(One year after the Crystal War)

"Hurry," I whispered, fighting to keep the panic from rising in the words, "Hurry up and get this out, before the King returns." Urgency swept over me, and I did not wait for the maid to strip the sheets off herself, but hurried over myself and began yanking linen off by the fistful.

"My queen," she protested, "You will only soil your hands. Please, let me." With a steady pull, she had the linens free and rolled up within her hands, "I'll have this laundered immediately."

"… And privately, please." I said, a little too abruptly, stepping back from the large bed.

"Of course, my queen." She replied, tossing the soiled linens into a weaved basket. For a moment, a bright scarlet stain showed plainly on the white fabric, like a giant flag waving defeat, a lie spoken aloud and recognized right away. The maid saw it and quickly shuffled the fabric around so it did not show.

"Go," I said, not unkindly but with increasing anxiety, "Please hurry and get the sheets replaced right away."

"Your Grace, what about…" She paused a moment, looked me up and down quickly, then pushed on, "Your garments. Do they also need… laundering?"

"Yes." My face burned with humiliation, and I blinked back the immediate tears, "Of course, you are right. Wait a moment, please." I disappeared into my dressing room and stripped out of my nightgown and undergarments; both were soiled. I wrapped myself up in a robe, and brought the bundle out, wrapped discreetly up to hide the stains.

"Thank you," I said, quietly, "For your help and discretion."

"Of course," She bobbed into a quick curtesy, slightly off-balance with the basket perched on her hip, "Is there anything else you need?"

I needed everything. I needed the sight of my monthly blood scrubbed free from my marital bed. I needed my husband to hold me and tell me it was all right, that nothing was wrong and it would happen next month. I needed to not see the disappointment and worry in his eyes. I needed to just be pregnant already.

"No." I said, finally, "No, I need nothing."

—

Later, that night, I lie in bed, curled up on my side and facing outward. I was not asleep, but my eyes were closed tight, anxious as I listened to Cecil moving around the room. I heard him shifting his clothes about as he dressed for bed; I felt the bed dip as he eased himself into it.

I sensed him tense up as the realization washed over him. Quiet, almost casually he asked, "Fresh linens tonight?"

"Yes." I said, offering nothing in explanation but the one word reply.

"Oh." It was more of a breath and a sigh than a word, and all of the world hinged on it. I waited for more, my breath held tight within my chest, ready for his dual disappointment and optimism. But he said nothing else, only settled further into the bed. Behind me, he echoed my posture, lying on his side, but he did not quite make contact with me along my body.

Finally, a tentative hand reached over and touched me, lightly on my shoulder, "I'm sorry," came the whisper.

I reached up, feeling his hand in the dark, and laced my fingers within his. I squeezed gently, and whispered back: "Me too."

There was nothing else to be said.

—

(Current Time)

We waited until dark before coming into Dragonwing. Although I was exhausted, thanks to two-day frantic flight and my intense spell casting, Cain urged caution. If Baron had circulated my description, it would be too easy to spot me, especially without a hooded cloak.

Before the Crystal War, Dragonwing had barely been more than a few docks strung together at the beach. But as each kingdom took initial steps into the sky with their own airships, commerce was opening up and expanding the world. Silveria lay to the north, and given its rocky coasts, airships were unable to safely land. It was more economical to charter a ship from Dragonwing, and cart goods to and from Silveria via the sea. And so, Dragonwing became a necessary stop for anyone wanting to barter with Silveria's many precious metal mines.

I looked around at the bustling town, expanding faster than they could build roads, buildings crowded together along the shoreline. I wondered how many times Cecil had walked this very path, en route to Silveria.

"We'll rest in a storehouse for shipments tonight." Cain was saying, in low hushed tones as we hurried along the street, "The captain knows the harbormaster and I've worked out a deal. No one should stumble across us tonight. Early in the morning, I'll leave and fetch us supplies, and I'll be back before the ship departs. They'll come to load the goods, and we'll board quietly with the cargo."

"Sounds good." I said, because there was nothing else to say. Cain had arranged everything and all I had to do was fall in line and follow his footsteps. I should have felt better, it was always easier to follow, but I couldn't settle the disquiet in my soul. I heard the ocean in the distance, crashing rhythmically against the shore. I wondered, absently, if Fate would take ahold of our ship the same way Leviathan demanded Rydia's presence in Cecil's ill-fated voyage from Fabul, so many years ago.

I shook the thought from my head, trying not to dwell on the mental image too long.

Navigating in the darkness along the sea's black shore, Cain found the correct storage shed amongst many, and opened its door, left unlocked for us to easily enter. Once inside, it was similarly dark, although a few low burning lamps hung up in the rafters, to provide long-term light for those who might enter during early or late hours. Even inside, I could smell the salty tang of the ocean.

In the quiet, we settled down, me resting with my back to a box; Cain carefully removing the bulk of his armor. I could faintly see his face now, and I saw the recent years written in the dark shadows hiding in the planes of his cheek, jaw, and nose. He looked thinner, I realized. Finally, he sat also, resting with his back to a wall, and he faced the door.

It occurred to me that I must look similarly older, as Cain watched me now.

Finally, he broke the silence, "I'm sorry." He said, his deep voice belying the soft words, "I should have found you sooner."

"I did not want to be found." I said, and although it was blunt, it was at least honest, "I didn't want anyone else involved. Baron is…" and I hesitated, trying to find a word, and instead shook my head, "In his fear of a future corrupt king, Cecil gave the military too much power. I fear what they will do if they suspect I hide with friends."

"I want to say that Baron wouldn't embark on another power mad quest, but, I see now firsthand they already have." He reached into his pack, and pulled out some dried meat rations. We'd eaten some as we walked, but I'd had little appetite through the long quiet venture.

He tossed me a piece, and then continued, "I heard a bit about why it took so long to find you. They didn't expect you to be in Mysidia, as there hadn't been any activity on the Serpent Road since Cecil's death."

"I didn't use the Serpent Road, that would have immediately implicated Mysidia." I replied.

"Ah." He murmured, turning the dried meat over in his hands but not eating it, "Then where?"

"To Mist, first." I took a bite, chewed for a moment, then continued, "On a chocobo, then through the cave. I met an airship there — not military, but a private trade, which brought me directly to Mysidia after that."

"Clever," He replied, now also chewing through his meager meal. "They've been harassing Damcyan and Fabul since you ran. The prevailing theory is that you disappeared into the desert, and found refuge in Kaipo. They figure you're hiding out somewhere on that continent."

"Which is precisely why I did not go there." I said simply, and having enough of the meat, tucked it away in my pocket.

"Who helped you then? Who arranged the airship?" Cain pressed his questions further.

I hesitated. I could not make out his expression well in the inconsistent light of the storage room, but he did not sound like himself, too casual and too curious at the same time.

Cain took my silence as the rebuke it was, and looked aside, "I understand."

"Cid." I offered, finally, after too long in the tense silence, "A favor called in. He helped the merchant upgrade his engines for efficiency, or something like that." I shrugged at this, also trying to sound casual, but my heartbeat thudded wildly in my chest. Why did I not trust my longtime friend? Why did I not reach out to him and accept the help he offered? Why did I hesitate to tell him details of my escape?

Did I think he still worked with Baron?

He gestured absently, a quick dismissive wave of his hand, "I apologize for prying."

"No, it's not you. It's just…" I groped for the words, "It's just hard. It's hard to know who to trust."

"And the boy?" Cain ventured, "Is he one of Cid's too?"

"No,"I said, trying to keep my voice mild, "He got caught up in this by accident." I felt suddenly tired, my eyelids feeling heavy; the subject of Galen made me weary with guilt and shame, "I found him by happenstance, and he sort of… latched on to me."

"Of course," Cain said, and there was humor in his tone, and I wondered if he smiled in the dark, "You seem to collect lovesick boys, wherever you go."

I could not help it. I laughed, suddenly, an abrupt sound in the quiet. Surprised, Cain then laughed too, and through my brief moment of mad giggling, I wondered if we both laughed so we did not cry instead. There was a sort of dark humor in mocking his feelings for me, and the bleakness of the situation only made us laugh harder.

When we both quieted, Cain finally spoke, and there was a genuine kindness in his deep but quiet voice, "I know this is hard and too soon. I'm not asking anything of you, not here and not now. All I do ask if that when your mourning veil lifts, you will remember…"

Remember what? The dark desire I saw in his eyes when he watched me in the Tower of Zot? The anger and hatred as he swore in outrage at having heard Cecil lived through Milon's attack? The intense sorrow and disappointment I saw whenever he looked at Cecil and I together, knowing he could say or do nothing to part us now? Once he was free of Golbez's influence, I had told Cain he had been forgiven right away; that was true, but forgiven did not meant forgotten.

"… that I am here," Cain continued, "That doesn't have to mean anything. But I am here."

"I'll remember." I said softly, and I meant it.

—

We slept. Or at least, I did. Despite the lack of bed, exhaustion finally won out and I slept heavily; it was the sleep of the sick; the sleep of exhausted and worn out children; it was the sleep of a runner finally coming to rest, even if only for a moment.

I awoke to Cain's hand on my shoulder, shaking me gently into wakefulness. "Rosa." His persistent voice would not let me ignore him, and gradually I woke, bleary eyes eventually opening.

"I'm going into town." He said, quietly, stepping back from me now that I looked at him, "Stay here and hidden. I'll be back before the tide and departure."

"Okay," I murmured, still sleepy.

He stood to go, and then hesitated at the door, taking a moment to look back at me, one long last look, as if afraid he would not see me again. If he had something important to say, he seemed to table it, and simply said instead: "Take care."

"You too." I said in reply, and he was out the door and gone.

I must have dozed off again. I had no sense of time passing, but was suddenly startled into awareness again by a sudden thudding pound on the door. I scrambled to my feet, and before I could assess what was going on, the door opened.

A young boy, not more than ten or eleven, stood there, breathing heavily. "Sir? Ma'am? The cap'n sent me to fetch you." There was an urgency in his voice that didn't make sense.

I tried to rub the sleep out of my eyes with my fists; shaking my head to clear the lingering confusion, "Is it time to go? But you haven't loaded this cargo, and.."

"Pardon, ma'am, but there's been a change." I saw him more clearly, outlined in the faint light of the morning. It was still early; not early for the outgoing tide and not early enough to leave yet. I watched him wring his hands nervously in his worn homespun shirt, "There's a problem, the tide's going out faster than usual." He shook his head, as if still in disbelief, and his eyes were suddenly wide, "Like nothing I've ever seen, but there's no time to load the rest of the cargo. We either go now or we have to wait out whatever weird weather is happening." He shifted his weight nervously between his feet, unable to keep still in his own anxiety, "I was sent to tell you and the dragoon to be here right away or you'll be left behind."

"Wait, I—" I started.

But he shook his head, "Sorry ma'am, but I've got to warn the sailors or they'll be left behind too and then there'll be no one to sail the ship." He took off in a run, disappearing from the door's frame before I could protest again.

I stepped outside, blinking away the blurriness from sleep and too long in the dark. I could hear the angry crash of the waves on the shoreline, already several feet away from where it was the night before. I knew nothing of tides or timing, and wondered how unusual this occurrence was.

Uncertain of what to do, I looked back to the village proper. Somewhere, Cain was carefully picking out and buying items to make our journey easier. Then, I looked to the ships, all overrun by frantic sailors, scrambling to load what precious goods they could before it was too late. My stomach turned over on itself as I realized this opportunity presented by the suddenly temperamental sea — a gift, presented in a neat package: freedom.

'Go.' A voice whispered, somewhere deep and dark inside me. It did not sound like me, the inner voice that urges or cautions you; this sounded bigger and foreign, like a great entity leaning down to breathe a suggestion into your ear. 'Go.' It said again, and I found my feet moving. The sea roared in unison with the voice, over and over with each crash against the shore, 'go, go go go,' and then a huge crash, ocean spray splashing high up on the docks, 'GO!'

I found the ship easily enough, recognized first by the cabin boy who now was carrying a large crate on board, "You have everything, ma'am?" He asked as I approached.

I nodded, trying to find calm in my voice that I did not feel, "The Dragoon is staying behind, to make other arrangements. I am going on ahead alone." I don't know where the words came from, but they were suddenly out of my mouth before I could stop them.

If the cabin boy believed my words or not, he did not stop me. I boarded, and circled to the other side of the ship, to not be visible from the docks. I did not have long to wait until a warning cry came from a sailor, signaling our departure. If Cain spotted the ship and tried to catch it, I did not see. Instead, I watched the waves, almost greedily sucked back into the far sea and dragging the boat with it. I felt the urgency of it, and the anxiety of it all settled over me, like the fine sea mist in the air. The uneasy feeling did not fade until the shore was far off, distant on the horizon line, and Cain with it.

"Best you get inside, ma'am." The cabin boy's voice startled me from my reverie, and I turned away from the railing to look at him. He wore his worry plain on his face, "The Cap'n doesn't know if this is the Crystals' blessing to get us on our way, or their anger to drag us to the ocean bottom."

I thought on his words and wondered: Why couldn't it be both?

—

I did not sink, and neither did the ship. The voyage passed in relative peace. I went with them to Silveria, first, to drop off and pick up cargo, and then onward again. I never left the boat, so frightened was I of being spotted in the growing city.

Eventually, after weeks of endless blue, I was able to spot Troia's lush forests, bright and vibrant on the horizon line. With some reluctance, I said goodbye to the crew, and disappeared into Troia's massive forest.

It was nearly seven years until I saw Cain or Galen again.