[Final Fantasy XII] Out of Place
Characters/Pairings: Larsa/Penelo
Rating: PG
Warnings: Significant spoilers for the ending of the game as well as main party members' backstories
Notes: This was written for the spring 2007 round of het_challenge. ~5600 words. Beta-reading by first_seventhe and katmillia.
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy XII belongs to Square Enix. I own neither the characters nor the setting, nor do I make any profit from my fanfiction, which is purely for my own enjoyment.
Summary: Penelo feels quite out of place at an Archadian ball.
Prompt: He grew up with politics as close as the air he breathes; she grew up scrabbling for food. The gap is bridgeable, but it'll take some work -- especially since they're both too polite to address the problems directly. Intrigue and class issues a plus. The pairing can be as overt or implied as you like.
Penelo followed Basch-no, Gabranth, she reminded herself quickly-through the halls of House Solidor's palace in Archades, trying not to goggle at the careless display of wealth that she passed. Gabranth threaded in and out of small crowds of people, polite but firm about making his way through them, and she stuck close behind him to make sure she didn't lose him. Almost half the people they passed wore the armour that was a hallmark of Archadia's Judges, and seeing them sent a chill down Penelo's spine. She quashed the urge to turn and run; she was here as Larsa's guest, and not as a captive to Archadian justice.
Gabranth paused outside a set of beautifully carved double doors. "These are the quarters Emperor Larsa has had prepared for you," he said, and in the cadence of his voice she heard more of Archades than Dalmasca or Landis. He had changed these past two years. "Please make yourself at ease. The Emperor expressed his wish that you let him know if there is aught you need. He is most anxious that you enjoy your stay."
"Thank you," Penelo said awkwardly.
Gabranth pushed one of the double doors open and offered her a half-bow. She stepped into the room and simply stared as the door clicked shut behind her. The room was enormous-probably as large as her house in Dalmasca. There were gorgeous tapestries hanging on the walls, which upon inspection proved to be silk. Penelo crossed the room to the glass doors that led out to the balcony and peeked outside. From here, she had a spectacular view of all of Archades. Larsa-the Emperor-had not been joking when he said she would be treated as his most honoured guest.
She was just debating whether or not bouncing on the enormous bed-certainly big enough for four people-would be considered provincial when she heard a light tap on the door.
"Come in," she called, wondering who would have come to visit her.
The door opened slowly and two young women entered, carrying a large white box between them. They set it upon the bed and then curtsied to her. Penelo wondered what the correct response was.
One of the young women departed, pulling the door closed behind her, and the other approached with a tremulous smile. "Good afternoon, Lady Penelo. My name is Adela, and I'm to be your maidservant during your visit here-unless you brought your own maid with you?"
"Ah, no," Penelo said awkwardly. Lady Penelo?
"The Emperor had his personal tailor send over your gown for tonight's ball," Adela said. "He will be by before the ball to make any last-minute adjustments, but in the meantime, I thought perhaps you might like to bathe away the dust of the road?"
She'd arrived by airship at the aerodrome and been whisked directly here by a cab; she'd hardly had the chance to get dusty. Still, a bath sounded very appealing. "Yes, please," she said.
"Just this way, then." Adela led her to an intricately carved door nestled between two tapestries. Penelo walked in and forced herself to close her mouth instead of standing there completely agape. The floor was inlaid in white marble, with the walls tiled in deep blue and a bathtub almost large enough to swim in. She was beginning to feel very small and insignificant amid all the grandeur in these rooms.
"Will you need any help washing your hair?" Adela asked, already setting out thick fluffy towels and a dish of soap.
"N-no, I'm fine, thank you." Penelo shifted her weight awkwardly, not sure if she was expected to undress right now.
Adela flicked the golden wheels that flanked the faucet, and water began to pour into the tub. "I'll leave you to it, then," she said, hanging a blue robe from a hook next to the tub. "If you need anything, please call. I'll go and unpack your things."
"Oh, you don't need to do that," Penelo protested. "I can do it myself."
Adela looked mildly scandalized. "Oh, no, the Emperor was very specific that you're not to lift a finger while you're here," she said. "Is there anything that needs special handling?"
She was reasonably sure she hadn't packed anything incriminating. "No, everything's fine," she managed.
Adela curtsied again and left the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Penelo looked at the tub, where curls of steam were rising from the water's surface, and sighed. This was going to be a challenge, but not in the way she'd expected.
She undressed and shut off the faucets, since the water had half-filled the tub. She slipped into the water, sighing with pleasure as the hot water rose to just under her chin. For a moment, she leaned her head back against the edge of the tub, enjoying the feel of water lapping against her skin. Being able to sink into a bath this deep was a rare luxury; Rabanastre's water supply was generous, but not infinite, and most inns had showers rather than bathtubs. She hadn't been in this much water since Basch had taught her and Vaan how to swim on the Phon Coast.
The sounds of Adela humming in the outer room reminded her that she needed to get herself clean and get moving; it had been late afternoon already when she arrived, and the ball was scheduled for eight.
She submerged herself briefly and scooped up a handful of the soap Adela had left out, working it into her hair. It smelled like the tiny pink wildflowers they had found growing on Ozmone Plain, and she smiled, reminded of the bouquet Larsa had made for her as they made their way to Golmore. Once her hair was clean, she turned her attention to the rest of her body, scowling at the engine grease still dark beneath her nails and scrubbing until she could see no trace of it. She could've arrived in Archades earlier, if Vaan hadn't neglected to tell her that the rudder hadn't been responding properly and she hadn't had to make emergency repairs midair. The scrapes on the back of her right hand stung when she washed them, and she reminded herself to yell at Vaan-again-for his carelessness when she next saw him.
She pulled the chain on the stopper that held the water in the tub and clambered out, dripping and shivering in the cooler air of the room. She dried herself off quickly, rubbing at her hair to remove some of the moisture, which caused it to frizz up into a pale blonde puffy mass. She made an effort to smooth it into her customary braids, but it escaped her fingers repeatedly. She sighed and put on the robe Adela had left out, and went into the main room.
Adela was standing at the bed, fussing with a mass of dark blue fabric. Penelo crossed to her, bare feet silent on the carpeted floor. Adela turned, started, and then dropped into a curtsy.
"My lady," she said, inclining her head. "Did you enjoy your bath?"
"Yes, thank you." Penelo smiled.
"Wonderful." Adela smiled back. "I had a tray brought up for you, as the Emperor's supper won't be until very late." She gestured at a small wooden table inlaid with mother-of-pearl, upon which there was a tray with a silver cover.
"It wouldn't be very polite if my stomach was growling during the ball, would it?" Penelo joked, seating herself at the table.
Adela lifted the cover to reveal a salad of greens and strawberries in a creamy dressing and a second dish covered separately, which proved to be a bowl of steaming pale-gold soup. "If you wish for something different, please let me know," Adela said quickly. "The cook sent up lobster bisque, as the Emperor said you liked seafood, and the salad is the Emperor's favourite."
"Thank you very much," Penelo said. It seemed Larsa had gone to a great deal of trouble for her. She picked up her spoon and dipped it into the soup. It was rich and creamy, just a little bit sweet and spicy. "Mmmmm."
Adela smiled and went back to fussing with the fabric on the bed. Penelo ate her meal quickly, and found that the tray also included a flaky honey-and-almond pastry. She had first tasted one in Bhujerba when Larsa had been calling himself Lamont; it had quickly become a favourite of hers. She smiled and bit into it, letting the sweetness melt on her tongue. She would have to thank Larsa for going to such effort for her.
She went to wash her hands when she was done eating, for the pastry was a sticky proposition at best, and when she emerged from the bathing room, Adela was waiting for her. "It's getting late," the other woman said, gesturing at the ruddy-gold light slanting in through the windows, "and we should begin your toilette, if that is all right."
Penelo bit back a giggle at the solemn way Adela was addressing the matter of her clothes. "Certainly," she said.
Adela gestured at a pretty vanity table in the corner, and Penelo followed her over and sat on the cream-coloured velvet cushion. Adela began to brush her hair slowly and gently. Penelo closed her eyes, enjoying the slow tug of the brush through her hair. It reminded her a little of when she was younger and her mother would comb and plait her hair, murmuring quietly of their tradition of dance and what each step meant.
She was idly reciting the steps and their meanings to herself as Adela worked with her hair, such that she was startled when the maid prompted her to look at her reflection in the glass. She opened her eyes and gasped. Her hair was pulled back sleek and shining into a knot at the crown of her head, with a few wisps left free and curling delicately around her face. Very different from her normal casual braids, complete with engine grease.
"Do you like it?" Adela asked anxiously.
"It's beautiful," Penelo answered. She hardly looked like herself.
"I...you didn't have any cosmetics in your things, so I had some brought up for you. You don't need much, but I thought perhaps a touch of rouge?" Adela gestured at the collection of little pots on the vanity table.
"Um, okay," Penelo replied. She normally wore paint only for dancing, but somehow she doubted that the shimmering gold and crimson accents were appropriate for a ball in Archades.
Adela deftly applied a trace of rouge to her cheekbones and lips, and a tiny bit of kohl around her eyes. When she was done, Penelo looked at the stranger in the mirror, and wondered exactly what she was getting herself into.
"I, ah, the Emperor said that he would have a dress sent up for the ball?" she asked awkwardly.
"Oh, yes," Adela said. "Just over here."
Penelo rose and followed her over to the bed, where there were several articles of clothing laid out. First there were white silk stockings with delicate blue embroidery along the tops and pantalets edged with lace. Penelo felt strange putting on garments that individually probably cost more than any outfit she'd owned-at least prior to becoming a sky pirate. Adela held up a chemise of cambric so fine it was almost transparent. The edges were embroidered with tiny pink flowers like the ones in Ozmone Plain. Penelo blushed a little as she shed the robe and put on the chemise. It was followed by two heavy, stiff petticoats that stood out around her legs in a bell shape.
"If you could please hold up your arms?" Adela asked, gathering up a large mass of shining blue fabric from the bed. Penelo caught a glimpse of golden threads amid the blue. She held up her arms and Adela settled the dress on her, moving behind her to fasten the back. Penelo glanced down and saw that she wore a gown of dark blue silk with a deep, square neckline. The bodice was made of glimmering gold brocade heavily embroidered in blue, which brought a faint smile to her lips, reminding her of Balthier's vest. The sleeves were of the same blue silk as the skirt and fell open at the wrists, with fabric trailing several inches below her hands.
Adela finished fastening up the gown and walked around her, studying the gown. She tugged at a bit of fabric on the skirt and frowned. "It's a bit too long. Here, try the shoes."
She presented Penelo with a pair of gold brocade slippers that matched the bodice of the dress. Penelo stepped into them carefully and Adela knelt, fussing with the hem of the gown. "No, they'll need to hem it a bit," she said after a moment. "It won't do for you to trip on it when you're dancing with the Emperor."
Penelo felt a little bubble of nervousness. She knew how to do the traditional dances of Dalmasca, but she suspected that those were very different than what would be expected at a ball in Archades. Larsa's invitation hadn't specified that there would be a ball; he'd simply asked that she come to the fête. The Senate wishes to celebrate my second year on the throne, he wrote. I would be honoured if you would attend.
Someone tapped at the door, and Adela went to answer it. Penelo took a few careful steps, wobbling in the slippers. She was not feeling optimistic about this ball.
"Ah, Lady Penelo." She turned and saw a man a handspan shorter than she bowing politely. "I'm Deren, the Emperor's personal tailor. I just wanted to make sure the gown fit you properly, as you were unavailable for fittings. Adela says it needs a bit of hemming?"
"Um," Penelo said. What was she supposed to be Lady of? She knew her accent sounded of Dalmasca rather than Archades.
Deren appeared unfazed by her lack of conversation and knelt to examine the hem of her gown. "Ah, yes, not suited for dancing, I think. If you could just stand still a few moments, Lady Penelo, I'll have this fixed for you in no time."
He began to make quick, neat stitches in the hem, and Penelo stood still for some five minutes while he worked his way around her, shortening the gown. She wondered how Larsa had found out what size clothing she wore, to have a gown made that fit her almost perfectly in her absence.
Deren finished hemming the gown and got to his feet. "That should stand you in better stead," he said, and bowed.
"Thank you," Penelo said.
"My pleasure, Lady Penelo. Enjoy the ball." He bowed again and left the room.
The door had barely closed behind him when there was another knock, louder this time. Adela went to answer it once more, then turned and beckoned to Penelo. "Lady Penelo, Judge Gabranth is here to escort you to the ball," she said.
Penelo crossed the room slowly and carefully, growing more confident in the heels as she moved. Gabranth was waiting for her, his armour gleaming even in the low light in the hallway. He bowed when she emerged. "Lady Penelo," he said politely.
She curtsied carefully, feeling unbalanced in the unfamiliar weight of petticoats and the unfamiliar shoes. "Judge Gabranth."
"Are you ready?" he inquired.
"Yes, thank you."
He offered his arm and led her through the halls of the palace. There were considerably fewer people about at this point in the evening--almost none, in fact.
"I didn't get to ask you before, how you're doing," Penelo said.
"I am well. There has been much to put to rights in the aftermath of Emperor Gramis' death and Vayne's short-lived reign. Emperor Larsa has been making great strides in building a stable peace for Archades." She could hear the pride in his voice, as he used to sound when he spoke of Ashe's accomplishments.
"Do you miss Rabanastre?" Her voice was even quieter now, because she knew that his true identity was kept secret in Archades, and she was afraid if she spoke normally their conversation would echo down the marble-floored hall.
"Sometimes," he said. "Queen Ashelia writes of the events there. I own I do miss the springtime, for the few weeks the desert is in full bloom. Yet my duty now lies here."
Penelo noticed the formal title: Queen Ashelia. He had called her Ashe, while they journeyed together.
"Is that all that keeps you here?" she asked. "Duty?"
It was hard to tell, under the layers of armour, but she rather thought his shoulders stiffened. "It is my honour to carry out my duties to the best of my ability," he said stiffly.
"I didn't mean to imply it was a bad thing," Penelo said, looking down at the floor. She nearly tripped over the hem of her skirt and gritted her teeth. She was going to make it through this ball without looking like a fool.
"My apologies," Gabranth said. "It was not my intention to be sharp with you. I am not displeased with my life here. I am doing a good and honourable thing in helping to rebuild Archades."
Penelo decided not to make the situation any worse, and so they went in silence through the hallways. After a moment, Gabranth paused and touched her arm. "Emperor Larsa will present you as Lady Penelo of Dalmasca," he said, "to avoid an uproar from the Archadian nobles at having a 'commoner' in their midst." She didn't miss the sardonic edge to the word 'commoner,' and wondered at his bitterness. "You may spin them any tales you like about being nobility in Dalmasca, as long as you keep your own story straight. Most of them know only what they read in adventure novels."
She nodded, and resolved to say as little as possible. She disliked lying.
He led her to a vast pair of double doors, deeply carved and inlaid with precious metals. Two Imperial soldiers saluted him and opened the door to a room full of people clad in a rainbow of colours. There was no music, yet, and no one seemed to be dancing. Penelo took a deep breath.
Gabranth paused and spoke to a young man to their left, who cleared his throat loudly. "Judge Magister Gabranth and the Lady Penelo of Dalmasca!" he announced in ringing tones. Penelo fought the urge to shrink behind Gabranth as everyone in the ballroom turned to stare at her.
"Just smile," Gabranth murmured, and led her forward through the crowd. Penelo did her best to keep a smile on her face, but it got harder as they moved forward and the sound of muttered conversations swelled behind them.
Larsa stood on a dais at the far end of the room, watching the people in the room. Gabranth led her right to him and bowed. Penelo curtsied and nearly lost her balance when one of her shoes wobbled beneath her.
"Emperor Larsa, may I present Lady Penelo," Gabranth said clearly, his voice pitched to carry throughout the room.
That set off a whole new wave of muttering behind them. Penelo felt her cheeks flushing red.
Larsa smiled at her-he had grown taller, and she had to look up a bit to meet his eyes-and stepped forward. He took her hands in his and kissed her cheek. "I am so pleased that you chose to accept my invitation," he said, and like Gabranth's, his voice carried clearly. "I hope you will enjoy your evening."
"Thank you for inviting me," she replied.
"Would you join me for a few moments?" he asked, and though his voice was quieter, she was quite sure everyone in the room was listening. She hadn't known that many people could make so little noise.
"Of course," she answered, and he gestured to a velvet-covered sofa behind him. The minute she sat down, a maid appeared out of nowhere and offered her a glass of white wine. Penelo took it and sat holding the glass awkwardly. Slowly the people in the room began to talk amongst themselves, and the noise swelled back to the level it had been before she entered the room.
"I'm so glad you came," he said with a smile.
"I'm glad to see you," she answered.
"The colours of House Solidor suit you quite nicely," he said, looking at her gown, and she blushed a little.
"I wanted to ask you how you managed to have a gown made to fit me without me being here," she said, and he raised an eyebrow.
"I ought not give away state secrets," he said, but in a light-hearted tone. "Truth be told, I enlisted Vaan's help."
Penelo frowned. "What?"
"He liberated one of your dresses for the tailor to use as a model," Larsa explained. "I believe it's been returned to him, and thus to your closet."
"He swore he didn't know where it had gone," she grumbled, remembering how her favourite outfit had gone astray several weeks ago.
"I pray you, be not angry with him or me," Larsa said earnestly, taking her hands in his. "I wanted to surprise you. Do you like it?"
Penelo smiled at him. "Yes, very much."
At that moment, another announcement rang out over the room. "Lord Ffamran Bunansa!"
Penelo couldn't help it; she goggled. Larsa wore a pleased smile. "I thought it might please you to have another friendly face," he said.
"Do they know?" she asked in a very low voice. "What he does?"
"Of course not," Larsa said with a faint chuckle. "It amuses him to make up ever-more-exotic stories of what he's been doing in the span of time he's been away from Archades."
"Did Fran come?" Penelo didn't see the telltale white ears above the crowd.
"I am given to understand that she refused quite emphatically," Larsa said dryly.
"It doesn't seem like the kind of event she would prefer," Penelo agreed.
Balthier-no, Ffamran, she must not get him in trouble-approached the dais and bowed. "Congratulations, Emperor," he said lightly.
"Thank you, Ffamran." Larsa nodded, but did not rise. "How does your business fare these days?"
"Oh, there's always money to be made in shipping." Ffamran winked at Penelo, then gave her a half-bow. "Lady Penelo! What a pleasure. I did not think to find you so far from home."
"I did not think to see you here, either," she said.
"I'd hope not. I can't become predictable. It's just not done. Hardly worthy of a leading man." He grinned at her.
Another nobleman approached and waited behind Ffamran, with an expression of impatience. Larsa looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "May I help you, Lord Cylan?"
"I had hoped to speak with Your Majesty on a matter of some importance," the nobleman said, with a disgusted look at Ffamran.
Ffamran cleared his throat. "Oh, come now, Lord Cylan. One doesn't do business at a fête. It's uncouth."
"What would you know of couth, Ffamran? Spending the last how many years in gods know where with heathens and commoners?" Lord Cylan sneered.
"I do not care for your tone, Lord Cylan," Larsa said sharply.
Immediately Lord Cylan turned away from Ffamran and bowed to Larsa. "My apologies, Your Majesty."
"Ffamran, I will speak with you later," Larsa said. "I think we've much to discuss."
"As Your Majesty wishes." Ffamran bowed. "Lady Penelo, I hope we might talk later. I'm sure you've many amusing anecdotes to tell me regarding our mutual friends. Judge Gabranth." He saluted Gabranth and sauntered away. Penelo started, having forgotten that Gabranth had taken up a station right behind them. For a man in full plate armour, he seemed able to go unnoticed when he wished.
Lord Cylan stood waiting at the foot of the dais, glancing from Larsa to Penelo. She could feel a blush creeping up her throat. What had she done wrong?
When his pointed looks had no effect, he cleared his throat ostentatiously. "Your Majesty, the business I wished to discuss is private," he said.
Larsa studied him for a moment. "Very well. You shall have an audience with me on the morrow, at noon."
"Your Majesty-" Lord Cylan protested.
"Lady Penelo," Larsa said, turning to her, "would you honour me with a dance?"
"I-yes, of course." She got to her feet, wobbling a little in her heels, and Larsa gestured to the musicians in the corner as he rose. They began playing a stately air. Half of those in the room migrated to the sides of the room to continue to talk, while the rest lined up in neat rows facing each other and began to execute an intricate pattern of steps. Penelo's heart sank. No, this was nothing like the traditional dances of Dalmasca.
Larsa took her arm and moved down the steps of the dais. "I don't know this dance," Penelo whispered to him.
"No matter," he responded quietly, and gestured to the musicians once again. The music changed to something sweeping. "Just follow my lead." He turned her to face him, one hand clasped in hers and the other resting lightly on her waist, and began to dance. She quickly found the rhythm of it, in a three-beat sequence, and once she had that it was easy. He swept her neatly round the floor.
She caught sight of several young noblewomen glaring at her, and once they spun past Ffamran, who winked and grinned at her over the head of the tiny brunette he was dancing with.
Larsa smiled at her. "This dance, I think, is more to your tastes," he said, executing a sharp turn and drawing her along with him.
Penelo laughed. "This is fun," she agreed.
Too soon, the music ended, and Larsa stepped back with a bow. "I must go and speak to the Senators," he said regretfully. "I will return as soon as I may."
She curtsied to him and he walked away. Penelo made her way to the side of the room, where she could get a breath of air. The gown she wore was beautiful, but very heavy, and she was a bit short of breath.
"You would be the Dalmscan, then." She turned to see a young Archadian woman examining her with a sneer. "I half expected a provincial to show up in badly cured furs."
Penelo gritted her teeth and reminded herself not to cause a scene. The mischievous little voice in the back of her head, the one she had dubbed "Vaan" because it sounded so much like him, piped up. You could cast a Blizzard spell. They're small, you wouldn't attract much notice. "Even in Rabanastre," she said coolly, "we know how to clothe ourselves."
Another Archadian walked up to them. "I think it a bit presumptuous of you to wear House Solidor's colours," she stated.
"Oh, she can't be expected to know," the first girl said. "She is from Dalmasca, after all, and when was the last time they showed any couth?"
"Oh, I don't know about that," Ffamran drawled as he sauntered up to them. "The Lady Penelo is displaying quite a bit more couth than you at the moment, Jemma."
"Ffamran." The second girl fluttered her lashes at him. "Won't you dance with me?"
"It's a man's prerogative to ask for a dance, Sera," Jemma said with a sniff.
"It is indeed," Ffamran agreed. "Lady Penelo, may I have this dance?"
Penelo was sure her smile showed more relief than was wise as she put her hand in his. "Yes, thank you."
He swept her onto the floor-it was another of those sweeping dances-and placed his hand lightly on her waist. "Sorry I didn't get there sooner," he said. "I vow there is no more vicious pair of vipers in all Archades than those two."
"I'm not stupid just because I'm from Dalmasca," Penelo said bitterly.
"Of course you aren't." Ffamran turned smoothly. "And they're not any better than you just because they could buy and sell half of the city with their monthly allowances, but that doesn't stop them thinking that they're superior."
"What did she mean, about it being presumptuous of me to wear House Solidor's colours?" Penelo asked softly as Ffamran lifted her up and spun her about.
Ffamran laughed. "I had rather wondered about that. It seems the Emperor wishes to make a statement. Of course, I'm not entirely sure what statement that is."
Penelo bit her lip and followed his lead into another set of graceful movements. "Please don't think badly of me, but I don't think I like Archades," she said.
"You'd rather be on the Strahl, eh?" he murmured, and smiled. "So would I, but I'm here because Larsa asked me to watch your back while he plays politics."
"Not to see and be seen?" Penelo teased, curtsying to him as the music ended.
"A side benefit, I assure you." Ffamran winked. "Here, let's get you back to the Emperor."
He threaded his way through the crowd expertly with her in tow, to where Larsa was just giving polite nods to five men in purple robes. "Emperor," Ffamran said with a bow. "I would like to return your lovely guest to you."
Larsa smiled, a genuine smile rather than the polite one he had just offered the men he was speaking with. "Lady Penelo, you look rather flushed. Come sit with me, and have a drink," he said warmly. He slid his arm through hers.
As they moved through the crowd, he leaned close to her ear. "Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked.
Penelo made herself smile. She was very much enjoying his company, at least. "It's a lovely ball," she said, and hoped he didn't hear the false brightness in her voice.
They returned to the dais. Penelo's heart sank when she saw the pair of Archadian noblewomen she'd spoken to before standing there.
"Emperor," Jemma said, with a low, graceful curtsy. "We wanted to tell you how much we are enjoying your fête."
"You've invited so many...interesting people," Sera added in a chirpy voice that grated on Penelo's nerves.
Larsa gestured to the maid, who brought over a tray of wineglasses. He picked up his own glass, and Jemma handed Penelo her untouched glass from earlier.
"A toast, then," Larsa said, raising his glass. "To peace."
"To peace," Penelo murmured, raising her own glass, and then bringing it to her lips.
Ffamran's hand closed around her wrist almost painfully and pulled the glass away. "I don't think you want to drink that, my dear," he said. "I've no antidote to hand at the moment."
"What?" Penelo stared at him.
"What foolishness," Sera said, with a giggle that sounded entirely too nervous.
"What did you say, Lord Ffamran?" Larsa's tone was sharp. Gabranth took two steps forward, his armour creaking.
"I said, I've no antidote to hand to alleviate the effects of whatever Lady Jemma just put in this glass," Ffamran said, and held the glass up to the light. At the bottom of the glass, the wine was tinted faintly green, and a small, rounded green object was resting there.
"I never!" Jemma protested sharply. "What proof have you, Lord Ffamran?"
"Tsk, tsk." Ffamran shook his head. "And on a toast to peace, no less!"
"Explain yourself," Larsa said. Gabranth took the glass from Ffamran and examined it himself. After a moment he stripped off his gauntlet and extracted the green globule from the glass, sniffing it cautiously.
"Judge Gabranth?" Larsa asked.
"I cannot be certain, Emperor, but I believe it is a sleeping draught," Gabranth said, examining it closely. "I have seen them for sale in the apothecary shops."
"We thought to play a bit of a prank," Sera blurted.
"After all, no one expects a provincial to do aught but fall on her face at an event like this," Jemma added.
"Judge Gabranth, remove them from the palace," Larsa said flatly.
Gabranth bowed and set the glass aside. After replacing his gauntlet, he led the protesting women out of the room, none too gently.
"I am so sorry," Larsa said, turning toward her. "Though I know they scheme and plot like a nest of vipers, I truly did not think that they would try such a low trick."
"No harm done," Penelo said, though it was hard to keep her voice light. Beside her, Ffamran bowed discreetly and withdrew.
Larsa stayed close to her for the rest of the ball. Penelo focused on that, and not on the looks that the nobility cast her way. Much later-long after her feet had begun to ache from the shoes and the formal banquet that ended the ball-she stood out on a balcony with Larsa, looking up at the stars. He stepped closer to her and laid his fingertips lightly against the side of her jaw. She looked at him and he leaned in to kiss her, soft and sweet. His arm slid around her waist, and hers slid around his neck. She forgot about the shoes hurting her feet and the pettiness and stress of the ball. This was why she'd accepted the invitation.
"I am glad you came," he said.
"So am I," she answered, and it was not a lie.
~*~
Author's Note: Um. Well! This was very challenging but also very fun. Concrit or feedback in general is gratefully welcomed.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Significant spoilers for the ending of the game as well as main party members' backstories
Notes: This was written for the spring 2007 round of het_challenge. ~5600 words. Beta-reading by first_seventhe and katmillia.
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy XII belongs to Square Enix. I own neither the characters nor the setting, nor do I make any profit from my fanfiction, which is purely for my own enjoyment.
Summary: Penelo feels quite out of place at an Archadian ball.
Prompt: He grew up with politics as close as the air he breathes; she grew up scrabbling for food. The gap is bridgeable, but it'll take some work -- especially since they're both too polite to address the problems directly. Intrigue and class issues a plus. The pairing can be as overt or implied as you like.
Penelo followed Basch-no, Gabranth, she reminded herself quickly-through the halls of House Solidor's palace in Archades, trying not to goggle at the careless display of wealth that she passed. Gabranth threaded in and out of small crowds of people, polite but firm about making his way through them, and she stuck close behind him to make sure she didn't lose him. Almost half the people they passed wore the armour that was a hallmark of Archadia's Judges, and seeing them sent a chill down Penelo's spine. She quashed the urge to turn and run; she was here as Larsa's guest, and not as a captive to Archadian justice.
Gabranth paused outside a set of beautifully carved double doors. "These are the quarters Emperor Larsa has had prepared for you," he said, and in the cadence of his voice she heard more of Archades than Dalmasca or Landis. He had changed these past two years. "Please make yourself at ease. The Emperor expressed his wish that you let him know if there is aught you need. He is most anxious that you enjoy your stay."
"Thank you," Penelo said awkwardly.
Gabranth pushed one of the double doors open and offered her a half-bow. She stepped into the room and simply stared as the door clicked shut behind her. The room was enormous-probably as large as her house in Dalmasca. There were gorgeous tapestries hanging on the walls, which upon inspection proved to be silk. Penelo crossed the room to the glass doors that led out to the balcony and peeked outside. From here, she had a spectacular view of all of Archades. Larsa-the Emperor-had not been joking when he said she would be treated as his most honoured guest.
She was just debating whether or not bouncing on the enormous bed-certainly big enough for four people-would be considered provincial when she heard a light tap on the door.
"Come in," she called, wondering who would have come to visit her.
The door opened slowly and two young women entered, carrying a large white box between them. They set it upon the bed and then curtsied to her. Penelo wondered what the correct response was.
One of the young women departed, pulling the door closed behind her, and the other approached with a tremulous smile. "Good afternoon, Lady Penelo. My name is Adela, and I'm to be your maidservant during your visit here-unless you brought your own maid with you?"
"Ah, no," Penelo said awkwardly. Lady Penelo?
"The Emperor had his personal tailor send over your gown for tonight's ball," Adela said. "He will be by before the ball to make any last-minute adjustments, but in the meantime, I thought perhaps you might like to bathe away the dust of the road?"
She'd arrived by airship at the aerodrome and been whisked directly here by a cab; she'd hardly had the chance to get dusty. Still, a bath sounded very appealing. "Yes, please," she said.
"Just this way, then." Adela led her to an intricately carved door nestled between two tapestries. Penelo walked in and forced herself to close her mouth instead of standing there completely agape. The floor was inlaid in white marble, with the walls tiled in deep blue and a bathtub almost large enough to swim in. She was beginning to feel very small and insignificant amid all the grandeur in these rooms.
"Will you need any help washing your hair?" Adela asked, already setting out thick fluffy towels and a dish of soap.
"N-no, I'm fine, thank you." Penelo shifted her weight awkwardly, not sure if she was expected to undress right now.
Adela flicked the golden wheels that flanked the faucet, and water began to pour into the tub. "I'll leave you to it, then," she said, hanging a blue robe from a hook next to the tub. "If you need anything, please call. I'll go and unpack your things."
"Oh, you don't need to do that," Penelo protested. "I can do it myself."
Adela looked mildly scandalized. "Oh, no, the Emperor was very specific that you're not to lift a finger while you're here," she said. "Is there anything that needs special handling?"
She was reasonably sure she hadn't packed anything incriminating. "No, everything's fine," she managed.
Adela curtsied again and left the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Penelo looked at the tub, where curls of steam were rising from the water's surface, and sighed. This was going to be a challenge, but not in the way she'd expected.
She undressed and shut off the faucets, since the water had half-filled the tub. She slipped into the water, sighing with pleasure as the hot water rose to just under her chin. For a moment, she leaned her head back against the edge of the tub, enjoying the feel of water lapping against her skin. Being able to sink into a bath this deep was a rare luxury; Rabanastre's water supply was generous, but not infinite, and most inns had showers rather than bathtubs. She hadn't been in this much water since Basch had taught her and Vaan how to swim on the Phon Coast.
The sounds of Adela humming in the outer room reminded her that she needed to get herself clean and get moving; it had been late afternoon already when she arrived, and the ball was scheduled for eight.
She submerged herself briefly and scooped up a handful of the soap Adela had left out, working it into her hair. It smelled like the tiny pink wildflowers they had found growing on Ozmone Plain, and she smiled, reminded of the bouquet Larsa had made for her as they made their way to Golmore. Once her hair was clean, she turned her attention to the rest of her body, scowling at the engine grease still dark beneath her nails and scrubbing until she could see no trace of it. She could've arrived in Archades earlier, if Vaan hadn't neglected to tell her that the rudder hadn't been responding properly and she hadn't had to make emergency repairs midair. The scrapes on the back of her right hand stung when she washed them, and she reminded herself to yell at Vaan-again-for his carelessness when she next saw him.
She pulled the chain on the stopper that held the water in the tub and clambered out, dripping and shivering in the cooler air of the room. She dried herself off quickly, rubbing at her hair to remove some of the moisture, which caused it to frizz up into a pale blonde puffy mass. She made an effort to smooth it into her customary braids, but it escaped her fingers repeatedly. She sighed and put on the robe Adela had left out, and went into the main room.
Adela was standing at the bed, fussing with a mass of dark blue fabric. Penelo crossed to her, bare feet silent on the carpeted floor. Adela turned, started, and then dropped into a curtsy.
"My lady," she said, inclining her head. "Did you enjoy your bath?"
"Yes, thank you." Penelo smiled.
"Wonderful." Adela smiled back. "I had a tray brought up for you, as the Emperor's supper won't be until very late." She gestured at a small wooden table inlaid with mother-of-pearl, upon which there was a tray with a silver cover.
"It wouldn't be very polite if my stomach was growling during the ball, would it?" Penelo joked, seating herself at the table.
Adela lifted the cover to reveal a salad of greens and strawberries in a creamy dressing and a second dish covered separately, which proved to be a bowl of steaming pale-gold soup. "If you wish for something different, please let me know," Adela said quickly. "The cook sent up lobster bisque, as the Emperor said you liked seafood, and the salad is the Emperor's favourite."
"Thank you very much," Penelo said. It seemed Larsa had gone to a great deal of trouble for her. She picked up her spoon and dipped it into the soup. It was rich and creamy, just a little bit sweet and spicy. "Mmmmm."
Adela smiled and went back to fussing with the fabric on the bed. Penelo ate her meal quickly, and found that the tray also included a flaky honey-and-almond pastry. She had first tasted one in Bhujerba when Larsa had been calling himself Lamont; it had quickly become a favourite of hers. She smiled and bit into it, letting the sweetness melt on her tongue. She would have to thank Larsa for going to such effort for her.
She went to wash her hands when she was done eating, for the pastry was a sticky proposition at best, and when she emerged from the bathing room, Adela was waiting for her. "It's getting late," the other woman said, gesturing at the ruddy-gold light slanting in through the windows, "and we should begin your toilette, if that is all right."
Penelo bit back a giggle at the solemn way Adela was addressing the matter of her clothes. "Certainly," she said.
Adela gestured at a pretty vanity table in the corner, and Penelo followed her over and sat on the cream-coloured velvet cushion. Adela began to brush her hair slowly and gently. Penelo closed her eyes, enjoying the slow tug of the brush through her hair. It reminded her a little of when she was younger and her mother would comb and plait her hair, murmuring quietly of their tradition of dance and what each step meant.
She was idly reciting the steps and their meanings to herself as Adela worked with her hair, such that she was startled when the maid prompted her to look at her reflection in the glass. She opened her eyes and gasped. Her hair was pulled back sleek and shining into a knot at the crown of her head, with a few wisps left free and curling delicately around her face. Very different from her normal casual braids, complete with engine grease.
"Do you like it?" Adela asked anxiously.
"It's beautiful," Penelo answered. She hardly looked like herself.
"I...you didn't have any cosmetics in your things, so I had some brought up for you. You don't need much, but I thought perhaps a touch of rouge?" Adela gestured at the collection of little pots on the vanity table.
"Um, okay," Penelo replied. She normally wore paint only for dancing, but somehow she doubted that the shimmering gold and crimson accents were appropriate for a ball in Archades.
Adela deftly applied a trace of rouge to her cheekbones and lips, and a tiny bit of kohl around her eyes. When she was done, Penelo looked at the stranger in the mirror, and wondered exactly what she was getting herself into.
"I, ah, the Emperor said that he would have a dress sent up for the ball?" she asked awkwardly.
"Oh, yes," Adela said. "Just over here."
Penelo rose and followed her over to the bed, where there were several articles of clothing laid out. First there were white silk stockings with delicate blue embroidery along the tops and pantalets edged with lace. Penelo felt strange putting on garments that individually probably cost more than any outfit she'd owned-at least prior to becoming a sky pirate. Adela held up a chemise of cambric so fine it was almost transparent. The edges were embroidered with tiny pink flowers like the ones in Ozmone Plain. Penelo blushed a little as she shed the robe and put on the chemise. It was followed by two heavy, stiff petticoats that stood out around her legs in a bell shape.
"If you could please hold up your arms?" Adela asked, gathering up a large mass of shining blue fabric from the bed. Penelo caught a glimpse of golden threads amid the blue. She held up her arms and Adela settled the dress on her, moving behind her to fasten the back. Penelo glanced down and saw that she wore a gown of dark blue silk with a deep, square neckline. The bodice was made of glimmering gold brocade heavily embroidered in blue, which brought a faint smile to her lips, reminding her of Balthier's vest. The sleeves were of the same blue silk as the skirt and fell open at the wrists, with fabric trailing several inches below her hands.
Adela finished fastening up the gown and walked around her, studying the gown. She tugged at a bit of fabric on the skirt and frowned. "It's a bit too long. Here, try the shoes."
She presented Penelo with a pair of gold brocade slippers that matched the bodice of the dress. Penelo stepped into them carefully and Adela knelt, fussing with the hem of the gown. "No, they'll need to hem it a bit," she said after a moment. "It won't do for you to trip on it when you're dancing with the Emperor."
Penelo felt a little bubble of nervousness. She knew how to do the traditional dances of Dalmasca, but she suspected that those were very different than what would be expected at a ball in Archades. Larsa's invitation hadn't specified that there would be a ball; he'd simply asked that she come to the fête. The Senate wishes to celebrate my second year on the throne, he wrote. I would be honoured if you would attend.
Someone tapped at the door, and Adela went to answer it. Penelo took a few careful steps, wobbling in the slippers. She was not feeling optimistic about this ball.
"Ah, Lady Penelo." She turned and saw a man a handspan shorter than she bowing politely. "I'm Deren, the Emperor's personal tailor. I just wanted to make sure the gown fit you properly, as you were unavailable for fittings. Adela says it needs a bit of hemming?"
"Um," Penelo said. What was she supposed to be Lady of? She knew her accent sounded of Dalmasca rather than Archades.
Deren appeared unfazed by her lack of conversation and knelt to examine the hem of her gown. "Ah, yes, not suited for dancing, I think. If you could just stand still a few moments, Lady Penelo, I'll have this fixed for you in no time."
He began to make quick, neat stitches in the hem, and Penelo stood still for some five minutes while he worked his way around her, shortening the gown. She wondered how Larsa had found out what size clothing she wore, to have a gown made that fit her almost perfectly in her absence.
Deren finished hemming the gown and got to his feet. "That should stand you in better stead," he said, and bowed.
"Thank you," Penelo said.
"My pleasure, Lady Penelo. Enjoy the ball." He bowed again and left the room.
The door had barely closed behind him when there was another knock, louder this time. Adela went to answer it once more, then turned and beckoned to Penelo. "Lady Penelo, Judge Gabranth is here to escort you to the ball," she said.
Penelo crossed the room slowly and carefully, growing more confident in the heels as she moved. Gabranth was waiting for her, his armour gleaming even in the low light in the hallway. He bowed when she emerged. "Lady Penelo," he said politely.
She curtsied carefully, feeling unbalanced in the unfamiliar weight of petticoats and the unfamiliar shoes. "Judge Gabranth."
"Are you ready?" he inquired.
"Yes, thank you."
He offered his arm and led her through the halls of the palace. There were considerably fewer people about at this point in the evening--almost none, in fact.
"I didn't get to ask you before, how you're doing," Penelo said.
"I am well. There has been much to put to rights in the aftermath of Emperor Gramis' death and Vayne's short-lived reign. Emperor Larsa has been making great strides in building a stable peace for Archades." She could hear the pride in his voice, as he used to sound when he spoke of Ashe's accomplishments.
"Do you miss Rabanastre?" Her voice was even quieter now, because she knew that his true identity was kept secret in Archades, and she was afraid if she spoke normally their conversation would echo down the marble-floored hall.
"Sometimes," he said. "Queen Ashelia writes of the events there. I own I do miss the springtime, for the few weeks the desert is in full bloom. Yet my duty now lies here."
Penelo noticed the formal title: Queen Ashelia. He had called her Ashe, while they journeyed together.
"Is that all that keeps you here?" she asked. "Duty?"
It was hard to tell, under the layers of armour, but she rather thought his shoulders stiffened. "It is my honour to carry out my duties to the best of my ability," he said stiffly.
"I didn't mean to imply it was a bad thing," Penelo said, looking down at the floor. She nearly tripped over the hem of her skirt and gritted her teeth. She was going to make it through this ball without looking like a fool.
"My apologies," Gabranth said. "It was not my intention to be sharp with you. I am not displeased with my life here. I am doing a good and honourable thing in helping to rebuild Archades."
Penelo decided not to make the situation any worse, and so they went in silence through the hallways. After a moment, Gabranth paused and touched her arm. "Emperor Larsa will present you as Lady Penelo of Dalmasca," he said, "to avoid an uproar from the Archadian nobles at having a 'commoner' in their midst." She didn't miss the sardonic edge to the word 'commoner,' and wondered at his bitterness. "You may spin them any tales you like about being nobility in Dalmasca, as long as you keep your own story straight. Most of them know only what they read in adventure novels."
She nodded, and resolved to say as little as possible. She disliked lying.
He led her to a vast pair of double doors, deeply carved and inlaid with precious metals. Two Imperial soldiers saluted him and opened the door to a room full of people clad in a rainbow of colours. There was no music, yet, and no one seemed to be dancing. Penelo took a deep breath.
Gabranth paused and spoke to a young man to their left, who cleared his throat loudly. "Judge Magister Gabranth and the Lady Penelo of Dalmasca!" he announced in ringing tones. Penelo fought the urge to shrink behind Gabranth as everyone in the ballroom turned to stare at her.
"Just smile," Gabranth murmured, and led her forward through the crowd. Penelo did her best to keep a smile on her face, but it got harder as they moved forward and the sound of muttered conversations swelled behind them.
Larsa stood on a dais at the far end of the room, watching the people in the room. Gabranth led her right to him and bowed. Penelo curtsied and nearly lost her balance when one of her shoes wobbled beneath her.
"Emperor Larsa, may I present Lady Penelo," Gabranth said clearly, his voice pitched to carry throughout the room.
That set off a whole new wave of muttering behind them. Penelo felt her cheeks flushing red.
Larsa smiled at her-he had grown taller, and she had to look up a bit to meet his eyes-and stepped forward. He took her hands in his and kissed her cheek. "I am so pleased that you chose to accept my invitation," he said, and like Gabranth's, his voice carried clearly. "I hope you will enjoy your evening."
"Thank you for inviting me," she replied.
"Would you join me for a few moments?" he asked, and though his voice was quieter, she was quite sure everyone in the room was listening. She hadn't known that many people could make so little noise.
"Of course," she answered, and he gestured to a velvet-covered sofa behind him. The minute she sat down, a maid appeared out of nowhere and offered her a glass of white wine. Penelo took it and sat holding the glass awkwardly. Slowly the people in the room began to talk amongst themselves, and the noise swelled back to the level it had been before she entered the room.
"I'm so glad you came," he said with a smile.
"I'm glad to see you," she answered.
"The colours of House Solidor suit you quite nicely," he said, looking at her gown, and she blushed a little.
"I wanted to ask you how you managed to have a gown made to fit me without me being here," she said, and he raised an eyebrow.
"I ought not give away state secrets," he said, but in a light-hearted tone. "Truth be told, I enlisted Vaan's help."
Penelo frowned. "What?"
"He liberated one of your dresses for the tailor to use as a model," Larsa explained. "I believe it's been returned to him, and thus to your closet."
"He swore he didn't know where it had gone," she grumbled, remembering how her favourite outfit had gone astray several weeks ago.
"I pray you, be not angry with him or me," Larsa said earnestly, taking her hands in his. "I wanted to surprise you. Do you like it?"
Penelo smiled at him. "Yes, very much."
At that moment, another announcement rang out over the room. "Lord Ffamran Bunansa!"
Penelo couldn't help it; she goggled. Larsa wore a pleased smile. "I thought it might please you to have another friendly face," he said.
"Do they know?" she asked in a very low voice. "What he does?"
"Of course not," Larsa said with a faint chuckle. "It amuses him to make up ever-more-exotic stories of what he's been doing in the span of time he's been away from Archades."
"Did Fran come?" Penelo didn't see the telltale white ears above the crowd.
"I am given to understand that she refused quite emphatically," Larsa said dryly.
"It doesn't seem like the kind of event she would prefer," Penelo agreed.
Balthier-no, Ffamran, she must not get him in trouble-approached the dais and bowed. "Congratulations, Emperor," he said lightly.
"Thank you, Ffamran." Larsa nodded, but did not rise. "How does your business fare these days?"
"Oh, there's always money to be made in shipping." Ffamran winked at Penelo, then gave her a half-bow. "Lady Penelo! What a pleasure. I did not think to find you so far from home."
"I did not think to see you here, either," she said.
"I'd hope not. I can't become predictable. It's just not done. Hardly worthy of a leading man." He grinned at her.
Another nobleman approached and waited behind Ffamran, with an expression of impatience. Larsa looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "May I help you, Lord Cylan?"
"I had hoped to speak with Your Majesty on a matter of some importance," the nobleman said, with a disgusted look at Ffamran.
Ffamran cleared his throat. "Oh, come now, Lord Cylan. One doesn't do business at a fête. It's uncouth."
"What would you know of couth, Ffamran? Spending the last how many years in gods know where with heathens and commoners?" Lord Cylan sneered.
"I do not care for your tone, Lord Cylan," Larsa said sharply.
Immediately Lord Cylan turned away from Ffamran and bowed to Larsa. "My apologies, Your Majesty."
"Ffamran, I will speak with you later," Larsa said. "I think we've much to discuss."
"As Your Majesty wishes." Ffamran bowed. "Lady Penelo, I hope we might talk later. I'm sure you've many amusing anecdotes to tell me regarding our mutual friends. Judge Gabranth." He saluted Gabranth and sauntered away. Penelo started, having forgotten that Gabranth had taken up a station right behind them. For a man in full plate armour, he seemed able to go unnoticed when he wished.
Lord Cylan stood waiting at the foot of the dais, glancing from Larsa to Penelo. She could feel a blush creeping up her throat. What had she done wrong?
When his pointed looks had no effect, he cleared his throat ostentatiously. "Your Majesty, the business I wished to discuss is private," he said.
Larsa studied him for a moment. "Very well. You shall have an audience with me on the morrow, at noon."
"Your Majesty-" Lord Cylan protested.
"Lady Penelo," Larsa said, turning to her, "would you honour me with a dance?"
"I-yes, of course." She got to her feet, wobbling a little in her heels, and Larsa gestured to the musicians in the corner as he rose. They began playing a stately air. Half of those in the room migrated to the sides of the room to continue to talk, while the rest lined up in neat rows facing each other and began to execute an intricate pattern of steps. Penelo's heart sank. No, this was nothing like the traditional dances of Dalmasca.
Larsa took her arm and moved down the steps of the dais. "I don't know this dance," Penelo whispered to him.
"No matter," he responded quietly, and gestured to the musicians once again. The music changed to something sweeping. "Just follow my lead." He turned her to face him, one hand clasped in hers and the other resting lightly on her waist, and began to dance. She quickly found the rhythm of it, in a three-beat sequence, and once she had that it was easy. He swept her neatly round the floor.
She caught sight of several young noblewomen glaring at her, and once they spun past Ffamran, who winked and grinned at her over the head of the tiny brunette he was dancing with.
Larsa smiled at her. "This dance, I think, is more to your tastes," he said, executing a sharp turn and drawing her along with him.
Penelo laughed. "This is fun," she agreed.
Too soon, the music ended, and Larsa stepped back with a bow. "I must go and speak to the Senators," he said regretfully. "I will return as soon as I may."
She curtsied to him and he walked away. Penelo made her way to the side of the room, where she could get a breath of air. The gown she wore was beautiful, but very heavy, and she was a bit short of breath.
"You would be the Dalmscan, then." She turned to see a young Archadian woman examining her with a sneer. "I half expected a provincial to show up in badly cured furs."
Penelo gritted her teeth and reminded herself not to cause a scene. The mischievous little voice in the back of her head, the one she had dubbed "Vaan" because it sounded so much like him, piped up. You could cast a Blizzard spell. They're small, you wouldn't attract much notice. "Even in Rabanastre," she said coolly, "we know how to clothe ourselves."
Another Archadian walked up to them. "I think it a bit presumptuous of you to wear House Solidor's colours," she stated.
"Oh, she can't be expected to know," the first girl said. "She is from Dalmasca, after all, and when was the last time they showed any couth?"
"Oh, I don't know about that," Ffamran drawled as he sauntered up to them. "The Lady Penelo is displaying quite a bit more couth than you at the moment, Jemma."
"Ffamran." The second girl fluttered her lashes at him. "Won't you dance with me?"
"It's a man's prerogative to ask for a dance, Sera," Jemma said with a sniff.
"It is indeed," Ffamran agreed. "Lady Penelo, may I have this dance?"
Penelo was sure her smile showed more relief than was wise as she put her hand in his. "Yes, thank you."
He swept her onto the floor-it was another of those sweeping dances-and placed his hand lightly on her waist. "Sorry I didn't get there sooner," he said. "I vow there is no more vicious pair of vipers in all Archades than those two."
"I'm not stupid just because I'm from Dalmasca," Penelo said bitterly.
"Of course you aren't." Ffamran turned smoothly. "And they're not any better than you just because they could buy and sell half of the city with their monthly allowances, but that doesn't stop them thinking that they're superior."
"What did she mean, about it being presumptuous of me to wear House Solidor's colours?" Penelo asked softly as Ffamran lifted her up and spun her about.
Ffamran laughed. "I had rather wondered about that. It seems the Emperor wishes to make a statement. Of course, I'm not entirely sure what statement that is."
Penelo bit her lip and followed his lead into another set of graceful movements. "Please don't think badly of me, but I don't think I like Archades," she said.
"You'd rather be on the Strahl, eh?" he murmured, and smiled. "So would I, but I'm here because Larsa asked me to watch your back while he plays politics."
"Not to see and be seen?" Penelo teased, curtsying to him as the music ended.
"A side benefit, I assure you." Ffamran winked. "Here, let's get you back to the Emperor."
He threaded his way through the crowd expertly with her in tow, to where Larsa was just giving polite nods to five men in purple robes. "Emperor," Ffamran said with a bow. "I would like to return your lovely guest to you."
Larsa smiled, a genuine smile rather than the polite one he had just offered the men he was speaking with. "Lady Penelo, you look rather flushed. Come sit with me, and have a drink," he said warmly. He slid his arm through hers.
As they moved through the crowd, he leaned close to her ear. "Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked.
Penelo made herself smile. She was very much enjoying his company, at least. "It's a lovely ball," she said, and hoped he didn't hear the false brightness in her voice.
They returned to the dais. Penelo's heart sank when she saw the pair of Archadian noblewomen she'd spoken to before standing there.
"Emperor," Jemma said, with a low, graceful curtsy. "We wanted to tell you how much we are enjoying your fête."
"You've invited so many...interesting people," Sera added in a chirpy voice that grated on Penelo's nerves.
Larsa gestured to the maid, who brought over a tray of wineglasses. He picked up his own glass, and Jemma handed Penelo her untouched glass from earlier.
"A toast, then," Larsa said, raising his glass. "To peace."
"To peace," Penelo murmured, raising her own glass, and then bringing it to her lips.
Ffamran's hand closed around her wrist almost painfully and pulled the glass away. "I don't think you want to drink that, my dear," he said. "I've no antidote to hand at the moment."
"What?" Penelo stared at him.
"What foolishness," Sera said, with a giggle that sounded entirely too nervous.
"What did you say, Lord Ffamran?" Larsa's tone was sharp. Gabranth took two steps forward, his armour creaking.
"I said, I've no antidote to hand to alleviate the effects of whatever Lady Jemma just put in this glass," Ffamran said, and held the glass up to the light. At the bottom of the glass, the wine was tinted faintly green, and a small, rounded green object was resting there.
"I never!" Jemma protested sharply. "What proof have you, Lord Ffamran?"
"Tsk, tsk." Ffamran shook his head. "And on a toast to peace, no less!"
"Explain yourself," Larsa said. Gabranth took the glass from Ffamran and examined it himself. After a moment he stripped off his gauntlet and extracted the green globule from the glass, sniffing it cautiously.
"Judge Gabranth?" Larsa asked.
"I cannot be certain, Emperor, but I believe it is a sleeping draught," Gabranth said, examining it closely. "I have seen them for sale in the apothecary shops."
"We thought to play a bit of a prank," Sera blurted.
"After all, no one expects a provincial to do aught but fall on her face at an event like this," Jemma added.
"Judge Gabranth, remove them from the palace," Larsa said flatly.
Gabranth bowed and set the glass aside. After replacing his gauntlet, he led the protesting women out of the room, none too gently.
"I am so sorry," Larsa said, turning toward her. "Though I know they scheme and plot like a nest of vipers, I truly did not think that they would try such a low trick."
"No harm done," Penelo said, though it was hard to keep her voice light. Beside her, Ffamran bowed discreetly and withdrew.
Larsa stayed close to her for the rest of the ball. Penelo focused on that, and not on the looks that the nobility cast her way. Much later-long after her feet had begun to ache from the shoes and the formal banquet that ended the ball-she stood out on a balcony with Larsa, looking up at the stars. He stepped closer to her and laid his fingertips lightly against the side of her jaw. She looked at him and he leaned in to kiss her, soft and sweet. His arm slid around her waist, and hers slid around his neck. She forgot about the shoes hurting her feet and the pettiness and stress of the ball. This was why she'd accepted the invitation.
"I am glad you came," he said.
"So am I," she answered, and it was not a lie.
~*~
Author's Note: Um. Well! This was very challenging but also very fun. Concrit or feedback in general is gratefully welcomed.