XX
"Locked here, with a body you cannot move, a sight you cannot alter... you listen to a voice that is not your own, take actions never in accordance with your own desires... You obey the vagaries of Summons, place yourself in the line of duty for a master unchosen, unwished. This is the life of a Guardian Force. May you never know it in kind."
--Bahamut

Above the dry dust of Centra, beneath a flat blue sky, the Ragnarok slid into the air with the moan on engines and the rush of displaced air. The Crystal Pillar stood behind it, dark and brooding, malevolent in the low sun. In the dragonship's cockpit, it was a solemn gathering indeed that watched it fall away.

"Maybe he's still alive," Rinoa suggested hopefully.

"Yeah!" Zell said, looking up. "I mean--it's Squall. Nothing can kill Squall."

"It's possible. He might be," Quistis said. "...but I'm not sure that's the option we should be hoping for."

Everyone turned to stare.

"How can you say something like that?" Rinoa demanded.

Quistis sighed. "He did something with the armor," she said. "The way Odine explained it, the more power you pour into the armor, the more you fall under Dyne's control."

Stunned silence gripped the room. "Then--" Zell started. Quistis nodded.

"Then if he's not dead, he's just become our worst enemy."

"But... Dyne is dead, isn't he?"

"If you're willing to take Seifer's word on it, yes. But I don't think so." Qusitis turned back to the window. "Remember Ultimecia. It took more than one battle to kill her."

"But..." Rinoa started, then turned away. "What if he is alive?"

"Then we'll have to go up against him," Seifer said from the lift. Everyone jumped. "Just like you had to go up against me."

"We can't do that!" Selphie yelped. "He's--"

"Then you'd better hope he's dead," Seifer said. "Because if not, we'll be fighting him. It's inevitable."

Quistis nodded sadly. "I wish I could say you were wrong, Seifer," she said.

-

A black ceiling above him. The smell of ash and incense in the air around him. Metal wiring warm against his skin.

Squall opened his eyes to a room unmistakably Dyne's.

Soft laughter echoed from somewhere within the room. He tried to turn his head, but his muscles wouldn't obey.

"You fought well," Dyne said, "and did much damage--to me, to my army, to my Castle. But I think it was worth it. Don't you? Sit up, my boy."

Squall sat up without his own control. Trying to move his head again, he found he could. Looking down, he saw that he was wearing the black combat jacket. He made to rip it off--but his hand stopped inches away, and no matter how he tried, he oculdn't move it closer.

"Marvelous creation, isn't it?" Dyne breathed. "From this point onwards, you will not eat, sleep, breathe or blink unless I decree you may. You are mine, Leonhart, and this prize makes the sacrifice worth it."

Squall turned to him, finding that Dyne had granted him at least that much freedom. His gunblade was still strapped to his side, if he could just--

He froze again as Dyne exercised his control. "None of that, now," he said. "Bad manners, you see, to attack your master. Look at me, Leonhart."

And without his control, he turned.

Dyne rested on a bed of black pillows--skin unbroken and unblemished, without any trace of the wounds he had been dealt. Even his hair was perfectly in order, cascading down across bare shoulders--he almost glowed, pale form obvious against the dark setting.

Dyne watched him, appraising him as a master might a beloved pet. "SeeD Squall Leonhart," he said, voice melodic with its own satisfaction, "sworn killer of Sorceresses, slayer of Ultimecia, hero of renown and stature, you are mine. My knight. My second. My lieutenant. You will serve me, obey me, l--you will do as I command. Do you understand me?"

Squall's voice said "Yes," though Squall said no such thing.

"Now bow."

The jacket forced him to his knees as Dyne looked on. "Good. My guards will show you to your quarters. Do not attempt to remove the jacket. It is, I fear, quite impossible. It won't let you."

Squall tried to say something, but couldn't.

"I will send for you if I have need of you," Dyne said. "Until then, you are free to do as you like." A pause. "To a degree."

And he laughed.

--End of Part One--