Prodigal Son
Written By Nathander
Just a short little story from Kefka's point of view. Enjoy.
.................................................................................................................................
Ever wonder if you were a prodigal son. I have. In fact, many times it's been the only thing I was able to think about.
So much power, and yet I can only think of ways to use it for distraction. Can you believe it, my friends (if you do not mind me calling you such) that not once, NOT ONCE, since I was infused with the essence of an Esper, have I been able of thinking of using my power for nothing then hate?
Could it possibly be the Esper's revenge? My life will no longer be nothing then hate? Not to give the wrong impression; I was never a very emotional man in many way before the infusion. But since then my only emotions have been hate and unconditional joy after committing an act of hate.
And before my infusion, I would never have thought of killing an entire kingdom as I did to Doma. Do you wish to know the truth about how I felt as I saw the bodies slump down to the ground, some into the water, some weakly screaming and some not? Well then, here is the truth:
I was terrified. Terrified, and yet at the same time joyful.
And the feeling of joy terrified me even more.
Again, even before the infusion I hated the people of Doma. I hated them for they were the people who spawned the creation of the rebels.
And so I hated Doma for they supported the rebels.
Besides, would you not hate they people who caused the death of your father?
That's right; I HAD A FATHER. So it appears I'm not the parent-less bastard many of you thought I was, or the heartless bastard you thought I was.
It was but when I was a child. My father was one of the head generals of the Imperial Army, and the Emperor's second-in-command. On the day my father died, I actually saw him. He had been brought back from the battlefield from which he was wounded, and was dying. His was body bloody and broken, a fragment of what he had once been. He smiled at me as he felt my hand, still then the bloodless hand of a child, upon his chest, feeling his heart beat as much as it could as he breathed hard. "Kefka," he said to me, as his lids slowly began to close. "Kefka, do not hate. Hate is the only thing this war is based around Kefka. Continue to support the Emperor. Fight for your kingdom when you are older. But do not fight from the strength that can come to you from hate."
I was dumbfounded by my father's words. He was asking me not to hate these people. These fools who believed they needed to fight a war to get something. And that is when I responded, my voice almost muffled with my sobs. My father was all I had left, as my mother had grown ill and died when I was an infant. But know I'm going off track. That is when I said to my father "Father, how can I not hate them. Look what they've done to you, to the kingdom. They will die!" That was the first time I had ever even mentioned death. I continued. "Damn rebels! Fools! I'll kill all of them! Do they not remember who we are, that we are the Empire? I'LL KILL THEM!"
My father put his hand over the hand I had on his chest. Even after my outburst, he continued to smile. "You're full of life, Kefka." He said to me. "But put such thoughts of destruction away. They are not the thoughts a child should carry with him. Judge these people only with the knowledge and wisdom that comes from age. I do not hate them Kefka; neither should you. Many people have died there because of US, Kefka."
"But they were traitors, father."
"We are all traitors, Kefka. Long ago, we made a deal with a snake that took away our purity. Because of that deal, we became traitors to that which gave us life. Kefka, do good."
I was a bit confused by this statement. "You mean be good."
My father's smile widened as his eyes grew darker. "No Kefka, I mean do good." His eyes closed slowly. "I love you son."
And that was all. I fell to my knees, and I cried openly for the first time, at least in front of others since my mother's death.
And that is when he began to play an important role in my life. He always had, but now he was even more significant.
I am, of course, talking about the Emperor.
He put his hand upon my shoulder and told me not to worry. He would take care of me and see all of my `father's' dreams for me come true. I did not lift my head to look at him. I just looked at my hands.
That was the first time I noticed I had blood upon them. My father's blood from when I had put my hand upon his chest. I stared at them with horror. Could I wash it off? Could it even COME off?
Again, I've gone off track. Let's continue about the Emperor. There are three words that come to mind now that I think of the Emperor.
Fuck the Emperor.
That's right! FUCK THE EMPEROR! He told me he would take care of me. Oh, and what a wonderful job he did. Constant beatings for failure of any type, constantly being told of how I was a mistake and a pitiful weakling, how I should have died along with my father, if only I had never existed, and so much more degrading bullshit. Does it surprise you to here me cause? Really? Then you, sir or ma'am, do not know much about me. But let's continue.
I hated him, and it was only because I had sworn to my father that I would serve him that I never killed him before I was infused.
I only had one thing keeping me from killing myself and ending the constant pain that had become my life. Her name was Shopelo (pronounced Show-pi-low) and she was precious to me.
She was a soldier, one of the few females to be allowed into the Imperial army. We had trained together, fought together, rose in ranks together. She was one of the few people who had truly understood me, for even back then I was quite complex.
It was during a battle where my hate for Doma resurfaced itself.
I was twenty at the time, she eighteen. It was one of our very first truly open confrontations against Doma itself. The battle was fierce, and both of us fought side by side. This was before the time I would rise to the rank of a General, so this will possibly clear some possible confusion up. Anyway, on with the story!
To make a long story short so I must not go into every detail of our battle, our side won the confrontation, with one fatality.
The fatality's name was Shopelo.
One of Doma's versions of an assassin, called Silencers, which were used in battle to quickly get to officers and eliminate them. One had snuck upon us, and stabbed Shopelo in the back. At the sound of her scream, I turned towards her. Usually, such a stab wouldn't have just killed someone, but the fact that the dagger was a Man Eater made all the difference.
At that moment, watching the last person I truly cared and loved die, my emotions immediately clashed. I felt hate, anger, sadness, and many others. I swung my mace and hit the man straight upon his skull. He immediately collapsed to the ground.
Just that fact wasn't enough.
I repeatedly hit him. Over and over, taking pleasure from hearing the man's bones break. I would take my time to retaliate against any other enemy soldiers who attacked me, but I after that, I would continue my assault upon the man's body, taking a good amount of joy from desecrating his body. After the battle was over, I wanted to make sure his body couldn't be identified by anyone, anywhere, not even by God himself.
That's how far my hate had gotten.
That very day, the Emperor offered me the chance to become the very first human to wield magic in thousands of years. Just the thought of that power amazed me and overjoyed me.
With that kind of power, I could destroy kingdoms.
The process went smoothly, and that was the only part of my life that went smoothly for the rest of it.
I became a killer, merciless and cold.
I had no God; I was a prodigal son of God himself.
In my mind, I WAS God.
And that's when they came. I had faced them before, and they had not seemed so strong. And yet they killed me.
I know what you're thinking: if I'm dead, how can I be talking to you? It's quite easy, once you control the mind of a mortal fool who has access to a `computer' and a `internet'. Edgar would love such gadgets.
But now I suppose you would like to know what I plan to do next. Well, I was surprised to find other's here in the netherworld with stories similar to mine. Two such have caught my attention.
Their names are Sephiroth and Kuja, and I am sure you have heard of them, at least what I can pick from this mortal's mind.
We have found a way to free ourselves from our prison, to get ourselves another chance at life.
Will I seek revenge, you ask? Suprisingly, no. I lost my hate long ago. It has been six long years since I have died. I have watched my rivals' lives as they progressed, first with hate and contempt, but those feelings slowly left me. To my surprise, I have grown somewhat found of watching them, almost like a father watching his children. Interesting, I know, but death, and the possibility of yet again life, can change you. All three of us aren't sure what we will do when we return to life. We may go our separate ways, or maybe we will stick together, gathering knowledge and power and strength. Who knows? Only time shall tell.
But I do know that my emotions have returned to me, and it took my own death for my own life to be just that, my own. And yet, I don't want to let go of some of the things of my past life.
Tomorrow, my friends, we three shall carry out our plan. If you so desire, wish us success. I will soon be going to sleep. As I fall into slumber, I whisper these words. "I love you father, I love you mother, I love you Shopelo."
And as crazy as it might sound, I hear them answer. And this is what they say.
"We love you Kefka. And we forgive what you have done."
End
This is actually a prelude to another fanfiction, which of course will have to do with Kefka, Kuja, and Sephiroth's plan. Please tell me what you think of this fanfic by reviewing it, or e-mail me at natnander@hotmail.com
Written By Nathander
Just a short little story from Kefka's point of view. Enjoy.
.................................................................................................................................
Ever wonder if you were a prodigal son. I have. In fact, many times it's been the only thing I was able to think about.
So much power, and yet I can only think of ways to use it for distraction. Can you believe it, my friends (if you do not mind me calling you such) that not once, NOT ONCE, since I was infused with the essence of an Esper, have I been able of thinking of using my power for nothing then hate?
Could it possibly be the Esper's revenge? My life will no longer be nothing then hate? Not to give the wrong impression; I was never a very emotional man in many way before the infusion. But since then my only emotions have been hate and unconditional joy after committing an act of hate.
And before my infusion, I would never have thought of killing an entire kingdom as I did to Doma. Do you wish to know the truth about how I felt as I saw the bodies slump down to the ground, some into the water, some weakly screaming and some not? Well then, here is the truth:
I was terrified. Terrified, and yet at the same time joyful.
And the feeling of joy terrified me even more.
Again, even before the infusion I hated the people of Doma. I hated them for they were the people who spawned the creation of the rebels.
And so I hated Doma for they supported the rebels.
Besides, would you not hate they people who caused the death of your father?
That's right; I HAD A FATHER. So it appears I'm not the parent-less bastard many of you thought I was, or the heartless bastard you thought I was.
It was but when I was a child. My father was one of the head generals of the Imperial Army, and the Emperor's second-in-command. On the day my father died, I actually saw him. He had been brought back from the battlefield from which he was wounded, and was dying. His was body bloody and broken, a fragment of what he had once been. He smiled at me as he felt my hand, still then the bloodless hand of a child, upon his chest, feeling his heart beat as much as it could as he breathed hard. "Kefka," he said to me, as his lids slowly began to close. "Kefka, do not hate. Hate is the only thing this war is based around Kefka. Continue to support the Emperor. Fight for your kingdom when you are older. But do not fight from the strength that can come to you from hate."
I was dumbfounded by my father's words. He was asking me not to hate these people. These fools who believed they needed to fight a war to get something. And that is when I responded, my voice almost muffled with my sobs. My father was all I had left, as my mother had grown ill and died when I was an infant. But know I'm going off track. That is when I said to my father "Father, how can I not hate them. Look what they've done to you, to the kingdom. They will die!" That was the first time I had ever even mentioned death. I continued. "Damn rebels! Fools! I'll kill all of them! Do they not remember who we are, that we are the Empire? I'LL KILL THEM!"
My father put his hand over the hand I had on his chest. Even after my outburst, he continued to smile. "You're full of life, Kefka." He said to me. "But put such thoughts of destruction away. They are not the thoughts a child should carry with him. Judge these people only with the knowledge and wisdom that comes from age. I do not hate them Kefka; neither should you. Many people have died there because of US, Kefka."
"But they were traitors, father."
"We are all traitors, Kefka. Long ago, we made a deal with a snake that took away our purity. Because of that deal, we became traitors to that which gave us life. Kefka, do good."
I was a bit confused by this statement. "You mean be good."
My father's smile widened as his eyes grew darker. "No Kefka, I mean do good." His eyes closed slowly. "I love you son."
And that was all. I fell to my knees, and I cried openly for the first time, at least in front of others since my mother's death.
And that is when he began to play an important role in my life. He always had, but now he was even more significant.
I am, of course, talking about the Emperor.
He put his hand upon my shoulder and told me not to worry. He would take care of me and see all of my `father's' dreams for me come true. I did not lift my head to look at him. I just looked at my hands.
That was the first time I noticed I had blood upon them. My father's blood from when I had put my hand upon his chest. I stared at them with horror. Could I wash it off? Could it even COME off?
Again, I've gone off track. Let's continue about the Emperor. There are three words that come to mind now that I think of the Emperor.
Fuck the Emperor.
That's right! FUCK THE EMPEROR! He told me he would take care of me. Oh, and what a wonderful job he did. Constant beatings for failure of any type, constantly being told of how I was a mistake and a pitiful weakling, how I should have died along with my father, if only I had never existed, and so much more degrading bullshit. Does it surprise you to here me cause? Really? Then you, sir or ma'am, do not know much about me. But let's continue.
I hated him, and it was only because I had sworn to my father that I would serve him that I never killed him before I was infused.
I only had one thing keeping me from killing myself and ending the constant pain that had become my life. Her name was Shopelo (pronounced Show-pi-low) and she was precious to me.
She was a soldier, one of the few females to be allowed into the Imperial army. We had trained together, fought together, rose in ranks together. She was one of the few people who had truly understood me, for even back then I was quite complex.
It was during a battle where my hate for Doma resurfaced itself.
I was twenty at the time, she eighteen. It was one of our very first truly open confrontations against Doma itself. The battle was fierce, and both of us fought side by side. This was before the time I would rise to the rank of a General, so this will possibly clear some possible confusion up. Anyway, on with the story!
To make a long story short so I must not go into every detail of our battle, our side won the confrontation, with one fatality.
The fatality's name was Shopelo.
One of Doma's versions of an assassin, called Silencers, which were used in battle to quickly get to officers and eliminate them. One had snuck upon us, and stabbed Shopelo in the back. At the sound of her scream, I turned towards her. Usually, such a stab wouldn't have just killed someone, but the fact that the dagger was a Man Eater made all the difference.
At that moment, watching the last person I truly cared and loved die, my emotions immediately clashed. I felt hate, anger, sadness, and many others. I swung my mace and hit the man straight upon his skull. He immediately collapsed to the ground.
Just that fact wasn't enough.
I repeatedly hit him. Over and over, taking pleasure from hearing the man's bones break. I would take my time to retaliate against any other enemy soldiers who attacked me, but I after that, I would continue my assault upon the man's body, taking a good amount of joy from desecrating his body. After the battle was over, I wanted to make sure his body couldn't be identified by anyone, anywhere, not even by God himself.
That's how far my hate had gotten.
That very day, the Emperor offered me the chance to become the very first human to wield magic in thousands of years. Just the thought of that power amazed me and overjoyed me.
With that kind of power, I could destroy kingdoms.
The process went smoothly, and that was the only part of my life that went smoothly for the rest of it.
I became a killer, merciless and cold.
I had no God; I was a prodigal son of God himself.
In my mind, I WAS God.
And that's when they came. I had faced them before, and they had not seemed so strong. And yet they killed me.
I know what you're thinking: if I'm dead, how can I be talking to you? It's quite easy, once you control the mind of a mortal fool who has access to a `computer' and a `internet'. Edgar would love such gadgets.
But now I suppose you would like to know what I plan to do next. Well, I was surprised to find other's here in the netherworld with stories similar to mine. Two such have caught my attention.
Their names are Sephiroth and Kuja, and I am sure you have heard of them, at least what I can pick from this mortal's mind.
We have found a way to free ourselves from our prison, to get ourselves another chance at life.
Will I seek revenge, you ask? Suprisingly, no. I lost my hate long ago. It has been six long years since I have died. I have watched my rivals' lives as they progressed, first with hate and contempt, but those feelings slowly left me. To my surprise, I have grown somewhat found of watching them, almost like a father watching his children. Interesting, I know, but death, and the possibility of yet again life, can change you. All three of us aren't sure what we will do when we return to life. We may go our separate ways, or maybe we will stick together, gathering knowledge and power and strength. Who knows? Only time shall tell.
But I do know that my emotions have returned to me, and it took my own death for my own life to be just that, my own. And yet, I don't want to let go of some of the things of my past life.
Tomorrow, my friends, we three shall carry out our plan. If you so desire, wish us success. I will soon be going to sleep. As I fall into slumber, I whisper these words. "I love you father, I love you mother, I love you Shopelo."
And as crazy as it might sound, I hear them answer. And this is what they say.
"We love you Kefka. And we forgive what you have done."
End
This is actually a prelude to another fanfiction, which of course will have to do with Kefka, Kuja, and Sephiroth's plan. Please tell me what you think of this fanfic by reviewing it, or e-mail me at natnander@hotmail.com