A/N: Apologies for the late update. I had a very busy weekend. But, although I have mixed feelings about the recent ToS announcement, perhaps it means we will have a few people filtering into the fandom?
Anyway, onto the chapter.
He was surrounded by fog.
It was deep blue, and so thick he could barely make out the outline of his hand. He felt weak, as though it was sapping his strength and muddling his mind with every breath he took. It clogged his ears: a deafening silence.
"Where am I?" he tried to say, but his lips only parted.
He pushed himself to walk. It was honestly easier to just sit down and let the fog invite him into the abyss, yet he walked.
He knew not whence he came. He knew not where he was going. Only that he was.
Fatigue infused his bones, yet they did not burn with exertion. The clock was the beating of his sluggish, soundless heart; only his inaudible footsteps measured the infinite space.
He went on with nowhere to go.
He did not even know what had happened. Why he was here. For how long he had been wandering.
Whom he was.
Some distant part of him registered he should be worried about that. And yes, perhaps he was, to an extent. But his trepidation was swept under the rug by the mysterious blue that yet locked his memories behind an impenetrable wall.
It left behind a hollow vessel, waiting to be filled by the mist.
The fog surged as if in response to the thought, smothering him, stifling his thoughts. He dropped to the floor, limbs flailing in a fruitless attempt to keep the little that was left.
Why should he bother?
The question sliced into his psyche. A chasm opened, yawning and bottomless. He did not know what awaited him if he were to leave this jail. What if it wasn't worth the sweat that poured down his face? What if no one was waiting for him? What if this was the best place for him? What if he belonged here?
He went limp. Against his intuition, he went limp, defeated by doubt. And with a howl of victory, the fog rushed in with all the force of a hurricane to swallow him whole.
Blue eyes brighter than the mist.
No!
He leapt to his feet. The memory was already receding into the dusk, but now he was resolved to persevere. Someone was waiting for him.
It was better to find out than to vanish without knowing what he'd lost.
The mist shrieked in fury and besieged him once more. He held on as best he could, possessed by sheer determination. He swiped at the mist, blue streaming between his splayed fingers; he bent his knees and head and tried to make his way through the headwind.
Yet it was not enough. Despite his second wind, it was just that: a transient explosion of willpower. He had no real means of winning. It took less than a minute for his newfound power to run dry. He was knocked to the ground again, his eyes slamming shut from the impact.
It bore him down, rushed along his skin, through the microscopic pores, into his straining lungs. It paralysed his muscles and prevented anything more than a soft gasp from escaping his larynx.
His mind cowered, everything he was evaporating into the haze…
All of a sudden, it was gone. Everything was quiet, but it was not the silence of the dead.
He raised his head warily. The navy fog had not dissipated in the least, but no longer did it assault him. It floated in slow eddies as if placated or kept at bay.
Maybe it had something to do with the woman there.
He did not understand why he knew she was female. Blue swirled all about her, shrouding her features. But, somehow, he knew she was smiling.
"Lloyd… You've grown so much."
Lloyd? Was that his name?
Her voice. His body relaxed, accustomed to it. It was mellifluous and joyful and smoothed the wrinkles in his heart that he didn't know existed. Inexplicable peace suffused his soul.
"But you cannot stay here."
What? Why not?
"You don't belong here. Go to your father. He needs you. And you him."
His head began to throb. Two pictures wrangled for dominance. Brown hair, brown eyes, and a hearty grin. Then eyes as burgundy as the hair that fell across his pointed face; a contented smile hiding darkness.
"I don't know how," he wanted to tell her, but again his voice abandoned him.
She smiled a little wider, as though she had read his mind, and pointed to his right. He turned to look.
A tiny red light, purplish in the mist, shone beyond. His body began to move towards it.
"It will be difficult, and the Cruxis Crystal will do its best to consume you. But you must be strong, my dear son. I know you can do it."
Reinvigorated by her faith (but not understanding it), on he went, pushing through the unrelenting fog. It closed in, seeking the smallest breach in his defences, and finding none. The woman faded into the smoke, but he knew she had not truly disappeared. She was with him.
It felt like an eternity had passed when at last he pressed up against an invisible barrier. The fog writhed along it and whirled around him to prevent his breakout.
But there was the lustre he had glimpsed. It was more maroon than he had thought, yet the red tint was unmistakable.
He pummelled the wall with his fists. It was like tempered glass; it did not even yield under the pressure. A roar escaped his mouth as he continued to batter it. He ripped off the blue wrapping about his arms, trying to haul him away. He was going to quit this place, and nothing would stand in his way.
With a thunderous crack, a hairline fracture appeared, stretching up and along the ceiling in a dome-like shape. From the fissure, sapphire blazed.
The world turned blue, then white. But he clung to that image of red which meant freedom.
At long last, the radiance began to wane. In its place, a pair of eyes met his.
They were burgundy.
Lloyd's memories returned like a broken dam.
Kratos! The traitor! He yearned to get his hands on the guy and just show him…
Yet the eyes that looked into his own were so sad, so full of shame. Bursting with hope so flimsy Lloyd could have crushed it with his pinkie. Kratos exhaled sorrow.
He could make out the fine grooves that lined Kratos' iris with little effort, the layer of fluid that replenished with every blink glimpsed as easily as breathing.
What was going on? How was he seeing so well? For how long had he been out?
He tried to blink in confusion but his eyelids would not obey. His hands refused to grip his swords, his legs to zip over and deliver a kick. He tried everything; nothing would move. And he could not feel the air drying his eyes slowly, nor the smooth surface of his exsphere against the back of his left hand.
But the chilling stillness was flowing now; the frailty begotten by the mist was given strength; the unsteady intellect was restored its lucidity. His eyes saw, and his ears heard.
"Come," instructed Kratos. Although he stood some metres away, he heard the noise like Kratos had spoken right into his ear.
His body strode behind the man. Distinct panic arose within Lloyd.
Kratos!
His voice still would not come out. Kratos kept walking, and Lloyd kept following. Dammit!
Yggdrasill's leering face loomed in his mind. Cruxis Crystals… Was that why his senses seemed heightened yet he felt nothing? And why he couldn't do anything even though he was awake? Colette had said something like this had happened to her…
He hoped she was safe.
They came to a room loaded with weird metal contraptions. The craftsman in him was disappointed that he was in no state to inspect them closely. As it was, he was led to a transparent tube; his body lay down in it automatically.
It whirred to life. Multicoloured lights flashed all around him and Kratos began to mess around with the holographic display. Lloyd still had no idea what was happening. The feeling of dread was all but gone because he simply could not keep up with anything. He didn't know how to feel anymore.
"Kratos!"
Maybe his stomach churned at the raucous sound. He couldn't tell; the numbness had devoured every one of his senses. But he did not miss Kratos' expression tightening and hollowing out before he glanced over his shoulder.
"Lord Yggdrasill."
"Starting the full-body scans?"
"Yes, sir."
Yggdrasill's ugly mug peered at him. If Lloyd could move, he swore everyone in this room would be so sorry! Starting with this jerk.
The man's lips curved up into that aggravating smirk.
"Good. I want to hear the report when it's complete. All of it! I want to know if he's ready for his mission."
"Sir?"
His tone was a plateau, but Lloyd had travelled with Kratos long enough to know that he was bemused. Then again, how well did he actually know the guy?
Still, Kratos would not bother hiding his tells from someone he did not even realise was conscious. Unless he was just ignoring Lloyd?
Something told him that wasn't the case.
"I will brief him personally," said Yggdrasill by way of answer.
There was a pause. "Yes, sir."
The manic blond made to leave, then halted. "What do you think of a change of clothes? Such a disgusting amount of red. I could arrange a more tasteful uniform…"
Lloyd's illusory hackles rose as Yggdrasil insulted his favourite outfit. Like he could talk!
"Sir."
The timbre of Kratos' reply this time was an unambiguous no. Lloyd's eyes would have widened in disbelief if they could.
Yggdrasill tittered. "Ah, very well. As you wish. He is, after all, yours."
Yours?
What did that mean? He was Kratos'? No way in hell did he belong to anyone!
Lloyd raved angrily in his mind long after Yggdrasill had left. Who did he think that dumbass think he was? Lloyd was not a toy! Or a pet, or whatever! He could choose his own clothes perfectly well, thank you. And dress himself, if only his body would just do what he told it to do!
It was several minutes before his ire began to ebb with no fresh fuel to ignite it. The whirring continued, and Lloyd's thoughts began to move in a different direction. Kratos had gazed at him the whole time.
It was creepy!
Lloyd was not an idiot… Okay, maybe he was, but he wasn't dense all the time! He'd gotten better after Kratos had berated him for failing to notice that Sheena had been tailing them at Thoda Geyser!
But then he had overlooked the loss of Colette's humanity, her sacrifice, Kratos' betrayal, Genis and the Professor's fear that he would denounce them as half-elves, her pain and anxiety as the crystal overtook her, the consequences of breaking all the mana links…
How many mistakes was he going to keep making?
How many promises was he going to keep breaking?
How many times until he couldn't do it over again like he had told Kratos?
Dammit! He was going to get out of here and fix everything, get back to his friends, and put right his mistakes! No matter what.
"If it's something you can do over again, then… feel free."
Palmacosta. He couldn't undo that. Hundreds, maybe thousands of lives—gone in an instant because he had been hasty and hadn't listened to people who were smarter than him.
Shouldn't you just give it up? a voice whispered to him. Look at what happened to everything you've ever touched. Iselia burned because you couldn't leave well enough alone. The Renegades in their watery grave—they don't even get a proper burial, nor individual headstones. Ozette was razed to the ground because you dared to stand against Cruxis in all your folly. Colette suffers because you gave her a faulty key crest.
Because you kept pushing her to complete the world regeneration, leaving her with no choice but to forfeit her very self.
Because you pushed Sheena to form a pact with Volt, she lost Corrine.
Because you went on about how much you hated the Desians, Genis and Raine could never bring themselves to tell you the truth.
Because you forced Zelos and convinced Presea and Regal to go along with your plans, they were branded traitors to Tethe'alla.
Because you trusted Kratos, you were all caught flatfooted when he turned on you.
So why don't you just give up?
No. No, Lloyd couldn't think like that. If he just gave up, he wouldn't be able to face anyone, least of all himself. He wouldn't be able to look Kratos in the eye.
Fighting and losing were better than not resisting at all.
What had he been thinking, again?
Oh, right. The point was! Kratos kept looking at him with those dark eyes of his.
Darkness. The darkened smile. The woman!
Who was she? She'd been inside that eerie blue place—was that his exsphere? No, it was a Cruxis Crystal now, or had it always been one? Whatever. A lady in his exsphere…
His mother.
It had to have been. He wished he could have seen her properly. If only they had had time enough to spend together. He wondered what she looked like. Did his brown hair and eyes come from her? His personality? Was she hot-tempered like him, or serene like he never could be?
He wondered what his father had been like (was, if he was still alive). What kind of qualities his parents had had—what had made them fall for each other. His heart ached with a fourteen-year-old scar, knowing he would never hear the story of how they met, how they fell in love and had him. Of how much they had loved him. If his father had.
But his mother had said his father needed him.
His father.
An ear-splitting squeal interrupted his thoughts. Lloyd flinched internally from instinct and Kratos stood abruptly, overturning the chair he had been reclining on. His exsphere began to emit incandescent light once more.
What—
Something brushed past his ear.
He couldn't really tell what it was, nor much else. The edges of his vision were blurry, pervading the shadowed centre.
Someone was in front of him. He didn't know who. His brain was so disoriented, working even slower than usual.
It was hard to think at all.
If he concentrated as hard as possible, he could make out the barest silhouette of arms approaching his body. It was the drop of the shoulder, the familiar stature (that whispered of times long past), and the tender eyes that convinced him to allow the action.
Safe. He was safe.
There was a voice in his ear. He couldn't make out the words, but they were quiet and soothing.
He slipped under, lulled by a melody he both knew and did not.
Another voice roused him. His mind reeled in muted revulsion, yet his body remained lax.
"You have your mission. Do not fail me."
A mission? Sure, if he could just gather his thoughts…
Everything was swathed in blue. Was it supposed to be like that? He didn't know.
He drifted off after that. Who knew for how long.
It did not matter when or where he 'woke up'. Time and space meant nothing here, in this vast pit. But 'wake up' he did, as much as was possible—whatever that entailed here.
Most everything was beyond recognition. Was it wind whistling in his ear? Something in his upper regions—his torso?—moved. His deadened touch meant that he could not say what he was doing. A thump here, a voice that might have been shrill were it not for his dampened hearing. Or maybe it wasn't a voice. Maybe it was the alarm. Maybe he had come for someone. Maybe someone had come for him.
Wait, why would someone need to come?
There was something he was missing. Something… someone? But it was hard to muster the strength to reflect (it didn't help that he was never any good at that), much less break through this strange sense of apathy that had walled him in since… since when?
"Lloyd, please!"
Her voice was pure light, penetrating the depths of his prison. His heart gasped; once upon a time, it had known the one to whom the voice belonged better than himself. He struggled to loosen his tongue. Who…?
A hand on his cheek. The soft flutter of a barely tangible feather across his side. A smile of hidden pain that he wished to drown in genuine happiness. Eyes that glistened liquid crystal, blue as the ocean beneath the cloudless sky. Blue eyes brighter than the mist that enveloped him.
Below, a jewel the colour of his irises.
His fingers tingled in remembrance.
A necklace.
Someone was smiling at him from beyond the veil. "Go," they said.
And he went.
"Colette…"
He felt the shock that overcame her body. "Lloyd?"
He was hot. Perspiration dripped down the side of his face and everywhere else; he was breathing hard; his heart beat deeply and rapidly in his chest; his muscles twinged as they did after a tough battle.
His jaw worked but nothing came out. His throat was bone-dry. How long had it been since he had last slaked his thirst?
Lloyd stared down at blonde locks, wordless. Her eyes were wide, her mouth round.
"How…?"
Something in the back of his mind alerted him that everyone was fixated on him in equal astonishment, but he couldn't bring himself out of his stupor.
His grip eased slowly, arms falling to his sides. He examined himself, the way his thumb rubbed beneath the sturdy fabric of his glove, the way his muscles contracted and relaxed in response to his desired movements. The feel of eyelashes against the skin beneath his eye, the tickle of his cowlick against his forehead, the dust in his nostrils begging for release. The warm red fluid that soaked his trousers, dizziness building as it dribbled past his ankles and fed the umber beneath. How his mind felt clearer than it had for so long.
Then he trembled, knees giving out under him, arms hugging himself protectively. Tears squeezed out between his shut eyelids. A feather touch caressed his upper arm before pulling him into an embrace. A few seconds later, he felt the warmth of a group hug.
Lloyd buried himself there, almost overwhelmed by the unfamiliar familiarity of senses he had been deprived of, but determined to feel nonetheless. He concentrated on the sweat that saturated foreheads and drenched their hair, on the scent of fruit that underlay it all.
He wasn't alone.
"Welcome back, Lloyd."
Salt settled on his tongue, but the smile that lit up his face was sweet.
"I'm back."
"You'll be happy to know that Lloyd's back to normal."
"What?" Kratos gasped, his thoughts whirling. "Impossible; he does not yet have a key crest."
"Seems like history repeated itself. The same thing that happened to the Chosen of Sylvarant happened to him, although he doesn't have anything that could act as a key crest. Maybe his love for the Chosen anchors him to reality? Granted, the effectiveness of that remains to be seen." Yuan shrugged, smirking. "So, what will you do?"
Kratos composed himself. He had his role and, now that Lloyd was out of Yggdrasil's claws, it had been made significantly easier. "I will release the seal. But only once the Eternal Ring is complete."
"What? Don't trust me?" Yuan raised an eyebrow.
He merely grunted in reply.
Inside, his heart was full to burst.
A/N: Oh, you thought nothing interesting happened during the scans from the interlude? You thought wrong :) I wrote this chapter first.
I've taken singing lessons for some thirteen years. Constructive criticism is something I am very used to.