Archive of Our Own ^beta

Of all the moments she remembered, she forever recalled his image in the mirror.

He latched onto her eyes through the reflection with a grin crawling across his face. Thin fingers combed through the thick, unruly coils tumbling down her shoulders. He curled those fingers into her, grazed along her scalp, and smoothed them over the crown of her head.

Everything else resided in a fragmented mist. She never made sense of the man eyeing her reflection like a predator did with wounded prey. The imagery kept her up at night. And while pieces of her memory unveiled to her over time, Terra had yet to pinpoint the importance of the man playing with her hair and chuckling into her neck.

Even when her identity was revealed and she came to terms with her purpose in the world, she couldn’t bring herself to the same level of hatred that her allies had. They wished for the Empire to crumble and burn for what atrocities the Imperials committed, but all her memories of her time residing with the Empire weren’t spent in misery and torment. At times, she laughed and smiled hard enough to pain her being, but it didn’t compare to the deaths done by Imperial hands. Some by her, as well. Yet she continued to fixate on the hands combing through her hair, the eyes consuming her figure, and the uneven breaths beating into her bare skin.

She never told anyone of her connection with him. Not even Celes. From what Terra could recall, Celes was fully against any camaraderie with him, let alone an affair. Even as they prepared for their final confrontation upon the Falcon, Celes relentlessly assured Terra of their motives—that what they were doing was right.

That killing Kefka was the only answer.

But he hadn’t always been insane, as Celes described him plainly. In recent, sleepless nights, she thought of endless racks of custom dresses, shelves with porcelain dolls, hundreds of lit candles, and the man behind all of it. In a way, she was aware he possessed the potential to be cruel, but not to her. Never to her. In her presence, he worshiped her like a goddess of destruction; always bending and breaking to her whim, always afraid she’d smother him like a worthless insect. But she didn’t. She smiled and thanked him for his kindness.

But was it kindness? Was there a difference?

How was she to tell when he bestowed words borderline poetry upon greeting her in the morning? How was she to tell when he brought gifts for her almost daily? How was she to tell when they mutually marveled over fireworks, yet longed for something more? How was she to tell when he consumed her lips with a fervent desire that hazarded suffocation? How was she to tell when he sifted fingers through her hair like the finest threads of silk?

“You are beauty personified,” he whispered into her face in between kisses. “I will never let anything mark the perfection that is you, my dear.” He pushed hair out of her face, his mouth ghosting over hers. “Though it pains me when your lovely locks hide away your gorgeous face.”

“It has a mind of its own,” Terra giggled.

“Perhaps we can try to tame it?”

She inhaled, taking in his scent. “We can try,” she murmured before pushing forward to claim his lips for her own.

The memories in between blurred, but since then, the reflections were accompanied by a brightly colored sash within her hair. It contained the thick tresses in a high ponytail, leaving her bangs to frame her face. He picked it out specially for her to wear and tied it into her hair with utmost care. Then he kissed at her face, her neck, and her ear.

“Perfect,” he moaned into her. “Just perfect.”

Terra remembered less and less after that. The images smudged and bled. The sounds echoed and distorted. She fell into a dark numbness, only to awake within an ice-covered mining town.

Did you hurt me in that time? Terra thought, her eyes locked on the tower looming in the horizon from her perch on the Falcon. Did you... not trust me anymore?

Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t. It was too late to ask now. No one held an answer in regards to the purpose of the puppet crown, but when they reached the pinnacle of the tower and Kefka’s eyes widened amidst Terra’s Esper transformation, she stumbled upon another possibility.

Maybe he simply feared what his goddess was truly capable of.

He donned the guise of a god. Perhaps in another life, he would have saved a spot for her—his goddess. She expected to be greeted with remorse and regret when she lunged out to attack him with the others. Such sentiments never surfaced.

Even when he screamed within his defeat, dissolving out of existence, Terra didn’t recall the gifts, the compliments, the kisses. None of it. Every last memory faded away with Kefka in the wake of his death.

It wasn’t until they returned to the Falcon and escaped their own demise that Terra wished she had told someone. As the others rejoiced in their victory, Terra stood alone by the bow of the ship. She lost more than her Esper half that day; she lost the memory of a lover. If she even dared to mention to any of them of what she once shared with the enemy, they all would have claimed she was manipulated and abused.

Maybe she was, but Kefka wasn’t the only one playing around for his own satisfaction. It had been his game as much as it was hers. She only wished she remembered why she dove into it to begin with.

But the past didn’t matter anymore when the future blinded everyone with its brightness. Or perhaps that was the afterglow from the victory which marred their vision. For all they knew, it was no brighter than the once ruby skies looming above, reminding them of their failures. Regardless, Terra couldn’t return to the life she once lived; she had to make a new one.

Thus her hands rose to the back of her head and loosened the knot in the sash. The fabric fell from her hair, caught in an instant by the wind. Gusts tousled the ash blonde locks marked with a sheen of green. Hair whipped against her face and tickled her neck. When was the last time she experienced that? His kisses, perhaps?

Terra eyed the sash within her clutches. The wind tried desperately to take it from her, but she held on just a little further. Her lips pressed into the material and her eyes fell shut. And then she relaxed her hand and allowed the sash to slip away.

When she opened her eyes, she caught sight of a colorful ribbon dancing in the skies, gradually descending. As it faded away, so did the memories she once clung onto. A smile swept over her features and she drew in a deep breath. It had been too long since she felt both the wind and her hair teasing her face.