for Phlyarologist for the multifandom drabble exchange on AO3

There was laughter in the cold hallway. The guards ushered Celes elsewhere, but her focus narrowed onto the little girl.

She couldn't have been much older than Celes—old enough to run and nothing else. And she did just that. Unruly blonde curls marked with a green hue tousled in the air as she ran and wove ribbons of flame behind her. Several attendants chased her, either caught up in the game or trying to nab the mischievous girl.

"Come now." One of the guards butted the hilt of his blade into Celes' shoulder. "We don't have time to stand around all day."

She didn't groan or wince; that was her first lesson in what not to do in the Imperial fortress. Instead, Celes spun back to center and marched alongside the guards escorting her to the Magitek Research Facility. The pain still thrummed under her skin. She thought of anything but the metal walls locking her away or even the inevitable needles—something to distract her from this odd place that was now her home.

Celes thought of that laughter. The girl was long gone, but her amusement echoed in Celes' head. None of the other kids laughed like that; they didn't do much of anything, really.

The others vanished. Not that they laughed either; most cried themselves to sleep. Celes hoped one day they would befriend her, in between the injections and the future training sessions. The guards didn't humor her when she asked, but the man in the yellow suit said they returned to their parents.

Celes pouted. So that's where they went. She secretly hoped to fail so she could go back to her parents. Whoever they were. She couldn't remember.

But she thought of the girl and her laughter and hoped to be her friend.

Massive tubes glowed with iridescent liquid. Various monsters floated in them. The doctor—Cid, that was his name; she kept forgetting—told her they were napping. Celes fidgeted and stared at the closest one. Frost slicked the creature's body, patches of ice-like scales clustering at joints. Her hair was fashioned with icicles and her nails resembled claws carved out of gems.

"A perfect match!" Cid patted the empty chair. "We couldn't ask for a better specimen."

Celes eyes fell to the floor. Multiple wires snaked from the tube to even more needles. They loomed above on metal hooks, all meant for her.

She shuddered and shook her head.

"Oh, it's alright," he said, those words spun with silk, "it will be over before you know it."

That didn't explain the straps gripping her arms, legs, and head once in the chair.

How much time passed? She didn't know the difference between seconds and days, let alone that they even existed. Celes was aware of forever and never, though, and this was forever. Needle after needle penetrated her pale skin, more injections than she had digits. She wanted to cry and scream, only to remember the guards and their stern lectures.

"Grow up," they all said. "You can't be a baby forever."

Celes sniffled when Cid ducked out of the chamber. Another instance of forever. Did he forget her? When would this be over? How many more times did she need these injections?

Why couldn't she run the halls and laugh?

She didn't remember the end of the procedure or the walk back to her private quarters. She ignored the attendants bringing a lavish banquet for dinner and preparing her for bed. When she was alone—truly alone—Celes buried her face in a pillow and allowed herself to cry.

"Hey there!"

Celes almost tripped. That voice… there were no other female soldiers in the military to Celes' knowledge. Except—

She regained composure and stared at the girl. The same one whose carefree laughter haunted Celes for countless nights. Not forever, though. With Shiva's potency fully drained, her time spent in the Magitek Research Facility was traded for tutor lessons; she knew how to count now. She also knew multiple sword techniques and battle formations, enough to shame her supposed peers.

What an odd thing to call those supposed men who were triple her age.

What are you doing here? she wanted to ask, yet said nothing.

"I didn't think there was another girl here!" she giggled. "What's your name? I'm Terra!"

It echoed in her head until it burned into her memory. "Celes Chère, knight-in-training. And you?"

Terra blinked. "Am I what?"

"What is your title?"

"Oh, um… I don't think I have one."

Celes' eyes widened. "Then what are you doing here?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Don't you have lessons?"

"Nope. Not yet."

Her brows furrowed. "Your infusions?"

"My what?"

"The injections? From the Espers?"

Terra shook her head. "Nope, never done that."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Then how can you use magic?"

"Um… the Emperor said I was born with it."

Celes wanted to laugh, wanted to scream, wanted to smack this stupid girl until she disappeared. Instead, she pivoted and walked away.

"H-hey!" Terra ran after her. "Where are you going?"

"To my lessons," she hissed.

"But don't you want to play?"

She spun around and shoved Terra. Stumbling to the ground, Terra stared with watery eyes.

"I don't have time to play," Celes spat out. "I'm not a baby anymore. You should learn to grow up, too."

Celes ignored the sobs and left.

"No!" Terra smacked away another guard attempting to snatch her. "I'm not going along with this!"

The indignant cries garnered Celes' attention. She maintained a considerable distance from Terra since their childhood days. They passed occasionally; Celes kept her eyes ahead while Terra flinched and scurried away. If Terra wished to frolic with her flames, then so be it. Celes intended to strive and climb the military ranks.

But rumor circulated that the Emperor had special plans for his magical pet. Maybe Terra would finally attend her lessons and debriefings. She never did, though.

Celes ignored the reluctant screams. She couldn't, however, ignore the strike across Terra's face.

"The sooner you learn your place," a guard spat out, "the sooner you'll realize you're nothing special."

Blue eyes widened. Celes pivoted and marched.

"And you," she boomed, "should know better than to bully your peers."

The guards stood at attention. "L-lieutenant Chè were—"

"Harassing her? Yes, I can see."

"The Emperor has orders for—"

"And that excuses your behaviors how?"

The guards left, grumbling to themselves as Celes brought her attention to Terra. She clutched her burning cheek and slumped her shoulder. Terra knitted her brows together and barely met Celes' gaze.

"Why are you helping me?"

The question was laced with bitter confusion. Every muscle in Celes softened. Before her wasn't a rival, whose very existence she loathed; she found another girl, barely a teenager—just like herself—who was more a captive than a free soul.

It wasn't Terra who she hated—it was the Empire.

Swallowing hard, she extended a hand. "Because I know what it's like to be told to do something you don't wish to do."

Terra accepting the kind gesture didn't surprise Celes, but the plush quality of her skin against calloused fingers did.

She snuck out those nights sleep evaded her, but it was Terra's idea, truth be told. Too many prying eyes settled on them throughout the day, but only jaded guards patrolled the fortress come nightfall. Since that fated day, Terra perked up whenever they crossed paths. So did Celes, in time. And according to her subordinates, blush graced her face more often than not after exchanging pleasantries with Terra.

With nothing but moonlight illuminating the winding halls, Celes navigated to a lone balcony and found Terra. Wind caught in her loose curls and those sparkling eyes turned to her once Celes pushed past the ajar door.

That smile Terra flashed? The one she revealed only at night on that balcony when Celes arrived? That did more than make Celes blush.

They sat beneath starless skies, smog and light pollution depriving them of the simple pleasure. They spoke plainly, frankly. Every frustration and fear chained back throughout their time under the Empire's rule escaped their lips.

It warmed Celes to know she wasn't alone in those unearthed sentiments. Anyone in their right mind would have informed the Emperor of their treason, but who was Gestahl to deem himself superior when he herded unwanted children as lab rats for his magitek toys?

"You ever think about runaway?"

Terra's voice freed Celes from her mental downward spiral. "From… here?"

She giggled. Oh, what a beautiful sound that was. "Of course from here! Where else?"

Celes mulled over the suggestion. "Where would we go?"

"Anywhere we want. So long as it's with you? It doesn't matter to me."

Fingers teased the spaces between Celes'. She hitched her breath. When had they been holding hands? Her thoughts quieted and Celes interlocked their hands. Her only disappointment was knowing she'd have to let go come dawn.

She should've been happy. The honor of earning the title of general was no easy feat. Celes found no honor on her first mission to Maranda, though.

"Celes, you're back!" Terra rushed to meet her, but her smile faltered. "Is everything alright?"

She couldn't speak. Not in the open. Looping an arm around Terra's waist, Celes led her to her personal quarters and prayed it was enough solitude, albeit brief.

Once the door closed, the cold facade melted and gave way to tears.

Celes spewed forth the atrocities witnessed. No, committed. She didn't want to—gods, she wished that brutality on no one. But who was she to know better? The Empire groomed her before she comprehended words and fashioned her into a weapon. All she had ever known was Imperial life. Oh, how she wished to fail and return home, wherever that was, but Celes understood now. There never was a home, no parents to return to. Failure meant death and thus she worked harder than most to survive.

"What they did to me—" She shuddered and smoothed hands over her arms to banish the ghosts of needles. "Others died, but I lived. Nothing else mattered. I… I was a kid. I couldn't do anything. I still can't."

Tears blinded Celes until she choked on them. Warm arms enveloped her like a blanket. She clung onto her, desperate for anything to anchor her in reality, something to remind her this wasn't a horrific nightmare to wake from.

"One day," Terra whispered, "we'll make them pay for what they did to us."

She never asked Terra what she meant—what the Empire had done to her, the carefree child who did as she pleased until recently. She simply lost herself in Terra's warmth, the only notion which calmed the tears.

Snow drifted in the moonlight like wayward souls. Through the frosted glass, Terra sat unwavering on their usual balcony, the snow catching in her hair and melting against her skin.

She usually turned and greeted Celes with a smile, but not tonight.

Celes joined her. The ice in her veins granted her immunity to the cold, while the fire simmering within Terra warded the chill. Celes chewed her lip; Terra was never this silent.

"I've been thinking," Terra murmured as gentle as the snow, "about what you told me." She paused. "What they did to you."

Celes looked to her and waited.

Those gorgeous eyes gazed heavenwards. "I used to be jealous of you when we were kids. I wanted to know where you were going and why Icouldn't go with you, too. I thought… that's how I could become your friend. Maybe if we went together, you'd play with me." Terra inhaled. "I snuck into the facility on my own one day. What I found down there…." She shook her head. "It's wrong. I didn't understand then, but I do now.

"But… I also discovered something else."

Celes stared in horror as Terra recounted her visits with the Esper who called her his daughter, one she remembered having hair similar to hers, except more vivid. Those visits ended when she was caught. Thus her freedom vanished.

Knowing the people who they served did this to her—to them—produced a blinding rage within Celes.

She dared to brush fingertips over Terra's cheek and slowly brought her face to meet her own.

"I can't change the past," she whispered, "but I promise I will never let the Empire harm you any further."

Finally, Terra cracked a smile. She nuzzled into her hand and kissed Celes' palm.

"Neither will I."

Terra had a plan. It didn't involve erupting in flames and immolating Vector. Those who feared her whispered such rumors to remind peers to keep a safe distance from the one gifted with magic. One wrong glance and Terra could smolder them to a crisp.

None of them knew Terra like Celes did. Her cunning was as natural as the fire simmering in her blood. She wished to free the Espers imprisoned and tortured in the Magitek Research Facility. They already trusted her, thanks to her father. It was simply a matter of timing and subtlety. Then they could create their own army to combat the Empire. With their power source for magitek severed, no one could stand against them.

But Celes learned obedience before she could talk. Terra valued her freewill more so than her life.

"You mustn't give them a reason to lock you up with them, as well," Celes rushed in between missions and routines.

Terra scoffed. "The Emperor values me too much. It would never happen." She smiled. "Besides, I know of a general well enough to help me out."

If you keep telling them no when they want to hear yes, Celes reluctantly kept to herself, they'll do worse than give you a place by your father.

Terra left with an optimistic smile. Celes should've latched onto her then, should've crushed her lips against hers, should've said every damn thing she wished to tell her since they shared that balcony together.

Since they locked hands, since they cried in each other's arms.

Since that gentle kiss in Celes' palm.

She should've, but she didn't.

And when she walked by Terra again after returning from another military excursion, an intricate tiara adorned her forehead. Celes uttered her name and she kept walking, lifeless eyes unblinking.

"Isn't she wonderful?"

Celes almost screamed. She yearned to unsheathe her rune blade and skewer that pathetic excuse of a man who dared to speak of Terra in that tone. His gleeful timbre mixed with sadistic undertones, like a child mindlessly ripping petals from a wildflower.

And to think most regarded Kefka as her equal.

He was, in a sense. They were the sole Magitek knights, two survivors out of the hundreds upon hundreds of test subjects. The similarities ended there. She did not agree with his impulsive, frivolous ideas.

The contraption he fashioned for Terra was no exception.

"Obedient and efficient," Kefka prattled on, a knowing smirk on his lips. "It's a shame we couldn't have done this sooner." He leaned in for only Celes to hear. "You should see the results she's finally producing."

Her blue eyes widened—this was because of Terra's stubborn streak. She tried to warn her, but… if she had known this was an option, Celes would have convinced Terra to expedite her treasonous ploys.

But Terra was no longer that young lady she grew close to and inspired Celes. She was a living fire, beautiful and deadly. Then again, so was ice. Where Terra flowed, Celes barricaded herself with thick sheets of cold armor until none could penetrate. Nothing except fire.

It was a charade she was willing to maintain if it meant saving Terra. She braved debriefings and strategic meetings beside Kefka. Her eyes and ears alike focused on him, waiting for the cracks in his defenses. A sliver of truth was enough to pry that damn shackle from Terra.

She didn't expect to overhear Kefka's planned massacre. She didn't expect to be dragged out of Emperor Gestahl's throne room screaming what she heard, just as Terra departed north in Magitek armor.

The cold never bothered Celes, but something beyond ice imbued the metal shackles gnawing her skin and muscles. She hissed and wriggled. Nothing alleviated her. Not from the damp, stale cell, not from lecherous comments made by the guards, not from the impending fate promising death.

She slumped further down the wall with each passing day. Time blurred, the only indicator trickling into her cell from idle conversations. A week until her execution, then six days, five, dwindling as a suffocating reminder. For years, she yearned to outshine everyone. Anything short of perfection was failure. She needed to live, to prove those who doubted her that they were wrong—she was worthy.

Now all but her clothes were stripped from her. She was a general no more—simply a laughing stock for crude men who never believed in her to begin with.

At least someone believed in her. Or used to. The thought of Terra prevented Celes from taking her own life before an executioner did. That fiery young woman smiled as if Celes was more marvelous than herself. She recalled their late night chats and their hopes to free themselves. Celes lacked Terra's indignant attitude; she tried and it left her imprisoned.

Her head lolled forward, knees skimming the ground. Dangling from her wrists, she recalled Terra marching away, obeying every commend, and promising to burn down wherever she was sent. But that wasn't Terra. That was a hollow shell in Terra's skin. There had to be a way to—

Celes coughed up laughter as if razors nicked her throat. Who was she to believe she could save Terra when she couldn't save herself?

Two more days. One more. The door opened and her chains fell. When she lifted her gaze, she found something other than death awaiting her.

Snow kissed her face and soothed her frayed nerves. Celes expected to wake from this strange dream she drifted through at a moment's notice. A far too plucky rogue rescued her without a sound reason and brought her to a resistance group nestled in the western continent. She hesitated initially; who was she to join a rebellion? Celes thought of Terra and what she would have said and found herself accepting this outrageous ordeal.

She never expected it would land her next to the one who inspired her answer.

Nestled in the depths of Narshe, Terra stood amongst strangers and looked to the night sky as if she never witnessed winter before. Their new allies spoke in hushed tones, much like the Imperial soldiers, of Terra's link with magic and how it would aid their cause. No different from the Empire that enslaved her.

But even that crown was missing from Terra's forehead.

Celes withheld a grin and the need to plummet into her arms. She longed to pepper kisses on that flawless skin and laugh at how even the gods couldn't separate them. They escaped Vector and were on their way to bring down the Empire. Perhaps not the most ideal of strategies, but Celes intended to enjoy this scenic route they paved.

She approached Terra and teased her, "So we meet again."

Blank eyes met Celes. Timid hands fidgeted over one another.

This… this wasn't the Terra she snuck out at midnight to curl up with; this was a mere ember of the wildfire of a woman she knew.

And when she asked Celes if she had ever been in love before, her voice sapped of all spunk and confidence, Celes wished to wander alone into those icy mountains and scream until her broken heart dissolved to ash.

Their reunion in Narshe was fleeting at best, nonexistent at worst. Celes swallowed down her rage—not with Terra, but with those who deprived Terra of any joyful memory she once possessed. It served as fuel towards her burning hatred for the Empire. Together, they could seek vengeance against their oppressors.

But like her memories, Terra vanished. She shrieked and transformed into something Celes never knew she was capable of. But if she found Terra by dumb luck, then surely Celes could track her down with sheer willpower.

She stomached the presence of those who deemed her a spy. She went along with plans which humiliated the likes of a battle-forged soldier, from the opera stint to convincing a gambler to fly them back to the place that tempered her. She swapped masks to ensure her allies' safety and her own life while walking down Imperial halls again. If it meant saving Terra and restoring her to who she was, then Celes didn't think twice.

But that blank expression met her again on the boat departing Albrook. Terra ignored her, the act like a rusted blade skewering Celes' heart. What could she possibly do to remind Terra of what they once had?

She thought she saw it—a sliver of the Terra she once knew. After Kefka destroyed Thamasa and Terra took initiative in lieu of Leo, Celes held her breath. Even on the Floating Continent, Celes faced Terra, frozen by Kefka's magic and his murderous compromise to Celes.

Something glimmered in those eyes. Just like they were on that snow-touched balcony again.

She impaled Kefka with a blood-curdling scream. "This is for Terra," she growled.

But it didn't end him. And when the Blackjack crumbled, she swore Terra spun and locked eyes with her before they plummeted into despair.

Everyone was dead. Celes failed to save her allies and sentenced herself to death. But she survived the fall and awoke on the shore to a bandana-wrapped bird. Perhaps there was more life past the Solitary Island.

Maybe Terra was alive.

The sentiment fueled Celes to search for others. Nestled in the crevasses, she found them one-by-one. In time, she found her.

That dreadful blank expression no longer met Celes, but whatever fire blazed in Terra's eyes was snuffed.

"What's the point?" Terra asked, evading Celes' gaze. "We failed. Might as well get used to this new life."

Celes tensed. How dare Kefka rob Terra of her identity and agency twice. No matter how much Celes poked and pried, Terra never budged.

Not until disaster befell the quaint town she resigned herself to overseeing.

Hundreds of sparks ignited within Terra. She harnessed her magic with the same finesse as when she danced with a sword. Together they protected Mobliz, almost as if they were Imperial soldiers on the front lines.

Almost, but never again.

"I'm not sure if I can do this," Terra confessed even after she agreed to join in their efforts to dismantle Kefka. "I feel broken, parts of me lost and unattainable. I'll fight for others, but… what am I supposed to fight for?"

"When I thought everyone was gone," Celes murmured, "I didn't want to keep going. Then I was reminded of life beyond the island I was on—" She placed a cautious, yet tender hand on Terra's shoulder. "—and the thought of you still alive kept me going."

To Celes' surprise, Terra rested her own hand over Celes' and met her stare. "Maybe we can keep giving each other a reason to live."

Tears fell, yet Celes smiled. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

In the lulls between flights and land excursions, Terra sought out Celes with a smile. It was almost as if they were young soldiers again. There were nuances, though. A fire burned in Terra, but it wasn't that fearless spunk.

Would she ever return to her original self? Were the memories lost or actually destroyed?

Celes tried to instead relish what time they spent together. Terra's smile still brought a flutter in Celes' chest. Even when Celes wrapped an arm around her late one night while they stargazed on the Falcon's deck, Terra never flinched. And those times they talked until Terra fell asleep on her shoulder? Celes welcomed exhaustion if it meant securing Terra beside her.

She was divine in those moments—wisps of hair across her face, lips ajar, and chest rising and falling with each deep breath. Celes resisted tucking those loose strands behind her ear. She imagined her fingers would linger at her bare neck if she did so. Was she still soft and warm to the touch?

Were her lips any different?

She wanted to tell her. Celes struggled to ignore the overwhelming sentiments, but with every passing second spent with Terra, she remembered why she fell for her in the first place.

And when she realized why her face blushed and heart raced beside Terra, it was too late. Again and again, Celes came to terms with those feelings, only to have Terra taken away.

If what whispers in the hull were true, then the death of magic meant the end of those with magic thickly coating their blood. Even if one of them survived, the thought of living in a world without Terra….

So Celes bit her lip and averted her gaze, fearing if she uttered a word, it would doom them both.

Celes almost collapsed. Agony plagued her like millions of needles piercing from within. The distant reminder of her injections didn't elicit fear, nor did Kefka's horrified shriek as he faded from existence. She stared at her trembling hands. His demise meant the end of magic—the end of her life, too.

But there was hope. Everyone swore to remember what they were fighting for. It was a torch in the darkness, guiding them to a better life, a better world. Perhaps if she clung to that one thing she loved and wished to protect, then she could cheat death.

Strago hypothesized the potential with Terra. Surely it could work for herself, too; besides, Celes had no other option.

Another breath and she forced herself to her feet. She ran with her allies and wove through the crumbling tower to safety. In between gasps for air, Celes recalled what she screamed at Kefka when he inquired what could possibly give them hope in this forsaken world.

She had recalled the hell she traversed in Vector and the one who made her feel human instead of a monster. Even when they were separated and circumstances altered the world and Terra's memories and original spirit eluded her, nothing else changed.

It never would.

"Someone willing to accept me for who I am!" Celes had yelled before brandishing her sword. It echoed in her head as she sprinted, as she stumbled onto the Falcon, as she clung to the railing and watched Terra zip through the skies.

Then Terra plummeted and Celes shrieked her name.

And when she skidded to her knees to embrace Terra once she crash landed, those brilliant eyes opened and they both smiled and laughed and cried.

"You're alive," Celes sobbed into her neck.

Terra squeezed tight. "We both are."

She was alone when she returned. As Celes touched down to fresh soil, but another skip accompanied her descent from the Falcon. Blue eyes widened and found Terra.

"W-what are you doing?" she asked.

"Going along with you." Terra tilted her head. "Is that not alright?"

"No, it's fine," Celes rushed out. Drawing in air and regaining her composure, she elaborated, "I thought you were wanting Setzer to bring you back to Mobliz?"

Her eyes drifted and she shrugged. "Just because I was stranded there for a year didn't mean I liked it. The kids were nice…."

Celes raised an eyebrow. "But?"

"But I stayed and helped because I had no other purpose."

Terra eyed the horizon, where the ruins of Vector lingered. Beyond that the Imperial fortress, somehow still standing despite the Espers' massacre. Nothing but a ghost town better left forgotten. It wasn't home, but it was the only place Celes had ever known. Terra could have gone anywhere and yet….

"What do you plan to do here?" she eventually asked.

Her eyes returned to Celes, bright and hopeful. "To help you, of course." She smiled and leaned in. "That's what you wanted to do, right? Fix what was broken?"

Celes held her breath. They once promised something similar to one another; the foundations were broken and to fix it meant to shatter it. But life played out differently and everything crumbled without them lifting a finger. Fixing meant something different now.

She wondered if Terra even comprehended the weight of her offer.

No spell existed to rewind and erase time, even if magic had survived. The atrocities they both committed under Imperial rule… they could amend them. Not overnight, but eventually.

And together.

Instead of asking, Celes mirrored her smile and nodded. "Well, it's a start, anyways."

Stragglers still clung to that which was abandoned before Kefka's ascent to godhood. There was nowhere else to go or so they explained to Celes. It gutted her, knowing innocent folk were stripped from their homes, occupations, and loved ones because of events beyond everyone's control.

But Terra approached them with kind eyes and a soft smile. She offered to help them if they would help her and Celes restore Vector. Not to its former so-called glory, but into a shared haven.

Those lost souls gazed at Terra as if the ashes in their hearts was rekindled.

Celes managed the logistics and implementation—she was no artisan, but her mind was sharp and her tongue sharper. As for Terra, she support others with quiet, yet tender words. Celes caught her multiple times hugging those moved to tears when cleaning rubble.

"How do you do it?" she eventually asked Terra after a month of tedious physical labor. "Give them hope, a reason to live?"

The sun set over Vector, more than half buried beneath waste and ruin. The rest, however, showed promise. Modest homes and establishments popped up, deprived of personal touches, but it was a solid roof of someone's head. The rest would come in time

Terra gazed over their efforts. The wind played with her loose curls, no longer pulled back into a ponytail. A bittersweet smile emerged.

"Because," she murmured, "I remember waking up with no knowledge of who I was or where I came from or anything. I wanted to die that day. Everything I had known disappeared. I want them to know I understand." She paused. "That I was able to overcome it."

"I'm glad you did."

Terra sighed, the sound a content purr laced with relief. "Me too."

Celes never noticed Terra's fingers ghosting hers.

"What do you want to do after this?"

Celes blinked. The other helpers groaned when Celes paused long enough in their efforts to strain their muscles. With a deep breath, she tugged the last of the pulley to erect the fallen, marble statue in Vector's center: a decrepit figure of the late Emperor Gestahl, his headless image a reminder of a dreadful past and a promising future. The others assisting collapsed with the final touches while Celes rolled her shoulders and wiped sweat from her brow.

"I haven't thought about it," Celes replied.

As for Terra, she sat on a nearby bench, donning loose, draped fabrics from Figaroan and Thamasaian threads. Braids wove into her now waist-length hair. Several strands broke free and framed her face.

"Nothing?" Terra teased.

Celes restrained herself from pushing stray hairs out of Terra's eyes; there was no need to mar her skin with grime-encrusted fingers.

"I've been busy ensuring this—" Celes gestured to the bustling cobblestone streets, glowing taverns, and lived-in homes. "—continues to thrive."

"What else is there to do?"

"Well, shouldn't we help protect it?"

"Is that what you want?" Terra vaulted to her feet and approached Celes. "Or is that what you were taught to do?"

A shiver danced under her skin. "I…." Her gaze faltered. "I don't know."

"You know what I know?"

A soft hand cupped her cheek and brought her face to center.

"You're more than a soldier, Celes," Terra said, smiling.

"I… I don't know any other way to live."

"Neither do I, but there's so much I want to know. Why not do it together?"

Celes blushed. "Together?"

Terra hesitated. "Is… that not okay?"

Before Terra uttered another word, Celes tugged her into a hard hug. "It is beyond okay. I couldn't ask for anything better."

Combing through the structure that was once the Imperial fortress, Celes slowed her steps and recalled her younger years down a particular path. The sun filtered through the now roofless hall, formatted more like a courtyard than a secluded castle. People strolled in a public garden, frequented bakeries and libraries, and basked in local music and artwork. Those smiling faces spoke nothing of the Empire.

Celes rounded a corner and paused. The paint was new, the archway was patched, and the glass doors were replaced, but that little balcony sat before Celes as if she was a little girl again.

And past those ajar doors, she found Terra.

Celes quietly joined her. "What are you doing here?"

Terra leaned into her. "Waiting for you."

Instead of swallowing the words she longed to scream for years, Celes breathed life to them. "Do you remember?"

"I don't remember anything before Narshe," Terra slowly said, "but… this place… it's hard to explain." She paused, almost too long. "It feels like home." Terra sighed and smiled. "I guess it doesn't matter now. Hey, are you ready to leave—"

She gasped against Celes' lips and melted in her arms. Celes half expected resistance and not the swift hands tangling in her hair and latching onto her waist. Their bodies met and lips opened. When their lungs begged for air and they reluctantly broke the hungry kiss, Celes met Terra's gaze.

"What took you so long?" Terra purred.

"I didn't want to lose you."

Terra shook her head and locked hands with Celes. "I'm right here. And wherever you are? That's where I want to be. Nowhere else."

Celes grinned and kissed between her eyes. "Then let's head out, shall we?"

"Where to first?"

"Does it matter?" She slipped an arm around Terra. "I'm already home."