DISCLAIMER: No part of Final Fantasy IX belongs to me. Every character and place name belongs to Squaresoft.

Garnet looked up from her book. Ugh. Why did Trigonometry even matter? It wasn't like she would be classifying triangles when she was Queen.

She glanced over at Brailsford, her tutor, who was poring over last week's homework. She had only turned her attention back to her book for two minutes when Brailsford cleared his throat loudly.

'Ahem, Princess,' he said, peering at her over the top of his specs. 'This essay is very well done. You have great ideas, excellent vocabulary, superb propositions and impeccable grammar. Quite a quality paper.'

He bent down and marked the paper with a fat A+.

Garnet sighed. Everything she did was so perfect. She nodded mutely and returned to her textbook, but she found nothing of interest to her in the world of three-sided shapes.

She was just about to get up and leave the lesson – risking the fact that Brailsford would be beyond frustrated, tell her mother, who would then be thunderous and give a monotonous lecture about how important education was to a ruler – when a pigeon flew through the window.

Brailsford gave a slight exclamation. 'What! A pigeon! Princess, what is going on?'

'I can assure you, Brailsford, that I know nothing of what is going on,' Garnet said, rather reproachfully. 'The pigeon coop is right under this window,' she added, 'so I see no reason why there cannot be a stray pigeon fly through, especially when you've opened the window.'

Brailsford went rather red. 'There was a draft,' he murmured. 'And Your Highness, in that little dress, too…'

'My dress is as good as any jacket,' Garnet said haughtily. 'If your shirt and vest isn't enough to fend off a draft, Brailsford, I can absolutely request a new set of clothes for you.'

Her tutor shook his head. 'No, no; I would rather not impose in such a manner. Princess, might we get back to the lesson? This tedious banter is pounding my head away.'

Garnet felt it best to ask Brailsford to leave before she got even more frustrated with him. 'Brailsford, I doubt more study would help that headache of yours in the least. Why don't you go down and ask Quina for a draught or a warm drink? I'll wait up here.'

Brailsford didn't hesitate. 'Thank you, Your Grace.'

The second he was out of the room, Garnet raced over to where the pigeon perched on the vanity. It sat contentedly in her fuzzy red dressing gown, which was draped over the vanity stool, and tied to its leg was a note.

Garnet stopped to think.

'Why would there be a pigeon? That old pigeon coop has no more pigeons. Did this come from the outside? Who would be sending me a note?'

Garnet noticed that also in the pigeon's beak was a bag. It was filled with some sort of hay.

Food.

She gently removed the bag from its mouth and spilled its contents onto the vanity stool, all over her dressing gown. While the pigeon ate its fill, Garnet untied the note with fumbling fingers and broke the seal curiously.

Princess,

Do you like flowers?

-T-

Garnet grabbed a pen from her desk and seized one of Brailsford's stray memo pads. She tore off a sheet and scribbled a reply.

White lilies are my favourite.

Who are you?

Garnet

She scooped the remainder of the pigeon food that the bird hadn't eaten back into the bag, stuffed it into its mouth and tied her reply note to his leg again. She hurriedly dashed to the window and as gently as she could, she let it fly and shut the window.

Just in time. Brailsford returned, rubbing his nearly bald head with anxiety. His steel-grey wisps of hair were sweaty and wet. He wasn't wearing his vest from before.

'Where have you been, Brailsford?' Garnet asked, rushing to his side to hide the fact that she was standing at the window's edge.

'Quina made me take off everything but my underwear and pushed me into the hottest part of the kitchen. He said since there isn't a sauna in the castle, he'd give me the next best thing – a steamy kitchen. Some of Quina's disciples and other cooks weren't too happy to have me in the way. Did I mention I was practically naked?'

Garnet smiled. 'It's alright, Brailsford. I'll finish my studying on my own. Why don't you go back to your hotel and I'll just tell my mother you were suffering from an awful headache. It's gone, right?'

Brailsford nodded. 'It is. That steam room scarred me for life, but it sure did the job. Thank you, Princess. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon at this time.'

As soon as Garnet ushered Brailsford from her room and shut the door, she hurried back to the window and opened it again.

Just as she did, the pigeon flew back in. It held a note in its foot, but Garnet could see it wasn't Brailsford's memo pad paper. It was a reply from T.

She unfolded the note as quickly as she could while the bird contented itself with more of the strange hay.

I'm sorry, but I can't tell you that.

Is Brailsford gone?

-T-

Garnet wondered. How did he know Brailsford was her tutor, and that she had been studying at this hour?

Then again, most Alexandrian tutors homeschooled their students at the same time other students went off to public school. And it was no secret that Jonah Brailsford was staying at The Westerley, Alexandria's finest hotel, now that he could afford it.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Garnet quickly sent a return note.

Brailsford's gone.

Why does it matter? And why can't you tell me?

No one tells me anything. I don't like secrets.

-Garnet

The pigeon flew off, and Garnet closed her window.

'Garnet?' The voice at the door was familiar. Zorn.

'Princess? Princess Garnet!' Another familiar voice. Thorn.

'Zorn and Thorn,' Garnet said loudly. They entered, towels draped over their arms. They looked almost like waiters.

Bowing, they each said in unison, 'Queen Brahne would like to see you. You have visitors, Princess.'

Garnet hid her surprise as best as she could. 'Of course.'

She exited her bedroom, followed at a respectful distance by Zorn and Thorn. As she went down the winding staircase, she could see the visitors.

Seven men, all standing in a neat row, staring straight ahead expressionlessly as they waited by the doors. Brahne stood before them, obviously talking. Or lecturing. Or welcoming.

'… She will be here shortly,' she was saying. 'Ah. Garnet, darling. Come, come. Thank you, Zorn. Thorn.'

Zorn and Thorn bowed again and left with discretion. Brahne watched them leave. When the door shut behind the pair, she turned sharply back to her daughter.

'Garnet, dear, you are seventeen,' Brahne said, 'and four months. You have barely enough time to find a suitable fiancé before you're eighteen. So Captain Steiner and General Beatrix have given me a kind helping hand in selecting a decent few from the large group of hopefuls. So, come and meet your suitors.'

Garnet hesitated, but she didn't want to seem like a whiny stiff and cause a scene. She strode confidently to Brahne's side. In her heart, there sparked a tiny, dim hope that perhaps one of these suitors was T, her correspondent.

'What are your names?' she asked, praying silently.

Each suitor smiled.

'I'm Tristan.'

'I'm Tyson.'

'I'm Thomas.'

'I'm Timothy.'

'I'm Theodore.'

'I'm Tyler.'

'I'm Troy.'

Garnet felt herself die a little inside. My life, she thought, is just terrific.