"HOW DARE YOU..." Ulrich bellowed as Freya slipped her hands between his wrists. "... CALL YOURSELF... A BURMECIAN?!"
"THIS IS FOR PUCK!" she yelled, sinking her claws deep into his face. "AND THIS... IS FOR WULFWEARD!"
"Graaaarghhh-!" Ulrich screamed in pain as the dragoon drove her thumbs into his eyes.
THUD!
When the brawling Burmecians hit the floor, it shattered like thin ice, revealing a bottomless pool of blood.
SPLASH!
"What the- Glrghh!" Freya gurgled as they sank into the viscous fluid. She tried to swim to the surface, but Ulrich grabbed her by the collar, pulling her into the gruesome depths. Desperate, she spun around and planted a savage haymaker square in his face, but he pushed her fist back with just the strength of his neck until his empty eye sockets were staring directly into her soul.
"No wonder you can't protect anyone..." the abomination's voice telepathically rang in her mind as it morphed into a grotesque, eyeless Beatrix. "How can you live with your own weakness, Crescent?"
Freya screamed a stream of bubbles, utterly terrified. The pungent taste of copper caused her to clamp her jaw shut as the gory substance around her tried to force itself down her throat.
"Wanna know how your parents died, sweetie?" her shape-shifting torturer asked as she began to suffocate, this time assuming Frigg's form. "They drowned in their own blood as the dragons tore them to shreds... an appropriate death for a pair of heretics!"
STAB!
The creature opened its mutilated eyes wide and gasped; Freya had stabbed it in the throat with her mother's pendant.
"You don't get to insult them, freak!" she snarled, overloading the trinket with the last of her spiritual energy until it glowed hot pink.
BOOOM!
"GWHAK..!" the impostor gurgled as the concentrated Cherry Blossom blast destroyed its head, causing it to let go of the knight. Without missing a beat, Freya kicked it in the chest with all her might, propelling herself upwards and sending the abomination down the chasm for good.
"Almost there..." she thought, swimming as fast as she could. With the last of her strength, she reached the surface and crawled out of the pond, coughing up blood.
"Thanks, mom..." she muttered, kissing the charred pendant before storing it in a leather pouch.
The sound of rapidly approaching footsteps brought her back to reality, and she realized that the scenery had changed; the giant wooden staircase had been replaced by a burning city, and hundreds of agonizing screams filled the air, reminding her of Necron's hellish dimension.
"Freya!" A Burmecian woman in a dirty green dress yelled, running towards her with a baby in her arms. "Freya, is that you..?!"
"Britt..?" the knight gasped, surprised to encounter her childhood neighbor again. "What's going on? Where are we?"
"No time to explain! They're co-!"
BLAST!
The lady shrieked as a fireball hit her in the back, disintegrating her and her child as their lifeless bodies fell to the floor.
"Britt!" Freya screamed, realizing that a full platoon of black mages was marching down the cobbled street, vaporizing anything that moved with their magic.
"KILL!" they boomed in a disturbing monotone, as if they were a single entity, aiming their spells at the knight.
Exhausted, outnumbered and cursing her luck, the dragoon ran for her life as the golems gave chase. She climbed a lamppost in a single bound and then jumped onto the rooftops as the fireballs whistled past her, setting the entire block ablaze. With a few powerful leaps, she found a small terrace far enough from the battlefield and stopped to catch her breath for a moment.
A distant explosion caught her attention.
Carefully, she approached the ledge of her perch, and as she watched the bloodbath unfolding below, she felt a part of herself die along with her people.
Burmecia was burning, and yet again, she could do nothing to stop it.
"I should have been here..." Freya mumbled, overcome by a heartrending sorrow. She leaned on the handrail, squeezed her eyes shut and let the tears flow, desperately wishing to wake up. "If only I had stayed at my post, maybe Dan... and Britt..."
"... There was nothing you could have done to save them," an all-too familiar voice interrupted her, startling her so much that she almost fell off the roof.
"Dad..?!" she squeaked, whipping around. "Is that really you..?"
"In the flesh, hahah!" Fridgeir quipped, folding his arms. "How are you holding up, honey?"
"Terribly... I thought I'd be stronger, but there's no way I can just close my eyes and make this go away..." she sighed, tiredly rubbing her face.
"Of course not. That would be ridiculous..."
"... Then how am I supposed to pass this test?" the knight asked with more than a hint of impatience in her voice.
"That's where you're (understandably) missing the point. This is not a test in the strict sense of the word."
Freya raised both eyebrows at his statement.
"Huh..? What is it, then?"
"Think of it as an introspective journey... a pretty lively one," he answered, smirking at his own joke. "The fortress isn't actually trying to hurt you; it's merely acting as a mirror of your soul."
"Ugh... Am I this messed up..?" she groaned, rubbing her temples.
Fridgeir rested a hand on her shoulder.
"You've been through a lot, honey... far more than most people," he said in a compassionate tone. "As long as you stay here, Reis's magic will protect you from entering a Trance. A golden chance to untangle your past and reclaim your life, don't you think?"
Freya lowered her eyes.
"But how..? I don't even know where to start..."
The spirit smiled and took a few steps back.
"Remember when you tried to copy mum's Rising Dragon technique?" he asked. "You wanted to climb a tree in one jump, but ended up flying right over it."
Freya snorted, inwardly cringing at her child self's recklessness.
"Yeah... then I crashed into another tree and got stuck upside down for a few minutes, wearing a dress to boot. Mom was livid..."
"... Now tell me, how did that experience affect you afterwards?" Fridgeir pressed on.
"Well... the other kids called me names for months, so I became pretty insecure about my skills," she answered. "Then I failed my first academy admission exam because part of the obstacle course reminded me too much of the accident..."
"Do you remember how we worked through that fear?" her father asked, picking a spot and sitting cross-legged on the floor.
Freya's eyes widened as she put two and two together.
"Guess we should probably give it a shot..." she said as she sat facing him.
Father and daughter closed their eyes and slowed down their breathing.
"That's it... take deep, slow breaths. Inhale... exhale..." Fridgeir guided her. "Focus on your breathing... visualize the air flowing through your body..."
As Freya relaxed, the flames and the screaming began to subside. The burning city gradually vanished until just the two Burmecians and the terrace remained, floating in a vast, warm nothingness. With her father's guidance, the knight entered a state of heightened awareness, feeling every fiber of her body pulsing with life.
"Remember how we used to stargaze together?" the ghost softly spoke, adding his voice to the hypnotic rhythm of her respiration.
"M-hmm..." the knight affirmed, still in deep concentration.
"Good. Picture what you call the Beast as a constellation," he answered. "Each star represents a painful memory, and together they keep you stuck in the past."
As Freya visualized the scene, the void morphed into a beautiful starlit sky, crowned by a swarm of sickly, bloated red giants.
"Excellent job, you've singled out quite a few memories," Fridgeir commented, contemplating the ominous star system. "Now, I want you to choose one and focus on it. Take your time."
The dragoon's brows furrowed as she made her pick and brought it to the foreground with the power of her mind.
"Good, good. Let's take a look inside, shall we?" the spirit said, and his daughter obliged.
The blazing sphere opened up like a matryoshka doll, and a blinding light engulfed them, transporting them to a distant point in time and space.
"Oh my..." the spirit muttered to himself, recognizing the scenery of Freya's remembrance.
"This is it... my greatest failure..." she said, opening her eyes.
WHAM!
"Oof!" a teenaged Zidane uttered as Beatrix's technique sent him flying across the Burmecian throne room like a rag doll.
"Is that all you've got?" the Alexandrian general sneered, whipping around just in time to parry a young Freya's spear.
CLANG!
"In the name of the king, I will cut you down!" the inexperienced dragoon snarled, teeth bared, glaring at the swordswoman through their interlocked blades.
"Don't make promises you can't keep!" the holy knight guffawed, sending a Thunder Slash spell down Freya's weapon.
"Rrghhhh..!" the Burmecian grunted, unable to let go of her electrified spear as the shock forced her to her knees.
"Stop hurting her!" Vivi yelled, casting a fiery curse at Beatrix.
"Don't make me laugh..." the paladin sneered, effortlessly batting the fireball away with her sword.
"Beatrix, stop toying with them, we have work to do," Queen Brahne boredly ordered. Kuja smirked, eager to gauge the general's true power.
"At once, your majesty," the paladin answered, bowing at the wannabe empress. Zidane saw her gesture as the closest thing to an opening he would ever find on her and went for the backstab, but Beatrix sensed him approaching.
"Heh. Fool..." she said, infusing her blade with a lethal dose of magic. Freya noticed it and pounced on her, spear in hand, trying to split the general's attention.
"Guys, watch out!" Vivi yelled, realizing the attack was doomed to fail, but his friends had already stepped into the Alexandrian's striking range and had no real chance to retreat.
"On your knees!" Beatrix roared, unleashing a gust of razor wind with a spinning slash.
SHRRRAAAKKK!
A moment of silence ensued as the general calmly sheathed her sword. Zidane, Vivi and Freya staggered and collapsed on the floor like sandbags, severely injured by the air blast.
"Bravo!" Kuja exclaimed, sarcastically applauding the paladin's 'performance'.
"How ridiculously weak..." she commented as the blood of her victims painted the floor red.
"Alright, that's enough... I can't take this anymore..." the real, older Freya said, averting her eyes, and everyone but her father and her froze in place, even Burmecia's perpetual rain.
"Hmm... I think I'm beginning to understand how your mind works..." Fridgeir muttered, scratching his chin. "Tell me, Pumpkin: why did you describe this event as if it was your fault?"
"You're kidding, right?" the dragoon said in disbelief.
"Not at all," he answered in a dead serious tone, further confusing her. "Please, answer my question, honey."
"I had godsdamn Queen Brahne in the palm of my hand!" his daughter exclaimed, 'rewinding' the scene until she reached the point where Beatrix seemingly got distracted. "Look! She was completely unprotected! Instead of picking a fight with Beatrix, I could have just thrown my spear at her and ended the Mist War right there!"
"And why didn't you do that?"
Freya opened her mouth to speak, but the answer seemed to elude her.
"I... I don't know... it didn't occur to me at the time... perhaps I let fear get the best of me..." she said as her eyes welled up. "Guess my classmates were right all along... I don't have what it takes to be a knight..."
"Hmph. Is that so?" Fridgeir said with a knowing smirk, fast-forwarding to the point where Beatrix noticed Zidane and prepared to kill him. "I think the actual reason behind your actions had nothing to do with cowardice..."
"Huh..?"
The spirit gestured at Freya's young self, frozen in time while climbing to her feet with a determined glare on her face.
"Look at yourself! The moment you realized your friends were in danger, you threw yourself without hesitation at this killing machine of a woman to save them!" he pointed out with a smile. "What was Sir Wulfweard's motto again?"
"Leave no one behind..." the dragoon recited, surprised by how well informed her father was. "Hold on a second, how could you possibly know that?"
Fridgeir laughed heartily.
"Oh, I'm actually pretty darn familiar with the old curmudgeon, mind you!" he exclaimed. "He's always hated my guts for marrying his lifelong crush!"
"Wait, what?!" Freya squawked. "He was in love with mom?!"
"Madly so!" the spirit exclaimed. "You have no idea how bitter he was when you were born... but then he met you, and you changed him."
"Changed him..? How so?"
"That man loved you like a daughter, Pumpkin. In his own taciturn way, he wouldn't stop gushing about how brave and noble you were, and how you were destined to greatness," Fridgeir stated. "Now, do you seriously think that a Master Dragoon like him would have put his honor on the line by knighting you if he wasn't absolutely convinced that you were cut out for the job?"
Freya averted her eyes, veiling her face with her disheveled platinum bangs.
"His faith in me was misplaced..." she said. "If I had heeded his advice and trained harder instead of losing five years of my life looking for a man who didn't even remember me... maybe things would have turned out differently..."
"How is it fair to blame the outcome of a world war on a single soldier? Especially considering Brahne's troops curbstomped dozens of veteran dragonslayers on their way to the palace?" Fridgeir riposted without ever losing his cool. "You've been telling yourself that you're unworthy of your station for so long that you've twisted surviving the fall of Burmecia into being guilty of its destruction."
The knight glared furiously at her father, no longer able to hold back the tears
"Don't you get it?! If I had killed Brahne when I had the chance, Cleyra and the Burmecian refugees would have survived!" she yelled in an increasingly broken voice until she couldn't scream anymore, and then she started sobbing. "Instead of that, everyone I knew is gone... my home, my family, my friends, my king, all gone... I can't protect anyone... I have failed everyone... I drove everyone away... even my Fratley... I can't... I just..."
As she began hyperventilating, Fridgeir walked up to her and embraced her tightly, halting her rant dead on its tracks.
"It's okay, honey, I'm here... let it out..." he whispered, stroking her hair.
"... Forgive me... please... forgive me..." she whimpered, crying on his shoulder.
"There's nothing to forgive..." he answered. "I'm proud of you, Freya, and I always will be..."
Father and daughter shared a moment of silence, giving the knight time to cool off and sort out her scrambled thoughts.
"... I don't know why did I say a few of the things I just said..." she muttered. "I mean... they felt true at the time, but now they just sound kinda silly..."
Fridgeir smiled triumphantly.
"Congratulations, you've just discovered what I like calling stuck points," he piped up. "They're extreme beliefs born from pain that skew our worldview without us even noticing.
"Am I... lying to myself..?"
"In a way, yes. Realizing we have them is the first step towards defusing them, which is the whole purpose of this exercise," the ghost explained, returning to his spot to give Freya some space. "Listen to this statement: If I had killed Brahne when I had the chance, Cleyra and the Burmecian refugees would have survived."
"Yeah..? I see nothing wrong with it..."
"Why are you so sure you actually had a chance?" the ghost retorted, pointing at the Alexandrian general. "Although it may seem like it, Beatrix never lowered her guard at all, and Kuja was staring right at you the whole time. A mage as powerful as him wouldn't have let you hurt his pawn as long as she was still useful to him."
"Hmm... maybe you're right..." Freya conceded, and then she gasped. "Kuja!" she exclaimed with her eyes wide open. "Dad, do you know where Zidane is? Last time I saw him, an illusive Kuja was leading him to some kind of portal!"
"What makes you think the Kuja you saw was an illusion?" Fridgeir asked.
The dragoon blinked dumbly at him, utterly astonished.
"What in the nine realms of Hel is that monster doing here?!"
"Let's just call it... community service," he answered in a notably scornful tone. "Don't worry about your friend, he's safe here, and Lord Gizamaluke is constantly monitoring Kuja. If he tries anything funny, he'll go back to solitary confinement at once."
"I don't know... I don't trust that fiend at all. I just can't..."
"But he's an integral part of Zidane's hang-ups, and this is an ideal opportunity for him to get some closure and move on," Fridgeir stated. "Now, what do you say we get back to work, Pumpkin? We still have a long way ahead of us."
The knight sighed and wiped her eyes with her wrist.
"Okay..." she answered, resuming her meditation.
"Why did you bring me here?" Zidane asked, angling a blurry glare at his brother. "Do you still enjoy watching me suffer?"
The two Genomes were standing alone amidst the ruins of a mining village under a blood red sky. A howling gale mercilessly plowed the ground, kicking up swirling clouds of dust.
"If I wanted to make you suffer, I would have taken you to a far less peaceful place," Kuja retorted. He hadn't aged a day since the last time they had seen each other, but he sounded far more serene, if a little weary, and a subdued sorrow tinted his gaze, something that his brother couldn't help but notice.
"Do you have any idea what happened here?" Zidane brusquely asked, balling up his fists. "Did you know that I can still hear the screams in my nightmares?"
"Of course I do. This is where you crushed the Trenoite army sixteen years ago, isn't it?" the sorcerer answered. "That day, your body returned to the warmth of your palace, but a part of your mind remained here and never truly left."
Zidane averted his eyes in shame.
"You're well informed..." he muttered, feeling dirty. A monster.
"Reis's power allows me to read your soul like an open book," the silver-haired Genome explained. "It's not like I need it, though; you're still as obvious as ever. No offense."
"Tsk. None taken, asshole," his brother riposted. "Mind explaining what are you doing here?"
"A little bird told me you've been having... control issues for quite some time, and as fun as it sounds to let you go around mindlessly destroying everything you ever sought to protect, I wouldn't like you to accidentally overshadow my life's work," Kuja stated, nonchalantly glancing at the smoking ruins. "What can I say? I hate sharing the spotlight."
"Really? And here I was, thinking you missed me," Zidane snarked back. "So, do you know how to... uhh... fix me?"
The angel of death raised a silver eyebrow.
"Well, I'd start by firing your tailor, brother. You look like a monkey in that outfit."
"Oh, that's fucking rich coming from the clown in the steel thong!"
"... Do you want my help or not?"
"I dunno, can you stop talking shit for a minute and help me?"
Kuja snorted.
"There's only one way to find out," he stated, levitating comfortably in the air. "When did your... continence issues begin?"
Zidane grimaced at him, then folded his arms and pondered the question for a while.
"I guess it all started four years after our last meeting..." he said, and the surrounding wasteland changed into Alexandria Castle's garden, complete with the little kiosk where he used to spend quality time with his family.
"I remember this place..." the sorcerer stated, admiring the serene beauty of the scene.
"Wonderful, isn't it?" the king said, his voice filled with nostalgia. A ghostly version of Garnet calmly drank tea in the kiosk, oblivious to their presence. He limited himself to watching her in silence, a loving smile on his lips. "The first few months played out like a dream. We were young, madly in love, and nothing else seemed to matter. We felt invincible, you know? I still remember waking up beside her in the morning and thinking that maybe, just maybe, we had finally earned our happily ever after."
"... T'is foolishness! If all were so easy, why, none would suffer in this world!" Kuja recited, eliciting a chuckle from his brother.
"Saw that one coming a mile away. You're in desperate need of new references," the younger Genome retorted.
"Alas! I'd readily trade this dull eternity of mine for one last night at the theater, brother... guess we can call it karmic justice..." the wizard responded, and the king couldn't help feeling sad for him.
"Seriously, now... what happened to you..?" Zidane asked. "Why are you here..?"
A hint of a genuine smile appeared on Kuja's lips, but he was quick to conceal it.
"I know you enjoy a good story as much as I do, but let's leave that one for another occasion, shall we?" he answered. "Tell me, why did your dream go sour?"
None too convinced, Zidane resumed his tale.
"Well... at the beginning few people wanted me around, being a peasant and all. I could handle it at first, but things really went downhill when Dagger's secret got leaked," he recalled.
"Her true identity."
"Yup..." the king concurred. "The kingdom got immediately split between those who still supported her because of her achievements, and those who saw this as the perfect chance to kill us both and seize the throne."
"How charming. I take it the traitors were... pacified, no?"
"Sorta. Those assholes grossly underestimated how popular and smart Dagger was," Zidane stated. "Seeing themselves outnumbered and outmaneuvered, most of them fled to Treno, where they started plotting with the local separatists."
"The Trenoite rebellion..."
"Bingo," the king said. "May of 1803 was such a mess... a bunch of armed insurgents stormed Treno's government palace and took the whole staff hostage, demanding independence from Alexandria. It was a fucking bloodbath, complete with a shitload of corpses littering the streets."
"Oh, my... and how did our intrepid queen react?"
"She negotiated with them, ignoring the other nobles' call for a military intervention," Zidane explained. "Turns out the separatists were seen as freedom fighters by the Trenoite people, and they preferred going to war before paying taxes to a fake queen and her peasant husband."
"Ouch..."
"Ouch, indeed," the blond Genome concurred. "Dagger didn't want another war, especially one fought in Alexandrian territory, and denying Treno its freedom was incompatible with her beliefs, so she made what's easily the most polarizing decision in her entire career; she agreed to call an independence referendum in exchange for the hostages' lives."
"So cute."
"That's exactly what those smug-ass bastards thought," Zidane stated, and thunder roared in the distance, mirroring his anger. "A year later we got wind of an invasion plot masterminded by the House of Bishop and financially backed by Dagger's detractors. Apparently, they had mistaken her goodwill for weakness and were preparing to try and seize the Zamo Basin by force for its natural resources."
"Interesting. What did she do about it?"
"She militarized the border as a deterrent, which would have worked if Margaret Bishop hadn't shown up with a whole damn battalion clad in Terran assault armor and a shitload of heavy magitek artillery, which begs the question..." the king explained, aiming an accusing finger at his brother. "Did you have anything to do with that?"
Kuja's genuinely puzzled expression sent shivers down Zidane's spine.
"Not that I know... my magical prowess alone trivializes such pitiful contraptions, and neither did my black mages need them, given their natural sturdiness and firepower."
"What..? So they didn't get 'em from you?" the king mumbled. "Then how..?"
"Careful, brother. There may be more players in this game than you know..." the sorcerer warned him. "Zidane..? Hello? Anybody home?" he jokingly said, but the king was thinking so hard that it took him a few seconds to realize that he was being talked to.
"Oh! Sorry... it's just... I seriously did not expect this turn of events..." he apologized. "It makes sense, though... a second Terran arms dealer would explain how Bishop got so much tech in so little time... the question is: who's this motherfucker and how do we find 'em?"
"That's two separate questions," Kuja snarked. "Perhaps if we keep digging in your memories, the answer shall be revealed."
"... Maybe you're right."
"So, Bishop brought this magically empowered army and invaded the Zamo Basin..."
"Oh, yeah... they broke through our defenses like they were made of paper and sacked a few villages on their way to the mythril mines, their primary objective," Zidane explained. "Garnet and Beatrix decided to ambush them a few miles from here, but their air force wiped the floor with us and drove us back to this place..."
As he spoke, the Alexandrian castle dissapeared, replaced by the mining town's ruins.
"You fought on the front lines. How bold."
"I hated every second of it," Zidane stated, lowering his eyes. "I can kill monsters left and right without breaking a sweat... but people? That fucks you up, man..."
"Why were you there? You're merely the prince consort. Nobody expects you to lead the troops into battle."
"I couldn't just sit back and watch Garnet shoulder the burden alone! I had to protect her! I had to protect the kingdom!"
"Hmm... I see..." Kuja commented. "What happened before you lost control of your Trance form and destroyed this village?"
Zidane swallowed the lump in his throat.
"How do I put this..." he muttered, scratching the back of his head. "I kinda... died."