Title:Pride
Prompt:Botta/Yuan - Midnight conversation.
Word Count: 1 008
Warnings:Major spoilers for late-game plot events.

Done for the Livejournal community tales-ficathon. The ability to use underscores would be much appreciated, ffnet.

x x x

It had been at least thirty years since Botta was relocated from the Iselia Human Ranch to the base near his hometown of Triet. Not that he was counting, but because he still wasn't used to Lord Yuan's sleeping habits.

Or lack thereof, rather. Lord Yuan rarely slept, hardly ever ate, and (seemingly) gleaned the most pleasure out of life when he was sitting at his desk with a mound of paperwork. At least, that's what Botta had thought for thirty years.

It was a rather unremarkable night when he was woken by a direct ray of moonlight to the face and thought a glass of water might help clear his mind. Water was precious in the desert, and bathrooms were communal; the nature of the set-up of sleeping quarters (perhaps on purpose) had him walking by Lord Yuan's office.

His light was on, spilling a thin line of gold under the doorway into the cold hall. A sudden surge of curiosity- no doubt inherited from his elven mother- brought his ear to the closed door, expecting to hear nothing more than the shuffling of papers and the occasional mumbling about recruits or Chosens.

He heard a sniffle.

Not quite a sob, not as feminine as a whimper, but definitely something more than the normal rustling or thinking out loud. It took Botta eighteen steps and two drinks of water to realize that there was more than the slightest of possibilities that it might have been Lord Yuan who was crying.

Except that, of course, Lord Yuan never cried. He sometimes frowned, occasionally laughed, but never gave himself the opportunity to feel sadness. He couldn't. Not with both worlds depending on him.

Botta found himself with his ear glued to the door, a half-finished glass of water barely supported in a limp hand. Was there a woman in there with Lord Yuan? Was the fearless half-angel merely clearing his nose? Was he-

"You may want to consider calming your heart, Botta," came a rather familiar voice from inside the room. "I could hear it from Palmacosta. You may come in."

Cursing his forgetfulness, Botta pulled open the heavy door and prepared himself for what might have been inside. There wasn't anything- just a desk, a mess of papers, and the last hope for both worlds with shining eyes and wet cheeks.

Botta opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and decided that there was nothing that could be said.

"It's the moon," Yuan said instead. Botta internally commented on how oddly calming it was the way his voice quietly filled every inch of the room. "The first night, it was a full moon."

"The first night," Botta repeated, words slipping off his tongue.

"Yeah." Yuan's eyes glittered, a tear releasing itself just as he turned to face the enormous window into the moon and sand. "After she died. That's when- Kratos and I- it's the anniversary tonight, Botta. Of the sundering of the worlds."

Botta took a seat on a chair in front of the desk, placing his glass of water in front of Yuan. Not that Seraphim need water, of course, but he hoped the gesture would mean something. "Of her death," he whispered toward Yuan's back.

Yuan turned around and sat on his magnificently normal office chair. Suddenly it seemed as though the life was drained from his ageless body and he crumpled, laying a cheek on the smooth oak desk.

"We planned to marry when the blasted war was finished. Couldn't, of course. Now my wife is a lifeless spirit held hostage by a monster."

"Was she-" Botta realized what a wrong direction he was taking and knew he needed to finish. "-A fine woman, Lord Yuan?"

"The greatest," Yuan said with a sigh, looking away. "There was something amazing about everything she did. And she never, ever cried- not when the unicorn told her she was sterile, not when she tried to heal the dead, not when her lovely little brother went mad. Not until she died."

"And yet," Botta said, "You created an organization bent on preventing her resurrection." The moonlight seemed to intensify, sucking the breath from his lungs.

Yuan's fist crushed a fly that had wandered into the room. "I couldn't bear to see her face as she woke up in another's body. Not after what Mithos has done as a false representation of her last wish. Besides, as soon as she is revived, he will leave with Derris-Kharlan and doom both worlds."

"We can't allow that."

"No," Yuan said. "No. It's not what she would have wanted. I'll fight in her name eternally, if I must."

There was a long and uneasy sort of silence. Unable to fill the void, Botta fished through his pockets.

Yuan took the handkerchief from his second-in-command's outstretched hand and wiped his eyes. "The oracle will appear tomorrow," he said, and the change in his voice bade that any current conversation was finished and never would be spoken of again. "We must kill the Chosen before Kratos arrives. Wake Vidarr and tell him to get prepared."

"Yes, Lord Yuan," Botta said as he got up, left the glass where it was and made to leave the room. Just as he was leaving, he turned on his heels and gathered his (comparatively) smaller superior in his arms.

Not that Seraphim needed any sort of physical support or that Botta was missing something from his life, but it was just short of inspiring how well Yuan fit in his embrace. He inhaled fresh sky and the scent of paper and the sea. Before it had gone anywhere, it was over.

"…She would be proud, you know."

The door swung shut with a silent thud. Yuan looked out the window, faced the moon swollen with the heavy weight of stars, and smiled through his tears.

x x x

She watches you from heaven's lonely seat
A weeping goddess cursed amongst the blessed
A tearful sister lost amongst the found
A loving wife laid down to sleepless rest