Zidane had been back from the dead for almost six months, but my heart still raced every time Beatrix came to inform me he'd arrived at the castle.

That day he'd come back, the strangest feeling had come over me. All I wanted was to jump aboard the nearest airship and leave everything behind, with Zidane at my side. These were dangerous desires, I knew. In a weak moment, I might be persuaded to abandon my kingdom – and that was still cause for beheading, even in these peaceful times. Moreover, it went against everything I stood for.

As it was, Zidane came and went at his leisure. When he wasn't in Alexandria, he was touring with Tantalus. Sometimes I wouldn't see him for weeks – but then he'd always make up for it by staying in Alexandria longer. He'd bought a house in Lindblum, but was rarely there. I'd stayed with him only twice there since his return, but the memories lingered heavily on my mind.

I relished the time I got to spend with Zidane. All my worries, all my strife, flew right out the window when he was in the room. Sometimes I had to step back and marvel at how he'd managed to keep such a bright outlook on life after everything we'd been through.

Oh, it wasn't all perfect. There were times Zidane would fall into a silent refrain. Sometimes I would awaken in the middle of the night and he would be gone. I knew I could find him in the garden, staring up at the stars, lost in thought. I had learned quickly that it was best to leave him undisturbed when such a mood came over him. Usually, he was back to normal by the following morning. On rare occasions, the depression lingered for days. When this happened, he'd leave Alexandria, and I knew this was purely for my benefit.

All things considered, I felt very fortunate. Zidane was alive. He loved me. I clung to this knowledge whenever I felt lonely or depressed.

A festival had been planned to celebrate the completion of Alexandria's restoration. It had taken nearly three years, but time moved quickly now that Zidane was back. The people of Alexandria had proven themselves strong, determined and resilient. It made me proud.

The night of the festival, a large banquet took place on the palace grounds – open to any and all. It was quite chaotic, but I knew Steiner and Beatrix had security well in hand.

Most of our friends had come to Alexandria to celebrate with us. Unfortunately, my time was mostly spent conversing with my subjects – for whom this festival was intended – and handing out awards to the builders and engineers who had put forth the most effort in restoring our kingdom to its former glory.

Occasionally, I would catch sight of Zidane in the crowd below, deep in conversation with The Amarant or Freya. Sometimes, he'd wave to where I stood overlooking the party from the wide balcony. Throughout the entire award ceremony, I couldn't stop myself from wishing I could be down there with him, enjoying the party, reminiscing with my friends.

Since the day we parted at the Iifa Tree, my duties to Alexandria had been foremost on my mind. It was all I lived for when I thought Zidane was dead – it was all I had to keep me going.

He never spoke much about what happened after myself and the others fled the Iifa Tree. What little he did share with me was disturbing. I'd nearly fainted when he'd informed me that Kuja had survived the ordeal. Zidane had spent two years nursing the failed genome in the Black Mage Village – the man he'd called his enemy. During that time, Kuja had only grown weaker. The mages had done what they could to prolong his life until the day when he'd finally ordered them to stop.

Zidane had told me Kuja longed to die. Every day had been a struggle to lift the broken tyrant's spirits, to assure him he'd been forgiven (though I still could not forgive Kuja for what he'd done to my family, my country and my friends).

I knew Zidane must have seen himself in his predecessor. Had it not been for Kuja's jealousy of Zidane, it would have been he who was responsible for the destruction of Gaia – and I do not doubt that he would have succeeded. He was stronger than Kuja – he'd proven that at the Iifa Tree. Moreover, it had been Zidane whom everybody had followed. Without him, there would have been no resistance to Kuja's attacks. He had been the key to our survival and, although I hated to admit it, we had Kuja to thank for that.

In the end, Kuja had passed away in his sleep. His body had been buried among those of the black mages, and none had objected to this arrangement, much to Zidane's relief. The mages were eager to forgive, to put the past behind them. It surprised me – and warmed my heart when I thought of it. I knew I would not have been so compassionate. Zidane must have also known this, for he kept Kuja's –and his own – existence hidden from me for more than two years.

Presently, the festival was moving away from the palace and spreading into the streets of Alexandria. Fireworks exploded in the distance, brilliant blooms of color in the sky. The clamor of voices surrounding the castle was dying down slowly, and I was finally able to sit and close my eyes. The night air carried a sharp chill, though it was mid-summer, and I was glad for the warm, plush upholstery of the lounge. I lay back and looked up at the night sky, wondering what Zidane saw when he looked there.

After a few moments, I dozed off and dreamt of the faraway places I longed to see again.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself tucked under a thick blanket, my head resting against something warm. A hand brushed gently across my cheek as I stirred.

Zidane smiled down at me then. "Hello, beautiful."

I rolled onto my side and snuggled into his belly. "Did you have fun tonight?" I mumbled into him.

"It was good seeing everyone," he replied. "I just wish you could've come down for a bit."

I sighed. "So do I. Perhaps we could invite everyone to lunch tomorrow."

Zidane shook his head. "They're already on their way home."

"Oh," I replied, letting my disappointment show.

Zidane brushed back my hair. "They understand," he assured me. "And so do I."

"Thank you," I said. I turned my head the other direction, looked over the water toward Alexandria, and let out a deep sigh.

"What's up?" Zidane asked innocently.

"I just… sometimes I wish things could be different."

Zidane sat me up and put his arm over my shoulder. "You just need a break," he said. "Maybe a vacation would do you some good."

I nodded. "Maybe." But I knew that would only be a temporary solution to my life-long burden of servitude. Inwardly, I scolded myself for complaining, because I knew things could be much worse.

After a moment of silence, I turned to him. "Zidane?"

He looked at me. "Hmm?"

"Do you think you'll ever get tired of this?"

He looked puzzled. "Tired of what?"

"Of staying here with me. I know you'd rather be out in the world, exploring, treasure hunting…"

He put a finger against my lips. "There's no place in the world that could make me happy if I was more than an arm's length from you, Dagger. I thought you'd have figured that out by now."

I smiled. I loved the way he still called me Dagger, rather than Garnet. It made me feel like a real person. I hadn't felt right using my birth name – Sara. My people knew me as Queen Garnet, and my friends knew me as Dagger. Though I was a summoner in my heart, my birth name only brought back sad memories. The only person who insisted on calling me Sara (when she remembered to) was Eiko. Once a year, we made a pilgrimage to pray at the Eidolon wall. In this place, I was always Sara.

Zidane gave my shoulders a tight squeeze, pulling me out of my thoughts. "I love you."

"I love you, too," I said, as the dark thoughts dissipated.

"Dagger… I want to ask you something."

"Yes?"

He chewed his lip a moment. "Would you… marry me?"

I was taken aback. Truly, this was not a question I ever expected him to ask – and for good reason.

My heart sank. "Zidane… you know I can't."

He looked away from me for a moment. Then, "why not?"

"You know why."

"I know," he sighed. "Because I'm just a bumpkin thief, and nobody would accept King Zidane on the throne."

"No," I returned quickly. "Because you couldn't accept it. We both know that."

"I'd do it for you," he said.

"I know," I whispered. "That's why I think you're the sweetest man I've ever known. But I couldn't let you give everything up for me."

"Shouldn't that be my decision?" he asked.

"Zidane… I know you'd fulfill your duty to Alexandria, and to me. But you wouldn't be happy. Eventually you'd wish you'd never done it. You'd miss the open sky, the freedom…"

"Hang on. Are we talking about me, or you?"

He knew me too well. "It's true," I admitted. "I often long for something more than this. But this has been my destiny since I was a small child. You would willingly bind yourself into servitude, and I can't let you do it."

"Alright," he said at length. "I'll drop it, for now. I just want you to know, if you change your mind, I'll be waiting."

"Thank you, Zidane." I snuggled closer to him and reveled in the feeling of his arms around me. "Thank you for being so patient with me."