Falling Rain

a Final Fantasy IX fanfiction by andrivette

"Again."

The rain pounded on the top of Freya's head, her hair plastered in stringy curls to her face and neck, her chest heaving. Jeriah watched her passively, and she knew he was ready to deflect her for the millionth time.

She swung her lance around and he jumped easily into the air, his foot landing squarely on her chest and knocking her back on her ass, the lance clattering to the ground. Freya gasped for air, the rain choking her.

"Your defenses are pathetic, Freya," he decided. "You will practice for another hour." Then he turned tail and walked away, toward the back steps of their home. Freya wanted to cry in her rage at him, at how much she hated him, but it would not matter if it was raining or not—this behavior was stomped out of her. Another reason she had to hate him.

The warm light flicked on inside, and Freya watched it only a moment, her bones trembling from the stinging rain and exhaustion.

He must have wanted a boy, but he was too proud to ever say it, Freya knew. The great Captain Jeriah of the Burmecian Dragon Knights would always get what he wanted, no matter if he had to squeeze it out of his own daughter after his wife had failed to squeeze it out of her.

Freya leaped into the air, her spear tip pointed straight at the ground as she fell back to Gaia and rammed it in the stone.

—.—

"When will it be time?" Freya snapped.

"You're not nearly ready," Jeriah replied. "Your legs are strong but the strength of your arms and magic is pitiable at best."

"My magic is far superior to any one of those lazy good-for-nothings you call knights!"

"Not so," he growled, a warning glint in his eyes. "You'll find my newest prospect has potential in far greater measure than yours could ever hope to be as long as you keep your sniveling attitude. Today we're off for his initiation and I expect you to have improved your swing when I return in two days' time." Freya watched his retreating form from where she stood in the training ground.

"That Fratley," she muttered. "I hope the dragon chews him up and spits him back in your face."

—.—

Freya held the string of jewels up to her throat and stared at herself in the vanity. It was such a dainty little thing, and it did not look at all right on Freya with her short, jagged hair and her coarse, straw-colored training tunic. Once, though, it must have been beautiful around the neck of the woman that had been Jeriah's wife. Freya had been the only child of that woman's to survive, and her birth had taken the life of her mother and that of all the siblings that were meant to follow her.

She had been delivered alone into Jeriah's hands, a tiny delicate thing just like this necklace, but all traces of that vulnerability and tenderness had been ground out of Freya just as surely as the purpose had been stolen from this piece of jewelry when its owner's life ended.

Freya heard the front door slam and she stuffed the jewels back in her mother's jewelry box, her heart racing. She expected Jeriah to call for her, to admonish her when he found her rifling through his dead wife's belongings, but his steps completely passed the door and she heard the click of a handle down the hall.

Freya cracked the door open and slid carefully out, shutting it as slowly and quietly as if she were a ghost and daring to breathe just as much as one. "Two," she heard from Jeriah's room, and she stepped carefully to her own room, opening and closing the door as if she had only just exited.

"Father?" she called. He did not answer her, and so she continued down the hall until she paused at the outside of his bedroom. The door was slightly ajar and Freya could see Jeriah stepping in and out of frame, and she pressed her palm against the stone, swinging it fully open.

He saw her and Freya expected to be scolded for intruding, but he did not say anything to her but "Two." There was anger in his eyes, but not at all at her it seemed, and it mingled with something strangely unfamiliar, an emotion she had never seen in her father before.

Freya stood still, an odd sort of fear gripping her as she had no idea how to interact with Jeriah in this foreign mood.

Then he stopped pacing and looked at her, and he said, "Two. He slayed two, Freya."

—.—

"Your Majesty," Freya said, staring at her knee on the cold floor.

"Freya," he greeted her, and she lifted her head. "Please rise. You look well, if not a bit . . . worn? I expect your father has been working you to the bone," he chuckled.

Freya allowed herself a smile as she stood. "I bring news from him, my liege. Fratley slew a Grand Dragon during yesterday's excursion. Two, in fact."

"Two!" the king exclaimed. "Incredible! Wonderful news! Tell your father we shall have the ceremony tomorrow at midday."

Freya bowed again and made to leave.

"Freya," he piped, and she turned back to him, taken aback by the roguish twinkle in his eye. "I look forward to your day."

Freya grinned back at her king with all the love she held for him as she replied, "I, as well, my liege."

A/N: I've decided to make these first chapters relatively short in order to keep them impactful and organized... ish. LOL. We'll see how it goes. Enjoy!