This story is a sequel to Teleport-Mea, events in it taking place immediately after the wedding of the Galka Crying Swan and the Hume Floria. While it stands alone as a completed work, you may wish to read Teleport-Mea first to learn a bit more about the main characters and their circumstances in this fanfic.
Madness
Chapter One - Li'Telor
For a long time they knelt at prayer in the Cathedral. When Vicasque Arnau noticed that they were not part of his usual congregation of Paradise-seekers, he spoke with them. And when he learned that they were newlyweds, he blessed their union, ad-libbing much of the blessing, given the unconventional pairing, leaving out anything that foretold of childbearing. There seemed to be more mixed couples about these days, what with the adventuring crowd marrying anyone they felt like. Why did all these men feel the need to come home with a Mithra bride? On the positive side, the orphanages had all but disappeared as these couples sought to raise families. Arnau wondered how these two would fare, for rarely did Galkas take wives. But he blessed them anyway, for they were still the children of Altana, given life by her infinite love.
Crying Swan and Floria thanked him and made a donation to the priest at the door on their way out. The spring day was sunny and warm, and they paused outside to enjoy the sunshine. The San d'Orian air had seemed cold to them when they first arrived after the wedding ceremony, but now there was warmth in the bright sunshine and the hint of spring in the air. The lawns outside of the Cathedral were even beginning to turn green.
Moving on again, Floria teleported them to the Crag of Mea. Chocobos were hired, and they rode north, first into the Meriphtaud Mountains and then up into the Sanctuary of Zi'Tah. Even though it was just past midday, little light reached the forest floor. The great trees, thousands of years old, stood like great towers, sheltering the moss and mists with their branches. Floria had made arrangements with the outpost there, that they might spend the night in the guest quarters. "We'll ride first to the outpost to let them know we've arrived, and then ride on to the Hall of the Gods."
While most of the couples they knew had gone off to Kazham or Purgonorgo Isle to enjoy their first days together as husband and wife, Crying Swan had requested something more spiritual and contemplative for their honeymoon. His suggested plan was to first visit the Cathedral in San d'Oria, then to visit the Hall of the Gods in Zi'Tah, and finally to spend a week or so exploring the ancient ruins on Zepwell Island. Floria of course had agreed, happy to follow him anywhere.
On arriving at the outpost, they were greeted enthusiastically, and were immediately received by the commander, one Captain Gaury, a tall Bastokan soldier with a well-preened appearance. "We were so delighted by your coming here that we're preparing you a wedding dinner for tonight. It's not often that we receive such distinguished guests way out here." He escorted them into the building and sent their bags off to the guestroom with his clerk.
It became immediately obvious that the staff of the outpost had gone to much trouble for the bridal pair. The hall inside, normally spartan and utilitarian in appearance, had been hung with garlands of paper flowers and freshly cut greenery. The long central table had been covered with a pale blue tablecloth and bedecked with vases of flowers. Immaculate white china, looking uncomfortably out of place in the military outpost, had been laid out carefully, and upon each setting a well-starched cloth napkin had been folded into a Rarab shape. At the center of the table atop a velveteen draped pedestal, an ornately decorated wedding cake presided under a glass dome
A lady Tarutaru suddenly burst from the kitchen dressed in the familiar uniform of the cooking guild. Flour streaked her cheek and a large, well-used wooden spoon seemed her scepter of office. "You're here! Oh! We've been so excited about your coming!"
Captain Gaury bashfully introduced his mother.
"When my son told me that there were a pair of newlyweds coming to spend their wedding night at the outpost I thought to myself: 'oh, that will never do' so here I am to make it do. Now I'm told that you're first going up to see the Hall of the Gods, so please tell me when you'll return to I can have supper ready." She turned toward the kitchen. "Ameymey! Come here please!" She turned back to the couple. "Now what time please?"
"Please, Mother," the captain said defensively. "They only just arrived."
"Oh...hmmm...well...." Floria turned to her husband, who looked back at her with the same expression of bewilderment.
"I...well..." he stammered. "Well what time is dinner normally served around here?
Another Tarutaru came out of the kitchen, her head covered with a chef's cap, one arm cradling a mixing bowl while the other worked some sort of dough with a fork.
"At 19:00," said the captain.
"Then 19:00 will be fine."
"Supper will be at 19:00 then!" beamed Mother. "Ameymey, supper at 19:00, and get a good look at the couple now before they leave for the afternoon. Oh! Aren't they darling?" She shook the hem of Crying Swan's blue cape. "Bend down, big boy, so Ameymey can see what color your eyes are." Swan obliged her, wondering what his eye-color had to do with anything, but some people could get so hung up on pointless things like that. "Handsome for a Galka, isn't he?" Mother decided aloud.
Captain Gaury looked ready to faint.
Ameymey nodded and went back to her mixing, taking her bowl back to the kitchen. "And get out another steak for the groom!" Mother called after her.
Outside, out of his mother's earshot, Captain Gaury apologized for all the fuss. "Please don't let my mother frighten you away. I asked her to come and cook something simple-but-nice for a couple of honeymooners, and she turned it into a big production. She has this thing for weddings. But on the positive side, she's one of the best cooks anywhere. It's a meal you'll never forget, and I can't tell you what a morale booster it's been for my men. She's cooked for them a few times before, so they know what's coming.
Calliope, the sentry on duty at the flag nodded. "We all started drooling when we heard."
"We'll look forward to it then," said Crying Swan graciously.
"Thank you. Your visit means a lot to everyone here, to be honest."
"Forgive me for asking," Floria began, "but how did you come to have her as your mother?"
Captain Gaury apparently was used to the question, for his answer came quickly. "Well, my real mother ran off with some Dragoon when I was five, and shortly thereafter my father was assigned as a guard at the Bastokan Consulate in Windurst. She was the neighbor my father paid to look after me while he was on duty. Pretty soon she was looking after him too, what with that wonderful cooking of hers. They always say you can win a man's heart by winning his stomach first, and so just before his two year tour in Windurst ended, he married her to ensure she came home to Bastok with us." He laughed at his strange circumstances. "It was kinda odd at first, calling her Mom, since I was taller than she was."
"Cute story. I suppose I can relate, being in a mixed marriage myself."
Swan's hand lighted on her shoulder. "Learn to cook and all will work out well for us," he grinned.
"Of course, Darling." Floria said with the taint of sarcasm in her voice, and then turned back to Gaury. "Thank you so much, Captain, and we'll be off now to the Hall of the Gods, but expect us back here at 19:00."
Gaury saluted and helped her onto the waiting Chocobo.
* * *
As they approached the northeast passage that lead to Ro'Maeve, the Conquest Overseer waved them down. "You must be Crying Swan. I was sent word that there was a party at the Outpost for you and your bride tonight." Dedden, also a Galka, stretched up his hand to Crying Swan, who took it in greeting. "And you must be the lovely bride," he said, walking around to Floria's Chocobo. He took her hand and kissed it in the Hume fashion. "I was told that I had to come tonight, and I most certainly will," he said gazing up at her almost reverently. "I convinced Ochocho to come up and take my place out here tonight. She's the War Warlock who takes this spot when Windurst has control over the area."
Swan chuckled. "That was good of her."
Dedden sighed as he walked back to his post. "I had to promise her a bottle of Bastokan brandy for the favor, and not the cheap stuff."
"Eh, Tarutarus. Who can resist them?" He turned again to Floria "Ready?"
Floria nodded.
"See you tonight, Dedden."
Dedden saluted a goodbye as the couple rode off.
They paused at the gates of Ro'Maeve to enjoy the sandwiches Mother had packed up for them, and they were indeed delicious. Heading in, they slipped noiselessly through the maze of passages and courtyards, carefully dodging the monstrosities that lived there, until at last they came to the great Hall of the Gods. Entering in, they walked about silently for a long time, staring up in wonderment at the statues all around them—Altana, Promathia, and their attendants. "I still remember the first time I came here," Swan reminisced, finally breaking the stillness. "You were at my side."
"I was behind you," Floria corrected him.
"You're at my side now, and that's what's important."
Floria hugged his massive arm and laid her cheek against his glove affectionately. "I don't remember it that much. We had been doing so much in those days, and I was still frightened of the creatures in the forest, and terrified of those out in Ro'Mave."
"I was there to protect you. We all were." He picked her up in his arms, and as always she wrapped hers about his short neck. How often he had carried her like this when things had gone wrong, or simply when she was exhausted. Swan walked to the edge of the cermet causeway that they stood on. "How about a swim?"
"Too cold."
"So?" He moved his arms away from his body, making her gasp and cling all the tighter. Her fingers wrapped under his gorget. And then he stepped right to the edge of the causeway.
"Nooooo!" Floria squealed.
"You sure?" he teased, moving his arms even further away. Her legs began to slide out of his hold.
"No! No! No! If you throw me in you're in big trouble!"
He laughed and set her down solidly on the cermet. "I'll be nice...today." He had thrown her, and most of the members of the linkshell into fountains and ponds before—his strange sense of humor—so the threats were not completely idle.
He looked up again at the statue before him, his hands resting on his hips. The statue's head and shoulders had cracked off in ancient times and now lay visible on the watery floor of the temple. Crying Swan began unbuckling his armor.
"Here?" Floria gasped, taken rather aback.
"Why not?"
"But this is holy ground."
"All the better," he responded, ducking out of his shoulder plates. "Now undo me."
Obediently she helped him to undress, and soon he stood in his loincloth, his pale skin almost the same color as the cermet around them. "Hopefully there's nothing down there that I can't handle, but be ready just in case." From his Gobbiebag he removed his goggles, knife, and noseclip.
"I've never known a Galka as water-loving as you," she grinned. "You're the swimmingest guy I've ever met."
He bent forward and kissed her forehead, then dove gracefully into the mirror-still water. Floria smiled and watched him make for the temple floor. Then she tidied his armor into a neat pile before seating herself on the lip of the causeway to watch her husband pretend to be a fish. Even more than throwing his friends into the water, he loved throwing himself into it. So often when they had been out adventuring, Swan would suddenly go missing, only to be found in a nearby river. He had swum in Lake Mechiume. He had swum in the Mhaura harbor. He had swum in the Phananuet Channel. He had broken through the ice of a pond in Beaucedine Glacier to swim in the frigid waters there. He had been quite disappointed when they had not found enough water in the Toraimorai Canal to swim in. He never went anywhere without his three beloved pieces of swimming gear.
Floria watched him below, his great arms drawing him through the water, his tail swishing from side to side with a fish-like movement. He would come to the surface to breathe, taking in enormous lungfuls of air with a great gasp before diving again. And when he had had enough of diving, he swam lazy laps through the temple on his back, gazing up meditatively at the statues above him.
His wife waited patiently, listening to the splash of water, her eyes upturned as well. Birds flew amongst the sunbeams that fell from the high windows of the hall. The sound of their flapping wings carried far in the still air. She looked to the spreading statue of Altana and whispered a prayer that her marriage would always know the love and calm of this moment, even when the world outside was full of storm and sadness. Surely there were trials in store for them, but their love could see them through it all...hopefully
As the sunbeams rose and faded, signaling the approach of evening, Crying Swan finally pulled himself from the crystalline waters. Dripping and shivering, he took a towel from his Gobbiebag and dried himself off. Floria helped him to dress again. "I'm famished!" he announced. "I'm so looking forward to dinner now."
"I'll bet you are. You were swimming a long time." Floria dug into her own Gobbiebag and found a few stale rolanberry pies. "You can eat these for now. They're kinda old, but they're still good."
He consumed them without any further encouragement. "Anything tastes good right now," he said, brushing the crumbs off of his face.
When he had all of his armor back on, she playfully combed his hair back for him. On looking into her mirror, he decided it too uninteresting and re-combed it into two forward-swept points. "Oh come on..." she groaned. "We're going to a party in our honor now."
"Exactly."
Floria's response was a frustrated sigh of acceptance.
* * *
The honeymoon continues in Chapter Two of Madness.
* * *
FFXI and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of SquareEnix. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.