Title: Same Old Story
Author: Queen Momoko
Fandom: Final Fantasy VI (or 3 for the English speaking folks out there)
Characters: Locke, Edgar?
Rating: G
Challenge: indeliblefancy's challenge of unrequited love.

Dark and dim. That was how he felt his soul felt. As such, he was sitting in back booth of one of the town's bars. Misery and the pain of heart-ache was always so much more easily dealt with when one was drinking. And that was exactly what he was doing.

He eyed the amber liquid that sloshed around in his mug, sighing with his loss. This earned him a hard, disbelieving look from his silver-haired companion. His friend who was supposed to listen to his woe and heartache without casting those desparaging looks at him, like he was currently doing.

"Alright, Edgar," Locke sighed, resting his head on his hand. "What is it this time?"

"How can you say it like that? My heart has been broken!" Edgar wailed.

Again, was what Locke wanted to add, but he stayed silent to let the other man say what he would. It would ultimately be easier on the both of them, if he kept some of his thoughts to himself. So he just looked down at his own drink and bobbed his head in agreement.

"She was absolutely perfect! She was smart. I could just spend all day talking to her without ever getting bored. And you know me, Locke. I can barely stay awake for the Chamberlain's talks. But she just makes me so interested in anything and everything that she talks about. And not only was she smart, but she was also kind and caring. She took care of those less fortunate than her, even if it meant sacrificing her own livelihood. Those are all great qualities for a future queen. My future queen. And you know what else I liked about her? She didn't let anyone boss her around."

Locke forced himself to take a drink of his ale. He was sure his comment that it sounded like Edgar wanted either a mother or someone to control him, would not be appreciated. So when he felt he could control himself not to say any scathing remarks, he put down his drink and looked at his miserable friend.

Edgar had put his head on his crossed arms. An air of absolute misery surrounding him. His usually pristine blonde locks of hair were out of his ponytail, giving his hair a frizzy appearance. Now that he was also taking a closer look at his clothes, they did appear a bit wrinkled. A very odd thing indeed, seeing as he had maids to set out his clothes for him.

"It's okay, Edgar," Locke said, boredom lacing his voice. Edgar's plea for sympathy might have worked a bit more on Locke, had he not heard the same old, woeful story for as long as he had known the still young king.

"Oh, stop patronizing me. I know you don't mean it." Edgar looked up, "But she really was perfect. And when I tried to tell her how much I loved her, she just laughed at me. Me! King Edgar of Figaro. She just laughed at me. And you know what's even worse?" Edgar hung his head above his mug. "It only made me love her more."

Locke sighed deeply. Edgar's problem was that he loved too deeply sometimes. He would be better off if he wouldn't fall in love as often as he did. He reached across the table to pat Edgar's arm. For all of the broken hearts that Edgar would get, he would be there to see him through. Maybe one day Edgar would finally find that special woman that would love him back.