A peaceful lull had fallen over the city of Alexandria, the revelries and celebrations fading away, leaving the monotony of everyday life behind. A huge congregation of traveling carts and wagons had left in the mid afternoon, traveling together for safety from any devious bandits they might encounter. A host of private airship had departed soon after, heading back to whatever towns or cities that they had come from. The absence of tourists made Alexandria feel quite empty by comparison – the city had abandoned her day it seemed; leaving it on a pedestal of reminiscence.
Amidst the throng of people leaving, few noticed the few that had come as the sun began to sink to her wistful bed. Emryal stood in the dilapidated wreckage of an ancient church, examining his surroundings as he waited for his partners in crime.
It was amusing, he noted as he ran his hand across the rotting carcass of what had once been an altar, amusing what he had discovered while searching out of sheer boredom. The church had been the first building constructed at the lake over the waterfall. The first Alexandrians spent countless miserable years trying to escape their treacherous existence in the Evil Forest, before they finally escaped to the bountiful cliffs above. The great Alexandrian plain offered plentiful food and resources, a perfect peaceful residence. Thus, when Alexandria had been formed, the first building was a church dedicated to their 'god', Alexander, who was credited with their fortune. Of course it was plain to see who was credited now, the church abandoned and the god forgotten.
Emryal grinned – that was how the humans seemed to be, that's how the gods were. The humans needed them, of course, a crutch to lean on when things weren't going quite their way; but when they were doing well it was simply an extra expense they couldn't afford; a day wasted on worshipping a god they no longer required or cared about. Yes the Vega were gods, beings separated from humanity – but who served whom? What a wretched hypocrisy.
There was a clattering of stones and Emryal looked up to see the first of his soldiers slink in, his had down as he gave an indiscriminate jerk of his arm toward his commander. The squadron had flown in all together from Tialtor, but it was necessary to enter the city one by one lest they arouse suspicion. After all, five men who looked completely identical might arouse moderate suspicion, especially since the men looked so formidable with their death white skin and blood red hair. So they used caution, at least for the present – no sense clueing the humans in before the final move was made.
"How is everything, Alc Tzai?" The soft voice came from behind him and Emryal cringed in anger. He didn't have to turn, he knew what was there – the black haired Ellian, cloaked in the swirling bubbles and sparks of magic, his eyes smiling at the world he always found so amusing. Menoth.
"What are you doing here, great Ruc Tzai?" Emryal made certain that his sarcasm was not masked, "I thought you were aware that I was going to handle this situation."
Menoth took a step forward, his hand straying to touch the ancient altar, "Interesting choice, Emryal...truth be told, I was bored of sitting around – so I decided to come down and have a little fun."
Something about that irked Emryal. Something about how Menoth tried so hard not to be a normal Ellian – Ellians accepted everything at face value and did not try to change plans at the last second or do anything stupid…which was something that Menoth always did. Naturally, how else had Menoth become the Ruc Tzai than straying away from his duties and starting a rebellion against the current leaders? Menoth called himself a thinker...no; he was merely an idiot. "Well have all the fun you like, just stay out of my way."
--
The brusque wind whirled around Blank's body like the thoughts around his mind, freezing him into a sedentary state. Fortunately the landscape was still enough to accommodate him: a desolate street corner, lit by the warm glow of a street torch and by the dim glow of Vivi's eyes. On this corner, or more specifically on this side of the corner, there was almost no movement. On the other side of the corner, however, bedlam reigned. Hundreds of people gathered in the great Eagle Square, hundreds were religious fanatics trying to scream the truth at the top of their lungs. Others were vagrants and lower class workers, trying to find a truth great enough to fill their hollow, meaningless lives. The rest of the crowd were comprised of the rich, middle class, and the tourists; people who had absolutely nothing better to do than to watch others cry out in pain.
It was sort of sad...Blank scratched the side of his neck uncomfortably. Apparently it wasn't good enough that the royal party: Zidane, Vivi, Steiner, Beatrix, Marcus, a few low-ranking soldiers and himself were hiding like rats clinging to a dark wall, but they had to dress like rats as well. Beatrix said it was because any halfway observant citizen would be able to spot one of the military leaders of the city a mile away, call a warning, and the meeting would probably disperse. Blank thought that was awfully paranoid...but then again, hiding in the dark listening to religious conspirators was mighty paranoid as well... Maybe it was time for Blank to get some new friends.
Resigning himself to the moment, Blank slid down to a sitting position against the cold wall, lifting a half-filled bottle of whisky as a brace. At least the night wouldn't be cold much longer. Happily he lifted the bottle in a toast to the circle around him...then slowly realized that no one was paying any attention to him. With a shrug he touched the glass to his lips, "Here's to friendship."
"Blank..." Blank turned his head ever so slightly to accept Zidane's fatherly glance, "Try to stay at least halfway sober, please?"
Blank took careful pains to empty exactly half of the contents of the bottle as slowly as he could, and then gently dropped the remaining treasure into his lap, "And could you please tell me...why the hell I should do that?"
"Blank." Marcus grunted a warning, but Blank shrugged him away.
Zidane's eyes flickered slightly, which made Blank grin. At least this proved to some extent that he did know Zidane – at least he knew how to piss him off. But Zidane's answer was very patient, very calm, "Because this is important – these religious fanatics could be dangerous and we need to know what we're up against...if they're going to start anything."
Blank eyed the bottle in his lap, gauged the burning in his stomach, and decided he was up for another swig. "For starters this isn't my city," He lifted the bottle and paused, "So it's not really my problem – I'm here as a friend and that's it...besides, I'm not going to get any royal favors tonight...so the best I can look forward to is waking up tomorrow not remembering what happened tonight because I am going to be so fucking drunk!" And with that he raised the bottle once again to his lips – not before noticing the eyes of the entire group turning towards him – Zidane's the loudest of all.
"Does it bother you that much?" Zidane fought to maintain a quiet voice, though his anger was left unbridled in the low growl, "I wasn't aware that there was a rule in our friendship that denied me the right to marry a queen!"
"Zidane..." It was now Steiner's turn to try to calm down the genome. But the war had already started – Blank wasn't sure what had snapped, but whatever had been there was gone, and all that was left was heavy resentment. And of course in typical Blank fashion, he couldn't be tactful enough to keep his mouth shut.
"Don't worry about it Steiner, it's pretty impossible to hurt my feelings." Blank rose slowly to his feet and waved his finger imperiously in Zidane's face, "And to answer your question, I don't know why it bothers me so much man. You know...it's not like I would have gotten any, it's not like Garnet's ever even looked at me! But advice to a friend, maybe you could stop making it so painfully obvious that you have the best thing in the whole damn world, because some of us don't have it, Zidane, some of us don't have shit."
No one said anything, so Blank decided to continue, "I mean sure you can bounce around every day laughing at every situation, no matter how bad it is. Hell you can grin as you fight the gods, because Garnet loves you – because there's a party going on in the royal palace every night and everyone knows it. Sure, I don't blame you for an ass full of optimism but...Zidane...your good luck doesn't mean anything to anyone. It doesn't mean anything to me...I need something stronger than 'well my friend is happy so I should be happy'..."
The dim roar of the crowd behind him suddenly grew incredibly loud, and with the noise a crushing sorrow pushed over him. Blank didn't know why he had said that, why he had lashed out at his friend. It wasn't Zidane's fault that his life was empty...Zidane had never been anything but good. And for some reason...that was what Blank hated about him.
A long sigh tore through Blank's body and he dropped back to the hard stone street again, waving his hands in the air, "I'm sorry...no hard feelings or anything, bro. I just don't see a point right now. I've never won a game yet...I don't even have a reason to live – except for her." He motioned to the bottle in his hand, and then as if remembering he took a heavy swig, the burning that coursed through him again calming him down...pacifying him...just a few more drinks...
"No hard feelings." Blank peered up and saw that Zidane was smiling sympathetically, his eyes peering concernedly at Blank as he crouched against the wall. "I understand, Blank."
A twinge of hate pricked Blank once again, and he lowered his gaze, "Stop being the hero, Zidane. The war's over – we all have to live our lives...so stop caring and understanding and wanting to help, because it's not fixing anyone."
"I can't help it!" Zidane yelled, his fist grinding against the ground beneath him in frustration.
"Silence!" The awkward discussion was broken suddenly as Beatrix turned from her vantagepoint with a hiss. "You two are going to have to spill blood later, because we have something more important to attend to now!" She leapt back to press against the wall with the rest of the dumb-stricken party as she explained, "I think the priest is about to begin."
--
A quiet tap on the door sent Garnet into a frenzied flutter of emotions. She tentatively approached the door, busily brushing at the simple white silk dress with a golden lace collar that she had chosen for the meeting. How should she answer the door? Garnet hesitated nervously; she didn't want to be too excited to see him. That might give him the wrong impression of why he was there. In fact she probably shouldn't be meeting him in her room anyway – someone might see and spread some sort of dark rumor. Not that it would matter but something like that would be very detrimental if Zidane heard it – Zidane had the great tendency to be a jealous husband.
In fact, why was she seeing this strange man again? Her fingers paused momentarily on the doorknob; leaving the path open for a hurried second-guessing. Kain...the man was rugged and simple on the outside, perhaps a little coarse and clumsy. But something in his eyes grabbed at her soul – like some dark secret that was just waiting to be ripped out. She felt some connection to him that she didn't understand, even after just seeing him once. And if there was one thing Garnet could never except it was some one keeping a secret from her. Her hand grasped the doorknob confidently as she pasted a bright smile on to her face – ready to unmask all secrets no matter what the cost.
"Hello--!" All the prying questions and false innocence fell from her mind like a storm of feathers. Kuja stood at the door, his shadowed form glowing black in the dark hallway. His violet eyes glowed intensely into hers as he held his hand out, extending his offering: a lone black rose.
"I love you." He murmured, lowering his head so the dark wreath of hair tumbled across his eyes – breaking their seductive spell on Garnet. Garnet reeled back as if he were the devil himself.
"Go away Kuja! I don't want you anymore – I can't want you Kuja – please!"
"Arteon."
Fury flushed through her form, and she impulsively lashed out, striking his cheek heavily with the meat of her palm. "I don't care what you want to call yourself – it doesn't change who you are. It doesn't change what I am."
Kuja raised his head – his pale skin now blushing from the blow she had struck. His eyes swept down to lock into hers once more, and in those eyes Garnet could feel intense sorrow – the same sorrow she had felt in Zidane just one night before. Kuja was lost and helpless – and it was because of her.
"I..." Kuja stopped and swallowed and for the first time Garnet heard hoarseness in his voice – caught some frail glimpse of humanity within him. "I sat all day and tried to think of ways to reach you. I walked the streets, your streets, bustling in their emptiness – empty because you were not there to grace them. I caressed the stones of this never-ending day with flighty fingers and flowery words – the whims of a lunatic conqueror hallucinating of a glorious day of victory. It's true you know, somewhere deep in my hollow mind I understand your words, the futility of my struggle for your affection."
Kuja took a halting step forward, "But mere awareness cannot raise the end of this tortured struggle for true identity. This flame of my love is an unquenchable one – it burns regardless of the lack of fuel that it receives. No matter what it will just keep burning and burning until I am a scorched pile of ash lying beneath your feet. But a scorched pile of ash beneath your feet is what and where I want to be, because my only purpose in this strange, melancholy existence is to love you."
'He's trying to make me lose myself'. Garnet bit her lip and tried not to stare him straight in the eye – tried not to listen to the words that tingled at her heartstrings. 'He's trying to make me emotional so I'll fall for whatever trap he's setting. He's using me and I'm very well aware of that and I'm strong enough to resist. I'm the Queen and he's nothing – there's no reason that he should have any hold over me.'
"Mera..." Kuja's voice was now just a ragged whisper as he stepped across the threshold into the room, taking her shoulders gently in his strong, thin hands. "The only reason I am alive in this world is because I love you, and because I have felt you love me before. Those words, your words, still fuel my fire. Your words burn inside me and sustain me. Please – please! Love me or kill me, begin me or end me! My heart is too fragile to wander these crossroads any longer. I...I...can't take it!"
And the great warlord, the almighty powerful Kuja, began to cry. It began as a quiet, restrained sob but quickly grew until his whole body was wracked in sorrow and tears poured from his eyes. He swiftly drew a hand up to cover his face, raising his other hand to the doorframe for support. The black rose tumbled forgotten to the ground.
"Kuja...I mean Arteon...I..." Garnet reached forward to take his hand, trying to look up into his eyes – but he squeezed them shut in shame. "I..." She desperately searched for a way to reach him, to make him stop. Every sob that left him echoed through her and pierced her soul and she didn't know why. She didn't understand. "I..." 'Stop, stop, stop! Stay in control – don't let him get to you!' "I..." The room started spinning around her, she couldn't see...
"I'm not sure..."
--
"Brothers and Sisters, I thank you and welcome you all hear tonight to witness the unleashing of the New World! The New World of Truth, Justice and Light! The New World of the Deliverer!" A hearty cheer ran through the crowd as the white robed figure, obviously the head priest of some sort, spoke the opening words to the mob. Zidane crouched with his head resting awkwardly against the rough stone of a bakery wall, listening with little interest. He had actually cared about all of this a few hours ago, about this new religion and new god and about protecting the city and everything. And suddenly it was as if Blank had knocked all of his motives and desires straight out of him. He didn't really feel sorry for Blank – the man was just a pathetic drunk who couldn't get laid so he blamed others. He didn't even have that close of a relationship with Blank – they had always been tied together through Tantalus but it wasn't as if they were best friends or anything... Yet somehow he felt guilty – hurt, whatever. Somewhere inside he felt like he had been neglecting something. Had he really been gloating over Garnet like his prize? Did it really look that way to others?
"Zidane..." Steiner whispered somewhere nearby, "Don't worry about what he said – he didn't mean it." Yeah, that made him feel a whole lot better. Blank did mean it – if Zidane had learned anything through knowing him for so long it was that the man was painfully honest. But why the hell was he tearing himself up over it – why did he give a shit about another man's life – and what the hell could he even do to help? Nothing. 'Calm down and listen to the goddamn show.' He told himself.
"I am very blessed to be here tonight to tell you that the world is very soon to experience a change. Yes, much has changed in the past years – many great and wonderful things have happened, but that is all but a blink of an eye compared to the wondrous events that will soon transpire." Zidane snorted at that. This man had a lot of nerve calling the War of the Worlds a 'blink of an eye' – he didn't have to fight in it.
"There is much danger to come I'm afraid, much death and destruction. But we must not lose hope or faith, for the greatest reward will be coming very soon. According to the prophecies, the Savior of the World will follow in the wake of the destruction and in the fist of his mighty hand the world shall be rebuilt and his followers shall be redeemed. Those who believe in him and his deliverance shall become kings on this new and glorious earth! There will no pain or suffering there, no tears or doubt, for all that has been corrupted and destroyed in this world shall be perfected in the other."
"This is all just a load of bullshit." Zidane mumbled to no one in particular, his head beginning to ache from its uncomfortable position.
"Yes," Beatrix agreed from somewhere in the darkness, "But what's the catch." What was the catch? The spies huddled in the dank darkness and waited to find out as the Priest began again after the mild arousal of cheers his latest proclamation had gleaned.
"However none of this grandiose hopes and dreams may become realities until the prophecies have been fulfilled. Our loving God, holy savior knows that we will not be ready for the glory beyond unless we can accept the chastisement for our sins in this present world. And who among us has not felt the hardships of this present world – felt the constant stress of living with the endless threat of death looming over our heads?" The Priest left the question to hang over the heads of his massive audience. Zidane was still caught in the concept of this new loving God. He thought he understood the question now – but now he knew that all of the pondering and questioning he had buried himself in for the past few days was wasted. He didn't believe in this god – he knew he didn't. So what the hell did it all mean?
"Who has not felt the hardships of this life? I can answer that question in one word. Royalty. The fat, rich slugs who sit in their palaces and suck up the wealth that we work hard to provide. Always looming above and telling us what to do because they are worth our weight in gold – never questioned because we are not taught or educated enough to know how to question. My brethren I am here to tell you that this is a disgrace! A disgrace to humanity and a disgrace to our god!" Suddenly everyone in the group of spies realized the new and potentially dangerous implications of the words that had just been spoken.
Blank voiced them. "Regent Cid and his family are still in the docks...if this crowd turns into a mob they could be in danger." 'And Garnet.' Zidane added the assumed in his own thoughts, a wave of frozen fear washing over him. Had Beatrix been right – was this night going to turn out as dark as she had imagined?
"The Prophecies State that before our Savior can return to claim this earth that all of the Kings and Queens of the Old World must die. Brethren, I urge you this night to act upon your newfound beliefs. There is a New World that lies before us – free from the bonds of tyranny and oppression that we feel now. Reach for it now! Rise with me tonight, and help me strike off the foul snake's head!" A roar of approval rang through the night – and suddenly the still streets pulsed into a new action.
Beatrix was not one to be left in the dust, "Steiner, Marcus! Help me rouse the rest of the guards – we have to suppress this crowd before it turns into a full-blown riot! Zidane, Vivi – you two take ten soldiers and make sure the castle perimeter is secure! Blank—Blank?"
But Blank was already gone.
And the night had begun.
--
But Garnet knew nothing of her foulness at being the snake's head. She knew nothing of the boiling mob or the imminent danger that could possibly put her life in jeopardy. At the moment the proclamation was raised, nothing was further from her mind. All that she could think about was Kuja and that desperate aching in her heart that she could not explain or identify. 'This is wrong.' She told herself as her elegant, trembling fingers traced the muscular cords of Kuja's chest. 'This is so wrong.' She felt his fingers tickling at her skin as he urged the straps of her dress away – felt his lips heavy against the sensitive nape of her neck. She gasped. 'It's so...wrong.' But increasingly erotic in its wrongness, blindingly ethereal in its darkness – so wrong that it felt right.
'But I don't love Kuja...this isn't Zidane, it's Kuja! You're making love to Kuja!' "Kuja..." She whispered his name breathlessly, preparing to tell him to stop – that they should slow down and just be friends, that somehow they could work it out without compromising her position and outstanding relationships. But the name sounded so good on her lips, felt right. Kuja... Like a chaotic choir of bells that was so discordant it was melodic. "Kuja..." The reserve and resistance fluttered one last glorious time, then was lost completely in the swirling spiral of enchanting calamity that is blind lust. "I'll never be able to call you Arteon..."
A deep chuckle emerged from his lips as he relinquished his hold on her neck and finished sliding her gown to the floor. "I don't mind." Eagerly he teased and caressed her, gentle and firm, sending waves of intoxicating pleasure shuddering through her form. She fought to hold in a deep moan but it refused to be ordered around so instead she stifled it on Kuja's shoulder.
"I don't understand..." She gasped, trying to solidify the swirling world against Kuja's chest, "What is this I feel for you...why am I letting my-ahh – stop it! Why am I letting you do this?"
"It's because you love me." Kuja explained with a smile and a kiss, then continued in the forbidden activity. Garnet swept his hand away with a giggle,
"No I don't love you, I can't love you – that's what I don't understand..." She sighed deeply, then laughed it away, pressing her face up to Kuja's in a passionate kiss. One that he did not return. Slowly she pulled away, taking his hand in hers with another giddy laugh, "Oh don't give me that look...oh fine – here I'll let you touch me."
Slowly she guided his hand, still earning no reaction from its owner. Quickly her euphoria turned into frustration and she let his hand fall, "What the hell is wrong with you? I thought this is what you wanted!"
"No." Kuja reached up to smooth his shirt, averting his eyes in a sudden show of mixed modesty and disdain, "I wanted you to love me. Animalistic behavior is not required or desired, but I desire and require your love. I need your heart – your soul, not your body."
Suddenly not only was Garnet immensely confused, but she was also embarrassed and infuriated. 'See it was wrong – it was stupid!' The regal side of her gloated and the woman side of her told the regal side to shut the hell up while she stalked naked and graceful to her wardrobe and pulled out a robe that she threw around her shoulders. Thus dignified she found the confidence to reply smugly, "Well then you can't have anything – I'm sorry."
"Mera..."
Dignity bubbled over to impulsive childishness as she closed her eyes and screamed, "I'm not Mera anymore! Not for you or anyone! I'm not your Mera!"
Silence surrounded her, and suddenly – even in the intense moment of embarrassment and confusion – she felt extremely proud of herself. Then she opened her eyes...the door to the outer courtyards was open – Kuja was gone.
And Kain was standing in the doorway, his mouth hanging slightly open in a rather stupid, shocked expression.
--
"Halt in the name of the Queen!" It is always amazing to see how decisive people can be when they think no one is listening; yet when people are around they aren't even sure who they are. Such was the case when Beatrix stepped into the middle of the mob, pulling off the ragged fragments of clothing that concealed her elegant Alexandrian uniform. Her voice was loud and clear, ringing with the strong leadership that Steiner had always loved her for. Strong leadership that everyone could recognize – even the simpletons roaming aimlessly through the crowd, most of them not sure whether to raise or lower the pitiful assortment of weapons they had collected.
Steiner and Marcus walked close behind, their own swords out and armor revealed, and behind them followed what small group of soldiers they had been able to collect in the short amount of time. Even though they were outnumbered at least twenty to one, Steiner noted very calmly that most of the motley riffraff that faced them probably wouldn't even have the nerve to raise a sword, and the rest probably didn't even know how to use one. What had appeared to be a dangerous situation was turning very quickly into something that they would probably be able to laugh about...
Then the rest of the crowd parted and it seemed that somehow had suddenly decided to turn on the sun in the middle of the misty night. Steiner raised a hand to squint at a solid line of shining, white steel breastplates, accompanied by a complementing suit of white armor. Scores of the white knights stood there, a blazing torch in one mailed hand and a glimmering sword (heavy enough for Steiner to judge as a bastard sword) in the other. And just as suddenly any thought of laughing was banished from Steiner's mind.
By now the night was very quiet. The mob was amassed in the Market Plaza now, not a hundred yards from the moat and the castle – looming tall and silent in the moonlight. Steiner and Marcus had noted small bands of the mob had broken off from the main group from time to time, but as far as they could follow, none of them had approached the castle. Being undermanned as they were, Beatrix had made the smart decision that they couldn't run off after every man who ran down the street – they had to go for the head.
And the head came forth as they stood in the blunt silence – waves of white steel parting before his white robes. The priest who had started the uncomfortable situation, Steiner noted now that he could get a better look at him, really wasn't all that impressive. His head was bare and bald, his face too fat and too white, like his paunchy hands that peeked out from beneath his seamless white robe, both clutching tightly to a thin, brown leather-bound book. The only actual exciting feature of the old man were his black eyes which glared proud, sharp and intelligent at the small group that faced him. The fat face broke into a thin smile.
"The Great Lady Beatrix, what a pleasant surprise. I did not expect you to interrupt us so soon." The voice was thick with some strange accent now, as if the priest was trying to mix the common speech with some older and more complicated. Beatrix dismissed it with a twitch of her eyebrow,
"You must underestimate my greatness then. Now who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing?"
The Priest's smile grew broader and thinner, "Very to the point, I like that. This is what you might call a 'purge', Lady Beatrix. The working people are tired of the oppressive reign of your beloved Queen. They would like a future – and so they are earning one for themselves." A roar of approval ran through the crowd and Steiner's fingers tightened instinctively on the hilt of his sword.
"So somehow you are justifying this revolt with some religion you concocted...you are only making their lives harder – this riot will accomplish nothing. Do you really think your rabble can walk over the whole Alexandrian army?" Beatrix tactfully dismissed the hundred some armored men who surrounded the Priest in a professional, defensive formation. "And all that still doesn't explain who you are."
An oppressive silence fell once again, heavy as the castle walls. Steiner could hear the soldiers across from him shifting their weapons restlessly, heard steel grating against steel. 'If a fight starts I'll grab Beatrix and fall back to the open street.' Steiner decided in the still. 'Life is more valuable then honor...hopefully Beatrix will forgive me later.'
Finally the deadlock was broken as the Priest slowly changed his smirking smile to a grace-filled, benevolent one. "Lady Beatrix, I am the voice of God. You question my followers' ability to defeat you, but in so doing you question my God. Is anything impossible to God?" He stopped for a moment, then repeated himself, except louder and more forceful, "Is anything impossible to our God?"
Instantly the soldiers that surrounded him roared out a reply, "Nothing." For only the third time Steiner wondered if they had underestimated the organization of this 'mob'. It seemed very likely, now that he really thought about it, that this rebellion had been planned for some weeks now. And it seemed that hundreds of the ordinary civilians that he spoke to every day had been in on it as well.
"What kind of trap have we fallen into?" Steiner whispered quietly to no one in particular.
Strip Smile
Lose Cool
Bleed the Day
Break the Rule
Live to Win
Dare to Fail
Eat the Dirt
Bite the Nail
...Then make me miss you.
Carpe Diem Baby – Metallica