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On this day, the tragedy fell, and two seeds were planted in the earth.

- Episode Zero: Tomorrow

Apply Standard Disclaimers Here

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Odds and Ends
War Blossoms, Part 5
By: E.G. Szyslak [08/09/12-08/13/12]

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Twelve

Fang shifts her weight from one leg to the other, getting impatient, tired of standing still. The matron notices, smiles but doesn't say anything, and simply continues to fold the blue cloth that's draped on her left shoulder and across her chest, making sure the embroidered trim will show.

"It's going to fall off, even with the belt," she mutters, shifting again, this time out of discomfort. "And how am I supposed to move around in this?" she grumbles, tugging the cloth of a similar color and design that's wrapped around her waist.

The matron – Yeta, she reminds herself, Yeta – looks amused with her.

"Did you expect much mobility?"

"Enough to fight," she says.

Cocoon fal'Cie and l'Cie are out there somewhere, killing people, tearing villages apart. Instead of sending the Chosen to Cocoon after the Thirteenth Ark, Anima's priests brought them to Oerba, declaring a new festival in their honor that's to start tomorrow. For four days now, people from all over Gran Pulse, those surviving, have been coming to Oerba to drink, dance and rejoice.

They're just waiting. No one is fighting anymore. They're just waiting for Ragnarok.

"Never know," Fang drawls, sneering, "Cocoon might hear us celebrating from up there and decide to remind us this war isn't over yet."

Yeta frowns, and Fang immediately regrets saying it. She isn't sorry for what she has said, just that she said it.

"This may be foolish," Yeta tells her, "but it's brought you and Vanille back to me, if only for a few days, and for that, Fang, I'm grateful, I'm so grateful." Yeta reaches up, cups her face as if needing more proof she's real, and in a quiet, almost shameful voice, whispers to her, "I'm sorry for being selfish, for adding to your burdens when you already have so many. I'm sorry."

The sunken cheeks, the thin, frail hands, Yeta looks so weak, so beaten down and tired. Yeta shouldn't be like this, Fang thinks. Yeta wouldn't have suffered so much if she had protected them from the priests that night, if she had kept Vanille from being branded.

She takes Yeta's hands, draws them away from her face and clasps them in hers. She's mindful to be gentle. It feels like Yeta's hands would break easy.

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Yeta," she starts, thinking of how Vanille feels about this, what Vanille would say, what Vanille would want to hear from her, "I'm happy to be home."

At first, she thinks she's done it wrong, that she must have sounded like she was lying, because Yeta just stares at her with wide eyes. Then, suddenly, Yeta's hands slip from hers and Yeta is hugging her, sobbing on her shoulder. Slowly, carefully, she holds this small, shaking body in her arms.

So small, she thinks. Yeta feels so small, like Vanille.

Later, when Yeta has calmed down and left the room, saying there's something she needs to get, Fang goes to the mirror and looks at her reflection. She's still wearing the strange, uncomfortable clothing that feels too constricting, too suffocating.

She touches the trim of the cloth that's draped over her shoulder, then slides her fingers further, over the blue. It looks good with her necklace and earrings, Yeta has said. These clothes, a farewell gift from her mentor, look good with her necklace and earrings. These clothes, with this jewelry, that are – were – worn for ceremonies by women of the Ley clan, the clan her mother was born into and belonged to before meeting her father and taking the Yun name.

The Leys are gone, the village they lived in destroyed by a fal'Cie years ago. They – her mother – will be remembered, she vows. When people see her in these clothes, they'll be remembered along with the Yuns.

Yeta comes back holding two fur pelts she recognizes immediately. They're trophies, like the snakeskin armband Vanille made for her, from one of the many hunting trips she used to go on with Vanille, Raya and the other hunters.

"I thought perhaps you'd like to wear them," Yeta says about the pelts, showing that she has strung them to a cord belt.

Fang nods and allows Yeta to tie the cord around her waist, slipping the pelts under the thick leather belt she's wearing and letting them hang over her right leg.

"There," Yeta says, stepping back and looking her over, gazing at her with the eyes of a mother.

"Thank you," she mumbles, avoiding Yeta's eyes.

"Is this what you really want you wear, though?" Yeta asks. "You don't seem very comfortable."

Fang tries to smile.

"This festival's for me and Vanille. Figured I should look nice for it."

"You look very beautiful," Yeta tells her, briefly touching her cheek. "Now, out of those clothes. They need washing."

Fang manages a short, small laugh.

"Okay," she concedes, first removing the two belts and the cloth wrapped around her waist.

The other cloth goes next, leaving her in black shorts and a black top, and with a few last words, Yeta is trotting off with the clothes and the pelts.

Alone in the room, Fang sits on a bed, the same bottom bunk she and Vanille used to share. She looks at her brand, stares at the ten arrows and the open eye. Not much longer now. Not much time left. She touches her brand, feels the heat coming from it, feels her heart beat through it.

Her hand slips a little lower, to the snakeskin armband. She wonders where Vanille is now, what she's doing, and hopes she's enjoying herself, hopes she's happy.

Dropping her hand, she looks at her other shoulder this time, where now there's a mark, one she got the very day they arrived at Oerba. This mark, this mark of a Yun, is in the shape of a dragon. She doesn't know if she's earned it, only that it's fitting because her eidolon, Bahamut, is a dragon.

The people of Paddra believe eidolons are a l'Cie's salvation, sent by the goddess Etro to put weak, miserable and confused l'Cie out of their misery.

What fools, Fang thinks, them and their goddess, they're all fools.

She's still alive. An eidolon couldn't kill her – this Etro couldn't kill her – and now Bahamut is hers to order around. Nothing is going to stop her from completing this focus. Cocoon won't win. Vanille won't become a cie'th.

There's a flurry of voices coming from outside. Vanille is back with the orphans.

Fang stands up, eager to greet them, but she only manages to take a few steps before her right arm tenses, sending a jolt through her shoulder. She grips her arm, right where her brand is, right where her arm was severed, and she stumbles to the bed as the pain comes, a burning, ripping sensation that makes her feel like her arm is being pulled off again.

No, she thinks. Not now, not this bad.

Hearing the voices getting louder, getting closer, Fang struggles to her feet and staggers into the bathroom, slamming her back against the door to shut it. Slowly, she slides to the ground, clutching her arm and gritting her teeth.

Vanille can't know about this. Vanille must never know.

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Thirteen

On the second day of the festival, Vanille goes to the garden on the schoolhouse's roof. She's brought Bhakti with her, using the robot to take pictures of the plants that have flowered, something she and Irvette used to do, something she continued to do even after Irvette was branded and taken to the arks.

The Chamber of the l'Cie has been opened for the festival. The kids want to go, she remembers. She wonders if they should still bring flowers. It hasn't been ten years since the last festival.

"We're gonna bring flowers to you and Fang every day, Vanille!" they've told her with big, silly smiles. "And we'll pray to Anima every day, too. You two are gonna wake up really soon, you'll see!"

Vanille smiles sadly. It's hard to lie to the kids, to go along with the things they say and smile through it. For Gran Pulse, for her home and her family, Cocoon has to fall, its fal'Cie destroyed and its people killed. Most of those people are innocent and helpless, like the Culling victims, like the boy Yaar and his father.

But how is she supposed to do this, she wonders, when she couldn't even kill one Cocoon l'Cie.

She looks up, stares at Cocoon, but instead of a glimmering, floating sphere, she sees the vision Anima had shown her, a world burning, being torn apart.

She closes her eyes and turns away, looks instead at the calm, beautiful sea. There's a lot of people on the beach, looking carefree and happy. The spring breeze feels good on her skin, carrying with it the smell of the sea and tempting her to go for a swim. She wishes she could experience this every day for the rest of her life.

A bright flash startles her, makes her look down, and she finds Bhakti aiming its lens at her.

"There you go again," she says, tugging at the worn, old leash tied to Bhakti and guiding the robot to the next flowers. "Let's take pictures of these nightglows instead, okay?"

She manages to take a couple of snapshots before she's startled again, this time by a voice she barely recognizes.

"I thought you'd be here."

Dropping the leash, Vanille whirls around and finds Fang at the stairs leading to the garden, giving her a grin that she hasn't seen in years.

"Fang," she breathes, and then she runs, not stopping until she's wrapped in Fang's arms, the safest place she'll ever be. "How did the hunt go?" she asks, trying to ignore how painfully normal and ordinary the question sounds, trying to ignore how badly she wishes it is just that.

Fang chuckles, a sound she didn't think she'd her again.

"Went great. It's going to be a feast tonight. I got a really big flan, too, so I hope you're hungry."

Vanille laughs, hoping it'll keep her from crying.

"I am, I am," she says, reluctantly pulling away a little to look at Fang. "It really went well? You weren't hurt?"

"Nothing I couldn't fix myself," Fang tells her, giving her another grin, and it hurts to think this may be one of the last few times she'll see it.

"I'm glad," she murmurs, managing a smile.

"I thought the kids would be with you," Fang remarks, letting her to go to look around the garden. "Where are they?"

"Doing chores and running errands for Matron," Vanille answers, trailing after Fang, wanting to stay close.

"They're helping out, then? Good," Fang says, wandering over to the nightglows. "What are you doing here? Thinking of offering flowers at the Temple? Are they even allowing that? It hasn't been ten years."

Vanille shakes her head.

"I don't know," she admits, "the kids want to go to the Temple, though."

Fang nods.

"These plants are well cared for. Yeta's doing?"

"It is," Vanille says softly, eyes now on the nightglows. "Actually, I'm running errands for her, too," she tells Fang, smiling. "I'm supposed to be taking pictures of the flowers in bloom."

"Pictures?" Fang parrots, finally noticing Bhakti. "That bloody thing still works?"

Vanille giggles.

"Uh-huh! Wynn built him to last, you know!"

"Looks like," Fang says, sounding amused.

They're both quiet now, and Vanille's smile falters as the silence stretches on. She feels the world shrink with every second neither of them speak, until there's just her and Fang and Cocoon, Cocoon looming over them.

She glances at Fang. They're both dressed for the festival, Fang in Ley ceremonial clothes, and her in her bead jewelry and bangles. It's over two years too late, but she's also wearing the bear pelt Raya had gotten made for her. The pelts hanging from Fang's waist, she remembers exactly what hunt they're from and why Fang is wearing them.

Fang has hunted down bigger, more dangerous beasts, but the trophies she has, the armband, the pelts, are from animals she had to kill to protect people, to save lives. It's something very few hunting clans do, the Leys being one of those few.

Vanille can see it now, Fang's mother was from the Ley clan, she's been showing it all this time. It's why Fang was affected when they heard the village Ruard had been culled. Ruard is – was – where the Leys lived. She remembers now, too, why Fang's necklace and earrings seem so familiar. It's her mother's, Vanille is sure, it's the same jewelry Fang's mother was wearing the day they met.

She wishes they could talk about these things, the Yuns, Fang's mother, Raya. There's so many things she wants to say to Fang, so many things she wishes Fang would just tell her. But Fang is so proud, so stubborn and Vanille's afraid, she's so afraid, that she'll drive Fang away if she tries to talk, that she might lose Fang completely.

She can't lose Fang. She can't.

"Hey," Fang says, lifting up her chin and having her look into the kindest eyes she's ever seen. "Don't worry so much, yeah? You're home now, just think about that. You should be out there having fun, enjoying yourself."

Vanille tries to smile.

"You, too?"

Fang smiles back and pulls her into a hug.

"Yeah, I can do that," she hears Fang say, then feels a warm, rough hand gently clasp hers. "Come on, then. Let's get out of here."

Vanille feels her hand tugged, and the sight of Fang turning her back, walking away, it makes her panic, makes her feel like there's something she has to do now.

"W-wait!" she cries, squeezing hard at Fang's hand, not wanting Fang to slip away.

Fang stops and faces her, head tilting at her.

"I..." Vanille starts, suddenly feeling shy. "I have something to give to you."

Hesitantly letting go of Fang's hand, she opens the pouch attached to her hip and takes out bangles like hers and a uniquely made bead necklace. Her hands shake a little, and she keeps her head down as she waits for Fang to react. She's nervous, unsure if Fang would like it, if Fang would accept it.

"Do you remember, last festival, when I said I'd make you something?" she asks, slowly looking up to meet Fang's eyes.

"I remember," Fang says, grinning crookedly. "I thought you forgot."

"I didn't," Vanille murmurs. "I've just been holding on to the bangles, waiting for a time when you could wear them. But you were always off training, hunting, working, I know it would have been a hassle to wear them then. Now, though, I thought maybe you'd like to."

Fang's head tilts again.

"Just for the festival?"

Vanille smiles, encouraged by the friendly, curious tone.

"Not just. You're not a Dia, so you don't have to follow the tradition. These are gifts."

Fang straightens, grinning again.

"That so? Okay."

Vanille almost bounces in glee.

"Okay? You accept them?"

Fang gives her a strange look.

"Why wouldn't I?"

Vanille squeals and throws her arms around Fang's neck, making sure not to lose grip on the bangles and the necklace.

"Which arm do you want them to go on?" she eagerly asks.

"Think I'll leave that to you," Fang says, chuckling.

Vanille doesn't hesitate, takes Fang's left hand immediately.

"This one!" she declares.

"Okay," Fang easily agrees.

Giddily, Vanille slips one bangle after another on Fang's arm, counting in her head as she does. When she's done, she takes Fang's hand, admiring how the bright, colorful bangles look on the black arm sleeve Fang's wearing.

"I like it," Fang says, happy that she's happy. "What about the necklace? Another gift?"

Vanille closes her hand over the necklace, nodding slowly.

"I made it just yesterday," she whispers, looking at Fang and smiling. "It's a birthday gift."

Fang blinks at her.

"Birthday?"

"Fang," she starts, amused, "you're turning twenty-one in two weeks."

"Oh," Fang mumbles, then blinks again. "Why give this to me now, then?"

Because they don't have that much time left, they both know. In two weeks, they'll either be crystal or cie'th.

"For luck," she tells Fang, managing to smile through the lie.

"Luck, eh?" Fang mumbles, then smirks. "I could always use more of that."

"Can I..." Vanille trails off, unsure. "Can I put it on you, too?"

Fang nods.

"Was going to ask you to, anyway."

Vanille unclasps the necklace and stands on her toes, bringing her hands around Fang's neck, under Fang's hair, and clasping the necklace back together. Sure the that its secure, she doesn't pull away just yet.

"Happy birthday, Fang," she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to Fang's cheek.

Fang touches her face, wiping her tears, and it's only now she realizes she's crying.

"Now you're making me feel really bad," Fang says, smiling sadly. "I missed two of your birthdays and I have nothing to give you."

Vanille lets out a sob and throws herself at Fang, burying her face in Fang's neck as those strong arms gently wrap around her. It's not true, what Fang is saying, it's wrong. It's wrong. Fang has done so much – too much – for her the past two years, things she'll never be able to give back, things she'll never be able to fix.

"It's okay," she mumbles against Fang's neck, her voice breaking and choked. "You don't have to give me anything, Fang. It's okay."

"Heh," Fang grunts, "little hard to believe when you're crying like that."

Vanille doesn't respond, unable to get any more words out. She clings to Fang until she stops shaking, until even the sniffles have stopped.

"Ready to go?" Fang asks gently, rubbing her back soothingly.

"Almost," Vanille says, reluctantly pushing away from Fang.

They wait a little longer. Vanille needs to calm down, and she doesn't anyone else to see that she's been crying.

Fang looks around, ultimately, inevitably ending up looking at Cocoon. Unlike Vanille, Fang doesn't turn away, and the longer Fang stares, the more Fang's green eyes seem to change, like there's something dark and dangerous hidden inside her. Vanille decides they've waited long enough.

"Let's go, Bhakti," she tells the robot, leaning over to pick up the leash when suddenly, a flash goes off.

"Huh?" Fang absently mumbles, turning towards the flash and blinking.

"Bhakti just took a picture of us," Vanille says sheepishly. "He does it every now and then. I can't figure out how to make it stop."

Fang eyes Bhakti critically.

"Want me to have a look at it?"

The offer is sweet, but it also makes Vanille fear for Bhakti's life.

"I think we should take him to someone who knows more about robots," she nervously suggests.

Fang snorts.

"What's there to know? Bet a good whack would do it."

Vanille gives Fang a look.

"Fine," Fang grumbles, throwing her hands in the air. "We'll go find a bloody tinkerer."

Bhakti beeps, seeming to either in agreement or an expression of gratitude to Vanille.

Fang starts to head down the stairs and Vanille follows, Bhakti in her arms.

That night, in the middle of the feast and the festivities, Fang pulls Vanille out of the crowd and takes her out of Oerba, not a single guard seeing them.

"Fang, what are we doing here?"

Her own question gives her pause, the answer coming to her in the form of Fang's playful grin. The secrecy, the sneaking off, it's just like the time Fang woke her up early on her twelfth birthday and took her wyvern riding for the first time.

"Are we going wyvern riding?" she asks, eager, excited.

After being trapped in the arks for two years, her fear of heights is long forgotten. She just wants to know what it feels like to fly again.

"We're flying," Fang says, the grin turning into a smirk, "but not on a wyvern."

Vanille's next question doesn't get worded because suddenly, Fang's brand is glowing. She runs to Fang, fearing the worst, but stops when she sees a strangely-shaped crystal appear from Fang's brand. Fang snatches up the crystal and tosses it high in the air, flinging a small, non-elemental spell after it.

The crystal shatters and the sky gleams purple when a large seal appears. It breaks open to the rumble of a loud roar and Bahamut shoots down from the sky, the ground shaking as this massive monster lands.

"W-we-" Vanille stutters in shock, hastily backing away. "We're going to fly on that thing?"

"Yeah!" Fang answers cheerfully, running to her and taking her hand. "It's safe. Don't worry."

I'll keep you safe, is what Fang really means, a promise made to her over and over again.

Vanille smiles, not needing to hear it once more. She lets Fang lead her to Bahamut, the eidolon that very nearly killed Fang. She remembers every blow Fang had taken, how Fang kept getting back up after each one to protect her, not giving the eidolon the chance to even look at her.

Fang sweeps her off the ground, carrying her with ease.

"Fang!" she gasps, her arms reflexively going around Fang's neck.

Fang chuckles and jumps on Bahamut's back, gently setting her down. Vanille clings to Fang's side as they sit down, taking advantage of the extra room on the eidolon's back.

"Let's go, Bahamut!" Fang barks, and in an instant, they're in the air, flying faster and higher than any wyvern.

Soon, Vanille is smiling, laughing at the crazy things Fang is making Bahamut do. She can't remember the last time she's felt so free, can't remember the last time her heart has felt so light. For hours, they fly, and every time Vanille looks over her shoulder, Cocoon is further away, getting smaller and smaller.

"I wish we could keep going," she whispers to Fang, leaning on Fang's shoulder, the one that now has the mark of a dragon.

She's not sure how she feels about it, this mark, not sure what it means to Fang. It's a dragon, like Bahamut, and Vanille can't help but wonder if all Fang sees in herself is this, a l'Cie, the Chosen, Ragnarok.

She places a hand over her brand. They don't have much time left, she can feel it.

"Fang," she says, looking up at Fang.

"Yeah?" Fang murmurs softly, in that gentle tone only for her.

"We'll always be together, won't we?" she asks, looking into those eyes that see nothing but her. "As long as you're with me, it's okay," she says, repeating the same words she once said to comfort Fang, now seeking it herself.

"Always," Fang tells her with such conviction, with such love. "We'll always be together, Vanille. I promise."

"You promise?" she echoes, wanting to hear it again, wanting to see Fang smile.

Instead of answering, Fang takes her hand, surprising her.

"Fang?"

"You told me once that your mother and father braid their hair because they're mate- married," Fang says, looking so curious and innocent at the moment, and Vanille realizes she hasn't seen Fang look like that since the day they met. "Is it only for that?" Fang asks. "Mating, marriage, it's a commitment, a promise. Can it be for other kinds of promises, too?"

Vanille could only nod, her throat too tight to let any words out. Fang gazes at her hopefully.

"Will you...?"

"Yes," Vanille breathes, finally able to speak.

She shifts to face Fang, remembering just now that they're on a dragon eidolon and they're flying, but it's again forgotten when she runs her fingers through Fang's hair, Fang's wild, stubborn hair.

Just like Fang, she thinks fondly.

Vanille's always liked it that way, always liked the unique coloring and the red at the tips. She won't change it, she decides, just do small braids. She moves back to Fang's left side, brushing her fingers against the side of Fang's head.

Her fingers tremble as she takes a few strands of Fang's hair and begins to braid them, doing so slowly, as reverently as she puts on her bead jewelry and bangles. She makes two other braids and tucks all three behind Fang's ear. They're just small braids, barely noticeable, hidden like a secret.

"I promise," Fang says, catching her hand before she pulls away, and there it is, what she's been wanting to see, the most beautiful smile she's ever seen.

"Me, too," Vanille whispers, feeling truly, completely happy, the first time she's felt that way in over two years. "I promise, too, Fang. We'll be together forever. No matter what happens, we'll never be apart."

"Yeah," Fang whispers back.

"First thing tomorrow," she says, "I'll teach you how to braid my hair."

"Vanille," Fang starts, "we don't have to do that."

Vanille huffs.

"Yes, we do. I'm the Dia here and I say we do!"

Fang blinks, then chuckles.

"First thing tomorrow, then."

Vanille smiles, pleased with the very agreeable response. She gets settled beside Fang, shifting until she's comfortable.

"We should head back soon," Fang says. "Yeta and the kids might get in trouble if they figure out we're missing."

Vanille frowns. They can't let something like that happen again. She still has nightmares of the children, crying and begging her to stay in hiding, and of the matron, lifeless on the floor.

"We should," she agrees.

Fang turns Bahamut, steering them back to Oerba, closer to Cocoon. Vanille stares at the night sky, trying to avoid looking at Cocoon. She leans on Fang, starting to feel tired, starting to feel sleepy.

"I wish we could stay here forever," she murmurs, the exhaustion making the truth so easy to say, making the tears harder to stop. "I wish we could just forget our focus and run away."

Fang doesn't say anything, simply puts an arm around her and holds her. Riding on Bahamut is almost like riding the trains in the arks. It's quiet, but the wind feels good on her body and Fang is warm. She closes her eyes and falls asleep.

When Vanille wakes up, it's to the frantic, panicked voice of the matron. She's alone in the bottom bunk, the rest of the bed feeling cold. She runs outside to look for Fang, but instead she sees Cocoon burning, its shell cracked, and crystal, all she sees after that is crystal.

Five hundred years later, she wakes up in the Temple of Anima. Fang is right there with her, remembering nothing of their focus, nothing of becoming Ragnarok. They're both l'Cie again, only Fang's brand is white, cold to the touch like crystal.

"I'm... broken," Fang says, so confused, so afraid.

Vanille holds Fang, and then she lies.

"Me, too."

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Note:

Vanille's promise to Fang is from Episode Zero: Tomorrow (dilly-shilly . blogspot 2010 / 07 / episode-zero-tomorrow-well-be-together . html)

Fang and Vanille's last verbal exchange is from Episode Zero: Stranger – Chapter Two (dilly-shilly . blogspot 2010 / 01 / episode-zero-stranger-chapter-two . html)