--Here is a one-shot, born of an idea I had at work today. Obviously Edge and Rydia centric, seen from our favorite ninja's eyes. FFIV and anything related are the property of S-E, else...
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A rogue's vice
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I like to think of myself as an adventurer, a vigilante tailing monsters from the shadows and denting scaly hides with a flicker of my blades. Composed, sassy, devious, quick-witted and fast on my feet, like any real ninja should be. Oh I'm not a complete self-centered jerk, but I do know my own worth. Didn't I test it against demons and elemental fields, and won?
While battling wrongdoers and vile creatures has its moments, the biggest trill always came from pilfering. As far as I can remember, snatching little artifacts here and there, lifting purses and jewelry without notice constantly brought that little perk of excitement to my life, and now is no different. Spears, swords and knifes plunge toward ogres and imps, while I deftly spot all the shiny prices a hand's breadth away.
Don't mistake my intent; the value of the items means nothing at all in my eyes. Why would a prince have need for stolen treasures anyway? It's not by malice either, there are no such emotions lurking under that long cloak of mine. It's all about the game, and it started so long ago for purely childish reasons too.
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I might have been eight or nice, a small sinewy boy with no siblings and all the attention in the world. When you're raised by fighters, in a country where everyone learns to walk in darkness and avoid making noise, you tend to get the basics pretty quickly and I was quite good for a kid.
As things went, my beloved parents had been passing a few weeks straight in affairs of state, having little time to give me. I resented this, since they personally took care of my training, leaving me as a sitting duck until a moment could be spent for me. My patience was short, it probably still is, and the interdiction to train with the seniors in case of an injury grated on my nerves.
Meaning to show them that I was ready for a formal training with the older ninjas, I snuck into my father's study, from the windows since the door was locked, and stole the Eblan signet. Now, the counselors could not have him sign any treaty, so he would have to fall back on me, right?
They questioned all the trainees, all members of the royal guard, the servants and chancellor, looking everywhere for the unique item symbolizing the king's office, to no avail. The fuming face of my father prevented me from giving the trinket back, since I felt he would be furious, but after two days, I couldn't take it anymore and dropped it on his lap.
"Why, Edge?"
"Can't you stop your paperwork and take care of me?"
"How did you find it?"
"I didn't, I stole it."
I feared a trashing, but all I received was a booming laugh, and all was well again. It was like a reward for pinching the crown. The thrill of the activity remained in my young mind and I soon pocketed many insignificant, useful items for the knack of it. I still have some of them somewhere.
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Teenage years were a great deal of fun, but the goal of the game shifted from material objects to something far more fragile: hearts. A fair amount of maids seemed to blush when I spoke to them and it puzzled me, but I understood the reasons well enough once a pretty boy serving as a diplomatic envoy from afar came to our kingdom.
He had all sorts of way to throw hair over his shoulders as if it was natural, polite manners that seemed to enchant all women he met, and a clean, dashing way of dressing to enhance his looks. It perked my curiosity and I soon began to experiment. Honesty has to make me mention that my natural good looks also had a hand in my successes.
A wink, a compliment and soon all serving girls fled my presence with giggles and flaming cheeks. The other ninjas around my age resented me, mentioning crying sisters who went to bed dream eyed about me, but I couldn't stop, it was too much fun.
It also became too easy as the years went by. I have always been tall and lean, and our training enforced my athletic bulk, not to mention the striking, exotic silvery hair. I spied on a few lasses in a corridor mentioning my long lashes, although I never understood how that could influence anything.
You might think this cruel, but when you think about it, women rule this world and make the rules most of the time, so it's not too far a stretch to make them suffer in return, eh? It's also good to note that I never actively pursued any of them; all girls looked more or less the same and became empty-headed very quickly when I engaged them in conversations. I wanted to steal their first love, not marry someone who lost all countenance as soon as I walked in the room.
It is sort of comforting to know that the first person they had as a crush was me, don't you think? Don't point fingers; you also like possessing something nobody else does.
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When Baron's forces attacked our realm, vengeance was the only thing on my mind. The elemental archfiend of fire had taken my parents from me and had to pay, no matter the price. Dragging my royal guard along and abandoning them is not the greatest achievement of my career, but I also wasn't thinking straight. You wouldn't either, if you were in the same situation.
When the powerful flames he funneled toward me died, I knew my end was near. But lo and behold, would-be heroes showed up once Rubicante left me in tatters, with the clear intention of catching up with the demon. They looked grave and I ended up joining them, we had the same goal after all, and the sweet-looking girl with green hair caught my eye.
It was clear from the start that they considered me a minor player in the grand affair of their quests, but I would take none of that. If they could take me to Rubicante, I would definitely take care of the rest myself, it was MY vengeance and nobody would fulfill my wishes in my stead.
Beasts and mechanical constructs flooded the tower and my comrades proved their worth more than one, sometimes beating me to the kill just as I was about to strike down myself. Fight after struggle, and my poor self was not the main assassin of our midst, to my utter dismay. Once we met my now-monstrous parents, I just lost it, throwing myself in front of Cecil and Kain to prevent them from wounding them.
My memories after this are still hazy, too incoherent to make sense, but I can remember that urge to make sure that I would be the one to steal the kill when the fire fiend appeared. All those honed reflexes and throwing skills came into play, but I walked away with the killing trust to his putrid heart and glee at the fact.
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She was not only an unusual beauty, but also a feisty little thing with more spunk than anyone I had ever met. Compared to her, Rosa remains a feeble kitten content to stay on its coverlet, while Rydia rakes and hiss like a tiger. By habit more than anything, I had initially thrown a few flirty openers her way, but kept getting ignored, much to my discomfiture since it always worked.
Blame royalty, a sheltered infancy or whatever you want, but I hate being overlooked. At least give me a comment, a reaction, a smile, something? But no, the mage never even looked my way, looming next to Cecil like a second shadow, sharing girly secrets with the paladin's lover or just playing the loner when we made camp. And it was driving me insane.
The brigand that I am got his due with guile, I have to admit, walking off with more than expected. We, of course, had to meet creatures impervious to almost nothing but flames, forcing her to cover the ground with cinders, blasting slimy limbs in smoldering torches of living flesh. I think I froze, motionless, unable to move in such a vivid memory of recent nightmares.
Once safe, she came to me, laying a hand on my shoulder and looking straight at me. Her eyes shone with comfort and pain.
"I'm sorry, I forgot. I used to hate fire too."
I had wanted to steal her attention, and also got a confession in the bargain.
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The dwarven castle is a wonder for thieves, full of crannies, shadows and low-hanged torches, leaving plenty of darkened areas to take cover. I had the pleasure of finding most of those soft spots as we explored the halls and rooms, relaxing before leaving for the Sealed Cave.
I am not blind, and long-ago noticed the tension between the dragoon, white mage and holy knight. Anyone with half his wits would realize that both men pinned on the same girl, yet Kain kept his whims to himself. It has to do with his helmet I think, it hides his face, yet you can feel the envy pouring out of his eyes like a waterfall.
Poor him, torn between a friend and his love, was unable to cope with the situation and make his peace. The couple had taken off to walk around, while Kain went to brood on the battlements, refusing to see them coddle to each other.
I just happened to be stretching out on one of the support beams of the lower rooms when they came in. There was nobody else in the storage, yet, seeing them grope at clothing and kiss soundly, murmuring all kinds of sweet words, I had a feeling I wasn't supposed to be there. Luckily, there was no way for them to actually see me, so I was safe.
I ended up stealing someone's privacy, against my wishes for once.
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Her eyes are so animated, full of life and quite expressive. Determined green orbs can be seen often, as well as deadly concentrated gazes, since her craft requires all her attention. Tear-filled emeralds tend to make my knees feel weak, so protecting her from harm has become second nature.
Our travels are no pleasure, no happiness sparks never shine in her glances, unfortunately. But the most flamboyant display of mood comes from her frustrations, which I cause in total abandon, never getting enough of those tiny jade blazes menacing to burn me to a crisp. I'm a moth drawn to the flames, as opposed to my previous aversions.
Creating all new sorts of infuriating comments is a great way to get my due, and I can't lose an opportunity to pull at all her strings in hope to steal one of those scorching glares.
"Wearing heels is a good idea when traveling I'm sure. Especially since there are so many slippery stairs, it's not like you can fall and twist your ankle or anything like that, eh?"
The reply is immediate, a visual cue that death might shortly occur if I continue to speak of the matter. She nurses her swollen foot, her neck and face flushing.
"I'm not the one prancing and pretending he's sneaking around while wearing WHITE in a dark cave!"
Oh, that was good!
"Sneaking is a state of mind, the clothes don't really matter much."
"State of mind? You mean there's something in there besides sarcasm?"
She utters that last comment with big, innocent eyes, tilting her head to one side, something I've never seen her do. Ah Rydia, you're just so full of surprises!
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The coronation is a grand affair and Baron Castle was made lavishly beautiful for the occasion, although all those gold and crimson clothes just make her stand out more. The bard king graces us with a song, slow and languorous as the noble couples dance in intricate circles. She stands on the side, leaning on a column and chatting politely with a few guests.
Too bad this party doesn't make her happier, I had believed our recent victory would brighten up her moods but it does not look that way. The melody dies, and then another ancient air picks up, a more rapid rhythm flowing in the room with a catchy, springy beat. A real change comes over her face, flooding her features with elation and her eyes close, lost in the notes.
The nearby conversation moves and I seize my chance. I grab her slender fingers, dragging her to myself and spinning her around gracefully. Yes, I know how to dance, very well actually, since my mother was a stern teacher. Rydia is shocked, that much is clear, her demeanor doesn't change and she does not run away, instead glinting devilishly and upping the odds a little higher.
Her body moves like a snake, despite my agility I find myself hard-pressed and strangely competitive. She challenges me with each flip of her arm, every quick paced step on the marble floor, and I have no choice but to comply and follow.
Somehow, the whole people made room for us and we became the center of attention. Once the instruments slept again, I could feel stares downing on us, then a thunderous applause. Unexpected, yet our tango must have been flamboyant if all those couples are hard eying each other, defiant and jealous.
I can't help but grin; I enjoy giving a good show. I stole her a dance and the night's memories are mine to keep. Who doesn't like being the subject of a country's compliments and longing?
Yet, she eyes me mysteriously, face flushed from the rapid movements, irises alight with something that steals my breath away.
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I'm a pilferer who cannot choke down the fact that he's been bested by another. It's a matter of pride, and private stakes, I just won't take it. Rydia took a good deal of Cecil's fine wines, washing down the evening's events and sleepily calling it a night more than an hour ago. It is the time of the owl, the dark of the rogue and I intend to win our little game.
The vines make the climb easy, while the half-open window just facilitates everything. A robber's dream. Pale moonlight streams through the glass panes, illuminating the crisp pearl sheets and her curls. I take a minute, ensuring she is sound asleep, then place one booted toe on the floor.
Silent, I walk over the bed, smiling to myself. Stealing something new is the best of thrills and the prize is almost within my grasp. I finger one of her tresses, gauging the feel, telling myself that this one instant might well be my life's most treasured moment.
Deep down, I am a romantic and perhaps a certain idealist. I never kissed anyone, but decided tonight that this pleasure was long overdue, more than worthy of her and definitely something I would never admit, even under torture. There were many volunteers for the deed, but none of them mattered enough for me to commit this one precious time to any girl passing by.
I lower my head, taking in her smooth, still face, eyes closed yet so innocent in her sleep. Inching my lips closer to hers, I almost get a heart attack as they open with mischief and she closes the distance herself, throwing her arms around my neck. What just happened?
I can't formulate a decent thought, she just muffled all of them in one quick move, battling me every step of the way, forcing me into a dance I cannot refuse, making me melt… Her hot breath and the feel of her fluttering lashes against my cheek humbles me, Rydia is indeed a better thief than I for having stolen my soul.
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--Hehe, someone got owned :) Please review!