Although he didn’t voice it, it was obvious Seymour would rather go back to the palace and avoid his father than wander Guadosalam and fail to avoid the people.

Jyscal seemed rather indifferent about the whole thing, in fact, he didn’t know they had left. "You’ve been gone the whole night? What, did he do something that moronic?"

"No, we got a hotel," Yuna answered.

"You," Jyscal said. "Got a hotel."

Yuna nodded.

Jyscal looked at Yuna, then at Seymour. Then he started laughing at him. "You think that’s going to fool me? I twice your age. How stupid do you take me to be? You’re a clueless, brainless twit."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Yuna had found it was stubbornness that had made Seymour follow her through Guadosalam. The same thing that kept him from backing down or ignoring his father, the same thing that made him refuse give up on life or his desire to become sin and save everyone, the same thing that made him push himself too hard than was healthy to manage the entire nation after the farplane had been broken made him hurt himself.

His damn pride.

His legs were still too injured and tender for him to go walking around, especially all day. He never said a word. He never complained. He never would.

That was more obvious than the fact that he was hiding it.

Wining and not showing weakness was more important than keeping himself well. Yuna wondered what else he’d learned from his father and hoped she never found out.

She realized she couldn’t just sit there dwelling on how many things had gone wrong for Seymour and as a child learning about how life should be, while he sat in the window, unconsciously rubbing his legs, trying to undo the knots and aches he’d given himself.

"I have some spheres," Yuna said. "You weren’t there… when… well…" ‘Yeah, tell him you saved the world purely to look for Tidus, your husband would love that,’ she thought.

"I do not like spheres."

"Man, no one here likes spheres," Yuna griped.

"My mother did."

"Sorry."

"Perhaps if your spheres do not have someone proclaiming that their son was about to kill them."

‘Right’ Yuna thought, embarrassed. ‘Of course he doesn’t like spheres. I killed him over one.’

"I’ll go get them, then," She said and slid off the bed. "I’ll be right back."

"I’ll be right here," he muttered blankly.

Yuna shrugged. There was another thing he’d learned from his father. Hiding and using his emotions in his voice. It was a beautiful voice, but it always frightened her when it was angry or emotionless. She left, not wanting to hear that voice anymore, not like that.

Seymour kept staring out the window. It was the only thing that gave him peace and strength, though mild. All that was out the window was a tree, full of leaves and often swarming with tiny wildlife, all vying for space and food and mates. What he saw was something he always wished for. A domain his father could not touch, could not argue with, could not put any sort of meaning to. He remembered, as a child, reaching out for that world and touching a branch. His first taste of freedom. His first thought that maybe, though not forever, he could be somewhere no one would care, even if all he was surrounded by were birds and bugs and small rodents.

The branch was gone now. Anzi had been so terrified that Jyscal would kill and told his father about the branches. He remembered another time he reached for the world he so wanted. The branches weren’t close enough, and he was too young and clumsy. Not only had he lost his world, but his father had been furious, calling him stupid for falling out a window. Jyscal would have risked his own life if it meant escaping his son, but he’d only have been more furious if Seymour dared talk back.

The door burst open and Seymour instantly knew who it was. He knew who it was when the door opened like that a few days after he had been taken back from Baaj.

"What do you think you’re doing?"

Seymour didn’t answer. He didn’t want to answer. He was tired of searching for answers in the dark when none of them would please his father. He wanted to stare out at the forbidden world a little longer.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?" Jyscal yelled, grabbing the neckline of Seymour’s robe.

Seymour didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. This time he was in the right. This time he had done nothing wrong. He was just sitting in his room.

"Where is that little minx? Why isn’t she here with you?"

"She went—"

"She left?" Jyscal yelled. "Why aren’t you with her?"

"What now?" Yuna asked from the open doorway, quickly dumping a load of unsorted spheres on the floor.

"You two can’t even get that your lives are at stake through your think heads and you want children? Would both of you grow up first?" Jyscal said, grabbing Seymour’s arm and stomping over to Yuna. He pointed at his son as if he were an pet that refused to be housebroken. "No wonder I return to such a mess, having to clean up after this dimwit. He is completely defenseless and there is no telling when or how the terrorists are going to regroup and attack again. When I say keep an eye on him, I mean it! I do not have time to watch morons with candyheaded notions of ‘Love will solve everything’ while I fix the mess BOTH of you created with the Al Behd. I don’t care where you go, or what you do. Either put both of you out of my misery so I don’t have to put up with having to tell you what to do anymore or get some damn brains!"

"Why are you here in the first place?" Seymour asked, yanking his arm away. Although there was no anger in his voice for once, Jyscal knew it was an attempt to gain some ground in their eternal feud.

Jyscal pulled out Seymour’s blade and flipped it open. Seymour backed away immediately, only for his retreat o be in vain as Jyscal slammed the blade into the thick wooden door. "This is yours, learn how to use it and be competent at something for once in your life. And if you can’t manage that, quit losing it."

Yuna and Seymour stood glued to the floor as they watched Jyscal leave, slamming the door after him. Yuna sighed as she heard him walk away without locking the door or shoving furniture in front of it.

"I… um… found…" Yuna stuttered, unsure of what to say.

Seymour went to the door and pulled his knife out of it. "He’s right."

"He’s not right," Yuna said. " I don’t care if he’s your father, he has no right to treat you like this. Ever. Especially as a child."

"His right is not the fact that he is my father. His right is the fact that no one will stop him because he has too much power. And they like him better."

"That’s not a reason."

"It worked,’ Seymour said, putting the knife in his sleeve. "I meant he’s right that I’m defenseless. I can’t wrestle with assassins and there are no more Aeons. The only person I can fight is my father, and I’m too much of a runt to ever truly win."

"Runt? You?" Yuna asked.

"In comparison. Perhaps you could come up with something."

"I think they only work on women," Yuna said. "Besides, they aren’t really your size."

"I was not contemplating spheres. I was wondering if you or your friends could…teach me… something."

"What happened to your stick?" Yuna asked.

"My father had it broken in two before the execution. Perhaps your black mage or someone could help me re-learn a few spells." He chuckled hollowly. "Oh, I’m sure they’d appreciate that after everything."

"They might," Yuna said. "They’re taking care of Anzi."

"I was not informed of that."

"You weren’t?"

"I thought my father had scared her off for good. I doubt he is having them watch her out of the kindness of his heart."

"Not that I could tell. But at least he knows you two—"

"He resents her Yuna. She is all he has of my mother. She was his friend before she was hers. Sometimes I think he sees my mother in her, but she cannot defend me against him, or convince him to be kind like my mother could. He depends on her and I can tell he remembers when they were friends, but she reminds him that he has me, not my mother."

"I take it you didn’t learn that overnight."

"I heard them talking… and arguing… a few times. Yuna, you do not know how being a crossbreed could be so harrowing, even to other people."

True, she had been known as Lord Braska’s daughter. The rumors and insults about her being half Al Behd vanished quickly after early childhood. The pride her father wanted to earn for her so she’d be spared the indignity he had to go through had been in vain.

"So… would you like to see the spheres?"

"If you wish. As much as I fight with my father, I do not intend to be impolite towards you."

Yuna stood up and started carefully sorting through the pile. "Class… class…class… you don’t want those, they don’t have anything worth watching on them. Paine killing things. Paine hitting things. Ability sphere, man that one’s old… This one’s fun. It’s Rikku’s birthday—"

"I’m going back to the window," he said acrimoniously. He had never used that tone to her save for when he had been a fiend, and extremely angry on top of that.. Only when possessed by obsession to the point of madness had he ever spoken to her that way.

The man back from the farplane was the same as the Maester that had wanted her attention, and later her hand in marriage, before she had sent everything to hell. He was someone with true emotions, not mere shadows of them that had corrupted real reasons and dreams, had come back.

He had been given another chance at life, not another one entirely. He was still trapped in the same one he’d wished to escape before.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Despite how obvious it was Jyscal despised both of them, he insisted they would both sit at the table and eat during meals instead of scavenging like rodents once he had had the dining room repaired.

It was easier than waiting for someone who worked in the kitchen to return after their break and ask them for food.

Yuna and Seymour sat at one end and Jyscal at the other, each group trying to stay as far away from each other as possible.

Yuna noticed Seymour looked at her more often than he looked at his father and wondered if they were fighting less now that Seymour knew he had a friend. Or was her presence making things worse with with Jyscal angry that his enemy now had an ally and she was changing the rules of their little game of yelling and screaming and hurting each other?

Yuna tried conversation with Seymour after a few days of angry, tense silence during meals. "I wonder how Anzi’s doing."

"Indeed," Seymour said, his eyes watching his father. "I was not informed of her… visit… to Beseid."

"It has been quiet without her, hasn’t it?" Jyscal said calmly.

Yuna decided to take the conversation, short though it was, as a personal victory.

Seymour reached for the wine.

Jyscal started laughing at him. "Don’t be so modest, Seymour," he said, amused at how little Seymour had poured himself. "It’ll loosen you up, as you so obviously need."

Seymour said nothing and drank from the glass almost defiantly.

"Did your little trollop know how difficult it would be to get a rise from you when she agreed to a consummated marriage?"

Seymour was so taken aback he dropped the glass on the floor and spat what was left of his wine out all over the table and started choking.

Yuna patted him on the back.

Jyscal stood up. "Do not try to fool me with a damned hotel! You haven’t even touched her, have you?"

Seymour gritted his teeth, but stared at his food. His hands clenched at the table.

Yuna put her hand on his arm to calm him down, hoping his father would run out of steam soon.

"You have never known any woman and you don’t deserve to!" Jyscal continued. "Because you’re an abhorrent, unnatural mistake!" Jyscal laughed, truly amused, but obviously at Seymour’s expense.

Seymour hung his head and put a hand on Yuna’s.

"It’s not going to happen even if you weren’t so inept in bed. Crossbreeds never perpetuate offspring." Now his laughter was hollow and bitter, scathing at both himself and his son. "Or perhaps all of Guadosalam is going to hell. Perhaps we’re both disgusting in the eyes of nature. I find love in a woman of another species, and you… you can’t even touch one. You probably don’t even fancy them." Jyscal grabbed Seymour’s hair and pulled his head up to look him in the eyes. "I should have expected something so aberrant to act so as well."

Jyscal released Seymour’s hair, smiling at his victory and awaiting a long-awaited surrender from his son. He had finally found something Seymour could not ignore, could not turn around and use against him, and had no chance of fighting against.

Seymour pushed Yuna’s had away and stood up.

Jyscal smiled, ready to block Seymour’s punch, though not giving so much away; they were still fighting by his rules. No more ignoring him, no more confiding in Yuna, no more sarcastic remarks. No more cheating. They’d fight his way again.

What Seymour did do, though, surprised everybody. He clumsily knocked his chair over with he heel as he back up and grabbed the table unsteadily. His free hand went to his mouth. "I think I’m sick," he mumbled before he vomited on the table.

Yuna shot out of her seat, trying to avoid the mess as Seymour retched and knocked over dishes, coughing up what looked like black dirt. He fell to the floor and struggled to hold himself up as his heaves continued, the bile becoming redder and redder.

Jyscal grabbed the bottle of wine and sniffed, then threw it at the wall.

Yuna bent down and covered herself in her arms as the bottle smashed against the wall and Jyscal furiously kicked the table over.

Seymour seemed unaware of anything. He was panting heavily in a desperate attempt to breathe and not cry in front of his father now. His chest spasmed and constricted as he was trying to inhale and he choked. He vomited another puddle of blood on the floor and collapsed, no longer able enough to hold himself up.

He pathetically tried to crawl away, blood ebbing from his mouth. Jyscal stopped him by putting his foot on Seymour’s back as he grabbed Yuna and yanked her to him. "He is suffering from internal bleeding. Do not heal him; it will only make things worse. Do not move him. Do not leave him. Treat him for shock," he ordered and took his foot off. "Do not let him die. I am getting a doctor." Jyscal dropped her and almost ran out of the room. She could hear him crashing through doors a he left.

Seymour groaned in pain and spat out a gob of blood and bile. Yuna was almost panicking. She hadn’t done first aid since she was studying to become a summoner. She had never planned on using those basic skills again after learning white mage spells.

Instructions slowly came back to her in fragments.

‘Stop the bleeding—no, it’s internal!’ she thought. ‘What else? Do I keep him from moving? Do I apply pressure? No, that’s stupid, something ripping him up inside. Shit, he’s going pale. Why is nothing simple around here?’

"Here, I… uh… come on, roll over on your back. Come… on!" she said struggling with him. All he did was try to breathe and hold off the paroxysms. "There, that should keep you from fainting. What next? What next? Come on, calm down. Clam down, please. I’m right here."

His skin was cold to the touch and was slick with sweat as she took his hand to comfort him. He stared at her in confusion, as if wondering who she was and although he was on the floor he looked extremely dizzy.

"No, come on. No, don’t do that. I’m right here," she said as he looked like he was panicking almost as much as she was. "It’s me, Yuna. Look at me. Look at me. Sure… cough on me… uh, fine… just don’t zone out, ‘kay? Okay? Crap, I forgot, don’t move, okay?" Yuna doubted he’d move much if he wanted to. "What, you made of bricks or something?" she asked, lifting one of his legs and placing his foot on the overturned chair. Jyscal returned after she had placed his other foot on the chair. There was surprisingly little yelling before he entered the room.

"What… exactly happened?" the doctor asked, carrying a bag that clattered with small metal instruments. Not even age could cover the features of a guado, Yuna realized, looking at the old man. Despite the many wrinkles on his face, the lines were still definite. His hair had gone gray and he was balding, but it still stuck out in it’s own strange way.

"He swallowed ground glass," Jyscal said. There was that nasty, ill-placed pride again. Yet another thing Seymour had learned from his father, not knowing any of it was wrong. Seymour’s life was not Jyscal’s concern; he merely refused to let his enemies have any victories. "Someone put ground glass in the wine."

Yuna wondered how Jyscal knew so much about this, how he could be so sure. No doubt he was only speculating, but refused to admit he was unsure at all.

Jyscal and the doctor walked over to Seymour. Jyscal knelt down and set Seymour’s head in his lap. Yuna stayed by Seymour’s side and continued to hold his hand.

"Did anyone else drink any of it?"

"No."

"I haven’t treated anything like this in years," the doctor said, kneeling down. "This is quite an emergency."

A servant rushed in with a lit candle and set it down next to the doctor. They left as quickly and silently as they had appeared.

"It can be fixed, though?" Jyscal asked, obviously not about to take ‘no’ for an answer.

The doctor began pawing through his bag. "If treated immediately. Remove that coat of his, please."

"I’ll do it," Yuna butted in before Jyscal could do anything. As much as she failed to remember her first aid training, she remembered how important it was to be gentle, and she did not trust Jyscal to do that. She began unfastening Seymour’s fancy belt.

The doctor pulled out a bottle of potent-smelling liquid and spread it on Seymour’s stomach. Seymour winced in pain and spat out another gob if blood and bile. Jyscal ignored it and titled Seymour’s head slightly.

"Good, that should keep him from choking or swallowing it again," the doctor said.

Yuna felt slightly ashamed she hadn’t remembered to do that.

"This won’t be pretty," the doctor said, more to Jyscal than to Yuna. Apparently Jyscal had kept a rather good act of a father of the decades. "I need a knife, a clean one. A large one."

"Here," Jyscal said, reaching into Seymour’s sleeve and handing the doctor Seymour’s blade.

The doctor took the blade and leaned over and whispered something to Jyscal. Yuna tried to listen, but missed it.

The doctor handed Jyscal a small bottle and a cloth and started sterilizing the knife over the candle flame.

Jyscal poured some of the liquid on the rag and immediately after setting the bottle down, thrust the rag over Seymour’s mouth and nose.

Seymour struggled, thrashing as best as he could and trying to free himself from the rag, but Jyscal held his head and pressed the rag into Seymour’s face until Seymour finally fell unconscious.

The doctor cut a long line across Seymour’s stomach, which erupted in blood. Yuna put her hand over her mouth.

The doctor carefully reached into the slit and Yuna thought she was going to vomit herself. I’m sorry," she said and ran out of the room.

Jyscal and the doctor ignored her.

Yuna knew she couldn’t go back there; she couldn’t watch. But as she climbed the stairs she felt so ashamed for leaving Seymour with no one to comfort him that she burst into tears.

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