Author's Note: Well, the last of Fratley's tale. Thank you to my readers, and especially to those that reviewed. Just as a note, I am working on a sort of parallel fic to this one that would basically be Fratley's encounters between the first challenge of Beatrix and where we see him again in Lindblum. I have a few ideas I'm rolling on, but I haven't actually started anything. On another note, I am in the plannings for another IX fic, so keep an eye out if you're interested in more of my stuff for FFIX. I hope you enjoyed the story, and thanks again SO much for reading and reviewing!

NaomiK

Epilogue:
A Distant Memory

The road to Alexandria had been treacherous. If she'd thought the trek through the Mist had been difficult, she had underestimated scaling the plateau to reach Alexandria castle. But airships no longer bartered for transportation, and the North Gate had long since closed. And Evil Forest had not been an option; make no mistake, she never underestimates her skill. However, blindly wandering through a forest where none had escaped had seemed foolish.

Stories of his victories were evident. She'd heard of his dragon slayings, and rumors of his triumphs. Valleys yielded no sign of him, only distant footsteps to trace and only whispers of the strange Burmecian. And it seemed as though he'd vanished for nearly a year – no traces, no footsteps, no rumors… She had recently picked his trail back up from a pair of Qus in a marsh just south of Gizamaluke's Grotto who had seen him journey south; toward Lindblum for the Festival of the Hunt, no doubt. And indeed, she last heard of his feats in Lindblum, learning from an old friend that he'd gained passage to the quiet castle mere months earlier. Freya gives a half-hearted laugh at herself; it seemed no matter where she went, she was always a step behind her Fratley.

It was here, in the kingdom of Alexandria, that he'd sought the General Beatrix, whose skill he believed better than his own. Perhaps she would know of Sir Fratley's whereabouts. Vaguely, a memory creeps to her mind, nearly two years past. The first time she glimpsed the rose sunlight glimmering over the sword through Alexandria castle. Upon her first venture to the kingdom, many moons ago, she'd been shooed away by an arrogant knight, a captain, so he claimed; but she would not accept a kind dismissal this time.

A warm summer sun beams down across the sandstone walk way, bustling with busy townsfolk and eager vendors. She crosses the square, hesitating only to locate the castle bay. She can see the magnificent sword, pierced through the heart of Alexandria keep, and towering over the rest of Alexandria. Hastily, she passes under the arches, the cobbled path taking her to a nearly empty bay. Alexandrian soldiers keep watch, and she approaches as the pair exchanges uncertain looks.

"This bay is closed," the brunette says sternly, eyes scrutinizing the Burmecian.

"I wish to see General Beatrix," she replies, equally firm.

"Perhaps you misunderstood," the other soldier says. "The bay is closed."

"You will take me across to see the General," Freya snaps. "The matter is urgent." The guards exchanged glances, hesitance slipping between them.

"Queen Brahne has expressly forbidden –"

"I don't much care what the Queen has requested," she spits stubbornly and the pair look taken aback by the sudden interruption. "If I cannot cross, then bring the General to me." The pair falter, unsure how to deny the request. "Or I'll cross myself."

"…One moment," the dark-haired soldier says, turning to the other. Whispers hiss between them, the pair discussing the matter quietly. Finally, she turns. "Wait here. I will see if the General has time to meet with you."

"That's what I thought," Freya replies cockily. "Tell her I am looking for a Burmecian called Sir Fratley – a Dragon Knight." The soldier nods, silently agreeing to relay the message. The boat drifts across, water gently rippling as it breaks the surface. Freya watches her go, catching the stare of the other guard who suddenly finds interest in the scuffed bricked path. Impatiently, she sits, cross-legged on the sun-warmed steps.

*~*~*0*~*~*

"Excuse me, General," she interrupts, and a maroon eye flits to the doorway. "Might I have a moment?" My gaze falls back to the Princess, who busily finishes adjusting the formal white dress.

"Please excuse me, Princess," I say, and the young Princess Garnet nods. "I'll be only a moment." The soldier turns, and I follow her to the door. It closes silently behind me, and I turn to my subordinate.

"Sincerest apologies for the interruption," she begins, saluting hastily. "But we have a, er…situation at the bay."

"What is it?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"A Burmecian," she replies, and my heart flutters.

"…Burmecian?" I repeat distantly, and she nods affirmatively. "…What seems to be the problem?"

"She's demanding to see you," she answers quickly. "We told her the bay was closed by orders of Queen Brahne, but she refused – even threatened to come over here herself if we failed to produce you."

"…Did she say who she was?" I ask; she shakes her head.

"No, ma'am," she replies. "Only that she was looking for another Burmecian – a Dragon Knight."

"A Dragon Knight?"

"Yes, ma'am," she retorts, nodding. She stammers to recall the Burmecians request, clearly not expecting I would inquire of her intent. "I believe the name was…Frat…Fratley?"

"…Sir Fratley…?" I repeat distantly, the name stirring a flutter in the pit of my stomach. It occurred many months ago, but the memory is fresh, like a dream that plagues my mind. No…not dream. A nightmare.

"It'll be the last thing you do!" I raced to his side, skidding to a stop as I placed myself between them. My face throbbed with the painful wound I'd received, but my gaze is fierce. He hesitated, eyebrows raising with piqued interest, and marine eyes studied me in silence. Sunlight shimmered across the Save the Queen, flecks of sunbeams catching on rubies as I held my blade to the ready.

"I must admit I am surprised at you, dear General," he said, his tone taunting and arrogant as he rested a finger over his chin thoughtfully. "I wouldn't expect such a loyal pet to betray its master."

"No, Kuja," I spat, fiercely. My gaze didn't leave him, the fiendish red mage; my queen might have trusted him, but my heart disagreed. "I will not betray my kingdom. Nor will I betray my friend."

"You would save him, knowing well that he would be undoing of your entire kingdom?" I hesitated, uncertain; he was my friend, but…my kingdom… "Consider this: if you let him leave, he will return to Burmecia, and warn the vermin of your kingdom's plans – the preemptive strike that could save it." Barely audible, a weary, distant breath escaped onto the morning breeze, alive with the scent of dew grass and battle. "Would you still wish to spare such an insignificant rat?" he asked, intrigue settling on his features.

I knew I was defeated but there must have been an alternative to death. My gaze caught over the fallen Burmecian, the Dragon Knight I had known as a friend; in a role such as mine, friends were few, trust hard to gain. I turned back to Kuja; our eyes met, mischief glimmering across sapphires and part of me knew I couldn't take the mage alone. But I won't allow death to come to Sir Fratley! He chuckled, the light sound shattering the slowing world around us.

"Perhaps a compromise, then?" An aura swirled around him, shuddering against the morning breeze, and suddenly bright white engulfed us. It faded, and a quiet groan escaped his lips; I turned quickly, studying the Burmecian. He stirred quietly, my heart nearly stopping as I realized he still lived. My mouth ran dry, gaze gaping and unsure. Finally, his eyes opened, glazed and weary as they tried to focus.

"Who…where am I…?" he asked quietly, and brows furrowed as I realized the results of his spell. "Who…who…?" His voice was weak, and I was uncertain if he could decipher our figures against the early morning sun.

"What…what did you do?" I questioned, words almost a whisper among the breeze. He chuckled, the cold response sending shudders across me.

"It's a simple spell," he replied. Unable to support his own weight, the Burmecian crumpled, head lolling to the side. His eyes struggled to remain open, fluttering beneath the warm morning sun. "The rodent will no longer remember the events he has witnessed."

"Who…who am…I…?" he whispered, the words faint and undirected.

"You…erased his memory…" I realized. Sir Fratley murmured weakly, his consciousness fading once more. Eyes closed quietly, flickering back open like a feigning candle. 'A fate worse than death…' I thought to myself.

"Precisely," he said, airy syllables like rose petals against the breeze. "Unless, of course, you'd rather I finish the deed." Wind swirled behind me, and I turned sharply as Kuja prepared his spell.

"Kuja, let him be!" I protested, and hands fell to his side with mock disappointment. "He cannot even recall his own name – he's no longer a threat. …You've done enough." The wind settled, a stillness sinking over us and I could feel the indifferent mage studying me, eyes boring deep into my core.

"Mercy is weakness," he reminded me, turning back to the kingdom. Footsteps were elegant, body moving as though it were gliding across the tall blades of grass and fresh clover. "You will never be truly powerful so long as you pity the insignificant." Glazed eyes lingered on my silhouette, resting somewhere between a garnet iris and the heavy air between. A last word fell incoherently against the grass, and I turned. Absently, I followed the mage, smothering the sickness that swelled inside my stomach. My wounded eye throbbed painfully, and an ache pierce my heart; but I allowed for neither to show.

Fingers graze my silver eye patch, lingering across the smooth surface as I brush the bangs from my face. Silently, I pass the soldier, stepping onto the balcony. I can see her, just barely visible against the sunlit dock. A red cloak, adorned with the crests of Burmecia and the Dragon Knights draped over her neck, she sits cross-legged, waiting. The bay shimmers between us, and I sigh quietly. My subordinate studies me from behind, knowing better than to ask what troubles me. I swallow, mouth suddenly dry as a familiar ache burns within me.

"Tell her this," I say, words quiet but unwavering. "The knight she seeks…is dead."