Categories > Games > Final Fantasy XII > Claret Sky
9. That which falls
Bal/Vaan, post-canon
Disclaimers still apply.
Oh god, I'm very sorry, but I'm starting to lose control over this thing. It won't follow my plan, and I can't force it to. So please, please tell me if/when my characterization becomes too much to reasonably stomach. I will see this plot through to the end, but it's the angst that just won't behave.
--
Vaan clutches the heavy helm so hard Balthier thinks his fingers leave imprints in the metal.
"Did Larsa not personally choose the current Council members? What reason have you to suspect foul play?"
Penelo shakes her head at Fran's query. "I can't explain it. It's almost as if they look at Larsa like they're hungry."
Balthier listens, but he watches Vaan, instead. Eyes narrowed, he stares into nothing. "Why have you sent for me?" Balthier says quietly.
Vaan's fingers whiten further. "There's a Council meeting today that I have been barred from attending. We will watch it." He looks at Balthier, eyes hard. "If it comes to it, I want you to protect Larsa."
"And you?"
"I'll do what I have to."
Vaan's lip curls, and the ornate helm hits the wall with a bang like a gunshot.
--
The secret chamber is well made, Balthier thinks. It is dimly lit, so that the entrance to the Council's hall traces a faint golden outline. Balthier breathes slowly through his open mouth so that the air does not whistle, and he listens.
"Giruvegan?"
Larsa's voice is puzzled, but there is a cautious edge to it.
"I have heard suggestions of this vein before, and yet I still wonder. What use would we have for flying upon Giruvegan?"
"Of resources rich, and of power an endless source," a voice responds gently, chidingly.
"Resources and power for war! This is a time of peace, my friend."
"Peace? No! The Occuria!" the voice snaps, quick as a whip. "Too long have the Occuria treated us foul. With the resources of Giruvegan in our hands, the Undying will have no method of fighting back!"
There are clatters, as if chairs are overturned.
"They would require vessels for combat, and vessels may be destroyed. You, Archades, will ally with Rozarria, and you will take Giruvegan together."
Balthier grasps Vaan's arm, and he shakes his head at Vaan's furious glare. Not yet.
"Now is the time for vengeance!"
There is the scrape of metal leaving sheaths, and Vaan wrenches free, slamming his shoulder into the hidden door.
Balthier hears the shouts and the impact of hard blows, but he looks to Larsa instead. A man rears up behind the Emperor, dagger flashing in his hand, and Balthier shoots. Larsa flinches at the sound, and Balthier reaches out, tugging Larsa's head down and pulling him back and away.
"They are possessed," Larsa pants. "They must be!"
"Vaan!" Balthier calls. "We leave!"
He tugs Larsa into the secret passageway, and the Emperor's words are so soft enough as to make him wonder if he hears them at all.
"They were my friends."
--
There are cries and pounding pursuit, and they run.
Balthier sees Fran half-turn, and he hears a magickal whirlwind roar through the air behind them. There are screams.
He glances at Vaan. "It would have been preferable to find out their motives in more detail. As such, we can only speculate as to the identities of those in control," he says.
Vaan's eyes flicker about ceaselessly, searching for danger. "They would have killed Larsa if he did not agree," he argues, his voice rough.
Balthier turns his eyes forward and does not call Vaan an impulsive fool. He must think of escape first.
They are near to a small gate set in the palace wall, now, and guards mill about, blocking the egress.
Vaan looks to Larsa, and the Emperor nods, taking a breath as if to speak.
"Stop them!"
Balthier looks back. A young man stands behind them, clutching an injured arm as blood seeps through his sleeve.
"They kidnap the Emperor!" It is the same voice, Balthier hears. The one which demanded vengeance.
The guards hesitate for a moment, surprise at the order mingling with what must be recognition of Vaan, but Vaan labours under no such burden. Metal screeches against metal, and blood flies.
Vaan dashes by them, rushing back toward the palace, and Larsa spins, pulling away from Balthier's grasp.
"Vaan, no!"
Vaan stops short, his shoulders tense as a bowstring. He stands close to the Council member that Larsa called friend, and the man convulses.
When Vaan steps back, his body still blocks Balthier's view, but he hears the slick sound of metal leaving flesh, and he hears the gentle plops of something soft hitting the ground.
The man falls backward, and there is a thump and a rising cloud of dust, hanging in the dry air.
Vaan turns slowly, and Balthier fixes his eyes on the blood clotting to his hands and sword, so thick as to be black.
--
They stand in the Strahl, silent against the hum of magicite powered engines. Balthier touches the controls, and he feels her wings shift as if stretching on smoothly oiled muscles. There is a burst of speed, and he twists in his seat, looking back to check on his passengers.
Larsa sways, but he keeps his feet. His mouth twitches, as if he tries to smile, but his eyes dart away from Vaan.
The helmet had been left behind, lying on the floor where it had landed.
Penelo places a gentle hand on the thick metal over Vaan's forearm, and she looks hurt when Vaan shrugs it off, but she sees Vaan's face, and she does not speak.
Vaan's hands fly and fumble over the latches and buckles, and he steps from the Judge Magister's armour like a larva shedding its skin.
--
TBC
Bal/Vaan, post-canon
Disclaimers still apply.
Oh god, I'm very sorry, but I'm starting to lose control over this thing. It won't follow my plan, and I can't force it to. So please, please tell me if/when my characterization becomes too much to reasonably stomach. I will see this plot through to the end, but it's the angst that just won't behave.
--
Vaan clutches the heavy helm so hard Balthier thinks his fingers leave imprints in the metal.
"Did Larsa not personally choose the current Council members? What reason have you to suspect foul play?"
Penelo shakes her head at Fran's query. "I can't explain it. It's almost as if they look at Larsa like they're hungry."
Balthier listens, but he watches Vaan, instead. Eyes narrowed, he stares into nothing. "Why have you sent for me?" Balthier says quietly.
Vaan's fingers whiten further. "There's a Council meeting today that I have been barred from attending. We will watch it." He looks at Balthier, eyes hard. "If it comes to it, I want you to protect Larsa."
"And you?"
"I'll do what I have to."
Vaan's lip curls, and the ornate helm hits the wall with a bang like a gunshot.
--
The secret chamber is well made, Balthier thinks. It is dimly lit, so that the entrance to the Council's hall traces a faint golden outline. Balthier breathes slowly through his open mouth so that the air does not whistle, and he listens.
"Giruvegan?"
Larsa's voice is puzzled, but there is a cautious edge to it.
"I have heard suggestions of this vein before, and yet I still wonder. What use would we have for flying upon Giruvegan?"
"Of resources rich, and of power an endless source," a voice responds gently, chidingly.
"Resources and power for war! This is a time of peace, my friend."
"Peace? No! The Occuria!" the voice snaps, quick as a whip. "Too long have the Occuria treated us foul. With the resources of Giruvegan in our hands, the Undying will have no method of fighting back!"
There are clatters, as if chairs are overturned.
"They would require vessels for combat, and vessels may be destroyed. You, Archades, will ally with Rozarria, and you will take Giruvegan together."
Balthier grasps Vaan's arm, and he shakes his head at Vaan's furious glare. Not yet.
"Now is the time for vengeance!"
There is the scrape of metal leaving sheaths, and Vaan wrenches free, slamming his shoulder into the hidden door.
Balthier hears the shouts and the impact of hard blows, but he looks to Larsa instead. A man rears up behind the Emperor, dagger flashing in his hand, and Balthier shoots. Larsa flinches at the sound, and Balthier reaches out, tugging Larsa's head down and pulling him back and away.
"They are possessed," Larsa pants. "They must be!"
"Vaan!" Balthier calls. "We leave!"
He tugs Larsa into the secret passageway, and the Emperor's words are so soft enough as to make him wonder if he hears them at all.
"They were my friends."
--
There are cries and pounding pursuit, and they run.
Balthier sees Fran half-turn, and he hears a magickal whirlwind roar through the air behind them. There are screams.
He glances at Vaan. "It would have been preferable to find out their motives in more detail. As such, we can only speculate as to the identities of those in control," he says.
Vaan's eyes flicker about ceaselessly, searching for danger. "They would have killed Larsa if he did not agree," he argues, his voice rough.
Balthier turns his eyes forward and does not call Vaan an impulsive fool. He must think of escape first.
They are near to a small gate set in the palace wall, now, and guards mill about, blocking the egress.
Vaan looks to Larsa, and the Emperor nods, taking a breath as if to speak.
"Stop them!"
Balthier looks back. A young man stands behind them, clutching an injured arm as blood seeps through his sleeve.
"They kidnap the Emperor!" It is the same voice, Balthier hears. The one which demanded vengeance.
The guards hesitate for a moment, surprise at the order mingling with what must be recognition of Vaan, but Vaan labours under no such burden. Metal screeches against metal, and blood flies.
Vaan dashes by them, rushing back toward the palace, and Larsa spins, pulling away from Balthier's grasp.
"Vaan, no!"
Vaan stops short, his shoulders tense as a bowstring. He stands close to the Council member that Larsa called friend, and the man convulses.
When Vaan steps back, his body still blocks Balthier's view, but he hears the slick sound of metal leaving flesh, and he hears the gentle plops of something soft hitting the ground.
The man falls backward, and there is a thump and a rising cloud of dust, hanging in the dry air.
Vaan turns slowly, and Balthier fixes his eyes on the blood clotting to his hands and sword, so thick as to be black.
--
They stand in the Strahl, silent against the hum of magicite powered engines. Balthier touches the controls, and he feels her wings shift as if stretching on smoothly oiled muscles. There is a burst of speed, and he twists in his seat, looking back to check on his passengers.
Larsa sways, but he keeps his feet. His mouth twitches, as if he tries to smile, but his eyes dart away from Vaan.
The helmet had been left behind, lying on the floor where it had landed.
Penelo places a gentle hand on the thick metal over Vaan's forearm, and she looks hurt when Vaan shrugs it off, but she sees Vaan's face, and she does not speak.
Vaan's hands fly and fumble over the latches and buckles, and he steps from the Judge Magister's armour like a larva shedding its skin.
--
TBC
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