I grabbed his arm before he set foot on the wooden panels. "Better let me go first."
"Cadence," he groaned in exasperation. "You don't have to be all gung-ho in front of me. I know you're capable of handling yourself."
"It's not that." I shook my head. Even though I was a daddy's girl, I inherited my mother's inability to hide her emotions. I frowned up at him, concern etching my brow. "It doesn't look very stable. If anything happens, I'd want to be the one to take the fall. No sense in making you go first."
One of our seldom, emotionally-charged moments occurred right then. Ryland was obviously moved by my declaration, and I could feel myself blush.
"We'll go together then." he replied softly, reaching for my hand. I let him lead me down the bridge, trying not to jump at each sway or seemingly unnatural creak. Halfway along, my shoe caught on a crannie in the plank and I tripped.
"Eeeyah!" I shrieked, wondering if I'd end up like poor Rachel had. Ryland caught me by the shoulders.
"Relax, you're okay."
We made it across to the other side, and I smiled triumphantly at the bridge behind us. My newfound Czarina Ring glinted.
We navigated the roughly hewn pathway out towards the meadow we'd come to recognize as our 'secret place'. Of course, there were other ways of getting there besides the crochety old bridge, and it was silently decided that we'd take the long way again next time. At the time being, the both of us sat down in the soft grass and leaned against our boulder. Zephyr painted the skies a dusty blue, petals of orange and pink brushing along the horizon to accompany an early sunset. The balmy breeze whisked away any traces of sweat from the back of my neck, and I mewled contentedly. Ryland laughed at my cute little noise, and I smiled up at him appreciatively.
King Edgar always joked with my father about how I would one day become the Queen of Figaro, alongside Ryland. At first, Ryland and I would roll our eyes and go about our business together, but as we grew older, I secretly hoped that Edgar's predicitions would come true. Not because I had any specific desire to rule over Figaro, but because I had a specific desire to be with Ryland. I watched him transform from a bratty little boy to a compassionate candidate for the throne, transforming my own platonic feelings into more tumultuous emotions. If only he could've seen what I saw in him...
***
"Cadence!" a harsh rasp awakened my uneasy slumber. Had I been sleeping? I sat up and rubbed my eyes, wanting to rest more fitfully before venturing on. After blinking several times in rapid succession, I realized that it was still dark out.
"Ryland?" I asked, reaching out for Atma. "What's going on?"
"Shhh," he put a finger to my lips and I sat still, dumbfounded. Our eyes met, mine questioning and his pensive. "I hear something."
"Prob'ly just the wind." I muttered, releasing my hair from its tangled ponytail prison. "Besides, who cares."
"I care." he hissed, fingering the hilt of Illumina. To my dismay, he had been given the most powerful sword known to man, at the expense of the all-powerful Ragnarok blade. His weapon glowed with a reddish hue beneath the dimly dotted stars. "Maybe you don't feel there's anything left to live for, but I'm going to take back my father's kingdom."
A rustle in the bushes startled my thoughts, and forced Ryland's attention back to the matter at hand.
"It's coming from over there," I pointed towards a thorny thicket. He nodded in agreement as the two of us slowly approached the source of our disturbance. Another rustle, this one more violent. While Ryland held back, I dropped Atma and reached out to part the bushes.
"What're you -"
"Gyahhh!" I shrieked, falling back into a crab position. Ryland held out an arm to shield me from harm and brought his blade slicing down on the small, defenseless creature that had startled me out of my wits. A shock of crimson rained down on us, along with a few tufts of fur. We sat there in the dirt, panting heavily for a few moments before I smacked him across the back of his skull.
"You moron! You just killed a harmless animal!"
"Well maybe if you hadn't screamed like that I wouldn't have thought it was neccesary!" he shouted right back, following me as I stormed off towards the stream. "I don't see why you're so mad when it's your fault!"
"It's not my fault!" I tossed behind my shoulder, catching a mouthful of hair in the process and spitting it back out.
"You screamed bloody murder, what was I supposed to do?"
"You're the rational one here!" I cried, kneeling over the brook and splashing water on my face. My fingers hurriedly wiped away the blood, sadness permeating my thoughts as I realized Ryland was probably right. "You should've treated the situation with more care!"
"How could I have any time to think things over when I feared for your life?" he knelt down next to me, no longer upset. "I've lost enough, Cadence. I'm not going to risk your safety by taking things lightly."
I cupped my hands in the stream and poured cool water over my hair, completely drenching every lock. It had been days since I'd bathed, and my hair was full of grime and knots. I tried to stay angry at Ryland, because I needed a way to vent my frustrations. I decided to give him the silent treatment, combing through wet tresses with my fingers. He watched me, quiet and amused as I continued to groom myself.
"You gonna stay mad at me all night?" he wondered aloud, resting his chin in his hands. I turned away from him and folded my arms across my chest. Very mature, I know.
"Cadence," his tone was low and warning. "You're mad at me because I was trying to protect you. Cut me some slack, will ya?"
I sighed, giving up. "I wish my father were here."
He pulled an arm around my shoulders. "I know. I wish I could bring our parents back. But I can't do that, and neither can you."
I laid my head on his shoulder, letting a few tears spill onto the black fabric. God, since when was I such a crybaby? I probably ruined Ryland's image of me completely.
"They're watching over us." he reassured me lightly.
***
It had been a year since I'd started work for Mr. Alper. What started out as a simple summer job turned into a full time occupation, and my days were filled with laborous tasks and endless errands. I had just seen the change of sixteen years and was feeling more confidant than ever in my abilities. That afternoon when I got off work, mother promised to practice my sword technique with me.
Truth be told, I preferred having my father teach me new things; he made training sessions fun and interesting, while mother preferred to remain stoic and strict. However, hands down, my mother was much better at weilding a full-size blade than my father ever was. He leaned towards smaller weapons, such as dirks and daggers. I disliked handling knives of any sort; they were fast and effective, but generally I was inclined to train with long, slender swords. Close-combat was not my specialty.
As I was walking home midday, I stopped to pluck a pink flower from the shrubbery in front of Mrs. Rosary's house. I decided not to hop her fence that day, considering I had accidentally crushed her lilacs while being particularly cumbersome. Feeling guilty, I gave her a healthy portion of that week's pay, plus a longwinded apology and an offer to help her plant new ones. She hugged me, thanking me for being so honest and helpful, but admitted that they hadn't been doing so well that season anyways and she'd just as soon replace them with perennials. Still, I'd opted not to disturb her peaceful garden, and sauntered towards my own cozy home, twirling the flower between my thumb and forefinger.
The front door was unlocked as usual; Kohlingen was too calm and uneventful to worry about burglaries of any sort. I walked in, breathing the fresh aroma of cinnamon and clove.
"Mo-om!" I called out, letting the door slam behind me.
"Oh good honey, you're home." I heard her shuffle around in the kitchen, setting down a few dishes and rushing to embrace me. She was clad in simple pants and a shirt, her fabulous hair held back with clips. She certainly looked a lot younger than she really was; from the stories father had told me, she was a complete knock-out back in the day. Tainted by the blood of the innocent and cold to the touch, but she'd warmed up considerably by the end of their journey together. After giving birth to me, she'd assumed an entirely new maternal complex, giving up her past as a warrior and focusing heavily and being a wife and mother. Of course, age didn't mar her exceptional skill with her Runic blade, and as a gift for my sixteenth birthday, she'd bestowed upon me her most prized possesion; the Atma.
"I brought this for you," I began sheepishly, handing her the flower. She seemed utterly surprised that I'd given her something; she fingered the blushing petals with the utmost delicacy and care. "I thought it was pretty, and it reminded me of you, so I picked it up on my way home."
Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and with good reason. I suppose my mother felt like a third wheel in me and my father's relationship. I always brought him home my findings, and constantly begged to spend time with him. I'm sure Celes felt slighted by the two of us when we were together, and my small offering of affection made her years of hardships worthwhile.
"Thank you sweetheart. Why don't you pick out a vase and we'll keep it on the table?"
I nodded. "Alright." I entered the kitchen and dug through the shambles of odds and ends in one of the cupboards, searching for a suitable vase. I found one; small, round and crystalline blue.
"Cadence," Mother began. "We were invited to dinner tonight at Figaro Castle. I want you to take a bath and dress nicely, alright?"
"But mother," I argued. "Terra and Edgar don't care."
"Honey, this is a formal occasion. There are important matters being discussed and I need you to be on your most ladylike behavior." Her lips quirked up into a wry smile. "Besides, I hear Ryland's grown up to be quite a looker this past year."
"Mother!" I cried out, apalled and yet slightly amused. She gave me that telltale look and laid her hands on my shoulders. "I was the same way about your father. I told Edgar once, a long time ago, that I was a soldier and not some love-starved twit. Turned out I fell for Locke harder than I wanted to admit." Her blue eyes grew distant at the memory, and a faint smile played on her lips. The reminiscence slowly faded and she cocked a brow at me. "Now get dressed missy, or I'll dress you up myself."
***
I splashed around in my bathwater, scooping up a handful of vanilla-scented bubbles and blowing them into the air. I refused to get my hair wet since it took hours to dry; my long, carmel-colored tresses hung to the small of my back in thick, soft waves. Father would often joke about my mother and I having more hair on our heads than Umaro the sasquatch had on his entire body. I could barely fit in the bath anymore, my long legs having outgrown the small porcelain tub. I yanked the plug before I turned into a prune, and wrapped myself up with a terrycloth.
I followed orders and dressed accordingly in a billowing blue skirt and a white strappy shirt. I enlisted the help of my mother in lacing my up along the sides - I remembered why I kept the silly thing in the back of my closet in the first place. I allowed her to put a dab of makeup on me but haughtily insisted that my hair remain loose. Instead, she settled for brushing it till my scalp burned.
My father whistled appreciatively when he saw me. "Who's this exquisite creature?"
I rolled my eyes, secretly pleased. "Cut it out, dad."
"Just like you to spoil my fun." he shook his head, smiling at me affecionately. "So much like your mother. You're gonna need a stick to beat those boys off."
"That's why I have Atma." We shared a chuckle.
"So daddy," I began as he brushed the wrinkles from his nice shirt. "What's this whole formal dinner for?"
He sighed in a way that made him seem old beyond his forty-three years.
"Sweetheart, I don't know what your mother told you..."
I shrugged. "She told me to dress nicely. And take a bath."
"This isn't going to be a usual dinner with the Figaro family. Emperor Chappelle and his lackies are going to be present; there's some tension going on between Figaro Kingdom and the Empire, and we're hoping to resolve it tonight."
"Is it serious?" I asked, perching on the arm of our couch. I could tell by the clouded look in my father's eyes that he couldn't be sure.
"Don't know. All I know is that Edgar and Terra want us there for moral support."
I grinned childishly. "Is Uncle Setzer going to be there?"
"Uncle..." he laughed, shaking his head. "Nope, I don't believe so. He's been perusing the world, so to speak, and I don't suppose he'll be back till he figures out what he wants from life." He paused a minute. "Why do you call him 'uncle' anyways?"
"I always have! Ryland has his Uncle Sabin, and I have my Uncle Setzer."
We shared a father-daughter hug and mother walked in the room, shaking her head at the sight.
"Should I be envious?"
I gauged my father's reaction to Celes' long white dress and green ribbon. He smiled lovingly, obviously lost in reminiscence.
"That ribbon still suits you." He tore his eyes away long enough to look at me. "Did I ever tell you the opera story Cady?"
"Yes," I huffed, squirming out from under his arm. "About a million times at that. I know how mother impersonated Maria and that was when you realized you were falling in love with her, and so on and so forth. And I also know how Uncle Setzer nearly swept you off your feet mom, you man-eater."
Mother laughed giddily, hiding a blush.
"Swept her off her feet?" Father asked incredulously. "That punk had nothing on me. He still doesn't."
Edgar had already made arrangements for a Chocobo carriage to pick us up and take us to Figaro Castle. When the little chariot arrived, Mother had to get in first so she could help me up - I wasn't used to functioning in such bulky clothing. Along with me, I brought Atma, much to the disapproval of my parental units. It had taken much convincing for them to let me bring it along, but had we argued more extensively on the matter, we would have been late. I sat between my parents throughout the duration of the ride, shifting uncomfortably whenever I'd catch them making eyes at each other. I hoped that, in the event I ever got married, I would have a love that tangible. It was clear as day that Locke and Celes felt for each other the same way they always had. I sighed and leaned back, letting them gaze meaningfully at one another. Instead I focused on Ryland... he was seventeen now, almost eighteen. I hadn't seen him in months and I wondered how he was doing... if he thought of me... if he looked as good as mother claimed. I mentally chided myself. Stop it Cadence, this is your best friend we're talking about. The Czarina ring on my left hand glinted, memories resurfacing.
***
Figaro Castle's aged spledor was lost on me, as I was accustomed to the sights and sounds of the bustling kingdom. It felt like a second home to me, and I was welcomed with open arms. We hopped out of the Chocobo carriage, mother scolding me on my unladylike exit. Father tipped the driver and saw him off. I sneezed at the dust the yellow birds kicked up, taking care to make sure my blade was pointed downward.
The usual guard bowed his head and welcomed us inside the castle gates, keeping a wary eye on Atma. Terra greeted us upon our entrance, dressed up in a fancy ballgown, curly green hair falling in ringlets around her slender face.
"Locke, Celes, it's wonderful to see the both of you." she gave them each a kiss on the cheek before coming to me. The queen of Figaro laid a pale hand over her chest and smiled sweetly. "And don't you look like a prize Cadence Miranda. You're more and more becoming each time I see you." she pressed a kiss to my forehead.
"You flatter me," I replied just as kindly, giving her a tight squeeze with my free arm. Terra was a wonderful woman, and I loved her dearly. It was hard to believe there was ever a time in which she wasn't comfortable with her royal status. Judging from the stories Setzer had told me, no one ever expected Terra and Edgar to marry, much less have a child before Locke and Celes. Apparently Terra was smitten with children and although she and Edgar brought a handful of orphans from Mobliz under their wing, the new queen wanted a newborn of her own. Edgar agreed, wanting a son to succeed him in the throne. My own parents spent two years travelling the world in search of harmony - a peace that they realized could only be obtained by sharing their love with a baby. Which was indeed how I came to be.
"You look fabulous, Terra." My mother began, and the two women chattered away like the church hens I found gossiping in front of the general store.
"What is it with women?" I whispered to my father, and he grinned.
"They never used to be this way." he replied, equally confused. "It was always Terra wondering if she'd ever learn to love and Celes pushing everyone away. Wonder what changed all that?"
"Midlife crisis?" I suggested, and he flicked the back of my neck.
"Watch it," he warned playfully. "I'm older than both of them."
"Well," I retorted in a snotty manner. "You do forget who's got the weapon in hand."
"Locke, my friend!" Edgar called out merrily. "How's the stealing business?"
Before my father could correct him, the king gaped at me.
"My, my, such a beautiful young lady we have here." I tolerated it with a smile, already tired of the comments about my looks. Who cared about appearances anyway?
"Watch it you old lech," my father interrupted. "That's my daughter you're talking to."
"Relax, relax, have a glass of champagne old buddy. I'd never sway a young lady with a big sword. Ryland!" he yelled out, and my heart jumped to my throat. "Hey son, get out here and join the festivities!"
Edgar winked at me, taking a sip from his goblet. "He's been asking about you."
When he walked into the room, I barely recognized him. He had been away at Jidoor for nearly eight months to complete his schooling, and I hadn't seen him at all during his absence. He had to have been at least six feet tall, towering over my meager five-five frame. His hair was still the same wild green, making him his mother's son, but his strong features were all his own. Our eyes met, and his travelled downwards. Instinctively, I folded my arms across my chest, not allowing him to size me up so openly.
"Damn Edgar," my father howled, nursing his own goblet. "Better watch how you treat this kid or he'll beat you off the throne with a stick!" What it was with my father and beating people with sticks, I'd never know. He slapped Ryland heavily on the back, causing my friend to stumble, and laugh with amusement. "How ya been, Ry?"
"I've been better," he replied calmly, his voice deeper and more controlled than I'd remembered it to be. "Studying in Jidoor wasn't the most exciting thing I've ever done, but at least it's behind me now."
"Don't like hangin' around all those aristocrats eh?"
Ryland smiled for real, casting a glance at Terra. "That too. Mostly I just missed my mother and my home here."
After awhile of half-heartedly listening in on the decidedly adult conversations, my mother nudged me. "He's been stealing glances at you for the past ten minutes. Why don't I drag your father away from him and let you two catch up?"
I shrugged indifferently, watching my mother take Locke's arm and veer him off towards Terra and Edgar. Dad was a lightweight when it came to alcohol and lost control of his functions easily. For that night's banquet, it was best to let him rest off his champagne and wait till dinner. I took a tentative step towards Ryland, and he surprised me by meeting me halfway. Soft orchestra music punctuated the din of cordial tidings around us, but all we heard was silence.
"Hey stranger." I croaked, unable to tear my azure eyes from his sultry green ones.
"Hey yourself." he replied. "You're looking well Cadence."
"It's been a long time since you've seen me." I defended, fighting back the urge to fidget. "God, you've grown so much."
He reddened slightly, reaching for my arm. "Dinner doesn't start until the emperor arrives, and that won't be for awhile. Why don't you join me out on the balcony? Doubt our parents will even know we're gone, and we'll be back in time to greet Chappelle and his men."
"You know me," I grinned. "Always up for an act of rebellion."
We slid through the doors undetected and headed up several flights of stairs. He didn't release his grasp on my arm till we'd reached the aforementioned balcony. There were were, at the top of the castle, seemingly at the top of the world, and I laid Atma down to get a better view. I leaned my elbows on the cobblestone wall and watched, with immense fascination, how the dim lights of nearby Kohlingen flickered eerily in the fading dusk. A frown made its way across my lips as I remembered that mother and I were supposed to train that afternoon. The liquid muscle in my arms begged to be utilized, and my legs were sore from being out of use for so long. I stiffened when Ryland joined me at the edge.
"I've missed you." he told me softly, following my gaze towards Kohlingen.
"It's been too long." I agreed. "I haven't had anyone to go treasure hunting with."
He laughed bemusedly. "I take it your father's been too busy?"
"More or less. I think he's getting a little old for that sort of lifestyle anymore."
"Better not tell him that." Ryland smirked, averting his gaze towards the specks of stars that dotted the heavens.
"How was Jidoor?" I asked, trying to get my mind off the inappropriate - and strangely wonderful - thoughts that Ryland invoked. What a few months apart and a growth spurt could to do one's hormones!
He rubbed the back of his neck, twisting his face up into a thoughtful expression. "A lot different from Figaro, that's for sure. The people, regardless of their social class, were mostly stuck up. You know, the higher-ups thought they were better than you, and the commoners had this preconceived notion that anyone with more money than them would look down on them. So I was stuck in the middle."
"Did you make any friends there?" I questioned lightly, fully understanding what it was like to grow up around adults all your life.
"Not really. The socialites were so materialistic and superficial that they barely bothered with much else, including other people. And of course, the commonfolk were way too edgy; they took everything offensively and figured that if you talked to them, you must be mocking them."
I hid a blush as I found my next words. "So... no girlfriends then?"
He turned around and leaned his lithe frame back against the wall. I exhaled shakily, unsure of the heady sensations his simple presence was inviting. He seemed distraught as well, pondering his next choice of words.
"No. And even if there were anyone who caught my eye there, I'd still be saving myself for someone special."
"You have someone in mind?" I asked meekly.
He laughed, shaking his head at the absurdity. "All the time."
"Oh." I let out my breath, turning around and hoisting myself up on the ledge. "What a lucky girl." A tad too wistful, but perhaps he wouldn't catch on.
"I guess you are." he smiled adoringly at me. The heat rose to my cheeks when I realized what he was referring to. I crossed my ankles nervously, watching him turn to face me. When he couldn't look at me, he focused on his shoes, sighing deeply.
"I kept it." he said simply, holding his hand up to indicate the Hero ring we'd found a year earlier.
"Why?" I could barely speak. He seemed to take that into consideration, sliding it off and weighing it in his palm.
"My decision to leave for Jidoor was pretty spur of the moment -"
"I noticed."
"And I felt really bad about leaving without saying goodbye to you. That and I knew I'd end up missing you in one way or another. So I wore it the whole time I was there. Figured it was my way of honoring you and the memories we've shared."
"Ryland," I started. A bubble of mirth rose from my throat. "That's so cheesy."
He grinned at me, reaching out to run his fingers through my hair, the way he had in my dreams. How long had I wanted this? Even as a child I'd had a crush on the prince of Figaro, always trying to impress him with my budding skills as a treasure hunter. Was this really about to happen?
"Yeah I know." he sighed again, a corner of his mouth tugging upward in a sad half-smile. "You've gotten even prettier since I last saw you."
I laughed nervously, reaching up to brush my fingers over his. "Nah. It's just this silly outfit my mom made me wear."
"No, before that. Think I care how you're dressed? I thought you were beautiful when your face was ashen with soot and cinders and your knees and elbows were scraped," he leaned closer to me, and I could feel the words as they formed on his lips. "When you'd run around barefoot in your ripped up jeans and those shirts that you'd long outgrown... it doesn't matter to me."
"Then -" I trembled, his face inching ever closer. "Then what does?"
"What do you think?" his eyes darkened with emotion. I pulled him closer, feeling as if something deep inside of me had been awakened.
"EMPEROR CHAPPELLE HAS ARRIVED!" the loud admission sent the two of us flying backwards, me nearly falling off the edge.
"Careful," Ryland winked at me, releasing his grasp on my waist. I scooted off the wall and led us downstairs, tucking my hair behind my ears self-consciously. What a way to ruin the moment, I thought bitterly, the butterflies still tickling my insides. Maybe after dinner...
***
Emperor Chappelle was an average-looking man by appearance. He was formally dressed, his dark gray hair held back in a ponytail. At either side of him were two men, supposedly his most trusted generals. Several faceless Imperial henchmen dwelled a few paces behind them, keeping a watchful eye on Edgar and my father.
"Welcome to Figaro, Emperor Chappelle." Edgar intoned, spreading his arms out in welcoming. "Feel free to make yourselves comfortable. Dinner will be served in few moments."
"I accept your hospitality with gratitude, King of Figaro. These are my men, General Crowley and General Felix, who will be accompanying us for tonight's feast."
The latter of the two, General Felix, looked awfully familiar. His flaxen hair was slicked back, revealing close-set brown eyes and a stern upper lip. I squinted my eyes, trying to remember where I'd seen this man before, and he stole a glance at me as well. The stubborn frown he wore faded into a suggestive half-smile, his deathless eyes baring into me mercilessly. There was almost a predatory glimmer in his eyes, one that seemed branded in the back of my mind...
"It's a pleasure meeting you." Edgar went on, offering a firm handshake to each of the men. "This is my wife, Terra." He gestured to the beautiful queen of Figaro. I tore my eyes away from General Felix long enough to notice that the emperor was sizing Terra up, discreetly, but lustfully nonetheless. What was it with the men of the empire? Leches, all of them! "This is Locke Cole and his wife Celes, their daughter Cadence Miranda and my son Ryland."
Formalities were exchanged, and I shook the hand of General Felix, unable to look into his eyes. Ryland and I dogged behind when everyone was called into the dining hall.
"What's the matter Cadence?" he set a hand on my shoulder, concerned.
"I don't like this." I mumbled, handing Atma to one of the servants to put in a safe room for me, making him swear on his life to treat it with the utmost care. Ryland refrained from laughing, the serious vibe we'd shared earlier coming back twice as strong.
"Neither do I." he replied softly, gentle eyes roaming over my face. "But it'll be over soon. And then after dinner... there's something I want to tell you."
I seized the opportunity, taking his hands in mine. "You can't tell me now?"
He pulled away. "We need to get in there before the emperor throws a coniption fit. Come on."
I stuck out my lower lip like a child. Strike two.
Well, third time's a charm.
***
The dining hall was exquisite; long walls decorated with ancient paintings, ornamental laterns casting a soft, relaxing light, beautiful jeweled swords hanging in criss-cross fashion. The carpet was an inviting shade of taupe, the lengthy table covered with a patterned cloth, and the silverware was of fine craftsmanship. We were presented with a vast selection of roasted hams and turkeys, a meddley of boiled vegetables, and an assortment of breads and rolls. It was all I could do to keep my eyes in their sockets - I could certainly get used to this, I thought wryly, stealing a flirtatious glance at the prince across from me. He twitched his lips and raised his eyebrows, causing me to blush. I really didn't have much experience in the flirting department, did I?
After the main course had been served, the discussion began. I tried my hardest not to do anything terribly unladylike, so I sat in silence, picking apart a slice of bread. My ears picked up the most interesting part of the conversation.
"You must understand, we only seek to benefit the world as we know it." Chappelle was saying.
"From what I understand, you seek to take my kingdom out from under me." Edgar kept his voice level. "I don't see how relinquishing my rightful position is going to make current situations any better."
"The Empire doesn't wish to take from you." Chappelle was growing stern. "We simply want you to help us accomodate a better future. We feel that the best way for the inhabitants of this world to live, is to be governed by a single branch. This doesn't mean you'll lose your castle."
"No, but it means I'll lose my birthright and everything I've strived to obtain." I wanted to throw my arms around the king and give him a big hug for being so temperant and wise. He was certainly giving the emperor his opinion and keeping a cool head about it. I caught Ryland smirking. "Furthermore, there has been no complaint over my reign as King of Figaro. Under no circumstance will I dishonor my family's legacy by giving up our kingdom. Figaro intends to remain self-governed, and my son Ryland is to succeed me in the throne. That is final."
General Crowley spoke next. "I urge you to reconsider your refusal. We take nothing from you and offer you an easier lifestyle in return."
"I stand by my husband's decision." Terra declared firmly. "We enjoy working together to make this world safer and stronger. To give up our efforts and relinquish the kingdom to the Empire would only serve as a fool's paradise, one which neither of us will be snared in."
"Agreed." Edgar took his wife's hand lovingly. "I will continue to rule over Figaro until my son succeeds me."
I held my breath.
*To Be Continued*
A/N: Wow! Been along time since I've seen the likes of ff.net! Even then I usually lean towards the FF8 section, but this time, I wanted to try something different. Give it a chance, will ya? This is set 18 years after the original storyline, and be patient - the action will build up over time! Please R&R!
Disclaimer: Don't own FF6, just using it for my story. However, Cadence, Ryland, and all other original character belong solely to ME!
***
I must've been about six years old when I first heard of my father's dishonorable legacy. The people of Kohlingen were always smiling politely when he passed, my small hand clasped in his much larger one as we made our way through the streets. He would return the gesture with equal respect every time, and every time his back was turned, I'd hear the whipsers. I'll bet he heard them as well, but was disciplined enough to ignore their rude remarks.
"...heard he thieves for a livin'!"
"... nice young girl, Rachel... all his fault..."
"...poor little girl... her and Celes... too good to be hangin' around that..."
Whenever I'd turn my head to contradict them, to tell them that my father was not a thief, and that my mother and I were quite happy living under the roof he provided, he'd gently tug my hand and turn my gaze forward. He told me it wasn't polite to eavesdrop on others' personal business, and that I should tend to my own affairs before I made a fool of myself.
"It's not good to doubt the intentions of others," he began one morning as we made our Sunday trip to the general store. "I once lost faith in someone I loved, and almost ended up losing her. Always assume that people are trustworthy, unless they give you reason to believe otherwise."
"But Daddy," I protested, struggling to match his swift stride along the cobblestone street. "Do you hear what they say?"
"Yes." he responded quietly, shifting his gaze to the overcast sky. "And I've been hearing it all my life."
"It's not true though." I shook my head vigorously. "They don't know nothin'."
"Don't know anything, you mean," he corrected, pinching my nose when I drew a long, dramatic sigh. I snorted with indignance, and he chuckled. After a few paces, he sobered up again. "You're right sweetie, it's not true. I don't steal things that belong to other people, I claim the treasures that belong to no one and make them my own."
"So why do people say those mean things about you then?"
A pensive expression shadowed his face as I craned my neck to look at him. His stature was not particularly tall or commanding, but towered above my meek frame. Father never lied to me about anything, nor did he ever keep the truth from me or my mother. He pulled me off to the side, kneeling down before me and grasping my arms firmly.
"Sweetie, always remember that people who say things that aren't true are just ignorant. They have nothing better to do than make up stories about events that never happened, and warp others' images to save face for themselves. They don't understand my lifestyle and why I choose to live the way I do. In turn, we don't really understand their background and what causes them to slander others so shamelessly." He stood back up, releasing his sweaty palms and letting me walk of my own accord. "I guess the main thing to remember is to treat others the way you want to be treated."
His words, so selfless and compassionate, struck a chord deep within me that day, in spite of my tender age and budding intellect. My father was not a man of exceptional intelligence, but his sense of justice outlived any of his shortcomings, to which I found none, should I have looked. He was a wonderful human being, and the only person who loved him as much as I did, was my mother. Looking back, I realized how deserving he was of such love and loyalty. Never once did he take his family for granted, and he kept every promise he had the sense to make.
Never would I know what it was like to bask his presence again.
***
"You alright?" he rasped, offering a comforting hand to my numbed skin. His flesh against mine sent chills down my back, the sign of a body long too chaste for its own good. He seemed to notice my discomfort, being able to read me like an open book, and withdrew his digits awkwardly. I sighed heavily, disappointed in myself for not welcoming touch. It had been a long time since I'd felt human contact. I desperately wanted to reach out and cling to him like an affrightened child, to open the dam of my swelling emotions and pour my soul's woes to him. But I knew he had lost just as much, if not more, and could be of little comfort to me. He sat down next to me, slowly, as if in a trance. I pulled my knees up to my chest, hugging them with all my might.
"No," I replied softly. "I'm not alright. I won't be alright for a long time. How 'bout you?"
His fingers raked back dark tresses, a startling contrast to their usual green. Both of us had to alter our identities since departing from Figaro, and his change was far more drastic than mine. Had I not been so tormented, I would've taken notice to the way his rich brown locks accentuated his green eyes.
"Not really." he sighed, leaning back in the grass, stretching his arms above his head. "I don't like this."
"Neither do I," I scoffed, suddenly feeling spiteful towards him, towards life. "But I'm not going to complain about it."
"You already have," he smiled lightly, having inherited his mother's warm heart. "But that's not the point. In a matter of days, we've lost everything that's ever meant anything to us Cadence. We have no family, we have no place to call home, we have no one who would accept us anywhere. All we have right now is..." He stopped, growing apprehensive.
"Each other." I finished for him, in a way only I had ever been able to do. Ryland Figaro tended to keep to himself, his mother's modesty and sense of self wearing off on him at an early age. I guess I was more like my father; adventurous, outgoing, with a deep alligence to those I loved. I had been told as young as eight that I had a face rivaling my mother's, with my father's mischievous smirk. I was the perfect blend of Locke and Celes.
The bottoms of my jeans were frayed from days upon days of travel on foot, and I rolled them up to keep them from catching on anything out in the woods. Bare calves exposed, I laid back in the grass next to Ryland, heaving a sigh of disdain. His head lolled to the side and he eyed me critically. Besides being just and humane, Ryland was also a serious pain in the ass. He had long denied his heritage, the blood of the Espers that coursed through his veins, as well as the blood of royalty. He had chosen a different path for himself, not as the crown prince of Figaro, but as nothing more than a juvenile delinquent and a thorn in his parents' side.
I knew differently of course, but I chose not to acknowledge my feelings of compassion and committment towards him. The last time I had the nerve to love someone, both of those someones were ripped away from me. Hot tears burned my cheeks and I rolled onto my side, wanting to forget. I felt Ryland's arms heft my shaking frame into an awkward sitting position, calmly brushing the tears from my face as soon as they fell. I cried, and cried, and cried anew, mournful sobs robbing me of rational thought.
"Daddy always said to treat others the way you want to be treated," I whimpered miserably, my strangled voice muffled by Ryland's clothing. "I've always been good to everyone..."
***
Really, it had all come to light last summer, the June of my fifteenth year. I had been working for the owner of the arsenal, who I'd known since I was old enough to trace back my memories. The sun effulged radiantly in the equally bright sky, making my usual tasks far more laborous as I struggled to gather a pile of scrap metal into a plastic container. My skin was rich with a toasted almond tan, my upper arms boasting an impressive amount of muscle for my ripe age. I was proud to say that I could do any job just as well, if not better, than the finest men in Kohlingen. Not that there were many, to my dismay. I'd grown to enjoy the company of the male gender, finding them refreshingly less critical than those of my own. However, most of the men were serving in the Imperial army, and were on call seven out of twelve moons. Kohlingen was crawling with busybodies, church hens, and old folks, making it a boring, uneventful little hole-in-the-wall.
I blew away the strands of my light brown hair, settling the container on my knee as I leaned against the crotchety old doorframe and wiped the beading sweat from my brow. The smell of coal and leather wafted through the vent as I used my heel to kick the door closed behind me. Grunting boyishly, I hefted the iron and - was it platinum? sure was nice - on the wooden counter along with the rest of the scraps I'd transported that afternoon. Like every other day, I'd spent my summer outside doing odd jobs for Mr. Alper. He didn't really need the help, and the pay was fairly skimpy, but Daddy encouraged me to take on more responsibilites and help out financially around the house. So, being the generous old man he was, Alper worked out a business deal with my father, and I was basically the resident gopher from 6 in the morning to 1 in the afternoon.
"Mr. Alper!" I called out as I strolled through the door, making my way behind the counter to accompany my boss. Expecting to hear his voice, I was a little surprised to be greeted by the presence of an Imperial general instead. I halted in my tracks, tensed up, and clenched my fists. Mother always told me, along with the obligatory cautions of strangers and crossing the street, that I should never trust a man in Imperial armor. I reached for a rag under the counter, never taking my eyes off the man.
"Can I help you?" I asked warily, wiping my hands clean of ash and grease. Though his eyes were shielded by the blond hair that fell in front of them, I could tell he was giving me an appraising stare, and it made my skin crawl uneasily.
"No." he replied tersely, surveying the store. It wasn't much of a place - wooden panels and dull crimson rugs, flashing displays of metallic weaponry lacing the hollow walls - but I'd grown accustomed to the weathered atmosphere and rugged environment.
"O-okay," I murmured, impatience tingling on the outer edges of my voice. "Well, just let me know if there's anything I can get for you. I'm not sure where Alper is, but he should be back soon."
"I've already spoken to Mr. Alper." Came his harsh reply. I focused on my hands, hot with shame at being treated in such a manner. I guessed that all soldiers acted so rudely, by the nature of their training. Mother used to be an Imperial soldier, and she told me that they were hardened to the horrors of the world.
Alper came back sure enough, with a bundle tucked neatly under his arm. It wasn't my business to question the contents, nor was it my primary concern. All I could note was the strange, predatory way the soldier was staring at me. With a simple gesture, Alper dismissed me from my shift, and I left silently through the back door, resisting the urge to see if the solider's gaze was still on me. I didn't need to look; I could feel his penetrating glower as I scurried away. I shook off the chills as best I could, a surprisingly difficult task in such a blazing heat.
I made my way home through the winding avenues, hands clasped behind my back innocently as I traipsed along. Father said I was the pride and joy of the town, Kohlingen's budding young blossom. I'd always laugh it off, hiding a blush with my own condemning modesty. Despite my fervent denial, I could see the truth behind his words wherever I went; housewives would wave kindly to me as I passed by, the elderly tipping their hats in an old-fashioned manner. I was on a first name basis with practically everyone, and I was always welcomed with open arms and radiant smiles. I grew up surrounded with love and attention; I had a town that cared for me as much as I cared for it.
I hopped Mrs. Rosary's fence, careful not to disturb her careful bed of lilacs, and jumped into my own backyard. I was awarded with the nostalgic scent of cherry bark and clean laundry, and I pulled off my ripped-up old jeans as I walked in the back door.
"Mo-om, I'm home!" I called out, knocking over a planter with my elbow as I fought to remove my shirt. It was getting a little too tight for me apparently, but the task was accomplished.
"Good lord, Cadence Miranda Cole," my mother declared as she walked into the family room, seeing me in all my mismatched undergarment glory. She sounded more exasperated than apalled, being used to my dislike of layered clothing.
"Relax mom," I sighed, unabashedly walking towards her, intending to assist her with the laundry. "Here, let me hang these on the line for you."
"Oh no you don't Cadence," she warned, emphasizing her disapproval. "You are not going outside wearing nothing but your underwear."
"Mother," I started, already knowing I'd lose the battle. "You know everyone in this town as well as I do, and they've seen me waddle around in nothing but diapers during my early years. And don't give me that temptation nonsense... the only boy my own age I've ever talked to is Ryland." In fact, Ryland was the only peer I'd ever known... I never talked to kids my own age, finding them petty and frivolous. The crown prince of Figaro wasn't much to write home about, but at least he was more of a gentlemen than most boys I'd seen around Kohlingen. Mom shook her head and pulled a semi-dry tunic from the laundry basket. "At least put this on before your father gets home."
I had forgotten all about the Imperial soldier, and his business in humble Kohlingen.
***
I tossed restlessly in my bedroll, my porcelain face streaked with dried rivers of tears. I was never comfortable sleeping anywhere unless it was in my own bed, where I knew I had my parents nearby in case anything happened, where the soft hum of our air conditioner lulled me to sleep, where every creak in the house was completely predictable. I tried to take comfort in my newfound independence, straining my ears for Ryland's soft, raspy breath, and reaching out to stroke the cool metal of my Atma weapon, a gift from my mother who wielded the blade during Emperor Gestahl's reign.
Atma glowed with a bluish tint beneath the night sky, holding my attention for mere seconds before I was entranced by Ryland's slumbering form again. We knew it would be smart to have watch shifts, but nothing seemed to matter anymore, not even our own lives. We had no plan for the future, and in all honesty, I was prepared to just sleep forever. But there I lay, my chin cradled lazily in my palm as I watched the boy I grew up with take in his deep, undeterred breaths from the crisp spring air. He looked so peaceful as he slept, hardly fitting of a king it seemed, though Ryland wasn't your average royal-blooded seventeen-year-old boy either.
Ryland was one-quarter Esper, his mother being none other than the infamous half-breed, Terra Branford-Figaro. Father would always make jokes about Terra's marriage to a lech like King Edgar, though I found Edgar's charms to be quite endearing. He was always polite and respectful to others, but you didn't want to take advantage of his kindness either. He packed away a certain brute strength that was passed on to his son, the heir to the throne of Figaro. Of course, Ryland was a balanced mix between Terra's gentle nature and Edgar's straight-forward personality. He had grown up with as much love and adoration as I had, his father's subjects treating him as dearly as the people of Kohlingen treated me.
I sighed and reached out to tuck a stray lock of chestnut behind Ryland's ear, and he twitched at the disturbance. My hand flew to my mouth to prevent a giggle from ruining the moment, though such mirth was quelled with memories of the past. I shook them away, focusing on more private thoughts, ones which were less painful. I stared at Ryland awhile longer; so young, and yet so brave. He and I used to go on all sorts of crazy adventures, ever since we were children.
I wondered, slightly wistfully, if he even remembered those days...
***
"I don't see what's so special about THAT." he scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck. I stuck my tongue out at him, perturbed that he didn't enjoy my treasure as wholeheartedly as I did. Father liked being an original, and harbored great pride when no one else thought his findings were worth keeping. That meant they were a lot less likely to try and take said findings away from you. I could see his logic, but I preferred to make others happy. I wanted Ryland to share my love of treasure hunting, and all the relics that we found.
"You mean you don't know?" I whistled, placing the trinket between my thumb and forefinger. "It looks about your size, why don't you try it on?"
He shrugged, allowing me to slide the ring on the fourth finger of his left hand, full knowing what such an act normally symbolized. It was a simple silver band, curling in an intricate fashion with a jewel encrusted between each spiral. Ryland seemed to regard it with a quizzical, albeit appreciative look.
"It's pretty cool." he finally decided, making my heart swell with a sense of accomplishment. "What is it?"
"I think it's a Hero Ring, judging from the gems. See, that blue one enhances magic power and the red one increases your physical strength." Pause. "Guess it's only good for the strength part now, but back in the days when our parents belonged to the Returners and magic was still around, this must've been pretty valuable."
"Guess so," he turned it at different angles, examining its multiple facets. I bowed my head a little.
"You're probably used to finer things than that, being the crown prince of Figaro and all."
I guess he thought he'd gone and hurt my feelings, because no sooner had the words come out of my mouth then he adamantly refused them.
"Not at all. The treasures of Figaro are polished and put away where no one can admire them." He perched his limber form on a nearby rock, drawing one knee to his chest and resting his chin upon it. "These are definately more intriguing."
I dusted off my indigo jeans and joined my friend on the rock. A little nudge in the ribs prompted him to pull out a handkerchief full of our findings: a Czarina Ring, a Ribbon, and a vial of Tincture. Nothing too exciting for us, considering we were used to bringing home pocketfuls of unique and sometimes rare relics of yore. Travelling with my father, a bonafide treasure hunter extraordinaire, must have spoiled us something awful. I reached over to touch the Czarina Ring, which glinted dully beneath the shreds of sunlight pouring through crannies in the cave.
"I heard that these protect you when you're low on energy or being attacked." I said, looking straight into Ryland's emerald eyes. A chilled moment of silence surrounded us, as if a dark premonition hung over my words.
"Why don't you keep it?" he offered, beckoning for my left hand and sliding it onto my ring finger. I was a little reluctant about letting him return my earlier gesture, but I assumed it was only fair.
"Fine. What about this?" I held up the Ribbon, a sultry green hue. He squinted at it.
"Aren't these supposed to protect you from ailments?" I threw an arm around his shoulders and gave him a congratulating squeeze.
"You're learning!"
"You know," he began, standing up and brushing the creases out of his khakis. "I'll bet these were a lot more useful when magic still existed."
"I'm sure they were." Came my response, as I yanked the cork from the Tincture. "Split it with ya."
"Works for me." he downed half the vial in one swig, and I greedily yanked it back from him. Tinctures and Ethers were used to recover suffering magic spirits during battle, restoring the magic user's ability to cast spells. Since magic ceased to be a part of our world any longer, they were considered obsolete, but Ryland and I liked the taste, and the small rush it gave us. Almost like caffiene, with a sweet taste rivaling those of the kiwi strawberry variety. I consumed the rest, my body feeling the refreshing jolt.
"So where to next, my fearless leader?" he asked, showing full submission in the silliest way he could. Ryland wasn't as accustomed to cave exploration and adventuring as I was. He was good with kids though, I mused. Terra enjoyed the company of children and, as queen of Figaro, took it upon herself to nurture orphans in parts of the world that had been royally screwed over by the Empire.
The Empire. Just the very thought brings a bitter taste to my mouth. A new emperor was elected after the people in the World of Ruin decided they couldn't maintain without one. Emperor Chappelle was less aggressive than Gestahl, and a lot wiser as well. He wasn't seeking impossible amounts of power, but he did enjoy his reign entirely too much. The world, for the seventeen years since the fall of Kefka, had been relatively peaceful. The Imperial army had shown no signs of inappropriate action, and the emperor made no promises he couldn't fullfill. But he turned his head away from the economy, and the now impoverished people of Tzen. Adults were dying in an attempt to keep their children fed and clothed, and there was little the rest of the world would do about it, save for the compassionate rulers of Figaro. Quite a team, Terra and Edgar were.
"I don't know," I finally replied, allowing him to help me down, though I didn't require assistance. Edgar taught Ryland to be a gentleman, and I didn't want to ruffle his feathers by playing my independent-girl role. "Anywhere you had in mind?"
"Not particularly, unless you wanna take the bridge to the meadow." His eyes lit up. "Yeah, I hear there's a killer view up there." Killer it almost was.
Being fifteen, I thought that I was invincible, and that standard rules of life didn't apply to me. Just because my parents survived trauma after trauma, it didn't mean I could float through life pretending nothing could touch me. Ryland and I climbed up the rocky ravine, struggling to find footholds, when we could just as easily take the long, safe way up. I grasped a protruding rock and pulled myself onto the ledge, reaching out a hand to help my friend. I wasn't as strong as I thought I was, and he had been stronger than I gave him credit for. He grinned at me, and I stuck my tongue out. We walked towards the chasm in the cave, through which a rickety old bridge was constructed.
"You first," I joked, giving Ryland a nudge.
***
I remember hearing rumors about my father and a young woman named Rachel some years ago. When I was around eleven or twelve, I asked him about his relationship with her.
"Well sweetie," he began, getting that distant look in his eyes. I was getting a little too big to curl up in his lap, so I settled for hugging my legs to my chest and leaning against his stout frame. "Rachel was my first girlfriend, aside from all my silly childhood crushes. I met her when I was about seventeen."
"What happened to her?" I asked impatiently, curling my toes as he pinched my neck.
"Hold your horses, little one. Rachel used to accompany me on my treasure hunting excursions - much the way Ryland tags along with you and I. I courted her for over a year before I asked her to be my wife. She accepted the proposal, and to celebrate our engagement I took her to my favorite cave, wher I'd show her an exquisite relic I'd found."
"What was it?" my attention shifted. He chuckled and tapped my nose.
"I don't remember anymore, baby. That was years ago." he took a sip of his ale and continued. "So as we were headed down the path, we came to this old bridge - I knew it was unstable, but being eighteen I figured I was invincible. Just in case, I went first, so if anything happened at least Rachel would be alright. But - she wasn't. She saw that the bridge was about to collapse from under me and risked her life for mine."
"Did she die?" My eyes were round as saucers, and mother chose that moment to walk in the front door, paper bag bundled under one arm.
"Sorry, did I interrupt?" mother smiled, tucking a golden tress behind her ear. Father shook his head.
"I was telling Cadence about Rachel." He looked back to me. "No, she didn't die right then. She did suffer from severe head trauma, which invoked a coma and later on, amnesia."
"Locke..." my mother started, setting her package on the kitchen counter. The look in her pale blue eyes softened with sympathy. "Are you sure you want to be telling Cady this story? I know it's still hard..."
"No, it's fine. She has a right to know." I scooted closer to my father, waiting for him to continue. "Anyways, due to her amnesia, Rachel didn't remember me."
"But you guys were s'posed to get married!"
"True. She couldn't help it though, and since her parents blamed me for the accident, I was run out of town. Completely alienated by the people of my hometown. I came back a year later only to find that Rachel had been killed by the Imperial army. The last thing she ever said was my name."
I stuck out my lower lip, depressed by what I had learned. "Do you miss her?" I asked sullenly, noticing that my mother visibly stiffened over her work in the kitchen. She paused in slicing the vegetables, and continued at a faster pace after regaining composure.
"In some ways, yes." he replied finally. "She was a nice girl, deserving of a good life. But I'm thankful that she gave me the chance to live - and to forgive myself. I realize that if I had gone through with the marriage, I would've never found the woman I truly loved, or had the best daughter in the world. Without her death to motivate me, I may never have fought against Kefka and the Imperial army all those years ago. I may not have joined the Returners. I used to beat myself up for what happened, but now it's in the past and I won't make the same mistake again." He gave me a tight hug. "I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure nothing happens to you and Celes."
***
The memory made my skin crawl, and I was suddenly afraid. What if the bridge gave out and I lost Ryland forever? I wouldn't settle for that.
"Wait," I grabbed his arm before he set foot on the wooden panels. "Better let me go first."
"Cadence," he groaned in exasperation. "You don't have to be all gung-ho in front of me. I know you're capable of handling yourself."
"It's not that." I shook my head. Even though I was a daddy's girl, I inherited my mother's inability to hide her emotions. I frowned up at him, concern etching my brow. "It doesn't look very stable. If anything happens, I'd want to be the one to take the fall. No sense in making you go first."
One of our seldom, emotionally-charged moments occurred right then. Ryland was obviously moved by my declaration, and I could feel myself blush.
"We'll go together then." he replied softly, reaching for my hand. I let him lead me down the bridge, trying not to jump at each sway or seemingly unnatural creak. Halfway along, my shoe caught on a crannie in the plank and I tripped.
"Eeeyah!" I shrieked, wondering if I'd end up like poor Rachel had. Ryland caught me by the shoulders.
"Relax, you're okay."
We made it across to the other side, and I smiled triumphantly at the bridge behind us. My newfound Czarina Ring glinted.
We navigated the roughly hewn pathway out towards the meadow we'd come to recognize as our 'secret place'. Of course, there were other ways of getting there besides the crochety old bridge, and it was silently decided that we'd take the long way again next time. At the time being, the both of us sat down in the soft grass and leaned against our boulder. Zephyr painted the skies a dusty blue, petals of orange and pink brushing along the horizon to accompany an early sunset. The balmy breeze whisked away any traces of sweat from the back of my neck, and I mewled contentedly. Ryland laughed at my cute little noise, and I smiled up at him appreciatively.
King Edgar always joked with my father about how I would one day become the Queen of Figaro, alongside Ryland. At first, Ryland and I would roll our eyes and go about our business together, but as we grew older, I secretly hoped that Edgar's predicitions would come true. Not because I had any specific desire to rule over Figaro, but because I had a specific desire to be with Ryland. I watched him transform from a bratty little boy to a compassionate candidate for the throne, transforming my own platonic feelings into more tumultuous emotions. If only he could've seen what I saw in him...
***
"Cadence!" a harsh rasp awakened my uneasy slumber. Had I been sleeping? I sat up and rubbed my eyes, wanting to rest more fitfully before venturing on. After blinking several times in rapid succession, I realized that it was still dark out.
"Ryland?" I asked, reaching out for Atma. "What's going on?"
"Shhh," he put a finger to my lips and I sat still, dumbfounded. Our eyes met, mine questioning and his pensive. "I hear something."
"Prob'ly just the wind." I muttered, releasing my hair from its tangled ponytail prison. "Besides, who cares."
"I care." he hissed, fingering the hilt of Illumina. To my dismay, he had been given the most powerful sword known to man, at the expense of the all-powerful Ragnarok blade. His weapon glowed with a reddish hue beneath the dimly dotted stars. "Maybe you don't feel there's anything left to live for, but I'm going to take back my father's kingdom."
A rustle in the bushes startled my thoughts, and forced Ryland's attention back to the matter at hand.
"It's coming from over there," I pointed towards a thorny thicket. He nodded in agreement as the two of us slowly approached the source of our disturbance. Another rustle, this one more violent. While Ryland held back, I dropped Atma and reached out to part the bushes.
"What're you -"
"Gyahhh!" I shrieked, falling back into a crab position. Ryland held out an arm to shield me from harm and brought his blade slicing down on the small, defenseless creature that had startled me out of my wits. A shock of crimson rained down on us, along with a few tufts of fur. We sat there in the dirt, panting heavily for a few moments before I smacked him across the back of his skull.
"You moron! You just killed a harmless animal!"
"Well maybe if you hadn't screamed like that I wouldn't have thought it was neccesary!" he shouted right back, following me as I stormed off towards the stream. "I don't see why you're so mad when it's your fault!"
"It's not my fault!" I tossed behind my shoulder, catching a mouthful of hair in the process and spitting it back out.
"You screamed bloody murder, what was I supposed to do?"
"You're the rational one here!" I cried, kneeling over the brook and splashing water on my face. My fingers hurriedly wiped away the blood, sadness permeating my thoughts as I realized Ryland was probably right. "You should've treated the situation with more care!"
"How could I have any time to think things over when I feared for your life?" he knelt down next to me, no longer upset. "I've lost enough, Cadence. I'm not going to risk your safety by taking things lightly."
I cupped my hands in the stream and poured cool water over my hair, completely drenching every lock. It had been days since I'd bathed, and my hair was full of grime and knots. I tried to stay angry at Ryland, because I needed a way to vent my frustrations. I decided to give him the silent treatment, combing through wet tresses with my fingers. He watched me, quiet and amused as I continued to groom myself.
"You gonna stay mad at me all night?" he wondered aloud, resting his chin in his hands. I turned away from him and folded my arms across my chest. Very mature, I know.
"Cadence," his tone was low and warning. "You're mad at me because I was trying to protect you. Cut me some slack, will ya?"
I sighed, giving up. "I wish my father were here."
He pulled an arm around my shoulders. "I know. I wish I could bring our parents back. But I can't do that, and neither can you."
I laid my head on his shoulder, letting a few tears spill onto the black fabric. God, since when was I such a crybaby? I probably ruined Ryland's image of me completely.
"They're watching over us." he reassured me lightly.
***
It had been a year since I'd started work for Mr. Alper. What started out as a simple summer job turned into a full time occupation, and my days were filled with laborous tasks and endless errands. I had just seen the change of sixteen years and was feeling more confidant than ever in my abilities. That afternoon when I got off work, mother promised to practice my sword technique with me.
Truth be told, I preferred having my father teach me new things; he made training sessions fun and interesting, while mother preferred to remain stoic and strict. However, hands down, my mother was much better at weilding a full-size blade than my father ever was. He leaned towards smaller weapons, such as dirks and daggers. I disliked handling knives of any sort; they were fast and effective, but generally I was inclined to train with long, slender swords. Close-combat was not my specialty.
As I was walking home midday, I stopped to pluck a pink flower from the shrubbery in front of Mrs. Rosary's house. I decided not to hop her fence that day, considering I had accidentally crushed her lilacs while being particularly cumbersome. Feeling guilty, I gave her a healthy portion of that week's pay, plus a longwinded apology and an offer to help her plant new ones. She hugged me, thanking me for being so honest and helpful, but admitted that they hadn't been doing so well that season anyways and she'd just as soon replace them with perennials. Still, I'd opted not to disturb her peaceful garden, and sauntered towards my own cozy home, twirling the flower between my thumb and forefinger.
The front door was unlocked as usual; Kohlingen was too calm and uneventful to worry about burglaries of any sort. I walked in, breathing the fresh aroma of cinnamon and clove.
"Mo-om!" I called out, letting the door slam behind me.
"Oh good honey, you're home." I heard her shuffle around in the kitchen, setting down a few dishes and rushing to embrace me. She was clad in simple pants and a shirt, her fabulous hair held back with clips. She certainly looked a lot younger than she really was; from the stories father had told me, she was a complete knock-out back in the day. Tainted by the blood of the innocent and cold to the touch, but she'd warmed up considerably by the end of their journey together. After giving birth to me, she'd assumed an entirely new maternal complex, giving up her past as a warrior and focusing heavily and being a wife and mother. Of course, age didn't mar her exceptional skill with her Runic blade, and as a gift for my sixteenth birthday, she'd bestowed upon me her most prized possesion; the Atma.
"I brought this for you," I began sheepishly, handing her the flower. She seemed utterly surprised that I'd given her something; she fingered the blushing petals with the utmost delicacy and care. "I thought it was pretty, and it reminded me of you, so I picked it up on my way home."
Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and with good reason. I suppose my mother felt like a third wheel in me and my father's relationship. I always brought him home my findings, and constantly begged to spend time with him. I'm sure Celes felt slighted by the two of us when we were together, and my small offering of affection made her years of hardships worthwhile.
"Thank you sweetheart. Why don't you pick out a vase and we'll keep it on the table?"
I nodded. "Alright." I entered the kitchen and dug through the shambles of odds and ends in one of the cupboards, searching for a suitable vase. I found one; small, round and crystalline blue.
"Cadence," Mother began. "We were invited to dinner tonight at Figaro Castle. I want you to take a bath and dress nicely, alright?"
"But mother," I argued. "Terra and Edgar don't care."
"Honey, this is a formal occasion. There are important matters being discussed and I need you to be on your most ladylike behavior." Her lips quirked up into a wry smile. "Besides, I hear Ryland's grown up to be quite a looker this past year."
"Mother!" I cried out, apalled and yet slightly amused. She gave me that telltale look and laid her hands on my shoulders. "I was the same way about your father. I told Edgar once, a long time ago, that I was a soldier and not some love-starved twit. Turned out I fell for Locke harder than I wanted to admit." Her blue eyes grew distant at the memory, and a faint smile played on her lips. The reminiscence slowly faded and she cocked a brow at me. "Now get dressed missy, or I'll dress you up myself."
***
I splashed around in my bathwater, scooping up a handful of vanilla-scented bubbles and blowing them into the air. I refused to get my hair wet since it took hours to dry; my long, carmel-colored tresses hung to the small of my back in thick, soft waves. Father would often joke about my mother and I having more hair on our heads than Umaro the sasquatch had on his entire body. I could barely fit in the bath anymore, my long legs having outgrown the small porcelain tub. I yanked the plug before I turned into a prune, and wrapped myself up with a terrycloth.
I followed orders and dressed accordingly in a billowing blue skirt and a white strappy shirt. I enlisted the help of my mother in lacing my up along the sides - I remembered why I kept the silly thing in the back of my closet in the first place. I allowed her to put a dab of makeup on me but haughtily insisted that my hair remain loose. Instead, she settled for brushing it till my scalp burned.
My father whistled appreciatively when he saw me. "Who's this exquisite creature?"
I rolled my eyes, secretly pleased. "Cut it out, dad."
"Just like you to spoil my fun." he shook his head, smiling at me affecionately. "So much like your mother. You're gonna need a stick to beat those boys off."
"That's why I have Atma." We shared a chuckle.
"So daddy," I began as he brushed the wrinkles from his nice shirt. "What's this whole formal dinner for?"
He sighed in a way that made him seem old beyond his forty-three years.
"Sweetheart, I don't know what your mother told you..."
I shrugged. "She told me to dress nicely. And take a bath."
"This isn't going to be a usual dinner with the Figaro family. Emperor Chappelle and his lackies are going to be present; there's some tension going on between Figaro Kingdom and the Empire, and we're hoping to resolve it tonight."
"Is it serious?" I asked, perching on the arm of our couch. I could tell by the clouded look in my father's eyes that he couldn't be sure.
"Don't know. All I know is that Edgar and Terra want us there for moral support."
I grinned childishly. "Is Uncle Setzer going to be there?"
"Uncle..." he laughed, shaking his head. "Nope, I don't believe so. He's been perusing the world, so to speak, and I don't suppose he'll be back till he figures out what he wants from life." He paused a minute. "Why do you call him 'uncle' anyways?"
"I always have! Ryland has his Uncle Sabin, and I have my Uncle Setzer."
We shared a father-daughter hug and mother walked in the room, shaking her head at the sight.
"Should I be envious?"
I gauged my father's reaction to Celes' long white dress and green ribbon. He smiled lovingly, obviously lost in reminiscence.
"That ribbon still suits you." He tore his eyes away long enough to look at me. "Did I ever tell you the opera story Cady?"
"Yes," I huffed, squirming out from under his arm. "About a million times at that. I know how mother impersonated Maria and that was when you realized you were falling in love with her, and so on and so forth. And I also know how Uncle Setzer nearly swept you off your feet mom, you man-eater."
Mother laughed giddily, hiding a blush.
"Swept her off her feet?" Father asked incredulously. "That punk had nothing on me. He still doesn't."
Edgar had already made arrangements for a Chocobo carriage to pick us up and take us to Figaro Castle. When the little chariot arrived, Mother had to get in first so she could help me up - I wasn't used to functioning in such bulky clothing. Along with me, I brought Atma, much to the disapproval of my parental units. It had taken much convincing for them to let me bring it along, but had we argued more extensively on the matter, we would have been late. I sat between my parents throughout the duration of the ride, shifting uncomfortably whenever I'd catch them making eyes at each other. I hoped that, in the event I ever got married, I would have a love that tangible. It was clear as day that Locke and Celes felt for each other the same way they always had. I sighed and leaned back, letting them gaze meaningfully at one another. Instead I focused on Ryland... he was seventeen now, almost eighteen. I hadn't seen him in months and I wondered how he was doing... if he thought of me... if he looked as good as mother claimed. I mentally chided myself. Stop it Cadence, this is your best friend we're talking about. The Czarina ring on my left hand glinted, memories resurfacing.
***
Figaro Castle's aged spledor was lost on me, as I was accustomed to the sights and sounds of the bustling kingdom. It felt like a second home to me, and I was welcomed with open arms. We hopped out of the Chocobo carriage, mother scolding me on my unladylike exit. Father tipped the driver and saw him off. I sneezed at the dust the yellow birds kicked up, taking care to make sure my blade was pointed downward.
The usual guard bowed his head and welcomed us inside the castle gates, keeping a wary eye on Atma. Terra greeted us upon our entrance, dressed up in a fancy ballgown, curly green hair falling in ringlets around her slender face.
"Locke, Celes, it's wonderful to see the both of you." she gave them each a kiss on the cheek before coming to me. The queen of Figaro laid a pale hand over her chest and smiled sweetly. "And don't you look like a prize Cadence Miranda. You're more and more becoming each time I see you." she pressed a kiss to my forehead.
"You flatter me," I replied just as kindly, giving her a tight squeeze with my free arm. Terra was a wonderful woman, and I loved her dearly. It was hard to believe there was ever a time in which she wasn't comfortable with her royal status. Judging from the stories Setzer had told me, no one ever expected Terra and Edgar to marry, much less have a child before Locke and Celes. Apparently Terra was smitten with children and although she and Edgar brought a handful of orphans from Mobliz under their wing, the new queen wanted a newborn of her own. Edgar agreed, wanting a son to succeed him in the throne. My own parents spent two years travelling the world in search of harmony - a peace that they realized could only be obtained by sharing their love with a baby. Which was indeed how I came to be.
"You look fabulous, Terra." My mother began, and the two women chattered away like the church hens I found gossiping in front of the general store.
"What is it with women?" I whispered to my father, and he grinned.
"They never used to be this way." he replied, equally confused. "It was always Terra wondering if she'd ever learn to love and Celes pushing everyone away. Wonder what changed all that?"
"Midlife crisis?" I suggested, and he flicked the back of my neck.
"Watch it," he warned playfully. "I'm older than both of them."
"Well," I retorted in a snotty manner. "You do forget who's got the weapon in hand."
"Locke, my friend!" Edgar called out merrily. "How's the stealing business?"
Before my father could correct him, the king gaped at me.
"My, my, such a beautiful young lady we have here." I tolerated it with a smile, already tired of the comments about my looks. Who cared about appearances anyway?
"Watch it you old lech," my father interrupted. "That's my daughter you're talking to."
"Relax, relax, have a glass of champagne old buddy. I'd never sway a young lady with a big sword. Ryland!" he yelled out, and my heart jumped to my throat. "Hey son, get out here and join the festivities!"
Edgar winked at me, taking a sip from his goblet. "He's been asking about you."
When he walked into the room, I barely recognized him. He had been away at Jidoor for nearly eight months to complete his schooling, and I hadn't seen him at all during his absence. He had to have been at least six feet tall, towering over my meager five-five frame. His hair was still the same wild green, making him his mother's son, but his strong features were all his own. Our eyes met, and his travelled downwards. Instinctively, I folded my arms across my chest, not allowing him to size me up so openly.
"Damn Edgar," my father howled, nursing his own goblet. "Better watch how you treat this kid or he'll beat you off the throne with a stick!" What it was with my father and beating people with sticks, I'd never know. He slapped Ryland heavily on the back, causing my friend to stumble, and laugh with amusement. "How ya been, Ry?"
"I've been better," he replied calmly, his voice deeper and more controlled than I'd remembered it to be. "Studying in Jidoor wasn't the most exciting thing I've ever done, but at least it's behind me now."
"Don't like hangin' around all those aristocrats eh?"
Ryland smiled for real, casting a glance at Terra. "That too. Mostly I just missed my mother and my home here."
After awhile of half-heartedly listening in on the decidedly adult conversations, my mother nudged me. "He's been stealing glances at you for the past ten minutes. Why don't I drag your father away from him and let you two catch up?"
I shrugged indifferently, watching my mother take Locke's arm and veer him off towards Terra and Edgar. Dad was a lightweight when it came to alcohol and lost control of his functions easily. For that night's banquet, it was best to let him rest off his champagne and wait till dinner. I took a tentative step towards Ryland, and he surprised me by meeting me halfway. Soft orchestra music punctuated the din of cordial tidings around us, but all we heard was silence.
"Hey stranger." I croaked, unable to tear my azure eyes from his sultry green ones.
"Hey yourself." he replied. "You're looking well Cadence."
"It's been a long time since you've seen me." I defended, fighting back the urge to fidget. "God, you've grown so much."
He reddened slightly, reaching for my arm. "Dinner doesn't start until the emperor arrives, and that won't be for awhile. Why don't you join me out on the balcony? Doubt our parents will even know we're gone, and we'll be back in time to greet Chappelle and his men."
"You know me," I grinned. "Always up for an act of rebellion."
We slid through the doors undetected and headed up several flights of stairs. He didn't release his grasp on my arm till we'd reached the aforementioned balcony. There were were, at the top of the castle, seemingly at the top of the world, and I laid Atma down to get a better view. I leaned my elbows on the cobblestone wall and watched, with immense fascination, how the dim lights of nearby Kohlingen flickered eerily in the fading dusk. A frown made its way across my lips as I remembered that mother and I were supposed to train that afternoon. The liquid muscle in my arms begged to be utilized, and my legs were sore from being out of use for so long. I stiffened when Ryland joined me at the edge.
"I've missed you." he told me softly, following my gaze towards Kohlingen.
"It's been too long." I agreed. "I haven't had anyone to go treasure hunting with."
He laughed bemusedly. "I take it your father's been too busy?"
"More or less. I think he's getting a little old for that sort of lifestyle anymore."
"Better not tell him that." Ryland smirked, averting his gaze towards the specks of stars that dotted the heavens.
"How was Jidoor?" I asked, trying to get my mind off the inappropriate - and strangely wonderful - thoughts that Ryland invoked. What a few months apart and a growth spurt could to do one's hormones!
He rubbed the back of his neck, twisting his face up into a thoughtful expression. "A lot different from Figaro, that's for sure. The people, regardless of their social class, were mostly stuck up. You know, the higher-ups thought they were better than you, and the commoners had this preconceived notion that anyone with more money than them would look down on them. So I was stuck in the middle."
"Did you make any friends there?" I questioned lightly, fully understanding what it was like to grow up around adults all your life.
"Not really. The socialites were so materialistic and superficial that they barely bothered with much else, including other people. And of course, the commonfolk were way too edgy; they took everything offensively and figured that if you talked to them, you must be mocking them."
I hid a blush as I found my next words. "So... no girlfriends then?"
He turned around and leaned his lithe frame back against the wall. I exhaled shakily, unsure of the heady sensations his simple presence was inviting. He seemed distraught as well, pondering his next choice of words.
"No. And even if there were anyone who caught my eye there, I'd still be saving myself for someone special."
"You have someone in mind?" I asked meekly.
He laughed, shaking his head at the absurdity. "All the time."
"Oh." I let out my breath, turning around and hoisting myself up on the ledge. "What a lucky girl." A tad too wistful, but perhaps he wouldn't catch on.
"I guess you are." he smiled adoringly at me. The heat rose to my cheeks when I realized what he was referring to. I crossed my ankles nervously, watching him turn to face me. When he couldn't look at me, he focused on his shoes, sighing deeply.
"I kept it." he said simply, holding his hand up to indicate the Hero ring we'd found a year earlier.
"Why?" I could barely speak. He seemed to take that into consideration, sliding it off and weighing it in his palm.
"My decision to leave for Jidoor was pretty spur of the moment -"
"I noticed."
"And I felt really bad about leaving without saying goodbye to you. That and I knew I'd end up missing you in one way or another. So I wore it the whole time I was there. Figured it was my way of honoring you and the memories we've shared."
"Ryland," I started. A bubble of mirth rose from my throat. "That's so cheesy."
He grinned at me, reaching out to run his fingers through my hair, the way he had in my dreams. How long had I wanted this? Even as a child I'd had a crush on the prince of Figaro, always trying to impress him with my budding skills as a treasure hunter. Was this really about to happen?
"Yeah I know." he sighed again, a corner of his mouth tugging upward in a sad half-smile. "You've gotten even prettier since I last saw you."
I laughed nervously, reaching up to brush my fingers over his. "Nah. It's just this silly outfit my mom made me wear."
"No, before that. Think I care how you're dressed? I thought you were beautiful when your face was ashen with soot and cinders and your knees and elbows were scraped," he leaned closer to me, and I could feel the words as they formed on his lips. "When you'd run around barefoot in your ripped up jeans and those shirts that you'd long outgrown... it doesn't matter to me."
"Then -" I trembled, his face inching ever closer. "Then what does?"
"What do you think?" his eyes darkened with emotion. I pulled him closer, feeling as if something deep inside of me had been awakened.
"EMPEROR CHAPPELLE HAS ARRIVED!" the loud admission sent the two of us flying backwards, me nearly falling off the edge.
"Careful," Ryland winked at me, releasing his grasp on my waist. I scooted off the wall and led us downstairs, tucking my hair behind my ears self-consciously. What a way to ruin the moment, I thought bitterly, the butterflies still tickling my insides. Maybe after dinner...
***
Emperor Chappelle was an average-looking man by appearance. He was formally dressed, his dark gray hair held back in a ponytail. At either side of him were two men, supposedly his most trusted generals. Several faceless Imperial henchmen dwelled a few paces behind them, keeping a watchful eye on Edgar and my father.
"Welcome to Figaro, Emperor Chappelle." Edgar intoned, spreading his arms out in welcoming. "Feel free to make yourselves comfortable. Dinner will be served in few moments."
"I accept your hospitality with gratitude, King of Figaro. These are my men, General Crowley and General Felix, who will be accompanying us for tonight's feast."
The latter of the two, General Felix, looked awfully familiar. His flaxen hair was slicked back, revealing close-set brown eyes and a stern upper lip. I squinted my eyes, trying to remember where I'd seen this man before, and he stole a glance at me as well. The stubborn frown he wore faded into a suggestive half-smile, his deathless eyes baring into me mercilessly. There was almost a predatory glimmer in his eyes, one that seemed branded in the back of my mind...
"It's a pleasure meeting you." Edgar went on, offering a firm handshake to each of the men. "This is my wife, Terra." He gestured to the beautiful queen of Figaro. I tore my eyes away from General Felix long enough to notice that the emperor was sizing Terra up, discreetly, but lustfully nonetheless. What was it with the men of the empire? Leches, all of them! "This is Locke Cole and his wife Celes, their daughter Cadence Miranda and my son Ryland."
Formalities were exchanged, and I shook the hand of General Felix, unable to look into his eyes. Ryland and I dogged behind when everyone was called into the dining hall.
"What's the matter Cadence?" he set a hand on my shoulder, concerned.
"I don't like this." I mumbled, handing Atma to one of the servants to put in a safe room for me, making him swear on his life to treat it with the utmost care. Ryland refrained from laughing, the serious vibe we'd shared earlier coming back twice as strong.
"Neither do I." he replied softly, gentle eyes roaming over my face. "But it'll be over soon. And then after dinner... there's something I want to tell you."
I seized the opportunity, taking his hands in mine. "You can't tell me now?"
He pulled away. "We need to get in there before the emperor throws a coniption fit. Come on."
I stuck out my lower lip like a child. Strike two.
Well, third time's a charm.
***
The dining hall was exquisite; long walls decorated with ancient paintings, ornamental laterns casting a soft, relaxing light, beautiful jeweled swords hanging in criss-cross fashion. The carpet was an inviting shade of taupe, the lengthy table covered with a patterned cloth, and the silverware was of fine craftsmanship. We were presented with a vast selection of roasted hams and turkeys, a meddley of boiled vegetables, and an assortment of breads and rolls. It was all I could do to keep my eyes in their sockets - I could certainly get used to this, I thought wryly, stealing a flirtatious glance at the prince across from me. He twitched his lips and raised his eyebrows, causing me to blush. I really didn't have much experience in the flirting department, did I?
After the main course had been served, the discussion began. I tried my hardest not to do anything terribly unladylike, so I sat in silence, picking apart a slice of bread. My ears picked up the most interesting part of the conversation.
"You must understand, we only seek to benefit the world as we know it." Chappelle was saying.
"From what I understand, you seek to take my kingdom out from under me." Edgar kept his voice level. "I don't see how relinquishing my rightful position is going to make current situations any better."
"The Empire doesn't wish to take from you." Chappelle was growing stern. "We simply want you to help us accomodate a better future. We feel that the best way for the inhabitants of this world to live, is to be governed by a single branch. This doesn't mean you'll lose your castle."
"No, but it means I'll lose my birthright and everything I've strived to obtain." I wanted to throw my arms around the king and give him a big hug for being so temperant and wise. He was certainly giving the emperor his opinion and keeping a cool head about it. I caught Ryland smirking. "Furthermore, there has been no complaint over my reign as King of Figaro. Under no circumstance will I dishonor my family's legacy by giving up our kingdom. Figaro intends to remain self-governed, and my son Ryland is to succeed me in the throne. That is final."
General Crowley spoke next. "I urge you to reconsider your refusal. We take nothing from you and offer you an easier lifestyle in return."
"I stand by my husband's decision." Terra declared firmly. "We enjoy working together to make this world safer and stronger. To give up our efforts and relinquish the kingdom to the Empire would only serve as a fool's paradise, one which neither of us will be snared in."
"Agreed." Edgar took his wife's hand lovingly. "I will continue to rule over Figaro until my son succeeds me."
I held my breath.
*To Be Continued*
