Work Text:
Squall knew he would have to be quiet about this.
No one—no one could know, not a single soul. There was not a single person among Materia’s warriors who would agree with him on this, his own friends included, and accomplishing his task would be hard enough without Zidane or Locke breathing down his neck.
The airship was grounded tonight, and as the hour grew late and silence settled, Squall left his quarters. Clothed more lightly than usual, he stole through the shadows, drawing on the small amount of subterfuge training he still held from Garden.
It seemed there were a few of the children awake – Eiko, Krile and Vivi were in the kitchen, but Eiko was making enough noise and so engrossed in making a mess of a cake that Squall’s movement across the hall went unnoticed.
Exiting through the lower hull door into the cool night air, he let out a breath, heart hammering. This was the easy bit, the part less emotionally fraught. What came next…
Well. It could be said he only had himself to blame, but balked at such a thought. If it weren’t for the situation, this wouldn’t be necessary.
Steeling himself, he headed into the thicket to the east, where the trees were dense and the air was thick with the smell of forest debris. Even though it was all a projection of their own experiences, a fabricated, unlived in world, one could be forgiven for feeling like this wood had been here for millennia.
There was no specific location in mind. He just needed a clearing, deep enough into the wood that he couldn’t be followed or seen from the ship.
It didn’t take him long—while the smell of soil and decay was strong, there was little in the way of actual fallen trees or stumps to impede the path.
The clearing itself was quite wide, the canopy completely broken and leaving the forest floor dappled in moonlight. Thin saplings dotted the space, and if it were a real wood, in a few short years this would be no clearing at all.
He inhaled, stomach doing a wild buck of anxiety. This was his last chance to turn back. To rethink this decision, one that he had been chewing on for weeks.
No…he had to do this. It was an intersection of being for the good of others…and pure, selfish pride, and neither he was willing to relinquish.
Consequences could come later.
His steps were soft, languid, as he walked into the clearing, trails of moonlight casting a long and distorted shadow behind him.
“Eald’narche.”
Silence followed, stifling and expectant. No birds, no wind, just stillness, until a second set of footsteps permeated the din.
“Well, well. You are certainly not on my list.”
The boy – who was not really a child, of this he was sure – had a smug smirk on his features, curiosity alight in his one visible eye.
“List of what?”
“The warriors I’d expect to call on me. Those with vague or nebulous allegiance. You come across as stubbornly loyal, to a fault even…is this a façade, I wonder?”
“No. I don’t intend on joining you,” Squall said, shaking his head. “I have questions…and depending on your answers, a request.”
“A request…you’re in no position to be asking things of me.”
Squall scoffed. “I wouldn’t bother if I didn’t think it was of interest to you. Hear me out.”
Eald’narche shrugged. Clearly the fact Squall had called him at all had piqued his curiosity, and it would be that which carried this conversation.
“…You’ve been handing back fragments of silt. The power of transformation, shorn from their hosts and held in the same form as the other’s memories.”
“Very observant.”
“But you’re not handing back all of them, are you? You’ve been…selective,” Squall said, keeping his words careful and level. “You know that some of the people Spiritus summoned are far too volatile and will possibly make a mess of whatever scheming you’ve got planned, so you’ve been prioritizing low-danger targets or Materia’s warriors.”
“…Huh. Are you the only one of Materia’s warriors to notice?”
“I doubt it…I’d say all of us who share a world with those volatile people have noticed.”
He hadn’t actually asked or discussed it with the others though. It was one of those things he assumed was obvious, but maybe it wasn’t. All the better, really, given what he was here for.
Eald’narche shrugged dismissively. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. You are correct, that said. There are those among Spiritus’s summoned that would be detrimental to my plans, and keeping their silt either acts as a bargaining chip or a means to keep them on a leash.
I suppose you want to request I keep Ultimecia’s fragment among those?”
Squall let out a small chuckle. “That would be the reasonable request, wouldn’t it? The kind expected from one of Materia’s warriors. After all, what she’s after is the kind of volatility you’re avoiding, right?”
Eald’narche raised an eyebrow, a slight tilt of his head following. “Now I’m intrigued. So that’s not what you want?”
Squall shook his head. “No. What I want…
…is for you to give me her fragment.”
Eald’narche’s eye widened, before he let out a chuckle. “What, for safe keeping? It’s just as safe with me.”
“No…I want it for my own reasons,” Squall said, unable to keep a feverish lilt out of his voice. “To put it simply as possible…it doesn’t belong to her.”
“…Are you saying it’s yours then? I’ve certainly not heard that.”
“The being she used. Griever. He belongs to me. She turned him against me to try and break my spirit…and became attached. I want him back.”
Eald’narche looked stunned, mouth parting slightly before a smirk appeared on his features. “So it’s not a coincidence that you both gravitate toward that lion-figure? Interesting. Very interesting.”
He looked thoughtful, beginning to pace. “But in saying that…I wonder if you’re prepared. See, my holding of these fragments means nothing. I have no attachment to them. And if I were to say, hand Ultimecia’s transformation to your friend Tidus, the same would apply. But if what you’re saying is true, and Griever is yours…well, there could be unforeseen consequences. Such as the magic latching onto you instead.”
“I’m willing to take the risk.”
A bright and bewildered laugh followed. “Ho ho! ‘I’m willing to take the risk’?! So you’ve considered the possibility and still came to ask for it?”
Yes, of course he had. “He’s mine. And if it has to be someone – I’m the better candidate.”
Eald’narche now looked positively giddy, like one of his schemes had gone off without a hitch. “Ohhh…this truly is fascinating. I’d heard your gloomy persona was a front for someone kind and loyal, but that’s just the half of it, huh? The look in your eyes…is positively feral.”
Squall held back a wince. He hadn’t intended it to be that obvious, but his emotional attachment to the situation was hard to hold back. At the time of her summoning Griever, he had remained focused on the battle at hand, keeping himself in check by sheer force of will. It hadn’t been until after the dust settled that he had allowed himself to be angry at the mutilation of his ideals…and then ever since, she had continued to use him. Insisted on doing so. Uttered words of... affection to him.
It left bile tingling at the back of his throat, an acidic mix of disgust and feeling used.
The opportunity to turn the tables…was not one he would cast aside.
“So will you give it to me?”
“Oh of course. I’m practically vibrating with the possibilities. Not just regarding the silt…but knowing you’re so much more than a simpering sad child who knows how to use a weapon.”
“We established this at the beginning. I’m stubbornly loyal…to a fault. You won't get anywhere with me.”
“Loyalty crumbles like a sandcastle in the face of the tide. It just takes the right kind of push.
Perhaps one day we’ll find out what yours is.”
Squall folded his arms. “Not likely.”
Eald’narche shrugged, before rustling through his sleeves and holding out a crystal, one that danced with dark energies.
His heart backflipped into his throat, eyes fixed on the crystal. There was a familiarity to it that left his throat dry – while his heart was resolute, his logical mind resisted. Was it being familiar a confirmation for their theory? Would he be subjecting his friends to himself half-mad and transformed, somewhere down the line?
Still better me than her. The memory of their final battle was stark in his mind, the powerful and crippling magics she and Griever had wielded. Squall had his own strength, but he was no sorceress.
He took the crystal, the familiar feeling morphing into warmth. An acknowledgement.
A I know who you are.
“…Thank you,” Squall said, closing his hand with the intent to stow it in his pocket.
“I’m sure you’ll take very good care of it,” Eald’narche said, a grin forming on his face. “Do let me know if you ever do want to collaborate. This meeting has been quite eye-opening, has it not?”
“Keep dreaming.”
A chuckle followed, and Eald’narche vanished back into a Torsion, leaving the night just as still and quiet as it had been before his arrival.
Squall opened his hand again to look at the fragment, and felt his eyes widen as the last remaining flecks of darkness floated upward, the fragment having vanished.
No…not vanished.
Carried within himself. Quiet, and warm…a node of darkness he could not allow himself to touch.
He held his hand to his necklace, letting out a quiet breath before heading back the way he came.