Sea of Ice

Chapter 2: Sand

Squall:

It had been a week since Squall's escape from the dungeon in Zamir. Seifer had been true to his word and had never left the brunet alone—almost to the degree of becoming annoying. The blonde was always there making sure Squall ate, had enough to drink, and he also made sure that Squall got sufficient rest. No one would ever have guessed that Seifer was the arrogant, headstrong prince that once resided in Zamir; not if they saw how he fussed over Squall.

The brunet tried to ignore the treatment and instead he focused most of his attention of the landscape that was slowly changing with each day that went by. With each passing sun, Squall also learned a little more about the renegade prince; such as how the man knew the kingdom territories fairly well. Seifer had explained that he was forced to study maps in the past years, and being forced to travel to see distant family for business had breathed life into the flat maps.

The main landmark that Seifer used was the Estharian Cliffs that stood in the far east. They were a guiding light to Seifer, but to Squall they were a sucking darkness. Each day the cliffs grew taller, and each day Squall grew more nervous..

But the blonde was always two-steps ahead, making sure to avoid well-known towns and rough terrain—such as quick sand pools. The two had only crossed paths with a few people who lived in small towns like Velden. There was no exchange of conversation. The stops they took in those places were strictly to renew their water and food supply. Everything was working out so wonderfully that Squall had forgotten that they were being hunted(or so Seifer said), and also that they were headed straight into the den of the lion(also words of the blonde).

"Are you able to read those inscriptions that line the front hall of the palace?" Squall asked. He had shed his constant silence the day before when his curiosity had gotten the better of him. At first it had only been a simple questions, but Seifer had answered without hesitation and with complete honesty. Squall couldn't help but ask about more things. He loved to learn, and his thirst for knowledge grew stronger the more information that was rewarded to him.

"Of course I can. Just because I was a snobby, spoiled prince doesn't mean I wasn't taught reading and writing if that is what you think," Seifer replied with a glance over his shoulder. They were walking in a straight line with the former prince leading the way and inquiring brunet close behind.

"No. I didn't mean that," Squall shot a sour look at the blonde's back. "It's just that I can't read them."

"Oh.." the blonde responded with a hint of guilt reflecting in the singular word.

"Do you remember what it says?" Squall looked off to the side in awkwardness. He swore he sounded like a child by asking the naive questions.

"It said a lot of things," Seifer's vague answer made Squall frown. The brunet had a habit of dancing around what he really wanted to ask. It was frustrating for both patrons, but Seifer always seemed to figure out what Squall wanted to know in the end. This moment was no different. After a few moments of silence passed, the blonde paused and pivoted to pin Squall with his vibrant green eyes. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Squall shrugged indifferently and slowed to a halt in order to meet the blonde's gaze.

"I know you are curious, but what about exactly?" Seifer pried into Squall's poor excuse.

Caught again, the brunet mused and over-looked his companion to try and read the body language present. Was Seifer angry? Annoyed that Squall was again avoiding a real conversation? It didn't appear so. The blonde only looked to be a bit tired—it was getting close to nightfall after all. Though, the very thought of sleeping caused Squall to look down at the sand to hide the way his cheeks began to burn with embarrassment. The past two nights, Squall had woken up in the morning to find Seifer's arms around his waist as they had somehow gone from sleeping back-to-back to back-to-chest. Sure it was a way to keep warm—but was that necessary? Not that Squall found it uncomfortable or disgusting. It was the fact that Squall felt too at ease and content when lying in the blonde's strong arms.

"Squall, what is it?" Seifer's words chased away the memory and called the brunet back to reality.

"I just remember seeing images of the Gods painted on the walls," came Squall's attempt at a casual reply.

Seifer shook his head lightly at his own eternal thoughts. He then turned and began to walk forward again. The blonde had caught onto the unvoiced question. "Really? Which one do you remember the most?"

Squall kept his silence for a moment until he felt the heat in his cheeks fade away. His memory flashed with a new image, one of a black, three-headed canine chiseled into tan stone. Its fangs were bared in a horrible snarl. Three pairs of eyes sparkled with emerald stones. "Cerberus."

"The devourer of souls.." Seifer echoed. Squall moved in a step or two closer, expecting to receive a story. The blonde had yet to disappoint the brunet in both failing to tell a good story and also finding out what Squall wanted to hear. "Cerberus is the God responsible for taking care of the filth that walks these lands. Those that rape, kill or steal are all ignorant of the Gods laws, so it is Cerberus that makes sure these lowlifes never get a taste of the afterlife. He is always consuming the souls of the wicked—always are his fangs shredding away the flesh of sinful humans."

I know this, Squall thought as Seifer's words trailed off. He caught the sight of the blonde smirking, apparently waiting to see Squall's brows draw together in an involuntary frown. He's just toying with me again..

"You probably know that, but I am trying to refresh your memory. It's because of his continuous feasting that Cerberus went mad with blood lust. He began to kill people just to satisfy his undying hunger. The innocent began to find themselves victims to the unmerciful beast."

The sky seemed to grow dark as the forlorn tale began to unfold. Seifer really was bringing light to the words-or, actually brining the dark out. Then again, Squall had always been someone who could lose himself in a good story.

"Cerberus rampaged the land unleashed. The pits of hell began to burn brighter as Cerberus sent more unwanted souls into the fire. The world began to die because of the unbalance between the living and the dead. The flames of hell grew, reaching out into the mortal world to scorch the land and turn it into waste. The fire was so intense that everything was reduced to mounds of small melted crystals.."

Squall recalled the sand that laid over the land surrounding Zamir. The golden grains were a direct connection to the story, because they did resemble broken pieces of a crystal. Such a small detail created a new sense of truth into the tale.

"For months the renegade beast roamed the dry sands that had once been a flourishing landscape. Cerberus drew close to Zamir with death and disease lingering in his tracks. He ravaged the city, killing anything living that was in his path. He then came upon the palace and climbed the stairs where he prowled straight into the royal chambers. The pharaoh of that time was sitting there, waiting for Cerberus to come. This man did not fear death, and he stared straight into the eyes of the demon. As Cerberus stepped forward with all fangs bared and dripping with the blood of the palace guards, the pharaoh lifted his arm, pointed at Cerberus and said… … there's a storm coming."

Squall lifted his eyes from the ground. The image of the story has been shattered by the lack of climax. Or rather, the last phrase didn't follow the dark mood Seifer had set. "What..?"

"No. A storm is coming, we need to find shelter—now." Seifer had stopped walking.

Squall came up next to the blonde. He looked towards the sky in slight confusion. "I don't see any clouds."

Squall felt Seifer's hand against the back of his head. His gaze was forced away from the sky to look at the horizon instead. In the distance stood an ominous wall draped in moving shadows. That explained why it had gotten dark during Seifer's story; the wall had blocked out the sun.. and it was moving closer.

"Not that kind of a storm," the words echoed the anger Seifer was trying to contain. The blonde took a few steps, then turned and paced back to his original place.

"What is that?" Squall's eyes were still transfixed on the living wall inching towards them.

"It's a bad fucking[1] sign, that's what it is," Seifer growled and ran a hand through his short golden hair. His green eyes frantically scanned their surroundings. "Just great. There's no shelter. We are royally screwed."

Squall felt his insides go numb. Whatever that moving wall was—whatever kind of storm it was—it was making Squall taste an all too familiar fear. If it made Seifer nervous, then it had to be bad. The renegade prince was always so confident in what to do in the past. There had never been a moment where Squall had seen the other unsure. It made him very uncomfortable.

"Squall," Seifer stepped in front of the brunet, breaking the vacant stare between cobalt eyes and the desert storm. "Listen to me. Whatever happens, you must stick close to me."

"Why? What's happening?" Squall let his eyes meet with Seifer's. The green had faded to a darker shade of jade. Something else was swirling in the blonde's eyes, something that Squall recognized to be fear—but it was well hidden behind forced courage.

"I gather that you have never experienced a sand storm," Seifer glanced over his shoulder at the rushing sand. Squall could feel the wind starting to pick up around them and he could also hear the distant roar of the storm as it drew closer. "It's very easy to get separated."

"Then we can just stay here and wait it out.." Squall's words trailed off when Seifer began to shake his head in disagreement.

"We'll get buried alive without shelter. We need to keep moving if we want to live," the blonde drew in a slow, deep breath; a way to calm his nerves.

Squall didn't follow Seifer's example. Instead he drew in smaller breaths that caused his heartbeat to quicken. The way Seifer was acting was making Squall more anxious. Fear was spreading though his senses, making him tune out the world, yet remain sharply aware of the dirt that was beginning to pick up off the ground with the increase of wind speed. It was just a storm. Why was Squall getting so emotional?

Suddenly Seifer was all over Squall. The blonde pulled up the ends of Squall's shirt before the brunet could shove the taller aside. Anger burned in shades of green. "Damn you to the pits of hell Squall, did you hear a word I just said? Take off your shirt—"

"—What!?" Squall scowled while pulling his shirt back down to cover his body.

"For the love of Bahamut, stop it! Just—ugh—forget it. Do what you want," Seifer's voice was rising in volume, but so was the roar of the approaching wall of sand. The blonde stripped off his own shirt and wrapped it loosely around his head—covering his face. He then extended his hand towards Squall. "Give me your hand."

Doubtful, Squall peered suspiciously at the offered hand. His eyes darted to the swirling wall that was closing in on them. The wind had grown in strength and it was whipping Squall's long strands of hair into his eyes—eyes that were already beginning to sting from the mixture of wind and dirt. The sky grew darker as the storm was feet from engulfing them.

"Squall! We don't have time for this. Give me your hand!" Seifer bellowed, but his words were lost in the ferocious wind. "You said you trusted me. Prove that to me now—take my hand!"

Squall closed his eyes against the pieces of sand that began to pelt his face. Blindly he reached out and bumped his hand into Seifer's. The blonde quickly seized a firm grip and Squall was being dragged forward, a few seconds later Squall felt the power of the sandstorm. It was like the sky had burst open, but instead of rain falling down, it was buckets of hard sand. The thrashing dirt dragged Squall down and then when the wind blew it knocked Squall in random directions with gusts strong enough to push him over. If it had not been for the strong hand constantly pulling him, Squall would have fallen long ago.

It continued one for a few moments until one particularly strong, sand-filled gust slammed itself into Squall's unguarded face. The pieces of sand dug painfully into his eyes, causing the brunet to jerk his hand free and cover his face from attack. The storm was beginning to take its toll on Squall. He could hear the sand grating between his teeth; it was stinging in his eyes and filling his nose so much that he could feel the small grains sticking to the back of his throat. With every intake of air, the sand slipped into his lungs to burn into the soft tissue. Squall's body shook uncontrollably until he couldn't restrain the urge to cough—which he did and earned a mouthful after mouthful of sand. Collapsing to his knees, the brunet covered his mouth with one hand while the other stretched out into the darkness—vainly reaching for Seifer's hand that was no longer there.

"Seifer," Squall choked. All he could hear was the howling wind. If only he had listened to the other and had taken off his shirt to use as a mask, none of this would have happened. Why couldn't Squall trust Seifer completely? You said you'd never leave me..

All of a sudden, the sand stopped pounding against Squall's body. The noise was still present, but it was muffled. The brunet attempted to open his sand-filled eyes, only to reveal a world blurred with burning tears. What little Squall could see, he did manage to make out a dark silhouette in front of him.

"Sei—" Squall erupted in coughs. The sand in his lungs seared more strongly than the grains irritating his eyes. He reached his hand out, hoping that Seifer would once again pull him back onto his feet.

"Well well well.. fancy meeting you out here in the middle of nowhere," spoke a smooth, male voice that definitely did not belong to Seifer.

Squall rubbed at one of his eyes until he could see the stranger more clearly. The man wore a heavy desert shroud that covered all of his face except his eyes. The rest of his clothes were more form fitting, but it was hard to tell with Squall's blurred vision. What little he could notice about details was that the man dressed with the same color as the desert sand, which made him hard to pick out from the storm that currently raged around them. It was as if they were in some kind of air bubble where the sand could not touch them. Was it some sort of magical spell? Squall couldn't tell—he needed to have Griever in order to sense magic, but Seifer had the pendant.

"Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would ever find you," the stranger spoke with a sense of amusement playing in each word. Squall felt something wooden touch against his chin, forcing his head to tilt upward towards the covered face of the stranger. The man leaned in closer, allowing cobalt eyes to glare warningly into a pair of calm, pale violet eyes. "It's unmistakable, you look just like him.. besides that scar."

If it weren't for the sand clogging his senses, Squall might have said something. Instead he pulled his head away from the other. The wooden object was then pressed against Squall's throat. This time he could felt metal built in with the wood. A quick, hazy glance down and a judge of shape told Squall that the stranger was pointing a crossbow at one of his most vulnerable spots.

"Now don't get all huffy because I caught you. That's your own fault," the man teased before pulling the crossbow away.

Squall shut his eyes. He was sick of staring at a world that he couldn't make visual sense of. At the moment he didn't want to believe what was happening to him anyway. We came so far.. why now?

"You just stay put," the cloaked man began to back away. Squall could feel the sand began to rain down on him, as it seemed the protective, invisible sphere moved with the stranger.

No! Wait, don't go—Squall crawled forward to try and stay inside the clear air. It was too late. The sand was once again attacking all his sense at once. Squall coughed, in-taking more sand than he was expelling. He couldn't breath—he couldn't move either. The sand had buried his feet, making it too much of a strain on his nerves to pull them free. What was the point anymore? He was caught—it was time to give up.

Seifer..

Squall fell face down into the sand. The storm raged around him, but there was a sense of tranquility with his face half submerged in the ground. Slowly the wind began to bury the brunet. The world grew more dark and silent than it was before. Squall could barely draw in a breath due to the sand searing the inside of his lungs. There was no point in trying anyway..

..where are you..

The sandstorm continued, but that part of the world had disappeared. There was nothing but darkness. It was all numb and distant. To Squall there was no storm, only the end.

..I don't want to be alone..

.. ..

..don't leave me..

End Chapter.

I love you my reviewers. I'm so glad you stuck with me. I would have updated sooner, but my computer went ka-put. Then when I tried to update, document manager was down, or something. Anyway. I have another chapter finished, and it will be added in a few days :3

[1] Yes. Seifer is swearing here. I'm sure they didn't have such words back then, but.. I didn't want to try and replace it.