Blessed and Despised by Nsu-Yeul

Part One: Studies

Chapter Two: Ardele – Insubordination

Beside the bed, my suitcase yawned open, empty. The lamppost outside my window cast long shadows across the floor. The shadows writhed up the side of the suitcase until they joined the darkness inside.

As usual, I'd forgotten to turn on the light in my room. After rushing here upon my parents' return from work, locking my bedroom door had taken precedence over unnecessary things like lights. The darkness never hampered my vision anyway. Ever since I could remember, I'd been able to make out shapes in the night. During my childhood, I'd used this to my favor. Secret late night snacks were my specialty. Tiptoeing through the pitch-black hallway, past my parents' open bedroom door, I would slip into the kitchen. Slices of cheese, handfuls of grapes, and even the occasional sweet bread disappeared, unnoticed by both my father and mother.

The memory almost stirred up a smile, but the jangling of my parents' keys in the front room knocked me back to my senses. How long before they asked to see me?

Quickly, I unbuttoned my uniform jacket. For a split second, I almost placed it in the suitcase. My useless hands trembled. I wanted to pack. I wanted nothing more than to ready myself for tomorrow's farewell. The morning held more promise than an Exam. No longer would Lucan be the school I escaped to, but the place I called home.

"Ardele, we're home," came my mother's soft call.

The sound of her voice reawakened my activity. Slipping off my shorts and stockings, I deposited them alongside my jacket underneath the bed. Then, I grabbed a gender-neutral black tunic from my dresser drawer. Finally finding my only pair of black long pants, I thrust my legs through.

The doorknob to my room rattled from the other side. Silently, I cursed the clock. There hadn't been enough time for me to unlock the door. Now, my parents would be suspicious.

"Let us in," demanded my father. His rough voice reminded me of Avena's father. I couldn't erase her weeping face from my mind. Without a thought to her wishes, her father had withdrawn her from Lucan, abruptly ending her dreams. The only way she could respond was through tears. Part of me worried that my parents would change their minds. They could imprison me in the house tomorrow, and I would miss the Exam. I could lose my dreams, just like Avena and Goran and Penna.

But that was impossible. Professor Kamaal had locked the pale green Retraction of Rights forms away. Lucan Academy's staff would come to claim me, if it came to that.

"Ardele, I said to let us in."

Twisting the key that already rested in the keyhole, I opened the door. My parents' eyes glanced over my frame, checking for any girlishness. "The Traditionalists at Lucan may allow you to wear a girl's uniform, but that won't be allowed in my home." This house rule hovered over me every evening. Soon, it would be a thing of the past—a hand released from my throat.

Satisfied with my appearance, my mother managed a half-hearted smile. "It's a little dark in here, isn't it?" she asked before pulling the string to the ceiling light. She fiddled with her long braid. While her chestnut hair matched my own, she kept it twisted, while I tended toward a—

"Get your hair out of that ridiculous ponytail," snapped my father.

Reaching to pull out my hair tie, I recited a few silent prayers for protection from Yevon. In my rush to change clothes, I'd forgotten the small things. Set loose, my hair fell to my shoulders, wavy and "too long," as my father put it. Unsure of how to please them, I swept it up into a low bun and brushed my bangs to the side. My eyes were still lined with kohl, but that generally went unnoticed.

"Well then, what would you like for your last dinner with us before the move?" my mother asked, trying to remain cheerful.

"Anything you want is fine," I said honestly.

Her face fell, almost imperceptibly. "You should choose. This is a special occasion."

"How about spicy tuna soup?" I replied, not wanting to disappoint. "Do we have any tuna?"

She clapped her hands together. "We have salmon. Would that be all right?"

"It sounds delicious."

Clearly content, my mother turned to leave, but just as her foot crossed the threshold, my father stepped forward. "Have you finished packing?" he asked, even though he'd already focused his gaze on the empty suitcase.

Except the occasional tunic, my dresser drawers were filled with the uniforms and clothes that had caused pointless conflicts with my parents for the last five years. As the Mastery Exam crept closer, I'd tried to pack every night, only to be put to bed by another shouting barrage from my father. Ripping suitcases from my hand or beneath my bed, he would unload the clothes into a pile on my floor.

Timidly, like a mouse cowering beneath an angry hawk, my mother always picked up the uniform jackets, the stockings, and the blouses and folded them into neat piles in the dresser. Unlike my father, she never yelled, but with each gentle close of the dresser drawers, she illustrated her opinion. Following Yevon's laws of respect for elders, I never yelled at either of them, choosing my own frustrated mutism.

"Why do you insist on making yourself this way?" were the parting words my father had left with me the night previous. "You can pack when you pack right!"

I wanted to ask him, "In a world ravaged by Sin, what did clothes matter? In a time when we could be killed in a moment, why do you hide behind false laws?" The Book of Yevon demanded piety, repentance, and faith. We were governed by strict codes concerning technology, transportation, and even respectful language. But Yevon himself had appreciated self-expression, by creating laws forbidding the destruction of aesthetics and music. After all, outside the amusement of blitzball and the arts, we had little happiness in our world.

"Let me know if you need any help packing," my father offered, but I knew his kindness as a ruse. With these final words, they both exited my room—my mother headed to the kitchen, my father probably to his study.

It's not as though my parents' prejudice was unusual. Throughout Spira, artificial taboos had sprung up in attempts to quell Sin's fury. As a result, Yevon's church lay divided, with two groups in debate with each other: the Refinists and the Traditionalists. While Traditionalists followed the specifics of Yevon's teachings, the Refinists had combined them with "natural" wisdom in order to create additional social codes. According to Refinist belief, Yevon's people should not dress finely or give feasts. Since Yevon did not prohibit the destruction of dance, neither did he protect dance. As such, Refinists believed dancing was unnatural for mankind. The Dark Arts, or enchantments that involved tapping into otherworldly energies, should be completely forbidden. Crossdressing betrayed a hidden disequilibrium within one's heart. These additional laws were meant to bring Spira closer to true atonement.

However, consistency was not the Refinists' strong suit. Blitzball, although never mentioned as a sin or saving grace by Yevon, had never been called under question in Refined doctrine. With nary a mention in the Book of Yevon, Refinists had determined that strong drink fell under Yevon's protection. Traditionalist institutions never failed to point out Refined hypocrisy.

The clinking of dishes echoed from the kitchen. A fishy smell wafted to my room as my mother removed the salmon from the icebox. To my surprise, my father's voice reverberated down the hallway:

"Did we make the right decision?" he asked, either unaware that I could hear him or apathetic to the idea.

"We can't take it back now," my mother answered in a barely audible voice. At least she had the sense to hide her words from me.

"Sending him there had seemed like a good decision, but it's too Traditionalist. I'm no Refinist, but is that headmaster even thinking about Sin's presence?"

As a Traditionalist institution, Lucan Academy followed the Maesters of the Traditionalist government. As such, the school rarely recognized Refined doctrine. With respect to Spira's trespasses, Traditionalists and Refinists often agreed: Machines caused wars; a lack of prayer led to sin; disrespect for one's elders brought about rebellion. The two parties split when Refinists rallied to persecute such people as dancers, or Dark Artists, or women in boys' clothes and men in dresses. My parents, like many Spirans, chose neither side. Their beliefs fell somewhere between Traditionalism and Refinism.

"That school hasn't done him any good," my father added. "Look at how they let those students dress. He's turned himself into a girl. If someone looks at him, that's what they'd see! Soon the neighbors will start asking me about my daughter instead of my son."

"I still think he'll grow out of it, and perhaps he'll earn a Mastery that will help him grow out of it. And what about his friend, Enza? That boy has always been very strong in his faith. His mother mentioned to me at the market today that his Priesthood marks are high."

Fiddling with my suitcase, I tried to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach. Beneath all my teasing of him, there lay an undeniable truth: my parents approved of Enza more than me. Righteous, pious, and studious, his missteps at school usually involved some kind of oversight due to prolonged prayers. Still, in spite of his aggravating perfection, Enza truly accepted me. Many of the other students at Lucan played at androgyny like a carefree game, but Enza took my choices seriously.

Every morning, I'd met him at the crossroad of our neighboring streets, leaving behind my parents' judgment for his welcoming friendship. Once my parents were completely out of the picture, the imposed rivalry they'd forced upon us—one that Enza remained blissfully unaware of—would dissipate.

"Priesthood would do some good for Ardele," my father agreed. "Or Athletics, but I doubt he'd get into that with the way he acts."

The distant thump of a knife against the cutting board tapped out a steady rhythm throughout the house. "He is very strong in Aesthetics," my mother mentioned, more absent-mindedly than with any motive. "That's what all his marks have shown in the past."

"Aesthetics? Just what he needs, another excuse to make everything look beautiful! Isn't that what he used to say about himself? It didn't hurt to make himself look more beautiful?"

My mother released an exasperated sigh. "Whatever the Exam says, he'll have a chance to make Spira a better place. That's something to be proud of. That's why we sent him to Lucan in the first place. He'll become something more. Perhaps you could tell him you're proud of what he's accomplished more often…"

An eerie silence fell upon the kitchen. Part of me wondered if my father was about to explode. Did the thought of taking pride in me disgust him?

"I'm just nervous for him…" came his surprising reply. He spoke this quietly, as though for the first time during this conversation, he didn't want me to overhear. "May Yevon watch over him and his Exam… his choices."

Nothing followed but the thunk of my mother's knife. My father's shuffling pants bespoke his departure for the front room. The heaviness of his words pressed me into my bedroom wall. Slowly, I slid to the ground, staring at my empty suitcase.

They both cared for me, but their expectations were not about making good choices, but making the choices they considered worthwhile. Now, I was no longer their child. With the exception of my Mastery study, under Lucan's jurisdiction, I would be able to make my own decisions.

But why did my eyes sting? Unshed tears burned my lash line. Despite my desire to escape, the facts remained the same: I wanted my parents to witness my choices and approve of them.

Scoffing to myself, I rubbed my eyes dry. The likelihood of their approval was dismal. For now, I needed to concentrate on the task in front of me. How could I pack my clothes and leave with them unnoticed? Most likely, my father would search through my belongings in the morning.

The scent of spices on boiling salmon floated down the hallway. As the fragrance hit me, so did the image of the large plastic bags my parents always hauled into the house, full of the frozen goods they stored in the icebox. After emptying the bags, they left me to rinse them of any unsavory smells before hoarding them in the hallway closet as extra storage.

Extra storage was exactly what I needed tonight. Quietly, I crept into the dark hallway. It pleased me to know that while neither of my parents could see me in the pitch blackness, I could see the carpet, the picture frames hanging on the walls, and eventually the outline of the closet door. As surreptitiously as possible, I opened the door and pulled one of the oversized bags from their repository.

The door clicked shut louder than I'd intended. Frozen in place, I waited, but the clinking of dishes in the kitchen continued without pause. The thud of my father's heavy footsteps never came. Holding my breath, I stole away to my room, a rabbit chased to its burrow.

Once inside, I wasted no time. After caching the bag in my own clothes closet, I brought my trembling hand to my mouth. A small smile hung there, as though the crescent moon had found its way to my lips. Dinner would soon be ready. Afterward, my parents would go to bed. Then, I'd return to the plastic bag. I'd finish packing.

After all, under the umbrella of nighttime, no one would be able to see but me.


The morning sun filled my eyes as I pulled the front door open. A warm spring wind played with the stray hairs sticking out of my loose bun. The temptation to step over the threshold without a farewell swept through me, but I turned around to my parents. While a smile decorated her face, my mother's quivering eyes betrayed her sorrow.

My father thumped the suitcase in my hand with his thumb and forefinger. "You're already starting this new part of your life with the right decisions. Keep that up and your reputation will be pristine coming out of the Academy."

He'd thoroughly checked the suitcase at sunrise. To his surprise, he'd found only tunics and pants. Even now, I wore one of my few male uniforms. The jacket felt uncomfortably stiff against my shoulders. Neither said anything about the kohl lining my eyes—it was more a fashion trend than crossdressing anyway.

My mother's smile never wavered. "We're very proud of you," she said, holding her arms out like a mother bird's wings. Dutifully, I pressed myself into her hug. "We love you," she added quietly, and for the first time, I realized I might miss her.

But the moment ended quickly. Today, I would be moving into my new dorm room in the West Wing of the Academy. Shortly thereafter, the Mastery exam would begin. I couldn't risk any chance of tardiness.

"I love you, too," I told them, unsure of the words. With a quick wave, I walked out the door. They waved back until I reached the end of the house's walkway. Then, the door closed quietly, as though it had never been open at all.

I breathed a sigh of relief, choosing to take a few steps down the sidewalk before stopping. With a peek toward my house, I saw no signs of life in the picture windows facing the front lawn. The brown door remained shut. An albatross fluttered down to the one-story roof, soothed by the tranquility of the atmosphere.

The timing was perfect. Abandoning the suitcase on the sidewalk, I rushed back to the front lawn. No sounds filled the air but the albatross's trill. Scaling the side of the yard, I made my way toward my bedroom window.

Dark as a storm cloud, the plastic bag rested between the window and a bush full of red-petaled snapdragon. With painstaking care, I wrestled the bag from the bush's twigs. The rustling set off fireworks of panic in my heart. After a few moments, the bag came free. Trying to abate my frenetic breathing, I carried the bag back through the yard and to the sidewalk.

Daring one last glance toward the house, I found everything as I'd left it. The albatross, now grown silent, watched me with accusing eyes. If my parents couldn't understand me, then a bird had no chance.

With my mission accomplished, I turned my sights back down the path before me. Just a few blocks, and I'd find Enza waiting. Annoyed by my clothes, I recovered the hair tie from my bun. If I had to wear the boy's uniform to school today, then I'd at least change my hair to fit me. Awkwardly carrying the suitcase and bag in one hand, I maneuvered my hair into a decent side ponytail.

At the cross street, I saw Enza before he noticed me. His auburn bangs hung in his eyes; I'd done a good job cutting his hair. When he finally looked up, the shock on his face almost made me laugh.

"Your clothes!" he shouted. Then, as though embarrassed by his own voice, he continued in a softer tone: "Why are you wearing that uniform?"

"I had to get out of the house somehow."

He groaned. "Please tell me your dad didn't win. That suitcase had better not be full of boy clothes. Don't get me wrong, you don't look bad, but somehow, it's not you." Pausing for a moment, he laughed. "You look more like a girl playing dress-up to me."

"You want to know what's in the suitcase?" I said, feeling more than a little pleased with myself. "It might as well be garbage. All the clothes I need are right here." I held up the plastic bag before stuffing it into my luggage. "And neither of my parents even know it."

A delighted grin spread over his lips. "Welcome to freedom," he said, showing off his own brown suitcase.

"Welcome to freedom."


A/N: Chapter Two is down the hatch. Shoot me a review with questions, comments, critiques, or any spelling/grammar issues. Don't forget to check out the 3 Fun Facts on my Author Profile.