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WARNING: This fic features a Ramza/Alma pairing (sibling romance), and some upcoming references to sexual abuse, concerning Rafa Galthana. If this material offends you, please turn back now! Of course, I'm not actually advertising the concepts in this story. It's just a fic.
Note: This story takes place in a different continuity than my other fanfic: "A Knight and His Lady." In "Knight", Ramza's allies survive the Graveyard of Airships, but in "Threshold", only Ramza and Alma survive the Graveyard of Airships.
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A Knight and His Lady
A Final Fantasy Tactics Fanfiction by Myst Knight
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy Tactics is owned by Square Enix. I write this without consent, and am making no money off of it.
This story is rated T for Ideologically sensitive material (forbidden sibling romance), violence, some references to sex, and brief mention of sexual abuse (Rafa). For OLDER TEEN AND UP.
No offense intended by the controversial content (and as always, don't try this at home!)
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Orbonne Monastery, Middle Ages
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The sweet smell of cloverleaf washed into the cathedral on the lazy afternoon currents hounding the area. It coasted down the stone walls and through the open doorway like a rain-drenched butterfly searching desperately for shelter. Like that same butterfly, a single flick of foliage fluttered in through the doors into a stained-glass paradise. It looped and somersaulted through a meandering path before landing beside a blond-haired boy who, too, looked like he had been searching for a place to rest.
Ramza awoke to the light hitting his face and the cloverleaf tickling his nose. He thrashed about absently on the cool, marble floor, as if snuggling under a bundle of disheveled sheets. "Alma, not now," he muttered groggily, not quite in tune with the waking world. "We'll play the reed flutes some other time."
"Alma?...Alma!" Upon hearing his own voice call the name of his beloved sister, Ramza opened up his shining eyes to the cold caress of reality. In an almost comical fashion, he flopped and groaned like a fish before managing to find his footing on the floor of the abandoned monastery. Managing an upright landing, the young lad scrambled around the building, looking desperately for some sign of the missing girl.
The memories of the horrific battle upon the fallen Airship has started trickling in. Like a bad dream, the Blood Angel Altima advanced upon young Ramza, knocking aside his comrades like bothersome blood-bugs. He could only watch as the last line of defense, made up of a near-family-like group of friends, were dealt with swiftly and harshly by the wrongly exalted menace to Ivalice. Yet, standing in front of his sister Alma, there was not room for retreat or remorse, only for battle.
And yet, that sister of his was determined to fight alongside him, even as beleaguered she was then. Looking more like a deity than Altima ever could, the girl stood her ground and poured her soul into one last protective spell, sending herself into unconsciousness with the expended energy. The memories were already becoming vague-ish, but he couldn't recall what had happened to his closest sibling and friend. Had Alma given up her much-fought-for existence to save her own rescuer?
He couldn't have it.
Practically tearing apart the quaint little citadel, Ramza went all out in his continuing search for Alma. He had fought so hard for her, and to think she would throw it away for something as simple as his own life. Already his mind was contemplating a way to return to Murond Death City and the Graveyard of Airships, ready to fight off a thousand Altimas if it meant the safety of his sister.
As it turned out, he needn't have worried.
A quiet little sigh whispered to Ramza's right, knocking him momentarily out of his frantic search. Moving away from the confession booth he had been examining, he calmed his nerves and proceeded towards the head of the cathedral. Beyond the new organ tucked away in the corner of the church was a small altar table, engraved with the writings of the fiend he had slain. Nevertheless, it brought forth from the war-born boy a sigh of relief, upon finding the figure resting upon it was alive and well.
Sprawled across the altar like a sacrifice was his sister Alma, a pretty girl perhaps one year younger than himself. Flaxen hair in a ponytail hung from the back of her head, falling behind her like the sands of time. The pink skirt she wore drooped slightly towards the floor, the garment being too long to fit onto the stone bench. And her soft face was relaxed in utter peace, her lips pursed in a calm little line that could even perhaps break out into a sort of smile.
Ramza drunk in the serene beauty of his only family, letting his gaze travel from the tips of her boots to the top of her sweet little head. For a brief moment, he felt awkward for staring at Alma so, but he brushed it off soon enough. His sister was beautiful, something no man, husband or brother, could deny. It was something that had to end, however, for the afternoon was late, and it was time to leave.
The boy was saved from the burden of waking her when Alma's eyes fluttered up on their own, revealing crystalline irises the same color as his. They blinked unsteadily for a moment, still getting used to the difference between the airships and the monastery, when they set sight upon the comforting shape before her. "Brother Ramza?" she asked, wondering if the boy was perhaps a phantom of imagination.
"I'm here, Alma," he said, unable to keep the relieved smile from his sister.
The girl seemed to be processing this information for the moment. "Ramza..." she whispered, her large eyes flickering before bursting open in a complete rush of joy and recognition. "Oh, Ramza!" Alma cried out, leaping up and embracing the boy with a surprising burst of energy. "I thought I lost you for good!"
Ramza was taken aback by her sheer affection, but quickly found it within himself to hug Alma back, bringing her to him. Her chest pressed snugly against his, and he could feel the pitter-patter of her heart bumping in her body. He let himself get washed away in the waves of love, forgetting the pain of battle he had so recently been subject to. The blood of his enemy stained his hands, yet everything was perfect once again in the arms of his sister.
The boy found himself a bit disappointed when he found Alma disengaging from their closeness, though she still held him at arm's length. He opened up his eyes to find the girl staring at him though pleading, almost-fearful eyes. "Where are the others?" she asked, her voice rigid with the tension that had built up in the seconds they broke apart. Afraid of the answer she already knew was coming.
Ramza knew he could not deny her anything that he had had, least of all the truth, as much as he wanted to. "I've not seen them since the explosion at the airship," he said softly, looking into her eyes to convey the harsh facts to her. "They're gone, Alma."
Alma actually scooted away from the boy for a moment, as if not wanting to hear such news even from a loved one. But soon, his steadfast eyes brought forth the tender meaning within, and hers were glistening with the hurt she held for her brother's loss. "Oh, Ramza," she said softly, bringing her head into the boy's chest. "I'm so sorry."
Ramza let his hand bury itself into her sandy blond hair, bringing her close to his heart like the most important keepsake. Letting himself comfort her as well as being comforted. "Now you know the sadness of war," he said with sage-like finality, feeling much older than his tender years.
Alma nodded against him, not looking up to meet his eyes. "I know."
The two sat in each other's arms across the meaningless altar, taking care of each other with tenderness only born to tragedy. It was not clear whether the situation was that of a sister comforting a saddened brother, or a wife caring for a warrior husband. Ramza at last let a single tear escape his stoic gaze, letting it fall upon the marble floor with a shattering pop. A broken tear for allies lost to war, and for friends sorely missed.
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*****
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The outside of Orbonne Monastery was a far cry from its interior, it must be said. While the inside of the chapel prompted strictness and reverence with its restrictive stained glass, the outside seemed to revel in the freedom and frivolity of the open sun. Every daisy planted seemed even more alive, every vine rising in triumph with the glorious day. It was a shame that the two youths there couldn't see past their difficulties and enjoy it properly.
For the Beoulve siblings were still there, even after a whole hour of preparation. And they were arguing.
"Are you crazy?!" Ramza exclaimed, driving his sister back from where she stood. "How could you even think of wanting to come along?"
"I told you before, brother," Alma repeated, managing not to cow down from the sheer force of the other's will. "I want to be by your side always, even if it means leaving my home forever."
"You can't be serious," he said more evenly, turning his back on the girl. "There are horrible dangers out there even the Lion War probably can't prepare you for."
Alma was thoroughly unshakable. "I know I'll be prepared for anything, as long as we're together," she said sincerely, though nothing but an exasperated sigh was received from Ramza.
The two had been engaged in a fierce row involving the nature of their so-called demise. With the explosion emanating from Murond Death City attracting the attention of those that had known them, both Ramza and Alma were assumed dead, giving the older Beoulve just the excuse he needed to slip out of Ivalice now and forever. But there was no reason why Alma had to come along for something as simple as moral support. She could have found some other way to remain in Ivalice, instead of making off with him like the heathen that he had made himself into.
And yet, somewhere deep within Ramza's heart, he knew that any verbal tactics he used would never be enough to convince his sister. Alma was of the indomitable Beoulve nature, the way of the warrior that unfortunately was not transferred well to Zalbag and Dycedarg. Though Zalbag had eventually found it within his heart to be a true Beoulve, that was never any question to where the girl's heart lay. It was as Father always said: nothing happens without a Beoulve.
And that included Alma.
He had to try again, though. "Alma, you always loved Ivalice," he rationalized, adding a new tact in his logic. "Do you really want to leave this beautiful land for a dead man like myself?"
At this, Alma looked away, seeming to consider this for the first time. "I...I do love Ivalice," she said quietly, looking towards the lovely monastery she had spent field trips and summers at. However, she soon lost that glimmer in her eyes, and had quickly replaced it with hard determination. "But I love you more."
Before Ramza could react any further, she took his hand within her own, cradling it like some small, lonely animal. "When I was held captive by Vormav, I made a promise to myself," she started, staring directly into his eyes with crystalline compassion. "I promised I would return to the man I loved, and stay by his side for as long as I could." Her eyes now glowing with love, and even passion, for the one that held such a close place in her heart. "It's you, brother, and I never want to leave your side. Not if you marry someone else, nor if you become the poorest soul in the land."
The faintly romantic touch in her speech was not lost on the boy, and he soon turned various different shades of red. True, it had been a long time since that time they had shared traveling from Lesalia Imperial Castle to this very monastery, but its effect were such that their relationship still had that slight change to it. After some harrowing heart-to-heart in the Zeklaus Desert, they had shared a brief, tender kiss, one that surpassed their status as sister and brother. Alma had obviously not forgotten it, and neither could he.
A cold chill enveloped Ramza's body, like the metallic twang of a holy sword. He wrapped his arms around himself, the ghosts of yesterday wandering through his head. The forbidden love Ramza and Alma were flirting with had been significant to Agrias as well, back when she was still with them. A most unfortunate incident it was, indeed.
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*****
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"How could you, Ramza?" the woman launched at her leader, standing up to her full height. "How could you perpetrate such an act?!"
"Agrias, that's not fair," he responded with all the courage he could muster, though even now he could feel himself weakening. "You know my relationship with Alma has nothing to do with our fight."
"And you kept it a secret from me, too!" she continued, near oblivious to the boy's defense. "Tell me, were you ever going to tell us, or were you and your sister going to run off in the middle of the night like the Death Corps?"
The Holy Knight's accusations bit Ramza's soul to the core. "I...I don't know what to say," he said hollowly, feeling more guilt than he had since the death of Teta. This got nothing more than a snort from Agrias, and she promptly turned away from him in a frustrated huff.
The two were deep within the woods, quite a ways away from the encampment that even now was plotting how to best aid their leader. Alma had just been seized by Izlude, and everyone was in frantic-mode trying to figure out a way to save her. Agrias had been looking for clues among Alma's dropped belongings when she had stumbled upon the younger girl's diary. It was then she discovered the true nature of the relationship between her and her brother.
Agrias was known to be a deeply religious person, reverently following the ways of Ajora. Traveling with Ramza was something she thought her god would approve of, but all she had experienced thus far was the steady crumbling of her faith. Demonic angels, priests gone wrong, it was a disciple's worst nightmare come true for her. And now, discovering a relationship like this was happening under her nose, it must've felt like a final slap to the face.
Ramza heard a brief sniffle emanate from her back, and could now tell she was crying. "I guess it was just a matter of time before you turned your back on the faith," Agrias said bitterly, angrily wiping the signs of her weakness away. "But how can you expect me to turn away? Protecting Ovelia, serving Ajora, my two goals in life are both gone now. What is left for me now?"
The young man growled in frustration as his own mistakes, of letting his trusted ally and friend fall to her own doubts. Gathering up his nerves, he walked over to the braided woman and placed a hand on her shoulder. "None of what I have with Alma was about deliberate sin," he said softly, squeezing her through the roughly woven mail she wore. "But I deeply apologize for hurting you."
Agrias only sobbed roughly, trying weakly to brush his hand away. Determined not to let things end like this, Ramza drew the woman into an embrace, their breastplates clanking against each other. "Please stay by my side, and trust me again," he said, hoping that it wasn't too late to reach her. "I promise we'll find something else to believe in."
Agrias was like a breaking dam, rocks crumbling off her soul into the all-consuming waters of oblivion. Then, very gradually, she began to turn in his arms, embracing the boy as she finally let her own tears fall.
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*****
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Ramza woke up from this brief recollection, though his eyes were still closed with remorse. Although the two had eventually made up, Agrias still carried a region of doubt for a long time, concerning her god and their love. She had eventually grown to accept their attraction and even fight for it, when confronted with the cruel monster that her deity truly was. Those words she said still haunted him, though, as she meant them with all her heart that day she had been hurt so badly.
He shook off his doubts the best he could. No matter what Agrias on anybody else said or felt, his relation with Alma was what it was. There was no way to deny the mutual attraction they felt now; to do so would only be a lie.
And perhaps it was that reason why Alma was destined to follow after him, like the love-struck girl she was.
One more time, just to make sure. "Alma, is this what you truly want?" he asked her, looking in her in the face seriously. "I'm...I'm not sure if I can give you what you need."
Alma looked slightly disappointed in the implications in his speech, but nodded nonetheless. "I'm ready, brother," she said, mustering up some enthusiasm to go with her affirmation. "No matter what happens between us, we'll be together."
Ramza looked into the watery wells of her eyes, searching for any sign of doubt. Then, finally, he turned away briskly. "Then let's get one of the Chocobos ready for your use," he said, walking over to where own trusty Chocobo, Boco, stood at the ready. "We're going to be traveling a lot before we leave."
Alma's brief excitement at winning the verbal battle had soon turned to confusion, as her brother mounted his steed. "Before we leave?" she inquired, wrinkling her nose in a girlish manner.
The Squire peered over to the Cleric, grabbing the reins of his bird tightly. "I'm going to give you one last tour of Ivalice," he said, his expression one again becoming stern. "You may not ever see it again." He yanked briskly on the reins, prompting the bird to raise his head and start walking over to the encampment. "Let's hurry up."
Alma smiled briefly at her brother's go-get-'em attitude, wondering how he never seemed to change, even after all this time. And then she was running after him, where Ramza was keeping her own Chocobo from their brief journey so long ago.
Soon, they were off on their Chocobos, towards the new path they had forged with their words and hearts. And the beautiful sight of the Monastery remained sadly unnoticed, never to be seen by them again.
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*****
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A fresh, summer breeze blew past Alma, rustling the fabric of her skirt around her legs. Brushing her hair out of her face, the girl's eyes roved over the Mandalia plains, catching sight of Ramza plucking a few reeds from the ground ahead of her. She looked longingly towards her brother, much like a fairytale heroine would her prince. A soft sigh escaped her lips, as she wished for something that he may never let her have.
The siblings had been completing Ramza's promise to Alma, traveling across the country for nostalgic memories of old Ivalice. Upon returning to Igros, they had skulked around town visiting the various places of their youth. A trip to the Igros Aristocratic School brought particularly strange feelings to the young girl. Though she still wore the uniform on her shoulders, she felt that she had had grown out of simple school matters, had grown out of them for a long time now.
Even if Alma could permit herself to return to her old life, she knew in her heart that she could never fit in with it anymore. The Lion War had already effected her too much to see anything in the land other than the needless pain and suffering that brought about King Delita's reign. The schoolgirls operated as if nothing had changed, but the war had made Alma into much more than a schoolgirl. Even if it taken her a long time to convince her brother of just that.
Ramza's side is where Alma belonged now.
She turned again to face her brother, and let a wry smile crawl onto her lips. Although Ramza would always claim to be the big, bad, older brother, the fact was that the boy needed someone to take care of him. As a cleric, sister, and friend, she would dress his wounds and heal her own soul at the same time. They were a perfect match: crusading siblings on the path to righteousness.
She sighed. If only she could be what Ramza truly needed...
The clomping of boots caught her attention, and Alma turned to find Ramza returning from whatever errand he had in the fields. He was carrying a pair of newly-broken reeds in his right hand...and something else in his left. As she began to peer at whatever mystery object he held in his grasp, he quickly hid it beyond view, causing the girl to giggle. Secrets, secrets.
Regaining his composure, Ramza walked over to Alma and presented her with one of the reeds. "It's been awhile since you've practiced the reed flute," he said softly, the wind rustling his hair like a wild mane. "Why don't you try it now?"
Alma relented to her brother's polite directive, taking the slender plant from his hand and trying not to blush at his handsome features. The reed was already cut in the perfect position for playing, so she brought the 'mouthpiece' to her lips and prepared. Remembering the technique their late father had taught them, she puckered up and blew into the hole. The makeshift flute rewarded her with a soft, squealing noise that carried across the Mandalia plains.
"You're off key," was the only response she got from her brother, however. Her skirt billowed out as she turned to face Ramza, who was folding his arms and looking like what he was: a stern, military commander. "Try again."
Alma stiffened up with a small ire. "Excuse me, brother," she chanted indignantly, putting her hands on her hips. "But cleric school doesn't leave me much time for practicing. Not to mention being kidnapped."
"It doesn't matter how little time you have, Alma," he responded, shaking his head in disdain. "You practice the reed flute with what time you have." He grabbed a stick, and made like an instructor pointing on a chalk board. "Wake up at dawn, practice the flute. Eat breakfast, practice the flute."
It didn't take a Goug genius mechanic to realize that he was playing with her: a simple joke that Ramza used to infuriate her with as a child. Rather than getting incensed, however, Alma simply decided to play along with him. "And how will you punish me if I refuse, dearest Ramza?" she replied with a mock haughtiness to her tone.
"With consequences," he replied simply, slipping up behind her and reaching down for the hem of her skirt. Alma suddenly felt a cool draft strike her knickers, and she realized that Ramza had lifted her skirt and was preparing to swat her on the underside.
"Yeep!" the girl squeaked, a red hot flush flowing to her face. "Get away!" Snatching back the hem from Ramza's daring hands, she held her skirt against her buttocks to prevent him from uncovering her again. The young man just laughed, and grabbed her arms in an attempt to wretch them away from that which they shielded. Soon, the two were engaged in a mock-wrestling match, giggling like schoolchildren on a break from the teacher's rule.
Ramza was just starting to make headway, due to his superior strength, when Alma surprised him by suddenly letting go of his hands. Confused, the boy stumbled ungainly for a moment, giving her the perfect opportunity to lay a shove on his chest. The boy indeed went sprawling head over heals, but not before grabbing onto Alma's sleeve and dragging her along with him. A slip and two screams later, and they both found themselves on the grass below, one on top of the other.
Alma looked down from her perch on top of the boy, straight into his pool-like eyes. The muddled waters within twinkled with uncertainty, and the girl found herself blushing for the second time that day. This time, the blush was not so much in shame as it was in desire, a resurfacing passion like a desert bloom in the spring. With fulfillment a hair away, she gulped down her own nervousness and let herself travel to Ramza for a tender kiss.
The kiss began someone cautiously, yet quickly opened up into a truly intimate affair as they drunk slowly from each other's lips. Their arms wrapped around the other in an embrace as their bodies melted against each other like candle wax on a cane. Alma found that Ramza was actually caressing her, running his rugged hands over her soft skin through the brownish shirt. All too soon, the two had to come up for air, and lips separated with a final smack.
Alma sighed in bliss, her chest heaving from the sheer emotional overload of the contact. "I love you, Ramza," she gasped passionately, her head entrenched in the boy's shoulder blade.
"And I you," Ramza said, placing his hand on her frazzled hair and running his hands through the peach-like strands.
They kissed again, and sought to explore each other's pleasures.
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Note: No, no, this story won't be going into any risque territory on-screen! It's just a "fade to black" moment, in case you think the ratings going to go up. More coming soon.
Next Up- Part 2
Note: This story takes place in a different continuity than my other fanfic: "A Knight and His Lady." In "Knight", Ramza's allies survive the Graveyard of Airships, but in "Threshold", only Ramza and Alma survive the Graveyard of Airships.
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A Knight and His Lady
A Final Fantasy Tactics Fanfiction by Myst Knight
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy Tactics is owned by Square Enix. I write this without consent, and am making no money off of it.
This story is rated T for Ideologically sensitive material (forbidden sibling romance), violence, some references to sex, and brief mention of sexual abuse (Rafa). For OLDER TEEN AND UP.
No offense intended by the controversial content (and as always, don't try this at home!)
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Orbonne Monastery, Middle Ages
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The sweet smell of cloverleaf washed into the cathedral on the lazy afternoon currents hounding the area. It coasted down the stone walls and through the open doorway like a rain-drenched butterfly searching desperately for shelter. Like that same butterfly, a single flick of foliage fluttered in through the doors into a stained-glass paradise. It looped and somersaulted through a meandering path before landing beside a blond-haired boy who, too, looked like he had been searching for a place to rest.
Ramza awoke to the light hitting his face and the cloverleaf tickling his nose. He thrashed about absently on the cool, marble floor, as if snuggling under a bundle of disheveled sheets. "Alma, not now," he muttered groggily, not quite in tune with the waking world. "We'll play the reed flutes some other time."
"Alma?...Alma!" Upon hearing his own voice call the name of his beloved sister, Ramza opened up his shining eyes to the cold caress of reality. In an almost comical fashion, he flopped and groaned like a fish before managing to find his footing on the floor of the abandoned monastery. Managing an upright landing, the young lad scrambled around the building, looking desperately for some sign of the missing girl.
The memories of the horrific battle upon the fallen Airship has started trickling in. Like a bad dream, the Blood Angel Altima advanced upon young Ramza, knocking aside his comrades like bothersome blood-bugs. He could only watch as the last line of defense, made up of a near-family-like group of friends, were dealt with swiftly and harshly by the wrongly exalted menace to Ivalice. Yet, standing in front of his sister Alma, there was not room for retreat or remorse, only for battle.
And yet, that sister of his was determined to fight alongside him, even as beleaguered she was then. Looking more like a deity than Altima ever could, the girl stood her ground and poured her soul into one last protective spell, sending herself into unconsciousness with the expended energy. The memories were already becoming vague-ish, but he couldn't recall what had happened to his closest sibling and friend. Had Alma given up her much-fought-for existence to save her own rescuer?
He couldn't have it.
Practically tearing apart the quaint little citadel, Ramza went all out in his continuing search for Alma. He had fought so hard for her, and to think she would throw it away for something as simple as his own life. Already his mind was contemplating a way to return to Murond Death City and the Graveyard of Airships, ready to fight off a thousand Altimas if it meant the safety of his sister.
As it turned out, he needn't have worried.
A quiet little sigh whispered to Ramza's right, knocking him momentarily out of his frantic search. Moving away from the confession booth he had been examining, he calmed his nerves and proceeded towards the head of the cathedral. Beyond the new organ tucked away in the corner of the church was a small altar table, engraved with the writings of the fiend he had slain. Nevertheless, it brought forth from the war-born boy a sigh of relief, upon finding the figure resting upon it was alive and well.
Sprawled across the altar like a sacrifice was his sister Alma, a pretty girl perhaps one year younger than himself. Flaxen hair in a ponytail hung from the back of her head, falling behind her like the sands of time. The pink skirt she wore drooped slightly towards the floor, the garment being too long to fit onto the stone bench. And her soft face was relaxed in utter peace, her lips pursed in a calm little line that could even perhaps break out into a sort of smile.
Ramza drunk in the serene beauty of his only family, letting his gaze travel from the tips of her boots to the top of her sweet little head. For a brief moment, he felt awkward for staring at Alma so, but he brushed it off soon enough. His sister was beautiful, something no man, husband or brother, could deny. It was something that had to end, however, for the afternoon was late, and it was time to leave.
The boy was saved from the burden of waking her when Alma's eyes fluttered up on their own, revealing crystalline irises the same color as his. They blinked unsteadily for a moment, still getting used to the difference between the airships and the monastery, when they set sight upon the comforting shape before her. "Brother Ramza?" she asked, wondering if the boy was perhaps a phantom of imagination.
"I'm here, Alma," he said, unable to keep the relieved smile from his sister.
The girl seemed to be processing this information for the moment. "Ramza..." she whispered, her large eyes flickering before bursting open in a complete rush of joy and recognition. "Oh, Ramza!" Alma cried out, leaping up and embracing the boy with a surprising burst of energy. "I thought I lost you for good!"
Ramza was taken aback by her sheer affection, but quickly found it within himself to hug Alma back, bringing her to him. Her chest pressed snugly against his, and he could feel the pitter-patter of her heart bumping in her body. He let himself get washed away in the waves of love, forgetting the pain of battle he had so recently been subject to. The blood of his enemy stained his hands, yet everything was perfect once again in the arms of his sister.
The boy found himself a bit disappointed when he found Alma disengaging from their closeness, though she still held him at arm's length. He opened up his eyes to find the girl staring at him though pleading, almost-fearful eyes. "Where are the others?" she asked, her voice rigid with the tension that had built up in the seconds they broke apart. Afraid of the answer she already knew was coming.
Ramza knew he could not deny her anything that he had had, least of all the truth, as much as he wanted to. "I've not seen them since the explosion at the airship," he said softly, looking into her eyes to convey the harsh facts to her. "They're gone, Alma."
Alma actually scooted away from the boy for a moment, as if not wanting to hear such news even from a loved one. But soon, his steadfast eyes brought forth the tender meaning within, and hers were glistening with the hurt she held for her brother's loss. "Oh, Ramza," she said softly, bringing her head into the boy's chest. "I'm so sorry."
Ramza let his hand bury itself into her sandy blond hair, bringing her close to his heart like the most important keepsake. Letting himself comfort her as well as being comforted. "Now you know the sadness of war," he said with sage-like finality, feeling much older than his tender years.
Alma nodded against him, not looking up to meet his eyes. "I know."
The two sat in each other's arms across the meaningless altar, taking care of each other with tenderness only born to tragedy. It was not clear whether the situation was that of a sister comforting a saddened brother, or a wife caring for a warrior husband. Ramza at last let a single tear escape his stoic gaze, letting it fall upon the marble floor with a shattering pop. A broken tear for allies lost to war, and for friends sorely missed.
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*****
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The outside of Orbonne Monastery was a far cry from its interior, it must be said. While the inside of the chapel prompted strictness and reverence with its restrictive stained glass, the outside seemed to revel in the freedom and frivolity of the open sun. Every daisy planted seemed even more alive, every vine rising in triumph with the glorious day. It was a shame that the two youths there couldn't see past their difficulties and enjoy it properly.
For the Beoulve siblings were still there, even after a whole hour of preparation. And they were arguing.
"Are you crazy?!" Ramza exclaimed, driving his sister back from where she stood. "How could you even think of wanting to come along?"
"I told you before, brother," Alma repeated, managing not to cow down from the sheer force of the other's will. "I want to be by your side always, even if it means leaving my home forever."
"You can't be serious," he said more evenly, turning his back on the girl. "There are horrible dangers out there even the Lion War probably can't prepare you for."
Alma was thoroughly unshakable. "I know I'll be prepared for anything, as long as we're together," she said sincerely, though nothing but an exasperated sigh was received from Ramza.
The two had been engaged in a fierce row involving the nature of their so-called demise. With the explosion emanating from Murond Death City attracting the attention of those that had known them, both Ramza and Alma were assumed dead, giving the older Beoulve just the excuse he needed to slip out of Ivalice now and forever. But there was no reason why Alma had to come along for something as simple as moral support. She could have found some other way to remain in Ivalice, instead of making off with him like the heathen that he had made himself into.
And yet, somewhere deep within Ramza's heart, he knew that any verbal tactics he used would never be enough to convince his sister. Alma was of the indomitable Beoulve nature, the way of the warrior that unfortunately was not transferred well to Zalbag and Dycedarg. Though Zalbag had eventually found it within his heart to be a true Beoulve, that was never any question to where the girl's heart lay. It was as Father always said: nothing happens without a Beoulve.
And that included Alma.
He had to try again, though. "Alma, you always loved Ivalice," he rationalized, adding a new tact in his logic. "Do you really want to leave this beautiful land for a dead man like myself?"
At this, Alma looked away, seeming to consider this for the first time. "I...I do love Ivalice," she said quietly, looking towards the lovely monastery she had spent field trips and summers at. However, she soon lost that glimmer in her eyes, and had quickly replaced it with hard determination. "But I love you more."
Before Ramza could react any further, she took his hand within her own, cradling it like some small, lonely animal. "When I was held captive by Vormav, I made a promise to myself," she started, staring directly into his eyes with crystalline compassion. "I promised I would return to the man I loved, and stay by his side for as long as I could." Her eyes now glowing with love, and even passion, for the one that held such a close place in her heart. "It's you, brother, and I never want to leave your side. Not if you marry someone else, nor if you become the poorest soul in the land."
The faintly romantic touch in her speech was not lost on the boy, and he soon turned various different shades of red. True, it had been a long time since that time they had shared traveling from Lesalia Imperial Castle to this very monastery, but its effect were such that their relationship still had that slight change to it. After some harrowing heart-to-heart in the Zeklaus Desert, they had shared a brief, tender kiss, one that surpassed their status as sister and brother. Alma had obviously not forgotten it, and neither could he.
A cold chill enveloped Ramza's body, like the metallic twang of a holy sword. He wrapped his arms around himself, the ghosts of yesterday wandering through his head. The forbidden love Ramza and Alma were flirting with had been significant to Agrias as well, back when she was still with them. A most unfortunate incident it was, indeed.
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*****
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"How could you, Ramza?" the woman launched at her leader, standing up to her full height. "How could you perpetrate such an act?!"
"Agrias, that's not fair," he responded with all the courage he could muster, though even now he could feel himself weakening. "You know my relationship with Alma has nothing to do with our fight."
"And you kept it a secret from me, too!" she continued, near oblivious to the boy's defense. "Tell me, were you ever going to tell us, or were you and your sister going to run off in the middle of the night like the Death Corps?"
The Holy Knight's accusations bit Ramza's soul to the core. "I...I don't know what to say," he said hollowly, feeling more guilt than he had since the death of Teta. This got nothing more than a snort from Agrias, and she promptly turned away from him in a frustrated huff.
The two were deep within the woods, quite a ways away from the encampment that even now was plotting how to best aid their leader. Alma had just been seized by Izlude, and everyone was in frantic-mode trying to figure out a way to save her. Agrias had been looking for clues among Alma's dropped belongings when she had stumbled upon the younger girl's diary. It was then she discovered the true nature of the relationship between her and her brother.
Agrias was known to be a deeply religious person, reverently following the ways of Ajora. Traveling with Ramza was something she thought her god would approve of, but all she had experienced thus far was the steady crumbling of her faith. Demonic angels, priests gone wrong, it was a disciple's worst nightmare come true for her. And now, discovering a relationship like this was happening under her nose, it must've felt like a final slap to the face.
Ramza heard a brief sniffle emanate from her back, and could now tell she was crying. "I guess it was just a matter of time before you turned your back on the faith," Agrias said bitterly, angrily wiping the signs of her weakness away. "But how can you expect me to turn away? Protecting Ovelia, serving Ajora, my two goals in life are both gone now. What is left for me now?"
The young man growled in frustration as his own mistakes, of letting his trusted ally and friend fall to her own doubts. Gathering up his nerves, he walked over to the braided woman and placed a hand on her shoulder. "None of what I have with Alma was about deliberate sin," he said softly, squeezing her through the roughly woven mail she wore. "But I deeply apologize for hurting you."
Agrias only sobbed roughly, trying weakly to brush his hand away. Determined not to let things end like this, Ramza drew the woman into an embrace, their breastplates clanking against each other. "Please stay by my side, and trust me again," he said, hoping that it wasn't too late to reach her. "I promise we'll find something else to believe in."
Agrias was like a breaking dam, rocks crumbling off her soul into the all-consuming waters of oblivion. Then, very gradually, she began to turn in his arms, embracing the boy as she finally let her own tears fall.
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*****
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Ramza woke up from this brief recollection, though his eyes were still closed with remorse. Although the two had eventually made up, Agrias still carried a region of doubt for a long time, concerning her god and their love. She had eventually grown to accept their attraction and even fight for it, when confronted with the cruel monster that her deity truly was. Those words she said still haunted him, though, as she meant them with all her heart that day she had been hurt so badly.
He shook off his doubts the best he could. No matter what Agrias on anybody else said or felt, his relation with Alma was what it was. There was no way to deny the mutual attraction they felt now; to do so would only be a lie.
And perhaps it was that reason why Alma was destined to follow after him, like the love-struck girl she was.
One more time, just to make sure. "Alma, is this what you truly want?" he asked her, looking in her in the face seriously. "I'm...I'm not sure if I can give you what you need."
Alma looked slightly disappointed in the implications in his speech, but nodded nonetheless. "I'm ready, brother," she said, mustering up some enthusiasm to go with her affirmation. "No matter what happens between us, we'll be together."
Ramza looked into the watery wells of her eyes, searching for any sign of doubt. Then, finally, he turned away briskly. "Then let's get one of the Chocobos ready for your use," he said, walking over to where own trusty Chocobo, Boco, stood at the ready. "We're going to be traveling a lot before we leave."
Alma's brief excitement at winning the verbal battle had soon turned to confusion, as her brother mounted his steed. "Before we leave?" she inquired, wrinkling her nose in a girlish manner.
The Squire peered over to the Cleric, grabbing the reins of his bird tightly. "I'm going to give you one last tour of Ivalice," he said, his expression one again becoming stern. "You may not ever see it again." He yanked briskly on the reins, prompting the bird to raise his head and start walking over to the encampment. "Let's hurry up."
Alma smiled briefly at her brother's go-get-'em attitude, wondering how he never seemed to change, even after all this time. And then she was running after him, where Ramza was keeping her own Chocobo from their brief journey so long ago.
Soon, they were off on their Chocobos, towards the new path they had forged with their words and hearts. And the beautiful sight of the Monastery remained sadly unnoticed, never to be seen by them again.
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*****
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A fresh, summer breeze blew past Alma, rustling the fabric of her skirt around her legs. Brushing her hair out of her face, the girl's eyes roved over the Mandalia plains, catching sight of Ramza plucking a few reeds from the ground ahead of her. She looked longingly towards her brother, much like a fairytale heroine would her prince. A soft sigh escaped her lips, as she wished for something that he may never let her have.
The siblings had been completing Ramza's promise to Alma, traveling across the country for nostalgic memories of old Ivalice. Upon returning to Igros, they had skulked around town visiting the various places of their youth. A trip to the Igros Aristocratic School brought particularly strange feelings to the young girl. Though she still wore the uniform on her shoulders, she felt that she had had grown out of simple school matters, had grown out of them for a long time now.
Even if Alma could permit herself to return to her old life, she knew in her heart that she could never fit in with it anymore. The Lion War had already effected her too much to see anything in the land other than the needless pain and suffering that brought about King Delita's reign. The schoolgirls operated as if nothing had changed, but the war had made Alma into much more than a schoolgirl. Even if it taken her a long time to convince her brother of just that.
Ramza's side is where Alma belonged now.
She turned again to face her brother, and let a wry smile crawl onto her lips. Although Ramza would always claim to be the big, bad, older brother, the fact was that the boy needed someone to take care of him. As a cleric, sister, and friend, she would dress his wounds and heal her own soul at the same time. They were a perfect match: crusading siblings on the path to righteousness.
She sighed. If only she could be what Ramza truly needed...
The clomping of boots caught her attention, and Alma turned to find Ramza returning from whatever errand he had in the fields. He was carrying a pair of newly-broken reeds in his right hand...and something else in his left. As she began to peer at whatever mystery object he held in his grasp, he quickly hid it beyond view, causing the girl to giggle. Secrets, secrets.
Regaining his composure, Ramza walked over to Alma and presented her with one of the reeds. "It's been awhile since you've practiced the reed flute," he said softly, the wind rustling his hair like a wild mane. "Why don't you try it now?"
Alma relented to her brother's polite directive, taking the slender plant from his hand and trying not to blush at his handsome features. The reed was already cut in the perfect position for playing, so she brought the 'mouthpiece' to her lips and prepared. Remembering the technique their late father had taught them, she puckered up and blew into the hole. The makeshift flute rewarded her with a soft, squealing noise that carried across the Mandalia plains.
"You're off key," was the only response she got from her brother, however. Her skirt billowed out as she turned to face Ramza, who was folding his arms and looking like what he was: a stern, military commander. "Try again."
Alma stiffened up with a small ire. "Excuse me, brother," she chanted indignantly, putting her hands on her hips. "But cleric school doesn't leave me much time for practicing. Not to mention being kidnapped."
"It doesn't matter how little time you have, Alma," he responded, shaking his head in disdain. "You practice the reed flute with what time you have." He grabbed a stick, and made like an instructor pointing on a chalk board. "Wake up at dawn, practice the flute. Eat breakfast, practice the flute."
It didn't take a Goug genius mechanic to realize that he was playing with her: a simple joke that Ramza used to infuriate her with as a child. Rather than getting incensed, however, Alma simply decided to play along with him. "And how will you punish me if I refuse, dearest Ramza?" she replied with a mock haughtiness to her tone.
"With consequences," he replied simply, slipping up behind her and reaching down for the hem of her skirt. Alma suddenly felt a cool draft strike her knickers, and she realized that Ramza had lifted her skirt and was preparing to swat her on the underside.
"Yeep!" the girl squeaked, a red hot flush flowing to her face. "Get away!" Snatching back the hem from Ramza's daring hands, she held her skirt against her buttocks to prevent him from uncovering her again. The young man just laughed, and grabbed her arms in an attempt to wretch them away from that which they shielded. Soon, the two were engaged in a mock-wrestling match, giggling like schoolchildren on a break from the teacher's rule.
Ramza was just starting to make headway, due to his superior strength, when Alma surprised him by suddenly letting go of his hands. Confused, the boy stumbled ungainly for a moment, giving her the perfect opportunity to lay a shove on his chest. The boy indeed went sprawling head over heals, but not before grabbing onto Alma's sleeve and dragging her along with him. A slip and two screams later, and they both found themselves on the grass below, one on top of the other.
Alma looked down from her perch on top of the boy, straight into his pool-like eyes. The muddled waters within twinkled with uncertainty, and the girl found herself blushing for the second time that day. This time, the blush was not so much in shame as it was in desire, a resurfacing passion like a desert bloom in the spring. With fulfillment a hair away, she gulped down her own nervousness and let herself travel to Ramza for a tender kiss.
The kiss began someone cautiously, yet quickly opened up into a truly intimate affair as they drunk slowly from each other's lips. Their arms wrapped around the other in an embrace as their bodies melted against each other like candle wax on a cane. Alma found that Ramza was actually caressing her, running his rugged hands over her soft skin through the brownish shirt. All too soon, the two had to come up for air, and lips separated with a final smack.
Alma sighed in bliss, her chest heaving from the sheer emotional overload of the contact. "I love you, Ramza," she gasped passionately, her head entrenched in the boy's shoulder blade.
"And I you," Ramza said, placing his hand on her frazzled hair and running his hands through the peach-like strands.
They kissed again, and sought to explore each other's pleasures.
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Note: No, no, this story won't be going into any risque territory on-screen! It's just a "fade to black" moment, in case you think the ratings going to go up. More coming soon.
Next Up- Part 2