Chapter 1: Judgement
"I would like to believe that there is a happy ending somewhere, and the lessons we learnt in our journeys help us look forward to the future. Sometimes, we just need to learn to let go and forgive. Ever forward and live our short lives to the fullest. It is a lesson that needs to be reminded to us as despair clouds our judgment, and we should never lose sight of what it means to live. I must go now and do battle for the fate of Burmecia, and I relish not in the shedding of blood of my kinsmen. But if he is not stopped, then the fate of our kingdom will be sealed and there will be no future for her."
-Freya Crescent-
The years after the battle with Necron were few, but the rebuilding of Burmecia was going strong with assistance from Alexandria and Lindblum. Despite that, the royal palace was still in ruins as priority was given to building housing for the surviving Burmecians and Cleyrans. The builders were fine with leaving the place alone for the time being as the royal palace ruins evoked a lot of bitter memories from 3 years ago. A temporary roof had been built over the palace but its hasty construction meant that rainwater constantly seeped through. The occasional few youngsters would wander there to play in the rainwater puddles or hunt for insects and small critters, however, ensuring that some life was brought to its moss-covered hall under the watchful eyes of the statues of ancient kings and warriors.
Yet, on the night of a cold spring in the year 1803, the silence of the ruins was broken with the gathering of a crowd of Burmecians and Cleyrans. Guards had formed a semi-circle perimeter that separated the crowd from a group of Burmecians behind them. Situated before a titanic standing statue was a burnished oaken throne with the insignia of Burmecia carved into it. On it sat a particularly tall and large Burmecian in a great gold-accented blue overcoat, his eyes sharp and his expression serious. There was a bright red scar on his right cheek, dealt by the near miss of a spearhead that would have otherwise killed him. Before him knelt the persons of the crowd's fascination, bewilderment, and surprise. On the left was Freya Crescent and to her right, Sir Fratley, her lover. Both were bloodied and bruised, stripped of their weapons and armour, their hands bound behind their backs, and forced to kneel on the cold stone floor with guards pushing down on the back of their necks with their spears. As if to add to the tense atmosphere, a pair of ravens were perched on top of the great statue, staring down silently at the spectacle like two black spectres of doom.
The drones of the murmuring crowd were silenced when the tall Burmecian stood up from the throne and glared at the two dragon knights before him. While his expression remained as neutral as he could manage, there was a glint of disappointment in his eyes as he ran his eyes over them. Freya lifted her head slightly to shoot him a glare of defiance only for the guard beside her to push her neck down harder, forcing her to look down at the floor again. The tall Burmecian sighed and shook his head before taking a step forward.
"You know better than to try and attack me, and to attack me is to defy the authority of Prince Regent Puck," said the tall Burmecian in a low and booming voice. Sir Fratley stole a glance at him which he had noticed despite the light from the torches barely illuminating his face. "What do you have to say for yourself, Iron-Tails?" he asked softly.
Sir Fratley stood up and observed the crowd in silence before turning his attention to the Burmecian. "Lord-Commander Demetrius!" he shouted in a stern tone with a hint of indignancy. His commanding voice pierced through the crowd and temporarily silenced the masses. "You sit on the throne that is not rightfully yours! As warriors and protectors of Burmecia and her people, our allegiance is owed to Prince Regent Puck. On top of that, we are a people scattered by war and our homes destroyed. How can you now declare war against Alexandria and Queen Garnet, who has provided us with so much help for the past 3 years? Why, the very throne you sit on was donated by Alexandrian carpenters! This is nothing short of usurpation!"
The crowd erupted into jeers and the guards pushed back against them as they tried to close in. "I never usurped the throne, Sir Fratley," Demetrius said flatly. "Burmecian law has always stated that in the event the ruler is deceased, and the next-in-line is too young to rule, the prime minister shall rule in their stead until they come of age. Have you already forgotten that I was elected as prime minister, and that my election was confirmed by the prince regent himself?" he asked.
"He had no other choice! You were supposed to help with the rebuilding effort but you tried to start a war, and for what?!" Freya shouted angrily, the guard beside her unable to force her down in time as she quickly and forcefully stood up. "Prince Regent Puck will never approve of this and you know it. It wasn't Alexandria that destroyed Burmecia and Cleyra; it was Queen Brahne. You can't pin the sins of a person on an entire nation!"
"The people of Alexandria are complicit in this act of genocide, Freya Crescent, and a country is only as good as its leader," Demetrius said calmly but pointed accusatorily at her. "When Brahne destroyed Burmecia and Cleyra, what did her soldiers do? What did General Beatrix do? Nothing! Where's the outcry from the people, the common soldiery, the generals? Personal disapprovals are tantamount to lack of action." The people had started talking among themselves again, some nodding their heads in approval of the statement while others debated angrily in hushed tones. "Perhaps," the lord-commander said out loud and quieted the crowd. "They don't really think much of us. We Burmecians have been at war with Alexandria for a while after all, and we did kill their king. What about the Cleyrans? Did they deserve our fate?"
"Of course not," Freya responded.
"Then who will do them justice?" Demetrius asked again and gestured at the crowd. "Where we still have the ruins on which we can rebuild our kingdom, Cleyra is utterly obliterated, nothing left but a smoking crater. Brahne could've just taken the Desert Star and left, but no, she had to destroy everything. We are the dragon knights of Burmecia, we fight for justice not just for our ruined kingdom but for the lost home tree of the Cleyrans too. I'm only doing what's best for our people, unlike you and Iron-Tails, selfish to the end. You went AWOL to 'become stronger' and never returned. You, Freya Crescent, abandoned Burmecia looking for him. None of you were there to help defend the kingdom," he pointed angrily at the two.
Freya gritted her teeth and felt her blood boil. Sir Fratley on the other hand looked crestfallen and dejected. Seeing him like that made her hold her tongue and she felt her spirit drain from her body. The crowd began voicing their agreements at that point while dissent seemed to have been relegated to a few folks, mostly from the Cleyran side. Some had begun arguing with each other and a fight nearly broke out but the guards quickly stepped in to maintain the peace. Both Freya and Sir Fratley looked behind for a split second in disbelief before turning their attention back to their former commander. Sir Fratley sighed and steeled himself.
"You're right, we were young fools for leaving Burmecia. I wanted to become stronger…to be able to better protect our kingdom as Alexandria and Lindblum grew in power. That was one thing I've never forgotten." He paused and looked at Freya sorrowfully for a bit before continuing. "But I realise now that my selfishness has been born from my sense of duty…and I take responsibility for Freya's choices as well."
"Fratley!" Freya exclaimed incredulously in a high whisper, the crowd echoing her sentiment.
"For once, Fratley, you're making sense. I don't know what you were thinking expecting a young girl like her to share your sense of duty when she was just a starry-eyed maiden in love. You left Burmecia without my permission specifically, and from what I've heard, Freya made you promise to return, and when that promise was not kept, she got desperate," Demetrius said. "I should have court-marshalled you, but your little rebellion doesn't help your case at all and all you're gonna get is a death sentence. I'm willing to grant you and Freya amnesty, but you must do as I say."
"You already know where I stand, Demetrius," Sir Fratley said with a frown. "What justice is there if we committed the same genocide on Alexandrians? It doesn't make us any better than them. Even if I did go along with your warmongering, what makes you think our diminished army can take them on?"
Demetrius smirked and said cryptically, "I have my ways. A dragon knight is matched not only by their strength but also their strategic and tactical thinking. You know it better than anyone else."
"Damn it, sir, if you sign that declaration of war, I will personally kill you!" Sir Fratley shouted in an outpouring of anger so sudden and uncharacteristic that it made Freya jump slightly.
Demetrius blinked once but leaned back against the throne nonchalantly. "I know you would. After all, you're one of Burmecia's greatest warriors these days, same goes to Freya. Quite a power couple I might add," he mused. "A dragon knight without his weapon is equally as dangerous, which is why I took necessary precautions," he said in a relaxed manner while raising his right hand in an upward chopping motion.
The couple's ears twitched as they heard sounds coming from the statues on the upper platforms. Looking around, they saw a dozen or so archers coming out from the shadows with bows in their hands and arrows ready to be drawn. Their faces were obscured underneath brimmed hats and the two could not tell if they were looking at their direction or at them directly. The moment they were in position, they stood as still as the statues next to them as they awaited orders from the lord-commander. The crowd gasped in horror and some had started fleeing the place while the rest stayed on with concerned and scared looks on their faces.
"What is the meaning of this?" Freya asked as she started into Demetrius's eyes. "This is no tribunal."
"I never said it was," Demetrius explained in a serious tone, his eyes meeting hers in an equally sharp gaze. "By law, an attempt on the royal family or prime minister's lives is grounds for execution. However, let it not be said that I am a tyrant for I still believe in second chances." He leaned forward slightly and proclaimed, "You'll have to make a choice, and what you say or do next is going to determine what happens to you two." He held up three fingers on his right hand and said, "One, you see reason and join the war effort. Your attempt on my life will be forgiven and you will remain as dragon knights. Two, you refuse, and it'll be the dungeons for you until you repent or I decide when you'll be released. Or three, you try anything funny in this hall and your execution will be made examples of for any wannabe rebels."
"Please, stop this madness! Haven't we suffered enough?!" a lady from the crowd pleaded.
"I thought dragon knights fought for justice! I never wanted any war but I lost my family to a bloodthirsty hag either way!" a man shouted amidst the din of uproar.
"She's already dead, let's just focus on rebuilding!"
"Are you Cleyrans still so forgiving after losing your home like that?!"
Dissent seemed to have picked up again but this time, a fight broke out between a Burmecian and Cleyran which caused others to start fighting. The guards intervened again, including the ones tasked with guarding Sir Fratley and Freya as some in the crowd decided to approach them. Even Demetrius had to raise his voice at the crowd in an attempt to calm them down. During that moment of distraction, Sir Fratley sighed and looked at Freya with an expression of sorrow. "I'm sorry Freya, I've failed our people and you," he said softly.
"Fratley, please, do not be harsh on yourself. You've gone through a lot but you've done a lot for us as well," she reciprocated lovingly. "I just wish I could've made better choices back then."
Sir Fratley looked at the ground for a moment and shook his head. "By not remembering you, I've failed my promise to you even if I did come back. To see our kingdom and people pushed to the brink, I failed my duty as a dragon knight. It's too late to right those wrongs now…but there's still one last chance for redemption," he said while glaring at the lord-commander.
"By the gods, please don't do that," Freya said with wide eyes while tears had started welling at the sides of her eyes. "I've already lost you once before, I won't go through it again!" she whispered.
"I love you, Freya, I know I'll likely never remember everything from our past, but I'm happy to have spent the past 3 years spending time with you. I just wish we had more time together," Sir Fratley remarked with a wistful smile.
Before Freya could answer him, Sir Fratley turned quickly and leapt into the air while Freya howled his name in anguish. The sudden move caught Demetrius by surprise and he did not have time to order the archers to fire upon them. By the time they took the initiative and the first arrows started flying, Sir Fratley had attempted to land a diving kick on the lord-commander's neck. The arrows fired at him had barely missed but nearly hit Freya instead. Had she leapt a few seconds slower, they would have hit her body. However, Demetrius brought up his hands just in time to block the otherwise fatal kick and grabbed Sir Fratley's foot right after the impact. Using his momentum, the lord-commander launched him past the throne.
The dragon knight crashed back first into a pillar with a sickening crack and he flopped onto the ground like a limp ragdoll. Despite blurry vision and an aching back, he willed himself back onto his feet. His knees nearly gave out but Sir Fratley managed to remain standing shakily. He vomited up blood, staining the floor crimson while he felt his insides burning with pain. Shifting his arms uncomfortably, the dragon knight managed to stand straight enough to see Demetrius towering over him and with his sword drawn. The lord-commander used the tip of the blade to lift Sir Fratley's chin up further, the sharp end poking painfully against his skin.
"Not bad, Iron-Tails, your wanderings have made you stronger. But you really disappoint me," Demetrius said with a hint of respect.
He looked around and saw one of the guards had grabbed Freya from behind and was holding her back while she shouted curses at Demetrius. Seeing that she was under control, he turned back to Sir Fratley and kneed him in the stomach, causing him to collapse onto the floor. Kneeling, the lord-commander grabbed the dragon knight by the collar and dragged him back to the front of the throne. Blood had smeared Sir Fratley's shirt and created a red trail behind him where he was dragged along.
The crowd had dispersed somewhat at that point but there were still arguments going on, and only a few people standing by the sidelines had noticed Demetrius dragging Sir Fratley's body. Their screams caused others to stop and look around, their anger immediately replaced by gasps of surprise and shock. Even the guards could not help but look at what was going on, their eyes wide and their hands trembling. The archers kept their attention towards Sir Fratley's direction and stood stoic and silent as before, but many of them had lowered their bows.
With an unceremonious toss from Demetrius, Sir Fratley rolled once and landed onto his back. He was bleeding from the side of his mouth but his chest still rose and fell at a steady albeit slow pace. The fingers on his right hand twitched a little, but his signs of life did little to assure the already riled up crowd. The dragon knight tried to say something but all he made were hoarse noises. Demetrius himself looked uncomfortable as he stood before Sir Fratley, his sword still drawn but it was pointed away from him. The sight of her lover made Freya struggle even more and even though the guard still had a hold of her, his arms were getting tired and sore.
"Sir Fratley!" Freya cried out, her tears now flowing freely.
"You really should've thought about this better" Demetrius said to the now unconscious dragon knight. Taking a deep breath, he looked at the crowd and then at Freya, and pointed at the broken body before him. "This is the price of rebellion."
Freya's voice caught in her throat when she saw him lift his sword, knowing exactly what the lord-commander intended to do. For a brief moment, she felt a surge of power within her and when her voice was finally released, her cry resonated through the hall like thunder and a bright light engulfed her. With a burst of strength, she broke her bindings as if they were made of cotton. The guard holding her let go of his grip and stumbled backwards as Freya propelled herself forward at Demetrius with a fist raised. A full plate of armour had covered her body, protecting her from the swarm of arrows that the archers finally unleashed. Demetrius saw her coming and sidestepped but she spun around quickly with a crescent kick that connected with the side of his body. Despite his large stature, the force of the kick made him tumble sideways.
Demetrius recovered quickly and ordered the archers to fire at her again. Another volley was let loose and most of them missed her save for one arrow that nicked the steel collar. Before they could fire again, Freya had closed the distance once more and threw a flurry of punches at the lord-commander. He parried her gauntleted punches with his sword but she managed to grab his wrists and pulled him close to her face. Through the visor of her winged helmet, he saw a pair of bloodshot eyes filled with mindless determination to kill him.
The other guards dared not intervene lest she diverted her fury on them as well, and they opted to stand back while forcing the crowd out of the royal palace for their safety. All the archers had leapt onto the same level as the action, but even as they drew their bows, none of them dared let loose the arrows as Demetrius was in their line of sight. He saw that the archers were on the same floor and made a mental note to fall backwards when Freya threw the next punch. That was exactly what she did and the moment she aimed her fist at his throat, he purposely fell backwards onto the floor, hitting the ground as Freya's fist hit air.
In the split-second Freya was exposed, the archers fired.
A dozen arrows flew towards her and in her enraged state, Freya could only watch as the steel-tipped missiles punched through her platemail armour and embedded themselves into her chest before she could react in time. One arrow found a gap in the neck armour and pierced her throat. She stumbled back slightly and managed to right herself, taking one step forward limply before falling onto her knees and crumpling onto the ground with a loud metallic thud.
Silence.
Demetrius walked over to Freya just as Sir Fratley began regaining some consciousness. He blinked away the blurriness in his vision and he looked to his right just in time to see his former commander kneeling beside his lover and checking her, not noticing the arrows that were sticking out of her chest and neck. As he tried to make sense of what was going on, he heard Demetrius whisper something before standing up.
"W-what did you do?" Sir Fratley asked weakly.
"It didn't have to be this way," Demetrius muttered, dropping his sword a few seconds later. "It's because of you, Fratley."
Sir Fratley caught on quickly as his eyes widened and he wanted to get up, but the pain prevented him from making any sudden moves. "No…what did you do?!" he asked in a louder and pained voice.
However, Demetrius ignored him. Turning around, he glared sorrowfully at him and pointed at him. "It's over…you and Freya had the chance to live, and you blew it all." He then looked at the guards and said, "Bring him to the infirmary and have him healed up. Then, throw him into the dungeons. This will be my final verdict for his punishment."
The guards reluctantly obliged and went to help Sir Fratley up, but his eyes never left the body of her lover. "No, no, NO! Freya, Freya!" he cried out in vain hope she would respond.
As they dragged him away, her steel armour finally disappeared as her Trance energy finally dissipated, leaving behind a wide-eyed and lifeless body lying on its side in a pool of blood. At the same time, the two ravens that had been watching motionlessly all this while croaked to each other before flying out of an opening in the ceiling. Not too long after, both birds disappeared into the thunderous night.
Freya felt weightlessness as if she was floating in the air. Whatever pain that she had felt earlier was absent. In fact, she could not feel anything else except for a gentle caress in the great nothingness. It was like a force that carried her in a certain direction. However, there was no way to ascertain where she was going because her eyes remained closed and she was in a relaxed state as if in a deep sleep. It felt nice like having a well-rested sleep in a cool afternoon.
Straining her ears, Freya could hear what sounded like a gentle breeze blowing around her. She was not in Burmecia then as there was a distinct lack of raindrops. Freya was certain she was there earlier, facing her former commander and…the arrows, Sir Fratley. The thought of him made her stir slightly, although she was still unable to open her eyes. He was hurt, Demetrius tried to execute him. Did he die? She tried to save him. Did he escape? Did she die? Questions ran through her mind in rapid succession but her inability to see anything only made her more anxious.
She tried to fight against the urge to keep her eyes closed, eventually succeeding somewhat as a sliver of light penetrated the darkness. At that moment, she heard a foreign sound that resembled the galloping of a horse. It sounded distant at first, but it quickly got louder and closer, and it sounded almost like it was heading towards her. This time, she was very sure it was an approaching horse. However, something about the sound was off. She mentally counted the number of hoof steps and frowned. Instead of the usual two pairs, it sounded like there were four. No horses she knew had eight legs but there was one that was the closest fit, and the thought of it made her heart race uncontrollably.
Odin.
Bitter memories of Cleyra's destruction surged through her mind, causing her to force open her eyes and blinding her as a result. Before the white light could overtake her vision, she felt a pair of hands pick her up. Then, the brightness and sounds eventually faded into darkness and silence as her consciousness drifted away.
A/N: Hey there folks, this is my first Final Fantasy 9 story, been meaning to write this ever since I started revisiting this piece of nostalgia. My memory of the game is still spotty, but I'm getting there. This fanfic is also basically rediscovering my love for Freya Crescent. I'm looking for a co-writer for this story, would be nice to be familiar with Norse mythology as well. If you're interested, let me know. Hope you folks enjoy the story!