Ever After - Final Fantasy IX - PG13
Fandom: Final Fantasy IX
Title: Ever After
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 1,928
Note: Genfic. Freya. Posted May 28, 2007. Major edits September 11, 2012.
Summary: Sometimes endings are more unsatisfactory than fulfilling, more misleading than triumphant...
Freya no longer thought this was a good idea.
“Can she come play with me, daddy? Please, daddy, please?”
It was as if she had spoken the magical words. Regent Cid's expression was particularly painful to watch. He looked torn between complete adoration and righteous unease-he was well aware of how Eiko had him twisted around her finger, and had been witness to many alarming incidents preceded by the fateful words “daddy please.” But he was hard pressed to resist her coaxing-it came from an intense need to appease what he most delighted in. Hilda understood this weakness, and so took the responsibility of Eiko's tutelage.
Sometimes, however, Eiko had the Regent of Lindblum cornered. It was at these times that disasters within the castle most occurred.
“Well...,” Cid faltered, than coughed in his hand. “I suppose it's all right.” He turned to Freya, face apologetic. “You must understand my hesitation has nothing to do with yourself, and more to do with-well, castle etiquette. It is typically forbidden to enter the suite of a royal family member, but considering you were part of Queen Garnet's companions and you watched out for Eiko then,” here, he turned a fond eye on the girl, who smiled prettily at him, “--I see no reason etiquette cannot be done away with,” he finished good-naturedly. “In this case,” he added.
Freya wondered what she had gotten herself into.
Eiko seemed to combust with happiness. “Yay! Come on, Freya, come on!” With far more strength than Freya expected a seven year old to have, Eiko tugged on Freya's fingers and coaxed her through the maze of Lindblum castle. Five long hallways, an elevator, and three hundred and twenty seven steps later (Freya counted) they found themselves at the roof of the castle.
All the way there, Eiko had prattled happily to Freya about this or that since she had been away. She mentioned her missed birthday quite a few times. The information overload served to make Freya's head spin; half way up to the roof, her brain shut down and she started staring at the scenery. She had never realized before how many potted plants Lindblum castle owned. She had lost count somewhere around the seventies.
The moment that they entered onto the roof, however, a stark change came over Eiko. She fell silent and let go of Freya's hand, walking closer to the edge of the terrace. The wind was intense and strong so high up, and it tousled Eiko's shoulder length hair in so wild a manner that it seemed it could blow Eiko off the castle wall at any time. Eiko's sudden quietness, ironically, served to recapture Freya's attention. She watched Eiko's movements, and then cautiously approached.
There were obviously not going to play. It was perhaps hideously insensitive, but Freya felt relieved.
The moment Freya reached Eiko's side to peer down across the vast lands of the Mist Continent (by name only, as it no longer had any mist) the Burmecian became uncomfortably aware that this was the perfect time to give Eiko some kind of much needed talk. It struck her like a blow to the gut-damn those maternal instincts-and she grimaced. Freya was certainly not the right person to do this. It should have been someone more diplomatic, like Garnet or even Zidane. Hell, Vivi could have had better luck comforting Eiko than Freya.
“It's been a long time, huh?” Eiko started. Her tone was carefully neutral, her face unreadable. Freya glanced at her through the corner of her eye.
“Not that long,” Freya replied. There would be no softness, no careful avoidance, no allowances for being a child. Freya didn't believe in coddling children. Freya didn't believe in coddling anybody.
Eiko turned to her. Suddenly Freya could see the anger in the little girl's face. She was surprised at the intensity of it.
“It's been seven months,” Eiko said fiercely. “Seven months. Cid taught me math, you know. That's less than a tenth of my life.”
Freya raised an eyebrow. “What happened to 'daddy'?”
Eiko's face scrunched up, and than she turned back to the view. “It's a name,” she finally said. “Like ‘Dagger.’ A word. Just a word.”
Freya turned her body fully to Eiko now, leaning sideways against the railing. This girl was all ready speaking in circles. She'd be a great politician one day, but in the meantime Freya would appreciate cutting through the crap. “Hmm..." she examined her claws, "Having a hard time adjusting to parents, I assume?”
Eiko jaw dropped. She stomped her foot, she opened her mouth and clapped it shut, she looked furious. The spluttering ensued until finally Eiko looked away, back rigid. “I'm--don't be stupid. They have been wonderful to me, and I...."
“Okay,” Freya said simply. She waited.
The fire went out of Eiko. She sagged against the railing, clutching the iron with fragile little wrists. Her eyes were sad.
Old sad eyes that were stuck in that little child's body, and Freya felt a little sorry for her. She had when she'd first seen the little purple haired street urchin clutching at Dagger's legs with those calculating eyes. She'd thought, this girl could be a queen. A flip of a coin and a few years, and she could have been Princess Garnet instead. But she wasn't and hadn't, she'd been a dirty little thief living in a delapitated graveyard on the cusp of starving. Freya wondered what Eiko thought about when she lay in her plush feather stuffed mattress in her pearlescent pink suite next to her shiny new and adoring parents. You could take a girl out of ruins, but could you take the ruin out of the girl?
As far as Freya knew, not really. Maybe, hopefully, but not for a long time. She would know.
Freya gave her space. She turned away and leaned over to peer straight down the castle walls. The height was incredible and it made Freya itch to take a jump. Lindblum was a strange castle in that its entire base floor was raised 10 feet above the ground. Freya had once been told that the city floated, much as airships did, and underneath were where the engines were attached. But that could have been rumor. The thought that the entire city of Lindblum could fly off at any given time was a bit thrilling.
By then, Eiko had composed herself. “Seven months is a long time,” she said at last. Her voice only slightly quivered.
“It isn't, really,” Freya said dismissively. “Humans live an average of eighty years. Burmecians live over one hundred. Seven months is a minuscule number compared to those figures.” Freya looked at Eiko. “No one has visited you?”
“No,” Eiko said bitterly. “No one. Except Garnet, and that’s because she had royal affairs to take care of, and that was only once.” She seemed to pause, than continued, “Zidane stayed in Alexandria.”
Freya nodded. “To take care of affairs while the Queen was away.”
Eiko opened her mouth, than closed it and looked at the ground sullenly.
Freya regarded her with the hints of a Burmecian smile. It was okay, considering Eiko wouldn't recognize it anyway. “There has been a lot going on in Burmecia since the end,” Freya said. “I have just very recently been allowed to leave. And Amarant, well--” here she let out a small laugh, “I doubt Amarant would visit anyone.”
“Not even you?” Eiko asked.
Freya frowned, perplexed at the question. “Not at all.”
Eiko studied Freya for a long moment, and then sighed. She knelt on the ground and leaned back against the stone railing, curling her arms around her knees.
“Is it wrong for me to hope,” she said, so softly Freya almost didn't hear, “that I'd see everyone together again? Just once? For remembrance?”
Freya had to remind herself Eiko was seven because she certainly didn't sound or act like any seven year old Freya had seen. “It's not like we've forgotten, Eiko.”
“Okay,” the girl said evasively.
Freya sighed as well, then looked up into the sky. There were no longer any airships flying, all of them grounded and in their stations to be switched with mist-less engines. In the emptiness, the birds had reclaimed their lost territory. Huge flocks of birds of every color circled and wheeled up high, too high to distinguish any one individual. Freya thought she might miss them, when the airships were back.
Freya grounded herself from her day dreams. “You know, Eiko,” she said against the fierce wind, “I don't think it's possible for any of us to forget. Not after seeing the crystal. Not after knowing who and what we are.”
The crystal. The two fell silent, thinking about the crystal. It was not something mentioned often. It had...certainly been memorable. Darkness as thick as tar, squeezing the life from their lungs. Then the crystal. A piercing light, pale and fragile, cutting like a finely honed blade into the threads of their lives--and with it, the knowledge that they were nothing. Everything. A grain of sand on its surface.
Freya took a breath to chase away the sudden, sharp longing in her chest. “We won't forget. Would you?”
Eiko got to her feet slowly. When she was standing she turned and surprised Freya by hugging her. Freya stared at the girl's head awkwardly.
“Regent Cid and Lady Hilda,” Eiko hiccuped and Freya was startled to hear the intense sadness in her voice. The tears. “I want them to be my parents. Sometimes I don't think they can. But I hope.”
Freya thought of Fratley and all the setbacks and problems they faced (he loved her because of a memory and she loved the memory of him). Sometimes, she didn't think she could continue either, didn't think she could live with that burden.
But everyone had their burdens. The end had not been a happily ever after, no matter what Zidane said. Prices had been paid at a cost greater than most could bear. And still, life continued. One day those burdens might-would lift away. But for now they had each other. And hope.
“We destroyed Death himself, Eiko,” Freya said lightly. “I think we have a right to claim a bit of peace for ourselves.”
And as if to match word to action, her hand reached down and stiffly stroked Eiko’s hair. It was okay, Freya reminded herself. It wasn’t like there was anyone there to see.
Ha.
“Fucking adorable,” drawled a familiar voice. “Mother Crescent now, is it?"
Freya and Eiko whirled around to see none other than the Flaming-effing-Amarant squeezing through the door way, his face smug enough that she wanted to punch it. More than normal.
“Amarant!” Eiko gasped. “You-you came!”
Amarant, while trying to maneuver one big slab of a shoulder and another past the wooden door frame, easily ignored her and stared pointedly at Freya. “A sweet touching moment there, wasn’t it?” he goaded.
Perfect, just. Perfect.
“I wish your mother would have had the good sense to drown you when you were born,” Freya said crossly, any sense of peace she been enjoying immediately squashed. Amarant, finally pulling himself through, straightened and shook his long red hair from his face. And oh, how agonizing that superior expression was.
“She tried,” Amarant shrugged. “Was the closest one to success, too.”
Freya straightened, a hand drifting to her knife. "That sounds like a challenge, Coral. I should warn you now that such a thing is insulting to a Dragoon's honor and will incite appropriate retaliation."
Amarant snorted.
Freya turned slightly to Eiko as she drew her blade and gave a short bow. "One moment, princess. I have a lesson to teach."
Eiko's eyes shined bright, her grin a little nasty. "Of course. Please proceed."
In the end, no one quite expected the explosion that demolished the upper royal suites and put an early end to Freya and Amarant's visit. Nor the shocking view of a cackling little princess clinging like a monkey to a rail over the gaping stairs.
No one except, perhaps, Regeant Cid.
Title: Ever After
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 1,928
Note: Genfic. Freya. Posted May 28, 2007. Major edits September 11, 2012.
Summary: Sometimes endings are more unsatisfactory than fulfilling, more misleading than triumphant...
Freya no longer thought this was a good idea.
“Can she come play with me, daddy? Please, daddy, please?”
It was as if she had spoken the magical words. Regent Cid's expression was particularly painful to watch. He looked torn between complete adoration and righteous unease-he was well aware of how Eiko had him twisted around her finger, and had been witness to many alarming incidents preceded by the fateful words “daddy please.” But he was hard pressed to resist her coaxing-it came from an intense need to appease what he most delighted in. Hilda understood this weakness, and so took the responsibility of Eiko's tutelage.
Sometimes, however, Eiko had the Regent of Lindblum cornered. It was at these times that disasters within the castle most occurred.
“Well...,” Cid faltered, than coughed in his hand. “I suppose it's all right.” He turned to Freya, face apologetic. “You must understand my hesitation has nothing to do with yourself, and more to do with-well, castle etiquette. It is typically forbidden to enter the suite of a royal family member, but considering you were part of Queen Garnet's companions and you watched out for Eiko then,” here, he turned a fond eye on the girl, who smiled prettily at him, “--I see no reason etiquette cannot be done away with,” he finished good-naturedly. “In this case,” he added.
Freya wondered what she had gotten herself into.
Eiko seemed to combust with happiness. “Yay! Come on, Freya, come on!” With far more strength than Freya expected a seven year old to have, Eiko tugged on Freya's fingers and coaxed her through the maze of Lindblum castle. Five long hallways, an elevator, and three hundred and twenty seven steps later (Freya counted) they found themselves at the roof of the castle.
All the way there, Eiko had prattled happily to Freya about this or that since she had been away. She mentioned her missed birthday quite a few times. The information overload served to make Freya's head spin; half way up to the roof, her brain shut down and she started staring at the scenery. She had never realized before how many potted plants Lindblum castle owned. She had lost count somewhere around the seventies.
The moment that they entered onto the roof, however, a stark change came over Eiko. She fell silent and let go of Freya's hand, walking closer to the edge of the terrace. The wind was intense and strong so high up, and it tousled Eiko's shoulder length hair in so wild a manner that it seemed it could blow Eiko off the castle wall at any time. Eiko's sudden quietness, ironically, served to recapture Freya's attention. She watched Eiko's movements, and then cautiously approached.
There were obviously not going to play. It was perhaps hideously insensitive, but Freya felt relieved.
The moment Freya reached Eiko's side to peer down across the vast lands of the Mist Continent (by name only, as it no longer had any mist) the Burmecian became uncomfortably aware that this was the perfect time to give Eiko some kind of much needed talk. It struck her like a blow to the gut-damn those maternal instincts-and she grimaced. Freya was certainly not the right person to do this. It should have been someone more diplomatic, like Garnet or even Zidane. Hell, Vivi could have had better luck comforting Eiko than Freya.
“It's been a long time, huh?” Eiko started. Her tone was carefully neutral, her face unreadable. Freya glanced at her through the corner of her eye.
“Not that long,” Freya replied. There would be no softness, no careful avoidance, no allowances for being a child. Freya didn't believe in coddling children. Freya didn't believe in coddling anybody.
Eiko turned to her. Suddenly Freya could see the anger in the little girl's face. She was surprised at the intensity of it.
“It's been seven months,” Eiko said fiercely. “Seven months. Cid taught me math, you know. That's less than a tenth of my life.”
Freya raised an eyebrow. “What happened to 'daddy'?”
Eiko's face scrunched up, and than she turned back to the view. “It's a name,” she finally said. “Like ‘Dagger.’ A word. Just a word.”
Freya turned her body fully to Eiko now, leaning sideways against the railing. This girl was all ready speaking in circles. She'd be a great politician one day, but in the meantime Freya would appreciate cutting through the crap. “Hmm..." she examined her claws, "Having a hard time adjusting to parents, I assume?”
Eiko jaw dropped. She stomped her foot, she opened her mouth and clapped it shut, she looked furious. The spluttering ensued until finally Eiko looked away, back rigid. “I'm--don't be stupid. They have been wonderful to me, and I...."
“Okay,” Freya said simply. She waited.
The fire went out of Eiko. She sagged against the railing, clutching the iron with fragile little wrists. Her eyes were sad.
Old sad eyes that were stuck in that little child's body, and Freya felt a little sorry for her. She had when she'd first seen the little purple haired street urchin clutching at Dagger's legs with those calculating eyes. She'd thought, this girl could be a queen. A flip of a coin and a few years, and she could have been Princess Garnet instead. But she wasn't and hadn't, she'd been a dirty little thief living in a delapitated graveyard on the cusp of starving. Freya wondered what Eiko thought about when she lay in her plush feather stuffed mattress in her pearlescent pink suite next to her shiny new and adoring parents. You could take a girl out of ruins, but could you take the ruin out of the girl?
As far as Freya knew, not really. Maybe, hopefully, but not for a long time. She would know.
Freya gave her space. She turned away and leaned over to peer straight down the castle walls. The height was incredible and it made Freya itch to take a jump. Lindblum was a strange castle in that its entire base floor was raised 10 feet above the ground. Freya had once been told that the city floated, much as airships did, and underneath were where the engines were attached. But that could have been rumor. The thought that the entire city of Lindblum could fly off at any given time was a bit thrilling.
By then, Eiko had composed herself. “Seven months is a long time,” she said at last. Her voice only slightly quivered.
“It isn't, really,” Freya said dismissively. “Humans live an average of eighty years. Burmecians live over one hundred. Seven months is a minuscule number compared to those figures.” Freya looked at Eiko. “No one has visited you?”
“No,” Eiko said bitterly. “No one. Except Garnet, and that’s because she had royal affairs to take care of, and that was only once.” She seemed to pause, than continued, “Zidane stayed in Alexandria.”
Freya nodded. “To take care of affairs while the Queen was away.”
Eiko opened her mouth, than closed it and looked at the ground sullenly.
Freya regarded her with the hints of a Burmecian smile. It was okay, considering Eiko wouldn't recognize it anyway. “There has been a lot going on in Burmecia since the end,” Freya said. “I have just very recently been allowed to leave. And Amarant, well--” here she let out a small laugh, “I doubt Amarant would visit anyone.”
“Not even you?” Eiko asked.
Freya frowned, perplexed at the question. “Not at all.”
Eiko studied Freya for a long moment, and then sighed. She knelt on the ground and leaned back against the stone railing, curling her arms around her knees.
“Is it wrong for me to hope,” she said, so softly Freya almost didn't hear, “that I'd see everyone together again? Just once? For remembrance?”
Freya had to remind herself Eiko was seven because she certainly didn't sound or act like any seven year old Freya had seen. “It's not like we've forgotten, Eiko.”
“Okay,” the girl said evasively.
Freya sighed as well, then looked up into the sky. There were no longer any airships flying, all of them grounded and in their stations to be switched with mist-less engines. In the emptiness, the birds had reclaimed their lost territory. Huge flocks of birds of every color circled and wheeled up high, too high to distinguish any one individual. Freya thought she might miss them, when the airships were back.
Freya grounded herself from her day dreams. “You know, Eiko,” she said against the fierce wind, “I don't think it's possible for any of us to forget. Not after seeing the crystal. Not after knowing who and what we are.”
The crystal. The two fell silent, thinking about the crystal. It was not something mentioned often. It had...certainly been memorable. Darkness as thick as tar, squeezing the life from their lungs. Then the crystal. A piercing light, pale and fragile, cutting like a finely honed blade into the threads of their lives--and with it, the knowledge that they were nothing. Everything. A grain of sand on its surface.
Freya took a breath to chase away the sudden, sharp longing in her chest. “We won't forget. Would you?”
Eiko got to her feet slowly. When she was standing she turned and surprised Freya by hugging her. Freya stared at the girl's head awkwardly.
“Regent Cid and Lady Hilda,” Eiko hiccuped and Freya was startled to hear the intense sadness in her voice. The tears. “I want them to be my parents. Sometimes I don't think they can. But I hope.”
Freya thought of Fratley and all the setbacks and problems they faced (he loved her because of a memory and she loved the memory of him). Sometimes, she didn't think she could continue either, didn't think she could live with that burden.
But everyone had their burdens. The end had not been a happily ever after, no matter what Zidane said. Prices had been paid at a cost greater than most could bear. And still, life continued. One day those burdens might-would lift away. But for now they had each other. And hope.
“We destroyed Death himself, Eiko,” Freya said lightly. “I think we have a right to claim a bit of peace for ourselves.”
And as if to match word to action, her hand reached down and stiffly stroked Eiko’s hair. It was okay, Freya reminded herself. It wasn’t like there was anyone there to see.
Ha.
“Fucking adorable,” drawled a familiar voice. “Mother Crescent now, is it?"
Freya and Eiko whirled around to see none other than the Flaming-effing-Amarant squeezing through the door way, his face smug enough that she wanted to punch it. More than normal.
“Amarant!” Eiko gasped. “You-you came!”
Amarant, while trying to maneuver one big slab of a shoulder and another past the wooden door frame, easily ignored her and stared pointedly at Freya. “A sweet touching moment there, wasn’t it?” he goaded.
Perfect, just. Perfect.
“I wish your mother would have had the good sense to drown you when you were born,” Freya said crossly, any sense of peace she been enjoying immediately squashed. Amarant, finally pulling himself through, straightened and shook his long red hair from his face. And oh, how agonizing that superior expression was.
“She tried,” Amarant shrugged. “Was the closest one to success, too.”
Freya straightened, a hand drifting to her knife. "That sounds like a challenge, Coral. I should warn you now that such a thing is insulting to a Dragoon's honor and will incite appropriate retaliation."
Amarant snorted.
Freya turned slightly to Eiko as she drew her blade and gave a short bow. "One moment, princess. I have a lesson to teach."
Eiko's eyes shined bright, her grin a little nasty. "Of course. Please proceed."
In the end, no one quite expected the explosion that demolished the upper royal suites and put an early end to Freya and Amarant's visit. Nor the shocking view of a cackling little princess clinging like a monkey to a rail over the gaping stairs.
No one except, perhaps, Regeant Cid.