Fic - FF4, Edward/Anna
Jun. 11th, 2024 11:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ghoulmouseFandom: Final Fantasy 4
Characters: Edward/Anna (though, like...just look at the notes I guess)
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~1.2k words
Notes: I really don't know how to rate this -- it's terribly graphic or anything, it's just kind of a huge downer. I mean it's primarily Edward carrying Anna's body around. Death, grief, brief thoughts of suicide, aftermath of violence.
They found the hovercraft hangar mostly intact, though several of the vehicles were missing -- taken, Edward hoped, by some of the surviving royal guards or court engineers as far away as they could flee. His own craft, or at least the one he'd always used (it belonged properly to his parents, though they had both not been fond of traveling) was severely dented but mostly in working order, but once inside they found the archway that opened outside had partially collapsed. Some of the debris would have to be cleared away, Edward numbly explained, waving his hand at the pile of rubble to indicate the rough height at which a Damcyani hovercraft typically flew. That arch had been carved when Edward's great-great-grandfather was young, and had taken five years to construct under the exacting eye of the kingdom's most famous architect. Baron had destroyed it in less than a day.
The dark knight nodded, grimly setting about the task of shoving rocks out of the way. After a moment Edward mumbled something incoherent about a device to start the engine and fled back down the hallway they'd come from. The dark knight, who maybe wasn't heartless after all, made no move to stop him.
Everything was still burning. The air smelled like smoke and gunpowder, just barely still clear enough to breathe, and the corridors and courtyards were terrifyingly quiet and empty, the silence ringing in Edward's ears as its own kind of unbearable noise. Outside, the sun was starting to set, bathing anything that wasn't on fire with red-gold light, like even the sky and the sand had been set ablaze.
He didn't have much time. The dark knight and the little girl had been right about that much -- even leaving aside the matter of the knight's urgent errand, they had no idea if there were more soldiers on the way, or if a few would turn back to see if there was anything left to loot. And that was just the soldiers that were human. Not all of them had been.
Staying in the burning, crumbling wreckage was tantamount to suicide.
As appealing a notion as that seemed, his life was Anna's gift now. He had to figure out what to do with it.
--
Carrying a corpse was much more difficult than Edward anticipated. He'd certainly picked Anna off her feet before, but he'd never realized just how much the person being picked up contributed to the gesture. Unable to leap up or wrap her arms around his shoulders, nothing but cold solid weight. it was a terrible struggle to even lift her off the ground, and the air was growing less breathable by the minute. Edward's throat was starting to sting, but maybe that was a mercy -- the heat, the smoke, torn fabric sticking to an oozing skinned knee, the uneven floor beneath his boots that threatened to send him tumbling to the ground with one wrong step, even the mark left by the crack of a mailed hand against his cheek. Every distraction kept him from thinking, and if he thought too hard or too clearly right now Edward felt he might faint.
The von Muir family had a crypt in Damcyan Castle. It was far larger than it needed to be, intended to hold many future generations of royalty with as many statues and frescoes and elaborate sarcophagi as the most lavish of them cared to commission. It was where Anna would have been buried some day, had she ever gotten the chance to become queen.
The bombing had cracked open the floor above, and the desert daylight streamed down into the Damcyan crypt for the first time in centuries. The stairs were treacherous, the going slow and torturous. Eventually, Edward lost his footing on the rubble and hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs, sliding the last few feet still clutching Anna's lifeless body in his arms. For a long moment he lay there, coughing and gasping through the dust, wondering if Anna would understand if he simply never stood up again.
No. It didn't matter if she'd forgive him or not. She shouldn't have to.
Slowly, with his palms scraped raw and his head throbbing, Edward pushed himself to his feet. Luckily, it was only a few short, staggering steps to...Edward actually wasn't quite sure what it was, exactly. Something about waist high, decorated in carved marble, one corner smashed into so much white gravel. A monument, probably. He could barely see anything, so it would have to do.
Edward laid Anna's body on top of the damaged marble and suddenly found himself so dizzy he could no longer stand. His knees buckled under him and he laid his head down on the cold slab with a choking sob that felt more like drowning than crying.
Eyes screwed shut, moving mostly by feel, Edward tried his best to arrange Anna's body into some semblance of order -- arms folded, face shrouded with her torn shawl, hair mostly composed. Eventually, when there was nothing left to do, he stood back, rubbed his eyes with his sleeve until they stung, and opened them.
All that struggle just to end up standing in a different bombed-out wreckage, with the same corpse, the same stench of blood and burning, the same sick and hopeless thoughts. Bringing Anna here hadn't made her death seem any less pointless and miserable, and it hadn't made the road ahead feel any less impossible to tread.
There had to be something more he could do, some final deed grand enough to be worthy.
Edward laid his shaking hand weakly on Anna's unmoving chest and leaned down, but the sticky feeling of half-dried blood beneath his fingers stopped him cold.
The last time they'd kissed, really kissed... In the morning, it had been, with the day just beginning to stream through the curtains. You're always up with the sun, she'd mumbled, rolling over in bed to find Edward already sitting on the edge of it, combing his hair and humming to himself. Come back to bed.
Maybe you ought to get up instead, he'd teased, and she'd laughed and wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him back down into the blankets, making sure he'd have to spend twice as long with the comb once he'd escaped her grasp. They'd lain together there, forgetting the time, forgetting the world, until one of his father's councilors came pounding on the door with ominous news.
That had been their last kiss. If he replaced it with some cold, empty gesture, he could never take it back.
At this point, Edward figured that he'd been gone long enough that someone would come looking for him if he didn't head back now. No sense in lingering.
Checking to see that the key to the hovercraft was still in his pocket, as it had been since this morning, Edward turned and left the silent crypt and the setting sun behind.
Characters: Edward/Anna (though, like...just look at the notes I guess)
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~1.2k words
Notes: I really don't know how to rate this -- it's terribly graphic or anything, it's just kind of a huge downer. I mean it's primarily Edward carrying Anna's body around. Death, grief, brief thoughts of suicide, aftermath of violence.
They found the hovercraft hangar mostly intact, though several of the vehicles were missing -- taken, Edward hoped, by some of the surviving royal guards or court engineers as far away as they could flee. His own craft, or at least the one he'd always used (it belonged properly to his parents, though they had both not been fond of traveling) was severely dented but mostly in working order, but once inside they found the archway that opened outside had partially collapsed. Some of the debris would have to be cleared away, Edward numbly explained, waving his hand at the pile of rubble to indicate the rough height at which a Damcyani hovercraft typically flew. That arch had been carved when Edward's great-great-grandfather was young, and had taken five years to construct under the exacting eye of the kingdom's most famous architect. Baron had destroyed it in less than a day.
The dark knight nodded, grimly setting about the task of shoving rocks out of the way. After a moment Edward mumbled something incoherent about a device to start the engine and fled back down the hallway they'd come from. The dark knight, who maybe wasn't heartless after all, made no move to stop him.
Everything was still burning. The air smelled like smoke and gunpowder, just barely still clear enough to breathe, and the corridors and courtyards were terrifyingly quiet and empty, the silence ringing in Edward's ears as its own kind of unbearable noise. Outside, the sun was starting to set, bathing anything that wasn't on fire with red-gold light, like even the sky and the sand had been set ablaze.
He didn't have much time. The dark knight and the little girl had been right about that much -- even leaving aside the matter of the knight's urgent errand, they had no idea if there were more soldiers on the way, or if a few would turn back to see if there was anything left to loot. And that was just the soldiers that were human. Not all of them had been.
Staying in the burning, crumbling wreckage was tantamount to suicide.
As appealing a notion as that seemed, his life was Anna's gift now. He had to figure out what to do with it.
--
Carrying a corpse was much more difficult than Edward anticipated. He'd certainly picked Anna off her feet before, but he'd never realized just how much the person being picked up contributed to the gesture. Unable to leap up or wrap her arms around his shoulders, nothing but cold solid weight. it was a terrible struggle to even lift her off the ground, and the air was growing less breathable by the minute. Edward's throat was starting to sting, but maybe that was a mercy -- the heat, the smoke, torn fabric sticking to an oozing skinned knee, the uneven floor beneath his boots that threatened to send him tumbling to the ground with one wrong step, even the mark left by the crack of a mailed hand against his cheek. Every distraction kept him from thinking, and if he thought too hard or too clearly right now Edward felt he might faint.
The von Muir family had a crypt in Damcyan Castle. It was far larger than it needed to be, intended to hold many future generations of royalty with as many statues and frescoes and elaborate sarcophagi as the most lavish of them cared to commission. It was where Anna would have been buried some day, had she ever gotten the chance to become queen.
The bombing had cracked open the floor above, and the desert daylight streamed down into the Damcyan crypt for the first time in centuries. The stairs were treacherous, the going slow and torturous. Eventually, Edward lost his footing on the rubble and hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs, sliding the last few feet still clutching Anna's lifeless body in his arms. For a long moment he lay there, coughing and gasping through the dust, wondering if Anna would understand if he simply never stood up again.
No. It didn't matter if she'd forgive him or not. She shouldn't have to.
Slowly, with his palms scraped raw and his head throbbing, Edward pushed himself to his feet. Luckily, it was only a few short, staggering steps to...Edward actually wasn't quite sure what it was, exactly. Something about waist high, decorated in carved marble, one corner smashed into so much white gravel. A monument, probably. He could barely see anything, so it would have to do.
Edward laid Anna's body on top of the damaged marble and suddenly found himself so dizzy he could no longer stand. His knees buckled under him and he laid his head down on the cold slab with a choking sob that felt more like drowning than crying.
Eyes screwed shut, moving mostly by feel, Edward tried his best to arrange Anna's body into some semblance of order -- arms folded, face shrouded with her torn shawl, hair mostly composed. Eventually, when there was nothing left to do, he stood back, rubbed his eyes with his sleeve until they stung, and opened them.
All that struggle just to end up standing in a different bombed-out wreckage, with the same corpse, the same stench of blood and burning, the same sick and hopeless thoughts. Bringing Anna here hadn't made her death seem any less pointless and miserable, and it hadn't made the road ahead feel any less impossible to tread.
There had to be something more he could do, some final deed grand enough to be worthy.
Edward laid his shaking hand weakly on Anna's unmoving chest and leaned down, but the sticky feeling of half-dried blood beneath his fingers stopped him cold.
The last time they'd kissed, really kissed... In the morning, it had been, with the day just beginning to stream through the curtains. You're always up with the sun, she'd mumbled, rolling over in bed to find Edward already sitting on the edge of it, combing his hair and humming to himself. Come back to bed.
Maybe you ought to get up instead, he'd teased, and she'd laughed and wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him back down into the blankets, making sure he'd have to spend twice as long with the comb once he'd escaped her grasp. They'd lain together there, forgetting the time, forgetting the world, until one of his father's councilors came pounding on the door with ominous news.
That had been their last kiss. If he replaced it with some cold, empty gesture, he could never take it back.
At this point, Edward figured that he'd been gone long enough that someone would come looking for him if he didn't head back now. No sense in lingering.
Checking to see that the key to the hovercraft was still in his pocket, as it had been since this morning, Edward turned and left the silent crypt and the setting sun behind.
(no subject)
Date: 2024-06-12 08:07 pm (UTC)