Welcome to 'Perception of Dissonance', a short project inspired by two amazing individals-the author of 'Requiem for the King' and the Lady Pendragon. Thank you for stopping in. I hope you enjoy my first shot at the underappreciated FFT fandom.

Warning: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU'RE ALLERGIC TO BOY/BOY COUPLES.

Disclaimer: If I had ownership over Final Fantasy Tactics, so many naughty yaoi parties would go on.

NOTE: The name 'Sybrynne' was inspired by the name 'Sydonny', a character from 'Requiem for the King'. The effort into Ramza's entire fellowship was inspired by akikos-wok.

PLEASE DO NOT SLAM ME FOR MY INEXPERIENCE IN OLD ENGLISH. THANK YOU.

"I hope he's working his magic out there!"

Emyrana (affectionately referred to as Emy) was an energetic soul, never one to hesitate with self-expression. With a set of fiery sapphires for eyes, and unkempt almond hair, she was akin to a restless young wolf. The spirit of a venturesome soldier swept over her words, and echoed throughout the minds of many. She wasn't alone in her thoughts, and wouldn't have cared if she was. It was just nice to have the support of people that really mattered to her.

She, the daughter of the night (as she called herself), was sitting inside of Goug's tavern. Her friends were with her, speaking their thoughts through facial expressions and words. They were weary, but refused to ignore their hearts in favor of exhaustion. A great deal of apprehension weighed heavily on their minds, but the war on Ivalice wasn't their only source of distress. The horribly mangled situation between two figures troubled them, and troubled them incessantly.

They loved him. They loved and cherished him as if he had been with them from birth, straight out of the nest. They loved him as mothers loved baby birds, fragile creatures that could hardly stand on their own. He was a tremendous part of their lives, and their hearts. Which explained why they worried about him, day after day. They loved him, but he was withering away. Dying, crumbling, falling apart like a broken flower. Ivalice's greatest conflict was a devastating burden to his heart, especially since it caused a great loss of life. So many friends were stolen by the flames of war, and his heart bled over those lost lives.

To him, his friends were not just friends. They were pieces of his heart, important shards to his soul. So, whenever their lives were stolen by Ivalice's destruction, his heart shattered. His mind, body and soul experienced inhumane pain, flooding all of Ivalice with the tears of broken smiles. But as powerful as those losses were, lost shards weren't the only sources of sorrow. Day after day, night after night, his heart sobbed over yet another burden.

Ever since the Fort Zeakden tragedy, he had been unable to cease his thoughts of Delita. Delita was initially assumed dead, until his abduction of the Princess Ovelia. While that grave assumption was horrific, he would have preferred it to the current state of things. Truth be told, he would have preferred death by fire. Pursuing a soul that wished to discard him was intolerably difficult.

During the age of peace, two mortals fell in love. Their hearts were bound together through thick, venomous opposition from nobility, tied together by the chains of star-lit eternity. Over the course of several events their love expanded, the Academy's Gala being love's greatest period of growth. Despite the increasing discomfort on Dycedarg's end, and snickers from passing nobles, the two of them plunged ever deeper into Heaven's greatest treasure.

Delita Heiral was the embodiment of Heaven's radiance. While he retained that same radiance during Ivalice's war, his presence was much softer during the era of peace. Short brown tresses, matching brown eyes and porcelain skin were all doused in sweet innocence. He was a gentle creature, able to light up an entire room with just one smile. Unbearable shyness and fear prevented him from expressing anything during his first days at Eagrosse, due to the obvious differences between his life and the lives of nobility. However, with the encouragement and kindness of a strange noble, he eventually threw the pages of his heart open.

Delita was an incredible beauty, yes, but it was impossible to deny Ramza Beoulve's superiority. He was truly a gift from Heaven, devastatingly close to a woman's luminousity. His light, golden brown hair couldn't have come from anything other than Heaven's wheat fields. Soft almond eyes were the perfect compliment to those locks, followed by a slender physique that any mortal-male and female-would have killed for.

His appearance was striking, but it was closely rivaled by his personality. Delita would have been the first to confess Ramza's odd qualities, and no one would have argued with him. The youngest Beoulve son was certainly the most bizarre noble known to man, proven by his acceptance of the Heiral family. He treated Delita's sister as if they both left the same womb, but his kindness towards Delita blossomed into a much more intimate stage. Tietra's brother was initially his friend, but once Delita caught him practicing his sword arts, life changed. Delita, from that day on, no longer saw Ramza as a friend, let alone a brother. Ramza was increasingly affectionate towards him, and never hesitated to protect him against the sneers of nobles-Dycedarg included.

The light of love was unfortunately pursued by the shadows of strife. The outside influence of an unholy cur cut into a budding relationship, and the wounds were only deepened by the start of Ivalice's war. The horrific events at Fort Zeakden marked the first phase of separation, in reference to separated lovers.

The Delita of the present was not the Delita of the past. It was as if the Heiral had split into two different personas. While the Delita of Ivalice's golden age was kind, the Delita of Ivalice's war was a dark heart. On every available occassion he was cold, brutal and wicked towards the one that loved him. Ramza, having experienced a severe drop in confidence and valor, was mortally wounded on every one of their encounters. Delita never hesitated to push him away, and, as a result, Ramza walked away with gashes on his heart. The young Beoulve was not the Ramza of the past, far weaker and softer than his past self. He was naked against Delita's cold barbs, unable to shield himself from overwhelming agony.

Thankfully, Ramza wasn't without an admirer-and that wasn't in reference to the drunken, lecherous admirers he frequently attracted. The apprentice of a revered Warjiis blacksmith, who trained day and night to perfect his skills as an archer, pursued the young Beouvle's heart. The two of them met inside of the town's weapon shop, and from that point on, Rye Sarabune made it his life's goal to care for the wickedly beautiful Ramza.

Noticing the archer's infatuation for the golden Monk (yes, Ramza surrendered the art of a Knight following the Fort Zeakden calamity), the group wasted no time in warning Rye about Delita. Young, and prone to instant flames, the archer promptly gave birth to hatred. Yes, it was against the King, but when it came to Ramza, Rye threw caution to the wind.

Besides, he wasn't alone. The voices of his dear friends joined him.

Well, with the exception of one voice.

"My frustration towards this situation grows deep," the lady Agrias scowled, holding her steaming cup of tea. Due to her seemingly harsh nature, short temper and obsessive manner towards Ovelia's well being, she initially wasn't a strong favorite of the group. As Delita gained ground through Ramza in the past, she gained ground with the same Beoulve's assistance.

"I find it difficult to explain how a mortal can endure so much. Lord Ramza clings to someone that won't even provide him with the time of day."

Micah Elundar gave off one of his brilliant smiles. He most likely had the brightest smile of any Summoner in the field. "You're too kind, Lady. You should have mentioned how Ramza's practically stabbing himself in the heart, seeking affection from such a distant soul. My heart is heavy from our friend's unwavering devotion towards the King, which is why I'd like to strangle our grand ruler."

Looking at a Knight from the corner of her eye, Alanna took the opportunity to share her voice. She was thin in physique, but great in strength-and in beauty. Freckles were sprinkled underneath her eyes by the esteemed angels of Heaven, and her red tresses were envied by those very same angels. "The poor thing suffers incessantly," the squire said with a sigh, then took a sip of her own concoction. "I'd give anything to end his pain-or at least grant him a new pair of eyes. Delita might have been Heavensent in the past, but now he's nothing more than a heartless beast!"

The target of her vision wished to speak, but said nothing. As a result of his indecisiveness, she provided him with awkward curiosity. "His transformation is indeed troubling," Lady Agrias put in, shaking her head. A pair of rowdy tavern customers earned a swift glare from her perilous eyes. "Everything I've heard makes me long for the Heiral of the past. And to think, that cur has the audacity to take reign of the kingdom!"

"Think he's having any fun?" the Geomancer of the fellowship asked, his little heart peeking into the group's eyes. His cornflower blue eyes, which were usually doused in embarrassment around a certain Sky Pirate, had the magic of an innocent animal about them. That particular Sky Pirate replied to his inquiry with a broad, roguish smile, seemingly indifferent but hopeful about the situation at hand.

"I don't 'think', my dear Pewter. I know our good Ramza's having a wonderful time. Here's the question you really need to ask. Is our devastatingly gorgeous angel having a wonderful time with Rye?"

"I think not," a Knight said shortly, rising from his seat. No other word left his mouth as he rose, and evidently wished to depart from the tavern all together. Quickly he earned the attention of his companions at the table, the greatest attention coming from Alanna. She rose from her seat, but her words were taken by a normally quiet Chemist.

"What's on your mind, Sybrynne?"

Sybrynne Aeolone was the closest to Ramza, aside from the obvious members of the Beoulve's heart. That little fact spoke volumes, considering how much the golden beauty adored and cherished his entire team. "I ache for a round of fresh air," the young Knight said, giving the warmest smile to his companions. He was an entity of amazing frailty, bearing the tender characteristics of a flower petal. Long blonde tresses, which were tied back into a braid, were inexplicably beautiful-and flawlessly accompanied by a set of mahogany brown eyes. As a figure of inner and outer beauty, he easily wove his presence into the hearts of many-Ramza's heart included.

At the moment, though, he seemed to be rather devious.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll return in a short while."

The Knight made his exit, strolling as if he didn't have a single care. The remaining members of Ramza's fellowship exchanged fretful, inquisitive glances, wondering where to turn next. The last one to speak to him, Silvana, rose from her place and broke the silence. "I'd like some fresh air too," she said, and bolted from her place without another word. She was soon on the tavern's doorstep, facing the back of Ramza's most loyal friend.

"Sybrynne! Sybrynne, wait!"

Hearing a familiar voice, the Knight stopped in his tracks. He turned to meet the face of Ramza's solitary Chemist, bearing a calm smile. "What are you doing, submerging yourself in solitary confinement?" the young Chemist asked, eyes burrowing into worry. "What ails you?"

"I bear the same burdens as everyone else," the Aeolene said, his smile capturing the sun's magic. "The plight between Lord Ramza and Delita weighs heavily on my mind as well."

Silvana adopted the look of a curious wolf cub. "I don't think you're out here to simply catch a round of fresh air," she said, gently mocking his previous words. "You're planning something. The wheels are turning in that quiet little mind of yours, aren't they?"

"You are astute, and have rather keen eyesight. I do have a little scheme on my mind."

"Mind sharing it with me?"

Sybrynne's smile couldn't have been any warmer. "Of course not. I plan on abandoning my lord's cause."

This was composed to the Final Fantasy Tactics: War of the Lions/Fullmetal Alchemist soundtrack.

I planned on adding another half to this, but I decided to leave off with Sybrynne's plot. I'll save the second half for an addition chapter. Bwah. Perhaps I shall have Sybrynne pursue Ramza in addition to Rye (whose character was inspired by Reno of Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children and Edward Elric of Fullmetal Alchemist).

But Sybrynne can't pursue anyone if he's planning naughty things. Hm.

By the way, Sybrynne and the others refer to Ramza as 'Lord' out of respect and love, despite the numerous protests he gave off.

May this spark a Ramza/Delita revolution! Yaaaaaay!