Categories > Games > Final Fantasy XII > Claret Sky
8. That which turns and returns
Bal/Vaan, post-canon
Disclaimer: All characters and settings are property of Square Enix. No profit is made from the writing of this work, and no copyright infringement is intended. In fact, if time is money, I'm paying you.
And now we move. Dry though it may be, I enjoy plot and action as much as I enjoy Balthier's distress, as sadistic as that sounds.
--
Vaan shuts himself away in the old storeroom above Tomaj's abandoned shop the day before they stage Larsa's triumphant return to Archades.
There is no movement within the room, and Balthier ignores it.
He does not ask, and when Larsa looks at him and tells him he does not know what Vaan is doing, either, Balthier rolls his eyes. He leaves to walk the streets of Lowtown, where young Emperors do not pretend to know every nuance of Balthier's thoughts, but he is stiff around Larsa for the rest of the day.
When the door opens in the morning, and the Judge steps out, his back straight and long, Balthier thinks he should not be surprised. They will pass through patrols easily, and Vaan knows this better than any other.
Balthier looks into the closed helmet, silent and unflinching, and his stomach rebels.
--
They take the Archadian fighter and Larsa does not say anything when he sits on the floor with them while Vaan pilots. Ashelia twists her fingers and says that she cannot accompany them, and Balthier sees the ring flash as it catches the light.
The codes have changed since Larsa's disappearance, but Vaan speaks quickly and bullies his way onto the patrol ship that stops them, and Balthier does not see what happens. Then, the patrol gives them clearance in a wooden voice and Vaan asks Balthier to follow their new escort.
They are ignored as they land in a disused aerodrome, broken and crumbling, at the edge of Old Archades, and Vaan is the only one who exits the patrol ship.
Balthier takes his hand off his gun forcibly.
--
Balthier does not bother to hide his distaste as he stands before Jules. The man's eyes skitter like a rat, lingering on Larsa, who hides his hair under a hat and wears a common nobleman's jacket, and Balthier clears his throat.
"Quite a motley crew you keep company with, Master Balthier." Jules glances at the Judge's armour and away again, his shrug dismissing it as stolen.
"I have my reasons."
"Ahh." Jules clicks his tongue and smiles. "So, you approach the palace. Difficult, but with the right information... Perhaps we can broker a deal beneficial to us all."
He looks to Larsa again, and his smile becomes decidedly smug.
Balthier shifts slightly to draw attention to the weapon at his side, and he smirks when Jules's eyes flicker. The price will not be so steep as Jules would like.
He does not see Vaan move.
There is a thud, and a sick crack of skull meeting stone. Jules moans, tilting his head up against the press of metal to his throat.
"We do not play your games, this time," Vaan says softly, and Jules's eyes widen in recognition.
Jules hesitates for a moment, and he says, "Speak to Otto. He works near the gates these days."
Vaan leans in until the metallic scowl of his helm must fill Jules's vision, and Jules flinches. Apparently satisfied by what he sees, Vaan steps back.
He presses gloved fingers into Jules's palm, and he turns and walks away, a hand on Larsa's shoulder. "Take them," he says. "I have no further use for them."
Penelo glances back before following, and Fran shakes her head languidly.
Jules is coughing, rubbing his neck with his free hand. He steps forward, showing Balthier his hand.
A small pile of sandalwood chops lies in his palm, stacked neatly.
"Your apprentice will soon outstrip his teacher, Master Balthier."
Balthier sighs. "Yet still a soft touch."
Jules shuffles back as he passes.
--
Vaan walks oddly quietly for a man ensconced in heavy plate armour. He leads them to what must be the servants' quarters, for the smell of acrid soap and hay-strewn floors is strong. He walks with his head lifted, projecting the image of the haughty noble ignoring the commoners well enough that Balthier cannot help but think of his first glimpse of the Judges Magister striding through the palace. He was young and easily awed, then.
He remembers Basch, suddenly.
The servants bow and scrape, scurrying to flatten themselves against the walls as they pass, and Vaan's step never falters.
Balthier watches the ridged metal of Vaan's back speculatively.
"Worry you not that the servants will report our presence? I hardly think Judges appear in this portion of the palace often," Fran says quietly, once they are alone with their muffled footsteps.
Balthier allows himself an inelegant snort. "Not these sheep," he says. "Archades tames her curs well."
"Harsh words," Fran says.
"Harsh truth."
--
They wait until dead night before they move.
Vaan tucks an Orichalcum Dirk into Balthier's hand without a word, but there is a warning in his eyes.
Balthier raises his brow. Did the man truly think he did not understand their need for silence this night?
"You are rather flashy," Penelo murmurs, and Balthier attempts to appear as betrayed as humely possible.
They are all on edge, and Larsa smiles nervously at him. Balthier thinks that at the very least, the teasing has dispensed of some of the restless energy.
Vaan wears soft black boots now, and a servant's frock over his trousers, and Balthier watches him melt into the shadows as he gestures for the others to follow.
--
The blood stain in the tented sheets grows rapidly, and Balthier watches the black edge travel.
He looks to Vaan, who wipes his blade against a clean area of fabric and leaves dark stripes in its wake. What little light seeps in through the gated window splashes over Vaan's face, and the set to his eyes and jaw, it is dead and blank and loathesome.
He proposes they split up through dry lips. He has Vaan's dagger, he says, and he can take Larsa to show him where the Council members sleep.
Vaan looks at him, and he looks to Larsa before shaking his head. "No. Let's go."
The other Council members die just as silently.
--
There is uproar in the morning, but Balthier watches as Larsa sits upon his high throne and quells the unrest with firm words and strong shoulders.
The Emperor appears taller in his formal robes.
Balthier sees the tightness in his jaw and the pallor to his skin, though, and he frowns.
The last Council member had been awake, and the old man had reacted more quickly to his intruders than Balthier would have once thought possible. He had struck out at Larsa and crushed the bone in a leg before Vaan sliced through his throat, blade parting spine and cartilage both.
Larsa had trembled under Fran's hands as she prodded the wound and declared that it would heal before abruptly snapping the bone back into alignment.
She tells Penelo later that if Larsa is to regain use of the leg, it must heal naturally, for magick would scar the muscle irrecoverably, and Balthier thinks Penelo whitens, but takes the news admirably. Fran will leave the Emperor's health in Penelo's care without reservation.
As for the Emperor's safety, Balthier tilts his head to look to the armoured figure at Larsa's left hand.
It seems much larger now, with its ornate detailing and trailing cape.
Balthier turns to leave Archadia's Emperor under the protection of her newest Judge Magister, and he thinks the great horned helm inclines gently toward him.
He feels heavy, as if he is the one under the burden.
--
It is nearly a month later that Balthier receives Vaan's message, and it is short, abrupt, and scrawled in a hurried hand.
All is not well.
Balthier turns the Strahl north, and it is as if the sky watches.
--
TBC
Bal/Vaan, post-canon
Disclaimer: All characters and settings are property of Square Enix. No profit is made from the writing of this work, and no copyright infringement is intended. In fact, if time is money, I'm paying you.
And now we move. Dry though it may be, I enjoy plot and action as much as I enjoy Balthier's distress, as sadistic as that sounds.
--
Vaan shuts himself away in the old storeroom above Tomaj's abandoned shop the day before they stage Larsa's triumphant return to Archades.
There is no movement within the room, and Balthier ignores it.
He does not ask, and when Larsa looks at him and tells him he does not know what Vaan is doing, either, Balthier rolls his eyes. He leaves to walk the streets of Lowtown, where young Emperors do not pretend to know every nuance of Balthier's thoughts, but he is stiff around Larsa for the rest of the day.
When the door opens in the morning, and the Judge steps out, his back straight and long, Balthier thinks he should not be surprised. They will pass through patrols easily, and Vaan knows this better than any other.
Balthier looks into the closed helmet, silent and unflinching, and his stomach rebels.
--
They take the Archadian fighter and Larsa does not say anything when he sits on the floor with them while Vaan pilots. Ashelia twists her fingers and says that she cannot accompany them, and Balthier sees the ring flash as it catches the light.
The codes have changed since Larsa's disappearance, but Vaan speaks quickly and bullies his way onto the patrol ship that stops them, and Balthier does not see what happens. Then, the patrol gives them clearance in a wooden voice and Vaan asks Balthier to follow their new escort.
They are ignored as they land in a disused aerodrome, broken and crumbling, at the edge of Old Archades, and Vaan is the only one who exits the patrol ship.
Balthier takes his hand off his gun forcibly.
--
Balthier does not bother to hide his distaste as he stands before Jules. The man's eyes skitter like a rat, lingering on Larsa, who hides his hair under a hat and wears a common nobleman's jacket, and Balthier clears his throat.
"Quite a motley crew you keep company with, Master Balthier." Jules glances at the Judge's armour and away again, his shrug dismissing it as stolen.
"I have my reasons."
"Ahh." Jules clicks his tongue and smiles. "So, you approach the palace. Difficult, but with the right information... Perhaps we can broker a deal beneficial to us all."
He looks to Larsa again, and his smile becomes decidedly smug.
Balthier shifts slightly to draw attention to the weapon at his side, and he smirks when Jules's eyes flicker. The price will not be so steep as Jules would like.
He does not see Vaan move.
There is a thud, and a sick crack of skull meeting stone. Jules moans, tilting his head up against the press of metal to his throat.
"We do not play your games, this time," Vaan says softly, and Jules's eyes widen in recognition.
Jules hesitates for a moment, and he says, "Speak to Otto. He works near the gates these days."
Vaan leans in until the metallic scowl of his helm must fill Jules's vision, and Jules flinches. Apparently satisfied by what he sees, Vaan steps back.
He presses gloved fingers into Jules's palm, and he turns and walks away, a hand on Larsa's shoulder. "Take them," he says. "I have no further use for them."
Penelo glances back before following, and Fran shakes her head languidly.
Jules is coughing, rubbing his neck with his free hand. He steps forward, showing Balthier his hand.
A small pile of sandalwood chops lies in his palm, stacked neatly.
"Your apprentice will soon outstrip his teacher, Master Balthier."
Balthier sighs. "Yet still a soft touch."
Jules shuffles back as he passes.
--
Vaan walks oddly quietly for a man ensconced in heavy plate armour. He leads them to what must be the servants' quarters, for the smell of acrid soap and hay-strewn floors is strong. He walks with his head lifted, projecting the image of the haughty noble ignoring the commoners well enough that Balthier cannot help but think of his first glimpse of the Judges Magister striding through the palace. He was young and easily awed, then.
He remembers Basch, suddenly.
The servants bow and scrape, scurrying to flatten themselves against the walls as they pass, and Vaan's step never falters.
Balthier watches the ridged metal of Vaan's back speculatively.
"Worry you not that the servants will report our presence? I hardly think Judges appear in this portion of the palace often," Fran says quietly, once they are alone with their muffled footsteps.
Balthier allows himself an inelegant snort. "Not these sheep," he says. "Archades tames her curs well."
"Harsh words," Fran says.
"Harsh truth."
--
They wait until dead night before they move.
Vaan tucks an Orichalcum Dirk into Balthier's hand without a word, but there is a warning in his eyes.
Balthier raises his brow. Did the man truly think he did not understand their need for silence this night?
"You are rather flashy," Penelo murmurs, and Balthier attempts to appear as betrayed as humely possible.
They are all on edge, and Larsa smiles nervously at him. Balthier thinks that at the very least, the teasing has dispensed of some of the restless energy.
Vaan wears soft black boots now, and a servant's frock over his trousers, and Balthier watches him melt into the shadows as he gestures for the others to follow.
--
The blood stain in the tented sheets grows rapidly, and Balthier watches the black edge travel.
He looks to Vaan, who wipes his blade against a clean area of fabric and leaves dark stripes in its wake. What little light seeps in through the gated window splashes over Vaan's face, and the set to his eyes and jaw, it is dead and blank and loathesome.
He proposes they split up through dry lips. He has Vaan's dagger, he says, and he can take Larsa to show him where the Council members sleep.
Vaan looks at him, and he looks to Larsa before shaking his head. "No. Let's go."
The other Council members die just as silently.
--
There is uproar in the morning, but Balthier watches as Larsa sits upon his high throne and quells the unrest with firm words and strong shoulders.
The Emperor appears taller in his formal robes.
Balthier sees the tightness in his jaw and the pallor to his skin, though, and he frowns.
The last Council member had been awake, and the old man had reacted more quickly to his intruders than Balthier would have once thought possible. He had struck out at Larsa and crushed the bone in a leg before Vaan sliced through his throat, blade parting spine and cartilage both.
Larsa had trembled under Fran's hands as she prodded the wound and declared that it would heal before abruptly snapping the bone back into alignment.
She tells Penelo later that if Larsa is to regain use of the leg, it must heal naturally, for magick would scar the muscle irrecoverably, and Balthier thinks Penelo whitens, but takes the news admirably. Fran will leave the Emperor's health in Penelo's care without reservation.
As for the Emperor's safety, Balthier tilts his head to look to the armoured figure at Larsa's left hand.
It seems much larger now, with its ornate detailing and trailing cape.
Balthier turns to leave Archadia's Emperor under the protection of her newest Judge Magister, and he thinks the great horned helm inclines gently toward him.
He feels heavy, as if he is the one under the burden.
--
It is nearly a month later that Balthier receives Vaan's message, and it is short, abrupt, and scrawled in a hurried hand.
All is not well.
Balthier turns the Strahl north, and it is as if the sky watches.
--
TBC
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