Split Ends

  Introduction: Hi!! Ok, let me lay out a couple things. For Llednar fans I do understand Llednar's circumstances (I've read a couple fanfics on him and he's one of the best characters in that game!) but for this he must be the bad guy. I can assure you this: I will not kill him, and his circumstances will be realized. I'm so happy you're all enjoying my story! Everything's going to get much crazier as I throw some old characters into the mix, and Llednar's plans have a bit of a twist. The boy? He'll come back in later. I have also changed the rating from PG to PG-13 for future chapters, which have quite a bit of violence and language, nothing major though.

Italics- thoughts, memories, etc Bold- important stuff, actions

IV

*****

      Marche awoke with a start to the cry of birds around him. Groaning slightly, he turned over on his back and stared blurredly up at the clear blue sky. The air around him was pleasant, but whatever he was lying on was bumpy and hard. Ugh…

    "Kupopo! So it's true! He's over here!" came a familiar voice, a little too loud for comfort this early. Marche sighed, allowing his vision and mind to clear before he tackled getting up and dealing with where he was.

   Moments later, a mouse brown moogle face peered down at his. "Good morning kupo!"

 "Ah!!" Marche sat up with a start, but that was apparently the wrong thing to do. His head swam the moment he was up, and he fell back onto the ground with his arms outstretched.

  "Tch… you don't look so good Marche," the moogle said. It took a few minutes for him to register who the hell the moogle peering down at him was. He sat upright again, his head clear. "Montblanc?!"

    Montblanc clapped his hands happily. "Kupopo! That's better! Hello!"

 "It is you!" He beamed happily. "It's good to see you again!"

   "You too kupo!"

  Then Marche glanced around him; he was definitely in Cyril. "Wow… everything's changed again…"

   Montblanc sighed, "Yes, Babus and I were just discussing that…"

 "Babus?"
  A white nu-mou came tottering around the corner, his royal robes tattered. He grinned at the sight of Marche. "Marche!"

   "Babus?!" Marche got to his feet. "What happened to you?"

  Babus gave a weak smile, "His Highness… he is not himself anymore."
 "Prince Mewt?" Marche frowned. "Tell me, what's been going on?"

     Babus sighed, "I'm afraid everything is not well in Ivalice. Your appearance only confirms the rumors…"

  "Rumors? What rumors?"

 "Prince Mewt has returned," Montblanc stated. "But something's different. The rumors say that the Prince has declared Queen Remedi murdered… by you."

   Marche considered this. "Well yea, that's true… but I thought Mewt had gotten over all that when we went home?"

  "That's the thing," Babus said gently, "Is that Prince Mewt came back a few days after you and Mewt supposedly left. But Mewt… he's different. He's much angrier than usual."

  "He even threw Babus out of the castle," Montblanc said, and Babus nodded. "So we sense something is wrong."

  "Well of course!" Marche cried, "Mewt would never throw Babus out… unless… wait a minute…"

   "The Prince said that an imposter of him is now in jail…" Babus said, "But an imposter to the Prince? That is unheard of…"

   Marche gasped. "Llednar!"

 "What about him?" Montblanc drew closer. "He turned to stone remember?"

  "I saw him," Marche ran his fingers through his hair. "He was in our world… and then Doned… Doned was kidnapped."

   "And Mewt?"

 "Mewt…" Marche racked his brain. "Mewt… Mewt's in jail!"

     "What? Impossible!" Babus lashed out. "Our Prince in jail?!"

"Yes… Babus, Llednar must be posing as the Prince… and Mewt's the imposter," Marche sighed. "And I still have a huge bounty on my head again."

   "How can this be??" Babus looked shocked. "Our Prince an imposter?!"

 "No Babus, Llednar's the imposter, but he must've captured Mewt!" Marche said.

  "But where… where is Ritz?" Montblanc said, cocking his head. "Surely she was with you?"

  "What? What's that supposed to mean?" Marche said haughtily. Montblanc smiled, "Well… you were so worried about her last time I thought-

   "Can we stay on topic please? We must rescue Mewt!" cried Babus. "Laws no longer apply in Ivalice since the disappearance of Judgemaster Cid!"
   "No laws?" Marche frowned. "That's not a good sign…"

 "You bet your buttocks its not!" bellowed Babus. "They've already replaced him with some crackpot!"

   Marche blinked in surprise at the name. "What?"

 "Yes," growled Babus, pacing. "'Prince Mewt' hired a personal body guard. His 'Highness' also has a new personal mage…" He spat out the words like a bad omen. "Which is why I'm stuck out here!"

    Marche rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm…"

        That night the three were at the pub along with the rest of Clan Nutsy, talking. Marche was disguised as a black mage to obscure his face from any wandering eyes. "Is this really necessary? I can't cast spells, I'm a fighter, not a mage!"

   "I know," Montblanc hissed. "But it's our best disguise, so you'll have to bear."

 Babus took in a deep sip of his drink and set his mug down. "So what are we going to do?"

  "We have to show everyone that Llednar's the imposter," Marche whispered, as not to be overheard. "So we'll have to get to Sprohm and bail Mewt out. Then we have to find Cid, who's bound to be around here somewhere."

    "And Doned and Ritz?" Montblanc questioned.

 "We'll have to find them too…" Marche said quietly. He prayed they were ok, wherever they were. "Shara's with Ritz at all times, so if we find Shara we can find Ritz."

   "She usually calls you when she's in trouble," Montblanc mentioned. "I'm sure she'll be fine up until we hear from her."

   Marche could feel a blush creeping onto his cheeks. He breathed deeply, pushing the thought of fighting side by side with Ritz away. For some reason, when he was alone, he would find his mind drifting toward her. But that wasn't too odd, he told himself. You think about Doned and Mewt a lot too.

   Yet as he trudged up the stairs to his bedroom in the pub's inn, he found that he could not take his mind of her. The first time he had come to Ivalice he was so focused on getting home he had not touched the subject of why Ritz had no desire to leave for fear of setting the friendship between them further apart. Since he had gotten home, and then gone back to Ivalice, he realized how pretty Ritz looked when she smiled. He would sometimes find himself wishing that for once she would turn that smile on him and only him.

   He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He felt strange, his whole essence burning and pining for… for Ritz. He shook it off, believing he was going mental. And yet…

    She's just my friend. He told himself crudely, annoyed at his impulses. There is nothing else…

  Marche decided to turn his mind to Doned. He sighed, curling up under the covers and listening to the din downstairs, where apparently Babus had gotten drunk and decided to hold a playful game of truth or dare with the other clan members. Montblanc, disgusted, had promptly declined and marched up to bed. Marche had followed soon thereafter.

    Doned… I hope you're all right…

****

    Miles away, a small, crippled boy lie in the shadows in the back of a windowless room, scared stiff. His teeth clattered together as he curled up tighter, trying to make himself as small as possible.

   The room was so dark that all he could see was the darkness itself. There was no use keeping his eyes open, because whether they were closed or not they tried to amuse themselves with their own little light shows.

   Doned's hands were bound; his legs useless. He sighed, which sent a shudder through his body and slightly warmed him. The most he was wearing were his pajamas from St. Ivalice.

   Marche… help me…

 He groped around in the darkness, feeling the cool stones below him. Suddenly the lock on the door cracked, and the door sprung open with a loud, low squeak. At the door stood a figure, which Doned immediately recognized as his twisted kidnapper.

   He squinted in the light at the fuzzy figure as he stepped toward him, his long cape billowing as he walked briskly over to the boy. "Get up."

   Doned whimpered under his breath, but was determined not to show his weakness in countenance. The boy threw him a dark look. "Get up!"

    Using his hands, he pushed himself on his bottom to an upright sitting position. "That's all I can do."

  "If you can cause me pain," the boy growled. "Then you can do something as trivial as standing. Stand up!"

  "But… I can't," Doned murmured. The boy took out his sword. "Stand or die."

    Doned did not argue this time. Mustering up all his strength, he focused it to his legs, his dead legs. But something odd happened… he could feel his strength in his legs.

   He carefully pulled out his right leg out and placed it firmly on the ground. He looked up at the boy, who was still glaring at him furiously. Gently he eased his weight on his right foot, then his calf, then knee, then thigh. Slowly, he eased up on his leg, his left leg steadying him on the ground.

   Doned felt himself rise, and realized, for the first time in his life that he could stand. It was strange, he felt taller and stronger. He looked up at the boy, who was now just a head taller then him. He smiled. "I… I did it…"

   For a brief second, he thought he saw a smile curling on the boy's face, but that idea was dashed a second later. Doned's knees buckled, and his legs collapsed beneath him. He sunk to the floor, defeated. But he was still smiling.

    The boy gazed at him for a moment before offering his hand. Doned took his hand gently, and with the boy's help he managed to get to the door and out into the hall.

   The hall was large and long, with torches aligned at each door. There were about twelve doors down the hall, one at the very end facing them. The thick stoned ground was covered only with one shabby red carpet.

   The boy leaned him against the wall. "Stay here."

  He swept down the hallway and exited through the door. Doned leaned against the wall, waiting. He was amazed, that was the first time since he could remember that he had been able to stand. Usually he was so weak his legs could not even support him, and yet here he was, leaning against the wall on his now slightly useful legs.

  The boy returned moments later, with a brown haired boy at his heels. Doned squinted a little, "Mewt?"

  "Prince Mewt," the boy corrected him. Prince Mewt grinned at Doned. "Hello Doned. I'm so very glad to have you here, because we're going to have so much fun here together… just you, and me…"

   Doned's eyes widened. "Mewt… you're… you're not Mewt!"

 The boy grabbed his arms before Doned could try to wriggle free. Mewt drew closer. "Watch your tongue twerp, because I know someone who's just dying to see you…"

   Marche… "I don't know where he is!" Doned cried.

   Mewt pulled out a staff and pointed it at Doned's heart. The staff's tip glowed a brilliant red. Doned could feel the warmth of the red light as its temperature increased. "You don't… but I do…"

   Doned's eyes widened. I've got to get out of here!

**To Be Continued**