Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Ache: Pain Of Heart ❯ Chained By Venus ( Chapter 1 )

A/N: Hopefully, this'll make some of you rabid `Seymour-x-Yuna' fans happy. If not, oh well, I tried.

 

 

Why have I reposted this? I've changed the layout a little, corrected some typos, rectified some grammar and added disclaimers. Yes, I'm a freak.

 

 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, sexual themes and references, language, mild violence.

 

 

Disclaimer: All characters are property of Squaresoft.

 

 

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Chained By Venus

 

 

“That's a Guado, right?” someone said, watching as a tall, robed man with long blue hair stepped off the gangplank.

 

 

“Who could it be?”

 

 

“Isn't that Maester Seymour?” another entailed.

 

 

The man turned to face the boat, before kneeling down and making the prayer gesture. The assembled crowds behind him copied, as Maester Mika appeared at the top of the gangplank.

 

 

“People of Spira, I thank you for your generous welcome.” He spoke calmly. “Rise, Maester Seymour. And all of you as well.”

 

 

Slowly, everyone straightened up, staring attentively at the two maesters.

 

 

“I present to you… the son of Maester Jyscal Guado, who departed for the Farplane a fortnight past.” Maester Seymour bowed politely. “As some of you already know, he has officially been ordained a maester of Yevon.”

 

 

Seymour stepped forwards, smiling slightly.

 

 

“I am Seymour Guado.” He introduced himself. “I am honoured to receive the title of Maester.” He was aware of the presence of a certain female summoner, but he forced himself to continue with his mundane ramblings. “In life, my father Jyscal worked to foster friendship between man and Guado. I vow to carry on his legacy, and to fulfil my duties as maester to the best of my abilities.”

 

 

The gathered mass bowed their heads, and Maester Mika and his associates began to walk away. Before Seymour left too, he snatched a quick look at Lady Yuna; she was more beautiful than he'd thought. Waves of short, chocolate brown hair cascaded down, framing her delicate, pale face. Full, pink lips were curved in a small smile and her shining, mismatched eyes glittered with a spark of nervousness as she caught his gaze. Chuckling gently, he followed on after Mika and walked on past the docks.

 

 

Luca was a large, bustling city, full of excited tourists and noise. Seymour had been here once before, as a teenager. It had been quieter then, a mere seaside resort. It was amazing how much things changed in the space of a few short years. Outside the docks, the sea shimmered in the midday sun. Sin was out there, he knew that; everyone did.

 

 

“Maester Seymour, please.” A young guard motioned for him to hurry up, but Seymour continued to stroll leisurely towards the stairs. He had no particular desire to watch the blitzball tournament. The sport was of no real interest to him.

 

 

His thoughts wandered from blitzball to Yuna. He pondered over persuading Maester Mika to extend an invitation to her and her guardians to watch from the top box. He'd ascertained that one of her guardians was the captain of a blitzball team; the Besaid Cattle or some such thing.

 

 

Quickly striding up the staircase, the young guard directed him to the box, where Maester Mika was waiting patiently.

 

 

“So, uh, Maester Seymour…Which team are you supporting?” the guard asked him, flashing a nervous smile.

 

 

“Besaid.” Seymour replied calmly.

 

 

“The Besaid Aurochs? Good choice, my lord. Lady Yuna's from there, I heard.”

 

 

“Indeed.” Seymour nodded in acknowledgement. “Which team has your favour?” He was used to making small talk.

 

 

“Uh, I'm not sure. The Luca Goers are favourite, but I tend to bet on the underdogs… Maybe I'll side with Besaid too, this year. Still, the Ronso have a pretty strong team; I wouldn't like to go up against one of them, that's for sure.” The guard gave a short, quiet laugh, before making the prayer gesture as they reached the box. “May Yevon bless the Besaid Aurochs.” He smiled, before leaving.

 

 

“I see you made a friend.” Maester Mika chuckled to himself.

 

 

Seymour said nothing; he was used to Mika's joking remarks. The man considered himself to be some sort of comedian, and Seymour was too polite to say otherwise. Besides, the man could be quite entertaining sometimes. On the way over from Bevelle, Maester Mika had fallen asleep, and Seymour had watched in a mixture of mild amusement and revulsion as a small trickle of saliva formed at the corner of the old man's mouth, before spilling over his lip and dribbling down his chin.

 

 

“Come, Seymour. Stop skulking in the shadows.” Mika beckoned him closer to the balcony.

 

 

Obediently, Seymour walked forward a few stops, clutching the smooth fabric of the banner in his hands. Looking out over the expanse of the stadium, he watched as the rows of seats slowly began to fill up, long lines of people snaking their way in through the entrances.

 

 

A group of children caught his eye, and he watched with a smirk as they leant over the side of one of the boxes, spitting into the queue below and ducking out of sight as their unfortunate victims glared up in anger. A sudden pang of envy shot through him, and he tore his eyes away from the giggling children. How he envied them. When he was a child, there had been no other children for him to play with, and he'd been kept in isolation for the most part anyway, with only his mother for company. Until that day, when she left him; abandoned him even… He didn't want to think about it. It hurt him still; the dull pain was as fresh as the day it had been inflicted upon him, and nothing anyone said or did ever made him feel any better. Still, he'd learned to ignore it, and now he focused on covering it up with a different trail of thought.

 

 

The stands were nearly full now. Maester Mika twisted in his seat slightly, trying to make himself more comfortable. Blitzball tournaments had a habit of dragging on, especially if both teams drew even at the end. Sighing, Seymour backed away from the balcony a little, cursing the insensitive fool who had forgotten to provide him with a chair.

 

 

Clearing his throat, Mika began his opening ceremony speech, and Seymour fought a sudden urge to yawn. He hated long-winded speeches such as these. Finally, Maester Mika made the prayer gesture and relaxed back in his seat, watching as the sphere began to fill up with water.

 

 

“There's a good turn-out this year.” He mused, rubbing his beard thoughtfully.

 

 

“It is your fiftieth year as maester, my lord.” Seymour pointed out politely.

 

 

“Just think, some day this could be you, opening the annual blitzball tournament in your fiftieth year.” Mika gave a small smile. He'd already named Seymour as his successor, purely because the other maesters were inept. One was a fool, and the other was feral.

 

 

Again, Seymour met his comment with silence; an answer in its own right. He rarely thought about the future, preferring to take each day in its stride, revelling in the unique, little surprises that each one brought. Living in the past had brought him nothing but misery, and living in the future filled him full of a falsified hope of what would never be. Living in the present was much safer, and much more rewarding.

 

 

Slowly, the matches drew to a close, one by one. Seymour had long lost interest in them, and was scanning the crowds in a vain hope of catching a glimpse of Lady Yuna. When his third attempt was to no avail, he gave up and forced himself to watch the current match. The scoreboard read two-one, but that meant nothing to him. He didn't even know who was playing, although he thought one of the players looked familiar…

 

 

“Who is playing?” he asked Maester Mika.

 

 

“Wha? Oh, ask Kinoc. He deals with those sorts of matters.” The maester replied quietly, waving a hand in sleepy dismissal.

 

 

Resignedly, Seymour tried to decipher the small pictures that accompanied the scores. Squinting, he could just make out the sign for Luca Goers and Besaid Aurochs. In the sphere, his eyes eventually found the familiar player. Although he couldn't put a name to the face, he knew where he'd seen that particular person before. He'd been standing behind Yuna, next to the Besaid Aurochs' captain. At first, Seymour had thought he was an Al Bhed, with his blonde hair, tanned skin and unusual clothing. It had only been the boy's eyes that had disproved that; they were dark blue.

 

 

Part of Seymour wondered what involvement the boy had with Yuna, and he found himself fighting to suppress yet another pang of envy. A buzzer rang loudly, pulling Seymour from his thoughts. Over the tannoy system, a commentator informed the crowd that it was halftime, before throwing in some light banter about each team's performance and key moments of the match.

 

 

“I don't think we've ever had such an exciting match, eh Bobba?” the commentator asked his partner.

 

 

“That's right, Jimma. Those Aurochs sure are giving our Goers a run for their money! Still, I'm sure Captain Wakka will be thrilled, despite his absence from the sphere pool. Looks like the Al Bhed Psyches really hit him hard, `cos he's had to retire to the bench.”

 

 

“Mm-hmm. His substitute is a very strong player though; in fact, he's been leading the entire team, scoring both goals in the first two minutes of the match. Things are certainly going to heat up between the two teams next half.”

 

 

Bored, Seymour glanced back to Maester Mika, who was still asleep. Flicking his forelock out of his face, he made his way to the exit, intending on being back before the match resumed. He wouldn't have another chance to explore after the tournament was over.

 

 

Striding down the stairs, he quietly made his way behind the stands and down the other set of stairs. The last thing he wanted was people mobbing him. At the bottom, the guard saluted stiffly, sticking their chests out and clutching their weapons tightly. Seymour nodded to them, before heading towards the city. People had flocked from the stadium to the centre, intent on buying souvenirs and the like while it was halftime. Seymour had no idea how long the interval lasted, but he was sure it wasn't going to be long enough.

 

 

A small stall was set up in front of him, selling brightly coloured balloon, cheap souvenirs and various assortments of food and drink. Seymour watched as a couple of children stood and gazed hopefully at the balloons.

 

 

“Scram, kids. I told ya, if ya don't got no money, ya don't got no balloon. Now beat it!” the stall's owner flapped his hands at them in agitation.

 

 

“Excuse me.” Seymour cleared his throat, addressing the owner. “I would like to buy two balloons.”

 

 

The owner bolted upright in shock, before raising an eyebrow in surprise at the request. Still, who was he to question a maester?

 

 

“They're ten Gil each.” The man replied gruffly, reaching out for the multi-coloured cloud.

 

 

Seymour turned to the two children, kneeling down to talk to them. “Pick a balloon.” He smiled gently, watching as their faces lit up in glee.

 

 

“Really mister?” one of them said, her eyes wide with happiness. “Well, thanks a lot!”

 

 

Nodding, Seymour reached up his sleeve and removed a small, leather pouch full of coins. Carefully, he removed a fifty Gil piece and handed it over to the owner. “Keep the change.”

 

 

As he turned to walk away, one of the children tugged on his robe gently.

 

 

“Are you a Guado?” he asked interestedly.

 

 

“Do I look like one?” he asked calmly in return.

 

 

“Sorta. Our momma says that the Guado look like trees though. You don't look like a tree.” He replied innocently, clutching his balloon tightly. It was blue, like Seymour's hair.

 

 

“Thank you, little child.” He smiled.

 

 

The other child approached, tapping her brother on the shoulder sharply.

 

 

“You haven't thanked the nice man!” she said in annoyance, folding her arms. Her balloon was red.

 

 

“Oh, thank you, mister. It was real nice of you.” the boy smiled, making the prayer gesture.

 

 

“Don't mention it.” Seymour shook his head gently. The fact that they had no idea who he was amused him.

 

 

“Are you supportin' the Guado Glories?” the little girl asked, twisting the cord of her balloon tightly round her fingers.

 

 

“Besaid Aurochs actually.” Seymour corrected her. “Are you?”

 

 

“Nope. Luca Goers all the way!” she punched the air energetically.

 

 

“Well, good luck to your team.” Seymour wished her politely. The buzzer sounded again, and a slight discord of alarm struck inside him. “Please excuse me; I must get back to the stadium. Enjoy your balloons.”

 

 

“We will. Bye bye, mister!” they waved, before turning and running off down to the city centre.

 

 

It was only on his way back up the stairs to the box that he realised those children were two of the same ones he'd witnessed spitting over the side earlier. He laughed softly under his breath, pleased that he'd managed to bring a little happiness into their day. It wasn't often that he did such things.

 

 

Settling at Mika's side once again, he observed the continued blitzball game with an air of dull confusion. Someone had tried to explain the rules to him aboard the boat, but they had been so complicated, and Seymour had been rather tired that morning, having not slept well overnight. In the end, they'd given up and gone back to whatever mundane task they had been doing before, much to his relief. It wasn't as though he'd asked them to explain the rules in the first place.

 

 

He was suddenly aware of the crowd's chanting, and strained his ears to try and clarify what they were saying.

 

 

“Would you listen to that? It appears that the crowd is calling for some action! They're calling for Wakka!” one of the commentators boomed over the speakers.

 

 

“And what's this? One of the Aurochs is leaving the sphere pool! He might be injured!”

 

 

“Wow, the Aurochs without their star player? I don't see how they'll be able to maintain their one-goal margin.”

 

 

Seymour watched with intrigue as the player swam to the edge of the sphere, before dropping out and disappearing down the tunnel to the changing rooms. A couple of minutes passed, and the crowd grew seemingly more impatient.

 

 

“I don't believe it!” exclaimed a commentator eventually. “Wakka's entered the sphere pool! Let's hope his injuries don't cause any further problems.”

 

 

The game began again, with two minutes left on the clock. In that short space of time, neither team scored again, securing the Aurochs' narrow victory. The stadium erupted in a chorus of victorious cheers and whistling, with people dancing in their seats and hugging the people next to them. Suddenly, the celebrations were cut short as the cheers turned into piercing, shrill screams of fear and terror. Down below, a horde of fiends had appeared, diving for the panicking crowds as they dashed madly for the exits.

 

 

Maester Mika finally woke, clapping his hands and mumbling words of celebration. “Bravo, bravo! Encore!” he nodded to Seymour, before struggling to sit upright. The door opened suddenly, and a small team of guards marched in.

 

 

“We're here to escort you both back to the ship safely.” The team leader announced. “Come along please, my lords.”

 

 

“I will be along shortly. Please take Maester Mika ahead, and ensure he reaches the ship safely. Do not worry about me.” Seymour told them, before turning his back and gazing down at the ensuing chaos.

 

 

The guards paused, before obediently gathering up Maester Mika and guiding him down the stairs. Once they were gone, Seymour walked forwards and closed his eyes, focusing all his energy on summoning his aeon, a single memory floating to the surface of his mind; his beloved mother, Anima, holding her arms open to him as she was engulfed in a bright light. He made the prayer gesture, feeling a stirring in the depths of his soul as four globes of energy swirled around him and ascended to the sky.

 

 

An anchor shot down from the darkened clouds, plunging into the ground and grasping hold of something. It heaved the aeon from the broken ground, and Seymour let a sad, rueful sigh escape his lips. Anima…

 

 

Chains bound her inside her shell, creaking loudly as she shrieked and strained to break free. Seymour felt the familiar telepathic passage open in his mind, allowing him to control his aeon, his mother. He was pleased to note she was already at overdrive.

 

 

Spurred on by her son's quiet request, Anima began to unleash the frightful power that lurked within her. Bolts of brilliant white energy burst forth from her single, visible eye, never missing a target. As each fiend was struck down, they exploded into clusters of pyreflies that flew up into the sky, dissolving into the clouds.

 

 

Eventually, Anima ceased her attack, surrounded by a haze of pyreflies. As one, mother and son shared a quiet moment of reassurance and affection, before he dismissed her. Below him, the panic turned to confusion and relief, as everyone tried to piece together what had happened, while clapping and cheering as they realised the danger had passed. Smiling, Seymour spread his arms and basked reflectively in the reformed rays of sunlight.

 

 

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A/N: So, uh, what do you think? The next chapter jumps all the way ahead to Mi'ihen Highroad, but that's because I'm too lazy to write about the inane goings-on of Yuna and the gang for the time being.

 

 

Anyways, R&R peeps, `cos your input is vital to me. Feel free to point out mistakes/typos/crappy grammar/etc and I'll fix `em as soon as I can. Structured criticism is also appreciated, provided it does actually give me something to work on. Reviews that simply say `ur fic sux ballz u r ghey' do absolutely nothing to help rectify possible plot holes/problems. If you want to make that sort of review, please just e-mail me.