"The love of heaven makes one heavenly."
-William Shakespeare
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.
In caverns weathered by time, in a place forgotten by all but one, is a boy.
The boy was completely and utterly alone.
The room he is in is as high as a cathedral with a great dome in its center with mosaics of chipped heroes, valiant, charge into an endless race around the mosaic ring in pursuit of a demon, lost to the ravages of time and sits dejectedly among piles of rubble. The walls once held beautiful crystal sconces of unimaginable color are now dark with encroaching mold, their light stolen from them in ages past, like a speechless man. A rift in the ceiling is held steady by creeping roots with massive girths, streams of light filtering through to provide the only source of light. There is a massive wall of rounded stone, slate, and its base is an abyss that was once a contained well but the embankments of stone were lost lone ago and sits at the bottom of the shimmering, almost florescent abyss. The gluttonous roots have grown sporadic down the wall, creating a foothold on which the boy desperately clings to, like a feline to a tree.
Particles of dust dance the beams of light that manage to seep through, around fluted columns that bloom like lilies into the stone ceiling, in the wide center, and in the path of the hero of valor. The gnarly roots placidly hold the boy as he assiduously works, hair matted by sweat and brows creased in determination. He is perhaps in his tenth year, nearing the end of his boyhood, not yet ready to embrace the future.
His hands clench a stone with the fervor of one driven mad, soft skin torn and bleeding, but he is unaware. His long hair gleams like strands of metallic thread, halo moving in time with his rocking movements. His eyes like a melting sky dart back and forth, studying this and righting that. Why is he working with such desperation?
This symbol is the key to your survival; remember it so that when the time comes, you will know. It shall protect you and lead you to greatness, an omniscient voice murmurs in that dream, that dream like a prophecy.
In that dream, he saw so many disconcerting things; ruined buildings corrugated by steal, shards of glass littering the streets. A horizon of complete and utter ruination plagues this familiar place, a restive moon donning an ethereal light that sickens the survivors of the mass destruction. The city of stunning modern build would be lost to tragedy if it would not be stopped. But there is more to the dream; faces he's never seen, places he's never been, and a person familiar to him gazing at him with such unbridled ferocity.
There is a woman as well, who is very precious to him, whom he knows now and she is poised to fight, sad reluctance holding her back. And yet that brandished gold rapier goads his falchion to action, engine affixed to it, and they stand off.
No matter what, this cannot be avoided.
Tears shining and streaming, the boy cries. It has yet to pass and already he is overwhelmed by emotion. He thinks of his friends, people so dear to him, and of that blonde girl, so precious to him. Must they be lost to an inevitable future?
The shakes away those thoughts and continues working, white streaks making a dissonance in the abysmal place, yet it is so familiar to him. This place is one filled with memories, of happiness and anguish, and yet he can see them as vividly as if it were happening now.
People strangely garbled flow in and out of the walls, luminous specters of the past. A time reel continuously flows and the boy is overwhelmed.
This is but a taste of what you will come to possess, the voice soothes, trying to quell his fears with company. You will find the strength to resolve the future.
Throwing down the worn, white stone, skittering into a dark place, the boy jumps from his perch. He furiously wipes his eyes, set with resolve, and gazes upon the symbol he has drawn.
A gyro of a language unknown to him swirls around a faded, curled wing. Many other symbols can be seen, but even the boy is unsure of what he has just drawn. In the pale light it takes on a celestial, fluorescent blue glow, but natural light shouldn't be able to do that. He gulps, unsure of what he has just scrawled upon the ancient wall.
Did I not tell you what it was?
The boy shakes his head, trembling. Dropping the stone, courage plummeting, the boy dashes from this grand room, down a narrow hall, charging deeper into the darkness more welcoming than an ominous future.
"Prince Noctis! Oh bless my heart, I worried terribly about you! Where have you been? Come, come, let's get you all cleaned up."
Noctis, the boy, was trembling despite the warmth of the upper world. He had desperately bandaged his hands with old cloth in order to hide the wounds, but his keen-eyed guardian, Rosarum, had immediately caught on. She knew this boy from birth and she knew him well.
She was dressed in what looked to be a nun's habit, white and tan, although it was by no means for religious purposes. Her face was kindred with age, but her emerald eyes always had an intelligent gleam. She was fiercely protective of Noctis, who had become something of a son to her, and as thus she saw to it that he never stepped out of line.
Noctis took her weathered hand, small fingers curled around like a lost child. He kept his gaze to the floor, eyes darting between the shoes that flicked out from under her long dress whenever she took a step and his own stumbling feet.
The halls they walked through were high and narrow, rich white marble paving the floor and columns that blossomed into high domes were avoided. Between the recesses the columns made were large portraits of the rulers of old, people Noctis was related to, as well as entryways into similar halls, each containing a plethora of rooms. Clear windows overhead let in an azure sky while massive crystal chandeliers spiraled downwards like Turritella gastropod shells. Natural light made them sparkle every conceivable color of the spectrum, casting orbs of color on the floor and walls like playful faeries.
Shoes echoing resoundingly, Rosarum briskly walked into a set of open, lacquered wood doors inlaid with curling iron designs with Noctis in tow. Opening a secondary set they entered the young prince's bedroom.
The room was circular in shape, domed like many others, hewn from warm beige marble. A cathedral ring of columns arched gracefully to touch the sky, no ceiling deterring their blossoming prowess. There were recesses between each wall bound column that held in their depressions statues of bearded gods deep in thought and goddesses clothed in flowing robes in delicate poses. The four poster canopy bed could easily fit four people shoulder-to-shoulder, lace curtains bound to their posts. The extravagant silk sheets were of muted cream and spared no expense of the young prince's comfort.
Rosarum skirted around a large desk and wardrobe and flung open another set of elegant doors into a bathroom as large as the bedroom. It, too, was circular in shape. A rounded, inlaid bath more like a fountain pool lay in the center, steaming and embanked by warm stone. A light fixture hanged from the zenith of the dome, metal and orbs of light twisting beautifully together and casting a warm glow on cordial marble. A ring of stained glass above was in the forms of inky fishes and rippling water of frosty blue glass, the sunlight casting scales of blue light below. The marble in here was of a dull burgundy veined by white that seemed to grow warmer in light. A large mirror sat in one corner while a large sink, too large for normal use, sat in another. All was made from stone or marble, a trait overly common in what was supposed to be a modern utopia.
"Alright, m' prince, why don't you take off these ruddy clothes and get yourself bathed. I'll take them to the laundry quarters. If you don't take a bath, I'll know," she said, kneeling down to look Noctis at eye level.
Complying, Noctis walked over to a hidden changing room and closed the door before removing all of the clothes. He pulled on a long bathrobe and girdled it tight, then stepped out with the bundle of soiled garments in his arms. Rosarum gladly took them, smiling warmly at Noctis.
"I'll be back in a jiffy, alright?" she said before turning around, robes swishing as she closed the door softly behind her.
Glaring at the water, Noctis timidly stepped to its edge, frowning and testing the heat with his toe. Recoiling at the spike in temperature, Noctis frowned and his glare deepened.
"Why do I have to take a bath…" Noctis muttered, swirling the glass-smooth water with his finger. Remembering the taunts of his immaturity from a close friend, Noctis puffed his chest exaggeratingly. He sat and submerged his legs up to his calves; he gritted his teeth in resolve. Slipping off the edge into the fairly deep water, Noctis splashed resoundingly, flailing his arms until they rested on a submerged ledge. Gasping for breath, hair limp and blocking his eyes (which he quickly moved aside), he took deep breaths, trying to calm his fluttering heart.
Finally calm, Noctis removed the heavy and wet robe, having accidently dragged it in with him. The water cleansed his skin well enough as well as his hair, not needing shampoos or soap. Clean of all dirt, blood, and grime, Noctis heaved himself from the tub and toweled himself as dry as possible, hair still a little damp. He found another robe to wrap around himself and proceeded to the mirror.
Availing himself before it, he could see that his hair was still hopelessly spiky, springing back into place. It was a strange metallic blue, unusual from the browns and blondes of other people. His face wasn't sharp and angular like his friend; instead it was soft and still rounded, but was beginning to lose that trait. His eyes were piercing with determination, something many said he inherited from his father. His mother passed on her round, high cheekbone face and soft skin. His hair was something his mother's father was said to have possessed.
"Oh, good, you're done, m' prince!" came Rosarum's jovial and warm voice. Noctis whirled around, a smile alighting his face. He ran to her and clamped on to her arm, face colliding with her shoulder.
"You've become very handsome; I can't believe you're not that sweet little baby anymore. Ah, you're such a treasure." Noctis looked up to his beloved nanny.
"Please call me Noct, like you used to," Noct said, smiling warmly.
She burst into laughter. "Oh, you little rascal! I'll get in trouble if I do."
Noct looked thoughtful for a moment. "Prince Noct?" he reasoned.
"Alright, I'll call you 'Prince Noct.'" Noctis let go of her arm, beaming.
"Oh! I almost forgot! Lord Niveus Infinito and Lady Stella are here. Aren't you excited? Come; let's get you all polished up."
Noct froze; Stella was here. His heart began thumping loudly at the thought of seeing his best friend who he recently began having a crush on. She was nine to his ten and positively radiant. He adored her kind smile and lively personality. There was something else, like they had a deeper connection, but he couldn't reason why.
Urging himself to calm down, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes.
Older Stella brandishing a gold rapier.
Noct shook his head, pushing away that awful thought.
"Prince Noct? Time to get dressed."
Noctis opened his eyes, and to his abject horror, Rosarum held a flowing, long emerald dress coat, stiff looking matching pants and a complicatedly designed shirt. He swallowed; he hated dressing formally almost as much as he hated taking bathes.
Reluctantly taking the clothes into the changing area, closing the door, he removed the bathrobe and put on the appropriate undergarments before hauling up the suede pants, pulling over the long shirt and finally pulling on the ankle-length robe which wasn't supposed to be girdled. He tied on a pair of starchy black boots and laced them, toes being mashed together.
Exiting the room he groaned loudly, bemoaning the restrictive clothing.
Rosarum clapped her hands in delight and ushered Noct again to the mirror. The outfit made him look older, sure, but he wouldn't be able to do much.
"You look even more handsome!" she squealed, soothing creases and invisible wrinkles with obsessive care.
Noct gave her a look of comic anguish, a shadow of despair hooding his eyes.
"You want to look nice for Stella, don't you?"
Noctis quickly changed his outlook, imagining Stella gushing over how cool he looks and immediately changed his outlook on the snazzy clothes.
Rosarum laughed at his sudden change of heart, always seeming to know how to change Noctis's outlook on things.
"Come along now; don't want to keep them waiting."
Noctis gladly acquiesced and flew from the room, Rosarum struggling to keep up.
The day was as beautiful as it looked through the windows.
The sky was a beautiful turquoise color, clouds floating aimlessly like leaves swept along a river. A massive lawn spanned before him, gardens of flowers of every variety planted and hedges trimmed with the utmost precision. Beyond the gardens was the border between lawn and forest, both kept immaculately in line. Cobblestone paths cut through the maze of flowers and small trees; the odd sculpture of some prominent figure of old standing in defiance to the sky. The emerald leaves of the interminable number of trees chattered in the many warm breezes while dappled shadows rested on the forest floor below. The grand presence of the castle loomed before all, a sentinel of sentinels watching over wood and city. Luckily the sun's position in the heavens provided that the castle's shadow didn't overshadow the delightful gardens or the three young children who wished the gambol among the scenery.
Noctis descended the wide stone stairs, ignoring Rosarum's warnings to be safe. He practically ran down, eager to meet his friends below.
As soon as his foot touched green turf, the padding of feet over grass flew in his direction.
"NNNNoooooctiiiisssss!" came the stream of his name, sourcing from a pretty young girl, a mane of billowing gold behind her as she ran. Launching herself to the young prince, Stella latched her arms around his waist, smiling childishly.
Noct, unable to speak coherently, gulped. He returned the embrace shyly.
"H-Hello…S-Stella…"he stuttered at last, patting Stella's back. Beaming, the younger girl, who only came up to Noctis's nose, quickly released Noct so that he may regain his composure.
"I'm so glad to see you again," she said, smiling genuinely. Her pooling blue eyes caught the sunlight beautifully, entrancing the young prince for a moment. Today she wore an almost identical outfit to his, only it bore the colors of her kingdom, Tenebrae, and instead of pants she wore a skirt.
Raucous laughter broke the silence, emanating from a white haired youth. Niveus Infinito was prince from the kingdom of Caliga and Noctis's other best friend. His medium length white hair framed his face, some covering an eye, honey-gold eyes dancing in delight. He wore an outfit identical to Noctis's, again with the colors of his beloved seaside kingdom.
He was the oldest of them at twelve, bordering thirteen. Already his face was beginning to sharpen and become angular, voice not yet deep but not an awkward soprano most young boys were. He was a head taller than Noct and towered over Stella.
Yet that never deterred Stella from showing off her vivacious spirit.
"Niveus!" Stella cried, stamping her feet and crossing her arms. "Leave Noct alone!"
Noct waved his hands, as if trying to encourage passiveness in the fiery girl, only she proceeded to stomp over to Niveus and give him a piece of her mind.
"Sorry Stella, it's just that Noct—"he choked out between bouts of laughter "—he's really hilarious to me now for some reason!"
Stella scowled, hand reaching to grab a tendril of hair and yank it earth wards. Niveus yelped loudly, eyes locked with Stella's fierce ones.
"I'm sick of you bullying and teasing Noct! Go say you're sorry," she ordered, still clenching his white locks.
Awkwardly bent over, Niveus's topaz eyes locked with Noctis's. "Stella, it's what friends do. We always—"a yank "—Okay! I'm sorry, Noct! You happy now?" his last words directed at Stella. She tossed him away, unsteadying Niveus, and smiled smugly.
Prancing over to Noct, she grabbed his hand. "Let's get away from him and this place," she whispered, glancing towards the forest.
"What are you doing?" Niveus.
"Now!"
Before Noct could even blink, Stella was off him a shot, towing Noct at breakneck speeds. They tore through the gardens and out to the border and into the darkening woods. Noctis could hear Niveus shouting after them to stop, but for once he was glad to be alone with Stella.
They ran quite a ways until the castle receded and faded completely from view.
"Ah, alone at last." Stella ambled around a tree with great roots, humming delightfully to herself.
Noct looked around nervously. The trees here were thick enough for several people to hug, hands touching. Long and wide branches thickened and split like a river delta into a multitude of an infinite amount of smaller branches, leaves overly abundant and nearly blocking out the sun entirely. The canopy was thick with a ceiling of leaves that let in only fragments of sunlight, the rest of the ground cloaked in shadow. Massive roots spurt from the ground, interrupting the surface like coiling snakes, providing for unsteady walking ground. Noctis carefully picked his way around brambles and jutting roots, making way to Stella.
A deafening crunch suddenly filled the forest.
Stella clung to Noct who put a hand to her back.
"I think we should leave, Stella." Her head pumped up and down.
A scuffling of weak roots heaved inwards, creating an abyss to an unknown destination. Noctis's arms flew around Stella and her's around him.
Both screamed with terrific might in the quiet forest as the ground gave away and they were swallowed by the black abyss.
Last thoughts: Yes! The first chapter of my first Final Fantasy Versus XIII fan fiction! I plan for this to be a fairly long piece of work, but I have a lot of ideas brewing that might make for something really good.
Yeah, I wrote overkill on the descriptions of scenery, didn't I? Sorry about that. I should keep it short, but Final Fantasy makes me write like this; I love detail overkill. If I'm not careful I could describe the contours of single pebbles in scenery; I have to hold back. Sorry if the beginning is slow but it will speed up by the next chapter.
By the way, since many of the characters' names haven't been released (save for Noctis and Stella's) I'm going to have make up names. Niveus Infinito isn't an OC, rather he's the man Noctis is seen fighting alone (that white mage-looking man, remember?) who's name stems from the fact that he looks like a white mage. I hope I can create a good background story for him. I'll find ways to incorporate the goddess Etros as well as what I've seen in trailers, so I'll do my best.
Special thanks goes out to Lammybug for inspiring me to write for this fandom as well as for writing so many wonderful stories (that I have to read) for it.