Love Her and Despair Remaster [45]

[auronlu]

Title: Love Her and Despair
Chapter 45: "War in Abeyance"
Final Fantasy X/X-2
Characters: Auron/Lulu, Rikku/Wakka, Isaaru
Rating: R (Fade-to-black)
Word Count: 3100
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The Story So Far: Sin is defeated, Yu Yevon destroyed, and Yuna's old guardians assemble in the city of St. Bevelle for the Calm Festival.

There's your fireworks, Jecht.

The display was excessive. It appeared that Bevelle's stadium was intent on expending a season's worth of fireworks in a single night. Gaudy team colors erupted brazenly amidst Yevon's greens, whites and golds. Fountains and streamers leapt from every level of the city. They were far more colorful than those that had inaugurated Braska's Calm. Auron remembered them flaring above him as he lay in the roadway, rage seeping away with his blood. Perhaps Yevon had been trying to reconsecrate its heretic summoner with white's purity.

A caress on his forearm recalled him to the present. Success was so alien to him that it was hard to focus on its celebration. But he needed focus now more than ever. More, he needed... this.

Surrounded by old friends, Auron stood on a parapet along the ramparts behind Yuna's Cloister. The area was off-limits for safety, but that had not deterred the Al Bhed. Kitted with goggles and scarves across their faces, Rikku's family had found their own private box to observe the festival. Yuna's remaining guardians were and yet were not a part of it, since the summoner who had brought them together was not there.

Auron's hand rested on the small of Lulu's back, veiled by her braids. His sword's weight rested comfortably against his spine. Before them, the mountain-city's dizzying heights dropped away to the bay a thousand feet below. An endless fusillade of fireworks lofted to eye level with soft chuffs, hung for a moment as if weightless, and exploded in noisy, exuberant death-throes. Now and then warm a spattering of soot dusted the watchers' faces with the scent of gunpowder. The smoke was slowly turning to fog in the moist air, shrouding the fireworks in a ruddy cocoon that flickered eerily from within. Between booms of thunder, sounds of revelry skirled up from the streets below: horns and gongs and spirit bells, drums and pipes and raucous singing. For tonight, at least, Bevelle was the city that never slept.

Lulu watched the explosions with the detached air of a monk at a wedding, lips curled in an appraising smile. The children, wary at first, had accepted her presence once she proved her own pyrotechnic credentials.

They shrieked with delight as another fan of fireworks splashed along the ruined Highbridge like a dragon's sweeping scythe. "Dad!" Vidina cried. "Throw another one!"

"Just a sec," said Rikku. "Etta, put your goggles back on, or you're going inside." Rummaging in her satchel, she passed a handful of pellets to Wakka. He grinned at her, reared back and lobbed a high pass. Pink starbursts and orange streamers darted in every direction, screaming only slightly louder than the children.

Lulu, indulging the girls tugging her skirts, leaned out and added a cascade of lightning to the mix.

"Super zap!" Etta yelled. "Yaah!"

"And that's the last," she said above the din.

"Awww," little Yuna said. "Do a purple one!"

"I'm sorry, dear. I'm a little tired."

Another volley of official fireworks detonated overhead, rattling the cloister's windows. The children covered their ears and howled with gleeful gusto.

"The Calm," Lulu observed, "is best celebrated with bedlam."

"So it seems," Auron said.

Her hand brushed his on the balustrade. "I wonder how long it will take for everyone to forget Isaaru's speech?"

"Ten years, maybe."

"As much as that? Auron, you're an incurable romantic."

"You wanted to believe him, too."

Despite the cacophony, this was the first peace they had enjoyed since their early morning respite with Father Zuke. The rest of the day had been a blur of roaring crowds and upturned faces and public pagentry. After Lulu's first meal and a change of clothes, and a much-needed bath for Auron, they had suffered themselves to be taken by cart down to Northgate. The parade which began there lasted much of the day.

Isaaru had insisted that Lulu join him on the lead float, a grotesque diorama representing Sin crashing into the Calm Lands. He had started his pilgrimage with three guardians, he said, and he would finish it with three. Behind them came a float fashioned like the Court of Yevon, carrying the three maesters high above the crowds. The next float was a folly in the shape of an airship, hastily commissioned by Baralai for Rikku's family. A battlemented cart bore Captain Juno and Nooj. Warrior monks and the Yocun Crusaders marched behind them in a doubled column. Last of all, the evacuated citizens of Bevelle surged back into the city in a joyous tide.

One incident had drawn Auron's attention during the tedious ride up to the stadium. Lulled by the cart's motion, he had ignored the missiles sailing over people's heads to pile up in drifts around Sin's likeness: flowers and garlands, prayer-temari, votive dolls and paper lanterns. One missile, however, had flown out from the float behind him. Wakka had stooped to pick up something and hurled it with all his strength towards a rooftop. Auron could not see what it was or what he was aiming at, but scanned passing buildings for the rest of the journey.

Thankfully, he'd had to repel nothing worse than a drunk trying to scale the float. At last they disembarked at the stadium. There, as Auron had predicted, Isaaru made a speech.

"Friends, Sin is dead."

If he had ended it there to thunderous applause, Auron would have thought it sufficient. But this was Isaaru. "With the Al Bhed's aid, Sin has been utterly destroyed. Its unwilling fayth has been freed from bondage. I swear to you now, Sin will never again return to trouble Spira. This Calm will be Eternal." The ovation that followed this announcement was deafening. Nearly lost in the tumult was a buzz of conversation as neighbor turned to neighbor. Sin's fayth? What did he mean? Was Sin an aeon? Had the High Summoner used Al Bhed machina? 

"For a thousand years, the Church of Yevon has guided you with wise teachings which warned against strife, theft and greed. Sin comes, we said, from your sins. And so we taught you to be good out of fear. Now that fear is ended. But it was never true." The maesters behind Isaaru shifted uneasily. Shelinda covered her mouth with her hands. Lucil and Baralai exchanged rueful glances. Juno, keeping guard behind them, raised her chin with an air of vindication. These minor disturbances were nothing compared to the murmurs of indignation rippling through the crowd.

Isaaru went on, serene and unshakeable. "People of Spira, I tell you now, Sin arose from hate. Sin was never a punishment for our transgressions. It was Zanarkand's revenge: one final, awful aeon left behind to spite its destroyers. And now, without fear of Sin, I fear we may fall away from the teachings of Yevon, thinking that nothing can harm us.

"We may be tempted. We shall be tempted. But I say to you, my friends: we are not children, cowed by nuns' tales into being good lest fiends carry us away in the night. Let us outgrow the temple nursery and be captains of our own conduct.

"Remember the love of the High Summoners who sacrificed themselves for us. Remember the guardians who gave their lives for their summoners." He turned, indicating Auron, Pacce and Lulu with a sweep of his arm. Those nearby saw his eyes glisten as he smiled upon his surviving brother. "Honor the unnumbered dead, Crusaders and warrior monks, Ronso and Guado, our allies the Al Bhed, and all those fallen in battle against Sin." This time he gestured to his left, where Nooj stood beside Wakka, Rikku, and their children. "Remember Lady Yuna, blesséd daughter of Yevon and Al Bhed, whose guidance and guardians led me to a Salvation that eluded Spira for a thousand years.

"Keep well their gifts. Tell their stories. Make Spira a land of virtue not out of fear, but out of love. For if you do not, Spira will fall back into petty disputes, and war will return and breed new Sins. Nevertheless, I do not counsel foreboding, only hope. Unite with all the peoples of Spira, for together we are stronger than any Sin. Build the Spira that countless Spirans died to save."

A stunned silence followed, in which could be heard infants crying. A smattering of polite claps echoed around the stadium. Then the Crusaders began to cheer. Some of the younger clergy joined in. Bit by bit the applause spread and built to a frenzied roar that must have been audible all the way to the Calm Lands. Auron felt Lulu's nails digging into his arm. "Oh, Auron," she said. "He's a good man. A poor summoner, but a good man."

"You delivered a message," Auron had replied. "He heard it."

Another firework jarred him out of his reverie and back to the present.

"Speaking of incurably romantic," Lulu said, "It's getting late." Lifting Mbela for a quick hug, she raised her voice. "Wakka? Rikku? I'm going to turn in. I'll see you at breakfast, yes?"

Wakka looked up from ministering to Vidina, who had gotten a whiff of funguar pollen from Rikku's last mix. "Sure thing, Lu. Need company on the way to your room?"

"Absolutely not." Haughty pride masked a smile. "Goodnight, Wakka."

Auron did not watch her go, but he heard her "sweet dreams" to Yuna when she kissed the girl goodnight. He lingered to watch the fireworks' finale, a gift of memory for Jecht he doubted he would be able to deliver. At last, as the final embers died away, he slipped off. Rikku gave him a covert thumbs-up. Hmph was the only fitting reply.

Each step came faster than the one before, as if Sin's gravitational pull were drawing him forward. He circled the Closter's perimeter to a small tower at the end of a secluded corridor. An engraving on the door blazed with Yevon's crest. Grimacing, he passed through and barred the door behind him. The round antechamber with its armor stand and cot was probably meant for a guardian's use. He crossed it in three strides and bounded up the spiral staircase at the back.

In the room above, seated at the window, Lulu was combing her hair by candlelight. Auron halted, absorbing the ordinary sight. Deprived of beads, earrings, and cosmetics, she looked like an unfinished statue. The baggy linen gown of a novitiate obscured her curves. Her black hair against the white fabric accentuated her pallor. But the flicker of gold lapping her skin was a memory that had warmed him during Gagazet's warm, frigid nights.

Her hands kept stroking, hypnotic, taking refuge in routine. There was a puzzling shimmer at the edge of his vision. For a moment he had the disconcerting impression that she was brushing away pyreflies. But no, it was only static electricity. Ignoring the cackling whispers of his own pyrefly chorus urging him to abandon patience for lust, he executed his own routine with no more haste than usual. Off went the sword and back-sheath, propped within reach of the bed opposite the window. Off went his boots and collar, glove and vambrace, belt and jug, piled under a small table where his ragged coat lay folded. He started to shed his cuirass, then changed his mind and approached her with panoply in place.

She set the comb down carefully on the windowsill. Stooping, he gathered her hand and lifted it to his lips. Lulu raised haggard eyes that softened for him, a transformation that never failed to astonish. His mellow mood evaporated at the sight of her too-brave smile. The sheen on her cheeks was more than that of candlelight. She leaned towards him, resting her cheek against his stomach and closing her eyes. That vulnerable gesture disturbed him more than tears.

What had happened since she left the balcony? He recalled the formula she had often used to deflect Tidus, expressing a fundamental truth of her being: I'm sorry. I need to be alone for a while. I need to think. Lulu had not been alone with her own thoughts in thirteen years.

"Lulu." He reached down to thumb the wet from her cheeks. "It's all right." It was most certainly not, but he trusted her to decipher inadequate words.

"But you never—"

"You're not me." He shrugged. "And for what it's worth, I did. On Yunalesca's doorstep, waiting for Braska and Jecht."

He felt the slump in her shoulders as pride yielded. She wept for a long time. Profoundly wrenched, he let the tears fall, wooden where a lover would have... what? He did not know. Monk's vows and death's door and all the long and weary steps beyond it had not taught him how to comfort another soul, except for one peevish boy. He did not think dangling Lulu upside-down by her ankles and waiting for the squall to pass was in any way appropriate. So he stood still. Only his hand kept moving, wiping away her tears.

When at last they ceased, her voice was only a little unsteady. "We've traveled a long way, haven't we?"

"Everywhere but one," he said. "And three pilgrimages apiece."

"I suppose that's some kind of record." She squeezed her eyes shut, more tears seeping out. "Damn."

"Lulu. Tell me."

"Bevelle's answer to Sin, that overgrown machina."

"Vegnagun?"

"No one would have been killed on pilgrimage, if Bevelle had used it sooner." Her voice sharpened. "No one. Not you, not anyone. Yuna would still be alive."

"No one knew it was there, Lulu."

"Didn't they? Someone's kept it in working order. To stifle the Al Bhed, maybe, if they became troublesome. Or maybe Bevelle's already used it. Have you seen what's left of their first Home?" Her breath hissed like the ocean rolling back before a tsunami. "I swear, if I still had my powers, I'd raze this city to the sea."

"If the maesters had discovered it sooner, some Seymour would have used it to seize power. Or Kinoc would have. Let it go, Lulu."

"Set vengeance aside?" There was an edge of steel in the mild question. "Is that your advice?"

"No, but you've let Yu Yevon goad your anger long enough."

She lifted her face and gave him a scorching look. Static prickled along the seams of his armor. He braced himself. But the lightning never fell, and the electricity in the air bled away. "I'm sorry, Auron. Really, I'm fine. I'm just very tired."

"Then you should rest." He stepped back. "I'll be downstairs, should you want anything."

She caught his belt. "I'm not that tired," she said. "And you've left your things all over the room."

He could not entirely hide a smirk, although here, too, he was out of his depth. He was never quite sure where he stood on her so-called list. "I shouldn't have presumed."

"Don't be absurd." She gave a firm tug. Relieved, he followed her across the room. The oversized mattress was in poor taste, a luxury meant for summoners on their way to slaughter. But Lulu had known neither comfort nor rest for thirteen years. Let Venus have her luxuries.

He sat down on the edge of the bed. With casual elegance, she settled across his lap. His hands felt clumsy at her hips. For a time they lost themselves to slow, earnest kisses. Lulu's fingers wandered, sketching frost-trails on his arms until she found the catches of his armor and flipped them one by one. His cuirass landed on the floor with a clank. Laying back, he drew her down with him, murmuring in her ear.

"'Do you suppose one of us could make the other feel like one of the living?'" Those words, spoken thirteen years ago, had set in motion all that had passed between them since.

She stiffened. "Oh, Auron, how could I have been so callous? I didn't understand what I was asking of you."

"I have no regrets. I hope you don't."

"No, except... except..." She tripped over her words, distracted by kisses against her throat, "Surely it's blasphemy."

He gave a bark of laughter. "Lulu, we've killed a maester, defied the High Court of Yevon, conspired with the Al Bhed, used forbidden machina, destroyed Yevon's god, devastated most of the temples in Spira, andnow you're worried about blasphemy?"

"Oh." She gave a weak laugh. "Well, there is that."

"You think too much." He traced her hip, feeling her body arch against his touch. "This. Flesh. We're here. Never mind how. It makes no more sense than life, Lulu, and it will pass the same way. And there is no book, no teachings, no scripture, no map that applies to us." As if of their own volition, her hands began to map the scars of his chest.

"'Don't think," she said, mimicking his gruff tones. "'Feel.'"

He grunted assent. "Do you remember how I answered you?"

He heard the small, wondering chuckle as his words came back to her. "'I doubt it, but I shouldn't mind being proved wrong.'"

"You've been proving me wrong for thirteen years, Lulu. Otherwise I would be a fiend by now."

"Auron." That name, a whispered talisman. The brand on his palm tingled. "Please remind me what it is to be human."

Thirteen years they had waited, and now, at last, they had time. She was no longer Spira's Lady. She was his: this warmth, these curves, this refined elegance mixed with dangerous seduction, these fierce kisses, this secretly passionate woman who constrained herself with bindings and belts and braids before the public eye. For him, she was abundant.

The pyreflies sang between them until both life and death ceased to have any meaning.

Hours later, they lay face to face, as close to sated as unquiet souls ever dared to be. Auron pressed a light kiss on her brow. "You have something of mine."

"Your coat is lying folded on that sideboard," she murmured. "Nor is it my fault that someone stuck a sword through it."

"Not what I meant." He captured the hand fondling his stubble and drew it down against his chest.

Lulu made a soft, desolate sound in the back of her throat. He chastised himself for being another cause of tears. But her eyes remained dry as she sought his gaze and moved their interlaced fingers to the hollow between her breasts. "Well, you have something of mine. I suppose it's too late to return it."

He embraced her, sealing clasped hands between them. "But too early to let go."

---

Next Chapter: _"The Houses of Healing"

---

Author's Notes

Chapter renumbering: originally Chapter 47, posted Dec 2011

Image Credit: Fireworks photo by Semnoz on Wikipedia

Note: Thanks for putting up with my adverbs. I found it harder than usual to chop them out of this chapter.

Comments

[melchar]

This was so incredibly beautiful. I can't think of -anything- I've read in over 10 years that was even -close- to being this romantic and stirring!

[auronlu]

Oh good. "Romantic" is very much a matter of individual taste, and with all the other Auron/Lulu shippers long gone, I feel more self-conscious dumping my id on a platter. it's good to know it still works for some readers.