FicWad

Prologue


The torches spat three-foot flames into the air, but they were no match for the room's high-vaulted ceilings. The heat they gave off coiled in the shadowed heights of the room, and warmed no-one. The woman sitting on her golden throne atop the dais did not seem to notice the cold, for all that her garb was scanty, if magnificent.

The great horned headdress atop her head gave her the fierce look of an angry beast, and the gold and violet slip of a dress she wore artfully revealed the labor of her servants. Painted figures and diagrams adorned her golden flesh in intricate patterns that were admired by no-one, except perhaps the woman herself.

The tattered scrapbook resting upon her lap looked utterly out of place among the cold finery with which the sorceress surrounded herself. It was quite old, and its worn green cover sported faded yellow sunflowers. The woman sat with her eyes downcast, staring at the floor with burnished golden eyes. One lacquered fingernail tapped the open page of the scrapbook.

The page in question displayed a large newspaper clipping and its accompanying photograph. The picture showed one Squall Leonhart, almost smiling, surrounded by laughing friends. A dark-haired girl wearing blue grinned at the camera from her vantage point on Leonhart's arm. The headline of the article screamed, "LION OF BALAMB DESTROYS SORCERESS FROM FUTURE!"

The sorceress closed her eyes.

+++++

Instructor Quistis Trepe threw down her pen, removed her glasses, and dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. Her lower back ached; she'd been sitting at her desk in her quarters for hours.

Recent rumors that there were two or three contracts in the running that would be suitable for SeeD field exams had spurred the upper-level cadets into a frenzy of prerequisite attempts. She'd been up late every night this week grading, and tonight was no exception.

Standing up, she stretched and fetched a glass of water from the tiny sink in her private bathroom. Only two more grade reports to go and she could sleep. Tomorrow would be an easy day at last: just her homeroom class in the morning, and only one student, Squall Leonhart, attempting the practical prerequisite.

She smiled, thinking of him. There was no getting around it: she was smitten. The very thought of being alone with him during tomorrow's trip to the Fire Cavern gave her butterflies in her stomach. Of course, it would be inappropriate to act on her feelings while he was still her student, but when he passed his SeeD field exam, things might be different.

Then again, she had no idea if he had any awareness of her existence outside of her role as Instructor. He was a classic loner; he had no friends and didn't seem to want any. It was hard to say what might notice.

There was a knock at the door. Quistis glanced at the clock before setting aside her glass of water. It was already past midnight and previous experience had taught her that late night visits never brought good tidings.

It was Xu, looking very frazzled and towing an armload of paperwork.

"Oh, no," said Quistis, horrified. "Which one?"

"It's Dollet," grimaced Xu. "I wouldn't bother you but it just came through an hour ago and I'm stuck doing transport."

"Doesn't Cid normally take care of that?"

A fleeting, worried look crossed Xu's face. "He's not feeling well. If you could just do the squad assignments and get them back to me before you go to bed that would be a big help."

"No problem," said Quistis.

"Thanks so much," smiled Xu, handing her several large yellow envelopes before fleeing down the hallway.

An hour later she was nearly finished and her eyes were smarting with fatigue. All of the squads were properly mapped out, captains assigned-- except for the very last. She had assigned Squall, Seifer Almasy, and Zell Dincht, one of Nero's students, to this squad but was having trouble deciding who to tap for the captaincy. According to Nero's report, Dincht was solid, but not leadership material. Therefore she had to decide between Seifer and Squall, and this final decision was frustrating her.

Seifer Almasy was one of the top students at Balamb Garden. He was a first-class fighter, resourceful in a crisis, and charismatic. His understanding of tactics was excellent and his knowledge of weaponry and other military equipment was nearly encyclopaedic. But he also had a bad temper and could not be relied on when it came to following orders he didn't approve of. He'd failed the SeeD field exam four times.

Squall Leonhart's knowledge of military matters rivaled Seifer's, but Squall, as she knew very well, was quiet to the point of surliness, did not seem to like people, and had no charisma to speak of.

It should have been so easy. Seifer was the clear choice. But she couldn't bring herself to actually check his name in the captain's column on the form. Seifer's problem was that he couldn't get his emotions under control.

Squall's problem was that he didn't seem to have any emotions at all.

But Squall had attracted her, hadn't he? Didn't she think of him at odd moments during every day? Didn't every cool, gray glance make her stomach twist pleasantly?

Squall or Seifer?

Squall did have charisma, it just wasn't overblown the way Seifer's was.

Would she be tipping her hand if she chose Squall? He was an unlikely choice, to be sure, but she knew he could do it. What kind of instructor was she, anyway, to let her personal feelings interfere with her work?

She squinted at the paper on her desk and grasped the pen more securely in her fingers.

Squall or Seifer? She was so tired.

Squall or -- Squall. Seifer would just waste the chance again. Why shouldn't Squall get the opportunity? She made the mark hastily, not wanting to give herself time to start debating again.

She shoved the papers into the proper envelope and left her quarters. He can do this, she thought as she headed toward the elevator. He'll be fine. And so will I.

+++++

The sorceress opened her eyes.

Something was different. She gazed across the room, but could not detect anything out of place.

Something is different, she thought.

Her gaze slid down to the open book in her lap.

The headline now read, "BALAMB GARDEN CELEBRATES DEMISE OF ULTIMECIA." Her eyes widened as she took in the photograph, also new. It showed a calm-eyed young woman hoisted on the shoulders of a smiling young man.

Ultimecia flipped the page. More newspaper clippings, more photographs.

"QUISTIS TREPE, THE WOMAN WHO SAVED THE WORLD-- EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW!"

"ESTHAR PRESIDENT LOIRE RESIGNS FROM OFFICE."

Ultimecia closed the scrapbook. Everything had changed. How, she wasn't sure. But if the past could be changed as she had just witnessed, surely it could be changed further.

She would make that scrapbook disappear. She had to; her life depended on it.

Quistis Trepe, she thought, and the enameled fingernail resumed its slow tapping.