Filling In The Blanks
Disclaimer: I don't own FFIX or any of its characters.
Chapter 129: Zidane Tribal
He rubbed at his face, hard. The scratches on his skin stung when he pushed the dirt and sweat into them, but he didn't care. It seemed to wake him up from his stupor a little bit. He needed that.
Rain pattered around him and the sound would have been therapeutic had they not been in the middle of this battle. He felt like a coward for hiding – his body pushed up against an abandoned shop cart, legs resting in front of him. But his limbs were on fire; Steiner had been right, he would need his rest before Kuja found him.
Zidane took in a steadying breath. Opening his eyes, he stared past the raindrops at the dark part of the castle. The rain had lightened but being away from all of the noise let him hear how loud the thunder still was. His pupils followed grey wisps of ashes as they fell from the air – all of the burning debris falling back down to the city's floor in a new form.
His hand was unconsciously clutching the crystal around his neck. It felt smooth and cool to the touch, contrasting with the way his skin felt like it was on fire. He puffed for breath, trying to steady himself some more.
So tired.
The light from the fire off to the left of him glinted off the garnet in his hand and he saw it on the ground. That's when he finally acknowledged the crystal he was gripping.
"I won't let us lose," he muttered to himself, seeing a warped reflection of his face in the stone. It was blurry and barely there, but him nevertheless. "I won't let Dagger die. I won't let Blank die – I won't let any of the others die. We have to win.
"We have to."
Finally finding his energy, he rose to his feet and kicked his leg, stretching it. Then, without missing another beat, he was off, taking a sharp right turn back for the battle.
He stopped though, when something caught his attention to the left. Along the river, there were balls of light quivering and moving in the distance. His eyes widened. More people?
Just then a kid – no older than him – appeared along the river's edge, finally moving into the light from the fires. Immediately, Zidane drew his dagger.
"Hold on!" the boy shouted, waving his arms. "I'm a friend! Tawn sent me! From Dali!"
Immediately Zidane let his weapon fall to his side. How could any of them forget the sacrifice that Tavin gave so that he could spy for them on the movements of the South Gate? When the boy reached him, he plopped his hands on his knees, breathing heavily in hopes of catching some air. Zidane waited, though his eyes stayed alert around them; it wasn't like they were very far from the battle grounds.
Finally, the boy in front of him straightened, "My name is Caleb," he turned, pointing to the horizon, towards those torches of light. "Tavin sent me to see what was going on in Alexandria – he told me to report the news to anyone of the resistance I found!"
Zidane urged him on, feeling a mixture of fear and hope winding through his veins.
"We've cut off Kuja's reinforcements from the South Gate. All of those left in Dali to protect the town – who didn't go with you when you recruited - rose up. We've been practicing when we knew Kuja's eyes weren't on us. We're going to keep them out of the city to give you the best chances here!"
The genome's eyes slid shut and he let out the most gracious breath. "How are you guys doing?"
He shrugged, "It's been a long battle and we're outnumbered, but it seems we have stronger men on our side. The ones who came up from South Gate certainly weren't expecting to be called upon tonight – some of them weren't even wearing their full armor."
Zidane grinned at the image and nodded, "Thank you for telling me. I'll relay the news – but I've got to go!"
"Yes!" Caleb nodded in agreement, "Me too. Thanks, Zidane."
"How do you know me?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing. He should have just been thankful of the news and not let the curiosity get him, but he couldn't help but slide the question in.
Caleb began to backpedal, jogging slightly as he let on a lopsided smirk, "Who doesn't know you?" And then he raced off again, finally having caught his breath so he could report back to the smaller battle outside of the gates.
Zidane stood dumbfounded for just a moment before he too turned back to the battle. This gave him hope. His hand reached for the garnet again.
"We're going to win," he insisted as he launched into a sprint. "We're going to win."
?
Blank had never seen so much death.
His battle had lured him inside the castle, where Rama led a group of rebels to actually capture the castle. The initial group had been huge – thus why he was swept up in it – but now only he and a handful of other pattered down the halls. Men on both sides were dying and it twisted his gut in guilt and disgust.
He couldn't imagine what it looked like outside.
Rama limped ahead of him, but still strode at his usual speed. Blood dripped down the back of his leg, but he walked like he didn't notice it – not even his claws switched when drops would roll further down his calf.
But Blank couldn't stop staring at it. How hard would they push? There were only eight of them left. Sure, most of the castle had been swept, but a sudden anxiety had him hoping to get back outside. There hadn't been a summon in a while – he wanted to see what was going on. "Rama. You should rest."
The Bermecian turned, his expression startlingly tired. "You are right, my friend. But I am afraid we cannot. We must get back to the battle – with such a small group left, I fear that we have strayed too far off the path."
Blank didn't answer, instead taking a little bit of time to watch their surroundings as they moved. They had run amuck on the first floor when a group of black mages appeared literally out of thin air and began firing at them.
To say it was a slaughter was an understatement.
Nearly their entire group of fifty people had been executed in under five minutes.
Blank led a smart, but risky retreat up the stairs. They made a large loop on the upper floor of the castle, the place eerily quiet. The redhead didn't want to admit he was jumping at the sound of the others breathing behind him, but he definitely was.
At the end of the hallway, they readied themselves as Rama opened the latches on two large wooden doors. They swung open to reveal a well-lit library. It was well taken care of, but it didn't appear to have been in use for a long time. It smelt vacant.
"A stairway!" Blank jumped when the harsh whisper came from behind him, but instead chose to focus on the fact that the library did, indeed, have a way to the main level again.
They all hurried to take the staircase, feeling confident that they would yet escape the dangers of the castle when they hadn't any idea what was going on outside.
Blank ushered everyone forward, making sure to be the last to go down. His hand squeezed the polished railing, his chin thumping down to his chest so his swimming vision could watch his feet rush down the stairs.
But something caused him to stop. His head snapped up in a double take to the wall, watching with eyes widened. Two gigantic portraits were mounted on the wall. The one on the left featured two people he didn't recognize in regal clothing and crowns. He tilted his head; the king was on the left, his right hand placed on the lithe shoulder of a boy who had kind, matching eyes. The queen was on the right, her left hand placed on a smaller shoulder of a second, younger boy. He was grinning from ear to ear.
Blank recognized that grin… but where could he pin it from?
His eyes slid to the other portrait. In it was a black-haired woman with a strong face, her eyes fiery, but friendly. Her long hair fell in ringlet curls around her, the same crown atop her head as the queen in the left portrait. Standing next to her was a man. One of his arms was around her shoulder and the other was cradled in front of him, gently clutching the hand of the queen. His eyes were spritely, but his expression was all around shyer. His eyes were gentle and kind, chocolate hair neatly combed. He looked very much like the children in the first picture, only older.
As a Tantalus member, something about that man was familiar, but he pushed it aside for the sake of the woman. She looked so much like – like Dagger.
And then it finally clicked with Blank and he felt like a fool for not knowing right away. For some reason – probably some arrogant, twisted reason – Kuja had kept the royal portraits of the last two monarchs. Something about seeing these strong people, their faces still remembered in this world, even by someone as evil and cruel as Kuja, gave him a surge of strength.
"Blank! We have to move!"
He shook his head, pulling his attention away from the paintings as he hurried down the stairs. He gave Rama just one look before pulling in front of him and catching up with the rest of their small group. They would make it back outside – and he would make sure when they won this city back he would be the first to show Dagger the portraits.
?
She truly hadn't meant to be wrapped up near the medical tents the entire battle, but the way things had played out, she couldn't get back to the front of the castle.
Kuja's men had easily pushed the less experienced parts of the resistance back. Cid's directions, however, stopped them from breaking through the line to the older members of the resistance who were unable to fight. He might not have had the strength that Beatrix and Steiner had, or the experience in battle, but something about his cunning intelligence made him a great planner, relying on his people to complete his plays.
People were continuing to fight their way back to her and the others who had any sort of medical training. She hadn't any idea what was going on upfront, but with the amount of people still pushing backwards, she assumed there was still much fighting to be done. Thankfully or not, she hadn't seen anyone else from her team come back.
Dagger pushed aside the thoughts of the friends and familiar faces she'd already healed, focusing on being fair to the people she was treating currently.
"Please! I need your help! Dagger, right?" she looked up to see the elf that had helped them rescue Zidane coming toward her, limping himself, with a body in his arms.
How could she forget what he'd done for her, "What's happening?" she asked.
His arms extended, untangling the girl he was cradling from the protection of his body. Despite the icicles that had pierced his back, he continued forward. Elouise had been struck, and there was so much blood. He was so afraid. Her head was bleeding profusely, and the blood sheened to indicate a deep wound. It dyed the color of her fair hair crimson.
As they slowly lowered to the ground, Dagger was met with the face of the girl she knew to be Zidane's best friend in the dream world.
Elouise.
But, Dagger better knew her as someone else. The traitor – her fault or not – that had been the reason Zidane had been captured – the reason he didn't fight back.
The reason he was so close to death for so long.
How many repercussions came from their attempted rescues of Zidane? How many sleepless nights? How much supplies? Madain Sari's miserable, hot heat and days spent sitting in that dark cove, the incense the moogles lit giving her a headache. The training she had missed out on because she was too wrought with worry. The screams from the cave that day he woke up. The long road to recovery. Perhaps the reason he wouldn't be strong enough to win today.
And here Avalanche was – a friend she had already decided – holding this girl out to Dagger, asking her to heal her.
She stared at the pale face for a long moment. Avalanche must have known what she was thinking, because he was silent. But his arms were shaking as he held the girl.
Dagger wore conflict on her face. She wrung her hands together – a nervous habit she had never been able to break. Then she tucked her hair behind her ear and glanced at Avalanche. He wore the same look that she, no doubt, wore often when Zidane was healing.
Vengeance and spite would not bring peace to the world.
She took in a breath.
Moving forward, it would be impossible to heal from this nearly twenty-year tragedy if she could not forgive. As a future leader, she could not set that example. Forgiveness was the only thing they had.
Without another second of hesitation, she cast a regen spell on Avalanche, before a cure on Elouise. "What happened?" she touched the girl's cheek as she waited for an answer, feeling her skin burning up. Gently, she tilted her head to the side to see the gash. Patting the ground next to her, she blindly searched for a gauze she had taken from the hasty medical station Hilda had set up and held it to the wound; magic wouldn't stop all of the bleeding.
"Kuja's magic is nothing I've ever seen before. He's angry. And he's looking for Zidane. That's the last thing that happened before he let off all of these horrible blizzaga spells you've been seeing from the injured. That's the last thing I stuck around for. That's what got her in the head."
She watched the regen spell melt the ice slowly as he spoke, pushing the icicles from his back little by little. His face winced in pain every couple of seconds, but he remained quiet about it.
"Zidane… is Zidane okay?"
He shook his head, "I didn't see him before I left the front lines. But I think Kuja wouldn't be so angry if he'd already killed him. He's made it very clear for over a year that no one is to end Zidane except for him, so there's a high chance he's still there."
Her hands shook, "Hold this here. Tell Hilda I recommend another cure in just a few more moments when she gets a moment, and then wrap it with fresh gauze. He's going to need me. I have to go."
"I understand," Avalanche nodded and shifted the blonde in his arms as Dagger stood, ready to move. "Dagger?"
"Yes?" she glanced down at him.
His eyes were proud, but grateful. "Thank you for saving her life."
The raven let on the smallest smile, knowing she'd made the right decision. "We will move on from this era of bloodshed and hate." She didn't wait for an answer before heading off into the fray, but she did feel braver after speaking to him, after all.
?
"Justice," Steiner repeated, holding his sword in front of him. He glanced over to see Beatrix come up beside him.
The tears rolling down her cheeks streaked the dirt away from her skin, contrasting with the bold and brave look she wore on her face now.
Kuja laughed manically as he sprang up, using his right arm to throw more icicles in every direction. After all, that spell had worked pretty damn well up until then.
Vivi slid forward, his dash taking him in front of Beatrix and Steiner. With speed he'd learned from traveling with Tantalus, and their constant encouragement of his training and improved bravery, he threw his hands up. A fire wall sprouted out from the pavement around Kuja, and when his icicles hit the flames a schhherrrr rose steadily in the air as steam blanketed the area.
With no hesitation and a simple flick of the hands, Vivi froze that steam immediately in front of him, enveloping at least the mages in a lethargic, slushy ice. It would take them a moment to free themselves.
"Nice work, Master Vivi!" Steiner told him.
Before the mage could answer, a spirit dragon appeared between the two of them and, with crackling lightning woven into its wings, it whirled around the mages, pulling them out of the slush and flying with them into the air, letting them drop to their death from above.
They glanced back to see Freya, her hand entangled with Fratley's for the extra power, and Quina fueling the lightning spell with his blue magic from the side.
"Quina!" Vivi yelped at him, bounding back.
"Quina knew he see friends here soon," the qu nodded, his tongue wagging. "Quina wait patiently."
"You are full of many surprises, surviving this situation," Freya praised, "nice work."
Dauntingly enough, as the mages were falling, Kuja walked out from the slush, fire in his right hand to melt the half-ice in front of him. His eyes were deadly, his expression insane.
"Your magic tricks are cute. But they are nothing compared to raw power."
"That's where you're wrong, Kuja," Zidane stepped forward, finally back into the fight. He seemed more confident. He wore a grin on his face as he spoke. "We might not have as much raw power as you, but we know how to work with others to be stronger."
Kuja laughed pointedly, "What play script did you pull that line out of?! What a joke!"
Zidane's grin didn't fall though, he only slid into an offensive stance. To his teammates, he nodded, "Let's finish this thing!"
"Yes!" Kuja boomed, "Let's!" Flares burst from his hands. It must have been a signal for a last deposit of troops because golden clad warriors emerged from the shadows, full battle cry ringing out.
It looked like it was a mess of men who had yet to fight in the battle, and some who had ducked out to be saved for later. It didn't matter. They were going down.
Beatrix powered forward before the rest of her team, heaving her sword from right to left in her first, powerful swing. She grunted as she chopped into a soldier who could only block the second half of her sword from hitting him. She ducked into a squat as he reciprocated her attack, falling back on her hands as her sword clattered to the ground so she could donkey kick upward, hitting him in the legs and causing him to stumble back.
She leapt back to her feet, grabbing her sword on the way up, advancing on him before he could find his footing.
Another man came at her from the right, his attack much faster than the first man she was fighting. She leapt to the side, rolling and using her sword for momentum to spring back to her feet. They lunged simultaneously at her, but Steiner came barreling in from the side, shoving them into each other as they toppled over.
He produced his own weapon and struck them dead when they were down, getting two of Kuja's soldiers out of the way quickly. But more came for the two who stood side by side. As Steiner went in for his next swing, Vivi light up his sword, flames swirling around the metal. He grinned as he hit a soldier with it, his armor heating up and burning him from the outside. He yelped, throwing off his glove and arm protectors as fast as he could. But that gave the two ex-knights the opening they needed.
In synchronization, the two leapt forward. The man gathered enough of his wits to block Steiner's attack, but Beatrix leap frogged over the larger knight, tackling him to the ground. She positioned her sword to break her fall, cutting into the man's now-exposed arm.
He growled at her and punched his bleeding arm up. It hit her under her jaw. Beatrix stumbled back, blinking rapidly. But she was able to compose herself quickly – something as simple as a punch to the face wasn't going to be her downfall.
Meanwhile, Steiner took two more men coming towards them again. He blocked their path to the brunette behind him, holding his arms out, sword in his right hand. It still had some flames to it, and so he swung it forward, sparks flying off of it and spattering onto the wood to their right. Immediately they produced flames, bounding into the sky and licking higher every moment. He darted to the side, picking up the large piece of debris the fire was dancing on and throwing it with all of his might forward. One man dodged quickly, the other wasn't so lucky.
The wood hit him in the face, javelin style. He crumpled to the ground, knocked out, the fiery wood on top of him. Steiner wasn't sure if he would be aroused by the smoke and flame burning him, or if he would start on fire himself. He didn't care.
Steiner noticed a black mage creeping up behind the man Beatrix was fighting, beginning to produce a blizzaga spell to bind her to her spot. He cursed now, wishing he had taken Baku's offer of throwing stars when he had the chance. Now he had nothing. He thought about his sword but knew that would mean his own demise. She was too distracted in her exhaustion by the fight in front of her to notice the mage creeping in the background. Why didn't he keep extra daggers on him? Extra weapons?
With a quick moment of thinking, he yanked off his helmet and flung it at the mage. The unsuspected, non-conscious magic user didn't see it coming – not that it probably would have dodged anyway. It hit the mage back, and it fell to the ground.
The breeze brushed through Steiner's hair. It was long now, and wet with sweat. The rain fell on his face as he went back to facing off against his own opponent – someone who had stepped back to his quick thinking but wasn't backing down.
His eyes flickered to Zidane, who Kuja had finally advanced towards and his grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. He would finish this quickly so he could assist the genome – he wouldn't stop fighting until this was over.
Vivi's spell casting was certainly attracting some enemies. He was small, and though ungraceful, he was harder to hit because of his size. The mage didn't have a lot of stunning speed on his side, but he had become quite the master of black magic. With his most powerful elemental spells, he could release the magic and continue controlling it to a certain degree.
The first man came at him with a grin on his face. "It's almost cheating to take down a child," he mocked, swinging his long, thin sword downward toward the mage.
Vivi retaliated with a wall of ice that he swiped across the air in a swift motion. It froze solidly, the blizzaga spell spraying out and down into sturdy columns that attached to the ground. Vivi slipped back from the podium of ice he'd just made and produced a fireball. The man was still struggling with his sword when the wave of heat hit him and knocked him back. He'd abandoned trying to get his sword out of the ice, the weapon now clattering to the ground.
He stared with mild fear and annoyance at the mage, before charging again. Vivi danced back, forming a thundaga spell at his fingertips. The lightning crackled from the palm of his hand, and he directed it at the man, bending the chains of electricity to his chest. He howled and shook when it hit him and fell to his knees panting.
"I might not be as strong without the trance ability," Vivi said, but he wasn't sure if he was talking to his opponent or to himself, "But I still am strong without it!" He let off another thundara spell that hit the man again and he fell back, either unconscious or dead, Vivi wouldn't know.
He didn't have a lot of time to celebrate his victory though, as the next man was upon him. The flashing of his spells was like a beacon, but Vivi reminded himself to be brave. He could do this.
He glanced to his right as Kuja let out a yell to see Zidane's dagger be flung from his hands. Vivi lifted a swift ice wall up, blocking his enemy from him. The wall shot out of the ground in heavy sheets, extending in a fast line all the way down to Zidane. The blonde staggered back, stunned by it for a moment, before he used the opportunity to lunge to the side, snatching his dagger up from the ground. That's all the time Vivi could give him before Kuja set the wall ablaze and the mage had to brace himself for the comeback of his own enemy.
The man flew forward with gusto once he could get at Vivi again. He swung two swords – one long and thin and the other short and stubby, the closest it could be to a dagger without falling under the category.
He could barely get out of the way in time. He ducked to the ground, falling hard to his knees, feeling the pain of them slamming into the ground so quickly. He felt a tug on his hat and glanced up to see the man had put a slice in the fabric. Now, the cone-shaped hat with the fold in the top hung awkwardly to the side.
His yellow eyes widened in horror. Not his hat. He'd been wearing it since as long as he could possibly remember!
Vivi's hands set on fire, and he threw them forward, fireballs like bullets shooting from his hands, a full and fierce battle cry ripping from his throat. The man skirted backwards before he got hit several times in a row. Unable to recover from the flames licking his body, he fell back as another soldier took his place in facing Vivi head on.
"Come and get it!" Vivi yelled, feeling his confidence burn brighter with his rage. Let them come. He wanted to finish this thing.
Freya and Fratley fought almost in sync. She felt strangely in control of her actions – more than she usually was. There was something easy about this battle, even though she was exhausted, battered and bruised.
Maybe it was because she could watch her own movements in Fratley. He looked fresh – still burning with the anticipation of battle, having not been involved in the past few hours. Her body ached, begging for some time to take a break, but it wasn't an unfamiliar feeling. All of her life she'd been a knight – the uncomfortableness almost felt like an old acquaintance she hadn't seen in a while. She was basically welcoming it.
Breathing deeply, Freya leapt up, swiping her long javelin at a dreamer who fought with a whip. Her breathing was rapid and she had blood dripping down the side of her head, but she was still functioning just as well – if not better – than the bermecian.
Once she landed, the woman snapped her whip, the leather whipping around Freya's clawed feet. It tighted on her boot and the lady pulled, hoping to catch the bermecian off guard and flip her on her back. However, Freya was ready for it and caught herself on her hands, using the momentum to fling her body backward and instead pull the user of the whip forward.
She growled, untangling her whip with a flick of her hand before sending it off again. However, Freya wasn't as lucky this time.
It clipped her on the side of the nose once, before the whiplash hit her again, catching her across both of her eyes.
She staggered back, letting out only a hiss of pain.
Fratley was right there in front of her, taking a dagger from his own boot and cutting into the dreamer's whip. It wasn't enough to cut through the leather completely, however, the last foot of the weapon would be pointless, dangling limply.
"Freya –"
She turned her head towards his voice, only blood filling her vision. The smell was nauseating as they both leapt further back from the dreamer as she tried to get her offense back together.
"Let us keep fighting."
"Freya your eyes –"
"We do not have enough time to worry about it right now, Fratley," she insisted, blue magic filling her palm as she was about to release a dragon.
Fratley chose not to argue and summoned his own dragon, the two of them intermingling their magic and shooting it forward.
The dragon spirit wrapped around the dreamer, taking her into the air as it cut off her oxygen supply. At first she struggled profusely, not understanding that she couldn't breathe. Freya watched, feeling disproportionate. Something was definitely wrong, for when she glanced through the dragon's eyes, she could see clearly. Through her own eyes, however, her vision was nearly gone.
She took in a long breath, adjusting to her fate for the rest of the battle. So be it. It wouldn't be the first time she was forced to fight without the lights on. The dragon released their enemy just as she began to slip unconscious and Freya closed her eyes to help with the pain before leaping forward, driving the woman to the ground with her spear.
Fratley watched Freya fight, remembering to the fullest extent how proud he was of her. She was stronger than him, that much was sure. Her pain tolerance and lack of showing it was so substantial it even impressed him. Feelings he was trying to fight away until after the battle began to bubble up to the surface, so he was forced to look away. He worried for her injury but knew she wouldn't back down. He was so undeniably proud of her, it gave him more power.
He would fight alongside her until the end of the battle, no matter what.
Quina jabbed his oversized spear into the armor of a soldier. His weapon, shaped mostly like a giant fork, though weaker than others, was fantastic for piercing armor. He had the wildest grin on his face, so happy to be back with his friends – so happy to see that they had all made it out of the alarming training run to Conde Petie alive.
He bounced around behind Beatrix in case she needed support. He was nobody's first target – probably because Kuja had instilled in his finest warriors, the belief that the qus hadn't any idea what was going on in the world. That didn't bother him though – it had, after all – saved his life in the past few weeks.
Beatrix though, was quite the popular target, as she had rushed forward as their general in this army. So, while he had a few minutes to breathe here and there, he backed her up as much as he could handle. The dreamers recognized and prioritized him as their escaped prisoner and a top target, but the guards mostly left him alone. His biggest advantage was the dreamers' lack of experience with his fleeting fighting style.
That didn't bother him any.
Qus never fought in a traditional way. He flounced this way and that, used a strange weapon, and yes, would sometimes try to eat his enemies if they looked like a tasty snack. He never tried to eat anything other than animals, though sometimes people had weapons or clothing that he absolutely needed to taste.
Say what you will about a qu, but they will always keep you on your toes.
One of the warriors in the golden armor finally took notice of him and stepped forward. Quina had just electrocuted another dreamer, who danced off to find someone else to fight in fear of being shocked again. He recognized the approaching man as one of the first few who tried to question him when he was taken prisoner – one of the ones who had stepped up and said the qu probably knew more than what he was letting on. He was clearly outvoted.
And now he looked angry.
If Quina wasn't as oblivious as people gave him credit for, he would probably have been frightened.
But he was too excited about being with his friends again to let it bother him.
He grinned at the man, pointing his spear forward in a challenging way. The man growled and charged, jumping to the left, then the right before driving his weapon down. He caught Quina's apron, only snagging his clothing because he wasn't used to an enemy that moved as much as the qu, because Quina certainly didn't have the speed to dodge that well on purpose. The fabric made an audible ripping noise, and both of them looked at it in disdain as it fluttered to the ground.
Quina let out something that sounded like a growl before he licked his lips with his long tongue. "Bad guy steal Quina's apron, Quina steal bad guy's armor."
And without giving the man so much as a moment to think about the meaning of Quina's statement, he slanted his spear and jabbed it into the man's armor. When it was thoroughly stuck in place, he straightened it with incredible strength, tearing the metal armor apart and ripping a piece off.
This man didn't wear anything very appealing to eat, but he licked it anyways just to be scary.
The soldier took a step back but held his weapon steady. He tried not to notice that most of his breastplate was gone, and if the qu didn't want revenge and was looking to end his life, he very well could have with that move instead of just ruining his armor.
The qu continued to push him back, jutting his spear forward. He didn't want to admit that Quina's long reach with the fork-spear was more than his sword, but his instincts continued to tell him to stay away. He checked his surroundings and suddenly got a very bold, but brilliant, idea.
Instead of letting Quina bully him back, he turned on his heel and began to run. The qu yelped in surprise and chased after him, but was lacking the speed, as the man noted before, to catch up. In one last ditch effort to get revenge before he was surely killed, he rammed into his unsuspecting enemy.
And he made sure his sword was right out in front of him.
Beatrix's arms swung to her side as she let her sword fall to the ground. An involuntary cough of blood found its way out of her mouth.
She let her head hang, staring down at a blade that had run through her side.
Well fuck… she wanted to say, but found she couldn't speak.
The brunette glanced up at her opponent, who was stunned into stopping his attack. However, he gained his wits again and proceeded to swing his sword at her. She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing that she had finally run out of luck. Somewhere in the back of her mind, someone yelled her name.
But the extra pain never came. Her world was moving in slow motion as her eyes fluttered open and she saw the sword stuck in the side of Quina. He was panting but stood strong.
He saved her life.
For the moment.
Her knees finally buckled and she collapsed to the ground. It was her time. Maybe she was ready to die. She found her head automatically moving to the side, hoping to see Zidane already triumphing over Kuja. They were still battling, magic flying everywhere.
Hopefully she was okay with assuming he would win. Because she certainly wasn't going to make it to the end of the war.
Her vision was spotty as she finally collapsed to the ground, somehow not falling on the sword and making the whole injury worse. Not that it really mattered; there was a blade that had gone through her body, in one way, out the other.
A warm feeling came over her and for a moment, she closed her eyes. Then she felt a shake and opened them again to see her world lilting to the side. Her head was too heavy to pick up, but she turned it enough and strained her eyes to see Steiner's panicked face.
"Steiner," she mumbled, the words feeling like rubber on her barely moving lips.
Quina had attempted a blue magic healing spell on Beatrix – something small and regenerative, and that's where she felt the warmth. Her body wouldn't take in white magic anymore, but it didn't stop the small bursts of blue magic from helping her body. He hoped that it was enough – he hoped that someone knew enough to save her.
He hobbled after Steiner, who had hurriedly picked up the woman and fled. He wasn't a huge help anymore, for he had a giant gash on his own side. But it wasn't as brutal of an injury as Beatrix had just suffered and his large hand covered most of it as he made for the line of medics.
There were just enough people fighting still for them to slip away with little to no trouble. Sam and Fratley watched them go and covered them as they went, praying as they disappeared into the misty morning.
?
Zidane felt numb. It wasn't a bad numb, but he didn't feel anymore energized either. Maybe it was because he'd been leaping away from so many of Kuja's quickly thrown spells that he was almost getting used to it.
He moved as quickly as he could, but he didn't feel his body quite as stressed out as before. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe someone had cast some sort of a spell on him. Who knew?
The genome didn't have a lot of time to wonder though, for Kuja's constant ranting and attempts to kill him made it hard. He pulled himself out of his own mind and tried to feel present again.
He dropped low, rolling to the side as Kuja shot a fireball in his direction.
He knew the self-proclaimed dark lord had hit many people during their scuffle; friend and foe alike. But Zidane wasn't sure who.
"Tire out already, you little bastard!" the man yelled at him, only able to use his one arm. Nathaniel's attack did a number to his left shoulder and thankfully, the magic that was still whirring through his fingertips still didn't have an outlet.
"No chance, Kuja! You're going down today!" Zidane slid, pushing off of the ground on his finger tips as he messily threw one of his spare daggers at the man. He didn't expect it to do much, but hopefully create a distraction.
The man was made to slide to one side, his fireball missing the blonde by a longshot. He growled, anger reflecting in his face.
"Why do you think you'll still beat me? Don't you know by the way your little ambush hasn't worked that you won't win today?!"
"We're still alive, aren't we?!" Zidane shot back, his tail wrapping around a pole to fling himself out of the way, "Didn't you think our little resistance would be snuffed out pretty quick?"
That seemed to dawn on Kuja then, and he narrowed his eyes, straightening his back and craning his neck. That crazy look hadn't left his eyes. A smile spread on his lips, the makeup on his face running down his cheeks, "You're right. But that doesn't mean you'll win."
Water burst through the cracks in the pavement, pressurized jets shooting up all around Zidane. He scampered up the pole he was on, hoping to get out of range. Kuja ran a thundaga spell through the water, hoping to electrocute the genome. So far, he hadn't caught him.
"You've been nothing but a bothersome rodent these last few years, Tribal. You need to be stopped before I am pleased with my rule over Gaia."
"Tell me!" Zidane yelled, "Why do you think you're ruling so wonderfully over Gaia, when nobody but your soldiers likes your rule?!"
"Fear is what makes it fun!" he hissed, this time sending fire through the pavement, creating flames where the water wasn't and steam everywhere else.
Zidane shielded his eyes, using his sharp vision to spot Kuja through all of the distraction. Sweat was pouring down his face and he was sure his fingers were being burnt clamped onto the metal pole, but he didn't care.
There.
A movement.
With all of his strength, the genome flung himself off of the pole, flying for a slowed down moment in the air.
This trick Kuja thought he was playing turned disastrous as Zidane tackled him down to the pavement.
He howled, bucking his body to the side, but Zidane was latched on and not letting go. They rolled for a moment, and Kuja's back was forced into one of the streams of water. His body shook for a moment and Zidane leapt back, hoping not to get caught in the electricity.
But the man, very used to his own magic, bounced back easily, spinning around and tripping the genome. His tail swung into the fire and caught flame. Zidane swung it at Kuja, causing him to leap back before he patted it down frantically, putting out the flame.
His fingers were tingling with a burning sensation.
"You're running out of luck, Zidane," Kuja reminded him, springing forward.
"And you're running out of magic!" Zidane insisted, meeting him.
Kuja swung, his fist connected with Zidane's jaw. The genome stumbled back and shook his head, dropping down to his knee and kicking upward into Kuja's hip. He grunted and fell back before bucking his legs out, catching the genome in the knee.
He collapsed to the ground, a cry escaping his lips. His entire leg shook when he tried to stand back up, but he didn't have the time to dwell. Kuja swung his entire arm at the thief, catching him in the shoulders and hurdling him back.
Zidane clamped his hands on the man's arm, ripping it away from him and sending it crashing towards the ground. Kuja tipped and smashed the left side of his face into the pavement before letting off an instant fireball from his hand. Zidane tumbled back, his hands charred.
"Give it up, Zidane!" he laughed as he stood, but his chest was heaving. He had never had to put this much work into a fight – had never run out of magic.
The genome produced his last spare dagger, his pristine, blue-steel dagger with the missing ruby in its center having spiraled across their battle ground, lost in the fog Kuja had created.
"You think I'll do that and let you hurt my family?"
"Boy your family is dead! How long has it been since you've seen the Princess? Or that redheaded boy?! The two ex-knights? Any of the others?! They're dead Zidane! You're the last one standing!"
Zidane faltered for a moment. As much as he didn't want to believe this psycho man, he did have a point. He hadn't seen the others in forever, and a rattle of worry went through his core.
"Zidane!"
Dagger's voice echoed in the distance and he turned, his eyes seeing a figure coming through the clearing steam. His heart flew into his throat and beat fast. She was still alive.
Perfect timing.
He looked back towards Kuja who had never seemed more annoyed and enraged in all his life, "You're wrong!"
He kicked off the ground, sending himself up in the air to come back down on top of Kuja again. They wrestled, hardly moving as both of their bodies were injured and tired. Up close, Zidane could see how much Kuja was bleeding and how much that was affecting him. Besides his body aching and being pushed to its limits (and maybe now his burnt up hands), he was mostly uninjured.
The fog was clear and they could see how much the next wave of spells had affected the battleground. Most of Kuja's remaining men had fled in the confusion. There were only a few left – some too injured on the ground to move. Mostly, resistance members were standing at the ready, weapons pointed forward towards the duo.
Kuja was one of the last of his reign standing.
Zidane slammed his foot down on the man's ankle, feeling it crunch beneath his feet. He rolled back on his butt and finally had an angle. Kuja was busy assessing the situation, fear in his eyes for the first time.
Zidane thrust his dagger forward and up as hard as he could.
He looked up slowly and blood from Kuja's mouth dripped on his cheek. His icy eyes slowly met sapphire, wide.
The dagger had gone into his abdomen, but the angle sent it up into his left lung.
He wheezed.
"It's over, Kuja," Zidane said, his eyes hard.
The others looked on, stunned.
This was it.
It was going to finally be over. Zidane swore he could hear Dagger breathing behind him.
And then that wheezing turned into a cackle and the man's eyes widened as he shook in Zidane's grasp. His legs were limp, both of his hands on Zidane's hand holding the dagger.
"Wherever I go, you go too, Tribal."
A spell exploded between them, shooting them apart.
Kuja was left on his knees, tipping this way and that as he howled with laughter. The others took a step back.
Zidane landed on the ground, slamming his head into the pavement. He stared up at the sky and watched raindrops fall on his face. Ashes were mixing with the storm, floating around him. He tried to sit up, but then everything began to blur.
Dagger raced forward, "Zidane!" But then, she stopped.
Kuja's laughing turned into a cough as he fell to his hands and knees, the wheezing have returned. He was pale – paler than usual.
She turned her full attention back to the genome.
He was glowing blue.
Her heart sunk. Something was happening.
"Zidane!" she groaned, reaching out. She watched his eyes roll back and he collapse backwards, unconscious.
And then, just like that, just as this nightmare was going to be over, just when she thought maybe he was going to live through this war that nobody had any hope for, he vanished.
Kuja's wheezing ceased and he lay, unmoving on the ground.
It was done. He had stopped his rugged breathing. He was dead.
Zidane had killed Kuja.
Dagger ran forward to the spot Zidane had just been, fear in her eyes. Tears dropped to the ground as she collapsed to her hands and knees, staring at the blood from his split open head where he'd smacked the back of his skull on the ground.
What had happened?
Where had he gone?
At what cost was her kingdom finally free?
?
A/N: Sorry that it has taken so long to update! I've had this chapter written, but I don't have wifi at my apartment and for some reason, for weeks my hotspot wasn't letting me connect to fanfiction, but this is a great present going into 2019, yes? (Original Author's Note): Well I have to say I don't even have many words for this chapter. Thanks for reading guys, I hope that you've enjoyed the final battle. Don't worry, we've still got some life left in this story yet.
Let me know what you think – I know you all have questions. They will be answered with due time.
-zesty-
