Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy IX. Squaresoft does. If I did own it,
I would be filthy rich and wouldn't need to be writing these stories....
Kuja plucked the last of the carrots from the ground and wiped his sweat- soaked forehead on his sleeve. It had been hard work, trying to get the crops harvested before the coming of winter, but thank Alexander it was finally over! He let his mind wander to the journeys he could take, the things he might see, the people he might meet. There was nothing left to do until spring planting, and Kuja had plans for the winter.
Grammy insisted that he make a trip over to the Forgotten Continent. She said Esto Gaza would do him a "world of good". Treno and Lindblum and rebuilt Alexandria also ranked high on his list of destinations. Morrid was building a samll, but fast, airship in return for a healthy (or unhealthy judging the amount of caffeine) sum of his favorite Kirman coffee. It would be ready on the dawn, and Kuja had packed two weeks early. It would be difficult, of course, to leave the village, even temporarily, after the short three months he had spent in their hospitality. They urged him forward, with a strange glimmer in their eyes, and were determined to let him see his world. Maybe he would find something of his past.
His thoughts flickered back to the present as he took the pitcher of water from Lila and poured the bot of them a drink. He watched her sip, wondering if she'd miss him. When she finished, she climbed into his lap and closed her tired eyes.
"Some of us worked harder than they thought." he whispered, and carried her to the cottage.
"Ye better get some rest, sonny," Grammy took the sleeping girl from his arms, "Ye have a long trip ahead o' ye."
"Of course, Grammy. Don't tire yourself out tonight." Kuja retired to his room and closed the door softly. When he heard it latch, he shed his stained shirt and lay back on the soft, downy pillows.
The dream had left him alone. Just yesterday, he had had his first peaceful sleep. Before that, it had been dying, but it was now completely gone. Kuja was both relieved and troubled by its disappearance. It was the one shred of proof he had that he didn't belong here. One half of a memory of another life and a mischievious dragon-friend. If he didn't have it with him, how would he know where to go?
'Dun ye go too far on that ice-covered place, Kuja. There be trouble on da horizon.' Grammy had said, when he first told her about his plans. Why not? What was out there?
Thinking too hard made his imagination drift forward, letting him dream. Peacefully.
"There ye are, boy! Get up over here, and take a ganduh at yer ship!"
Kuja obediently followed the man's gaze to the small version of an airship ahead of him. It had a cabin, just big enough for one or two passengers, and the bridge was open on the deck. Carved into its side was the name "Angel's Envy". The craftsmanship was incredible, far more worthy of a mountain of ground coffee, let alone a small hill that the contract called for! Because of it's size and the ever-efficient non-Mist engines, it was fast and quiet.
"I promise you, Mr. Morrid, if there's any coffee left in the world, it'll belong to you!" The grin the elder man gave, not only from praise but the dream of more caffeine, spread to Kuja and the other folks that had gathered from curiosity. The Genome boarded the ship, went over the controls with the creator of the masterpiece, and threw his bags and few belongings into the cabin. He went out to the deck and leaned over the starboard railing. Waving his farewells and repeating promises to return home, he was about to turn and start his adventure, when he noticed a small face puch to the front of the crowd.
"Kuja! Kuja, don't go!"
It was Lila. "In the spring, I'll come home and tell you all the stories!" The airship pulled against its tetherings as if impaitient, and Mr. Morrid cut the ropes. The engine whispered, and the young man headed toward the the city lights of Treno.
"Daaaaaaaaad! Vela stole my mog-doll!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
"QUIET!" a voice rumbled from a corner of the Invincible. Amarant stalked forward, "I hate kids." Vela and a smaller black mage with a violet ribbon around her droopy hat shuddered and returned to what Vivi had dubbed "the play area". The red-headed man sat down on the floor and sharpened his Rune Claws. "The damn things can't shut up."
"You! You bastard!"
"Who? I? I not do nothing!"
"I'm gonna kill you!"
"See what I mean?" Amarant shot Freya an exasperated glance as Zidane chased Quina around the interior after, once again, wakening with a frog in his shirt. Vivi stood, amused, not saying anything as was his usual response to outbursts like these. His Mace of Zeus gleamed in his hands and he turned back to two of his sons and and a daughter, both learning Bio and Thundara.
It was a typical morning like this that reminded Freya that she had horrible insight. Nevertheless neither she nor the loner Amarant held any regrets and sometimes found these events funny, at their own expense. The peace wouldn't last for more than two hours before a spell would get out of control or Zidane lost his temper or both, but Dali was near, and they'd reach it by night fall. Thank the weather for a slight reprieve from this chaos!, Freya thought, and smirked.
Treno was a beautiful place, filled with amazing architecture and even more amazing items for sale at the auction houses. The card tournament had kept him considerably busy being defeated more often than victorious. A little man named Doctor Tot, oddly suprised to see him, Kuja noticed, had been kind enough to give the young man access to his immense library of books on science, drama, and magic.
Kuja was impressed by the city, and was still exploring it's twists and turns. He had stopped at the Cafe Carta, borrowing Grammy's old membership card, and watched the people pass and gossip. The night grew darker and darker and he decided it was time to find the inn. He started down the street and turned into what turned out to be an alley. Not noticing his wrong direction, his thoughts lost in the events of the day, he kept on down the damp place.
His instincts flared as he felt a growing prescence behind him. He hastened his footsteps, hearing his followers do the same. Now at a dead run, Kuja traced the winding paths of the alley before running straight into a dead end. A throaty and slurred chuckle rose behind him, but the Genome felt no fear. Something within him sparked and glowed, and Kuja made a "grab" for it. A wave of energy flowed through him, familiar and comforting, and he lashed out at the three men in front of him.
"Fira!" There were screams to his right, and the burning bodies provided his only light. The other one, faster than his drunken counterparts, lunged at him, dagger bared. Kuja, in a slow, fluid motion, stepped to the left and used the man's momentum to carry him head over heels. He waitied, amused, while the thief got up from the ground. The burly man wiped at his cut lip and made a flurry of cuts and slashes. Kuja avoided them all in a near-dance art of dodging, ending with the finale of disarming the other man, and driving him through the stomach with his own weapon.
The blood rushed forward, a little red lake around the dying man's feet. The thief's body was still being held up by the dagger, by Kuja. The man whispered something, choking around the foaming blood at his lips. The Genome whispered something back and withdrew the dagger. The thief lie among his friends' burnt and blackened bodies, his hands tight over his wound, trying not to look at it, trying not to look at the grotesque vision of his guts seeping through his fingers. He was a dead man. He was a damned dead man.
He had whispered, "Who are you?!"
The silver-haired man whispered back, "I wish I knew."
At the inn, Kuja huddled under a mass of sheets and blankets, frightened by what had happened to him in the alley. His body convulsed and shivered constantly, his hands were still red with another man's blood. He had killed tonight. With his own hands he had.....
He had summoned magic. Even with the White Mages in the village, Kuja had thought little of magic, yet here it was coming forth from his own energy, his own hands, his own mind. It was terrible, yet it was..... beautiful; it was power.
No! Kuja screamed at himself, mentally, Don't you dare do this to Lila! To Grammy! So Kuja had decided. He would not got to Lindblum. Not until he had trained himself to control this. Not until his soul was cleansed of blood at Esto Gaza.
The wind did little to calm his nerves. The chill, chill breeze was a blessing to his fevered and flushed face. Esto Gaza was near, the Forgotten Continent, the "ice-covered place". Soon, his mind would be at peace, if there was anything the Priest could do. Still....... Kuja's mind wandered to Grammy's warning. What was so dangerous that she forbade him wandering? Full of curiosity, he didn't know if he could follow good advice. He hadn't promised. She didn't have to know. Esto Gaza was silhouetted against the glimmering ice. He landed carefully, and climbed the stairs, weighed down with remorse.
The Priest was a kind man, if a little nosy. He listened, but with an almost divided attention. He saw, but with eyes that were seeing some other time. At the end of Kuja's story, the old man laid a hand on the young man's shoulder, reassuring him that his past deeds would be forgotten, and that is was wise to see the world, not just for it's beauty or history, but for the lessons each person could teach him. Kuja got the feeling that the reassurances were routine.
So, instead of seeking understanding there, he sought it in the cold winds and calming scenery of the continent, travelling to it's corners and taking in the sight of the Shimmering Island. He also spent a little time in homing his magic skills against the beasts of this region, and exploring the depths of his abilities.
Hunting further game led him into a cave; small of opening and wide and maze-like within. Kuja stopped to look around at the polished walls of the cavern, something he doubted could happen naturally. Further investigation proved him right, with doors and the rooms beyond them carved into the mountain. Every step he gained, every ounce of the feeling that someone was watching him was being added on. He kept feeling someone whispering to him, telling him what he once was, why he had that power, why he had killed those men, but he could never make out what they said. Weary and confused, Kuja collapsed at the top of a staircase. His vision blurred over as he tried to make out the shape in front of him, but the night claimed him.
Great, silvery wings made a cocoon around Kuja's sleeping body, and protected him from his own mind's storm.
Back in Dali, the old woman whom many affectionately called "Grammy" stood on top of a mountain, staring into the sky where Kuja had left three days ago. Inside the sleeping village lay the famous Zidane Tribal. The man who saved the world. Saved the world from a monster, a creature bent on destruction and death.
The old, frail form of the woman melted away to reveal an ice queen. Shiva had known of the consequences of Kuja's resurrection. She saw his broken body and gave his former mind the shards to find itself so that it could begin anew. She saw how he had cared for this village and knew that he had changed. She knew that he could also revert. She knew that her mistress, her summoner, could find him, and crush him. She knew everything, except for how her Kuja would raise himself.
Shiva looked down at the little town with longing. She hoped Queen Garnet wouldn't need her services for too long. This was the price of her concern of the remainder of Kuja's mind, her concern for this world's safety from Terra.
Everything has a price.
Author's Note: I'm still stuck without a name for Kuja's dragon, so I'll take any suggestions! My thanks to Athena for my first review! Chapter three is under way as you read this, and will include a lot of the action I promised! Please review!
Kuja plucked the last of the carrots from the ground and wiped his sweat- soaked forehead on his sleeve. It had been hard work, trying to get the crops harvested before the coming of winter, but thank Alexander it was finally over! He let his mind wander to the journeys he could take, the things he might see, the people he might meet. There was nothing left to do until spring planting, and Kuja had plans for the winter.
Grammy insisted that he make a trip over to the Forgotten Continent. She said Esto Gaza would do him a "world of good". Treno and Lindblum and rebuilt Alexandria also ranked high on his list of destinations. Morrid was building a samll, but fast, airship in return for a healthy (or unhealthy judging the amount of caffeine) sum of his favorite Kirman coffee. It would be ready on the dawn, and Kuja had packed two weeks early. It would be difficult, of course, to leave the village, even temporarily, after the short three months he had spent in their hospitality. They urged him forward, with a strange glimmer in their eyes, and were determined to let him see his world. Maybe he would find something of his past.
His thoughts flickered back to the present as he took the pitcher of water from Lila and poured the bot of them a drink. He watched her sip, wondering if she'd miss him. When she finished, she climbed into his lap and closed her tired eyes.
"Some of us worked harder than they thought." he whispered, and carried her to the cottage.
"Ye better get some rest, sonny," Grammy took the sleeping girl from his arms, "Ye have a long trip ahead o' ye."
"Of course, Grammy. Don't tire yourself out tonight." Kuja retired to his room and closed the door softly. When he heard it latch, he shed his stained shirt and lay back on the soft, downy pillows.
The dream had left him alone. Just yesterday, he had had his first peaceful sleep. Before that, it had been dying, but it was now completely gone. Kuja was both relieved and troubled by its disappearance. It was the one shred of proof he had that he didn't belong here. One half of a memory of another life and a mischievious dragon-friend. If he didn't have it with him, how would he know where to go?
'Dun ye go too far on that ice-covered place, Kuja. There be trouble on da horizon.' Grammy had said, when he first told her about his plans. Why not? What was out there?
Thinking too hard made his imagination drift forward, letting him dream. Peacefully.
"There ye are, boy! Get up over here, and take a ganduh at yer ship!"
Kuja obediently followed the man's gaze to the small version of an airship ahead of him. It had a cabin, just big enough for one or two passengers, and the bridge was open on the deck. Carved into its side was the name "Angel's Envy". The craftsmanship was incredible, far more worthy of a mountain of ground coffee, let alone a small hill that the contract called for! Because of it's size and the ever-efficient non-Mist engines, it was fast and quiet.
"I promise you, Mr. Morrid, if there's any coffee left in the world, it'll belong to you!" The grin the elder man gave, not only from praise but the dream of more caffeine, spread to Kuja and the other folks that had gathered from curiosity. The Genome boarded the ship, went over the controls with the creator of the masterpiece, and threw his bags and few belongings into the cabin. He went out to the deck and leaned over the starboard railing. Waving his farewells and repeating promises to return home, he was about to turn and start his adventure, when he noticed a small face puch to the front of the crowd.
"Kuja! Kuja, don't go!"
It was Lila. "In the spring, I'll come home and tell you all the stories!" The airship pulled against its tetherings as if impaitient, and Mr. Morrid cut the ropes. The engine whispered, and the young man headed toward the the city lights of Treno.
"Daaaaaaaaad! Vela stole my mog-doll!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
"QUIET!" a voice rumbled from a corner of the Invincible. Amarant stalked forward, "I hate kids." Vela and a smaller black mage with a violet ribbon around her droopy hat shuddered and returned to what Vivi had dubbed "the play area". The red-headed man sat down on the floor and sharpened his Rune Claws. "The damn things can't shut up."
"You! You bastard!"
"Who? I? I not do nothing!"
"I'm gonna kill you!"
"See what I mean?" Amarant shot Freya an exasperated glance as Zidane chased Quina around the interior after, once again, wakening with a frog in his shirt. Vivi stood, amused, not saying anything as was his usual response to outbursts like these. His Mace of Zeus gleamed in his hands and he turned back to two of his sons and and a daughter, both learning Bio and Thundara.
It was a typical morning like this that reminded Freya that she had horrible insight. Nevertheless neither she nor the loner Amarant held any regrets and sometimes found these events funny, at their own expense. The peace wouldn't last for more than two hours before a spell would get out of control or Zidane lost his temper or both, but Dali was near, and they'd reach it by night fall. Thank the weather for a slight reprieve from this chaos!, Freya thought, and smirked.
Treno was a beautiful place, filled with amazing architecture and even more amazing items for sale at the auction houses. The card tournament had kept him considerably busy being defeated more often than victorious. A little man named Doctor Tot, oddly suprised to see him, Kuja noticed, had been kind enough to give the young man access to his immense library of books on science, drama, and magic.
Kuja was impressed by the city, and was still exploring it's twists and turns. He had stopped at the Cafe Carta, borrowing Grammy's old membership card, and watched the people pass and gossip. The night grew darker and darker and he decided it was time to find the inn. He started down the street and turned into what turned out to be an alley. Not noticing his wrong direction, his thoughts lost in the events of the day, he kept on down the damp place.
His instincts flared as he felt a growing prescence behind him. He hastened his footsteps, hearing his followers do the same. Now at a dead run, Kuja traced the winding paths of the alley before running straight into a dead end. A throaty and slurred chuckle rose behind him, but the Genome felt no fear. Something within him sparked and glowed, and Kuja made a "grab" for it. A wave of energy flowed through him, familiar and comforting, and he lashed out at the three men in front of him.
"Fira!" There were screams to his right, and the burning bodies provided his only light. The other one, faster than his drunken counterparts, lunged at him, dagger bared. Kuja, in a slow, fluid motion, stepped to the left and used the man's momentum to carry him head over heels. He waitied, amused, while the thief got up from the ground. The burly man wiped at his cut lip and made a flurry of cuts and slashes. Kuja avoided them all in a near-dance art of dodging, ending with the finale of disarming the other man, and driving him through the stomach with his own weapon.
The blood rushed forward, a little red lake around the dying man's feet. The thief's body was still being held up by the dagger, by Kuja. The man whispered something, choking around the foaming blood at his lips. The Genome whispered something back and withdrew the dagger. The thief lie among his friends' burnt and blackened bodies, his hands tight over his wound, trying not to look at it, trying not to look at the grotesque vision of his guts seeping through his fingers. He was a dead man. He was a damned dead man.
He had whispered, "Who are you?!"
The silver-haired man whispered back, "I wish I knew."
At the inn, Kuja huddled under a mass of sheets and blankets, frightened by what had happened to him in the alley. His body convulsed and shivered constantly, his hands were still red with another man's blood. He had killed tonight. With his own hands he had.....
He had summoned magic. Even with the White Mages in the village, Kuja had thought little of magic, yet here it was coming forth from his own energy, his own hands, his own mind. It was terrible, yet it was..... beautiful; it was power.
No! Kuja screamed at himself, mentally, Don't you dare do this to Lila! To Grammy! So Kuja had decided. He would not got to Lindblum. Not until he had trained himself to control this. Not until his soul was cleansed of blood at Esto Gaza.
The wind did little to calm his nerves. The chill, chill breeze was a blessing to his fevered and flushed face. Esto Gaza was near, the Forgotten Continent, the "ice-covered place". Soon, his mind would be at peace, if there was anything the Priest could do. Still....... Kuja's mind wandered to Grammy's warning. What was so dangerous that she forbade him wandering? Full of curiosity, he didn't know if he could follow good advice. He hadn't promised. She didn't have to know. Esto Gaza was silhouetted against the glimmering ice. He landed carefully, and climbed the stairs, weighed down with remorse.
The Priest was a kind man, if a little nosy. He listened, but with an almost divided attention. He saw, but with eyes that were seeing some other time. At the end of Kuja's story, the old man laid a hand on the young man's shoulder, reassuring him that his past deeds would be forgotten, and that is was wise to see the world, not just for it's beauty or history, but for the lessons each person could teach him. Kuja got the feeling that the reassurances were routine.
So, instead of seeking understanding there, he sought it in the cold winds and calming scenery of the continent, travelling to it's corners and taking in the sight of the Shimmering Island. He also spent a little time in homing his magic skills against the beasts of this region, and exploring the depths of his abilities.
Hunting further game led him into a cave; small of opening and wide and maze-like within. Kuja stopped to look around at the polished walls of the cavern, something he doubted could happen naturally. Further investigation proved him right, with doors and the rooms beyond them carved into the mountain. Every step he gained, every ounce of the feeling that someone was watching him was being added on. He kept feeling someone whispering to him, telling him what he once was, why he had that power, why he had killed those men, but he could never make out what they said. Weary and confused, Kuja collapsed at the top of a staircase. His vision blurred over as he tried to make out the shape in front of him, but the night claimed him.
Great, silvery wings made a cocoon around Kuja's sleeping body, and protected him from his own mind's storm.
Back in Dali, the old woman whom many affectionately called "Grammy" stood on top of a mountain, staring into the sky where Kuja had left three days ago. Inside the sleeping village lay the famous Zidane Tribal. The man who saved the world. Saved the world from a monster, a creature bent on destruction and death.
The old, frail form of the woman melted away to reveal an ice queen. Shiva had known of the consequences of Kuja's resurrection. She saw his broken body and gave his former mind the shards to find itself so that it could begin anew. She saw how he had cared for this village and knew that he had changed. She knew that he could also revert. She knew that her mistress, her summoner, could find him, and crush him. She knew everything, except for how her Kuja would raise himself.
Shiva looked down at the little town with longing. She hoped Queen Garnet wouldn't need her services for too long. This was the price of her concern of the remainder of Kuja's mind, her concern for this world's safety from Terra.
Everything has a price.
Author's Note: I'm still stuck without a name for Kuja's dragon, so I'll take any suggestions! My thanks to Athena for my first review! Chapter three is under way as you read this, and will include a lot of the action I promised! Please review!