~6 years before~
"Where's Gregor?!" I demand, shoving Vayne's pale hands away from my shoulders. Hot tears burn scorching trails down my cheeks, dripping from my trembling chin to the gleaming floor. "He and Beldroth should be back by now!" Vayne sighs, shaking his head.
"Shera, you know not of-"
"I don't care!" I scream, ignoring the stares of servants peeking around doorways to watch the royal siblings fight. "What did you do?!"
"Come now," Vayne replies earnestly, bowing lower to rest his cold fingers on my shoulders. "Let us speak somewhere else."
"Why?" I demand, glaring up at him spitefully. "You don't want to admit to your crimes in front of the slaves you keep? They cannot possibly understand your hellish sins."
"Shera," he says firmly, dark hair swishing over his shoulder as he shakes his head. "There are none to confess. Be civil about this."
"Civil," I repeat with a cackle before pressing my hands firmly to his chest, shoving him backward. "Get off me."
I wrap my arms around myself tightly as we walk toward the broad doors to Vayne's bedroom after scrubbing the salty tears from my skin. I knew something was wrong when Vayne began to whisper to Father, to make him frown and stare out the window pensively for hours on end. And now… Gregor and Beldroth have gone missing, my two eldest brothers with sparkling blue eyes and bold laughs and benevolent spirits. The worst part? Vayne made me join his games without telling me.
"Better to speak in private," Vayne murmurs, shutting the tall, golden doors behind him.
"What have you done?" I demand, turning on my heels to scowl up at him. "I know you convinced Gramis of something, and now they're gone. You tricked me."
"There was no convincing to be done," Vayne replies smoothly, clasping his hands behind his back and pacing toward his bed. He strokes his fingers across the smooth, forest green sheets gently, eyes narrowed with deep thought. "I merely opened his eyes. Saved his life, even."
"You tricked me," I repeat tightly, blinking the bitter tears from my eyes and letting them shamelessly slide down my face. "How can you feel no remorse for such ruthless bloodshed?"
"Sister, do you understand what they were planning?" he asks sharply. I frown, watching as he spares me a glance over his shoulder, eyes falling to the smooth floor. "For fear of his life and of the prosperity of his people, Father ordered that I kill our elder brothers. Yes, I will admit it. Perhaps I even did it gladly, removing that smug smile from Beldroth's lips through your unwilling hand. However, the true reason has yet to be revealed to you and so you are hurt." He turns slowly, settling on the edge of his bed. His eyes are fixated on me earnestly now, sharp and sly though they may be. "My dear Shera, they were leading a ploy to overtake the power of the throne for themselves. I, too, found it hard to believe, but evidence I simply cannot share with you points to a charge none other than treason."
I choke on a shudder than racks up my spine, my fingernails pressing perfect crescents into my palms. He's a liar. He's a manipulator. He's… He's a goddamn snake. Vayne… the man who put me in that defensive unit. The man who ordered me to blow that district up—it was only full of supplies. The man who smooth-talked to drown out the screams. The very same man who fooled me into slaughtering my own brothers begs me to trust him. Vayne, with brows furrowed and head tilted, sighs.
"I can see you doubt, and trust me when I say it breaks my heart. In times of anarchy, things such as turning against your brother are far too common. You and Larsa, however…" He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. In his eyes shines the most hume response to distress I have yet to see from him. "I would never turn on either of you. I firmly believe you both have far too much sense to betray our father and our nation."
"How can you expect me to be fine?" I ask weakly, stiffly clutching my arms to my body as if I'm subconsciously afraid he'll drive his sword through me. "I trusted you to be the sensible one, the one who at least understood the value of life. But now you've gone and thrown two away without remorse. You lied to me. How can I trust you?"
"What is it you do every evening?" Vayne challenges, raising an eyebrow. "Train. It is not for fun, child. You train to fight. You fight to kill. It is a very unfortunate circumstance that comes both with life and your position. You say I know nothing about the value of life and yet you do not bother to understand the purpose of the things you yourself do. Look before you shoot, Shera."
"I never asked for this position," I snap, my short brunette hair brushing my shoulders as I shake my head firmly. "If I could run away from it, I would. Unfortunately for you, brother, I am no fool. I may be far younger than you, but I understand how to think. Your manipulation fails to convince me. I know now that you uphold no policy of mercy." I glare at him pointedly, reaching for the door. "I know you only turned Father's eyes to the darkness to remove two obstacles on your way to the throne, you greedy prick."
"And what would you do stop me?" he replies bitterly, scowling at me. "You mean to tell me you would rather have a traitor seated on the throne? Come now; I care honestly and deeply for you, Shera. Don't ruin that favor for the sake of a vengeful spirit."
Scoffing, I turn back, staring him dead in the eye as I spit on the floor.
"The only traitor I see is the executioner before me. Keep your affections to yourself, sadistic $%^&*."
"I promise, Vayne. They won't slip through my fingers this time."
I crouch behind a stone wall alongside the small dispatch of soldiers Vayne sent out to calm a growing group of rebelling misfits in the older, lower sections of Archades. They moved from the city to the outskirts of the Tchita Uplands recently; their numbers only increase as time goes on. Too bad I'm not here to stop them alone.
"This is the den," the leader of our group says lowly, nodding his helmeted head toward the mouth of the hidden cave. "Lady Solidor will take up the rear and watch our backs in case of an ambush. The rest of you, come with me."
The group of twelve follows obediently, hands ready to grasp the ends of their swords should it become necessary. This mission is supposed to be quiet—at least, until we get inside and locate our targets. Anyway, that's how Vayne meant it to go. Three long months have I waited, mourning the loss of my eldest and closest brothers. Finally, Vayne called me up, entrusted me with this small issue. Small enough for me to make a statement. Small enough for me to escape.
Things changed long ago; I ignored them. But now, there is no denying… Father changed. Vayne changed. Home changed. I don't want any of them anymore. I refuse to believe I'm running after using them up. No, they use me when they please and throw me to the side once more. There's a darkness overcoming House Solidor that I cannot bear to witness any longer. I pray Larsa finds his own way.
Far behind the rest of the squadron, I pull an explosive free from underneath my loose gray shirt, one I stole from Doctor Cid's laboratory. I hear he's lost his mind since returning from Giruvegan last month. Oh well; a dangerous man's work will do as much for me as a sane man's. I pull the pin from the glowing, cylindrical weapon, throwing it into the center of the group, and running as fast as I can. My sword clatters to the rocky floor of the cave but I don't stop to pick it up. The ground rocks as the explosion sets off, men crying out in the panic. Several blasts continue to rattle the cavern and the ceiling crumbles down on their heads the moment I escape.
Taking a deep breath, I leap onto the back of the leader's chocobo, snapping the reigns. The bird cries out, startled by my urgency, and sprints across the grassy plains without further hesitation. I cling to the downy neck of my ride, face buried in golden feathers. My heart rushes to pump blood faster, fed by adrenaline, but I'm not afraid. Quite the opposite. I burst out into laughter, straightening in my saddle and throwing a hand into the air with a loud cheer. My chest burns with joy and I feel like I can't gulp down nearly enough fresh air. I want to scream that I'm finally free. And so I do.
The sensation wears off after hours of riding, my chocobo's strides only strengthened after we stop by streams and I let it graze, feeding it the occasional gysahl green from the pouch on its side. Night fell half an hour ago; the monsters hiss and howl in the night, made braver by the shadows. Shielded only by the light of the lanterns surrounding the ferries by the seashore, I take hold of the chocobo's reins, walking toward the only man I see at the dock. He turns to face me, only but a curious boy with a broad grin and sandy blonde hair.
"Heya!" he calls with a lazy wave, leaning against a post of the wooden dock casually. "Need something?"
"Passage across the sea," I reply, my voice tense and somewhat breathless, as if the chocobo rode me all the way here. The boy looks over me quickly, glancing toward the ramshackle house just down the beach. "Please, this is urgent."
"Why?" he asks, blue eyes sparkling as he cocks his head to the side, arms crossed.
"There's… an important message I must deliver to the holy mountain immediately." I nearly bite my cheek. When did lying become so easy? I suppose the three months of convincing Vayne I was alright were worth it.
"You sound Archadian," he points out, shrugging and turning to lead the way to the shack. I can't help but notice his bare feet, his threadbare tunic, and his torn brown pants. Sea folk… I suppose they don't earn much. "I'll ask Father if he minds the late run."
The boy tosses a light smile over his shoulder. "Can you believe he leaves me out there to keep watch this late? I'm only twelve!" He grins now, turning to walk backward so he can face me. "How about you? How old are you?"
"Fourteen," I reply stiffly. There are plenty of fourteen-year-old girls on the run late at night. Right?
"Cool!" he laughs, turning to open the front door. "Just, uh, leave your chocobo out here. Does he need to be sent anywhere?"
"He comes with me," I answer. He nods, leaning on the cracked doorframe.
"Papa! We've got a special one!"
"Special one?" I repeat, raising an eyebrow. He only flashes a bright smile back at me.
"Whatcha say, Jonan?" A rugged, broad man appears in the doorway. His large, tanned fingers scratch at a thick, graying beard and his eyes are hauntingly dark under the dim lamplight of his home. "Who's this?"
"An Archadian messenger," Jonan shrugs. His father scoffs, ruffling his son's hair affectionately.
"Archadian?"
"Sir, I have an important delivery for the holy mountain across the sea," I explain, bowing. The man chuckles, shaking his head.
"No need for pleasantries. How important is this message?"
"Dire, sir. I'm afraid my being slowed down may lead to hundreds of deaths. It is crucial that we leave immediately if at all possible."
"Hn." Jonan's father sighs, reaching around the rough-cut door and pulling off a heavy gray coat. "You better pay well."
"Would chops do you any good, sir? Or would you prefer gil?"
"I don't visit Archades all that often. Make it gil," he shakes his head, brushing past me. "My ship's at the end of the dock. Make sure you tie down your bird—in case he gets spooked by the water. Should take us a few hours to get across the sea. The mountain's around twenty miles from the shore."
"Thank you." I release a breath of relief, untying my chocobo and following Jonan to the dock. Accustomed to travel, my feathered friend has no qualms about stepping aboard the humble but efficient boat. I reach into the pocket of my dark, fitted pants, grasping a firm pouch of gil. With me, I have one thousand gil. I must save some just in case but… I'll pay them generously when we arrive. They deserve it, these poor, hardworking folks.
"We're off!" Jonan cheers, standing at the helm of the ship with his fists on his narrow hips. I smile, looking back down at my lap and twisting the gold ring on my pinky carefully. A simple band of gleaming metal reflecting a maroon that matches the flowers of the palace garden that I so dearly loved as a child. A gift from Beldroth.
"You like sailing," I point out, tearing my eyes away from my hand. Jonan shakes his head, hopping down and skipping toward me to plop down on the edge of the boat at my side. His father watches cautiously from the rudder, though he's smiling.
"Boats are okay and all, but I wanna fly an airship!" His bright eyes turn to the night sky dreamily. "To be up there, carefree with the stars… I would ditch this old drifter in half a second!"
"This 'old drifter' provides you with a home," his father reminds him. He's still smiling, well aware his words won't change his lively son's dreams. Perhaps even hoping Jonan will pursue them.
"I've been on several flights myself." I laugh at the shocked expression the boy gives me. "I thoroughly enjoyed each. In fact, I hope to learn to fly one someday as well."
"Whoa!" Jonan shakes his head, kicking his feet restlessly. His grin falls into a more amicable expression and he looks back up at me hopefully. "Hey, what's your name?" It's a secret. I can't tell you.
"Shae." Gods above, Shera. Now you've done it.
We pull into the empty dock several hours later, shivering from the cold and exhausted from travel. Shuddering, I step from the boat with my chocobo's reins grasped tightly. Jonan hops onto the sandy, snowy ground, stretching. His father looks at me expectantly.
"Now, miss, the money? Tonight, I'll charge seventy-five—for keeping your patience with Jonan."
"Hey! She liked me. Didn't you, Shae?" I nod, smiling when I shake my head and reach into my pocket, mentally counting the handful of coins.
"Sir, I apologize, but you must think me crazy to pay seventy." The sailor's face turns into a deep frown and I laugh, stepping toward him and setting the money into his open hand. His eyes go impossibly wide, flickering between me and the money.
"Four hundred?! For a simple ride?" he demands. He shakes his head, his son frozen beside me with shock. "I can't…!"
"No," I reply firmly, shaking my head. "Please, take it. You have done me a great service— more than you could ever know." I hop onto my chocobo, offering a smile to Jonan. "Take care, my friend. Someday you will take me for a ride on your airship, won't you?"
"You bet!"
The warmth in my chest only gets me so far as I ride into the night. The wind picks up, the snow catches on every piece of me, and my chocobo's steps slow. I can no longer see the path ahead of me, guided only by the towering walls of the mountains around me. Shaking against the bitter cold, I bury my face into the side of my chocobo's head, whispering encouragements and promises of reward if we just make it. The shuddering bird presses on, snowflakes caught in its long golden lashes and feathers.
Finally, encouragements and promises get him no further and he stops altogether. Clutching fistfuls of feathers, I beg him to keep moving, swear that we're nearly there. My efforts are in vain. I feel him stagger beneath me, stumbling against the force of the icy winds blasting down the mountain path. Strangled by the cold, I cannot stop myself from falling with him, landing half buried in a deep snow drift. The chocobo shudders his last breath soon after.
Shutting my eyes, I fall back against my frozen pillow, unable to move my muscles, my bones, my conscious. No, this is where I find my freedom. Not in plains or skies, but in a blizzard, alone. Fitting for a traitor. Freedom… At last, I've found it.
My body is incredibly sore. Warmth burns through the thin material of the tent, hurting my eyes when they blink open. Huffing, I frown at the blurry vision I have of my surroundings, leaning on my elbows. I blink a couple more times, startled by a voice.
"I see you're awake."
Jumping, I turn to see a young man staring back at me with pale green eyes, a slight smile crossing his lips. His skin is dark, tanned by the sun. Thick brown hair is brushed back from his square face, just barely reaching his shoulders. I've never seen him before, but his voice… it carries that tell-tale Archadian accent just as mine does.
"Like what you see? Must be a good thing to wake up to," he teases, leaning forward to press his bare elbows to his exposed knees.
"Where am I?" I groan, sitting up. I shudder upon feeling air against my bare skin and look down. "And where's my shirt?"
"Doctors took it off to check your vitals," the boy replies, averting his eyes. Surprisingly, his cheeks are tinted pink. "You're on Mount Bur-Omisace, the holy end goal of most pilgrims."
"How…?" I frown at him, slowly regaining my memory of my last conscious state. He shrugs, offering a smile.
"I found you collapsed on the path with your chocobo. It almost didn't make it, but I was able to bring you both here for recovery."
"Thank you," I breathe, shaking my head. "I apologize, I don't know how I could ever repay you."
"This'll do," he grins, holding up my money pouch. Upon seeing my hesitation, he laughs. "I'm only teasing. I only took fifty for board for the chocobo. Figured that was enough." He cocks his head to the side to give me a look that makes me the slightest bit uncomfortable. "You're rich for as young as you are. What's your name, Sweetheart?"
"Shae," I reply quietly, looking out toward the tent's opening.
"It's a pleasure to meet you." He nudges my shoulder, holding out his hand. I take it reluctantly; his handshake is firm, warm. He flashes another broad grin. "The name's Dern."