"I can’t wait!" Rikku shouted amidst her giggling.
"What now?" Paine asked. Rikku jumping off the walls was usually bad news. Rikku jumping off the walls as if she’d had elastic for breakfast first thing in the morning probably meant the end of the world.
"Yunie invited us to Guadosalam!" Rikku shouted. "I can’t wait until tonight! I hope there’s food!"
‘I hope they don’t serve anything with sugar’ Paine thought. "What broke?"
"No, she said she had really big news and she wanted to tell all of us tonight and she couldn’t wait either."
"Then why did she wait?"
"Something about Seymour disappearing for a while to avoid his dad and that she wanted Wakka and Lulu to be there. She seemed a bit disappointed that Auron wandered off, but she said something about it being for the best."
"So it’s her guardians and me invited for a party or something?"
"Well… she didn’t say anything about Kimahri…"
"Why wasn’t I informed?"
"You were busy with that sword of yours and I like my head where it is," Rikku said, still bouncing.
"Calm down or I might decided that I don’t."
………………………………………………………………………………………..
Seymour’s plan—as much as it aggravated his father—had actually gone as well as both sides had hoped.
Even now that both leaders had found all their scattered subjects and brought them into Guadosalam, everything was peaceful between the two.
Mostly the two races stayed on separate sides of the city, it being large enough for that.
Decades ago, such a thing would have been impossible. The Al Behd and the Guado used to constantly fight and trick each other over petty resources, both being heathens the rest of the world didn’t want. Once Jyscal claimed they were a nation under Yevon, they ignored each other. The Guado had trade with everywhere else and left the rest of the world to the Al Behd to do as they wished with the resources to be found.
The only evidence left to indicate any anger between the two was Maln, the teenage assassin, who was now safely in jail.
With the news of the third half-breed neither side could claim supremacy so the argument never surfaced.
The two races were just now starting to mingle with each other beyond mere market trading. Jyscal and Cid were getting along, at least better than Seymour and Jyscal, who planned their days purely about not being near the other.
Jyscal had put Cid in charge of defense, as long as he didn’t trample half the city with any tanks. Considering the last ditch defense of Bikanel Island, most of the Guado weren’t too keen on the idea, until they found Cid was mixing both races form of military, Al Behd learning techniques with spears and magic and crafting guns made for long guado hands.
Why he was suddenly in charge of defense, Yuna could only wonder. It didn’t keep her husband from disappearing randomly only to show up with the excuse of ‘My father was there and I didn’t want to be near him.’
And now, it made even less sense.
"What do you mean someone important’s coming here?" Yuna asked. "I already invited my friends over here. They’re coming in the airship."
"Well either tell them to go home or keep quiet," Jyscal said.
"But I told you this morning!" Yuna said.
"And she saved the world. I’m sure you can understand that we’d suddenly put her first."
"What exactly did she do?" Yuna asked.
"That which has fed on Macalania, Bikanel and Bevelle is gone and she killed it."
"What exactly was—" Yuna started.
"Have someone else explain it to you," Jyscal said. "Elsewhere and later. Go find your husband and tell him to try and look at least mildly presentable."
Jyscal didn’t bother shooing her out of the room himself, he had guards do that for him.
…………………………………………………………………………………….
Yuna had led her friends to her room and insisted that Seymour be there for her ‘big news.’
He said something about his father being mad, but he didn’t really seem to care.
"You didn’t bring us here to tell us nothin’ burned down," Wakka said.
"Yeah, Yunie, what’s so big and secret that your husband doesn’t even know?" Rikku asked.
"Well, then….," Yuna said, then took a deep breath. "I’m pregnant."
Yuna wasn’t sure what reaction to expect, and thus wasn’t sure if what happened were a good thing or not. Only Wakka and Seymour said anything. Or, more accurately, they both screamed ‘WHAT?’ before Wakka fainted and Seymour lost his ability to speak.
Rikku stopped bouncing, only to jump higher than usual a second later and shout "Yippee!"
"Are you sure, Yuna?" Lulu asked.
Yuna nodded.
"I can see why you detained your husband for this," Paine said. "I think you killed him… again."
"Name it after Wakka!" Rikku said, pointing at the fallen Blitzball player on the floor, who was just now waking up. "That’d drive him nuts!"
Before anyone could say anything else—stupid or not—someone started banging on the door, threatening to bash it down.
"Your father demands your presence and he says he knows you’re in there!" someone shouted.
"I… I’ll be back," he said, and left, obviously unsure of how to address the current traumatizing situation.
He closed the door and leaned on it, putting his face in his hands. What possible disaster awaited him downstairs that wasn’t worse than what was behind that door?
He never admitted it, but he had agreed with his father: he’d thought like all unnatural mistakes, he was incapable of having offspring. He had assumed Yuna would notice the obvious and figure something out quietly… whatever it would be that she’d figure out he had no idea, but she always figured things out in the end… eventually.
Well, too late for that dream. She looked so happy about it, too. What the hell was he going to do now? He couldn’t have children! Not him, not here, not now. He couldn’t ask her not to have it, she’d never agree to it. And he couldn’t just abandon either her or the child either.
Yuna’s know what to do, how to handle this, wouldn’t she? In the very least, there was the black mage to help rear it. She’d know what to do if Yuna didn’t. Maybe she’d be nice enough to tell him what to do
…………………………………………………………………………………………..
"I apologize," Seymour said and began descending the stairs. "Yuna had… some…you…"
"I believe you two have met," Jyscal said smugly to his son.
Seymour nodded in greeting and the woman nodded back. Today seemed to be a day of bafflement for him.
Her hair was a dark cerise, two locks flowing back from her head, then flowing the other way, over her shoulders and down to her waist all in intricate kinks like some flowering vine. Her bangs resembled an ornate feathered tail of an exotic bird, pieces flowing over her eyes slightly. She was dressed an ornate outfit of guado tradition, decorated with purples of every kind. Her eyebrows were pierced, jewels on chains hanging from them, creating a curtain over her eyes that twinkled as her lashes hit them, causing them to jiggle.
Her presence surprised him, but it wasn’t the only thing. He knew her. He’d seen her long ago and wrinkles weren’t the only thing she’d gained over the years. She was heavily pregnant. Indeed, she looked tempted to use herself as her own table.
"Jyrrin, am I right?" Seymour asked. His father had just been handed the perfect way to win an edge over him, hadn’t he?
"She specifically asked to meet you personally," Jyscal said, burying his smile in his glass of wine. "You shouldn’t keep guests waiting."
"If you are the one who has purged us of that which was devouring Bevelle then I am honored," Seymour said, pleased that at least he hadn’t had to come up with a lie.
"You’ve certainly grown since I last saw you," she said. "And I hear that you were recently married almost a year ago. I’m quite surprised."
"To be frank, so am I still," Jyscal replied.
"You seem put off, Seymour," she said.
He wasn’t going to be the first to bring up the past. Still, there was something disturbing about her… and why hadn’t Anzi been contacted yet? Why didn’t Anzi know? Surely Jyrrin wasn’t back to see him of all people. And she hardly knew his father. "I’m sorry, it is probably my senses dulled by … my inheritance from my mother…" he began, making Jyscal scowl at him.
"There is an odd scent about me, isn’t there?" she asked, chuckling mildly. "Even once such as you can see it, is it so obvious?"
"I… I did not intend to offend…" Seymour said.
"In destroying it, I… I sacrificed my own child," she said. Seymour couldn’t tell if it was a calmness of cold that she didn’t care or that came after grief. He knew so well that after grief one could stop caring, stop feeling. He’d never known it could be apparent, so he wondered to himself: had he sounded like that after his mother’s death?
"My condolences," Jyscal said, blankly. It wasn’t so blank that it showed something underneath, for there really wasn’t anything for him. He truly didn’t care about Seymour, not then, not now. Seymour had to constantly build those carefully set walls for years, and she… there was either grief or wishing there could be grief.
Then it dawned on Seymour. Jyscal had no idea what Jyrrin had left over two decades ago. He couldn’t have. Anzi never told him. Jyscal had brought him down here for something else. Most likely to be ridiculed by someone who knew him as a child and say the most embarrassing things, or to be exposed to someone who had no qualms against sacrificing their own child for ‘the greater good.’
Now that he knew what had happened—the child she had been carrying died and her body still held it—Seymour was disgusted. He had to get out of here. He had to find an excuse.
Yuna’s pregnancy would do, but he was more modest and discrete than that. He wasn’t the one to counter one disaster with another—at least not intentionally.
He had to do something to excuse himself, and soon, the smell was getting to him. Something was definitely dead, and not rotten. It was like having that drunken guardian around here again. If he complained, he’d just make her mad, as he did him.
‘Think, damnit! Think!’ he mentally yelled.
"If you’ll excuse me," Jyscal said, putting his wineglass down. "I have some—thing to attend to."
‘Yeah, you can say that because you’re actually important,’ Seymour thought. He was still useless baggage and had to be presentable useless baggage. But he was still useless, and therefore most people saw his only purpose to be the butt of cruel jokes and exchange his dignity for a cheap laugh.
"Would you mind entertaining our guest for a short while?" Jyscal said. He didn’t ask. He didn’t care about leaving Seymour in the room with her, at least he didn’t give any indication that he’d enjoy it.
"You’ve grown," she said, walking towards him as best as her heavy and unwieldy body could manage. There was something in her voice that unnerved him.
"Yes, twenty years can do that to a person."
"Twenty-three," she corrected, putting her hand on his cheek.
"I missed a few and stopped counting after that."
"I’ve been counting," she said, her other hand sliding up his arm, taking full advantage of the fact that he was absolutely petrified, and up his neck and onto his other cheek. "I’ve been so terribly, terribly lonely."
"Madame," Seymour said, backing up and brushing her hands away—finally gathering the courage. "I’m married. You said so yourself five minutes ago."
"I never said I cared," she said, reaching for him again.
"What the bloody hell do you want from me?" he said, trying to keep quiet. If his father or Yuna came in and saw this… when exactly did he sign up to be fate’s chew toy? "You’re twice my age and last I checked you weren’t even interested in this sort of anatomy!"
"Is that what you think I’m after, she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"Um… that’s sort of the message I’m getting, yes."
"You used to be so understanding of the world around you… so smart for a boy your age," she said, smiling as moved her hands to his temples.
"Then… then what is it you do want?"
She smiled wider. He could hear something. Voices. Thousands of voices. Trying to just be heard, not even form words, but to be heard. Then he knew what that smell was, and why it don’t quite match her story. He managed to look past the jeweled curtain in front of her eyes, and he didn’t like what he saw. He wasn’t sure if he understood what he was seeing, but he didn’t like it.
He had not time to contemplate any of this however.
"I want you to dream," she said, and that was the last thing he heard.
…………………………………………………………………….
Jyscal found Cid outside, watching a few people
"Get some soldiers quick!" Jyscal ordered.
"What?" Cid asked. "Why?
"There isn’t time. Bar the exits of the Palace. Get Anzi out of there, and fast."
"What about Yuna?"
"She has others with her, if they can’t protect her, they’ll make a big enough mess to be a good distraction. Anzi first, and hurry! Do it or else!"
"Why?" Cid asked, but Jyscal was storming back to the palace. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to get away from Cid, but more than he wanted to get to whatever it was he’d left. Like a hot iron or stove.
…………………………………………………………………………………………….
The doors to the room he’d left Seymour in were locked. He’d locked the front door and not this one and now he’d come back to find the two reversed.
The door burst open, one falling off its hinges, after twice ramming it with his shoulder.
It was the first of the ironies that would manifest.
Seymour lay on the floor, obviously as if he had toppled there. His precious necklace had been snapped. Someone had held it as he fell, scattering the beads on the floor.
He wasn’t moving in the slightest.
Jyscal ran to his son, for the first time in his life. Never had any injury to is son caused him worry, and he’d caused most of them.
But now, after being granted exactly as he’d wished for almost three decades—Seymour’s death—it had caused the one reaction Seymour had prayed for from his father, and he was to far gone to notice it.
"Thank the farplane," Jyscal sighed, after noticing the faintest pulse and even fainter breathing form his son.
"Jyscal, what the fuck happened to my—" Cid yelled, coming through the broken doors. "…Men?"
"It’s not what it looks like!"