(Silence Is Golden)

No one could deny it: Garnet was becoming increasingly withdrawn.

It was a process neither fast nor slow, like a flower closing its petals as the sun fades away, or snowfall covering grassy turf. No longer did she wallow in the company of others; she repeatedly shunned it. She dismissed Steiner tiredly, refused Eiko's offers to explore Lindblum, declined Cid's requests to dine. Some were hurt, some suspicious, while others respected her desire to be alone, such as the empathetic Freya.

Yet all worried for her. It was becoming increasingly difficult not only to capture her attention, but maintain it too. All too often her eyes would wander mid-conversation, glaze and fix on a point that was neither here nor there, something startlingly absent from their depths. Something no one could pinpoint, though Vivi offered a thoughtful insight when he remarked, 'It was like she had candles in her eyes, and now they're all blown out.'

She spent her time on the rooftop of Lindblum Castle, looking across the patchwork landscape and lending her weight to the rough brickwork and golden telescope. She stared toward Alexandria, expression flitting between distressed, pained and outright devastated; a melancholy sigh was never far from her lips. What worried others most though, was when her expression was blank. A canvas waiting to be painted on, and not much else. Combined with her deadpan eyes, it made her seem almost insentient.

And her expression was thus as Steiner ascended the steps to visit her. He called her once, twice, thought of leaving, then tried once more.

She didn't turn and despite the quiet, her voice was barely audible. "Yes?" Soft as moth wings, soft as snow.

"The Regent has requested your presence during dinner," Steiner told her with a salute that went unseen. "Shall I relay your accord?"

"I have made no agreements."

"Then what does Your Majesty wish to do?"

She leaned heavily against the battlements. Steiner wished she wouldn't veer so near to the fall, though he couldn't think why.

"Don't ask me things," she said. "I am not fit to decide anything…"

Her words were blades in Steiner's heart. "Y-Your Majesty… You must eat."

She said nothing, and for once Steiner didn't pester. He saluted and said: "As you wish, Princess. I shall inform the Regent you will not be attending dinner." He turned to leave, then stopped and added as an afterthought: "I shall have the servants send you a plate, so you can pick as you please."

She said nothing. He wasn't sure if she'd heard or not, but departed anyway with his heart as heavy as the armour he donned.

Alone again, Garnet slumped against the wall. She tried hard to see the scenery, tried hard to hear the thrum of aircabs and distant cries of wild chocobo. But she could see nothing but flames. Hear nothing but screams. See nothing but ruins and hear nothing but inhuman roars. Food repulsed her; it smelt of the charred feathers of dear Alexander. The castle repulsed her; she saw the crumbled ruins of her own in its splendour.

She was the defeated queen of a defeated kingdom, and her heart and soul had crumbled alongside its foundations. She had no doubt the civilians hated her, had no doubt her friends scorned her negligent decisions. They blamed Bahamut, they blamed Kuja, they blamed the gods, but it was clear whom they were really blaming. The fingers pointed at her and no one else. She couldn't stand their sympathy, their pity. Every word and gesture burned like hot iron. Lies, lies, lies.

There were no words to express her bitterness, so she deteriorated a little with every passing hour.

Her memories of what transpired in Alexandria were becoming like puzzle pieces. Some showed specific imagery of a greater picture, while others were just indistinct colours that could belong anywhere. She saw a chapel swathed in brilliant flame. She saw a singed feather drifting to the cobblestones. She saw ocean waves licked with the amber hues of her burning city.

She could not see Alexander's desolated wings. She could not see the terrible eye in the clouds. She could not see the vast devastation of her castle. These things were hidden behind opaque screens.

But there was one image firmly imprinted in her mind, crisp as the edge of a frosted leaf. It hadn't altered in any way; neither blurred nor exaggerated. It was so fresh and clean it was almost tangible.

Zidane.

She remembered little of the summoning. Of brilliant light, of unsettling incantations, Eiko's hands soft against her own. Then something happened. Noises and sparks and bolts of blue glancing off sword and brick and necklace. Then she was on her knees yet somehow falling. She saw her castle from an incredible angle, saw fragments of brickwork drift upward and knew she was going to die. She was going to hit the ground hundreds of feet below and all of Kuja's twisted desires would be realised.

But then he appeared before her, like a dream.

No, not even that, she rendered. Like something from a fairytale.

It was so ridiculous and so unbelievable, because he wouldn't, shouldn't and couldn't have come back. He should have been long gone; back with Tantalus, back in Lindblum, back to thieving with her vanished from his mind like dirt from a washed sheet. But when he dropped to the stones with a crooked smile and flashing eyes, he outshone any knight or angel or god. He was more fantastic than any dream she could have conjured.

Looking back, she realised she could have died then and not cared. Could have hit the ground and perished in smoke and fire and ash and not cared because he was there and in that warped moment he was all that mattered.

But of course, Zidane wouldn't let her die. The ground fell away and she fell into his arms and together they fell through the burning sky.

And now she was here, fine and dandy, and he was…

Not so fine.

What had happened? She barely remembered. Her memory was precious writing on burning paper. She'd clung to him like a child, buried her face in his hair and swore never to let go of him because this – this – is what happened when Zidane went away. Destruction. Chaos. Death.

But there was an explosion. He was torn from her grasp and flung thirty feet to jutting rubble. She would have gone too, but her left foot had become tangled in the rope he'd used to fly. She was gracelessly deposited some distance away, and Eiko had untangled her. Sound was eclipsed by ringing in her ears. Her ankle hurt and there was blood on her hands, but all she could think about was Zidane Zidane Zidane.

They were at the foot of the castle. What was left of the castle. But she didn't remember much of its state. Only of Zidane. A crumpled mess atop a crumbled mess. There was blood and he was as still and silent as a distant star.

Then there was despair like she'd never known, anger blacker than a moonless night and denial that hurt every tendon in her body because he can't be dead, he can't be, can't be.

And then she'd passed out.

Garnet looked down at the boy prostrate on the bed.

She knew she had little to worry about concerning his condition. The bandages swathing head and arms concealed shallows cuts; his chest was covered in sunset-bruises. But he had been spared severe wounds and broken bones; his escapes were always miraculous.

She perched on the side of his bed and smoothed the crumpled sheets. Zidane looked almost comical nestled within the plush lining. His tousled appearance seemed anomalous against the grandeur of the guest room. She knew he preferred the tattered linen of country inns. In fact, she'd been shocked to discover he rarely had a bed to sleep on at all. The Tantalus Hideout had very few beds, he'd informed her, and so he often slept on a pile of hessian sacks in the rafters. He hadn't seemed at all bothered by this, and couldn't understand why she'd been so appalled.

How different they were. Upbringing, status, education, even appearance. They clashed in countless ways, yet still they returned to each other. Fate? She couldn't believe that. They had been torn apart by circumstance and rank, and it was Zidane's heroic nature that reunited them. It was because of Baku's orders that they had met at all! Was that destiny? Garnet had always thought that if love were directed by fate, it would stem from a chance meeting or unlikely coincidence. Her friendship with Zidane seemed too orderly; in such a way that she doubted anything would come of it.

She didn't remember much of the boat trip to Lindblum: distant explosions, Baku shouting, holding trembling hands over Zidane's chest and casting cure after cure after cure. She wished she could claim it was because she cared for him, but the reaction to heal was mechanical. Something ordinary, anything ordinary. Anything to take her mind from what had just transpired.

But there was no such distraction in Lindblum and because her thoughts were preoccupied by countless mistakes and the shoulda-woulda-coulda, she'd remembered Zidane's condition as only a guilty afterthought.

Seeing him didn't make it much better. Her remorse ate any rationality. A quiet corner of her mind reassured Zidane's rescue to be habitual. That he wouldn't want her to feel guilty. That she shouldn't feel guilty.

But that part was so small. He hadn't woken for three days and it was her fault. Always her fault. If she'd been more careful, if she hadn't run off, if she'd waited for Steiner and Beatrix to return, if she hadn't summoned Alexander, if she'd remained in the castle, if she'd called her troops, if she'd just watched where she was bloody well stepping. He was hurt because of her and her stupid decisions.

Garnet leaned forward and brushed a lock of hair from Zidane's brow. He frowned at the contact and mumbled something incoherent. That was a good sign. It meant he would wake soon. But then what? How could she apologise for her actions? To him and her kingdom and her friends? There was no way. There were no words. She'd lost her mother, her kingdom, the faith of her friends and populace.

And she nearly lost Zidane.

Her actions were unforgivable.

Garnet felt emotionally tired. There was a hollowness inside her, something carved out and replaced by black nothing. It seeped from every pore and settled over her in heavy clouds of black smog. Suffocating. Terrible. It weighed her down.

Garnet got up and left the room, her thoughts already far from the stirring boy. She tried to find the words to express her remorse, her regret, her shame. She sought deep within her heart and soul. She thought and thought until those thoughts blurred into nothing and she saw the castle walls no longer. She became as insubstantial as a wrath, suddenly unable to grasp her thoughts, sense and voice.

And Garnet drowned in golden silence.


Yup, short chapter. I said before that chapter lengths would vary. But the next update will be very soon to make up for it, okay? Like, two or three days.

I did a bit of research concerning muteness as a result of shock, and discovered it can be a gradual process. I remember wondering, during the game, why no one had noticed Garnet's muteness before Zidane woke up, but she could have become mute days after the disaster. I also wondered what went on while they were fleeing to Lindblum. So that's another gap kinda filled, I hope! Thankies for reading, I luv you guys! Hope y'all had a good new year and xmas! ;)