Queen of Souls
By Soul Hunter
"The Queen is dead. Long Live Quistis Trepe!"
Author's Note: Just wanna thank my good friend, Astarte, for letting me build this story on her excellent Quisty short fic "Queen's Glass" (in italics). The excellence of her work accounts for so much to the conception and eventual completion of mine. Thanks, Ruth ^_^
Prologue
I'm staring at the mirror again. Whenever I see one, the same peculiar thought strikes me. Do mirrors lie? Do they show you the truth or only deceit? When I look in the mirror, I'm always struck by how wrong the reflection seems. The woman that glances back at me wears the same pink outfit I do and has those same blue eyes and golden hair but that is not me. Mirrors reflect a warrior to be feared, a deadly force to be reckoned with. The woman behind the glass is haughty, icy cold and utterly professional.
The shadow cast by the silvery moon against the lonely stone pillar was more than adequate to conceal the shape of the predator. His feet were like feathers, complementing his obscured form with a movement that made no sound. His deft steps were as sure and steady, traversing every wire and every narrow beam with such nimble mastery, as if the gauntlets were solid ground. His stealthy maneuvers enabled him to travel the otherwise guarded length of the sparkling marble hallway leading from the gate to the edifice housing the dormitories. And coupled with the ongoing festivities, there was absolutely no way for anyone to detect his presence.
I know I'm not her, that woman on the other side of the mirror. She is a conqueror of worlds, an empress that strikes terror in her enemies. Wherever she walks, the adoring masses follow in blind devotion. Her merest whims are their fondest wish to fulfill. She is a queen of queens, a goddess of beauty and death, and a ruthless hunter of man. She is someone that mere mortals cower in fear of. She is too human to be a god, too much the god to ever be human.
His objective was clear in his mind. Bypassing the main hallway, the darkened intruder instead crept inside an air duct. Seemingly sure of his goal, the incognito figure proceeded with nary a semblance of caution, going from one corner and branch to the other inside the small, metal channels of the ventilation ducts. He was aided merely by two small flashlights each attached along the temples of his pitch-black helmet. In one of his hands, he held a small device whose display screen was showing some form of coordinates. And soon, he was right beside his objective. Through the ventilation panel in front of him, he can see her clearly.
How could anyone possibly be like the woman in the glass that's watching me with such disdain? This is a superhuman creature, a demigod that conquered both time and sorcery; me, I'm just a normal human being. I'm a seventeen-year-old teenager who happens to be a SeeD and an instructor. The image that looks back at me with such supreme confidence frightens and repels me. She's as awful as she is angelic. She's an archetypical expression of everything that a woman can be. I don't want to be anybody's archetype; I just want to be human. I want companionship, not groveling worshippers. I want to be a person, not a queen.
A shade of doubt momentarily permeated his mind. Could he be doing the right thing in invading this nest of young warriors? Was this course of action he undertook a wise decision or an exercise in foolhardiness? As he stared at this woman standing in front of a mirror, he questioned himself vehemently. She appeared to be possessed of serious uncertainty. How could the voices of future wisdom single her out as the chosen one?
I can almost hear her laughing at me. The queen that watches me from behind the glass would never have had so much bad luck as I. She would never permit it, nor could it happen to that so-perfect creature. She could have handled Seifer easily, guiding him in the right direction. She would have known exactly what to do and say to make Squall fall in love with her. She could have saved both Seifer and Squall from themselves. She could have thawed their frozen hearts.
But as his gaze lingered, a gnawing anxiety suddenly gripped his heart. He searched himself, furiously sought answers for the apprehension crawling into his being. He then resumed his chore of carefully scrutinizing his target.
And for a fleeting moment, he thought he saw her. Not the woman in front of the mirror. But the one who occupied a distant memory.
This is not good, he thought. How could this mercenary spawn the recollection of his past pain?
Again, the queen behind the mirror sneers at me. Where I am weak, she is strong. Where I hesitate, she leaps into action. Where I make mistakes, she makes none. Pathetic, she seems to laugh derisively, pathetic and feeble. Looking at her I realize that however much I want to be strong and courageous, she's too frightening for me to want to be like her. She's too inhumanly perfect, too much like Hyne. Hyne had no compassion for human beings either. They are both too high above mortals to see them as anything other than insects.
His eyes traveled the length of her stately form. From head to feet, he observed her. Unwittingly, the purpose of his task became lost in the midst of a foreign cognizance that brought him much alarm. It is true what he heard.
So why is it that I see her whenever I look in the mirror? I know that I'm nothing like that and yet there she always is, looking back at me through the mirror. Why does she haunt me from behind every piece of silvered glass? Who are you, Queen of Queens? Your titles are endless: Empress, goddess, queen, warrior, savior, lover, devil and saint. You aren't me. Who are you?
Within his limited circle, he has heard so much of the renown surrounding this woman. This instructor, the pride and joy of the fabled military academy, Balamb Garden. He had taken the information then with a grain of salt. A collection of data that maybe relevant or irrelevant to the task in his hand the mission he was born to accomplish. He had not cared much of the hearsay, outside of its necessity to his work. Another iconic heartthrob, he had said then, placed on a pedestal by shallow-minded youngsters. One who barely required his undivided attention until such a time arose when he would deem such attention needed.
Could it be that you are nothing more than the world's image of who I am? Am I that very intimidating? I'm not a deity; I am not you. I'm a young woman that wants to be loved. I'm someone who wants to hear my name spoken in loving tenor tones. I want to be held not feared. I want to be swept off my feet by a knight in shining white armour. I want to be romanced like any other girl my age.
She continued to stare at herself in the mirror, though her mind seemed utterly distant. He asked, what could she be pondering about?
But he knew that such a question was merely a flimsy excuse to stray his mind from the more pressing matter at hand. He felt his concentration waver, his focus unexpectedly swayed. He knew he had to keep an objective mind frame if he wishes to continue on with the task. But for some reason, this girl perturbed him.
So perhaps mirrors don't lie after all. Sometimes it's just not easy to see what they're trying to tell you. I must seem so very unapproachable to others. It seems strange that they might be seeing her when they look at me. I've always tried to hard to be professional and dignified, trying to live up to everyone's expectations of me. Talented, they called me, demanding far more than should ever be expected. Somehow, I have become everyone's image of the warrior goddess. I am the queen then, the one who stares at me from every mirrored surface.
I don't want to be her, even if she is the ideal SeeD, but I can't be my friends either. I can't wear my heart on my sleeve like Rinoa and Selphie's perpetual cheer is simply never been a part of me. I'll have to find my own way, some new path that lies between the queen in the glass and insecure me.
He wasn't fooling anyone, let alone himself. He knew that she was directly affecting him. He was aware of her role in this sudden disquietude threatening to overcome him. As he continued to gaze at her, he couldn't help but note her angelic face her statuesque figure her soft, straight hair. He couldn't avoid deriving pleasure from watching her move forward and backward. With a demure and wispy demeanor so alluring it totally captivated his mind much to his utter surprise.
He thought he had already done away with this infirmity.
Looking back at the mirror, staring my nemesis in the eyes, I disarm her. Soft yellow hair tumbles down past our shoulders and fingertips rummage through that gold, eradicating some of that harsh perfection. Off come the gloves that separate me from human contact, stripping her of even more power. The pink warrior's garb is next, pulled off and deliberately scrunched up into a ball; a parting kick is all it deserves.
In its place I wear a pair of cutoff denim shorts and a little black lace-up camisole. The shorts are really too short and the camisole top is slightly more daring than I'm used to but for once in my life I don't care. Every girl wants to feel sexy at least once in her life and right now I really want to feel attractive again. A pair of sandals and a little gold chain with a rhinestone heart is the finishing touch.
He slapped a hand against his eyes, groaning in exasperation at what he saw. Why did she have to do this? Slowly, he came to a recognition of the circumstance transmogrifying around him. He didn't want to admit it, and in fairness to him, this wasn't really his true intent. But for the moment, he felt a tinge of shame for having been relegated to a voyeur.
It had always been against the way he was raised. But for some reason, he just couldn't resist the urge. Slowly, the intruder removed the gloved hands covering the blackened visor on his helmet, giving his eyes unhindered access to this glaring display of unimaginable beauty. Of course, this wasn't the first time for him to behold a naked woman. And that was why he can't understand the unusual eagerness, the steamy excitement overwhelming him as the shapely form of the instructor slowly became revealed with each article of clothing she slipped off from her body.
He thought he skipped at least a dozen heartbeats when she didn't spare a single inch from exposure. And the intruder could only thank the deities when his target proceeded to replace the ones she took off with a less conservative array. It was still too revealing for his taste but it was definitely better than nothing. He wasn't sure if he'd been able to restrain himself otherwise.
I hold the whip in my hand, wondering what to do with it. It's my weapon, an extension of my own hand but glancing up at the mirror I realize that it's hers as well. I let it slowly slither from my grip, suddenly not interested in it at all. Perhaps tomorrow I'll reclaim it but right now all I want is to be me and not her.
I look up into the mirror and smile. She's gone, at long last all I see is a pretty young woman named Quistis, not the warrior goddess. I'm here with all my imperfections and mistakes and flaws. I'm actually happy for the first time in a while.
His legs buckled under the unwelcome pressure when the instructor finally walked out of the room. As he panted heavily, the intruder pondered on the method he will be employing to fulfill the task. He scowled, this wasn't one of the scenarios he had prepared himself against. He had always thought himself a true professional, having been trained for his preordained trade since his legs grew strong enough to walk. He had advanced much in age and experience. And reconnaissance missions like this should be a walk in the park for someone of his caliber.
But he never expected to encounter someone of her caliber.
This mission is not going to be easy.
End of Prologue