Chapter X
Way to Fall
The room was unbearably cold.
She cracked her eyes open, blearily rubbing away the grit that had collected in the corners, pushed the heavy blankets back and sat up, a small inkling of unease worrying the outskirts of her mind. The silent room was in the grip of twilight, its contents veiled, rendered as silhouettes against the greying background. The only place where light permeated the growing darkness was the immediate area before the window where the sun's last rays were making a final stand, glittering against the marble floor wherever they struck it, creating the illusion of a receding tide against a beach's golden sands as it shimmered fluidly.
It would be warm there, she thought, discarding the blankets completely, swinging her legs over the bed's edge. Unclothed, her skin glowed unnaturally pale in the half-light and she shivered as gooseflesh rose on her arms instantly, the reaction emphasising her exposure. The brunette did not feel ashamed at her nakedness -- the body she had worn her entire life felt light, unburdened as she took steady steps towards the sun's warmth and her mind was not filled with concern over any lack of weaponry as would normally be the case. The chill from the floor seeped up through the cracked soles of her feet. Picking up her pace, she soon crossed the threshold between light and dark, moving to bathe in the gradually diminishing sunlight, sighing as the heat permeated her skin and wrapped warm fingers around her heart in a tender caress.
A summer breeze curled through the open window, ruffling her hair, pushing the shutters further back to expose the great mechanical metropolis of Lindblum. For a place she remembered to be pulsing with life, it now seemed quiet, peaceful: no aircabs ran amuck throughout the orange-coloured sky, no creatures fast-tracked their way through murmuring crowds, no merchants stood at their shop-fronts crying their goods. Only the gentle breeze and as she took the last steps onto the balcony, a gust swirled up, scattering autumn leaves and snow-white feathers all around her.
The sound the dragon's wings made was heavy and timeless. Its ruby eyes trained on her bare form, it seemed to regard her with a kind of detached compassion like it understood her plight but had seen the same situation over and over and over until only the shadow of true emotion remained. She stood calm before the beast as it opened its great maw in a lazy yawn, unleashing the strongest stench of rotten meat, hinting at suffering and deceit. Unmoved, she was as a stone while it appraised her soul.
Kuja stood on its back, a vacant expression on his face. He moved stiffly, a neglected automaton whose joints were rusted, rigid. His eyes were glass as he offered his hand, making fear pool within her at the silent summons. Unable to hinder her movements, she found herself on the balcony's edge, treading balustrade's thin line with unadorned feet. Her body's actions undermined her instincts -- she reached for his blemish-free hand even while her rational side was begging for a retreat. Unheeding, her arm continued stretching across the sky, her entire drawn towards the ephemeral figure in white as a light fall of rain began tumbling from the clouds above.
Their fingertips almost brushed. Suddenly, the rain became a torrential downpour, sweeping over the balcony, turning it into concrete floodlands. Kuja's mouth opened, a bottomless abyss, but she could hear no sound for the deafening deluge. Her feet slipped and then she was tumbling through endless blue, pelted by cold, unforgiving water drops. The further she plummeted, the hazier the open air became until she could not see, could not breathe as the smoke invaded her lungs, stifling her airways. The fire engulfed her. Her skin danced and flickered as the sky rushed by, a whirl of flames that melted her skin as a child's hopeless wailing filled her ears, an eyeless corpse stared at her from within the blaze. Someone asked, "Are you okay?"
"Beatrix?" The deep voice enveloped her like a welcoming embrace. She sat up shivering. One trembling hand scrubbed at her sleep-fuddled eye. With the slow comprehension borne of a deep sleep, the brunette peered around the room, which smelled of old sweat. Dust tickled her nose when she drew a finger along the bedside table and disturbed a tiny spider from its hidey-hole in a hollow in the wood. It scampered towards the far side of the object, eager to avoid this strange predator disrupting its peaceful little world. Steiner, clad in a black undertunic and pants, was perched on the bed beside hers, looking at her with undisguised concern, his worse-for-wear armour piled sadly on the floor.
'I must have been out for a while if he's so worried,' she thought, vaguely annoyed that he'd allowed her the luxury of taking leave from reality. The woolen blanket gathered clumsily around her was coarse and ungentle but she hugged it closer to her frame.
There was only one window in the room -- Freya stood beside it, one long-nailed hand holding back dirty drapes just enough for her head to peek through the gap, observant -- so Beatrix was obliged to ask, "Where are we?"
Freya gave her a quick glance but spared any pleasantries. "Can you not tell from the stench?"
"Treno," Beatrix said automatically, even as Steiner supplied the name. They exchanged a glance. Steiner shrugged and looked away. Something about him was odd. It took her a moment to pinpoint the exact problem but when she did, the brunette's curiosity was such that she had to push aside her fatigue and stutter, "Y-Your sword?"
He flicked a hand towards the door, indicating the weapon slouched nearby against a wall. A careless place to leave a weapon -- any unexpected visitors would be able to smuggle it away or at least bar Steiner from grabbing it. "And the other one?" she persisted, willing to overlook his idiocy this one time, knowing there was little point in chastising him when they were both exhausted to the point where even holding a sword would be a task.
"I… I lost it."
Beatrix blinked. "You lost it?" she parroted.
From the stubborn set of his jaw, she wasn't going to get another answer and her body ached such that she couldn't bring herself to challenge his silence. He turned away with a shrug and began picking at the frayed corners of his patchwork bedcovers. From above there came the sound of tramping boots, slowly increasing in volume, prompting Freya to move towards the side of the door in case they need deal with unwelcome visitors. As the footsteps reached crescendo someone outside guffawed.
Freya exhaled and stepped aside to admit their ragtag rescuers.
"Hey there, party. We stocked up on everything this crappy place has to offer so as soon as you lot are on your feet, we can move. Hopefully we'll find us some chocobos and beat the rain -- sky looks like it's gonna piss down. Here's some tincture for those bruises, Freya and a salve for the hole in Rusty's shoulder. Oh, and this potion's for Lady Bea."
Blank, who had been tossing each named item to its intended recipient, stopped his monologue when he noticed Beatrix was awake. He blanched at seeing her smirk, missing the strained light in her eye and managed to explain, "You wouldn't quit rollin' around, muttering into your blankets."
Gratefully, she accepted the potion, the fever subsiding even as the last drops fell down her throat. Regaining her bearings, Beatrix contented herself with watching Freya massaging the ointment into her side, Steiner tugging his tunic over his head to rub salve into his shoulder. Then, glancing at Marcus to include him, she said in a steadier voice, "Thank-you for all your help."
Steiner gave her a funny sidelong look. His eyebrows lowered determinedly and then he too thanked the thieves, though from his expression the task was more painful than being stung by a cactuar.
"No probs," Blank smiled.
From the doorway, Marcus waved a hand, "I hate to break up the make up but we really need to get moving. Brahne's heading to Lindblum. Now I know I'm not gonna get there in time to be of much use but I'd like to see what's happened to our hideout. Got important stuff there an' all. Besides, I'll tell you, I reckon Zidane and the girl are headed that way. So, you knights ready for some action or are we not pretty enough company for you?" He leered, showing a set of yellowed teeth, many of which were missing their neighbours.
"I've been a wanderer for so long. Journeying with Zidane is as close to a home as I have now," Freya shrugged, "I would like to try and protect him."
Marcus nodded, tipped his bandanna-clad head towards the other two. From the corner of her eye she noticed Steiner turning to her questioningly. She noticed in time to stop herself from turning to him for an answer. "Princess Garnet is a resourceful young lady," she said slowly, "and her companions appear worthy. If they are intelligent they should avoid Lindblum. In any case it is as you say: Queen Brahne will have wrought destruction by the time they even see Lindblum cresting the horizon. And yet…" She moved her head and accidentally brushed Steiner's gaze. Sitting on the edge of a rickety flea-strewn bed, one hand flexing emptily, bereft of weapon and honour, he seemed to be considering his position.
Finally, softly, he supplied his opinion: "There's nowhere else to go."
'He has that much right. No-one to guard, no country to serve. No more orders, no more… killing on command. We're both fugitives now. I'd rather be doing something than living out my days inactively.'
The sense of loss, of being a simple tool in a murderer's game, was worse than when Kuja had revealed Madelene's true nature. Bitterly, Beatrix wondered who the greater failure was: herself for turning a blind eye to Brahne's atrocities for so long or Madelene for turning her coat and selling out her country.
She looked at Steiner then, really looked at him as he resumed applying the salve. Without his armour, he seemed another man even though she could never mistake that blunt face or those unelegant hands or his deep brown eyes. Black hair tumbled down to his shoulders as he struggled to dress his wounds, one end of the bandage held firmly in his hand, the other snared between his teeth. She realised this was the first time she had seen his hair.
Perhaps sensing he was on show, he looked up again. This time she did blush, stirred by his insolence. "You're hopeless," she muttered before reaching to snatch the cloth from his mouth, fixing the bandage in place herself. It was too irritating, she thought as she pulled the cloth tight, watching him try and try and try even though he must have known his efforts were futile.
"Thanks," he managed, somewhat easier this time.
Blank cleared his throat. "Well? You guys coming?"
"New clothes are in order first, I think," Beatrix said. She unlaced the coat draped across her shoulders, unbuckled her belt and slid off Save the Queen in its sheath. Wrapping the weapon in her coat, she deposited them at the foot of her bed. "Anyone would know us by our garb."
'This face is tell-tale too but there's little I can do about that,' she thought, using her fingers to comb her hair across the silvery band.
Steiner grumbled something akin to, "I'm more recognisable by my voice." Beatrix resisted the urge to tell him to keep silent in that case.
Nodding, Marcus said, "I can probably find something for you…" and began rummaging in a trunk stowed beneath his bed. He re-emerged with an armful of garments. "We come here a lot," he explained, an apologetic smile on his face.
Steiner raised an eyebrow but kept his mouth shut. He fished a tent out of the heap, held a corner in each hand and extended his arms, measuring the breadth of the item. "Er, that's one of the Boss' costumes. Probably the only thing in here that'll fit you," Blank said.
It was then Beatrix realised he was holding an oversized shirt, not a tent at all. Steiner seemed to realise too for he emitted a dejected sigh and pulled it over his head, soon adding one of Baku's voluminous jackets, a hideous shade of green, over top.
With a triumphant whoop, Blank chortled, "Here's a great one for you, Lady Bea!"
Beatrix graciously declined the frilly pink corset, selecting one of Ruby's less revealing ensembles instead. She deftly refastened her swordbelt and shrugged on a knee-length coat to conceal the mythril shortsword she still carried. After moving to the doorway to get his own weapon, Steiner also tucked away his sword.
"Ready?" Blank asked.
Steiner cast a forlorn look at his armour, sighed and nodded. Beatrix's eye went to her old general's coat, tattered and blood-spattered, and the weapon hidden within. She knew she had no right to it, Alexandria's national treasure handed down through generations of Holy Knights, especially not after what purpose she'd set it to.
"You could at least return it," Steiner suggested, guessing her thoughts.
"Here's a plainer scabbard," Marcus swapped a worn leather scabbard for the gaudy ruby-encrusted one Save the Queen customarily called home. Beatrix accepted both the item and the advice and once everyone made a final check-over of the room, the thief nodded contently. "All we need now are some chocobos. No good being caught on the mountains in the rain. We'll head for South Gate and down to Lindblum. I know a place where we can switch our birds for some fresh ones too."
"All well and good," Freya spoke up, "but it will be difficult to find suitable chocobos in this disease-ridden city. Then there's the matter of paying the exorbitant asking price."
Beatrix finished lacing her boots, flexed her foot and stood. Her face was stony. "Follow me."
The towering building's grey face matched Beatrix's countenance as she pulled on the rope at the front door. A loud bell clanged within. Steiner's eyes skimmed the overbearing theatre hunched on the lakefront, affluent nobles scurrying in to attend the next performance. He hardly read the large banner announcing the upcoming card tournament strewn across the building's façade, instead preoccupied with how light he felt without the familiar weight of his armour.
'My father's armour. He will be displeased. Then again, when is he ever happy?'
His helmet too had been discarded along with the feathers and his luck. Beatrix had always told him there was no such thing as good fortune, only what you made of yourself. Perhaps she had spoken verily.
And what did he make of himself now? Strip away the helmet and coif, the cuirass and cuisses, and what remained? Flesh and bone and blood and sinew, all of which were useless without ideas. Those sheets of metal had been his identity, had been all he'd needed, all he'd wanted. Casting that all aside and confronting his mortality, Steiner felt he had lost more than the right to serve his country. He had lost himself because he was his country. Orders and salutes, paperwork and princesses, unquestioning loyalty and an unflinching sword-arm. Maybe he had been afraid of thinking for himself not so much because of the responsibility independence of thought entailed but simply because the concept was foreign. He was like a newborn griffin, knowing by instinct he could fly but fearing the fall.
He thought back to that confrontation, to Beatrix's fierce words -- "I won't allow that," -- and he realised even when he'd flown from the nest he'd only really been following his older sibling.
Behind him, the great oak door opened with a pained creak. "I'm sorry, the master does not wish to be disturbed," the elderly servant said. Steiner half-expected clouds of dust to rise from that musty livery. The red was dulled to the colour of rust while stitched on his breast, the half-open white rose emblem had faded to a dirty cream. The man who wore them however managed to lend them an air of dignity and age had not thinned his rich voice.
"He will see me," Beatrix said shortly.
The old man cleared his rheumy eyes. He grasped the doorframe with knotted fingers. "Lady Annaleigh?" he ventured.
"Far from it." The brunette's face softened in compassion. "Beatrix."
The fingers tightened with a power that belied their owner's age. His mouth fell open in a silent O of surprise. Quickly, he recovered himself to say, "Lady Beatrix! My, I could have sworn you were your mother's ghost. His Lordship will certainly be gladdened to see you after so many years of the odd cursory letter and birthday wishes."
"Actually, Wallace," she looked abashed, "I was hoping you could lend us some chocobos. I wouldn't want to disturb His Lordship at his cups."
Now the old man straightened, drawing himself up until Steiner realised he topped him by half a head. It was like watching an accordion unfold. "You spend all this time serving your mother's country, always too committed to take leave and visit home and now the only thing that brings you here is a bunch of birds? I'll not hear it." He waved them in, turning his back on the beginnings of Beatrix's protests, "Come! Come!"
The ex-General cast a helpless look at her companions before following the servant, who kept giving her appraising glances over his shoulder. Having nothing better to do and fully expecting the building's interior to be as shabby as the servant's clothing, Steiner stepped through the doorway. He tailed the other two through various cosy rooms, pausing every to appraise a large antique clock, its heavy golden pendulum intricately engraved or a shining piano, lid closed against the waiting world, retaining its secretive melodies. He wanted to drink in this sanctuary, the smell of polish and old grandeur, the extravagant wooden panels decorating the walls and the high plastered ceilings. Quietly, he repented his first assessment of the place.
As they moved towards a grand corridor, Steiner spied a portrait of what he imagined to be the family hanging above entrance. A distinguished gentleman with waxed moustaches was resting gloved hands on the back of a chair occupied by a blonde woman whose lips curled upwards in a calm smile. The chestnut-haired young lady standing beside them had one hand on her hip, the other covering her father's. Her grin seemed mocking in a good-natured kind of way and she carried herself in a way that left no doubt that she'd sooner be seen in pantaloons than a dress.
"I was ten," Beatrix's voice, next to his ear, made him jump, "and my mother was about to go to war. I remember it as one of the rare occasions I saw her in a dress."
Steiner looked at the blonde woman with the serene ice eyes. For a moment, he felt he'd known her. It was possible, he supposed, that they had crossed paths during his cadetship.
Beatrix's voice cut him, "Then she was slain protecting me."
He felt silence was what she wanted. She was observing the painting with slow recognition as if she'd shut away all thoughts of family until this moment. He thought he understood the slow reawakening of blood loyalty.
Wallace ceased busybodying and gestured at the picture, "He was doing well for some time despite Her Ladyship's passing on and your… decision. Even those short letters caused him to thaw over time, them and the tales that drifted here on the wind of the great General's deeds. His anger dwindled until only his fear of losing you as he lost Lady Annaleigh remained. By then Lord Edgar's only fear was jeopardising your well-being by requesting your presence."
"That makes no sense," Beatrix tried to scoff.
"No but love is often irrational. He threw away the drink too when word of your achievements reached him though he mourned in his own way for…" He indicated her eye. "More recently, with war in Burmecia and Cleyra he… Well, as they say, old habits die hard.
"Come along now." Before Beatrix could respond, Wallace began ushering them down the corridor, which terminated in another large door, this one with roses and vines carved into its expanse. The old man rapped his knuckles against the wood, "My Lord? Lady Beatrix has come to see you."
Suddenly feeling out of place, Steiner stated, "We shall wait for you out here."
The woman shook her head. "He will want to make the acquaintance of my companions," she replied, making Steiner wonder if she was uneasy about this meeting.
"Beauford?" this voice was strained.
Marcus coughed. "You sure?" Blank said.
She nodded firmly.
Wallace pressed his face to the crack between the doors and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Beatrix, my lord. Your daughter. She has brought friends."
A dead silence fell behind the door, seeping through the cracks to infect those waiting outside until it seemed all sound had fled from the too-big house. Eventually the lord cleared his throat and raised his voice in an attempt at reclaiming lost power, "Well, for Alexander's sake, man, let her in!"
Wallace pulled open the door and nodded them in. While the thieves hung back flicking glances everywhere like they were discerning escape routes and Freya waited patiently, Steiner, wracked by that unpleasant sensation that ambushed him whenever he had to confront his own father, found himself standing beside his long-time commander. The man behind the desk covered in crinkled papers had the same waxed moustaches as the man in the portrait only now his hair was salt-and-pepper instead of chocolate brown. He pushed aside a half-empty glass of amber liquid and stared, oblivious to everyone but his child.
"I… thought my ears must have been deceiving me," he drank in her battered appearance with his warm brown eyes.
"My lord, I ask leave to request--"
The gaze turned furious. "'My lord'! 'My lord'! I did not wait fifteen years to hear you call me 'my lord'." Abruptly, he grabbed the glass and stowed it in the cabinet behind him, slamming the doors on the liquor. His shoulders shook with emotion as he leaned against the furniture's glass casing, head bowed. Steiner slowly uncurled his fingers from his broadsword's hilt as he saw that remorse had gripped the other man, a remorse that the smell of strong spirits could not entirely cloud. Eventually the lord of the house mastered himself and turned to confront his wayward child. The thunderclouds cleared, leaving him with a downcast expression as he said softly, "I ask leave to embrace my daughter, if she will tolerate me."
"My-- Father, nothing would serve me better," she surrendered.
'That's right,' Steiner recalled as he watched them engage in stilted conversation like two newborns, 'Family is part of identity. Father needs me, even if only to take the blame for Mother's death. That's a kind of love, isn't it? Thinking of someone constantly, borrowing somebody to assuage one's own guilt… Having someone do what you can't. You have to invest some kind of love there because nothing good ever comes from hate alone.'
His mother had tried to protect him. As a noblewoman the closest thing to a weapon she'd ever brandished was a set of knitting needles. He could remember her sitting in the ladies' room with his grandmother on cold days, the pair of them working at some garment for him. When the Lindblumese had invaded he'd just started springing into youth, unable to wield a sword adequately despite the lessons his father had lovingly given him, ones that always left them sweaty and laughing.
In truth, it was his mother's generous spirit and not his failings that had resulted in her death. Defending Steiner and his young friends, buying them time to escape the burning house while she begged for their lives. She'd always been proud but she knew when it came time to bend knee. Recalling his family and their timeless love softened his feeling of not belonging to the world he found himself part of now.
There was a time to fight and a time to reconcile, he thought as he watched Beatrix explain their situation to her father. It was discerning between the two that was confusing.
"But of course! There are quite a few in the stables, including that old favourite of yours, the one you had shipped here after they made you general," Lord Edgar was explaining excitedly.
Beatrix's brow furrowed then, "Fluffy!" she exclaimed. "You mean you kept that deranged beast? The only reason I sent it here was because it was an unkindness to leave it with the others, violent bully that it was."
Lord Edgar blinked, surprised. "Yet your soft heart couldn't abide having it done away with? Yes, that sounds like you."
At Beatrix's sharp glare, Steiner quickly turned his laugh into a coughing fit.
"You may be interested to know it's as placid as any well-bred chocobo now," the noble continued, nodding as if congratulating himself on raising a child. His voice then lowered a tone, "I'm sorry you only happened here by necessity but I understand. Please, take as many of the blasted birds as you need and anything else besides. I'm only glad to have seen you." His smile included them all but there was no doubt who his words were aimed at.
"I'm also sorry to have returned under such circumstances." A sudden light passed her face and she added, "But that is of little import. I shall see you at Princess Garnet's coronation."
The words were surprising but the declaration of loyalty was not all unexpected. Steiner and Lord Edgar both balked, the former keeping his counsel long enough to weigh Beatrix's words, the latter shrugging in a manner Steiner had seen many times over. "Then I shall wait until then. Come, the stables haven't moved but I'll show you them nonetheless."
Beatrix laid a hand on his arm, stopping him mid-stride.
"Yes?"
"I…" she shook her head, calming herself, "Nothing, Father. Please lead the way."
Salt-and-pepper hair bobbing in assent, Lord Edgar escorted them to the stables, taking care to comment on this or that item, chatting about family friends or general goings-on in Treno. He spun his tales with the confident dash that all good gentry possessed, honed smart from years of dinner table conversation though there was a frankness beneath the polish that Steiner found refreshing after being flung headlong into political intrigue. So it was that whenever he found Lord Edgar coercing yet another chuckle from him with his velveteen voice, Steiner could not begrudge him. In fact, he was willing to embellish such skillfully wrought tales with the praise they deserved, glad to forget his situation.
Beatrix endured all of this with the long-suffering smile of filial obligation although Steiner fancied he detected a hint of fond regard in her face. Whatever her former misgivings, whatever the funny circumstances, she must have been pleased to see her father.
The low sounds of animals and the smell of clean straw made Steiner attentive again. After beckoning them outside, Lord Edgar now crossed the courtyard and showed them into the stables where a flock of chocobos were penned side by side, glancing up from their feedboxes to chirrup inquisitively at the disturbance.
"The one on the end is your 'deranged beast'," Beatrix's father teased, pointing down the ranks. The brunette flicked Steiner a glance that might have been fearful and stalked to the last pen, ready to confront her old enemy.
"K-Kweh!" went the chocobo before bowing his head and inviting Beatrix to scratch behind his ears. Cautiously, she obliged him.
Her father beamed. "Didn't I tell you? Mild as a kitten. All the appropriate equipment is over on that wall," the noble gestured with a hand, "and I'll get Wallace to bring you some saddlebags too. If there is anything else you need, I won't withhold it. Anything, Beatrix."
Beatrix went still. After a moment of quiet contemplation, she looked over her shoulder and gave her father a grateful smile that conveyed a wealth of words and dispelled the last shreds of tension surrounding them. Perhaps sensing nothing more was needed, Lord Edgar gave a satisfied bow, a few quick farewells to the others and the parting words, "I shall see you all at the coronation." He hovered at the doorway momentarily then shook his head, a fond smile on his face, and left.
"Well," Marcus said, leading a chocobo from its pen, "Saddle up."
The prompt command was just what the still-sore group needed to spur them to action. Moments later they were geared up, food-filled saddlebags slung over their mounts' flanks, making their way towards the city's exit. Steiner felt his spirits lift -- the simple act of moving made him feel as if he'd resumed some control over his life.
One step outside Treno's gates and the skies opened.
Rain fell down in great streaks, saturating their clothing within moments, making it hang heavily from their frames. An hour at best and the plains would be boggy and difficult to cross. Part of him refused to believe the rain would choose this exact moment to begin. Steiner's entire face drooped in dismay. His high spirits evaporated as the rain poured down. "This isn't funny," he muttered.
Staring out at the sodden mountainside, hair plastered to her scalp, Beatrix dolefully replied, "I'd worry for your sense of humour if you thought it so."
And like a firecracker, the rage that had been lurking beneath his emptiness sprung forth and the Captain burst out with, "Dammit! Even the gods piss on us!" Shaking his fist at the heavens, puffed up with fury, he didn't doubt he looked every bit a Berserked gigan toad.
Beatrix's body began quaking. It took him a while to realise she was laughing, genuinely laughing, something he could not recall hearing her indulge in for many years. Uselessly, he squelched backwards into the mud, content to wait out the storm on his derriér while Beatrix laughed until she wept and a horror-struck Freya regarded them both with the wary eye one might spare a rabid dog.
"If you two are done…" the lancer's long legs began carrying her easily across the soft ground. Her chocobo ruffled its feathers indignantly, spraying the ex-Captain with more water, sending Beatrix into further peals of laughter at his unimpressed expression.
Despite the humiliation, it was hard to keep his face straight. Understanding the absurdity of the situation -- knowing that laughter was one of the few things left to them -- he obliged her with a quirk of his lips. "Yes, I'm quite a sight. Glad someone finds amusement in my misfortune."
Beatrix wiped away her tears and extended a hand to Steiner. "Come, good sir, before the gods decide to loosen their bowels too."
This time, Steiner took it.
Menacing as they had appeared, the thunderclouds soon began fading on the horizon, leading Freya to (mournfully) proclaim "that spat of water" done with. She alone had relished the brief shower. It must have been nice, Steiner thought, to have some piece of home unexpectedly appear to lend you comfort, a thought he continued muse on home throughout the rest of the day. Journeying proved uneventful between an encounter with Mistspawn or two. Occasionally, one of the chocobos would be possessed by the desire to rush off and dig in a seemingly random spot. Once, Blank's bird recovered an ether. The other flights of fancy yielded nothing but because the chocobos proved impossible to stop, the party suffered to watch each excavation with a sense of dulled anticipation.
They made their way through the battered skeleton of South Gate where the tall guard warned them against travelling in such times. "Treasure waits for no man," Marcus said, grinning toothily as he stroked his chocobo's wing. The guard grunted disapproval but waved them on their way, muttering about bands of fools while his shorter companion shook his head sadly.
So the days passed in relative monotony. In fact, aside from some stupid creature scaring them out of their wits by leaping from the bushes screaming, "Pop quiz!" nothing particularly remarkable occurred.
Right now, the sun was gradually dipping beneath the ocean as they rode up to a secluded forest somewhere between South Gate and Lindblum. Given how chancy catching an airship would have been with Brahne's fleet patrolling Lindblum's skies chocobo travel was definitely the way to go, even if it meant extra journey-time. His cramped muscles and numb behind were glad to get off the darn bird. As soon as his feet touched ground, Steiner felt an oppressive cloud fall over the group, that same one that had smothered them back at Treno's inn. The mindless travelling at an end for the day, they were now forced to recognise one another's company again.
Blank sprung from his steed, landing easily to survey the rising forest. The faint keening of chocobos drifted from a far stand of trees along with the sound of running water. Steiner breathed in the green freshness and clear air, absorbing the tranquil atmosphere, the lack of metal, propellers and grinding gears, the isolation almost tangible. After unclipping his saddlebag and turning his chocobo to its own devices, he announced, "I'm going to make a round of our campsite."
Marcus, deftly working alongside Blank to erect a tent, carelessly dismissed him with a flick of his wrist. Those two were the only ones completely comfortable in each other's presence, it seemed. Steiner found himself drawn to the two women fixing their tent albeit with nowhere near the familiarity that the thieves worked. The Alexandrian and Burmecian studiously avoided one another's eyes, hardly communicating unless necessary and when a pole came unstuck, collapsing the entire structure, Beatrix cursed fiercely.
Steiner found himself caught between his countrywoman who had been his rival for over a decade and the proud Burmecian whose camaraderie had proved key to his sanity during his time in Zidane's company. "Actually," he said, careful to keep his gaze casual, "my eyesight is likely not so sharp. Someone else would be fitter for the task. I can put these muscles to good use and pitch that tent instead."
Beatrix looked at him for a second. With whiplash force she then bunched up the rope she'd been trying to uncoil and stalked past him, pushing the tangled mess into his hands.
'Well, that was unsuccessful,' he thought ruefully. He chanced a look at her retreating form, back stiff, an angry note in her gait then glanced down at the hopelessly knotted rope he was holding. 'Very unsuccessful.'
"You must excuse her," he said to Freya, not entirely sure why he was covering for the other woman, "She's not normally…"
Freya righted the fallen pole. "Defensive? In a way I cannot blame her, not for her reaction just now or her previous deeds -- my bitterness would be misdirected. I've lived so long pursuing phantom emotions it's becoming easier to recognise when I'm making mistakes. Here, hold this, will you?" She squatted to tie off a rope.
Steiner did as she bade. "You no longer hate her?"
From beneath the brim of her hat, that curtain of long silvery bangs could not hide the bright green eyes flicked briefly to his face in acknowledgement. The Burmecian gave a humourless chuckle. "I'm not so good as all that… but I know what it's like, having no hope of atoning for past mistakes yet being compelled to try." She straightened. This time the force of her piercing eyes hit Steiner head on. He forgot he had the pole in his hands as she told him, "Beatrix is searching for absolution. Blank and Marcus, well, whatever they say, they are looking to bring their family together. What are you here for, Steiner?"
"I…" he found he couldn't break eye contact, "I don't know." The honest words burned his ears.
"A vagrant life is no life for someone like you. Finding Princess Garnet seems like a logical step to me."
Steiner sighed, "That is what I planned but even with that goal, part of me feels lost. A great part. You must understand."
The lancer finished tying the last knots. She gave him a soft smile, "I failed my purpose as a knight. You were discarded for fulfilling it. Which is the worse, I wonder."
All at once, Steiner's face flooded with shame. Freya had lost two countries yet she still wore the tall hat of Burmecia's Dragon Knights and carried the long spear with pride. Every scrap of that identity, every reminder of her failings must have weighed her down yet she bore them gladly. How hard it must be for her to listen to him grumble and gripe!
"Now, I'm going to find some firewood. I'll send that difficult comrade of yours back if I can find her."
Steiner smiled gratefully… and winced as a squawking Fluffy careened into the freshly-erected tent, promptly dismantling it in his excited quest for some undoubtedly useless trinket.
Dragonflies danced in the warm air that night, their crystalline wings scattering the red glow of the campfire, which, despite the weather, was stoked high to keep monsters at bay. Steiner watched the harmless insects twist and turn, long legs stretched out against the cool grass -- the blades caressed his ankles, a sensation he'd almost forgotten after years imprisoned in metal. He should have been on-guard for Mistspawn but much of that rigidity of duty had vanished when he'd discarded the armour, the mask of his identity. He was coming to see knighthood as a mere shell for his true self, whatever that was.
Fabric rustled. The grass whispered as Beatrix joined him.
Content to observe the dragonflies tracing sparkling paths through the night sky, Steiner gave her the silence she needed. He fancied he could hear her collecting thoughts. After a moment, she said, "I have apologised to Lady Freya. Or tried to. She didn't have much to say."
Steiner hmm-ed approval, now watching her watching the roaring flames. One insect flew too close and was consumed in a puff of dust. He felt an involuntary shiver work its way up his spine until his teeth chattered and the apology he now expected came:
"For whatever it's worth, I am sorry."
"It's okay," he said because that was what one said in such circumstances.
She pressed, "Not just for before, for Cleyra and Burmecia and, and everything. I've been selfish, arrogant, all the things I hate in King -- Kuja -- I've been all that and worse. By enlisting I was supposed to avoid him, to avenge my mother. I've done neither. I've done nothing worthwhile but unleash havoc on peaceful cities and why? Because I lacked the courage to confront reality."
He opened his mouth to correct her but she cut off the ponderous train of thought. "Of late, my thoughts have been… unknightly."
Steiner didn't have to ask what she meant; he'd been wrestling with the same serpents since they'd been dragged from the bowels of Alexandria on Blank and Marcus' backs. Many times over he had considered relinquishing his knighthood but there was always some last tug on his heartstrings that inhibited him from tossing it away. And suddenly, as happens only once or twice at dramatic highpoints in one's life, Steiner found an answer:
"Of late, I've learned that what you do is of more import than what you think."
She didn't say anything but slowly, slowly some of the crinkles at the corners of her eyes faded, the worry lines roughening her forehead lost depth, the fingers clenching at a tattered shirtsleeve slackened their grip. She looked as close to peaceful as he'd ever seen. A flash of joy plucked at his heart -- he had actually managed something profound and had thrown off some of their demons for the moment. Certainly he felt as confused as ever but focusing on that answer gave him a measure of clarity. Beatrix too, if that foreign, slight upturn of the lips was anything to go by. He decided he liked being able to provide answers for someone, being the person others relied on for guidance instead of bumbling his way through order after order.
"So, you were born in Treno?" he eventually spilled.
She didn't seem to mind the inquisition. "Born into Treno nobility. We summered in Alexandria, my mother's birthplace. That handful of months each year was practically the only time I could see her, military woman and all. They were happy times. I was free to roam Alexandria's streets and join in games with the other children, something that was simply out of the question in Treno."
"I always thought you were Alexandrian."
"With this colour hair? There are anomalies, I suppose. I think of myself as Alexandrian anyway."
He turned to face her. "Oh… of course. I didn't mean…"
"I know you didn't. I do like asserting myself though."
She had given up a bit of herself after so many years. Steiner felt compelled to return the favour. "My father was also a knight, my mother, a light-hearted noblewoman. She perished in a house fire."
Shivering, Beatrix nodded. He appreciated that she didn't offer empty condolences. He also noticed the sombre weight that was accumulating in the air and wondered how he could dispel it. Eventually, he arrived at, "So… Sorry for everything, are you?" letting a teasing note into the words.
She blinked, surprised at his sudden bantering tone. He ruefully wondered if a little too much of Zidane's personality had rubbed off. Catching his drift, she returned, "Well, not everything. You deserved those oglops."
He cringed exaggeratedly at the memory. "And the arrow in my forehead, did I deserve that too?"
"Well," she shrugged, falling back on the grass to gaze heavenward. Her too-big coat fanned out around her. With a small quirk of her lips, she conceded, "Well, perhaps I went a little overboard."
The civilian clothes made her look so much more fragile. It unnerved him a little. He stood, dusting his pants off as he said, "At least the healthy competition kept our wits sharp."
"It was often unhealthy competition. Remember the petrify pudding?"
"Hm. You are never going to let me live my youth down, are you?"
"It's so far behind you and I haven't yet, so likely, no."
A small voice drifted from one of the tents: "Would you guys take it to the bushes or a moonlit lake or something?"
The pair exchanged sheepish looks. Steiner quickly muttered a goodnight and pulled aside a tent flap quietly so as not to disturb Freya. "Where are you going?" Beatrix said.
While the superfluousness of this comment was not lost on Steiner, he contented himself with a smirk and returned, "Your watch," before ducking inside for some much-needed sleep.
Other nights did not work as smoothly. Throughout one particular day's course when they turned their chocobos loose for the evening, Fluffy must have caught a whiff of treasure for he dashed off through the shrubbery only to return hours later, sans saddlebags. The sudden loss of equipment, namely a tent, put Steiner in rather an awkward position:
"There simply isn't enough room for two in there…" he floundered, trying to ignore Freya's victorious yell as she won yet another hand of cards against Marcus, trying to block out the snickering thief behind him. Honestly, if Blank didn't shut his trap soon, Steiner was going to grab that headband of his and gag him.
Beatrix waved off his complaints with one hand and sifted disinterestedly through her saddlebag with the other. "Don't be ridiculous. Lady Freya and yourself have been indulging in this sort of rustic accommodation for how long? She's been through worse anyway, sharing a tent with a monkey and that long-tongued monstrosity." She yanked yet another packet of food from the bag's depths and glanced at the label. "Salted sahagin again?" A disgusted noise and the thing went sailing over her shoulder towards Blank, who deftly swiped it from the air.
"That's different. She's…" A comrade? A demi-human? Not you? For the life of him, he couldn't think how to end the sentence.
"Not interested?" Blank offered. Steiner snarled.
"More sahagin! For the love of Alexander!"
"Beatrix, you can't be serious. It goes against my sense of decency," he all but begged. What he really wanted to say was, I know you apologised and everything and you're probably not likely to poison me while I'm out to it but sleeping anywhere within a ten foot radius of you still kind of creeps me the hell out.
The brunette unzipped the last unchecked compartment, a hopeful look on her face. When this also yielded more sahagin meat she threw her hands up in the air and whirled on Steiner, interrupting a fresh wave of protests, "Honestly, what's so bad about sleeping with me?"
"…"
"…"
"…"
Marcus poked his head out of the tent he and Freya were occupying. "What did I miss?"
"Lady Bea doesn't like the meat that's on offer and Sir Loudmouth's getting worked up about it."
"Aren't you supposed to be on guard duty!" Steiner raged.
Blank tore off a chunk of the sahagin jerky, letting it dangle from his mouth as he pulled an unseemly expression before darting out of Steiner's reach. Marcus snickered then returned to his card game.
"Honestly!" both Alexandrians sighed, Steiner glaring after Blank, Beatrix glaring at her pile of jerky. They blinked and glanced at each other.
"Look," Beatrix said, "I think you're acting terribly childish -- and, I might add, your distrust of me is quite insulting -- but interrupting Freya's fun is the last thing on my agenda. I'm a little beyond making your life miserable at present. If it will make you feel more at ease though, perhaps I should just sleep out here," the last was gently mocking.
"Don't be ridiculous!"
"Precisely. Get in the tent, Steiner."
He spent the rest of that night curled up in the corner, trying his very best to make his considerable bulk small and unobtrusive, feeling as out of place as some hideous piece of furniture from last century. He wasn't entirely sure why he still felt so edgy around her -- despite what she thought, he took her word very seriously and believed if she'd apologised she intended to uphold some decorum -- but then he didn't exactly feel the urge to analyse his emotions either. After all, his world had already gone topsy-turvy once that week.
The Lindblumese guards at the Serpent Gate were a more aggressive breed than the ones at South Gate. As they'd left the marshlands earlier that morning, Steiner had pointed out the thick smoke clouds lurking over the city in the distance, an ominous precursor to destruction that made his skin tingle for his armour. It hardly came as a shock that these lancers now chose to seize first, ask questions later.
The Alexandrian soldiers and their messy entrails strewn along the ground made him shudder. One of them had blood bubbling at her mouth as her eyes rolled wildly in their sockets, groaning helplessly.
"Where are you lot from, eh?" the Lindblumese commander asked roughly, tightening his hold on Steiner's arm. The Alexandrian tolerated the grip but he couldn't keep the superior sneer off his face, some of his old knightly pride flaring at the contact. As they dispossessed him of his sword, it was hard to meekly keep still. There was a sharp, dangerous aura in the air. Another soldier drove the point of his lance into the dying Alexandrian woman's leg, making her scream.
Bloodlust. He recognised the berserk craze of battle. This Lindblumese officer had led some radicals on a sortie to reclaim the Serpent Gate, Steiner guessed but with so few men he couldn't possibly hold it for more than an hour or two. The suicidal tactic had probably caught the unprepared Alexandrians, who must have thought the day won, unawares. He knew he had to tread carefully here.
While the rest of the guardsmen accosted the other humans, they treated Freya more carefully, waiting for her to lay aside her openly-carried weapon before grabbing her arms. Her nose twitched with disdain but she affected a smile as she replied, "We come to lend our spears to your regent, should he want them."
"We live here," Marcus said. Despite the casual air his profession led him to practice, to those who knew him Marcus seemed unsurprisingly uncomfortable in the hands of the law. He followed the commander's pointed gaze and offered a smile of his own, "Well, obviously not her. She's Burmecian."
Another guard began patting Beatrix down. Steiner saw her swallow.
"I fled my hometown after it became apparent my fight was futile. I had hoped to seek refuge here. I was willing to enlist too… that is, if you don't discriminate against my kind," Freya took up the tale, injecting just the right hint of indignation to sound convincing.
Leering, the guard curled his arms around Beatrix to undo her swordbelt. She stiffened at the contact. Her gaze brushed Steiner's then darted away.
"I see chivalry has gone out of fashion," Steiner bit.
The guard on his left jerked his arm downwards, sending such a lance of pain into his shoulder joint that Steiner felt the bone must spring from its socket. "Say that again."
He took a deep breath but was cut off by a sudden cry: "What the--? Hey!"
Most of the group spun to see what had caught this particular guard's attention save Steiner, who didn't need to make such a useless effort, and Beatrix. The commander snatched her by the tips of her hair, yanked her head back, stared at the sweat-strewn face. "You!" he spat and backhanded her, sending her sprawling to the ground.
"Hey!"
"Leave her!"
"Stop!"
Furiously, the commander flung the leather scabbard at Beatrix's prone form. The rubies set in Save the Queen's hilt shimmered darkly, blood red.
Lurching against his restrainers, Steiner said, "We bring news of Princess Garnet! Regent Cid will want to know." He couldn't believe she wasn't moving for her sword.
"Princess Garnet," the commander sneered, "left this morning. She left after days of healing people in the streets, people this woman," -- kick -- "tried to kill."
"She wasn't involved. On my honour as a Dragon Knight, I swear it."
The man holding Freya shook his head fiercely. "Your 'honour' means nothing. You rats were planning to invade Alexandria. I know, I heard!"
Freya's mouth fell agape. "How can you still believe that trash!" Blank yelled.
The commander yelled in Blank's face, "Silence! Throw them in prison. My stomach is turning at the sight of this filth."
Beatrix got another boot in her stomach; she gasped but only shifted to bring her knees to her chest, trying to shield herself from further attacks. The laughing guardsmen pelted her with more blows then, wearying of their sport, roughly took hold of her. A brutal punch to the face snapped her head around, made her friends cry out again. With mounting horror, Steiner realised there was no way she could escape the brand of her nationality -- the truth was marked too well on her face.
"Holy Knight indeed!" the commander hissed.
The guard torturing the other woman now pressed a boot against her kneecap. Whimpering helplessly, she gasped, "Ge-- General... Beatrix...!"
A large globule of blood flew from Beatrix's mouth to land on the commander's lapels. He stared at her for a moment and smiled kindly. Then whipped a dagger from his belt, bent over her and sent it plunging towards her eye. Crying out, she recoiled. The weapon stopped millimetres from her eyeball.
At the same time, the guardsman plunged his weapon into the nearly-dead Alexandrian's throat.
Steiner exhaled even as the commander smirked, spat in her face, laid into her once again. After some decent blows he stood back and addressed his men, "I said take these animals away."
The guards jerked her to her feet, twisting her arms at terrible angles behind her back as they marched her to the trolleys leading into Lindblum proper. He shoulders slumped. He could hardly comprehend what had just occurred. The walls seemed to be leaning towards him, boxing him in as he was sat in the trolley and taken to a holding cell where he was shoved to the cold floor and told to stay put and stay quiet. His vision flickered out for a brief moment.
Regardless of the order, his ragged breathing was loud in the darkness. After some minutes of consciously willing his body to calm down, he stood, grimacing at the scuffs along his legs, wishing he still had his armour. A quick glance around his cell -- cot, bedpan, Marcus again -- then he went to the bars. His square head couldn't even fit through the tiny gaps. "Beatrix?" he called. The name loudly ricocheted off the dank walls.
"Oh, hush. I'm right next to you," came the immediate reply, one cell over.
The familiar rebuff made him sigh, relieved. "What were you thinking!" he whisper-bellowed.
She made a coughing noise, spat again. "At first I was doing a good job at being cooperative for Garnet's sake. Somewhere along the line, that all just faded away. It was like… I don't know. I remembered what you said that time, about actions speaking louder than thoughts--"
He hit his head against the metal bars, "How did I know this would be my fault?"
"--and decided I'd rather take a beating as General Beatrix, not some cringing puppy. I didn't really salvage my pride though." She gave a rueful chuckle.
"And?"
"Well, the thoughts after that were a little like, 'Oh, that one hurt. Ouch, right in the kidney'."
From another cell, Blank guffawed. "The upsides of fame, eh?"
Steiner tried to keep the smile from his voice as he deadpanned, "Funny. Remind me to never let you near thieves again. Their bad wit is clearly infectious."
A bright light suddenly shone down the end of the cell-lined corridor. Steiner strained to see the warden, accompanied by some soldiers, approach, keys jangling at his hips. He stopped in front of the Alexandrian's cell and squinted at him, considering. "Yer comin' with me," he announced.
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Well, that was quick."
"Remember the junction we reached before we changed tracks? Lindblum Castle is directly above there. That officer probably sprinted to tell His Excellency all about… us."
"And we have an intercom system," a guard offered.
Steiner and Marcus exchanged glances. Their cell door swung open. The Lindblumese stepped aside to give them room while the warden move along the corridor to release the others. As they came into sight, Blank grinned, Freya tilted her head and Beatrix batted the hair away from her face, which was darkened in annoyance.
"His Excellency wants to speak to you."
Oglops, he decided, were scary. Fidgeting beneath the flat-eyed stare, Beatrix looked ready to flee. Not for the first time, he recalled exactly how Beatrix had been appointed general and what she'd done to deserve such a boon.
"As always, Master Steiner, Lindblum welcomes you at her hearth. And you, General Beatrix. My country will not soon forget your deeds."
Well, that was as close to an invitation as she could expect here, he supposed. Beatrix inclined her head respectfully, swallowing whatever issues she had with her prior treatment.
Squatting on his throne, Regent Cid said, "I apologise for the rough welcome. Some of my men decided to form a sortie and try to retake the gate without my consent. By the time I heard what was happening, it was too late. I'm sorry you got caught in the middle of that."
"War is never kind," Beatrix offered neutrally while Steiner's blood seethed.
"I have reconfigured the trolley tracks leading to the palace since then. Anyone who has similar ideas will have a long walk ahead of them."
Steiner stepped forward. "Your Excellency, may I ask what has become of Princess Garnet?"
Cid's eyes blinked quickly, sending an involuntary shiver along Steiner's spine. "I'm afraid you just missed Garnet. She left with Zidane and Vivi this morning."
"Where are they headed?" Freya queried, leaning against her spear, tail curled possessively around the shaft. Steiner found his hand resting on the pommel of his broadsword, relieved to have its familiar weight beside him. By contrast, Beatrix looked naked without Save the Queen. He thought it was a cruel decision -- returning everyone else's weapons while she watched had added an extra sting to the insult -- but considering her position, Steiner supposed it couldn't be helped. Regent Cid had at least extended the courtesy of an apology.
Cid's vocal sac inflated and he let out a long, miserable gwok. "I'm afraid I have no idea. They were searching for a way onto the Outer Continent to end Kuja's madness. Whether they've made it or not…"
Steiner cast Beatrix a dispirited look.
"…but knowing what you are like, Captain Steiner, Garnet left you a message. She implores you to stay here and give what aid you can in her stead, as a representative of Alexandria." Cid glanced at Beatrix, "You may stay as you wish, General, though I feel compelled to warn you that my people may not take too kindly to your presence."
She nodded noncommittally. As the conversation turned to other subjects, "Think of it as a working holiday with the added bonus of getting stoned every time you step outside," Blank told her in undertones.
A few minutes later, the meeting was called to an end. The group was ushered from the throne room, given directions to the guestrooms -- servants were difficult to spare as most were out repairing this or rebuilding that -- and left to their own devices.
"We're off to our place. Catch you around, I guess," Marcus said. "Later," came from Blank and the pair were out the door before the others could even muster a goodbye. Steiner found himself smiling wryly at their feigned disinterest, wondering when he would bump into them again. If he rejoined with Zidane (and he had no doubt he would) he knew he would cross paths with the other members of Tantalus again. Blank paused at the doorway, glanced over his shoulder and added, "Look after yourselves, hey."
Marcus grunted and tugged the younger man away.
Freya removed her hat to run long fingers through her tangled hair. She let out a sigh. "It appears Zidane has eluded me once again. I think I'll recuperate here for a few days, perhaps make my way back to Burmecia. They'll need help rebuilding there too."
Steiner nodded then turned to Beatrix. "Well?"
"Well. I don't doubt the entire continent would love nothing more than to see me swinging from the gallows so it's mostly the same from my view. Back to following orders?"
He shook his head, "It was a request."
"Who would have thought." She smiled softly. "...I think I can live with that."
- Eesh, I'm still alive. Chapter title taken from a song by Starsailor of the same name. Go have a listen; it fits.
