Celes let out a short huff of air. She stood in the kitchen surrounded by pans and spices and all manner of things she didn’t understand. In front of her sat what was supposed to be a ham. She’d wandered sheepishly into the marketplace and edged up to every food stall, hands clasped and gripping at themselves. She’d asked what someone like her might be able to handle with something like a kitchen at her disposal. She’d asked for instructions. But here, hours later, the thing was blackened and giving off an acrid smell like curdled maple. She eyed it hatefully. It remained mockingly, stubbornly ruined.

The door slammed. Celes jumped and spun around, eyes wild and hands already clasped for magic, but it wasn’t an ambush -- it was Relm. She only caught a flash of her before she slipped away, running into the hallway and through an open door. Celes blinked after her. Was she being pursued? The absurd thought flashed by as quickly as Relm had before the obvious settled in.

She was upset. Celes slowly lowered her hands.

In truth, she hadn’t seen much of Relm since they’d decided to pair themselves together. Celes was always, invariably busy with Dragonblade business, and Relm seemed more than willing to find business of her own. Half the time, Celes would slip in exhausted in the heart of the night to find the girl sleeping. The other half -- the daylight half -- she’d find her painting or she wouldn’t find her at all. An unfinished canvas sat in the corner with a half-colored outline of city children. Celes mostly left her alone to her work.

But now…

Celes bit her tongue. From the other room, she heard a muffled voice. She’d have to comfort her. One way or another, she’d have to try.

Celes crept carefully to the door, stopped, and then sidled awkwardly out into the open. Relm was sprawled across her bed, her hands tangled together with a miserable eye towards the ceiling. Were those tears in her eyes? Celes lingered, not really sure what to say or how to say it, when suddenly the girl burst.

”It’s not fair!”

Celes stiffened, staring at her before she took a breath and steadied herself. If she could handle a battlefield then she could handle this.

”What isn’t?” That seemed like a good place to start. Maybe she should have tried to ease into it? Gods, she hoped she hadn’t startled her. ”Is something wrong?”

Celes stopped. ”Well of course it is, but…” This wasn’t right at all. ”I mean…” She looked at Relm and gave her a sheepish smile. ”What is it?”

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Celes balked. ’You’re the commander?’ It was skeptical. It was almost mocking, and as soon as the words were out of his mouth, she felt her eyes harden. It was something she’d heard so many times that her anger was like a reflex. She’d always been too young, too delicate, ’too pretty to be swinging that around, sweetheart.’

His 'fascination' struck her like an arrow. The Empire had allowed it almost entirely in the technical sense. In all her time in the training yards, she’d met only three other women and one of them had been Terra.

”My life in the military would say so.” It didn’t matter if he knew better or not. Had she ever let that stop her? If he didn’t know better then she’d teach him -- at the end of a sword if she had to. ”Maybe yours should catch up.”

There was nothing she hated more than weak men.

His reaction rubbed her just as wrong. She didn’t need him to accept her offer, but just looking at him she’d have thought she’d suggested he crawl in the dirt. He had a certain air about him -- something pompous that just screamed ’better than you.’ If he thought mercenary work was so dirty then what he thought of her was obvious.

”The power of kings? You mean a kings-glaive?” Or was that what it was called? She was starting to doubt herself. ”If that’s it then you’re looking for Caius. He uses magic from a king -- or something like that. Did you fight with him?” A stupid question. This man was too stuck up his own ass to dirty his hands, and he couldn’t have been more different from Caius if he’d tried.

Caius hadn’t said a word about her gender for one.

”He’s in the back.” She gestured for him and started towards the back door, casually grabbing her sword from the wall as she did. This stranger was a problem just waiting to happen. ”Caius?” She called his name as soon as she came to the yard before she stepped aside, arms crossed and hip tilted. ”Someone’s here looking for a king’s guard.”

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’Do it for the mission.’

It became a kind of silent mantra. She’d said it as she’d pulled a dress from its rack and slid it on, wilting in front of the mirror. It draped off her in a slim fit. No dips. No cuts. Only a slight curve where it cinched at the waist. The fabric was overlaid with a ghostly chiffon, and the top was embroidered with lace in the vague shape of a butterfly. All in all, it wasn’t the worst she could have done. In fact, it was nearly unassuming, but it felt wrong. Not just wrong, but delicate in a way she’d always hated. Still, she’d gritted her teeth and had Caius zip her into the thing no matter how she felt on the matter.

’Do it for the Dragonblades.’

He’d come with her of course. She’d have given him a piece of her mind if he hadn’t, and maybe a piece of her sword while she was at it. They’d both received their invitations together, and once they’d finished reeling (and she’d explained the poem to Caius’ understanding), they’d met each other’s eyes with a grim understanding. This was a ruse. They’d decided it at once, and couldn’t be dissuaded. Who, after all, would care to invite them of all people to a formal ball? No one but their enemies in a ploy to catch them disarmed. And they had far too many enemies to count.

’Do it for Caius.’

They’d needed masks. Masks and the accessories for a formal disguise. For Caius, that meant running a comb through his hair. For Celes, that meant tying it half back with a thin braided rope from behind her ears and plating it in silver jewelry where it tied together. Her bangs she’d curled. Her lips she’d lined with red -- her cheeks brightened with rouge. Even her eyelashes she’d blackened clumsily with a miniature brush. She’d grabbed for her sword on instinct, cursed, and then left it in favor of a pair of glinting blue earrings. They were charmed to enhance her magic. Once they were under attack, it was all she’d have.

’Do it for Torensten.’

The garden had spread before them like a fairy tale. Here was the winding cobblestone path. Here were the stringed lights and the silver gates topped with spokes that curved like ivy. The path was lined with hedges and bushes dotted with flowers that led to a three-tiered fountain. Crickets hummed among the leaves illuminated by passing fireflies. Celes stood struck by its beauty, and in the back of her mind rang the words ’this shouldn’t be real.’

’Do it for the people.’

They drifted past her carelessly, chittering like birds. They wore gleaming silken dresses, ruffled suits, and golden bangles. Celes stood to the side, failing to find something to do with her hands. Under attack, these people would be helpless, and the party’s ‘no weapons’ policy would strike even the most battle-hardened in the back. These people were innocent. Irritating, maybe, but innocent and she’d do anything if it meant standing between them and the wrong side of a blade. She kept her eyes peeled for trouble and her fingers where her sword should have been, and yet…

They were too close.

Too close. Too loud. She felt them press in around her. Saw the squares of dancer, the migrating crowds, the laughter she could’ve heard from a block away. It was like an itch at first. She edged away, her eyes flashing danger to any of the half dozen men who approached her offering their hand. It itched, pulsing with every clink of a glass or shoulder brushed across her bare skin. The lights were blazing in the darkness like a bullseye target. With every pulse, her thoughts tinged with color.

Red flames. White light. The blue of the ocean rising to meet her. And above, the hum of magic as it gathered its heat to-

Celes shuddered. These people were wide open -- just asking for his judgment. Kefka’s judgment. If they were too loud. If they were too bright…

There was the squeak of a heel, a laughing cry, and a man stumbled into her. Celes shoved him away before she could think, skittering back so fast that she hit another wall of flesh as a woman tripped and fell over her own heels. Someone told her to watch herself. The man was apologizing.

Why couldn’t she breathe?

Celes squeaked something about needing air as she darted away. She had no direction in particular -- just away as her cheeks heated and her heels clicked madly against marble floors. She dashed through one door and then another until a cool wind met her and the tiles switched to cobblestone. The garden. She wound her way through narrow paths, wincing at every couple she found giggling over each other along the way. Finally when her space was her own, she stopped.

The dry earth. Kefka’s judgment. The blood on her hands.

Celes gave a shuddering breath as she lowered herself to the ground. Her dress tangled around her. Her mask smothered her cheeks with white lace. Verdant leaves pressed in on her with a heavy perfume. Roses.

”This shouldn’t be real,” she muttered -- the words she hadn’t let herself think in ages. ”This shouldn’t be real. This is all-” She swallowed and pressed her eyes into the back of her hand. Beyond her, the manor rang with the distant trill of violins.

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Celes had hardly spoken before a woman had burst from the shadows and rounded on Caius. Too close to Caius. Uncomfortably close to Caius.

For a moment, Celes could only gape at whatever she was witnessing. Was this woman flirting with him? Why? She could hardly comprehend it as the woman grasped at his arm and pulled him close and insisted he spend the night. For his part, Caius looked equal parts bewildered and uncomfortable. Celes felt her blood rise at the sight of him.

He wanted nothing to do with her. Couldn’t she see that?

Celes had already started towards him, hands curled, when his expression changed. The color left his cheeks, and for a moment, he seemed almost speechless. Celes recoiled in surprise. Had she ever seen him frozen like that? She followed his gaze to the kitchen but couldn’t parse anything out of the ordinary. Just two chefs (odd, hadn’t this been a family home?) clouded behind a veil of steam with no sign of their host. Still, she trusted Caius and his instincts. She glanced to him in alarm only to catch a single word.

’Window.’ Celes bit her tongue and nodded. He wanted a quick escape. Whatever he’d seen had given him no reason to stay.

Still, he put on a friendly face. Not a convincing one, mind, but a face at least. Celes didn’t know why, but she knew an act when she saw one and she knew when to play along. He’d already started backing towards her, and she helped him along, seizing his shoulder and pulling him towards her hard enough to unbalance him. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and caught the woman’s eye with a pointed look of her own.

”We’re happy to stay,” she said. ”Both of us.” The floozy. Celes pulled Caius tighter and leaned in to his ear under the guise of affection. ”We should go.” She shot the woman a triumphant smile as though she’d proven something. It left a sour taste in her mouth.

Celes was already backing them both towards the door when the old man burst from the kitchen, a tray in his hands. Celes jumped at the sudden intrusion and dropped her grip on Caius, already reaching for her sword. Not yet. Her fingers twitched at the hilt before she dropped it again. They hadn’t done anything yet, and if Caius was to be believed, it was better to play along.

”There you are!” The man gave them a tired grin. ”I’d hoped you hadn’t skipped out on us seeing the place as it is. We’re really waiting on that gil. Can’t do a thing without it.” He nodded towards the woman. ”I see you’ve met Sue already. She’s always loved visitors.”

Sue took a break from simmering at Celes long enough to laugh and wave dismissively at the man. ”You say it like it’s a bad thing,” she said. ”I want to hear about the city, that’s all. The men there are so interesting.” Her eyes caught on Caius again with an almost hungry gleam. Celes thrust herself forward so she almost stood between them.

”Tea! We’d love it. The tea, I mean.” She tried for a smile that she knew fell flat. ”We’re so tired. Let’s sit down and have a drink then?”

You'd better know what you’re doing, Caius.

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