The sky was blue, warm, and inviting. Only the fluffiest of white clouds were allowed to play. A soft breeze rolled through the garden, brushing against emerald grass. Flower heads bobbed to the beat of a song unheard by normal ears. Aerith sat on a stone bench, humming the Earth's song. Her voice carried a short distance, muffled out by the greenery surrounding her. Nimble fingers tied strands of green together, forming a circlet of white.
A second wind blew, stronger than the first. Gasping, the flower girl held tightly to her flower circlet, her hair twisting in the air and pink skirt ruffling weightlessly. Only when it rested did she raise her free hand and fix chestnut tendrils. Letting out a sigh, she smiled.
"The wind's playful today, is it not?" The silky tone called to her. Mateus approached her, holding the same obtrusive manner she had come to know so well.
"It is." The brunette looked to him for a long moment before, eventually, letting her gaze return to her weaving. "So you came."
"You don't look at all pleased to see me." The man took a seat beside her.
"That's not it." Aerith mildly scolded. "I'm just busy."
He shifted closer, arm held behind her and grasping onto the back of the bench. Lids heavy, he watched her intricate work with mild interest. "And what, pray tell, are you busy with?"
"You can't tell? It's a flower wreathe." She finally looked to him and her words silenced themselves instantly. He was a breath's away from her. Her cheeks lit on fire and her grasp tightened on the crown she had been so delicate with.
The Emperor knew what he was doing. She could see the wheels turning in his head. He stared at her, lips curved into a smirk. She was at a loss. Something about him turned a memory over in the back of her head, but it wasn't strong enough to help it grow further than that.
Chestnut brushed against his immaculate face, ringlets dancing with gold tendrils in the wind. Her grasp weakened, the white wreathe fluttering and taking wing. It dispersed, the air currents quickly unraveling the hard work put into tying it together. But it didn't matter. All that circled in her head were thoughts pertaining to the handsome man absorbing her every breath.
Pain ripped through her skull, as though a feral cat were trying to claw its way out. Aerith winced and quickly brought a hand to her forehead, but it felt as though she were underwater. By the time her hand reached the highest peak towards its destination, it was captured. Breath hitched in her throat, her eyes snapped open.
A purple gloved hand held it; the fingertips pointed almost resembling a claw. She followed the gradient gold arm up to the pointed shoulder armor until her gaze rested on the familiar, calmed face of the Emperor. She relaxed, releasing a breath she hadn't realized was being held. "Mateus…"
He placed her hand back on her side and released her, reclining into his seat with crossed legs. "You've awoken."
"Where…" Aerith blinked hard and surveyed what little of the room she could from the bed. The best way to describe her whereabouts was "ruined". Part of the wall near the door was knocked in, the cinders broken or halved on the floor. Torches lined the gray cement, illuminating most of the shadows from her sights.
"The old Chaos Shrine. Or what is left of it." Mateus answered.
"Oh." Her eyes shut, and then quickly opened. Attempting to sit, she winced, her hand grasping at her stomach. The pain of what Kefka had unleashed on her forced her to remain lying.
Mateus clicked his tongue as you would a disobedient child. "I would think you intelligent enough to not move after an injury like yours."
"Injury…?" Aerith rolled onto her side, inhaling sharply, her arms hugging the wound. "Firion? Is Firion alright…?!"
"How would I know?" It was the most curt she had heard from him. "I left the boy in his place on the floor."
Brows furrowed, she glared at her rescuer, her lips thinning. "I need to go back."
Mateus looked down at her, showing how clearly displeased he was with her choice of words. "So you can heal him?" She nodded. "With this?" Two fingers held a green orb up in the torchlight.
"You…" Her expression slowly relaxed as realization hit her. "You healed me with that."
"Very perceptive." Violet hues glanced over the orb, though his voice was the opposite of his nearly bored to death expression. "Peculiar object. I've seen one other use this. It reminds me of the scrolls myself and Firion possess. A fragment of our world."
"That's Materia." Aerith shut her eyes, hoping doing just that would alleviate the pain she had recently inflicted upon herself. "It… holds the knowledge and… wisdom of the Ancients." His attention was once again upon her. "I didn't… expect someone like you to know… how to use it."
He scoffed. She looked up at him. "Dear maiden." He was looking at her softly as he had done before, the harshness having faded with the subject change. "I am more skilled than you can hope to imagine." Legs uncrossed, he leaned down slightly, the pale yellow strands pooling on the sheets beside her. "Enough of that. I'll assume you're better now that you've regained conscious. Or would you prefer another spell?"
She smiled, albeit weakly. "I'm sorry… I'm alright. But… can I have that back?" She rolled onto her back.
"As you wish." Pressure was applied to her bracer. The materia clicked into place within one of the nodules, back to where he had taken it from. "Here, was it?"
"Yes. That's right." His fingers grazed up along her arm before crossing to her stomach. He took the liberty of unbuttoning her dress. "What are you doing!?" Aerith blushed furiously, her hands quickly grasping onto his arm. "S-Stop!" One by one, the quaintly white buttons were freed, leaving her entire midsection exposed for his merciless eyes to behold.
"Silence." Mateus smiled. His eyes flickered up to take in her expression, his brows arched playfully. "I'm only checking your wound."
Aerith grasped his arm just a bit tighter, pouting fiercely at him. "You could've said so to begin with!"
"And miss such a beautiful reaction?" His index finger dragged along the line on her abdomen, being careful not to upset the burns Kefka so readily left upon her. He scowled, eyes narrowed as they had been when nearly destroying the jester. "What he received was not penalty enough."
"It's alright." Her fingers lightly trembled. Her voice rose in pitch, "If you didn't come I-"
A finger pressed to her pink lips. Emerald and lilac locked gazes as they did many times before. He bore down upon her, shushing her easily. "Do not say such things." He spoke quietly, but still with the power he easily possessed. "It's alright to show your weaker side, Aerith. But only for me. Do not hold back." Tears slipped down her rosy cheeks. A thumb wiped one away, leaving the second to disappear into chestnut strands.
She began to cry. He was released long enough for her arms to wrap around his neck, pulling him close. His arms embraced her waist. They held each other, his hold so much more strong then her own. She felt weak, her face buried against his neck. She whispered. "Thank you… Thank you…"
