Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I do not profit from this writing.

Author's Note: Yeah, so I borrowed something from the Sword of Truth series. Keep your eyes open and you might notice it!

Prompt 007

Pain

Sometimes a man had to do things he didn't necessarily agree with. He had to bend his morals or twist them just enough to allow him the ability to accomplish tasks as they were given; sometimes he had to blur the line so much he didn't know if he'd ever see it the same way again. Gestahl had in his employment several men who did not have this problem at all; one such had been specifically requested to test the Halfing, that Esper-Human hybrid. Gestahl wanted to see just how well Kefka had trained her.

Commandant Yfrain was a special man with a special sort of skills, one Gestahl had in his fur-lined pockets when he needed to know specific details about something and he didn't feel like magic would be an... appropriate path to take. The "t" word was never used, but Yfrain was all about physical anguish, and so people tended to steer clear of everything having to do with disobedience on the rare occasions where the man was actually summoned to be within the immediate vicinity.

Unfortunately for both Terra and Kefka, Yfrain's presence had gone unnoticed for the better part of the week. On Kefka's part it was simply because he had been deployed elsewhere with Celes; she had also been infused, and so Kefka did need to train with her as well to ensure the bonding had taken. Celes was doing much better than he was, and he had to admit it to himself, which put him in a righteously foul mood for the entire journey – which left Celes wishing she'd feigned an illness to stay by Leo's side. The man was a calmer, gentler reminder of what swift power and authority could be when it wasn't in the hands of an utterly stark raving mad lunatic – or, as Celes called him, Palazzo.

On Terra's part, it was because she genuinely didn't know any better. And why should she have? She'd never had a reason to be subject to Yfrain's methods; Gestahl had never had a reason to doubt her. However, the girl had aligned herself more with that increasingly-unstable clown than she had himself (and this was even before the actual clown aspect, but Gestahl's opinion of Kefka was dropping faster than the temperature in the mines on a winter's night) and that just didn't sit well with him. He hadn't gotten as far along in his empire without a healthy level of paranoia, and thus he'd summoned Yfrain to test Terra's level of obedience. He wanted to see, plainly, if Kefka was planning to overthrow him anytime soon. He assumed the girl would know. She followed him around like a damned doll; had ever since she'd been a child. He regretted the day he'd ever handed her over; if he'd have known that idiot would bond with her like a god-damned baby duck he'd have chosen a different path.

Yfrain spotted Terra outside, alone. It was lovely outside, and so she'd spirited away with a book and a drink that was too sweet but with enough ice to make it tolerable and had gone into the courtyard to read. With Kefka gone and her well-deserved break from training, she wanted nothing more than to relax. It wasn't that she was going to relax because of his absence, but it was in spite of it. When you see someone day in and day out for several years, they become a part of you. When that person goes away for any reason at all, it's an odd feeling. When that person goes away with someone you don't necessarily like, well – reading kept her from drawing her own conclusions.

He approached her after she seemed to have gotten settled in, if only because he wanted to study her social habits. How did she react to being interrupted? He'd heard very mixed reviews on the girl: some said she had the temperament of a dove, all sugar and kindness; others said she was a tempestuous serpent, not to be trifled with. It depended, as with Kefka, what sort of mood she'd been caught in when those people had experienced her personality. If any of them had been stuck at the opposite end of her magic, well, they had fine reasons to dislike her. Terra was told long ago not to go easy on anyone trying to attack her, and she took that advice rather seriously. She took all of Kefka's advice seriously, actually – except for the part about getting another Moogle. She'd never. Never. Again.

"Yes?" she asked, looking up as the man's shadow fell over her light. She tilted her chin up, glad for his shade as it meant she did not need to squint against the sun as it shined down behind him. "Can I assist you?"

Yfrain paused. She seemed well-mannered. "My name is Yfrain. Malbis Yfrain," he said, giving her a half-bow. "The emperor bid me come and speak with you, child. Can you tell me, where is your mentor?" he asked. His voice was carefully neutral; the only reason Gestahl had called him out was because Kefka was gone.

"Oh," she said, a smile rising but not meeting her eyes. "He's away for a few days. I'm not his only student," she said. "Did you need to speak with me, or did you need to speak with him? I can give him a message if it's not important, but if it is, I think it best you wait until his return. Or perhaps you could tell the Emperor?"

"No," he said. "It was just a curiosity, is all. I hear the two of you are rather inseparable."

Terra thought this an odd statement to make, but it wasn't entirely unfounded. She did spend much of her time with Kefka. "It's true," she admitted. She desperately hoped this wasn't going to turn into some sort of lecture. She'd heard them before. The people within the Empire had some rather vivid imaginations; all of the stories much more elaborate yarns than the actual truth of the matter.

"Could you come with me, please?" the man said rather abruptly. His body language seemed to expect that she would follow. He watched as she carefully marked her page in the book and stood, the material in one hand with her drink in the other. She made no move to follow him, though; just stood.

"May I ask what this is concerning?" she asked. She had one eye closed slightly and her head was turned just a little to the right; skepticism and distrust. She would mostly obey a request from even a complete stranger if they identified themselves to her, but she wouldn't comply without a reason.

"As I have said, miss. The emperor Gestahl bid me speak with you. There are a few things that I need to discuss in length. I would appreciate it if you could follow me, now," he said. The way he said it to her didn't seem as though she had much of a choice. Terra remembered early on in her youth when she'd told one of the emperor's men "No" concerning something insignificant and she'd gotten slapped across the face so hard she'd received a bruise. From them on, she was glued to Kefka's side. At least when he hit her it was during some sort of actual exercise, and not because she wouldn't eat her damned carrots.

Now with Kefka and carrots dancing around her head in some sort of frightening waltz, she followed Yfrain through the palace. He directed her into a small room where there was a chair. "You may set your things down there," he informed her with a gesture. "And then I'd like you to have a seat."

By the time Gestahl had arrived to see the progress, Terra was seated comfortably and was staring into nothingness as Yfrain prepared some unseen thing in the next room. He stuck his head in the doorway and she nodded to him with a smile that may as well have been painted on. Gestahl wanted to throttle her; every thing about her was disobedient. Why had he ever allowed her to be socialized? She should have been kept in a cage. He hadn't gone through all of that trouble to get her just for her to barely acknowledge his existence. He was Emperor. Why did she not tremble in his presence? It was that damned Kefka, filling her head with nonsense.

"What do you think?" he piped, much to the irritation of the Commandant, who hadn't formed much of an opinion at all, just yet.

"Go back in there and tell her that it's important she answer my questions with honesty and that she remember that there will be a penalty for lying," he said, his voice hollow. He glanced up from arranging the metallic tools in range from most sharp to most dull, and then laid a white cloth over the tray and prepared to wheel it out into the next room, where it would sit ominously in the corner until the girl lied.

"I also suggest you give her this," he said. He held up what appeared to be an iron collar – it wasn't really a collar, but it was a damned unattractive necklace if it was jewelry. Gestahl hadn't seen anything like it before.

"What is it?" he puzzled, flipping it over in his hands a few times.

"Very powerful. You told me I was dealing with an Esper – or a half-Esper, I suppose. I got it from a reliable source." Yfrain was careful not to tell the Emperor what precisely the Rada'Han did or what astronomically high price he paid to get one. That was all Gestahl needed: a myriad of them at his disposal.

Gestahl didn't like being told what to do, but for the sake of argument, he did it anyways. "Terra," he greeted again, this time with the thing in his hand.

"Emperor," she replied, same as before with that false smile. "How may I assist you?"

"My comrade Yfrain needs to ask you some routine questions. It's just that there are some things we need cleared up – everyone here speaks to him eventually. He's a bit of a specialist, you see," he said. He wasn't lying – not really, though he didn't feel like he'd been as convincing as he could have been.

"Okay," Terra said serenely. "If I may be of help, I will tell him anything he wishes to know."

"Good girl. Also, as is customary I do need you to wear this. It just helps the, uh, research." He thrust the Rada'Han at her, practically sticking it in her face. "It's a necklace," he added, seeing her looking at it with a confused expression.

"Oh. Research," she parroted. "Of course." For a moment, Terra thought someone might actually have felt she had something important to say; but no, it was more testing. As she tried to figure out how to put the Rada'Han on (it was strange, it had no clasp that she could find, like one of those trap-toys Kefka had given to her once), she asked the Emperor a most natural question for her: "Shouldn't Kefka be here? He is usually present for most of this."

"He's not the one in charge of this entire operation, girl, I am!" Gestahl barked. It was an unexpected reaction, and he raised his voice around the same time her thumb had found the clasp on the "necklace", the silence that followed his outburst punctuated by the metallic tink as she opened it.

"It was just a question," she said defensively. She put the thing on. It felt heavy and clumsy against her throat, and it was cold.

"That would be your note to exit on, Emperor," Yfrain said, and his voice held a hint of warning to it. "I will find your answers for you." And he practically chased the larger, much more graying man from the room, shutting the door with a deliberate click.

With the thing on Terra, her magic was muted. He could rift through her mind at ease, tell if she were lying with but a flex of his power, and keep her in that chair without having to physically bind her to it should the need arise. He was almost sure it would, too.

"Tell me, Terra, why is it that you no longer desire to own any Moogles?" he asked. His voice was utterly calm, and he slowly wheeled a cart with a cloth into the corner of the room. He walked away from it after a final inspection of whatever was beneath it, and then sat down across from her, adjusting the cuffs on his crisp black long-sleeved shirt.

"I'm sorry?" she sputtered, caught completely off-balance by his question. "I don't own them because I have no time for pets," she said, though it was obvious the question bothered her immensely. "What does that have to do with anything?"

He made a 'Hm' noise, and nodded. "First, I'm going to tell you that you're lying to me – and badly, I might add. Second, if this is going to be a mutually beneficial relationship, I need for you to relax. As long as you tell me what you know, I won't be forced to alter the conditions of our arrangement," he warned.

"And those are?" she asked, aware that this situation was quickly becoming an undesirable one. She reached out with her magic to try and read him, and found that she was hearing nothing. Not nothing, but nothing. It was as though she had no ability to begin with; like she was blind. She made a soft choking noise, and then reached up to the iron thing at her throat. "What is the meaning of this?" she hissed. "Do you know what I am?" She pushed against the chair, attempting to stand; she found rather quickly that she was seated back down and unable to stand again, or move her arms and legs, for that matter.

"Well, yes. Hence the addition to your ensemble," he said, blinking rapidly at her for asking such a stupid question. "Please, Terra, answer my questions. The sooner this is done, the sooner you may leave. I promise; if you do well, this experience won't have to be bad for you," Yfrain assured her. "I'd appreciate it if you'd stay seated, also," he informed her, though that bit was sarcasm on his end. He'd bound her to the chair for the time being with a simple spell.

"I no longer desire to own Moogles because I don't have time for pets," she repeated blandly, despite her creeping fear. She wasn't about to tell that personal story to a complete stranger; she'd never told anyone, in fact. She and Kefka had never spoken of it after it had happened, although on several occasions he had appeared at her door with a stuffed version looking incredibly guilty. She kept them all on a shelf in her room, but to own a real one? Never again. Not after that. She had forgiven him as much as she was able, but she wasn't stupid enough to try it again. That part of her trust was just gone. She had the feeling that it bothered him more than it did her.

Yfrain responded by a sharp cuff across the face; visions of Kefka and carrots and Moogles swirled around her head as she tried to shake the blow off. With no magic, she had no resolve; with no resolve, she had no damned idea how to withstand that sort of blow – and it was a weak blow, at best. When he really hit her, which she was sure he would, she was going to feel it much worse.

"Let's try again," he said, his voice growing more heated. "Why don't you own any Moogles, Terra? Why is this question so hard to answer?"

"I don't own Moogles because I don't have time for pets!" she echoed.

"Why do I feel like it has more to do with your trainer than your own busy schedule?" he demanded. He was beginning to circle her, but this exchange was telling him more than she wasn't, even if she didn't realize it. Gestahl was on to one thing – the girl was a lot more loyal to one person than the other, and since that person wasn't the Emperor, that was a problem that needed to be corrected.

"That's ridiculous," she snapped. She took another sharp blow to the face, this time feeling blood as it ran from her nose. It felt much different than it had in the past; now it hurt in a way that she couldn't explain. It made the times before seem intangible somehow and insubstantial. This pain was real pain; there was no magic Cure or buffer to temper it down to a tolerable level.

He hit her again, for good measure. This time, it was a closed fist, and it made it hard for her to look at him straight after he'd stricken her. It was like one eye was swelling, but she found that she was still immobile, so she wasn't really able to touch her face and check. She knew that blood had trailed down her mouth and was at her chin, now, though. It tasted horrible.

"What else are you hiding about him?" Yfrain wondered, making his way to the cart. He threw the cloth off of it, selecting a long spike that looked not unlike an icicle.

"I'm not hiding anything!" she protested. She wasn't – her memories of him were personal, but they had no bearing on her future with the Empire; or his, for that matter. She told Yfrain as much, but he didn't seem convinced.

"Well, the Emperor doesn't agree," he said glibly. "So if you'd like to leave out of here with the ability to walk when this is over, I suggest you tell me everything you know, from beginning to end."

In response, and in the classiest manner she could manage, Terra declined.

When Yfrain was done wiping the glob of spit from his eye, he swung the spike downward and into the top of her thigh, skillfully missing her main artery by a hair. "I'll let you think about your answer for a while," he said.