Fic: Tangled in Waiting (4/?)
Title: Tangled in Waiting (4/?)
Author: Atthla
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Pairing: Vaan/Ashe, Larsa/Penelo
Warning: SPOILERS for the end of the game.
Rating: T or PG-13
Disclaimer: FF series belongs to SquareEnix
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3
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The sky was bleeding.
Penelo sighed, her eyes taking in the red-painted scenery laid before them with barely unconcealed disappointment. What people said about distance, that it put things into perspectives, was absolutely true. She hadn’t realized how much in love she was with Dalmasca until she left its soils and skies and found herself alone in a foreign land where everything seemed less vibrant, less beautiful. Here in Archadia, the setting sun doused the orderly city in bland red, a dull monochrome compared to the twilight of Rabanastre she had always enjoyed watching since before she could even remember. She loved the burst of colours - gold, flame, purple, tan - and the smooth, almost imperceptible transition as light surrendered to the first shadows of the night.
Another sigh escaped her lips as she watched a flock of birds flew past, the tip of her fingers touching the warm windowpane. It had been a week since she had arrived in Archadia. While she was not exactly a prisoner, Larsa had mentioned that it was best to stay low for a few days. She had been provided a house, a small but comfortable one at the edge of the city, and a maid to see to her every need.
She knew that Larsa meant well and had done everything within his power to ensure her safety, but, Penelo realized guiltily, all she could feel was weariness. Shadows of ennui were eclipsing her gratitude and being cooped up for so long between these unfamiliar walls did not help. Unwelcome thoughts started to fester inside her mind, those thoughts that would have mortified her had her mind not been so clouded.
If only Vaan had never visited Ashe.
If only she hadn’t let her best friend gone to the Royal Palace that day three years ago.
If only they had never met at all.
Penelo bit her lips. She hated being here, in this cold, snobbish empire that appreciated lineage more than true wits or skills. And she missed Vaan, missed his smile and easy grace, missed his inexplicable talent to make everything seem better and brighter for her. With Vaan, she wouldn’t have felt this miserable.
“Would you fancy some tea, Miss?”
She turned around on reflex, her train of thought brusquely cut off by the voice. On the doorway stood her maid, Feria, a tray on her hands and a slightly apologetic look on her face. Penelo forced herself to smile.
“Yes, thank you,” she replied and left the window, her yellow Archadian-style gown rustling and sweeping the floor. She was never used to these long dresses, both her situation back then and line-of-work at present not allowing her much choice in regard of variety of wardrobe. And it wasn’t as if she enjoyed wearing them in the first place, but she couldn’t exactly be picky in this situation.
The tea was sweet and had a slice of lemon in it, just how she liked it best. Penelo enjoyed it in silence, inwardly debating with herself whether or not to throw the question this time. It was almost redundant, the way she asked Feria everyday if she had heard any news regarding Dalmasca - and most importantly, one of the most notorious sky-pirates around - and the same reply she would get every time. Always the same answer. No, Miss, I’m afraid not. I will tell you as soon as I get wind of something.
It wasn’t as if she suspected that Larsa was deliberately withholding information from her, but this feeling of solitude didn’t help to keep the sinister thoughts at bay. He cared for her, that was certain, but…
The knocking sound was soft but sharp against her wandering mind. Penelo felt every muscle in her body tensing immediately and her gaze flew to the direction to the door, dread catching up not a moment later. Feria was already on her feet, eyes quickly scanning about the room.
“Please stay here, Miss,” she said in a low voice. Penelo managed a small nod and the other woman quickly left the room. It wasn’t that she was unable to defend herself - being an accomplice to a very much active sky-pirate had easily taken care of that - and Feria herself had revealed that in addition to being a maid, she had been extensively trained in martial arts in case something undesirable should happen. However, there had never been any visitor to their dwelling and her paranoia at being in an unfamiliar territory definitely did not help to soften the situation.
She did not have to wait long. When Feria returned, a tense look on her face, Penelo knew at once who the guest was. Behind her was Larsa, attired in a glorious white-gold ensemble which suited him perfectly in the crimson glow of the deepening dusk. Penelo found herself quickly rising to her feet. His name was on the tip of her tongue, but the stately look on his face and the sight of guards he brought with him, following his shadow closely, abruptly reminded her to their respective position.
It was almost like a slap to her face. Of course. He was the Emperor of Archadia, not a mere traveling companion anymore. The thought forced her to curtsey hastily and murmured, “Your Majesty.”
She sensed, more than saw, the swell of his disappointment, like a curtain of mist had set in and the air between then suddenly became denser, colder. He waved a hand to dismiss his guards and nodded at Feria, an action which sent the maid retreating to the door swiftly. Penelo could not help but feel anxious. His presence, she realized, was imposing, no longer comforting like it had been long time ago.
“Please sit down, Penelo,” he motioned toward the couch she had vacated and took the one opposite hers. “I hope you do not mind the suddenness of my visit.”
“Oh,” she halted, stumbling over the twist and delicate meandering of words. They had never been her forte and in his company, her inadequacy only stood more conspicuous than ever. “No… of course not,” she finally found her wits to speak again. “Not at all.”
Larsa smiled, even if it was small and a little too tight. “I apologize for not being able to come sooner,” he said again. “Too many matters demand for my attention. Are you comfortable enough here?”
“Yes, you have been very kind,” Penelo answered quietly, lowering her gaze toward the table between them. She suddenly found herself unable to look at him.
The Emperor seemed to realize this as well because at the next moment he said softly, “Penelo, I do not want our relationship to be awkward. I am here as a friend who wishes to help, not the ruler of an empire.”
“I know, but it’s...” she bit her lips, losing her weak, pitiful grasp on her limited vocabulary. The fingers on her lap, she discovered, were slowly destroying her dress in their nervousness, leaving the shimmering material heavily creased and rumpled.
When she raised her eyes, Larsa was still looking at her, eyes grave and face set in a stony solemnity. No boy of his age - he was not even sixteen -should ever wear that kind of look, but then again, he was not a sixteen-year-old boy. He was so much more than that.
An emperor.
Penelo shook her head slowly, helplessness, desperation shrouding her like a blanket of mist. “It’s still awkward.”
“But I’m still Larsa.”
“Who bears the name Solidor and is the Emperor of Archadia,” she stated, looking straight into his eyes.
The ensuing silence settled heavily between them, like an invisible wall built out of stone, thick and insurmountable. Larsa had his chin set on top of his tightly interwoven fingers, arms two rigid structures rising from their pedestal on his knees. He was a very intimidating man, with a commanding presence and speech and conduct, but despite all those, Penelo realized that she had never seen him so lost or vulnerable.
“I see,” he then murmured, his voice echoing hollowly in the darkening chamber.
“No, I don’t mean it in a bad way,” she hastily said. “It’s just… I don’t know. This situation, it’s a little intimidating.”
“You were not quite intimidated a few years ago,” he reminded her quietly and Penelo wondered whether she was only imagining the injured note in his level voice. But she pushed the guilt aside and shook her head, stubbornness building inside her.
“Things were different back then,” she explained, and immediately realized how true it was. The living proof was here, sitting across her with eyes of a brewing storm. Larsa had been no more than a child back then - a prince perhaps, but he had seen not thirteen summers yet and, as inconsequential as this might sound, she had stood taller than him. While his manners had already been those of an adult, it had been much easier for her to regard him as a friend, or even a younger brother.
But this young man, he wasn’t the Larsa she knew. They had continued their correspondence all through these years, sharing stories of wild adventures and palatial life, but she had not realized how much he had changed until she met him in person. Or maybe he hadn’t changed at all. Maybe this was the real Larsa, the side he had chosen not to show her three years ago, the side his youthful façade of a boy could have still hidden.
“Do you know that I love you?”
Penelo felt the sharp intake of breath she unconsciously took, her eyes quickly darting to his hard face. Her heart was beating loudly against her chest as the most uncontrollable panic she had every felt ambushed her out of nowhere. There was no way she could answer that.
“You know, don’t you?” He held her gaze steadily, no inflection of any kind in his voice. “But you love Vaan.”
She shook her head wildly, her teeth sinking into dry lips. “I don’t know. Please don’t ask me again, I...” she trailed off and looked down to her tightly clasped hands, shaking slightly.
“Penelo,” he spoke again, his tone of voice compelling her to look at him once more, “I confess my heart to you as a man. Do not mistake it as a demand from an emperor. I respect your feelings and I shall respect your choice, no matter what it is.”
“But it isn’t fair,” she answered edgily, some of the tremors already trickling into her voice. “You say those things to me while I’m here, living at your mercy. It…”
“Penelo-“
“It isn’t fair!” she heard herself shouting, found her entire body shaking, either at the impact or her own uncontainable misery. He flinched slightly but his face, if it was even possible, only grew stonier under her continuous onslaught. It was an intense silence between them, minutes lapping after minutes until one of them - he - ventured to speak once more.
“I apologize if my confession caused you any uneasiness.” A hint of remorse, but formality was all she could detect. “It was not my intention at all.”
“I believe you wish to know about Vaan,” his voice had returned to its normal level of composure and Penelo suddenly felt that she could breathe again. Larsa was looking at her with his grey eyes, almost dark in the dimming wash of light as the sun descended even farther into the west. “As far as I know, his name has once again been cleared as the Queen has regained her consciousness three days ago. His life is in no immediate threat as of now, but I have reasons to believe that he is still in Rabanastre.”
“Of course he is,” she murmured, bitterness reflected only too palpably on her tight voice and, she imagined, her face too. This, of course, did not escape him.
“Then I shall take my leave.” He rose to his feet and Penelo found herself following the action without thinking. Again she was struck at the difference of their height, more than noticeable now it stood as he kept his distance across the table. “You can speak to Feria if you need anything else,” he added and the eyes which stared into hers were contrite, almost rueful. “And please, Penelo, do not burden yourself with my whims or any other selfish impulses I might have exhibited this evening. I shall not speak of it anymore if you so wish.”
Penelo wished she could bring herself to smile, but all she could manage was a small nod.
“Thank you.”
-----
The chamber was warm. Too warm, in her opinion. The air was stifling, stagnant, as if the lingering darkness had chased away every little wisp of wind and filled the space left behind with endless void and silence. Night usually had its own voices, subdued though they might be compared to daylight, but tonight everything only fell dead to her ears.
Ashe rolled over to her side, sighing quietly. Perhaps she had been too used to the static cacophony in her head after days and nights of endless fever as she slipped in and out of consciousness. The silence was nearly unbearable now, only broken every now and then by the distant sound of footsteps, pacing in the hall. Her security had been quadrupled since the second incident, including her access to any food, water, or medicine and this time, she knew that she did not have any reasonable grounds to protest.
Or perhaps it was due to the deprivation of her nocturnal habit. Her muscles felt lethargic after almost two weeks without any strenuous activity, but her mind had gained its old sharpness back. Several glasses of fine Rozarrian wine usually helped to lull her consciousness to sleep, but since she was still under medication, any alcoholic beverage was off-limits. The queen sighed again, longing for the sweetness twisted with a faint hint of bitterness to soothe her dry throat, lend her just the distraction she needed.
She slowly sat up, repelling the incoming wave of lightheadedness the action resulted, and reached for a goblet of water situated on the low table next to her bed. Her fingers had just touched its cool, metallic surface when a heavy, muffled sound came from the direction of the balcony and stilled her hand. On the next second, she had found the dagger under her pillow and grasped it tightly, the glinting blade poised in front of her chest as she waited in tense silence.
The footfalls were light and faint, leather against woven carpets - the intruder was being extremely careful. Ashe thought about the guards in front of her door, panic catching up a moment later when she realized that she could no longer hear any footstep in the hall. Had they been also taken care of? Why hadn’t she heard anything?
It wouldn’t be the first time, a part of her mind reflected grimly. A ruler could not always please everyone and sometimes the dissatisfaction was great enough for them to resort to more drastic measures, such as trying to assassinate her. Perhaps it was just her luck that she had trouble sleeping this night. Her body had not forgotten its training, but her senses had evidently been dulled somewhat.
The intruder moved further into the royal chamber and Ashe was ready to lunge forward and make the first move when a patch of pale light streaming down from the window fell on his features. She gasped, recognizing the trespasser as Vaan. The tension straining her muscles and nerves dispersed immediately and her hand fell to her side, the hilt of the dagger from her limp fingers to embroidered sheets.
“By Raithwall, Vaan, you frightened me,” she said faintly, her voice weak from overwhelming relief.
The young sky pirate stopped just next to her bed, rubbing the back of his head in a moment of awkwardness. “I’m sorry. I… just want to see if you’re okay. It’s a bad time, I know, but…” he made a helpless gesture, head bowed low to his chest, and then repeated, more sincerely, “I’m really sorry.”
Ashe closed her eyes for a moment, calming her erratic heartbeat before looking at her uninvited guest once more. “There are two guards out there in the balcony.”
Blue eyes flickered toward her face, a familiar glint in them. “Yes.”
“You attacked them.”
“I made them sleep for a little while, yes,” his voice held a trace of apology but the curve of his grin was anything but repentant.
“I cannot believe you, Vaan,” she reproached, trying to sound indignant but knew very well that her lips were smiling. It was difficult not to, especially when seeing that grin on his face. “How did you do it? There is a magic barrier in the palace ground.”
“With a more conventional method,” he admitted with sheer lack of compunction.
“Indeed.” The queen brought a hand to her temple, feeling the beginning of a headache. There would definitely be questions tomorrow, which she completely had no idea how to answer. After all, two healthy grown men could not just pass out without reason. And then suspicions would follow and she would have the head of her Royal Guard breathing down her neck about this… extraordinary phenomenon.
Feigning ignorance seemed to be her best choice to avoid any more problems. Inwardly sighing, she motioned for him to sit at the edge of her bed, deciding that to drag a chair would entail having unnecessary sounds which might attract her guards’s attention now that she knew nothing had happened to them. Vaan only hesitated for a moment before taking up her offer and carefully sitting down.
“You look better than I thought,” he said quietly, keeping his voice as low as possible.
“Yes, my conditions have vastly improved since yesterday.” She bit her lips and held his gaze. “I really apologize for the inconvenience these incidents have caused you, Vaan. I have instructed Minister Pavarell to withdraw every charge he has placed on you.”
His eyes narrowed slightly at her words. “And your minister doesn’t disagree?”
She gave him a wry smile. “You do not have to worry about it.”
“No, that’s my problem too,” he declared and leant closer to her. “I know I can be stupid sometimes, but I do realize that you are the Queen. I’m a sky pirate. You can’t endorse me publicly.” A pause and then he added softly, “Don’t do it.”
Ashe felt her fingers squeezing each other on her lap, the beginning of helplessness building on the parched, barren surface of her heart. “But you are innocent,” she argued.
He smiled - a smile which was so gentle that it almost seemed strange on his face. “As long as you believe it, I don’t care about anything else.”
The words had their immediate impact. Ashe could only stare at him, heart dancing wildly, uncomfortably, painfully in her chest. For one brief instant, she was seeing Balthier again, his easy smirk and grace and velvety voice - because I’m the leading man, Princess - and it brought such immense agony to her that she had to look away. Wave after wave of memories crashed against the shore of her mind, angry at being suppressed for so long. Love did not tolerate. It overwhelmed, hurt, destroyed. It was mindless. It was vengeful.
“Ashe?” The anxious tone riddling her name pulled her back to present. Vaan’s face was too close and it took all her restraint not to overreact and hysterically push him away. Or draw him close and feel once more what human warmth was. He was not Balthier, he was not Rasler, but things were not that simple either.
Don’t fall into the same hole twice, she reminded herself sternly, shaking her head to clear her mind. Gods only knew how long it had taken for her to recover from the last fall. She could not afford dealing with the same pain, not under this shadow of threat to her life.
“Larsa sent words that Penelo is fine,” Ashe diverted the subject of the conversation once she had found the courage to speak again, ignoring the slight tremor in her voice. “He asked me to deliver the message if I met you.”
Another smile, fraught with relief, brightened his face. “That’s good. I know she will be much safer with him.”
She raised a curve of eyebrow, already regaining her equilibrium with the focus of their discussion pulled away from her. “Than with you? Vaan, she is your partner.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Still, I don’t want her to get hurt. This is my own problem. I brought this to myself and she shouldn’t have to suffer because of it.”
“Indeed she will be safer in Archadia,” she finally admitted. “Larsa will make sure of that.”
“What about you?” His blue eyes were once more on her and Ashe fought down a grimace when she realized that the topic had returned to her.
“What about me, Vaan?” she inquired, maintaining the evenness of her voice.
“I was thinking,” he began thoughtfully, “about what I did tonight, how I got in here. Have you ever thought having a personal bodyguard - I mean, a female bodyguard? You know, to stay with you all the time in case something happens.”
“The idea crossed my mind once,” the queen replied, “but before I could express it to Minister Pavarell, I, as you know, had been once again poisoned.”
“You really should get one,” Vaan said decisively. “So far, they’ve failed twice through poisoning. There’s no guarantee they won’t resort to a more vicious tactic. Hell, if I can slip in without making too much ruckus, why can’t they?”
Ashe allowed herself a thin smile. “Then perhaps it is my security system which is in dire need of an evaluation.”
“Still, better safe than sorry,” he continued to press on. “Do you think you can find someone good enough for the job?”
“I don’t think it is the problem, Vaan,” she finally acknowledged the subject, struggling to keep her voice level. She hated being powerless, but she obliged herself to continue, “I must admit that these recent incidents have made clear of certain points I have constantly tried to overlook. I… right now I do not know who I still can trust.”
His blue eyes widened a fraction. She could see the battle in them - guilt, shame, a sprinkle of anger at himself - and felt them mirrored in her own heart.
“I never thought…” he breathed out, his voice quivering slightly. “If I have known-“
“There was nothing you could do,” she interrupted him smoothly, a feeling of numbness starting to spread. “Besides, I am the ruler of my people. I should have known better.”
Even though it hurt all the same.
Even though everything had been unfair from the start.
Justice was a subject she often reflected upon, especially in the darkest hours when despair was only a hair’s breadth away. And then she would be tempted to blame her entire predicament to injustice. To be a ruler was not an easy matter, let alone to rule wisely. She had not been extensively trained in politics and governmental matters. She was a princess with eight older brothers - who had ever thought that in the end they would have to rely on her to run the kingdom? But she had done everything she could, since the time of her hiding as Amalia, learning from her uncle and her people, scraping every bit of knowledge and weaving them together into this delicate tapestry which could barely hold together, let alone the entire system of Dalmasca.
But here she was, a queen with nothing to believe in but the cold embrace of a long dead husband and a love that would always be a little out of reach.
“Aren’t you afraid?” Ashe looked up, finding Vaan looking at her with such intensity that she couldn’t help a shiver. An unreadable look was painted on his face, but the question was another matter entirely.
“I…” she trailed off and then realized that she didn’t know the answer.
She didn’t know the answer.
It was a cold realization, of something she had long since recognized and yet never dared to admit. Ashe felt the desperate laughter bubbling up her throat.
“You’ve been poisoned twice,” he said again, a hard note entering his voice, “and both were almost successful. Aren’t you afraid for your life? Or even at all?”
She realized she almost answered ‘no’.
That was what she had been trained in - white lies, pretend, smile, because politics had no use for emotions unless they could serve one’s cause. A safer route, but a lie nonetheless. She was tired of lies.
“Yes.”
It was almost foreign, the taste of honesty on her tongue.
The hard lines on his features softened and he suddenly reached for her trembling hands, clasping them in his. “I’m sorry,” the words left his mouth in a rush. “After saying all those stuffs to you, friends forever and that rubbish, I…” He bit his lips, anger twisting his face. “Some friend I am. I-“
“Don’t say that, Vaan,” Ashe heard her own quivering voice and wished that it didn’t sound so weak. “I shut you out too - and everyone else in that matter. I am partly to blame.”
The warm fingers around hers tightened. “I will never leave you again,” he said quietly, solemnly, earnestly. “I swear on my brother’s name.”
His words echoed in her ears, making her heart twist painfully in her chest, but the queen forced herself to smile.
End Chapter Four
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Author: Atthla
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Pairing: Vaan/Ashe, Larsa/Penelo
Warning: SPOILERS for the end of the game.
Rating: T or PG-13
Disclaimer: FF series belongs to SquareEnix
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3
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The sky was bleeding.
Penelo sighed, her eyes taking in the red-painted scenery laid before them with barely unconcealed disappointment. What people said about distance, that it put things into perspectives, was absolutely true. She hadn’t realized how much in love she was with Dalmasca until she left its soils and skies and found herself alone in a foreign land where everything seemed less vibrant, less beautiful. Here in Archadia, the setting sun doused the orderly city in bland red, a dull monochrome compared to the twilight of Rabanastre she had always enjoyed watching since before she could even remember. She loved the burst of colours - gold, flame, purple, tan - and the smooth, almost imperceptible transition as light surrendered to the first shadows of the night.
Another sigh escaped her lips as she watched a flock of birds flew past, the tip of her fingers touching the warm windowpane. It had been a week since she had arrived in Archadia. While she was not exactly a prisoner, Larsa had mentioned that it was best to stay low for a few days. She had been provided a house, a small but comfortable one at the edge of the city, and a maid to see to her every need.
She knew that Larsa meant well and had done everything within his power to ensure her safety, but, Penelo realized guiltily, all she could feel was weariness. Shadows of ennui were eclipsing her gratitude and being cooped up for so long between these unfamiliar walls did not help. Unwelcome thoughts started to fester inside her mind, those thoughts that would have mortified her had her mind not been so clouded.
If only Vaan had never visited Ashe.
If only she hadn’t let her best friend gone to the Royal Palace that day three years ago.
If only they had never met at all.
Penelo bit her lips. She hated being here, in this cold, snobbish empire that appreciated lineage more than true wits or skills. And she missed Vaan, missed his smile and easy grace, missed his inexplicable talent to make everything seem better and brighter for her. With Vaan, she wouldn’t have felt this miserable.
“Would you fancy some tea, Miss?”
She turned around on reflex, her train of thought brusquely cut off by the voice. On the doorway stood her maid, Feria, a tray on her hands and a slightly apologetic look on her face. Penelo forced herself to smile.
“Yes, thank you,” she replied and left the window, her yellow Archadian-style gown rustling and sweeping the floor. She was never used to these long dresses, both her situation back then and line-of-work at present not allowing her much choice in regard of variety of wardrobe. And it wasn’t as if she enjoyed wearing them in the first place, but she couldn’t exactly be picky in this situation.
The tea was sweet and had a slice of lemon in it, just how she liked it best. Penelo enjoyed it in silence, inwardly debating with herself whether or not to throw the question this time. It was almost redundant, the way she asked Feria everyday if she had heard any news regarding Dalmasca - and most importantly, one of the most notorious sky-pirates around - and the same reply she would get every time. Always the same answer. No, Miss, I’m afraid not. I will tell you as soon as I get wind of something.
It wasn’t as if she suspected that Larsa was deliberately withholding information from her, but this feeling of solitude didn’t help to keep the sinister thoughts at bay. He cared for her, that was certain, but…
The knocking sound was soft but sharp against her wandering mind. Penelo felt every muscle in her body tensing immediately and her gaze flew to the direction to the door, dread catching up not a moment later. Feria was already on her feet, eyes quickly scanning about the room.
“Please stay here, Miss,” she said in a low voice. Penelo managed a small nod and the other woman quickly left the room. It wasn’t that she was unable to defend herself - being an accomplice to a very much active sky-pirate had easily taken care of that - and Feria herself had revealed that in addition to being a maid, she had been extensively trained in martial arts in case something undesirable should happen. However, there had never been any visitor to their dwelling and her paranoia at being in an unfamiliar territory definitely did not help to soften the situation.
She did not have to wait long. When Feria returned, a tense look on her face, Penelo knew at once who the guest was. Behind her was Larsa, attired in a glorious white-gold ensemble which suited him perfectly in the crimson glow of the deepening dusk. Penelo found herself quickly rising to her feet. His name was on the tip of her tongue, but the stately look on his face and the sight of guards he brought with him, following his shadow closely, abruptly reminded her to their respective position.
It was almost like a slap to her face. Of course. He was the Emperor of Archadia, not a mere traveling companion anymore. The thought forced her to curtsey hastily and murmured, “Your Majesty.”
She sensed, more than saw, the swell of his disappointment, like a curtain of mist had set in and the air between then suddenly became denser, colder. He waved a hand to dismiss his guards and nodded at Feria, an action which sent the maid retreating to the door swiftly. Penelo could not help but feel anxious. His presence, she realized, was imposing, no longer comforting like it had been long time ago.
“Please sit down, Penelo,” he motioned toward the couch she had vacated and took the one opposite hers. “I hope you do not mind the suddenness of my visit.”
“Oh,” she halted, stumbling over the twist and delicate meandering of words. They had never been her forte and in his company, her inadequacy only stood more conspicuous than ever. “No… of course not,” she finally found her wits to speak again. “Not at all.”
Larsa smiled, even if it was small and a little too tight. “I apologize for not being able to come sooner,” he said again. “Too many matters demand for my attention. Are you comfortable enough here?”
“Yes, you have been very kind,” Penelo answered quietly, lowering her gaze toward the table between them. She suddenly found herself unable to look at him.
The Emperor seemed to realize this as well because at the next moment he said softly, “Penelo, I do not want our relationship to be awkward. I am here as a friend who wishes to help, not the ruler of an empire.”
“I know, but it’s...” she bit her lips, losing her weak, pitiful grasp on her limited vocabulary. The fingers on her lap, she discovered, were slowly destroying her dress in their nervousness, leaving the shimmering material heavily creased and rumpled.
When she raised her eyes, Larsa was still looking at her, eyes grave and face set in a stony solemnity. No boy of his age - he was not even sixteen -should ever wear that kind of look, but then again, he was not a sixteen-year-old boy. He was so much more than that.
An emperor.
Penelo shook her head slowly, helplessness, desperation shrouding her like a blanket of mist. “It’s still awkward.”
“But I’m still Larsa.”
“Who bears the name Solidor and is the Emperor of Archadia,” she stated, looking straight into his eyes.
The ensuing silence settled heavily between them, like an invisible wall built out of stone, thick and insurmountable. Larsa had his chin set on top of his tightly interwoven fingers, arms two rigid structures rising from their pedestal on his knees. He was a very intimidating man, with a commanding presence and speech and conduct, but despite all those, Penelo realized that she had never seen him so lost or vulnerable.
“I see,” he then murmured, his voice echoing hollowly in the darkening chamber.
“No, I don’t mean it in a bad way,” she hastily said. “It’s just… I don’t know. This situation, it’s a little intimidating.”
“You were not quite intimidated a few years ago,” he reminded her quietly and Penelo wondered whether she was only imagining the injured note in his level voice. But she pushed the guilt aside and shook her head, stubbornness building inside her.
“Things were different back then,” she explained, and immediately realized how true it was. The living proof was here, sitting across her with eyes of a brewing storm. Larsa had been no more than a child back then - a prince perhaps, but he had seen not thirteen summers yet and, as inconsequential as this might sound, she had stood taller than him. While his manners had already been those of an adult, it had been much easier for her to regard him as a friend, or even a younger brother.
But this young man, he wasn’t the Larsa she knew. They had continued their correspondence all through these years, sharing stories of wild adventures and palatial life, but she had not realized how much he had changed until she met him in person. Or maybe he hadn’t changed at all. Maybe this was the real Larsa, the side he had chosen not to show her three years ago, the side his youthful façade of a boy could have still hidden.
“Do you know that I love you?”
Penelo felt the sharp intake of breath she unconsciously took, her eyes quickly darting to his hard face. Her heart was beating loudly against her chest as the most uncontrollable panic she had every felt ambushed her out of nowhere. There was no way she could answer that.
“You know, don’t you?” He held her gaze steadily, no inflection of any kind in his voice. “But you love Vaan.”
She shook her head wildly, her teeth sinking into dry lips. “I don’t know. Please don’t ask me again, I...” she trailed off and looked down to her tightly clasped hands, shaking slightly.
“Penelo,” he spoke again, his tone of voice compelling her to look at him once more, “I confess my heart to you as a man. Do not mistake it as a demand from an emperor. I respect your feelings and I shall respect your choice, no matter what it is.”
“But it isn’t fair,” she answered edgily, some of the tremors already trickling into her voice. “You say those things to me while I’m here, living at your mercy. It…”
“Penelo-“
“It isn’t fair!” she heard herself shouting, found her entire body shaking, either at the impact or her own uncontainable misery. He flinched slightly but his face, if it was even possible, only grew stonier under her continuous onslaught. It was an intense silence between them, minutes lapping after minutes until one of them - he - ventured to speak once more.
“I apologize if my confession caused you any uneasiness.” A hint of remorse, but formality was all she could detect. “It was not my intention at all.”
“I believe you wish to know about Vaan,” his voice had returned to its normal level of composure and Penelo suddenly felt that she could breathe again. Larsa was looking at her with his grey eyes, almost dark in the dimming wash of light as the sun descended even farther into the west. “As far as I know, his name has once again been cleared as the Queen has regained her consciousness three days ago. His life is in no immediate threat as of now, but I have reasons to believe that he is still in Rabanastre.”
“Of course he is,” she murmured, bitterness reflected only too palpably on her tight voice and, she imagined, her face too. This, of course, did not escape him.
“Then I shall take my leave.” He rose to his feet and Penelo found herself following the action without thinking. Again she was struck at the difference of their height, more than noticeable now it stood as he kept his distance across the table. “You can speak to Feria if you need anything else,” he added and the eyes which stared into hers were contrite, almost rueful. “And please, Penelo, do not burden yourself with my whims or any other selfish impulses I might have exhibited this evening. I shall not speak of it anymore if you so wish.”
Penelo wished she could bring herself to smile, but all she could manage was a small nod.
“Thank you.”
-----
The chamber was warm. Too warm, in her opinion. The air was stifling, stagnant, as if the lingering darkness had chased away every little wisp of wind and filled the space left behind with endless void and silence. Night usually had its own voices, subdued though they might be compared to daylight, but tonight everything only fell dead to her ears.
Ashe rolled over to her side, sighing quietly. Perhaps she had been too used to the static cacophony in her head after days and nights of endless fever as she slipped in and out of consciousness. The silence was nearly unbearable now, only broken every now and then by the distant sound of footsteps, pacing in the hall. Her security had been quadrupled since the second incident, including her access to any food, water, or medicine and this time, she knew that she did not have any reasonable grounds to protest.
Or perhaps it was due to the deprivation of her nocturnal habit. Her muscles felt lethargic after almost two weeks without any strenuous activity, but her mind had gained its old sharpness back. Several glasses of fine Rozarrian wine usually helped to lull her consciousness to sleep, but since she was still under medication, any alcoholic beverage was off-limits. The queen sighed again, longing for the sweetness twisted with a faint hint of bitterness to soothe her dry throat, lend her just the distraction she needed.
She slowly sat up, repelling the incoming wave of lightheadedness the action resulted, and reached for a goblet of water situated on the low table next to her bed. Her fingers had just touched its cool, metallic surface when a heavy, muffled sound came from the direction of the balcony and stilled her hand. On the next second, she had found the dagger under her pillow and grasped it tightly, the glinting blade poised in front of her chest as she waited in tense silence.
The footfalls were light and faint, leather against woven carpets - the intruder was being extremely careful. Ashe thought about the guards in front of her door, panic catching up a moment later when she realized that she could no longer hear any footstep in the hall. Had they been also taken care of? Why hadn’t she heard anything?
It wouldn’t be the first time, a part of her mind reflected grimly. A ruler could not always please everyone and sometimes the dissatisfaction was great enough for them to resort to more drastic measures, such as trying to assassinate her. Perhaps it was just her luck that she had trouble sleeping this night. Her body had not forgotten its training, but her senses had evidently been dulled somewhat.
The intruder moved further into the royal chamber and Ashe was ready to lunge forward and make the first move when a patch of pale light streaming down from the window fell on his features. She gasped, recognizing the trespasser as Vaan. The tension straining her muscles and nerves dispersed immediately and her hand fell to her side, the hilt of the dagger from her limp fingers to embroidered sheets.
“By Raithwall, Vaan, you frightened me,” she said faintly, her voice weak from overwhelming relief.
The young sky pirate stopped just next to her bed, rubbing the back of his head in a moment of awkwardness. “I’m sorry. I… just want to see if you’re okay. It’s a bad time, I know, but…” he made a helpless gesture, head bowed low to his chest, and then repeated, more sincerely, “I’m really sorry.”
Ashe closed her eyes for a moment, calming her erratic heartbeat before looking at her uninvited guest once more. “There are two guards out there in the balcony.”
Blue eyes flickered toward her face, a familiar glint in them. “Yes.”
“You attacked them.”
“I made them sleep for a little while, yes,” his voice held a trace of apology but the curve of his grin was anything but repentant.
“I cannot believe you, Vaan,” she reproached, trying to sound indignant but knew very well that her lips were smiling. It was difficult not to, especially when seeing that grin on his face. “How did you do it? There is a magic barrier in the palace ground.”
“With a more conventional method,” he admitted with sheer lack of compunction.
“Indeed.” The queen brought a hand to her temple, feeling the beginning of a headache. There would definitely be questions tomorrow, which she completely had no idea how to answer. After all, two healthy grown men could not just pass out without reason. And then suspicions would follow and she would have the head of her Royal Guard breathing down her neck about this… extraordinary phenomenon.
Feigning ignorance seemed to be her best choice to avoid any more problems. Inwardly sighing, she motioned for him to sit at the edge of her bed, deciding that to drag a chair would entail having unnecessary sounds which might attract her guards’s attention now that she knew nothing had happened to them. Vaan only hesitated for a moment before taking up her offer and carefully sitting down.
“You look better than I thought,” he said quietly, keeping his voice as low as possible.
“Yes, my conditions have vastly improved since yesterday.” She bit her lips and held his gaze. “I really apologize for the inconvenience these incidents have caused you, Vaan. I have instructed Minister Pavarell to withdraw every charge he has placed on you.”
His eyes narrowed slightly at her words. “And your minister doesn’t disagree?”
She gave him a wry smile. “You do not have to worry about it.”
“No, that’s my problem too,” he declared and leant closer to her. “I know I can be stupid sometimes, but I do realize that you are the Queen. I’m a sky pirate. You can’t endorse me publicly.” A pause and then he added softly, “Don’t do it.”
Ashe felt her fingers squeezing each other on her lap, the beginning of helplessness building on the parched, barren surface of her heart. “But you are innocent,” she argued.
He smiled - a smile which was so gentle that it almost seemed strange on his face. “As long as you believe it, I don’t care about anything else.”
The words had their immediate impact. Ashe could only stare at him, heart dancing wildly, uncomfortably, painfully in her chest. For one brief instant, she was seeing Balthier again, his easy smirk and grace and velvety voice - because I’m the leading man, Princess - and it brought such immense agony to her that she had to look away. Wave after wave of memories crashed against the shore of her mind, angry at being suppressed for so long. Love did not tolerate. It overwhelmed, hurt, destroyed. It was mindless. It was vengeful.
“Ashe?” The anxious tone riddling her name pulled her back to present. Vaan’s face was too close and it took all her restraint not to overreact and hysterically push him away. Or draw him close and feel once more what human warmth was. He was not Balthier, he was not Rasler, but things were not that simple either.
Don’t fall into the same hole twice, she reminded herself sternly, shaking her head to clear her mind. Gods only knew how long it had taken for her to recover from the last fall. She could not afford dealing with the same pain, not under this shadow of threat to her life.
“Larsa sent words that Penelo is fine,” Ashe diverted the subject of the conversation once she had found the courage to speak again, ignoring the slight tremor in her voice. “He asked me to deliver the message if I met you.”
Another smile, fraught with relief, brightened his face. “That’s good. I know she will be much safer with him.”
She raised a curve of eyebrow, already regaining her equilibrium with the focus of their discussion pulled away from her. “Than with you? Vaan, she is your partner.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Still, I don’t want her to get hurt. This is my own problem. I brought this to myself and she shouldn’t have to suffer because of it.”
“Indeed she will be safer in Archadia,” she finally admitted. “Larsa will make sure of that.”
“What about you?” His blue eyes were once more on her and Ashe fought down a grimace when she realized that the topic had returned to her.
“What about me, Vaan?” she inquired, maintaining the evenness of her voice.
“I was thinking,” he began thoughtfully, “about what I did tonight, how I got in here. Have you ever thought having a personal bodyguard - I mean, a female bodyguard? You know, to stay with you all the time in case something happens.”
“The idea crossed my mind once,” the queen replied, “but before I could express it to Minister Pavarell, I, as you know, had been once again poisoned.”
“You really should get one,” Vaan said decisively. “So far, they’ve failed twice through poisoning. There’s no guarantee they won’t resort to a more vicious tactic. Hell, if I can slip in without making too much ruckus, why can’t they?”
Ashe allowed herself a thin smile. “Then perhaps it is my security system which is in dire need of an evaluation.”
“Still, better safe than sorry,” he continued to press on. “Do you think you can find someone good enough for the job?”
“I don’t think it is the problem, Vaan,” she finally acknowledged the subject, struggling to keep her voice level. She hated being powerless, but she obliged herself to continue, “I must admit that these recent incidents have made clear of certain points I have constantly tried to overlook. I… right now I do not know who I still can trust.”
His blue eyes widened a fraction. She could see the battle in them - guilt, shame, a sprinkle of anger at himself - and felt them mirrored in her own heart.
“I never thought…” he breathed out, his voice quivering slightly. “If I have known-“
“There was nothing you could do,” she interrupted him smoothly, a feeling of numbness starting to spread. “Besides, I am the ruler of my people. I should have known better.”
Even though it hurt all the same.
Even though everything had been unfair from the start.
Justice was a subject she often reflected upon, especially in the darkest hours when despair was only a hair’s breadth away. And then she would be tempted to blame her entire predicament to injustice. To be a ruler was not an easy matter, let alone to rule wisely. She had not been extensively trained in politics and governmental matters. She was a princess with eight older brothers - who had ever thought that in the end they would have to rely on her to run the kingdom? But she had done everything she could, since the time of her hiding as Amalia, learning from her uncle and her people, scraping every bit of knowledge and weaving them together into this delicate tapestry which could barely hold together, let alone the entire system of Dalmasca.
But here she was, a queen with nothing to believe in but the cold embrace of a long dead husband and a love that would always be a little out of reach.
“Aren’t you afraid?” Ashe looked up, finding Vaan looking at her with such intensity that she couldn’t help a shiver. An unreadable look was painted on his face, but the question was another matter entirely.
“I…” she trailed off and then realized that she didn’t know the answer.
She didn’t know the answer.
It was a cold realization, of something she had long since recognized and yet never dared to admit. Ashe felt the desperate laughter bubbling up her throat.
“You’ve been poisoned twice,” he said again, a hard note entering his voice, “and both were almost successful. Aren’t you afraid for your life? Or even at all?”
She realized she almost answered ‘no’.
That was what she had been trained in - white lies, pretend, smile, because politics had no use for emotions unless they could serve one’s cause. A safer route, but a lie nonetheless. She was tired of lies.
“Yes.”
It was almost foreign, the taste of honesty on her tongue.
The hard lines on his features softened and he suddenly reached for her trembling hands, clasping them in his. “I’m sorry,” the words left his mouth in a rush. “After saying all those stuffs to you, friends forever and that rubbish, I…” He bit his lips, anger twisting his face. “Some friend I am. I-“
“Don’t say that, Vaan,” Ashe heard her own quivering voice and wished that it didn’t sound so weak. “I shut you out too - and everyone else in that matter. I am partly to blame.”
The warm fingers around hers tightened. “I will never leave you again,” he said quietly, solemnly, earnestly. “I swear on my brother’s name.”
His words echoed in her ears, making her heart twist painfully in her chest, but the queen forced herself to smile.
End Chapter Four
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