Chapter 6

He liked her voice. There were many other things he liked about her as well, but he especially loved her voice- so rich and smooth, like silk gliding over skin. The other woman, Ifalna, was more beautiful, as if she was some heavenly creature from the legends. However, like those heavenly creatures, there was something distant about her.

Not like Raine, whom he thought was very pretty as well. There was something warm about her, and it made him feel safe. When he woke at night, shaken from nightmares, she would hold him close and rock him back to sleep. She smelled of flowers and was gentle, yet there was firmness about her. Her dark hair was held back from her face with a simple gold circlet that seemed there for practicality, rather than fashion. She was everything he thought a mother should be.

However,what he loved about her, above everything else, was her voice. He loved to listen to her speak, even if he couldn't understand a word she said. The voice was so rich and, not unpleasantly, deep, so that whatever she said sounded nice and comforting. He liked it so very much, it made him feel…safe.

She spoke quite a lot, often just while she worked with her needle, but sometimes she would try to teach him words. In the last couple of days he'd learnt several new words to use when referring to himself, but he didn't see how they were used. He tried, but he couldn't understand which one was polite enough for him. Raine used all of them when speaking to him, which simply confused him even more.

Raine spoke again and he realised that she was trying to explain something, but, as always, the meaning behind the words were lost on him. She finished and smiled at him. He nodded, out of habit more than anything. By the way she shook her head he knew that she knew he didn't understand a word she had said. Looking over the top of his head she spoke to the woman behind him. Ifalna's voice replied, a hint of humour in there.

There was a knock at the door and he jumped in surprise at the unexpected noise. Raine put a soothing hand on his shoulder and called out.

"Enter."

The door swung open and he stiffened, eyeing the passage cautiously. His pursuers hadn't appeared yet, but they never did immediately. However, his fears eased as the man they called Laguna stepped in instead. The man grinned at him and he found himself smiling shyly back. He couldn't help it; whenever he saw the other man grin he had to smile as well.

"Hello little one, how do you feel today?"

He recognised the phrase; the man used it every time he arrived. He may not understand what it all meant, but he knew the phrase and knew it was a greeting.

The boy didn't answer, what would he say, but a response wasn't expected. Laguna turned to his wife and spoke. She nodded, and the man turned back to call out to the door. The oak entrance swung partly open and two children slipped inside the room. A boy and girl, both clearly older than him by at least a few years. He watched as they made their way over to Raine, Laguna following behind them after he had closed the door. The girl, with dark brown hair and darker brown eyes than he'd seen anyone have before, came to stand by Raine's shoulder. As the boy, his hair lighter than the girl's and his eyes stormy blue, drew close to the woman she pulled him into his arms. The boy frowned up at the woman, but never objected. Raine slipped an arm around the girl and the blond child suddenly realised who they were: they were her son and daughter. The child felt the stirrings of what could have been called jealously, or perhaps simply hurt from what felt like a rejection.

The mother untangled one of her arms from her son's waist to rest it on her boy's shoulder, speaking as she did so. She then repeated the action for her daughter. The blond boy watched them, unsure if he understood what she was saying.

The brunet turned round to his mother and stated something, but Raine only responded by gently pushing him forward. She whispered something in her son's ear and he nodded. To the blond's great relief, he understood what the other boy said.

"Hello, I am Squall."

The brunet held his hand over his heart, just like the adults had when introduced themselves. It was a strange gesture to him. Raine and Laguna watched him expectantly. He looked between them all until he realised what they waited for. Raising his hand, he pointed at the older boy.

"Sukoru." The word rolled clumsily off his tongue, a feeble imitation of the strange new name. It was terribly done and the other boy seemed to confirm this with his distasteful expression.

"Squall," he repeated firmly.

The blond tried again, his heavy accent hampering his attempt again. Squall tried again, this time sounding it out. He tried to imitate the name. The son frowned deeper and opened his mouth to try again, but no sound came out. Instead his expression changed, comprehension dawning, and he closed his mouth. The boy nodded and the blond felt some of his agitation leave him.

The girl stepped forward. "Hello, I am Ellone."

Oh dear, another very strange name. Why did these people have so many of them? His stomach twisted nervously as he stuttered out her name.

"E-E-rou-n."

However, unlike the previous family members, she simply smiled at him and nodded. She spoke, but whatever it was sounded encouraging. She didn't seem to draw attention to his mistakes or try to correct him.

Laguna was talking again and he let the words wash over him, not even trying to catch them as he gave Ellone his very own small smile.

(&)

It was all very unfair, Aerith reflected gloomily. She was the one who had found the boy and her cousinswere the first to be introduced to him. In the meantime she had to sit out in the corridor with her brother and wait to be called in next. It was only because Uncle Laguna was chief. Yes, it was all very unfair indeed.

However, it was hard to stay angry with soothing voices in one's head. Her father's voice- telling her that it didn't matter; she would meet him very soon and then she could talk to him as much as she wished.

It was still unfair though.

Did it really matter? It was a small injustice in a world of large ones.

She supposed it didn't, but…the little girl tried to think of an argument and failed.

The door suddenly opened and the brother and sister quickly stood, looking hopefully up into the face of their uncle. Laguna grinned down at them.

"Can we see him?" Aerith asked.

Laguna opened the door wider. "What do you think Ifalna?" he called into the room. "Shall we let them in?"

"Leave them alone and let them in," their mother's voice chided from within the room.

The children didn't wait for permission from their uncle before dashing in. Aerith barely noted her cousins and aunt opposite her mother; her eyes were drawn instead to the little boy in the bed. She openly stared at him as she made her way to her mother, slowing her dash to a walk. He looked so small amongst the blankets and furs that surrounded him. His large blue eyes didn't do much to help him in that regard. It gave him a look of being constantly startled, like a deer she had once seen. However, he wasn't as scared as he had been, a 'voice' whispered inside her head. A hug was what he needed, she decided as she stepped before her mother; that always made her feel happy.

The comforting embrace from behind seemed to confirm what she knew. She leaned back into the arms as she looked up at the boy's hair. It was amazing, so unlike Quistis', which had shades of red, while Zell's was golden. It was pale, like his skin, much paler than any of the ladies in the town. It was pretty…now that he wasn't covered in mud and she could see him clearly.

Her mother's voice interrupted her examination.

"Go on, introduce yourself."

"Hello." Shyness started to creep up on her. "I am Aerith."

The boy looked a little awkward and her mother spoke. "Repeat your name, but this time show that you are speaking about yourself."

Aerith tapped her chest. "Aerith."

The boy hesitated before tentatively saying. "Earisu."

"Aeri-TH!" Irvine exclaimed from beside his mother. There was a hint of irritation on behalf of his sister.

The little girl's cheeks turned pink and a timid smile spread across her face. She leaned back further into her mother and avoided the boy's gaze. It was unusual for the normally bold child.

"He can call me Aeris if he wants to."

(&)

Lady Maria strolled along the Rouka that ran along the outside of her family's home. The outer walls had been rolled back to allow the spring sun to warm the walkway. A stray cherry blossom petal landed in her way, one of the last to fall from the trees, leaving the branches bare again. Quick to come and quick to go, just like her brother. He had only arrived a scarce few days ago and now he was being sent away again.

She wasn't angry; after all, Firion only did as he was ordered and it was a noble cause. Anger would be a pointless emotion, and selfish; it was not her place to disrupt the Honoured Mother's decision. She could not deny the disappointment that resided in her heart though. She had grown used to being apart from her brother; after his talent in arms had caught the attention of those with influence and power he had been moved to Shinra, so she didn't have much of a choice. However, Shinra was a day's ride fromthe village they lorded over, an easy distance to visit, unlike the Land of the Celts.

Still, there was nothing she could do about the matter. She was proud of her brother's achievements and was prepared to put up with the separation. So, she spent as much time as she could with her brother, often just sitting and watching him tend to his beloved plants. She was sure that was where she would find him now.

Her instincts were proven right when she rounded the corner to see Firion sitting upon the wooden walkway, carefully pruning a small tree. It was such a serene image that it was hard to imagine that the same hands that tended so loving to the plants could also master any weapon they touched. They had mastered shaping life and death.

The warrior looked up at her and smiled. "Sister."

"Brother." She knelt on the other side of the plant, watching him as he examined the tiny tree. A hand maid rushed forward to offer her a paper parasol, but she shook her head. The sun was not strong and she liked the warmth on her skin. She folded her hands in her lap, one pale blue furisode sleeve dropping over the edge of the side of the rouka.

They sat for a moment in silence, both each enjoying the other's company. He finished with his tree and set it to one side, pulling a flowering plant towards him instead.

"Lord Cecil will arrive by noon today." Her words did not seem to surprise Firion, who merely nodded.

"Then I will have to prepare soon. I wish I could have remained in Midgar for longer."

"Will you be gone for long?"

"Perhaps six months."

Six months- her hands tightened in her lap. Though her face remained unchanged, she felt her heart fall in disappointment. He'd been absent for months, appeared for less than a week and now he was away again for months. She was being silly, she mentally chided herself, it could be far worse.

As if sensing her emotions, he looked up at her and smiled.

"I shall write when I can, but it may be difficult to find couriers willing to cross such a vast and dangerous distance."

"Then do not trouble yourself," she assured him, reflecting her duty rather than her feelings. She tried to distract herself by turning her attention to more cheerful matters. "How does Lord Cecil's younger priestess fare?"

A smile pulled at Firion's lips. "I suspect no better than the last time I spoke to him. I am sure that he is even less eager to leave his home than I am."

"Perhaps I will try to visit her. I am curious."

"She does not speak any of our tongue," her brother warned.

"I know a little Celtic and I would be happy to practice it with her. I think she would be happy for the company."

Firion let off a small laugh. "I doubt that."

The warrior clipped off a small collection of light yellow flowers and looked up at the sun. A small earthen pot that lay to his side caught her attention. So different to the others because all that was visible inside was soil, but she felt she knew what was buried underneath.

"You planted the seeds you brought back."

"Yes, I have no idea what they will grow into, or how to tend to them, so I felt it was best to refrain from planting them in the garden. I doubt a Celtic plant will survive our rainy season."

It was funny how differently men saw treasure. Some brought back gold, Lord Cecil returned with a girl and Firion…seeds. So amusing and yet so very much like her brother.

"I will tend to them in your absence."

He turned back to her. "Thank you, I know they will flourish under your care." The master of arms stood, taking hold of the small bunch of blossoms. "It will be noon in less than an hour. I must ensure that I am ready to depart as soon as Lord Cecil arrives."

"Are you sure that you will not stay the night?"

"No, it is best if we leave as soon as possible."

She looked down at her hands. "I see."

There was the creak of wood and Firion's shadow fell over her. She looked up at his smiling face and his dexterous fingers weaved the yellow blossoms into the comb that held her hair in place.

"I shall return soon enough. The months will pass and I will be back before you notice I have left. This time there is little danger in my mission." He stood again. "I may return before the summer has finished, if all goes well."

He stepped away, walking along the Rouka in the direction of his rooms.

She turned her head. "May your life be free of chaos."

He paused briefly to reply, "So may yours," before disappearing around the corner, leaving the lady with the peace of the garden to soothe her feelings. He was right; this time he would be safe. After all, what was a few months to a pureblood Jenovan?Merely a small drop of water in a larger pool. With no war she felt as ease with his departure. She just wished for another week or two with her brother.

(&)

A soft, night breeze made its way round Balamb, stirring the cloak of High priestess Ifalna. She pulled the heavy woollen material tighter round herself. The spring was cooler here than in Zanarkand and, despite the days and nights becoming warmer, it was still too cold for her liking. It wouldn't be too long, though, until she would no longer require the protection of her cloak.

She moved through the town, ignoring the loud noises from the tavern no more than a few buildings away. Every now and then the entrance to the inn would open, increasing the volume of the merry sounds as drunkards stumbled out. The home she walked to was on the opposite side of the town to her temple, past her brother's home where she cared for their new guest.

Another breeze played with her shroud, threatening to snuff out the light of her lantern. It was only a little further, just round the next corner and…

A large longhouse came into view, causing the priestess to pick up her pace. She made her way to the door of the second richest man in Radiant Garden, Cid Kramer. She knocked on the heavy wood and didn't have to wait long before the door opened. A servant girl stood on the other side, peering through the gap. Her eyes widened when she realised who stood before her and she flung the door fully open to let the other woman inside.

"High Priestess Ifalna."

The religious leader stepped into the warmth of the building.

"I wish to speak with Master Kramer."

The girl nodded. "Please follow me, High Priestess."

The servant led the way through the house, passing a simple tapestry that hung on the wall, no doubt made in one of the southern lands. They stepped in front of a door and the young girl knocked. Not a moment later a muffled cry was heard from within and the maid slipped inside, keeping the door mostly shut behind her.

She curtsied. "Master Kramer, High Priestess Ifalna wishes to see you."

There was a heavy creak of wood and the priestess got the impression that Cid had just turned round in his seat.

"She is here?"

"Yes, master."

"Let her in."

The maid swung the door open for her, allowing the elder woman to into the room. It wasn't just any room though; to Ifalna it was a treasure trove. Shelves were stacked with books while chests were filled with scrolls. It was the books that amazed her, and there were almost fifty of them. They were brought by the man's wife as she travelled to the far corners of the Celtic realm, and occasionally further. It was easy to see just from this room the Kramer's vast wealth; even her own temple only had one book.

"High Priestess Ifalna." Cid stood respectfully. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I wish to examine some of your texts."

"Of course, perhaps I could help you. What exactly do wish to read?"

"I am not entirely certain," Ifalna admitted, releasing how odd she sounded.

However, Cid showed no sign that he found this at all odd.

He chuckled. "Perhaps a more appropriate question is what are you trying to find?"

"The meaning of a symbol or at least where it comes from." Cid turned back to his desk, picking up a sand tray. He shook it, erasing whatever was there before, and handed it to her. Smiling she took the tablet, only having to think for a matter of seconds before tracing the image. After she finished the scholar took it back, careful not to disturb the sand. He frowned down at it.

Ifalna felt disappointment rising at his expression. "You do not recognise it."

Cid didn't look up. "I do, but I do not know how…"

Encouraged by the positive, if only vaguely so, response she added, "I found nothing in the temple scrolls, but they hold little beyond our own cult and nothing beyond the lands of the Celts. Perhaps we should look east?"

Cid nodded. "Yes, it looks eastern." He glanced up at her. "I assume this has much to do with our noble leader's latest guest?"

"What makes you think that?" Ifalna asked stiffly.

Cid smiled. "Logic. Do not worry; I can hold my tongue, everything we discuss tonight will stay between us."

Ifalna nodded, she trusted Cid; he was an honest man.

"Thank you. The mark was found on his body."

He frowned slightly. "How curious. Yes, I think it appears eastern, I would say from Wutai. It is the most open to us, and so the most likely. They trade with any who can afford their goods, including Zanarkand, or they did," he added more quietly.

"He does not resemble any Wutai man I have ever seen." While she was still a novice priestess she often travelled down to the docks to buy and look at the trader's goods. From Wutai they would buy precious stones and silks. But those men had golden skin and dark eyes and hair.

Cid looked almost excited. "How does he appear then?"

"Pale skin, blue eyes, and blond hair. But far lighter than a Zankardian- more of a silvery blond."

"That does not sound like a Wutai man."

"Are there other areas in the East?"

"Oh yes," Cid rushed, "Many. To the far east are the clans of the 'children of the sun', as they refer to themselves. In the Midgar…" He trailed off, frowning down at the symbol. "There are the Jenovan clans. They hole themselves up in the Midgar Valley and rarely come out, they like keep to themselves, but the creatures that roam the land are supposed fearsome."

"So it is unlikely that he is from such a place."

"I have no idea. Perhaps he is and his parents were killed by such creatures, leaving him to wander alone. They are supposed to have pale hair, a mark of their fae ancestors." A small smile pulled at his lips. "No wonder they hide away, I would if I had fae blood running through my veins." He became serious. "I have very little written on them though, only some scrolls on their Goddess."

"Their Goddess?"

"Yes, Ultimecia."

"Ultimecia?" she repeated, a little surprised. "The Goddess of Chaos?"

"You know of her?"

"A little, they had a very small shrine in Zanarkand, but they were very private and most were Celts. So, I am afraid I cannot testify as to whether there are any similarities between these Jenovans and the boy we found." She smiled, remembering how Gast used to say they were there to stake their own claim on the land rather than a genuine interest in having a shrine there.

Cid laid down the tray of sand. "It is a starting point. I have a scroll on the goddess somewhere here, but I doubt it will have anything of use inside. It may be useful in other ways though." He made his way over to a trunk and started shifting through it. "A clue, or reference to the mark or mention to people who use it. Of course," he paused his searching in order to look at her, "he may just be an exotic slave that managed to escape in the sacking and his mark is a slave brand."

Ifalna shook her head. "I would like to think so, it would be simpler, but I feel there is something more to this matter. The earth hums warnings about this boy. He is no simple slave."

"Who am I to doubt the hummings of the earth and the intuition of a woman, a high priestess at that. " He turned back to his hunt, leaving the woman to wonder if he was mocking her not. "But I advise you take a seat, I suspect that I will be searching for many hours."

End of Chapter 6