Enjoy part II: Seymour returns home after a long struggle through Spira…

Part II: "Why are you still here, sir?"

He pushed the doors open to his home in Guadosalam. His feet and hands, face and robes were covered in soot and dirt, and he fell in a heap on the floor, at the foot of his servant, Tromell, who held the door, face aghast and heartbroken.

"Your Grace!" Tromell breathed, picking up the young boy and slinking his tired body into his arms, "We must get you cleaned up before Master Jyscal sees you here – like this!"

Seymour didn't respond, and looked through blurry vision up at his manservant: "Tromell – Mother…"

But before the young boy could finish his words, his accumulated exhaustion took over his body at last and he fell into a sleep that lasted for many days.

Tromell looked after him in Seymour's bedroom. For such a young child, it was a beautifully furnished room, in shades of dark blues and greens, with curtains of sheer fabric hanging from atop the ceilings and to the floor. Branches from the Great Tree they lived in stretched across the walls, and vines erupted with pale green leaves from various parts of the walls, where white moonflowers bloomed. Being in Seymour's room was like walking through a room underneath the water of Lake Macalania.

Tromell never left the bedside of his young Master, feeding him periodically potions of sparkling yellow or ethers of misty blue. After a couple weeks of bathing and recovering, Seymour was sitting up in his bed, with fresh robes of deep sapphire wrapped around his unusually large frame for a child.

Tromell came quietly through his door, waddling back and forth in his green attire, his head of branch like hair swaying as he shook his head: "It's getting harder and harder to avoid your father, young Master. Perhaps now is the time to make aware to him your arrival?"

Seymour, with little knowledge as to why his father sent him away in the first place, was happy to agree, hoping his father would be pleased to see him after almost two years of being restricted to Baaj Temple. Seymour nodded his head to Tromell in agreement. Although a smile rarely crossed his face, Seymour's lips twitched with a bit of happiness at the prospect of seeing his father.

Tromell looked at Seymour with worry. Tromell was certain the reason of banishing his Mother and Seymour was because of the racial tension arising in Guadosalam. No one liked Seymour's mother because she was human, and no one liked Seymour because he was half Guado, half human.

He was a bit afraid of the reaction Master Jyscal would have should he see his son, well, and in bed, without his mother accompanying him. He wondered what happened to Seymour's mother, but questioned not, having heard Seymour cry every night from outside his bedchamber. Perhaps something happened? A fiend encounter, perchance? The Lady of the house was always so kind to him… it was a shame.

Tromell put a hand to Seymour's head, which lazily bobbed from side to side in weariness of the coming night. "Young Master, I will tell your Father myself."

As Tromell closed the door to Seymour's bedroom, he breathed a sigh of concern and walked down the staircase to the Great Hall, where Maester Jyscal was signing peace treaties with the other head Maester, Maester Mika. He seemed absorbed in his work, which relieved Tromell. It would be less likely that he suspected anything amiss from Seymour's return home a week prior.

"Your Grace, Maester Jyscal?" Tromell asked with fingers folded against his stomach in bashfulness.

"Yes Tromell?" Jyscal breathed lazily, not looking up from his work.

"May I – May I speak with Your Grace in private?"

Maester Jyscal looked up at Tromell then to his companion, Mika, with eyebrows raised. He dabbed his quill, and set it in the ink bucket. He rose to his feet, excusing himself to his fellow Maester and walked, slightly hunched out the wooden doors of the Great Hall with Tromell close behind.

The great doors shut heavily before Maester Jyscal spoke:

"Now, Tromell, what could you possibly need right now? Maester Mika comes rarely to overlook documentation with me, you know how important his presence here is."

"Yes, Your Grace, I know this well." Tromell spoke softly, writhing his hands together uneasily.

"Well, what is it my friend?" Maester Jyscal ordered.

"It is about your son, Seymour." Tromell said softly, so no one could possibly hear but the two in the conversation.

"Ah… yes." Jyscal's face appeared solemn, and regret seemed to slowly paint itself across his face, "Maester Mika did say it was a good idea to banish him and my wife, to keep my people happy…"

Jyscal trailed off, looking down, with a long, green pointed finger tapping his bearded chin.

Tromell was astonished, his eyes wide, yet saying nothing, and let Maester Jyscal continue without further provocation.

"But I miss them, I miss my wife. I love her so. But – I love my people, so, what was I to do?" Apparently lost in thought, he seemed to forget Tromell's presence. His gazed was fixed on the mossy floor. Something inside him stirred and he corrected himself, tapping his chin once again before looking at Tromell: "Yes, what of my son?"

"I…" Tromell was hesitant, "He is in his room now, and has been for little more than a week. He came to the front gate in a heap of filth, and… without the accompaniment his mother."

"I beg your pardon sir?" Jyscal was apparently puzzled.

"It's true, Your Grace, and he fell asleep just moments ago." Tromell was hoping to Yevon that Maester Jyscal would be easy on his son, and reconsider banishing him yet again to that horribly isolated temple in Baaj.

"Tromell, please tell Maester Mika that important news has been made aware to me and that our meeting will be cut short, give him my firmest apologies. You said he was slumbering in his quarters?" Jyscal pushed passed Tromell and ascended the staircase to his son's room, not too far from the foot of the stairs.

He stood in front of the wooden door, noticing for the first time in his life while living here, the ornate carvings on its surface. He refused so many times to go into these chambers for fear of remembering his son and wife's presence. He missed them so, that seeing his son's room was too much for him to bear. But his people needed him, and casting his family away in hopes of gaining his people's love seemed like the best idea for the masses. Maester Mika, his companion downstairs, was very serious and intense about his opinion to banish his wife and child to the far reaches of Spira to that deserted temple, and Jyscal was never quite certain as to why Mika was so adamant.

He pressed his long fingers against the wooden door and it eased open heavily. There lay his beautiful son, in a bed of blue and green silk, breathing softly under the covers, his face turned away from him and curled in just the way he remembered Seymour would sleep.

Jyscal walked, tears half rising in his eyes, at the sight of his son, who he hadn't seen in 2 years. Seeing Seymour now made him regret ever sending him away for people he didn't know – his city that repaid his great sacrifice with scrutiny, and claims of cruelty toward his family and people.

He reached toward the bed; arms outstretched, and ran limping toward his son. He enveloped him in his long arms, waking Seymour from a deep slumber.

"Father?" Seymour spoke lazily from tiredness.

"Can you ever forgive me, child?" Jyscal spoke in tears, "Where is your mother, son?"

There was a sudden silence from Seymour that puzzled Jyscal, and he pulled Seymour at arms length, looking intently into Seymour's sleepy eyes, half knowing what he was going to say, as his own filled with tears.

He held his son close to his bosom, and Seymour rested his face against his father's robes of white and green, smelling again that he was home. The smell reminded him of his mother, and he remembered his mother's last words.