Series: Final Fantasy IX
Category: General
Rating: PG
Character: Garland, Kuja
Warning: Mention of violence
Author's Note: No matter how much I hate him, Garland's character really fascinates me. And I think that in some twisted way, he cares about Kuja, although it doesn't show much from this fic. One of my better works.
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy IX belongs to Squaresoft. Be glad for that.
Archive: Abstract Reasoning, Fanfiction.net. Summary: Kuja has dropped Zidane on Gaia, giving Garland something to think about.

Father And Son

His eyes are nothing but ice when he looks up to meet my questioning gaze, with somewhat gleeful glimmer in the midst of that deep, night dark blue of his eyes. Unbroken mask of seriousness has spread over his delicate, girlish features, but from the slight twitches of the muscles of his thinly fleshed cheeks I can see that he has trouble keeping a smile away from his face.

"Kuja", I address him, with my usual cold, emotion-free voice. "What have you done to the Angel?"

His hidden joy can't hide itself anymore, so he allows a smile to curl the corners of his mouth in a wicked smile, and he happily tells me the truth, purring like a replete cub tiger:

"Angel is gone." He turns his face away from me for a moment, biting another of his perfectly shaped lips. He tries to look like he feels deep regret for his minor offence, but I can see through that shield of pretend: he is just trying not to laugh. "He's in Gaia.. far from our reach", he continues, lifting his eyes up to meet mine, serene in his foolish fearlessness.

"You can't go and get him back", he states, utter satisfaction marking every said word of his. "You have only me left now.. master." His tone is slightly disorted with bitterness when referring to me like that.. but it soon gets wiped away by his recently received reason of cheer, and he smiles at me ever so sweetly. "And I will always be here for you."

He is burning inside with ultimate victory now, his smile turning into a grin for the shortest length of a moment, then disappears when he hangs his head, waiting for his rightful punishment.

He doesn't see my face when I smile.

* * *

You've always been such a foolish boy, Kuja. Always too confident, too arrogant in that supposed betterness of yours. You wish to think that the purple-shaded, silvery hair, skin of the whitest marble and those all-seeing, sapphire eyes of yours make you separate, different from them. You think that the hiding of your light grey tail turns you into something else. You don't even dare to question yourself, when trusting too much in the prayers you pray every night, begging for the freedom that you know to be far out of your reach.

Maybe that is why I've never been willing enough to get rid of you.

It's so amusing to watch how you fight against the plans I have for you and for the world, how passionate is your resistance against your unavoidable destiny. You know what is going to happen to you, don't you, my dear boy? No matter how much you're trying to plot my defeat, no matter how much you dream about pushing me aside from my world-dominating throne to seat yourself on it yourself, you know that it will never happen. You are perfectly aware of the frailness of your thread of life, and that it's going to snap before it's true time. Perhaps it's just easier for you to continue your vain wishing, relying forever more on your false hope.

Well.. it's not that I don't have anything against it.

Keep on dreaming, my precious child, do go on walking along the road of fallen lies. You'll be far more useful for me, that way.

I can still make your ever rebellious, mighty soul mine.

* * *

In the end of your rough scolding I see you crawling in the corner, tears trickling down your snow-white cheeks in hot, thick streams of pain when you curl up, shaking in ball-shaped heap of agony. I can feel your hatred, how it seeps through your delicate shell and wraps around you like the mist of despair. I'm perfectly able to hear you scream in your mind, promising yourself that I will pay for this one day.

I chuckle dryly at those silly wishes, walking up to you. You try to shrink away from me when I reach out for you, grabbing your narrow frame to pull you up in my arms, pressing your fragile body against my chest. You place your hands against my shoulders and try to push away, just like you always do when bathing in your loathing for your creator. I just smile, caressing that feather-waved hair of yours, kissing you lightly on the cheek in the mockery of fatherhood.

Maybe staying locked in your room for a week will calm you down for a while. And after that we can continue our journey of fate, walk our paths of life side by side as a father and a son.

Until it's time for the new Angel to come.

13. May 2001