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Disclaimer: Final Fantasy Tactics and Tactics Advance and their characters are trademarked/copyright by SquareEnix. I do not own any of these characters, the title, or any of their ideas. This fic has been created for enjoyment only. I am not receiving any money and I do not expect any. If you work for SquareEnix and you happen to see this, I’m broke. I’m trying to scrounge enough money to get me through college.
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He’s so selfish. Doned scowled up at the ceiling. He had everything then, and has everything now. Why does he want to go back? Can’t he think about the rest of us? What we want?
The young boy began to pace furiously across the room. And then he had to be a hero. The cliff would have been fine if he had just left me alone! I don’t want to go back, this is my home now.
The cliff had collapsed when Doned let loose his magic to force Marche away from him. The older sibling had managed to push the boy out of the way before the rubble came down.
If he had just accepted the fact that this country is now our home then he wouldn’t be…
Crushed. Marche had been partially crushed under the boulders that Doned had unintentionally broke free from the cliff.
//~ He was hurt because of you! He may not recover! Why can’t you realize that?! ~//
No, that had to be a lie. Not here in Ivalice where magic had so much influence. He could walk because of it. That meant they should be able to cure Marche. This was just a trick by that moogle to guilt trip him into wanting to go home.
I’ll go see it myself. He can’t be as hurt as they think.
“How is he, Monteblanc?” Nono looked worriedly up as Xia and his brother entered. They knew that Marche lay in the next room, in constant pain from his wounds. Montblanc closed the door behind him carefully. His entire frame drooped with exhaustion and sadness. Angeline sighed.
“There isn’t anything else to do except wait, right?” The viera fencer leaned back in the battered couch she sprawled on. “Did Olgan say anything about his legs healing properly?”
“He said that the damage is more severe than we thought,” Xia supplied as the moogle beside her sank to the floor. “There is damage to his spine and the leg bones are crushed to a greater extent than we first believed.” The viera white mage knelt down next to Montblanc and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“Can’t we use magic to help him heal?” Kemal frowned, the fighter running a hand through his helmet matted hair.
“If we use magic, the bones will heal too fast and incorrectly. If that happens then he may never be able to walk. We wouldn’t be able to fix it.”
“But,” Nono fidgeted in his chair, the weak wood frame creaking out his worry. “But Marche may not be able to walk even if he heals normally, right?”
“At least this way we’ll be able to somewhat control how he heals.”
“He isn’t waking up.” Montblanc looked up finally, despair in his eyes.
“What?!” Kemal leapt to his feet, knocking his chair over with a clatter. “Montblanc, what do you mean?”
“We tried to wake him up, like before…” the moogle murmured, drooping even further. “He didn’t respond….Olgan thinks that he’s in a self-imposed coma.”
Xia sighed. “Marche’s body probably can’t cope with the trauma, so his mind shut down temporarily. He’s alive, but…”
“There’sss no telling when he ssshall wake up, correct?” Arthur finished, the templar crossing his arms over the shining breastplate he wore.
“I’m afraid so.”
Montblanc shook violently, arms wrapping about his waist. “He just wanted to go home. What’s wrong with that? Now…he can’t. He won’t because his brother is too selfish to listen!”
Nono jumped up from his seat and immediately hugged his older brother tightly.
“Marche will be fine! I know it! He’s the best Clan leader in Ivalice, and I know this won’t keep him down for long!” The smaller moogle’s statement was met with affirming nods from the other Clan members.
“He’s right, Montblanc. Ragnarok is the best Clan because of Marche,” Erika smiled weakly. “We’ll be seeing him up and about in no time!”
He was grateful for the moon to be hidden by the clouds tonight. Doned nodded to himself as he looked up at the darkened window. He knew Marche was in that room. Olgan had been pacing back and forth past the window for several minutes, the White mage glancing back at something over his shoulder with a worried expression on his face.
“He’s there, I just know it.”
Now came the difficult part. Getting up there without anyone knowing it. Luckily he was training to be not only a Mage, but a Thief as well. I may not be ready to go on engagements with my Clan, but I can certainly do this!
After Doned regained the ability to walk, it was noted by the Clan he had joined that the boy was extremely agile, and immediately decided that his best job would be to become a thief. Magic was another ability that came so easily to him.
I’ll just climb up there and pick the lock on the window. Doned pulled out a thin rope with a rather sinister looking claw attached to one end. Swinging in a seemingly slow circle, the boy eyed the roof. That looks strong enough to hold my weight.
With a flick of his wrist, the thief-mage in training pitched the grappling hook up to soar and connect with an ornate railing at the roofs peak. Carefully, Doned pulled the slack until the rope was taut in his hands.
“So far, so good.” Hand over hand, the boy climbed the rope, using the wall as support. Reaching the window, he pushed carefully on the frame, eyes widening when it opened easily without a sound. Hm…easier than I thought it would be. A frown creased the boy’s face as he climbed through the opening. With so many Clans that want to fight Ragnarok, why aren’t they being more careful?
The room was pitch black. Doned blinked rapidly, adjusting to the darkness. There. His eyes picked out the bed against the far wall. Doned swiftly reached the bedside and conjured a dim ball of light to hover over them.
He… This can’t be…Marche? The younger boy stared down at his brother. The older boy was pale, skin taut from pain. His hair was matted with sweat and the usual thick, golden shine was dull and stringy. Were they right? I did this? I did this to you…? He knelt down by the bed and took Marche’s hand in his. Shock drove Doned’s actions as he reached a mental “hand” into what he knew should be his brother’s sleeping mind.
That was how he had tracked Marche down while the other boy ran about on his engagements. Each person, Doned quickly found, had a different feel to their minds. Similar to how people recognize color, Doned recognized minds. Marche’s mind was a blend of so many things; Doned described it to his Clan Leader as a warm color - similar to a soft golden-bronze.
But something was wrong. This time there wasn’t anything. A strange emptiness where Marche should have been.
This isn’t right. Worry now gripped him and he delved in deeper, desperately trying to find his brother’s presence. Only to encounter more darkness. Are you hiding? Doned searched desperately, his own mind thrashing where Marche’s awareness should have been. Yes…yes, that has to be it. Anger began to spike. You don’t want to face the fact that this Ivalice is our home. Doned reached deeper into his brother’s mind, delving farther than he’d ever gone in another’s mind. Sorry, brother, I have some things I need to tell you. And you will listen, even if I have to drag you back into awareness to do it.
The darkness grayed out slightly, gold flickering in and out of his sight. He reached further, grabbing onto that awareness, only to have it slip away. He caught the edges of panic and fear.
No, you aren’t getting away.
Doned reached again, and encountered a much more solid shimmer of his brother’s mind. Swiftly he plunged in, and as he managed to grab a hold, jerked both of them upwards. But something went wrong. Pain lanced through him as he pulled out of Marche’s mind, and dimly he could hear screaming before he fell into his own darkness.