The Beginning of Reasoning

1.

The castle seemed quiet without him. In fact, everything seemed quiet without him: the town, the people, her heart, her soul, her voice. He was her everything and now…

"Your Highness… we cannot wait much longer."

Garnet stared despondently out the window, her eyes hardened like chips of caramelised brown sugar. "Who is this 'we', General Beatrix?"

The woman behind her stiffened. "You must understand that Steiner and I… if we could arrange the outcome to be more… desirable then we would not hesitate."

"Really?"

"We wish only to see you happy, Your Highness."

"I do wonder sometimes."

Beatrix was stung beneath the endless verbal blows her beloved queen issued, yet she took them without protest because she understood the pain that cracked Garnet's heart.

He had gone… again.

"Please," she pressed. "I understand the pain you must be feeling but you were aware of what the law states and demands. It is a tradition – a requirement – that cannot be bent."

"It could be bent…"

Beatrix hesitated. "Yes but… Your Majesty you must think of the consequences of such action… for your kingdom's sake! Such an act could lead to civil war between Alexandria's nobles… even stretch as far as Lindblum. The uproar would be immense and unnecessary."

Garnet visibly slumped against the window frame, supporting herself with one, frail hand. It occurred to Beatrix how young she was, how easily broken, and she scolded herself for being unable to support her queen's fragile heart.

"I'll have to go through with it, wont I?" she whispered.

"I'm afraid so…"

"He probably wont come back…"

Beatrix had no answer for this. She had been present outside the chamber doors when the argument had commenced and had witnessed his broken visage and angry tears as he'd stormed out, slamming the doors so hard they came loose from the hinges. Of course he hadn't understood, they were all foolish to expect him to. He was a thief, unwise in the ways of royalty. He was young and blindly in love; everything was black and white to him.

"For your kingdom," Beatrix whispered, "you must go ahead with the plans and I must issue the statement. If he truly loves you… he will return."

"Do you believe that?"

The angry tears, the defeated, hurt expression. For the first time Beatrix lied to her queen: "Yes. I do."

2.

"I look like a freakin' pussy. Gods have mercy if any of my Tantalus brothers see me like this."

"It is traditional Terran garb."

"… Is that meant to make me feel better?"

"I find it a considerable improvement to those rags you were sporting earlier," a third voice contributed.

"Shut the hell up, Kuja. They're a damn sight better looking than… than whatever the heck I'm wearing now…"

Zidane looked down at the blue and white satin shirt covering his torso and tugged disdainfully at the matching breeches. "Well, at least their blue," he sighed compliantly, "and have a tail hole. But as soon as my other clothes get washed I'm puttin' them back on!"

The storm was beginning to peter out and Zidane was looking modestly refreshed after a good two hours soaking in the scalding bath (he swore Kuja had made it that hot on purpose and Mikoto wouldn't let him wait for it to cool) and eating three portions of potato and mushroom stew. The tub was situated in a tiny annex (little more than a shed pushed against the side of the house) and the meal was consumed at a little wooden table with, Zidane noticed, an air of habitual ceremony.

"At least you smell better," Mikoto commented lightly. "The muted hue of your hair confuses me somewhat, though. Did you not scrub it like I instructed?"

"For the last time, yes!"

"Some dirt wont be budged," Kuja proclaimed, "especially on ill-mannered, street urchins, like you. That tan doesn't help either; it makes you look unclean."

"Hey, chicks dig son-bronzed guys!" was Zidane's protest.

Mikoto blinked up at him. "Chicks… dig…?"

Zidane and Kuja stared at her for a moment and the latter hid a wry chuckle behind slender fingers. No one bothered to explain and Mikoto decided against asking.

"Kuja and I sleep upstairs," she told her rambunctious brother. "There are only two beds."

"That's fine," the rambunctious brother in question answered, rolling his shoulders and yawning loudly. "I'll sleep on the couch."

What light the storm had allowed through its heavy clouds had receded into inky darkness so Mikoto had lit the many lamps lining the walls, complaining, 'Terra was never this dark. I don't understand why the light has to come and go. It's rather bothersome.' Now they were bathed in a comfortable amber hue, with Kuja reclined across the couch, Zidane atop the chest (stuffed with clothes, he'd discovered earlier) and Mikoto daintily perched upon the couch's arm. The gentle pattering of rain and muffled calls of the owls preceded their silence.

"Tell us why you're here," Mikoto asked. "You seemed… somewhat distracted when I found you in the wood."

"Trouble in paradise?" Kuja interpreted with a smirk.

That remark from Kuja combined with the infuriating expression reminded Zidane why he'd disliked the man in the first place and he cast him a molten glare. "I don't want to talk about it yet. I just… want to forget for a little while and figure something out later."

"Will your companions not be concerned for your whereabouts?" his sister pried. "Is that not what companions do?"

"Well… yeah but… I'm a big boy. I can handle myself; they know that."

"They wont come here looking for you?"

"Nah. Doubt it."

"Why were you here?"

Zidane stared off into the distance, expression becoming melancholy. "I came to visit Vivi's… grave. It's… where I go to think… to clear my head, y'know? He always knew what to say to comfort people and sometimes I feel like there's a hole where he should be. He was always easy to talk to, and so brave and smart, though he never knew it. I feel close to him when I'm by his grave; I ask for his advice. I know he can't answer but… sometimes I feel like he can hear me." Zidane blinked and cleared his throat. "That's stupid, I know, but what can I say? I miss the little guy."

Kuja sat broodingly, eyes averted to the ground. He refrained from commenting, which was unwittingly wise, because Zidane had already vowed to render his flesh from bone if the silver-haired mage even thought about mentioning Vivi.

"So… you really wont tell us?" Mikoto pressed.

Zidane shook his head. "Not now. Hurts too much. Will though… maybe after sleep… and more stew."

"More!?" Mikoto gasped. "I think you've eaten enough."

Zidane stuck his bottom lip out. "Pleeaase…?"

"No."

"Oh, okay, I guess I'll just… ugh… ah – oh!" The genome suddenly dropped to the floor, grasping his stomach and wincing in pain. Mikoto jumped up, flittering nervously.

"What? What's wrong?"

Kuja rolled his eyes. "Ignore him."

"Ugh… oh gods… I…"

"Zidane!? What's wrong?"

"Ugh… so… hungry…can't… go on…"

Mikoto blinked. "What? You're hungry?"

"Hurts… argh… have to… eat…"

The female genome scuttled to the kitchen and began preparing food, mumbling something about 'being unaware that extensive time on Gaia could lead to discomfort if a person becomes malnourished.'

Zidane sat up and grinned and Kuja flopped back onto the couch with his wrist across his eyes, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'insufferable oaf' beneath his breath.

Interlude:

Reunion With the 'Unsuspecting Cliental'

Garnet eased herself into her high-backed golden throne, thinking the velvet cushion wasn't half as comfy as she would've liked, especially considering she had another two hours of sitting to look forward to.

"Can I get you anything, Your Majesty?" a servant asked.

"A partner who can keep track of time would be nice," she sighed.

"Your Majesty?"

"Oh nothing, I was just thinking wistful thoughts. No, no, I'm quite alright. Though if you see Zidane kindly remind him that he's due in the Grand Meeting Parlour right about now. Oh, and also kindly remind him of our discussion about his time keeping expertise."

The servant gave the girl a puzzled look but bowed and shuffled away obediently.

Alone now, Garnet contemplated the long witchwood table that bore the fruits of Quina's labour. Various dishes that were made to be 'picked at', though she knew from experience that these light culinary snacks would rival a peasant's feast, and that made her a feel a little sad. However, it was custom, not to mention common courtesy, to offer the guest nourishment, especially one as high ranking as Lord Salvarian.

Lord Salvarian was an admired noble that owned a substantial portion of Alexandria's land to the west, not mention one of the largest estates in Treno. He also held much of the court in his favour and it was therefore necessary that Garnet try her best to appease him.

Since her mother's death and her coronation, the queen had seen him only in passing during court matters and necessary royal functions, and Beatrix had politely suggested Garnet invite the noble on informal reasons to keep things sweet.

Garnet found it difficult balancing the opinions of court. It didn't matter how neutral she kept her opinions they always seemed to upset someone, and Garnet hated seeing her subjects unhappy. Zidane would always say 'you can't please everyone' but she often wished there was a way.

She hoped pleasing Lord Salvarian wouldn't be too taxing. Truthfully, she hoped the lunch would be over quickly so she could return to finish off issuing edicts in time to spend the evening with her ever-elusive partner.

The double doors at the end of the Grand Meeting Parlour (a room smaller than the Grand Hall and less formal; a place where trivial matters are discussed to people whose rank still demand royal surroundings) swung open and a squat man dressed in gold preformed a sweeping bow.

"Your Majesty, Lord Salvarian has arrived."

"He may enter," Garnet said.

"Very good, You Majesty."

The man disappeared and another man took his place after a brief interval. He was tall and considered handsome by most (though Garnet found the shrewd spark in his eyes not much to her liking) with his sweep of chestnut hair, finely trimmed beard and clear grey eyes. He wore a deep purple doublet with flared sleeves and ruffled neck cloths; the current fashion in Treno, she knew. Garnet herself wore colours fashionable in Alexandria: a pearl-white dress that had a ridiculously long trail (in her humble opinion) and a cluster of ivory flowers peppering her plaited hair.

Lord Salvarian preformed a flawless bow, eyes courteously lowered, and waited upon Garnet's second permission to enter. The queen rose from her throne at the end of the table and bid him do so.

"Your Highness," Lord Salvarian greeted, his voice flecked with a slight Treno accent. "You are looking resplendent, as usual." He approached her confidently and she offered him her hand; he kissed the air above it before taking a seat to her right.

"Thank you, my lord. You are looking well yourself. How do you fair?"

"All the better after receiving your invitation. I am most flattered that you would spend your precious time on the likes of myself."

Garnet noticed his tone suggested that he very much did expect her to spend time on the likes of himself but kept her distaste hidden with practised ease. "Nonsense. I am glad you're here. Tell me, how do cope with the new acres of issued land?"

"Very good. Though might I be so bold to inquire as to Her Majesty's reasons behind bestowing me with such an unwarranted gift…?"

"Oh, it's not unwarranted at all. You are most adept at maintaining Alexandria's land and are most attendant with your taxing, though you remain merciful; a rarity for someone of your stature."

"Please, Your Highness, I do not think I am worthy of such kind words."

I bet you don't, you pompous windbag, Garnet thought and was about to broach on the subject of farming upkeep when the noble had the nerve to say: "Has Your Majesty found a husband, yet?"

Garnet blinked, the goblet of wine that was halfway to her lips grinding to a halt. She scrutinised the lord with an air of menace, but he returned her glare with feigned ignorance and she remembered herself and his position quick enough to regain her composure.

She put down the goblet and cleared her throat. "Well… there is someone…"

"Oh? Has Her Majesty been holding back on us?" he asked with playful tones that ground her nerves like wheat beneath a pestle.

"I do not wish to make my private life public," she snipped as politely as possible. "If you beg my pardon, my lord."

Lord Salvarian waved a hand, lowering his eyes respectfully. "Not at all. Please forgive my audacity. It's just there are rumours flying round both Treno and Lindblum and I thought… well… that I was a little behind on the news."

"Not at all."

"He is a noble?" Lord Salvarian pressed. His face split into a dashing smile that would be sure to woo any young maiden into conformity. Any young maiden aside Garnet, that is, who a rather unusual taste in men.

"No. I do not think –"

"A cousin?"

"No. I do not think –"

Her initial reprimand was cut short as two familiar voices drifted into audibility behind the double doors from which Lord Salvarian had entered, and both their attentions were wordlessly diverted.

"…and fourthly, one should not, under any circumstance, approach someone of nobility wearing… wearing… that. Do you understand? Are you listening?"

"Give it a rest, Rust-a-lot! Geez, you're burning my friggin' ears off. Let go! Quit it!"

"Silence! You cannot present yourself before the good lord in such a state!"

"State? I am not a state!" The jeer in voice indicated the opposite and Garnet stilled herself for the worst.

The doors opened with such a frighteningly loud bang Lord Salvarian visibly jumped; Garnet remained unmoved. She was used to partner's brusque way of entering quarters.

"Sorry I'm late, babe!"

Garnet quickly scanned his attire. Nothing unusual there… an untucked, sleeveless shirt with one greasy smear down the front, a pair of faded breeches and a pair of leather boots, daggers swinging off a loose belt. It was his face that was the problem this time. The area around his lips, his cheeks, and even eyebrows were encrusted with clumps of what looked like flour. He looked like he was suffering from an unknown disease.

"Guess what?" the newcomer yelled. "Me and Quina were having a Sugar Competition! You know what a Sugar Competition is? Well, you know the pastries that have all those granules of sugar on the top? You know, the ones that are covered in 'em? The Sugar Competition is when you have to eat as many as you can without licking your lips and guess what else? I won! I ate sixteen and didn't wipe my mouth once –"

His sentence was severed as his blue eyes flicked from Garnet to the man beside her and he abruptly froze, hand still pointing dumbly to his face and eyes abruptly losing their exhilarated twinkle.

Zidane Tribal said: "Oh, shit."

Thinking he'd forgotten about their meeting with Lord Salvarian and thinking his curse was due to his self-realised incompetence, Garnet opened her mouth to recover the situation when the lord in question stood so abruptly the chair fell backward and clattered to the floor.

"You!" he snarled in a tone that suggested introductions with the thief were unnecessary.

Dumbstruck, Garnet stared from one man to the other and Steiner likewise. Zidane gulped and licked his lips, repeating, "Ooooh shit."

The usually restrained noble pushed away from the table and advanced toward the blonde with such menace she thought he was inclined to run him down. Instead, he grabbed the front of Zidane's shirt and hoisted him upward, their faces inches apart. Salvarian's handsome visage twisted with rage and Garnet could see a little blue vein pumping beneath his reddened forehead.

"You manipulative little bastard! What in Bahamut's name do you think you're doing in the presence of the queen!? I ought to slit your throat from ear to ear and -"

"L-Lord Salvarian!" Garnet impeded, gathering her wits. "Please restrain yourself!"

"You are before the Queen of Alexandria!" Steiner bellowed. "If you cannot demonstrate composure than at least mind you language, lest you be subject to punishment!"

The lord seemed to recover himself, perhaps remembering his company, and released his grip on the genome. He smoothed his hair back into place. "My deepest, most sincerest apologies, You Majesty, Captain Steiner. My anger seemed to have got the better of me."

"Yo, where's my apology?" Zidane chirped, grin widening into something nothing short of a smirk.

The noble spun back to face him. Garnet saw his eyes narrow and his lips curl with obvious distaste. She nodded to Steiner who stiffened and placed a hand on the hilt of his sword.

"There will be no violence before her Majesty," Steiner barked.

Not taking his eyes from Zidane, Salvarian tersely inhaled. "I would never dream of such a thing. However, no power on this earth could make me apologise to this common thief. I spit on the likes of you, scoundrel!"

The blonde snorted. "Oh please. Take that pole outta your arse you godsdamn fag –"

"Zidane!" Garnet yelled. "Enough! Lord Salvarian I urge you again to restrain yourself." And then she said something she would regret for some time to come. "You are speaking to the future King of Alexandria so I should watch your tongue and your manner when addressing His Majesty!"

Salvarian had the look of a man struck by an aircab. "I… beg pardon… Your Highness, I believe my hearing must be failing me. Did you just say –"

"You heard me," Garnet reinforced. "And with the greatest respect I ask for your leave. Right now."

"K-king…?" Salvarian continued, ignoring Garnet's last request. "But the law… you cannot simply marry –"

"Are you dictating the rules of my own kingdom to me, Lord Salvarian? For your sake, I do hope that isn't the case. I have asked you to leave, now be so kind and heed my request. It would be most embarrassing for us both to have you escorted from the castle premises by less agreeable means."

Steiner took a menacing step forward. Zidane stuck his tongue out and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Lord Salvarian's eyes darted from queen to knight to thief and the initial confusion fizzled away into steaming fury.

"My apologies, Your Highness." He turned back to Zidane, eyes flaring and tiny smirk quirking his lips. "Lord Zidane. I do hope we meet again under much more… accommodating circumstances."

Thinking the threat to be nothing more than another pompous façade, Zidane shrugged it off with an obscene gesture and a few choice words.

And Salvarian marched from the room with red ears and a notable air of vengeance burning in his wake.