Almost

Rydia returns to the Feymarch after the victory celebrations wind down, mostly because she can't think of anywhere else to go. She knows that most of her friends (one in particular) would gladly offer her a place to stay, but after a year of sleeping in tents and inns and on cold rocky ground, she doesn't want to be a guest. She wants a room and a bed she can call her own, and time all to herself. After all the traveling and hardship and war, all she wants is quiet.

The goodbyes with Edge are awkward. She's very aware of how their relationship has changed during this war and how much they are on the verge of... something, but she's not quite ready to take those final steps. This is, when she's being honest, the main reason she wants to get away.

She didn't plan to say goodbye to him at all, really, because it still feels bizarre that this whole thing is over and their little company is dispersing. The victory celebrations in Mysidia last nearly a week, but Edge leaves after two days. The night before his departure, she bumps into him in the hallway when she's wandering down to the kitchens for some sweets. He's unmasked and a little drunk, and they both draw up short when they see one another in the dim light of the hallway. He blinks at her and Rydia drops her eyes, blushing.

"I thought you'd be down at the celebration." His voice slurs just a little.

She shrugs. "It's fun, but it's getting a little overwhelming. I thought Mysidian mages were uptight, but they all seem a bit..."

"Nuts?" he offers, and she laughs.

"Something like that," she agrees.

He draws a little closer, and she shuffles her feet. "You leave tomorrow?" she asks.

"Yeah. Don't want to leave Eblan on her own any longer than I have to. Cecil said you were planning to go to the Feymarch?"

"Just for a little while. I wanted to visit." He nods, and then Rydia has nothing to say, which is not normal for her. Not with him. "You'll be careful, right?" She finally asks. "Remember to sleep and eat and everything?"

He chuckles. "Of course. I've got the Seneschal to keep me in line."

She nods, and then very aware that her cheeks are still warm, she murmurs good night and tries to brush past him.

He mutters something under his breath, and then wraps his hand around her arm, pulling her close to keep her from passing him. His lips hit close to the corner of her mouth. "Take care of yourself," he says into her ear, his breath tickling her neck, and then he's gone, disappearing into the shadows.

Her fingers touch her cheek and she smiles just a little, and then she huffs, rolls her eyes, and continues to the kitchen for her sweets.

The month in the Feymarch is like a long sleep after weeks of battle. She sleeps and eats when she wishes and her waking hours are spent surrounded by her Eidolion friends. She tells stories to the children, and battles with her Summons, and generally forgets about everything outside the realm's borders.

The one thing of which she is fully aware is the consequences of remaining too long in the Feymarch. She stays only a month, mere hours in the mortal realms.

Once she leaves the Feymarch she decides to go to Mist, because once again, where else?

Mist isn't what she remembers. This is an obvious fact—everything that once mattered has been turned to ash. But most of the survivors fled after the war. It's barely even a hamlet, with only a handful of houses huddling around the square.

She rents a room from an elderly couple and they recognize her hair. Though they say nothing at first, she sees the hope ignite in their eyes, the same hopes that the other villagers whisper when her back is turned. She is the only Summoner left, but as long as she lives and breathes and can bear children, the village can cling to the idea of reviving its lost glory.

A month after she settles into the Village, the old grandma mentions that she has a grandson living in Kaipo. Rydia is eating breakfast and doesn't think much of the words, until the woman gently hints that, while he didn't complete the Rites of Summoning, he still has the blood.

Rydia stammers out a reply she doesn't even remember and flees. She tries to ignore the itchy feeling when she thinks about the implied proposal—Here she is, the Summoner of Mist, the Mistress of Black Magic who helped save the world, but nothing more than blood and a body to those around her. Thankfully, the elderly matron takes the hint and drops the subject, but it's too late. Just seeing the thinly veiled hope in the woman's eyes makes Rydia uncomfortable, so Rydia asks the carpenter across the square to build her a little cottage. The next month is spent supervising the construction of her new home.

Once she's settled, she begins to hone new skills. She has mastered Black Magic and there is nothing left for her to learn. Instead, she spends her days perfecting the new skills of making cheese and applesauce. It's an odd occupation for a mage, but for now, it's amusing and passes the time.

But inevitably, she gets bored.

The first letter is sent on a whim. She keeps in regular contact with Cecil and Rosa and Edward, but has yet to send a letter off to Eblan. On a rainy day when she's confined to her home, she doodles on a sheet of paper, and then without even thinking, she writes his name on the top of the page. The words flow like the streams of water hitting her window, and before she knows it, she's filled two pages with the mundane details of her life. She almost tears them up, but decides that if he falls asleep reading... Well, to hell with him then.

When she seals the letter, she thinks about what Eblan must be like in the rain, and how beautiful the castle must be with its gardens restored, and she thinks that maybe, just maybe, it might be nice to see.

His return letter surprises her. It's formal—the diction is stilted, and it doesn't sound like Edge at all. It sounds like a king, and this upsets her more than she thinks it should. She puts the letter in a drawer and ignores it for three weeks; instead, her neighbor teaches her to can the peaches growing in the town square. In return, Rydia teaches her young child magic lessons. It's a boy named Dallen, and he's bright and quick to learn, which gives her hope that the future of this village is not resting solely on her own shoulders.

She mentions this hope when she finally sits down to return the letter, and finds herself saying that she didn't like his last letter. She doesn't phrase it like that, instead she says something like, It sounds like the Seneschal is whipping you into shape. Are you impressing the nobles with your new found dignity?

A month later, his letter is a relief, much more snarky and sarcastic. He makes fun of the nobles, and tells her of the pranks he's already pulled on his Seneschal, and how many times he's frustrated his guards by disappearing at inconvenient times. But he also tells her of how the castle is being reconstructed, on how relieved his people were to find their religious shrines undesecrated, a testament to Rubicante's twisted sense of honor. I hate to offer any credit at all to that bastard, he writes, but even I'll admit that it's good for my country.

As for you saying that I sounded off, it's because my written Baronian isn't half as slick as my spoken. If you could read Eblanese, I'd have been sweeping you off your feet. It's getting easier to write, though, so I guess politics are good for something after all.

Under his name is a set of characters. They're beautiful and graceful and she admires the flow of the lines. Underneath it he writes, This says that you are beautiful.

She places this letter in her drawer as well, and finds herself opening it sometimes to glance at those words.

The letters continue and they help Rydia feel more complacent with her new life. She settles into a comfortable routine and the days pass by.

On a warm sunny afternoon, she bumps into her old landlord on her way home and the old woman invites her in for tea. The two are still friendly enough and Rydia thinks nothing of it until she walks in and sees the old woman's husband sitting at the table with a much younger man.

He's handsome enough, Rydia supposes. He has sandy blonde hair and clear blue eyes, and hands that show he's no stranger to physical labor. His eyes fix on Rydia and he offers her an uncertain smile. There's confusion in those eyes at the sight of her.

"Look who I bumped into on the road," the grandmother says. "This is Rydia; she lives just up the way, and I thought it might be nice to have her over for a bit of tea. You two are just about the same age, did you know that? And isn't she just lovely? She spices up this old village quite a bit, oh yes she does." The old woman laughs, and Rydia sees a hint of trepidation cross the young man's face.

"Granny," he starts, but she cuts him off.

"Now Rydia, I have just the thing. Alain brought the most amazing grapes with him from Kaipo; they are simply delicious. Come help me bring them to the table, will you, my lamb?"

Bemused now, Rydia follows the grandmother to the pantry. She thinks she should have known that this would not have been dropped so easily, and she wonders if the entire village is behind this little visit. The old woman leads her into the pantry, where there are several baskets of the grapes on a shelf. "Now," the old woman says, pulling down a bowl. "Let's just put some of them in this bowl, shall we? And then we can have a wonderful little snack."

Shaking her head, reserving herself to today's fate, Rydia obediently transfers the grapes, the old woman nodding in satisfaction. "Now, we've got a barrel of apples as well. Let's see if we can get those out."

The old woman walks out for a moment, hollering for her grandson to help her with the barrel. "Granny," his voice rings out. "I'm sure that just tea will be fine for our guest, there's no need for such—"

He cuts off, and Rydia looks up to see him being shoved through the pantry door. "Oh no," he says looking at her, and then he whirls around.

"Granny, don't you dare slam the—" The thud of the pantry door silences his words, and the dumbfounded look on his face makes Rydia bite her lip to keep from laughing. He turns to her and sighs loudly. "So," he drawls, with a twinkle in his eye, "are you feeling a bit... harassed?"

Rydia giggles, and he shakes his head. "I was wondering why my grandparents were pestering me so much to visit, and I guess you are the answer." He holds out his hand. "Alain."

She takes his hand and shakes it. "Rydia."

They sit on flour barrels and eat bread and cheese and grapes in the pantry, laughing at the audacity of his relatives. "They mean well," he assures her, "but they're old. They have a bit of a unique way of doing things."

"Have they ever locked you up with a girl in the pantry before?"

"Worse. Last time it was the goat shed. At least this smells a bit better."

Once he's declared that they've eaten enough of the goods, he leads her to a trapdoor in the back of the pantry. It's tiny, and he tells her how he used to sneak in and out as a toddler until he got stuck during a growth spurt and had to be dug out by his uncle. She shrinks them down and they escape out into the house garden, startling the tabby cat when they burst into full sized humans. The rest of the afternoon is spent trying to get the yowling creature out of the apple tree. At the end of the day, Alain waves at her, telling her he'll see her around, and on the way home, Rydia thinks that their little adventure is the most fun she's had all year.

She sees him again in the village square, and she grins when he leaves his elderly grandparents to come talk to her. "Is there anyplace they could trap us out here?" she asks in greeting.

"Not out in the open. I do believe that we are safe."

They end up sitting by the town well. She learns that he runs a carpentry business with his brother; he handles the transport of materials to their little desert oasis, but he occasionally lends a hand to the actual building. "It's a hard job, out in the middle of the heat; but seeing what's been made at the end is worth the work," he tells her. "Of course, it's nowhere near as hard as what you've been through."

She blushes. "So they told you then?"

"Yeah," he scratches his head and chuckles. "I've heard so many stories, but I'd never thought I'd be meeting you in the flesh. Did you actually go to the moon?" At her nod, he asks, "What was it like?"

"Cold," she answers honestly. "Dusty. There wasn't much color up there, just a lot of white and gray. The whole place just felt very... bleak."

He draws more stories out of her about their adventures, and it's fun to tell him about mastering her spells and earning her summons. He tells his own stories, and approaches the difference in their lives with good humor. Before she knows it, the sun is setting in the sky and it's time to say good night and part ways.

She doesn't think much of the event until the walk home, when she sees the stares from the villagers. They're standing in little groups, whispering, but the whispers cease when they look at her, only to begin again once she's past. And she knows exactly what they're saying.

At home, she slams around her pots and pans while making her evening soup and wonders if his grandmother has dragged a crib out of the attic for their future summoning child.

That night, she starts another letter to Edge. Being back in Mist is wonderful, but there have been... complications. It's silly to worry about everyone's opinions, but sometimes the way the villagers look at me makes me so uncomfortable. It's stifling, to have all these expectations piled on my head.

I imagine it's the same for you. What would you say to running away? I'm sure we could figure out a way to hi-jack the Big Whale and sail it to the moon. They couldn't catch us there.

Just kidding, of course. But only a little.

When she sends the letter off, she thinks for a moment about what the future has in store. Cecil and Rosa's gilded wedding invitation sits on her desk, and she knows that everyone important in the world will be in attendance. Including the man she just wrote.

She wonders what Eblan would be like, if it would be any different than here. If visiting Edge would lead to the same stares and whispers, and how he would react to them.

A few days later, Rydia enters the general store and stops up short because Alain is standing at the counter looking at ribbons. He looks up and smiles warmly at her. When she joins him at the counter, he gestures to the piles of frothy lace and silk. "My brother back in Kaipo has a little girl; I'm trying to pick a ribbon for her, but I'm pretty hopeless at this sort of thing. Mind lending a hand?"

While the shopkeeper bundles up her usual weekly purchases, Rydia helps him pick out three ribbons, two lace and one satin, all in a soft blue color that he thinks will match his niece's eyes. "Are you going back then?" she asks, when he hefts up her packages to walk her home.

"Not yet," he says, "but soon I think. My brother's taking care of everything with the business while I'm out here, but I don't want to leave him on his own for too long. But on the other hand, it forces his sons to pick up the slack, so he may be appreciating my absence more than I know."

After he's dropped her groceries on her kitchen table, he stops on the front step and turns to face her. "Rydia," he says, "I would like the pleasure of your company for dinner sometime. I know this whole... thing with my grandparents and the town is a bit awkward, but I think you're a lovely person, and I'd like a chance to get to know you a little better."

Words flee Rydia, and she knows her eyes are wide, which makes Alain smile. "You don't have to give me an answer right now," he says. "But just think about it." He waves, and then he's gone, and Rydia stares at his footprints on the path running through her little garden while emotions take her stomach for a ride. She cannot, for the life of her, figure out why she feels disappointed of all things.

Things don't look any better the next day, when the post arrives with a missive detailing her travel schedule to Baron for Cecil and Rosa's wedding and coronation. Then an awful feeling of guilt, an emotion that has no business creeping around in her brain, joins the mix. She broods the entire day, and the next, until Cid's crew arrives on their airship to transport her to Baron.

She sees Alain in the crowd that gathers when she boards, and she offers him a strained smile and a wave. He shrugs and mouths, "See you soon." Embarrassed, she nods a little and hurries onto the airship.

It's not a long flight, and the whipping of the wind up on the deck helps to soothe her worries. When she enters Baron and is led to a small room to freshen up, she's jittery from excitement. For her friends, yes, but also... Well, she's about to see Edge for the first time in a long while. She's tells her reflection that she's being stupid while she runs a brush through her hair, but she can't help but picture what his face will look like when he sees her again.

When she enters the throne room, there are people milling around and talking, but she tries not to look around. Instead, she walks straight to Cecil and Rosa, who embrace her warmly. "You both look so wonderful," she tells them. "Like a fairytale come to life."

Cecil laughs and musses her hair before hugging her again. "I'm so glad you're here," he says. "I have no family here, but with you... Well, it's like having a sister to offer her blessing."

Rosa waits her turn and hugs her again as well. "You look beautiful," Rydia whispers.

Rosa pulls back, but maintains a clasp on Rydia forearms. "Oh, Rydia," she says, eyes sparkling. "Who would have thought back then, that we would get to this point? All grown up."

"That's my line!" Rydia complains, and they laugh. Rydia bobs a curtsey and moves away. And down the stairs to the left of the throne is Edge. She tries to contain her smile, but she just can't quite manage it. She manages to control her pace, though, as she walks down the stairs until she's standing in front of him.

"Edge," she begins with a smile.

He offers her a curt bow in return. "Lady Rydia. It's a pleasure to see you again."

The formality throws her off guard. "I—" she stammers.

In this moment, she realizes that he looks entirely different. Though his mask is off, he's dressed entirely in black, with Murasame and Masamune strapped across his back. He looks outfitted for war at a wedding. The only familiar thing on him is the blue sash slashing its way across his waist.

He turns to the men standing next to him. "The Lady Rydia, the Summoner of Mist. She accompanied our party on our journey to the moon."

"Lady," one of the ninjas says, bowing.

She drops into a slight curtsy in return, heat flowing to her cheeks from the stares of these unfamiliar eyes. She turns back to Edge and smiles, a very fake expression. "It's good to see you as well, Majesty." She sees his eyes widen slightly at her face. "I hope the past year has treated you kindly."

He bows again, and she retreats to the other side of the room, entirely confused. She looks to Cecil to see if he noticed the exchange and can offer a sympathetic wince, but he's talking to Rosa. When she glances over at Edge again, he's staring straight forward. His eyes don't even flicker in her direction.

Swallowing suddenly becomes difficult, but Rydia reminds herself that this is a formal occasion and she is not nobility. Who knows what kind of protocol is at foot here. Instead of getting upset, she helps Porom shush Palom.

The wedding is lengthy as Cecil and Rosa solemnly recite their vows and listen attentively to a priest who regales them all with Baronian history and tradition. He admonishes the pair to be faithful and true to one another, and Rydia scoffs because he's talking to Cecil and Rosa. They could give lessons on the subject.

She expects the coronation to be even longer, but it's short. The same priest places crowns on her friends' heads, recites another soliloquy, and then the two stand and the entire throne room bursts with a roar as everyone applauds and cheers. Rydia laughs as the guards in the room tackle each other into a pile of clanging plate armor from their enthusiasm.

She's determined to enjoy the feast and the dancing. She dances with Edward and she dances with Cid, and she dances once with Palom, which is less like dancing and more like a lesson in enduring being kicked in the shins. She dances with a number of noblemen, who are polite and kind. One is funny, and makes her laugh so hard she has to sit down and sip some wine before she can stand and finish the dance with him.

Edge dances as well, but never with her.

After a few hours, she is furious. He will not catch her eye or even acknowledge her existence, even when they sit at the same table. She leaves early, while the dancing and laughter are still in full swing, but she doesn't retire to her room. Instead, she climbs up to the battlements and paces back and forth.

She doesn't know exactly what kind of reception she expected. But this? No, she never expected this. The pacing and the cool air do nothing to still her fury, instead it feels like her feelings have condensed themselves into a heavy ball of emotion in her stomach, one that is boiling and ready to explode. Her feet start to hurt from her heels stomping against the unforgiving stone, and so she stalks back down into the castle proper in search of a softer location for her pacing. Preferably on a certain ninja's face.

She's almost down to the main floor when she turns a corner and sees the ninja king himself. He's alone.

She doesn't waste time considering. She stamps toward him and is gratified to see his eyes widen as he takes a couple steps back. She grabs him by the sleeve, wheels him around, and drags him down the twisting hallway and through a hidden alcove into one of Baron's many treasure rooms. He's sputtering her name when she shoves him into a chest, forcing him to sit down. She faces him and crosses her arms, scowling. "Talk."

"Crystals, Rydia," he mutters, rubbing at his knee. "Ouch."

"Really?" she demands. "That's all you can say after ignoring me all day? It's been this long, and all you give me is the cold shoulder?"

He groans. "Rydia, please. Just let me explain."

"Oh, you had better," she snarls. "It's been months, Edge, months. I really didn't expect things to change so much while you were gone. What is wrong with you?"

"Calm down."

"Calm down?" Oh, he's in for it now. "Don't you dare tell me what to do, don't you dare! You want to be a jerk, that's fine, but don't you dare try to dictate—" She's cut off when Edge climbs to his feet and grabs her shoulders, his own eyes smoldering.

"Rydia, please." His voice is like iron. "Just listen."

She glares at him in response, but she does quiet down.

He keeps his hands on her shoulders. "I didn't like that any more than you did. I was hoping that I'd get to talk to you before we were in public, but the opportunity didn't arise. I wasn't acting that way by choice."

"Choice?" Her voice is getting shrill, and she winces a little bit inwardly but still doesn't soften her tone. "What are you going on about? The Edge I know would have never acted that way towards me, not under any circumstances."

"No," he retorts. "I'm not any different, Rydia, you're just seeing me in a different situation than you're used to. This isn't just a wedding; it's a political event, and I had to bring along delegates from one of the clans. They're dangerous. They would like nothing better than to see me murdered and off the throne."

The explanation is not what Rydia expected. Her forehead furrows, and her gaze drops to Edge's chest. "Why would they do that?" she asks. "We just finished a war. You helped save the entire planet. Why would they want to kill you?"

"Saving the world means nothing to them because I left Eblan to do it." Edge drops his hands from her shoulders and steps back to sit on the chest. He sighs and crosses his arms. "They'd have no qualms about killing me; they already killed both my sisters years ago. My father executed their only son in retaliation. There's bad blood between our families, but they have too many clan alliances for me to deal with them the way I want to. I brought them partly to show that I have powerful allies of my own outside of Eblan."

"Okay," she says, stepping back to one of the other chests as well, its hard form bracing her as she considers his words. "But you didn't act any differently to Cecil or Yang or anything. Why are you only being rude to me?"

"I just told you—"

"You told me that you're with dangerous people, yes, but that's no reason to be uncivil. You could have at least smiled or danced with me, or... or something!"

"And have a whole group of my enemies reading into that smile? Wondering why I asked you for a dance? It may make you angry, but I'm not putting you at risk."

"What does this have to do with me?" Her voice rises again.

"I don't want them to target you." He's leaning forward now, bearing into her with his gaze.

"Why would they even target me? I'm nobody, as far as they're all concerned."

"Why do you think?" his voice sharpens, punching at each word.

"I don't have anything to do with this," she snaps in reply.

"Like it or not, you do. I'm not that good an actor, Rydia, if they saw me with you they would know how I feel about you and I'm not going to risk your life on something as stupid as a dance."

"I can take care of myself!"

"I know!" He shouts those two words. "I'm not stupid; I know you can protect yourself!"

"Then why don't you trust me to do so?"

He doesn't immediately retort. Instead, he sighs and leans his head against one of his palms. "I do trust you," he says, softer now, "and I know you can protect yourself, but I don't want you to have to."

Rydia has no answer for that one. She looks down at her shoes and the small room is silent.

Her voice is very quiet when she finally breaks the silence. "I was going to ask if I could come and visit Eblan, but I guess that's not really an option, is it?"

She doesn't dare look at his face, but his frustrated sigh tells her everything she needs to know. "You have no idea," he says, his voice rough, "how much I want to take you back with me. I want it more than anything. I never thought I'd ever have to make this kind of choice."

Rydia swallows, and then nods, still not looking at him. "Okay," she says, and she hates that her voice quavers. "I guess that's all there is to it, then." She leaves the safety of the chest and makes her way to the door. Before she can pass him, he catches her hand, and she looks down, startled to find a face that looks drawn and tired. Becoming a king has been hard on him.

"Give me one more year," he tells her softly. He gently brings her fingers to his lips, and then lets her go.

He leaves with his entourage in the morning. She doesn't attend the farewell ceremony; instead she watches from the battlements. He doesn't look back.

Breakfast with Rosa a few days later clears up some of her confusion.

"Eblan is on the brink of civil war," Rosa says, buttering a muffin. "Edge has the support of most of the clans, but the one's opposing him are powerful. They don't like what he's doing. Eblan's always stayed far away from the rest of the world, and suddenly, they're going into trading agreements with Baron, the very country they were at war with only a few decades ago. Cid is building them an airship fleet. Aid from outsiders is pouring in, and that stings their pride. They need help, but they don't want to need help. It's horribly complicated."

"I thought they'd made progress rebuilding."

"They have, yes, but out of all the countries, they are still the ones in the most need of aid. Not only was their central city completely destroyed, the Giant decimated a huge chunk of their farmland. They weren't attacked for having a crystal, Rydia. They were attacked for just being what they are: Powerful and self-sufficient. That's been taken away from them. They're very identity has been taken away from them, and now they have to adjust to an entirely new way of living."

Rydia stares down at her hands in her lap, biting her lip. "I didn't realize."

Rosa smiles and pours her some more orange juice. "It will work out, Rydia. Edge is a good king. These things just take time."

She sits out on the castle battlements that evening, watching the sunset, and she thinks about the subtext of her conversation with Edge. She thinks about what it would mean to visit, to stay, to take that step that he's been waiting for her to take. She thinks about being the Queen of a broken country.

When she gets back to Mist, Alain is still visiting. She sits one morning, scowling at her kitchen table before she stands up, marches across the square, and accepts his invitation. Maybe it's pride, or anger, or fear, but she isn't going to sit around and wait.

He takes her out for dinner at the inn, and it's awkward because, well, no one ever eats at the inn. They're alone in the dining room and she knows the innkeeper and his wife are whispering about them in between courses. But he's nice and he's funny and he doesn't make her sick with anxiety. When he kisses her hand on her doorstep and asks if he can see her again, she says yes.

It's fun. He's very easy going and she never feels any kind of pressure from him. They go out to dinner and out on walks and play games with the village children. People get used to seeing them together, and the whispers finally stop, which is an incredible relief. Even his grandmother relaxes, apparently deciding it's time to let nature run its course. There are no suggestions, no innuendos, just simple, playful fun.

Edge still sends her letters. She bundles them up in her desk, but leaves them unanswered.

She and Alain are out in the valley racing chocobos when he lays a hand on her shoulder and asks her, out of the blue, "May I kiss you?"

She forgets to breathe. His eyes gaze into hers, and she can't move a single muscle. She is frozen stiff. Her lips finally start to work, but no sound comes out.

She watches Alain's face, as the light in his eyes dims, and he drops his hand off her shoulder. "Oh, Rydia," he sighs. "It's okay."

"Alain," she forces out.

He takes a couple steps back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. I just thought things were going well, and I thought... well, nevermind. It's okay. It's okay." She wishes he didn't sound like he was convincing himself. He looks over at her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push. But you're beautiful and fun to be around and I like you, as childish as that sounds. Do you like me?"

Rydia sits down on the grass. She's a little dizzy, and her mind is whirling. Thoughts of Edge and Alain are flickering through her mind so fast that they're blurring together. "I do like you, Alain," she says. "And I think it would be nice to kiss you, but I don't think I can."

He drops down beside her. "What's wrong? Is it the people in the village? Because they've all calmed down, and if I like you and you like me, who cares what they think?"

"It's not that." She's shaking her head helplessly. "No, it's not that. I don't even know how to explain..." She trails off and looks at him. "I like you, I do. But..." She's on her feet without thinking about it. "I'm sorry," she says, as she turns to run. "I'm so sorry."

He moves to follow her, and she summons a warp spell and pulls herself back to her home. She's breathing hard.

She feels terrible because she likes Alain. She really does. He's nice and he's funny and he's handsome. But when he looked at her with those clear blue eyes and said he wanted to kiss her, that same feeling of disappointment from before dropped on her like an anvil. Because... it shouldn't be him asking. And when he did ask, one thought pulsed through her mind like a mantra, ringing out from the rest of the cacophony, saying, This should be Edge. This should be Edge. This should be Edge.

She drops into a chair, still shaking. Because she shouldn't be thinking that. She's living her own life, apart from him. She doesn't want things to be complicated, to be involved in a relationship that would involve subterfuge and risk and political maneuvering. She likes that Alain offers simplicity. She should be able to let go of the past. They didn't have anything concrete, anyway. She hadn't promised to wait. So she should be able to get through this, right? Let him go, and move on to something different?

But then she thinks about how Edge looks without his mask, and how much he complained about the lack of rice on the moon, and the look on his face when he told her one year. She thinks about the few times he's held her hand, and how warm and safe she feels wrapped in his arms, and the soft feel of his lips on her skin. She thinks about his laugh and his scowl and his pout and suddenly, she's almost crying.

It's a choked feeling, like being Silenced, or even how it feels to be slowly turned to stone. It's unsettling and a little painful, and it scares her. So, trying to make the feeling go away, she stands up, walks to her writing desk, and pulls out a sheet of paper.

She writes three words. I miss you. She sends it out the next morning.

Notes

This was supposed to be a drabble. Whoops.

If anyone would like to tell me what comes next, I would be most grateful. My mind just kinda blanked out after that last line, so... We'll see what these characters come up with?

Thanks, and hope you enjoyed!

SJ