Behind Black Curtains
An AU, Sephiroth and Tifa fanfiction
- by Amaranthos-
Chapter 19: Mornings
To my eager delight, my morning's tea had been a pleasantly delicious one. I had hoped my maids would not have arise too tired and spoil the classic herbal formula. And to my discovery… it's delicious…
This morning had been a strange one. I had gotten up late - a contradictory to my many years awaking early, to sounds of battle horns. Call it my normal routine, this is how I stood. Brewing in my melancholy that I had gotten up some two hours late, tiredly I fixed myself out of bed, where I discovered an interesting report lying on the table. Usually no souls wandered in my room this early, unless of course there was an absolute need to. I'm supposing now my father was up, and he was the one responsible, noting that perhaps he is the only man who had the gut to enter my room.
Sighing at my father's disposition, that even if I was sleeping or having heated love with Scarlett or any other woman, my father would annoyingly and almost somberly enter my room, without a single hint of shame. Considering it now, I almost think the old geezer enjoys entering my room for whatever wry reason.
Taking the folder on the desk, I study the contents and I can't help pursing my lips in a menacing way. 'So General Sephiroth has succeeded the battle of Mack Knights…wonderful, just wonderful' I drop the report carelessly to the floor. The contents of the document cease to astonish me and our luck at Mack Knights. Could it be General Sephiroth would succeed at everything we put the man to? Has it ever occurred to the strange man that Sephiroth is quite…occult in his profession? This odd charismatic gift, if it be known as that… is quite an odd inheritance to have with a blade.
I could surely tell, the bastard will be enjoying his week off. Damn my father for giving these men holidays. Humph!
"Besmirching on the man, are you?" comes an olden voice.
I look out the window. A small smile coming to my lips. And speaking of who… it was my father. No surprise you should enter old man. Almost according to perfect timing on the wall.
"What do you mean, father?" I humoured
"You can't tickle what's obvious, my boy" my father spoke.
I gave a small sigh. Someway I knew it was over before it started. Whatever, I would continue to tell otherwise.
"What are your fancies with this man, father?" I pursed my lips and studied the sky of a new day. Grey…feh! Every waking breath is grey here, and Black Crescents seems to be reminded almost persistently of the darkness it is with this cloud hung over us. Wonderful, you know…
"Fancies?" my father spoke aloud. As if I could not hear his amusing pitch. For some strange reason people often got this smart idea that I wasn't too much of a clever fellow. For whatever my psycho exterior has done to me, it surely has sold me for very little when it comes to intellect. It bothered me for many years, but some part of me has grown dormant to their stupidity, as I've adapted and allowed these foolish men to suppose my intellect none. It allows me to stand more in the quiet without their prying eyes, to study them; how I learn about these men and their ways. The classic example…Sephiroth.
"Are you listening?" my father interjects my train of thoughts.
I turn and spare him an apologetic smile. "Sorry… you were saying?" I lightly touched my brow and approached one of the small chairs nestled in the corner of my room.
"Could I say… he's not all bad, you know" he started on a finer note. I sighed at his disposition. This, to me is most painful to hear. My father almost rampantly wastes his breath when it comes to talking about this man…Sephiroth. Defending the shady character I still know nothing about. For so much about Sephiroth is still a mystery and not the good kind that traps you in. But the frustrating ones, that almost condescendingly know you're digging in on the surface. And I know the bastard knows I'm hot on his heels, but he cleverly avoids my cautious eyes, and stays protected on my father's good words for his superb work on the battle field. This coy treatment…will slowly become undone.
"It remains for me to find out. Surely, I know my own father is robbed to the legendary breath of this great assassin. Imagine you sublime your wisdom to the over-qualifications of this man. I mean what do we even know about Sephiroth?" I knew I was becoming frantic, "we know nothing about him. He's this great face of Black Crescents - an assassin which all the world fears, but who exactly is this man. I want to know about his past, about SOLDIER, about the people's he worked with… I want to know everything and yet the more I probe it seems the bastard has anticipated my moves and has his slate wiped clean. Surely, you should know how infuriating it is to deal with that"
My father spared a lengthy sigh. It seem to disappoint him I spoke this way. But to be quite honest, it was the only thing my father and I did not see eye-to-eye upon. I could not comprehend my father's obsession with Sephiroth. The more he aggressively picked sides and kept the strong defense of Sephiroth I felt more introverted, and alone. My father's words could burn holes but his actions… it was quite the blow to my cocky self-esteem. Though I had grown tired of it… I could not deny, I would love to rip the thought of Sephiroth from everyone's mind.
"He's more than a Black Crescent. He is the epitome of a perfect war soldier. He's done everything for us. He's won every battle for us. Surely, you should not think of him so lowly my son. Sephiroth may be the shady character we still know little about, but to outcast the man or berate him for no past seems highly foolish. For these many years he's served in these halls and abided under our council, the man has become a superb soldier… a good friend of mine. Sephiroth does not stand like other men, and surely it is something rather to respect and revere in him, rather than to throw a discontented sigh or make a derided mess of the man. It will not be afforded of me as I've come to respect the man and I ask you my son, to see pass this gaze you're trapped in, to see him for what he's done, and who he means to us at Black Crescents."
"Surely father, you must think it is some silly dispute of mine with Sephiroth. The very fact, that men like you who have trained their entire donkey years figuring out the enemy, learning about war strategies and tactics, seems to all be wasted in a simple second when you see pass that man" I slammed it as it was.
"Enough… do you hear yourself and the rubbish you speak?"
I snarled, the old fool still didn't hear me, he only heard his bloody echo.
"Do you hear yourself? You're fighting your own son to protect someone we know nothing about."
My father stared at me for a couple seconds, almost amazed I had said something like that. Fool. He spent his entire life raising me almost as cold as himself, and he was lucky I needed him, else he - like the whole pack of family I disinherited, would be gone. But my father was a strange man, whose tyrannical and sick fancies made me …somehow, bent on him. He studied my words knowing the gravity of such words and the damage it could insert.
But he left me no choice. I would not have a fight so early morning with my father about Sephiroth. But looking at my father, I had already engaged myself into something raw which infuriated me all the more.
My father turned from his stare and reverently looked out the window. For a moment, I could not wrap my thoughts about what he was thinking or even what he would do. His actions were unpredictable, literally. Without a second to spare, he walked out my room leaving me to an echoing silence.
Damn. How I hated today, but damn, how I hated Sephiroth even all the more.
"Damnn!"
He was running down the lone and dark cobblestone hall. Lights were flickering, the smell of dead rats eminent and the air itself heavy. The vacuum in the tunnel stirs a wind and sends his jacket aggressively flapping. The echoes of splashing water and loud tumbling footsteps were eminent down the path. Everyone who was gathered, waited patiently.
"Tell me the rumours aren't true" comes a raspy voice. His shoulders slumped as he deeply breaths in. He's blowing hard, thought the young soldiers.
"General, sir" the young soldiers in sharp uniform saluted. They stood tall, chests out and greeting their leader.
He unceremoniously waves off to the young men.
"Is it true?" the question of importance returns once again.
One of the young soldier's quickly returns, "I'm afraid so, sir" the solemn situation unfolding in a most unfathomable way.
He takes a heavy sigh. His clenches his hands feeling a small sweat build up.
Just as he feared.
"What happened?" somehow this question was bound to be asked.
"Report. On August 15th our alliance Mack Knights division was responsible -
- " I don't need a report soldier, tell me what happened. How could this have happened?" the General shouts.
All soldiers said nothing. A berating silence seems to fill the room. There was barely any air down here and the sweat mixed with confusion somehow seems to suffocate the dull. It was the first time the soldiers notice that silence could very well echo.
His piercing gaze meets the threesome of men.
"Mack Knights was responsible for protecting it sir, however it was lost" comes the voice of a seasoned soldier.
"Lost?" His brow furrows.
"Yes sir. Apparently, when Mack Knights had engaged Black Crescents in the final strike at the Western Bay, one of the armada's carrying the weapon, had been compromised. This weapon was designated to reach our docks today. However, it was compromised at the win to Black Crescents. It was captured by the enemy, sir" said the soldier.
The olden General felt the air kicked straight out of him. Such news could very much kill an old-timer, this being one of them.
He absorbed the things they had said. He strews his features into distaste, the situation of horror lucidly known.
"Is this absolutely accurate, Cloud?" he asks the blonde soldier.
The young boy draws a breath of air before responding, "yes, sir. The rumours are true. One of our weapons have been compromised." he speaks.
The general pinches the bridge of his nose, "how could something like this have happened? We were keen and astute with Mack Knights in indicating all weapon and weapon parts be shipped outside the field of battle. Why in the world would they disobey my orders?"
"It would seem sir, they feared the last of the weapon installments be salvaged to Black Crescents. They decided the safest thing to do would be to send the cargo straight to us to evade the predictable attack on Mack Knights head quarters. This however, was a good attempt gone bad." Cloud elucidates -
"-Good you say?" he throws his hands in their air, "this isn't good Cloud. This isn't good for you, for me and it's certainly not good for our people. Believe me, their attempt might have been for a good cause but it was most foolish to disobey my instructions. Now... because of Mack Knight's insolence, we face a much greater peril ahead." he pauses to sit.
Somehow, their General looks beaten. He looks exasperated and tired.
They said age catches up with stress folks, and especially those who are the tacticians of wars. Could it be true when looking at their great leader?
For a moment there was a silence that fill the space. The young soldiers transfix their eyes to the floor, somehow incapable of what to do. Cloud however, stares intently at the general. A question lingers in his mind and it wouldn't go away. It was almost irritating.
"Sir" he begins.
"What?" He replies with a hint of irritation.
Cloud momentarily prepares himself, "what exactly is going to happen now?"
The olden man purses his lips. He remembered now. His soldiers didn't know much about this 'weapon'. It was just a name generically used in the kingdom, to mean what, is anybody's guess. But what it really meant, was a Mech that was designed to be used with a series of Mechs to reign an attack on Black Crescents. It was an awfully expensive and unknown piece of technology to create, one in which required the outsourced technology expertise of their recent alliance - Mack Knights. This however, had been their damnation.
General Lockhart closes his eyes.
"Sir?" Cloud enquires.
"Hell" it was one word, that paradoxically sent shivers.
The expression renders Cloud with a disturbed face. Somehow the young boy didn't understand.
"We're in grave danger now, Cloud. The ball is rolling differently. Prepare to see red days ahead of you. Chances are with just one weapon compromised, a new threat emerges." The general stands. He begins leaving them, until Cloud shouts out.
"Wait. Sir, there must be some hope for us left" Cloud shouts.
"No Cloud I'm afraid not. Our weapons have been compromised. There's not much for us to do, but throw ourselves on the line of battle." he was pacing away, "be brave, Cloud"
Cloud swallows. When did the great General Lockhart suddenly become a coward to war? The great face, the great icon of hero of hope suddenly didn't seem to fit the bill. The great General Lockhart was clamouring to fear. But this wasn't right, this couldn't be. It shouldn't be like this.
"How can you do that sir? The people need you" Cloud follows the General.
"I know they need us Cloud. That's already become starkly blatant." General Lockhart smugly replies.
Somehow, General Lockhart's demeanor could hardly encourage Cloud's respect. His great idol was forgetting the things that were important: his kingdom. Surely war couldn't bring the strongest of men to the floor. But seeing General Lockhart's apparent attitude, it was slowly being confirmed to despair.
"You can't do this. You can't! We are the men who put ourselves on the line. You can't give up now sir, we're so close to the end. We can't give up, not in the people, not in this kingdom..." he swallows, "not in Tifa"
Sharply Lockhart stops. The General's eyes enlarge.
He whirls around sharply in astonishment. His eyes flashing tensely at Cloud.
"What? ... did you just say?"
Cloud tightens his fist and stares the general in the eyes.
"What about Tifa?" Cloud asks naively.
A shiver runs across his skin, and then he feels it. Grief. His sweet child was gone to the ill trades of war. Caught in the spider web of mess, his child now faces a heavy price, a burden he could never take away. The ordeal was most aggrieving. No father should have to deal with such heartache, but it was worst that he had forgotten about her in the war. All this time the war had been a bad itch that needed to be scratched, but now it was personal. With Tifa taken captive, the war had to end.
He turns around at the young boy, a few tears in his eyes. A rare thing coming from the General.
"It's funny how war sometimes can defeat the fires in us" he pauses to place a hand on Cloud's shoulder, "but it's also funny, what a little realization can inspire" he gave a small smile, "big hope"
A sharp knock comes to the door of one of the residents of Black Crescents. The sound seems to resound in the quiet of the morning, and for a minute the young maid whose duty was to deliver a small black envelope, assumes her master not present.
Momentarily, shuffling could be heard. She narrows her eyes at the door, before she hears footsteps fast approaching the door. She quickly asserts herself and straightens her back.
Opening the door was the ever powerful, General Sephiroth.
"Good morning, sir" she pauses to lightly bow, "Lord Shinra has requested your company in the conferencing room" the young maid speaks, somewhat intimidated by the look of the General. Naturally, the man just wore bored eyes, but for some reason most of the people he interacted with – if it could be called interaction, often got very shied and scared.
He blinks back most devoid.
"Urh…a l-letter…" she shakily rose the tray with the small envelope to Sephiroth. For a second he studies the small envelope. The young maid could sense the hesitation of the great Sephiroth. Deftly he grabs the letter, and with a silent click, he shuts his door to the maid.
Sephiroth still sore from wounds, grimaces lightly when he takes a seat next to Tifa. She was still sleeping quietly. The sheets were tangled around her slim figure. He examines her momentarily noting she was softly dozing. His eyes return to the envelope. For a second he just holds the letter pondering the contents.
Tifa, who felt the pressure of Sephiroth, grows concerned when the man refuses to move a couple seconds later.
She glances him a look, and could see an oddly coloured envelope. She turns to him and with her face barely visible from her hair, she softly yawns. She looks at Sephiroth who just stares.
"Are you alright?" she asks aloud, concerned that he was not reacting.
And almost nimbly, he opens the envelope and reads the small letter that was addressed to him. His green eyes quickly skim the letters, where he remains unphased to the contents. He closes the letter and places it back into the envelope.
All the while Tifa studies Sephiroth's obtuse behaviour. Could a letter be that bad?
He sharply rose not sparing her a single answer or gaze. He instead, pauses deliberating over the fireplace. His eyes somehow a darker green. Tifa studies the look, knowing it to be contemplation. Biting her lips, she could not spare any words for such an uncalculated situation.
"Sephiroth" she speaks aloud.
And in a silent notion he throws the letter into the fire. The paper eating into fiery debris.
"I have urgent business with the council…" he pauses, and he probably realized how strangely he was acting all the while.
"No, it does not involve your father"
"Sephiroth" Tifa speaks his name again.
He turns to observe her. Her eyes concerned and somehow having a woman pour herself all over his chauvinistic lifestyle, seem… more peculiar than friendly. Yet, there was warmth in all things Tifa did.
"Yes?" he seems to be in a hurry as he departs with his clothing and begins to clad himself in his General apparel. He ruthlessly pulls his jacket from the hanger and painfully unbuttons it due to his wounds. Tifa finds herself perplex to his demeanor. Quickly, she scuttles off the bed and takes the jacket from him. Her small, simple hands find their way drafting over the buttons with ease.
She lifts the jacket and Sephiroth takes a breath. He places his arm through one of the sleeves and Tifa aids him with the other. He's reluctant she notices as his muscles tense and relax sporadically to her touch. He peers the clock on the wall noting the time.
"You seem flustered." She whispers.
He turns to her.
"A General is never flustered" he returns his simple answer.
She looks down, and deftly she clutches onto his jacket. She begins to button the jacket one by one in a very slow, deliberate manner. He studies her actions. He has seen many of a woman do things to a man, but Lockhart was all together a different caliber of woman. Why exactly she chose to be an 'enigma' was a question Sephiroth sort truth in.
She smiles on the last button. And then slowly those bright red eyes look up at him. He notices how they flash and articulate. What pretty things. She leans in and then swallows.
He studies the way her lips parted to say something. But no words came out. She grits her teeth and then slowly she whispers the words.
"Kiss me"
To be continued...