Honesty, integrity and dependability are notable Taurean characteristics. The calm, pleasant and well intentioned Taurus exterior belies the volcanic temper that can erupt when sufficiently aroused.'
Zodiac Signal
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic
By Tenshi no Ai
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.
When she has finally fallen into the world of dreams, the first things she usually sees are colors.
First, there is the color of white, the purest of all the colors man knows of. The white covers her body, cloaks it from appraisal by the human eye. That is what it is meant to do because she is pure, and pure things must never be gawked over, pure things must never be the subject to coarse thoughts, pure things must be shut away and never be seen by others.
Their impurity would wash over her and make her theirs.
Second, there is the color of gold. Gold is a royal color, a rich color, a color of possessing and possessing and never having enough. Gold is the color of the designs at the bottom of her white dress, because even if God does not believe that gold is holy humans surely do. Her hair is gold as well, light and thin, and even as the dream is forming there are hands twisting this spun gold. They are coarse and calloused, these hands, and that is the only way she knows that they are not her own.
Third, there is red. Red of passion, of fire, of lust, but she is none of these things. She is too plain, too dull, too steady for such volatile things. She is so much more dependable than they, she always has been. If she was not, she would not be who she is.
The red is her cape, but she knows not why she bears such a color on her shoulders.
The colors are made darker by the sunless room. It is a room, no doubt--there is a bed and a desk even--but it is a cold one. Four walls of stone, rough and bumpy and ancient. They have been here much longer than she, and they will be here far after she is gone. There is a door, the dark wood offsetting the drab gray walls, and it is unlocked. There is something outside these four walls, the door proves that. However, if she were to leave unnecessarily, there would be eyes on her every movement until she has returned to the room.
For that reason alone, the door is nothing more than a pretty illusion.
There is nothing else here, nothing but the colors and the walls and the secret desire to leave it all behind. The hands fade into the atmosphere after her hair is done. Perhaps they were always invisible in the first place.
Every time Ovelia wakes from the dream, she feels a momentary disappointment. She dislikes the dream almost as much as she dislikes living her life in Orbonne Monastery.
But having never experienced anything else, this is the only thing she can dream of.
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It's because you're a princess.
Ovelia is used to this answer. The questions that preclude it are not important--they never were, really--but the answer is everything. The answer is the reason why she has to live long, lonely years of her young life in Orbonne, why she must never be unattended when she leaves her room--and often while she is inside it. Within the answer lies her identity, her fate, her self. It is the only answer.
Yes, I know, the young girl murmurs regretfully, but sometimes I wonder why this is the fate I must face. She looks away after saying these words, for they are shameful things for royalty to reveal.
A princess is supposed to be stronger than that.
Her confidant is quiet. She is a recently knighted Holy Knight, chosen from so many others for the honor of protecting the crown princess of Ivalice. The sword is her forte, not comforting words, but out of the pity she holds for her charge she tries. Princess, the status of our birth may be fate, or just a simple accident of convenience, but what matters most is what we do with ourselves afterward.
Ovelia has heard these words before. She will not fault her bodyguard for them. They are kind words, but she is not even allowed to do anything. Her suffering may be essential to Ivalice, but would it not be better if she were actually doing something to alleviate her country's pain? I suppose, Agrias, but I do wish I could see how Ivalice looks these days...
...That wouldn't be a good idea, the female knight says carefully, shifting her weight from one foot to another, her guard mostly lowered though her hand never strays far from the hilt of her sword. Even though the war has ended, there are still many dangerous elements about. With all the protesting factions around, someone would get the idea to use you for their own ends.
The young girl has heard these words too. Because she is the princess, she will be used by anyone with unscrupulous morals. That is why she is locked away. The princess' power must never be used.
Not even by herself.
...Of course, Ovelia says after a long moment of silence has passed, I should not have been so careless with my thoughts. It is a good thing to say, for Agrias merely nods in response. She would not have done so, had the response not been up to par.
Sometimes, Ovelia cannot help but wonder when she had become so good at saying the right thing. It is not an apology, not really, because royalty should never have to apologize to their subjects. It is an acknowledgment of her mistake, and the end to the discussion. Etiquette does not teach this, especially not at a humble monastery. She cannot remember if she has ever attended court before, but the answer is closer to a no'.
Perhaps it is something all princesses are born with.
----------
They are running now.
Ovelia's body is unused to such vigorous exercise, and her lungs are straining from the immense pressure of rapid inhalations and exhalations. Her feet, bound in pretty and useless boots, hurt. Later, they will reveal blisters at an alarming rate. With each hurried step, she runs the risk of stepping on the hem of her elaborate gown and tripping, ruining both the purity of the dress as well as their escape. Her cape flutters behind her, and she does not know that the knights chasing after her are tracking them by the bright red material through the dark forest.
In front of her is Agrias, who is much more suited to this level of exertion. With a rushed swing of her sword, she clears a path through the lower branches that hinders their escape. She is always looking back, aiding her princess whenever it is apparent that the girl needs her help.
It is more apparent the farther they go.
Finally, Ovelia has had enough. She stops, and her bodyguard spins around in surprise. What is the matter, Princess? We must hurry--
the princess whispers hoarshly, trying to catch her breath without performing the indelicate movement of slouching over. This is a pointless exercise.
What are you talking about? Agrias demands, a note of urgency making her tone harsh.
We cannot escape them. They are the Church, after all.
Princess, they mean to execute you!
It is true that those were the words uttered by one knight or another, as eavesdropped by the lady knight. There is even a likely execution site in this region: Golgorand, where the venerated Saint Ajora was made a martyr.
Ovelia does not wish to become a martyr, but...
The princess looks directly into her bodyguard's--her friend's--eyes. That is what they say. But what could they do with a dead princess? She shakes her head once, keeping her gaze steady. No, they want me alive. They want to use me. But you need to escape.
This command offends Agrias' highly refined sense of honor. I cannot! My duty is to protect you. If you stay, I will as well!
With another shake of her head, something desperate emerges within Ovelia's light eyes. It is the duty of a princess to make the best decision for her people. The Church may mean to use me, but they have no use for you. I will not endanger my friends! Agrias, please leave!
There is the sound of a multitude of footsteps quickly approaching.
Agrias nods once, thin pursed lips hiding gritted teeth. Then, I will find reinforcements and come back to rescue you, Princess! Without another word, the knight turns and runs deeper into the forest.
Thank you, Ovelia whispers, turning around just as the Lionel knights appear. Her face is blank, her eyes are dispassionate, and her feet are steady on the unrelenting earth. As they lead her away, she holds her head up with royal dignity.
Ovelia does not wish to become a martyr, but, to protect a friend, it is the least she can do.
------------
Aren't you eating? You can't go on without food.
There is a man. His name is Delita Hyral. Despite the fact that his dark eyes smolder with some unrealized intent towards her, he treats Ovelia very kindly. Or, more kindly than she is used to in this world outside the monasteries she has lived in.
You and I are the same...miserable people forced to live false lives.
Ovelia is not a princess. That is what Delita readily agrees with. She had always thought that her solitary life was for some good, even if she herself could not see it. But Ovelia is not a princess, Ovelia is not her identity, her fate, her self. Ovelia' is a falsehood.
Trust me, Ovelia! I'll make a country worthy of you! I'll make your life shine! Let me guide you!
She does not know what to think of these words. They are so comforting, so kind. Having been told that the life she had lived was never her own, the entire foundation of who she was torn down, these words offer her a coveted stability. All she has to do is trust Delita.
Ovelia has spent a lifetime within convent walls. She understands that everyone wants to use her. Certainly Delita is the same way.
You don't trust me?
She does not know. What she does understand, though, is that if she does not, then she will completely lose her identity. If she tries her very hardest to trust Delita, she can remain Ovelia'.
Her name is important to her, even if it is not her own.
---------
Once, Queen Ovelia knew a young man. He was a kind man, as knowledgeable about the use of a sword as he was about playing the reed flute. She never expected to see such raw kindness outside Orbonne. Despite that, even she has heard that he was named a heretic by the Church.
One day, she has the opportunity to talk to Olan Durai. She mentions this young man, and Olan quickly reacts. He relates all that he knows from pages and pages of his father's notes after the older man's death'.
Ramza Beoulve was Delita Hyral's best friend.
The more Olan says, the clearer things become for the young queen. It is evident to her that Ramza had been trying to do the right thing all along. In doing so, he had crossed the Church. Instead of helping his friend, Delita used Ramza's disruption of the Church to circumvent their authority. In their confusion, King Delita emerged as a true and strong leader, one who could offer more to his subjects than the Church. He was able to sway the people's loyalty to him.
And Ramza and his friends had died.
Ovelia cannot comprehend this. To her, friends are valuable commodities in a time when no one can be trusted. She let herself become a living martyr for the sake of her friend Agrias. Delita used his best friend.
The more she thinks about it, the angrier she becomes.
She let herself be used by Delita because he offered her stability, kindness. Listening to his words, she felt that he was sincere. At night, she remembers every single comforting word he had ever given her. Her stomach rolls with disgust at how easily she let herself be taken in by this, like a stray hungrily snapping up bits of food. How starved she was for gentleness, how easily she gave away her trust, her love, her dignity.
All to someone who would use and use without regret.
Soon, all there is to the young queen is the slowly boiling rage as her mind keeps its focus on the past. She feels that, having been willingly blind to the events of the past, she is at fault for what has occurred. If she had only kept her dignity, her pride instead of giving them up for a name that was not even hers to begin with, this would not have occurred. By trusting in Delita, she has given up the lives of Ramza, of Agrias, of her Uncle Orlandu, of so many others.
She hates herself, but she hates him even more.
Ovelia understands how Delita prefers to use those closest to him with kindness. Today is her birthday, a beautiful May day. He will come to this courtyard soon, bearing a pretty little present for her.
No more. She will not lower herself for a manipulator's gifts any more.
She is huddled here, sitting on the strangely comforting ground. There is a sharpened knife clenched between her clammy hands, held against her stomach. Her cape is spread over her shoulders, a deep, malignant red of passion, of fire, of righteous fury.
And then she hears Delita's footsteps.
-Taurus fades into Gemini...-
Taurus is an interesting sign to me, and not just because I was born under it. Generally, a Taurean is very peaceful and content as long as there is emotional and material stability. Ovelia was always worried about being used, and Delita's presence offered her that emotional stability. If I'm going to be used, at least it's by someone who is kind to me,' she might've figured. But, as the game shows, she couldn't tolerate anyone else being used, fitting in with the Taurean ideal of considerable moral courage. Oh, and the bull-like explosion of anger. Taurus is the fixed earth sign of the zodiac, which is fitting for a princess that the country is depending on.
Other Taureans: None. Though, from a personal standpoint, Ovelia's pretty much the pinnacle of the sign anyway.
-For those wondering, I've recently put in commentary in the Aries story. Sorry about that.
Reviewers!
Hey, TobyKikami. Yeah, it's because of you that I'm trying to put a new perspective on some of these characters. I'll blame you if it doesn't work out. :) I don't keep Boco after the first red chocobo hatches...and I usually poach that for a Barette. I don't understand what you mean when you say that it's ironic Boco's an Aries...are you one too?
Ah, first The Smiling Man, then this...I'm getting used to writing from a monster's POV. I see chocobos as hyper little things, hence Boco's odd speech.
The Wiegraf thing...I feel that Wiegraf is the type of person to make back-up plans. Seeing the Death Corps fall apart, he may have thought about joining with the Church, but it was his sister's death that sealed the deal. In the story, it was only about a day later that he left Boco.
I certainly hope this story keeps your interest in this series up!
Yo, Hawk of Death. You're an Aries, huh? Cool. As you can see from this story, Taureans like me only have one character representative too. That just makes us unique, though. I have two generics that are Arians (Aimee and Sade), but I couldn't use them for this series...oh well. Glad you liked the first story!
Ello, rufe, I'm glad you liked the story. I prefer focusing on the secondary and tertiary characters as opposed to the old standbys like Ramza, Agrias and such. Everyone has a story, after all. I don't know know if the things I write are really special'...I just feel it out and write from the heart. That's all you need, right?
Yo, The Burning Misery! Do you know a lot about the zodiac? I've always been fond of esoteric practices like astrology and tarot cards.
Chocobos are cute things. I pulled the, er, dialect from one of the monster dismissal quotes...I think. Whatever it was, it stuck into my mind. As for the bits of opinion...that's about par for my first-person POV stories...though, I suppose it shows more in a short story than in something like WHW.
Extra minor characters own all. Expect to see a lot of them in this series.