Rain Dancer
Freya's legs flew beneath her, her entire body lost in the rhythm and motion of the ancient sandstorm dance. She spun and turned, knowing that the other dancers were as caught up as she was. Her feet lifted, stamped, spun, turned, skipped. She felt power overflowing through her body and reaching out to the sandstorm outside of Cleyra.
She gasped as all of it was cut off, shattered, suddenly gone. She felt like she had no air. She frantically looked over to the garnet resting in Cleyra's harp, and paled completely when she saw it had shattered.
She heard the gasps of the onlookers in a daze. Her vision fogged, and she took several wavering steps. Where had all the power gone?
Freya was snapped cruelly back to reality as she saw the sandstorm. Or, didn't see it. The dance had been broken, the spell gone. Cleyra was completely defenseless.
***
Freya awoke with a start, the ever present sound of rain pounding outside her room. She was drenched in a cold, clammy sweat. Her breathing was erratic, and it took her several minutes to calm herself.
"That dream..." she murmured softly to herself, her light voice echoing in the stone room.
She shakily got out of bed, groping in the dark for her robe. Finding the piece of warm fabric, she slipped it on, fumbling with the belt to tie it. Walking over to her desk beneath the window, she gazed out. The moonlight reflected in the raindrops, creating thousands of refracted moonbeams. Burmecia was truly beautiful.
She had helped to save Burmecia. Ironic, when it was her fault Clerya had been destroyed. Though she had never told anyone, she had missed a step, and her foot had slipped ever so slightly. However, it was still enough to shatter the garnet.
The garnet...if it had remained intact, and Beatrix had not had a way to mend it, Cleyra would still be standing. It would not be a pile of charred ashes and bodies, her dead brothers.
If only Kuja had not turned Queen Brahne into the monster she had become, thousands would have been saved, the war would never have started...
Freya's thoughts drifted to the good points of the war, against her will. She had found Zidane again, and Zidane had found the love of his life. Vivi discovered his past, and Eiko would never be left alone again. She had parents now, and was very happy. Amarant's relationship with Lani had improved. Freya had Fratley again. But, maybe, it wasn't enough. None of them deserved what they had, if the war had only never started. Sacrificing their happiness for the sake of thousands of lives...what had she been thinking, that something good came out of war? They were happy, while thousands suffered miserably.
All because of him...
Kuja. Freya hated him, what he stood for, his selfish greed, the way he manipulated Zidane. That man had been the source of Brahne's greed and lust for power. He supplied her with weapons, created Vivi in another "batch" of his black mages, not caring whether or not they had souls.
"I hate him!" Freya's own voice startled her. She hadn't realized she had said that aloud. She didn't want to say it aloud. She deserved to suffer with her own inner demons, for destroying Cleyra.
It had all been her fault...she had as much blame on her as Kuja.
"Freya...are you alright?" a soft tenor asked from the door to her room.
"Fratley," Freya said, turning slowly. She put on a false smiled, and, for the millionth time, masked her inner chaos. "Of course I am. Why should I not be?"
"I'm not quite sure, Freya," Fratley said slowly, carefully. "You have been receding into yourself lately, love. Please, know that you can seek me."
"I know, and I thank you, Fratley. But my problems are my own."
"Didn't Zidane teach you anything, love?" he asked, walked several steps closer to her. "And Kuja? Look at what he did when he had chaos inside of him."
"How dare you compare me to that...that monster!"
"Freya, I'm trying to --"
"I don't care! Leave me alone!" Freya all but screamed, the hurt in her voice pushing her to the void beyond despair. Was she really that bad? Was she too a monster?
"Freya..."
"Go away!"
Fratley bowed his head so Freya wouldn't see his eyes. Disturbed, despairing, shining with as much moonlight and hope as the rain drops did outside. If only he could remember their past, how he had fallen in love with her, her true personality...
Silently, the dragon knight obeyed his soul mate's command and left her to be with herself. Fratley knew she was in great danger of sinking into a mental abyss beyond no return. What had happened to make her this way?
He sighed and strode down the hallways of the Burmecian castle. It was time to call Zidane. He couldn't leave his rain dancer's demons to destroy her. He wouldn't. he loved her too much, despite all that he couldn't remember.
Fratley remembered how Freya had looked last night after dinner. Crying, thinking she was alone, beautiful and glow with moonlight. She shone among all the rain. Her powers of dance were lost to her, and she had never used them again after the dance at Cleyra.
She spent most of her time in the rain. It seemed to suit her sorrow as it mingled with her white hair. After all, she was it's dancer.
Freya's legs flew beneath her, her entire body lost in the rhythm and motion of the ancient sandstorm dance. She spun and turned, knowing that the other dancers were as caught up as she was. Her feet lifted, stamped, spun, turned, skipped. She felt power overflowing through her body and reaching out to the sandstorm outside of Cleyra.
She gasped as all of it was cut off, shattered, suddenly gone. She felt like she had no air. She frantically looked over to the garnet resting in Cleyra's harp, and paled completely when she saw it had shattered.
She heard the gasps of the onlookers in a daze. Her vision fogged, and she took several wavering steps. Where had all the power gone?
Freya was snapped cruelly back to reality as she saw the sandstorm. Or, didn't see it. The dance had been broken, the spell gone. Cleyra was completely defenseless.
***
Freya awoke with a start, the ever present sound of rain pounding outside her room. She was drenched in a cold, clammy sweat. Her breathing was erratic, and it took her several minutes to calm herself.
"That dream..." she murmured softly to herself, her light voice echoing in the stone room.
She shakily got out of bed, groping in the dark for her robe. Finding the piece of warm fabric, she slipped it on, fumbling with the belt to tie it. Walking over to her desk beneath the window, she gazed out. The moonlight reflected in the raindrops, creating thousands of refracted moonbeams. Burmecia was truly beautiful.
She had helped to save Burmecia. Ironic, when it was her fault Clerya had been destroyed. Though she had never told anyone, she had missed a step, and her foot had slipped ever so slightly. However, it was still enough to shatter the garnet.
The garnet...if it had remained intact, and Beatrix had not had a way to mend it, Cleyra would still be standing. It would not be a pile of charred ashes and bodies, her dead brothers.
If only Kuja had not turned Queen Brahne into the monster she had become, thousands would have been saved, the war would never have started...
Freya's thoughts drifted to the good points of the war, against her will. She had found Zidane again, and Zidane had found the love of his life. Vivi discovered his past, and Eiko would never be left alone again. She had parents now, and was very happy. Amarant's relationship with Lani had improved. Freya had Fratley again. But, maybe, it wasn't enough. None of them deserved what they had, if the war had only never started. Sacrificing their happiness for the sake of thousands of lives...what had she been thinking, that something good came out of war? They were happy, while thousands suffered miserably.
All because of him...
Kuja. Freya hated him, what he stood for, his selfish greed, the way he manipulated Zidane. That man had been the source of Brahne's greed and lust for power. He supplied her with weapons, created Vivi in another "batch" of his black mages, not caring whether or not they had souls.
"I hate him!" Freya's own voice startled her. She hadn't realized she had said that aloud. She didn't want to say it aloud. She deserved to suffer with her own inner demons, for destroying Cleyra.
It had all been her fault...she had as much blame on her as Kuja.
"Freya...are you alright?" a soft tenor asked from the door to her room.
"Fratley," Freya said, turning slowly. She put on a false smiled, and, for the millionth time, masked her inner chaos. "Of course I am. Why should I not be?"
"I'm not quite sure, Freya," Fratley said slowly, carefully. "You have been receding into yourself lately, love. Please, know that you can seek me."
"I know, and I thank you, Fratley. But my problems are my own."
"Didn't Zidane teach you anything, love?" he asked, walked several steps closer to her. "And Kuja? Look at what he did when he had chaos inside of him."
"How dare you compare me to that...that monster!"
"Freya, I'm trying to --"
"I don't care! Leave me alone!" Freya all but screamed, the hurt in her voice pushing her to the void beyond despair. Was she really that bad? Was she too a monster?
"Freya..."
"Go away!"
Fratley bowed his head so Freya wouldn't see his eyes. Disturbed, despairing, shining with as much moonlight and hope as the rain drops did outside. If only he could remember their past, how he had fallen in love with her, her true personality...
Silently, the dragon knight obeyed his soul mate's command and left her to be with herself. Fratley knew she was in great danger of sinking into a mental abyss beyond no return. What had happened to make her this way?
He sighed and strode down the hallways of the Burmecian castle. It was time to call Zidane. He couldn't leave his rain dancer's demons to destroy her. He wouldn't. he loved her too much, despite all that he couldn't remember.
Fratley remembered how Freya had looked last night after dinner. Crying, thinking she was alone, beautiful and glow with moonlight. She shone among all the rain. Her powers of dance were lost to her, and she had never used them again after the dance at Cleyra.
She spent most of her time in the rain. It seemed to suit her sorrow as it mingled with her white hair. After all, she was it's dancer.