It's been a hot minute since I've attempted to write anything on here (so long that I can't even remember my original profile. Then again, I was more of a reader than a creator.

Seiftis is, and always will be my ride or die fandom. Given that I was avidly reading fanfics in 2002, I'm so happy to see that it's still going!

As a trigger warning, this fic will contain bad language from the start, themes of domestic abuse and smut in later chapters. Will rate R and post anything particularly 'detailed' on AO3 when it comes up.

Constructive criticism welcome! *

Chapter 1

"Are you even listening to me?"

Not particularly…

"For fucks sake, you could at least appear interested," he seethed into her ear. "Just smile and look pretty alright? People are starting to notice".

He topped up her glass of wine and thrust it in front of her face, his eyes burning a hole right through her. She reached for it gently and took a long gulp. It felt cold and acrid in her mouth but it gave enough sensation for her to refocus on her surroundings.

It was another pretentious gala, a political pissing contest between prominent members of society. She was in another gown that he chose; emerald green floor length satin, fitted and unforgiving. Bryant loved to dress his china doll. He struck gold with Quistis and he knew it. She wasn't just tits and ass like the other women hanging on the men's arms. She was important, valued in her profession. She had connections, knew people in power. Above all, she was popular in the media, it was good for business. Good for him.

They had been together for over 2 years now, winning her over wasn't as difficult as he'd anticipated. A woman of her calibre should have posed a challenge, but post war was a perfect time to strike. Wounded and damaged, she was weak and malleable. He had her compliance and dedication with very little protest or effort on his part, it did wonders for his self confidence. She was his prize, his trophy, his soon to be wife. He'd earnt Quistis Trepe.

~~~

Squall caught sight of his friend from across the room. Her arms were crossed over her chest, one hand clutching onto a long stem glass of white wine. Bryant was in an animated conversation with a bloated looking man whose eyes were locked onto Quistis's cleavage. She was smiling tightly at the man, making him think that even if she knew that he was being a pervert, she didn't care. She looked vacant.

Bryant led her away, his hand digging into her hip and snaking over the curve of her ass. Squall sneered. Fucking prick. There was not one redeemable quality in that man, Quistis deserved better. He'd tried so many times to get her away from the relationship but Bryant put so much distance between them that it was impossible. He barely knew her anymore, she was a shell of her former self. He hoped she would wake up one day and see things for what they were. He wanted his sister back.

~~~

She felt like she was in a pony show being paraded around for approval. He would allow men to scrutinise her body Middle aged men with their whiskey breath and pudgy fingers invading her personal space, congratulating Bryant on landing such a fine piece of ass.

She suddenly turned to look at her soon to be husband and blinked. A hint of realisation began to creep in like a snake, choking her. It's going to be like this forever. More functions, more dresses, more pony shows. More manipulation, more disrespect, more abuse. Less and less of Quistis Trepe. She was trapped. Trapped by a man that she could have killed in a heartbeat when her mind wasn't like mashed potato. What the hell was she doing?

Her foot took a step forward and landed. She took another step. And another. And another before she realised, she was walking at a fast pace toward the door of the ballroom.

"Where are you going princess?" Bryant growled into her ear. He'd grabbed her swiftly, pulling her back into his chest. His perfectly manicured nails were dug into her upper arm, scoring her skin.

"I'm drunk and need air. Would you like me to throw up crème brûlée all over your shoes?" She said with an air of fake confidence.

He considered her for a moment before releasing her. He looked around before ensuring that no one had taken notice of her trying to leave without permission. "Go to the balcony outside this door. Be back in 2 minutes or I'll be there to retrieve you. You will not embarrass me with front of these people". He kissed her chastely before making his way back to the crowd.

Quistis continued, increasing her pace. Out of the door, away from the balcony, down a staircase, through hallways, creating as much distance as she could. She was out of breath before she realised she'd broken out into a run, her heels clicking on loose gravel. She found a tree and fell against it, trying to regain control of her body. Her hands were pressed onto the bark, shaking. This tree was her port in a storm.

There was a crunch behind her, followed by steps. She hugged the tree tighter. Keep me safe, please…

"Quis? Are you there?" His voice was quiet and careful.

She opened her eyes "Squall?"

She heard him exhale and walk tentatively towards her tree.

"What are you doing here? I saw you leave, are you ok? Does he know where you are?"

Quistis turned to him and locked eyes. He had stopped a few feet away, and looked at her carefully. He'd given her some distance which she appreciated. This was her friend, her comrade, her brother, and she had forgotten about the bond they'd forged over the years. A trust that shouldn't have been able to break. The fated children, Bryant had made her forget that.

"Help me…please. Squall, get me out of here", her voice was so quiet she wondered if he'd even heard it. Squall let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding, his face suddenly full of purpose.

"I'm ready when you are".