[Fic] Looking Back in the Mirror
1. Ashe requested more papa!Zidane fic like ... six months ago.
b. Riku had the gall to corner me on IRC the other day and talk to me about such adorable possibilities.
iii. Today is 09/09/09
THEREFORE:
Zidane stood at the foot of the stairs, waiting for Dagger's attendants to finish fussing over her. Tonight was to be a big to-do, and Alexandria's queen needed to look her finest. The Opera House was actually his project: his first venture as Prince Consort, and it had taken every ounce of charm he had to get support from the nobles. The fact of the matter was that the royal coffers weren't what they used to be: reconstruction of nearly the entire city had seen to that. However, Brahne's war machine had lined the pockets of more than a few of the gentry. Extracting it by more underhanded (and fun) means was a hard impulse to resist, but he had done it, smiling and bowing and saying everything just so-especially to the wives. In any case, the opera house had been the one good idea Brahne espoused during the war, although she had wanted it built in Lindblum's theatre district rather than on the outskirts of Alexandria. Dagger agreed that it was a fitting tribute to her mother, and inwardly Zidane hoped that it would show the world that Dagger's Alexandria was different than the one that had thrown the entire continent into upheaval. Relations between the countries had been touchy, even after several peaceful years.
"Ku po-po-po-po-po-po-po-po-po!"
"PO PO PO PO PO!"
A white blur flew past him and interrupted his thoughts, followed closely by his daughter bounding along and merrily aping moogle sounds. Her dress that had been yellow that morning, but was now impressively streaked with dark splotches of caked mud. She must have been in the gardens again.
"And what did we tell you about chasing the moogles, hm?" Zidane said, intercepting her by scooping her from the ground.
She giggled and avoided making eye contact. "It's okay since I'm a moogle, too, kupo!"
"A moogle, huh? Well you certainly have 'kupo' down ..." He set her back on the ground. "But what do the chocobos say?" It was a game they'd been playing since she could string two words together: he'd ask simple questions, and she would reply in the loudest fashion possible. As Dr. Tot would constantly remind him, it was behavior unbecoming of a princess, so he encouraged it at every turn.
"KWEEAAAARGH! KWAAR KWAAR BOOOOOM!" she roared and stomped the stone floor, her arms bent to her sides in an impish imitation of wings.
He laughed. "What was that 'boom' at the end for, huh?"
"That," his daughter turned to him solemnly, "was choco meteor."
Steiner clanked his way into the hall, red-faced and out of breath. "Princess! That was behavior most unbecoming of one of your stature," he admonished between heaving breaths. Taking notice of Zidane, he pointed an armored finger and continued: "this is all your influence, I'll have you know!"
Zidane rolled his eyes. "She takes after her mother."
"Her majesty was never such a handful at that age!"
"You didn't even know her at that age, Rusty," he sighed.
"S-she looks just like you! I do believe that settles the matter," Steiner insisted, crossing his arms.
"What does that have to do with anything? Besides, she's got Dagger's hair and eyes."
She looked from Zidane to Steiner and back at Zidane again. "Who does Papa look like?"
He opened his mouth to reply with a glib "I don't know," but found that the words had managed to lose themselves somewhere between his mind and his lips. The fact of the matter was that he didn't look like anyone. Sure, he resembled the other Genomes, but if one asked a baker about his muffins he wouldn't say that they looked like the pan they were baked in. And she didn't just look like her mother: she looked like her grandmother and grandfather, and like generations of summoners before them. When he looked in a mirror, the only person looking back was himself. He'd often wondered when or even if he should tell her about the strange heritage she'd gotten from him.
"Nuh-uh, you look like me," she said, her voice tinged with bright satisfaction that she had settled the conversation.
And it did, really. He held her close and mussed her hair. "Heh, you're right. You're absolutely right."
She squirmed out of his arms and tore down the hall again, exclaiming "Papa is a princess!" Steiner barely had time to sigh in exasperation before he turned on his heel to give chase to the little princess, his armor clanking as he went. Zidane watched them dash into the courtyard with Weimar and Haagen belatedly joining in pursuit.
"Should I be jealous that you're too busy paying attention to other girls to notice me?" Dagger's voice came to him from over his shoulder. He jumped at the sound of it, startled.
"H-hey, you could've said something!" Dagger smiled and smoothed out her evening gown. It was dark and low-cut and clung to her in all the right places and he could not wait to get this damn premiere over with so he could come back home with her. "Whoa, you look great," he added.
"You look nice too," she said. "But should we really leave before saying good-night to her?"
Zidane shrugged. "We can be late."
She grinned again, shucked off her heels, and took his hand. Despite Beatrix's mounting protests, they ran into the garden.
b. Riku had the gall to corner me on IRC the other day and talk to me about such adorable possibilities.
iii. Today is 09/09/09
THEREFORE:
Zidane stood at the foot of the stairs, waiting for Dagger's attendants to finish fussing over her. Tonight was to be a big to-do, and Alexandria's queen needed to look her finest. The Opera House was actually his project: his first venture as Prince Consort, and it had taken every ounce of charm he had to get support from the nobles. The fact of the matter was that the royal coffers weren't what they used to be: reconstruction of nearly the entire city had seen to that. However, Brahne's war machine had lined the pockets of more than a few of the gentry. Extracting it by more underhanded (and fun) means was a hard impulse to resist, but he had done it, smiling and bowing and saying everything just so-especially to the wives. In any case, the opera house had been the one good idea Brahne espoused during the war, although she had wanted it built in Lindblum's theatre district rather than on the outskirts of Alexandria. Dagger agreed that it was a fitting tribute to her mother, and inwardly Zidane hoped that it would show the world that Dagger's Alexandria was different than the one that had thrown the entire continent into upheaval. Relations between the countries had been touchy, even after several peaceful years.
"Ku po-po-po-po-po-po-po-po-po!"
"PO PO PO PO PO!"
A white blur flew past him and interrupted his thoughts, followed closely by his daughter bounding along and merrily aping moogle sounds. Her dress that had been yellow that morning, but was now impressively streaked with dark splotches of caked mud. She must have been in the gardens again.
"And what did we tell you about chasing the moogles, hm?" Zidane said, intercepting her by scooping her from the ground.
She giggled and avoided making eye contact. "It's okay since I'm a moogle, too, kupo!"
"A moogle, huh? Well you certainly have 'kupo' down ..." He set her back on the ground. "But what do the chocobos say?" It was a game they'd been playing since she could string two words together: he'd ask simple questions, and she would reply in the loudest fashion possible. As Dr. Tot would constantly remind him, it was behavior unbecoming of a princess, so he encouraged it at every turn.
"KWEEAAAARGH! KWAAR KWAAR BOOOOOM!" she roared and stomped the stone floor, her arms bent to her sides in an impish imitation of wings.
He laughed. "What was that 'boom' at the end for, huh?"
"That," his daughter turned to him solemnly, "was choco meteor."
Steiner clanked his way into the hall, red-faced and out of breath. "Princess! That was behavior most unbecoming of one of your stature," he admonished between heaving breaths. Taking notice of Zidane, he pointed an armored finger and continued: "this is all your influence, I'll have you know!"
Zidane rolled his eyes. "She takes after her mother."
"Her majesty was never such a handful at that age!"
"You didn't even know her at that age, Rusty," he sighed.
"S-she looks just like you! I do believe that settles the matter," Steiner insisted, crossing his arms.
"What does that have to do with anything? Besides, she's got Dagger's hair and eyes."
She looked from Zidane to Steiner and back at Zidane again. "Who does Papa look like?"
He opened his mouth to reply with a glib "I don't know," but found that the words had managed to lose themselves somewhere between his mind and his lips. The fact of the matter was that he didn't look like anyone. Sure, he resembled the other Genomes, but if one asked a baker about his muffins he wouldn't say that they looked like the pan they were baked in. And she didn't just look like her mother: she looked like her grandmother and grandfather, and like generations of summoners before them. When he looked in a mirror, the only person looking back was himself. He'd often wondered when or even if he should tell her about the strange heritage she'd gotten from him.
"Nuh-uh, you look like me," she said, her voice tinged with bright satisfaction that she had settled the conversation.
And it did, really. He held her close and mussed her hair. "Heh, you're right. You're absolutely right."
She squirmed out of his arms and tore down the hall again, exclaiming "Papa is a princess!" Steiner barely had time to sigh in exasperation before he turned on his heel to give chase to the little princess, his armor clanking as he went. Zidane watched them dash into the courtyard with Weimar and Haagen belatedly joining in pursuit.
"Should I be jealous that you're too busy paying attention to other girls to notice me?" Dagger's voice came to him from over his shoulder. He jumped at the sound of it, startled.
"H-hey, you could've said something!" Dagger smiled and smoothed out her evening gown. It was dark and low-cut and clung to her in all the right places and he could not wait to get this damn premiere over with so he could come back home with her. "Whoa, you look great," he added.
"You look nice too," she said. "But should we really leave before saying good-night to her?"
Zidane shrugged. "We can be late."
She grinned again, shucked off her heels, and took his hand. Despite Beatrix's mounting protests, they ran into the garden.