A/N: Okay, once again, we are starting the chapter with a flashback to Meliadoul's earlier years, then ending the chapter with Ramza and his crew. This is the last time we will need to flash back. Meliadoul is still sort of pathetic in the beginning of this chapter, but you'll see her improve a lot part-way through.
Chapter Three
Meliadoul tentatively began a relationship with her best friend, Lodwicke. Her upsetting experience with Sir Percival had somewhat put things in perspective for her. She decided she would not go chasing mysterious older men anymore. Perhaps it was a wiser decision to give her attentions to the nice, funny boy who had always been a good friend to her.
She did not know it, but she still had a lot to learn.
When Goddard and the other boys came to understand that Meliadoul was involved with Lodwicke, they seemed to lose interest in spending time with her. For the most part, she was no longer invited along on their hunting outings or their random hijinx. No one ever told her she was not welcome, but she noticed that they usually left without giving her any heads up.
It hurt her feelings a little bit, to be so casually excluded from the group. But she was enjoying her budding relationship with Lodwicke, so she supposed it was a trade-off.
Also, by default, she had begun to spend more time with her two closest female friends among the squires. It was not as much fun as wreaking havoc with the boys, but it was still nice to have a chance to get to know Emeria and Prudence better. She was trying to look on the bright side.
The worst part of Meliadoul's day was always dinnertime. She still had to sit at her father's table, with Sir Percival only a few seats away. She could not remember how she had ever found him handsome. Now, she only felt disgust when she saw his face.
Sometimes, he had the nerve to wink at her, if no one else was looking. It made her want to vomit.
One day, after she left the table, she heard footsteps in the hall behind her. She turned to find it was Percival.
"Meliadoul, wait," he said to her. She stopped, although she felt misgivings. Was he finally going to apologize for his rough treatment of her?
When he caught up, he gave her the smile she had once found dazzling. "I have been meaning to speak with you," Percival told her.
Meliadoul was shocked when he suddenly reached out and squeezed her left breast, through her tunic. "I cannot stop thinking about these," he said, with a leer.
Meliadoul smacked his hand away viciously. "Never touch me again!" she shouted at him.
She stormed away down the hall, and thankfully, he did not follow.
Meliadoul was seething mad. She was nearly hyperventilating. She wanted to go grab her Defender blade, and then go put Percival into an early grave.
But if she attacked Percival, then her father would want to know why. And she could not bear the idea of it, of having to explain to her father that she had made eyes at Percival like some amorous barmaid, and then willingly followed him to his bedchambers. She was too ashamed to tell anyone other than Lodwicke.
So, Meliadoul did nothing. She continued to see Percival's horrible face every evening over dinner, though she tried her best not to look in his direction. She reminded herself that soon enough, she would graduate from her Templar Knight training, and then she would be sent out on missions and would no longer have to eat at this table. She just had to be patient.
Things with Lodwicke, at least, were going quite well. They often sneaked away from the other squires to spend some time kissing and cuddling each other whenever they could.
After a month together, Lodwicke was not happy that they still had not gone up to her room to do anything more than kiss. Meliadoul tried to explain to him, but it was hard to find the right words. She felt a sort of panic whenever she thought of that night with Percival looming over her, hurting her.
Still, Lodwicke felt that they should let their relationship go to the next step. He suggested that maybe she would not be frightened if they tried it with her on top of him.
Meliadoul reluctantly agreed to try. She really did like Lodwicke, and she did not want to deny him forever. Up in her bedroom, Meliadoul blew out all of the candles. Lodwicke gave a half-hearted protest, saying that they should keep the candles lit, but Meliadoul insisted on darkness.
Sex between them was… well… it was not frightening, at least. But it also was not exciting. Lodwicke lay back on her bed, and she climbed atop him. With his encouragement, she guided him inside her. She was relieved that it did not hurt. But once their bodies were joined, she felt rather at a loss for what to do. Was she supposed to move the way Percival had moved over her? Lodwicke was not really doing anything. His hands were simply resting on her knees.
Meliadoul awkwardly moved up and down on top of Lodwicke. He moaned, telling her how good it felt. She felt him inside her, but she was not really feeling what she would describe as pleasure. In fact, her thigh muscles were starting to burn from the work of moving repetitively like this. Lodwicke finished eventually, and she climbed off of him.
Is that it? Meliadoul wondered. She felt no more exhilarated now than she did when she had just taken some exercise. The sense of arousal she had thought she would feel had simply not been there.
Lodwicke cuddled her afterward, and told her how wonderful she was, and how much he loved her. She liked that part, at least. It was nice to feel like she was the most important person in his life, as he was becoming the most important person in hers.
Over the course of the next month, Meliadoul really was falling in love with Lodwicke, little by little. He was so sweet and charming to her, and she enjoyed kissing him, and cuddling with him in her bed. Yes, the sex remained un-exciting to her. But maybe that was normal, she thought. She avoided doing it most nights, only conceding on occasions when Lodwicke begged relentlessly. Now, she basically just saw sex as an intense workout for her thighs, not something to actually look forward to. She still insisted that they only do it in total darkness.
On one occasion, Meliadoul tentatively told Lodwicke that she was beginning to think she might actually like it if he got on top of her this time. But Lodwicke had replied, "Oh, Meli, it is so good with you on top of me. We do not need to do anything that might frighten you."
She had not argued. She still had a hard time talking about sex in the first place, so she did not feel confident enough to press the point.
In other ways, Lodwicke made her very happy. When she had exciting news or a funny story, he was the first person she wanted to tell about it. And he made her feel special. He told her he loved her all the time.
Meliadoul felt like all the pieces of her life were falling into place. She would finish Templar training, and lead a glorious career as a Templar Knight, with Lodwicke and her two best friends, Emeria and Prudence, by her side.
Lodwicke even came from a good family, so she thought her father would not object to her marrying him one day. When the time was right, they could start a family. She had always wanted children.
One afternoon, Lodwicke told her he would not be able to come up to her room that evening, because he had made plans to spend time with the boys. He did this on occasion, so Meliadoul thought nothing of it. But after dinner she was feeling restless, having made no social plans of her own for the night. She decided to go for a walk through the gardens, as the sun was setting.
Partway through her stroll, she passed two young people primly kissing each other while sitting on a stone bench. The girl wore a pretty pale-blue dress, with lace adornment. The boy was—
"Lodwicke?" Meliadoul yelped, in disbelief. Breaking his lips away from the girl in the fluffy dress, Lodwicke whipped his head around to see her.
"What are you doing with her?" Meliadoul shrieked. The girl shot a scared glance at Meliadoul's enraged face, and then she stood up and walked away, holding her skirts in her hands so she could move quickly.
Lodwicke was scrubbing his hand nervously through his hair. "Meli, you did not need to make such a scene! I hope she will forgive me, after this."
"What? Who is she?" Meliadoul demanded.
"She is the daughter of a baron!" he retorted proudly, "And we are likely going to be wed… that is, if you have not frightened her away from me."
"Wed?" Meliadoul stammered, "But… but what about me?"
"You?" Lodwicke said, seeming genuinely confused. "Meli. You did not truly think I would marry you? You are a knight! You are my friend. I need to marry a real girl."
Meliadoul felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. She could not find anything to say, as her eyes started to fill with tears.
"Oh, come now, do not cry," Lodwicke said, attempting to be comforting. "I mean, truly, how could we be married? Would we both wear armor at the altar?"
He laughed, as if he expected her to find this funny, too.
Meliadoul walked away stiffly. She did not let any tears fall. She did not want to waste them on such a person.
Later that evening, sitting in her room, she was glumly pondering the mystery of relationships between women and men. Was her father the only good man alive? How had he managed to have such a loving and romantic marriage with her mother, when every other man in the world seemed to be completely worthless?
It was then that she started to think about the rumor she had heard when she was younger. In her presence, someone had begun to discuss Vormav having a mistress years ago, and how his wife, Marsilia, had been very displeased. Meliadoul had immediately dismissed the rumor as false. Her father had loved her mother; they had had the perfect love story. Anyone who made up rumors claiming otherwise was obviously only jealous.
In light of what had just happened to her, Meliadoul was finding she was no longer so certain.
She hastily made her way down to her father's library, where he usually dealt with his correspondence before he retired for the night. She was glad to find him there alone.
Vormav looked up, and smiled to see her. "Meli! I am surprised you are not out causing trouble with your friends at this hour!"
She wasted no time with pleasantries. "Is it true that you had a mistress while you were still married to my mother?" she demanded.
Her father sputtered, and his face slightly flushed. "To ask me such a question is utterly unacceptable!" he shouted.
"I heard rumors! I wish to know. You would not have done that to my mother, would you? You loved her, did you not?" She was shouting as well.
Vormav pressed his lips into a thin line. "These are not answers a child may ever request from a father."
Meliadoul seethed. "If the answer was no, I think you would simply say 'no'!"
"You are nearly hysterical!" Vormav said, "This is unlike you. Get yourself to your bedchamber, now! And tomorrow, we shall forget this conversation ever took place."
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The next time Meliadoul was matched with Lodwicke during sword-fighting practice, she slammed the pommel of her practice sword into his groin. As Lodwicke was carried away weeping to the chemist, Meliadoul protested to her instructor that the blow had been an accident. Her instructor seemed reluctant to believe this excuse, but Meliadoul was an excellent student otherwise, so he gave her the benefit of the doubt.
A couple weeks later, when Meliadoul was once more paired with Lodwicke, she slammed her sword hilt into his groin again. This time, no one believed her claim that it was an accident. Meliadoul was officially banned from sparring with Lodwicke.
Good riddance, she thought.
Meliadoul had a lot of bitter thoughts these days. She could not help feeling jaded, after catching Lodwicke with his "real girl."
And, of course, finding out that even her father, her role model, was just another piece-of-trash cheater did not help. She had decided she was done with men.
Even when she spent time with her adorable eleven-year-old brother, Izlude, she occasionally thought to herself: Sure, he is cute and sweet now. But give it a few years, and he will be garbage, just like the rest of them.
Still, she gave Izlude much of her attention. This would be her last chance to spend time with him, before she graduated. Izlude adored her, and he was excited that she was teaching him Divine Knight skills, even before he was old enough to begin official lessons.
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Meliadoul finally graduated from the Templar Knight training academy. She was at the top of her class, in addition to being the daughter of Lord Vormav. She was going to be given the leadership of her own squad, and she had been told to create a list of the soldiers who were her first choice to have on her team. She carefully decided on nine names to write down, and then she gave the list to her father, for his approval.
Vormav sent a maid to fetch her that evening. He wanted a word.
"Meli, I looked over your request… There are only women on this list?" he asked, with a furrowed brow.
"Yes, father."
Vormav seemed unsure how to continue. He ventured, "The Knights Templar never refuse admission to our order based on gender… And we have never had an all-female squad before."
Meliadoul shrugged. "You have had all-male squads in the past. I do not see why this should be any different."
"That was never intentional! We receive a greater number of male recruits than female, that is simply the way the odds work out."
Meliadoul gave him a confident stare. "I chose the soldiers I feel will best serve me, out in the field. I stand by my choices."
Her father weakly tried one more time to change her mind. "What if you wish to have a Bard in your party, someday?"
Meliadoul laughed softly. "I do not foresee myself needing a Bard. I would very much like to have the team I selected."
For the most part, Vormav always had favored his daughter, and given in to most of her demands as she was growing up. He could not think of a convincing reason to tell her she could not have her all-female team. So, in the end, he allowed it, even though all of the administrators beneath him thought it was a passing strange choice.
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Meliadoul loved being away from the castle, with her team of fierce warriors.
Granted, she was not close with all nine of the other people in her party. She had not been lying when she told her father she chose her team based on competence. Meliadoul had chosen each woman based on skill. A few of her good friends had made the cut, but she had also had to leave some of her other good friends out of her squad, simply because they were not so talented.
Overall, Meliadoul was very pleased with her team. She had felt confident in including both Emeria and Prudence, her two best friends. Emeria was working hard on the path to becoming a Summoner, and Prudence was an exceptional Knight.
Meliadoul was happy she did not have to deal with any stupid men in her day-to-day routine. Except for capturing or executing male heretics, rabble-rousers, or criminals, of course.
She did, however… sort of… miss having physical contact with them. She had always enjoyed kissing and cuddling, at least, and she had touched no one in that way ever since Lodwicke. Some nights felt lonelier than others.
Two of the women in Meliadoul's party, Bess and Gillian, had never felt sexual interest in men, and they were lovers with each other. Meliadoul had briefly wondered if she could do that as well. Start taking women as her lovers, instead of men.
But she just did not have those feelings for women. When she tried to picture herself doing that, it did not appeal to her. And she had not changed her mind about being finished with men, which meant that she had to do without.
It was manageable, she told herself.
Meliadoul took her squad wherever His Holiness ordered, typically through letters her father or his assistants sent to her. They traveled to parts of Ivalice she had never visited before, and they had some exciting adventures along the way. She liked knowing that they were doing some good for the country. They were enforcing the gods' will, and keeping the people safe from criminals. It felt like a worthy use of her time.
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Alma had been kidnapped.
Ramza was going out of his mind. After his skirmish with Izlude Tingel, and then his fight with Wiegraf, Ramza had seen Izlude, the dark-haired young man, riding away from Orbonne Monastery with Alma slung across the back of his chocobo.
Elder Simon had later died in Ramza's arms, after delivering the Germonic Scriptures to him.
He was trying so hard to believe that Alma would be all right. If he did not believe that, then fear for his sister's safety would drive him over the edge. He had gotten Alma into this mess, and the guilt was eating away at him.
Plus, he could not stop thinking about the last occasion when a girl he knew had been kidnapped. A wicked part of his mind kept whispering that it was only a matter of time until Alma ended up like Teta. The voice would not be silent, no matter how much he told himself he would fix this and he would rescue Alma before any harm befell her.
Ramza had really messed up with the safekeeping of the zodiac stones, too. Honestly, nothing was going right in his life, at the moment. Reading the Germonic Scriptures had destroyed any last bit of faith he may have held in their lord, Ajora. He still prayed, but now he had no name for the being at which he directed his prayers. He certainly needed help from the gods… If any of them were actually benevolent, and willing to listen to him.
Even during his prayers, Ramza was careful with his thoughts. He would not ask for help from just anyone. That sort of behavior seemed to be the first step in getting possessed by a demon.
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Today, they had had to kill a band of army deserters who had tried to take off Ramza's head in order to collect a pardon, and a bounty, from the Church. Ramza still felt a bit shaken, that soldiers who did not even know him would happily try to butcher him in the street. He should really be used to it by now, but he was not.
Ramza was feeling sick of his entire world.
Staring down at the deserters' bodies, he said to Agrias, "I understand the need to hold one's life dear. But to hold it so far above all others…" He let his eyes fall shut for a moment.
Agrias no longer shared Ramza's tent, but she still sat next to him and held his hand for a long while that evening. She could see that he needed the comfort, with everything going on lately. Honestly, she was really worried about him. The goofy behavior that had driven her crazy during their trip to Orbonne Monastery had disappeared, and now she kind of wished it would come back. Because this person before her did not seem like Ramza at all.
The real Ramza was the steadiest person she had ever met. He took life's blows gracefully, and he soldiered on, always insisting on following the path he believed was honorable. He fought toward a brighter future, even though he claimed that he did not believe he could change the world.
But right now, it seemed that Ramza was foundering, and that was scary for all of them. He was their leader.
As they sat there, Ramza leaned in to kiss Agrias. She did not pull away, but she turned her head at the last second, so that his kiss landed on her cheek instead of her mouth. Then she cradled her hand against his head and pulled it down to rest on her shoulder.
She was willing to offer all the comfort he needed, as a friend, but she did not think it wise to rekindle their intimate relationship. She knew that Ramza was dizzy with grief right now, and he was not remembering how volatile things had been between them when they were lovers.
Agrias squeezed Ramza tighter, in their awkward side-by-side embrace. For once, she would be the one to try to lift his spirits. "We will save Alma," she told him. "I am certain of it."
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