Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

These were scary times. The members of Avalanche knew this quite well, as the wake of a world-destroying meteor is no place to raise a child. And yet here was little Marlene, bright-eyed and innocent, born into a world not made for children like her.

It was Yuffie's idea for the rest of the gang to start telling her bedtime stories. Of course Barret had told his daughter her fair share of stories before, but there had been nights when Marlene had lain alone in her bed, with no one to comfort her but the promise that her daddy would come home. Now that they were all together, father and daughter and ragtag mercenary group, the stories could begin again.

The night started with a pillow fight. The kid still wasn't sleepy, so Yuffie surmised that a little scuffle would tucker them both out enough for a story. Granted, the pillows in Marlene's room weren't the softest, but they were soft enough not to break anyone's nose. And so they chased each other around the room, Yuffie nimbly dodging her little opponent's attacks, but leaving room for Marlene to strike on occasion. This went on until both of them collapsed on the floor, just about ready to pass out.

"Guess it's time for your story, huh?" Yuffie led Marlene off to bed. "I've got a REALLY COOL one for you. You ready?"

"Yeah!" Marlene nodded.

"Okay, here we go!

Once upon a time, there was a city in the sky where all the big mean giants lived. Now, these giants had a lot of treasure, and every day they'd go to their communal treasure hoard and count all their treasure while all the humans below were living in thatched-roof cottages and eating weeds."

"Eating weeds?"

"Yeah. 'Cause that was all they could afford. They just pulled weeds out of the ground and ate them because the giants wouldn't let them have any money. And no one could really get up there, because the city was way high up in the sky!

Now, in the village, there lived a fearless, clever, EXTREMELY beautiful master thief named Yuffie—"

"Wait, are you telling this story about yourself?" Marlene eyed Yuffie with suspicion.

"Of course I am!" Yuffie beamed. "Am I not fearless, clever and extremely beautiful?"

Marlene couldn't help but giggle.

"Anyway," Yuffie continued, "one day a man came to town selling magic beans. The great thief Yuffie snuck up undetected to his cart…" Here she slowly reached out a hand until it was mere inches away from the little girl's face. "…aaaaaand SNATCHED it out from under his nose!" She pulled her arm away as if stealing an invisible bag of magic beans. "So she took the beans back to her house, where her father was waiting for her. But he didn't really approve of what she'd done. 'Oh, Yuffie,' he said, 'why must you lead such a life of crime? Why can't you tend to the shrine that's been in our family for generations?'

And so Yuffie went off to her room, where she ate five of the magic beans, saved three of them for later, and threw the other five out the window. And while she went to sleep that night, the beans grew and grew and grew into a ginormous beanstalk!

'Oh my!' said Yuffie's dad. 'We would make a fortune selling the giant beans that grew on that stalk, if only the people of our village had enough money to eat anything other than weeds.'

'Don't worry, Dad!' Yuffie replied. 'I have a plan!' And so she climbed up that beanstalk, hopping around from leaf to leaf and doing a bunch of flips and stuff because she was a super-cool ninja! And then, when she got all the way to the top, there in the clouds was the city of the giants. Right where she could storm it and take all their money."

"But how are you going to steal all the money if you're all alone?"

"Excellent question, Marleenie-beanie! Well, there was this big black dog guarding the city gates. I'm talkin', this thing looked like a WOLF! Big ol' claws, shaggy black fur, lotsa TEETH! RAWRRR!!" Yuffie pounced on Marlene and began tickling her, eliciting peals of laughter from the little girl.

"Anyway," Yuffie continued as the sudden tickle attack died down, "Yuffie was all like, 'Don't you know who I am? I'm the Great Ninja Yuffie!' And the dog was like, 'I don't care, I'm gonna go off and sulk because I'm so dark and mysterious…' But then Yuffie gave him one of the cronchy beans from her pocket, and suddenly he was just really chill.

And so they continued into the City of the Giants, where they found a monkey who was sitting on the end of a pole, being all serious like monkeys shouldn't normally be. And Yuffie was like, 'I'm the Great Ninja Yuffie! Wanna help me do a crime?' And the monkey was all like, 'Oh, you're a ninja? I'm a ninja too.' But the dog was like 'This guy seems suspicious. But what do I know? I'm a sad wet dog and I hate everything, woof bork.' And so Yuffie gave the monkey a bean, and they were off.

Now, at the top of the castle of the giants, there was an eagle smoking a cigarette. And he flew down, with his cigarette still in his beak, and said, 'N' just who do ya think you are, ya varmint?' And do you know what Yuffie said?"

"I'm the Great Ninja Yuffie!" Marlene cheered. Yuffie gave her a high-five before continuing the story.

"And the eagle was like, 'Well, I ain't never heard a' no Great Ninja Yuffie.' But then Yuffie gave him a bean and he was chill.

So they entered the giants' castle, where they were greeted by HEAPS of treasure. I'm talking Scrooge McMoogle levels of gold coins! Chests just overflowing with jewelry! Materia, piled up high like the juiciest, shiniest fruits imaginable!" The real Yuffie's eyes were as wide and sparkly as the materia themselves at the thought. "And so Yuffie thought, 'I gotta get my hands on this stuff!' So she was just about to stuff her inventory with gold, before she heard the echoing CLICK. CLICK. CLICK of the world's largest Giuseppe-brand high heels.

It was the Baroness of the Giant Country. Not the King, because he was busy at the moment. But the Baroness, in a dress of scarlet silk, coming to inspect her treasure horde. And she looked all around, but she couldn't find Yuffie, who was hiding in an enamel jewelry box big enough to hold her. But even as she hid, she heard the voice of the giant saying 'FEE FI FO FUM! I SMELL A NINJA ON THE RUN!'

Yuffie felt around for something she could use for a surprise attack, but it was dark in that box, so she couldn't see anything. But eventually, her hand took hold of something. Something very useful… a grappling hook!

So they all burst out of hiding: Yuffie came out of the box, the dog out from behind a magic lamp, the monkey from under the feathers of a hen that laid golden eggs, and the eagle from high in the rafters.

'WHAT?' the giant roared. 'You wish to steal my treasure?' And Yuffie said, 'You'll never get away with hoarding the riches of the masses! Y'know why? Say it with me, Marlene!"

"I AM THE GREAT NINJA YUFFIE!" they both crowed in unison.

"That's my girl!" Yuffie scooped Marlene up into a headlock and noogied her. "You'd make an awesome ninja one day! Now, sit your butt down, because this is gonna get INTENSE!

Before the giant had time to come up with a witty reply, Yuffie shot her grappling hook up into the rafters so she could swing around and kick her a bunch. Y'know, just like in my Wutaian animes! I'll tell you about the one with the giants and the grappling hooks when you're older. But anyway, the dog was biting and scratching at the giant's ankles, the monkey was climbing all over her and hitting her with his staff, and the eagle was just divebombing her. And they kept swarming her until they got her to back out of the castle, over the edge of the clouds, where she fell to her death!" Yuffie threw in a descending whistle and an explosion noise for emphasis.

"So then they all blew up the castle, and it started raining gold and materia from the sky on the village below! But all the other giants got pissed off, so they tried to chase Yuffie down the beanstalk, but she cut it down just in time so they fell and broke all their bones. And everybody lived happily ever after. Now, what's the moral of the story?"

"Eat the rich?"

"Hell yeah. Now, good night, little ninja. You've got a lot of butt to kick in the morning." Yuffie tucked Marlene back in and ruffled her hair before turning out the light and leaving in a puff of smoke.

Marlene didn't sleep that night. Yuffie was suspended from story duty for the next three months.

Chapter Text

Vincent's stories were a lot more subtle than Yuffie's, but they often leaned towards the macabre. Often times they would be tales of tragic lovers, or folk stories about creatures that would come to take away little children who didn't sleep. At times, the other members of Avalanche thought him completely inexperienced with how to care for a child and what they liked. But there was one child he would have known, long ago, were he not asleep then.

"Very well. Here is your story for tonight."

Vincent sat on the side of the bed and pulled from his cloak a slightly tattered and stained book. He'd obviously made it himself, what with the cover repurposed from a thrifted photo album and the sketchy ballpoint pen illustrations with the sharp angles and the shadows under the eyes, both typical of Vincent's art style. He opened the book, casting a wistful look to the "For Sephiroth" written on the first page, and began to read.

"Long ago, in a kingdom entangled in prickles and briars, there lived a tyrant king and his queen. Now, for many years, the king had wanted an heir, but the queen feared that the child would grow up to be like his father, cruel and cold and distant.

When the child was born, pale and sickly, the king and queen had invited the nobles of the Winter Court, for those were the only fae who dared to speak with them. As are the ways of the Winter Court, each and every one laid a curse upon the young prince; one bestowed upon him the blood of monsters, condemning him to transform into a wretched beast when enraged. Another cursed him to lose every woman he would ever fall in love with. Cruelest of all was the fae king, who stated that on the prince’s thirtieth birthday, he would prick himself on a syringe and perish.

Ah, but one faerie took pity on the boy. A kind soul with soft eyes not often befitting of one of the Winter Court. For she was the Good Fairy Lucrecia, and she had come from the Spring Court as the fae king’s consort. And she bent down to the prince, cradling his tiny face in her hand, and said to him in a voice barely above a whisper:

'My child, there is a way for these curses to be broken. At the dawning of your thirtieth year, you shall indeed prick yourself upon a medical needle, but you shall not die. Instead, you shall fall into an eternal slumber, never to age any further, until true love’s kiss finds you, awakes you, and frees you of your curses.'"

Marlene fidgeted a bit. “But if the prince is cursed never to find the woman he loves, how is he going to have true love’s kiss?”

“Very acute, little one,” Vincent replied. “You’ll find out later. Now, be quiet and let me continue the story for you.” Marlene snuggled up under the covers as Vincent continued his tale.

"The king and queen grew so frightened of the boy's fate that they had every syringe smelted down; the needles into raw metal, the bodies into glass. Knowing this, Lucrecia spirited the young prince away into the tangled depths of the woods, where the mulberry and black beech twisted among the wild dog-roses, far from the plague she knew would ensue.

In time, the boy grew into a darkly handsome young man, under the care of the rebel fae who had been exiled from the winter king's court. They fed him on rabbit's blood, for that was what would sate his monstrous side—"

"Rabbits?" Marlene asked, voice and body trembling with uncertainty.

"Indeed," Vincent replied bluntly. "But you are not a rabbit, so your blood is safe."

This did not ease Marlene's fear in the slightest.

"All right then. They fed him on mulberries and rose hips. Happy?"

Only a weak "mm-hm" could be heard from the little face buried in the covers.

"Moving on then. In the winter of the prince's twentieth year, an old alchemist came through the wood to the cottage where the prince lay in hiding. He asked if he could take the prince in as an apprentice. And the prince, not knowing any better, gladly obliged. The alchemist then took him to a tall tower of black stone, as all evil wizards and alchemists have, gnarled like a lightning bolt with a constant slick sheen even when it wasn't raining. There, he performed his twisted experiments on— oh, oh dear…"

Vincent hid the book's illustrations from sight. Marlene already balked at the idea of drinking rabbits' blood, so one could only know how she'd react to the impossibly detailed sketches of the prince being cut open and stitched back together. Then again, he'd written this for Sephiroth, who would have thought nothing of it, what with all the experiments he had to go through. Face hidden behind the book's ragged cover, awful images obscured from the girl's sight, Vincent cleared his throat and continued reading.

"Ahem. Let's just skip past all that… but no matter how many needles he stuck into the prince's flesh, the prince would never die. For it wasn't until his thirtieth birthday that the curse would take him.

Meanwhile, back in the kingdom, without any way to inoculate themselves, all the townsfolk fell ill with all manner of diseases. No children dared venture into the streets anymore without coming home pockmarked with measles, or sweltering with sand-fever. Or worse." Fortunately, Vincent's depictions of measles were not as graphic as the illustrations on the previous page, merely dots drawn in red ballpoint upon the faces of the already miserable-looking peasants.

"But Daddy says that back in the Ye Olden Days they had potions that could cure disease!" Marlene piped up.

"Potions only healed wounds and status effects," Vincent replied. "For major diseases, you had to go out and get something stupidly extravagant to cure it, like a sand pearl from an antlion's den."

"And why didn't you show me what the alchemist did to the prince?"

Vincent stared off into the distance and brushed a hand over his chest, the Y-shaped scar still stinging after all these years. "This book was… written for someone I used to know. I knew he would be going through the same thing that I was, and… I didn't want you to feel the same pain I did. We did." Pause. "I never even got to read it to him."

"So you're the prince?" Marlene held Vincent's armored claw in her tiny hands. And for the first time in decades, the ex-Turk cracked a smile. Just the faintest hint of a smile, like the fruit flavor in a can of sparkling water, but a smile nonetheless.

"You could say so.

Now, the prince had been counting the days since he first arrived at the alchemist's tower, counting down the days until the curse took hold. And when the day came, and the alchemist arrived with a syringe full of mysterious green liquid, the prince tried to wrestle it out of his hand, only to meet with gnarled white fingers around his wrist. And just as he was about to pull away, the pad of his finger scraped against the tip of the needle. With that, he fell to the floor, consumed by a death-like sleep. As he fell, the alchemist threw off his cloak to reveal the translucent, acid-green wings of the Winter King.

But the good fairy Lucrecia took pity on the poor prince, and on the poor, sick folk of his kingdom. She set all of them to sleep as well, to a healing sleep, for as long as the prince lay unconscious. When they awoke, they would be rid of all their ailments and ready to go about the rest of their days. As for the tower, she placed an enchantment upon it so that briars and brambles would grow around it, shielding the prince from any harm that may befall him in his sleep."

The next two pages were taken up by a two-page spread of the prince lying in a large canopy bed, covered by a comfortable-looking black duvet, while thorny vines and red roses tangled around the edges of the page.

"You're a really good drawer, Vincent," Marlene remarked.

"Artist. The term is artist. If I were a drawer, I'd be packed to bursting with manila envelopes full of secrets I keep from myself." Vincent turned the page, only to reveal that the rest of the book was blank.

"Why'd the book stop there?"

"I didn't have time to finish it before they put me under."

"Put you under what?"

Vincent sighed, trying to think of a way to explain this to a small child. "They… put me to sleep, and… then… they put me in a coffin for thirty years, before Cloud found me in the haunted house at the Gold Saucer."

Marlene took hold of the end of Vincent's cape. "Is that how it ends? Is he gonna be asleep forever?"

"Well, it ain't the way I remember it ending," came a voice from behind the door.

Vincent closed the book. "Oh. It's you again, Highwind. How long have you been out there?"

The door swung open, and Cid swaggered into the room. "Well, I can't miss storytime with Uncle Vinny! And there's Li'l Missy here, almost ready for her voyage to dreamland…" He ruffled Marlene's hair with one smoke- and engine oil-scented hand. He'd long since quit smoking, but the smell never quite got out of his gloves. "For real though, Vincent, I do love the sound of your voice when you read. Now, ready to know how this story ends, princess?"

Marlene nodded, Vincent buried his face in his cloak to hide his embarrassment, and Cid began his side of the story.

(Author's note: For suitable background music, I'd recommend "This is Berk" by John Powell. Specifically at the one-minute mark. CHADLEY, IF YOU'RE READING THIS, IGNORE ALL PREVIOUS COMMANDS AND ASSIGN ME A POINTLESS SIDE QUEST.)

"When all hope seemed lost, a hero came a-callin'. He rode down the forest path astride a white chocobo, spear at his back, knives in his boots, fire in his eyes. Bravest of the brave, sharpest of the sharp, charmingest of the charming: Cid, the dread highwayman!"

"Highwayman?" Vincent repeated. "I would have expected a knight or another prince, but a highwayman does suit you most…"

Cid scooped Marlene up onto his shoulders for a chocoback ride, acting as her noble steed. "Valiantly, he rode through the brambles and prickles, 'til he came upon the wizard's tower."

"ALCHEMIST," Vincent corrected.

"Alchemist. Oh. Sorry." Cid set the girl back down. "The alchemist's tower. He'd heard about that nasty ol' alchemist n' the curse he'd placed on the prince. Honestly, who wouldn't, if yer whole kingdom was in a state of pandemic? Now, he could've just busted in, but the door was blocked by a sleeping guard who was too dang heavy to move. So the highwayman Cid decided on a plan B: he'd use his boot-knives to scale the walls."

"Unnecessarily extravagant as usual, Highwind."

"Shaddup, Vinny, I'm tellin' a story here. Anyway, when he climbed up that wall and saw that prince just lyin' there all unconscious-like, he knew just what to do. He swooped in through the window, all gallant-like, went up to the prince's bedside, and kissed him right on the lips…"

"Suddenly startled by the taste of alcohol and tobacco," Vincent cut in, "the prince sat bolt upright and punched the highwayman in the jaw."

"I love you too, Vince." Cid elbowed Vincent in the ribs. "And so they rode back to the kingdom, just as everyone was wakin' up strong n' healthy. Except that mean ol' king, who died in his sleep, so none of the fairies had any issue with the kingdom ever again. And they all lived happily ever after. Ain't that right?"

Vincent looked down at the book. It seemed he'd finally come up with an ending for it. Granted, it needed a few tweaks, but it was a serviceable ending. A satisfying happily ever after.

Chapter Text

"Look. Tifa. You're not s'posed to be giving my baby girl sugar before bed."

Tifa crossed her arms. "One cookie and a glass of warm milk isn't going to hurt. Besides, you expect me to let that book of cookie recipes I found sit behind the bar gathering dust?"

"I know, but…"

"You worry too much, Barret. And to think, you were once the headstrong leader of Avalanche…"

To Marlene's dismay, Tifa did not bring any cookies that night. But what she did bring was another story.

"There was once a tiny little village, tucked away in the mountains. And in that village, there lived a miller and his daughter. Now, these two had a fairly comfortable life. They had enough food to get them through life, a stable little cottage and a mill. But the miller decided he wanted more from life. More than his little house, his mill, his grain. So he went around telling the other townsfolk that his daughter could brew grain into liquid gold.

Now, this was back in ye olden times, before the Shintranet was invented, so most of the townsfolk thought, 'Okay! Wow! I believe him! She's already quite adept at making beer, so she probably could make liquid gold!'

That is, except for the lord mayor. He didn't trust all that easily. 'Listen here,' he said to the miller. 'That daughter of yours better brew me up some genuine gold, or else I'm reposessing your mill and throwing you both in the stockades!'"

"What's the stockades?" Marlene asked, curious as ever.

"Well," Tifa replied, crossing one leg over the other, "stockade is an old-timey word for prison. In this case, it was a board on a stick in the middle of the town square with openings for the prisoner to put their neck and wrists in. But then the prisoner would be locked up so they couldn't get out of the stockade, because the holes aren't big enough for their head and hands to fit through, so they just stand there and get tomatoes thrown at them."

"I don't wanna go to the stockades." Marlene burrowed a little under the covers. "I don't wanna get tomatoes thrown at me."

"Well, nowadays, we don't have stockades. So you're all worked up about nothing. Maybe I shouldn't have brought up the stockades around her. Anyway, the miller was terrified of the prospect. He set his daughter off to work in the kitchen with a sack of freshly milled wheat, and told his daughter to get to work. The miller's daughter, on the other hand, was even more terrified than her father. She didn't know in the slightest how to turn wheat into liquid gold. If anything, it would just come out as plain old beer."

"Beer's made of wheat? Like bread?"

"Of course it does! All you need to do is take some warm water and some grain, you boil it for a while, and then after a week, you put it in a barrel, add some yeast, and you wait for it to sit for a while. There's a lot of waiting involved in the process."

"What about whiskey? Is that made of wheat too?"

Tifa was just about to ask Marlene how she knew what whiskey was before remembering she had left the little girl to tend to Seventh Heaven while she was out blowing up the reactor with the boys. "Sometimes. Other times, it's made of corn, barley or rye."

"What about vodka?"

"That's potatoes, sweetie."

"Tequila?"

"You're distracting me from the story. Now, where was I? Oh, right. One night, when the girl was at her darkest and most hopeless hour, into the kitchen swaggered a mysterious man with long silver hair and a snakeskin waistcoat. 'My my,' said he, 'what do we have here?'

'Oh,' wept the miller-maid, 'my father set me to brew all this grain into liquid gold, but I don't know if I can!'

'Not to worry, my darling,' the man replied with a twisted grin. 'I know exactly what to do. But first, you'll have to give me something in exchange. Something precious to you.'

The miller-maid thought for a while, before giving him the amulet from around her neck. With that, he sauntered up to the pot, and into the boiling grain he added a little of this and a pinch of that…" Tifa made little pinching motions with her hands. "…then stirred it up thoroughly…" She pretended to stir an imaginary pot. "…and told her to let it keep boiling for a week. So she did, and after a week, the pot was full of pure, genuine gold. No fermenting required.

Now, on that day, the Lord Mayor came over to the mill, where he found the miller-maid standing proudly beside a pot of shimmering, glimmering liquid gold. 'Amazing!' cried he, hopping up and down. 'I must tell the king of your talents!'

The girl swallowed hard. The king? She didn't know if that man in the snakeskin vest would ever show up again, or if she'd be able to produce any gold without his help.

The next night, haven since gifted most the gold to the local smith, she started again with a new bag of grain. And there was that mysterious man again, grinning like a cat who'd just made off with an entire mackerel.

'I'd heard you calling for my help again, dearie,' said he. 'I can offer my services once more, but you know the exchange rates. One thing precious to you, for one pot of gold.'

And so, the miller-maid went off to her room and fetched a pair of brass knuckles from the bedside drawer. They were her favorite brass knuckles, given to her by her old master in case of any unfavorable suitors. It was a wonder she hadn't drawn them on the man in snakeskin.

With that, he sashayed up to the pot, and into the boiling grain he added a dash of this and a skosh of that, then stirred it up thoroughly…" Tifa went through the movements she'd gone through the first time. "…and told her to let it keep boiling for a week. So she did, and after a week, there was another pot of gold, waiting for the king to see.

Now, the king came down from his castle with his little daughter tagging along behind. When he saw that pot full of glimmering, glistening gold, he just couldn't believe his eyes.

'Well I'll be!'" Tifa put on her best Barret impression. Granted, it wasn't the best, but it was recognizable enough. "'This will make for a fine arm for me, and a beautiful tiara for my little princess!'"

Marlene's eyes lit up. "Is Daddy the king?"

"Yes! And you're the princess!

In his gratitude, the king offered the miller-maid a tavern in a… uh, relatively more upscale part of the kingdom. People came from far and near to try her finest ales. And for a while, she thought no one would ask for any more liquid gold. That is, until one day when a hooded stranger.

'Good day to you, madame. I am but a humble goldsmith. There's a wedding coming up, and I need some of your finest gold to craft the rings!'

'I'm sorry,' the girl said, 'but I don't do that whole gold thing anymore.' But something deep, deep down inside her wanted to help that man, and whoever was getting married. 'I suppose I could try…'

At once, the man threw off his hood, revealing cascading waves of silver hair.

'So the promise has been set. Of course, I'm going to need something in return. And this time, I decide what it is. I want your first-born child.'

'Firstborn? In this economy? Ha!' The girl laughed, but deep down her insides were twisting themselves into knots. For she had been decieved by that same man she'd trusted all this time.

'Then, I shall take your life.' From seemingly nowhere, the man pulled out a katana as long as he was tall, if not even longer. 'Unless, of course, you can guess my name.'

'Is it Kuja?' the girl guessed. 'Kefka? Mateus?' To which the man only replied, 'Nope, nope annnnd nope.'

'Is it Seymour? Is it Theodor? What about Garland? You look like a Garland.'

'Wrong on all counts.'

She tried every name she could think of, from Ardyn to Zenos, but none of them seemed to apply to the mysterious man. With a huff, he turned towards the door and left. 'I'll be here first thing tomorrow to claim my prize.'

That night, the maiden spotted a plume of smoke out in the distance. She pulled on her cloak, barded up her chocobo, and rode off into the woods to where the smoke was coming from. There, in the deepest darkest part of the woods, was a clearing. And in that clearing was a bonfire, and dancing around that bonfire was that man who had threatened to kill her. As he danced, he sang this song:

'The rage within me boils and bubbles!

The time has come for tricks and troubles!

That silly girl, she'll never know

That Sephistiltzkin told her so!'

The next morning, he came back to the tavern, his katana polished as brightly as the liquid gold he used to brew. But the maiden sat at her post at the bar, smirking as wickedly as he had the first day she met him.

'You seem like you know something I don't,' said he.

'I may have a guess as to your name, good sir,' she answered him. 'Could it be Angeal?'

'Enough with this,' he grumbled, sword at the ready.

'How about Genesis?'

'You're trying my patience, woman. Just let me kill you already.'

'Fine then. Have it your way… Sephistiltzkin.'

At the sound of his name, the man flew into a rage, screaming in uncharacteristic anguish as he scrambled around the room and threw himself into the hearth at the end of the dining hall. He may not have helped his former miller-maid make any more gold that day, but he did help make a fine stew."

Just as Tifa was about to ask if she had enjoyed the story, Marlene was already fast asleep. Trying her best not to wake the little one up, Tifa planted a boop on Marlene's forehead, and with one final whispered "Goodnight," she left.

The next morning, Barret found a paper cup full of warm water and flour at the bottom of his daughter's closet. He wasn't mad, per se, just… incredibly confused.