Categories > Games > Final Fantasy XII > Claret Sky
20. That which is
Balthier/Vaan - post-canon
Disclaimers still apply.
Well, there you have it. My morbid, melodramatic AU take on WHEN ESPERS REBEL. Thank you to everyone for reading, for the friends I've made along the way. (Hugs, kisses, baked goods.)
--
Balthier sits against the wall, his gun hot as it rests against his thigh.
He blinks, and he can see Ultima's face, still, twisting as she scrapes at the shards of nethicite that embed within in her eyes upon its shatter under Balthier's shot. He sees the shake to Fran's legs as she pulls herself to stand, the clench of her teeth as the first shot flies wide, and the steadiness to her hand as she sends the second arrow through Ultima's eye. Penelo had leaned heavily against her pole as her dark magick scythed up from the ground, and Balthier thinks the grate of Vaan's breath was loud as he stood, staggered, and lunged.
The crest of Ultima's seal is golden, flashing as it spins, and Fran's weight is warm at his side.
There is a whistle in the air as Vaan brings the Durandal down, and Balthier closes his eyes against the light.
It is quiet for a moment, and then he hears the esper's laugh. It is soft and fades quickly, and Balthier hears the relief.
He glances at Fran, and he lets a smile curve his lips.
"Hm," she says simply, but she reaches out and taps her fist on his.
--
Balthier looks up at the sky ahead. It is bright, and his hands rest loosely on the controls of the Strahl.
He can hear the argument that continues long when Penelo tries to force the last drops of her only elixir down Vaan's throat, and it is clear that Vaan is losing.
A glint of metal catches his eye, and he lifts the disc in his hand. Sunlight reflects off its half-melted surface, and the moulded shapes cast watery shadows on the hollow in its centre.
Balthier sets it down, and it spins an unsteady turn before it subsides.
It lies still.
--
It will take more than firm words, this time.
The air is tense, and armed Imperials dot the square. Civilians glance toward the hidden faces, and snaps of hostility sweep over their faces, intermingled with the fear. Several Dalmascans glance up, toward the wreckage of Bahamut that Balthier knows tilts in the desert behind them.
Balthier watches Ashe place a hand upon Larsa's arm as they step toward the waiting podium.
He aches. The stretch of new skin and the rasp of magick depletion tug at him, but when he sees the mess of hair, burning white under the sun, he bites back the exhaustion and he reaches out to catch an arm.
--
"Balthier," Vaan says.
The skin is tense around his eyes and pale, but he smiles slowly.
The shouts are loud, suddenly, and Balthier's head rings. He hears yells of assassination, of demands of keeping still, and in the din, he thinks he hears Larsa's angry voice.
There are pounding footsteps accompanied by the clank of heavy armour, and he looks around to see Imperials, the sun blinding off their bared swords and plated bodies. They are looking at Vaan, he realizes.
Penelo darts by, sand-coloured hair whipping loose of her braids, and she snatches up Vaan's hand.
"Come on!"
Vaan skids a moment, his boots sending up puffs of fine dust, and then they are dashing away, shoving past Imperial soldiers who react too slowly to reach them.
Balthier kicks out at the back of an armoured knee, and the soldier crumples, toppling several others in the process. Amid the screams and choking dust, Balthier steps into the shadows lining the square.
He sees the waved hand, weathered gauntlet flashing, and he can barely hear the shout.
"I'll see you around, Balthier!"
Balthier watches the pale heads until they are lost in the crowd milling about the Royal City of Rabanastre.
--
There are rumours of the return of Rabanastre's most accomplished hunter, the sky pirate who is unerringly heroic. The women swoon of his rare smile.
Balthier thinks he looks ridiculous, with his belt bedecked with sky jewels and similar coloured baubles, a sword strapped to one hip, and a gun to the other.
He sets his weight on one leg, a hand absently scratching his nose, as he peers up at the hunts' board.
Balthier steps quietly, and he presses the heel of his gun into the small of Vaan's back. Vaan stiffens, hand drifting toward his sword, and Balthier leans forward until his lips nearly touch Vaan's ear.
He smells of sand and sun.
"You will come with me to stand trial," Balthier murmurs.
Balthier waits, and it is but a moment before Vaan laughs, a quiet exhalation accompanied by a dip of his head. "On what charges?" Vaan asks.
"I shall have to come up with something, hmm?" Balthier wonders if Vaan knows that he leans back. The heat radiating from the man's back matches the coil in his belly, and he smiles. "But I can assure you that the punishment will be most dire."
Vaan looks at him, out of the corner of his eye. It is sky-coloured, grey-blue, without a hint of red.
--
End.
P.S. There will be an epilogue because I would like there to be an epilogue.
Balthier/Vaan - post-canon
Disclaimers still apply.
Well, there you have it. My morbid, melodramatic AU take on WHEN ESPERS REBEL. Thank you to everyone for reading, for the friends I've made along the way. (Hugs, kisses, baked goods.)
--
Balthier sits against the wall, his gun hot as it rests against his thigh.
He blinks, and he can see Ultima's face, still, twisting as she scrapes at the shards of nethicite that embed within in her eyes upon its shatter under Balthier's shot. He sees the shake to Fran's legs as she pulls herself to stand, the clench of her teeth as the first shot flies wide, and the steadiness to her hand as she sends the second arrow through Ultima's eye. Penelo had leaned heavily against her pole as her dark magick scythed up from the ground, and Balthier thinks the grate of Vaan's breath was loud as he stood, staggered, and lunged.
The crest of Ultima's seal is golden, flashing as it spins, and Fran's weight is warm at his side.
There is a whistle in the air as Vaan brings the Durandal down, and Balthier closes his eyes against the light.
It is quiet for a moment, and then he hears the esper's laugh. It is soft and fades quickly, and Balthier hears the relief.
He glances at Fran, and he lets a smile curve his lips.
"Hm," she says simply, but she reaches out and taps her fist on his.
--
Balthier looks up at the sky ahead. It is bright, and his hands rest loosely on the controls of the Strahl.
He can hear the argument that continues long when Penelo tries to force the last drops of her only elixir down Vaan's throat, and it is clear that Vaan is losing.
A glint of metal catches his eye, and he lifts the disc in his hand. Sunlight reflects off its half-melted surface, and the moulded shapes cast watery shadows on the hollow in its centre.
Balthier sets it down, and it spins an unsteady turn before it subsides.
It lies still.
--
It will take more than firm words, this time.
The air is tense, and armed Imperials dot the square. Civilians glance toward the hidden faces, and snaps of hostility sweep over their faces, intermingled with the fear. Several Dalmascans glance up, toward the wreckage of Bahamut that Balthier knows tilts in the desert behind them.
Balthier watches Ashe place a hand upon Larsa's arm as they step toward the waiting podium.
He aches. The stretch of new skin and the rasp of magick depletion tug at him, but when he sees the mess of hair, burning white under the sun, he bites back the exhaustion and he reaches out to catch an arm.
--
"Balthier," Vaan says.
The skin is tense around his eyes and pale, but he smiles slowly.
The shouts are loud, suddenly, and Balthier's head rings. He hears yells of assassination, of demands of keeping still, and in the din, he thinks he hears Larsa's angry voice.
There are pounding footsteps accompanied by the clank of heavy armour, and he looks around to see Imperials, the sun blinding off their bared swords and plated bodies. They are looking at Vaan, he realizes.
Penelo darts by, sand-coloured hair whipping loose of her braids, and she snatches up Vaan's hand.
"Come on!"
Vaan skids a moment, his boots sending up puffs of fine dust, and then they are dashing away, shoving past Imperial soldiers who react too slowly to reach them.
Balthier kicks out at the back of an armoured knee, and the soldier crumples, toppling several others in the process. Amid the screams and choking dust, Balthier steps into the shadows lining the square.
He sees the waved hand, weathered gauntlet flashing, and he can barely hear the shout.
"I'll see you around, Balthier!"
Balthier watches the pale heads until they are lost in the crowd milling about the Royal City of Rabanastre.
--
There are rumours of the return of Rabanastre's most accomplished hunter, the sky pirate who is unerringly heroic. The women swoon of his rare smile.
Balthier thinks he looks ridiculous, with his belt bedecked with sky jewels and similar coloured baubles, a sword strapped to one hip, and a gun to the other.
He sets his weight on one leg, a hand absently scratching his nose, as he peers up at the hunts' board.
Balthier steps quietly, and he presses the heel of his gun into the small of Vaan's back. Vaan stiffens, hand drifting toward his sword, and Balthier leans forward until his lips nearly touch Vaan's ear.
He smells of sand and sun.
"You will come with me to stand trial," Balthier murmurs.
Balthier waits, and it is but a moment before Vaan laughs, a quiet exhalation accompanied by a dip of his head. "On what charges?" Vaan asks.
"I shall have to come up with something, hmm?" Balthier wonders if Vaan knows that he leans back. The heat radiating from the man's back matches the coil in his belly, and he smiles. "But I can assure you that the punishment will be most dire."
Vaan looks at him, out of the corner of his eye. It is sky-coloured, grey-blue, without a hint of red.
--
End.
P.S. There will be an epilogue because I would like there to be an epilogue.
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