((A/N: You know the drill... Don't own anyone from FFX-2... blah blah blah... Enjoy!))

Chapter Three

Downhill

Hair brought back and half tied up in a bun, curls everywhere, the commoner entered the dining hall, taking slow shallow breaths and wishing she could run away. All of her concentration was on walking in the high shoes, hoping she didn't fall and break her head open on the stone floor.

Baralai stood from the table when she entered the room, his natural manners told him to do so. Yet when his eyes slid up from the table and landed upon Ren, an expression seeped through the neutral one he usually had. He drew himself upright a little more and watched her with a pleased, slight smile upon his lips.

Walking toward the praetor, Aitigus behind her, Ren became very nervous. The praetor was still hard to read, and she still hated it. She was used to people who wore their emotions on their sleeves, were happy when they were happy, sad when they were sad, angry when they were angry; and thus, politicians were not her forte. Halfway to the table, she set her foot down awkwardly, lost her balance, and fell to the stone floor, landing heavily on her hands and knees. Sitting up, she looked at her hands and muttered, "Ow..." Embarrassment forced tears to her eyes and they stung maliciously. Lifting the many skirts a little to look at her right foot, she found the heel of the shoe broken, and then she felt even worse. Glancing up at the praetor and seeing him approaching, a look of concern in his eyes, she stood and ran from the room, a strange lopsidedness in her flight.

Dashing into her room, she slammed the door shut behind her and leaned against the door, sinking down to sit on the floor and drawing her knees up. Reaching under the skirt of the white dress, she removed one shoe after the other and threw them angrily across the room. Never had she looked so foolish; never would she let someone come to her aid again. Not unless it was... No, she thought, I won't remember. I won't go through it again. But as all things are, when you wish to not remember it, it floods back into your mind and takes hold.

She had just set her head against her knees, clenching her eyes shut and sinking into a light state of depression when a force slammed into the other side of the door. Frightened, she quickly scrambled away to sit beneath the window, staring at the door as if it would turn into a fiend and eat her very soul.

The door swung open and Aitigus glared at her from the doorway. "What the hell was that?" he nearly shouted.

She didn't want to say she slipped and broke the heel of the shoe, for that was what she thought. Looking away, she said, "I fell, alright? Get off my back..."

Striding over, Aitigus grabbed her by the throat and lifted her up from the ground so quick and fast that the yelp slipping through her lips became a quick gasp of air. "This is twice you've insulted the praetor! I will not let it go by unnoticed this time!" He dropped her and she hit the floor, staring up at him with shock evident in her hazel eyes. Turning on his heel, he spun about and strode through the door, slamming it so hard behind him that Ren thought it would fall from its hinges; and it did.

Unmoving from her spot beneath the window, she sat and watched for a few hours as one man came, took the broken door, left, and another man came and replaced it. She couldn't quite understand why it had taken so long, but apparently people had bigger problems than a broken door.

Ren received no dinner that night, and come morning, she received no breakfast either. The whole next day she was deprived of food; no one came to get her, and no one brought her a thing. Stomach growling mercilessly come dinnertime that night, she lay curled upon the soft bed. I wonder, she thought, what the Praetor's advisor is telling him about me. As soon as the thought entered her head, she laughed. She didn't really care. She was being starved today, and later being forced to marry a man she did not love. Never had she, a commoner born on a ranch, gone without food for a moment. Yet now, in the praetor's living space, in Bevelle, she was going without food. "What wonderful hospitality," she grumbled to herself, staring at the window.

That night as Ren tried to sleep, annoyed by the loudness of her growling stomach, she glared at the high ceiling of her room and was startled by a clicking noise at her right. Turning, she found a young woman sitting on the floor, holding a tray and watching her. Scrambling away, Ren fell off the bed. Sitting up slowly, she looked over the mattress to the dark-haired female and said, "How did you get in?"

"Through the servant's passages, Lady Naoska," said the woman.

Shaking her head, Ren replied, "Please, don't call me that." She then blinked a few times and then said, "There're passages in the walls?"

"Yes," the young woman said, standing and setting the tray on the dresser. The scent of warm food filled the room and it drew Ren's stomach to growl so loud, she had the grace to be embarrassed by it. Turning to Ren, the woman said, "They haven't been used since Maester Seymour. I don't believe the Praetor even knows about them."

"So that means his advisor doesn't either, right?" Ren questioned, getting to her feet.

"Aitigus? No, he does not know," the woman replied, taking the cover from the food. "You must be hungry," she said. "Aitigus forbid the kitchen staff from bringing anything to you, but we couldn't just let you starve."

As Ren sat down upon the bed, the woman brought her the tray and set it on her lap. "Won't you get in trouble?" Ren asked, looking at the woman with a strange expression that actually resembled concern.

"Only if he finds out," the servant replied, smiling.

Glancing down at the food, her stomach growling, the commoner stood and handed the tray back to the woman. "Help me out of this thing first, wouldja?" she asked.

Setting the tray back upon the dresser, the woman replied, "Of course," and Ren turned around.

The dress slipping from her body, she grabbed sheet from the bed and wrapped it around her body as she kicked the formless white dress to the wall. Inhaling deeply, she sat back on the bed and looked to the woman. "Thank you," she said. When the woman handed her the tray once again, Ren took it and asked, "What's your name?"

"Mareike," the young woman replied.

"That's pretty," Ren said and began to eat. At the first taste of the food, she couldn't stop, and within minutes, the tray was empty and she lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "I haven't eaten like that since..." her voice trailed off and her eyes fell away from the ceiling, as well as Mareike, who now sat upon the bed.

Reaching back and tying up her light brown hair, Mareike said, "It took me a while, but I finally realized who you are," she said, and softly added, "Or rather, who you were..."

"Keyword: were," Ren snapped as she sat up. "I don't want to talk about it. Don't bring it up."

"As you wish," the servant replied.

Silence drifted through them for a moment before Ren got to her feet and went to the window. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just don't want to talk about it."

"It's understandable," Mareike said, her voice hitting a monotonous tone.

Mareike soon left Ren alone in the room, taking the dishes and leaving no sign of food behind. The isolated commoner, still standing at the window, went to close it and found it stuck. Pulling hard on one of the shutters, it broke off and slipped from her hand. Hands on the window sill, she leaned forward and looked down, only to see the praetor and a warrior monk standing on either side of the shutter, staring up at her. Slowly slinking back into the room, she pulled the other shutter closed and shook her head. "That'll get me out of here quicker," she grumbled sarcastically. Laying down, she curled up on the soft mattress of her bed and took the one sheet and blanket and held it tight around her.

That night, Bevelle became cold. A light snow drifted through the city, and the cold slipped into Ren's room. Shuddering in the cold, she gripped the blankets to her barely clothed body and placed her hands between her knees, trying to warm them up. Eyes slowly opening, she watched the white breath escape from her mouth and float to the ceiling. Her entire body shook, trying to rid the cold, but it didn't work.

Come dawn, Aitigus opened the door and shouted for her to wake up. She remained huddled on the bed, still shaking, her muscles aching. Slowly she sat up, nose running. Wiping the snot from her face and onto the blanket, she went to get off the bed, but, touching her toes to the cold stone floor, she recoiled and tucked her bare feet beneath her.

"Aitigus, is Ren awake yet?" the praetor stepped into view of the half-frozen woman and she tightened the blanket around her. Glancing to the shivering woman, Baralai shook his head and looked to his red-haired advisor. "Cancel my meeting..." When the advisor began to protest, the praetor shook his head and entered the room.

Looking to the dark-skinned man, eyes slightly opened, Ren sneezed and fell over on the bed. Groaning, she turned on her side and curled up in the fetal position. Going to the bed, the praetor removed his coat and lay it over her. Prideful, Ren pushed it off with a slow swipe of her arm and sat up. She tried to glare at him, but she sneezed again. Opening her eyes, she looked to him and he stared off at the wall, little droplets of wetness dotting his face. Attempting an expression of innocence, she then sneezed twice and collapsed backward on the bed, head hanging off the side.

Once more the praetor put his coat over her, and this time she let him. Too sick and miserable to care, she lay there as he moved around the bed and lifted her head, placing her lengthwise on the bed. Rolling over, face turned to the side as she lay flat on her stomach, Ren grumbled, "Why don't you just go away," and half of her words were muffled by the pillow.

The praetor sighed and sat at the foot of the bed. A handmaiden brought a few more blankets and the praetor took his coat and set the new blankets over the brunette commoner. "I still hate you," she whispered.

"It's understandable," he replied softly. "New Yevon and the Youth League have been fighting over the Mi'ihen Highroad area for quite some time now. Innocent people have been caught up in the skirmishes, I will not pretend to understand your feelings toward things, but I understand why you hate me." He looked to her and found her asleep, finally warm, a small bubble of mucous growing from her nose. Taking up a corner of the blanket, he wiped his face and then wiped her nose.

Dawn of the next morning brought the commoner's eyes open. Sitting up, she found the praetor sitting in a chair at the side of the bed, his head hanging in sleep and his arms crossed over his chest. As she shifted slightly to look at the now repaired and closed window, he awoke. His tired eyes drifted up to her and she looked to him out the corner of her eye. "You recover quickly," he said.

Her simple and smiling reply was, "Get out."

Without an insulted expression upon his face, he stood and left the room, saying, "Your clothes are in the dresser."

Throwing the blanket over her head and plopping back down, she grumbled, "I really hate that man... How the hell can he remain so calm all the time?"