DESCRIPTION: This short fanfic centers around handsome Izlude, who happens to be my favorite villain from FFT. When I saw the scene at the Orbonne Monastery where Wiegraf is injured and Izlude hesitates before fleeing, I had this ‘what if?’ inspiration. What if Izlude, Wiegraf, Miluda, and Meliadoul were childhood best friends? This story is set in that ‘what if?’ situation. Enjoy!
***It contains spoilers from the game (about Miluda).***

Moonlight illuminated the pale, handsome countenance of Izlude Tingel against the mirror. The young Temple Knight grimaced at his reflection, as he always did, and quickly drew cover cloth over the glass surface. He couldn't stand his face, so sharp and stoic. Every night, he would awake with a start from a bloody nightmare, and go check himself out at the full-length mirror. And every night, his face would look colder than the night before. It was a vicious cycle.

Guilt trip, Izlude? Probably that young woman you killed today.

The Knight Blade chuckled darkly at himself, remembering the pleas of a maid his age before he separated her head from the body. She had been a heretic, and he had been her executioner from the Church. There was nothing for him to feel guilty over, yet he had the recurring nightmare of blood. He had them whenever he killed a defenseless civilian.

His whole body trembled, and he hugged himself. He felt as if he was turning into a monster, a blood-thirsty, unfeeling ogre who lived only to kill. Slowly, he escaped into the bed, curling up under the heavy coverlet like a child.

Miluda, Wiegraf, come back. I need you two to remain human.

Izlude closed his dark eyes, reminiscing on the war-filled but happier childhood days. Miluda, Wiegraf, Meliadoul and himself were best friends, having grown up together during the Fifty Year War. Memories of innocent years brought momentary peace to Izlude's mind. Sighing, he drifted off to sleep, this time, a dreamless slumber.

"Izlude!"

The Knight Blade ceased his steps, and turned to face the well-acquainted caller. His normally stoic look lit up in a smile for Wiegraf Folles.

"Wiegraf. You have returned!" Having said that much in merriment, Izlude noticed the unnatural paleness of the White Knight's manly face. The older knight approached in a steady, almost mindless steps, before stopping a foot away from the younger friend.

"Wiegraf? Is something wrong? ...Where is Miluda, didn't she come back with you?" The dark- haired young man mentioned the blond's sister, who was supposed to have returned also.

"...Miluda is dead." Wiegraf whispered raggedly.

"W-What are you saying...? Miluda can't be..." Izlude doubted his ears, but he couldn't doubt the unmistakable grief in his best friend's cobalt eyes.

"She is gone, Izlude. The youngest Beoulve brat killed her today." The White Knight repeated with a strong undertone of anger and hatred against the aristocratic murderer. He blushed past the silent Izlude, and walked away.

"Wiegraf... Oh God, Miluda...!" Izlude thought of the beautiful young Fencer, her ever-serious expression and headstrong character. She was gone forever, will never smile or laugh with him again. He anticipated tears, yet none rolled down his pale cheeks. He felt hollow; why couldn't he cry? Numbly, he leaned against the wall, and sagged to the carpeted floor.

Why can't I cry for you, Miluda?

In a state of shock at his inhuman reaction, Izlude drew up his knees and rested his head upon them. Still, he couldn't shed a tear; after years of pushing back his emotions, he wondered if he had lost the ability to grieve. His breath choked in his throat, and Izlude sobbed uncontrollably, the strange dry sobs.

How he managed to return to his room, Izlude didn't know. When he had ceased the violent trembling, he found himself back upon the cold bed, curled up like the night before. The sun had set many hours ago, and only the slight rays of moonlight lit up the simply furnished room.

"Miluda..., I'm sorry." The young knight whispered raggedly.

Izlude pushed the loose strands of dark tresses off his forehead, and sat up wearily. His sharp eyes unintentionally caught sight of the large mirror. The cover he had drawn over it had fallen off from the wind; glistening surface reflected the image of handsome Knight Blade. Izlude inspected himself, with blood-shot cold eyes and emotionless, blank expression.

So cold. Am I finally losing myself to the bloodshed?

Intent to cover up the unwanted mirage, the Knight Blade staggered to the mirror. Up close, his double stared back at him taunting. Izlude flinched at the comely demon.

"...I am not you..." He muttered low. A sudden pang of self-disgust made him swing back a clenched fist and smash it against the glassy surface at full force. The mirror shattered into countless pieces, shards flying everywhere. One glazed Izlude's right cheek, creating an immediate flow of blood. Others embedded against his fist, damaging it mildly.

"...I am not... you..." Izlude repeated unconvincedly. Pain made him feel even more miserable; seeing the red liquid flowing out of his hand, he dubbed it with blood of the young woman he had slain. The first deathly image led to another, countless faces of those he had killed over the years, and finally, that of beautiful Miluda Folles. Her smile, a special expression she only showed her three childhood friends, was stained crimson. With a scream, Izlude shook the horrific picture out of his mind.

"Oh God, no, no, no!!"

He rammed his head against the nearby wall, hoping to rid of his madness. It didn't help much, though. The impact only made the Temple Knight lightheaded, and he collapsed upon the awaiting bed, half faint. He clawed upon the sheets, feeling helpless and hating it. He was being consumed by the inner demon.

"Help me, please. Sister, Miluda, Wiegraf..., please..." Desperately, the fair knight clung to the pleasant memories as if they were his last resort. But all the sweet reminiscence involved Miluda, and only pained him more with the reminder of her death. At that moment, all his mental security broke down; he was struck with the realization that he could never return to the childhood days lacking the blond Fencer.

I had hoped to return... After bringing up the Zodiac Braves and restoring the world to its rightful state, I wanted to be with Wiegraf and Miluda and sister. All the murders I committed, I could bear the guilt because I had that wish. Now...

All was lost. Izlude buried his face against the heatless blanket, and screamed like an enraged infant.

Wiegraf sat up in his bed, and concentrated his auditory senses. He was sure that he just heard Izlude scream. A faint noise of something shatter had roused him from a troubled slumber, and it had been followed by a short outcry. After a short, silent break, the White Knight heard a dull thud of something hitting the wall. It was coming from the direction of the Knight Blade's chamber, located several rooms away.

Izlude?

Worry outlined the older Temple Knight's face. He had lost his only sister today, and even a slight thought of losing Izlude, too, made him paranoid. Hastily, Wiegraf got out of the bed and grabbed the lamp on the bedside table. He was out of his room without a moment's delay.

Damn, why did I leave him alone?! He must be hurting from Miluda's death just as much as me. Miluda was like a sister to him, an irreplaceable best friend!

Wiegraf cursed himself for having been caught up with his grief. That moment, muffled screams filled the tranquil hallway. It was unmistakably Izlude's voice, coming from his bedroom. Wiegraf broke into a sprint, and reached the closed door in a split second.

"Izlude, what's wrong!?" The White Knight banged upon the wooden entrance. The non- stopping scream convinced him that Izlude was unable to answer. He opened it without hesitation, and a familiar smell of blood invaded his nostrils. "Izlude!? Oh God..."

In the dark room, Wiegraf made out the shape of his best friend upon the bed. The slender figure was clutching the blanket with trembling arms, screaming into the muffling sheets. With a help of dim moonlight, the blond knight saw that Izlude's hand was smeared with blood. The full-length mirror located across the bed had been shattered completely; razor-like shards were everywhere on the floor. Immediately, Wiegraf connected the two observations together.

"What have you done to yourself?!" The older man rushed to the frenzied Knight Blade and took him in his arms. Izlude was limp, despite his iron grip on the sheets, and let himself be held without resistance. The screams ceased in the embrace, and were replaced by tearless sobs. Wiegraf tried to peel the rigid fists away from the coverlet, careful not to inflict pain on the injured hand. That proved a difficult task.

"Izlude, let me take a look at your hand. Let go of the sheets." Wiegraf crooned softly against the young knight's ear, and noticed a trail of blood on his cheek. "Let go, Izlude. If you need something to hold on to, hold on to me. I'm Wiegraf, come on, look at me."

The younger Temple Knight finally focused his sharp eyes at Wiegraf, and the acknowledgment restored some amount of sanity back to him. The White Knight stroked his best friend's back reassuringly, and once again urged him to release the sheets. Slowly, the long fingers uncurled.

"W-Wiegraf, I... I..."

"Shh, don't talk. Just hold on to me and let me tend to your injuries." Using the lamp, Wiegraf took better look at the torn knuckles. As gently as he could, he plied the small pieces of glass out of the skin. Izlude only flinched at the painful plucks. When he was done, the blond knight cast a first-aid Cure on the damaged hand, closing the wound completely. He did the same to the slashed cheek.

"You punched the mirror, didn't you? Why did you do that?"

"I-I'm turning into a d-demon... Please, Wiegraf, h-help..." Izlude hyperventilated slightly and clutched hard upon the front of the older knight's shirt.

"Demon? You are no demon, Izlude. What made you think that?" The White Knight wiped caking blood off of Izlude's cheek. He cradled the younger man, surprised inside that the Knight Blade was acting so childishly weak. Wiegraf didn't think less of his best friend, though; with strange innocence and sensitive mind, Izlude was still somewhat a child.

"Can't c-cry for M-Miluda. I w-want to g-grieve for her, b-but..." The dark Temple Knight trailed off with a choke. Wiegraf understood finally what was upsetting Izlude. The younger knight looked at the blond with desperation. "I'm b-becoming an unfeeling d-demon, am I n- not?"

"You are grieving right now. Sometimes, when the loss is too great, tears won't come out. It's all right, Izlude."

You mourn for my sister in the same way as me. The feeling is too hollow, too terrible for the tears to express.

Wiegraf had lost others in the past, his parents slain during the Fifty Years War. Although the pain of loss never alleviated with experience, his ability to control himself grew. He couldn't shed a tear for his sister because the grief was too great, but he wasn't consumed by it. Izlude, on the other hand, had never experienced such loss. It was gnawing at him inside and out.

"It's all right..." With a brotherly murmur, Wiegraf continued to embrace his trembling best friend.

Stinging rays of sunlight irritated Izlude's closed eyes, pulling him out of the senseless drowse. He was laying upon his bed, neatly tucked under the coverlet.

...I must have fallen asleep while Wiegraf was here. Oh, he went through the trouble of changing me into a nightshirt...

Izlude checked himself out sheepishly; his hand and cheek had been wiped clean, and he was clad in a crisp sleep wear. Dull pain in his forehead and throat reminded him of his outburst the night before. The empty feeling over the loss of Miluda was still throbbing within him, but he felt considerably calmer.

"You are awake. Feeling any better, Izlude?"

"...Wiegraf!?"

The young Knight Blade sent about a searching gaze, and found his blond friend sitting up on the couch nearby. It was obvious that Wiegraf had spent the night in his room, wrapped up in a spare blanket and looking stiff-necked.

"Wiegraf, you stayed?" The young Knight Blade asked guiltily.

"I didn't want to leave you alone. You do look more collected now; will you be all right?" Dragging the blanket over his shoulders, the White Knight walked over to Izlude's side. "I have to leave in an hour or so on another mission. Sir Vormav's orders."

"I will be fine. I'm sorry about last night, Wiegraf, I acted so weak..."

"No need for apology, friend. It meant a lot to me that someone besides myself grieves for Miluda." Wiegraf said in a sad, controlled voice. Pain resurfaced in both knights' eyes, as they thought of the blond Fencer. Izlude hung his head slightly, and sighed deep.

"Does... sister know?"

"I sent her a message. She should get it in a day or two."

"She will be shocked."

"I believe so, too. Meliadoul was the closest person to a female relative for Miluda."

Izlude wondered if his sister would face the loss in a similar manner to himself. The two of them had similar personalities, although Meliadoul was stricter and more uptight. Knowing his sister, Izlude was sure that she would take Miluda's death hard.

"What did father order you to do, Wiegraf?" The younger Temple Knight inquired with a trace of worry. He was being paranoid after the tragedy.

"Go after the one who killed Miluda. Ramza Beoulve, I believe. I'll have his head by tomorrow, Izlude." Wiegraf said grimly, twisted anticipation apparent in his voice.

"Too bad I don't get to participate," Izlude murmured with equally dark anticipation. "Later today, I have to depart in search for the Zodiac Stone. Father's orders."

"The old Monastery by the Ziltennia? Or the Orbonne?"

"Both. I was granted permission to slay whoever stands in my way. Funny, considering we are all part of the Church." The Knight Blade commented darkly. He wondered how many lives he would have to take to acquire the magic stone. The Zodiac Stones were distributed all over the continent, most hidden away in the treasure chests of the Church Monasteries. Vormav had ordered his son to retrieve them all.

"Necessary sacrifices. The Zodiac Stones must come into Sir Vormav's hands before we can change this world. ‘Then, we will bring forth the true paradise, where all the aristocrats will be dead and the commoners will prosper equally'." Wiegraf quoted the dark knight's father exactly.

Izlude nodded silently, chiding himself for the weakness.

Miluda, I'll fight for you, for your goals as well as mine. After the bloodshed, there will be a new world for the commoners to live in.

"I'll be going, then, Izlude." Wiegraf neatly folded the blanket, and placed it on the couch. He turned to leave.

"Good luck, Wiegraf." Izlude called after his best friend, who nodded, and exited the room. Alone, the young knight dressed in his green Temple Knight garb and readied his blade at the waist belt. He had a long day ahead of him, and it was time to depart. The notion of killing fellow Church members did not bother him any longer.

If I must become a demon to fulfill Miluda's, and mine, wish, then so be it. I will not be weak; no tears, Izlude...

Silently, the Knight Blade left his room, leaving all his uncertainties behind.

What did you think of this little piece? Nice? Horrible? Too much depression going on? Or Whatever? Please send your feedback to littlemaiko.

DESCRIPTION: This short fanfic centers around handsome Izlude, who happens to be my favorite villain from FFT. When I saw the scene at the Orbonne Monastery where Wiegraf is injured and Izlude hesitates before fleeing, I had this ‘what if?’ inspiration. What if Izlude, Wiegraf, Miluda, and Meliadoul were childhood best friends? This story is set in that ‘what if?’ situation. Enjoy!
***It contains spoilers from the game (about Miluda).***

Moonlight illuminated the pale, handsome countenance of Izlude Tingel against the mirror. The young Temple Knight grimaced at his reflection, as he always did, and quickly drew cover cloth over the glass surface. He couldn't stand his face, so sharp and stoic. Every night, he would awake with a start from a bloody nightmare, and go check himself out at the full-length mirror. And every night, his face would look colder than the night before. It was a vicious cycle.

Guilt trip, Izlude? Probably that young woman you killed today.

The Knight Blade chuckled darkly at himself, remembering the pleas of a maid his age before he separated her head from the body. She had been a heretic, and he had been her executioner from the Church. There was nothing for him to feel guilty over, yet he had the recurring nightmare of blood. He had them whenever he killed a defenseless civilian.

His whole body trembled, and he hugged himself. He felt as if he was turning into a monster, a blood-thirsty, unfeeling ogre who lived only to kill. Slowly, he escaped into the bed, curling up under the heavy coverlet like a child.

Miluda, Wiegraf, come back. I need you two to remain human.

Izlude closed his dark eyes, reminiscing on the war-filled but happier childhood days. Miluda, Wiegraf, Meliadoul and himself were best friends, having grown up together during the Fifty Year War. Memories of innocent years brought momentary peace to Izlude's mind. Sighing, he drifted off to sleep, this time, a dreamless slumber.

"Izlude!"

The Knight Blade ceased his steps, and turned to face the well-acquainted caller. His normally stoic look lit up in a smile for Wiegraf Folles.

"Wiegraf. You have returned!" Having said that much in merriment, Izlude noticed the unnatural paleness of the White Knight's manly face. The older knight approached in a steady, almost mindless steps, before stopping a foot away from the younger friend.

"Wiegraf? Is something wrong? ...Where is Miluda, didn't she come back with you?" The dark- haired young man mentioned the blond's sister, who was supposed to have returned also.

"...Miluda is dead." Wiegraf whispered raggedly.

"W-What are you saying...? Miluda can't be..." Izlude doubted his ears, but he couldn't doubt the unmistakable grief in his best friend's cobalt eyes.

"She is gone, Izlude. The youngest Beoulve brat killed her today." The White Knight repeated with a strong undertone of anger and hatred against the aristocratic murderer. He blushed past the silent Izlude, and walked away.

"Wiegraf... Oh God, Miluda...!" Izlude thought of the beautiful young Fencer, her ever-serious expression and headstrong character. She was gone forever, will never smile or laugh with him again. He anticipated tears, yet none rolled down his pale cheeks. He felt hollow; why couldn't he cry? Numbly, he leaned against the wall, and sagged to the carpeted floor.

Why can't I cry for you, Miluda?

In a state of shock at his inhuman reaction, Izlude drew up his knees and rested his head upon them. Still, he couldn't shed a tear; after years of pushing back his emotions, he wondered if he had lost the ability to grieve. His breath choked in his throat, and Izlude sobbed uncontrollably, the strange dry sobs.

How he managed to return to his room, Izlude didn't know. When he had ceased the violent trembling, he found himself back upon the cold bed, curled up like the night before. The sun had set many hours ago, and only the slight rays of moonlight lit up the simply furnished room.

"Miluda..., I'm sorry." The young knight whispered raggedly.

Izlude pushed the loose strands of dark tresses off his forehead, and sat up wearily. His sharp eyes unintentionally caught sight of the large mirror. The cover he had drawn over it had fallen off from the wind; glistening surface reflected the image of handsome Knight Blade. Izlude inspected himself, with blood-shot cold eyes and emotionless, blank expression.

So cold. Am I finally losing myself to the bloodshed?

Intent to cover up the unwanted mirage, the Knight Blade staggered to the mirror. Up close, his double stared back at him taunting. Izlude flinched at the comely demon.

"...I am not you..." He muttered low. A sudden pang of self-disgust made him swing back a clenched fist and smash it against the glassy surface at full force. The mirror shattered into countless pieces, shards flying everywhere. One glazed Izlude's right cheek, creating an immediate flow of blood. Others embedded against his fist, damaging it mildly.

"...I am not... you..." Izlude repeated unconvincedly. Pain made him feel even more miserable; seeing the red liquid flowing out of his hand, he dubbed it with blood of the young woman he had slain. The first deathly image led to another, countless faces of those he had killed over the years, and finally, that of beautiful Miluda Folles. Her smile, a special expression she only showed her three childhood friends, was stained crimson. With a scream, Izlude shook the horrific picture out of his mind.

"Oh God, no, no, no!!"

He rammed his head against the nearby wall, hoping to rid of his madness. It didn't help much, though. The impact only made the Temple Knight lightheaded, and he collapsed upon the awaiting bed, half faint. He clawed upon the sheets, feeling helpless and hating it. He was being consumed by the inner demon.

"Help me, please. Sister, Miluda, Wiegraf..., please..." Desperately, the fair knight clung to the pleasant memories as if they were his last resort. But all the sweet reminiscence involved Miluda, and only pained him more with the reminder of her death. At that moment, all his mental security broke down; he was struck with the realization that he could never return to the childhood days lacking the blond Fencer.

I had hoped to return... After bringing up the Zodiac Braves and restoring the world to its rightful state, I wanted to be with Wiegraf and Miluda and sister. All the murders I committed, I could bear the guilt because I had that wish. Now...

All was lost. Izlude buried his face against the heatless blanket, and screamed like an enraged infant.

Wiegraf sat up in his bed, and concentrated his auditory senses. He was sure that he just heard Izlude scream. A faint noise of something shatter had roused him from a troubled slumber, and it had been followed by a short outcry. After a short, silent break, the White Knight heard a dull thud of something hitting the wall. It was coming from the direction of the Knight Blade's chamber, located several rooms away.

Izlude?

Worry outlined the older Temple Knight's face. He had lost his only sister today, and even a slight thought of losing Izlude, too, made him paranoid. Hastily, Wiegraf got out of the bed and grabbed the lamp on the bedside table. He was out of his room without a moment's delay.

Damn, why did I leave him alone?! He must be hurting from Miluda's death just as much as me. Miluda was like a sister to him, an irreplaceable best friend!

Wiegraf cursed himself for having been caught up with his grief. That moment, muffled screams filled the tranquil hallway. It was unmistakably Izlude's voice, coming from his bedroom. Wiegraf broke into a sprint, and reached the closed door in a split second.

"Izlude, what's wrong!?" The White Knight banged upon the wooden entrance. The non- stopping scream convinced him that Izlude was unable to answer. He opened it without hesitation, and a familiar smell of blood invaded his nostrils. "Izlude!? Oh God..."

In the dark room, Wiegraf made out the shape of his best friend upon the bed. The slender figure was clutching the blanket with trembling arms, screaming into the muffling sheets. With a help of dim moonlight, the blond knight saw that Izlude's hand was smeared with blood. The full-length mirror located across the bed had been shattered completely; razor-like shards were everywhere on the floor. Immediately, Wiegraf connected the two observations together.

"What have you done to yourself?!" The older man rushed to the frenzied Knight Blade and took him in his arms. Izlude was limp, despite his iron grip on the sheets, and let himself be held without resistance. The screams ceased in the embrace, and were replaced by tearless sobs. Wiegraf tried to peel the rigid fists away from the coverlet, careful not to inflict pain on the injured hand. That proved a difficult task.

"Izlude, let me take a look at your hand. Let go of the sheets." Wiegraf crooned softly against the young knight's ear, and noticed a trail of blood on his cheek. "Let go, Izlude. If you need something to hold on to, hold on to me. I'm Wiegraf, come on, look at me."

The younger Temple Knight finally focused his sharp eyes at Wiegraf, and the acknowledgment restored some amount of sanity back to him. The White Knight stroked his best friend's back reassuringly, and once again urged him to release the sheets. Slowly, the long fingers uncurled.

"W-Wiegraf, I... I..."

"Shh, don't talk. Just hold on to me and let me tend to your injuries." Using the lamp, Wiegraf took better look at the torn knuckles. As gently as he could, he plied the small pieces of glass out of the skin. Izlude only flinched at the painful plucks. When he was done, the blond knight cast a first-aid Cure on the damaged hand, closing the wound completely. He did the same to the slashed cheek.

"You punched the mirror, didn't you? Why did you do that?"

"I-I'm turning into a d-demon... Please, Wiegraf, h-help..." Izlude hyperventilated slightly and clutched hard upon the front of the older knight's shirt.

"Demon? You are no demon, Izlude. What made you think that?" The White Knight wiped caking blood off of Izlude's cheek. He cradled the younger man, surprised inside that the Knight Blade was acting so childishly weak. Wiegraf didn't think less of his best friend, though; with strange innocence and sensitive mind, Izlude was still somewhat a child.

"Can't c-cry for M-Miluda. I w-want to g-grieve for her, b-but..." The dark Temple Knight trailed off with a choke. Wiegraf understood finally what was upsetting Izlude. The younger knight looked at the blond with desperation. "I'm b-becoming an unfeeling d-demon, am I n- not?"

"You are grieving right now. Sometimes, when the loss is too great, tears won't come out. It's all right, Izlude."

You mourn for my sister in the same way as me. The feeling is too hollow, too terrible for the tears to express.

Wiegraf had lost others in the past, his parents slain during the Fifty Years War. Although the pain of loss never alleviated with experience, his ability to control himself grew. He couldn't shed a tear for his sister because the grief was too great, but he wasn't consumed by it. Izlude, on the other hand, had never experienced such loss. It was gnawing at him inside and out.

"It's all right..." With a brotherly murmur, Wiegraf continued to embrace his trembling best friend.

Stinging rays of sunlight irritated Izlude's closed eyes, pulling him out of the senseless drowse. He was laying upon his bed, neatly tucked under the coverlet.

...I must have fallen asleep while Wiegraf was here. Oh, he went through the trouble of changing me into a nightshirt...

Izlude checked himself out sheepishly; his hand and cheek had been wiped clean, and he was clad in a crisp sleep wear. Dull pain in his forehead and throat reminded him of his outburst the night before. The empty feeling over the loss of Miluda was still throbbing within him, but he felt considerably calmer.

"You are awake. Feeling any better, Izlude?"

"...Wiegraf!?"

The young Knight Blade sent about a searching gaze, and found his blond friend sitting up on the couch nearby. It was obvious that Wiegraf had spent the night in his room, wrapped up in a spare blanket and looking stiff-necked.

"Wiegraf, you stayed?" The young Knight Blade asked guiltily.

"I didn't want to leave you alone. You do look more collected now; will you be all right?" Dragging the blanket over his shoulders, the White Knight walked over to Izlude's side. "I have to leave in an hour or so on another mission. Sir Vormav's orders."

"I will be fine. I'm sorry about last night, Wiegraf, I acted so weak..."

"No need for apology, friend. It meant a lot to me that someone besides myself grieves for Miluda." Wiegraf said in a sad, controlled voice. Pain resurfaced in both knights' eyes, as they thought of the blond Fencer. Izlude hung his head slightly, and sighed deep.

"Does... sister know?"

"I sent her a message. She should get it in a day or two."

"She will be shocked."

"I believe so, too. Meliadoul was the closest person to a female relative for Miluda."

Izlude wondered if his sister would face the loss in a similar manner to himself. The two of them had similar personalities, although Meliadoul was stricter and more uptight. Knowing his sister, Izlude was sure that she would take Miluda's death hard.

"What did father order you to do, Wiegraf?" The younger Temple Knight inquired with a trace of worry. He was being paranoid after the tragedy.

"Go after the one who killed Miluda. Ramza Beoulve, I believe. I'll have his head by tomorrow, Izlude." Wiegraf said grimly, twisted anticipation apparent in his voice.

"Too bad I don't get to participate," Izlude murmured with equally dark anticipation. "Later today, I have to depart in search for the Zodiac Stone. Father's orders."

"The old Monastery by the Ziltennia? Or the Orbonne?"

"Both. I was granted permission to slay whoever stands in my way. Funny, considering we are all part of the Church." The Knight Blade commented darkly. He wondered how many lives he would have to take to acquire the magic stone. The Zodiac Stones were distributed all over the continent, most hidden away in the treasure chests of the Church Monasteries. Vormav had ordered his son to retrieve them all.

"Necessary sacrifices. The Zodiac Stones must come into Sir Vormav's hands before we can change this world. ‘Then, we will bring forth the true paradise, where all the aristocrats will be dead and the commoners will prosper equally'." Wiegraf quoted the dark knight's father exactly.

Izlude nodded silently, chiding himself for the weakness.

Miluda, I'll fight for you, for your goals as well as mine. After the bloodshed, there will be a new world for the commoners to live in.

"I'll be going, then, Izlude." Wiegraf neatly folded the blanket, and placed it on the couch. He turned to leave.

"Good luck, Wiegraf." Izlude called after his best friend, who nodded, and exited the room. Alone, the young knight dressed in his green Temple Knight garb and readied his blade at the waist belt. He had a long day ahead of him, and it was time to depart. The notion of killing fellow Church members did not bother him any longer.

If I must become a demon to fulfill Miluda's, and mine, wish, then so be it. I will not be weak; no tears, Izlude...

Silently, the Knight Blade left his room, leaving all his uncertainties behind.

What did you think of this little piece? Nice? Horrible? Too much depression going on? Or Whatever? Please send your feedback to littlemaiko.

DESCRIPTION: This short fanfic centers around handsome Izlude, who happens to be my favorite villain from FFT. When I saw the scene at the Orbonne Monastery where Wiegraf is injured and Izlude hesitates before fleeing, I had this ‘what if?’ inspiration. What if Izlude, Wiegraf, Miluda, and Meliadoul were childhood best friends? This story is set in that ‘what if?’ situation. Enjoy!
***It contains spoilers from the game (about Miluda).***

Moonlight illuminated the pale, handsome countenance of Izlude Tingel against the mirror. The young Temple Knight grimaced at his reflection, as he always did, and quickly drew cover cloth over the glass surface. He couldn't stand his face, so sharp and stoic. Every night, he would awake with a start from a bloody nightmare, and go check himself out at the full-length mirror. And every night, his face would look colder than the night before. It was a vicious cycle.

Guilt trip, Izlude? Probably that young woman you killed today.

The Knight Blade chuckled darkly at himself, remembering the pleas of a maid his age before he separated her head from the body. She had been a heretic, and he had been her executioner from the Church. There was nothing for him to feel guilty over, yet he had the recurring nightmare of blood. He had them whenever he killed a defenseless civilian.

His whole body trembled, and he hugged himself. He felt as if he was turning into a monster, a blood-thirsty, unfeeling ogre who lived only to kill. Slowly, he escaped into the bed, curling up under the heavy coverlet like a child.

Miluda, Wiegraf, come back. I need you two to remain human.

Izlude closed his dark eyes, reminiscing on the war-filled but happier childhood days. Miluda, Wiegraf, Meliadoul and himself were best friends, having grown up together during the Fifty Year War. Memories of innocent years brought momentary peace to Izlude's mind. Sighing, he drifted off to sleep, this time, a dreamless slumber.

"Izlude!"

The Knight Blade ceased his steps, and turned to face the well-acquainted caller. His normally stoic look lit up in a smile for Wiegraf Folles.

"Wiegraf. You have returned!" Having said that much in merriment, Izlude noticed the unnatural paleness of the White Knight's manly face. The older knight approached in a steady, almost mindless steps, before stopping a foot away from the younger friend.

"Wiegraf? Is something wrong? ...Where is Miluda, didn't she come back with you?" The dark- haired young man mentioned the blond's sister, who was supposed to have returned also.

"...Miluda is dead." Wiegraf whispered raggedly.

"W-What are you saying...? Miluda can't be..." Izlude doubted his ears, but he couldn't doubt the unmistakable grief in his best friend's cobalt eyes.

"She is gone, Izlude. The youngest Beoulve brat killed her today." The White Knight repeated with a strong undertone of anger and hatred against the aristocratic murderer. He blushed past the silent Izlude, and walked away.

"Wiegraf... Oh God, Miluda...!" Izlude thought of the beautiful young Fencer, her ever-serious expression and headstrong character. She was gone forever, will never smile or laugh with him again. He anticipated tears, yet none rolled down his pale cheeks. He felt hollow; why couldn't he cry? Numbly, he leaned against the wall, and sagged to the carpeted floor.

Why can't I cry for you, Miluda?

In a state of shock at his inhuman reaction, Izlude drew up his knees and rested his head upon them. Still, he couldn't shed a tear; after years of pushing back his emotions, he wondered if he had lost the ability to grieve. His breath choked in his throat, and Izlude sobbed uncontrollably, the strange dry sobs.

How he managed to return to his room, Izlude didn't know. When he had ceased the violent trembling, he found himself back upon the cold bed, curled up like the night before. The sun had set many hours ago, and only the slight rays of moonlight lit up the simply furnished room.

"Miluda..., I'm sorry." The young knight whispered raggedly.

Izlude pushed the loose strands of dark tresses off his forehead, and sat up wearily. His sharp eyes unintentionally caught sight of the large mirror. The cover he had drawn over it had fallen off from the wind; glistening surface reflected the image of handsome Knight Blade. Izlude inspected himself, with blood-shot cold eyes and emotionless, blank expression.

So cold. Am I finally losing myself to the bloodshed?

Intent to cover up the unwanted mirage, the Knight Blade staggered to the mirror. Up close, his double stared back at him taunting. Izlude flinched at the comely demon.

"...I am not you..." He muttered low. A sudden pang of self-disgust made him swing back a clenched fist and smash it against the glassy surface at full force. The mirror shattered into countless pieces, shards flying everywhere. One glazed Izlude's right cheek, creating an immediate flow of blood. Others embedded against his fist, damaging it mildly.

"...I am not... you..." Izlude repeated unconvincedly. Pain made him feel even more miserable; seeing the red liquid flowing out of his hand, he dubbed it with blood of the young woman he had slain. The first deathly image led to another, countless faces of those he had killed over the years, and finally, that of beautiful Miluda Folles. Her smile, a special expression she only showed her three childhood friends, was stained crimson. With a scream, Izlude shook the horrific picture out of his mind.

"Oh God, no, no, no!!"

He rammed his head against the nearby wall, hoping to rid of his madness. It didn't help much, though. The impact only made the Temple Knight lightheaded, and he collapsed upon the awaiting bed, half faint. He clawed upon the sheets, feeling helpless and hating it. He was being consumed by the inner demon.

"Help me, please. Sister, Miluda, Wiegraf..., please..." Desperately, the fair knight clung to the pleasant memories as if they were his last resort. But all the sweet reminiscence involved Miluda, and only pained him more with the reminder of her death. At that moment, all his mental security broke down; he was struck with the realization that he could never return to the childhood days lacking the blond Fencer.

I had hoped to return... After bringing up the Zodiac Braves and restoring the world to its rightful state, I wanted to be with Wiegraf and Miluda and sister. All the murders I committed, I could bear the guilt because I had that wish. Now...

All was lost. Izlude buried his face against the heatless blanket, and screamed like an enraged infant.

Wiegraf sat up in his bed, and concentrated his auditory senses. He was sure that he just heard Izlude scream. A faint noise of something shatter had roused him from a troubled slumber, and it had been followed by a short outcry. After a short, silent break, the White Knight heard a dull thud of something hitting the wall. It was coming from the direction of the Knight Blade's chamber, located several rooms away.

Izlude?

Worry outlined the older Temple Knight's face. He had lost his only sister today, and even a slight thought of losing Izlude, too, made him paranoid. Hastily, Wiegraf got out of the bed and grabbed the lamp on the bedside table. He was out of his room without a moment's delay.

Damn, why did I leave him alone?! He must be hurting from Miluda's death just as much as me. Miluda was like a sister to him, an irreplaceable best friend!

Wiegraf cursed himself for having been caught up with his grief. That moment, muffled screams filled the tranquil hallway. It was unmistakably Izlude's voice, coming from his bedroom. Wiegraf broke into a sprint, and reached the closed door in a split second.

"Izlude, what's wrong!?" The White Knight banged upon the wooden entrance. The non- stopping scream convinced him that Izlude was unable to answer. He opened it without hesitation, and a familiar smell of blood invaded his nostrils. "Izlude!? Oh God..."

In the dark room, Wiegraf made out the shape of his best friend upon the bed. The slender figure was clutching the blanket with trembling arms, screaming into the muffling sheets. With a help of dim moonlight, the blond knight saw that Izlude's hand was smeared with blood. The full-length mirror located across the bed had been shattered completely; razor-like shards were everywhere on the floor. Immediately, Wiegraf connected the two observations together.

"What have you done to yourself?!" The older man rushed to the frenzied Knight Blade and took him in his arms. Izlude was limp, despite his iron grip on the sheets, and let himself be held without resistance. The screams ceased in the embrace, and were replaced by tearless sobs. Wiegraf tried to peel the rigid fists away from the coverlet, careful not to inflict pain on the injured hand. That proved a difficult task.

"Izlude, let me take a look at your hand. Let go of the sheets." Wiegraf crooned softly against the young knight's ear, and noticed a trail of blood on his cheek. "Let go, Izlude. If you need something to hold on to, hold on to me. I'm Wiegraf, come on, look at me."

The younger Temple Knight finally focused his sharp eyes at Wiegraf, and the acknowledgment restored some amount of sanity back to him. The White Knight stroked his best friend's back reassuringly, and once again urged him to release the sheets. Slowly, the long fingers uncurled.

"W-Wiegraf, I... I..."

"Shh, don't talk. Just hold on to me and let me tend to your injuries." Using the lamp, Wiegraf took better look at the torn knuckles. As gently as he could, he plied the small pieces of glass out of the skin. Izlude only flinched at the painful plucks. When he was done, the blond knight cast a first-aid Cure on the damaged hand, closing the wound completely. He did the same to the slashed cheek.

"You punched the mirror, didn't you? Why did you do that?"

"I-I'm turning into a d-demon... Please, Wiegraf, h-help..." Izlude hyperventilated slightly and clutched hard upon the front of the older knight's shirt.

"Demon? You are no demon, Izlude. What made you think that?" The White Knight wiped caking blood off of Izlude's cheek. He cradled the younger man, surprised inside that the Knight Blade was acting so childishly weak. Wiegraf didn't think less of his best friend, though; with strange innocence and sensitive mind, Izlude was still somewhat a child.

"Can't c-cry for M-Miluda. I w-want to g-grieve for her, b-but..." The dark Temple Knight trailed off with a choke. Wiegraf understood finally what was upsetting Izlude. The younger knight looked at the blond with desperation. "I'm b-becoming an unfeeling d-demon, am I n- not?"

"You are grieving right now. Sometimes, when the loss is too great, tears won't come out. It's all right, Izlude."

You mourn for my sister in the same way as me. The feeling is too hollow, too terrible for the tears to express.

Wiegraf had lost others in the past, his parents slain during the Fifty Years War. Although the pain of loss never alleviated with experience, his ability to control himself grew. He couldn't shed a tear for his sister because the grief was too great, but he wasn't consumed by it. Izlude, on the other hand, had never experienced such loss. It was gnawing at him inside and out.

"It's all right..." With a brotherly murmur, Wiegraf continued to embrace his trembling best friend.

Stinging rays of sunlight irritated Izlude's closed eyes, pulling him out of the senseless drowse. He was laying upon his bed, neatly tucked under the coverlet.

...I must have fallen asleep while Wiegraf was here. Oh, he went through the trouble of changing me into a nightshirt...

Izlude checked himself out sheepishly; his hand and cheek had been wiped clean, and he was clad in a crisp sleep wear. Dull pain in his forehead and throat reminded him of his outburst the night before. The empty feeling over the loss of Miluda was still throbbing within him, but he felt considerably calmer.

"You are awake. Feeling any better, Izlude?"

"...Wiegraf!?"

The young Knight Blade sent about a searching gaze, and found his blond friend sitting up on the couch nearby. It was obvious that Wiegraf had spent the night in his room, wrapped up in a spare blanket and looking stiff-necked.

"Wiegraf, you stayed?" The young Knight Blade asked guiltily.

"I didn't want to leave you alone. You do look more collected now; will you be all right?" Dragging the blanket over his shoulders, the White Knight walked over to Izlude's side. "I have to leave in an hour or so on another mission. Sir Vormav's orders."

"I will be fine. I'm sorry about last night, Wiegraf, I acted so weak..."

"No need for apology, friend. It meant a lot to me that someone besides myself grieves for Miluda." Wiegraf said in a sad, controlled voice. Pain resurfaced in both knights' eyes, as they thought of the blond Fencer. Izlude hung his head slightly, and sighed deep.

"Does... sister know?"

"I sent her a message. She should get it in a day or two."

"She will be shocked."

"I believe so, too. Meliadoul was the closest person to a female relative for Miluda."

Izlude wondered if his sister would face the loss in a similar manner to himself. The two of them had similar personalities, although Meliadoul was stricter and more uptight. Knowing his sister, Izlude was sure that she would take Miluda's death hard.

"What did father order you to do, Wiegraf?" The younger Temple Knight inquired with a trace of worry. He was being paranoid after the tragedy.

"Go after the one who killed Miluda. Ramza Beoulve, I believe. I'll have his head by tomorrow, Izlude." Wiegraf said grimly, twisted anticipation apparent in his voice.

"Too bad I don't get to participate," Izlude murmured with equally dark anticipation. "Later today, I have to depart in search for the Zodiac Stone. Father's orders."

"The old Monastery by the Ziltennia? Or the Orbonne?"

"Both. I was granted permission to slay whoever stands in my way. Funny, considering we are all part of the Church." The Knight Blade commented darkly. He wondered how many lives he would have to take to acquire the magic stone. The Zodiac Stones were distributed all over the continent, most hidden away in the treasure chests of the Church Monasteries. Vormav had ordered his son to retrieve them all.

"Necessary sacrifices. The Zodiac Stones must come into Sir Vormav's hands before we can change this world. ‘Then, we will bring forth the true paradise, where all the aristocrats will be dead and the commoners will prosper equally'." Wiegraf quoted the dark knight's father exactly.

Izlude nodded silently, chiding himself for the weakness.

Miluda, I'll fight for you, for your goals as well as mine. After the bloodshed, there will be a new world for the commoners to live in.

"I'll be going, then, Izlude." Wiegraf neatly folded the blanket, and placed it on the couch. He turned to leave.

"Good luck, Wiegraf." Izlude called after his best friend, who nodded, and exited the room. Alone, the young knight dressed in his green Temple Knight garb and readied his blade at the waist belt. He had a long day ahead of him, and it was time to depart. The notion of killing fellow Church members did not bother him any longer.

If I must become a demon to fulfill Miluda's, and mine, wish, then so be it. I will not be weak; no tears, Izlude...

Silently, the Knight Blade left his room, leaving all his uncertainties behind.

What did you think of this little piece? Nice? Horrible? Too much depression going on? Or Whatever? Please send your feedback to littlemaiko.