After playing Final Fantasy Tactics, I became hopelessly fascinated with the plot, and more exclusively, the character of Delita Hyral and his connection to the concept of Machiavellianism. Being a usual slasher, I became even more entranced by the friendship of Ramza and Delita, and its strange, vaguely explained nature in the game. I recently was released from a very manipulative and controlling relationship in which my significant other called all of the shots. In many ways, I paralleled that experience with Ramza and Delita's relationship, drawing some similarities between my ex-boyfriend and Delita's scheming ways.
The basic point of this story is to expand on the origins of Delita's manipulative personality, for I personally believe that Ramza was victimized by it from the beginning of their friendship. Also, very little brain fodder in the form of fanfiction exists for this fandom--particularly, this is for the slash-lovers benefit as well. This is told from Ramza's point of view, in a newly found cynicism--yet, take note that he has failed to shed some of his naïveté. Enjoy.
+seven reasons+
-prologue-
Know thine enemy.
False.
I've been misled by my brothers, my instructors at the academy, those whom I once believed as friends, and even my father. "The enemy is always in sight—look across the river, and not amongst yourselves." They never told me that all are possibly skeptical, and that flesh and blood hold no exception. But perhaps they figured I wasn't as weak in that particular area as I've proved to be.
Delita even stressed the same concept, but there was always a reason behind it. I knew he was keeping me ignorant; had known it since we became close, which is the better half of my existence. He knew I would listen relentlessly, too—I love him, as a brother and otherwise, and although he hated to say it so openly, he loved me too: this I knew because in instances when I proved too smart to follow him off of a ledge, he never found anyone else to control. He liked manipulating me for some reason, perhaps because I always forgave him. He told me once that I like being taken advantage of, and I said "only by you." Today I regret giving him that kind of power, but I can't pour the whole of that weight onto him, because he turned out to be correct in that aspect.
Look at the results.
I wonder sometimes, "does he love me still?" I wish I knew that he thinks of me fondly from time to time, but I'm sure he doesn't. It's hard to configure, and the image is painful, but I try to imagine that some day he would return to me as an equal, as we had once been, or at least, as I had believed we once were. "Why," one might ask, "so that you can be manipulated again?"
Perhaps, for he wouldn't have changed. Especially when his ways have gained him so much fame and wealth. Especially when they had been in practice for so long.
Oh, yes. Delita was always quite the conspirator, even as a child. It always seemed that he was looking for a way out of everything: not trouble, but his mind flitted about as though he were a bird trapped in a cage, even when he was permitted to live in the manor, when he was admitted into the academy—even when we were out in the field and he was treated as an equal amongst cadets or soldiers. Sometimes, I wondered if he was trying to escape the world itself, because many times there would simply be nothing to run from. I can imagine him as a fetus in his mother's womb, kicking and fighting and punching—regardless of the pain he put his mother through—and looking for an exit.
Rumor has it that Ovelia is dead. I wonder if that was an accident, or another of Delita's schemes? I can't imagine what the poor girl could have possibly done, or what she could have involved herself in that would lead to her death at Delita's hands. If not, what could he have been running from, then?
Either way, I bet if it were I in her place, it would have been me, no matter my status as his most trusted friend.
--
In truth, there are seven reasons why I know Delita as a born manipulator, for I should, because I was his first pawn. Being a noble, and his best friend, I was his connection to authority and comfort as he saw fit. At one time, we were mutually in love, and I would have vouched for him anytime his name surfaced during an incident ridden with suspicion. We sinned together, and I believe that to have been his prime means of manipulating me. I am guilty because I made excuses for him, because I didn't stop him, and because I loved every second of it.
Here, in succession, are those reasons:
/prologue