@livelyfellowâ
Everything had went wrong that night.
Baldur still couldnât remember all the details, what had happened and how. He remembered darkness and cold water. And how someone had grabbed him. Another hit against his head and⊠nothing. Ripped apart memories until he had woken up in a room, forced onto a chair. And they had questioned him, asked him so many things and details. Tried to trap him by his own words⊠if he ever spoke at all. More darkness tearing through those memories. What had happened thenâŠ?
Why was it so hard to recall?
But Baldur remembered one thing, cutting through this chaos in his mind like a knife made of white hot iron. An offer that was too good to be true. Lined with threats and mockery. He should play their game again. He should be on their side. And in return⊠they would tell him where Zell was.
Zell.
Their little lost one.
Baldur had almost gone mad at this idea. Had lashed out and cursed them to the hells of the Infernian. How dare they claim to know anything about him⊠but they did. They did. And they proved it to him. And his utter rage had become quiet. Silence turning to sadness. And sadness to a glimmer of curiosity. Careful, as Baldur could not bear to be disappointed. They had gotten him here, though.Â
Do as we say and you get time with your son.
With Zell.
Of course, Baldur longed to be with his wife again. With Reno and Loqi. But he didnât know where they were. If they had actually made it to Meldacio⊠or if not⊠and here, here was this lost piece of their family. He couldnât leave Zell behind. Whatever fucked up game the Empire wanted to play with him⊠Baldur would play, if it meant he could see his second son again. He needed to get him back. He needed to get him home.
And as Baldur stood there, on the planks of a simple fishermen harbour, wearing clothes sturdy and simple to fit in with this backwater place they called Balamb, he could barely breathe. There, just a few steps in front of him. There was a boy. With the bluest eyes and blond hair that had been sunkissed with white strands, wild and unruly, spiking into the air.
He couldnât breathe, couldnât talk, couldnât move. He wanted to grab this boy and hold him tightly so badly. Wanted to kiss him and hug him and never let go. But he couldnât. They had told him not to cross this line. They were watching. If he did, they would do unspeakable things to him⊠to the boyâŠ
So Baldur just stared at this little one.
Would you remember anything about me?













