This is a sequel to my drabble-esque By Candlelight, and continues in the scenes-we-never-got-to-see vein. This one is a bit more out-there than the previous, seeing as has a bit more to say in the game than what is reproduced here, but I thought it would fit. It's a rather unusual (I hope) explanation to how Kuja came out of Alexandria that night.
Disclaimer: I do not own FF9 or any of the characters depicted herein, and I am taking no financial benefit from this. All characters and place-names in this story is owned by Square-Enix
A city burning under the light of stars, the smoke heavy as the night turned towards morning, and it was her city burning.
The ominous shadow in the sky – Bahamut, king of dragons – spewed fire over her beloved city, glorious in its rage. The heat of the fires warmed her face but her back was cold, chilled by the empty, damp cobblestones where she stood, face turned to the sky and her sword gripped in one white-knuckled hand. Blood running hot in rage, it was with difficulty that she did not attempt to take the eidolon down on her own – she had seen the destruction it could wreak, and she wept for her city.
Steiner, exhausted and shaking in righteous rage, was standing a few feet away, held up only by his anger and the pot-metal of his armour, and she pitied him - not noticing how her own hands shook in sheer exhaustion.
"We must return to the Castle and aid our Queen," he said, breaking the breathless silence, "she needs us."
The buildings echoed with the clanking of his armour as he set out to follow his own advice, and she watched him go tiredly, her sword now heavy in her hand. She wished to follow him, to defend her Queen with all the loyalty deserving, yet she found she could not move. The monsters had taken the very last of her strength, and she was now a shivering shadow of a human being.
Here, at the end of the street, she was ready to give in. The flames roared around her, stretching like pleading arms towards the sky as they decimated buildings of wood and stone, and as the doorway of the house behind her collapsed, spewing sparks and debris, she stumbled further down the street towards the square.
Bathed in moon- and firelight, he seemed otherworldly in his appearance, and she stopped as if someone had frozen her. The feathers drooping like broken wings, he stood speaking to the sky in his dust-and-madness voice and she could not help but listen to him, in awe that he had the audacity to even enter her adored city.
"....It's so beautiful... Alexander...the legendary eidolon..." eyes fixed on the Castle, he spoke in a breathless voice, still beautiful in the night. "So, you wish to defend the castle with your brilliant wings...? How admirable... Your powers even transcend Bahamut's... Alexander, I've been waiting for you." a sweeping bow punctuated the speech, "I've called a magic carriage for you. I'm sure you'll like it. Invincible, come forth! You're mine, Alexander!"
With commanding gestures, the puppet-man, this insane puppeteer, turned once more to the darkened skies, waiting for something. Slowly, she turned to see what he had bowed before, and her breathing hitched as she saw two luminescent wings – graceful light in the darkness – enveloping the Castle, and she knew what they were.
Alexander.
The Guardian.
Kuja's laugh fell like broken silver bells over the raging of the fires, and an unholy rage rose up inside her, replacing the exhaustion and the fear and the shock, and hands worn tired once more gripped the hilt of her sword as she stepped out into the square, ready to face whatever the white-masked death could throw at her. Like a broken spinning-top, he turned as she came forth, smiling that wicked smile and speaking in his smooth and graceful voice.
"Welcome, lady-wrath, to the end of your city," he greeted, not at all surprised to see her. "Watch as it burns."
"You have gone too far, Kuja," she said, clenching her sword tightly in both hands. "This is how it ends."
"'This is how it ends'," he mocked, bright as candles in the darkness, "The dream has not yet ended, lady-warrior, the play is yet in it's middle act. You are but still a part of the White King's dream."
Opening her mouth to speak once more, preparing to kill him if need be told, she halted at the edge of a word as the sky opened up and pandemonium broke out. The wings of Alexander burned along with its city, blackening and fading to nothing, and Kuja was screaming, raging at the sky as she doubled over, cowering before the chaos around her.
Like the littlest child, she dropped her sword to the ground with an echoing clang and clapped her hands over her ears to shield herself from what was happening. Kuja was coming apart at the seams, all rage and feathers and marionette-gestures, and she could but marvel at his defiance – any other man would have bowed, bent, broken by now, but he did not, standing where he was in the middle of the empty square; a target for the chaos.
The world narrowed, becoming chaos, Kuja and the stench of smoke stinging in her throat, and she stumbled back to her feet with only one thing in mind – to get out, get away from the screaming pandemonium – and it was unconsciously that she grabbed he flowing sleeve of the white-feathered puppet-man, dragging him with her down and out, out of the city and away from the flickering flames.
The gates of the city were unstable, near falling as she passed with Kuja still unbalanced and dragged behind her, and she stumbled on the broken cobbles, nearly crashing to her knees but saving herself at the very last moment. A forceful shock-wave, so powerful that it nearly knocked her off her feet, blasted from the city, and as it echoed out she fell to her knees, exhausted and coughing and scared, relaxing her grip on Kuja's sleeve.
Tunnel-vision, the sight of green fields and billowing smoke, and she was breathing so hard. The clatter of hard, harsh metal shoulder-armour as it falls to the ground, and Kuja was on his knees beside her, coughing and wheezing and speaking so quickly that she could not hear what he was saying if she wanted to.
The echoes of the blast was still ringing in her ears, and she watched as parts of the wall toppled over, giving in to gravity and abused brickwork, and the sky is black with the smoke of the fires. The wind howls across the plain, driving the smoke-clouds towards Treno, playing a requiem for her city.
With heavy roaring, an airship passed by overhead, and to the sound of its engine, she let unconsciousness claim her.
She knows that he will not be there when she wakes, but she does not care.