Woohoo! Over 5,000 hits! Awesome reception on the last chapter, and it's all thanks to my wonderful reviewers. Everyone seemed to like that little scene with Aralenne's parents, and one person commented that they were looking forward to when Aralenne met Al-Cid. That will be an… interesting chapter, just put it that way. I've already begun work on it actually; the inspiration struck, and I began typing away. There will be some shocking revelations, to say the least.

Lenne and Larsa's bonding moment was well loved by all, which took some stress off me, because I was nervous on how people would take my interpretation of Larsa. Most of you, however, said that he seemed more 'real' and less the 'mature little boy' we see during FFXII. And you all seemed to like the way Drace, Gabranth, and Vayne were written, so I was quite happy about that. Keeping everyone in character seems to be my main worry whenever I write a chapter… And it was with this one too. Why? You'll see…

A note: for those of you who might not have visited the first prologue in a while, it endured a major re-edit about few days after I last updated I'm talking about the last actual chapter, not that author's note I posted. It would have been right at the end of July. This isn't like the other editing sprees I've gone on; originally it had just a little over 7,000 words. Now it has a little over 10,000, which is longer the 2nd prologue, which I went back and edited quite a bit too. While I was editing the 1st prologue I went back and changed a lot of dialogue, and added quite a lot too. There were quite a few parts that I changed because I knew they could have been written a lot better than they originally were. I would just tell you what's been changed and/or modified, but the list would be too long. Trust me, I know, I wrote one and then deleted it, because it took up almost a whole page. ;)

Anxious Heart [Coincidence, no?!]-(Final Fantasy VII OST) (Anyway, there's really no specific part to play this, it just kinda sets the mood for the chapter.)

Anxious Heart has gotta be one of my favorite FF7 songs. And as you probably guessed, that's where this chapter got its name. I'm all about paying little homages to other FFs. Plus, the name fit the mood of the chapter. But it's just pure coincidence that I happened to give this name to Chapter 7 of the story. Purely unintentional. But kinda cool. :] I was originally going to use the Crisis Core remix of Anxious Hearts (A Closed-Off Village) but decided to go for the original instead. It seemed to fit better. But the remix could work just as well. You can find it remix in the soundtrack folder if you downloaded it. The link to my filefront account is still on my profile. I hope Anxious Heart doesn't sound too creepy for this chapter, but it does have an ominous air about it. Personally I think the CC remix is the creepier one.

Oh, if you're checkin out my filefront account, download 'Unknown Soldier'. That was supposed to be my first FFXII vid, but my Ashe tribute ended up taking that spot. Youtube kicked it off, because of friggin copyrights and licensing crap… grrr…

Anyway, you'll find a few more homages to other FFs in here. Try and spot 'em. Unfortunately, there's no prize. :[

-XII-

Chapter 7

-Anxious Hearts-

-XII-

She had been wandering through the endless rows of shelves when she saw her.

The woman smiled at her gently, as if she were smiling at a child. She had a peaceful air about her, as if she lived in a world where nothing could go wrong.

Aralenne frowned slightly, cocking her head to the side.

The image in front of her nearly seemed like a self-portrait, yet with so many distinctions. Long, dark hair fell just a little below her shoulders in soft waves, framing her fair, heart-shaped face. Pale, gray-blue eyes stared into hers, as. Not as piercing as her children's, but they had that kind of playful 'I know something you don't know' expression about them.

But that wasn't what held her attention.

A red ribbon was wrapped around one wrist and woven through her slender fingers.

Aralenne's hand immediately went to her hair. The silk of the red ribbon that tied it brushed her fingers, a subtle reminder of a child's affection for her.

But how far did it go?

Was she just a mere replacement?

What was the real story behind the figure in the portrait?

"Lovely woman," a voice commented casually from the end of the row.

Aralenne sucked in a sharp breath, twisting around upon the sudden intrusion.

A man stood at the far end of the shelf, holding a book in one hand, and the other flipping through the pages leisurely.

"Dr. Cid, hello," she acknowledged the older man politely, making her way towards him. Despite the good doctor's kind, and at times, eccentric, nature, she found his odd tendency of talking to himself a bit… unsettling.

"Here on research again?" She stopped just short of a few feet.

"Actually, no." He snapped the book shut, slipping it back into its place on the shelf. He regarded with a serious gaze through his glasses, as if scrutinizing her in some way.

"What do you know about fine literature, Lady Aralenne?"

She drew back in surprise. That was one question she hadn't been expecting. Nearly every time she had run into the man during her times with Larsa in the library, he somehow managed to enlist her into helping him find books on magicite for his research. So, naturally, his inquiry had come as quite a surprise.

"You see, I find myself in dire need of a good book to read," he continued.

Aralenne strolled along the aisle, scanning the titles until she found one she knew quite well.

"Well, how about I Want to Be Your Canary, by Lord Avon?"

She turned her head toward him, pursing her lips and waiting for his approval.

"A wonderful epic," Cid replied, still perusing the shelf he stood in front of. "Read it when I was schoolboy."

Aralenne smiled, pulling the book out.

"Although I must say, I found it to be incredibly dull."

Aralenne slumped, the smile vanishing off her face as she pushed the book back onto the shelf with a sigh. She kept on walking, searching the titles until another one jumped out at her.

"How about Loveless? It's one of my favorites."

"A beauitful poem, extremely well-written. Did you know they recently turned it into a play?"

She reached for the book, sliding out an expensive, leather-bound copy of the epic poem.

"But, I found it to be quite overly dramatic."

'Remind me to never help him pick out a book again,' Aralenne thought to herself, shoving the book back onto the shelf. 'Picky old man. You can't praise a book and then say it's dull. That's oxymoronic…'

"Aralenne!" A young voice called. She immediately lifted and turned her head at the sound. The hint of a smile had already formed on her lips. "It's almost time for lunch!" The voice continued impatiently. "Come on, we'll be late!"

She turned back toward Cid, shrugging her shoulders innocently.

"You'll have to find a librarian to help you out with that book, Doctor."

Cid stared after her with an unreadable expression, watching as she met up with Larsa at the end of the row.

"It is quite amazing how those two look like mother and son," he murmured, turning his head away when they walked out of sight.

'Quite amazing.'

Cid smirked to himself, pulling another book from the shelf. It really had been a long time since he enjoyed a good book. A pity it was so hard to find one these days.

'Someone should keep an eye on that girl… There's something strange about her…'

"Something strange indeed…" He murmured. "But what is it?"

Silence hung in the air.

-XII-

It never mattered whether it was breakfast, lunch, or dinner; with the exception of Larsa, who always tried to fill in the silence, it was nearly always quiet at the table. Gramis occasionally conversed with his sons, but never longer than a few minutes. Vayne rarely spoke, but would occasionally ask about Larsa's progress in his studies. Sometimes he would ask questions of Aralenne, but she tended to keep her answers short-worded.

These meals were always uneventful, and it was almost always just the four of them, save for when Dr. Cid was invited as guest for dinner. Sometimes the Emperor was absent, due to illness or a meeting with the senate. Vayne rarely ducked out, but even he missed meals with them occasionally. Sometimes it was just Aralenne and Larsa, which she was often thankful for. Larsa's company was infinitely more enjoyable than that of his father and brother. It was during these times that they usually watched over by Judge Drace or overseen by another Magister, whose name, she had learned, was Gabranth.

Larsa seemed to like him well enough, but the Judge made Aralenne uneasy, and the fact that he never said a word only served to unnerve her further. Now that Aralenne thought of it, he was actually the first Magister she had came into contact with. He was the one retrieved her from her cell as they were approaching Archadia. She nearly shuddered when she thought of how he had abruptly jerked her up from the floor, and then proceeded to drag her through the maze of an airship. She thought of how coldly he had responded when she asked where he was taking her once they had departed the airship.

Aralenne often spotted the intimidating silhouette of his armor when she and Larsa were alone, giving her the distinct impression that he was following them, or more specifically, her. She always did her best to ignore him, but the feelings of anxiousness remained. When she inquired to Drace about him, she was surprised to learn that he was actually the youngest out of all the Magisters. And supposedly the top in his class at Archadia's Military Ackademy.

While Aralenne was preoccupied herself with conflicting thoughts, Larsa took the opportunity to approach his father with something that had been on his mind for the better part of the morning.

"Father?"

"Yes?"

"Did you know that there is a new play showing at the theater here in the city?"

"I did not," he replied earnestly, taking a sip of the freshly brewed tea in his glass as Larsa explained the play to him. It tasted bitter, but it soothed the often recurring ache in his throat, not to mention it was one of the few things that often preventing him from coughing so much.

"Well, I was thinking…" Larsa said tentatively, "the first showing is tomorrow night. It would be wonderful if we could all go see it together, don't you think so?"

Gramis paused in his eating, regarding Larsa with a gentle expression. He always admired his youngest son's attempts at getting their family to spend more time with each other, but he feared this was one occassion he would have to miss.

"I apologize, my son. I have an important meeting with the senate tomorrow night. And I fear my illness may be coming back also."

Larsa's face fell disappointedly, but he soon focused his attention on Vayne, who stopped mid-sip in his wine.

"I'm afraid I cannot," he smiled apologetically. "But I promise to make it up to you, Larsa. In the meantime… " Vayne looked in Aralenne's direction, who was quickly aroused from her troubled thoughts when she became aware of the brooding silence that suddenly hung in the air.

She wanted to shrink down in her chair as everyone's attention became directed on her.

"Why don't you go with him Lady Aralenne?" Vayne suggested, lifting his fork to his mouth and swallowing whatever had been on the end of it.

Both Larsa and Gramis looked at him in surprise. Gramis was able to mask his at once, but Larsa just sat there, looking joyful at his brother's suggestion. Aralenne however, didn't know what to make of this new proposition.

"Me?" She asked, finding her voice, looking between Larsa, Vayne, and the Emperor.

"I think you deserve a night out," Vayne responded, a little too casually for her liking. "You've been on good behavior… What say you father?"

Aralenne nearly scoffed at the 'good behavior' remark, but focused her gaze on Gramis, praying inwardly that he would say yes. A night out in the city? With Larsa? Nothing could be more delightful, in her opinion. Even if the city was Archades.

"I see no reason why you should not," Gramis said slowly. "You have been trapped inside of this palace long enough. I trust that you will not do anything… unwise."

Aralenne nodded her head in agreement, not knowing whether to be flattered or fearful.

-XII-

It was the night of the play, and Aralenne sat in front of the vanity, staring blankly into the mirror as the servant painfully twisted her hair into an elegant knot at the back of her head.

The dress she wore was an elegant peach evening gown, with a low, straight cut neckline and several thin, tiny straps that went over her shoulders and criss-crossed in the back. And speaking of the back, the dress was almost completely backless, the exception being the peach ribbons that laced her up and ended in a bow at the small of her back, exposing dozens of diamond-shaped pieces of flesh.

"An evening out in Archades," came a familiar voice. "I envy you, Lady Aralenne."

"Judge Drace," she replied, flinching as the servant pulled her hair. Aralenne saw the Judge enter the room leisurely, pausing when she was a few feet away.

"I know," she answered, "I'm very excited. Hopefully tonight will be wonderful." Then the meaning of the female Magister's words hit her.

"Wait. Envy?" She questioned, looking at the older woman by way of the mirror. "You're not escorting Larsa and I to the theater tonight?"

The woman shook her head. "I am afraid not. The Emperor has given that charge to another. Judge Gabranth will be your escort for this evening."

Aralenne had the decency to keep her face from looking appalled, but Drace caught the slight grimace anyway, and laughed.

"You still don't like him do you?'

"He hasn't given me a good reason why I should," she gritted out, grinding her teeth together as the servant pulled on her hair yet again.

"He is not so bad," she replied kindly, "once you get to know him."

"While that may be true, I don't really think I want to," she admitted sheepishly, smiling awkwardly at the Judge as a few tendrils of hair were pulled from the bun to frame her face. The servant then slid a jewled pin in the shape of a flower into the bun, before smoothing back the hair on Aralenne's scalp, making sure nothing was out of place.

Aralenne stood up, picking up the skirts from around her feet. The silk of the gown was covered in a thin, sheer layer, giving the dress a fluttery look, which Aralenne wasn't used to.

"Are you ready?" Drace asked, holding out a velvet cloak that matched her dress.

Aralenne accepted the garment and placed it over one of her arms. "Would it matter if I wasn't?"

-XII-

As soon as Aralenne began to descend the staircase, she almost wished she hadn't.

Vayne and the Emperor stood at the foot of it, along with Larsa.

"Doesn't she look beautiful, brother?" Larsa asked, watching Aralenne as stepped off the last step.

"Indeed she does," came the smooth reply. Vayne's sharp eyes scanned over her appearance; from the elegant dress, to the gold bracelets on her wrists, to the dangling earrings with tiny crystals the caught the light and reflected a myriad of colors.

Aralenne blushed awkwardly. She blushed from Larsa's sentiment, but awkwardly because Vayne agreed with him, not to mention the little once over he just made. He always gave her the feeling of being under a magnifying glass. Then she caught sight of Judge Gabranth standing off to the side, staring, it seemed, straight at her. She quickly averted her eyes. What was it with that man? He was just as intimidating as Vayne, and that said a lot.

Aralenne then became dimly aware of the Emperor's eyes on her. She could feel her heart beat a little faster. Being under Vayne's eyes didn't compare to this. Vayne was a man closer to her age, and from the way he always seemed to stare at her, she naturally assumed that he must have feelings of attraction toward her. She could understand that. She could deal with that.

But none of that mattered, because to the Emperor of Archadia, she wasn't a prisoner of war, or some tool used to negotiate with Rozarria, or just someone pretty to keep around the palace.

No, to the Emperor of Archadia, she was the living embodiment of his long dead wife.

And that could never compare to the agitation she felt when she was around Vayne or Gabranth. The feelings of anxiousness she felt when around the Emperor never seemed to subside, no matter what thoughts she filled her mind with to get rid of the emotion.

"Have a wonderful time, the two of you," Gramis said, surveying them through watchful eyes. It seemed to Aralenne that the sentiment had been mostly directed at her.

"I believe we will," she answered politely, looking down at Larsa and running a hand through his hair. He quickly pushed her hand away, looping his arm through hers.

"Are you ready?" He asked, leading her to the private aerodrome after they had said their farewells to his family.

"I can't wait," Larsa said excitedly as they stepped into the transport, Judge Gabranth behind them.

"Neither can I, Larsa," she replied, smiling at him as she sat down, smoothing out of the skirt of her dress as she did so.

"Neither can I," she whispered, looking through the window of the transport at the setting sun.

-XII-

Aralenne kept her hand on Larsa's shoulder as they were led through the throng of nobles toward their private box. She held her head high, doing her best to ignore the blatant staring and unsubtle whispering that occurred as she walked past the many nobles along the way.

"Who is that?"

"I've never seen her before…"

"Is that the young Lord's mother?"

"She's too young to be his mother, and besides, the Empress died years ago…"

"Who is she?"

"She must be a relative…"

"I heard that the Emperor took a Dalmascan prisoner from the war…"

"What would a prisoner be doing with the young Lord Larsa?"

"She's tanned… she must be Dalmascan."

"More like Rozarrian filth to me."

Aralenne struggled not to bite her lip as their blatant comments inadvertently made her temper flare up slightly. Fools. What did they know?

"There will be a judge waiting for you when the play is over," Gabranth said stiffly as they say down. "He will escort you to the transport, which will take you to the after-party, where I will meet you."

"And where will you be in the meantime?" Aralenne asked, twisting in her seat to look up at him. "I thought you were supposed to be our escort." She stared at him with disbelieving eyes. He was just going to leave them there with a lesser soldier?

Gabranth tilted his head down to look at her. Aralenne looked him straight in the eyes, or where his eyes should have been, rather. Just one more thing that disturbed her about him. She couldn't even see his damned eyes through that helmet.

"The judge will guard the two of you just fine," he responded coldly. "I have important business to attend to."

But he didn't tell her that that involved a bar and and glass of the strongest alcohol in Archadia. Right now, a few drinks were a thing he desperately needed. He had spent so much time around this woman lately while keeping an eye on Lord Larsa, and it was driving him to the edge. The more time he spent around her, the more his hate began to fade…

And that just would not do.

Aralenne frowned as he walked away, turning back around in her seat to face the stage. She busied herself with reading the program to pass time until the lights finally dimmed, and the play began.

-XII-

Aralenne and Larsa were all smiles as they exited the theater. The judge had been waiting for them, just as Gabranth had told her, and by then, her feelings for the Magister that had left them were forgotten.

"I've heard that the actors from the play are supposed to be at this party," Larsa said, stepping into the transport.

"Well then, we will have to congratulate them on a job well done," she replied with a smile as she stood from her seat, and followed the boy out. "They deserve it."

They followed the judge, with a few of his comrades guarding the rear. Aralenne and Larsa continued to converse with one another, not paying attention to where exactly they were being led.

But when Aralenne no longer heard the clinking of metal or the rustle of chainmail, she immediately knew something was wrong. She snapped her head up, gasping in astonishment.

"Hey, where'd they…!"

Their escort was nowhere in sight.

"…go…?" She whispered. Looking behind them, she noticed that the rear guards had disappeared as well.

Larsa seemed just as equally surprised.

"What the-"

It was only then that Aralenne looked around at their environment. And what she saw stunned her into disbelief.

The buildings that surrounded them weren't made of the same reddish-orange brick like nearly all of Archades was. The stone was blackened in a lot of places, and cracked. In short, everything just looked aged and decrepit. And immediately with a jolt of fear, she knew; this was not the place they were meant to be.

"They couldn't have just disappeared into thin air," she heard Larsa mumbling to himself, looking down a dark alleyway. "I don't understand…"

"Larsa," she began hesitantly, her eyes darting around the street. "I don't think this is where we meant to be dropped off…"

"What makes you say that?" He asked curiously, turning back around to face her.

A gust of cold air suddenly wafted by, making her shiver, and the sheer train of her dress fluttered around her ankles.

"Because there are no streetlights out here…"

Aralenne turned toward the young boy, with every intent of grabbing him by the wrist and literally drag him, while running, back to the transport and sealing the door shut until Judge Gabranth found them.

Her eyes widened.

Time seemed to come to a complete stop. She willed her body to move, but every muscle had seemingly tensed up in a moment of shock. Whatever breath had been present in her lungs quickly forced its way out in that moment of horror.

'Larsa!'

-XII-

Larsa frowned as Aralenne merely stared at him, her lips parted slightly, her face paler than snow, looking as if she had just seen a ghost.

Then he gasped in surprise. For a moment, Aralenne had completely disappeared from his line of sight.

It all happened so quick that Larsa didn't even know that he had suddenly moved from being at the entrance of the alley, to now being across the street.

The heavy sword crashed down, cleaving deep into the cobblestone as if it were nothing more than butter.

"Who are you?" She spat venomously, one arm tightly wrapped around Larsa, the other in front of him, as if to shield him. Her arm was locked in an iron grip around his shoulders. He would have been smothered against her waist had his head not been turned the other way.

'I almost died just now…' He thought numbly. 'How could she have moved that fast? I didn't even see her… Who is that man?'

"You bastard," she gritted out coldly to the figure cloaked in shadows of the alley. "Attacking a child!"

Larsa was astounded at the change in Aralenne, more so than the group of men that had suddenly appeared in front of them. Her face was now a mask of barely controlled rage and anger. He had never seen any expression like that on Aralenne's face before.

It frightened him.

"Ah, it seems I was mistaken in the dark," came a distinctively male voice. "I apologize, this helmet obscures my vision terribly. That blow was meant for you."

The person stepped into what little light the waning crescent moon had provided.

It was the judge.

"You!" She exclaimed, her eyes widening. But then the clanking of armor told her that he wasn't the only one.

Two more armored soldiers stepped out of the darkness behind the judge, flanking him on both sides. She looked to her left to see another one coming around the corner, sword in hand.

She mentally berated herself for not keeping an eye on where exactly they had been going. How could she have missed that? She wandered right into their trap, like an unwitting lamb to slaughter.

Aralenne looked around desperately, searching for an escape route. The only way to get out of there was to go back the way they came. But she knew it wouldn't be that easy.

She wouldn't be going back to the transport. She wouldn't run from this. She would get Larsa to safety, and then she would fight. She would not stand there, afraid, and do nothing.

She would not let this night end the same way as Nalbina.

"Larsa, run," she whispered, barely moving her lips so as not to give away what she was about to do. "You need to go back to the transport. I'll hold them off."

The boy looked up at her in disbelief. She wanted him to do what?

"What?"

"Run!" She screamed at him, shoving him forward in the direction they came from. "Get out of here!"

Larsa took off in a terrified run, and Aralenne spun around just in time to catch the soldier's wrists to prevent the blade from striking her.

'I have no weapon,' she thought, shoving the man away as they began to corner her against the wall she had slowly began backing towards.

'But I do have this.' She thrust out her right hand, palm out, with her left arm bracing her wrist.

When was the last time she had used magic?

She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes before she spoke the incantation. "Gravity."

Her fingers glowed briefly as purple energy radiated through them. Then suddenly, it exploded outward, forming a brilliant set of purple spheres. They rose high in the air before swooping down upon her opponent, engulfing him in the devastating energy.

She managed to bring up a temporary protective shield as she darted for the fallen soldier's sword. The shield immediately shattered when the judge struck it, but it was just enough time for her to swing the sword around and block the heavy weapon.

Just that single Gravity spell had weakened her more than she had anticipated. Magic was not her forte, and as such, she rarely used it. But she knew enough to be able to fight back. She knew that if she could get those two soldiers down, she might have a chance against the judge.

"Thundara!" She exclaimed breathlessly, spinning around to block the thrust of the judge's sword.

The spell managed to engulf the two soldiers, their metal armor, being an excellent conductor, but her power wasn't strong enough. A weak Thundara might as well have been a mere Thunder. It disoriented them severely, but only managed to drive them further into rage when they regained their senses.

She raised her right wrist in front of her face to block another blow, crying out in pain as the sword dug deep into her arm. She felt another stinging pain in her shoulder. Then in her side. Her ankle. Her head…

Aralenne fell to the frenzied blows of the soldiers, but in her desperation, she managed to raise both of her hands in a last ditch attempt to bring up another protective shield.

'Please, let this work,' she begged inwardly, flinching from the pain that raced all over her body.

'Let me be strong enough.'

A resounding 'clang' met her ears.

She inhaled sharply, opening her eyes.

Instead of a bright, glowing mesh of light, her vision was flooded with blackness.

'What the…?'

Something soft caressed her face. Aralenne shuddered at the feeling, inhaling sharply. And then she realized…

It was a cloak. She lifted her head painfully, eyes wandering upward.

A crimson red emblem stood out amidst the black fabric like a beacon in the darkness.

The emblem of House Solidor.

Gabranth turned his head to look at her. He had blocked all three enemy weapons with ease, as if it were nothing more than child's play.

"Judge… Gabranth," she choked out, letting her head fall, the wound at the back of her head becoming too much for her to bear.

"Are you alright?" He asked calmly.

"I am now," she answered quietly.

He felt a muscle in his jaw twitch at the sentiment.

"Good."

Aralenne gasped and staggered back as Gabranth rushed at her attackers, bringing one of his swords down in a merciless swing that sent blood spraying through the air.

She managed to drag herself away from the fight, crawling towards the opposite wall as quickly as her pain-wracked body would allow.

She couldn't help but close her eyes. She didn't want to see this. She didn't want to hear the dying screams, or the sound of a blade slicing through flesh. She didn't want anything to do with it.

Only when the atmosphere fell silent, did Aralenne open her eyes.

Gabranth stood in the intersection of the street, a sword in each hand.

He was surrounded by bloody and mangled corpses.

She put a hand over her mouth, the coppery smell of blood hitting her nose instantly.

He walked over to where she sat, calmly putting his swords back in their original position on his back.

He looked up, silently thanking the gods that he was able to arrive there on time.

He then turned his attention on Aralenne, who seemed grimly hypnotized by the macabre scene he had just created a mere minute ago.

Frowning inside his helmet, he turned his head, following her gaze to the men he had just so mercilessly butchered.

Gabranth crouched down in front of her, effectively blocking them from view.

He lifted a hand to her face, forcing her gaze to be directed at him.

"Can you stand?"

Aralenne shook her head. "I don't think so…"

She looked quite ashamed of that fact, he observed. Gabranth scanned over her person, taking in the sight of a large amount of blood seeping through the skirt of her dress. She had a deep gash on her arm as well.

He lifted his eyes up toward her face. He knew she must have a head wound because blood was slowly trickling around from the back of her neck onto her collarbone. It began seeping into the neckline of the dress, staining it a dark red. Her hair had come undone as well, some of it falling around her neck, sticking together as the blood running down her neck began to congeal.

"We must leave now."

"Where's Larsa?" She instantly demanded.

"He is safe," Gabranth replied nonchalantly. "My guard is with him now, at the transport. They are waiting for us."

As comforting as his words were, she ignored them to pose another question. "Who were those men?"

"None of mine," he stated bluntly. "I don't know who sent them, but they do not belong to the Imperial army. This matter will be investigated, obviously. But I am done answering questions. It seems I'm going to have to carry you back to the transport."

A fact he didn't seem too thrilled with.

"If we could just wait for a moment, I would be able to walk on my own," she protested.

"That is time that we don't have," Gabranth answered shortly. "Must I subdue you by force?"

Aralenne bit back the retort that threatened to rise. Knowing she had no choice, she lifted her arms, extending them toward the Judge Magister.

Gabranth pulled her uninjured arm gently around his neck, slipping his own arm around her waist and lifting her up to her feet, bracing her against his armor. Then he slipped that arm underneath her knees, lifting her up effortlessly. He shifted her body so as to cradle her against his chestplate, before starting off down the dark street.

-XII-

Gabranth continued to hold Aralenne, even throughout the ride in the transport. Larsa sat on his right side, leaning against him tiredly, his eyes threatening to close every now and then. The boy had been so worried for Aralenne when he had gone to retrieve her; all he could speak about was how she told him to run and how he left her behind. The young boy's eyes were red and puffy by the time Gabranth had returned.

Not soon after they had departed for the palace, Gabranth noticed that Aralenne had become very quiet. All the better for his growing migraine. The Emperor would not be pleased about this; he could only imagine what kind of reprimands he would receive after he got the young woman to a healer, not to mention the things Vayne would say…

Needless to say, it was not something he anticipated.

He looked down at the woman in his arms, raising an eyebrow when he saw that she had fallen asleep.

He carefully manuvered her head onto the part of his shoulder that was not covered in metal, shifting in his seat to readjust his armor. Then he noticed that his left hand, the one that held her head, felt uncharacteristically strange.

'Why is this glove damp?' He thought irritably, eyeing it with displeasure.

He ran his index finger down the fabric of the expensive seat, watching in growing alarm as it left a dark red streak in its path. Then he pressed his whole palm against the upholstery, frowning when his hand was met with a slight resistance as he pulled it away.

His eyes widened in panic.

Then he quickly yelled for the driver to hurry up.

-XII-

You don't remember me,
But I remember you…
I lie awake and try so hard
Not to think of you
But who can decide
What they dream?
And dream I do…

-XII-

"I'm sorry," Aralenne lamented in the dark.

"Why?" He asked her despairingly.

"I wasn't strong enough," she said simply, letting her head fall against her chest.

"Do not blame yourself for this," he insisted. "I'm the one who should apologize, Lenne."

"You did everything you could," she protested gently. "That's all that mattered."

"But it wasn't enough."

"It was enough for me. You didn't do anything."

"I know… I didn't do anything."

He turned around, looking at her with despondent eyes.

"Aralenne."

-XII-

Aralenne awoke with a start, her chest aching painfully. She reached for the nightstand on her right, hoping to find a glass of water waiting for her parched throat.

The room was lit by a single candle, which was more than enough light for Aralenne to see as she gulped down the water that her right arm was covered in bandages up to her elbow.

She lifted her head, but it felt so unbearably heavy that she had no choice put to let it fall back into the pillow.

The last thing she remembered was being in the arms of Judge Gabranth. She numbly recalled him stepping into the transport, before her memory drew a blank.

'I must have passed out. How humiliating…'

She sighed, using her uninjured arm to pull the blanket tighter around herself.

'Basch… you rarely visit me in my dreams… why do you start now? Why must you torture me like this?'

Deep inside, she already knew the answer.

It kept her alive.

However painful it might have been, it enabled her to keep on living.

She closed her eyes, anxious to fall asleep once more and escape the memories that were now flooding her mind.

Aralenne soon drifted off…

But she never did escape.

-XII-

I believe in you
I'll give up everything
Just to find you
I have to be with you
To live, to breathe
You're taking over me

-XII-

Aralenne sat on a daybed under a pavillion in the gardens, thankful to be outside after days of being forced to rest in bed and recuperate. At the moment, she was writing a letter to her Uncle in Bhujerba. Hopefully she would be allowed to send it.

A soft breeze blew in, ruffling her hair and the paper she was writing on. She never noticed how preoccupied Larsa seemed. He kept biting his lower lip, looking as though he would like to ask her a question, but hesitancy kept him from speaking aloud. After a few minutes of this, he finally got up the courage to blurt it out.

"What was your fiancé like?" Larsa asked curiously, finally getting the question out of his system.

She felt her hand inadvertently tense in its hold around the pen clutched in her fingers. Larsa never noticed.

"Why do you ask about him?" She queried, meeting the child's eyes.

Larsa got up off of his stomach, moving over to where she sat, resting his arms upon the cushions.

"Well, you still wear your ring, which implies that you still have feelings for him… And you wear his ring, which means that you cannot let him go."

Aralenne smiled wryly.

"Well Larsa," she began, trying to word her next "When you lose someone who means a lot to you, it's difficult to let go… no matter how much time has passed." She added, putting a slight emphasis on the statement. She looked back down at her letter, pulling out another sheet of paper so she could continue it.

Larsa fell silent, feeling slightly uncomfortable. But he couldn't just stop in his inquiry; he had to know more.

"Did you love him?"

Aralenne looked up, raising an eyebrow. She slipped the sheets of paper inside of the book she was using as a temporary desk, setting it aside.

"What's with all the questions today?" She asked, leaning forward. "I know you're curious by nature, but this is the first time you've ever asked me about him."

"Did you?" He pressed urgently.

"I… I don't know." She shook her head gently, leaning back against the cushions.

"But you were engaged-"

"It was an arranged marriage Larsa," she answered briskly, wanting to put an end to the conversation. It was hard enough discussing the subject with Drace; with Larsa, it would just be unbearable.

"Not that I didn't have feelings for him," she added. "I just… I'm not sure if it was love or not."

"Did he make you happy?"

"He did." A small smile formed on her lips. "Very happy, actually. He was the type of man who treated anyone as his equal, no matter how young or old. You probably would have liked him."

"If he were alive today, would you leave?"

Aralenne frowned, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Leave?" She questioned.

"Would you leave me to go back to him?" He clarified, his eyes not leaving her face.

She shook her head, not understanding why on earth he would be asking her questions like this.

"He's gone Larsa."

"But would you-"

"That is enough Larsa," she said, a bit more forcefully. He bowed his head immediately, letting the subject go without another word.

"I'm sorry," he said, a few minutes later, "I just…"

Aralenne, already feeling regret for the words she had spoken harshly, reached for the boy, rubbing his shoulder gently. She let out a soft exhale.

"It isn't your fault. It's… it's not a good subject for me to discuss at the moment. One day I'll tell you more of what kind of man he was.

"Come up here," she said, patting the space next to her on the bed, setting her unfinished letter on the small table next to her.

Larsa manuvered up onto the day bed, stretching out beside her on his stomach, laying his head on her chest.

She ran her fingers through his dark hair, placing her chin atop his head, the letter to her uncle forgotten.

-XII-

Although Aralenne was late, she took her time in wandering to the library. Her ankle still pained her, but there was no sense in rushing. Drace would only chastise her for straining herself in the end.

"Well, if it isn't the Dalmascan whore."

She stiffened, pausing in her steps warily.

An armored figure stepped into view, an intimidating sight to Aralenne, who had never once exchanged words with the Magister.

Judge Bergan. From what little she knew of him, he was not a pleasant man to be around. Whenever Drace came back from a meeting with the rest of the Magisters, she would always be fuming about some disagreement she had with Bergan. This was the first time Aralenne had come into contact with the judge.

"I am not intimidated petty insults, nor a suit of armor," Aralenne replied coldly, before turning back around to continue on her way.

Bergan growled inside his helmet, striding toward her quickly and snatching up her bandaged wrist in one hand.

Aralenne twisted around to free herself from the Judge's grip, but he pressed a gloved thumb against the wound, making her whimper involuntarily. She would not give this man the satisfaction of tears, but if he kept it up, she was going to scream.

He placed a gloved hand over her mouth, forcing her jaw shut in an iron grip. His thumb and index finger dug into her face, making it nearly impossible to make a sound, let alone speak.

"Why are you still here?" He demanded, his voice taking on a soft but dangerous tone.

"What the hell are you talking about?" She managed to gasp out.

"You have since lost your usefulness," he sneered. "The only reason the Emperor keeps you around is because you remind him ever so much of his dead wife."

Aralenne continued to struggle against Bergan, but it was a vain effort.

"The only reason he hasn't killed you yet is because he can't bear the thought of seeing his youngest son unhappy again. The only thing you are to House Solidor is your resemblance to a dead woman, the exception being that you are not dead. You have no purpose here."

"Your Honor."

Bergan twisted around upon the sudden interruption.

Aralenne nearly breathed a sigh of relief as Bergan removed his hand from her mouth and a familiar silhouette came into view.

For the second time that week, Judge Gabranth had come to her aid.

Bergan smirked inside of his helmet. He released Aralenne's wrist, making her clench her teeth in pain.

"She's all yours Gabranth," the man said with an air of sadistic playfulness, "have fun."

Bergan walked away, his cloak sweeping behind him.

Aralenne watched the man leave, before heading in the opposite direction, toward the library.

"Lady Aralenne," Gabranth called, making her stop in her tracks. "Come with me." He turned around, heading back down the hallway from where he had originally come from.

'What could he possibly want to talk to me about?' She wondered, never once moving from her spot.

Gabranth paused.

"That was not a request," he added.

She sighed, stepping forward following him hesitantly.

-XII-

"You would do well to stay away from Judge Bergan in the future," he said idly, walking into the gardens. "He can be most… unpleasant."

"Yes, I figured that out quite well enough on my own," Aralenne replied sarcastically, following him down one of the paths. "But he's a Judge Magister, so… he wouldn't really… hurt me, would he?"

"Are you that naïve?" He retorted. "Why do you think I'm telling you to stay away from him?"

"I don't know," she answered, stopping and crossing her arms. "Why are you telling me?"

Gabranth immediately paused, turning around.

"Should anything happen to you it would be on my hands, just as it was a week ago when I was not there to protect you and Lord Larsa. I will not chance anything like that again." He spun around, his cloak billowing behind him.

"Ah, I see." She quickly picked up her pace, following him once more. You're just protecting yourself from retribution should he do something untoward against me."

He had no reply. For what reason should he possibly justify himself to her? He had nothing to prove to this woman. She meant nothing to him.

"All this business with Judge Bergan aside," she continued, "I never had the opportunity said thank you, for what you did…"

"And you will never have to," he answered, cutting her off. "I was doing my duty, nothing more, nothing less."

"Duty…" She repeated softly, looking across the greenery that spanded the area. They soon came to a stop with an ivy-covered archway, looking out across the city. "Yes, I believe I have heard the term well-spoken of before."

Gabranth inclined his head toward her. The woman's tone had suddenly taken on a caustic air.

Aralenne let her eyes wander over the city of Archades. She lifted a hand to brace herself against the stone arch, leaning against it gently.

"I've seen too many things done in the name of 'duty'," she said, looking toward the horizon. "By the word 'duty' I have seen the betrayal of someone I once trusted since I was a child."

Gabranth was given the distinct impression that she was not speaking of his brother.

"I have seen 'duty' in the eyes of too many people who believe needless violence and reckless hate is the answer to everything," she continued, her face becoming solemn. "Duty is in right action, and in finding the strength on behalf of those who cannot defend themselves."

Gabranth had nothing to say to her. But what she said had made perfect sense to him.

"By what we do every day, we decide whether we will be the hound that obeys the master, or whether we will be the arbiters of our own destiny."

For awhile they stood there, watching as the sun slowly began to set.

"It seems I misjudged you, Lady Aralenne."

She looked down, a small grin forming. "The feeling is mutual, Judge Gabranth. Perhaps, one day, we can start over."

"Tomorrow is a new day," he replied. "Perhaps we can start then. But…"

"But?"

"But I believe someone is looking for you."

"Aralenne!" A voice exclaimed.

She spun around, a smile lighting up her face.

Larsa bounded through the garden, dashing into Aralenne's extended arms.

She laughed, lifting him up and spinning him around a few times before setting him back down on the ground.

"Are you sure you should be doing that?" He asked, concerned. "Aren't I heavy? I mean, you are hurt and all-"

"Not in the least," she told him, bumping her forehead against his before straightening her posture. She still kept an arm looped around the boy's shoulders though.

Gabranth took this as his cue to leave, but was quickly summoned back by Larsa.

"No," the ten-year old commanded, making the man turn around questioningly. "Stay."

Gabranth shook his head. For a moment, Aralenne was sure that he was refusing, but then she could have sworn she heard a small chuckle, and he stepped back toward them, standing back in his original place underneath the arch.

The three of them continued to stand there long after the sun had begun to set and the stars were making their appearance in the night sky.

'This peace…' Aralenne thought serenely, as they finally began to head inside. 'It feels nice… I hope it lasts…'

For Aralenne, it would last approximately a year and a half, before everything came crashing back down again.

-XII-

O_O Woah. How'd that happen? How they suddenly go from talking about duty to suddenly wanting to "start over". What the f***? Did that even make sense to you guys? (scratches head in confusion) What a crappy scene. Ugh, did I write that? I must go back and redo that when I get the time. For now, just try and deal. Damn you Gabranth, you make writing so hard! (shakes fist)

I was quite surprised by how long this chapter turned out to be… And then I realized just how much I suck at scenes that involve suspense and action. Those fight scenes… Blegh. But man, I loved the scene where Gabranth had to carry Aralenne! ^_^ It's scenes like those that make me wish I had more artistic talent; I'd so draw it. And Aralenne does display a lot of weakness in this chapter… Hey, personally, I'd get sick at the sight of three or four human corpses just mercilessly slaughtered, but I'm proud of Aralenne for being able to hold her cookies. :]

Anyway, this chapter felt rushed to me. Hmm. I'll probably go back and some more later, specifically some additional Gabranth stuff, but I just wanted get this chapter up. But I didn't half-ass it, so I'm quite proud. And I don't know why, but this chapter was incredibly boring to write. Maybe that's why it refused to be written at first… I swear, I contemplated just skipping this chapter altogether and going straight to the main storyline, but I knew I owed it to all you guys who read and review this story to finish the chapter I started and the one I made you all wait for. But man, the thought was incredibly tempting. If my writing skills are as good as my reviewers give me credit for, I could have made it work. I apologize for any spelling errors in this chapter. I wrote the majority of this on my new laptop that I got back in August, and I didn't feel like paying 100 bucks for the whole 30-day Microsoft Office subscription that came on it, so I installed an old version of Microsoft word on it, and for some reason the red lines that pop up for errors don't… pop up. Normally I'd get someone to beta it for me, but I don't want people reading the chapter before it's actually posted.

But after this chapter I am going to fast-forward the storyline. I've gotta speed things up so I can start on the game's timeline, that way I can start putting up chapters faster. My original idea was to put flashbacks from the past years in other chapters throughout the story, but putting flashbacks where they're not needed can break up continuity. So if you guys think it's a good idea, I might actually put them together in a separate multi-chapter side story. I was also debating on having reviewers give me ideas and I could work them into little oneshots for it too. :\ If you guys think that'd be a good idea, please tell me in a review or PM or whatever.

I hope I wrote Dr. Cid in a believeable fashion! It was hard at first… Oh, and if anyone didn't guess, it was Venat's thoughts/voice that was in italics after Aralenne left. I tried to make it look like Cid was just talking to himself all along, but in reality, he was talking to Venat.

The first time Aralenne spoke to Judge Bergan was actually supposed to take place in Chapter 6 at the dinner from hell, but obviously that idea was scrapped. Then I decided to bring it back, but make the encounter more… venomous, I guess would be the word for it. In the original version (at the dinner), they were just supposed to exchange insults, but I wanted this encounter to go beyond that. I wanted Bergan to physically get in her face, and make threats on her life. I hope I wrote him OK…

Oh, and if you haven't been to my profile in awhile, I have a new icon. It's Basch ^_^. But… if you look closely to the left of him, you might be able to make out a face in the darkness… I don't have photoshop and the photo program I do have isn't very advanced… I just played with the color and faded the two images together. Hell, if I had photoshop I'd be crankin out icons and whatever else I could think of…