Chapter 56

Hope

Selphie cared little for the time, both hands moving intuitively as she played the acoustic, though she guessed it was approaching midnight. Since the penultimate member of the Festival committee to depart the music room had returned to dorms, she had been finger-picking for the better part of an hour. At least she was giving her vocal cords a rest, instead sounding the lyrics for the song she had been finalising in her head, testing the occasional word, often changing it back when she decided the original sounded better.

Slightly tilted on her head was an old hat of Irvine's, carelessly lost after a drunken evening during one of their visits here, years before. It was the same maroon hat he had worn during the Second Sorceress War, the one she had playfully taken from his head during the celebration ball. He had never claimed it back after misplacing it a second time, and it had ended up as a prop in the Quad until she had spotted it. It contrasted her new, all-purpose magnolia dress, and it matched her dyed geezard-skin boots. She planned to wear it to battle.

Finding Griever had changed everything. All of a sudden, they had the advantage over their enemy. It was that newfound hope which had made Selphie resolve to bring forward Garden's next Festival, to coast on the Allies' restored optimism before the coming battles, and Squall had been happy to oblige. The crew of Battleship Island were ecstatic, flocking to support her, and it was on course to begin at noon tomorrow.

'I like the tempo,' a gruff voice said, and she looked to see Rhodry entering the room. 'I'll wager that's going to be the opener?'

The Ethereal tugged at Selphie as it always did. She had always found it somewhat easier to access it even before becoming a Sorceress, though could previously do so only in anger, and the elements she could call forth random. She would have been instantly alerted to any maleficent presence nearby, though she had been so engrossed in her rehearsal she had not even felt the familiar essence of Shiva approaching.

'You betcha!'

In recent months the lines around Rhodry's eyes had become more noticeable, especially with the close-mouthed smile he wore now. Under certain lighting, Selphie had seen some grey hairs sprouting through the brown ones, no doubt accelerated by the amount of effort he had always put into life. Each day of his youth had begun with the hurricane runs around Garden each morning, doing the same circuit in the Training Centre every night as he strove to be match for his older cadets. It had been enough for him to go toe-to-toe with Galbadian soldiers at the Battle of the Gardens, though his zeal had almost cost him a premature death; rescuing him had almost cost Squall the same. Notwithstanding, Rhodry felled a t-rexaur before his thirteenth nameday, and he had been the first to make SeeD by fifteen since Quistis.

It had been Rhodry's thirty-first nameday three days past. During her recovery at Wilburn, she had gotten him the adult version of the blue sports tops he used to wear during his training. Now he was currently wearing it over some PT shorts, following what must have been a multi-lap circuit around the Island. She thought it a modest present considering everything he had done for her, but he had appreciated the sentiment, and had never been a materialistic person.

'Here goes,' Selphie said, her voice not betraying her niggling fatigue. She started playing the song one more time, with the lyrics, as he took one of the seats across from her. 'Three guesses what it's called,' she said, after the last chord faded into nothingness.

'Irvine,' Rhodry responded immediately.

She nodded. 'Cactpot,' she said contentedly.

They had never discussed Adaryn, save for what he had done with Irvine's body. Not that there was any need. If Rhodry had returned to her cabin any earlier, he would have been killed, and Shiva bound. If he had never gone to the Ice Cavern, he would have died at Adaryn as he had in an unaltered timeline, and she never would have been freed from that damned diadem's control. Him arriving too late to help her or Irvine had been the only favourable outcome.

As for her fallen Knight. Outwardly, it would seem she was coping. It was only at the end of each day, while alone in her new cabin, did she allow her grief to overcome her chirrupy façade. Sorcery could do nothing about it, and although she was appreciative of Kadowaki's counselling, it had not helped much. All alone, for the first time in twenty years, Selphie would cry herself to sleep. Before, she could never fathom Ultimecia being merciful, but the hag had commanded Selphie to walk away before killing Irvine. That way, she had been spared his final seconds. She knew Irvine would have been scared; if he had not been gagged, he probably would have even given Ultimecia a wry remark to mask it.

Looking at Rhodry searchingly now, Selphie knew his tells all too well. The twitching off his left eyelid. The way his gaze had gone distant a couple of times during her rehearsal. He did not have a deficient attention span; there was definitely something on his mind.

'Is there something else, Rhod?' she asked, finally putting the guitar back on its stand.

Rhodry took a deep breath, leaning forward.

'You must have a Knight for the coming battles, Selphie, if not a Guardian Force!' he said boldly.

He dropped to one knee before her and drew his glimmering Icefall. They might no longer be as fearful of Ultimecia, but no SeeD parted with their weapons on Battleship Island; Strangevision was sprawled on the table behind her.

'Sorceress and Knight don't have to be lovers,' he stated. 'We've been friends for as long as I can remember. I've followed you across the whole Planet, witness to every major event of your life. I freed you upon the Great Plains, and the only other who could have helped you overcome that diadem was Irvine himself! There is no one closer; I was prepared to lay down my life for you at Wilburn! Together, we will fight in tandem with Squall and Rinoa! Ultimecia and her Knight will be powerless before us! Then, after, we will rebuild Trabia and its Garden! Together!'

Selphie put her fretting hand to her chest, her vision blurring. One could not contest Rhodry's words, and the affection she harboured for him was indeed solid and sisterly. He was named for Rhodry Maelon, who had effectively been Knight to the ancient Trabian Sorceress, Rhiannon. He too been a wielder of Icefall and had been slenderly built, with dark hair and ice-blue eyes. Selphie knew, as she had beheld Rhiannon and Rhodry during Time Compression, and she had been the only one of the Children of Fate who could speak their language.

'Rhodry, I…' she croaked.

He moved to embrace her, and she fell into him, the rim of Irvine's hat going askew as she pressed her reddened face into his shoulder. He waited expectantly as she sobbed, still holding his sword, his offhand pressing the hat softly to her head.

'You would be the best Knight any Sorceress could ask for,' Selphie said, after she had collected herself. She let go of him and stepped back, readjusting the hat. 'You really are, Rhod. Screw Christophe! You are the best swordsman on the Planet! And you're as dear to me as Squall, Rinoa, and any absent friends.' She wiped her eyes. 'But I've been thinking a lot about this, and I've decided there is one other person I would ask, before accepting your offer. Someone who really needs it, who's facing a lifetime of disgrace and exile for something that wasn't his fault. And if he accepts, don't sweat it, we can still fight together the same way me and the guys fought by Squall and Rinoa. Nothing else will change.'

'He?' he questioned. Rhodry looked disappointed but nodded with acceptance, sheathing Icefall. When Selphie did not elaborate, he asked with wonder, 'Do you mean Nida?'

She sighed and opted to change the subject. 'Once Ultimecia is dead, we'll go back to Adaryn and rebuild Trabia from there. Not just to restore, but to make our Trabia a country, with an elected government. A nation that will have a standing army, initially trained and safeguarded by SeeD, capable of defending itself against foreign aggression.'

'I too have long desired this,' Rhodry said. 'It was never my intention to succeed Squall as Commander here. The Whitelands should have been declared a nation long ago, the northerners and highlanders unified under a banner of mountainous northwind. With friends in the north, the Highlands might have weathered the Lunar Cry better, and less of their people would have migrated to Esthar.'

'Trabia is going to need us.' Selphie said, then added. 'And Shiva.'

Neither spoke for a moment. She reached for her weapon and reattached it to a ringlet at her lower back. She in her yellow battledress, and he in his blue sports top. Just like old times, really, only Rhodry was now more than a head taller than her.

'I can't wait for tomorrow!' Rhodry said suddenly. 'It's shaping up to be like the Garden Festivals of old!'

'Same,' Selphie agreed. 'It's gonna be a blast! Are you gonna give me a preview of your jig, Rhod?'

He chuckled. 'Not a chance.'

'Don't you dare disappoint me tomorrow, then!'

He was still smiling fondly. 'You know, Selph, not checking your phone for two hours has to be a record,' he said sardonically. 'You forfeited the Tawlbwrdd semi to Rydia!'

Selphie's mouth parted, going for her phone as he was overcome with laughter. 'Hynedamn!' She started scrolling furiously. 'That green-haired wiz had better win the league, then!'

'Come on,' he said, gesturing for the door. 'If only I had your Sorceress endurance! Let me get you a beer before last call, you've earned it!'

In the lounge of their private quarters on the Island, Squall and Rinoa were watching the credits roll for A Dragoon's Fate. Angelo the Third was asleep in his corner, outgrowing his bed at twelve months. The box of a long-consumed pizza was on the glass-topped table in front of them, take-out style from the mess, freshly made and passable. By it were a couple of empty beer cans and a red wine bottle. Rinoa was snuggly fitted in some silk pajamas, baby-blue of course, while he was barefoot in one of his white tank top and some beige combat shorts.

Squall had always thought it disrespectful to the cast and producers to switch the movie off – or leave the theatre – before the credits' end, and the remote remained firmly in his grip, to prevent his Sorceress from going straight back to the main menu. The movie was the high-definition remake, newly released and made available on western streaming platforms since Dollet's – New Sarona's – liberation. It followed the tale of Kain and his fellow Dragoon and eventual lover, Freya, and their role in Old Sarona's last stand against the expanding Holy Dollet Empire.

Squall had owned the video for the monochrome version as a child and could not count the number of times he had watched it. With this being a remake, he had secretly been hoping for an alternate ending in which either Kain or Freya had survived, and it had tantalised him with a reimagining of events leading up to that tragic end, although the producers had opted to follow real history in its climax. All the same, he had enjoyed it, believing it deserved more than the four-star aggregate it had already amassed on the platform. Rinoa knew he had, too, and had shed a couple of tears at the retold sacrifice of Kain, along with Freya and Bahamut's ill-fated resolve to defeat Sorceress Jadis.

As it happened, the Dragonhair lance both Kain and Freya had alternately wielded was aboard Battleship Island, currently hanging on his office wall between two of his old gunblades. It had originally been bestowed upon a conflicted Kain by Jadis in a bid to win his fealty, joining that special breed of weaponry augmented by sorcery. In recent times, Dragonhair had been pilfered by Praetorian Kain during the Empire's annexation of Dollet, and had been briefly used by Tyris at Galbadia City, taken from the latter before her debriefing here.

New Sarona had recently reformed the Dragoons in response to Ultimecia's attack on their capital. The timing had been very important, as the Saronans had lost tens of thousands of citizens during that massacre and were yearning for imperial blood. As soon as Squall informed the western leaders about the successful acquisition of Griever, Shawn Argus had wasted no time in publicly promising vengeance for his people, conceitedly announcing the reformation of the Dragoons in the same press conference. The Saronans did not know SeeD possessed Dragonhair. Squall had decided he would gift it to them as a goodwill gesture, while at the same time honouring his agreement to return Siren to them.

The Island was currently docked in the Monterosa Gulf west of Castle Sarona itself, at Blackwater, though would soon be sailing for Centra again. The day after tomorrow, following the Festival, to answer an invitation to the coronation of Steiner Christophe. The liberation of northern Centra had happened much faster than Squall could have anticipated; Zell would have been immensely proud of Thalassa.

Although Squall was highly looking forward to Selphie's handling of the Festival, there would be little rest for the weary. He would be tasking Raine, Liu and Zhang to treat with the Saronans, who General Vossler had requested to rehire in order to assist the Dragoons in the coming battles. Understandably, the Saronan junta had moved deep into the mesas of the Hasberry and would not emerge until SeeD's GFs were present to cover their march south. Zhang would relinquish Siren to Vossler. Which was probably for the best, considering the twin's recent, worrying behaviour.

Rinoa's voice pierced his wandering thoughts as it always did. He had not realised the credits had come to an end, though she was not expectantly holding out her hand for the remote. The look on her unlined face was a necessitating one. Although Squall had browned beneath that molten gold lump of a Saronan sun, Rinoa never seemed to tan, and had long figured out how to use her sorcery to copy the function of sunblock. As always, the virgin snow of her skin contrasted with her raven hair, and the only thing that had altered in her ageless visage over the years was a slight broadening of her face.

'What?' he asked.

'I just said that I've been thinking,' she said.

'Oh.' Squall suppressed a sigh, knowing there was going to be a serious discussion of a kind. Better now than at the Festival, he thought, remembering their first ever serious talk. 'Hold on,' he said.

Not too hastily, he rose and walked the short distance to the kitchenette. Inside the broad fridge-freezer remained four cans of light Saronan beer – even though it still had 'brewed in Dollet' on the tin. With summer getting ever closer, the heat was intensifying by the day here, mercifully a few degrees colder than it would be further inland. Squall would not be envying the Saronans when they did move south, and certainly would not wish to trade places with the junta in the plateaus.

'Are you good?' he asked, nodding at her wine bottle.

She smiled faintly and returned the nod, unscrewing the cap. He was back by her side before she had filled her glass. He popped open the can and took a long pull of the smooth, refreshing brew. Two was usually his limit on the nights he did drink, but the occasion called for a third. He half turned towards her, and she slid within his personal space as he wrapped an accommodating arm around her.

'Seeing as we've not had a real discussion about it yet,' she started, then trailed off.

'About what?' he asked gently.

'Everything,' she said. 'Well, you know, how things have changed. How we've got real hope for the first time since Quistis and Eden were lost. I still can't believe we all walked the Jade Passage and survived, and that we got Griever. And now we're celebrating with a night in!' Suddenly, she giggled. 'Griever liked the movie, by the way!'

'So did Bahamut,' Squall mentioned, with a half-smile. 'Although he thinks his own portrayal does him too much justice. And he says Aranea Highwind looks nothing like Freya did, that Freya wasn't that beautiful; her features were rat-like. She did have silver hair, though.'

'Kain loved her,' Rinoa said. 'That's all that matters. And Aranea plays the part well.'

She glanced at the television, which was displaying three movie suggestions from the same genre. One was A Sorceress' Knight; Laguna's version. She took the remote and switched the feed to their sound system, using its voice activated receptor to shuffle one of her classical playlists at low volume. Coincidentally, a song by Julia Heartily was at the top. Soldier, which had been recorded but not released until her mother's untimely death. It was not for many years that her father had discovered that it, along with the more famous Eyes on Me, were about Laguna. She would be lying if she said she missed her father, but what Ramius' marines had done to him and his bodyguards had been despicable. Rinoa sipped her red to the long-gone sound of her mother's voice, and Squall reached for his can.

'I know it's not over yet,' Rinoa said, as Julia began a series of deft piano measures, 'and Ultimecia's still dangerous. Though we've got twice the number of GFs she does now, and a real shot of ending her in Timber. The future's looking a lot less bleak than the one we went to.'

'We can't count our chocobos,' Squall insisted. 'Not just yet. Ultimecia was able to take Eden when her defeat just seconds before had seemed certain. I know we can match Eden's power now, but we know first-hand just how cunning our foe is, and how loyal her followers are. All it takes is one misstep. If Eden beats Griever, and he's drawn into magicite, we instantly lose our advantage. We're only going to have one shot at it.'

He knew what she was thinking. That he was ever the realist, ever the pessimist. But the comments about his negativity had grown more than irritating long ago, and Rinoa knew she had changed her Knight's perception of everything about as much as she was going to. These days she said nothing, not unless he was being particularly melancholy or melodramatic. That way he knew about it.

Squall met her eyes. 'That's not the only thing on your mind, is it?'

She slowly shook her head, maintaining the eye contact. He knew that look. She really wanted something.

'I think it would be better,' she began, 'if we had something in particular to fight for. Not just for the sake of avenging Quistis, Zell and the others. Or rebuilding the Gardens. And not just to avert Gerra's timeline, either.'

'And what's that?'

That faint smile graced her features again.

'A child.'

He was too late to suppress his reflexive frown, and unable to keep her gaze as his eyes fixed on her wine bottle. It had been a long time since she had presumed the question to him. Though, in all fairness, it had been a long time since the world had seemed like a bright enough place to bring a child into, considering the ever-present shadow of SeeD's nemesis.

''Cause, you know, we haven't hit forty yet,' she said meekly. 'It's not too late.'

Would it ever be too late for Rinoa? She was saying it for his sake. If Adel's conception had been anything to go by, a Sorceress never lost the means to have children, they just could not harbour them, as Hyne's power left no room in the womb for development of a foetus. Something rarely mentioned was that Rinoa had befallen two miscarriages before the Fall of Balamb. The fertility doctors had assured them it had nothing to do with her power, that they had been highly unlucky, and that a third attempt at in-vitro fertilisation might have worked. Squall had just never liked the idea of his son or daughter growing up in an artificial womb. The war had given him the excuse he needed to never go for that third attempt.

'Not yet, Rin,' Squall said firmly. 'Not until this is over.'

'So, you'll go in for it?' Rinoa asked hopefully.

He took lengthy, unhurried gulps of his beer, realising the can was already half-drained.

'If that's what you really want,' he said dismissively.

She leaned forward, her tone hardening. 'But you have to want it as well, Squall!'

He pictured their old abode at the Obel, newly refurbished, a boy with raven hair running circles around it. Knowing Rinoa would want a girl, too, he added one. She had Squall's own hair colour, the same shade of chestnut he had inherited from his mother. He could even imagine some of the names Rinoa would want to give them, likely related to the cosmos, or angels. Then he banished the illusion, simply unable to justify bringing children into a world at war.

'I can't do it as long as Ultimecia lives,' he told her, 'though I'll try to share your sentiment for the duration of the war. If not for our own children, then any children brought into a brighter future are worth fighting for. Children that won't be fated to be orphans, spared the upbringing that myself and so many others had. Orphans that won't have their older, newfound siblings – or their matrons – taken from them.'

She squeezed his hand. 'That's good enough. For now.'

They enjoyed the moment for the duration of a couple more songs, both by Rinoa's favourite artist, Nobuo Uematsu. Squall excused himself as his bladder gnawed at him. When he exited the bathroom, Rinoa had reclined back on the couch, Angelo awake and enjoying the warmth of Squall's former place beside her. The whole open plan of the room had been decorated to Rinoa's liking, and he was immensely pleased she had outgrown the illusions of grandeur she had held in her runaway era, though that light blue shade dominated. Light blue and light grey, with a glass-topped table and kitchen counter. When he noticed Rinoa had refilled her glass, he looked at the fridge again, rationalising that they were sleeping in tomorrow, and that one more would not hurt.

Squall sat by her other side now, his arm coming around her. Her head took that familiar place against his chest, and he free hand rested on her silky hair. The slender fingers of her hand raked his beard as he scanned her onyx roots for a single strand of grey. There was none, nor would there ever be unless she found a Successor. He had grown his own hair and beard out during their years in Timber, and when she had commented he was beginning to resemble a lion, he had resolved to keep them for life. And of course, the weekly trims beat daily shaving, which were no longer enforced here.

'SeeD will have to be in capable hands if we're going to go… home.' He knew where she meant, their old cottage on the Obel shore, currently looked after by the moogles. 'I understand that, Squall.'

He sighed defeatedly. 'That's the problem. If only Xu had survived. Rhodry will going back to Adaryn with Selphie, and there's no clear successor.'

'Not Raine?'

He shook his head as her own left his chest.

'I think her heart, although pure, is her undoing,' he said reluctantly. 'Xu's words to her came from me. At Dollet, she wouldn't have been able to follow through with her orders. Liu and Zhang both said she was openly talking about asking for her discharge. Besides that, the rest of her family is with White SeeD now. If she doesn't hang up her old man's staff, she'll probably want a transfer.'

'Liu's an automaton,' Rinoa added, repeating his own comments. Liu would not have questioned his orders in Dollet, would have followed through without question, and the parameters only changed from murder and kidnapping due to Raine's protestation. 'Damian's a brute, although a necessary one right now. And Zhang…'

Since his assassination of Titus Septimus, which pre-empted the Children of Sarona's revolution, Zhang had been suffering from post-traumatic stress. He had come to alcohol-fuelled and GF-imbued blows with Damian last week, the two of them wrecking the entire mess and kitchen in the process, resulting in everyone settling for cold cuts for three days. Squall had had to penalise them both a month's salary. Additionally, the rumour mill was saying Zhang had suffered a rough split with his partner. It did not help that he was about to lose Siren, either, meaning he would no longer be able to fight with the GF bearers.

'Kadowaki's last evaluation of him wasn't great,' Squall told her. 'It just doesn't seem right to send Siren to the Saronans without him, but he'll be taken off active duty if he doesn't shape up. He certainly won't be keeping his A-rank.'

'Which doesn't leave a lot of options,' Rinoa pointed out.

No, it did not. Instructor Aki might have been temporary candidate, but he was close to retirement, and Squall would insist he finally return to his native Albatross after the war. Nida would never accept the job with his current mentality, either.

'There is one,' Rinoa said.

Squall thought that he knew who she was going to suggest, and it would be a highly idealistic choice. For that reason, he simply did not see it as a viable option.

'Tyris,' he finished.

Squall already knew what the rationales were, as he had already ran them through his mind before, but he let Rinoa say them anyway.

'She's the daughter of SeeD's founders, and she was a proven commander in Esthar's army. We both know the lengths she went to to preserve her cover, killing her uncle and one of her only friends. I highly doubt she'll want to go back to Esthar after the war, either.' Her free hands remained on his shoulder, her tone demanding that he return her look, her eyes boring into his until he met them. 'I know what you're thinking, Squall,' she said now. 'That Tyris was never educated here. That people won't accept her.'

'She probably won't want it,' he said. 'She's has been through hell for her freedom. And she's fallen for Ballad.'

'Yeah,' Rinoa said dryly. 'And Garland was created to rival SeeD, so it's a conflict of interests, yada yada. Just like how SeeD was created to fight Hyne's Descendants, only for its Commander to become a Knight of one, and for his Sorceress to share her power with two of SeeD's finest members! And that was after we discovered that Edea had her own SeeD! Tyris might not be a SeeD, but you can change that at the stroke of a pen. She needs no assessment!'

He said nothing. Angelo made an drawn out, attention-seeking noise, his head appearing around Rinoa's waist.

'Just ask her, Squall,' Rinoa urged, scratching the top of Angelo's head. 'Before this is all over. Then we can have our family.'

(A/N: I wouldn't normally write this sort of stuff, and I don't even like reading ships on here, but the scene with Squall and Rinoa was requested by my most consistent reviewer some time ago. Ultimately, I thought it was a good chance to foreshadow upcoming events and address the future. Sorry it took so long. I was playing FF8's soundtrack while editing this, and I inserted the Uematsu reference last minute.

Completely irrelevant, but for any metalheads following this, Disturbed's new album was released at midnight. I work nights now, so was able to listen to it at launch on my break. It's better than their last one, but doesn't touch Ten Thousands Fists or Immortalized. It does sound similar to the Sickness, though.)