I. In Which A Series Of Filthy Entendres Preface The Central Action
ooo
"Castle Figaro, huh? You know, if you wanted a real trip, you should've asked me. I'd take you to the top of the world and we could watch the sun rise over the ocean."
Terra turned to give her chauffeur a skeptical smile. "I bet you say that to all the ladies who come aboard."
"I would if there were more of 'em." Setzer tapped lightly at the ship's wheel and it spun the rudders, making the Falcon dive gracefully over the eastern mountains. "But why Figaro? I mean, what made you look at the world's biggest desert and say 'What a great place for a vacation!'?"
"Well, when you say it like that..." she laughed, enjoying the feel of the wind on her face. It was exhilarating to look down over the ocean and see all the places she knew reduced to tiny dots on a vast, glittering landscape.
"Seriously, though, why Figaro?"
"I became a Returner in the mountains of South Figaro. The first time I saw Kefka---I mean really saw him, with my own eyes---was outside the castle. We escaped that night into the desert. It was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen, just miles of stars and the hot sand." The memory was still fresh in her mind. It had been her first real adventure, and she could almost feel the adrenaline as she thought of the way she'd clung to her chocobo. Had that really been three years ago?
"Ah, so it's a sentimental value-type thing? Well, that makes more sense than actually liking that place." He saw her exasperated expression and shot her a grin. "Sorry, sorry. I guess I'm biased. I ran into a lotta trouble way back when Edgar wasn't about to let just anybody gamble with the king's money. They've never quite trusted me since, and I've figured it'd be best to stay away, you know?"
"I understand," she said. Setzer had always been that way; mysterious, a bit edgy, and never wholly open with his motives. She knew there was a time in his life when he had been forthright and carefree, but she also knew that time had long gone. He was older now, a little more mature and a lot more cynical. Sometimes she caught glimpses of the old (well, young) Setzer when he talked about the woman who had been both the beginning and ending of his youth.
Daryl...
She must have been amazing.
"Now I know you're an adult," Setzer began, interrupting her thoughts, "but listen, babe. If Edgar so much as makes a move I want you to snap those royal fingers backwards and stick 'em where the sun don't shine, all right?"
"Setzer!" she cried indignantly, but she couldn't hold back a grin. "Setzer, he's not like that! Well, he is like that, but not with me, anyway. I'm not really his type."
"That's not true and you know it. I've seen him flirt with teenage girls, for crying out loud."
"Yes, but..." She didn't know how to adequately describe what she wanted to say. Of course Edgar had always spoken to her in that silky, effortlessly seductive voice that made everything entendré, but it wasn't as though there was anything serious behind it. It was just how he was.
She continued to muse over the king's odd romantic tendencies even as they landed. The last time she'd seen him he had been much less overt with his usual charm. Why? Was he depressed? Or was he just toning it down in preparation for a future queen who wouldn't be pleased with his conduct?
When Terra saw the King of Figaro standing at the airstrip she forgot about his puzzling behavior and began to wave enthusiastically. It had been so long! She couldn't wait to tell him about all the things they were doing in Mobliz, how she'd rotated the crops by herself, Duane and Katarin's second child---
"Hey, Edgar, my main man!" Setzer hollered over the roaring engine. "How's it goin'? I bet you wish you could trade this sandy hellhole for wings like mine!"
Edgar waited for the deafening propellers to settle down before responding. "That's a rather crude attempt at getting a decent place to sleep for once, you filthy gambler."
"Yeah, like I'd really prefer your roses and wine to cheap booze and old cotton." Setzer strode down the lowered gangplank with Terra in tow. "You couldn't buy that freedom with all the gold in Figaro."
"Couldn't buy that stench, either," Edgar commented, wrinkling his nose. "I believe your loss will be my maid's gain."
"I think you've got it the wrong way around," he said with a grin. "Here, as promised, is the Jewel of Mobliz. I offer you to her, Your Majesty, on the condition that you show her nothing less than the highest respect."
"I?" Edgar repeated mock-indignantly. "Oh, yes, I'm proven myself to be terribly unrefined. I understand your concerns."
Even though they were speaking about her, Terra felt like she was only peripherally involved. It was a silly back-and forth, a boys' game she couldn't play. "Well," she said, if only to remind them she was still there, "thanks, Setzer! I'll see you later."
"Yes, doll. And remember what I told you." He bent down to give her a friendly kiss on the cheek. "Goodbye, Your Majesty. I'll see you on our next poker night, yes?"
"Poker night?" Terra exclaimed, now a little jealous. Edgar gently reached for her hand.
"Yes, poker night. A vulgar institution, really, but I'm always up for a few satisfying victories over his kind." The men shared a laugh as Setzer returned to his ship, again making Terra feel out of place. Everyone loved and protected her as their own little sister, and while it was nice, sometimes she just wanted to be one of the guys. She wanted to sit in the cabin of the Falcon and drink beers and tell jokes about what the women in Zozo could do with a banana and a Wing Edge, even if she didn't know what that meant.
That, she decided, was probably why she was so different in the first place. When she'd met Locke, she didn't even know her own name. The whole world had been new. Three years later, she was still catching up, and try as she might she couldn't quite get rid of all that wide-eyed naiveté.
Setzer had told her not to worry about it. "You never will. It's part of who you are," he'd said. "Besides, you're a great mom, a kick-ass Esper, and a world-saver. What else do you wanna be?"
An adult, she'd thought.
"Now I'm sure your trip was relatively pleasant, but I'm more than capable of making alternate arrangements for returning home," Edgar was saying. He motioned for a guard to open the castle doors. "If Setzer makes you uncomfortable at all, just say the word. He hasn't sought to take advantage of you, has he?"
Terra's jaw dropped. Was he serious, or was this just another part of their games? Did they plan these things out in advance, using the combined power of gambling and engineering to figure out how to confuse her most efficiently? "As a matter of fact, he hasn't," she said, uneasy at the thought, "and I don't think he will, either."
"As you wish. Now then. We were discussing what you could do while you're here, but eventually we decided that the best thing to do would be to let you explore for yourself. You always were the independent sort, after all."
"Who's 'we'?" she asked.
"Ah, yes..."
An enormous pair of arms seized her from behind and lifted her off the floor. Terra screamed and began to struggle furiously, but Edgar didn't even bat an eye. When she noticed his nonchalance, she looked down at the arms holding her captive. "Sabin!" she cried, lost somewhere between anger and amusement. "That's not fair! Don't do that! I was so scared..."
He roared with laughter and spun her around in a tight hug. "It's been a long time since I've heard you shriek like that. I was just wondering if you still remembered how."
"Maybe I don't want to remember how!" she protested, but his goofy grin was irresistible. He put her down and they shared a laugh.
"Some time ago he stopped by and I told him you'd be coming," Edgar interjected smoothly, and together the three of them headed for the guest quarters. "I imagine it's been some time since you've seen one another. Perhaps at the reunion last year?"
"Oh, no," Terra said. She felt a strange sense of glee at company with whom she could drink and not have to worry about bedtimes. "Sabin's nice enough to come visit me about once every three months."
Edgar arched a brow. "Is that so? For how long?"
"A week or two."
"Is that so," he said again, more an expression of wonder than an actual question. He turned to Sabin for an explanation.
"Well, sure! There's so much to get done," he said, and began talking excitedly and at length about the older childrens' new rooms, the playground, the crib, the trading outpost, the new furniture, and a hundred other odds and ends he was working on. Edgar said nothing but was annoyed at his brother's failure to pick up on the more subtle implications.
Terra mentioned she would prefer to wash up before dinner, so the twins left her at her room and went back to the keep. Edgar was silent for a long time, wondering how to best articulate his thoughts.
"Every three months?" he said at last.
"Huh?" Sabin had long since forgotten the context and was poking at one of the southeast windows.
Dismayed, he tried a different tack. "What brings you to Mobliz so often? It's quite a ways away from the rest of the world."
"Well, yeah, but like I said, there's just so much stuff to be done. Terra was having a hell of a time getting any workmen to come that far out, 'cause most of 'em wouldn't even hear of it and the ones who would asked for way more money than she had. Besides, those are growing kids. They really need it."
"It doesn't interfere with your training?"
"Are you kidding? Six hundred arm curls aren't even half of what it takes to build a new house. I tell you what, all martial artists oughta do construction work. It's the best exercise you can get without an opponent."
His enthusiasm genuinely pleased Edgar, who worried often about his future. Since the defeat of Kefka, Sabin had spent a sizable portion of time watching over Figaro. It was obvious he still felt guilty after all these years for having left Edgar on his own. As a result, Edgar ended up feeling even more guilty for inspiring that kind of selfless loyalty. Sabin was skilled and fiercely independent, yet he insisted on protecting his fully grown (and fully armed) brother.
He'd traded the throne for his own freedom, but he couldn't fully free himself. Was he learning to do that now? Edgar was so interested in this very personal development that he temporarily discarded his other line of questioning, and when Sabin asked about the proper engineering tools for mixing mortar he forgot it altogether.
ooo
"Another child?" Edgar repeated. "Was this another surprise, or were they wanting a sibling for Lucy?"
Terra stirred her vichyssoise thoughtfully. "Well, I certainly don't know that," she said with an innocent shrug. "She's not due for five more months, and they both seem pretty happy. I can really only wish them the best."
"How old are they now?"
"Mmm...Katarin just turned twenty in May, and I think she's about four weeks younger than Duane."
"Which brings the total number of your charges to...?" he prompted.
"Fourteen!" she said, beaming. "Well, sixteen, I suppose, if you count Duane and Katarin. But that's not fair, is it? They're only a few years younger than me, and now they have their own family." For an instant, she looked almost sad. "Even the littlest ones are grown up. When the world ended, children became adults...and adults became old men."
"Hey, hold on!" Sabin cried. "Who's an old man?"
Terra looked at him and the flecks of salad dressing on his chin. His high-spirited enthusiasm was ageless. "Definitely not you. You're a teenage boy in a bear's body."
"Nuh-uh," he said with a grin.
Edgar felt a knot in his stomach as they laughed. What was upsetting him, and why? He suddenly remembered what it was he'd wanted to ask earlier. Well. He'd just have to wait for an appropriate segue. So why am I bothered?
"I'm afraid I won't be available tomorrow morning," the king remarked. He made sure to sound more exasperated than disappointed. "I should see you at afternoon tea, of course, but it's not likely to be any time before then. I trust you're familiar enough with the castle to take care of yourself?"
"Yes, of course."
"Would you like someone to look after you?" Edgar used the extent of his telepathy to establish eye contact with Sabin, but the latter was shoveling forkfuls of baby spinach into his mouth. What do I have to do to make you pay attention for once in your life? He sighed. It's impossible to tell you anything when you're eating.
"No, no! I'll be all right. Besides, if you don't mind, I think I'd like to spend a little while..." She blushed, shy to admit even the most minute self-interest. "Um, you know. Relaxing. I-is that okay?"
"It's more than 'okay', tesuoro, I insist upon nothing less. This is your vacation and you deserve the best I can provide."
Something about his speech was familiar, and Terra paused to place the resemblance. "Oh, yes!" she said at last. "Are you still dying to know if I'm your type?"
"No, but I've never stopped hoping that I'm yours." He lowered his head and gave her an inviting look. Unlike Celes, who required a subtle, wittier turn of phrase, Terra needed propositions in plain language or else they sailed right over her delicate little head. Not that she ever once even vaguely responded, but it was entertaining to watch her blush and stutter like a schoolgirl.
"Who's whose type?" Sabin wanted to know. Edgar remembered his brother hadn't been there when he first met Terra and recounted the story. Sabin ended up choking so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.
"She," he gasped, thumping his chest, "she comes straight from the Empire, doesn't remember anything more than her own name...and you...and you..."
"Are you suggesting I would have had greater success with better timing?"
"I'm suggesting you're...you're something else. I mean, I've heard of taking advantage of somebody who's vulnerable, but...ha, I'm sorry..." He had a way of finding certain situations outrageously funny in a way no one else could quite grasp.
Sensing a weakness in the defenses, Edgar went in for another shot. "And when would you have tried it?"
"Tried what?"
Well. Absolute deflection at seventeen centimeters. Perhaps he really was mistaken; maybe he was just projecting more of his own romantic tendencies on a readily available subject. Still, he had never considered himself a suspicious man, and he rarely misread a situation. Would it be so imprudent to keep the potential in mind?
ooo
It's been so long.
The guest suite Edgar had arranged for Terra was far more luxurious than the little room she'd shared with Locke almost three years ago. Besides the foyer and private kitchen, she had a closet outfitted with dresses and gowns in every color of the rainbow. Thanks, Edgar.
She set down her bags and looked in the bathroom. An enormous porcelain bath had been outfitted with sachets of mineral salts, fragrance balms and...rose petals?! You don't take a hint, do you? Of course, there was no reason why she couldn't take advantage of his generosity and enjoy a nice long bath alone. When was the last time she'd set aside some time for herself? Then again, when you had thirteen children to keep you occupied, you didn't have much time for anything that wasn't absolutely necessary.
Terra ran the water, smiling at the thought of her little charges. The tragedy of Mobliz would haunt them for the rest of their lives, and she wished with all her heart that it had never happened, but she didn't know where she'd be without them. They'd brought her so much comfort and hope, and most of all, love...
She slid into the tub. Castle Figaro had always had a special place in her heart. She could still remember the way Edgar had first kissed her hand, the stories Locke told about the Returners, and that wild nighttime escape on chocobo. Later it had served as a base for their group.
It's good to be back.
Thirty gloriously relaxing minutes later, Terra stepped out of the bathtub and slid on a pink terry bathtowel. She wasn't even a day into her vacation and she already felt brand-new. Then again, springtime in Figaro was so beautiful. She liked to watch the sands crown their gnarling plants with wreaths of red and violet flowers.
Her intrigue led her out to the balcony, where she allowed herself to enjoy the evening sky. From what she could see, the entire side of the castle had little balconies staggered a few feet around one another. She could understand why; it was exhilarating to see miles of dunes and shifting sands from the comfort of of one's own room.
"Wonderful," she said softly. Somehow the dusty breeze soothed her. She rubbed her eyes and gazed down at the floor. It wouldn't be good for her back, but it was so tempting to just lie down and fall asleep under the desert moon. Well, maybe she could...
Terra sat down and stretched out on the silvery stone. She felt a shiver run down her spine. It reminded her of the countless days and nights they had spent wandering the world, huddled together in tents and eating food out of tin cans. As content as she was with the new peace, she also sort of missed those days. It was then that she'd met her first friends, and despite everything they had suffered, she had still been happy.
With a fond sigh she rolled over, closed her eyes, and tried to settle into a tranquil rest. She'd nearly succeeded when sounds like heavy footsteps cut through her misty sleep.
Thump---BAM! Thump thump thump---BAM! Thump thump---BAM! There was no precise pattern, but every few thuds were followed by a short silence, then a loud sound like the smashing of rock. Worse still, it seemed to be getting closer...
She looked up to see an enormous shape descending just above her head. Terra screamed. The shape screamed back. She rolled out of the way mere seconds before it landed hard against the floor.
"Urgh."
Terra stared. "S-Sabin? What are you doing?"
"I always do this exercise on Thursdays," he mumbled. It was hard to hear him with his face crushed flat into the ground. "What's your excuse?"
"I was going to sleep."
"Outside...and at nine o'clock?" he asked.
His incredulity seemed unfair. Sleeping outside, however early, was a lot more normal than jumping around from people's balconies at night. "I was tired!"
"Yeah, yeah," he said. Terra gasped as he slowly pulled himself up. "Eh?"
"You're hurt!" she cried, touching a hand to his forehead. She held it out and showed him the trickling blood on her fingers. "Quick, come in; I'll get you some ice and we can take care of this."
"What? Hey, come on. It's just a little cut." Sabin felt his forehead for himself. To his surprise, he was bleeding profusely. "Okay, so maybe it needs some peroxide. Nothing to stress about."
She was already at the kitchen sink, taking some cubes from the icebox and wrapping them in a hand towel. "I ought to have brought some extra supplies just in case. I guess I didn't really foresee anybody getting hurt..."
"Well, there's your problem!" Sabin stood up, entered the room and firmly shut the door behind him. "You should know there are always injuries when I'm around!" He laughed heartily.
Terra found herself laughing along with him. His humor was strangely contagious. "How could I forget? Now sit down so I can apply this."
He obediently sat down on the edge of her enormous four-poster bed. Terra sat beside him and held the makeshift sachet to his forehead. "I remember when we fixed things like this with Cure spells."
"Yeah..." He gently took the cloth from her. She was young, but so maternal. "Do you miss being able to use magic? Or is that not a big deal for you?"
She rose to her feet and headed back towards the kitchen, making Sabin wonder if it was too sensitive a subject. "Do I miss it?" she repeated. "It feels...different, more than anything else. I was always able to use magic, even when I didn't know what it was. When I found out, I felt like it gave me a connection to my father. For some reason, that was such a comfortable feeling, and every time I used magic it was almost as though I could feel his blood flowing through me. And now..."
"I know what you mean," he agreed.
Terra had been imagining he'd respond with interest or friendly concern, but not empathy. "You do?"
"Sure. My father...he was a statesman, a politician, a hero!" Sabin's voice rose with feverish intensity. "He was incredible, invincible! Everybody respected him! He was kind and just and fair and strong and stern and powerful and..." He trailed off and scratched his head. "Um, sorry."
She found his unabashed enthusiasm refreshing. "No, don't be. Go on."
"Well, I figured if I wanted to make my father proud, I had to be like him. Like Edgar. But I couldn't do it, no matter how hard I tried. I wasn't smart enough, wasn't good enough. Sometimes I wondered if I was his son at all."
"Oh." She turned away, hands clasped. She had come to terms with her own feelings of crippling inadequacy with the children of Mobliz. What would I have done without them? "Um, Sabin," she ventured quietly, "you don't have to tell me, but... how did your father die?"
"He was poisoned, same as Mom."
It sounded strange to hear him use informal titles; even Edgar spoke of his parents as 'Father' and 'Mother'. Terra thought it was indicative of how much he must have adored them.
"I remember how warm it was that night," he continued. "The whole room was crowded with nurses and doctors and all the royal advisors. Edgar sat at the bed, just holding my father's hand. But I was pacing, raging, yelling at everything in sight."
"Why?"
"Everyone was begging him to name his successor, either me or Edgar. I remember thinking to myself, 'How can they do this? How can they worry about the future of Figaro?' As long as I can remember, I always thought Figaro was my father, and that there couldn't be one without him. But all these people were here at my father's deathbed, not because they loved him, not because they couldn't live without him, but because they wanted a king.
"I hated them. I hated them for sitting there and shouting about politics while Dad died, I hated the doctors for the way they just stood there with their heads bowed, and I hated Edgar when he told my father that it was going to be all right. 'You don't need to hold on any longer,' he said. 'Sabin and I will take care of Figaro. You can rest now.'
"I almost tore him apart. How could he tell our father that we didn't need him anymore? I shouted at Father to not listen to him, to please hang on no matter how much it hurt, but Edgar just sat there like a statue, and then... it was all over. Just like that. The nurses left, the advisors went away, and it was just the three of us in the room alone. Edgar didn't say anything, but I cried. I don't know for how long. I thought it was all so unfair. This was the greatest man that had ever lived and nobody knew it but us. I wanted angels, or an earthquake, or trumpets...any kind of sign that the world noticed he was gone. But nothing happened.
"Nothing happened, not even for a king."
Is that all? That can't be all! Terra found herself wanting to hear more, only to realize she already knew how the story had ended: Edgar became king, and Sabin had forfeited the crown to pursue his training. She had known them before she knew their story. "Thank you for telling me," she whispered.
"Well, sure."
Terra bit down a giggle. Only Sabin could spill out the story of his deepest heartbreak in one breath and be cheerful in the next. "You know," she said, "sometimes I see my father. In dreams, that is."
"Oh yeah? What's he like?"
"Um, well, he looks just like he did when we would summon him. Only now I see him as he was in the land of the Espers. I think I'm seeing the past. I can feel the love he had for my mother and me and it's almost as though he isn't gone, just further away. Every now and then I wake up expecting him to be sitting right there beside me."
Sabin yawned. "What sort of things do you see?"
"Lots of things. My father would play an instrument, sort of like a harp, and my mother would sing. It sounded so beautiful. That song has always been with me, even when I didn't know where it was from. When I first saw them playing the song in my dream it was like the whole world was different.
"My mother couldn't cook, but my father could. He prepared all sorts of strange animals for himself and Mother and exotic plants for me. I don't remember how they tasted. Sometimes I try to imagine it all from my own eyes, but it's so hard.
"The Espers lived in a dangerous world. There were monsters all over their village. They could tame most of them, but there were others that ravaged crops and houses. Once my mother was attacked by one in the gardens and my father ripped it to shreds with his bare hands. The Espers were amazingly strong even without magic. They really were beasts. The ones we fought had all been drained by the Empire, and we never saw them when they were at full power. In my dreams I can see them as they used to be.
"I had a little mobile hung over my crib. It was made of ice crystals that never shattered and they twisted around each other like lace. Shiva gave it to my mother when I was born. On windy days, it would twirl around in little circles and I would reach for it.
"Did you ever have anything like that?" Terra paused. She had taken to staring at the ceiling as she spoke, and didn't notice Sabin lying flat on the bottom half of the bed. "Sabin?"
"Snrrrr..."
Nine o'clock is early, huh? she thought. She didn't have the heart---or the strength---to wake him up, so she curled around a pillow at the front of the bed and dozed off into a satisfying sleep.