Everheart: Chapter 8

The amalj'aa warrior stood before the table, and watched as the emerald and sapphire cards slowly slid apart from each other.  The card that held the image of the shield flanked by lions sat defiantly between them.  The warrior's face twisted into a cruel smile as the low light of the room's candles gleamed off his shining breastplate.

"Their bond is breaking." he stated with a satisfied grunt.

The Lady, her flowing white gown continuing to dance with an unseen breeze, slowly nodded.  "Yes, but they are not yet broken apart.  Make them live apart, and through adversity, and their bond should completely shatter."

With a guttural chortle, the Warrior slapped his palms on the table.  "They may be more like real people than we give them credit for.  We apply unforeseen pressures, and they fall on old habits!"

The elezen's slight smile turned down in a thoughtful frown.  "A pity, too.  They had made such strides in learning to live together again.  They were becoming genuinely considerate and communicative."  She looked to her companion with a quirked brow.  "Perhaps they have become people?  You are correct about people succumbing to old habits when under duress."

"People or not, Amani and Serafine should have surrendered themselves to our judgment in their first life.  We did not wish to see our champion tormented so, but we can not allow this blatant disregard of our will to continue."

"Nor can we, from our champion." the Lady agreed.

The Warrior extended his hand, and the top card of the deck floated up, and rested beneath the emerald card.  It flipped over, to reveal an image of an aetheryte tower.

"Emera is still the weaker of them." he insisted.  "Now that they will be apart, she can be killed, and we will make Sapphine live alone."

The Lady softly shook her head.  "Truly, we do not relish this.  But they must both pay for their betrayal to their masters."

"Our will be done!"

The early morning sky was beginning its change from black to dark blue, as the sun began its slow rise.  Ginal maundered down the paved path that wound its way through The Goblet, her head held low and her tail dangling limply.  She passed by other, smaller, stone carved homes, and was aware of a lalafellan couple jogging past.  She had no words to answer their cheery greeting.

"As your wife, I'm telling you, you CAN'T go!"

"And as YOUR wife, I'm telling you, you don't OWN me!"

She winced as the words echoed in her heart.

 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.

"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 realized she had reached the archway into the yard of her free company's manor.  She stood there, in the dark blue of pending dawn, and found she could step no further towards the home of her mercenary friends.

They'd ask where Selah was.  Her heart began to race.  They'd ask what happened.  Her chest felt tight.  They'd ask what was going to happen next.  Sweat beaded on her forehead.  She dropped her travel bag and backed away.  The front door of the manor slowly opened, and she heard two or three voices chattering happily with each other.  She couldn't immediately place who she saw strolling out into the yard, but they recognized her.

"Oh, Gin!  Welcome back!  Rested I hope?" a woman's voice, young.

"Did you two lovely ladies get plenty of quality time together out there?" a man's voice, spoken in a jesting tone.

Ginal wished her eyes weren't so blurry from the tears, so she could have identified who was speaking.  But she couldn't, nor could she stand to be here any longer.  She turned and ran, down the stone streets, into the blue of morning.  She ran and ran, only barely seeing where she was going, until fortune seemed to smile briefly on her, and she stumbled upon an aetheryte crystal.  She set her hands on the knee-high construct, closed her eyes, and wished herself to be in the last place she felt was safe.



She felt the world twist and bend around her, and a sensation of weightlessness.  It felt like her very form twisted and broke apart, until it ceased to exist, and all she could hear or see, was black.  Finally, a hum gradually grew louder, and spots of color began to dot the black nothing before her.  Blurry shapes manifested around her, and the world slowly swirled into existence.

The miqo'te stood upon the deck of Gridania's aetheryte tower.

Ginal's trembling and breathing began to slow, "Could you really be with someone like me?"

Selah smiled a soft, genuine and loving smile, "Of course I could."

She felt dizzy, and weak, as she she tried to step forward.

The proprietress smiled knowingly and gave Ginal's hand another squeeze, "Trust when I say, that I have every confidence in Selah's capacity for loyalty.  As well, I firmly believe that you two will be very, very good for each other."  

She wiped at her blurry eyes as her stomach turned over, and she reached the deck railing after stumbling into other passersby coming from and going into the Aethernet.  Words, images, and even smells tore through her mind at a speed that disoriented her.  Her chest felt tight, and her breath came in short, sharp bursts.

"Ginal...let's make this official.  Move in with me."

The lancer hesitated as she studied her lover.  "What if I drop my boots on the bed?"

"Then you can change the sheets."

"And if I put your books in the wrong spot?"

"Then you can arrange them properly."

The redhead again hesitated, "And what if we have an argument?"

"Then we'll talk about it, after we cool down, and figure out what we could have done better."

Ginal smiled brightly a she sat up and hugged her dragoon.

"I love you, my Lady."

"I love you, my Kitten."

Her stomach's protest reached its peak, and she lost her most recent meal over the railing.    Her trembling hands released her lance from the strap that harnessed it to her back, and tried to use its leverage to steady herself.  Try as she might, Ginal simply didn't have the strength to stand, and she collapsed to the deck.

"Is she okay?"

"Someone get a healer!"

The miqo'te heard the shouts, and wanted to protest aide, but she couldn't focus enough to find the speakers.  Her head spun, her heart thundered in her ears, her vision was unfocused.  She reached for her steel-crafted lance, desperately seeking its comfort and support.

"Lass, you alright?"

Ginal felt a hand on her shoulder, and could see the shape of the person trying to help her, but the world was losing focus as her breaths came in ragged bursts.  With all the strength she had left, she managed to push herself to her knees, and looked up to her helper.

"Ywain...I need to see Ywain..."

The world faded to black before Ginal felt herself slump over.



The journey by ferry from Costa del Sol to Limsa Lominsa was only about a day's ride, but for Selah, it felt like a week had passed.  She found herself a spot on the deck, by the railing that overlooked the sea itself, and hadn't budged.  Her heart was heavy, and her very soul ached.

Selah hadn't said anything all day, nor had she eaten when her mother offered meals.  She simply stood there, as gulls called to each other overhead, watching the waters and thinking of how the blue-green of the sea reminded her of Ginal.

My Kitten...

The sun was beginning to set, but it would be at least a few hours more until they docked at Limsa Lominsa.  

"Selah, dear, you must be hungry." Charlotte stated as she came up behind her daughter.  "Come down to the cabin and eat something."

The mother had changed into a long, gray tunic and matching pants, which seemed to highlight the callouses on her hands, and the lines under her eyes.  By no means an unattractive woman, but she had clearly spent her life at honest labor, and gray didn't flatter that fact.

Selah simply shook her head, continuing to gaze out at the waters that stretched on before her.  Charlotte looked away as a glint of sadness appeared in her eyes.  "You...really love her, don't you?"

The daughter stood silent as her shoulders slumped.  She turned to her mother with a thin stream of tears down each cheek.  "What do you think?"

The mother replied with a soft sigh as she shook her head.  "I don't know why it was so important to me to come find you...but I'm really beginning to wish I hadn't."

"So do I."  Selah turned back to the sea.

Charlotte opened her mouth to speak, but no sounds crossed her lips.  She reached for her daughter's shoulder, but stopped short, and withdrew.  She again tried to speak, and her voice cracked as she choked on her own words.

"Haven't you said enough?" Selah sharply asked.

The mother pursed her lips for a moment before she silently nodded, then turned and walked away.  Selah hung her head and mentally scolded herself.  She knew her mother was trying to talk to her, maybe even trying to make amends to some degree, but for the life of her Selah couldn't stand the thought of really engaging with her mother.  Not now, not after all the things her mother had pushed her into.

She was even willing to blame Charlotte for her separation from her wife.  If she hadn't shown up with that damned letter, this wouldn't have happened.  Selah would never have known, and she would have been free from Geoffrey's shadow, and could have just lived the life she wanted with her beloved.

If it weren't for her mother, Selah could have been happy.

It took a moment before Selah realized she was crying.  The thin streams under her eyes now looked like miniature forking rivers, and her eyes were so blurry that she could barely see.  She stood from her stooping and pulled a cloth from her pocket to wipe her eyes and nose.

"Selah?"

It was a familiar voice, young and with a seemingly permanent cheery lilt.  She looked uo to see a raven-haired hyur girl, clad in simple outfit of ankle-high boots, a simple halter and knee-length skirt, all black.

"Ozalie!"

She wiped at her eyes again in a desperate attempt to make herself presentable, but to seemingly no avail.  Ozalie moved in close, her head tilted as she gauged the dragoon with worried eyes.

"Gods be good, Selah, I've haven't seen you like this since...well, since some very bad things were happening.  What's wrong?  And where's Ginal?"

Selah bit her lip and looked away.  How could she explain in a way her friend would understand?  Could she even explain in a way she could make herself understand?  Her brow furrowed in frustration as she tried to say something, but each word she began to form felt improper, and so she said nothing.

"Tim's down in our cabin." Ozalie explained.  "Why don't you come with me and we'll all talk about this?"

What choice was there?  Selah could decline, but she knew Ozalie wouldn't accept that answer.  This was the curse of having friends.  The true ones had a bothersome habit of refusing to leave you alone when you were in a crisis.

Bless them for it.

Selah nodded and, after wiping her tears away again, slowly followed after her friend.



Ginal stretched and sighed, then finally opened her eyes.  She felt groggy and disoriented as she forced herself to sit up on the strange bed in an unknown room.

"Feeling better?" asked the fatherly voice of Guildmaster Ywain.

She shook her head, "Not really."

Ywain moved from his small desk and sat on the bed's edge.  His calm but piercing eyes locked with hers, and she couldn't help but feel that he knew more than he was letting on.

"What happened?  Where's Selah?"

The miqo'te could only close her eyes and hang her head.  As she felt the fading light of day through the small room's window, she felt terrible for choosing to not stand with her wife.  And yet, she still felt betrayed that Selah would so easily leave her behind in persuit of something that they could have easily lived away from.

He rested a hand on her knee, and when she looked up at him, he tilted his head toward the door. "Come."

Ginal followed the Guildmaster out of his quarters, and into the Lancer's Guildhall proper.  There were still a handful of trainees and Wood Wailers about, sharpening their lances and practicing their forms.  She recognized two or three of the people present, up-and-comers who had trained alongside her months ago.  It would seem she and Selah truly were the prodigal students whispers spoke of.

"Everyone." Ywain's calm-yet-stern voice echoed through the guildhall, and all present turned their attention to him.  "I'm declaring the guildhall closed for the next two hours.  Return later."

Nobody spoke up to protest or beg for more time, and the hall was empty within moments.  Ywain took a lance from one of the weapon racks and tossed it to his former pupil.  The miqo'te recognized the weapon immediately, the finely forged steel lance her beloved had gifted her months ago.  The Guildmaster then brandished a bone-carved lance of his own, and beckoned Ginal to the training ring.

"Ywain...what is this about?"

"If you cannot find the words, then your lance will help you speak."

He dropped into a low stance and quickly lunged forward.  Ginal twirled her lance before her to deflect the attack, but the Guildmaster shifted his weight back to withdraw, and swept the blunt end of his weapon toward her legs.  She was too focused on defending her front, and was brought down on her back with a heavy "thud."  Her eyes went wide as the lance blade pressed to her throat.

"You are distracted and confused." Ywain stated.

He withdrew the weapon and offered her a hand.  The miqo'te rose to her feet, and silently nodded as the hyur resumed his position opposite her, weapon forward.

"Where is Selah?"

Ginal grimmaced as her heart began to pound.  She gripped her lance tight and charged forward, thrusting forward with all her strength and an angry shout.

"She abandoned me!"

The hyur deflected the attack with his lance-shaft and knocked her back, then twirled his weapon overhead and swung it as a long sword.

"That can't be true, Ginal."

Ginal instinctively moved to tumble backwards, her foot nearly catching on her long skirt.  The landing was unsteady and she stumbled in regaining her footing as Ywain strode toward her, twirling his lance before turning his back to her in a backwards thrust.  She sidestepped and swung her own blunt end for his legs, but the Guildmaster twirled away.

She gripped her lance so tight that her knuckles were beginning to ache.  Her heart thundered in her ears, and the edges of her vision began to turn red.  A growl escaped her throat as she narrowed her eyes on her opponent, her ears and tail twitching wildly in agitation.

"She did!  She Gods damned did!"

The miqo'te hefted her lance over her shoulder and threw with all her might.  The weapon sped past Ywain's ear and planted itself into the wall, as the hyur stood silent and stoic.  Ginal punched and swiped at the air around her, growling and shouting.  She found herself right before the wall, and beat her fist against it as she slumped into it.

"Selah left me behind..." the miqo'te's voice began to crack as her eyes began to well.

Twain came to his student's side, a hand gently placed on her shoulder. "Come, let's go see Miounne."

As Ginal looked up at the Guildmaster, and thought of the mentioned proprietress, she allowed herself a slight smile.  This must have qualified as the "tough love" she had heard of parents giving to their children.

She was glad to have a father like Ywain.



"Did you, at any point, actually explain to Ginal why you needed to go Revenant's Toll?" Timothy inquired.  "Or at least, did you tell her why you need her to stand with you?"

Sitting in a simple wooden chair at the small table, Selah hung her head in her hands as the question stung her heart.  She never tried to explain anything, aside from a simple "because I said so" approach.

"No..."

"But you asked her what she felt about it all, right?" Ozalie asked.

"...No."

"Well, shit." Ozalie declared, turning away in annoyance.

"Quite so." The elezen agreed.  "Selah, what happened to you two?  I thought your communication problem was resolved after that incident with the Cancer monster?"

Selah sighed as she sat up, and looked around the small cabin.  It wasn't much of a cabin at all, with only barely the room for the small bed, small table and two chairs, and bedside nightstand to round it out.  Candlelight danced along the walls as Timothy, ever dressed in finely tailored black and white suit, stood slightly hunched against the wall.

"I don't know, Tim.  It was just...when I felt the pressure of everything on me, I just clammed up.  All I could find in me to say was that I was going."

She gazed down at the rose-gold ring on her finger, and felt an ache tear through her soul as her heart began to race.  "Oh, gods...what did I do?"

Ozalie reached for her friend's shoulder. "Do you have a linkpearl to talk to her through?"

"No, we took them out before we went on our honeymoon."

Timothy laughed softly. "Did I not tell you to never leave your linkpearl?"

"Heh...so you did."

"I still think you should turn around and go find her," Ozalie began. "But since I know how important this is to you, at least promise me you'll write her a letter as soon as you're able?  Apologize, explain, and the Twelve's sake, make sure she knows you love her."

A ringing echoed through the small ship, as the deck bell announced their arrival at port.  The three friends sat silent for a moment, then Selah embraced her friend.

"You're exactly right Ozalie.  Thank you."

"Of course I am!" Ozalie replied with a laugh as she returned the hug.

Selah stood and looked to Timothy and accepted a farewell hug he was offering as well, "And thank you, Tim."  She stepped away from her friends and shook her head in disbelief, "I have been such an idiot."

Timothy nodded his head as he laughed, "It amazes me that you two keep falling into these moods where you think that you are better off apart."

She had no response.  She knew it was, plainly, stupid that this happened again.  Just a little pressure from something they hadn't counted on, and they crumbled.

Gods I can get so wrapped up in stupid shit.

"I almost forgot!" Tim declared.  "I received your letter, and I researched the name Everheart."

Selah turned back, her face fully displaying her interest in the elezen's findings.

"I regret to say that there is little information available, and most of that is located within the Sultanate's Royal Museum's closed archives.  Fortunately for you, I have friends in high places."  A grin stretched across his face, and it was obvious he was very pleased with himself.

"Sometimes you're full of yourself, you know that?" Ozalie jested with a smirk.

The dragoon gestured for her friend to continue, eyes wide with anticipation.

Timothy nodded.  "Of course.  The Everheart Circlets belonged to warriors of a past astral era, named Serafine and Amani, a bonded couple.  The circlets were forged to be similar to the Eternity Rings of old legends, in that the gemstones fixed into the circlets were actually merged with small pieces of aetheryte, and then linked together."

Selah absently nodded as she listened.  Somehow it felt like she already knew these things.

"Serafine...was a miqo'te swordswoman, and Amani was an elezen mage."

Timothy looked to his friend in confusion.  "How did you know that?"

"I...don't know."

A hard pounding on the cabin door, and one of the ship's crew could be heard calling to them.  "All passengers off!  We've arrived in Limsa Lominsa!"

The elezen took Ozalie's hand to help her up, kissing it as she rose.

"I need to be on my way." Selah stated.  "I've got a lot to get to."  She paused as she opened the cabin door, and looked back to her friends.  "Thank you, for everything." 

She moved on to find her mother and bird.  The road wound ever ahead.

Everheart: Chapter 7

The moon shone brightly in the cloudless midnight sky, as the warm reds and cool blues of the glowing coral could be seen through the glass clear waters.  Lanterns and sconces all over the village kept it so lively that it rivaled Ul'dah as a glowing jewel in the night.

A group sitting at one of the bars laughed and chattered raucously at their inside jokes as they banged mugs of liquor together, and somewhere down the beachfront, Selah thought she heard the moans of a couple given to drunken passion.

All this beauty and revelry came together to frame what was, without a doubt, the worst night of her life.

Worse than the years she lived as a prisoner-bride to the man who tormented her.  Worse than having no family, or even any true friends.  Worse than years of drifting through life with only a hint of purpose.  It was worse than everything she had ever lived through, because she had finally reached a point of happiness and contentment with her life.  Selah had found the things she had daydreamed of as a child, but had since dismissed as impossible and naive notions of youth. 

And here she was, arranging Dinornis' saddlebags while she wondered if she had just made the decision that would cost her the most important and fulfilling thing she ever had.

Ginal, my Kitten...will we fix this?  I wish you understood why this is so important.

"I'll only need to be taken to the Observatorium."  Charlotte informed her daughter.  "Shouldn't take you much of course for Revenant's Toll."  She strolled up to the turquoise bird and held her hand out toward his beak, letting the steed take in her scent.

"He's a strong looking bird.  What's his name?"

"Dinornis."

Charlotte smiled as she gently pat the side of his head.  "He seems well tempered."

"He's been a very good friend." Selah replied.

The chocobo happily chirped as he tilt his head into the caress.  Charlotte offered a small carrot from her dress pocket, which Dinornis eagerly accepted.  Selah smiled absently as she watched her companion finish his treat.

In the eastern field that lay before the great, stone carved manor, stood a stable constructed from fine oak and cypress.  It was large enough to house five chocobos in spacious, comfortable pens, and store a variety of barding made to suit each birds' purpose.

Selah gently ran a brush across the down of a dark blue chocobo, softly singing a song about someone watching their lover sleep by a stream.  She brought the brush to the bird's head, and with each stroke he fluttered his wings happily.  When Selah had finished, she offered the steed a carrot that was happily devoured.

"You're a good boy, Dinornis." she offered with a cheerful lilt.

The chocobo replied with a happy squawk as he tilted his head to nuzzle the girl.

"Are you feeding my war mount treats again?" Geoffrey sternly inquired.  He stood at the pen's entrance with folded arms, his eyes narrowed on the girl in anger.  "I told you before, Dinornis eats a specific diet to maintain his coloring, and NOTHING else!"

The man closed the distance quickly, and even though the girl tried to shrink back to escape him, he took hold of her long auburn hair.  Geoffrey pulled hard enough to elicit a whimper, and brought the back of his hand down on Selah's cheek with enough force to make her stumble aside.

"I'm sorry!" she cried out.  "It was only one!  One of the stable boys said it wouldn't effect the plumage!  I'm sorry!"

"NOTHING ELSE." Geoffrey's voice boomed from within the stable.  He stepped up to her and grabbed her arm, his knuckles and fingertips turning red from the pressure.

Dinornis cawed angrily and swung his head low, ramming Geoffrey in the side and knocking him to the ground.  The bird flapped his wings wildly as the man stared up in disbelief, and Dinornis stamped down on him.  Geoffrey bellowed in pain as the long and thick talon pierced his leg, lifeblood pooling on the floor when he sat.  The steed bent over and again rammed his head into Geoffrey, this time causing him to tumble out of the pen and into hall that joined the building together.

"You stupid little bitch." Geoffrey spat.  "You've ruined my prized war mount!"

A stable hand, an older, gray haired hyur, helped his master to his feet.  Geoffrey angrily dismissed the older man's aid as he limped away, glaring over his shoulder.

"This isn't over, bird!" he warned.  "Nor for you, my dear."

The older man sullenly approached Selah and looked upon her regretfully.

"I'm sorry, young Madam.  May the rest of your sixteenth be...bearable."

Dinornis nuzzled at Selah's bruised cheek.  The imprint throbbed and burned as tears steamed down her face, and she threw her arms around the bird's neck.

She would sleep in the stables that night.



Selah absently touched her cheek, as she once again became aware of the world around her.  The pain had subsided, the throbbing had ceased and the red imprint had faded.  But somehow, it seemed to still hurt.

"That wasn't a very...wifely thing of her to do." Charlotte remarked, patting the war bird's beak.

"She wasn't trying to hurt me..." Selah replied.  "Ginal was just angry."

"I've heard that her race can be impulsive.  You don't need another spouse to hurt you."

Selah closed the flap on the saddlebag and glared at her mother.  "You mean like the one you so willingly threw me away to?"

Charlotte opened her mouth to protest, but no words followed.  She shook her head with a heavy sigh, her shoulders sinking in defeat.

The daughter turned to walk away, but stopped mid-step as her eyes fell upon her bride.  Ginal had slid a skirt on in the hours since parting on the beach.  Her hands were folded over her lap as she kept her gaze to the ground.  Her tail hung still, and her ears were folded down.

Selah knew she was breaking her beloved's heart, and it was hurting hers in turn to know what she was causing.  But she had to do this.  She had to confront this ghost, or learn the truth of this con, or whatever it was that was happening.

And the gods knew she wished Ginal would stand with her on this.

Ginal had never been good enough for anyone in her life.

She was less than a person to Robimont, and had suffered his bigotry and meanness even into her adulthood.  She was less than a woman to her first crush of adolescence, a miqo'te lass who treated her like she was entirely unworthy of love or affection.  There was even a lady of the evening she hired, shortly before she moved to Gridania, who decided early into their meeting that Ginal was too "weird" for her taste.

Ginal had made it a point to tell nobody about that encounter, including Selah.  That Ginal had been considered so undesirable that even a prostitute would deny her was a low point of shame which she had only begun to recover from with Selah's love.  Not to mention, it pained the miqo'te to know that she had been desperate enough to consider throwing away the emotional ties to what was more than just a physical act for her.

But now, it seemed as though she was no longer good enough, even for Selah.  It was the worst pain she had ever experienced.  To stand on that beach and plead with her wife to just stay and love her and forget about the world, to just be told "I have to go" made her very soul hurt.  So Ginal stood before her wife with absolutely no idea what to say or what to do.  Selah had packed her things and readied Dinornis.

Selah was willingly leaving her behind.

The miqo'te wanted to die.

"Ginal..." Selah weakly said.  "I...um...Din's all ready to go."

If Ginal relented and went with her, would it be the same as admitting that she really wasn't good enough for Selah to stay with her?  If she fell to her knees and begged, would Selah relent and stay with her, or would she look upon Ginal with shame and disgust?  Could she plead to her newly met mother-in-law and gain her aid in fixing what was falling apart, or would this woman simply retort with more remarks about them being the wayward queer?

Selah...why can't you just stay with me and be happy?

Ginal slowly drew in a breath, and let it out in a defeated sigh.  "I...think I'll go back and check in with Elysande."

The hyur silently nodded.  She had that look in her eyes that told she was struggling with finding the right words.  Ginal felt her pride slipping away.  If Selah would ask her along at this point, she'd say yes.

Selah slowly leaned down, and touched her lips to her bride's.  Ginal didn't fight it or back away, for she had no idea if this was to be their goodebye kiss.  She closed her eyes and felt her heart sink as the kiss lingered.  Now she wanted to throw her arms around her beloved and proclaim her intention to travel with her.

But if the hyur wasn't asking her along, did that mean she no longer wanted her around?

The miqo'te wanted to die.

Selah had long since learned to control her emotions.  Living bonded to Geoffrey had taught her how to disconnect from pain, her tutelage under Ywain had taught her to face fear directly, and her training as a dragoon had taught her to control her aggression.

So as she pulled away from the kiss with trembling legs, an ache in her heart and wet, blurry vision, she knew exactly what to credit for her raging emotions.  She was going to part from her wife, her dearly beloved Ginal, for a reason that she wasn't entirely sure was good enough.  And yet, she still believed she must go, for she felt the shadow falling over her as though an eclipsed sun.

She had worked so hard, for so long, to escape the pain and heal the scars of that forced bonding.  And she had made so many mistakes along the way in search of that solace.  To feel his shadow creeping back upon her was almost suffocating.  She couldn't live with the uncertainty and insecurity of it.  She had to know what was going on, and how to put an end to it once and for all.

Kitten...please, please welcome me back... I swear I'll never stop making this up to you.

"I'll keep in touch." Selah promised, here voice trembling slightly. 

The miqo'te silently nodded, her ears folded down.  Charlotte looked on with a sadness in her eyes, her weight shifting from one leg to another, before looking away.  Selah went back to her companion-bird and climbed up to situate herself in the saddle.  Dinornis squawked and tilted his head, looking on at Ginal.

"No, Din." Selah answered.  "She's not coming with us."

Selah reached down for her mother's hand, when Dinornis suddenly bucked.

"Din!  Stop that!"

The bird again squawked, throwing his beak forward toward the miqo'te.

"Din, I told you, she's not..."

Dinornis stood tall, flapping his wings and stomping in agitation.  The violent shaking threw Selah from the saddle.  The soil was soft, but the landing was still hard and came with an audible "thud."

"Oh gods, Selah!" Ginal cried out.

The miqo'te was at her wife's side in a heartbeat, helping her back to her feet.  The two smiled shyly at each other, each beginning to reach out for an embrace, but stopping short.  They looked upon each other in an uncomfortable silence.

Dinornis trotted up to Ginal and nuzzled at her.  The miqo'te smiled and hugged his long neck.

"It's okay, boy.  Go with Selah.  She'll need you."

After another affectionate nuzzle, the bird walked back to Selah's side.  She began again to climb into the saddle, but this time the bird wasted no time and bucked and fluttered his wings, forcing her back.  Selah folded her arms over her chest and frowned at her companion.

"Gonna make me hoof it the entire way, huh?  What about her?" she indicated her mother.

Dinornis squawked with a quick, sharp tone that Selah recognized as annoyance.  She shook her head, and turned back to Charlotte.

"He's not letting us on him, Mother.  We'll have to do a lot of walking through some parts."

Charlotte replied with a sharp sigh, "And why hasn't anyone made it to where the aetheryte towers can transport chocobos, too?"

"Don't ask me, Mother."

Selah took one last look upon her bride, and felt her own heart on the verge of completely shattering. She looked so beautiful in the mixture of moon's and torch's light, with those heavenly emerald eyes and their gentle glow.

Why in all the seven hells was she so compelled to do something that felt so wrong?

Everheart: Chapter 6

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.

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.

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.

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."

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.

"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.