The Birth of Pain
Disclaimer: see prologue.
A/N: Hurray! Onto Braska's Pilgrimage! I'm so excited, I love writing Braska, Jecht, and Auron (especially Jecht who I will be RPing soon). I'm also extremely happy to be on solid ground since young Auron is a little more defined than the even younger Auron that I was writing before. So without further ado, onto the chapter!
Two pairs of booted feet and one bare stepped shakily onto the board walk of Kilika Port while the burning sun beat down on their heads. The air was hot and heavy, made all the more so by the humidity that radiated from the surrounding jungle, carried by a sweltering breeze that brought with it the sickly-sweet reek of overripe vegetation. The only relief from the heat and the smell was the occasional light breeze from the sea, rare even though they stood right above it.
"Ah, finally a place with a decent climate!" Jecht taunted, stretching his arms over his head and thrusting his chest, emblazoned with the symbol of the Zanarkand Abes, forward. Auron and Braska continued past him, obviously looking forward to returning to the shade. Braska's mask of serenity had cracked slightly under the oppressive temperature, and his scaled Summoner's robes did not help matters. A thin stream of sweat trickled down his brow, disappearing into his thick collar. Auron was doing little better and despite having fewer layers than his Summoner and was sweating harder. He had already removed the unfastened sleeve of his red wool coat and seemed to be seriously considering removing the other, and appearences be damned. Only Jecht, who went around half-clothed and bare-foot on a regular basis, something he shared with the denizens of Kilika Port, seemed able to take the extreme temperature.
"It's like this every day in Zanarkand," Jecht exclaimed, causing more than a few heads to turn. Some people even did the prayer to Yevon, as if to ward off the blasphemer in their midst. "Not so damned muggy but you'd have to be crazy to walk around in robes like yours, Braska."
"Appearances must be maintained, Jecht," Braska said, his tone lacking its usual steady power. "But...perhaps if we are delayed here longer than I expect I will look into purchasing more appropriate clothing."
They were more than halfway through the pilgrimage now, with only the nearby temple in Besaid to visit once the Aeon of Fire was obtained. Then it was back the way they had come, first to Luca then over the Mi'hen Highroad and beyond, bypassing Bevelle and the temple of Macalania to the Calms Lands. Jecht had pointed out more than once at the beginning of their journey that it would have been much easier to start in Besaid or Kilika and work their way back. Learning of Braska's fate at its end had silenced that complaint.
Many things had changed since they had rescued the man from Zanarkand from his prison in Bevelle. At first Auron and Jecht had hardly been able to be in the same room with each other but after several mishaps and false starts a certain camaraderie had developed between the stoic warrior-monk and the star of the Zanarkand Abes. By the time they had reached Luca, Braska was rarely needed as a peacekeeper and could leave the room without expecting them to be at each other's throats when he came back. He had the feeling that though both men were too stubborn to admit it, they now considered each other friends. Some of their influence had even rubbed off on each other for the better. Jecht had sobered up while Auron had loosened up, something that Braska had not seen for nearly six years.
Both effects were a point of pride for either man, Auron felt at least partially responsible for shaming Jecht into sobriety and Jecht believing that his easy-going nature had rubbed off on the stoic younger man. Yet even after these changes had taken place the going was still rough. Not long after the incident with the Shoopuff, Auron had caught Jecht on his way to the common room to 'wet his throat'. Incensed by how quickly Jecht had gone back on his word he had chastised and publicly humiliated the older Blitzball player in the middle of the common room. Braska winced at the memory.
"I always knew you were a good-for-nothing drunk but I thought this time your respect for Lord Braska would keep you out of the bottle for at least a week," Auron had said scathingly. This episode had pushed him to his limits. He had made some allowances before, when Jecht was still recovering from his transportation to Spira but the warrior monk had thought that once Jecht had seen that his actions had dire consequences outside his personal sphere that the Blitzer might be on the path to becoming a respectable Guardian.
And now this.
"Not now, Auron, I'm not in the mood for one of your lectures," Jecht said tiredly, pushing past the younger man. For a moment Auron was taken aback by the simple...exhaustion in the man's voice but he knew if he relented now Lord Braska was doomed to have one Guardian and one piece of drunken luggage weighing him down all the way to Zanarkand.
"Oh no you don't. I'm not going to allow Lord Braska or the pilgrimage to suffer because you're feeling sorry for yourself. Last time it was the Shoopuff, what what's it going to be? Is the cost of the entire bar to be added to the tally?" Auron spat. A small crowd had gathered to watch the exchange while others had backed away, not wanting to be caught in what looked like an inevitable brawl. Jecht shifted uncomfortably under their stares.
"I'm warning you, Auron," Jecht growled, his maroon eyes gleaming a disconcerting shade of red in the dim light.
"What do I have to fear from a drunken sot with no sense of responsibility?" Auron retorted, knowing that he had crossed a line but not particularly caring.
"That's it!" Jecht roared and suddenly Auron was lifted off the ground by his breastplate and slammed into the wall. The room spun but Jecht's words pierced him with crystalline clarity. "You think you know it all, don't ya? You little snot-nosed punk sitting all high-and-mighty on your make-believe teachings and ethics! Where are your scars, huh? What have you lost?! You're barely a man and you think can lecture me on how to live my life?" Auron was released from the wall only to be slammed against it so hard stars danced before his vision. Yet still Jecht bellowed on, gaining momentum with each enraged word. "What do you know?! You've never had a wife or a kid; you don't know what its like to lose them, to know you are never going to see them again! The biggest responsibility you've ever had is a baby-sitting a grown man till he reaches his death. Don't you dare lecture me on responsibility, boy," he snarled. The room had gone absolutely still.
"Auron, Jecht, that's enough," Braska's calm clipped voice had said, and the tense atmosphere was grudgingly diffused. Jecht's grip loosened and Auron's boots hit the floor with a loud thump. But the look on the younger Guardian's face showed that he would not leave without the final word.
"Do not presume to know me, Jecht. I too have known the loss of a wife and child more completely than you will ever understand," his voice as calm and cold as ice and with that he pulled up the dangling sleeve of his coat and left the room.
"We will speak of this later," was all Braska had said.
"My lord, is something wrong?" Auron's concerned inquiry pierced Braska's reverie.
Braska shook his head, "It is nothing. Come, let's see if there is a room available."
There was, but only one. Though the rank of a Summoner on pilgrimage carried much weight in Spira it did not have the power to conjure an extra room out of thin air and Braska refused to allow the innkeeper to turn out any of his patrons.
"It would be unforgivably rude to force out a paying customer for comforts sake, especially since we have little to offer in recompense," Braska had explained to the two Guardians as they made their way down the hallway. However, Braska's generosity meant that he and Auron would be forced to share a bed and bring a cot for Jecht. At first Jecht had protested his banishment from the larger bed but a word from Auron ("You thrash.") had silenced his complaint.
Once they had deposited their belongings in the room, including Auron's crimson coat which was simply too hot for him to fight in effectively, they had exited the building and made their way through labyrinthine docks of Kilika Port until they stood at the gates to the woods.
"The fiends around here are not as difficult as those that we encountered in Macalania or on the Highroad but beware the poison," Auron warned, turning back to Braska and Jecht. Unfortunately for Braska a certain level of decorum was required of Summoners and Braska had only been able to remove one layer from beneath the petal-like folds of his robes to accommodate the muggy heat.
The air with in the jungle was so thick it was like breathing water and had it not been for Auron's familiarity with the place from his previous pilgrimage they may have been lost for hours. The central path, which looked like the most obvious trail towards the temple, led precisely nowhere and it was in fact the second path on the right that was the swiftest.
Auron had been right to warn them. While the dionixes and even the elementals were easily dispatched, Jecht would have succumbed to the poison of a killer bee had it not been for Braska's white magic. After that they had made their way more carefully, avoiding any unexpected encounters with fiends until they reached the temple steps.
"It is said that the Summoner Ohalland, when he was still a Blitzball player, used to train on these steps," Braska remarked. Auron nodded, familiar with that as well as many other facts about the Summoner from 500 years past. Being married to a descendant of the man's Guardian would do that.
"Seriously?" Jecht asked. "Give me a break; there can't be enough stairs for a real workout."
By the end of the trek it was all Auron could do to keep from saying "I told you so." But in truth he had said nothing and by the look on Jecht's face, he already knew.
As great a relief as it was to finally reach the temple it was dampened by the billowing heat that emanated from the torches and underground fire pit that stood before its gates. The natives didn't seem to notice but a fresh stream of sweat dampened Auron's face as the combined sunlight, lack of shade, and intensely hot fires made the atmosphere even more unbearable than the humid jungle or the sun-baked docks. At least there there had been a breeze and shade. Even Jecht was beginning to look uncomfortable despite his earlier boasting, and compared to Braska he was practically naked!
"Quit foolin' around!" Jecht raucous voice broke in. "It's got to be cooler inside the temple, those priests wear almost as much as Braska!" Braska smiled slightly at this comment and the trio moved towards the stairway down to the door when something caught Auron's eye. The temple courtyard was filled with playing children, left here while their parents prayed or worked in the temple. A half dozen of them were dodging in and out of the torches, their high pitch laughter musical in its innocence.
"Auron, are you coming?" Braska voice rang out, snapping the warrior-monk back to attention.
Auron was torn. As Braska's Guardian it was his duty to accompany his Summoner into the Cloister of Trials. But Braska already had another Guardian who, though inept at first, had come a long way from the drunken lunatic in the Bevelle prison. And Auron thought he had seen...
There it was again! A flash of silver disappearing into a clump of nut-brown island children.
"My lord would you grant me permission to pray at the temple while you address the Fayth?" Auron winced slightly at his own words. Requesting permission to leave his Summoner....
But he had to know.
Several emotions passed over Braska's face. Confusion at first, then shock followed by...understanding? The Summoner smiled sadly and nodded then followed Jecht into the shadows of the temple.
He thinks I wish to pray at Leyla's home temple, Auron realized with a flash of guilt but no more than a dull throb of pain at the thought of her. After all, it's been six years. The pain has faded somewhat.
Walking silently in the direction of the children playing tag he leaned into the shade of one of the temple pillars and studied the group, his chestnut eyes flickering from head to head. There were children with hair black as coal and those with bright red hair that lightened to strawberry-blond at the tips but not a glimmer of silver. Had he just imagined it?
No. His heart nearly stopped as he caught sight of a flash of quicksilver as it darted between two of the children like a fish, silent and unnoticed. Though it was just a game this child was taking it very seriously, hardly making a sound as she eluded the capture of the older boy who was 'it'. Only her white shirt and red skirt leant her any similarity to the sun-dark natives. Besides the similar attire, she looked like a ghost lost amongst the living.
But she didn't feel like one. In her pride at having slipped through the tagger's fingers she had taken a moment to glance over her shoulder to see who had been caught in her stead and collided with a wall. At least it felt like a wall but walls didn't grunt in surprise when they came in contact with six-year-olds running at full speed.
Auron glanced down in surprise at the little girl he had been watching only a second ago who was now flat on her butt. She glared up at him angrily, rubbing her hind end as if it was his fault that she was now in a somewhat embarrassing position on the ground and that he had deliberately moved to block her way (never mind that she would have had a much more painful impact with the pillar had he not been there).
That glare caught Auron's breath in his throat and for a moment he, warrior-monk of Yevon and Guardian to Summoner Braska, who had faced down hundreds of fiends and traveled the length and breadth of Spira, wanted nothing more than to run away from that tiny, crimson-eyed child. His child.
He took hold of himself. I could leave now. I have seen her, I know that she is happy and well. There is no need to inquire further, but nonetheless... Fool! What have you to offer her? You may die tomorrow, or the day after. You may never reach Zanarkand let alone return. She thinks that you are dead, how dare you think to disillusion her now when the reality may be close at hand?!
His mind was almost made up when another thought occurred.
What if you don't? What if you live, survive Zanarkand as a herald to a new Calm? Braska requested that you look after Yuna once he has gone. What if...?
The thought bubbled inside of him, unexpected yet surprisingly hopeful. He shunted it aside, First things first.
The girl, upon seeing that she would elicit no apology from the source of her annoyance pushed herself to her feet and stuck out her tongue, fully intending to return to her game.
"Wait, Paine," he whispered then a little louder, "Paine."
Paine stopped and glanced at him over her right shoulder, giving him his first chance to really look at her close up. At six, her body was as sexless as any other child but her form was slightly smaller, hinting at lithe grace that would come with age. Her skin was pale yet against all probability was not sunburned in the least. It almost seemed as if she reflected light rather than took it in. Her hair was a few shades blacker than Leyla's, steel gray rather than deep silver and was cut pixie-style, shorn just below the ears with bangs curling over her forehead. There was very little of himself in her but that did not mean there wouldn't be once she reached maturity. At the moment from her ivory skin to her eyes the color of heart's blood she was her mother's child.
"What?" she said, her voice a surprisingly throaty alto for a child. She showed no fear though whether it was because she was hiding it or she felt secure surrounded by her friends and the temple clergy, Auron could not be sure. This surprised and impressed him nonetheless. It would not have been the first time his stern visage had frightened children away from him
"I've been looking for you," he said and immediately realized the error he might have made. Yet still she showed no sign of fear but the shift of her body showed she was on the defensive.
"Why?" Paine asked. "Who are you?" For some reason, that hurt. It was true that she had not been in his presence since they day of her birth but it was a blow to see the very image of what Leyla would have looked like at this age gazing at him with unfamiliarity.
"I am Lord Braska's Guardian," he said, feeling that that explanation was vague enough yet unsure of what more he dared give away. How much had Nuada and Balgern told her? Would she recognize his name?
In the end it didn't matter for she took the explanation with a nod. "What do you want with me?"
"I-," he had to think fast, "I have something for you," he said on a sudden stroke of inspiration and began fumbling through the pocket of his baggy gray pants. Paine backed away warily and glanced back at her friends. Some of them had stopped to stare at her exchange with the strange man but had returned to the game rather than risk being caught by the tagger.
Auron finally found what he had been looking for despite his shaking hand which he bent all his will power on stilling. Wrapped around his fingers was a slim silver chain from which hung a pendant like an upside-down heart with petals emerging from the bottom. It glimmered as it spun, casting shards of light onto the ground.
"It belonged to your mother, I thought you should have it," Auron said, reclaiming a bit of his gruff composure.
"My mommy's in the temple right now praying for the Summer-ner," Paine said. "Why wouldn't she give it to me?"
"But your mother..." Auron said. How? Leyla had died the day Paine was born, unless... "Nuada?"
"Yeah, but I'm not supposed to call her that," Paine said, rubbing her bare toe into the stone.
How dare they?! He thought, suddenly enraged. He had told them to tell Paine her parents had died in the attack on Bevelle. It was not much to ask, many children in Spira were raised by close relatives. But for some reason Leyla's elder sister had decided to take Paine in as her own and not tell the girl of her true parentage. Perhaps it is for the better, he admitted grudgingly to himself, or else I would not be able to speak with her. It would be cruel to tell her now that her true parents were dead and it would be a lie. No, better to give her the necklace and return to the pilgrimage. The future can wait until the path is clear.
In fact, he should have known that this may happen. Nuada and Balgern had had no children of their own and why tell Paine that the parents that raised her were not her own? Nuada and Balgern would have had no reason to tell her they were not her natural parents. From what he remembered of Leyla's older sister her features were not so different as to make the lie improbable. Her eyes were a deep rich brown much like his own and her skin was as fair as Leyla's, if somewhat rosier. Even her hair lent some credibility, a black so deep it was almost blue. Balgern, a Kilikan to his toes, was another matter with his cherry-red hair and dark, sun-tanned skin.
"I must have been mistaken," he said, his voice empty of his true emotions, "But I ask you to take it anyway. Show it to your...mother if you wish, she will understand."
"Alright," she said and turned her back so he could clasp it around her neck.
"You trust me?" Auron asked, somewhat surprised.
Paine nodded. "My mommy said that Summer-ners and their Guardians are good people who protect the world from Sin and that I shouldn't be afraid of them," Auron accepted this answer and closed the delicate clasp behind her neck. The pendant lay on her white cotton shirt right above her heart. "Thanks," she said then looked back not-so-subtly at her laughing companions. If she hurried she could make the next game.
Auron nodded and she dashed off, waving at him as she left. He was not sure if she would remember this encounter but it seemed right that though she would never know Leyla she would always have something of her mother's close to her heart.
Satisfied, Auron entered the cool shade of the temple and knelt before the statue of Summoner Ohalland to pray until Braska and Jecht returned.
Later that day Nuada had emerged from the temple to find Paine playing a game of hide-and-go-seek with the other children outside the temple. At the sight of her, Paine had bounded silently out of her hiding place and neatly evaded the hand of the seeker before skipping to her side. Nuada scooped her up in a hug, asking her how her day had been. Usually Paine would jabber about the games she had played or the tricks that had been played on her. But today as she walked hand and hand with her mother down the hundreds of stone steps that led to the forest she told Nuada about the nice Guardian who had talked to her outside the temple. Nuada remembered seeing someone who matched Paine's description but his face had been obscured as he prayed before the statue of Summoner Ohalland and she had simply assumed that he was a blitzer from his muscular physique. Easily distracted, Paine went off on another tangent when her mother did not immediately respond, talking about all the times she had almost been caught. They came to the edge of the forest and Nuada slipped on the charm bracelet that protected them from fiends and the journey was considerably shortened by the lack of fiends. It was not long they had stepped off the stone path that led through the woods and on to the boardwalk. From there it was only a short walk to the house.
That night as Paine was putting on her pajamas in preparation for bed she remembered the necklace that the nice Guardian had given her, tucked beneath her shirt. Running into the kitchen she showed it to her mommy, exclaiming that the nice man had returned her mother's necklace to her.
"Hmm? Oh, that's not mine, sweety," Nuada had said as she placed the last of the dishes out to dry.
"But the man said it belonged to my mother and..." Paine protested. Nuada gently took the pendant from her hands a inspected it more closely.
"My sister Leyla had a necklace like this, but she died not long after you were born. You may keep it, if you want," Nuada had said and returned the necklace to Paine. She fervently hoped that her nonchalant tone would keep the six year old from inquiring further. One day they would tell her, but not now.
Paine nodded and thanked her mother, carrying the pendant back into her bedroom. As she sat in bed trying to fall asleep she thought about what the nice man had said about the necklace he had given her.
She thought about what her mommy had said about the necklace not belonging to her.
She thought about how the Guardian had seemed surprised when he found out her mother was named Nuada.
She thought about her aunt, who had died right after she was born.
Paine was not a stupid child. She knew that there had been no confusion in the man's voice when he gave her the necklace. She knew that unlike all the other children she didn't look anything like her mommy and daddy.
As the realization dawned on her Paine began to cry, slumping into her pillow and burrying her face so that her mommy and daddy, who were not really her mommy and daddy, would not hear.
A/N: The next chapter is not yet written but the one after that is Nonetheless, please review to tell me what you liked or disliked.