A/N: This is a very A/U story. I mean, besides the characters, it really has nothing to do with FF VI. The plot of the story is loosely based on the French faible Tristan et Ysuelt, which I do not take credit for. Characters are all property of the geniuses at Squaresoft, though I wish even one of them was mine … *sigh* Maybe next year …. Okay, on with the fic. Please let me know if this is any good at all!
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"It's settled then," Edgar said with a sincere smile, reaching his hand across the negotiation table to shake the spindly, ring-clad hand of the emperor. Gestahl returned the smile, and they sealed the deal with a handshake. Between them lay an official peace treaty, marked both with Edgar's flourishing signature and Gestahl's sharp handwriting. A servant of the emperor stepped forward to carefully roll the parchment while Edgar sat back with relief.
"I must admit, we've had quite a history, Emperor," Edgar said, watching as the servant sprinkled the familiar sealant dust over the signatures to dry the ink, making the document official.
"Indeed we have, King Figaro," Gestahl nodded, tugging at his beard in thought. "Your father and I were sworn enemies. Truth be told I never thought I'd see this day come. But it has, and I am glad. Our two nations are long overdue for a bit of peace."
"I'll second that," Edgar grinned. "It's back to Vector for you, then?"
"I'm afraid so. No time for trivialities this time, while there is other business to be dealt with," Gestahl said, standing. Edgar stood with him, ready to see the old ruler out. "The Empire shall copy the agreement for you, and it will be sent to you with my signature. All you will need to do is sign it, and we shall both have a copy for our records. I assume you won't mind if I send it with your bride?"
"Not at all. And once Miss Chere arrives, I will withdraw all offensive troops I've deployed," Edgar said as he strolled toward the door with the emperor, a flock of servants trailing behind.
"Excellent," Gestahl said, extending his hand once more as they reached the door. "Until next time, then. May Figaro remain strong."
"And the Empire as well," Edgar said, shaking the proffered hand once more. "My personal guard Cyan shall see you out. Safe journey, Emperor." Cyan, who had been standing next to the door, took his cue and led Gestahl out to escort him to his caravan.
Edgar made his way back into the room, and when the last servant was finally gone he collapsed on the throne with a deep sigh. Slight purple crescents were visible under each of his steel blue eyes, a sign that the king had not slept much as of late. Edgar rubbed his eyes furiously and pushed a stray wisp of blond hair back behind his ear.
"Was that wise, brother?" A voice broke Edgar's thoughts. He looked up into a face that mirrored his own, and sighed again. As usual, Sabin had entered the throne room without a sound. Motioning to the other seat, Edgar began to speak to his twin, who had no doubt been listening in.
"I have no idea," Edgar spoke slowly, his voice dark with fatigue. "I know Father always said never to trust the Empire, but ..."
"But your heart leads you to peace," Sabin finished for him, his eyes deeply concerned as he sat next to his brother.
"Figaro can't remain at war," Edgar nodded, grateful that his brother understood. "I'd do anything for my people, Sabin, anything."
"Even marry a stranger?" Sabin asked. Edgar laughed bitterly and nodded.
"So you heard that part, huh?" he said, running a hand over his loosening braid. "Celes Chere was a major bargaining piece for the Empire. A union of marriage between Figaro and the Empire will assure them, so I will do it."
"But you don't even know her," Sabin frowned.
"No, but that doesn't matter just yet," Edgar said. "She doesn't know me either, but she agreed nonetheless. If it will bring peace I will try. I have to."
"Figaro is lucky to have you, Edgar," Sabin said simply, standing and clapping his brother on the shoulder encouragingly.
"Do you think ... Father would be ashamed of me?" Edgar looked up at Sabin, looking almost afraid for the first time that day.
"I asked you that once," Sabin smiled. "Remember? When I wanted to be a fighter instead of a king? You told me Father would be proud of me for following my heart. You love your people, Edgar, and Father is proud of you for it. I am a great fighter now, and you are a great king. I trust your judgment, Figaro does too, and so would Father."
"Thank you, Sabin," Edgar smiled weakly.
"You push yourself too hard," Sabin replied. "Get some rest. I have troops to train, you know, so I'll see you later."
"Fair enough," Edgar nodded. Sabin grinned and hurried down the few steps that preceded the throne, heading out the door that would take him to the training yard. Edgar watched him go, then stood slowly and unclasped the heavy, elegant cloak he had been wearing for the meeting. It slid to the floor, and Edgar felt much lighter as he began to walk toward the door where the emperor had left minutes before.
Edgar let his feet lead him to the courtyard, and he sank onto a bench beneath a spot of shade and closed his eyes. The desert surrounding Figaro was hot, and it made Edgar drowsy. He loved the heat; it reminded him of safety and family. He'd never known any other climate, and to him the scorching sun and drifting sands were home.
Just as he was nearing the comfort of a dream, Edgar was jolted awake by a shout. He looked up, half-lidded eyes turning immediately to the gate and the wild sands beyond. A single rider mounted on a chocobo was galloping furiously toward the castle gate, shouting as he came.
Edgar stood, shielding his eyes from the sun as he watched the rider approach. A moment later Edgar could see the horde of angry riders that were chasing him, and his eyes widened. The lone rider who was being pursued shouted again, waving an arm frantically in the castle's direction. Edgar recognized the rider, and scowled.
"Open the gate!" he shouted to the sentries on duty. "Open the gate!" The guards snapped into action at the king's words, and they pulled the grid iron gate open just enough to let the single rider through.
"Edgar! Look out!" the rider shouted to the king, who was still standing in the courtyard's center. Edgar, realizing that the gigantic bird was not slowing down, dodged to the side to avoid being trampled. He reached out as the chocobo passed him, grabbing a section of the chocobo's reins and pulling with all of his strength. The bird stumbled with an angry squawk, and the rider was propelled to the stone ground.
Edgar released the upset bird, unable to hold on, and it dashed away only to be noticed by a couple of guards who gave chase. Edgar watched the struggle, then turned back to the crumpled mass of blue cloth and brown hair on the ground a few feet from him.
"On your feet, Locke Cole!" Edgar said gruffly, trying to suppress a smile as Locke groaned and reached one gloved hand toward his head.
"Be quiet ... let me die in peace," Locke grumbled into the smooth stone beneath his face.
"Oh, get up," Edgar said, bending to grab Locke's arm and help him stand. As he pulled the young man up he also scooped up a bright piece of red and blue cloth that lay near Locke's side. "You lost your bandanna."
"Thank you," Locke said, taking the cloth as he stood shakily. He began to wrap it expertly around his unruly sandy locks as Edgar turned toward the gate. The gang of riders had been shut out, shouting vulgar threats at the guards from the other side of the gate. Edgar frowned, and grabbed Locke's arm as the young man began to slink away.
"Locke ...!" Edgar growled.
"Ow! Hey, let go, Edgar!" Locke tried unsuccessfully to free himself from Edgar's iron grip.
"What's going on, Locke?!" Edgar demanded.
"What?" Locke said innocently. "A minor disagreement ... property dispute ...?"
"Am I consorting with a known criminal?" Edgar asked, then sighed with exasperation as Locke winced. "Locke! What now?!"
"Just a little money, that's all," Locke shrugged, producing a small pouch from beneath his vest-like over shirt. Edgar let go of his arm and snatched away the money pouch.
"Locke! Why? Why do you keep doing this?" Edgar demanded, shaking the little bag in front of Locke's nervous face.
"Um ... habit?" he offered weakly, then deflated at Edgar's glare. "Look, they were bothering me! I figured they deserved it!"
"Stealing is illegal, Locke!" Edgar said dangerously. "I'm a king, I'm supposed to uphold justice! How can I keep defending you?"
"Edgar ... I'm sorry," Locke said, surprised at Edgar's outburst.
"You're sorry?! Tell them that!" Edgar shouted, pointing at the gates where the guards were avoiding the objects the gang was hurling through the iron bars. "I should send you out there with this money and have you apologize. That would teach you to steal from people like that."
"Edgar, you ... you can't! They'd kill me for sure!" Locke protested. Edgar cast a wary eye toward the gates, and sighed as he looked back at Locke's dusty face.
"If Father were here, he would make you go out there," Edgar said quietly, watching Locke's face grow dark.
"Well, Father isn't here," Locke said vehemently. Edgar knew he had struck a chord; Locke was an orphan, and Edgar's father had treated Locke as if he was his own. The late King Figaro was the only father that Locke had ever known. Edgar tossed the money pouch up and caught it again, thinking. Finally he sighed, and met Locke's deep brown eyes.
"I'll handle it this time. Wait here," he instructed, reaching under Locke's over shirt suddenly and producing another bag of money. He spun toward the gate, ignoring Locke's appalled face.
"Edgar!" he whined.
"Shut up, I'm saving you here," Edgar replied, walking quickly to where the guards were trying to deter the shouting men outside.
"Gentlemen," Edgar said, announcing his presence. The men must have recognized him, because they fell still and silent immediately. The guards allowed Edgar to move between them, and he held up the two pouches of money.
"This is all the boy has on him. I assume at least some of it is yours. You may have all of it for your trouble, so long as you vacate immediately," Edgar bargained with an iron voice.
"What about the thief?!" the apparent leader demanded.
"Don't worry. He won't go without punishment. Now ..." Edgar shook the pouches, "do we have a deal?" The leader hesitated, but Edgar was confident. The money he offered was nearly double what was stolen, a good sum for any man. Finally the leader nodded brusquely, and Edgar grinned.
"All right," he said, and promptly dropped the pouches between the bars. The leader motioned for one of his men to dismount and get the money, then turned to glare at Edgar. The king was no longer smiling.
"Go," he commanded. "Or the army shall have you for target practice. You have profited, now get out of here."
"Very well," the leader grunted. "But if we find that boy in our bar again, he won't leave alive."
"I'll see that he gets the message," Edgar said, and watched as they slowly turned their mounts to head back southward. Nodding to the guards, Edgar whirled on his heel and walked back toward the awaiting Locke.
"Hey Edgar ... listen ..." Locke began as Edgar brushed past him coldly. "I ... I'm really sorry, Edgar. Thanks, for getting me out of that."
"Walk with me, Locke," Edgar said, waiting for his younger friend to fall into step beside him. "You may not want to thank me yet."
"What? Why?" Locke asked, his smile fading.
"Because you are going to be punished," Edgar said, clasping his hands behind his back. "I have a job for you."
"Are you kidding? Anything for you, Edgar," Locke's grin returned. "You're a brother to me. Just name it."
"You're going to Vector," Edgar said. Locke stopped in his tracks, his eyes growing wide as his mouth fell open in silent protest. Edgar smirked, and paused to let Locke recover.
"Please tell me that you're kidding," Locke finally managed. Edgar merely shook his head, and began walking again. For a moment Locke stood motionless, then suddenly he was tearing after his blond friend.
"Edgar!!"
"Relax, Locke," Edgar said calmly. "You won't be spying this time. I've made a treaty with the Empire."
"Excuse me?" Locke sobered as the words sunk in. Edgar continued walking, entering the lower courtyard with Locke at his side.
"That's right. Emperor Gestahl was here just this morning, though you were out cavorting so you wouldn't know," Edgar explained. "Both sides are withdrawing offensive troops, the Empire is providing us with some of its newer technology, Figaro is helping fund rebuilding of the war zones, and as a show of good faith I am entering a commitment with a citizen of the Empire."
"Oh ..." Locke said slowly, his face blank. "Come again?"
"I'm sending you to Vector to escort my bride," Edgar said. Locke made a choking sound and stumbled on the cobblestone.
"You're getting married?!" he gasped.
"Yes," Edgar answered tersely. "It will appease both sides to see a union between Figaro and the Empire. I agreed this morning."
"But ... but who?!" Locke demanded. Edgar ushered him to a shady bench in a quiet corner and set Locke down before sitting down himself.
"It's not uncommon, Locke," Edgar spoke as if to a child. "She's a young woman named Celes Chere. The Emperor only has a son, and Miss Chere is the closest thing to a daughter in his life. It's a gesture of peace, Locke, don't you understand?"
"No," Locke said quietly, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring at the ground.
"I suppose not," Edgar sighed. "You and Sabin are so alike. Neither with a head for politics. I knew this might come, Locke. I suspect Miss Chere did as well. You need not worry. Your job will be to go in the Blackjack with Setzer and bring Miss Chere here. You'll be my emissary, all right?"
"Why me?" Locke asked.
"Because," Edgar laughed, "you're restless here! Your incident earlier proves it. Father always said you were too adventurous for your own good. Going to Vector will give you a chance to stretch your wings, see something different, and ... keep you out of trouble for the time being, if you know what I mean."
"Oh?" Locke straightened up.
"Those men threatened to kill you if you returned to their bar," Edgar said, smiling.
"As if they owned it!" Locke snorted. "Well, I should lay low for a while. But I don't know much about being an emissary ..."
"I've sent you out before," Edgar reminded.
"Not to the Empire's capital! Not to act political!" Locke protested. "I can spy, I can fight, I can hunt ... I can't play the part of a politician!"
"Calm down. You can be eloquent when you have to be," Edgar said. "Setzer will assist you. Plus, I know you can fight your way out if the Empire pulls something."
"You think they will?" Locke asked.
"No," Edgar grinned. "Just getting your hopes up. So are you going?"
"Do I have to?"
"Yes."
"But --!"
"Yes, Locke, you're going."
Continued