Categories > Games > Final Fantasy 9 > Love is not Enough
For the next month Garnet was beside herself with grief, not taking any visitors at all, much less consolation. Beatrix commented that it was as if a piece of her heart had died the moment Zidane did.
In Her Majesty's eyes, the funeral was a tear-hazed blur, too long and too bitter and yet too brief and too quiet.
She was still garbed in black for the ninth reunion, her dark dress specifically tailored with her swollen belly in mind. Though she was more open about her loss by then, the occasion still felt like more obsequies. Amarant didn't show, and never did again. The reunions became a vestigial shadow on the calendar. Contact between the remaining six war-heroes was reduced to casual, infrequent visits, business and letters.
Garnet named her son Gabriel, and he resembled a little bit of nobody. Mikoto was a good sport about it, offering to explain that a Genome's blonde hair, blue eyes and tail were recessive traits. No more questions were asked.
Three years later, Lord Barley moved into the castle, taking the widowed queen's hand in marriage.
As far as the rest of the world knew, they lived contently ever after.
---
Freya didn't know what to do with the strange letter she'd claimed from Amarant. It wasn't the kind of thing a parent would want to pass on to their young children, and certainly not the kind of thing one would deliver to a widow--more than once she'd considered handing it off to Garnet, but the Dragon Knight always lost her nerve in the queen's sad, dark eyes.
She would do it someday, Freya kept telling herself, but not today.
Until that fateful day, she would have the letter to herself, something to peruse now and then in private with a wistful chuckle. It warmed her heart to remember the letter's deliverer as much as its writer.
---
"Do you want me to pay you off or what?"
They'd met up, seemingly by coincidence, at the mouth of Gizamaluke's Grotto. Freya was stopped in her tracks by Amarant's scathing congeniality.
She spun to face him, one hand's sure hold on her polearm, and squished her face with irritable confusion. "What?"
"Your money, you dumb rat," he clarified, "I heard you lost a stupid bet on me."
Freya smirked. "I don't want your money. I'd sooner fight you for it than just take it."
"Oh really?" Amarant lifted his voice, suddenly more interested than before.
"Sorry, that wasn't a challenge," she cut him short.
"That's a shame."
Freya shook her hands at him, exasperated. "What's your problem, anyway? I can't understand why you always want to fight your friends!"
"That monkey got it. What's your problem?"
"My problem? What are you talking about?"
"You and Fratguy. What's your deal, crying over shit he can't even remember?"
"How the hell did you...?" No, don't even ask, I don't want to know where his ears have been. "I think my love-life is the least of your business, Amarant Coral!" she flared.
Amarant plowed ahead, heedless to her indignation. "You've already taken the goddamn leap and married the guy. He loves you, you obviously loved him enough to say you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, that's good enough. People have gotten married on less--just look at that crackpot captain and his general, or that prissy stiff witch and her regent. You're never gonna understand what happened in the past or know what's going to happen to you tomorrow, you just gotta deal with what's right in front of you and quit being a whiny bitch."
Not only was the unwanted advice the most she'd ever heard out of the bounty hunter's mouth at once, but it managed to raise every hackle she had, word by word. Her knuckles tightened around the shaft of her weapon. "You're asking for a butt-kicking," Freya growled venomously.
He shrugged. "I've never asked for less."
That unbelievable bastard. She was being baited, and she was falling for it--it was exactly what he wanted and, to her own surprise, she /didn't care/. She would play his twisted game of friendship. "...Fine, let's go."
It was the wisest fight she'd ever started.
---
I know this is supposed to be heartwarming or poetic or really profound or, something, but I'll be honest and tell you that I just couldn't pull it off with a straight face--pen--whatever. It would be a bold-faced lie, and I can't lie to you guys, my best friends. (Also know that I'm on my fourth shot of whiskey and Cinna and Marcus say I'm really really tongue-loose when I'm shit-faced and I guess they would know better 'cause I can't remember. But damn is this letter depressing, you can't grudge me a few drinks to get things going.)
It's been my personal secret for a while that I am, well, about to kick the bucket. I'm sorry for hiding it from everyone, but I couldn't see the good in telling you all the truth. It'd just be a lot of grief for everyone, and I don't need anyone's pity. I'm sorry if it feels like I betrayed your trust, but know that I never wanted to get you guys mixed up in my problems. It's just not fair.
/Anyway, since the reaper's been hanging around my doorstep, I'd been thinking a lot about what I want to leave behind for the world. I'm flat broke and treasure, though cool, wouldn't really say it, you know?/
So instead, I'm going to write down, for everyone's benefit, the facts of life as I came to know them. These are hard-won pearls of wisdom, I swear!
You don't need money to be rich. Material collateral counts as well. But don't ever bet off your friend's shoes unless you're prepared to walk a mile without yours.
Never blow off an ultimatum--you never know when it's for real.
Never blow off your friend's birthday, even for a girl.
/Never blow off your boss's birthday, especially for a girl./
On a related note, never let your friend's girl blow you.
/And get a boss that's too ugly to get girls./
It might not be professional to sleep with your co-workers, but damn can it be hot.
Never say "rat bastard" in front of a Burmecian.
"Bitches" and "hos" are two distinct flavors that should be mixed with care, and in fact if you're touring the establishments on the east side of Treno you want to ask for "hos and bitches" to avoid too much of the latter--unless you're into that sort of thing.
Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and your money in your front pockets, where it's harder to pick--unless you're into that sort of thing.
You can't kill yourself by holding your breath.
/Suspense can't really kill you either./
Daggers can, though.
Don't believe those ads in the paper that say you can "enhance" your "love life" by two inches or more. They only bring pain.
If it looks like a girl, smells like a girl, talks like a girl, and treats you like a girl... it still might not be a girl. Carry lube.
Catwomen are extremely territorial, but for some reason don't mind gangbangs.
Grass is not a substitute for real food, but I say the same thing about jerky and nobody believes me. You'll believe me if you ever try to eat grass, though. Really, please don't.
There is no discreet way to scratch your ass, pick your nose or adjust your package in public. Though there is a way to do all three at once. I wouldn't recommend trying it if you don't have a tail.
It really is impossible to suck your own dick, though. Quit trying.
Don't be so impatient that you can't listen.
Don't be so set in your ways that you can't change, or don't know how to.
Never be too busy to help someone.
Hey, your body is your business. You can stick whatever you like up your ass, but kindly pull the stick out first.
All the world's a stage, full of crappy actors.
There are two kinds of people in the world: the idiots who think they know everything and the idiots who actually do.
I don't care if it's rude, don't accept strange cups of tea from anyone. ANYONE.
Shit happens.
Don't lust too much--you'll lose yourself.
/Don't love too much--you'll get hurt./
Those are my sins. I don't regret a damn one of 'em.
I just wish I'd learned sooner how to be honest with myself. I don't think I ever would have if not for you guys, my friends. I wouldn't take back a single day of my life if it meant not meeting any of you. All the money and power in the world isn't worth your friends, your family... or your soul.
Enjoy life. Enjoy your youth. You never know when it'll fade away or be taken from you.
Always have fun in whatever you do, and of course, take care of yourself.
Just a little advice from a has-been bookworm.
-
P.S: Dagger, you're the love of my life. I knew from the time we met that you were the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. That's why I never told you the truth. But I should have been more open with you, I know that, now. Old habits die hard, I suppose.
Barley, take good care of Dagger, and her kid too. He's (assuming it's a boy, of course you never know) yours too, don't forget. You have to be there for her now, to give her the family she needs. Now that I'm gone, she's all yours. Don't ever say I didn't cut you a good deal.
/Don't get me wrong, I think you're a nice guy, and I've trusted you enough already to let you into my wife's life. But all the eidolons help me, if you break her heart or mistreat that kid I'm going to come right back out of this grave and kick your ass, no questions asked./
Mikoto, I'd ask you to take care of those kids, but I don't think I have to. Even if you won't admit it, I know you love them. Don't forget that I love you and the kids, too!
Steiner, yelling like that all the time is bad for your blood pressure. A doctor told me so.
Beatrix, invest in earplugs. And take care of yourself, of course. I hope Alexander grows up to be as good and strong a man as his father, and as tough and wise as you.
Quina, sorry I couldn't stomach those frogs' legs, no matter how you cooked them. I'm sure they're really tasty... if you're a Qu.
Eiko, listen to Cid and Hilda, but don't ever let them or anybody get in the way of who you are and where you came from. You should always be honest with yourself, like your grandpa said, right? Tell Morrison hi for me.
Amarant, maybe I'll see you in the next life (there's gotta be a special place for thugs like us, don't you think? All that "cycle of souls" crap sounds too boring.) You can have your rematch there.
Freya, do what makes your heart smile. Life's too short to waste on bullshit. Stick by what--and who--you love.
I wish I could have stayed, just a little longer. I wanted to share my life with the people I've grown up with, and grow old with the ones I love. You can't always get what you want, though. You just gotta be happy with the hand you're dealt and grow a sense of humor, because life will really suck without one.
My friends, my life, my love...
Goodbye.
You've made every memory worth it.
A/N: Well, show's over. This has been some good, depressing, hilarious fun. Heaps and tons of thanks to The RPGenius (read his fics, goodies for everyone) for braving his insomnia to proofread my chapters. You're always a good sport. Thanks to DK (read his fics, awesome darque FF8 stuff) for help with the seventh chapter, and to spiderflower (read her fics, awesome darque FF9 and KH stuff) for her bit of help with the last chapter. Special thanks, as always, to nitpickers from fanfiction.net (read their fics?), and very obscure thanks to my mother (she has no fics), who introduced me to the idea that love might not, in fact, be enough.
I guess this fic is another testament to how much I can't give a shit about Garnet. I've /tried/, but the give-a-shit gland just won't kick into gear (you can imagine the constipation--or better that you don't). This is the closest I'll ever come to splitting up ZidaneGarnet, though; even if my heart can't understand why therluvissopur, my head's got a fair grasp of it. Some canon you just don't screw with.
That said, it's tons of fun to write Zidane and Amarant. I was a little wary of tackling Freya, despite how much I adore her, or perhaps because of that--I was afraid of messing her up (also Freya fans can get pretty rabid, best not to piss them off). Hopefully I did a passable job on all the characters, because, at least to me, characterization is very important.
Anyway, enough wanking from me. Go forth and have fun in whatever you do, my readers.
~the neiphiti dragon
In Her Majesty's eyes, the funeral was a tear-hazed blur, too long and too bitter and yet too brief and too quiet.
She was still garbed in black for the ninth reunion, her dark dress specifically tailored with her swollen belly in mind. Though she was more open about her loss by then, the occasion still felt like more obsequies. Amarant didn't show, and never did again. The reunions became a vestigial shadow on the calendar. Contact between the remaining six war-heroes was reduced to casual, infrequent visits, business and letters.
Garnet named her son Gabriel, and he resembled a little bit of nobody. Mikoto was a good sport about it, offering to explain that a Genome's blonde hair, blue eyes and tail were recessive traits. No more questions were asked.
Three years later, Lord Barley moved into the castle, taking the widowed queen's hand in marriage.
As far as the rest of the world knew, they lived contently ever after.
---
Freya didn't know what to do with the strange letter she'd claimed from Amarant. It wasn't the kind of thing a parent would want to pass on to their young children, and certainly not the kind of thing one would deliver to a widow--more than once she'd considered handing it off to Garnet, but the Dragon Knight always lost her nerve in the queen's sad, dark eyes.
She would do it someday, Freya kept telling herself, but not today.
Until that fateful day, she would have the letter to herself, something to peruse now and then in private with a wistful chuckle. It warmed her heart to remember the letter's deliverer as much as its writer.
---
"Do you want me to pay you off or what?"
They'd met up, seemingly by coincidence, at the mouth of Gizamaluke's Grotto. Freya was stopped in her tracks by Amarant's scathing congeniality.
She spun to face him, one hand's sure hold on her polearm, and squished her face with irritable confusion. "What?"
"Your money, you dumb rat," he clarified, "I heard you lost a stupid bet on me."
Freya smirked. "I don't want your money. I'd sooner fight you for it than just take it."
"Oh really?" Amarant lifted his voice, suddenly more interested than before.
"Sorry, that wasn't a challenge," she cut him short.
"That's a shame."
Freya shook her hands at him, exasperated. "What's your problem, anyway? I can't understand why you always want to fight your friends!"
"That monkey got it. What's your problem?"
"My problem? What are you talking about?"
"You and Fratguy. What's your deal, crying over shit he can't even remember?"
"How the hell did you...?" No, don't even ask, I don't want to know where his ears have been. "I think my love-life is the least of your business, Amarant Coral!" she flared.
Amarant plowed ahead, heedless to her indignation. "You've already taken the goddamn leap and married the guy. He loves you, you obviously loved him enough to say you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, that's good enough. People have gotten married on less--just look at that crackpot captain and his general, or that prissy stiff witch and her regent. You're never gonna understand what happened in the past or know what's going to happen to you tomorrow, you just gotta deal with what's right in front of you and quit being a whiny bitch."
Not only was the unwanted advice the most she'd ever heard out of the bounty hunter's mouth at once, but it managed to raise every hackle she had, word by word. Her knuckles tightened around the shaft of her weapon. "You're asking for a butt-kicking," Freya growled venomously.
He shrugged. "I've never asked for less."
That unbelievable bastard. She was being baited, and she was falling for it--it was exactly what he wanted and, to her own surprise, she /didn't care/. She would play his twisted game of friendship. "...Fine, let's go."
It was the wisest fight she'd ever started.
---
I know this is supposed to be heartwarming or poetic or really profound or, something, but I'll be honest and tell you that I just couldn't pull it off with a straight face--pen--whatever. It would be a bold-faced lie, and I can't lie to you guys, my best friends. (Also know that I'm on my fourth shot of whiskey and Cinna and Marcus say I'm really really tongue-loose when I'm shit-faced and I guess they would know better 'cause I can't remember. But damn is this letter depressing, you can't grudge me a few drinks to get things going.)
It's been my personal secret for a while that I am, well, about to kick the bucket. I'm sorry for hiding it from everyone, but I couldn't see the good in telling you all the truth. It'd just be a lot of grief for everyone, and I don't need anyone's pity. I'm sorry if it feels like I betrayed your trust, but know that I never wanted to get you guys mixed up in my problems. It's just not fair.
/Anyway, since the reaper's been hanging around my doorstep, I'd been thinking a lot about what I want to leave behind for the world. I'm flat broke and treasure, though cool, wouldn't really say it, you know?/
So instead, I'm going to write down, for everyone's benefit, the facts of life as I came to know them. These are hard-won pearls of wisdom, I swear!
You don't need money to be rich. Material collateral counts as well. But don't ever bet off your friend's shoes unless you're prepared to walk a mile without yours.
Never blow off an ultimatum--you never know when it's for real.
Never blow off your friend's birthday, even for a girl.
/Never blow off your boss's birthday, especially for a girl./
On a related note, never let your friend's girl blow you.
/And get a boss that's too ugly to get girls./
It might not be professional to sleep with your co-workers, but damn can it be hot.
Never say "rat bastard" in front of a Burmecian.
"Bitches" and "hos" are two distinct flavors that should be mixed with care, and in fact if you're touring the establishments on the east side of Treno you want to ask for "hos and bitches" to avoid too much of the latter--unless you're into that sort of thing.
Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and your money in your front pockets, where it's harder to pick--unless you're into that sort of thing.
You can't kill yourself by holding your breath.
/Suspense can't really kill you either./
Daggers can, though.
Don't believe those ads in the paper that say you can "enhance" your "love life" by two inches or more. They only bring pain.
If it looks like a girl, smells like a girl, talks like a girl, and treats you like a girl... it still might not be a girl. Carry lube.
Catwomen are extremely territorial, but for some reason don't mind gangbangs.
Grass is not a substitute for real food, but I say the same thing about jerky and nobody believes me. You'll believe me if you ever try to eat grass, though. Really, please don't.
There is no discreet way to scratch your ass, pick your nose or adjust your package in public. Though there is a way to do all three at once. I wouldn't recommend trying it if you don't have a tail.
It really is impossible to suck your own dick, though. Quit trying.
Don't be so impatient that you can't listen.
Don't be so set in your ways that you can't change, or don't know how to.
Never be too busy to help someone.
Hey, your body is your business. You can stick whatever you like up your ass, but kindly pull the stick out first.
All the world's a stage, full of crappy actors.
There are two kinds of people in the world: the idiots who think they know everything and the idiots who actually do.
I don't care if it's rude, don't accept strange cups of tea from anyone. ANYONE.
Shit happens.
Don't lust too much--you'll lose yourself.
/Don't love too much--you'll get hurt./
Those are my sins. I don't regret a damn one of 'em.
I just wish I'd learned sooner how to be honest with myself. I don't think I ever would have if not for you guys, my friends. I wouldn't take back a single day of my life if it meant not meeting any of you. All the money and power in the world isn't worth your friends, your family... or your soul.
Enjoy life. Enjoy your youth. You never know when it'll fade away or be taken from you.
Always have fun in whatever you do, and of course, take care of yourself.
Just a little advice from a has-been bookworm.
-
P.S: Dagger, you're the love of my life. I knew from the time we met that you were the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. That's why I never told you the truth. But I should have been more open with you, I know that, now. Old habits die hard, I suppose.
Barley, take good care of Dagger, and her kid too. He's (assuming it's a boy, of course you never know) yours too, don't forget. You have to be there for her now, to give her the family she needs. Now that I'm gone, she's all yours. Don't ever say I didn't cut you a good deal.
/Don't get me wrong, I think you're a nice guy, and I've trusted you enough already to let you into my wife's life. But all the eidolons help me, if you break her heart or mistreat that kid I'm going to come right back out of this grave and kick your ass, no questions asked./
Mikoto, I'd ask you to take care of those kids, but I don't think I have to. Even if you won't admit it, I know you love them. Don't forget that I love you and the kids, too!
Steiner, yelling like that all the time is bad for your blood pressure. A doctor told me so.
Beatrix, invest in earplugs. And take care of yourself, of course. I hope Alexander grows up to be as good and strong a man as his father, and as tough and wise as you.
Quina, sorry I couldn't stomach those frogs' legs, no matter how you cooked them. I'm sure they're really tasty... if you're a Qu.
Eiko, listen to Cid and Hilda, but don't ever let them or anybody get in the way of who you are and where you came from. You should always be honest with yourself, like your grandpa said, right? Tell Morrison hi for me.
Amarant, maybe I'll see you in the next life (there's gotta be a special place for thugs like us, don't you think? All that "cycle of souls" crap sounds too boring.) You can have your rematch there.
Freya, do what makes your heart smile. Life's too short to waste on bullshit. Stick by what--and who--you love.
I wish I could have stayed, just a little longer. I wanted to share my life with the people I've grown up with, and grow old with the ones I love. You can't always get what you want, though. You just gotta be happy with the hand you're dealt and grow a sense of humor, because life will really suck without one.
My friends, my life, my love...
Goodbye.
You've made every memory worth it.
A/N: Well, show's over. This has been some good, depressing, hilarious fun. Heaps and tons of thanks to The RPGenius (read his fics, goodies for everyone) for braving his insomnia to proofread my chapters. You're always a good sport. Thanks to DK (read his fics, awesome darque FF8 stuff) for help with the seventh chapter, and to spiderflower (read her fics, awesome darque FF9 and KH stuff) for her bit of help with the last chapter. Special thanks, as always, to nitpickers from fanfiction.net (read their fics?), and very obscure thanks to my mother (she has no fics), who introduced me to the idea that love might not, in fact, be enough.
I guess this fic is another testament to how much I can't give a shit about Garnet. I've /tried/, but the give-a-shit gland just won't kick into gear (you can imagine the constipation--or better that you don't). This is the closest I'll ever come to splitting up ZidaneGarnet, though; even if my heart can't understand why therluvissopur, my head's got a fair grasp of it. Some canon you just don't screw with.
That said, it's tons of fun to write Zidane and Amarant. I was a little wary of tackling Freya, despite how much I adore her, or perhaps because of that--I was afraid of messing her up (also Freya fans can get pretty rabid, best not to piss them off). Hopefully I did a passable job on all the characters, because, at least to me, characterization is very important.
Anyway, enough wanking from me. Go forth and have fun in whatever you do, my readers.
~the neiphiti dragon
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