Désolé
A Final Fantasy VI Story
It started shortly after they began travelling together after the events in Tzen. It was a natural action that evolved into habit. Sabin wasn't completely sure if Celes realized it. Though he had a sneaking suspicion she did, the General saw everything after all. There was a reason she was so powerful at a young age, and it was more than just being infused with magicite as a child.
Even if she didn't vocalize it. She noticed.
They fell into a pattern after fighting next to each other without any other support. Sabin was always on Celes' weak side, which varied depending on the weapon she was using. Usually her right, when she wielded her favorite epee Save the Queen. Even long after they had reunited with the rest of their companions, still they continued this dance. When the group split into smaller groups to complete missions, they always fought together, side by side.
Sabin, ever present, on her blind side.
Covering her back.
By the time they were ready to face Kefka once again, it felt like a limb was missing if they were not at each other's side during battle.
Locke noticed too.
But it was Edgar who was the first one to notice Sabin's preference. A partiality that was much stronger than how they fought. As his twin, it was blatantly obvious.
It occurred shortly after they freed Figaro Castle from the beast that was tangled within its moving mechanism.
Sabin was quietly watching Celes meticulously clean her armor and sword of the grime that had built up from travelling. It was cathartic to watch her methodical and careful movements.
"So," Edgar gracefully stepped next to his brother, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "How long have you loved her?"
Sabin didn't respond, instead absently flipping his precious two-faced coin in his fingers.
"I know you better than you know yourself, brother," Edgar continued. "I see the way you watch her."
Sabin grunted and turned his back away from the scene he had been carefully attending to. "Longer than I care to admit." He disclosed quietly.
"Is she aware of your feelings?"
Edgar's question was met with silence. Which translated to no.
"I would not worry, Sabin. Not about…" Edgar didn't finish. Sabin needed to solve this for himself. Edgar didn't truly believe that Celes had legitimate romantic feelings for Locke. He assumed she viewed him as a companion, maybe someone who helped her see life differently at the most. He also didn't honestly have confidence in Locke's feelings for Celes to be anything more than his savior complex. Eternally looking for a replacement for Rachel. After all, he went from Terra to Celes rather quickly.
While Edgar respected Locke as a Returner, he didn't particularly respect him in regards to women. Edgar may have been a shameless flirt, but he didn't bounce around between women or lead them on. Locke seemingly fell in and out of love at the drop of a hat. Locke loved to save the damsel-in-distress and briefly become infatuated with her.
And Celes was anything but a damsel-in-distress. Far from it.
Sabin reflected, sitting cross-legged in his room in Figaro, trying to clear his mind. He knew the exact moment when he realized he was in love with her.
It wasn't merely because it was just the two of them for months. It was much deeper than that. He knew this woman. He gave her hope, and she gave him purpose.
But there was a moment. Many moments.
Part of it was the way she swore in French when she made mistakes in battle.
"Merde." Celes cursed as she failed to land her hit, causing her to take a nasty counter-blow.
He never expected someone so poised and powerful, yet ladylike, to have such a foul mouth.
Realizing Sabin had heard her, she blushed very faintly at being caught. "Désolé…" She apologized.
After that, Sabin learned that she spoke French. As did he. Growing up in the castle afforded him the ability to speak no less than five languages.
They began practicing French with each other on the road. It made the days seem shorter and became a game. When speaking French, she would call him "Rene". He would call her "Chérie", a play on her surname.
It was comforting. The only other person who had ever called him Rene was Edgar.
But that was not the moment he realized he was in love with her. More than just in love. He loved her. Both at the same time. Equal and consuming.
It was a particularly frustrating battle. Celes was furious with herself over her mistakes, nearly stomping into the ground and letting out a string of silent curses.
Sabin watched her carefully, marveled at how her temper could unravel. How hard she was on herself. She was ruthless, mostly on herself, more so than anyone else. Quick to anger, but directed within, rarely lashing out at anyone else. Controlled, yet a very different discipline than the one he was used to under Master Duncan.
"You'd make a terrible monk." He had said it in a way to relieve her tension. Hopefully to make her realize she was overdoing it. Wanting to ease her self-inflicted burden. But, he was never good at delivering jokes, or at giving comfort. That was Edgar's forte.
She glared at him with a look that made him realize why she was so terrifying as an opponent. Frustration and anger pained across her features. "Va te faire foutre. You would make a terrible king." She spat.
Sabin could tell that she immediately regretted the harsh words. She was angry. She was hungry. She was tired. They had been on the road too long.
He, however, found it absolutely hilarious.
Instead of responding, Sabin laughed. And laughed. He hadn't guffawed like that since the World had ended.
The laughter was contagious, and the next thing he knew, Celes was laughing as well. Her laughter sounded like bells ringing. It was the most beautiful melody he had heard in his life.
They both laughed until their sides burned, their faces hurt, and they couldn't breathe. Panting on the ground and smiling at each other.
That was when he knew he was hopelessly in love with her. The next year, as they gradually found the rest of their companions made it only grow more.
Celes knew she loved Sabin, but did not know what that meant. She could pinpoint all the moments she was painfully made aware of growing feelings. Feelings of companionship? Gratefulness to the one who helped her in a distressing time? Romantic? These types of emotional states never had any use in her world, so she had never paid them any mind.
Sabin was the perfect companion for her, in retrospect. Celes was often cast in gloom, despite the white armor she wore. She was prone to dark moods, overthinking, and despair. Had Cid not survived on the island, she didn't know how she would have reacted. She may have tried to end it.
Sabin was her ray of hope. Finding him, gave her hope for a future in the new desolate world.
Locke always treated her like some fragile thing that needed rescuing. Sabin never did that. In fact, when there was a situation in which she needed to be helped, he scolded her for her carelessness. Ironic, since he was clearly the more reckless of the pair.
He never doubted her. Not even in Vector, before the world ended. Not once.
The moment she was absolutely certain that her feelings were something was when they reunited with Locke. Locke had been spending his time trying to revive a dead Rachel for the past two years. Not trying to find his friends. Not trying to save the world.
That should have stung.
But it didn't.
She wasn't surprised by Locke's behavior and frankly she didn't care.
Closing her eyes and breathing deeply, she tried to open and clear her mind. Instead, it was flooded and foggy with memories.
"Something is tickling me. Is there a breeze? What is that?" Celes glanced over at her companion, but he was some steps away.
Sabin rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "No, I was casting cure on you."
Celes chuckled in spite of herself. "That was an attempt at cure? We need to practice your magic."
The monk shrugged. "I've never really needed it. I've always had you." He flexed pointedly. "All I need is my fists."
"You should at least be able to manage a cure spell that can stop a pinprick from bleeding, Rene."
Sabin hmphed. "I'll make you a deal. You help me with my magic. I teach you to meditate. Control that overworked mind of yours." He smirked. "And your short temper."
"C'est d'accord."
Celes was trying to meditate, the way Sabin taught her, but instead memories of their time together plagued her. This was supposed to be relaxing. But she was fretting about what would happen as their time together ended. And that was very soon. Too soon. They had finally gathered everyone.
Certainly, she was indebted to him for everything. Plus, he was now able to perform semi-decent healing magic when needed, though no one would ever call him a mage by any stretch of the word.
She felt a small guilty pang of sadness now that they had found all their friends. It was time to take down Kefka. What after that? Their lives had no reason to continue to intersect. Sabin probably assumed she would go off with Locke somewhere.
Before their final battle, they were all going to celebrate together.
In case it was the last time.
"You're drunk, Sabin." She chastised without any ill will. She, herself, was tispy.
The monk rarely drank, not with his lifetime of training and discipline.
His body felt unnaturally warm even though they were not quite touching. She could feel the heat radiating from him. His arm next to hers, painfully close, as they leaned on the railing, staring out at the broken world beyond the airship.
Celes took a deep calming breath and tried to calm her nerves. She was uncomfortably aware of the strength underneath the monk's tanned skin. Such a contrast to her paleness. She glowed in the moonlight, he glowed in the sun. She was the darkness, he was always in the light.
She was no lovesick floozy, and refused to be overly affected by his velvet skin, the muscle and sinew rippling underneath. She wouldn't sit there and imagine how those arms would feel around her. Around her not in protection, or when he rubbed her arms to warm her on a cold night on the road, but of… something she was unwilling to name.
"I, uh, never told you," Sabin started awkwardly. "When you sang…I mean way back at the Opera. I'm not an expert or anything, that stuff is what Edgar knows, but," He turned and smiled gently down at her. "You sounded really pretty."
He was by no means smooth, and his voice wasn't the velvet of his skin. It was graceless at best. But it was honest. It could hardly be construed as flirting.
But it was certainly his truth.
Celes rewarded him with a small smile and a dismissive snort. She was no pining opera heroine.
Before she could turn back to the stars in the distance, she felt his strong calloused hand on her cheek, turning her towards him.
"I don't want regrets…"
The next thing she knew, his lips were on hers. Strong, without abandon, joyously reckless. He kissed like he fought. He smelled like the earth and tasted like wine. Before she had a chance to respond to the kiss he abruptly pulled away. His warmth gone in an instant, leaving her in the cold air.
"I… désolé." He held his hands up defensively. "I shouldn't have…désolé."
Celes didn't get a chance to say a word.
Sabin retreated quickly, muttering. "Merde, enculer, putain…" under his breath.
That was the first time she ever heard him swear.
Instead of following him, she continued her attention to the night sky. Trying to comprehend what just happened. It was just the wine. That was it. Surely.
Why was her heart pounding so fast?
When they went after Kefka they fell back into their habit. Him on her blind side. They never spoke of the night on the airship. No one spoke of much except strategy.
Then it was done, and they managed back to the airship with their lives. Barely.
She had nowhere to go.
Vector?
Everyone else had roots, places to rebuild, or to live. Everything she knew went up in flames when Kefka killed General Leo and burned the whole world to hell. Now her mission was done.
She was watching him from afar. He was on the stern of the airship, speaking with Edgar. No doubt planning their return to Figaro, which was the next stop. Would he stay there? Or go back in the woods and train? She guessed stay in Figaro and help rebuild the kingdom with his brother.
Strands of hair were flying out of his ponytail and whipping around his face in the wind. She never realized how handsome he was. It had never mattered to her. It still didn't.
Edgar stopped talking and caught her eyes in the distance. His eyes seemed to twinkle and give her a knowing look. He winked at her and stepped away from his twin, heading back towards the cabins. Leaving Sabin alone.
She was a general. She was a warrior. She was not going to be afraid of whatever this was, and certainly wasn't going to leave things unknown. This would not defeat her. There was no need to feel this hesitance.
She was General Celes Chere.
Chérie….
"Sabin Rene Figaro…"
Sabin knew the voice. He had been halfway between anticipation and dread of this moment ever since he kissed her. They were headed to Figaro and would be there within the hour. In the end, he figured, it was better to get this conversation out of the way, otherwise it would haunt him. He wanted them to be friends, at least.
"Celes Chere…" He would let her say her part, at least. Clear the air. Sabin had no expectations of anything from her. Therefore, there was no need to burden her with his heart. Besides, Celes was never the type who would care about a declaration of affection. It would be meaningless to her. Action was what spoke to her.
Her hand was cold against his bare arm. He couldn't bear to look at her. Her eyes would melt him in a second. The man was strong, but not made of ice. Not like her.
"Sabin." There was an uncharacteristic plea in her voice, and her icy hand ran up his shoulder, to his neck, and then landed on his cheek. He shivered inadvertently at her touch.
Entranced, he chanced to look at her. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. But that didn't matter to him. It was all of her. Her heart. Her mind. Her spirit. Gods, he loved her spirit. It was agony, being close to her, yet unable to have her. It was a relief that their adventure was over. A relief and a let-down. He could finally move on.
Her eyes were searching his, as if expecting him to speak.
Then, much to his shock, she leaned up and placed a soft chaste kiss on his lips.
It couldn't be…
Sabin froze, not believing it to be true. A second kiss came, this one a little firmer. Less hesitant. Still, he was frozen on the spot.
Then her body was gone, just as quickly as it came, she was leaning back from him, an arm's reach away.
"Désolé…" The familiar apology. A soft, barely noticeable blush across the bridge of her nose.
Did she think he didn't want this?
She was starting to turn away.
"No!" He shouted a lot louder than he'd intended. Celes seemed startled at the command, but stopped backing away.
"No…." He whispered softly, grabbing her hand and pulling her into his warmth. "Chérie. Ma Chérie."
He leaned down and kissed her. This time she reciprocated. All doubt gone. Nothing needed to be said. They both knew.
When the airship landed in Figaro, Celes departed along with the brothers. Much to everyone's surprise, Locke especially, and Edgar, Sabin, and Terra's delight.
Later that night, in the private quarters of Figaro Castle, Celes heard Sabin swear for the second time.
A/N: I will go down with this ship. Sabin is a far better match for Celes than Locke. I never was a big fan of Locke (doubting her in Vector, his behavior in WoR, trying to make Celes something she isn't, etc..). I think Sabin and Celes make a more believable couple and would find that in their time together. Not just because they were alone.