Reaching Eden 1
Author's Notes: This unusual, odd crossover fan fiction story using Square Enix's Final Fantasy X game characters arose from two things: A piece of music by Hooverphonic name 'Eden' and an idle list of favorite things with an Asian flavor, somewhat like Sei Shonagun's lists of favorite things in 'The Pillow Book': The cyber world of Spira from Square Enix's Final Fantasy, the CGIs of some of its inhabitants, including one named Tidus, The Film 'House of Flying Daggers', the martial art Aikido and Iaido, the classic works of Sun Tzu and The Perfumed Garden, the enchanting lyrics of Stevie Nick's Sable on Blonde and Nightbird, an awesomely mentally challenging story called the The Secret Shih Tan by Graham Masterson, the exquisite kimonos of Itchiku Kubota, the winter eagles that return to a certain spot near a river, and the wild green foothills in the author's home state.
Please heed that this is an idle fantasy written to amuse a friend on winter nights; there is no intent of any resemblance to any real person, especially the author; nor is there any intent of taking credit for other quotations, lyrics, or other such things created by other people: Square Enix owns Final Fantasyand its' characters; the demi-goddess Stevie Nicks owns Sable on Blonde and Nightbird lyrics, somewhat butchered and paraphrased; Graham Masterson owns the awesome story The Secret Shih Tan and of course, even a CGI could have stunt doubles in certain sordid scenes.
Please also be warned this story is not for the faint of heart; it does deal somewhat with sexual roles and there is a theme of explicit sexuality, adult situations, and violence; but hopefully, between the lines there will be glimpses of kinder things.
Prologue
What does the word Eden mean? To some, it means a return to innocence, where our God loves us, and we are carefree as children; to others, a place of delight and wonder; a paradise found…or lost.
The unknown interstellar cartographer who entered the coordinates in the Intergalactic Alliance Registry for the world known as Spirea to its inhabitants whimsically named it Eden, due to its near-inaccessibility. The irregular orbit of the planet brings it in proximity of a wormhole every 3rd solar orbit, and even then, not every pass is close enough.
If you enjoy the icy equations of space & time, the tilt of the spin axis of the planet can vary up to 15.3° over 3,000 years, leading to a marked erratic change in orbit. Contrast this to Earth's rotational wobble: 23.5° over 26,000 years. Normally, planetary wobbles like this are found because of the irregular nature of the transit, the orbit changes relative to our view. This change is noticeable enough that sometimes it misses its transit in front of its home star. Scientists log the transits to determine the orbit.
Astronomers are still trying to explain why a planet tilts or moves out of alignment with its stars. There many theories, but the Galactic Alliance's theory is that the wormhole nearby may actually be gravitationally bound to the home star in the system and exerting an influence, so the planet at times, is repelled vs. attracted.
The inhabitants of Spirea have accepted trade with the Alliance, but mistrustful, have not allowed free trade. They are fiercely protective of their lands. Visitors are segregated; they see only see what Spirea wants them to see, the Spireans hiding behind elaborate walls of protocol; everything is inferred, implied, and if you step over the boundaries of their good manners, you will be politely ignored. The visiting trader's version of Eden would be rights to untapped natural resources; but the imperial court in the capital worries that the traders will take over the planet, and they will live with a foot on the back of their collective necks until the precious resources are exhausted.
Spirea has existed for over a thousand orbits without outside contact; the dilution of Spirean pure blood is another point of concern with its people; it would be the emperor's Eden if he could control the immigration of the rapacious, greedy traders, but he does not have the weapons to enforce his will; all he has is intrigue, honor, and swords, and after 22 orbits, he is beginning to doubt his ability to hide the truth from the traders much longer.
One disillusioned, dissolute, banished bastard prince has a clear idea of his Eden; he wants out of the life he has been forced to endure for a decade as a temple trained consort to Spirea's royals. He wishes desperately for his father to love him again, allow him a chance to prove he is not a complete waste, he can lead people. But most of all, he secretly longs for love, a match to him in all things, the stuff of the legends.
Chapter One
Tidus Tanaka noh Ishii, was drunk. Not just a bit buzzed, or mildly inebriated, or a little tipsy from a bit of rice wine; he was full on primed, having been on a drinking jag for the last 6 hours with a small cavalcade of lords and warriors, all slurping soju, a distilled liquor made from rice wine; the locale they were in was known for a particularly strong brew, flavored with mountain water, which gave the liquor a distinct dry mineral finish. Everything was great, everything was fine, until he heard some petty piece of bitchery aimed at his father; he lost his good temper, and shook the man until his teeth chattered, screaming his father had nothing to do with his view of things; he stalked off, and began to blindly hack at bushes and branches in his path until hot tears dripped down his face in blind frustration. Eventually, he reached a clearing and raised his bloodshot eyes to the night sky above his head.
For most of humanity's history, the night heavens with its glimmering constellations and faint rivers of galaxies wandering across the black-blue of night is a wondrous sight, man's oldest storybook and nature's monument to eternity. Gazing at the glittering universes scattered across the black velvet of night flung across the roof of the world make some feel they aren't alone; they are somehow comforted that there's something out there besides themselves; or someone like them, at least.
But Tidus felt no comfort. He saw nothing but a vast emptiness, reflected in his own soul; for a long time an unknown grief had been building within; nobody, not one single entity on the planet he dwelled in knew of this aching loneliness, the total sense of being deliberately disconnected a piece at a time from all things good, clean, and loved; or felt the absolute soul-numbing despair of being the isolated island he had become. He broke inside, a sudden swift pang and simply screamed primally, falling to the ground and weeping wildly as a boy, broken prayers and sentences weaving into a babble that slowly died to a whisper:
"Djevon, oh Djevon, I can't hold out any longer! Where is my bright blue heaven, Djevon? I 'm not a god, I'm just a man…do you think I stand to watch my cup of water dashed from my lips day after day? Where is my Eden? Why do you deny me? Answer me! What did I fail to do for you, why am I cursed? Will you ever let me lead in love instead of being led around like a basting brute animal by any basting Lady who has enough coin to buy a temple contract? Must I bow my head to this arrogant indifference to my needs all my life? I cannot believe you made me the son of Akiro, just to bring me down to a whoring consort! Does it really matter who leads in love, Djevon? Does it? Please, Please, I just can't take any more, I beg you. Set me free, let me be a man or let me die! Answer me!"
The night sky did not answer; neither did Djevon, but he heard the desperate prayer offered: Of course you're cursed – just not quite the way you think you are, an amused quiet voice comforted, hidden in the faint breeze fanning the leaves, and the gentle chitter of the summer locusts.
Tidus Tanaka noh-Ishii wearily dropped his head and sat in the warm darkness, pressing like a soft hand against his skin, alone but for a hundred thousand fireflies winking in the grass and bushes. It was an astonishing scene, utterly beautiful in its pristine wildness; every leaf seemed limned with cool phosphorescent light; the patterns of flashes winked with delicate complex designs and delighted the eye with the soft yellow green glow against deep summer green foliage. Now drained, he thought: I have no voice left to call you; I hope you hear me calling without one…I place my life in your hands. I am willing to die, Djevon...I consent…
Wrapped in the empty embrace of a summer night, he buried his face in his hands and let the hot tears drip again until he was exhausted in mind and slumped in sleep.
The despair had been taking root for months now, growing into a silent scream of terror in his night dreams, waking him in a cold sweat. He was alone. No one understood what was happening inside of him. They thought he was the luckiest bastard in the world, son of the imperial emperor in a kingdom that stretched across a continent and 2 chains of islands, wealthy, educated, and handsome as sin, his face and body bearing the regal temperament of his northern father and the near divine beauty of the southern race; tall, slim hipped, with smooth golden honey brown skin, astonishing deep cobalt blue eyes like the sea, but infinitely clearer, with an extravagant mane like the glory of the sun glowing with a deep luster that became its own crown on his bastard head.
I am the most wretched of men, as he thought of the prison his life had become. He was not free to marry, or to pursue an honorable career, other than the one he had been forced into. He was a Djevon-damned consort, by order of the emperor, and he hated it. With a wry grimace and a poisonous glitter in his eyes he remembered that day so long ago, when he had been ordered to go to the temple in front of the whole court; he perversely decided back then he'd be the most sought-after, desired, and expensive consort that ever was. Once he got over the shock that his own father had sent him away from him and into a life that ensured he would never be anything that any man would take seriously, he threw himself into the temple studies with a vengeance. The result was a temple trained consort whose contract had been sold at age 16 at the unheard of price of a full talent of gold. Oh yes, he was the best bastard whoreson a father could have.
It burned that his father thought he was worthless to him; he felt he was denied a life as a man, a true man. In a small defiance, he hacked his hair short, leaving a spiky mane that ruffled like eagle's feathers at his shoulders, disdaining the long groomed and braided tails of the imperial court. He kept his skills up in battle, with daily practice with the guard, riding as a cavalry man in the voluntary militia, spent time hunting, and tamed wild eagles for the hunt; therefore no could say of him he was effeminate or weak.
He looked for opportunities to lead men, but his hands had been cleverly tied there too; he had been sent to the city of Bevelle 3 summers ago, and was trapped for an entire year in a consort's contract to Lady Yuna, a daughter of a retired court lord whom ran an academy for warriors amongst his many lines of business and holdings. She was lovely as dawn, but there was no love between them, only what passed as love; or perhaps something more like power in the mind of one of them, at least.
Woken from his slumber by a screech owl, Tidus staggered back to the campfire, threw himself down on his camp bedroll and fell into a fitful sleep; he had to rest, because at dawn, they were going to fight; a band of pilfering wildmen was nothing to play with and he needed his wits. And so, Djevon let him sleep and pursued the fulfillment of his prayer.
