So this was what it was like to be ignored, Yuna thought as she woke up.

Last night had certainly not been what she had expected. Not only did Seymour nearly vomit blood all over her shoes, she also became invisible.

Anzi came running at her name. Once she saw Seymour lying unconscious and bloody, Yuna wasn’t blamed. Yuna wasn’t there. Yuna wasn’t "sweetie" or cute anymore.

Anzi turned out to be quite muscular under her billowy dress. She lifted Seymour by herself and laid him on the bed as he complained in his sleep. Yuna asked if she could help but Anzi didn’t seem to notice.

After a while, Anzi left to find bandages and other supplies. Yuna was left to wander the hall until she found a servant’s bedroom that wasn’t being used — or a guestroom — and went back to sleep.

The two dead guards in the hallway were taken away and replaced by new ones, who fell asleep just after Yuna did, and never noticed her.

………………………………………………………………………………..

"Excuse me?" Yuna asked, poking her head in the doorway. She didn’t want to know what had happened. She wanted whatever had happened to resolve and then be told the details. But there had been no breakfast, and the only people who acknowledged her were the guards who told her she couldn’t leave the castle.

"Lord Seymour can see you when he is well," said one of the two guards standing near the bed.

Yuna had just about enough of guards and wanted to punch them both in the chest. Thankfully, for diplomatic purposes, Seymour practically speared him with his elbow in reprimand.

"Go away," Seymour said angrily.

The two guards started stomping out the doorway and Seymour gestured for her to come over to him.

He was propped up with pillows. The top half of his robe was off and the lower portion of his chest was wrapped up in bandages with a poultice tied close to his injury. "Smart," he said as Yuna sat on the edge of the bed next to him. "I die here, the humans are to blame and there would be no one to send the dead in Guadosalam. I didn’t believe you’d do it. I thought you had too much pride."

"You’re welcome," Yuna said. Seymour had admitted she’d done something he never expected of her; it was the closest she’d get in thanks from him, at least for now.

"The ribs aren’t broken —" He suddenly winced in pain and obviously regretted what he had just said. "As broken. The lung isn’t punctured. I take it this was the best I would get from any white mage."

"Sorry."

"You want to know what I’m afraid of, still?"

"Yes," Yuna said once she realized the question wasn’t rhetorical.

"I was afraid of my life depending entirely on you. We are a race strongly and intricately connected to the Farplane, Yuna. We make pathetic white mages, and potions are a rarity around here."

"There’s more to it," Yuna said, trying to coax the whole truth from him. He had a skill of making one single detail appear to be all that he intended.

"Yes, there’s more to it," he admitted. "And I refuse to tell you. Or anyone else."

"But I thought you said you cared about your people. You didn’t tell them?"

"I have learned that keeping others in the dark is a way to protect them, sometimes. I’d say this is an appropriate time."

"You could have died and you’re not going to tell anyone?"

"All they know is that I’m injured and I am recovering. The last thing I should be doing is spreading more fear around an already terrified world. I refuse to be the death of more people. Because I was stupid, I was afraid. Because I was afraid, I cost the life of two guards — two people I knew. If I hadn’t made it to your door, I’d have sent at least one entire nat— race to its death."

Again, something hung over Yuna so heavy that it hurt. And yet, she didn’t know what to say to make it go away. That was all she wanted: for it to go away.

Seymour sat there, finding the wall the most interesting thing in the room at the moment, angry with himself.

Yuna wanted to leave and feel safe that he wasn't angry with her anymore, and yet she felt obliged to stay until she could say something.

She looked down and saw his hand on the bed, just there. No anger in it, no fear… until she reached to touch it and he jerked away. His face gave nothing away, but he obviously didn’t want her to comfort him now.

"See you two?" Anzi suddenly said and they both jumped, making Seymour wince and grab his side. "You can get along. Why you look like two little lovebirds."

Seymour suddenly did his best to scoot away and Yuna stood up.

"Here, I brought lunch," Anzi said, setting a tray on the nightstand next to the bed. "And this, you shouldn’t drop it, Seymour," she said, handing him a small foldable knife.

Seymour said nothing as he took the knife and slipped it into his sleeve

"I found it in the couch. I’ll see if I can find someone to reupholster it."

"Thank you," Seymour said, nodding at her.

"You two go back to getting along," she said, patting both their heads before leaving.

Seymour didn’t comment on Anzi as he reached over — obviously painfully — and took the tray. Taxes again, with another side of fungi. Yuna wondered if she was hungry enough to ask him for a bite. Hearing her stomach growl loudly, she wondered if she was rude enough.

Seymour ignored her and shoveled some food into his mouth before looking at the documents on the tray. "Is there a white mage spell to cure headaches?" he asked, putting a hand to his temple.

"Not really," Yuna apologized, or as close to it as she’d go with him.

"Well, if that’s what it takes to get Kilika to make peace with Luca," he said, and put the papers aside to continue eating.

"What happened to Kilika?" Yuna asked.

"It’s on fire," he answered between bites. "And the people are finding Ochuu flammable. There are other disasters, but forest fire seems to be the major one."

"You don’t seem concerned."

"I have my own country falling down around my heels. I have been killed at least five times. I have been inside of Sin and I have seen the Farplane. I am merely unfazed, not unconcerned." Seymour went back to eating, adamant to get the point across that he was busy, tired, frustrated, and at a loss as to how to stop any of this.

"What… was it like?" Yuna asked, not missing the point but deflecting it entirely.

"Being concerned or being fazed by such things?"

"Being dead."

"Yuna, I’m eating. It hurts when I think. It hurts when I breathe. It hurts when I think of breathing. Do you really think this is the best time to bring that up?"

"I thought the best time to ask was while you were still alive."

"You explain to me what it’s like being female and I’ll explain what it’s like being dead."

"Well…"

"Yuna, I’m not serious. And I certainly don’t really want to hear about that. It’s … it’s hard to explain, why didn’t you ask your friend?"

"We didn’t know he was dead."

Seymour sighed, and then decided to continue eating as he talked. "I thought I was thinking straight … I guess that’s all I can say. I meant my plans originally, but I never meant to go to so much trouble. I told you I wanted to end misery; I never intended to cause it. As a fiend I couldn’t help but want the death of the living. It was stupid of me to want to stay alive. I knew what would happen. I learned the importance of accepting death from my people. It was very stupid of me."

Again Yuna wished she had a tiny bit more talent of knowing what to say. She wanted to say things dignified and comforting now. She couldn’t do it to him; she couldn’t do it to Lulu. She couldn’t tell Tidus what she really meant without stumbling over her words and sounding like an idiot. She couldn’t explain to him what her quest meant, for him or for her. Did she not have the heart or did she have too much?

"Here," Seymour said, handing his plate to Yuna after her stomach decided to interrupt the silence.

Yuna was too busy to see Seymour’s bland expression falter for a second as she accepted the plate and eagerly began shoveling food in her mouth, ignoring the fork until it became an obstacle between her and the food.

"If I had known it was possible, things would have been different," he said.

Yuna looked up from the empty plate, wiping the last of the food off her chin.

"With Sin. If I had known it was possible to put an actual and final end to it … I wanted to end misery, not lives. It is a perfect irony to be brought back in the middle of all this. If I had the time … I’d find a way to get you out of all this."

"Why?" Yuna asked.

"You obviously don’t want it. You want the world to stop fighting. You want this wedding as much as I do."

"But … everything you said … years ago … about pillars and love … and devotion … and promises … you lied?" Something was wrong. Seymour had lied once, only when he tried to force his hand and force her into completing the wedding. Was the whole thing, not just the end, the accomplishment and achievement, a lie? From courtship to the wedding, he never meant any of it?

"No … I meant it … when I thought you were someone else."

"Someone else?" Yuna asked. "Exactly who did you think I was?"

"It doesn’t matter. What I admired was your strength. You were so obviously determined, despite anything, to complete your pilgrimage. Many summoners take months, even years to finish. Some never did. They’re … lost. They don’t have the strength or the courage … whatever you had to take only so many days to gather so much to fight Sin … and then you did the impossible by surviving. You did it all for people you never knew. For people who hated you. I envied you. I envied what you would do for strangers, and for your friends, and what they would do for you."

"I’m sorry they crashed the wedding," she said, hoping she was remotely close to the right thing to say.

"I was dead. None of it should have happened. Yuna … my head hurts. My chest hurts. I have to send the guards and anyone else who has died recently tonight. I leave for Luca tomorrow. I have a speech to write, and to remember. I don’t want pity; I don’t want apologies you don’t mean. I want you to go away and leave me in peace while I stare at the ceiling until I can get at least one relevant thought straight in my head. But first I want to ask you a question. You do so much to do what is right even when you only understand half of it. Would you ever forget what has happened between us … maybe forget me altogether … would you put what is right over what is best?"

"I don’t know," she answered. "I…"

"I did not mean for you to answer now, but if I never get an answer before the inevitable happens, I will take it as a refusal."

"How long do I have?"

"I do not know. I just know it’ll happen."

"What’ll happen?"

"That’s personal. Now shoo."

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