A/N: This is a very A/U story. I mean, besides the characters, it really has nothing to do with FF VI. The plot of the story is loosely based on the French faible Tristan et Ysuelt, which I do not take credit for. Characters are all property of the geniuses at Squaresoft, though I wish even one of them was mine … *sigh* Maybe next year …. Okay, on with the fic. Please let me know if this is any good at all!
_ _ _
A cool breeze pushed against the face of Locke Cole, who was leaning lazily on the helm of the Blackjack. The young man smiled thoughtfully and reached behind his head to tighten his bandanna, all the while looking out at the budding sunrise ahead of the soaring airship that he was supposed to be piloting. However, the Blackjack seemed to be doing well enough on its own, so Locke let his thoughts wander as the ship tore through the early morning mists.
The first rays of sunlight met Locke's face, and he rubbed his eyes as he yawned involuntarily. Night shifts were always the worst, and even though he had slept most of the previous day he was having trouble staying awake.
Deciding the only way to stay awake was to move, Locke began to walk slowly around the deck. He crossed his arms over his chest, attempting to fight off the chill of the air. He frowned as he traversed the wooden deck, trying not to think about how much he missed his warm bed at Figaro.
He leaned on the railing at the front of the Blackjack, looking down and marveling at the mountains and trees that seemed so insignificant below him. So different from the desert, Locke thought. Edgar was right on one part; Locke enjoyed seeing something different.
That did not quell his anger completely. Locke remembered how Sabin had laughed when he had learned of Locke's mission. He swore sometimes Sabin acted more immature than himself, even though Sabin was six years older. Edgar had not even defended him against Sabin's jests; Locke supposed that was his payment for stealing, but all the same he did not appreciate it.
Locke was jolted from his brooding as he felt the sickening lurch of falling. He pushed himself away from the railing, frenzied. The Blackjack was losing altitude, fast! He whirled toward the controls only to find his platinum-haired friend smirking at the helm, suddenly pulling the ship up from his deliberate descent and nearly causing Locke to fall.
"Is this your idea of piloting, Cole?" Setzer asked as Locke steadied himself and approached, his eyes still slightly bewildered. "You don't make a very good helmsman at all."
"The Blackjack can manage itself, Setzer," Locke pointed out, watching as Setzer's scarred face broke into a wide smile. "And I can do without your antics, thanks. You scared me to death."
"I should hope so," Setzer replied, tugging absentmindedly on the collar of his expensive dark coat. "You know better than to leave the controls. What if something happened?"
"You leave the helm all the time," Locke defended himself. Setzer smiled wryly, and nodded.
"Yes I do. The sky is my home, Locke. I own it. I can feel when something is wrong. You, my friend, cannot. Luckily, your shift is over. Go below and get ready. There's some cold water if you need to wake up. I'll let you know when we get there."
"We're close?" Locke asked, interested.
"Fairly. The Blackjack is the fastest ship in the sky," Setzer said proudly. "Get going. You look dead, and that needs to change before Vector."
"Okay, okay!" Locke sighed, heading for the hatch with little enthusiasm. "It was your idea to give me night duty!"
"No," Setzer said, causing Locke to pause, still halfway visible in the hatch. "It was Edgar's."
"I swear he's trying to kill me," Locke said grimly, then promptly disappeared before Setzer could defend the absent king.
Half an hour later, Locke climbed onto the deck once more to meet a now bright morning. He was clean shaven, dressed in the fancier clothes that Edgar had insisted upon. His hair was, for once, neatly combed, although it was still secured with the familiar bandanna. He tugged at a sleeve awkwardly, his worn leather gloves left below. He felt odd, to say the least.
Setzer, sensing his presence, looked over and rolled his eyes. Locke could be wearing the king's own dress uniform and he would still look mischievous.
"Are you sure the bandanna is allowed?" Setzer asked.
"Are you about to tell me it isn't?" Locke challenged.
"No," Setzer smiled. "You've cleaned up well. Besides, you could never outshine me anyway."
"Right, Setzer," Locke said, exhaling slowly as he ambled toward his friend. "So what's the plan?"
"Plan?" Setzer repeated, quirking an eyebrow.
"Yeah, you know. Something besides waltzing into the Emperor's audience and asking for the girl," Locke said, rolling his eyes. "I thought we were supposed to be diplomatic."
"Yes, that is sort of the idea," Setzer agreed.
"So?"
"So nothing. It won't be difficult," the pilot replied, his lips curving into a slight smile. "Have you ever been to Vector, Locke?"
"Hm. Not as a guest, and certainly not by air," Locke replied evasively. Setzer gave a knowing smile.
"Then you might want to step toward starboard side. The view is splendid."
Locke frowned at Setzer's odd behavior, but did as his older friend asked. The unpleasant expression on his face faded into awe, and he gripped the railing tightly as he leaned without fear into the open air as far as he could.
Vector was enormous, a gargantuan city of stone, steam and steel. Locke's eyes gave the city a careful once over, but his gaze was drawn uncontrollably to the massive tower that stretched nearly as high as the airship's path. The Imperial Capital was a breathtaking sight from above, and Locke laughed a little.
"It's magnificent," he said lightly, letting his eyes drink in the sight as Setzer chuckled.
"We're going to circle around to land in the training yards. Vector doesn't have docks large enough for the Blackjack."
Locke only nodded distractedly, his focus clearly elsewhere. He was fully content to stand at the rail during their entire descent, but as the ship settled carefully on the open ground Locke's face fell. A group of men was approaching, all wearing the official uniform of the Imperial troops.
"We have company," Locke muttered to Setzer, who was busy disengaging the engines.
"What did you expect?" was his only reply, and as the engines died down Setzer came to grab Locke's elbow. "Well? Come along. We've got to go meet them." They quickly descended the airship, and made their way across the grass toward the assembled mass of soldiers.
Locke nearly yelped in protest as Setzer discreetly nudged him forward, and he turned to glare at the pale pilot. Setzer returned a steady gaze.
"You're the emissary, remember?" he reminded, his voice prodding. Locke groaned inwardly, but he resigned himself to his fate and continued forward. One of the soldiers broke away from the others, a welcoming smile on his honest face. Locke immediately softened to the man, who was dressed differently from the others. He was the commanding officer, that was obvious.
"Greetings," the man spoke, extending his hand to Locke. "Welcome to Vector. I am General Leo."
"Uh, pleasure," Locke nodded, shaking the general's hand dumbly. "My name's Locke Cole, and this is Setzer Gabbiani of the Figaro Air Fleet."
"Yes," Leo's eyes sparkled with some foreign emotion as he met Setzer's smirk. "You're looking well, Gabbiani. Welcome back. I'm glad this time your visit is on better terms."
"As am I," Setzer replied, shaking Leo's hand. "Vector is looking much better than when we last met."
"And for that I thank you!" Leo laughed. Locke looked first at Setzer, then to Leo, and back to his friend with puzzled eyes.
"Uh …" he began, a little less tactful than he had planned.
"The General and I are … acquainted," Setzer explained swiftly. "We were …rivals of sorts, during the Wars. Last time that I saw Vector was during an air raid."
"What?" Locke's eyes widened. "B-but then you …?"
"Relax, Mr. Cole," Leo said, recognizing the expression on Locke's face. "That is in the past. There is a peace treaty, and I intend to follow it. You are both most welcome in this city. Now, shall we get inside?"
"Lead on," Setzer nodded, and Leo turned to give a quiet order to his troops before beckoning the two to follow him.
"This way.
The guards will watch over your airship, just in case any townspeople decide to
get a bit curious," Leo explained. "I trust you had a pleasant trip?"
"Very," Setzer replied, and
Locke couldn't hold back a snort.
"Says you," he muttered, then immediately flushed as Leo gave him an amused look.
"Gabbiani stuck you flying? That's a shocker. I was under the impression that your ship was too precious for the hands of others," Leo said, looking to Setzer.
"I certainly wasn't going to fly both ways," the pilot quipped easily in return. The two continued to chat amiably, and Locke followed along in silence. His stomach dropped, and he tensed involuntarily as they moved farther into the base of his former enemy. It didn't matter that there was a peace agreement; old habits died hard. He had decided. He really wasn't happy with Edgar.
* * *
"Setzer," Locke whined. "I'm bored." There was an exasperated sigh from across the room.
"I know, Locke. I heard you the last time you said that," Setzer replied, his voice tinged with impatience. He crossed his arms over his chest and slumped more deeply into the plush, velvety chair that he occupied.
"Women. I should have known this would take forever," Locke muttered, slouching in his own chair and glancing around the lavish room they had been given to wait in.
"The Emperor already made his apologies, Locke," Setzer sighed. "I know it isn't ideal, but it isn't anyone's fault that Miss Chere has been ill. There isn't a rush anyway, so let her have her time to get ready."
"Yeah yeah," Locke mumbled into his hand, his chin resting in his palm. "I don't know why Edgar even bothered to send me. I mean, you were the one talking to Gestahl most of the time anyway. Like I even knew what to say."
"You did fine, Locke," Setzer assured him. "You were just bored, that's all. But you were polite and engaging, that's what really counts."
"Whatever. Remind me to never do this again," Locke said, tapping his free hand on the arm of the chair impatiently. After a few seconds of silence Locke got to his feet, causing Setzer to frown.
"What now?"
"I'm going to go ask how it's coming along," Locke replied, rolling his eyes as if Setzer's question was ridiculous. "Unless you'd like to sit here some more?"
"Whatever you want to do, emissary," Setzer said wearily, waving his hand dismissively at his friend. Locke frowned at him before pivoting on his heel and heading to the door on the opposite side of the chamber.
"Excuse me," Locke said as he poked his head out into the hall. The guard standing in the corridor looked over, smiling politely at Locke. Locke suppressed a grimace, wondering if the guard was there for their own benefit or to keep an eye on them. Either way, it seemed he had the man's undivided attention.
"Yes, Mr. Cole? Is there something you needed?" the young man asked.
"I was just wondering how things were progressing," Locke said. "You know, if Miss Chere is any closer to being ready for departure?"
"Sorry, sir, I don't have that information," the soldier replied. "You'd have to go check for yourself."
"Am I …
allowed to do that?" Locke asked. The man shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't see why not. You are
a respected guest of the Emperor, so I'm certainly not going to stop you."
"Excellent. Could you point me in the right direction?" Locke grinned.
"Just go down the corridor and up the stairway. The double doors at the end of the hall open into Miss Celes' chambers."
"Great. Thanks a lot," Locke said, and he was out of the room bounding down the hall in an instant.
"Mr. Cole, I wouldn't …!" the soldier began, but as Locke didn't slow his pace he let the words fall away, shaking his head.
Locke didn't see the gesture; he was too busy trekking down the ornate hallway. Following the soldier's instructions, he easily found himself outside identical ivory doors carved with the most beautiful and intricate rose design that he had ever seen. This had to be it. Cautiously, he rapped on the door.
"Miss Chere?" he called. "Excuse me, is someone there?" There was no reply, and Locke frowned. Even if Celes Chere wasn't available to speak, surely she had servants running around in there. Deciding that it was either onward or back to sit in that boring room, Locke's hand reached out and calmly turned the brass knob to push the door open.
"Hello?" he said, stepping slowly across the threshold.
He didn't see any servants. In fact, he didn't see anyone at all except for the figure of a blonde woman facing away from him, standing with her head bowed over whatever she had in her hands.
"Miss Chere?" he asked, announcing his presence. It seemed to be the wrong thing to do; the woman whirled toward him, an angry glint in her ice blue eyes as her wavy blonde hair swished about her neck. Her deep purple robes twisted about her, revealing hints of the white dress beneath them. Whatever she held was promptly pressed to her chest beneath her arms, effectively hidden from his view.
"Just what do you think you're doing? Who the hell are you?!"
"Er," Locke tripped over his voice, completely flustered at the open aggression she showed him. "I'm sorry, Miss Chere. I'm Locke Cole, from Figaro? I had just come by to ask …"
"Get out," Celes hissed.
"But I just
want to know …"
"Get out! Right now!" she
demanded, her voice louder and more forceful. One of her hands shot out,
blindly reaching for the first thing she could find. Her palm came in contact
with a shoe, and she scooped it up without thought.
"Hey now …" Locke began, putting his hands up in a show of surrender.
"Leave!" Celes shouted, flinging the shoe at him with expert aim. It struck him on the shoulder, and he recoiled in surprise. Seeing the serious anger in her eyes, he decided not to risk it. Turning, he hurried from the room and slammed the door behind him.
Leaning against the doors from the outside, Locke rubbed at his shoulder and frowned to himself. That hadn't gone well at all, and he still didn't find out what he wanted to know. Sighing in frustration, he pushed himself upright and began his walk back to where Setzer was.
"You really owe me big, Edgar …" he muttered to himself.
Setzer raised his eyes as Locke came back into the room, noting immediately the dark look on his friend's face. Locke flopped back into his chair, and saw the expression Setzer had directed at him.
"So …" Setzer began.
"Don't say anything, Gabbiani," Locke growled. "I feel sorry for Edgar."
"That bad?" Setzer asked, raising a curious eyebrow.
"Pissy as hell," Locke shrugged. "Guess we're stuck waiting."
"Hm. I could have told you that."
"Oh shut up!"
* * *
"Gentlemen?" the guard from outside said as he stepped into the room. "We apologize again for the inconvenience. They are awaiting you in the antechamber."
"Finally," Locke muttered, keeping his voice low enough so that the man wouldn't hear, and the he raised it as he stood. "Thanks a lot. Come on, Setzer. Let's get out of here." The two men followed the soldier out of the room, silently making their way through the halls. Finally the guard stopped outside of a wide, open doorway, and gave Locke and Setzer a small salute.
"Just inside here, gentlemen. Have a safe trip home," he said, and without waiting for a reply he was gone. Locke looked at Setzer, who merely shrugged and ushered him into the room.
There were quite a few people in the room, and couple of whom Locke didn't recognize. Leo nodded at the duo from his seat across the carpeted floor, and Gestahl stood in the middle of the room with a blonde woman in his embrace.
She raised her eyes as she sensed visitors, and glared viciously at Locke with her arms still around the old man. Locke swallowed consciously; he would have taken a step back from her intimidating eyes, if not for the fact that Setzer was right at his side. She looked away from Locke, her face growing carefully neutral as she pulled back from the emperor.
"I'm very proud of you, Celes," Gestahl said simply, and Celes smiled bravely for his benefit. The Emperor turned, noticing Locke and Setzer at last.
"Ah, Mr. Cole, Mr. Gabbiani. I'm afraid I must wish you farewell now and be off. I've many things to attend to."
"Of course, Emperor," Locke replied automatically, bowing slightly as they stepped aside to let the elder pass.
"Yes. Well then. See Celes safely to Figaro," the Emperor said, motioning to a couple of his attendants.
"Absolutely," Setzer said, nodding respectfully. Gestahl returned the gesture and left the room, his servants trailing behind. Locke watched him go, and then turned to find Celes was conversing quietly with another elderly man. The tears in her eyes as she grasped at the man's hands were real, and Locke turned his face away. It was a private moment.
"Grandpa Cid," she said quietly, keeping her voice low enough so that the others in the room couldn't hear. "You sure that you'll be all right?"
"Celes," Cid smiled, chuckling a little. "Of course I will. I'm not that inept, you know. I'll be fine, and so will you."
"I'm going to miss you," Celes admitted, bowing her head.
"So will I, darling, but you'll be all right. And I'll be in Figaro for the wedding," Cid assured her, pulling her into a hug. "Celes, you do remember what we talked about?"
"Of course."
"And you have it?"
"Yes, yes, how could I forget?"
"I just want you to be happy, Celes," Cid said. Celes squeezed him tightly.
"We'll see, Grandpa."
"Celes," Leo said gently, standing as he spoke. "It's time. Let's go."
"Yes," Celes agreed, pulling away from her grandfather and steeling her face once more. "I'm ready."
"Good. Locke, Setzer, shall we?"
"This way," Setzer nodded, turning and vacating the room. Locke followed him automatically, avoiding Celes' eyes and the open hostility she had shown him.
"Your room is just at the end of this corridor here," Setzer said, attempting to keep up conversation as he led Celes through the underbelly of the Blackjack. He was laden with baggage and feeling slightly bitter; Locke, being the official emissary, was busy showing Leo around the magnificent ship, and Setzer was stuck playing bellhop. Celes was going to be joining Locke and Leo, but for some reason she insisted on accompanying Setzer to her room first.
"You have a fine ship, Mr. Gabbiani," Celes said politely, her voice civil but slightly cold. Setzer didn't blame her; a fool could see that she wasn't particularly happy about her current position. Setzer turned into the cabin, setting the bags down with a heavy sigh.
"And here we are," he said, making a grand sweep with his hand. Celes remained silent; she wandered around the small space, lingered for a moment next to the dresser, and turned.
"Thank you. I'd like to join Leo and Mr. Cole now," she informed him, the indifferent expression on her face eerily frigid. Setzer nodded.
"They're, uh, waiting on deck for you. Just follow the corridor back the way we came …"
"Thank you," Celes said as she brushed past him, disappearing into the hall. Setzer watched her go, and once she was out of earshot he gave a low whistle.
"Wow, Edgar, what a bargain you've made," he muttered to himself, and picked up a couple of the larger bags to move them into a safer position in the corner of the room. He was on his way to the door again when a glint of silver caught his eye in the mirror on the wall above the dresser. Curiosity piqued, Setzer went over to investigate.
"Hello, what's this?" he purred, his pale hand reaching out to carefully scoop up the small argent flask that sat on the polished wood surface. "How did I manage to forget you in here, hmm? Well, let's get you back to your brothers and sisters then, shall we?" Deciding not to wonder how part of his liquor collection had ended up in the usually unoccupied room, he left the cabin to go redeposit the flask in its proper place, all the while whistling a tune under his breath.
* * *
The sun was setting with fiery hues as they finally took off, bound once more for Figaro. Locke stayed on deck, watching Vector shrink and disappear into the distance until it was only a dark spot on the horizon. Celes stood a safe distance from him, watching her home get farther away with a sad expression on her face. She finally turned away with a sigh, and distractedly pushed her tangled, wavy locks out of her face.
"Good night," she said to Locke and Setzer, heading for the hatch as she spoke. Locke watched her go, his hands buried deeply in his pockets. Setzer was at the helm; he waited for Locke to turn toward him before smiling thinly.
"Go ahead and get some sleep, Locke. I think you need it," he said.
"That obvious?" Locke said with a slight laugh, and rubbed at the side of his face wearily. "I think I'll do that, then, unless you need any help?"
"Me?" Setzer scoffed, leaning casually on the helm with a smirk. "No, Locke, there's nothing you could do. Besides, a storm is coming."
"How do you know?" Locke frowned. Setzer tapped the side of his nose secretively.
"You know better than to ask that, Locke. Don't worry, I've got everything under perfect control. Go and get some sleep."
"You don't have to tell me twice," Locke smiled gratefully. "See you tomorrow, Setzer."
"Sleep well," Setzer replied, turning to face the sky as Locke made his way slowly to the hatch. As he descended into the corridor below, he couldn't help but feel slightly unnerved. He didn't know what he had done to make Celes Chere hate him so. Shrugging it off, he headed pointedly to his room. At the moment he was too exhausted to think straight. It would have to wait until later.
Continued