Chapter twenty-five: Ffamran's Requiem; counting down to midnight
A/N: Hello everyone……fifty reviews already! Thank you all so much. It's so nice to know people are still interested in this story after its three month break and I truly appreciate all the feedback; therefore I am giving you a double update, enjoy!
Oh, and Talim Hime, don't worry I promise no more Moogles will be harmed in the writing of this fiction ;)
'Well son, speak up, what do you say, hmm?'
Ffamran stood before the full length mirror in his father's bedroom with Cid's reflected visage, hands on hips, watching him keenly.
Ffamran studied his own reflection without a word; a myriad of thoughts tumbling through his mind as he considered his own form swathed in the new suit of clothes his father had had tailor made for him as an early birthday gift.
'I appreciate the gift, Father, the cut is very fine.'
Ffamran ran his fingers over the fine embroidery to the cuffs of the full length tailcoat in a pale shade of caramel stitched with burnished gold thread in intricate whorls and swirls running down the lapels, the hem, cuffs and seams.
The tailcoat was heavy and restrictive but undeniably a work of sartorial art that the vanity in Ffamran (who had ever been particular about his apparel) could appreciate.
Cid nodded proudly, brushing his hands down his own exquisitely embroidered tailcoat in peacock blue and green. 'And the shirt is Ambervale cotton,' Cid added with obvious pride, 'the Rozzarians have little to commend them but their textiles are undoubtedly exemplary.'
Ffamran shrugged off the heavy tailcoat under the pretence of examining the hang of the pristine white sleeves of his shirt, but in truth he was growing intolerably hot in all this finery.
Ffamran had always had an eye for quality tailoring and fine but durable construction in his clothing but he had not been overly adventurous in his styles, favouring the high-necked jackets and frockcoats and tight fitted trousers and high boots common among his kinsmen, usually in autumnal tones designed to avoid standing out in a crowd.
He did not know quite what to make of the high necked leather and velvet sleeveless vest he now wore. The item of apparel seemed designed to make a rather obvious and bold statement, but of precisely what Ffamran did not wish to hazard a guess.
The white bib of cotton and lace that appeared to resemble a heart in some manner was a sharp contrast to the intricate, impossibly complex embroidery that seemed to have consumed the front of the vest, festooned with gilt thread, rich velvet vines in shades of sand and tan contrasting the lustrous, chestnut hue of the suede leather underneath and flamboyantly picked out with amber beads.
The whole edifice (for such a construct of stitchery could not be referred to as merely an item of clothing) was shockingly heavy, fastened and fitted to his narrow waisted frame with a staggeringly complex series of string ties lacing up his back to his shoulder blades.
Every time Ffamran took a breath his lungs did battle with the leather held taut against his torso and in truth the vest appeared to him to be one of the most useless and ridiculously flamboyant pieces of apparel he had ever encountered.
If left to make his own choices Ffamran would never have even fleetingly considered wearing such a thing. So, why was it, he wondered whimsically, that he found himself rather liking how it looked on him?
The whole ensemble was so ludicrously eye catching that even Ffamran had trouble paying himself any attention in competition to the outrageous extravagance of the vest and the almost harsh contrasting plainness of the tight fitted dark trousers and the luminescence of the billowing sleeved white shirt.
It was absolutely perfect; the reflection in the mirror didn't look like Ffamran at all.
That's because I'm not. His reflection smirked at himself, idly stroking his hands down the heavy, over stitched, magnificence of the vest. We are not Ffamran Mid Bunansa any more. Ironic isn't it that Father should provide us with our disguise, our costume, hmm?
Ffamran grinned, or at least someone wearing Ffamran's familiar face, grinned. It was a quick, confident, greedy flash of sharp white teeth; it was a hungry, feral and eager grin that reflected back from the mirror.
Cid assumed that his son's pleasure was purely for the new suit; commissioned as a gift for his son that Cid hoped would encourage Ffamran to throw off the last vestiges of his childhood reticence in social circumstances and become a full part of the complex social scene in Archades that was so vital a part of advancement in this city.
Cid had long waited for the opportunity to use his son in such a way.
The good doctor would have been marginally gratified to find he was half right in his summation, at least.
Nevermore, hidden and shielded by extravagant attire, would his son shy away from the centre stage; of course, nevermore would his son truly be his son, but that was neither here nor there.
The young man, with the secretive and sly smirk playing at the edges of his lips as he sauntered alongside his father under the sun dappled canopy of the tree lined avenues of Highgarden Terrace towards the skycab rank (refusing to sweat or wilt as the summer heat broiled him under the thick constraints of his new clothes), was not recognisable as solemn, coldly polite, but retiring, Ffamran Mid Bunansa.
Father and son disembarked the privately commissioned skycab at the edges of the Zaagabaath summer ranch.
The high wrought iron gates had been festooned with colourful balloons and the ivy covered red brick and spike topped walls enclosing the sprawling estate had been laced with garish streamers that fluttered in the ever present Archades summer breeze.
It looked disturbing like the estate had been decorated to celebrate a wedding, or more aptly, an imminent engagement.
He who was formally Ffamran consulted his watch nonchalantly. It was near high noon.
A missive in poor spelling (worse than Ffamran's own which, despite the best tutors and intensive instruction, was surprisingly bad) had arrived mysteriously amid his few personal affects in his Judiciary locker to inform him that Remus would be expecting the securities at the Judicial prison complex to be down and miracles to have been accomplished by midnight.
Thus he who was once Ffamran had twelve hours to conceive of, and orchestrate, a successful prison break. Strangely, instead of filling him with a sense of imminent doom and dread, he found himself feeling oddly elated.
'Ffamran!'
Senior and Junior Bunansa turned to meet Anna as she dashed down the wide pebble strewn path from the distant Zaagabaath summer ranch on the banks of the river Saraches towards them.
Anna looked lovely. Her auburn hair was twinned with white and green ribbon and she wore a high waisted low necked loose gown of pale green trimmed with white lace. She looked flush cheeked, sweet and pure, like a wood nymph. She also appeared openly delighted to see Ffamran.
Somewhere deep inside his heavily embroidered breast Ffamran's usurper felt just the slightest twinge of guilt. It lasted but an eye blink and then he stepped forward towards the still closed front gates, a surprisingly genial smile lighting his face.
'Good afternoon Ms Anna.' Even to his own ears his voice sounded different.
It was not a tone or inflection or any overt alteration. It was more a sense of confidence and assurance, a blithe certainty that rang in each sounded syllable of his speech, that anyone who was familiar with Ffamran Mid Bunansa would be surprised by.
Certainly Anna stopped short, taken aback both by the smile and the greeting and found herself flushing contentedly. She turned reluctantly from the object of her affections and addressed his influential father.
'Welcome Lord Bunansa. On behalf of my lord father and lady mother I humbly invite you to our home and hope that you will greatly enjoy the entertainments we have procured.'
Cid chuckled lightly and cast a quick glance over to one side to a patch of empty air, 'Hear that Venat, eh? Entertainments.'
Anna, awaiting Cid's expected formal response to her careful and proper greeting, frowned confusedly and looked to the innocuous patch of thin air. He who had once been Ffamran closed his eyes on a faint plea for patience and pasted a smile onto his face.
'On behalf of my lord father and myself, Ms. Anna, I humbly thank you and his honour Judge Magister Zaagabaath and your lady mother for your gracious hospitality.'
Cid, roused from his silent communal with thin air, glanced over as his son finished the traditional polite Archadian greeting that he should have been making, with a befuddled expression.
'Hmm? Oh, indeed, indeed. Gracious indeed. Now my girl, where is Zavier? It has been many moons since we've talked.' Cid grinned brightly and clapped his large hands together expectantly.
Anna, still a tad confused, nevertheless opened the gates for the guests of honour and ushered both Bunansas' through.
'Marvellous,' Cid exclaimed to no one in particular for no obvious reason as he strode ahead up the path towards the house; passing through the beautifully manicured and maintained front lawns and knot gardens.
'Look, see there, Venat? That is Vernal Hawthorn, damned difficult to cultivate in the Archadian climate. Zavi was always green fingered.'
He who was once Ffamran shook his head mournfully as his father blithely strode forward pointing out areas of horticultural interest to his imaginary friend as he went.
Anna stared after him in mute surprise. Slowly she turned her head to stare askance at Ffamran.
'What? Ffamran, is your lord father well? There is no one there to whom he speaks.'
He who was once Ffamran sighed and with all the appearance of absent affection tucked Anna's hand into the crook of his elbow as they began making their sedate way up the path after the rambling Cid.
'Yes I know. He's been like this for months. I find ignoring him is generally the best response.' He who was once Ffamran purred entirely untruthfully while wishing that it could have been so simple to merely ignore his father's rampant psychosis.
Anna did not seem to quite know what to say to this. However good breeding came to her rescue and she smiled faintly and nodded. She was a child of the aristocracy; eccentricity and peculiarity were nothing she had not contended with in the past.
Her father liked to sing to his houseplants, after all.
'I am so pleased you could come today, Ffamran.' Anna flexed her fingers shyly against the soft, pettable fabric of his coat sleeve. He who was once Ffamran smiled sweetly over at her, dark eyes glittering with some hidden humour.
'Oh, yes, me too.' He purred, if nothing else it was convenient timing, he thought snidely. 'Have I mentioned you look lovely by the way? Green suits you.'
The smile she rewarded him with could have dazzled the sun with its radiance. Then, remembering the coquettish mores of Archadian high-born courtship ritual, she demurely turned her head and moulded her smile into a more lady-like half-smile as she averted her gaze for fear of appearing to forward.
'I am very flattered that you noticed.' She simpered.
He who was once Ffamran found himself thinking back on that shared afternoon at Sobel Shore when Ms. Anna had been anything but demure and virtuous. Her half-hearted act brought a wicked smirk to his lips.
Anna, noticing the frankly indecently amused and dark smile playing over his features, flushed to the roots of her hair, well aware of what he was likely thinking about.
'I…ah…I feel I must comment on your attire, as you have been so gracious in complimenting me. You are looking very fine today Ffamran.' Anna blushed further when her stuttered pronouncement was greeted with a wicked, soft chuckle from him.
'Hmm, quite,' Ffamran cast a furtive, heavy-lidded glance towards Anna as they approached the sprawling, one-storey house with the wrap-around porch filled to bursting with the well-to-do of Archadia sipping fine wines and nibbling expensive delicacies.
It was now or never; every second counting down to midnight.
Ffamran had never attempted to seduce a woman in his life; Ffamran's usurper did not hesitate to begin his artful, careful seduction of Anna Zaagabaath.
He halted in his step and Anna, her hand held to his elbow, was drawn to a gentle halt as well. He cast a quick look about him for a spot of suitable seclusion.
They were close enough to the house to hear the rise and fall of conversation like the sonorous buzzing of bees rising from the porch, but still far enough away that they had yet to be noticed.
'I suppose you know that my father wishes to speak with yours about a marriage between us?'
He who was no longer Ffamran would never be able to explain why he chose to start his career as a philanderer in such a way.
He would never know if it was the time constraint or some vestige of his old impatience with social intercourse that inspired him to go straight for the jugular and never once release his quarry from his vicelike manipulation, or if it was simply a natural inclination towards ruthlessness?
Whatever the case may have been Anna jolted on the spot as if he had shot her dead centre in the chest. Her prettily painted face paling and then blushing brilliantly in genuine surprise that he should bruit the subject so directly.
'I….' Anna swallowed unable to make sense of the veiled regard in his dark eyes and the smile playing at his lips, 'yes, I did have some inklings that…um.….that is to say, that my mother would like…' her voice died away.
He who was once Ffamran clasped her hand and led her calmly but commandingly into the leafy walled solitude of the small hedge maze in the gardens away from the house and any prying eyes or ears.
'Your mother may well look favourably on a match between us; my father's star is in the ascendant, after all. You will be pleased to know my father is also agreeable to such.' He who was once Ffamran smiled whimsically watching keenly the effect each languidly indifferent word had upon his prey.
Waving a nonchalant hand and considering the merits of discarding the heavy and restricting tailcoat once and for all he who was no longer Ffamran continued in the same vein.
'Oh, I have no specific objections to a marriage to you either, why would I? You are very lovely.'
He smiled with satisfaction as Anna's heart rate increased noticeably, her delectable bosom heaving as her breath came faster at this final, artfully inconsequential, remark hit her with the precision of an arrow piercing her heart.
It was a fairly damning indictment of his character, he was sure, that he was actually enjoying this game.
'I would ask though, sweetheart, is this all you want? A wedding band on your finger at not quite seventeen, is there not more you crave?'
Anna blinked puzzlement in her shining green eyes, 'But Ffamran I have loved you since we were fifteen. I have cherished thoughts that you would love me back for so long, why would I want more?'
The last vestiges of Ffamran winced against such an open declaration of love that he knew he could not, and had no interest in, reciprocating. Paradoxically the new man in Ffamran's shell felt an ember of triumph stoke in his breast. He had her exactly where he wanted her; the hard work was all but done and he had needed to evoke very little effort.
She loved him so therefore, logically she would do whatever he wished if she thought it would lead to a marriage. He who was not Ffamran smiled sweetly.
'Did you? I find that hard to believe, you never lacked for male admirers in Akademy, I remember being quite unwilling to risk terrible embarrassment by approaching you then.' He lied silkily. Ffamran had barely cared to notice the talkative dim-witted girl who was always smiling vacuously at him in the lecture auditoriums.
Stars and joy reflected in the girls green eyes. The distant throb of self-reproach barely penetrated his thoughts as he continued to play the poor girl with the expertise of a master musician.
Somewhere deep inside Ffamran rebelled against this act of cruelty against one who did not deserve it, but the twisted, angry, restless spirit possessing him did not care. This was necessary. This was a prison break of a different sort with every second ticking down to midnight.
The chrysalis needs must be shattered before the butterfly could emerge. Let the land grub wither and all his frustrated dreams with him. He who was no longer Ffamran wanted to fly.
Piece by tiny piece, with every word, he who was no longer Ffamran was tearing apart everything he had been. The polite, courteous to his elders, dutiful son was tearing himself to shreds with every second ticking down to midnight.
He was ripping the fragments of Ffamran Mid Bunansa to shreds in an act of wicked catharsis. The nameless person he had become hoped to hollow out enough space inside his soul to finally become himself.
'Anna do you never want more from your life? There is more to life than the Empire, more to life than marriage and tea parties and the influx of upstart of Landissians trying to enter Archadian society.' He exclaimed with honest passion even as he suspected it would do no good.
Abruptly changing tact he who was no longer Ffamran decided on a little smidgen of honesty, he stepped forward and rested his hands lightly on Anna's shoulders.
Anna stared at him clearly perplexed, 'But Archades is my home; the Empire is my home. I am very happy and I know that I am born privileged and fortunate, why would I want more?'
A ripple of pure dismay disturbed the deep layers of new growth that had consumed the mind of he who was once Ffamran. Vaguely he recognised it as the last gasp of disappointment as what was left of Ffamran realised just how incompatible he and Anna would truly have been….and he had not ever really realised he had sought compatibility.
Dismay transformed into a surge of annoyed anger however at the insular and narrow scope of the girl's experiences. How could anyone be content to live their life blinkered and docile, accepting a version of Ivalice and the natural order that only existed in the schemes and political biased of a self-interested Imperial power?
It was not an act when he who was once Ffamran turned away from Anna and started down one of the narrow hedged lined paths in the neat alleys of the hedge maze, burrowing deeper into the heart of the maze.
'Ffamran,' Anna cried after him, sounding truly bereft as he turned from her. She quickly ran after him in her soft soled shoes with the delightful silver bows. 'Why are you angry? What is it that you want?'
He stopped short drawn up sharply like a racing Chocobo pulled up lame at the last hurdle.
What is it that he truly wanted? What had driven him to do what he had done and drove him further still to do things that were against the principles of civil obedience and honourable conduct he had been raised to obey?
What is it that I want?……….
………More….….I just want more.
He wanted more than this life, more than the confines of the Empire. More than the armour of the Judgehood that cared not a whit for evidence and justice.
Slowly he turned around towards the girl a solemn light in his steady dark gaze that was to Anna the first familiar and recognisable response she had received from him since he had arrived.
'Do you really care?' Ffamran asked her without the artifice of his other self. This was his requiem; his last chance to be heard.
'Of course I do!' Anna clasped her hands together tightly, palms pressing firmly against each other. In truth she was a little scared by the course of this conversation but it was a good sort of fear, more akin to excitement, which she had long associated with him.
Ffamran had always been different than the rest of their class in Akademy, after all.
She had always seen it. Something waiting, restless but contained, behind his secretive eyes. He had always reminded her of a sleeping behemoth or some such fearsome wild creature, that she had heard tell existed far from the safe confines of Archades.
Ffamran had been dormant, sleeping, in Akademy., Now she thought he was finally waking up and the thought excited her even as his strange anger, his seeming distaste for their home and everything that was dear and familiar to her, disturbed Anna greatly.
He who was Ffamran but also not stretched out a hand to her in a gesture that was too nonchalant to be beseeching while also too cool to be an invitation. Instead the offered hand appeared almost like a challenge.
'Ffamran what do you really want?' Anna whispered, sensing and fearing that she was not the answer.
'I want to fly.' He told her simply.
Anna, aware in some vague sense that his words meant more than she would ever understand, found her voice squashed down to a thready whisper in response to an impeding sense of dread and excitement.
'What does that mean? Fly where?'
He who was no longer Ffamran shrugged, 'It really does not matter. It is never about the destination. Flying is not a means of reaching one point on the map or another. It is something more than that to me.'
'I don't understand.' Anna looked ready to cry, fragile and unprepared in her pretty green dress with the ribbons in her hair.
Ffamran's usurper still held his hand out to he; half a bridge between them which did not so much lessen the golf separating them as emphasise it. He needed her help but finally he realised that even without it he would still fly.
He was already flying in his own mind; flying free of his old life with every second ticking down to midnight.
'Then come with me and find out. For once in your life, Anna, don't be a child of Empire and come fly with me.'
He smiled at this girl he might, just might have married, had he been different; had he not been born to fly. It was an honest smile and it had sharp edges.
Anna paused affected by the tremor of genuine passion in his voice. She had the sense to realise that it wasn't passion for her but not enough sense to harden her heart to the persuasive, intoxicating suggestion in his eyes.
'In an airship?' She knew how he loved those; he could almost see the wheels turning in her head.
'No, it's not that sort of flying.' He admitted gently.
A tremor of fatigue was trying to work its way down his arm but he refused to let it show as he kept his hand held towards her an in invitation. Still he was half hoping she would refuse, if only for her own sake.
'Then how would we fly?'
The smile grew deeper as he watched her falling, curiosity and infatuation making her decisions for her, just as he knew they would. Temptation was a dangerous thing. It came in so many forms.
'Come with me and find out.'
Anna shuffled awkwardly in her slippered feet, wiping her hands awkwardly down her skirts, 'Father would be annoyed if we leave the party. I'm sure we have already been missed.'
He who was once Ffamran couldn't help but chuckle slightly at that. If all went according to plan Judge Magister Zaagabaath was going to be considerably more than 'annoyed' when this day was done.
'Then if we are missed already, we may as well take the opportunity to be missed for a purpose rather than simply because those present have not the wits to come and look for us.'
'But this party is for our benefit. Mother hopes to announce our engagement.' Anna argued disconcerted but mildly intrigued all the same.
There is no engagement; there never will be. He thought but did not say. He was not quite so cruel or tactless as to do such.
'Then let them.' He exclaimed instead, throwing up his hands in exasperation that was only partly feigned. 'Let them make any announcement they wish. It is they who will do the talking, they who will take the credit. For one day, Anna, live for something other than your parents' pleasure and come with me.'
Anna dithered in a quandary of indecision, 'Will we be gone long? Father worries terribly if I break my curfew.' She added fretfully.
Ffamran smiled darkly, 'No later than midnight, sweetheart.'
He repressed a dark laugh when he saw her eyes widen at the mention of such a late hour. He shrugged as best he could with his hand still extended towards her.
'This is flying, Anna, you can't fly with a curfew. I promise you it will all be done by midnight and you can go back to being simply you, Ms. Anna Zaagabaath, once more. You never have to fly again, if you do not wish it.'
Anna reached for his hand, her own hovering just an inch from his. He could feel the warmth of her palm as she hesitated one last time.
'And we shall not get into trouble?'
As the seconds ticked down to midnight he who was once Ffamran wrapped his hand around hers, capturing her one hand in both of his.
'I promise you will not get into any trouble.' And they shall never catch me, he added silently as he pulled Anna into his arms to tie up the loose ends of this complex cage of seduction with a kiss.
All the while the seconds ticked, inexorably, down to midnight.
A/N: next up, what's in a name? The introduction of 'Balthier' and the long awaited prison break begins!
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