A Generation of Aeons
Chapter Thirty

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy X or X-2

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"My ancestor, the first maester, Bevle, said the Cheribum gave him those after he had passed the test. His descendants would supposedly have seen this come to pass," Takoire said, apparently having finished reading them as well. "Scholars interpret that the summoner of yore is some kind of savior, the guardian of the ages is supposed to be from the royal blood line, and they think the destructor of the ages is someone from Zanarkand, probably a royal."

"What do you think?"

"I have absolutely no idea," he answered truthfully. "The three prophecies are way over my head. Especially the guardian of the ages' prophecy. Either me or one of my descendants is supposed to be it? Thank you, but no. I make my own destiny."

She laughed. "And there are rumors I'm the summoner of yore? Sounds like whoever this person is, they're in a world of trouble."

"Don't worry," he answered, "whether or not you are the summoner of yore, I will always be there for you."

And for the second time that day, Takoire kissed her on the forehead.

Lenne found herself wandering the temple-palace aimlessly. A single day had passed since her walk with Takoire, and already she was confused. There was no doubt in her mind that she had feelings for her guardian. Thinking back on what Kiron said, Lenne had tried to picture her life without the former blitzball captain, and as Kiron had said concerning Seru, it didn't work.

She could see herself living in this Spira with Takoire for some time, but the thought of going back to her Spira and going on without her guardian was unthinkable. Deep down, Lenne knew how she felt about Takoire, the way her heart would beat a little faster when he looked at her, or the way he held her hand, and even the way he had simply kissed her on the forehead… but to what extent he felt about her was what left Lenne in doubt.

And then there was what Arkon had said to her. There was a law saying a summoner and guardian could have nothing more than a close friendship. Takoire had been trained to be a guardian; he should have known better than anyone. Lenne, of course, looked into the matter and found that the Bevelle prince hadn't been lying. Not that she had thought he ever was. He was one of the most honest people Lenne had ever encountered, and unfortunately, the victim of Takoire's constant teasing.

Ever since she had spent the day with her guardian, a small tingle went down her spine when she thought about him. He had come to her room that morning, and she remembered him leading her through the temple-palace while it slumbered. She remembered how for a second time he had laced his hand with hers wordlessly and how it brought up emotions within her she hadn't known possible. Together they watched the moon set and the sun rise over the water, and Lenne vaguely remembered her summoner's brand. But that wasn't what concerned her. Nor was it the fact there was a law against what she felt for Takoire.

How did Takoire feel about her?

"I'm rather surprised to find you alone," a smooth and sophisticated voice said.

Turning around, Lenne saw Sareth leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. She grimaced and nodded her head. "Lord Sareth."

He casually waved the words away. "Please, there's no need for formalities here. Sareth will suffice."

Lenne bit her lip. Something told her he wasn't being completely honest with her.

Takoire had interrogated every soldier stationed within the temple-palace. Every single one had no idea who was behind the orders for the assassination attempts against himself, Lenne, Kiron, Seru, and Zaon. As a guardian, they were obligated to answer him truthfully, but most of them answered out of the fact that he was once the lord marshal apprentice or the fact he was the son of the present lord marshal. But his status had not helped him in the slightest, and Takoire was becoming frustrated beyond belief.

He had also questioned all of his father's generals, who were becoming increasingly annoyed at Takoire's rank. Each general showed their distaste, but Takoire's instincts told him they weren't lying. They had no idea. Where were the orders coming from?

Rounding a corner, Takoire noted the familiar marble columns and decoration on the walls. Five years had gone by, but Takoire still knew his way around the temple-palace like he knew the back of his hand. He even knew of secret passageways that had long been forgotten that could take him from one end of the structure to the other.

A memorable statue of Takoire's grandfather Arzonay told him he was at the west wing while Lenne was in the east, the farthest place he could be from her. Cheribum alone knew he would rather be spending his afternoon with her after yesterday, but he had promised Kiron he would try to find where the attacks were coming from. And Takoire was a man of his word.

But that didn't stop him from thinking about Lenne.

Takoire had awoken an hour or so before dawn, as usual, and found himself thinking about a place he hadn't been to in years. Something had driven him to wake up Lenne and show her his vision of a sanctuary.

When he had reached for Lenne's hand a second time, Takoire had gotten a small thrill no blitzball game could be compared to.

Unfortunately, his summoner wasn't the easiest person to read. One thing was for certain though, there was something bothering her. What it was, Takoire couldn't tell, and that made Takoire worried.

Morning had come too soon, and Takoire had resumed his investigation.

"Takoire, I'm glad to see you up and about."

He didn't have to turn around to see who it was. He'd been lectured by that voice too many times.

"Father," Takoire responded, turning to see Bevelle's lord marshal.

"My apologies for my absence, Lenne, I've had a few errands to run in Besaid and Macalania. I hope you didn't mind," Sareth said smoothly.

Lenne didn't like the way he said her name, but she couldn't find a reason to tell him to call her otherwise.

"Not at all," she smiled. "I've been able to manage."

"That's good. I'd hoped you weren't wandering around, lost."

From looking at him, it wasn't very hard to see what kind of person Lord Marshal Apprentice Sareth was. His voice was nothing but calm and conveyed someone of sophistication. There was an obvious charm to him, the way the corners of his mouth would crease when he smiled, or the looks he gave when he looked at her. It was easy to see how Takoire and Sareth were brothers. They had a similar face, the stormy eyes Lenne had no doubt came from their mother, and both had an important stature that Lenne had seen from Bevelle's lord marshal; personality was where the two brothers began to differ.

There was no hesitation that Sareth was confident and had a great deal of pride. The way he had worn so many medals and ribbons the night of the feast said that whatever he achieved he did not want forgotten. He was the kind of commander who expected his soldiers' respect immediately and did not take the time to earn it.

Unlike Lenne, Sareth used his position to achieve every level of greatness available to him.

And unlike Takoire, Sareth liked to flaunt all of his achievements, instead of pretending they had never happened.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you meet my brother?" Sareth asked.

Sareth's question had caught Lenne off guard. She had, of course, practiced questions such as this with Takoire, Kiron, Seru, and Zaon, but not in a person-to-person situation. Let alone a person-to-person situation with Takoire's brother.

She lied the best she could. "One of his blitzball games in Zanarkand. We became friends."

Lenne wasn't lying, exactly…

"Really?" Sareth asked curiously. "You're from Zanarkand too, aren't you?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"How about your parents?" he continued.

"My parents? I don't know. I'm an orphan."

Sareth frowned. "My apologies. If you don't mind, what happened?"

He was being awfully blunt. Was he looking for something? "I was two, some sort of building accident. I don't remember them."

"A pity. Who cared for you?"

"For a few years my neighbor, but eventually they couldn't take care of me, so I lived in an orphanage."

"And when did you come across Takoire?" Sareth never lost a small smile at the corners of his mouth as he spoke.

"I was thirteen. I met him at one of his blitzball games." Lenne repeated.

The lord marshal apprenticed muttered to himself silently for a few seconds. "Thirteen you say? If I may be so bold, how old are you now?"

Confused by his onslaught of questions, Lenne answered truthfully. "Seventeen. It was my birthday about two months ago."

"Hm," Sareth said, twiddling with a silver ring in between his fingers, a habit Lenne had seen with Takoire, "so he was sixteen when you met?"

"Y-" Lenne stopped herself. "No, he was fifteen."

"Fifteen?" Sareth nodded. "I'm going to guess by your entrance into Bevelle that you didn't really know who he was."

"No, I didn't," Lenne answered uncomfortably. "If you don't mind, what are all these questions for?"

Sareth looked shocked. "I didn't tell you? How rude of me!" He frowned embarrassedly. "One of my duties is to welcome summoners into the city and record information about them and their guardians. But I would've thought a high summoner as esteemed as yourself would know that."

Lenne frowned and prayed that at any minute Takoire would rescue her.

"It does me good to see you recovered so quickly," the lord marshal said.

Looking back, Takoire had never remembered his father as a homely man, never knowing how to show anyone he cared, if he even did.

"Yes," Takoire replied, "I was just trying to figure out who was giving out the orders to attack my friends and I in the name of Bevelle."

His father turned grim. "I can assure you, son, this was done without my consent. I've told all my generals to cooperate with you fully."

"Thank you, father," Takoire said, bowing his head. "Although my rank as the sole guardian of a high summoner gives me authority over them, they never enjoyed answering to someone younger than them."

Lord Marshal Takoire I simply nodded his head, at a loss of words. "How is your summoner doing?"

"Well," the former blitzball player grimaced, "she's on her feet."

"That's good considering what happened the night of the feast. Your summoner is becoming an important figure… for something to happen to her now would be a terrible tragedy."

Takoire found he could only nod in agreement. Five years had passed, and he was a man now, but he was still unable to talk to his own father.

"I was thinking of seeing mother tomorrow, do you know if she is busy?"

"I'm sure she would find the time to see you no matter her schedule." Takoire only nodded. "Son, I have to ask. Why did you run away five years ago?"

Frustrated, the guardian ruffled his hair. "We've been over this, father. I was never suited for the position; Sareth is much better than I ever was. Everyone in Bevelle knows that. I was never the model son, Sareth was."

Caught off guard, Lenne wasn't sure what to say in return to her guardian's brother. But miraculously, she heard the sound of footsteps against the marble floor and saw Arkon coming into view.

A small smile appeared on the prince's face as he approached the two. "Lenne! Sareth! I see you're back, cousin."

Sareth shrugged. "There were things I had to attend to in some of the temple cities that couldn't wait. You know how it is…"

"Of course," Arkon agreed. "Lenne," he said, turning to her, "may I inquire as to why you're without your guardian? I'm half surprised Takoire didn't refuse to leave your side until the culprits were caught."

Lenne laughed. "He almost did, but apparently he still has friends in the palace guard who promised they would look out for me."

"Ah," Sareth said, wearing one of his usual charming smiles, "brother and his contacts. Five years have passed, and still some soldiers pledge their allegiance to him."

"Takoire tends to have that effect on people…" Arkon replied.

"He does," Sareth agreed, laughing, "but I am curious, what are you still doing here in Bevelle, cousin? I would have thought you would have continued with your pilgrimage by now."

Arkon simply held out his hands. "Duties I've had to attend to all over the city. You know how it is…"

The lord marshal apprentice could only grimace.

Feeling slightly woozy, Lenne leaned against a wall for support and held her head in her hands.

Arkon looked at her with genuine concern. "Lenne, are you all right?"

She groaned as her chokin necklace began to glow. "Not again…"

Within a few seconds, Lenne found herself screaming out in pain, and Arkon barely had enough time to catch her as her body writhed as if being tortured.

"Sareth, go find Takoire! Lenne's brand links them together!"

"Takoire, I don't want to hear about this not fitting in anymore." The sole guardian of Lenne frowned; his father was beginning to sound the way he remembered him. "You should be the rightful lord marshal apprentice, not Sareth."

"Sareth was the model son. He knows everything I know."

"Yes, but you were the one who inherited it. You are supposed to be my successor, not Sareth!"

"Father," Takoire insisted, unable to believe at what he was hearing, "I've looked at Sareth in his new position. He's a brilliant strategist, good fighter, and the men follow him."

"Only under my orders!" the lord marshal half agreed, becoming more and more agitated. The older man took hold of his son by the shoulders and shook him. "You are a natural leader, Takoire! I could see you becoming a better lord marshal than I! You are something that does not come by commonly! You are something that cannot easily be forgotten!"

The son looked away. "But I couldn't see it, father. Give Sareth a chance…"

But the lord marshal continued to shake his head. "No, Sareth was never meant for the role. Come back to your family, Takoire!"

Takoire never got a chance to answer as he became weak in the knees and toppled. He let out a cry and clutched his head, curling into a ball as his father looked on helplessly.

"Takoire!"

As the guardian panted, his summoner's brand began to burn on his shoulder brightly, and Lord Marshal Takoire I could only watch.

"Lenne!" he managed to gasp out. "Lenne! Find Lenne!"

And then Takoire found himself falling into darkness.

She was confused. Where was she? All Lenne could see was the darkness that engulfed her.

"Hello!" she yelled, her voice echoing. "Takoire! Anyone? Hello! Is anyone there?"

"It's almost over," a soft voice said.

A small boy with a purple hood stood in front of Lenne. She had seen him before and knew who he was.

"Bahamut?"

"We're sorry," the fayth said. "We couldn't help ourselves. We had no choice."

"No choice?" Lenne became anxious. "Tell me what you mean."

"That's how we knew you. How we knew your mother and father were special. How we knew we would finally be able to rest."

"I don't understand."

Bahamut began to fade away. "Good-bye."

"Wait!"

Lenne bolted up from her bed, out of breath, unsure what was reality and what was not. She was in her room in the Bevelle temple-palace. What had happened? One minute she was talking with Sareth and Arkon, and then she was talking to Bahamut, and now what was going on?

"Not sure what you mean, I don't plan on going anywhere for another half hour."

Glancing over at her bedside, Lenne saw Arkon calmly sitting in a chair next to her.

"Arkon?"

He held out his hands. "In the flesh." Picking up a glass of water on a table near him, he handed it to her. "You've been going in and out of consciousness for about four days. We managed to get some liquids into you, and I think that kept you from getting a fever."

Lenne looked at him as she finished drinking. "Fever?"

"Oh yes, you were muttering some strange things. Mom, Dad, fayth, Bahamut, Takoire, Takoire, Takoire, you know… mostly Takoire. Just so you know, he's fine, across the hall, and worried sick about you. One of my guardians is looking in on him." Lenne blushed. "Don't worry. I know nothing; I say nothing."

He squirmed and swallowed hard.

"Something wrong?" Lenne asked, noting how the Bevelle prince acted.

He turned away. "While you and Takoire were unconscious… Cheribum, it's about your friend, Prince Kiron…"

Author's Notes:

Final Revision