{Fan Fic} Lost Time

[breyzyyin]

Cutting it a bit close to the deadline, but this is my fic submission for kuro_pantsu's MWS-wide request for fanworks primarily featuring Team Chaos members. Gabranth is the main character, and all of the other major characters are Team Chaos ones...save for Shantotto (but really, she definitely has more chaotic viewpoints than even some of the Team Chaos members do--so I think she kind of counts still, haha! XD). :D

Username: Yin (of breyzyyin)
Class: White Mage
Title: Lost Time
Summary: During one of the earlier cycles in the conflict, Gabranth encounters and ends up befriending a younger Chaos Warrior who harbors a tragic secret.
Characters/Pairings: Gabranth, Raffaello, Ultimecia, Shantotto, Garland, and Kefka...plus a whole bunch of other characters are mentioned too. No pairings. Central focus of the story is the friendship/big-brother-little-brother bond that develops between Gabranth and Raffaello, and there is also a friendly rivalry dynamic between Gabranth and Shantotto in the final portion of the story too.
Notes: I admit, Dissidia has never been one of the FF verses I've felt completely comfortable with writing for...despite my attempts at trying to do so at least every once in awhile. XD I suppose this fic could almost be looked at as my AU take on why Gabranth starts deciding that he really no longer wants to be involved in the conflict anymore in the DLC story portions for Dissidia 012 (since so much of the earlier cycle portions aren't really mentioned heavily). I also always thought Raffaello's unique backstory would make for an excellent plot point in the Dissidia-verse (heck, Kefka even mentions him when he battles Yuna! XD)...which is probably why I got inspired to write this piece in the first place. XD I apologize that it probably doesn't fit in as much with some aspects of the Dissidia mythos...which is why I'm leaning more towards calling it slightly AU in the long run.

Also, KUDOS to the writers who come up with Shantotto's dialogue: I love her as a character, but it is HARD to come up with rhyming lines that actually make sense in conversation points. I didn't do a great job with her the first time I attempted to write her in a fic, so this time I went back through her lines after writing the story with the help of a rhyming dictionary--and I still feel like some of her dialogue might be a bit off, but I think overall it's better this time around than my previous endeavor. I can only imagine how talented and creative the FFXI writers are for always coming up with such winning phrases for the Tarutaru speech, my hat's off to them. ♥
Word count: 7,720
Rating/warnings: PG/PG-13. Death of a major character. Tragedy. Angst. ...This is actually quite a different story from my usual fare. 0_0; No real spoilers for either Dissidia games...but spoilers do abound for FFXII and Final Fantasy Fables: Chocobo's Dungeon.

----Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Dissidia, Dissidia 012, Final Fantasy XII, and Final Fantasy Fables: Chocobo's Dungeon, or any of the characters from those games. They are the rightful property of Square-Enix.----

The twisted remnants of the castle were always a disconcerting sight, no matter how often he viewed them.

Still, Gabranth supposed he felt more at ease here than he did in other parts of this disjointed, haphazard world. After all, he did come from a land with somewhat familiar architecture.

Thinking of "home" as he sometimes did provided him nothing beneficial, but rather it created a knot of unpleasant emotion to swell in the pit of his stomach. All it really did was bring to mind betrayals (the betrayals of others and his own), guilt (the guilt of others and his own...so much of it piled on now), and tragedies (ones he’d experienced, others he’d inflicted...everything blended together now).

Warfare and chaos: forever entangled in his mind and heart.

...It was no wonder he’d been transported to this space then, to take part in an endless conflict--a Warrior of Chaos.

He’d been forced into a life of battle when he had been too young to have much say in it. When he closed his eyes, he could always picture Landis burning...his screams for his brother falling on deaf ears as the smoke choked his lungs. He’d chosen to continue that way of life of his own accord. The battlefield should hold little difference.

Should, he supposed, being the apt word.

Truthfully, he had no stake in this constant fighting and without even his own anger to fuel him (he had a face and a name, strikingly similar to his own, to direct his energies and hatred towards in Ivalice)--he had nothing here. No sense of purpose, no real desire to cut down those who stood before him simply because they’d been chosen to fight on the side of harmony and order instead.

So here he was again, simply trying to avoid his Chaos comrades. To be fair, they did not often seek out his company either...many of them seemed much more invested in the endless conflict than he was for various reasons--or they simply enjoyed spreading chaos for the sake of being able to spread chaos so his general mindset seemed to rather puzzle or annoy them, and those others who like him did not care overly much weren’t seeking out company either...so he often tried to dwell on his own musings and conflicted thoughts when he could. It was easy enough to lose one’s self in the ruined, patchwork collection of fractured worlds that made up their existence now.

"...Hello?"

...At least for a little while.

The voice that spoke up was an unfamiliar one, tinged with uncertainty. It sounded oddly youthful as well.

Gabranth sighed and opened his eyes, gazing upwards at the top of the wall he was leaning against. Overhead, he could see the stars of the perpetual night sky of this area shining down.

...And two blue eyes gazed down at him as well, small hands clutched to the edge of the overlook.

Seeing a child caught him off-guard. He had seen a few of the Cosmos Warriors being on the younger side of the spectrum (one, a blond youth wearing strange armor, had shown up recently...and he’d gone out of his way to avoid fighting him in combat--he’d done his fair share of horrific things to soldiers hardly qualified to be called adults, things he’d rather not dwell on, and he’d prefer to avoid putting a child not even that old to the blade if he could help it), and for a moment he almost wondered if this was a new addition to their ranks: an entry that had the misfortune of appearing in territory more controlled by Chaos. The thought wasn’t a pleasing one, given how the child seemed even younger in years than the one called "Onion Knight" appeared to be.

'He looks barely old enough to stray far from his mother’s side. What kind of feats can he be capable of to deserve a fate such as this?'

The child had green hair to match the slight shades of it in his eyes, and as he leaned forward even more to squint at the Judge Magister below, Gabranth was surprised to note the small blue wing jutting out of a bare shoulder blade.

So, he was most likely not fully Hume. ...Perhaps he was older than he looked? At least two of the Cosmos Warriors he’d encountered previously also fell into that category, so it wasn’t shocking to think another of their warriors could be similar.

"Um...I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you." The boy shifted nervously, "I don’t…know my way around here yet."

"...You weren’t disturbing anything." Gabranth stood up, shrugging his shoulders indifferently. He knew nothing about the strange, winged child regarding him curiously still and, truthfully, given the situation they were all in, he knew it was probably for the best that he didn’t engage in further conversation. Either the boy was an enemy, or he’d likely die soon enough in the fighting regardless...neither option a pleasant thought. Yet, despite knowing that something about the nervousness in the boy’s demeanor had him adding out loud, "This place can be confusing, I know."

The boy seemed to "blink" out of existence for a moment, and the hardened soldier couldn’t help being caught slightly by surprise when he reappeared not a second later only a few feet away from him. He was skinny, dressed only in pants save for the one wing that was far too small to support someone of his size if he’d had two of them. His feet, torso, and arms were completely bare save for long black gloves and an orange scarf around his neck. Gabranth had been right, he was young: far too young to be caught up in this kind of conflict (he thought of the Dalmascan soldier, the young recruit his sword had stabbed through...of the youth fighting for Cosmos...of Lord Larsa, and his stomach tightened uncomfortably). The boy’s eyes shone with an innocence that seemed foreign to the older man now.

"My name’s..." he paused, as if unsure of whether or not he correctly remembered it (a newer warrior then, most likely...there was always problems with recalling things at first, things becoming clearer with every subsequent cycle), "Raffaello."

"..."

Gabranth said nothing to this at first, still not sure what to make of the youth.

Raffaello faltered under his gaze, shrinking back slightly, "But...that’s kind of hard to remember, isn’t it? You--you can call me Raffy if you want." A nervous, shy smile, "I think...I think someone might have--have called me that once. I don’t...really know though."

So he wasn’t completely without memories then. That was somewhat curious, for a newcomer.

"It might...come back to you, eventually." He was surprised by the comforting nature of his words (he’d long since thought of himself as being unable to offer sympathy to anyone...that feeling had only intensified since coming here), "That memory."

Raffaello seemed pleased that he’d chosen to engage him in conversation (his eyes lit up as any child’s would when they felt they’d accomplished some monumental task), though he quickly turned to looking doubtful when he registered Gabranth’s words, "You--you think so? Sometimes...sometimes I think there’s a reason I don’t remember much." His voice turned to a pained whisper, "If I try to remember too much...my chest hurts."

Well, Gabranth had never heard of that before: he’d heard of people experiencing bouts of emotions and pain after their memories were restored (he’d certainly experienced something similar himself, was still experiencing it in a way)...but he’d never met someone who’d been hesitant to regain their memories before. He wondered what could possibly be in the boy’s past for him to have that kind of reaction to the possibility. And with how he looked and his teleportation just now, it was clear that the boy in general was a bit of a mystery in his own way.

Gabranth was about to ask him if he could elaborate on what he meant by that when a voice cut him off from behind.

"Ah, Gabranth," Garland’s voice was heavy, piercing through the air as deftly as his weapon could, "I see you’ve met the latest addition to our ranks."

Behind the fully-armored figure stood Kefka, a man whose appearance as a mad jester was incredibly deceptive to how dangerous and capable he truly was. Gabranth had learned early on in the cycles to never underestimate him.

Both always seemed to have their own hidden agendas: he was wary of them as a result of that, as he was of several of the other Chaos Warriors. The feeling of disdain and contempt they usually held for one another was somewhat mutual on both his end and theirs as well, he knew...it was rare for them to want to engage him in conversation unless it had to do with one of their schemes or a potential new strategy they wanted his assistance in possibly trying to employ on the battlefield in a given a cycle.

"This child is...a Chaos Warrior?" Gabranth looked down at the green-haired youth incredulously.

"That’s right...though the little twerp ran off before all of the introductions could be finished--which is just plain rude, if you ask me." Kefka cackled, seemingly thrilled at the confusion on Gabranth’s face at the new information and the fearful look crossing over Raffaello’s features.

The boy had shrunk back behind him at the sudden entrance of the two newcomers, and the Judge Magister barely even realized that he’d actually turned his body slightly as if to subconsciously stand between him and the two other Chaos Warriors. The action was not, however, lost to Garland.

"We’re all chosen by our respective sides in this conflict for different reasons, Gabranth." Garland said, his tone an almost patronizingly patient one, "Raffaello has his own role to play for us."

"And that is what, exactly? To die on the end of one of order’s blades repeatedly as we all do?"

Raffaello gasped at the ugliness of Gabranth’s words, the fear of a child at hearing of a harsh reality. He knew the tone well, had done so himself when face with the tragedy of Landis and the hardships of growing up in Archades as a refugee later. He ignored the boy, his attention focused entirely on awaiting Garland’s response.

Kefka made a "Tch!" noise under his breath, looking very disinterested at the exchange, "Well, you’d definitely know all about that, wouldn’t you, Mr. Judge? Either killing people with your blade or dying on the end of someone else’s: that’s pretty much your whole M.O. throughout this shindig, isn’t it?"

Before Gabranth could retort and a possible battle amongst "allies" commence (and, judging by how quickly Gabranth’s hand had gone to the hilt of his sword and the light that flashed momentarily in Kefka’s eyes in response to that motion despite the schooled disinterest he kept on his face still...it seemed a very likely possibility), Garland responded to Gabranth’s earlier question, "That’s...a matter of perspective when it comes to the cycles, yes. Though the boy’s role in it is quite possibly a bit...different."

"...Meaning what, exactly?"

"Meaning you’ll have to wait to find out!" Kefka cackled, the ire evident on Gabranth’s face absolutely hilarious to him, "Won’t that be fun!"

"...So you’re plotting to use him for some end, then?" Gabranth was now very much positioning himself between them and Raffaello. The boy had clasped onto the side of his cape so tightly that his knuckles were turning white, though the older man did not notice it.

"Not really." Garland seemed more amused by the reactions than anything else, "It will be enough this cycle just to observe what he might bring to the battlefield. He’s...different. What that means for all of us remains to be seen."

He thought back to the boy’s teleportation display earlier, and wondered briefly if the boy had more abilities at his disposal. It was hard to believe a small, seemingly harmless child would be picked as a warrior for Chaos, so it was evident that there was some truth to what Garland was saying, at least.

"And since you’ve shown some concern over Raffaello’s involvement, Gabranth, and the boy has warmed up to you more than the rest of us...I suppose the task of observing him would logically fall to you."

"...Gives you something else to do in the meanwhile before you die on someone’s blade, at any rate." Kefka snickered.

Even if Gabranth wanted to argue against this turn of events (and he did, truthfully...he was not comfortable with the idea of children on the battlefield, and even less comfortable with the idea of looking after another youth once again--he was notoriously not confident in his protective skills when he was more adept at inflicting harm)...the two were gone before he could say a word, leaving him alone with the strange winged boy.

Raffaello glanced up at him appreciatively, hands still clutched tightly onto the Judge Magister’s cape. He smiled sheepishly, "Th--thank you...sorry--sorry for the trouble."

Without knowing why, Gabranth was suddenly reminded of Lord Larsa. Yet another reason he was not keen on this "task"...it reminded him far too much of when he was entrusted with another person to protect, to be their "shield" no matter how laughable a concept that was to him, and he’d come far too close for comfort in failing that time. The anger that he’d held onto during his exchange with Kefka and Garland faded somewhat--his expression softening.

Whatever the reason for the boy’s presence here, he was not an enemy.

"No need for gratitude or apology." He told him, "I suppose it wouldn’t do to let them terrify newcomers as they see fit."

Raffaello’s smile brightened at this, and the Judge Magister couldn’t help but give a slight one back in an attempt to be encouraging. It was a horribly awkward one as he hadn’t had reason to smile in quite some time, even before being trapped in these endless battles--but the green-haired youth didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

*****

The first time Gabranth witnessed how Raffaello’s abilities translated into combat, he was not ashamed to admit that he was shocked by the destructive force the tiny, unassuming form possessed.

One moment, and the two had somehow stumbled upon a field of manikins that had become active. It was odd though, given how rare a group of the automatons suddenly becoming active and attacking were. But, the next second, they’d just stopped mere inches from them, frozen in place.

And then they’d turned on each other, and the battle was over before it had even begun: the manikins quite literally tearing one another apart in what appeared to be a confused frenzy.

And throughout the whole ordeal, Raffaello glowed: his eyes closed as whatever power that he was channeling ran its course.

When it was over, he stood amidst the rubble of the aftermath, still seemingly frozen in whatever trance had taken hold of him. It took him a few moments to snap out of it and when he opened his eyes, for a second they appeared to shine in a cold, harsh golden light--before softening once more to their normal hue. He looked at the chaos surrounding them with wide eyes, before turning a fearful expression to Gabranth.

"Wh--what happened?" his voice was barely a whisper.

The older man stared at him incredulously, "You don’t know?"

Uncertainty flickered in the boy’s gaze as he cast it back at the ground, eyes lingering on a manikin arm visible amidst the rubble.

"I...did this."

It wasn’t really a question, more of a statement. Gabranth didn’t respond right away, and Raffaello seemed to panic slightly by his silence.

"I did, didn’t I?!?"

He was in Landis again, utterly powerless and screaming at Basch not to run...the fear tightening his throat just as surely as the smoke and ash did.

With effort, he pulled himself away from his troubling memories that the sight of the boy’s panic caused him to relive.

Instead, he focused on trying to quell the sudden fear of his younger companion...and find out some answers of his own.

"You knew you could do...this?" he waved a hand over the battlefield. ...How odd to be standing in the middle of one that he had not been directly involved in.

His question seemed to help keep Raffaello grounded. He surveyed the devastation, this time merely biting his lower lip nervously, shaking for a moment as he took a breath and closed his eyes.

"This? N--no, I didn’t...I didn’t know I could do this necessarily..."

He raised an eyebrow, "But you knew you had the potential to do something."

Raffaello opened his eyes, nodding hesitantly.

"I don’t...really remember much about myself before I arrived here. But--but, I feel...something." He frowned, trying to put what he was thinking into words, "I want...I need to know who I am, but I get this feeling that it’s--it’s better not to know. Like there’s a really good reason I--I don’t know...and something bad will happen if I remember more." He looked even smaller than his actual child’s height, "It...it scares me."

He remembered his odd mannerisms when talking about memories the first time they’d met, "...And seeing this confirms that?"

"...I don’t know!" he knelt down, clamping his hands over his ears and squeezing his eyes shut as if it seal everything away, "I really don’t."

He looked stricken, about to cry. Gabranth couldn’t help but feel pity for the green-haired boy’s plight.

Unsure of what to say as assurances were not something Gabranth felt comfortable with, and they felt forced coming from someone like him besides (...at least from his perspective), he awkwardly placed his hand on the trembling boy’s shoulder in what he hoped was a somewhat comforting gesture, at least.

"...I feel like...like I was right in f--feeling that way." Raffaello was saying, more to himself than to Gabranth, "It’s only gotten stronger since I showed up here."

"..." he wasn’t sure what to say, so he remained silent.

"It scares me...a lot." The boy looked up at him then, eyes wide and fearful, "Gabranth, does that...make me a coward?"

"No." he smiled slightly...awkwardly, trying to make the expression an encouraging one, "Only human."

The green-haired youth looked at the carnage around them, that he’d somehow caused without even knowing how...and glanced at the tiny wing at his shoulder blade before his eyes looked to the gauntleted hand still resting there.

There was a world of uncertainty and fear in his eyes and on his face still (though the boy gave a valiant effort at trying to cover it up), and Gabranth could almost picture the doubts his thoughts held at that sentiment: after all, what human child was capable of that? And Gabranth had no answer for him, and that troubled him more than he’d care to admit.

But when he looked up at the Judge Magister’s face again, he looked touched and grateful by the sentiment behind Gabranth’s words all the same.

"Thanks, Gabranth." His smile was watery, but a genuine one as he tried to put on a brave face over his growing fears.

Gabranth couldn’t help but be somewhat impressed at this display (again, his thoughts went back to Lord Larsa and the familiar heaviness overcome his heart at the memories there), and gave Raffaello’s shoulder an awkward pat before dropping his hand to his side once more.

The two worked their way amidst the manikin remains in a heavy silence...troubling thoughts on what had just occurred racing through both their minds as they did so.

*****

To say that he was not necessarily thrilled at the limited options he had that led to him standing in the heart of the Time Sorceress’ domain was an understatement.

Unfortunately, he really did have little choice in the matter if he wanted to get solid answers to his questions: the Chaos Warriors who were not as disagreeable to him knew even less on the matter than he did. And some, such as Golbez, were keeping their cards very close to their chest if they did know more, much to his annoyance. Asking the opinions of a Cosmos Warrior was a laughable notion at best, and the other Chaos Warriors who cared little for him and who most likely knew the information he sought (the Emperor, Garland, and Kefka being primes examples of this category from the off-handed remarks they’d made in passing and their odd interest in Raffaello’s progress in battles) were not forthcoming...as was to be expected of those who had their own plans they were working on in the shadows.

Normally, Gabranth would count Ultimecia among the third category. The Sorceress was powerful and always looked at him with a mixture of thinly veiled disgust and contempt. She always knew more about things than she let on, and it was evident that she had her hand in some of the power-plays going on within the ranks of the Chaos Warriors, regardless of how direct her actual involvement with them was.

But, whatever the interest of the others in Raffaello, Ultimecia seemed to not share in it this time. In fact, she almost seemed to be going out of her way to avoid being in the boy’s presence for any longer than necessary.

Her actions in that vein were decidedly odd for her, and it also seemed to indicate that she might know something that could be useful for him. And that put him in the very awkward spot of asking for her assistance now.

They stood at the base of her castle, a ruined structure of fractured stone and wood that spiraled upwards far above their heads and continued downwards into a pit of water with debris and stone pillars jutting out of it. In the center of the cavernous space, sand poured downwards from a hole...made to perhaps represent the sands of time in this fractured remnant of a world, he supposed.

She appeared there in a flourish of dark energies and black feathers, as was her want. Her calculating gaze fell on him and she smirked, noticing his unease and desire to be anywhere else but here.

"So, our poor excuse for a knight has chosen to deign my realm with his presence." Her tone was her normal condescending one, claw-like hands crossing over her chest contemplatively, "To what do I owe such an honor?"

It was her usual dismissive way of interacting with her comrades who she felt were beneath her. Having been accustomed to such behavior even before getting involved in this endless cycle of battle, he was able to ignore it for the most part.

Before he was able to speak, however, the silver-haired woman caught sight of the small figure peering at the temporally-altered scenery around them and she froze, her countenance suddenly turning even colder than normal.

It took her several moments in harsh silence to recover from whatever shock had coursed through her system, Gabranth raising an eyebrow slightly at her bizarre reaction while Raffaello regarded her with a child’s curiosity.

"...We should discuss whatever matter brought you here in private, Gabranth." Her tone was clipped and even when she finally did speak she turned her back to them. She glanced back with dark amber eyes, motioning with a slight shrug of her shoulder that she expected the older man to follow her deeper into her castle, the imperious look on her face stating that she did not expect to wait long.

He looked down at Raffaello, who gave him a soft smile in return, "I’ll be all right." The boy assured him, blue eyes looking eager at the prospect of being able to explore this strange new area more thoroughly on his own while Gabranth and Ultimecia talked.

"This shouldn’t take long."

And with those words, Gabranth followed the Time Sorceress deeper into her sanctum.

Ultimecia remained silent and stiff until they reached the back wall of the castle and she deemed them far enough away from Raffaello that the boy would be unable to hear their conversation. At that point, she wheeled around to face Gabranth in a twirl of expensive and elegant woven silks, the purple lines on her face contorting somewhat in a very obvious anger.

"You dare to bring the Destroyer here?" she hissed at him, eyes flashing in anger. He was surprised that she didn’t try striking him down with her magic, given how her talon-like hands were clenching and unclenching tightly at her sides.

"The…Destroyer?" he had never heard the title before, and couldn’t help but blink in surprise at it being used to address Raffaello.

Her anger dissipated somewhat at this, disbelief crossing over her features, "You mean to say you’ve been traveling with him this whole cycle and you didn’t know?"

"..." he frowned, not sure of where she was going with this.

Realization dawned on her face and she glanced at the wall, lost in thought, "No, of course you wouldn’t know. The boy himself hasn’t awakened yet, and they wouldn’t have been foolish enough to entrust him to the protection of someone like you if they’d even given you an inkling of what you were really dealing with..." she smirked at the obvious confusion on his face, "I suppose that was a rather clever ruse on their part."

"...I take it from your tone you know about Raffaello then." He chose to ignore the obvious insult she had directed at him for the time being.

"More than you know, at any rate." She shrugged dismissively, "And I’m willing to wager more than the boy himself at this stage too."

"And this...Destroyer you mentioned?" he had to tread carefully with Ultimecia at this junction: neither trusted the other, and there was always the chance that she would decide it wasn’t worth telling him anything--and he needed to gather as much information about what was really going on as he could while she was still feeling inclined to discuss matters with him.

"The Destroyer is an entity with a lust for suffering, a being that exists for destruction. An apt name for such a creature, I suppose." Ultimecia spoke slowly, as if trying to teach something to a small child, "He is also called The Guardian of Darkness and the Magic Beast of the Black in some circles."

She turned her back to him, staring at the wall in contemplation, "In his original world, he caused untold calamity--until he was sealed away."

"...And Raffaello is this Destroyer?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes." Ultimecia turned around again, glaring at the spot where the green-haired youth was exploring, "He is...a vessel of sorts, one could call him. He is the Destroyer, was created in response to the sealing--keeping the entity in a hidden existence and waiting for an opportunity to regain his memories and his former self. It is a clever self-preservation tactic."

"...Except that he’s terrified of recovering his memories." He interjected, not wanting to believe what Ultimecia was saying completely...didn’t want to believe it in its entirety.

An unconcerned shrug, “That is inconsequential to the eventuality, Gabranth. The Destroyer’s self-preservation ploy gave his 'Raffaello' construct his own personality in order to make him seem more unassuming and less likely to be registered as a threat to those he interacted with. An innocent young boy is a lot more likely to gain allies for himself--and those very allies would unknowingly help him to eventually recover who, what he truly is."

"So it’s...a façade?"

Raffaello seemed so genuine. It was almost hard to believe, though perhaps he should have expected it given their reality. He tried to ignore the unpleasantness welling up in his chest at the thought.

"Not really." If she noticed his growing discomfort, she oddly enough chose not to mention it, "The boy himself is real enough: a separate personality existing within the Destroyer himself. If he was faking, if it was just the Destroyer pulling a puppet’s strings, the ruse would be uncovered soon enough. It works because he is an innocent child at his core."

"..."

"I suppose that is why he is afraid to regain his memories, his past self. He knows he is meant to, and that curiosity was implanted within him by the Destroyer--but he subconsciously knows that doing so will lead to something disastrous. He cares about things, so his very nature as a source only of destruction and suffering terrifies him. He doesn’t want to embrace it, so he rebels and tries not to focus on it when he can."

He thought of their previous conversations, of Raffaello’s terror at the realization of what he could do and what he might truly be...and remained silent.

"...But the ruse cannot continue indefinitely: struggle as he might, try as he might to deny it, eventually the Destroyer within him will reawaken. Already, he’s subconsciously used his powers for protection...hasn’t he?"

The frown on Gabranth’s face was all the confirmation she needed, "And the more he continues to do so, the more likely that side of him will fully awaken--and the Destroyer will be in our midst once more."

"...And the others knew about this?" his voice was quiet.

"Some of them, yes. I imagine they’re planning on it happening."

"...Why?"

A shrug, "Experimentation, I’d wager. See what would happen to the cycles if a being that exists solely for destruction was unleashed on them: a creature with enough power to rival even Shinryu when fully awoken."

It made sense, in a horribly twisted way, given some of their Chaos comrades.

A thought crossed his mind though, "...And you are not in agreement with them, this time?"

Given her reaction to Raffaello’s presence here, and her willingness to discuss anything with him at all, that seemed a likely conclusion.

"..." Ultimecia seemed nonplussed at his question, as though she’d been expecting it, "I am a Time Sorceress, and my power is gained through the manipulation of the cycles of time. The Destroyer destroys time and leaves nothing for compression. We are technically on opposing forces."

"But you’re allowing it to happen."

She smirked, "What a surprisingly naïve notion. Observation is hardly the same thing as doing nothing. Besides, I believe the situation is well on its way to resolving itself now that we’ve had this conversation."

"...What makes you say that?" he didn’t like the calculating stare she was regarding him with.

"....Nothing, really." She began to walk away, evidently believing their exchange to be over with regardless of what he thought, "Do not tarry too long here with that boy, Gabranth."

He stood there, lost in thought, not noticing when Ultimecia suddenly paused once more.

"Oh, and Gabranth?" she called over her shoulder, not bothering to turn around again.

She waited until it seemed his attention was focused outwards again, and he could almost swear he could hear the cruel smirk that must have been covering her features at her next comment, "The best way to truly kill the Destroyer is before he fully awakens. You’d do well to remember that."

And with that, she was gone in a flurry of dark energies and feathers, her last words echoing mockingly throughout the cavernous chambers.

Subconsciously, Gabranth’s hand went to the hilt of his sword--and he looked down at it.

Ultimecia’s meaning was not lost on him.

His hands were already stained with the blood of innocents. What was one more?

A shield that could only kill: the hypocrisy was almost enough to make him bark out with a bitter laugh.

Trying not to dwell on her words overly much, he rejoined Raffaello.

The child had been attempting to jump over some cracks in the disjointed castle’s masonry. He stopped upon his approach, looking somewhat sheepish at having been caught doing something so juvenile.

"We’re going."

Raffaello tapped the ground with his bare foot, "Did you...find out what you wanted to know?" he asked, somewhat hesitantly given the darker expression on his friend’s face since he’d returned from his conversation with Ultimecia.

Gabranth looked down at the boy and thought about Ultimecia’s words, about the truth behind the Destroyer (the manikins lying in a pile of rubble around Raffaello’s feet without the boy even lifting a finger, his horrified reaction afterwards).

He surprised himself by managing a small smile, ruffling his hand over the top of the boy’s head as he remembered Basch doing a lifetime ago in Landis whenever his brother thought he was concerning himself with matters he didn’t need to, "No, not this time. But there’s no need to rush. We’ll figure things out eventually."

Raffaello was bright, and there was an uncertain look in his eyes for a moment that told Gabranth he knew he was lying to him about something, but it disappeared just as soon as it had flickered to life in his eyes, as though he knew there must be a reason for Gabranth’s actions and he’d trust him.

...That thought both touched and hurt Gabranth more than he’d care to admit.

"Yeah, you’re right...it might be better this way after all, you know?"

Gabranth nodded stiffly.

"We should get going then!" the boy said, trying to get a bit of cheer into the oppressive atmosphere for both of their sakes.

They both moved then, away from the distorted castle grounds. Every so often, Gabranth would look down at Raffaello and hear Ultimecia’s words, his hand going to his sword hilt.

But then Raffaello would turn to him and point at something in the distance, a smile on his face and Gabranth couldn’t help but smile slightly as well (even though it hurt to do so), and his hand would drop back to his side.

Whether or not the outcome would eventually be decided for him in the long run, right now, he decided, it was best not to dwell on it. ...For both of them.

*****

The wind that had spun the flames into a frenzied funnel of heat and devastation died down suddenly, the inferno along with it--the dying light casting odd shadows onto his gray and silver armor.

He didn’t feel the heat, the sweat coating his body as a result of it only serving to further chill him to his very core.

His sword had found its purchase thanks to the distraction, and he yanked it out with a sickening wet sound--the blade soaked crimson, to match the blood now pooling on the scorched ground beneath where they stood.

How ironic, that they were standing in the castle remnants where they’d first met such a long while ago.

Raffaello fell to his knees, his hair turning from shockingly blond to green once more. His eyes once again their soft blue as opposed to the harsh golden amber they’d become--though they were dimming rapidly. Blood pooled out of the corner of his lips, from his nose. It matched the blood pouring from the gaping wound in his chest. No matter what history or poets said, death by a sword was never pretty.

He was older now, a teenager slightly older than Lord Larsa. He’d aged quickly the more he’d had to use his powers in this cycle. But still, he’d always carried himself with the same thoughtful air of innocence, regardless.

He was struggling to breathe now, thanks to Gabranth’s finishing blow, his breaths wet and broken. He remained frozen like that for a few moments before the effort caused his eyes to roll to the back of his head and he collapsed forward.

Raffaello would have hit the floor face first if Gabranth hadn’t dropped his bloodied weapon and caught him (ignoring the pool of blood he knelt in to do so), cradling the small boy’s body in arms that suddenly seemed far too heavy for such a burden.

He struggled to focus his eyes, to look at Gabranth’s face swimming above him.

"I--it’s over...?" he asked, a gurgle bubbling in his throat.

Gabranth nodded quickly. He was never sure how to deal with these situations, never sure how to respond. Drace’s broken body came swimming to his mind: he’d failed her, just as he’d failed him.

"Thanks to you." He heard himself say.

They were such small, inadequate words of comfort for a dying child.

All he could do was watch as the life left his friend’s eyes. He hated himself even more for it.

"I...I’m gl--glad I could...could re--regain control for...a moment." He was laboring to talk now, but he looked oddly peaceful, even with the tears forming in his eyes, "Didn’t...didn’t w--want t--to...hurt any--anyone."

He was growing cold, shaking violently. Gabranth held his broken body tighter. It was only a matter of time now.

The motion wasn’t lost on Raffaello, who looked up at him with his usual soft smile on his bloodied lips, "Th--thank you. For making--making sure...I d--didn’t."

He was fading away, eyes closing peacefully, and his wounds seemed to disappear with the strange glow that surrounded him during the process. Soon, Gabranth was only holding empty air--kneeling in liquid crimson.

"...Thank you for looking out for me."

Raffaello’s final words seemed to drift through thin air, unbroken and sounding more like the voice of the small boy he’d been when they’d first met rather than the teenager he’d been in his final moments here.

Gabranth wasn’t sure what that meant, nor did he care: his mind and body numb past all caring as he remained there--arms falling uselessly at his sides. There was a burning in his chest and lungs, though he doubted that it had anything at all to do with the inferno he’d had to force his way through.

"...I’d be remiss, to think you might not need this."

A glass vial of blue liquid was put in front of his face, though he did not turn to look at the tiny blond woman who, thanks to his kneeling position, was slightly more close to eye level with him now.

"Keep your potion, you may have need of it later." His voiced sounded rough and hollow to his ears.

"...You did not get angry at my appearance, nor did you yell at me for my interference."

The tiny woman, he believed that Shantotto had once referred to herself as a "Tarutaru" before (though that nomenclature was lost on him), lowered the proffered potion. She sat across from him on the ground, arms crossed over her chest as she contemplated him in an almost academic-looking manner.

"Should I have?" the conversation gave him something to focus on other than his aching hollowness, as absurd as it probably was to have it with the petite Cosmos Warrior, "Without it, he would have gained too much power and I would have been unable to win."

"My mistake, then, to make. I’d assumed you were a prideful type, one who loves to gripe."

He let out a derisive snort, "...You would not be wrong there, milady."

She grinned, the expression looking oddly twisted and almost malevolent on a face that looked like it should belong to a young child, "As I did suspect, my observations were correct! I knew it to be true: I have my share of pride too. As you’ve no doubt guessed, it comes naturally with being the best."

An inferno that could consume everything, a tornado that could rip the earth to shreds: such magicks in Ivalice could only be cast by powerful sorcerers, so he knew the woman wasn’t boasting without merit.

"...This is not a battle I would ever take pride for having participated in, regardless."

Shantotto’s expression turned quickly back to somber again at his words, and she cast her brown eyes down to the blood covering the ground.

"Now that the topic has been risen: no, it clearly isn’t." she frowned, "I’ve fought in many battles where I was proud of my victory, but banishing the Destroyer like that was contradictory."

"...You knew of his true origin then, before just now?"

She huffed impatiently, "Of course, I always know the source! I make it a personal goal to know everything I can, just to make sure I always have a plan. Why do you think I was trailing you in such plain view? It’s not because you’re interesting with all that moping you do!"

"...You were waiting to see if he’d awaken?"

A curt nod, "Someone would have to stop him then. Big jobs fall to me time and time again."

"...Why not kill him as Raffaello then?" he asked, perplexed, "We’re enemies."

"Because the cycles and our sides make us so, I should always be eager to cause you woe?" her words were oddly sage-like for her youthful appearance despite her odd rhyming way of talking, "I’m more than happy to put a Chaos Warrior in their place if they’re asking for it...or I’m just in the mood to toss them into the pit. But killing a child just because he might become a threat, when he hasn’t done anything yet? Not my style...and that kind of insinuation makes me gag with bile."

"...I see."

"...I’d tried researching to see if there was some other way, so that things would not take place as they did this day." Her voice had turned soft, as if this type of conversation was new to her and she was unsure of how to go about it, "He changed before I could find anything, and the only option left then was to sting."

"It was to be expected, apparently." Gabranth’s voice tightened, "Even he suspected it."

"...He was kind. That brings the tragedy of it even more in mind."

He said nothing, though he jerked his head slightly in quiet agreement to her statement. His eyes burned, but he tried not to dwell on it: best not to, really.

"Too many comrades we’ve both lost, makes you wonder if it’s worth the cost." Shantotto sighed.

"..."

"I suppose later on we’ll let loose. This ends our temporary truce?" she already knew the answer to that, from the way she said it.

A quick nod, "Next time we meet, it will most likely be on opposing sides of the battlefield."

"Sounds fun, now that this is done." Her contemplative stance changed once more to a predatory grin, "Best prepare to be laid bare: when you take a stand my spells will roast you from the inside out, Gabrand."

He ignored her mispronunciation of his name. For some reason, he suspected she probably did it on purpose just to see if she could get an outburst from him, "You’re more than welcome to try. Perhaps the best way out of this hell is through an inferno, after all."

She smirked, getting up and heading away before pausing and turning to regard the still kneeling man, her expression once again becoming soft and oddly unsure.

"It’s a blow, but you did a good job, you know. It doesn’t feel like it, but in the end you did save your friend."

...A shield that could only kill in order to protect. ...Raffaello’s smile and odd sincerity that made things a little more bearable in this endless conflict. ...His heartfelt "thank you" as he lay dying after Gabranth ran him through.

"I know. He didn’t want to become the Destroyer."

"Maybe he isn’t gone for good, provided how this reality acts so differently from how it should." When he looked at her quizzically, she elaborated, "You saw what happened, how he disappeared and his wound was gone? Perhaps he was returned to his actual world, a chance to live on."

Raffaello had mentioned that he thought he might have friends somewhere, though he couldn’t quite remember them. His expression had always softened slightly, seemed more at ease when he spoke of those faint traces of memories.

To think that he might be reunited with them again in his own original word, even if he had no memories of his time here (perhaps a kindness in and of itself, he thought sadly), was a somehow oddly comforting motion.

...Especially if it was plausible those friends could help him in a better way than Gabranth ever could.

"It is a nice thought, if nothing else." He admitted. And, after a lengthy pause since this was also new to him and he wasn’t sure what to really say, "...Thank you."

A curt nod in response and then the moment of odd understanding and respect between them passed, "Until next time, Gabrand, unless you get yourself canned."

...And just like that, they parted ways.

Gabranth remained kneeling in the blood for a long while longer, before standing on heavy legs and picking up his sword, surveying the gore on it before running his gauntleted hand over the blade in a vain attempt at cleaning it. He’d have to do a more thorough job later.

"Aw...you’re no fun, Mr. Kill Joy!"

He looked behind him at Kefka’s voice, eyes narrowing at the sight of a disappointed-looking Kefka and a stoic (well, it was hard to tell really with his helmet on) Garland. Behind them a little further down stood Ultimecia.

So, they’d been observing as well: to see what would happen when the Destroyer was unleashed. It did not shock him.

"...It’s done now. Leave it at that."

Without another word, he moved past them, not taking Kefka’s taunt.

As he passed Ultimecia, the Time Sorceress gave him a conspiratorial smirk and it took all he could muster to not turn his sword on her, to keep going with the stoic mask he’d developed so long ago in Archades just to survive as a refugee there.

...He was sad that Raffaello had died, hated himself for being the one to kill him in the end. But perhaps it was better for him in the long run: at least now the young boy, his friend, was free from this if nothing else.

It was well past time he tried to find a way out as well, no matter what fate awaited him as a result.