{Fan Fics} Final Fantasy XII - FFXIV & Various FF Spin-Off Short Fics

[breyzyyin.livejournal.com]

My last-minute posting of the rest of the short fic challenges I had given myself. Here are the FFXII - FFXIV fics, as well as several stories from various other titles in the FF series. :D

Username: Yin (of breyzyyin)
Class: White Mage
LEGAL DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of these Final Fantasy titles or their characters. They are the rightful property of Square-Enix!

Title: Roles
Summary: Ashe and Larsa have a short interaction after the fighting is over.
Characters/Pairings: Ashe, Larsa.
Word count: 535
Rating/warnings: G. Spoilers for FFXII.

They only had a small moment of respite, she knew. Unsure of how to react now that the war was over: now that she felt "free" from her own misguided notions for the first time in what felt a lifetime-- she wasn't sure of where to begin.

Establishing herself as Queen was going to happen in the blink of an eye with little room for thought of anything else, the very second she stepped foot out of the airship. But in this moment, she was wholly herself. It was almost unreal.

Vaan and Penelo remained at the front of the airship, talking in disbelieving tones. Basch had moved up front, at the ready despite their still being in the air. Though the events of the last few hours were especially emotional for him, he made no sign of it as he stared out at the sky beyond them stoically.

Unsure of what to do, but not wanting to be sitting there and doing nothing...Ashe moved to the doorway leading to the small anteroom outside of the Strahl’s cockpit. There she paused, staring at the figure inside.

Larsa had retreated back there in the brief respite they now had. He sat, staring down at the body of Judge Magister Gabranth, who had spoken his final words to Basch only a few minutes ago. Larsa's gloved hand rested on his gauntleted one as it had earlier before he had gone into the cockpit to call a ceasefire.

Gabranth had murdered her father, plunging Dalmasca into Archadian servitude. He had framed Basch for the crime, had injured Vaan's older brother beyond repair in the process. She could never forgive him for that.

...But he had reached an understanding with Basch at the end, and had raised his sword against Vayne Solidor and aided them in those final battles. He had protected Vayne's twelve-year-old brother Larsa until the very end.

She supposed she could be somewhat sad then for his passing...at least for Basch's and Larsa's sake. She understood how negative feelings brought about by conflict could twist someone into doing things they normally wouldn't if thinking clearly.

The boy, the sole survivor and heir of the House of Solidor now, looked up at her standing there in the doorway. He said nothing, though he smiled sadly at her for a moment.

The youth, for all of his maturity and diplomatic strength, had lost so much as well: his father, his tutor...and now both his brother and his protector.

Swallowing hard, Ashe managed to say the words she had meant to say to the shocked boy at Mt. Bur-Omisace during the news of his father's death.

"...I’m sorry."

It was barely a whisper, but he heard it. The boy nodded politely back, unshed tears in his eyes.

"Thank you."

With a small nod of her own, the moment between them passed. They had more pressing responsibilities now, duties to see fulfilled as soon as they stepped off the airship.

A moment of understanding and sincere sympathy between the two of them might help in the months to come, but that was far from either of their thoughts as they prepared for the new roles that now lay before them.

*****

Title: Photograph
Summary: Bartholomew Estheim reflects on his son and wife.
Characters/Pairings: Bartholomew, Hope, Nora, Lightning. Pairing is Bartholomew x Nora.
Word count: 627
Rating/warnings: G. Spoilers for FFXIII.

The picture had been his wife's idea: a family photo with all three of them, to be displayed for all to see at their home.

He had thought it a silly idea. For starters, he often hated having his picture taken to begin with...and their son Hope wasn't exactly fond of him currently: his focus on work and inability to voice himself properly to his son at times being the main culprits of that. The picture would look extremely forced and faked.

"You love your son, don't you?" Nora had asked patiently, already knowing that her husband's reply would be an indignant "Of course!"

"...Then that will show in the picture. Don’t worry over details."

But was a photo really necessary to showcase that?

She had smiled warmly as she always did in their conversations, the same easy manner she used when explaining things to their son, "Of course it isn't. But it can serve as a reminder...a gateway to our feelings should we ever find that we need one."

...And so the picture had been taken. The day had been a pleasant one, and spending it together as a family had even eased the tension between him and Hope for a little bit at least, the boy even cracking a joke with him on occasion at that time.

Whenever he had an argument with Hope or saw the resentment in the teenager's eyes, when he got in late from work too tired to converse with his family (Hope ignoring him anyways) and had to leave just as early the next day...he found himself glancing at the photo: pleasant memories and emotions skimming below the surface of his thoughts, and he felt renewed enough to keep going.

Nora saw this, of course, and smiled...but said nothing.

He had been staring more and more at the picture now. Everything had changed.

Nora had died protecting their son and he hadn't been able to be there for her...he couldn't do anything for Hope, now burdened with a fate that was far too cruel for any person to bear.

...For the first time in a long while, however, both he and his son had parted with a new understanding and appreciation of the other.

He wondered how Nora would have handled the situation, would have reacted to his outburst telling Hope how he was his son and would always have a home (from one who was normally so controlled and stoic!).

For some reason, he could only picture her smile in the photo-- the loving light in her eyes as she posed with her family. It was the same expression she always had when with them.

In the end, thanks to the intervention of the Cavalry...he had somehow managed to stay alive despite his dealings with the l'Cie. He waited constantly for news on his son and the others-- staring at the photo of himself, Nora, and Hope for hours nonstop.

He'd been huddled with a group of other survivors when Cocoon had started to fall, the photo held tightly in his hands. He clutched it now as he waited to hear news of what had happened to the l'Cie once the fall had been stopped.

"...Dad!"

Hope's voice caught him off-guard as he stared at his son from across the crowd...the female Guardian Corps member giving a nod indicating that he was as okay as he looked from just behind the youth.

Odd how a photo gave him the strength to keep going until he and his teenaged son were awkwardly hugging, choking back tears at the reunion. Somehow, he was sure that Nora was smiling and crying now too along with them.

...This memory would always stay with him when he looked at the photo from now on.

*****

Title: Oracle
Summary: O-App-Pesi reflections.
Characters/Pairings: O-App-Pesi (who one day I will stop referring to as "Pepsi" in my head, lolz! XD).
Word count: 185
Rating/warnings: G. Spoilers for FFXIV.

To outsiders, the forest that surrounded their nation of Gridania, that their people lived in and took sustenance from, was nothing more than a place. A hostile place to be sure, and sometimes one that was best left alone or traversed quickly and then forgotten-- but nothing more. It was the home of mindless beasts and animals, lesser denizens of their world.

But he knew better. Beyond the terror it sometimes held within its leaves, there was tranquility at its roots...its core. The forest held life, was life...had a sentience most who had not grown up with it nor ever seen could even begin to comprehend.

The forest, the spirits that dwelled within it...they were protecting their home.

O-App-Pesi was a young boy, but the knowledge he held was beyond most adults' comprehension: countless years of tradition, the ability to understand the forest in ways others never would.

His duty as a Seedseer was one he treasured. A maintainer of a delicate balance...his eyes were mature, focused. They had to be: everyone counted on him--

The elementals and their forest...and the people of Gridania too.

*****

Title: Thriving
Summary: Aki's reflections on the world she currently lives in.
Characters/Pairings: Aki Ross, Gray Edwards. Pairing is Aki x Gray.
Word count: 467
Rating/warnings: G. Spoilers for Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within.

The world was vibrant, felt new. Green everywhere the eyes could see: the ruins of the old cities seemed almost unrecognizable now...the empty husks of broken buildings, the shells of vehicles-- they were covered in vegetation, rust and crumbling commonplace in their midst.

Most people had decided to pack up and move into settlements on the outskirts of the older urban centers. It had been a hard transition for many of them at first-- the lack of power supplies in great stores currently proving difficult for some as civilization tried to adapt its current lifestyle to the drastic changes that had occurred throughout the globe with the disappearance of the Phantoms.

But thanks to the efforts of geniuses such as Dr. Sid, things were getting better. The energy needed to run many of the machines currently in use a lot less than the energy that had been used to maintain the defensive shielding in the earlier metropolises.

For the first time in a long while agriculture was beginning to be focused on: an important aspect of survival that hadn't quite been so vital before in the need for constant vigilance and defense as top priorities. Farms and smaller towns were taking shape every few miles in what had once been inhospitable wastelands and wilderness.

The changes, despite the early trials that had preceded them, brought a soft smile to Aki's lips.

"Mommy, look!"

A dark-haired little girl, no more than three-years-old, was racing up to her. The child's outstretched hands excitedly clutched a pair of smooth river rocks she had just picked up. Aki smiled at her and made a show of inspecting the great "specimens" her daughter was showing her.

She reminded her a lot of Gray: her face shape and eyes, the determination and unexpected bravery she displayed in moments that were frightening at times to other children around her age.

Thinking of that reminded her of the man she still loved: of the sacrifice he made in order for the world they now lived in to become a reality. It made her sad a little-- but she knew he would have been with them if he could have been, would have been just as content and grateful for the world they now lived in as she was even as she missed him terribly.

Aki would always work to make sure that contentment despite the hardships of the past and those that were probably likely to happen later on in the future would remain a constant for everyone adjusting to their new lives. It had become her new goal as she worked alongside Dr. Sid in trying to achieve it: the most logical course of action, the only action, she felt she could take now.

...Their child was thriving in this world too, after all.

*****

Title: Cooking
Summary: Shirma and Croma have a conversation over vegetables.
Characters/Pairings: Shirma, Croma, Chocobo, and Raffaello.
Word count: 568
Rating/warnings: G. Spoilers for Final Fantasy Fables: Chocobo’s Dungeon.

The vegetables from the garden were ripe. Shirma stared at the assorted colors that were displayed proudly on the kitchen counter like merchant's wares dressed up in various shades of greens, reds, and yellows.

Aunt Stella had pretty much picked everything...a veritable feast for the eyes (and later on the nose and stomach as well!). They were going to be having company, the mayor and other townspeople, for a special dinner-- but she was so used to it being just the three of them that she wasn’t sure of the display.

The young White Mage sighed and picked up a plump tomato, skin still damp from its earlier wash...a knife in her other hand. As she chopped, her mind flashed back to the last time she’d helped to prepare a large meal...

"What are you doing, Shirma?"

A boy's voice sounded just below her shoulder. The green-haired youth, how odd that he seemed to be a few years younger than herself now when he'd been only an infant a couple of days ago, looking curiously at the chopped cucumbers in front of her.

"Oh, Raffaello!" she smiled warmly, "I'm cutting vegetables for dinner tonight. Aunt Stella wants to make a big meal since you and Cid are staying with us!"

A flicker of yellow at her other side, followed by a questioning "Kweh?"

"Don't worry, Chocobo...there will be plenty of Greens too!"

"Kweh!" the bird's large eyes brightened.

"Can I help?" Raffaello asked, the usual uneasiness inside him seeming to dissipate at the thought of helping out the people he considered friends.

"Sure!"

The two stood side-by-side at the kitchen counter, Shirma smiling at the focused look on Raffaello's face as he tried to cut the tomatoes. He was embarrassed by her reaction at first, but was soon smiling and laughing along with her-- Chocobo "kweh"-ing happily as he supervised the entire affair.

"You're cutting it wrong."

The soft voice startled Shirma, "What, sister?"

The Black Mage indicated the tomato she’d been trying to finely chop...though it did look more like a pulpy mess now that she had noticed, "When I cut tomatoes, I cut them big first, then slice smaller cubes from there. Keeps the juices from running. Here."

Her own knife in hand, Croma began to slice another tomato. Shirma watched her sister for a few seconds, then started on a cucumber.

She was glad Croma was living with them now: the sister she'd finally remembered, only to have lost momentarily but found again. It felt like a part of her that had been missing had been restored.

She glanced at Croma, an absent-minded thoughtful smile on her lips.

She smiled too.

"...Hey, Croma?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think Irma and Volg are doing well? Cid and Chocobo? ...Raffaello?"

She thought of that memory again, wondering if Raffaello had learned to cook yet on his own.

"...I'm sure." Croma looked over at Shirma and smiled warmly, her smiles came more and more easily, Shirma noted gratefully: "All of them helped to save Foundtime in their own way. They're a resilient lot."

Shirma nodded in agreement, glad for the reassurance. She had a feeling her sister was correct.

The tomatoes were cut now, and Croma stared at her expert handiwork with a puzzled expression.

"...Hey, Shirma, how do you cook these?"

Shirma giggled at that...and it wasn't long before Aunt Stella's kitchen was full of laughter once again.

*****

Title: Heretic
Summary: Meliadoul's thoughts during a battle.
Characters/Pairings: Meliadoul, Ramza.
Word count: 246
Rating/warnings: G. Spoilers for Final Fantasy Tactics.

She'd blamed him for her brother's death, once in what felt like a lifetime ago.

...The Divine Knight, blinded by her need for revenge for what was a complete fabrication. Isilud's blood was on no one but her father's hands.

The irony of the imagery was not lost on her. But she had been strong enough to accept that...had vowed to help make things right for her brother's sake, for everyone's.

The Divine Knight, now a heretic.

It was a label she would gladly wear if it meant the end of her father's ambitions and those like him: those possessed by the Lucavi. Her brother would have done the same in her position, she knew.

Ramza, at one time her manufactured enemy, was fighting an enemy knight in close quarters...his sword striking against his opponent's shield.

Concentrated on the enemy before him, he didn't notice the archer some ways back. The bolt flying at him...

Meliadoul's sword flashed and the arrow's deadly trajectory was cut short. The blond-haired leader of their group looked up at her, his eyes wordlessly speaking his gratitude.

She gave a curt nod, green cape and golden-colored armor swirling in fluid motion as she turned her attention to another knight-- their opponents hoping to pinch them together in a tight spot to turn the tide of battle.

It wasn't long before both fell to their superior blade skills, both Meliadoul and Ramza moving on to their next opponents side-by-side.

Two heretics...fighting back-to-back.

*****

Title: Scraps
Summary: Chelinka and Gnash attempt to help a lost dog.
Characters/Pairings: Chelinka, Gnash.
Word count: 545
Rating/warnings: G. Spoilers for Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles: Ring of Fates.

The dog stared up at Chelinka with tired, hungry eyes. The spark of life still flickered in their depths, but the ribs showing through its matted, muddy brown fur revealed how rough the animal had been living for quite awhile.

Unable to speak, the blond-haired girl smiled encouragingly and held her hands out...the dog approaching with a nervous sniff.

Her brother Yuri, along with Meeth and Al, were in a discussion with a Moogle shopkeeper right now...and she had wanted a breath of fresh air, so she'd slipped out so as to not disturb them. She had seen the dog huddled in an alleyway across the street and now was unsure of what to do.

"Here you go!"

A hand holding out scraps of what appeared to be raw, red strips of meat dangled over her shoulder.

The dog turned its attention from her hand to the proffered food. With more energy than she would have given it credit for initially, the dog reached out its neck and began inhaling the meat strips.

Careful not to touch his hand in the process, she turned to see Gnash, the Selkie "wild child" they'd met earlier, grinning broadly.

"He looking for food." He explained in his rough "wild" language, "That why I didn't go in store...wanted to get him some to eat."

The dog was done eating by the time he'd finished explaining, looking up again at the two hopefully.

Gnash gave him another strip to eat, "He lost family, wandered off...came back when things didn't go well." He was recalling his earlier conversation with the animal (he could talk to them, after all!), "He misses little Clavat boy with black hair. Maybe after he's done eating and group's done haggling...we go find his friend?"

The dog looked at her with large, imploring eyes-- more alive now that food was in him despite his haggard coat. Gnash waited patiently, a cheerful and expectant look in his orange-red eyes. They both had hopeful, eager airs about them as they waited on her answer.

Chelinka smiled. Her friend's kindness and perception never ceased to amaze her. She nodded, and she could tell from the knowing look in Gnash's eyes that the older boy had known she'd agreed.

A thought crossed her mind though, and as she bent down to reassuringly pet the lost dog on the head, she pointed to Gnash's hands...still covered in the red juices of his food gift for their newfound friend. She frowned slightly.

Gnash laughed, "Oh right! Here you wash hands after meat!"

He sped off after promising he'd be right back, the smile returning to Chelinka's face again. He caught on to what the mute girl was trying to say almost as easily as he conversed with animals...but living among people was something new that he still needed a little help with every now and again.

...Not that she minded too much though. As she scratched behind the dog's ears as they waited for the others to get out of the store and the Selkie boy to return so that they could reunite the dog with his young Clavat friend that he'd told Gnash about...she didn't think he minded if some nuances of "civilized" etiquette weren't readily on his new friend's mind either.

*****

Title: Soft Smile
Summary: Crux's first interaction with Makenshi.
Characters/Pairings: Crux, Makenshi.
Word count: 459
Rating/warnings: G. Spoilers for Final Fantasy Unlimited.

Crux was born to serve, but she did not like the people she was tasked with serving.

They did not care. They were cruel people: with cold voices and colder eyes...with hatred and contempt for others barely concealed (if at all) beneath the surface.

They never smiled with anything but malicious intent. Never saw Crux as anything but a thing...a disposable piece they put into play whenever they felt she was useful.

The animated marionette disliked them...but free choice was not something she yet had. She was born for a task, and so had to serve.

Her robotic ways annoyed them, but so long as she did what they wanted they overlooked her lack of enthusiasm.

...But the white-haired one, she could tell he was different.

He did not associate with the others overly much, seemed to avoid them and their petty quarrels. When he did interact, he was only given orders-- which he responded to in the same hollow manner as she herself did. There was a reserved sadness about him.

She found herself gravitating towards him, oddly enough...when the others had no use for her. When not in the throne room, he would often sit on a wall as far away from the fortress as possible…playing a wind instrument with a distant look in his eyes.

This time, he noticed her as she moved a mere foot from him...her small body fluttering on wings: she had become too enraptured by the music to realize she'd gotten that close, that she'd interrupted his need for solitude.

The quiet melody stopped as he stared at the tiny humanoid creature for a few seconds, the instrument lowered from his lips. She expected a punishment for her intrusion as the others did that even when she HADN'T interrupted them if they simply felt like it...but she remained frozen there, having long since learned that dead acceptance was better in the long run than fruitlessly trying to run away: if they ordered her to stop, she had no choice but to do so after all.

He blinked, and a different sort of expression lighted up his face than what she was used to...a gentle warmth in his eyes that matched the reassuring tone of his voice, "Hello, Crux. Did you come here to get away too?"

He smiled softly at her, and something sparked to life inside. Having never felt its like before, she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

But for now, for the first time since she was born...her head bobbed up and down slightly and the beginnings of a curving upwards of her own lips occurred as she tried to emphatically confirm her response to the question posed to her in the only way she knew how.

"Ku...kukuruyu!"

*****

Title: Perception
Summary: Ashley Riot's thoughts on his family.
Characters/Pairings: Ashley, Tia, Marco. Pairing is Ashley x Tia.
Word count: 253
Rating/warnings: PG. Spoilers for Vagrant Story.

What he had thought was the truth he'd later been told was false.

The woman who was murdered wasn't his loving wife. The little boy that was cut down wasn't his hopeful son.

The blood streaming through the grass belonged to strangers. The blade that killed them had weighed heavy in his hands after he took their lives.

...He'd been shown that as well as told it. He was their murderer: THAT was their only connection.

But he had known Tia, knew her touch and gentle smile. He had seen Marco's birth, had smiled at his son's attempts to cheer him up...his early clumsiness with running.

Was that false as well? Memories he'd given himself to subvert his guilt. He'd hated that he couldn't save them, had done so many things since...was his motivation a lie, a perversion of his own mind?

They had come to him when he'd needed help the most, Tia and Marco both...begging him to forgive himself and to not give up.

Tia had said he was her husband, and that she loved him. Marco told him not to cry anymore because he didn't hurt now. They would always be with him.

His wife, his son...the family he carried in his heart always.

Even if his memories were false, Ashley believed in the voices that had reached out to save him. Nothing could cause him to doubt them.

His time with his family, the love he felt for them.

It was the only reality he wanted to believe in.

*****

Title: Shape-Changing
Summary: Aire watches a cat and ponders...
Characters/Pairings: Aire, Brandt.
Word count: 144
Rating/warnings: G. Spoilers for Final Fantasy: The 4 Heroes of Light.

...The cat's tail swished lazily back-and-forth from the windowsill it was resting on. A tired yawn escaped its mouth as it peered at her with half-lidded, sleepy eyes.

Aire had to stifle a yawn herself as she watched the feline. She remembered her own time as a cat. She hadn't had the time or mind to do it then, but she could just imagine how good and content it must feel to rest so, the sun warming your fur as the rest of the world hurried on by...

"Aire? We’re heading out now." Brandt's voice was calling from somewhere up ahead.

"Coming!"

She moved away, reluctantly breaking her gaze with the utterly relaxed and nonchalant cat.

...Briefly, as Brandt commented on her daydreaming again, she wondered if she would remember to ask Torte later on if he ever craved cheese like a mouse anymore.