Author's note: This fic owes a major debt to Vienna Teng's "The Atheist Christmas Carol," and to my own fixation on snow (comes of a childhood deprived of it.) It jumps around a bit in time, but I hope the chronology makes some kind of sense. And while this isn't exactly a pairing fic, those of you who are deeply wedded to the idea of Locke/Celes will, as usual, not like me much.
Season of Grace
Chapter One
Aside from a trace of accent that, judiciously applied, had once had an intoxicating effect on the socialites of Vector, Setzer had taken little from his childhood in Jidoor except a lifelong intolerance for weather of all kinds. There were times when he attributed to his birthplace his taste in wines, in art, in opera, in tall, lovely blonde women; but in truth, all except possibly the last had been acquired much later in life, and none had much to do with setting, he felt. What Jidoor had stamped in his malleable young heart had been a succession of mild winters, sultry summers, cool sea breezes and golden sunlight all year long.
So it was under duress that, days before a festival never celebrated in either of the places he'd most often called home, he steered the Falcon down through enormous piles of cloud, through biting wind and flecks of snow, to land in a field west of Nikeah around midday.
"I always wanted a white Midwinter when I was a kid," Sabin said happily. The big man was swaddled in a coat, gloves, knit hat, the ensemble contriving to create the impression of the world's largest seven-year-old. Setzer had seen children bundled up like that for sledding in the hills outside Vector.
"Childhood must have been a series of painful disappointments," Setzer replied, drily, as he cut the heat to the balloon.
"Yeah, but that wasn't one of them," Sabin said, and Setzer grinned at the retort despite his ill-humor and the chill seeping through his own gloves. He wondered if all of Sabin's fuzzy knitted things were more effective than his own leather items. "Royalty, remember? Dad took us out to a hunting lodge in the mountains one time when we were about twelve. Nearly broke our necks sledding."
"Must have been pleasant," Setzer replied, absently, as he steered the descending ship towards the fallow field he'd had in mind. That was the handy thing about northern climes – winter crops were scarce or, lately, non-existent. Around Jidoor even now much of the land was covered in vineyards and groves, though they weren't thriving, and he had to land much further outside the city than he found altogether convenient.
There was no reply from the crown prince of Figaro, and Setzer gratefully focused his attention on the landing until they'd settled, with an orchestra of creaking, hissing and grinding, into the field. The group had grown more or less used to the noise by now; when they'd first begun coming on board, one after another of them had emerged from belowdecks shaking and variously angry or queasy with fear. He didn't have the faintest clue why they thought it sounded like a crash; if they feared flight itself that might make more sense, but why landing should trouble them remained a mystery.
"Do you know where your brother is?" he asked.
"On his way," Sabin replied, and Setzer turned to watch the king emerge from the hatch on the deck.
"It may be an overnight stay," Edgar said. "I'll be taking rooms in town for part of the day anyway, if only for a place to have our purchases sent. You know we're getting in another order of shoes for Mobliz, and I'm buying clothes, blankets and the like, though don't mention that to Terra. I want to surprise her."
"You'll be sending things back throughout the afternoon, then?"
"Probably. We'll be bringing smaller items ourselves. Terra and I will be going into town, Locke, Strago... Sabin, were you and Cyan coming with us?"
"Go on ahead of us," Sabin said. "Getting Gau ready is going to be interesting. I should go down there and see if they need help."
"Help?" Edgar asked, sounding amused.
"Well, you know Gau, he doesn't seem to like clothes much..."
"If only beautiful women the world over would pick up his aversion," Edgar said.
"Maybe he simply doesn't feel the cold," Setzer suggested.
"I dunno, the Veldt was pretty warm. You wouldn't think he'd be used to cold." Sabin turned to go, then turned back. "Are you planning to get rooms at the Blue Lion again?"
"That's the plan," Edgar said, and Sabin turned to go.
"Quite a mob," Setzer said, turning to Edgar. "Was anyone else invited?"
"I believe Strago's hoping to surprise Relm with something. He got Celes to sit for a portrait to keep her distracted while he makes his escape. Umaro's already taken off for the woods; he's in his element, and I believe Mog's with him. Shadow just looked at me when Terra mentioned the holiday. Then he stopped. I told her that was a fairly clear hint."
Sabin climbed down the ladder leading belowdecks, then nearly barreled into Strago, waiting his turn to climb up. "Hey, sorry. You all right?"
"I think I'll pull through," Strago said, grinning. "I'm not as old as I used to be."
"That's... good to know," Sabin replied, unsure if the old man were playing with words just for the hell of it or if he actually meant he felt more vigorous than he once had. "Still, you think you need help with the ladder?"
"You could hand me up my stick once I'm up. When I put it over my back it snags on things."
"Got it," Sabin said, and waited, holding the cane and trying not to be obvious about fidgeting, as the mage made his slow way up the ladder. If Sabin feared one thing about growing old, it was having to move slowly.
"All clear," Strago called down, with what Sabin thought sounded like amusement. He held the cane up, stretching a bit so Strago could reach it easily. That done, he set off around the catwalk to Cyan's room. No one answered at his knock, so he glanced over the railing of the catwalk. Celes was standing in the middle of the room, her hands on the hilt of a sword, the tip of the scabbard resting on the ground. Relm was sitting in front of an easel, and Sabin could see Locke, legs and an arm that must be Terra's, and no one else. Shadow, as usual, lurked above, near the railing but leaning against the wall, reading something; Sabin waved at him, not really expecting a response, and then took off down the spiral staircase to the big common area.
Locke looked up at his approach. "Terra, we need to take off."
Relm snorted. "Yeah, you guys have fun shopping for shoes and food," she said, with infinite disdain. Sabin remembered why he hadn't liked twelve-year-old girls even when he was a twelve-year-old boy.
"It's nice being able to do things for the kids," Terra said mildly, as she stood up, gathering her coat and gloves. Sabin moved away from the staircase to let them pass, and glanced around. Cyan was nowhere to be found, but Gau was crouched on the arm of an overstuffed chair, wearing his strangely beloved, ratty-looking furs over a sweater Celes had bought for him when they were trying to get him spiffed up to meet with his father, and a pair of soft wool trousers.
"Hey, Gau, you got dressed!"
"Cold outside," Gau said, and Sabin remembered the kid was bright; just because he couldn't put all the right parts in a sentence didn't mean he couldn't manage the cause and effect between being half-naked and feeling chilly.
"Yeah, but it'll be worth it to go to town. You like shiny things, right?"
Gau cocked his head. "How shiny?"
"Blinding. You know where Cyan went?"
"Big room."
"This is the big room."
"Other big room."
"Okay..."
"The gymnasium," Celes offered.
"Oh, right! Sorry, Gau, I should have guessed. Thanks, Celes." He headed back upstairs, for the large, empty room that was not in fact equipped as a gymnasium. Since no one had claimed it as a cabin, it had been adopted as a training room by those who felt such a thing was useful. Sabin used it daily, Cyan almost as frequently. When they flew low or landed, they kept a window open, so when Sabin opened the door he was hit by a blast of cold air and the smell of sweat.
"Damn, Cyan, didn't you remember we were going into town?"
The knight lowered the wooden sword he'd been drilling with and wiped his face with the back of his hand. "I had not intended to accompany thee," he said.
"Well, you could have said something instead of just making yourself stink. C'mon, get cleaned up! We need to get Gau a present, and it'll take two if we're going to surprise him."
"Are there no others available?"
"But Gau likes you. Come on, Cyan, pleeease?" Hadn't he used that tone on his mother back in the day? "It'll make him so happy!"
"I half believe thou art more excited than the boy."
"Um, well, look over there! Shiny thing!"
Cyan didn't buy it, but Sabin hadn't really been trying. "Sir Sabin..."
"Of course I'm excited too, I love Midwinter. So come on, you agreed to it. Go get cleaned up."
"If you insist, your highness."
Sabin made a face. "Don't be like that." Silence, from the knight. Surely he'd come around, though. "I'll get someone to put water in your room." He turned away, taking off in search of one of the servants Setzer had hired. Behind him, Cyan sighed and returned the sword to the rack, next to a lonely other of its kind; both, along with the rack, retrieved from his quarters in Doma.