The gray, stone-built mansion was so large, and so intricate in the details carved into the walls, and sewn into the banners of the front awning's pillars, that it could be mistaken for a full and true castle at a distance. And it often had been, which had, of course, been the intent. The field before the great building was so vast that it held room enough for a multi-chocobo stable, a small orchard of apple trees, and a personal vineyard. All enclosed within a near-towering wall of the same intricately carved and detailed stone, adorned with steel-forged spires that threatened to puncture the very sky.
The furnishings of the interior served well to compliment the grandiose exterior. A dining hall the size of a small house, furnished with tables and seats carved from the finest cypress and spruce. Artisan-sewn silk drapes of purple hung in the windows, while satin tablecloths of vermilion provided a resting place for crystal glassware and platters of meats, fruits, breads and tall bottles of wine.
Paintings of various sizes and mixes of colors lined the walls of a grand gallery, while sculptures of clay, stone and metal took up spots between the paintings. Smartly-dressed servers walked the gallery with trays of wine or hors d'oevres, stopping as needed for the various military officers in their dress uniforms, or aristocrats in their fine suits and gowns.
A very young looking hyur woman of flowing auburn hair, clad in a floor length, white dress of a wide, ruffled skirt and form-fitting bodice, stood to the side of a conversation between two men, one hyur and one elezen.
The silver-haired elezen was clad in a uniform of black slacks and knee-high boots polished to a shine, with a simple black jacket worn open over a red shirt. Two red stripes ran around the wrists on the jacket sleeves, and two small silver bars sat on the collar. The same uniform was seen on several other men gathered within the manor, though the symbols on the collars differed from man-to-man.
The hyur man stood about two heads taller than his female counterpart, with his long, dark hair neatly tied back, and his goatee properly trimmed. He wore a finely tailored white suit and matching dinner jacket, with dark eyes that shined with confidence as he spoke.
"So you see, lieutenant, by harnessing the power of the Eye of Nidhogg, we are able to turn the dragons' own grand powers against them through our dragoons. Add to that the dragoons' true faith in the path The Fury has laid out for us, and I assure you that there is no greater fighting force in the land. If you've been tapped to join their ranks, then I suggest you accept."
"Ah, but," the young woman interjected, "is it not true that dragoons' reliance on dragon magic makes them vulnerable to manipulation or intimidation by the dragons?"
"Is that right, Geoffrey?" the young lieutenant inquired.
Geoffrey slowly turned his gaze upon the girl at his side, his expression conveying only annoyance before he looked back to the elezen.
"Selah is correct that there have been anecdotes over the generations about such things. However, I think you will find that if you properly research these claims for yourself, then it is nothing more than rumor or tearful tales crafted by those who could not make it in the dragoons' ranks."
The young lieutenant nodded in interest as he sipped his wine.
"Ah, but If you will excuse me, there is something I just remembered that I need to discuss with my wife." Geoffrey explained.
The lieutenant gave a half bow and turned away as Geoffrey firmly grabbed Selah's arm. He led her at a brisk pace away from the crowd, and out of the art gallery.
They rounded the corner, and the man paused to look around. Satisfied that none were immediately nearby, he shoved Selah against the wall and leaned in close, his face stopping an inch from hers. His eyes burned with anger as he grit his teeth.
"What did I tell you about speaking out of turn, girl? Especially when it makes it look like we are not of the same mind?"
Fear filled Selah's eyes as she carefully examined the man. She opened her mouth to offer an explanation, but he quickly covered her lips with his palm as his other hand found her hair. He wrapped her locks around his fist and pulled hard enough that it threatened to rip the hair from her scalp. He firmly pressed his hand over her mouth as she began to whimper.
"Make any noise, and I will see to it that the exceptionally generous stipend I send to that gutter-trash you call a family ceases."
Selah choked back the whimpers, her eyes tearing up as she began to tremble.
"You know that if you would not make me angry, then this wouldn't need to happen."
After a long, and painful moment, she slowly nodded, and Geoffrey relinquished his grasp on her.
"Good girl. Now, you're going to apologize to me properly. Go upstairs and ready yourself. I want you in the black nightgown this time."
She wordlessly nodded and hurried away. As she began the hike up the great and winding stairwell, her mind began to wander. Maybe Geoffrey was right. Maybe it was her fault. She would remember to not make him angry in the future.
Breathlessness, weakness in the legs, and a churning in the stomach. It was like being kicked in the gut, to hear her mother speak those words. Selah tried to protest, but the words kept dying in her throat. She felt dizzy, and weak, and was torn between the desperate need to flee, and the enraged reaction to lash out.
Paintings of various sizes and mixes of colors lined the walls of a grand gallery, while sculptures of clay, stone and metal took up spots between the paintings. Smartly-dressed servers walked the gallery with trays of wine or hors d'oevres, stopping as needed for the various military officers in their dress uniforms, or aristocrats in their fine suits and gowns.
A very young looking hyur woman of flowing auburn hair, clad in a floor length, white dress of a wide, ruffled skirt and form-fitting bodice, stood to the side of a conversation between two men, one hyur and one elezen.
The silver-haired elezen was clad in a uniform of black slacks and knee-high boots polished to a shine, with a simple black jacket worn open over a red shirt. Two red stripes ran around the wrists on the jacket sleeves, and two small silver bars sat on the collar. The same uniform was seen on several other men gathered within the manor, though the symbols on the collars differed from man-to-man.
The hyur man stood about two heads taller than his female counterpart, with his long, dark hair neatly tied back, and his goatee properly trimmed. He wore a finely tailored white suit and matching dinner jacket, with dark eyes that shined with confidence as he spoke.
"So you see, lieutenant, by harnessing the power of the Eye of Nidhogg, we are able to turn the dragons' own grand powers against them through our dragoons. Add to that the dragoons' true faith in the path The Fury has laid out for us, and I assure you that there is no greater fighting force in the land. If you've been tapped to join their ranks, then I suggest you accept."
"Ah, but," the young woman interjected, "is it not true that dragoons' reliance on dragon magic makes them vulnerable to manipulation or intimidation by the dragons?"
"Is that right, Geoffrey?" the young lieutenant inquired.
Geoffrey slowly turned his gaze upon the girl at his side, his expression conveying only annoyance before he looked back to the elezen.
"Selah is correct that there have been anecdotes over the generations about such things. However, I think you will find that if you properly research these claims for yourself, then it is nothing more than rumor or tearful tales crafted by those who could not make it in the dragoons' ranks."
The young lieutenant nodded in interest as he sipped his wine.
"Ah, but If you will excuse me, there is something I just remembered that I need to discuss with my wife." Geoffrey explained.
The lieutenant gave a half bow and turned away as Geoffrey firmly grabbed Selah's arm. He led her at a brisk pace away from the crowd, and out of the art gallery.
They rounded the corner, and the man paused to look around. Satisfied that none were immediately nearby, he shoved Selah against the wall and leaned in close, his face stopping an inch from hers. His eyes burned with anger as he grit his teeth.
"What did I tell you about speaking out of turn, girl? Especially when it makes it look like we are not of the same mind?"
Fear filled Selah's eyes as she carefully examined the man. She opened her mouth to offer an explanation, but he quickly covered her lips with his palm as his other hand found her hair. He wrapped her locks around his fist and pulled hard enough that it threatened to rip the hair from her scalp. He firmly pressed his hand over her mouth as she began to whimper.
"Make any noise, and I will see to it that the exceptionally generous stipend I send to that gutter-trash you call a family ceases."
Selah choked back the whimpers, her eyes tearing up as she began to tremble.
"You know that if you would not make me angry, then this wouldn't need to happen."
After a long, and painful moment, she slowly nodded, and Geoffrey relinquished his grasp on her.
"Good girl. Now, you're going to apologize to me properly. Go upstairs and ready yourself. I want you in the black nightgown this time."
She wordlessly nodded and hurried away. As she began the hike up the great and winding stairwell, her mind began to wander. Maybe Geoffrey was right. Maybe it was her fault. She would remember to not make him angry in the future.
Breathlessness, weakness in the legs, and a churning in the stomach. It was like being kicked in the gut, to hear her mother speak those words. Selah tried to protest, but the words kept dying in her throat. She felt dizzy, and weak, and was torn between the desperate need to flee, and the enraged reaction to lash out.
Stay dead, damn you! Why couldn't you just stay dead? I was free... I was finally free. Even the nightmares were fading. Even the guilt and shame you forced on me... gone, or so nearly gone I hardly felt them any more. Even the fear, waking in the dark hours before sunrise... that you might return, might still, somehow, be able to reach me. The skull-eyed leer, the skeletal grip of your hand. Just die. Stay dead, and dissolve into aether. Just go away.
As she stumbled back, she felt the strong warmth of her bride's arms supporting her. At least she knew the loyal miqo'te would always stand with her.
Ginal had no idea what to say, or do, or think, or feel, or how to react. She felt utterly dumbfounded, and nothing that was a normal reaction for her seemed even remotely appropriate in this moment.
That scared her.
And after a lifetime of secretly dreaming of the day when she could call herself wife to a woman of beauty, grace, and strength, she now faced the fact that her honeymoon had been ruined.
That frustrated her.
Now, she stood facing the very mother of her wife who threw her own daughter to abandonment, for simply being with another woman. And this same woman now happily stood before them to bring news that Selah's husband might still be alive. The same man who made her wife's early life miserable, a living nightmare of abuse and comfortable imprisonment.
That didn't just make Ginal angry. It pissed her the gods-damned-seven-fucking-hells-off!
And even though she wanted nothing more than to wipe that beaming smile off the older woman's face with her fist, she refrained. She willed the heart that thundered in her chest to slow. She forced her breathing into a steady rythym. She forced the red that was consuming her vision aside.
Then she just stood there, holding her wife steady as the tide continued to roll over their feet.
"He's dead." Selah insisted. "Dead, do you hear me? He died at Carteneau. His whole unit did!"
The dragoon regained her footing and stepped up to her mother, her eyes both angry and desperate.
"Do you hear me, Charlotte? Geoffrey is DEAD!"
Charlotte frowned at the outburst. "Young lady, I'm still your mother, no matter how old you are. You WILL speak to me as such."
Selah replied with an exasperated sigh, gritting her teeth as her breaths came in ragged bursts.
"Now, yes," Charlotte continued, "we did think he had died. But I recently received this letter which explains what happened."
Charlotte pulled a folded letter from her skirt pocket and handed it to her daughter. Selah turned pale when she saw the imprint of what she recognized as Geoffrey's family signet in a wax seal on the folded paper. Her heart stopped and a cold sweat took hold as she stared at the seal.
"Now, yes," Charlotte continued, "we did think he had died. But I recently received this letter which explains what happened."
Charlotte pulled a folded letter from her skirt pocket and handed it to her daughter. Selah turned pale when she saw the imprint of what she recognized as Geoffrey's family signet in a wax seal on the folded paper. Her heart stopped and a cold sweat took hold as she stared at the seal.
Selah forced herself to open the parchment and begin reading.
"To the family of Selah Phocina,
My name is Burnished Snow, I am a healer employed by the Adventurer's Guild of Revenant's Toll.
For several years, I have a had a man in my care whose body was pulled from the devastation at Carteneau. He has been physically broken, and until now had no memory of who he was before the war. Recently, however, he has begun to speak of a wife he left behind, and while he has been quiet on the details, he has made it clear that he wishes to make amends for being, as he said, "less than an ideal husband."
I am unsure how to locate Geoffrey's wife, as rumor among the Adventurer's Guild is that she is often on the move. It is my hope that we may reunite this broken couple, so I hope this letter finds you well and timely.
-Burnished Snow"
With a sharp laugh, Selah tossed the letter over her shoulder and shook her head. Ginal eagerly caught the missive as it fluttered and read it over herself, her ears twitching and tail sharply swishing as she read.
"Not the Geoffrey I knew." Selah matter-of-factly stated. "Not a chance in all the hells that it's him. It's some kind of con."
"Don't dismiss the idea so quickly." Charlotte urged. "If it is Geoffrey, and if he does seek to make amends for...some of the hardship...isn't it worth going to see him?"
"Absolutely not!" Ginal chimed in. She stepped forward to stand alongside her wife, furiously shaking her head at the entire situation. "Nobody needs to go anywhere, to see anyone. Selah and I are staying right here."
The older woman suspiciously eyed over the miqo'te. "And...you are...?"
"I'm her wife!"
Chalotte grimaced at the answer as she slowly looked between the two. "I...see."
"And what in the hells is that supposed to mean?" the miqo'te bristled at the statement, her tail rising to confirm her growing agitation.
"To the family of Selah Phocina,
My name is Burnished Snow, I am a healer employed by the Adventurer's Guild of Revenant's Toll.
For several years, I have a had a man in my care whose body was pulled from the devastation at Carteneau. He has been physically broken, and until now had no memory of who he was before the war. Recently, however, he has begun to speak of a wife he left behind, and while he has been quiet on the details, he has made it clear that he wishes to make amends for being, as he said, "less than an ideal husband."
I am unsure how to locate Geoffrey's wife, as rumor among the Adventurer's Guild is that she is often on the move. It is my hope that we may reunite this broken couple, so I hope this letter finds you well and timely.
-Burnished Snow"
With a sharp laugh, Selah tossed the letter over her shoulder and shook her head. Ginal eagerly caught the missive as it fluttered and read it over herself, her ears twitching and tail sharply swishing as she read.
"Not the Geoffrey I knew." Selah matter-of-factly stated. "Not a chance in all the hells that it's him. It's some kind of con."
"Don't dismiss the idea so quickly." Charlotte urged. "If it is Geoffrey, and if he does seek to make amends for...some of the hardship...isn't it worth going to see him?"
"Absolutely not!" Ginal chimed in. She stepped forward to stand alongside her wife, furiously shaking her head at the entire situation. "Nobody needs to go anywhere, to see anyone. Selah and I are staying right here."
The older woman suspiciously eyed over the miqo'te. "And...you are...?"
"I'm her wife!"
Chalotte grimaced at the answer as she slowly looked between the two. "I...see."
"And what in the hells is that supposed to mean?" the miqo'te bristled at the statement, her tail rising to confirm her growing agitation.
Charlotte sighed heavily. She set her hands on her hips and locked eyes with Ginal. "It means that when I saw you two rolling in the sand like beasts, I was disheartened to learn that Selah still hasn't grown out of this..."
"Stop it, both of you." Selah commanded. The dragoon turned to her beloved and offered a pleading smile, before straightening her posture as she again faced her mother. "Approve or not, Mother, Ginal is my wife, legally and spiritually."
Charlotte threw her hands above her head, clearly frustrated with the entire unfolding exchange. "Fine, then. But legality may be a problem for you, dear. Our nation is part of the Eorzean Alliance, and part of that means that Ishgsrdian bondings are recognized equally. If it is Geoffrey in Revenant's Toll, then your...bonding, here...isn't legal."
"Stop it, both of you." Selah commanded. The dragoon turned to her beloved and offered a pleading smile, before straightening her posture as she again faced her mother. "Approve or not, Mother, Ginal is my wife, legally and spiritually."
Charlotte threw her hands above her head, clearly frustrated with the entire unfolding exchange. "Fine, then. But legality may be a problem for you, dear. Our nation is part of the Eorzean Alliance, and part of that means that Ishgsrdian bondings are recognized equally. If it is Geoffrey in Revenant's Toll, then your...bonding, here...isn't legal."
The truth of the words left Selah speechless.
She looked down at her beloved Kitten. This woman of the most wonderfully unique physicality, passion and beauty. Resourceful and prideful, deadly and blissfully imperfect. This most wonderful young woman who had grown so much in just a year of her life, and whom Selah was always so proud of, and proud of herself for finding the courage to let into her heart.
This bonding, the kind she had truly wish for as a young girl, may be entirely invalid.
You always did like to fuck me in the ass, Geoff.
The dragoon grit her teeth and closed her eyes. She knew what she needed to do. The one thing she had prayed desperately she would never have to do again. She looked to the pools of emerald that were Ginal's eyes. The way they shined so brilliantly, like they faintly glowed, was eternally unfair for Selah's heart.
"Kitten...I have to go to Revenant's Toll."
"No. No, absolutely not!" Ginal firmly stated.
The miqo'te looked up at her wife with a desperate plea in her eyes. She grabbed Selah's hands and wrapped her tail around the hyur's leg.
"You said it yourself, he's got to be dead. There were so few survivors of that battle, he's certainly got to be gone. You're free from him, Selah!"
Nophica, please...Selah's tried to be your faithful daughter, don't forsake her...let her be free!
"Ginal..." Selah squeezed the miqo'te's hands, "I need to go, and I need to put all this to rest."
Ginal's tail unwrapped itself and sharply flicked about. Charlotte seemed content to let the brides sort out the rest for themselves, as she stood off to the side and stared at nothing in particular.
"I don't want to see you get caught up in the pain of your past, Selah. I want you to be free of it all, and for it to just be you and me!"
"I know, Kitten, but clearly the past has already caught up to me to some degree."
The miqo'te's ears folded down as she looked into her darling wife's eyes. It was always unfair, to Ginal, how she felt like she was drowning in pools of glowing sapphire waters.
"Selah...as...as your wife, I'm telling you, you CAN'T go."
The hyur frowned, and released her bride's hands. She leaned in close, her eyes now narrowed in anger, "And as YOUR wife, I'm telling you that you don't OWN me."
Ginal recoiled as if she had been slapped. To hear the words spat so harshly hurt her, and the accusation that she was somehow treating the only woman she'd ever loved as property made her want to cry like a child. Selah seemed to realize the error, but the miqo'te turned away to deny her a chance to apologize.
"Am I not good enough?"
Selah gave a frustrated sigh, "It's not about you, Ginal, it's about..."
The miqo'te didn't think about it. She didn't plan to do it. She couldn't stop it from happening. Red clouded her vision as her heart thundered in her ears, and she turned on her heel to bring her palm across her wife's face.
A sharp pain across her face, that gave way to an ongoing heat. Selah didn't know what to say, or think, or feel, or do. No matter how angry Ginal had ever been, she had never gotten violent with her before. It was something she never expected. Something that brought a terrible memory to the surface.
Selah never believed she'd feel honestly feel afraid of her own beloved.
"Go, then, if it's so damned important to you!" Ginal angrily spat. "But if you end up conned, or hurt, or miserable, or...or whatever, then don't come back crying to me!"
The miqo'te again turned away. The shock and fear began to fade as Selah watched her bride. It was a reaction, the hyur knew, to the passionate way Ginal always experienced her emotions. She didn't want to hold it again the miqo'te.
Even with her back turned, Selah could tell her wife was struggling to not cry. It was the way her ears folded down, and her tail hung limp. The way her shoulders drooped, and the shuddering of her body.
And it made the hyur feel like a pile of chocobo shit.
Did the miqo'te mean to never come back at all, or simply that she'd say "I told you so" when she did? Was this the end of a beautiful week of bonded life, or just another quarrel they'd figure out how to overcome? Selah didn't have the answer. She just knew that, with or without her wife's support, she needed to put this ghost of her past to rest.
Her jaw hung open as she tried to find something to say, but she failed miserably.
She looked down at her beloved Kitten. This woman of the most wonderfully unique physicality, passion and beauty. Resourceful and prideful, deadly and blissfully imperfect. This most wonderful young woman who had grown so much in just a year of her life, and whom Selah was always so proud of, and proud of herself for finding the courage to let into her heart.
This bonding, the kind she had truly wish for as a young girl, may be entirely invalid.
You always did like to fuck me in the ass, Geoff.
The dragoon grit her teeth and closed her eyes. She knew what she needed to do. The one thing she had prayed desperately she would never have to do again. She looked to the pools of emerald that were Ginal's eyes. The way they shined so brilliantly, like they faintly glowed, was eternally unfair for Selah's heart.
"Kitten...I have to go to Revenant's Toll."
"No. No, absolutely not!" Ginal firmly stated.
The miqo'te looked up at her wife with a desperate plea in her eyes. She grabbed Selah's hands and wrapped her tail around the hyur's leg.
"You said it yourself, he's got to be dead. There were so few survivors of that battle, he's certainly got to be gone. You're free from him, Selah!"
Nophica, please...Selah's tried to be your faithful daughter, don't forsake her...let her be free!
"Ginal..." Selah squeezed the miqo'te's hands, "I need to go, and I need to put all this to rest."
Ginal's tail unwrapped itself and sharply flicked about. Charlotte seemed content to let the brides sort out the rest for themselves, as she stood off to the side and stared at nothing in particular.
"I don't want to see you get caught up in the pain of your past, Selah. I want you to be free of it all, and for it to just be you and me!"
"I know, Kitten, but clearly the past has already caught up to me to some degree."
The miqo'te's ears folded down as she looked into her darling wife's eyes. It was always unfair, to Ginal, how she felt like she was drowning in pools of glowing sapphire waters.
"Selah...as...as your wife, I'm telling you, you CAN'T go."
The hyur frowned, and released her bride's hands. She leaned in close, her eyes now narrowed in anger, "And as YOUR wife, I'm telling you that you don't OWN me."
Ginal recoiled as if she had been slapped. To hear the words spat so harshly hurt her, and the accusation that she was somehow treating the only woman she'd ever loved as property made her want to cry like a child. Selah seemed to realize the error, but the miqo'te turned away to deny her a chance to apologize.
"Am I not good enough?"
Selah gave a frustrated sigh, "It's not about you, Ginal, it's about..."
The miqo'te didn't think about it. She didn't plan to do it. She couldn't stop it from happening. Red clouded her vision as her heart thundered in her ears, and she turned on her heel to bring her palm across her wife's face.
A sharp pain across her face, that gave way to an ongoing heat. Selah didn't know what to say, or think, or feel, or do. No matter how angry Ginal had ever been, she had never gotten violent with her before. It was something she never expected. Something that brought a terrible memory to the surface.
Selah never believed she'd feel honestly feel afraid of her own beloved.
"Go, then, if it's so damned important to you!" Ginal angrily spat. "But if you end up conned, or hurt, or miserable, or...or whatever, then don't come back crying to me!"
The miqo'te again turned away. The shock and fear began to fade as Selah watched her bride. It was a reaction, the hyur knew, to the passionate way Ginal always experienced her emotions. She didn't want to hold it again the miqo'te.
Even with her back turned, Selah could tell her wife was struggling to not cry. It was the way her ears folded down, and her tail hung limp. The way her shoulders drooped, and the shuddering of her body.
And it made the hyur feel like a pile of chocobo shit.
Did the miqo'te mean to never come back at all, or simply that she'd say "I told you so" when she did? Was this the end of a beautiful week of bonded life, or just another quarrel they'd figure out how to overcome? Selah didn't have the answer. She just knew that, with or without her wife's support, she needed to put this ghost of her past to rest.
Her jaw hung open as she tried to find something to say, but she failed miserably.
"I need to get ready, Mother."
"Of course, dear."
Ginal didn't turn around, or say anything else. She simply stood in the wet sand.
And not even her lovely, toned and tight frame, dressed down in that eye opening green bikini, highlighted by the gorgeous red and orange sunset could make her feel anything other than miserable.
Don't you know that I could never hurt you...
The song Selah had sang echoed through Ginal's heart, but right now, she felt very damned hurt. It was supposed to be Selah and Ginal, standing together against Eorzea, for all time! An unbreakable union, forged from trust, tempered in love, and sheathed in burning lust.
But that union seemed very breakable right now, and the miqo'te felt torn between breaking things in a screaming fit, and falling to her knees in a sobbing mess. So she split the difference and stood there, listening to her wife walk away as she whimpered out a handful of tears.
Why did Selah need to confront this so badly? Why couldn't she just leave it alone, and live free from that past life?
And was Ginal making a terrible mistake by not going with her? Did she just turn a fixable argument into a life-wrecking decision? Ginal had no idea what to think, or feel, or say, or do.
So she stood in the fading orange and red of sunset, whimpering and defeated.
