Forever without fear Disclaimer Final Fantasy IX is the property of Squaresoft. No profit is being made from this fanfiction. It is for entertainment purposes only. ^_^ -------- "Will nothing I say sway your course of action?" Fratley turned to the dragoon knight at his side. The woman's eyes pierced him like a spear; they were filled with love, pleading with him to reconsider and change his mind. Their plea cut deep, through hardened resolve and cold logic to his very heart and soul. It seemed impossible for Fratley to reject her--how could he, when she was axis on which his life spun? He must say yes. "No, Lady Freya." The hope shining in the lovely black eyes crumbled, a thousand crystalline shards falling and fading, leaving them dark and chill. For a moment her eyes were empty, but soon they filled with sadness, spilling over their rims and falling in glittering tears down her cheeks. So deep was the knight's despair that Fratley almost took back his statement--he would have done anything at all, to restore the vibrance and determination that she had always possessed, that Fratley had always loved. -I will do it now,- he thought to himself. -Right this moment.- Instead he raised his hands, resting them on Freya's shoulders and pulling her close to him. "I must do this. I must continue to improve myself. There are still others greater then myself." Rain fell around the pair, deadening sound, hiding the rest of the world behind a translucent curtain of water. The two stayed still for a moment, Freya looking at the ground, Fratley looking at her. Slowly, Freya raised her gaze to Fratley's, meeting him with a cool look of acceptance and dignity that always graced her actions. "I understand, Sir Fratley. I will wait for you." Freya stated simply. Fratley sighed softly, a sound so quiet Freya could barely here him. "Thank you, Lady Freya. This...it will be much easier your support and understanding." Freya nodded once. Giving her a sad smile-one that she returned-Fratley released her, and she turned away, walking with a slow, steady pace. She did not look back, for which Fratley was grateful. If she had...if she had asked him once more to stay, he would not be able to leave. He was not quite sure of how he had been able to say no this time. He knew that Freya was confused. Fratley had not been able to tell her why he needed to leave Burmecia. Freya was a strong, independent woman. She would not believe that Fratley left in order to protect her, protect his kingdom. She would insist that she go with him to help him in his quest, and while Fratley knew she was one of the most powerful dragoons in the kingdom--the greatest, perhaps, discounting himself--, he would never bring her into a situation that she might not survive, let alone conquer. Or perhaps she would not believe him. After all, the world was at peace, had been so for years. What would Fratley need to protect? What could he defeat that was truly a danger to the kingdom, or Freya? She would be right. On the surface, at least, nothing was wrong with the world. Peace had reigned for years, broken only by occasional disputes, which were quickly resolved befor any real danger was posed. Yet Fratley was uneasy, restless. Something seemed... not _wrong_, perhaps, but held back--something subtle, an undercurrent of unrest, as though something terrible and awful would happen to Gaia itself. There was a feeling in the rustlings of the leaves in the wind, in the tremors of the earth, that hinted of some awesome power guiding everyone and everything to...somewhere... Fratley had thought over his course of action for a long time, wondering at the odd feeling of fear that was slowly building in his mind. Finally, he had decided find the root of his fears, destroy it before it became too strong to defeat. It did not matter if the fear was one in his mind or one that was tangible. When he was confident that there was no living being could best him, that he could protect Freya and his country from anything that might threaten it... ...only then would he return. -------- Fratley returned to his home to make the final preparations of his journey. He planned on leaving in the early afternoon; the gates were slow during that time and Fratley would waste little time passing through. During busy times of the day, getting through gate customs could take over an hour. Entering his house, Fratley ran a quick check to make sure everything was in place. He had given most of his valuables to either the King or his family; he had given most of his weapons and armor to Freya. The items he planned on bringing were neatly packed away and resting near the doorway. Giving his home one last lookover, his eyes lighted on a beaten wooden practice spear leaning in a corner by his bed. How strange that he could forget something that meant so much... -------- The training grounds of Burmecia were empty at this time of day. This morning the area had been full of young dragoon knights in training, each of them hoping to defeat the current champion among their number. They all had gone home disappointed. The young Fratley had easily won against every boy who challenged him. The "champion" was now taking a rest in a small shelter by the training grounds, idly watching the rain drizzle in soft clouds of moisture as he sipped from a dented tin cup. Streching, Fratley was astonished to see another youth entering the field, a wooden spear in his hand. Fratley sighed. He had fought a lot of kids this day; he did not relish the thought of another battle that would most likely prove to be one-sided. But a challenge was a challenge, and he couldn't refuse, unless he wanted to forfeit his superiority to some unknown traniee. Walking toward the youth, Fratley saw he had made a mistake. The challenger was a girl. He was mildly surprised. While it was not unheard of for women to become dragoons, most trained to become the dancers that were an integral part of Burmecian worship and culture. Few women could meet the requirements of becoming a dragoon knight, while few men could meet the requirements of a dancer. Thus, seeing a female dragoon or a male dancer was extremely rare. The girl was remarkably tall, nearly eye-to-eye with Fratley. She wore a plain white shirt and leather pants, the normal garb for a training dragoon. Her long blonde hair was worn loosely; a small clamp near the ends kept it from billowing out in the light breeze. Despite her dress and the practice spear at her side, something told Fratley that this girl had not been taught by conventional means. There was something unique in her stance; she held herself lightly, rocking slightly on the balls of her feet and her toes, as though she were preparing for a ballet recital, not a fight. The girl was slender, delicately shaped; her body seemed more suited to the flowing dances of the Cleryan people than the rigors of battle. Still, it was never smart to write off an opponent by apperance. The girl slowly turned to face Fratley. Her eyes were a deep, dark black, sparkling with the light of a thousand stars. The eyes captured him in their depths, ensnaring him, bringing him ever closer to their owner. "I have come to do battle with a man named Fratley." Her voice was soft and low, the murmur of a forest brook. "I am Fratley, and I accept your challenge. Your name?" "Freya." The girl raised the spear in front of her. "Shall we begin?" Fratley raised his own weapon. "Of course." Spinning his spear, Fratley lunged for his opponent. Freya jumped to the side, but Fratley had been expecting such a move and swung his spear in a wide arc. Freya brought up her spear, parrying the blow expertly.