Disclaimer: I own nothing of Final Fantasy IX… just the game and I still can't find Disc 1.

I

'Damn it…' Sharp claws dug into the dirt as a body lay in a crumpled heap in the near darkness.

It hurt so much.

Every muscle and bone ached dreadfully as he struggled to push himself into a sitting position, not liking the feeling of the world breathing on his exposed back. Hissing between clenched teeth, he managed to sit himself up with difficulty, sucking in a painful breath as he stretched out his legs in front of him. He paused for a moment for the flare of pain to subside, his tattered blue robes shifted and dried blood flaked when he leaned back on his hands.

Hurt too much.

Broad wings sat uncomfortably on his back as they sagged slightly; a few feathers missing here, some stiffened from dried blood there while others stuck out at awkward angles.

When he first awoke, he immediately tried to sit up in blind panic; his limp wings attempting to straighten in reaction. One of them erupted with immense pain; part of the wing slightly bent out of shape, causing him to curse loudly, his words bouncing back at him mockingly. It had to be broken, or at least badly sprained.

He didn't know and he didn't care; it just hurt greatly!

Wiping his bloody mouth with the back of his gnarled hand, he glanced around at his surroundings. He noticed, with little help from the dim moonlight that peeked in from the angled hole above, that he was in some sort of room… or pit, he wasn't too sure. The floor beneath him was dirt but slowly his glowing eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. His attention was caught by the glint of metal that was covered in dust and presumably spider webs. He leaned forward and from closer inspection concluded that whatever that contraption was, it hadn't been used in some time yet it puzzled him.

Just where was he?

His mind fuzzily remembered being in some sort of underground room with his one remaining brother, the other having been sent out to his doom, no doubt, and being ordered that he had to go… What was the cursed village…? Dali… and…

And…

…What was it that he was supposed to do?

Something to do with…someone…

His head hurt too much to remember.

What he did know that the villagers must have tossed him down that pit after he…he…

Well he certainly didn't feel dead, that was certain. The agony was solid proof. Maybe he had passed out…

He was disgusted by that thought, a lip curling in revulsion: A grand creature like himself, swooning like some… some… woman. He looked nothing of the sort, save for the ridiculously girly robes. They had insisted that he wore those cursed robes since tailoring the clothes for him and his younger brother would take some time due to their stature. Unfortunately for him, the final decision was that the outfit was there to stay whether he liked it or not.

Unlike his brothers, his height exceeded them both; at least by a foot and a half for his older brother and by a half for his youngest. He absolutely towered over the guards that were sent to keep watch on their cell door and he relished in their fearful reaction when he leered down at them from full height. They couldn't see his face in the darkness that enveloped it but he was certain they could feel his feral smirk as he watched their stance weaken in terror.

He glanced up at the patch of sky at the top of the pit, thinking for a few moments of his brothers, wondering what had happened to them and where they were. The last time they had all been together was in that dreaded castle basement; where they were using their power against the guards, cackling at the fear shown by their prey. They could not kill them, though. Their masters would not put up with it so they had to settle with heckling the pathetic sentries until they were put to work.

But he had to focus on his present predicament.

Using sheer will alone to force him up onto tender legs, displeased that they all but buckled when he was nearly on his feet, the Black Waltz eyed the darkness before once again glancing up at the hole above him. The top of the rocky pit opened up onto a dark sky scattered with stars and part of the moon that was covered by the grassy rim; a gentle breeze drifted in from above. The Black Waltz paused.

The air seemed different: less heavy. He couldn't put his finger on it but something had drastically changed despite that he stood a few dozen feet underground. How long had he been down there?

The rocks leading up seemed climbable, he could have even attempted to fly up but one of his wings had another sharp rake of pain go through it and he immediately scrapped that idea. That would be his last resort if he could find no way out.

Like hell he was going to lie in the depths of the ground and die.

His clawed hands pawed around blindly until he felt something other than cold stones and dirt— Solid wood with cool metal hinges, slightly rusted from the lack of use and the moisture. He kept feeling until he came to two metal handles and concluded it was one of those fancy double doors that filled the doorways of the castle he was kept in. Giving an experimental push, he was annoyed that the doors refused to move more than half an inch. Bracing his legs slightly and preparing for another onslaught of pain, he dug the toes of his boots into the dirt and threw his all of his weight against the doors.

The rusted hinges creaked in protest of being disturbed as he continued pushing the doors open inch by inch and finally gave way with an unexpected 'whoosh', slamming to a stop from the walls of another underground room. Unfortunately the waltz's body didn't stop until he met the dirt floor once again face-first. That feat of forcing the doors open lashed back at him almost twice as badly than when he first awoke. Every scratch and previously lightly scarred over wounds seemed to reopen at once and let liquid fire into his body. His legs felt as if someone was casting Fira spells without mercy and his claws dug into the dirt floor once again. In the back of his mind he knew this was going to be a recurring problem.

That was his biggest defect, his imperfection, and his flaw.

Yes, his wings were powerful and perfect (rivaled only by his younger brother but he would never openly admit it) and allowed him to fly.

Yes, he stood at an impressive height and his strides were unmatched by anyone that had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting him.

But his legs gave him so much grief if he walked too much, so he preferred to sit or fly to avoid the unbearable pain. He didn't know why they hurt so much but in the past when they ached, and nearly gave out on him, he always became very irritable. Sometimes his irritability forced him to the point of making it his personal task to attempt to broil any poor soul that made even the slightest comment about his imperfection.

His record was currently zero for five. Cursed sentries learned their lessons after a few charred armor plates and kept their mouths shut.

Upon further observation by his creator, he was given tough leather boots with laces that were to give him more support. They made an annoying clicking noise—he had started wondering if his creator really thought he was female—when he walked, muffled by the numerous layers of robes that covered them but it helped if he didn't push his luck… or his legs.

He snarled and pushed himself up again, not letting himself succumb to the agony—that was working hand in hand with gravity—that tried to drag him back to the dirt ground. He stood, swaying slightly as the pain throbbed from nearly every fiber in his body but refused to fall again.

Taking a deep shuddering breath, the Black Waltz took another look at the room he fell into. It was nearly darker than the last room, the weak moonlight from behind him only revealing that the floor met with make-shift wooden flooring that was poorly built. The air felt slightly damp but stifling, a faint smell of oil coming more strongly from his left in the darkness.

He took a few experimental steps forward then stopped.

So far so good, he mused silently.

Starting to walk slowly and carefully, the Black Waltz heard his boots click on the wooden floor. He attempted keep his breaths even through the pain, he took each step carefully, feeling the changes in the air as he ventured further from the previous room. His clawed hands met the cool surface of more metal and the oil stank from the water below. At first he didn't know the gap between the machinery and wooden boards was water but he watched carefully as a dim reflection of the light from the doorway confirmed it.

"Where is this…" He spoke to himself quietly, his eyes narrowing.

Nothing seemed familiar and there seemed to be no further light to disperse the shadows that awaited him. Growling under his breath, he stepped back a few paces before holding one of his arms out in front of him. Unsure of how well his plan would work, he tensed before concentrating on his magic reserve on a low level spell rather than the one he first thought of.

"Fire," He uttered under his breath, feeling heat radiating on the palm of his hand, an orange glow slowly licked at the air from nothing but surely appearing.

He willed the fire to stay where it was, not letting it bolt off and ignite the oil in front of him. Despite feeling weary, he managed to get the fireball to stay put, its glow revealing more of the strange room he was in. He glanced around, unsure whether to go to his left where the oil reeked more strongly or to the right where the air seemed to deaden but was free of the smell. Using his newfound torch as a guide, the Black Waltz resumed his exploring as he saw a doorway to another room. He surmised it must have been some sort of underground passageway or something of the sort.

Abandoned, he silently mused, but for how long?

The boards beneath his feet creaked slightly but refused to answer his noiseless question as he pushed onward. He wrinkled his noise slightly as the oil smell intensified. He passed more silent machinery, unsure if he made the correct choice by going left but amongst the scent, fresh air seemed to be mixed with it. Being wary of anything on the floor that could trip him, the Waltz hurried his steps a bit to find the source of the fresh air. Stepping back on the dirt ground, he observed a stationary conveyor belt that was covered in dust and dirt, leading to his right that ended but faced some sort of wall.

Resuming his slow pace up the slight slope in the ground, the Waltz approached the wall. The glow of the fire spell revealed that at the end of the path there were two large wooden doors, each with handles on them. Suddenly becoming encouraged, the Waltz clenched his hand around the fireball, extinguishing it before steeling up to further agony.

'If this is a way out of this reeking burrow,' He thought, 'then it will be well worth it.'

He grabbed the handles of each door, testing to see if they would open inward then scowled slightly when they did not give. He gave an experimental shove at the doors, his scowl deepening in his hidden face when the doors lifted in the slightest before falling back down.

'Those wretched humans, they have locked me in this place to die!'

Kill them.

An unpleasant dizzying feeling passed through him, shattering his train of thought before anger boiled the blood in his veins. The Black Waltz stepped back, his fists clenched tightly as he glowered at the locked doors ahead of him. He refused to let such pathetic creatures get the best of him by preventing his only least painful escape from the oil-tinted air. His thoughts angrily whirled for a moment, wondering if the villagers had put a lock on the door or covered it with heavy items…or both.

Snarling slightly, the Black Waltz brought both hands above his head, being wary of his horns, dipping further into his magic reserves. He wouldn't let such a primitive invention stop him as he concentrated on a more powerful spell. The pain in his body started to surge into a burning current, as if the spell was being cast inside his body rather than the opposite but the Waltz ignored it.

"Fira!"

Bright flames surged in the palm of his hands in arcs before they were brought to face the obstruction, racing towards the unprotected wooden doors with a roar. Ignoring the embers that strayed to burn elsewhere, the Waltz cast another fire spell to the doors, willing them to open.

Kill them all.

He clumsily side-stepped a bit, his posture weakening before his eyes blazed fiercely, quickly regaining his composure.

"You will not stop me, wretched fools! When I escape from his poor interpretation of a prison, I will kill each and every one of you!" He sneered as the doors started to give from the onslaught.

With a final cast, the doors burst open with a roar, flames surging into the night sky as the Black Waltz screeched a cackle regardless of the throbbing pain that threatened to ruin the small victory. An untamed smirk crossed his darkened face as he greedily took in the image of the doors burning, stepping through the flames to emerge onto the ground outside.

"Burn… You will all burn!" He threw his head back and laughed.

He could not remember a time that he felt so in control, so focused on a task that would surely end in victory. His thoughts overrode the pain, tossing it aside as lunacy set in its place.

"Every one of you! Men, women, children!" He spread his arms wide and whirled to face the village that started to stir from the disturbance. "Behold, I, the most magnificent Black Waltz to have ever lived, shall end your lives! Each and every one of you shall burn in hellfire!"

In the early hours of the morning, a messenger impatiently waited for the boat to cross the sunrise painted waters that linked the city of Alexandria to the castle; almost tempted to jump into the moat and swim the rest of the way. As soon as the prow lined up with the stones, he leapt from the boat and ran as fast as he legs would carry him, breathing hard as he passed some of the Pluto Knights.

"P-please, make way! I have an urgent message for the Queen!" He shouted to any castle guards that didn't move quickly enough.

Queen Garnet sat on her throne in Alexandria Castle, her two guard captains, Beatrix and Steiner, flanking either side of her as she addressed the two of them. Her words were abruptly cut short as the elaborately decorated double doors were quickly shoved open, a messenger running inside the throne room.

"My sincerest apologies for interrupting, Your Majesty! Q-Queen Garnet, I-I have urgent news!" The messenger dropped into a hasty bow before he stood up, sweat soaking his brow and his breathing ragged. "It is in regards of the border village Dali, Your Highness!"

Frowning slightly in wonder, Garnet nodded. "Please, go on."

Sucking in a breath, the messenger fell on one knee once again, keeping his head down as he relayed the message. "T-the village, my queen! I-It… The Village of Dali has been consumed by flames!"

Garnet's eyes widened and she stood up quickly but gracefully, a fist held close to her heart. "It has been attacked?!"

"Yes, Your Majesty!" The messenger paused and nervously looked up at his Queen, his face pale. "The survivors of the village claim their homes were terrorized by a Black Mage!"