Disclaimer – I do not, and have never owned any aspects of the video game Final Fantasy VIII – this story is written for fun, and for the pleasure of anyone reading it, and I do not, nor will I make profit from it

Tears Of A Lion – By Eiry D

Chapter 2 - Cast

Squall had been summoned to the infirmary by a very angry General Carraway demanding to know what had happened to his daughter.

"You said you'd look after her, you bastard. You'd think she'd have been safe here, of all places. I should have just taken her home…" Carraway put his hand on his hip, and reached up to mop the beads of sweat from his lined forehead. Squall just stood there, looking over Rinoa's comatose body in vague disgust.

To think, he'd been willing to risk his life for her in such a similar situation. He didn't know why he bothered. He grew bored of the General's exasperated stare, so gave the routine answer.

"We're looking into it. The former sorceress Edea, whom Rinoa inherited her powers from, has been sent for, to try to gain some insight into the matter. There's always the possibility that she's been possessed once more, in which case Esthar will be contacted, and Sorceress Rinoa will have to be contained."

"Contained? You talk about her if she were an animal!"

Squall simply stared.

"There is no way that Esthar will have my daughter, Leonhart. No way in hell."

Squall was getting impatient, now. The idiocy of the man was intolerable, to let his feelings get in the way of something so important as international safety.

"Sir." He said flatly. "Do you have any idea what another Sorceress War could do to the planet?"

"That… that won't happen, not to my daughter. She's harmless…"

"Rinoa was part of the team that defeated Ultimacea, her powers were very weak then, and still we killed her. It's been years since then, she's managed to do this to herself." He motioned to the bed. "Her powers are a lot more advanced, and those… as well as the powers of another sorceress. It could be apocalyptic."

Carraway paced up and down the tiny ward, thinking to himself. Finally he rested with his hands on the windowsill, looking out to the ocean with his back to Squall.

"How… how could you be willing to give up on her so easily? You used to care about her."

"I cared, once. But my loyalty has to lie with the majority. Now, I am asking you to consider the lives of thousands of millions of people. One life is a small sacrifice."

He turned, to look Squall in the eye. How could he? How could he be so uncaring?

"I'd give my life for her, you know that no matter what we've been through in the past. She's my daughter, and I know that you would have felt the same once."

"It's out of my hands, General."

"You're cold, Leonhart."

Squall left the ice-blue room, leaving Carraway to himself. Why was everyone trying to make this his problem? Why couldn't they just leave him alone, like he wanted?

Rinoa awoke to a dream. The scent of smoky incense filled the air, heavy and pensive as it was. Everything around her was a bloody, ruby red. Swathes of crimson fabric hung over ornate gold features. Her eyes were hazy and stinging, but she could just about make out a figure sitting in an ornate throne opposite her.

It was a woman, also cloaked in red. Wisps of white-blonde hair peeked out from under her hood. But there wasn't much more that she could make out.

She could feel the blood dried on her face from her fall earlier. Perhaps she was half-awake after all, and only daydreaming from painkillers in the infirmary. No matter, she'd wake up soon… right? Her wrists stung, too. Something was biting into them, and her ankles, and neck were sore. Maybe… she was restrained, she'd been pretty mad before, if she was in the infirmary then they might think she was dangerous. Maybe…

At present, though, she was more preoccupied with the reality of this dream.

After a little while, her vision cleared. Everything around her was sharp once more. She looked again at the lady in the throne, she was bound, too. Then she realised that it was her mirror image. This had to be a dream… but it felt so real. From what she could make out, the mouth was her own. The blood was real; it had run down her face. But she couldn't see the rest.

She tried first to move her fingers, but to no avail. She couldn't do anything, her body refused to respond.

"Don't even bother, princess."

She stopped breathing out of shock, who was it that spoke? She could see no one. This was a dream, it had to be a dream… who was it that kept her here? The voice sounded… so familiar.

"Don't you recognise me?" It toyed, laughing. A high, metallic, girlish laugh. Who was it? "Oh poor, frightened princess. You don't know who I am, do you?"

Of course, she couldn't respond. Whoever this was, she didn't think that it was funny.

"I'm your past, your present, your future, princess."

Where was she? She looked around as far as she could, as far as she dared. The ceiling was high, and the room was altogether forbidding. There were no windows, so she had no clue whereabouts she was. The only light in the room was from candelabra and the high chandeliers in the room.

"Don't you recognise it? It's where the most important events in your life have happened, will happen. History always repeats itself, doll."

Rinoa watched as her fingers drummed themselves against the arm of the throne that she was bound to. Her head lifted up a little, so she could get a better view of her surroundings. God, she was being controlled, possessed.

The voice laughed at the pathetic little girl. Pleading silently against the inevitable. For once, she wouldn't get her own way. She was going to see, and she would get no sympathy for it. Only a memory within the voice stirred slightly.

"You want me to let you go, princess?"

Her mouth grinned as it heard Rinoa's silent plea. Her head flicked back and so the hood fell. As she let the body go, its eyes began to scream in terror, the mouth soon followed suit, the body trembled at the mere sight of itself.

Cascades of bloodied, tarnished silver fell around her. After an age the girl's voice started to die out, it grew thin and tore itself into a harsh, grated screech. Again, she passed out.

A/N Okay… doesn't like me – not only was there formatting errors… but it just plain missed out some of the text altogether.

I'll… try to fix. Review, please?