Chapter 4 – Sodomy
A/N: Thanks again to Sassay for beta reading Fate of Men.
"Keep your back straight, stand up properly and don't lose focus." A dark haired man with an average build instructed a younger girl. She stood in attack stance, eyes forward, knees bent and her own equally dark hair tied sloppily out of her face. Her large vermillion flecked eyes glanced up at the older man. The man walked a full circle around her, his arms behind his back, inspecting her thoroughly. When he once again stood in front of her, he gave the child a small nod of approval.
"Again," he said with a tone of authority.
Without a moment of hesitation she began to move in a sequence of movements that had been ingrained into her head since she could walk on her own. She paid special attention to keeping her back straight, diverting all her attention to getting the approval of the man before her. She swept her feet to the side and soon found herself standing in the same place she had started.
"Wrong," the man shook his head, "your timing is off and you are three feet off of where you started. Again."
"Don't you think she's had enough, Tius?" A dark haired woman stood on the porch of a nearby dwelling. "Poor thing, she's all battered and bruised. She's exhausted."
"I can continue, father," the girl looked up at the man with determination in her eyes.
"No Tifa, your mother's right, rest now." The man patted her on her head. "I need to get back to the smithy." With that, he left his daughter and wandered around to the back of the large, wooden building. The woman who had called to them from the porch held out her arms. Tifa ran up to her and they were locked in an embrace.
The older woman gasped in surprised and let go of Tifa. "What's wrong mother?" Her face was stricken with concern.
"It kicked," She cradled her stomach protectively. The young girl brought her mother to sit on a wooden bench on the far end of the porch.
"When will you have the baby?" Tifa asked, laying her own hands on her mother's swollen belly.
"It's hard to say," She said, placing her own hands over her daughter's. "This is the fifth time I've been with child since you were born nine years ago. I've never been able to carry a child properly since you, my darling." She began to tear up a little. "I fear your father is growing impatient with me. He wants a son so badly but I fear I cannot give him that if I lose every child."
"Why is he so cold, mother?" Tifa asked, wiping the tears from the older woman's cheeks.
The woman chuckled lightly. "He isn't cold sweetie. He just has trouble expressing his feelings. A long time ago, before you were born, your father worked as a General. He was assigned a mission, but he did not fulfill that mission and was exiled from the city, never to return. He is a good man. He makes money so we can eat and have shelter. Your father works very hard and you must never speak ill of him." The little girl nodded. "Now, why don't you pick some fresh flowers for the dinner table?" She nodded again and scampered off down the steps of the porch.
The dark haired girl ran happily through the tall grass until she reached a patch of bright and colourful flowers. She plucked a red tulip from the ground and held it up to the light to make sure it was free of any visual deformities. She blinked and found that her hands were a little bigger. She blinked again and found that her hands grew even more and she was now farther away from the ground. She blinked a third time to find that her hands were now long and slender, her hair hung down to her waist and she was tall and lanky. Horrified and surprised by this strange turn of events, she looked to her mother for help.
When the girl looked back at the house she found that massive orange, yellow and red flames were eating away at the dwelling. A thick pillar of smoke spiralled towards the sky. Bits of ash floated through the air, smudging where it landed on her skin. She tried to run towards the house, but tripped, not used to her long legs yet. From her spot on the ground she reached out and called for her mother. Her voice cracked from the dryness of her throat. There was a scream from inside the house.
"Hello? Hellooooooo?" A heavenly voice filled Tifa's ears as she began to stir from what felt likes ages of slumber. "It's time to get up." The voice was whimsical and sweet. Its soft melody seemed to warm the depths of Tifa's heart.
"Mother...?" The dark haired woman cracked her eyes open slowly, allowing them to adjust to the light.
"No silly," The voice laughed. The owner of the voice popped into Tifa's line of sight, startling her a little. She had light chestnut hair pulled back into a braid with a pink ribbon, her bangs and a couple of tendrils on the side not included. She wore a long pink dress, adorned with lace, buttons, and a corset underneath that covered everything but her hands and her face. The fabric looked expensive and well kept. Her eyes were a bold luminous green and her skin was pale and milky. She smiled cheerfully at Tifa, flashing a set of bone white teeth. Tifa felt instantly jealous of the girl's beauty and kindness. "Aerith, Aer-ith," She said her name slower the second time; enunciating the syllables and the sound each letter made.
"Miss Tifa!" A youthful voice called out. Tifa turned her head to see Denzel and Marlene at the end of the cot she was lying in. The girl was sitting at the foot of the bed and the boy was standing behind it. The dark haired woman looked around her new, foreign surroundings. She found herself in what appeared to be an infirmary. Cots, like her own, lined the walls on either side of the room in a symmetrical fashion. Each bed had a small night stand next to them. The night stands that were next to occupied bed had a vase of white and yellow flowers in them. Tifa looked to her night stand; there was not a single flower on it. Instead, there was a large, burlap sack.
"We missed you Tifa!" Marlene said, scooting forward on the bed to sit right at Tifa's feet.
Tifa tried to sit up to great her, but found her body wracked with pain and fell back down. "You took a lot of damage. It will be a couple of days before you are able to leave. You were having a nightmare so I woke you up." Aerith said softly, sitting down on a chair next to the bed, a book in her lap. "My father patched you up, he said you'll be alright in a little while."
"Your father?" Tifa asked wearily.
"Doctor Gast Gainsborough," She smiled sweetly.
"What's in the bag?" Tifa's voice was low and raspy, dry from not having anything to drink for a while.
"I'm glad you asked!" She said, her face brimming with excitement. The woman placed her book down on the floor next to her chair. "These all came for you while you were sleeping." Aerith placed the bag on Tifa's lap. "You were out for about a day, word swept across the city of Midgar about you!" Tifa looked at the other woman sceptically. Aerith's gaze shifted from Tifa to the bag, then back to Tifa. Aerith opened the bag since Tifa could not move without straining herself. She fished around inside the sack and pulled out a handful of envelopes, all beige or a dirty white. "Let's see," She hummed to herself. "These are all requests for courtship. There's some good ones in here." She began sifting through the letters. "There's the stable hand, the blacksmith's son, a couple of guards, the scribe, a fish monger, several merchants, farmers and..." She stopped at a certain envelop. She held it up higher to get a better look at it. It was a deep blue with a golden seal on it. "A General?!" Aerith gasped.
Tifa's eyes widened. She had been told that people hardly ever married out of their class. Her stomach churned at the thought of a marriage proposal from a General.
"Denzel, Marlene, can you two go and get Miss Tifa some water?" They nodded and scampered out of the infirmary. Aerith began to sort through the letters, making four piles on Tifa's bed. When the children returned with a bucket of water and cup, Aerith helped Tifa to quench her thirst. Tifa thanked her.
"Okay," Aerith clasped her hands together in front of her chest. "This pile is definite NOs, these ones are acceptable, and these ones are the logical choice."
"What's that pile for?" Tifa weakly nodded to the fourth pile.
"Those ones are just fun to look at." Aerith replied, smiling absently to herself. Tifa really looked at the girl; it didn't occur to her before that she was quite young. They were probably around the same age. "Let's focus on this pile," The woman in pink pointed to the logical choice after putting all the other ones back in the bag. She pulled a vase of flowers off the floor beside the cot and placed them on the nightstand, adjusting them just so, matching all the other vases of flowers in the room.
Tifa directed her attention at the remaining pile. The single blue envelop in the stack of off white seemed to taunt her. Half of her so desperately wanted to know which general had sent her the letter and the other half wanted to simply toss it out the window and be rid of it forever. Her finger twitched beside her. All those letters had been for her? The idea seemed preposterous.
Aerith pulled the first two letter off the top, "Reno and Rude, they're two guards. Then there's Nero, the son of the historian and his brother Weiss. There's Reeve the architect."
"Just get to the blue one!" Tifa blurted out, curiosity winning her over.
Aerith froze, surprised by her outburst. Then she gave a soft laugh to show she wasn't offended. She picked up the envelope and ran her delicate fingers across it. Tifa could tell that the woman before her had never known a hard day's work. She removed the golden seal and opened the envelope. She pulled out a piece of white parchment and began to read. "To the caretakers of Tifa Lockhart, I humbly wish to request courtship starting immediately after her recovery." Tifa watched as Aerith's eyes scanned over the letter. "Sincerely, General Cloud Strife."
Tifa's mind had come to a grinding halt. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it after not a sound came out. She repeated this action. An odd feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. Her fingers curled into balls around the blanket of her cot.
"Isn't that exciting? General Strife is a sweet heart; and not to mention, quite the looker!" Aerith smiled brilliantly. When she noticed Tifa's reaction, her face dropped instantly. "What's wrong? Isn't this wonderful news? You've caught the eye of a very respectable man."
Tifa scowled, now feeling slightly insulted. Of all generals, she had expected to the letter to come from Angeal and not some random man she'd never met, one of the only two Generals she had never been in close proximity to. Immediately after her recovery, Aerith's words echoed in her head. He couldn't be bothered to visit her during her healing process? Not that she wanted him to. She would much prefer it if everyone stayed away from her.
"Miss Tifa?" Denzel asked, walking up to the side of her bed.
"I'm fine," She forced a fake smile on her face.
The clearing of a throat called their attention. Standing a little ways away from them stood a tall man with dark hair. "Ah General Hewley," Aerith bowed. "How may I help you?"
"I am here to visit Miss Lockhart." He said, walking up to her cot. The chestnut haired woman seemed to give Angeal a knowing glance.
"Denzel, Marlene, why don't we get something to eat?" Aerith suggested, taking a child's hand within her own. The trio left the infirmary.
"Thank you," Angeal nodded after her, he sat down in the chair she had previously occupied.
"What can I do for you, General," Even though she still felt incredibly weak, she was able to add some venom to her words. She couldn't explain this feeling she had within her. She was battling an internal conflict. She wanted nothing to do with courting or marriage and yet she felt oddly upset and self conscious because Angeal had not sent her a letter.
"I came to check on the state of your recovery."
"I see," She narrowed her eyes at him; trying to figure out if he had some sort of ulterior motive for visiting her. "Well in that case, I'm going to live but it will take a little while to heal."
"That is good news." Angeal said evenly, not conveying any hidden thoughts. His jaw seemed to be locked and his eye brows were more furrowed than usual. He seemed on edge. Tifa wondered if he was upset. "Do you know when you will be discharged?"
"No, but I do know that I need to rest for a couple of days."
Angeal absently nodded. His bright azure gaze fell upon the pile of letters on her bed. "I see Miss Gainsborough has gone through your mail already."
"Yes," Tifa paused, her gaze relaxing. "Something's different about you."
"Hm?" He locked eyes with her. His had a haunting stare, as if all the life had been drained from him, as if he had done a horrible thing that threatened to destroy his soul.
"You seem tense, like you're forcing yourself to be here."
"I had some unpleasant things to take care of the past couple of days."
"Like...?"
Angeal simply shook his head. "I came here to check on you, and now that I have, I will take my leave." He rose from his seat and left without another word. Tifa lay there, stunned by his sudden change in demeanour. She didn't know him well enough to be able to tell if this was his normal personality or if what had happened between them on the balcony was what he was really like. She huffed, frustrated. The dark haired woman attempted to roll over, but gave up when her body was wracked with pain.
Several hours passed. Tifa had faded in and out of sleep the rest of the afternoon. Aerith had returned a couple of times to check on her and give her some medicine. Angeal had not returned at all; to Tifa's dismay. When she was awake, she found herself counting the petals on the flowers next to her cot. When she would finish, she would recount them, just to make sure her number was accurate. Eventually she would grow tired and fall asleep.
She woke up in the middle of the night, the room was completely dark. She tried to sit up and found that with much effort, she was able to do so. She pushed the covers off her body and boldly swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her body was dressed in some sort of night gown. She found that she wasn't wearing anything underneath it. Pushing those thoughts aside, she pressed her bare feet to the cold, stone floor. The dark haired woman mustered up all her strength in order to stand up. For a moment, she was on her own two feet. Tifa quickly lost her balance and fell to the side. She reached out for something to hold onto.
Tifa managed to grab hold of the nightstand after accidently knocking over the vase of flowers. It hit the floor and shattered, water and flowers spilling all over the floor. She froze, waiting for someone to come and find the cause of the ruckus. Nobody seemed to hear. Gaining a bit of courage, Tifa let go of the nightstand and felt around for the wall. A sharp pain shot through her chest. She held her hand over the epicentre of agony. After a moment of rest, she pushed onwards, moving her hands across the wall until she reached the door.
She exited the room and assumed she was in a corridor. It was dark and windowless. Tifa figured that if she followed it, eventually she would find an exit, hopefully one to the castle and then she could escape. She kept to the wall, hobbling along. Each arduous step caused her upper lip to quiver slightly as she grimaced in pain.
"Isn't it a little late for sightseeing?" A deep, velvety voice filled her ears. Tifa let out a sharp gasp as she turned towards the direction of the voice. She heard a match being lit. The corridor became illuminated. She found herself staring at a dark haired man with a deathly pallor and bold crimson eyes. She was startled for a moment before she recognized him as General Vincent Valentine. He was holding a wax candle in a holder.
"And what about you?! Skulking around in the dark! You're not going to drink my blood, are you?" She subtly changed the subject so he wouldn't think about why she was out of bed.
"Drink your blood..?" He gave her a confused expression before disregarding her accusation. "My candle blew out just before I heard you attempting to flee this place." His voice was hollow, as if the life had been sucked out of him long ago.
Tifa shifted nervously. "So how do we proceed?"
"I could report your escape after returning you to your bed and having guards outside your door at all times, but..." He thought for a moment. "I was on my way to the library, and dealing with you would be counterproductive. Why not accompany me?" He held up the candle, gesturing towards the dark hallway before them. He stared down at her, his exotic eyes boring into her soul. Her mind grew blank, feeling intimidated by his presence and close proximity. He waited expectantly for her answer.
Tifa gave a cautious nod. She looked forward, towards her destination. She took a step away from the wall, her pride would not allow her to let him see her in such a weak state. The moment her hand left the wall, a sharp, stabbing pain shot through her body. She gritted her teeth and stifled a groan of agony. She took a step forward. The dark haired woman began to lose her balance. A steady hand under her elbow stopped her from falling forward.
"Perhaps you would grant me the honour of helping you?" Vincent said, devoid of emotion.
Tifa looked away from his intense gaze, shaking her head. "I can do it on my own." She jerked back out of his grasp. Her sudden movement sent her stumbling backwards. Her backside hit the wall.
Vincent knelt down in front of her, his back to her. "Get on," he commanded. He didn't sound angry or irritated. She swallowed her pride and straightened her night gown. Tifa put her arms around his neck and her legs on either side of his back. He placed his free hand underneath her. The slender man straightened. He held the candle out and strode forward. The crisp and clean scent of peppermint leaves filled her nostrils.
After a lengthy walk, they reached what he had called a library. To be honest, Tifa hadn't the slightest idea what a library was. He pushed open a large door and the pair found themselves standing in a massive room with rows upon rows of old tomes and books. It was difficult to see in the dark, but she felt as if the room went on and on. Vincent let her fall gently onto a musty couch. He took his hand and lit several other candles in the room. The library was immediately illuminated with soft amber light.
Tifa watched as the mysterious man walked over to one of the book shelves and held up his candle. His slender fingers traced over the spines of a few aged novels until he found the one he wanted, plucking it from its home. His long legs brought him to an armchair adjacent to the couch.
"You may read what you like," He said solemnly, making himself comfortable in the armchair. He flipped to the first page of the book and began reading. Tifa paused. Her eyes scanned the books on a small table in front of the couch. She frowned. The young woman fidgeted in her seat. She looked around the room. Tifa opened her mouth a couple of time to say something, but she felt embarrassed by what she was going to say. "Something wrong?" Vincent didn't look up from his book.
"I..." She stumbled over the words. "I can't read."
"Neither can I," Vincent looked up at her.
"Really?" Tifa felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. She was glad she wasn't the only one.
"No, I can read." He replied curtly. Tifa scowled at him for getting her hopes up. After a moment he added, "It was a joke." She squinted at him, not believing that someone could have such a dry sense of humour. "I suppose you would rather do something else? Talk perhaps?"
She turned away from him. "I have nothing to say to you."
"Very well," he returned to his book. Tifa thought he was purposely turning the pages as loud as he possibly could.
She grew bored and irritated quite quickly. "I hate it here," She finally broke the silence after about 20 or so minutes of sitting quietly.
"Why?" He asked, without looking up. "Do you eat every night? Do you have a warm place to lay your head? A roof over your head? Are your clothes filled with holes?"
Tifa frowned. She drew her knees up towards her chest and hugged them, mindful of the bottom of her nightgown; she didn't want to reveal herself. "I'm caged here. I can't leave."
"I see." He nodded.
"You see? Is that all you're going to say?"
He snapped his book closed, giving her his undivided attention. "What would you prefer me to say? Of course you have it much worse than any other person within these walls. Your pain is so much greater than theirs. Poor You." His voice was very different now. Tifa saw that there was something akin to pain behind his eyes. The first emotion she had seen from him. His words were harsh and dripping with sarcasm. She was taken aback. "You are a selfish child." He added. "Do you not think about what comes out of your mouth before you speak?"
Tifa became defensive. "You don't know anything about me! How dare you make those accusations! I took everything life threw at me and never complained! But now, I have a chance to live my own life, not for someone else. I'm not going to just roll over at let fate walk all over me again, like it has so many times in the past."
Then, the strangest sound rang through her ears. It was so obscure and odd that she couldn't describe it. It was like someone was opening and closing wooden shutters repeatedly. A deep chuckle emerged from Vincent's throat. He sounded unsure of the sound himself, as if he had never laughed before. "You remind of Sephiroth. He said the same thing to his father before becoming a soldier instead of scholar."
"I am nothing like that horrible monster," Her voice was low, insulted by his words.
"He speaks highly of you," Vincent added as he studied the younger girls face carefully, as if trying to see any sort of changes in her demeanour.
"Brags to all his friends about how he fought a girl?" Tifa asked, scowling.
"Not, quite..." His voice trailed off. "Mostly about your tenacity." Vincent made an odd face. His expression reminded her of Angeal's grim expression earlier that day when he had paid her a visit. Tifa decided to change the subject, feeling uncomfortable talking about their current subject. "Are all the Generals fairly close?"
"Some are," He wasn't deterred by the rapid change of subject, he seemed almost thankful for it. As if there was something he was trying hard not to bring up. "Angeal and Genesis grew up together, then they trained with Sephiroth, the three became pretty close. Angeal mentored Zack and Sephiroth mentored Cloud. Zack and Cloud are the two youngest Generals and close friends."
Cloud. Cloud Strife. Tifa remembered his name. She wondered if Sephiroth had influenced his personality. "And what about you?"
"I am an outside observer. I do not get close to people. But I get the feeling, that that isn't the question you really want to ask."
His senses were correct. Tifa picked at a loose thread in her dress as she tried to convert her thoughts into a coherent question. "Angeal seemed quite upset earlier today, but he wouldn't tell me why. I mean, it is his business and all, but I'm worried." The last part surprised Tifa. Since when did she start caring what happened to other people, other than her deceased family?
"Ah, there it is. Angeal most likely went to visit his former mentor."
"I don't see how that could be so terribly unpleasant."
Vincent held up his hand to silence her as he continued. "I'll start from the top. Way back when, the Generals were growing old and the new wave of younger and stronger Generals was starting to come in. The king assigned each of the old Generals at least one apprentice. Genesis was mentored by a man named Heidegger. I was mentored by a man named Veld. Angeal and Sephiroth were both mentored by a man named Hollander. Hollander was a renowned General, a skilled tactician although his combat skills were severely lacking. Once he became a General, the power went to his head. He began to use his new found glory to indulge in his... shall we say, dark fantasies. The man was not right in the head. He had thing for... small children. He mostly stuck to sodomizing young male recruits."
Tifa gasped. "That's horrible."
"You've already meet a few of his victims. There were many. That sort of thing never leaves you," His voice trailed off, lost in thought. After a moment, he snapped out of his trance. "Sephiroth was the one to report him. Angeal had no idea about Hollander until he was imprisoned. The whole thing was kept under wraps and people were told that he was trading information to the enemy."
"Why was it kept a secret?"
"Several reasons, but none I can discuss. It is not my place to tell you. But I suggest you don't ask."
"Fine, but why does Angeal have to visit him?"
"There are a couple of reasons. Again, I cannot discuss the majority of them with you. But I can tell you that one of the reasons that he goes is because he is reminded that absolute power corrupts absolutely, as he put it. He does not wish to become consumed with power, like his mentor. However, I have complete confidence that he will not commit such heinous acts."
"That is a relief," Tifa fiddled with the hem of her night gown. "What about you, how did you become a General."
"Many years of training," He seemed reluctant to speak. Tifa noticed that he didn't really say much when it came to speaking of himself.
"Most people cower in fear when in the presence of a General, why do they not react that way for you?" She mentally scolded herself for prying when she of all people hated it.
"I wasn't always a General," he stared off into the distance. "In fact, many orphans are sent to work in the castle."
"Six whole years and he hasn't said a single word." Cid stirred a large pot of stew as he whispered to the larger man next to him. Simultaneously, their eyes wandered towards a young boy with shaggy dark hair. The boy was frail and slender. His crimson eyes were sunken in with dark circles underneath them. The boy chopped pieces of carrots quietly, pretending not to hear the men who were at most, a decade older than him.
"I lost my folks when I was a kid, but that didn't stop me from talkin'," Barret replied in a hushed voice.
"If only it 'ad," The blonde man snickered at his companion. Barret punched the man's arm. Cid laughed it off, rubbing the spot that was ringing in pain.
"Hey, kid," Barret called out to the dark haired boy in a booming voice. The boy jumped a little. He looked up at the two men. His eyes had a lifeless gaze to them. "Talk to us."
The boy shook his head and went back to chopping. The doors to the kitchen opened, a prosperous man with dark hair and an unkempt beard walked in. The boy began to shake. He dropped his hands to the side, looking down at his dirty boots. He clutched the knife tightly in his right hand. The man strode into the room with few armoured men following him.
"General Hollander, what brings ya here this fine evenin'?" Cid asked, venom dripping from his voice.
"Always a pleasure to see you, Highwind." The man replied. Barret glared daggers at the General. "I have brought a new servant." The plump man snapped his fingers. A young child, around the age of four was escorted in by one of the guards that had arrived with the General. She had bright blue eyes and a head full of copper hair.
"Ain't that a little above your pay grade?" Cid asked suspiciously.
"You ask too many questions," Hollander directed his attention to the still quivering boy clutching the knife. "Ah, Vincent... I haven't seen you in a couple of days. Still quiet as ever I see." The man drew closer to the boy, about to put a hand on his head.
"Wouldn't do that if I were you, General," Barret finally spoke up. "Kid's got a knife."
Hollander surveyed the child, backing off. "Anyways, that's all I came here for. I will take my leave." He left with a wave and one last glance at the boy. The small girl was left in the kitchen with them.
"What a sick fuck," Cid said when he was sure the general was out of ear shot. "I suppose the kid's getting too old for his liking so he's moving on?"
"Doesn't he have a kid around Vincent's age?"
"Yea, but his wife split and took the kid, or so I hear."
The small girl wandered further into the kitchen. She stopped next to the older boy. The dark haired boy looked down at the girl when she tugged on the leg of his trousers. "Hey mister," She said in a high pitched voice that sounded more like a squeak than someone speaking. "What's your name?"
The boy crouched down to match her height. "Vincent Valentine," his voice was hollow and devoid of emotion.
"I'm Shelke Rui!" She cheered, just happy to hear her own name. "How old are you? I'm dis many!" She held three fingers up on her hand.
"I am ten," He mimicked her actions by holding up all ten of his fingers.
"General? General?"
"Hm?" Vincent snapped out of his reverie, directing his attention back to his female companion. Tifa shifted impatiently on the couch, awaiting his answer. "Can you repeat the question?"
"I asked if you were going to tell me why you became a General."
"To protect someone," He replied coolly.
"Who, if I might ask?"
"My younger sister."
"Does she live in the castle? Who is she?" The idea of a female version of Vincent seemed to excite her. She imagined what Miss Valentine looked like.
"Shelke Rui."
"Shelke?" Tifa frowned, an image of the copper haired girl coming to mind. "You two aren't related. You look nothing alike and have two different surnames."
"Can we not be siblings if we are not related by blood?" Before Tifa could respond the doors to the library creaked open. In walked a man clad in leather with shining silver pauldrons on his shoulders. His long hair caught the light of the candles, giving its usual silver tone a warm auburn hue.
The man stopped when he noticed that the room was occupied. His emerald eyes scanned the emotionless face of Vincent Valentine and the disgusted face of Tifa Lockhart. "Is it proper for a man to entertain an unmarried woman in private?"
"Is it proper to interrupt?" Tifa replied before Vincent could say anything.
"I take it you're feeling better," Sephiroth came to stand in the middle of the room. "I am left handed; I only use my right hand when duelling with the princes."
"It wasn't your hand that was my undoing, it was your foot." Tifa rose from her seat on the couch, stifling a groan of pain as she did. "I think a rematch should be arranged."
"That is out of the question, you will get hurt again. I cannot have you crying over my training grounds."
"I see the all brawn and no brains stereotype holds true. Is your tiny brain incapable of remembering things properly? I wasn't crying, although," Tifa pretended to think for a moment. "I do think, Mr Crescent, that I may have seen a tear when I hit you." She taunted him. Vincent visually receded into his chair.
"Obviously you thought wrong," He looked her up and down, taking in her state of undress. "Perhaps you're the one with the tiny brain; you couldn't even remember to dress yourself when you woke up."
"For your information, all my clothes are back at my home. I do not wish to wear the dresses they give me here." Tifa took a few steps forward, getting into his face, pushing all her discomfort to the side.
"So you run around in your undergarments?"
"It's sleepwear!"
"Have you seen that loggerheaded scut? She isn't in her bed," Angeal walked into the library. He stopped in his tracks, locking eyes with Tifa. Loggerheaded scut? She repeated his words in her head, knowing that he was indeed talking about her. She balled her fists at her side, wondering if he spoke poorly of her when she wasn't around. Summoning all her strength, she made for the door. Pain ripped through her torso as she moved too quickly. She wanted to cry out in, but giving them the satisfaction of seeing her in agony was not in her character. She was almost at the door when Angeal stepped into her path.
"Get out of my way," She said in a low voice with words that were laced with malice. He simply stared down at her, not budging. Tifa grunted and moved around him, knowing full well that she was not strong enough in her current state to move him. She held a brave face as she walked out.
The dark haired woman took several paces down the hall so she was out of ear shot when she dropped to her knees. Tifa wrapped her arms around her torso hoping to stop the pain that radiated in her body with each breath. Had she had been any other girl, she would've cried. There were only three occasions she could recall when she had actually cried. One of them was Tius' birth and one of them was his death. Something as minor as excruciating physical pain was not going to be the fourth time for her.
Though the hallway was as desolate as the dark side of the moon, she felt as if a shadow had landed upon her. Someone was standing right behind her. Her breath hitched in the back of her throat as she waited for them to speak.
"Are you alright?" Came a deep male voice that she instantly recognized. Angeal remained still as he awaited her response.
"As well as a loggerheaded scut can be," She spat back over her shoulder. "Go away." He stooped down to her level. Somehow he managed to get his arm under her knees. "Don't touch me." When he straightened up, he held her in his arms close to his chest. The dark haired general began walking through the hallways in the dark, seeming to know exactly where he had to go. Her orders went unheard. She found herself growing tired. The warmth coming off his body was soothingly lulling her back towards a deep slumber.
"Where are you taking me...?" She mumbled, fighting to stay awake. She had overexerted herself in that short amount of time.
"Back to bed," He replied with a calm and even tone.
Trust was not something she was overly familiar with. Her father had never been a trusting man, that and years of social isolation had turned her into a very guarded person. Trust was not something that was easily given. She doubted if she had ever given it to anyone. Her mother wasn't always reliable. Growing up, she had to assume the role of an adult since her mother was often bedridden with pregnancy related issues and her father was busy with work.
Tifa had an odd feeling growing inside of her. As his strong, muscular arms held her tightly and his hot breath danced across the top of her head, she felt something akin to trust. It wasn't quite trust, she still did not know him all that well. Security and safety were the words she was searching for. Another wave of tiredness washed over her. Her vermillion specked eyes fluttered and she found herself resting her head against his chest. She wasn't sure, but she thought she heard him say something about seeing her when she wakes.
A/N: *Whistles* another chapter. I know that Gast is not Gast Gainsborough, but he needed a surname and it had to be the same as Aerith's. Some of you may be wondering when Tifa is going to have time to sulk about Tius' death, don't worry! I have not forgotten the pain of loss. She's just distracted by what seems to be a whole new world with different customs and she's trying to escape. Much of her mental capacity is focused on that and she hasn't really had the time to let herself really go, also partly because she's not letting herself appear weak by crying.
On a side note, but not completely unrelated topic. What do you guys think thus far? I put a little bit of fluff here and there... hopefully to keep people interested and hopeful about the romance in the story. The flashbacks, are there to many of them? Not enough? Are they good? This was quite the long chapter, longest I've ever written in fact. I hope the wait for the update was worth it. Was going to cut it in half but I decided not to.
Some questions to keep you guys thinking:
Was Tifa's mother able to bring the child to term? Was the fire just a nightmare? Will Cloud ever get to officially meet Tifa? Why is Vincent so talkative to Tifa? What is up with Sephiroth? What kind of history do Angeal, Sephiroth and Hollander have?
Also, just to clarify something, just to make sure everyone got it. In the flashback, Tifa's mother is pregnant and Tifa is only 9. Tius was born when she was 14 ergo, the child is not Tius from chapter 1.