There was only one name on his mind: Zidane.

It haunted him as he perched on hard stone, one knee folded to his chest. Ava curled around him like a cat, supporting his back with a feathered wing. He leaned into the soft down, hand at his cheek as he considered the skylight of her den. Beyond it there was heat and sunlight. The kind of wonders that had once set a passion in his heart. And yet…

Kuja touched at his forehead. His thoughts had consumed him for nearly two weeks. Already they’d cost him the loyalty of Nero, and perhaps even turned the man against him. Already, his research had fallen to dust and neglect. And here he was, wasting away. He let his head fall until his cheek pressed into feather down.

It all came back to Zidane.

Somehow he knew that Zidane was here. Perhaps it was a psychic connection or perhaps mere intuition, but somehow, Kuja knew. It was in the boy’s nature, wasn’t it? Persisting long after his relevance. Following him without any idea of the implications. That moment in Burmecia played like an omen in dismal blue. Zidane, daggers clenched and tail swishing. Zidane, sprawled nearly lifeless on carved stone. Kuja had considered him with nothing but amusement and light disdain. Zidane had been nothing. Not even strong enough to defeat General Beatrix. Certainly not strong enough to threaten the lives of the planet. And so Kuja had left him. To play with. To use.

And that decision had led him to his revenge.

Kuja’s tail swept an uneasy pattern across the stone. He hadn’t bothered to dress himself properly since the day Vivi had enlightened him of his past. He found he didn’t quite care for his usual persona -- for his angled eyes and enigmatic armor. He wasn’t mysterious or conniving or elegant now. No, he was nothing but human so to speak. Nothing but another lost soul trapped in a body that was all too mortal. Would he face that fate again in time? Would his own flesh betray him just as it had for his mages?

The irony hadn’t escaped him.

He laughed into Ava’s feathers, shoved his eyes even further into them until his breath suffocated in the scent of high winds and dragon musk. That mage had left cake by his door days before. It must have found the supplies in his pantry and baked it himself. Kuja had tossed it aside, unable to look at the hideous thing. Even now it called bile to his throat.

How could he face Zidane now? What would he even say to him? My apologies for the ruination of your adopted world. Care to talk over tea? It was ludicrous. Mortifying. Unthinkable. Would he even want him there? Or would they fight again just like they always had and had always been destined to do?

Kuja sighed and leaned forward over his knee. His thoughts were the same as ever. The same internal soliloquy played again and again like an actor practicing his lines. Lines of torment and strife. The kind that would warrant a scene of their own. And still he sat motionless, accompanied by nothing but the slow, peaceful breaths of his sleeping dragon. She slumbered in peace -- blameless in her own nature.

His tail curled around his ankles. There was nothing else.

ulla