"Garnet," he whispered.

I am not…

"…Zidane…"

The loving eyes suddenly clouded with confusion. She pulled away from him and he felt keenly the loss of her body's warmth. Suddenly the weight of thousands of eyes seemed to be upon them and Garnet shivered from the intensity of the many gazes. She suddenly felt cold and alone again. She wasn't sure why, but when Zidane's lips had parted and his name had slipped from his own mouth, she had known; she had felt it in the way he looked at her, heard it in the way he said her name, saw it in his very stance.

This man was not the Zidane she remembered!

"Who are you," she hissed, attempting to sound harsh but failing miserably. She was suffering from the sudden change in her emotions and it left her trembling, feeling light-headed and confused.

Zidane's dark eyes shifted from her to something beyond her. He leaned closer and for just a moment, a quick fluke in the scheme of the fates, he was Zidane again. He was the loving, courageous, frivolous companion she had grown to love. Then she blinked and the illusion was gone. He looked like her Zidane, but his eyes did not glow like they should; the humor was gone from his face; his heart was in his eyes but it was not the one she had grown to know; it was another, colder heart that beat within his chest.

"Your highness…perhaps we should not speak here," he murmured, a half-smile teasing the side of his mouth, causing an ache deep within her soul. He looked so like her love that it hurt to gaze upon him. But he couldn't be…could he?

His hand moved to her arm in something resembling a caress. A soft puff of air stirred a stray lock of Garnet's hair as he sighed. Scolding her stomach for clenching uncomfortably at the contact, Garnet stiffened turned slightly towards the guards that had surrounded the stage. She would get to the bottom of this, but not in front of her entire kingdom.

"Let us return to the castle," she commanded, proud that her voice did not reveal the quaking in her heart. "Zidane must be tired after such a long journey back from the Lifa Tree." Although deep inside she felt that this man could not be Zidane, she understood that, whoever he was, this man must know what happened to her lover.

His hand fit into hers as easily as if they were made for just that purpose. The liquid warmth crept up her arm sluggishly, as though there was all the time in the world for them to stand there, holding hands in the warm sunlight. She allowed him to clasp her hand merely to uphold the image of two long-lost lovers suddenly reunited. Certainly she would never have withstood such a blatant show of affection under any other circumstances!

The guards surrounded the couple, keeping the crowds back and giving them room to walk towards the castle in peace. The massive doors and towering walls offered Garnet no consolation. She was not returning to her home alone, but she was not returning with her love either. At the sight of Beatrix and Steiner standing before her in the main hall, beaming, Garnet's sight blurred with unshed tears. The hand clasping hers tightened ever so lightly, a reassuring squeeze to calm her nerves, perhaps. Of course, she could have imagined it; everything seemed so surreal to her at the moment.

Shivering a bit from the sudden chill of the castle, Garnet dropped her companion's hand and folded her arms in an attempt to ward off the cold. They stopped at the foot of the grand stairs.

"I would like to speak with Zidane alone, if you do not care," she murmured to Beatrix. Steiner had never really trusted Zidane alone with her, and, though they had grown closer towards the end of their journey, he would most likely quarrel most fiercely over her decision to be alone with the man. Beatrix, being a woman, was much more understanding in the ways of love. Perhaps she would be easier to goad than the knight.

Beatrix glanced at Zidane. She did not know him as well as Garnet, but Whenever Steiner spoke of him it was always with a note of respect. If he were honorable enough to earn Steiner's respect, perhaps it would be permissible to allow him some time alone with the princess.

"Very well. But I will be waiting outside your rooms, Highness," she warned. "You need only call out if you need me."

Too wrapped up her thoughts, the princess did not feel the nod that she gave her captain, nor did she notice the frown on her would-be-lover's face. Everyone, even this imposter, appeared to be worried about her, but in her pain and grief the young queen could not bring herself to reassure them. She almost wanted them to worry for her.

Shaking her head distractedly, Garnet managed a smile as a servant pushed the heavy oaken door to her chamber open. With the impostor at her heels, the queen drifted into her room, shuddering at the sound of the door closing behind her. She was alone with the impostor.

She had not turned to look him, choosing instead to appear regal and posed. She was also silent and stern. Let him be the first one to speak; it was he who owed her the explanation.

He called for me. Garnet winced at the memory. She had been so happy, so relieved to see him that she had run into his arms immediately, never questioning once the circumstances that had brought him back to her. I should have known…the fates are never so kind…

"Princess," the voice, his voice, inquired softly. She would not give him the chance to take the upper hand by confusing her further. The sharp click of her pearl-inlaid slippers shattered the silence as she valiantly took a step toward the impostor.

"Do not think to sway me with words and entreaties," she began bravely. "I know that you are not Zidane. Who are you?"

The concern fell from his face like cobwebs under a servant's broom. Something akin to a sneer took its place, chasing away what shred of security Garnet had thought she'd had and replacing it with cold, hard fear. He stepped closer to her, mindless of the space that courtesy awarded her.

"I see you have not changed for the better after your adventure, your highness. If anything you are as sour and spoiled as your mother was," he commented with disdain so evident that it chilled the queen's heart and seemed to lower the castle temperature by several degrees. His careless remark about her mother tore at her heart, but Garnet refused to show her pain to this man. Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the contempt vanished. He was once more a pained, concerned young man who looked so like the one she loved.

"Forgive me," he murmured, a pained expression clouding his own face. "I too have lost someone dear to me very recently…"

Shaken, but not terribly wounded, Garnet managed to nod. The man's moods changed so quickly! Perhaps he was an insane man or a doll, much like Vivi's "brothers" had been when first encountered. She took an uncertain step back and the man seemed to realize her lack of comfort with his closeness.

"Forgive me," he remarked, backing away from her as he spoke. "You asked me a question. I could do worse than to answer it for you, I'm sure."

Watching him as he collected his thoughts and pondered how to begin his tale, Garnet had to force herself to stay her hand. Although her mind knew that he was not her lover, her heart ached to see his smile, to know that warm flow of love that she had known from his look-alike. She was not certain that seeing him but not having him was better than not knowing at all. Either way, she was doubtless about to find out exactly what happened to the man she loved from the lips of the man who could be his twin.

"This…is going to be a long tale," he warned although it seemed half-heartedly, as though he were weary already of telling it yet knew that it must be done.

"That is fine. We have plenty of time," Garnet replied.

And thus he began to tell his tale.