Chapter Four

Dawn broke over the flat lands between the castle of Alexandria and the jagged mountain range. The birds came alive and tweeted from the branches. In a small clearing, just a few paces away from the river, were two canvas tents erected with sticks sporting make-shift patches. One rustled and a small Burmecian girl emerged, stretching her limbs upward as she welcomed a new day. She wore a wool coat with a hood that drooped off her slender shoulders. Her ashen hair was combed into a messy braid as she worked on a crick in her neck. She let out a long yawn and glanced around the clearing. She was the first one up. She glanced at the ashes of last nights fire before she slowly began her trek to the river to wash her face. The young Burmecian couldn't help but yawn again as she shimmied through a few bushes. As she rubbed at her tired eyes, she came to an abrupt halt. She stared intensely ahead, petrified in place. There was a girl on the river bank, laying flat on her back. Her dark onyx hair was knotted up and skewed all around her. It looked as if she were wearing a dirty, rumpled wedding gown. Cautiously, the young girl continued forward. The unconscious woman had a gash above her left eyebrow and dried blood was caked across half her face. Slowly, the girl knelt beside her and intently watched her chest. It was still moving. The Burmecian gazed out towards the river, squinting to look miles ahead at the barreling waterfall of Phoenix Cliff. Where did she come from? Surely no one could survive a fall as treacherous as that. The young woman's arms were covered in abrasions and scratches. Slowly, the young Burmecian's claw came to gently touch the woman's cheek. The unconscious woman scrunched her nose up for a moment, her lips sputtering with lake water. The young girl staggered back, gasping sharply. Quickly, she took back off in a run for the camp.

"Papa!" She cried, shoving branches aside. "Papa!"

The other tent was quick to come alive with shaking and an older man emerged with a javelin in his hands. "What is it?"

"There is something you must see!" Her skirt wavered between her slender legs as she ran to grab her father's hand, quickly towing him after her.

"Mathilda, where are you taking me?" Her father yawned now as he was taken through the brush. He stopped, however, when he saw what his daughter was pointing at. The young woman on the mushy river bed seemed to be stirring, but she lacked any of the energy to lift herself up. Cautiously, the Burmecian man handed his spear to Mathilda and crouched as he neared the woman. She seemed quite young, like a teenager still. Her face was youthful even beneath the scratches and gashes and dried blood. He pursed his lips as he leaned over her. Her eyes were trying to open, but were struggling to stay that way. Her lips moved just slightly before she wheezed and became still again. "Mathilda, find some sticks. Let's a get a fire roaring." He reached down and grabbed hold of her elbows, tugging her out of the shallow water that lapped against the sloped bank. The young Burmecian was quite curious as she watched her father drag the slender girl towards their camp. Along the way, she flitted about, snagging branches from the ground and from low hanging trees.

"Where do you think she came from, Papa?" Mathilda's ashen braid swung as she did her task with gusto.

"Mmm... I don't know," he shook his head as they entered the clearing. "But she's wearing a very fancy dress."

Mathilda looked at the unconscious girl before she started arranging sticks together. "It looks like a wedding gown. Like the one's you'd see in fairy tales." She reached for two rocks and focused intently on creating a spark. Her father pushed some knotted hair from her face and inspected her closely. "She needs stitches..." He reached into his tent and dragged out the only thin cotton blanket that he owned along with a satchel. He seated himself beside her as, successfully, Mathilda was able to get a fire started. She pressed herself low to the ground, blowing on the sticks. Slowly, the fire began to consume the wood and Mathilda sat up, raking her ashen hair from her face. She observed as her father heated a needle over the fire. He glanced to his daughter.

"Mathilda, why don't you fetch a bucket of water?"

"Yes, Papa."

He watched her exit the clearing as he deftly thread the needle. He then leaned in close, moving the girl's head back and forth to inspect the wound. It was fairly deep. The man guessed she had hit her head against a rock. He glanced towards the river fleetingly. Where had she come from? There was absolutely no way she would have survived a fall down the waterfall. He focused as he drew the needle through her skin. A nasty purple, green, and black bruise was beginning to form as he gently held her forehead and pulled with a little effort to draw the split skin back together. He furrowed his brow as he tried to be tender. She'd have a scar on her forehead for the rest of her life. It was a shame, he thought. She was a very pretty young woman. Where had she been, though? She was nothing but a mystery to the man. Mathilda returned to the side, her slender body almost knocked off balance by the swaying bucket of water.

"She's lucky she was found by you, Papa," Mathilda said, easing the bucket down beside her father. "One of the bravest Dragoon field medics there are!"

The man smiled as he kept his attention on the wound. "Well... I think she has bigger lucky stars to thank. It's a miracle she's even alive."

Mathilda looked at her with great curiosity as she dipped a rag into the cool river water and began wiping her face. The young Burmecian girl cocked her head to the side as the dried blood slowly peeled off. A lock of her ashen hair fell between her eyes. "I wonder what her name is. Or how old she is. She is quite pretty, don't you think, Papa?"

"She doesn't look very old," The man replied, still intently focused on his work. "Maybe only a couple years older than you."

Mathilda's hand came to gently lift the pearl necklace fastened around the woman's neck. "Wow, these are real, Papa. I bet they're really expensive. Maybe she came from Treno?"

The man worked on tying a knot to finish the stitching. He double checked his work before he took the rag from his daughter's hand and began gingerly dabbing it. The duo hadn't visited a town in a few weeks. He had no alcohol to properly clean the wound. But the stitching was immaculate and he was certain in a week's time, they could be removed so the scar could slowly turn translucent and fleshy. A bit of it had struck through her eyebrow. It would be noticeable for quite a while. "Well," he pressed his hands to his knees as Mathilda continued with washing her face and neck. "This river doesn't flow to Treno. She had to have come from Alexandria. We'll just have to wait and see, little one. When she wakes up, we can't pester her with too many questions. She will undoubtedly be very exhausted and weak." He came to his feet. "I'm going to wash my hands. Keep an eye on her, alright?"

"Yes, Papa," Mathilda nodded, squeezing the rag out to dip it again. She glanced over her shoulder and watched her father push effortlessly through the brush. She then sat back on her knees to observe the unmoving woman. Mathilda furrowed her brow as she looked at all the details of her face. Something about her seemed very familiar, but her cheekbones were so swollen, it was hard to put her finger on it. Wherever she came from, it must have been awful. Mathilda worked on scrubbing the cuts on her arms, certain she'd be clean far before she woke up.

...

Everyone in the Alexandrian Castle was a shell and ghost of themselves. Hilda was finally able to cry herself to sleep. Regent Cid, Liam, Beatrix, and Steiner found themselves in the sitting room. Beatrix could really only stomach water. Everything else sitting on the table between the silent adults was not appealing in the least. Steiner was pale with exhaustion and total grief. Sleep was out of the question. Every time he so much as blinked, all he could see was the scene of the crying, trembling Queen as she allowed gravity to take her over the curve of the waterfall. He thought back to the times he was present in her childhood. He could see her toothy smile and hear her excited laughter as a nurse read her fairy tales and filled her head with nonsense. It was hard to imagine the present moment he was sitting in, waiting for word from the soldiers or Freya and Eiko letting them know they'd found Garnet's body. What would become of Alexandria? And worst of all, what would become of him? Could he live with himself knowing that he failed Garnet in every way imaginable? There must have been something more he could have done, he reasoned with himself. Why did she allow herself to hurt so massively, all in silence? Now Steiner really did was to kick Zidane's ass. If he kept his promise, he probably could have saved the Queen's life. Steiner blinked his dry eyes rapidly. He couldn't fall into that mindset, he told himself. It wasn't fair to blame others. Steiner was there and still blind to it all. His mind ran in circles, always leading back to that terrible memory. It made his stomach plummet every time he recalled her loose body sailing through the air to her demise. He rubbed at his brow and shifted uncomfortably on the couch. Beside him, Beatrix felt all his grief stabbing her like pins and needles.

For Beatrix, she didn't even feel fit to call herself a General. Her entire life was devoted to keeping the Queen safe and she failed. There was no righting this wrong. Beatrix was doing everything in her power to not crumble. How could she accept that Garnet was gone? How could the Queen believe the words that were coming out of her mouth? It became all too real to Beatrix just how much Garnet suffered in her own body. She remembered all the times Garnet had face trials and tribulations head on. The tales she had heard from Zidane recalling how she fought the steel-equipped Astrid with no more than a leg from a chair. Beatrix could see every moment of the young woman addressing her people with eloquence and grace. The way she treated the help of the castle with such tender care. Garnet gave everything to everyone without ever asking for anything in return. Beatrix could not say the same for her. Garnet had been like a daughter to her. The General glanced to her bloodied knuckles and her entire body constricted. She felt like a coward not being out there aiding in the field search. But she couldn't do it. She would never sleep again if she discovered Garnet's body.

Liam was, naturally, a mess. He still wore his ruined wedding suit and he slumped on the couch with his head only supported by his hand. He thought it was bad when Garnet had drawn a knife on him, her eyes reflecting a rage and fear he had never known before. But to watch her leap just to escape from him drove him absolutely mad. Of course, he only blamed himself for everything. All he had wanted was to love Garnet and have her love him. There were so many days he felt certain that was obtainable. But now, he was utterly crushed. Everything was so fresh, though Liam knew there was no recovering from this. Garnet was gone and he had absolutely nothing. How could he ever face anyone again? He'd be touted as the lover who drove the Queen to death. The love stories the tabloids touted would grow bleak and miserable in the publics eyes. Some days, Liam had read them, just be reminded of something they had once shared together. Now, however, he'd rip those stories to shreds and shriek at the top of his lungs. His fingers had just barely been able to skim Garnet as she let herself fall backwards. Part of him wished she had taken him over the edge with her. At least then, he wouldn't be left in this world of suffering he knew he would never conquer or make sense of. Liam couldn't look at anyone. He was just so utterly ashamed of himself.

Regent Cid glanced around the silent room before he came to his feet and crossed to the window. Down below, the people of Alexandria bustled about their day. Word had spread quickly from those in attendance of the wedding. The Queen had ran, they said. Sir Liam Winters had been left plain as day at the altar. How much did they all really know, however? Was anyone aware the Queen had thrown herself from Phoenix Cliff's edge? Did the citizens look at each other with knowing eyes that the throne of Alexandria suddenly ceased to exist? Cid folded his hands behind his back, trying to think objectively about the future of his sister kingdom. The old man did everything in his power to not think about his niece. It was a reality he simply didn't want to confront. He was sure at any moment, the ghost of his old friend Emet would spring into the world just to kick his ass. He was a gluttonous fool. And he had allowed Queen Garnet to pay the price.

"You know," he finally said, looking over his shoulder at the three deflated souls. "I think no news is good news. If they haven't found a body, perhaps she survived and was able to pull herself from the river."

"Or perhaps," Liam flicked his hand away from his head, his voice lacking any rhythm. "Her body was snapped over a rock, all the air was pushed out of her, and she sank to the murky bottom. Which seems more plausible, Regent Cid?"

"I'm just trying to be hopeful," the Regent replied, clearly exasperated.

"Hopeful?" Liam's green eyes darted towards the ruler of Lindblum. "You weren't there. Do you even know the extent of a drop like that? She probably shattered every bone in her body and then drowned. There's nothing hopeful about this situation."

"Enough," Beatrix said sharply, coming to her feet. She had a tense headache nagging at the front of her forehead and tiredly, she ran her hands through her hair. "I'm not going to sit here and listen to this petulant babble. We don't know a thing. We don't know what's plausible and what is not. I suggest you both keep your thoughts to yourself because nobody wants to hear it." She let out a deep sigh and shook her head. "I am going to relieve the nurse from watching Addam. You two can do whatever it is that will make you feel any semblance of human."

Beatrix stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her. She didn't look to a single soul as she marched through the castle and out into the winding garden. No one bothered her, anyway. The General waxed and waned between existential dread and sorrow that quickly evaporated into unending anger and frustration. Every set of eyes that fell over her simply made her feel like a failure. She got the message. She was never cut out for this sort of work. Beatrix couldn't save anyone. All she was good at was bringing pain and death to those around her. She took a deep breath as she pushed into her living quarters. There was the fragrant smell of soup in the air and she heard the voice of the nurse keeping the young toddler engaged in the living room. Beatrix appeared behind the couch and the nurse looked up, offering a grin, as Addam precariously stacked blocks.

"Ready to take back over?" The nurse asked.

"Yes, thank you, Rosalinda," Beatrix nodded, trading spots with her. Beatrix knelt down before her son, enchanted by his precocious manners.

"Same time tomorrow?" She asked, shrugging into her coat and flipping her hair free from the collar.

"Yes, please..." Beatrix whispered, reaching out to run her hand through Addam's straight brown hair. "Again, thank you."

"Pleasures all mine. He's a gem, General. Supper is on the stove. Enough for all three of you. Everyone needs a warm meal right now."

Beatrix was transcending to another planet in that moment, so the nurse left without further words. She watched as her son kept building the teetering tower. When it fell over, he clapped excitedly and immediately began rebuilding. Beatrix sighed as she looked over him, her shoulders lamely drooped and her hands tucked into her lap. She never wanted that innocence to leave Addam. Beatrix wanted him to be as oblivious to the world's awful doings for as long as possible. She never wanted him to feel the grief and exhaustion that had followed her and Steiner for years. She hoped he never woke up and laid in bed, questioning his entire existence. And, so dearly, she never wanted him to feel like how Garnet did. Beatrix had to raise him right. Make him realize that he was never alone. Someone would always be willing to help him and he should never feel like he couldn't ask a soul. She didn't know how she'd pull off the monumental feat, but she was dead set on it in that moment.

"Momma..." Addam's dark eyes landed on her and he extended a block towards her. His little voice alone broke her and she began sobbing. Beatrix wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into her lap. She ran her hands through his hair and up and down his back. The hot tears fell endlessly as she tried to consider everything she could do for her son. It was feeling like there was no way to make a better world for him. She simply had to make him better than the world. She hugged him tightly as finally, she had a break in the cries. She sniffled and panted shallowly as she took the block into her hand. The toddler was excited to continue with his project. With wet eyes, Beatrix joined him in his endeavor.

...

Eiko gasped sharply as she emerged to the surface of the water. Her hair was flat to her head and she rubbed at her eyes before she began paddling out from the pull and roar of the waterfall. She reached the river bank and sighed, squeezing her velvet sleeves to get as much water wrung out of her as possible. She glanced around before noticing olive green perched on the jagged edge of the cliff side. Freya noticed the Lady and quickly jumped down. She landed silently and approached Eiko as the young girl slicked her hair back from her face.

"Anything?" Freya asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Nothing," Eiko shook her head. "The silt at the bottom of the bay is completely settled. It doesn't look like anything has disturbed it in a while. The waterfalls force doesn't even reach that far."

"Dammit..." Freya whispered, crossing her arms over her chest. "I checked all the rocks at the base of the waterfall. There wasn't anything there, either. Not a single personal belonging. Not even signs of blood."

Eiko turned to watch the river course past them. Her dress hung heavily on her thin frame. The horrid scene was still flashing through her mind. She was surprised that she hadn't broken down into inconsolable grief like Lady Hilda. After all the young girl had been through, however, she simply didn't see the point of that anymore. She could break down and cry, sure. But there was more to be done than that. "Do you think..." Eiko began, taking a deep breath. "There's a chance that Dagger survived...?"

"It's hard to say," Freya replied. She held onto her hat as her eyes scaled the entirety of the cliff. "That's a far drop. I doubt even a Dragoon could survive something like that. Especially if you're only committed to letting gravity do the work."

Eiko approached the river bank again, the hem of her damp dress just barely skimming the current. "I still can't believe it..." Eiko whispered, shaking her head. "Ever since Zidane left, it felt like Garnet really became the glue for our group. I shouldn't have relied on her so much, Freya. I was only a part of her suffering."

"Don't say that," Freya approached her, setting a hand to her wet shoulder. "There was much more at play in Dagger's life. You were not the burdensome part of her life, Eiko."

"What could any of us done differently?" Eiko kept her bright eyes trained forward as the day continued to wane on in front of them. "I could have been a better friend. A better listener. I saw her more than anybody else. Why didn't I know?"

Freya knelt down now, eye level with Eiko. The river dampened her trousers. "You can't think like that, Eiko. Pain and suffering is such a fickle thing. People handle it in a variety of ways. And Dagger... well, she hid it. Outwardly, she portrayed what we knew. But we didn't know what she was holding in. Just because you didn't know doesn't make you a bad friend, Eiko."

"You're certain?" She looked at Freya now. The Dragoon was confronted with the familiar face she remembered from all those years ago. One of total innocence. Eiko was the bravest child Freya had ever known. She harbored a tenacity she had never seen before. But she still was nothing more than a child. Eiko had her own fears, ones riddled with a childlike mind. One day, she would grow out of it. But for now, Freya was comforted by the realness of her character and the authenticity of her feelings.

"I know it deep in my heart," Freya gave her a solid, confident nod. "Not many friends would hold their breath for an impressive amount of time to search a river bed."

Eiko smiled for only the most fleeting moment before she lowered her eyes, her lashes fluttering. "If she did survive, I just hope she's okay. And I hope she knows that we still love her, that she doesn't have to run or hide from us. In the end, we all want closure."

"Are you referring to Zidane?"

The sound of his name alone brought tears to her eyes and she looked at the trusted Dragoon, drawing her lips together tightly. "Yeah... where do you think he's been all this time?"

Freya sighed as she recalled the old friend from her youth. She only shook her head, her hand loose on Eiko's shoulders. "I don't know... But I hope he's alright, too."

With her glassy eyes, Eiko looked across the rippling rivers surface that glinted in the afternoon light. They had been out there for gods knew how many hours at that point. They spent the early morning scavenging the area surrounding the river for any sign of Garnet. A bloody hand print left across the uneven surface of bark. A footprint left in some fresh morning mud. The flattening of bushes to show sign a panic. There was absolutely nothing, though. Eiko breathed unevenly as she closed her eyes.

"You know... when we stopped Kuja all those years ago, I thought all of us would always be together. Able to call on each other in any moment. I saw a cohesive team that would be lifelong friend's and support. It's funny... how you can do everything right and still... everything goes wrong."

Freya watched the side of the child's face. Her jaw was clenched, her eyes defiantly held shut as if to keep the tears walled in. Unfortunately, the Dragoon had nothing productive to say. It was a bitter twist that left a sour taste in her mouth. The eight of them were so intertwined and connected. It was baffling how easy that was to overlook in all their eyes now. The loss of Vivi brought them together. The search party rescues of Zidane brought them together. Was there anything that lead their paths the same way that wasn't just joining in on suffering? It was all they ever knew, however, she reasoned with herself. Freya could only give Eiko's shoulder a supportive squeeze before she straightened up and glanced back towards the waterfall. The Burmecian was utterly mystified. Would they all become the same thing? Creatures subdued by only the makings of their mind?

There was rustling in the foliage behind them and both Eiko and Freya whirled around. After a few moments, a steady stream of soldiers began to funnel out from the dense forest. Knights of Pluto and Squad Beatrix came to stand side by side in front of the Lady and Dragoon. Some soldiers were glimmering with water. Others had leaves and sticks stuck in parts of their chain mail. Freya looked down the line of them, waiting for someone to speak. But they all stood without address.

"Report?" Freya asked, almost urgently.

"No sign, Lady Freya," a soldier of Beatrix's saluted crisply. "We traversed the river four miles downstream and combed surrounding areas. Nothing to report."

"Return to General Beatrix," Freya turned around soundlessly, hugging herself now. The soldiers marched off in unison and the duo listened to their footsteps fall away. Freya shook her head. "Practically identical to Zidane's own search and rescue. Typical of them. They're both good at being unknown."

"Would you think me to be stupid if I said there was a great possibility Dagger is still alive?" Eiko asked, also turning back towards the rushing river.

Surprisingly, Freya let out an airy laugh, her slender fingers running the length of her jaw. "Between you me, we both know that absolutely nothing is out of the question."

...

It felt like the world was spinning around her. Noises washed in and out of her ears. Slowly, Garnet's fingers twitched, feeling the itchy surface of a cotton blanket. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a deep pulsating in her temple. She let out the faintest whimper as she hand clawed out to feel dewy grass. With all the energy she could muster, Garnet forced her head up. Her eyelids could barely support themselves as she groggily blinked, a warmth coming over her. Oranges and flecks of blue filled her blurry version and she blinked rapidly, finding the energy to support herself on her elbow. Slowly, her vision adjusted enough for her to register she was laying in front of a roaring fire. All of her senses were flooding back into her and, with that, came adrenaline. Garnet bolted straight up, gasping sharply. However, her vision spun for a moment, and tenderly, she pressed her hand to her forehead. It was swollen and lumpy. Her finger sorely ran against the tight thread wound through her skin. Garnet opened her eyes again and looked around. She came to an abrupt stop, however, when she saw a Burmecian hunched on a rock, eating beans straight from a jar.

He lowered his spoon and clattered against the glass edge. They were both silent in that moment, only the cicadas chirped brightly around them. Quickly, he swallowed and cleared his throat. "Are you... hungry?" He reached down, extending a jar of peas towards her. Garnet only stared at the offer for a few beats before, rigidly, she came to accept it. She glanced at her rumpled and ruined gown as she turned towards the fire and hugged her legs close to her. She was silent as she dug the spoon around the little peas before deciding to eat a bite. Nervously, she eyed the Burmecian as she chewed before she resorted to looking back at the fire. "You know... you gave us quite a fright this morning."

Garnet looked to him again, lowering her spoon. "'Us'?" She echoed. She practically cringed when her voice rattled her sore head.

"My daughter, Mathilda," the man replied. He nodded his head towards a tent. "She's already asleep. She found you on the river bank this morning."

Garnet blinked and looked towards the dark forest surrounding them. Distantly, she could hear the ripples of the nearby river. She tapped her spoon against her jar before she licked her lips. "Thank you... for helping me. I'm nothing but a perfect stranger." Gently, Garnet touched the stitches on her forehead. "Are you... a doctor?"

"Me? Oh, no," he shook his head. "Used to be a medic for the Dragoons. But that was... a long time ago."

Slowly, Garnet lowered her hand into her lap, watching him tensely eat more of his meager dinner. "I'm Dagger. What's your name?"

"Basil," he replied after a beat. "Dagger, you say? Not exactly the name I would have imagined."

She managed to produce a weak smile. "It's, uh... an old nickname. But all I prefer to be called, really. Someone really close to me used to call me that."

Basil nodded as he began scraping the bottom of his jar. "You're probably in a lot of pain and exhausted right now."

"I sense you wish to ask me questions."

"May I?" He lifted his dark eyes from his meal. Garnet only offered him a simple nod of the head. "Where'd you come from?"

Garnet held her jar in her lap, her fingers nervously running against the rumpling parchment label. Telling the whole truth was absolutely out of the question. She took in a short breath. "Alexandria," she answered tensely.

"And... your dress?" Basil pointed his spoon at her.

"A... a party," Garnet replied, trying to not let her voice shake. "A very nice party. There was an accident at the venue. I'm afraid I don't remember much more than being knocked into the river at Phoenix's Cliff."

"Must have been quite an event," Basil said, screwing the lid on his jar and setting it on the ground beneath the rock. "Well, I can point you in the direction of Alexandria tomorrow. Mathilda can walk you back to the gate."

"Actually, I'm not from Alexandria," Garnet told him as confidently as possible. "Just passing through. Perhaps, instead, you can point me in the direction of Burmecia?"

Basil was still for a few moments, his shadow flickering against the tarp of a tent. "Burmecia? Why do you want to go there?"

"I need to reach the harbor in a few days time," Garnet said. "It's important."

"It's a long journey by foot," Basil replied. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather catch the airship cab in Alexandria?"

Garnet only shook her head, digging her spoon into the peas. "No, sir. I'm quite familiar with traveling."