Date with Destiny
a series of Chrono Trigger shortfics by Dot

IV. A.D. 600: Monster

Five years ago, on that terrible day, I accompanied Cyrus to his final battle against Magus.

I still have nightmares about it. Sometimes I’m myself, staring, immobile, wanting to do something—anything—but always, nothing happens. Sometimes I’m Cyrus, burning, bleeding, dying because I was so convinced that destroying Magus would somehow make it all worthwhile.

And sometimes, I’m the monster that saved a frightened little boy, not just once, but three times.

I was too young and naive then, but now, looking back, I realized that Cyrus had doomed himself well before either of us ever stepped foot on the Denadoro mountains. He was so consumed with hatred that he would have sought Magus out even if no invasion loomed. And until that day, I had believed Cyrus to be right.

But it had been Magus, not Cyrus, who pulled me back from the edge when I was on the verge of a long, long drop.

And it had been Cyrus, not Magus, who made me into a virtual hostage as he rushed at Magus before I could get out of the way, putting Magus into the unenviable position of deciding whether to save me or himself.

Magus stood his ground.

And then the Masamune shattered. Cyrus, unwilling to believe that his own sword betrayed him, continued to attack Magus, intending perhaps to rip him apart barehanded.

At long last, Magus put Cyrus out of his misery with one, swift blow. As Cyrus felt his life ebb away from him, I think he realized why he had lost, because his last words to me were not to take vengeance but to protect the Queen.

Then it was my turn to die, or so I had thought.

( xv )

I came to at the edge of the waterfall. I caught sight of the a glimmer that almost passed me by.

The Hero Medal.

I felt dizzy. It wasn’t a dream—the Masamune broken, Cyrus killed—it had all been real.

Then I saw my reflection in the water.

Who said Mystics didn’t have a sense of humor?

( xv )

A year after my transformation, Magus left a vial on my desk, along with a somewhat acerbic note explaining what it was for. He didn’t need to; I knew that if he wished me dead, he would have done so on the mountain and not now with poison. But I didn’t want to go back to being Glenn, the marshmallow of a boy who couldn’t take care of himself. I was strong now, a true warrior, even if my appearance suggested otherwise.

And I wanted to face Magus again, as Frog. I wanted him to see what I had become, because of him. I almost even wanted him to be proud of me.

I would try to stop him from accomplishing his plans, of course. Even if it wasn’t his true intent, he was bringing war, death, and destruction upon the land. But I won’t make the same mistake Cyrus did. I won’t hate Magus. He my enemy in circumstance alone; if things were different, I could see myself fighting side by side with him, not facing him across the battlefield.

Unnecessarily Long and Tiresome Authoress’ Notes:
And now it’s Frog’s turn. It’s hard to say what he really thinks of Magus; he certainly doesn’t make an issue of Magus joining your party, and seems to have forgiven him on some level.
Again, I used the roman numeral for fifteen as scene dividers, and again, I have no idea why.