Title: Fragments
Fandom: Final Fantasy VI
Characters: Kefka/Terra
Challenge: The Lost Hour
Rating: SFW/Teen
Word Count: 1000
Content Notes: Unhealthy relationship, power imbalance, mind control, somewhat unreliable narrator.
Summary: Life after the Crown.

---

The first Crown that he gave her was a tiara, covered in gold and set with bright red stones. He showed it to her in their room, holding it gently in his hands as if it were the most precious thing he’d ever created. “What do you think, Terra?” he asked, his smile red and wide.

“It’s beautiful,” she answered.

“As beautiful as you, of course.” He laughed. “Now, let me put it on your head, and soon you’ll never need to worry about your heart holding you back again.

She eagerly bowed her head and let him fasten the little tiara onto her head. It was cold, and was heavier than she’d expected.

---

Life after the Crown came in fragments - a few moments here and a few there, before waking up in bed with cold sweat running down her face. She’d thought she’d sleep more easily after that; Kefka had said it would unlock her potential, that it was his greatest gift to her. But she still woke up in the middle of the night, a terrible sense of emptiness dancing in her head.

Being close to Kefka - so close she could feel the way he trembled in his sleep, as if he were still laughing - was the only thing that still helped. She tried to lose herself in him, because if she wasn't herself then she wouldn't have to hurt.

She was always just on the verge of remembering, and she still didn't want to remember. Maybe that was why she couldn't sleep peacefully at night.

---

The magic came more easily to her now, just like he’d promised. She’d heard a thousand whispered accounts from soldiers who’d watched her train, who didn’t realize that she could hear them. Burned alive, they’d say, terror-stricken, glancing her way to make sure that she wasn’t close enough to hear (because they didn’t realize that she didn’t need to be so close.) Dozens of our best soldiers, in Cid’s best armors, and she fried them in under a minute!

It didn’t make sense; why would Kefka ask her to kill other soldiers? But she could see them avoiding her more carefully than ever; a crowded bar would empty in moments when she stepped inside, and behind her Kefka would giggle, as if happy to have the place to himself.

She finally worked up the nerve to ask him, only to have her worries dismissed. “Why would you worry about such things, Terra?” he asked, eyes half-closed and stomach full of good red wine. “You needn’t think of what you do when I command you. That’s the gift I gave you, isn’t it?”

“I don’t,” she said quickly, and it was true. If she hadn’t heard the whispers, she never would’ve known. “But the soldiers... they say things around me.”

“Well, of course they do! They know now what happens to those who betray the Emperor, who betray our very way of life. The only soldiers that I’ve ever had you burn were traitors, and traitors are no better than vermin. You agree, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, Sir,” she said, and meant it, because if Kefka said it was all right then she had to trust him. She’d already entrusted him with everything else; she didn’t want to think about what would’ve happened if she had been wrong.

“Ah, my lovely one,” he said, and stroked her forehead, near the red lines that the Crown had left behind. “My beautiful, powerful queen. Heavens forbid that you ever betray me.”

After a few days she noticed that she never heard the same soldiers speak about her twice.

---

She didn’t kill every soldier that she trained with, apparently. Some of them ended up in the infirmary, bandaged on every inch of their bodies that she could see. Kefka would take her to the observation rooms to look down at them, from time to time.

“Ugh!” he said one day, pointing down at a small group dressed in blue smocks. All of them were young; some were no more than children themselves. “Healers, no doubt at Cid’s insistence. What a waste of good talent.”

Terra nodded. She didn’t like to think about that. Kefka had always scolded her for using her own healing powers, even on herself when she was hurt. She was destruction, he’d say, not meant for such gentle and foolish things.

The young people were dispersing throughout the crowd; Terra could feel the warmth of the magic below, distant and strange, as the wounds she had inflicted were healed.

---

“This time, Terra, you’ll be going on a very long journey,” Kefka said, cackling with glee.

“Yes, sir,” she said, sitting up in the chair. “Where are we going?”

“Not we, Terra,” Kefka said, shaking his head. She could see him fiddling with the Crown, a newer one than before, darker in color and shinier in the harsh white lights. “I’m afraid I’ll be occupied with mere politics. No, you’ll be guiding a pair of loyal fools to liberate a powerful being from its icy tomb. You needn’t worry - I picked these two soldiers myself. They’ll cooperate.”

Terra swallowed hard. The new Crown looked sharper than the other, no more red and gold. This was a wicked thing, dark and cruel. “Sir, what happened to... to the other Crown?” she asked.

“Oh, you’ll have it back when you return,” he said offhandedly. “This one’s a more durable design. It’ll be very cold in Narshe, after all.”

She swallowed. “All right.”

“Oh, don’t worry, dear Terra. You’ll come back to me, and it’ll be as if no time at all has passed, won’t it? Isn’t that the gift I’ve given you?” He placed the crown on her head - it was colder than the other, and heavier - and knelt down in front of her to look her in the eyes. “You trust me,” he said, his bright and gleaming eyes dancing in front of hers.

“Yes,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I trust you.”

“Who do you belong to, Terra?”

They’d said these things a thousand times before, but somehow it felt different, with the new weight on her head. But that didn’t make her answer any less true. “You, Sir Kefka,” she whispered. “I belong to you.”

“Yes,” he said, laughing softly. “You do.”

The world slowly faded to gray around her, and his eyes were the last thing she saw.