Title: Falling Into The Light

Author: Rothalion

Rating: K

Summary: Prequel to the game. Auron refuses the high priest's daughter, and his punishment.

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Disclaimer: Square owns all but my various original characters.

The hall was full. Priests, Warrior Monks, Crusaders and common people filled the seats, all come to see the fate of the famed leader and swordsman they knew as Sir Auron. High priest Girian sat center stage on a raised dais at the east end of the ornately decorated space flanked right and left by three more high ranking priests. Auron hesitated as the din of the crowded room reached his ears. Kinoc nudged him forward to where Dargil and Sajik stood. The look on their faces was grim and full of concern for their friend. The three had come up through the temple together, fought and suffered together, their bond closer than that of brothers. Both men had nothing but absolute disdain for the task given them. Dargil stepped forward bowed slightly out of respect for the man before him, met Auron's eyes and spoke; his battle voice loud and clear brought the hall to silence.

"Sir Auron of Bevelle," he extended his hand, "Sir, your weapons."

Auron tensed his hand upon the hilt of his sword reluctant to part with half of his soul. The two men stared at one another, Dargil reading Auron's thoughts, Auron reading his; as any two men who have fought shoulder to shoulder in battle are able to do. In Dargil's eyes, the soon to be tested warrior read the futility of trying to fight his way free of the hall and the city. In Auron's Dargil read his comrades strength of resolve to gain victory at any cost, to save face, to defend what was righteous, to keep his word.

"Auron please." Dargil said in a whisper. "You'll not make the door my friend and the streets are guarded. Make your stand here. Show the people the hypocrisy of their leaders. Most all here, see this for the farce it is. Show them the heart of a true Warrior Monk of Yevon, survive this trial."

"I would ask of you a promise then, Dargil."

"Get on with it, Sir Dargil!" Girian shouted from the dais. "If he will not enter freely then drag the treasonous worm in!"

"So it will be treason?" Auron asked.

"Yes, name it my friend your request."

"Should I fail him during his trial today, see my Lord Braska to Zanarakand. Tell him I love him well and will await him, free of my vows in the Farplane."

Dargil took a half step back dropped to his knee bowed forward and replied, "Should you perish today my brother, Sajik and I swear to see Summoner Braska through to Zanarakand you have our word."

He rose and again extended his hand. "I repeat, Sir Auron of Bevelle, your weapons, sir!"

Auron handed the man his weapons, stood at attention and stepped into the room as Dargil stepped aside. Then flanked by his friends he strode head held high into the hall finally taking his place in front of and below the dais. Despite his ingrained sense of respect, Auron surprised himself and any who knew him well by remaining standing. It sickened him at some integral level the travesty his life had so rapidly become. A lifetime of unfailing servitude fraught with pain and selfless service had in day collapsed into a façade of unspeakable dishonor. So, Auron stood eyes locked on the man who was systematically destroying his life.

In the stands, Braska gripped the arms of his chair to keep himself seated. "Auron kneel, you fool." He hissed, "Do not antagonize that fiend in priest's robes, kneel!"

"The Pup's got heart Summoner, heart and maybe no sense."

"He plays a very dangerous game here, Jecht. Kneel Auron just kneel."

Then as if he had heard the frantic Summoner's plea Girian's voice pealed out across the hall. The man had not fought a battle in years but he retained the ability to throw his voice so that it carried across space. "Kneel before your Lord, Sir Auron!"

Auron stood firm staring fearlessly into Girian's green eyes. The priest rose and glaring down at the man shouted, "It is this insolence that destroys your life. I order you at forfeiture of this trial and pain of immediate death to," again the man's voice rose in a battle roar, "kneel!"

Auron felt a hand grasp each of his shoulders and through a haze of fury heard Dargil's calm voice. "Yield my friend, do not give him satisfaction, do not give him cause to order me to take your head with out a fight. Kneel." Then together he and Sajik pushed firmly down on Auron's shoulders. Slowly Auron assumed the desired position of salute, Girian sat back down and the trial began.

"Are you, Sir Auron of Bevelle, ready to accept your atonement for your insolence, your refusal to obey a command, for your treasonous act against your Order and for breaking your oath to place Yevon and Spira's needs above your own?"

Auron seethed. He tried to focus on the crystalline red and blue light undulating on the stones in front of as it shown through the stained glass window of Bahamut above him. Treason against Spira and Yevon, bile rose in his throat. How many times had he died for Spira and Yevon, how many times had he suffered unspeakable hardship for Spira and Yevon, he'd given up his family and his life for Spira and Yevon, treason?

"May I defend myself against these charges, Lord?"

"If Yevon grants you the strength, and finds your soul pure enough to survive your trial your guilt or innocence will be determined." Girian bellowed. "Are you prepared to hear your punishment?"

"Punishment or atonement?"

"You try this council Sir Auron!" High Priest Tsortib warned. "Are you prepared?"

'Braska forgive me.' "Yes my Lords. Let Yevon's hand and the strength and purity of my soul decide my fate."

"Sir Auron of Bevelle it is the unanimous decision of this council that you be tried by the Gauntlet of Shame." Girian announced his voice echoing across the now rumbling room.

Auron shuddered then before Girian could continue he raised his head and glared up at the priest, "The Gauntlet strips me of my status, the Gauntlet is a punishment for guilt! I am not guilty of your blasphemous charges! I demand the appropriate method of atonement, a method that tests my innocence under eyes of holy Yevon! Not one that strips me of all that I have become to appease the angry will of a singular man denied a selfish, personal request! I demand…"

"You will stand naked before your peers and be purified by your pain!" Girian again stood and stepped to the edge of the stage. Pointing down at Auron, he continued to scream out the man's punishment. "The twin brands of Yevon placed upon your chest by fire will be removed by fire. You will face…"

"This is unholy! I demand to face…"

"The skills given you with fist, staff and sword will be taken from by fist, staff and sword. Sixteen men will…"

"I demand the Via! I…"

"Sixteen men one for each year of Yevon's time you callously stole by…"

"The Via! I…"

"By turning from the teachings, by giving in to your selfish desires! Then…"

"You defile all that I have believed in! I demand my right to prove my innocence! The Via! What do you fear, Girian? The via! You cannot take my life from me!"

"Then a final sword slash to sever your ties with mighty Yevon, given by the warrior of your…"

"I will not sever my heart from Yevon for you! I will never forgo my vow to Yevon for the likes of you! I demand…!

"By a warrior of your choosing! Then if you can cross this hallowed hall and reach the light of the sun as it sets over the scared sea of Bevelle you will be free! Let this trial begin!"

"I do not choose to be free!"

"Call in the Guard of Redemption! Sir Kinoc you will conduct the proceedings!"

Kinoc spun round to face his father. The old man's leer told him all he needed to know. His dispatch to Mika had been intercepted. Conducting Auron's punishment would serve as his warning and punishment for going behind his father's back. Nausea roiling in his gut he replaced Girian center stage.

The hall filled with noise as the guard marched in and assumed their position in the center of the hall beneath the colorful windows portraying past Summoners and their Guardians. Braska was praying, his lips moving, whispering words that Jecht could not understand. The blitzer had the incredibly strong desire to rush onto the floor and snatch Auron from the clutches of the priests of Spira. In his Zanarakand, a man had the right to a fair trial. This farcical excuse of a trial he had just witnessed only furthered his feeling that this Spira, that lunatics ran this religion of Yevon.

He watched as Auron stood, still flanked by the two men who now began stripping him.

Auron began chanting as soon as Dargil and Sajik pulled him to his feet. He ignored the tugging and pulling at his clothes as they removed his armor and garments. He lifted each foot in turn so that Sajik could remove his boots, he only faltered when he felt Dargil begin to untie the thong around his neck that held his half of the pendant he shared with Braska. He reached up and pressed the amber amulet to his lips kissed the token reverently then allowed Dargil to take it. They turned the stoical warrior to face the guard and through his chanting, he heard Dargil giving him advice.

"That's it Auron, find your center, breath, it is naught but pain. It cannot kill you. Remember your teachings."

Remember your teachings. A flash memory of the gray eyed, purple clad warrior who had reprimanded him that morning shot through his mind like Thundaga. Remember your teachings. He could feel the strong man's presence. Just as if he was standing right behind him. Auron turned to look but found the space empty. Only the electric charge of the purple warrior's presence filled the air. Confused by the odd sensation he brought the memory into a finer focus. The man's sword hilt. Yes, his sword hilt. It bore the crest of the Purple Lion and the red and green weave of his own katana's hilt. The sword was all he had left of his family.

"Father! Father see me through this! Father I…"

Loud hissing filled the air drowning out his cry, when water sprinkled on the bright red coals of the brazier holding the irons that would sear the brands of the Yevon from his chest shot a column of steam into the air. The brand on the right signified his status as warrior of Yevon and on the left, over his heart signified his status as a full monk these twin symbols defined his very existence. For the first time since his ordeal had begun Auron felt the full impact of what was going happen to him. The very symbols of all he had vowed to be were going to be seared from his body. His control broke and he pulled against Dargil's and Sajik's hold.

"Don't fear the pain Auron…"

"It is not fear Dar; they are stripping away my soul!" He hissed unbidden tears burning his eyes, his voice a hoarse cracked mimic of its self.

"Breath, chant, find your center! You can't afford this weakness now."

Again, the brazier hissed and Auron shuddered. Maybe Dargil taking his head would have been the honorable path. What honor would there be in being stripped of all that he loved and lived for. But then what of Braska? He had pledged himself to Braska. Honor be damned. He would live without it if he could only see his promise to Braska through. He shuddered and once again began the process of meditation that might shield him from the agony soon to begin. Before he was able to though the first of the guard stepped up and with a look of profound grief pressed the red hot iron into the flesh of Auron's right breast.

Fifteen more followed, all but one chosen for their close companionship with Auron. Girian had left nothing to chance when he set up his charade. Through it, Auron prayed. Dargil and Sajik held him arms pulled tight behind his back. whispering words of encouragement praying with him. The pain was intense and as each iron struck home, the strong warrior flinched.

"Braska! Braska you have to do something! Call that Aeon thing they'll kill him! Braska!"

"Silence Jecht! There is nothing we can do but pray! He is strong! He will come through this!"

The stench of his own flesh burning nearly destroyed his control. His knees snapped forward as though he was crumbling then back bringing him to attention once more.

"Good Auron, good, pray, breath…"

Kinoc's voice rang out as an acolyte carried the brazier from the hall floor and the guard prepared for the next test.

"Now the trial of fists. You were hardened by the mighty fists of Yevon to serve him selflessly so shall you be stripped of his strength for you indiscretions. Begin!"

Girian slouched on his throne not attempting to mask the smug joy he felt watching Auron suffer his wrath. How dare such a one as Auron refuse his daughter. Who did the man think he was? Only the warrior's unbridled ferocity had brought him into the temple. The boy, a mere eight years old, had severely wounded half a squad of Crusaders. Four trained fighters taken out by a under sized, half-starved, feral boy living alone in a cave with only a Katana hunt with. He had no true right by family to become an acolyte. His status as orphan allowed entry into the Crusaders only. It had been Girian who pressed for the mysterious lads' entry into the temple. Girian who had given the boy over to then loyal, ruthless warrior monk Braska to bring under control, to teach the boy discipline so he could begin training. Such instinctive ferocity shaped and molded by the hand of Yevon was a priceless asset to the Order. Girian snorted his disgust as the twelfth guard, a man specially chosen because he and Auron were archenemies, approached the now bloody warrior. The High Priest sat up straight and leaned forward. Fifteen to administer punishment and Ligeron to make certain Auron did not make it into the light.

Ligeron locked eyes with Auron, then in turn Dargil and Sajik. Auron spit out a mouthful of blood and lifted his chin high in defiance. Ligeron shook his head.

"You should not have returned all those years ago Thunder boy. Should have quit when you had the chance." He looked up at Girian sighed and with blinding speed crushed the battered warrior's nose with a devastating palm strike. Had it not been for Sajik's sharp hiss in his ear Auron would have crumbled.

Thunder boy. The name echoed through Auron's beleaguered mind. Thunder boy. He had beaten that enemy. Ligeron had no right to call him that. He snatched forward trying to go after the man, cursing him through shattered lips, tears of frustration streaming down his bruised cheeks when he failed to break free of the men restraining him. He squeezed his swollen eyes shut as tightly as possible forcing the ancient memory of his disgrace by Ligeron hand from his mind. Kinoc's voice returned him to the present and he tried to resume his praying.

"…the staff."

Jecht heard the command but his mind refused to believe it. Auron was going to die. The humorless bastard was going to die in front of him and a hall full of people who according to Braska considered the entire situation a travesty. He sat helpless on the edge of his seat fists clenched praying to a god he did not really believe in listening to Braska tell him Auron was not feeling any pain. Pain be damned, a man didn't have to feel the punch that killed him. They were taking the guardian apart piece by piece.

Again, the guard came at Auron, and again the twelfth man was Ligeron. The others had struck at Auron's body but Ligeron went straight for the warrior's face. Hardened staff struck bone with a sick crack as Auron's right cheek shattered. His chant broke of and he faltered. Dargil dug his sword-strengthened fingers into Auron's bicep and nearly screamed into the man's ear.

"Auron! Focus! Breathe! Live to kill that bastard! Auron!"

Auron gasped, shook his head and faced the next guard.

Through a purple green haze of pain, grief and fury Auron heard Kinoc announce the trial of swords. The guard fell into two ranks eight per side and stepped toward each other until they were only four sword lengths apart. They led Auron forward. Dargil and Sajik had to guide him his eyes were nearly swollen shut. The positioned him between the first pair, turned him to his left and stepped back a pace. The two guards stepped forward one drawing his blade across Auron's blood streaked chest and the other across his lash scarred back. Seven more pairs remained. Without seeing him, Auron knew when Ligeron's turn came. The man's blade sliced so deeply that it sliced through muscle and scored the warrior's shoulder blades.

Then it was all over but for the seventeenth man. The man Auron would choose to complete his expulsion from the only family he had ever known, or could truly recall. As he was led back to stand before the dais he began a fervent prayer to Yevon to grant him just one prayer for the sacrifices he had suffered for the people of Spira. He prayed to Braska also in hope that the priest, who had raised him, might be able to heed his call. He prayed with all the strength he had left in his battered and betrayed soul and heart.

"Sir Auron…" Kinoc began then gasped as he realized the extent of damage done to his life long companion. Auron stood before a shattered relic of the strong warrior who had entered the great hall no long ago. The sight of the charred skin where Auron's brands had been dragged a sob from Kinoc's chest. He closed his eyes and went on. "Choose the warrior who will sever your final bond to this Order."

Auron ceased his praying and looked up toward Kinoc with a sideways tilt of his head trying to see out of the corner of his left eye.

"My father. I choose my father. The Knight of the Purple Lion."

Girian shot to his feet. The other six on the council began shouting amongst one another.

"That is not possible!" The high priest screamed. "Choose another!"

"I choose my father!"

"Kinoc grant it, he's failing!" Dargil yelled.

"My father! I choose the Knight of the Purple Lion, famed Warrior Monk of…My father! Braska grant me this prayer!"

Kinoc looked at Girian and then down at Auron as the air in the hall sizzled with static and the huge twin hall doors flew open flooding the Great Hall with light.

"My father!" Auron screamed with all the air he had left in his chest.

Dargil and Sajik supported him as a whirl of purple smoke collected itself in front of the stricken warrior, coalescing into a warrior of outstanding stature.

"You are dead!" Girian screamed, "Dead! You Gildan of Bevelle are dead; take your vile spirit from this hall!"

"Granted!" Kinoc screamed over the rumble of frightened voices filling the hall.

"No, Girian your treachery only wounded me. I fled into the hills. Sin took me and left the boy. You will not have him any longer, just as you could not have me!"

The purple clad warrior turned and faced the son he had left behind when Sin had torn him from life with a bolt of lightening.

"Father."

"Auron you are safe now, free."

The man drew a huge sword from behind his back and with a fluid motion that seemed impossible to perform with a sword of that size he swung across his son's broad chest slicing through skin and muscle.

"Fall into the light my son." The sword clattered to the floor and the warrior was gone.

Dargil and Sajik turned Auron and the battered man started to stagger doggedly toward the open doors, toward the light the huge blade clenched fiercely in his right fist drew sparks as it dragged along the stone floor.

Braska and Jecht were already running to a side exit. Jecht bowled people aside breaking a path for the smaller Summoner. They wanted to reach the west entry before Auron, to be there when he made it to freedom. The two men made the steps and were bounding upward as Auron stepped from the building. He stopped at the edge of the stairs, smiled a broken smile at Braska, turned his face upwards into the warm sun; held, with the last of his mighty strength, his arms out to his sides, the sunlight flashing off Masuame and pitched forward down the steps.

Several days later the sounds of tinkling bells and waves brushing damp sand sifted their way into Auron's awareness. He laid still eyes shut simply listening to the gentle sounds. The light scent of Jasmine filled the air and a bird whistled not a shrill song but one with warm nearly tenor like notes. He coughed and sucked in a breath of the salt sweet, Jasmine air.

"Auron?" Again, the sound was muted, the voice familiar and warm. "Little Lion?"

At that, he opened his eyes, blinked at the light then focused on the sight above him. Blue. The blueness of Braska's eyes flooded his shattered soul. He swallowed and gasped tears streaming down stubble coarsened cheeks as he reached out and for the first time in his life he touched Braska, touched the one person in his life he truly loved aside from his long dead nearly forgotten father. He ran his knuckles along the priest's smooth cheek and then his fingertips across the Summoner's parted lips. Sobs racked his body and the Summoner took the stricken man into his arms.

"So blue, so blue, so blue. Your eyes…I am free…so blue."

Braska held him waiting for his grief to pass and pondering his seemingly selfish hold on Auron. The young man had sworn to guard him, sworn to see him to his death. Braska shuddered at the thought; what kind of freedom was that?