Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You never thought of yourself as someone who stood out.

That's not to say you were completely ordinary, mind you. Not everyone was a technician, or a magic-user, and very few were both. Let alone skilled at both. You might not have been good at much else but you could tell if there was a problem with a ship's flight crystals with as little as a glance. And nethicite, be it real or the manufactured variety the military had been pumping out lately, almost felt like an extension of your body with how dab a hand you were with the stuff. You took that iron lump of talent and honed it through study and practice into genuine skill as firm as steel.

Of course the best place for you to do that was the military. You had... mixed feelings about that.

Your hometown had actually voted for annexation into the Arcadian Empire, and even these days most people were happy with the choice. And it was a choice. But you were acutely aware that a lot of places didn't really get a say in whether or not they joined. Just if it happened the easy way or the hard way.

You hadn't taken part in any such conflicts, thankfully still being too young back during the Dalmascan war. But you helped repair ships coming back from the front. The deep rends in the metal, wrought and ugly, brought you back to reality. One day you'd very likely serve on one of these craft. As they were fired upon by people fighting like hell for their freedom, as they blasted those same people to bits.

You didn’t want that. Esper's sake you didn’t like fighting even when it was in self-defense! And quite frankly for all the empire's claims of meritocracy it was a rather bigoted place for non-humans. Kupos got by fine enough but like, they were Kupos. You'd have to be pure evil to discriminate against those adorable little guys.

But you weren't blind to politics. Things had been taking a turn lately full force in the direction of that side of the empire you hated. And you figured the safest place was as part of the machine. Told yourself that you'd hardly be forced into violence if you were just one of the dregs holding a wrench but still be shielded from the authoritarianism on the rise.

So you stayed on. Fixing up vessels brought into hangar, always volunteering for longer shifts because to be honest you didn’t have anything else to do with your free time. Life had always been a little lonely between never-home parents and ever-present social anxiety you never quite grew out of. You at least had one friend you could rely on for a while. Good old Balthier.

You'd been wandering along the outskirts of town, near enough to the settlement to not have to worry about any beasts but close enough to the wilds beyond to get some good clean air in your lungs. At least until you caught a whiff of engine smoke. Marching along a bit further you eventually stumbled upon a sharply dressed young imperial pawing at the machinery of a hover-bike. Even smeared with engine grease you couldn't help but notice he was rather handsome. And apparently you'd stared a little too long.

"You ever heard of a camera?" He asked, voice velvety and firm despite him barely being a year older than you.

"Huh?"

"A camera. It's this new invention, popular in the capital. Let's you capture images like an instant painting."

He stood straight and dusted off his hands before resting them on his hips, a cocky smirk blooming on his face as he looked you in the eye.

"You seem rather fond of the sight before you, is all."

You went a little scarlet at his teasing, tripping over your own words as you tried to give him a coherent response.

"I- that um- I'm terribly sorry for that, I wasn't looking at you. Not that you aren't nice to look at- wait that probably sounded weird, ah!"

Thankfully he only found your panic entertaining, his eyebrow raising higher and smile wider by the second.

"Wh-what I mean to say is! That um, I think the problem is the converter?"

His face fell a little, though he stepped away from the vehicle to give you a clearer look.

"Why might that be?"

"Th-that's the Ichthon model right?"

"It is."

"R-right. Well the problem is the manufacturer focused more on flourish than substance. It's a beautiful machine but the design limitations posed by the more decorative elements meant they had to settle for an undersized converter, AND jam it a bit too close to the central engine. Because the converter makes sure the nethicite mist filters out properly, if it's jammed right by the main power crystal the feedback can build up overtime and... m-make it, uh, overheat." You nervously trailed off, realizing how much you were yammering on just then.

Your one-man audience looked at you wide-eyed for a moment before, thankfully, smiling again.

"That's quite impressive. Not to imply anything but I'm a bit surprised to find someone that knows so much about machines somewhere so rustic."

"The uh, army built a supply depot on the west-side of town. I volunteer there sometimes."

"Bit of a patriot are you?"

"Ah, n-nah, cant rightly say that I am. Hardly agree with a lot of the things we do."

"Oh really now?" He asked, a bemused edge to his voice.

It was only then after having him face you for a few minutes that you noticed his clothing. Specifically that it was attire reserved for the noble houses of Arcadia. You paled and tried to go back on your earlier dismissal.

"Er- w-what I mean to say your l-lordship-"

"Gods above, none of that now friend!" He sighed. "I might be lucky enough to enjoy the finer things of the empire but the glitz and glamor hasn't blinded me to its faults. I know I'm only safe in a town like this without an escort because it's one of the few that joined willingly. Don't need to go beating the war drums for my sake."

"O-oh thank goodness."

"If I might ask a favor, though?"

"Y-yes sir?"

"No more of that either. I'm not your commanding officer, we're just two citizens of the empire making pleasant conversation. Call me Balthier, for now."

"For now?"

"Considering my clothes were enough to make you quaver my proper title might send you running for the hills, and I'd rather keep the first bit of good company I've found today."

You blushed and told him your name as you shakily accepted his handshake, only for him to frown.

"A limp handshake too? That simply won't suffice. Try again, with feeling this time!"

You did so, and his frown abated.

"Well that's better at least but it's not perfect. Come now mate, imagine... hm... imagine you've just sealed the biggest deal of your life. Or accomplished some great triumph. Get that sort of energy flowing through you and do it right this time!"

You took his advice, grip hardening but not crushing. Enthusiastic but not overly so. He clapped you on the shoulder with his free hand and smiled.

"THAT is a handshake. Anything less will make others think less of you, don't you forget it."

"I won't."

"Good. Now, my mechanically inclined compatriot, how might we go about fixing this ride of mine?"

"O-oh! We're actually rather close to the supply depot. They let me borrow the tools if need be, should only take a moment once I bring them. Wait here!"

You dashed off and returned about 5 minutes later, the run back taking you a bit longer on account of the 20-pound toolbox you carried like a particularly heavy baby.

After that it was a matter of popping the hood and doing some basic maintenance. Crystal-powered machinery might've been hard to learn but on the bright-side maintenance was a remarkably simple affair once you knew what you were doing. And a hover bike was hardly the most complex vehicle you'd worked on.

The actual repairs took less time than securing the tools, Balthier watching on in silent awe the whole time as your hands flitted about with manic energy yet precise movements. You took a step back, the smoke long having since dissipated, and gave the ignition a turn. Rather than a harsh spluttering your ears heard the deep hum of the power system coming online as the bike floated a half-foot off the ground.

"Good as new! Though uh, on that note I might recommend trading this one in while you still could for a different model. The Chocobo class might not be as easy on the eyes but it's thrice as reliable. And you'd be surprised at some of the detailing you could do to spruce up the look. A-ah, wait I'm rambling again. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize. Quite like the sound of your voice."

Oh. Well hearing that just made your heart go all funny. Was that- was that flirting? It couldn't be flirting. People didn't really think of you that way. There’s no way the first person to do so would be some noble from the capital that rode in on a gilded steed. That sounds like something out of a fairy-tale.

"If I may, do you have any plans for the night?"

"Erm, no. The depot was 'open' but they're actually on holiday this weekend so they don't need my assistance."

"So serious! I didn't mean work, friend, I was asking if there was some pretty lad or lass you might want to take to dinner tonight."

"Oh! Ah, no sadly not. Get folks say they love someone in uniform but they never mention they prefer it's not a mechanic's threads."

"Well that's hardly fair. What you do is just as important as any soldier's work."

"Oh I wouldn't say that..."

"No, I'm serious! Can you imagine what a nightmare it'd be marching to the front in all that armor? Or trying to wrangle enough Chocobos to carry them all? Without reliable sorts such as your fine self keeping our machines in tip-top shape the empire would fall in a week!"

Well those few sentences were worth about as much as the rest of the sparse praise you'd gotten since you first signed on... hang on, fine-self?

"And your role isn't devoid of heroics either. After all you came to my rescue just now, like some gallant knight."

"A-ah, w-well-" you stammered, smile wide and cheeks burning. "Just trying to do a good deed."

"And that deserves some reciprocation, wouldn't you say?" He asked, stepping closer.

"A-ah, well I'm f-flattered but I'd hardly ask for anything f-for so simple a kindness."

"Humble, too. I like that. Though a bit more pride is warranted in your case. But I digress. Come back to the capital with me."

"E-eh?"

"I mean no disrespect to your home, it seems a nice enough place to live. But I think it’s safe to say theres not much of a night-life to be found, aye? So let me take you out for a night on the town in the grandest city in the world!"

"I, well that certainly sounds lovely but how would I get back?"

"Don't worry, I'll drop you off in the morning. You can spend the night at my family's estate."

"T-that's too much!"

"It hardly is. We've guestrooms to spare and most of the time they're occupied by stuck-up buffoons. They ought cater to someone deserving of comfort at least once, shouldn't they?"

"W-well..."

He draped an arm over your shoulders.

"And while I'd never abuse my rank, there are certain establishments that cater to nobility. And their dear guests, of course. Finest wines, good food, scantily clad servers- in a tasteful sort of way, mind you."

"That does sound kind of..."

His fingers found your chin and he tilted your face to meet his gaze. His lips were so close. You weren't sure why that was the first thing that popped into your head but it wasn't an inaccurate statement.

"Won't you come, for me?"

"Yes."

"My my, if a smoldering gaze was all it took to make you cave I would've started with that!"

"I- that's not- no!"

He only laughed and beckoned you get on the bike behind him. You did so and he looked back with that same stupid sexy grin (wait, sexy!?) He'd worn since he met you.

"Be safer if you leaned in, wouldn’t it?"

"I-I'll be fine! Don't want to crowd you!"

"Shame. I'd quite like to have the arms of my savior wrapped around me."

You did so in an instant. You couldn't see his face anymore from where yours was pressed against his shoulder but you knew- you KNEW he grinned like a Cheshire cat when you did. Smug pretty jerk.

The trip was long enough for you to start dozing off but not so long as to let the sun finish setting. The last rays of dusk painted the city streets Balthier led you down, the capitol awash in a red-gold glow just before the street-lights flickered on.

The lounges he took you to were even nicer than you could've imagined. The soft glow of amber crystals falling across velvet-draped booths, live bands playing sultry tunes sonorous enough to put your mind at ease but not so deep as to drop you into slumber. The wait-staff too were... well stunning was probably the right word given your head went all funny just remembering them. Their outfits left little to the imagination but still had an elegant air about them, just as he'd advertised.

And while they were certainly too classy to debase themselves and flirt for tips, they, like anyone, had a sense of humor. So when Balthier slid a rather substantial bit of gil to a waitress while you were watching the band she had no problem easing herself onto your lap and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. She seemed to find your tomato-faced stuttering as amusing as Balthier did given her smile. She strutted off just as it looked like you were about to faint with an exaggerated sway to her hips. Balthier, meanwhile, tried his damndest not to laugh loud enough to draw attention.

"Y-you.... You!"

"Yes?"

"You're absolutely terrible!"

"And I've no doubt you love that about me."

God you did though. This guy had you wrapped around his finger and you hadn't even known him for 24 hours.

The night wound down, and about an hour later he lead you back to his family's home. If you squinted you could see the a last golden band of sunlight on the edge of the horizon. You didn’t have to strain your eyes to see Balthiers home though. 'Estate' was putting it mildly, the place looked like it could house half your hometown!

The guards, which you noticed were garbed in full military armor, nodded as he walked past them and up to the front door. He pushed it open and stepped inside, your jaw dropping at the marvelous sight of the marbled interiors and amber-crystal chandeliers of his gargantuan foyer.

"Young master Ffamran has returned!" A nearby butler announced in a posh tone of voice.

"Ah, yes, thank you for that Archibald..." Balthier groaned as his true name was revealed. Ffamran. Why did that sound familiar to you?

"Well you took your time coming back for dinner." A more mature, if not slightly eccentric voice called out, a bespectacled man descending the stairs towards you and-

Wait a minute.

WAIT A MINUTE! You knew this guy!

"D-doctor Bunansa." You shuddered, as the premiere scientific mind of the age and the chief researcher of the empire, second only to the Imperial family in influence strode closer.

You adored this guy- hell you practically worshipped him! The quarter of your salary that went to magazine and journal subscriptions made sure you read just about every bit of published work and interviews he had out there! Half the reason you worked as hard as you did was in the desperate hope you might do well enough to be recruited to his personal research department and now here you were, i-in his home!

"And who might you be?" He inquired, his full gaze now levied at you.

You proceeded to faint.

...yeah not your proudest moment.

----------
There was a brief bit of panic as you realized the bed you lay in was most certainly not your own, but your memory swooped in before you could start running around like a headless chicken. You were at "Balthier's" home. You'd met your idol who, apparently, was his father, and you passed out. In front of one of the most important men in the empire and his heir. And probably several wait-staff.

Oh gods you were never living this one down.

You found a letter by your place of rest atop a towel and a stack of clothes. Balthier had managed to find some that would fit you (given the closets in this place were probably the size of your apartment that wasn't too surprising) and left instructions on how to use the shower so you wouldn’t scald or freeze yourself. How considerate of him. Perhaps he could’ve been more considerate and mentioned just who he actually was before you traipsed into a mansion dressed in commoners’ threads.

You cleaned yourself quick but thorough, obviously not wanting to miss any spots but also not sure if using too much of the hot water would be rude. You doubted this place could run out of the stuff mind you, but you were still a little too rattled to connect the dots at the time. A butler eventually came just after you'd finished getting dressed and escorted you to the sunroom for breakfast. You'd apparently been invited to stay so they probably didn't think you made too much of a fool of yourself last night.

Actually talking to Doctor Cid was surreal, but somehow you fell into a comfortable rhythm. Even more bafflingly you managed to impress him. You didn't solve any equations he'd been sitting on for a few years of course, but you answered all the technobabble questions he shot your way with unusual poise and competence beyond your years. He mused he might just have a position for you, the shock of those golden words making you swallow a wad of omelet you hadn't even begun to chew.

Balthier- who would insist you call him by that name rather than his proper one once you got some private time later- cut in at this point. Apparently he had been made a judge. He couldn't have been more than 16 at the time so you assumed it had something to do with his family name, not that you'd voice as much. Cadets could certainly shoot up the ranks if they showed skill, hell you were technically a fully licensed and paid army mechanic instead of still being a trainee despite being about a year younger. But Judges were... well aside from judge-magisters, the emperor and a few very select people they were untouchable! Being the Doctor's son would certainly help but he still had to qualify for the position. And he had, somehow. And now he needed to assemble a retinue.

He'd actually gone to visit your town in the first place because he'd heard of the army depot and figured there'd still be someone of some skill with a toolbox that hadn't been poached by another judge or ship crew. So your meeting hadn't been entirely coincidental. Fated, maybe? That had a nice ring to it.

Cid added to his sons offer. The idea being you could work with Balthier for a time and, depending on the results, move on to working at Draklor Laboratory as a member of his research team. You accepted on the spot, this was exactly what your ambition had always been after all. The pair assured you they'd make the necessary arrangements with your superiors and have you transferred within the week. To your parents credit they at least seemed somewhat impressed when you told them the news. Not nearly as much as you'd hoped but, well, nothing new there.

The next year seemed as if a dream; fanciful, exciting, and over far too soon. Even if Balthier was skilled enough to deserve being the youngest judge on record, the magisters were hesitant to deploy him anywhere too difficult on account of his maturity. He'd acted gentlemanly the entire time you served under him, but he did have a playful air in the manner he went about things that was a tad unfit for so solemn a position

You got to see the world though, while it was in a state of peace. The places you went were far-flung, the presence of a judge necessary more so due to a lack of local infrastructure than any particular Chaos. The two of you did get attacked on two separate occasions. The first time was just gangsters that didn’t take kindly to a lawman or his flunkies rolling into 'their' town. The second time was either bandits or guerillas, you're still not sure which, opening fire on your convoy somewhere out in the Savannah. Both times he fought with ferocity and valor. You even got a few good hits in yourself. You thankfully didn’t swing your wrench hard enough to kill anyone, even if they wanted you dead that would've been a bit much for you, but despite your usual temerity you could proudly(?) say you'd knocked out teeth before.

When the two of you finally parted it was bitter-sweet, but he knew working at Draklor was your ambition. You'd worked well alongside the two new mechanics he'd brought in the last 3 months of your service, and the pair of you were certain they'd make up for your loss well enough. You celebrated your last day in his employ with another raucous night at the lounge that started it all. He even pulled the same trick with the same waitress.

The lab wasn't quite so free and fast-paced as your time abroad but it was exciting in its own way. You almost cried when you saw your name in the title of an article in one of your favorite subscriptions. Your coworkers were a bit less lively but they were dependable, if nothing else. And Doctor Cid was...

...

...strange.

You don't mean to speak Ill of the man that gave you the world but you'd caught him... talking to himself from time to time. Not thinking out loud, you did that too sometimes. No, he'd have full on conversations. It happened once or twice when you began but by a year in it was practically a weekly occurrence. The other researchers tried to ignore it but something about it just disturbed you. Sometimes, if you tried stealing a glance at him when he was deep into it, it was as if there was a second shadow in the room beside his own.

You and Balthier still wrote to each other, though you'd never brought the issue up for obvious reasons. It was his father. Saying he was crazy might bring about a bad reaction. But when the good doctor started giggling like, well, a mad scientist, you realized you needed help. The last letter you ever wrote him was just the one sentence.

"We need to speak about your father." It read.

He'd met you on the plaza by your favorite lounge in the capital. The boyish youth had somewhat abated, but he still had that same pretty face. You hated that you were about to put a frown on it.

"I'd normally be happier to see you but your last message has me worried. You're usually a bit more verbose than just a sentence."

You tried to laugh at his jest but it was clearly forced on account of your unease.

"So what's the matter?"

"Balthier I... I'm glad to see you. I should start with that. And again I want to thank you a-and your family for the opportunities you afforded me but your father is- he's... not right."

"About?"

"No, no like- n-not well? He's-" you exhaled and decided to just rip the band-aid off and lay it all out.

"He talks when he's alone. It was a rare thing but now it's as if he converses in empty rooms every other day. A-and sometimes I think something's actually there with him, some sort of presence. I don’t know if it's my imagination or some sort of effect of having so much nethicite stored in one place but he's... Balthier he's frightening us. He'll spout a whole speech about 'seizing the reins of creation from the gods' and then break out into laughter like a m-mad man!"

You cringed at your own last comment, nervous of how he'd react at such slander against his own father. But he wasn't mad. If anything he just looked tired.

"So he's only gone and gotten worse then?"

"Worse?"

"He went on some expedition years ago. I was only a child at the time but I still realized he was different when he came home. Perhaps so different as to not even be the same man anymore. He'd always researched nethicite but the artificial stuff became an all-consuming obsession for his work from then on."

He wasn't wrong. There were a few smaller teams that worked on practical stuff at Draklor, engine improvements or better ammunition. But everyone that was part of the main team under Cid worked almost exclusively on nethicite day in and day out.

"He made me a Judge because of it. Hoped I might further his ambitions, whatever they actually are. Whenever he deigns to write these days it's to send me on some expedition to gather more research material for him. Never to catch up, say hello, make sure I'm still alive. Just more of his mad science."

"I'm sorry."

"Don’t be. I was relieved that day he first spoke to you. He had some life in his eyes while you two were talking shop, like he used to before... before whatever the hell happened to him."

You didn’t know what to do seeing him so forlorn. He'd always been cocky, self-assured, so a sullen frown plastered on his face just made your skin crawl. You clasped his hand in your own and said the best thing that came to mind.

"I-I'm here for you. For what it's worth."

"That means more than you know, believe me... I just wish I could take you with me."

"Pardon?"

"I'm leaving the Judges. The army, the empire, all of it."

"W-what!? Balthier, that's insane!"

"What's insane is my father's obsession. What's insane is following along with the government's backslide into absolutism. I want no part of it anymore."

"B-but where will you go? What will you do?"

"Carve my own way. I can figure out the specifics as I go. I've always been good at improvisation after all."

He turned to face you, serious as can be as he gently brought a hand up to your face. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

"I won't ask you to come with me. I know you'd say yes. I won't rip you from this life you struggled for, not until I figure things out and know I can offer something better. But when I do... if I come back... will you be my darling mechanic once more?"

"A-always!" You choked out, the tears flowing freely now. He hugged you tight and pressed a kiss to your forehead before breaking off, flashing that beautiful smile of his one last time before retreating down the avenues of the city.

...

That was 2 years ago. Your heart never quite recovered.
Your coworkers might've respected you but they weren't the type to go for drinks after work. Doctor Cid grew increasingly erratic with each improvement upon the artificial nethicite formula. Sometimes you thought about barging into his office and just yelling at him for all you were worth, calling him out for driving his son away. Assuming he was lucid enough to even recognize you you'd undoubtedly be fired. Perhaps brought in for questioning since Balthier had apparently turned sky-pirate. The magisters were absolutely malding when they found out he stole an experimental airship on his way out.

You were currently working on such a craft yourself installing a new engine crystal. You took some small comfort in the familiarity of mechanic work, the grief of your isolation abating for a moment as thoughts of Balthier gave way to cable connections and power output charts.

"Hello my dear."

"Oh Hello Balthier- BALTHIE-MMPH!?" You cried out as he slammed a ringed hand over your mouth.

"I appreciate that you're excited to see me again but let's not draw too much attention to ourselves, shall we?"

"B-balthier! I- you- where-!? W-wait! Wait wait wait you can't be here!"

"I imagine there's a lot of places defectors aren't allowed." He smirked.

"No, no I mean you REALLY can't be here!" You whisper-yelled. "That ship you stole on your way out was our only working prototype, it's taken us this long to replicate the technology! I-if anyone finds you of all people here, a hanging would be a light sentence!"

"Oh don't worry, I'll be off in a moment. Just came to pick up something."

"Please don't steal anything..." you whined.

"Anything? Of course not. Anyone, though...?" he trailed off. It took a moment, but the pieces clicked together in your mind.

"Wh... no. No. Nope! Uh-uh I'm not forsaking my home to become a sky-pirate's mechanic. No sir! Sorry but if you'll excuse me I-"

Your speedy retreat in the opposite direction was suddenly blocked as a heel embedded itself in the hull of the ship. You gulped as your eyes traced along it to its source.

"L-leg."

"Astute as always my friend. Meet Fran."

You'd always found Balthier handsome but... wow.

Vierra had always been a fascination of yours. Unlike the rest of, well, everyone though, it wasn't for lecherous reasons. You'd loved reading fairy tales and novels as a child so a race of warrior-women living in a sacred jungle had captured your imagination, more still because they were one of the few peoples unbowed by the empire even to this day. Seeing one outside the sacred woods was a rarity, rarer still they were in the company of humans.

All that being said... goddamn you understood the hype. You looked up at her with almost reverence, every inch of her smooth yet sculpted chocolate musculature. She had to be a whole head taller than you, maybe a head-and-a-half, so the large white ponytail cascading down from her crown to her waistline had to be at least as long as your entire upper body and about half as thick too, even after you'd packed on some mechanic's muscle over the years! Those gorgeous white locks framed a face that was equal parts cute and sultry, soft and sharp. A piercing gaze leveled at you from over her button nose and under her two large rabbit ears.

"This is the one you spoke of?" She boredly asked Balthier, her voice heavily accented yet delightful all the same, like the strings of a foreign guitar.

"The one and only. Best mechanic in the empire."

She finally let her leg drop from the side of the ship, revealing a sole-sized dent in the plating. The five-inch-thick reinforced steel plating.

"Will I have to carry them with us?" She asked. And gods you kinda wanted her to after seeing a display like that.

"N-no need!" You assured.

"So you're coming with me after all?" Balthier asked.

You sighed and slumped as the realization you were about to uproot your entire life crashed against you all at once. All things considered you were handling it pretty well.

"I promised, didn't I?"

There was the briefest flash of surprise in Balthiers eyes as you told him that before he picked his usual smug grin back up.

“I knew you’d always be mine, love.”

“M-must you use the pet-names in front of other people?”

“Oh Fran doesn’t mind. I’m sure she’ll have a few of her own for you in time. She has a habit of ‘adopting humes’ as she likes to call it.”

“Your kind is simply entertaining to witness, on occasion.”

“Love you too darling.” He winked at her, before taking you by the hand. “Remember, if we’re spotted before we have everything we need, you’re just a hostage. Got it?”

“I thought you said you were just here for me?”

“Well of course, but I’m not going to deprive you of your tools now am I? We need to fetch them!”

And so it was that you tip-toed through a military base with one of the empire’s most wanted and his Amazonian bodyguard, on a one-way trip to excommunication and criminality. And all it took was another flash of that gods-damned smile of his to convince you that this was absolutely worth it.

You'd always remember that day fondly. But you'd never look back at what came before.

Chapter Text

The Dalmascan Estersand was as beautiful as it was dangerous. Sprawling valleys of sand partitioned by rough-hewn canyon walls, hardy yet vibrant foliage dotted about like stars in the sky. The locals at least knew better than to pick a fight with the wildlife if they weren't properly prepared.

At least they should. But in the case of one young man by the name of Vaan, he was learning that the hard way.

He wasn't completely unprepared at least. Growing up as an orphan on the streets of Dalmasca had forced him to toughen up, and while killing rats might not typically make for too much of a fight, the ones in the sewers were the size of toddlers.

He'd gone out that day for his first bounty, some nasty tomato-headed creature causing trouble for the local tavern owner and his shipments. It was a feisty little thing, spewing tiny gouts of fire and gnashing with too-big teeth, but he'd finally managed to embed his dagger right in the thing's head and put it down for good. And were that where it ended, he might've been fine. But a battle-lust had gotten into him, convincing him that fighting the local wolves and Cactites was a good idea.

For a more experienced hunter it might've been. The little gemstones and pelts the creatures provided wouldn't add up to a king's ransom, but for someone that lived day to day like him it'd mean a fuller belly, and maybe a bit of patchwork and washing for his garments. But Vaan had only ever stabbed at vermin or gotten into fistfights with other urchins up until now.

He might've been fine if he at least had a potion or two on him, but all the brow-beating his friend Penelo had thrown at him convinced him to donate his small supply to the local shelter she'd been working at. She was a saint, helping those less fortunate despite being as in the gutter as him, but damn the philanthropy was coming back to bite him in the ass. Along with the wolves.

And so it was that he found himself slumped all bloodied and sweaty against a rocky outcropping for the faint comfort of shade. Little good that it did his wounds. He wasn't at death's door as of yet but he was getting close. If he managed not to draw the ire of any more packs on his way to town he could probably scrounge up some bandaging and sleep it all off, but that was getting to be a pretty big if.

His breathing hitched as he heard the sands shift near to him, his hand clasping around his dagger in a white-knuckle grip. The terror abated a little when instead of a wolf he saw, well, you.

"I mean you no harm." You started off with.

"...okay... o-okay that's- good. Uh, hi."

"Hello."

"What's your name?"

You told him.

"Oh, cool. I'm Vaan. I'd shake your hand but uh, moving kind of hurts."

"I can see that. Care for some healing?"

"Don't have much gil on me."

"I'm out and about in the desert for some fresh air, not to extort half-dead teenagers. You won't owe me anything."

"Seriously?"

"I at least get a clear conscience out of helping as opposed to leaving you here. May I?"

"Okay. Please."

You stepped closer and knelt down beside him, pulling a small bottle of crystal-blue liquid from one of the many pouches that adorned your person. You cast a little magic on it before you handed it to him, causing him to quirk an eyebrow.

"Cold spell. Not much liquid in there but with how hot it is out here I imagined a chilled gulp or two could only help."

He greedily uncapped the vial and downed its contents, a shudder leaving his lips as some of the wounds healed up.

"Thanks." He said, voice already a bit less hoarse.

"We're not done yet." You cautioned as your hands began to glow. You ghosted them over his body, sealing his injuries the rest of the way and revitalizing a bit of his vigor to boot.

He experimentally pushed off the ground then kicked his legs out, rotating his shoulders. He gave a soft smile your way at the results.

"Thanks. Feel good as new!"

"I might not be able to pry a man from death's grip but I've picked up a bit of healing over the years. Need to in my line of work."

"You a hunter?"

"...traveler." you settled on, technically telling a truth. Just because the empire wasn't all that beloved out here didnt mean it was safe to tell the boy you were a sky pirate. Never know who might be a snitch.

"Oh, cool. Always wanted to get out of this place."

"How come?"

"Its home but... not a lot of good memories. People might sing about how pretty the streets of Dalmasca are but they've never really been stuck sleeping on them."

"You're an orphan?"

"Yeah." He grunted. "Parents died in the plague. Least had my brother but then the war came and..."

"...I'm sorry."

"Its fine. Doubt you were the one who killed him." He commented, continuing when he saw the confused look on your face. "You're an imperial right? Don't really look like a local."

"You'd be right. For the sake of honesty I used to be a part of the army but only ever as a mechanic back in the heartland. If I could've done the same work as a civilian I would've. Empire should've fixed its own problems before it started making them for others."

He hummed in acknowledgement as the pair of you wordlessly returned towards the city, only stopping when he did, eyes transfixed on something.

"Galbana Lilies?"

You turned to follow his gaze and saw two vibrant red flowers sprouting from the sand.

"Never thought I'd see them growing out here." He said as he knelt down to inspect them.

"These flowers are meant to symbolize health, right?"

"Think so. Just know they were Rex's favorite."

"Who?"

"My brother. He was in a hospital when the war ended. I'd try bringing him some whenever I visited but... didn't really make him any healthier. Still like them though."

You knelt and listened to the wind rush on by for a time before reaching into your travel bag and pulling out a bowl and a hand-shovel.

"What're you doing?"

"You said they meant something to you. That they could grow in the sand is a miracle but who knows how long that'll last? They're just as likely to whither or get eaten. Might as well take them home, no?"

"Oh. I guess, yeah. Migelo might like having them in his shop."

"Friend of yours?"

"Old merchant back in town. Gives me and my friends stuff to do so we don't starve. It's practically charity most of the time."

"Sounds like the sort of man who'd enjoy some flowers. Come on."

He helped you dig them out and place them in the bowl, carrying it as you walked until you reached the gates of Rabanastre. Your luck seemed to run out there, the imperial garrison having shut it tight for whatever reason. It opened ever so briefly to let in an armored chocobo, adorned in what you recognized as parade regalia. Vaan looked about to kick up a fuss but you stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Easy now, friend. Only time we ever saw a bird like that back home was for a proper important celebration. I doubt these provincial garrison boys would take too kindly to you kicking up a fuss near it."

"Why the hell do they open the gates for that thing but not us? We live here!"

"Because they're the ones with the pointer sticks. That's the way of the world. It's not right, not at all, but it simply is."

Your explanation tapered off as you saw a mustachioed blue Bangaa come out and bribe the gate guard with a bottle of wine, the young blonde with him immediately rushing to Vaan's side and clasping onto his arm. Clearly the old man's words worked since the guards waved the gathered crowd through before shutting down for the evening.

"Vaan, who's this?" The girl asked.

He introduced you, then her as Penelo and your rescuer as Migelo. You traded some pleasantries with the assembled group before the latter mentioned the ceremony was about to start. Vaan suddenly tore off like a bat out of hell, Penelo struggling to follow after him leaving you and the flowers alone with Migelo.

"Vaan! Penelo!- Oh nevermind. You put gil in their pockets and bread in their bellies near four years and they still don't listen to you! Teenagers!"

"For what it's worth he wanted you to have this."

He studied the lilies with a critical eye, a hint of emotion in his gaze.

"How'd you meet Vaan, if I might ask?"

"Bit off more than he could chew with the beasts in the desert. Patched him up and walked him back."

"And then you kept him from mouthing off at the garrison and earning a cudgeling. That's twice today you've saved my boy."

"Just trying to do a good deed."

"And those ought be repaid. You're from out of town, I take it. Perchance you need some provisions?"

"I do, and I'll buy them at full price. Hardly need a reward for common decency. Though if I might ask some information from a local?"

"That's all you want? Well of course."

"The sewer, the Waterway I think you call it, does it really connect the whole city?"

"Yes, fine bit of engineering it is. They laid the last stone but a year after I was brought into this world. Though er, why do you ask?"

"Any chance to get inside? See it for myself?"

"There are... ways. What's your purpose?"

"...t-tourism?"

Despite your continued difficulty at telling lies with a straight face he either didnt notice or didnt care to point it out. He'd gone and given you a proper map of the layout he dug out from some dusty drawer of his office, said they used to provide them for municipal workers back before the regime change. He also, of course, reminded you folks weren't exactly supposed to be there most of the time, especially not during tonight's swearing-in ceremony for the consul. And you, in turn, promised to be on your best behavior.

Fran and Balthier would never let you hear the end of it if you got caught after all.

----------

It had been about a year since Balthier first came and swept you up in his life of adventure (and crime.) The pair of you reconnected immediately, but building a bond with his partner Fran proved a bit more... difficult.

She didnt dislike you, per se. Nor did she act like your replacement or anything of the sort. She accepted that you were one of Balthier's oldest and most trusted friends as you, in turn, accepted her as his dependable and stalwart companion in sky-piracy. But she was still aloof at the best of times.

Balthier told you not to take it personally. She'd only begun working with him on account of a shared goal once upon a time and their interests managed to continue aligning just long enough for her to get used to his presence. The icy reception would thaw eventually. It made sense. But a year and change later and 'eventually' was starting to look increasingly nebulous.

He at least seemed to catch on to this, and did try and help you connect. Unfortunately, his latest brilliant plan for that involved going out to lunch then abruptly informing the two of you that he was off to find a hover-bike for tonight's heist while you two got some much-needed R&R. He sped out of view leaving you alone with Fran at your table in the bar. The ensuing tension could be cut with a knife.

"His antics should not come as a surprise, and yet still I do not expect when he does this." She sighed.

"I've always found he's too charming to not trust. Much to my own detriment."

You heard what sounded like a chuckle from the Vierra and saw what looked like a smile flash across her face, but that couldn't be the case right?

"He plays the part of a rogue well. It is how he convinced me to join my wanderings to his own."

"Have you traveled long, then?"

"Indeed. Perhaps as long as you have yet lived. My people live thrice as long as the humes. With time comes perspective, with which they choose to ponder to words of the wood."

"...but not you?"

She tenses ever so slightly, but she doesnt shut you out just yet. "I found the peace disquieting. My kin praised it, but it smothered me. I understand calm ought be given thanks in this world, but I wanted to learn of what lay beyond. See it firsthand. And know if it might one day take us to task."

"You thought the empire might invade?"

"My people are not unfamiliar to the predations of humes, and indeed all other races. Those with power inevitably seek more of it, and finer pleasures besides. In every writing I've found that speaks of us, we are 'exotic' and 'beautuous' and 'alluring.' But never strong, or wise. They look upon us still through the same lustful lenses their forebears did, when the nobles of old kingdoms sought pretty playthings to dance at their feasts and warm their beds. They learned the hard way the woods brook no trespass."

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"That you're seen that way."

"Why apologize for that which you have not done?"

"No it's- it's a saying. It's meant to express sympathy."

She makes a little hum and gives the barest tilt of her head. "This is appreciated."

Your drinks finally arrive, the two of you taking a sip after a long day under the desert sun.

"How do you perceive me?"

"Pardon?"

"When your eyes fall upon me, what is it you see? Something to be desired, as most others? Something to be studied?"

You choose your words carefully. This is the most she's ever spoken to you and you don't want to ruin it.

"I see someone from a story book, I suppose." You settle on, pulling out a worn novel from your satchel.

She inspects the cover with a critical eye, her fingers flipping through the illustrated pages.

"I get how you're more often perceived, but thankfully I grew up reading a different perspective. My town too is quiet, and eventually a local left to see the world as you did. When they got back, they wrote a journal of all the things they witnessed, all the people they met. Painted for it too."

She glanced down at the page that finally spoke of her culture, more specifically the art that accompanied it. For once she was pleasantly surprised. Not one of them was adorned in partial silks a Vierra would sooner die than wear. The dress they sported, more than just looking authentic, did not overblow their proportions to some ridiculous fantasy. Instead the three hand-drawn warriors rested against the trunk of old trees or sat along low-hanging branches, wielding bows and spears and sharing a pipe with the hume explorer she could only guess was meant to represent the author.

"I think they're supposed to be an ancestor of mine, some four generations ago. Er, hume generations. 80 years I think that'd be. Did, uh... they get it right?"

She stays silent for a long time, continuing to read a little while longer as your anxiety mounts. At last she looks up at you with an honest-to-gods smile.

"For once someone did."

"Oh! Well, that's a relief."

"Would you mind if I borrowed this for a time? Though brief their words on us were true. I suppose they might give a good idea of other people's and places, if some years removed."

"Of course. I'd be happy to lend it if you'd be happy to read it."

“Many thanks.”

“Well, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you two were thick as thieves!” Balthier crooned as he finally returned.

“Is everything ready for tonight?” you squinted at him.

“Aye. Assuming you’ve found us an escape route?”

“Not exactly going to whip out the map here in public but I’ve got us an exit-path.”

“Then allow me to lead the way to our ride for the evening.”

“You are certain all shall be well?” Fran cut in.

“Of course my dear. By tomorrow morning we’ll be sitting pretty back in the Strahl counting out coins and planning our vacation!”

----------
Later…
----------

Nalbina dungeon was not exactly a welcoming holiday location. But then again you didn’t have much say in being there, as you were right now. To give Balthier some credit, it was hard to foresee the Dalmascan resistance hitting the consul’s palace with everything they had and the Consul, in turn, ordering his airships to fire upon the grounds he was still maneuvering through. Bit ballsy for a politician really.

Your knowledge of the waterways would have led you to safety, you’re sure of it, but then of course you managed to run into Vaan during the heist and just barely convinced him to not try cutting and running with the gem you’d been there to stea- ahem, “appropriate.” But trusting you was one thing, following your orders were another. And you couldn’t stop him from running off in the direction of clashing swords when he heard a woman fighting for her life against imperials.

You saved her, managed to get cornered by a whole gunnery platoon after a particularly loud fight against a pissed-off elemental that had also, for some reason, decided to wander into the sewers that night, and were promptly arrested along with your partners, the aforementioned street-urchin, and the mystery woman that you think you overheard was actually the presumed-dead princess of Dalmasca.

Vaan had gotten knocked out cold after trying to struggle, and Fran was put to sleep by one of the imperial magi sent to escort you, something about Viera being a bit too magically potent to be trusted with normal security measures. You’d been separated upon being dumped in the prison but it was less a proper jail and more a maze-like pit of old walls and opened cells. You and your fellow inmates could amble about so long as you didn’t stray too close to any exits.

You tried to find your fellows and eventually your ears perked up at a passing conversation.

“Y’see that bunny-lady they tossed down here?”

“Mate, I’m starving, thirsty, and I think I’ve got dysentery. I don’t need to hear about your latest wet dream.”

“Nah bruv, she’s real! Got hauled in with them blokes what tried killing the Consul last night. One of them Viera broads, shoulda seen the arse on her!”

“No fooling? Doubt she’ll last long down here.”

“Course she won’t.” A third voice cut in, “heard Bentham and his lads snatched her up the second the guards dropped her off, took her deeper into the cells.”

Like hell you were letting that go anywhere! You marched up to the old prisoner and snatched him by the scruff of the shirt, acting on instinct and figuring “rude” meant “intimidating” by prison logic.

“Where?”

“D-down that hall a ways, then to the right!”

You broke off in a sprint the second you got the instructions, the echo of your footfalls eventually being overpowered by distant hoots and hollers. You slid out of the hall to the outside of a larger holding cell, similarly wide-open like the others. Fran’s yet-unconscious but thankfully still clothed form lay draped against the rear-wall while 4 or so human men surrounded her.

“N’here I was thinking them guards were heartless bastards, but lookie here! They brought us a chocolate bunny.”

“We’s all gonna share, right boss?”

“Course lad, but I’ll be getting the first taste, ayEEE!?” He suddenly shrieked as you cracked him on the back of the head with a stray cell-bar.

“Who the fuck is this!?”

“Somebody that’s not tolerating this!” You shouted. “Clear off!”

“Greedy fuck wants her all to themselves, kill em!”

They were on you all at once, fists finding gaps in your defense and crashing against ribs and cheeks as you tried to lash back out when you could. You were decent at fisticuffs but you were a tech-head first and foremost. Against three leaner opponents you were only going to get so far.

Just when you were flung off your feet and it looked like one of them was about to bring the bar you’d grabbed down on your skull, a long leg shot out and punted him hard enough to fly against the wall. Another came down in an axe-kick, embedding the second into the ground. The last had his face flattened between the blocky, broken steel cuffs wrapped around your saviors’ wrists that seemed to be split in twain down the middle.

Fran dusted herself off when it looked like none of them were getting back up, before squatting down to offer you her hand.

“Th-thank you.” You coughed, cheeks flaring a little at the display of strength.

“The thanks should be yours. I would have awoken in due time, but their hands might have found ill-purchase before then. You have my gratitude for safeguarding my dignity.”

“You’re my companion, Fran. I’d always fight for you.”

"Even if it hurt you?"

"Especially if it does. I mean it means you don't get hurt, right?"

Her lips quirked up a smidgen at your words before she caught you completely off guard by leaning forwards to plant a kiss on the tip of your nose, lighting your face aflame.

“W-w-Whaaat?”

“A token of said gratitude. Now come, we must locate the others and escape from this place. The air stinks of death and despair.”

“A-aye.” You nodded, falling in behind her. Man, all the blows to your head must’ve been messing with your vision. It almost looked like she was swaying her hips a little as she walked ahead of you.