Disclaimer: Of course I own nothing but the plot here. All FF VII characters belong to Square. None of this is for profit.

Summary: When war breaks out between Shinra and Wutai, Sephiroth loses the one thing he has always treasured. But now that the victory's won, he intends to take back what is rightfully his. AU, SephTi

Genre: Romance/Drama

Author's Notes: Yes, I've been bitten by the Sephiroth/Tifa bug. Yes, I know that in spite of my trying to keep everyone as IC as possible, this is classic cheese romance. I apologise for inflicting this on unsuspecting readers. If you want to, leave now!

Spoils of War

I. Prologue

General Sephiroth coolly stamped his seal into the warm wax and handed the message to his man who received it in a manner that was no less than reverential. Years of such hero-worship had rendered him immune to it and it was a rare occasion when he felt the urge to roll his eyes and poke ridicule at what would have made other men puff up with pride. Sephiroth didn't count idol worship as the mark of a great general; that could be counted in the number of victories he won and at what cost.

Speaking of cost… Brilliant green eyes shadowed as he looked at the window across the room. Outside, his men were gathering and burying the dead. Both Shinra's and Wutai's. Officially, it was for health reasons that his men were told to bury even the bodies of their enemies. Personally and philosophically, Sephiroth felt that it was only right that soldiers, all soldiers, be honoured for their sacrifices. This was a war; he never let things get personal or petty as far as he could help it.

Although, therein lay a paradox. The general smiled faintly but it was without humour. For those who had lost loved ones, it was as personal as anything could get. Three days ago, the vicious four year war between the Shinra Empire and Wutai had finally culminated in triumph for him. Emperor Godo had been brought to his knees with more than two thirds of his army wiped out and his once prosperous island impoverished.

Thankfully, Shinra's losses in those terms had not been that severe. Men had perished, but that was to be expected in the life of a soldier. President Shinra had griped and groaned about the cost of the war, a war that he had explicitly ordered Sephiroth to wage but he could more than afford to cover it. With the new Mako reactors up and running, Midgar and its citizens were thriving.

"This ought to make him happy," Sephiroth murmured with more than a hint of sarcasm, disregarding the presence of the two armed guards at his door. His men may have been soldiers in Shinra's army but they gave their allegiance and loyalty to him. Never once had Sephiroth ever left it to his men to brave a battlefield alone but always he was there with them, in the heart of the action, fighting alongside them. And they loved him for it.

Taking a good look at his new surroundings, Sephiroth ran his eyes over the furnishings, noticing the décor for the first time instead of simply analysing it in terms of strategic spacing, such as the entrances where desperate assassins might assail him from. He had men patrolling the roofs just in case; Wutai's elite warriors were ninjas and scaling walls and buildings were their speciality. It was not so much a case of Sephiroth fearing for his own life rather than his desire to do things thoroughly and prevent problems before they could happen. That same desire was one of the many reasons why he was the Empire's premier general and incidentally, it's youngest.

Godo's quarters were large and spacious, fit for an Emperor indeed. But the gold traceries marking the deep wooden columns were too gaudy for his taste; he preferred things simple and almost austere. The thick drapes had been released and pulled close to prevent anyone from looking in. Intricately carved chests, cupboards and shelves lined the wall, the latter was filled with books and from the titles Sephiroth could see that his opponent was extremely well-versed in many subjects, not just war. Godo had been a tough opponent but when it came down to it, he was better.

At the furthest end of the room lay a bed that could only be described as enormous. The headboard was carved with leviathans that were inlaid with a curious shining aquamarine substance that made them seem almost alive. Midnight blue silk sheets and coverlets of fine wool covered the mattress and Sephiroth, in spite of himself, was feeling the slightest tug of fatigue. The bed was starting to look rather welcoming, especially when he considered who ought to be arriving now at any minute.

The thought had no sooner formed when he heard the sounds of marching feet, what sounded like scuffling, an oath and a hissed chastisement about not swearing in the quarters of the General. To be fair to his men, they were being rather quiet and it wasn't their fault that his hearing exceeded that of a normal humans. It had its benefits and disadvantages; eavesdropping was one of the former.

Behind him, his guards pulled open the heavy doors. Much to his amusement, his guest had arrived just as he thought she would: mutinous, angry and in a better condition than the squad of seven men he had sent to fetch her from the palace wing where the royal family and their closest servants were imprisoned. Speaking of his seven men...

"What happened to your men?"

"She...she knocked three of them out General," the squad leader said with as much dignity as he could muster. "Forgive our incompetence."

Sephiroth nodded slightly. "I expected that of her in any case."

"Sir?"

"You may leave." With his eyes he signalled to his own personal guards that his order also included them.

His men, loyal as they were, had learned never to question him. On silent and quick feet they departed, shutting the doors behind them with a reverberating thud.

In the centre of the room stood the object of his desire, Tifa Lockheart. If looks could have killed, he would have been incinerated a thousand times over, Sephiroth thought wryly. His woman had spirit even if she had nothing else. But as she had proved, even though she was chained hand and foot, she was still a force to be reckoned with.

"Hello Lockheart," he said softly.

She scoffed at his greeting and turned her head aside deliberately, curling her lip in scorn. Four years had not changed her that much. Her skin was still the same deceptively delicate shade of white touched with gold, her brown hair was longer. But those rich cinnamon eyes that had once laughed and looked at him with tenderness were hard and defiant. One would think that Tifa Lockheart had never loved him.

Or that perhaps she no longer did.

She was achingly beautiful, more so because she was precious to him. No one knew how much this war had cost him privately. But now that it was over... Sephiroth had never met an opponent who had withstood him and he was sure that this twenty-one-year old woman was not going to. In time, he would win her over.

To Tifa's horror, Sephiroth had sent men to fetch her, just as she suspected he would. That man had an ego larger than all of Wutai and Nibelheim's mountains combined and it demanded that she submit to him. 'Never mind the fact that he was the one who obeyed Shinra like some lapdog when he ordered this war. Never mind that I serve the Wutai court and begged him not to do it.' Naturally such a betrayal demanded that she part ways with him.

Angry thoughts of the past drifted through Tifa's head even as she was hauled along by the four remaining guards. Two had their hands clamped around her arms; the other two had tightened the chains around her feet so that she was forced to take small steps at a time. Deceived initially by the flowing garments she wore, they had left the chains loose only to discover she had a particular talent for arm to arm combat. Several bruises and three unconscious men later, they knew better.

Tifa tried to make a final break for it, twisting and turning, trying to break the chains that bound her and in response the men took to dragging her towards the heavy ornate doors and practically thrust her through them.

From that moment on her eyes were glued to the one man she loathed and resented more than anyone on Gaia: Sephiroth.

Time hadn't changed him. He still had that same fair and pale skin, the kind that glowed rich and white under moon's light. Together with his silvery hair and bewitching green eyes, he looked as ethereal and breathtaking as he had four years ago. And as bloody arrogant as always. He had the cheek, the guile to look her right in the eyes and say "Hello Lockheart" as though he hadn't just invaded her adopted homeland.

Ignoring his greeting, she curled her lip at him and looked away, turning to the window where she fixed her eyes on the distant sea. The rich marine hues were mixed with splashes of gold and red as the sun sank behind the horizon. A slight shiver went through Tifa. Just what did Sephiroth want with her? To gloat? She did not think he was likely to torture her.

When he moved towards her, Tifa instinctively shrank back. "Stay away," she ordered, knowing full well it was an exercise in futility.

Sephiroth behaved as though she had never spoken and hampered as she was, she couldn't do anything when he reached behind and grabbing her wrist, forced her to turn around. "What— let go!" she gasped, wrenching against him.

"Stay still or else I won't be able to unlock this." He spoke to her as though he was speaking to a spoilt petulant child and she would have scowled if his lips hadn't brushed her ear with the lightest of touches. Involuntarily, Tifa shivered and ceased her struggling. Behind her, Sephiroth smiled.

There was a distinct clicking sound as the key turned and then her bonds were loosened, pulled from her hands as they fell in a heap at her feet. Kicking off the loops that had been twined around her ankles, Tifa tried to pull away only to feel Sephiroth's arm encircle her waist, hauling her against him. Alarm and fear flooded her system and at once she raised her foot, bringing it down in a vicious scrape along the front of his leg. A move like that would have dislocated the kneecap of anyone not wearing protective leg armour. This unfortunately, was precisely what Sephiroth was wearing.

The arm around her waist tightened and his fingers pressed into her side, almost but not quite biting into her flesh. "Don't try that again Tifa. I don't want things to be unpleasant between us but if you behave like this, I will contain you."

"What do you want?" Tifa swallowed hard, hating the slight quiver in her voice. She was an expert martial artist and she would face any enemy head on but Sephiroth was in a class by himself. She knew of no one who had ever defeated him. His teachers had taught him well but he had surpassed them a long time ago.

"Just this."

Perhaps it was the gentleness in his voice or the unexpected answer, so different from her worst imaginings. Whatever it was, Tifa went completely still.

With his other hand, he captured hers. A gentle thumb rubbed over the angry red marks that circled her wrist, soothing the bite. Tifa's heart was had already been pounding when she was being dragged into his presence but now it was doing so for a completely different reason. Lowering her head so that her hair slipped forward and hid her face, she closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing as the past collided with the surrealism of the present moment, threatening to wash her away in a sea of memory.

'This is Sephiroth, the man who betrayed you. The man you left. The man who conquered Wutai and made it a shadow of itself. Get a grip!' Tifa chanted the words almost feverishly in her mind, clinging to them. They were true just a moment ago and they were still true. What Tifa would not, could not admit that in spite of the immense pain he had caused her four years before and even now, there was still a part of her that was not immune to him.

She trembled in his arms and Sephiroth knew that in spite of her very real anger at him and what he had done, Tifa Lockheart still felt something for him. Theirs was a soul deep connection and even if they had stood on opposite ends of the spectrum of good and evil, it would still be there, linking them always.

She sucked in a sharp breath and wide cinnamon eyes stared up at him in alarm as he suddenly picked her up and carried her towards the bed.

"Sephiroth! You wouldn't dare! Put me down right now!"

"Hold still or I will drop you this instant," he warned, issuing his first empty threat in years.

"I would rather be on the floor or in a swamp for that matter than be touched by the likes of you!"

Tifa was about to slap him when Sephiroth very casually tossed her onto the bed in an undignified heap. Sputtering in disbelief, she swept her hair away from her eyes only to catch his heavy black cloak full in the face. "Of all the insufferable...would-be conquerors!" Tifa shouted furiously as she struggled to pull the thing off her. It certainly weighed a lot more than it looked and she thought for a fleeting moment how stupid it was of Sephiroth to wear such an impressive but cumbersome garment into battle.

Within half a minute she had freed herself from the wretched thing and balling it, she threw it at him angrily before realising that save for his black pants, Sephiroth wasn't wearing a blessed thing. Tifa's mouth dropped open and her face flamed red against her wishes. Not even when they had been together had she ever seen him in this... state.

If he had more time, he would have liked to continue watching Lockheart as she sat there on his bed gawking at him, her face redder than all of Scarlet's dresses and lipsticks combined. She looked so deliciously innocent. He also knew that she was about two seconds away from either launching herself off the bed or at him, and not in the way he would have desired. Knowing Tifa, he would not put it past her to use a Meteor Strike move on him. Based on what he had seen in the past, he had no desire to be tossed into the air only to be grabbed and smashed into the ground. Not that she would succeed actually but he didn't want to spend the rest of the evening and night fighting with Tifa. What he wanted was a good long rest.

Tifa had just remembered to close her mouth when Sephiroth moved. There was a faint silver blur and the next thing she knew was that she was lying on her side, her back pressed against Sephiroth's front with his arms firmly imprisoning her there. Once again she tried to kick him and he responded by throwing a leg over hers. Tifa was a strong girl but her head barely reached the top of his shoulder and Sephiroth was no ordinary man either.

"What do you think you are doing?" she demanded angrily as she unsuccessfully attempted to squirm free. Her face was so warm it might have been on fire and she was acutely aware of the hard muscle and warm skin touching hers through thin barrier of her clothing.

"Trying to sleep. Stay still," he ordered, resting his cheek against the silk of her hair.

"Arrogant bastard."

"Sticks and stones Lockheart. Be quiet."

And because she knew he was right, Tifa settled down, lips pressed in an angry thin line of resignation. At least he was not going to force her to do something she did not want to. Deep down inside, she hadn't quite believed he would have in any case. But it rankled and bruised her pride more than anything to know that he had gotten his way so easily again. It was always like that with Sephiroth; one had more chance of stopping a rampaging Bahamut than of preventing him from having what he wanted.

And apparently, he still wanted her. Whether it was that damnable pride of his or love...if he had ever loved her...truly...to begin with.

For what seemed like hours, Tifa remained awake, while Sephiroth, judging from his steady breathing, had fallen asleep. In the darkness and seemingly endless night, she thought about when it had all first started, when she had first met General Sephiroth of the Shinra Empire, and when she had met Sephiroth the man, the person behind the title. Perhaps if she hadn't been at Midgar then, if she hadn't opened her big mouth and offered to guide him through the mountains, he might never have broken her heart.