Disclaimer: Final Fantasy 9 belongs to Squaresoft. However, any original characters mentioned in this story are mine, as is the plot.

Knightwatch

By Saffire Raynius

Chapter Three

The comfort of night was spent in front of the master fireplace, sipping hot cider and talking with Fratley. Despite the warrior's recent amnesia, he still possessed many interesting stories and much valuable wisdom. He also had many questions, some of which he'd randomly launch at Freya to catch her off-guard. The leadership question that afternoon was only the beginning.

"Lady Freya," he began brightly, "I do believe you haven't told anything of your travels, and your experiences."

Cider scalded her throat, causing her to make a small choking noise. "Ah, Sir Fratley! You know I am only your student at best. What I do, it is not important." A tinge of red darkened her complexion, but the firelight obscured the gesture. Fratley's warm eyes glanced over Freya curiously.

He was playing with her.

"And why, dear Freya, might you believe that?"

"I don't want to be renowned, just acknowledged. I don't want to boast, so I will share." Freya cradled her ego.

Fratley made a noncommittal noise and sipped his cider oh-so-calmly, occasionally probing with more inquiries—but none were so personal as the leadership and self-esteem questions.

A few minutes of silence crawled past. Freya tossed her own question at the seasoned warrior. "Sir Fratley, if I may inquire…"

He stirred from his reverie. "Yes?" His brows rose.

"Why are you still here?"

"Pardon?"

"I have already shared the history of Burmecia; some of your most glorious battles; and information on important world events. There is nothing more I can teach you… yet you linger. Is there something I have forgotten?"

In truth, Freya didn't wish him to leave, but if he did remain, she wished for the reason. She fidgeted, beside herself with worry. This calm, calculated testing of her knowledge of herself—what was the purpose?

Fratley took the question placidly, gazing into the fireplace for a long time.

"My duty… is here."

"I don't understand, Fratley. You left your duty before…"

Fratley shook his head to clear his thoughts. "I don't understand, either. In time, the answer shall appear."

Freya blinked. "Ah. It's been a long night," Freya said, standing. The rest of the palace lay empty in the twilight of sleep.

"Indeed."

She added a stick of wood to the fire. "… Goodnight."

Fratley still sat in the chair. "Goodnight."

Leagues of ocean stretched between their shared gaze. Freya turned and climbed the stairs, the fur on the back of her neck refusing to flatten.

Odd.

She took her time readying for sleep. The moon peered through the arrow-slit window, spying the thin woman stumbling into a nightshift. It seemed that her eyelids had just closed when someone rapped on her door.

"Lady Freya!" a male voice cried. "It is urgent! Please come to the gate at once!"

She sprang into action without hesitation. "I will come!" She pulled on trousers beneath her shift and hastily donned her red jacket. She snatched the dragon lance from its place beside her bed and burst through the door.

The frightened messenger, barely dressed himself, turned tail and darted down the stairwell with Freya in pursuit.

"Time is of the essence, my lady!"

"I know, I know!" Freya spat angrily, shoving the heavy doors of the East Wing open. She leapt down the Royal Staircase and dashed down an alley, still following the messenger.

At last, the tall spires of the gate came into view. Torchlights served as beacons, casting an eerie glow on the apparent circle of confused people. She ducked and dodged citizens and soldiers alike, attempting to see what was happening. Singlemindedly, the crowd stepped back.

A Burmecian boy no older than twelve lay sprawled across the steps, his breathing labored. Despite the passage of time, Freya easily recognized the victim.

"Prince Puck!" The knight rushed forward and knelt at the boy's side. His clothes were muddied by the combination of rain—and by the stench—blood.

The boy stirred just slightly, cracking open his narrow eyes to gaze uncomprehendingly into Freya's features. "Mother…?"

Freya blinked, realizing the boy was hallucinating: surely, a sign of dehydration and blood loss. She tilted his head back and administered a potion, then turned to the crowd. "Someone fetch a healer! Prince Puck is in danger!"

Murmurs spread through the crowd. Almost instantaneously, a timid woman in green and white robes staggered forward. "I'm sorry, I—I'm only an apprentice—my master is away in Alexandria—"

Freya shook her head fiercely. "We need all the help we can get. I already gave him a potion, but he won't last long without a healer's care." The healer paused, doubtful. Freya gingerly placed a hand on her shoulder. "Please, help him."

At last, the healer nodded. Freya stood aside to give the woman ample space. Glaring at the idle citizens, she began to bark out orders.

"You! Find another healer!" she commanded one soldier. Spying another, she called, "Send out scouts and see what caused this!" Other soldiers prepared a place for Prince Puck to stay until renovations to the Palace were finished, among other necessary things.

When everyone else had either retired or found a job, Freya took it upon herself to patrol the gate and city walls. Unsatisfied with her search, she took up grave-watch, or sentinel work until dawn.

Whatever had injured Puck did not show itself. Her eyes combed the plains until morning. The replacement lookout found her sleeping while sitting up, and laughing quietly to himself, sat down beside her.

The sun peeked over Mt. Gizmaluke. It cast blinding rays onto the wall where Freya rested. She jerked violently awake at the sudden brightness. Her eyes widened with confusion and alarm.

Fratley smiled at her, his eyes filled with humor. "Good morning, my lady. May I take this watch?"

It took a few seconds for the thought to register. "Fratley?" she questioned, voice raspy with sleep. "What are you…?"

"I'm taking guard duty. I would have done it earlier, but a certain stubborn woman had her eyes set on doing everything herself."

Freya plucked her hat from the edge of the wall, dusted off the wetness, and placed it upon her head. "Is Prince Puck recovering?"

"Yes, and quite well, considering what he went through. You saved his life."

"That matters not. It was the healer. I was protecting a member of the Royal Family, and at the very least, a citizen. It's my duty… nothing more."

Fratley leaned close. "And that means the world to him." Freya exhaled slowly, pulling her eyes away.

"He thinks he's independent. He'll probably brush himself off, thank me, and then run off again—if I'm lucky." She crossed her arms, looking off across the plain towards the Gate.

Fratley shook blonde locks from his eyes. "So, he has wanderlust. I don't think he'll be hopping borders anytime soon."

Freya raised her brows, blinking uncomprehendingly at the warrior. "Why do you say that?"

"He broke his leg, and moving anything is painful for him at this point."

"Ouch. But the Prince is young. Children can't be held down for long."

"True, but suitable fear brings suitable precautions."

Freya missed Fratley's reply. Her eyes studied an odd cloud formation over the forest to the west. Dazedly, she realized that it was probably smoke. "Look," she said, pointing. "A fire."

Fratley nodded. "It could be a natural occurrence. There was a large thunderstorm over this area last night."

"I know," Freya said bitterly. "I was in it."

A small smirk crossed Fratley's gray muzzle. "And whose fault is that?"

Freya grinned sheepishly. "Mine, I suppose. Are you here fore guard duty, or are you just going to hound me about falling asleep?"

"Easy there." He patted his lance. "No, I'm here for watch. Go, my lady, and be off to explore the breakfast venue. You may see the prince as well, if you so desire."

The knight smiled slightly. "I shall, Sir Fratley. Thank you kindly for this act of compassion."

"It's the least I can do for my lady," he replied without looking up as she walked away.

She ate a small breakfast while making her way to the palace. Instinctively, her feet clomped up the stairs to her suite. She undressed with a shock: she still wore her bedclothes! Sluggishly, she threw on a fresh white blouse and trousers and redressed. Looking presentable was somewhat important, whether the host was royalty or not.

Freya descended the stairs, dashed cross the East Wing, and came to a stop in front of the King's room. Until the damaged Hospice Wing was repaired, Puck's late father's bedroom suite served as a recovery room.

Standing before the ornate door reminded Freya of all that had been lost in the Great Alexandrian War. Puck had no parents, Burmecia had no monarch, and the world had no Mist. Zidane and the rest of his allies, including Freya, did much to change the world.

All of that and she felt no different, no more godly than before. If anything, Freya was more subdued and frustrated than when she stayed in Lindblum.

"How long are you going to stand out there?" remarked Puck from inside.

"Please excuse me, Prince," she murmured with a push of the door.

The room was exquisite in itself. Puck lay on the huge canopy bed, one leg suspended in a heavy cast. He set his lap-tray aside. "Freya!" he grinned, waving a bandaged arm. "Boy, am I glad to see you!"

She stepped forward to kneel beside the bed. "You seem to be recovering nicely," she offered. "But tell me, why are you suddenly interested in this yucky adult?"

Puck shook his head, hair flying in odd directions. His makeshift outfit, including headgear, was confiscated sometime during the night. "Well, it's been crazy ever since you and that kid Vivi left with that thief guy—oh, definitely weird! Long story too. Cleyra—OW!"

Freya attempted to decipher his speech while he went on.

"Anyway, I saw the scary hungry thing—"

"Quina, m'lord."

"Yeah! So I followed him—her—whatever—down Cleyra's trunk, and somehow escaped the big explosion thingy with only a few burns. I'm tellin' ya, I had no fur on my hands for a month!"

Freya shook her head slowly. "Did you see anyone else?"

Puck swallowed a glass of water. "Nope, I'm afraid not. Coulda been takin' a different way down, but they would've had to book it, ya know?"

She nodded, barely grasping his statement.

"Uh, yeah. So, somehow I found my way to one of the gates—can't remember which—and I found myself crossing the border 'n' stuff. I was tryin' to get home, but I saw some evil-lookin' clowns stalking around the place, so I ran in the opposite direction. Besides, I had servants in Lindblum."

He stopped to wiggle his toes. Freya waited patiently. "Oh! Yeah! My story. So, I went to a bunch of cities and stuff, and rumor was spreading about Queen Whatsherface and her scary black mages. And there were other ones, too, about a group that repeatedly escaped from her plans."

Puck paused, thinking.

"Your Highness, may I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"Where have you been in the past two years?"

"Like I said, it's a long story. If you really wanna know, I've just been sightseeing. It's kinda hard to sightsee when there are people after you and stuff. I'm really happy to be home though. No more craziness, right?"

Freya nodded. "Indeed, for our prince has returned. No more craziness, hopefully!"

"Good! So, when can I leave?"

Her lip twitched. "Prince Puck, leaving isn't a valid option at the moment."

Puck blinked. "Whaddya mean?"

"Your leg is broken, and it must be allowed proper time to heal. If it does not heal properly, you will never be able to leave Burmecia again."

Puck sat straight up. "Ow! What?"

"And your people need you," she said gravely.

"Aww, Freya, why do you have to be like everyone else? The healers and even the priests are constantly ordering me to stop bein' a kid and start bein' a prince. I don't wanna grow up! Besides, I have servants and whatnot. Don't princes have servants?"

Freya stood with a slow shake of her head. Her tail whipped around in frustration. She felt so old when around Puck, though she knew that once she had been just as foolish.

"Slaves and servants don't make the Prince, Your Highness. I doubt you would be ruling the country with so young a face, at any rate. Until you are old enough to understand what it takes to rule a kingdom, you may enjoy a childhood many here have not had."

Puzzled, Puck gawked at the enigmatic female. "I don't get it. Adults are so weird!"

Freya chided herself for springing such complicated thoughts on a child. "Forget it, m'lord. Anyway. Are you willing to tell me how you ended up here?"

He ran a small paw through his messy hair. "Something was chasing me. I finally thought it was okay to go home because everything seemed good again… and then I heard noises. They ddin't scare me, of course. I'm not scared of just any stupid monster."

Freya leaded forward. "Did you get a good look at it?"

Puck shook his head. "Nope, cuz it was dark. But there were more of 'em around. I wanted to get home quick because I thought Vivi and Dad were here, plus I had no money— no one believes I'm a prince! Then I started running, and the things were chasing me!" He swallowed another glass of water and continued.

"Well, I wasn't lookin' where I was goin', and I fell down a ravine. The things didn't follow me, good thing too, but my leg hurt awful. I think I spent most of the night just trying to get up the hill to the gates."

Freya smiled softly, reaching out to ruffle the Prince's hair. "You're safe now. You really should consider a bodyguard or someth—"

Puck bolted upward and regretted it. "Heck no! I dealt with it, didn't I? I don't need no bodyguard or anything! I'm invincible, you know!"

Freya sighed. "We've already lost you twice, Your Highness. Your father wouldn't want you to leave and never return. A bodyguard will allow the Priest to sleep easier at night, at least."

"I don't care! I'm fine, and that's all that matters, right? … Right?"