MC The Kinslayer 01

Author's Note: This is a side project from the fic I've been working on steadily (Falling Into Infinity). I've actually got ideas for all the main cast of Final Fantasy 8 and will steadily be cranking them out as I write them down. I've merely started with my favorite from the cast. If anyone has specific requests for which character I write about next, feel free to let me know in reviews. This, and any subsequent fics I write, will take place after Falling Into Infinity. For those wondering why this is NC-17 in rating, there will be plenty of graphic violence and possibly graphic sex. If this sort of thing offends... well, avoid fics with this rating then, I guess.

However, I will be gone for about three weeks rather soon here, so I may be unable to upload anything new until then. Rest assured, I will have plenty of fanfic goodness to type up and upload when I return. Until then, I leave you with a prologue. --RaichuTec

The winds moaned mournfully through the stone and plaster walls, as if in denial over the events that had already occurred, weeping as it carried the scent of spilt blood and fresh violence. Boots crunched on plaster dust and broken glass, the slow and methodical step of the man of the house, Lothodien Badriana. Windows had shattered inward. Vases and decorations and tapestries lay where they tumbled to the ground, broken or torn and left scattered across the floor with the violent tremors that rocked the building. Servants lay in broken heaps, their bodies twisted abjectly like marionettes tossed aside by a cruel puppeteer. Glassy eyes left wide with the horrors they witnessed in their last living moments, they begged for their lives, only to have mercy denied them in the end.

To the bedroom at the end of the hall the footsteps continued, the doors falling off their hinges with the merest of touches. Lothodien smiled slightly, lips quirking to the left in a maniacally twisted expression. The stench in the room overpowered the most nonexistent ability to smell, enough to cause a man to evacuate his lunch by the mere assault on the senses, and not only the nose. The body on the marriage bed had been mutilated almost beyond recognition, save for the face of the woman lying there. Cornflower blue eyes stared at her husband accusingly, glaring even in death. Red hair, such beautiful red hair, stained now with the dark ichor of her life blood. Her bloated belly torn asunder, the child carried there was taken now, though he made no sound from his crib. Walking to the side of the bed, Lothodien leaned over and kissed her pallid, waxy forehead in a mockery of a husband's devotion.

"You have born me a proper heir, dear wife. I am so sorry you had to learn my legacy so late. Too late. But, you served me well," he whispered, as if somehow she still lived and could hear his words. Straightening, he strode toward the crib, to peer at the child that was his, a continuation of his bloodline. "And you, my son, will in inherit the power your mother tried to so hard to protect you from. But we are not our own, dear son. Not our o--"

He broke off as he stared over the side of the crib, stunned to find it empty. He timed things perfectly, embracing the Sanguinary only when he became aware of his son's birth here in this room. It was nigh impossible to escape the ravenous hunger of the Sanguinary once it devoured the the father and rebirthed the son, and never in the history of his family had an heir been spirited away. It simply did not happen. Turning sharply, he glared at the dead woman on the bed. Somehow she tricked him. Her accusing stare was now mocking him, her laughter ringing in his ears even as her lips were ashen and silent with death.

It was raining lightly as Edea arrived at the gate with Quistis in tow, holding the small girl by the hand as she toddled along beside her. Cid had spotted the form approaching the gate just a few minutes ago, and so the she felt it polite to meet this person at the entrance. With the war continuing to rage on between Esthar and Galbadia, she had quite a number of young children with her now, and she intended to see to their welfare, especially with rumors of experimentation on the youngsters floating around. Any who wished to take these children from her would find the wrath of a Sorceress seeing them to their graves rather quickly.

The figure was feminine, but stooped, her back bent with age. She wore a long dark cloak, the hood held over her face to shadow all but her mouth and chin, and a few straggled strands of grayish blue hair. She walked through the rain without acknowledging it, using a cane to keep herself steady as she moved across the rocky terrain toward the orphanage. In the crook of one arm was a bundle and as she came further into view, it became clear that bundle contained a child, a very young one. Another child orphaned to the war, or so Edea immediately assumed.

"I am, is this another orphan?" she asked quietly. Quistis stared up at the bundle in rapt fascination. A year in age now, and she was by far the oldest amongst the orphans with an incredible comprehension and inquisitiveness. There were five already, and Edea wasn't sure if she could take in another. She and Cid had pledged themselves toward protecting these children as they came, however, and she had no intentions of turning this woman away, or the child in her arms.

The old woman hesitated, looking at the child lovingly. Clearly there was a degree of emotional attachment. This was the child of a woman the hag dearly loved, almost as one would love a daughter. She hardly wanted to part with him, except that she knew the legacy surrounding his birth, what his future would hold if his father ever found him again. And Lothodien was relentless as a hound, hunting her even now. This was the babe's last chance, his best chance. Holding the bundled child out to Edea she nodded, finally.

"His parents are dead, I was their servant and I am too old to care for him. I had heard of your orphanage by word of mouth. Please, I beg you to see him to a good, loving home. I loved his mother as my own child."

Edea took the child into her arms, pushing back the rags to reveal a startlingly beautiful face with clear blue eyes staring up at her and a shock of reddish hair dusting his head. Most of her orphans were blue eyed, but this was the first to be such a redhead. She wondered how much of it he would keep as he grew older. "Such a beautiful child. His name?"

The old woman hesitated. "His mother died in childbirth, his father was dead long ago before then. He has no name. I pray you grant him a good one, in their memory." Holding out her hand, she then rested something atop the swaddling cloth, beads it appeared. She was lying, to an extent, for the boy's father was very much alive and had chosen a horrid name for him already, one she refused to tag him with for the rest of his days. "I cannot stay here much longer. Hyne bless you, Edea Kramer."

Though confused, Edea did not argue with the old woman, letting her turn then to drift away from the orphanage, disappearing into the wilderness of the Centra Continent. Looking toward the child again, she plucked at the beads curiously, finding it to be some sort of necklace, perhaps a reminder of who his parents were. A keepsake the Sorceress would give him later. Distracted suddenly by the sound of a small voice, Edea looked down. Quistis stood on her tiptoes practically, tugging at the Matron's skirt to get her attention. She wanted to see the baby.

"Well, it seems this baby doesn't have a name, Quistis. What shall we name him, hmm?" Edea asked as she knelt down beside the toddler, allowing her to peer at the child as she did. Looking utterly serene, the baby merely flicked his blue gaze from one to the other, finding them both interesting. The little girl stared at him for a long time, touching at his face out of curiousity with her small hands.

The orphanage was abandoned long ago, that much was evident. The house was in ruins, left to time and the elements to be ravaged and rot as the ocean met the land outside. Lothodien kicked aside a random toy as he strolled down the walkway toward the beach, listening to the distant cry of a seagull mingle with the rush of the waves crashing against the rocky shore. His son had been here, the feeling was ripe, and though much time had passed since the boy had left, the Sanguinary stirred the moment it recognized the old scent of a Badriana. The hag had been smart to abandon the child to a Sorceress. Who better to protect the boy from harm? Who better to distract the hound and leave him with no trail to follow?

Nothing lasts forever. Seventeen years had been allowed to pass without knowing of the child's whereabouts. Seventeen frustrating years. The boy was near to being a man, and knew nothing of his bloodline, or his duties to the Sanguinary. Now, however, Lothodien felt he might finally have picked up a trail long ago abandoned. The hound released again to seek out the lost cub and this time, oh this time there would be no stopping him.


	Standard Disclaimer: Final Fantasy characters and settings are property of Squaresoft. Author's Note: This is a side project from the fic I've been working on steadily (Falling Into Infinity). I've actually got ideas for all the main cast of Final Fantasy 8 and will steadily be cranking them out as I write them down. I've merely started with my favorite from the cast. If anyone has specific requests for which character I write about next, feel free to let me know in reviews. This, and any subsequent fics I write, will take place after Falling Into Infinity. For those wondering why this is NC-17 in rating, there will be plenty of graphic violence and possibly graphic sex. If this sort of thing offends... well, avoid fics with this rating then, I guess. However, I will be gone for about three weeks rather soon here, so I may be unable to upload anything new until then. Rest assured, I will have plenty of fanfic goodness to type up and upload when I return. Until then, I leave you with a prologue. --RaichuTec Prologue: The Kinslayer November, over eighteen years ago. The winds moaned mournfully through the stone and plaster walls, as if in denial over the events that had already occurred, weeping as it carried the scent of spilt blood and fresh violence. Boots crunched on plaster dust and broken glass, the slow and methodical step of the man of the house, Lothodien Badriana. Windows had shattered inward. Vases and decorations and tapestries lay where they tumbled to the ground, broken or torn and left scattered across the floor with the violent tremors that rocked the building. Servants lay in broken heaps, their bodies twisted abjectly like marionettes tossed aside by a cruel puppeteer. Glassy eyes left wide with the horrors they witnessed in their last living moments, they begged for their lives, only to have mercy denied them in the end. To the bedroom at the end of the hall the footsteps continued, the doors falling off their hinges with the merest of touches. Lothodien smiled slightly, lips quirking to the left in a maniacally twisted expression. The stench in the room overpowered the most nonexistent ability to smell, enough to cause a man to evacuate his lunch by the mere assault on the senses, and not only the nose. The body on the marriage bed had been mutilated almost beyond recognition, save for the face of the woman lying there. Cornflower blue eyes stared at her husband accusingly, glaring even in death. Red hair, such beautiful red hair, stained now with the dark ichor of her life blood. Her bloated belly torn asunder, the child carried there was taken now, though he made no sound from his crib. Walking to the side of the bed, Lothodien leaned over and kissed her pallid, waxy forehead in a mockery of a husband's devotion. "You have born me a proper heir, dear wife. I am so sorry you had to learn my legacy so late. Too late. But, you served me well," he whispered, as if somehow she still lived and could hear his words. Straightening, he strode toward the crib, to peer at the child that was his, a continuation of his bloodline. "And you, my son, will in inherit the power your mother tried to so hard to protect you from. But we are not our own, dear son. Not our o--" He broke off as he stared over the side of the crib, stunned to find it empty. He timed things perfectly, embracing the Sanguinary only when he became aware of his son's birth here in this room. It was nigh impossible to escape the ravenous hunger of the Sanguinary once it devoured the the father and rebirthed the son, and never in the history of his family had an heir been spirited away. It simply did not happen. Turning sharply, he glared at the dead woman on the bed. Somehow she tricked him. Her accusing stare was now mocking him, her laughter ringing in his ears even as her lips were ashen and silent with death. Lothodien's rage brought the building down around him. ************************************************************************* It was raining lightly as Edea arrived at the gate with Quistis in tow, holding the small girl by the hand as she toddled along beside her. Cid had spotted the form approaching the gate just a few minutes ago, and so the she felt it polite to meet this person at the entrance. With the war continuing to rage on between Esthar and Galbadia, she had quite a number of young children with her now, and she intended to see to their welfare, especially with rumors of experimentation on the youngsters floating around. Any who wished to take these children from her would find the wrath of a Sorceress seeing them to their graves rather quickly. The figure was feminine, but stooped, her back bent with age. She wore a long dark cloak, the hood held over her face to shadow all but her mouth and chin, and a few straggled strands of grayish blue hair. She walked through the rain without acknowledging it, using a cane to keep herself steady as she moved across the rocky terrain toward the orphanage. In the crook of one arm was a bundle and as she came further into view, it became clear that bundle contained a child, a very young one. Another child orphaned to the war, or so Edea immediately assumed. "Edea Kramer?" the old woman asked, lifting her face to reveal her haggard appearance. "I am, is this another orphan?" she asked quietly. Quistis stared up at the bundle in rapt fascination. A year in age now, and she was by far the oldest amongst the orphans with an incredible comprehension and inquisitiveness. There were five already, and Edea wasn't sure if she could take in another. She and Cid had pledged themselves toward protecting these children as they came, however, and she had no intentions of turning this woman away, or the child in her arms. The old woman hesitated, looking at the child lovingly. Clearly there was a degree of emotional attachment. This was the child of a woman the hag dearly loved, almost as one would love a daughter. She hardly wanted to part with him, except that she knew the legacy surrounding his birth, what his future would hold if his father ever found him again. And Lothodien was relentless as a hound, hunting her even now. This was the babe's last chance, his best chance. Holding the bundled child out to Edea she nodded, finally. "His parents are dead, I was their servant and I am too old to care for him. I had heard of your orphanage by word of mouth. Please, I beg you to see him to a good, loving home. I loved his mother as my own child." Edea took the child into her arms, pushing back the rags to reveal a startlingly beautiful face with clear blue eyes staring up at her and a shock of reddish hair dusting his head. Most of her orphans were blue eyed, but this was the first to be such a redhead. She wondered how much of it he would keep as he grew older. "Such a beautiful child. His name?" The old woman hesitated. "His mother died in childbirth, his father was dead long ago before then. He has no name. I pray you grant him a good one, in their memory." Holding out her hand, she then rested something atop the swaddling cloth, beads it appeared. She was lying, to an extent, for the boy's father was very much alive and had chosen a horrid name for him already, one she refused to tag him with for the rest of his days. "I cannot stay here much longer. Hyne bless you, Edea Kramer." Though confused, Edea did not argue with the old woman, letting her turn then to drift away from the orphanage, disappearing into the wilderness of the Centra Continent. Looking toward the child again, she plucked at the beads curiously, finding it to be some sort of necklace, perhaps a reminder of who his parents were. A keepsake the Sorceress would give him later. Distracted suddenly by the sound of a small voice, Edea looked down. Quistis stood on her tiptoes practically, tugging at the Matron's skirt to get her attention. She wanted to see the baby. "Well, it seems this baby doesn't have a name, Quistis. What shall we name him, hmm?" Edea asked as she knelt down beside the toddler, allowing her to peer at the child as she did. Looking utterly serene, the baby merely flicked his blue gaze from one to the other, finding them both interesting. The little girl stared at him for a long time, touching at his face out of curiousity with her small hands. "Irvine." Seventeen years later. The orphanage was abandoned long ago, that much was evident. The house was in ruins, left to time and the elements to be ravaged and rot as the ocean met the land outside. Lothodien kicked aside a random toy as he strolled down the walkway toward the beach, listening to the distant cry of a seagull mingle with the rush of the waves crashing against the rocky shore. His son had been here, the feeling was ripe, and though much time had passed since the boy had left, the Sanguinary stirred the moment it recognized the old scent of a Badriana. The hag had been smart to abandon the child to a Sorceress. Who better to protect the boy from harm? Who better to distract the hound and leave him with no trail to follow? Nothing lasts forever. Seventeen years had been allowed to pass without knowing of the child's whereabouts. Seventeen frustrating years. The boy was near to being a man, and knew nothing of his bloodline, or his duties to the Sanguinary. Now, however, Lothodien felt he might finally have picked up a trail long ago abandoned. The hound released again to seek out the lost cub and this time, oh this time there would be no stopping him. NExT...