[FFXII OG] Harder Than It Looks (Larsa) (G)
Title: Harder Than It Looks
for: mariagoner
Prompt: "Larsa doing his best to deal with diapering a squirmy baby"
Series: FFXII
Word Count: 1178
The Emperor of Archadia managed, on a regular basis, to keep as many as ten different factions from erupting into civil war; to compose lengthy and delicately barb-laden speeches moments before a public appearance; to recount the genealogy of over a hundred noble families as far back as the founding of Old Valendia; and to remember to stay always on Gabranth’s left while walking so the man didn’t spend the first five minutes of a crisis untangling himself from his charge. He could hold his own fencing with Zargabaath, knew how to dance the forlane, and could juggle up to five balls at once. He’d survived his brother’s murderous attack, numerous assassins, and a truly wretched case of food poisoning after sampling a delicacy of the sea.
And yet, this tiny wriggling thing had him absolutely defeated.
He tried again to get a firm grip, but the baby slithered away with a burble and a wheezy squeal. The lines between Larsa’s brow deepened as he grabbed the child before she could roll off the edge of the table. Just like her mother, she seemed determined to get into as much trouble as possible. He couldn’t figure out how to hold her still and manage the cloth, powder, and pins without spearing either her rosy skin or his own pale hands. The demon squinted her bright blue eyes and blew a bubble at him, then shrieked gaily and hooked little fingers into his medallion. Larsa let her yank - the chain was strong - happy enough to keep her busy for just a moment while he reached for a clean cloth.
“You know,” he murmured, wiping a lightly scented napkin over her chubby bottom, “I’d not do this for just any child. Truly, only a princess is worthy of such attention from an emperor.” He leaned over, smiling gently and wondering if he dared nuzzle that petal-soft belly.
The baby spit up in his face.
Larsa looked comically shocked for a moment, which prompted her to giggle and cram his caduceus into her mouth. Disgruntled, he untangled it from an unexpectedly strong grip and exchanged the napkin for a clean one to wipe over his face. Thinking it a fine game, she chirruped happily and reached as he straightened up, overbalanced, and would have gone tumbling off the counter if he hadn’t flung his hands out to catch her.
“Oh, enough!” he sighed, hefting her up and away from the glittering bits of his clothing that entranced her so. “You’ll just go about naked, I suppose.”
“Now, Larsa, we can’t have that!” exclaimed a voice from behind him, and he spun, heart racing, the child held protectively to his breast. But it was just Penelo, eyes sparkling as mischievously as the babe’s, sauntering over in a swirl of flimsy silk and warm citrus scent that make his throat ache. “Princesses aren’t allowed to roam around bare-bottomed, you know. The gentry would have heart attacks at the impropriety.”
“Truthfully, I doubt they’d care,” Larsa said, stifling a grunt as the infant knocked her golden head against his ear, then tugged sharply on a fistful of his darker locks. “She’s naught but a sand-rat to them, no matter her lineage.”
Penelo gently extracted his hair from clutching little fingers and took the child from him. His arms tensed, then relaxed slowly, unwillingly; he felt an unexpected loss as her warm weight lifted from his shoulder. He followed Penelo back to the table, and watched in fascination as her quick hands reached for powder, pins, and cloth while she braced the babe with one forearm. She hummed a light, lilting tune softly as she worked, and he remembered watching her dance to that melody with her hair unbound and flowing in honey-colored waves around her creamy shoulders. The ache in his throat precluded breath; he glanced away before she noticed.
“You seem well-practiced,” he managed to say, to cover his awkward movement, and hoped his voice didn’t sound too forced.
“There’s a trick to it, you know, like anything else.” She closed the pin, lifted the child, and blew raspberries on her round belly to the sound of delighted screams. Giggling, she looked cross-eyed at the baby, and then at Larsa. “You’re really sweet to try and change her yourself.”
He reached out hesitantly, and fingered a bright yellow curl as fine as spun silk. “Ah, well. It is as I told you long ago. The men of my family are taught to place the needs of others ahead of our own. I am all that is left to carry the lesson.”
Penelo’s expression softened, the delicate curve of her mouth lifting into the smile he’d loved since he was but twelve years old. “That won’t be true forever, Larsa. And someday you’ll teach your son to be kind as you are. Or daughter,” she added, as the baby she held kicked her playfully. “Oof! And you, little girl,” she said brightly, “are clean and changed and going back to your mother! Ashe can’t delegate this responsibility forever, and she’s done looking at treaties for today.” She turned to go, setting the child astride one rounded hip, and glanced back. “Are you coming, Larsa?”
He nodded, trying not to think of how pretty a picture she made, with the Queen’s daughter held like one of her own. “Thank you,” he said suddenly, “for offering to bring the Lady Ashe on your own ship. I’m sure a journey with friends is more to her liking than one purely of state.”
“Would I miss a chance to enjoy your hospitality?” She shook her head, eyes twinkling. “We’re all friends, Larsa, or Ashe wouldn’t trust you with her daughter.”
“She sent you to check on me, did she not?”
“I came to rescue you, actually.” Penelo hid her smile against the baby’s hair. “I owed you one, didn’t I? Come on, Vaan said your cooks were doing something amazing down in the kitchens, and I’d love to find out what it is.”
“As would I,” he replied, falling into step beside her and pushing away wistful thoughts. He’d mastered many things in his life, but seemed forever doomed to be conquered by fair-haired women. As if in agreement, the baby blew bubbles at him over Penelo’s slim shoulder, and cooed cheerfully when he smiled. She reached out a fat little hand, and he offered his finger for her to hold. Ignoring it, she snagged his medallion again and chomped on the small end, staring at him almost challengingly. Larsa sighed with mock severity and let her win; he walked companionably beside Penelo, linked by the chain around his neck and the child she held.
And along the way, the baby began to doze, lulled finally into stillness by the sway of Penelo’s hips and the cool metal in her tiny grasp.
for: mariagoner
Prompt: "Larsa doing his best to deal with diapering a squirmy baby"
Series: FFXII
Word Count: 1178
The Emperor of Archadia managed, on a regular basis, to keep as many as ten different factions from erupting into civil war; to compose lengthy and delicately barb-laden speeches moments before a public appearance; to recount the genealogy of over a hundred noble families as far back as the founding of Old Valendia; and to remember to stay always on Gabranth’s left while walking so the man didn’t spend the first five minutes of a crisis untangling himself from his charge. He could hold his own fencing with Zargabaath, knew how to dance the forlane, and could juggle up to five balls at once. He’d survived his brother’s murderous attack, numerous assassins, and a truly wretched case of food poisoning after sampling a delicacy of the sea.
And yet, this tiny wriggling thing had him absolutely defeated.
He tried again to get a firm grip, but the baby slithered away with a burble and a wheezy squeal. The lines between Larsa’s brow deepened as he grabbed the child before she could roll off the edge of the table. Just like her mother, she seemed determined to get into as much trouble as possible. He couldn’t figure out how to hold her still and manage the cloth, powder, and pins without spearing either her rosy skin or his own pale hands. The demon squinted her bright blue eyes and blew a bubble at him, then shrieked gaily and hooked little fingers into his medallion. Larsa let her yank - the chain was strong - happy enough to keep her busy for just a moment while he reached for a clean cloth.
“You know,” he murmured, wiping a lightly scented napkin over her chubby bottom, “I’d not do this for just any child. Truly, only a princess is worthy of such attention from an emperor.” He leaned over, smiling gently and wondering if he dared nuzzle that petal-soft belly.
The baby spit up in his face.
Larsa looked comically shocked for a moment, which prompted her to giggle and cram his caduceus into her mouth. Disgruntled, he untangled it from an unexpectedly strong grip and exchanged the napkin for a clean one to wipe over his face. Thinking it a fine game, she chirruped happily and reached as he straightened up, overbalanced, and would have gone tumbling off the counter if he hadn’t flung his hands out to catch her.
“Oh, enough!” he sighed, hefting her up and away from the glittering bits of his clothing that entranced her so. “You’ll just go about naked, I suppose.”
“Now, Larsa, we can’t have that!” exclaimed a voice from behind him, and he spun, heart racing, the child held protectively to his breast. But it was just Penelo, eyes sparkling as mischievously as the babe’s, sauntering over in a swirl of flimsy silk and warm citrus scent that make his throat ache. “Princesses aren’t allowed to roam around bare-bottomed, you know. The gentry would have heart attacks at the impropriety.”
“Truthfully, I doubt they’d care,” Larsa said, stifling a grunt as the infant knocked her golden head against his ear, then tugged sharply on a fistful of his darker locks. “She’s naught but a sand-rat to them, no matter her lineage.”
Penelo gently extracted his hair from clutching little fingers and took the child from him. His arms tensed, then relaxed slowly, unwillingly; he felt an unexpected loss as her warm weight lifted from his shoulder. He followed Penelo back to the table, and watched in fascination as her quick hands reached for powder, pins, and cloth while she braced the babe with one forearm. She hummed a light, lilting tune softly as she worked, and he remembered watching her dance to that melody with her hair unbound and flowing in honey-colored waves around her creamy shoulders. The ache in his throat precluded breath; he glanced away before she noticed.
“You seem well-practiced,” he managed to say, to cover his awkward movement, and hoped his voice didn’t sound too forced.
“There’s a trick to it, you know, like anything else.” She closed the pin, lifted the child, and blew raspberries on her round belly to the sound of delighted screams. Giggling, she looked cross-eyed at the baby, and then at Larsa. “You’re really sweet to try and change her yourself.”
He reached out hesitantly, and fingered a bright yellow curl as fine as spun silk. “Ah, well. It is as I told you long ago. The men of my family are taught to place the needs of others ahead of our own. I am all that is left to carry the lesson.”
Penelo’s expression softened, the delicate curve of her mouth lifting into the smile he’d loved since he was but twelve years old. “That won’t be true forever, Larsa. And someday you’ll teach your son to be kind as you are. Or daughter,” she added, as the baby she held kicked her playfully. “Oof! And you, little girl,” she said brightly, “are clean and changed and going back to your mother! Ashe can’t delegate this responsibility forever, and she’s done looking at treaties for today.” She turned to go, setting the child astride one rounded hip, and glanced back. “Are you coming, Larsa?”
He nodded, trying not to think of how pretty a picture she made, with the Queen’s daughter held like one of her own. “Thank you,” he said suddenly, “for offering to bring the Lady Ashe on your own ship. I’m sure a journey with friends is more to her liking than one purely of state.”
“Would I miss a chance to enjoy your hospitality?” She shook her head, eyes twinkling. “We’re all friends, Larsa, or Ashe wouldn’t trust you with her daughter.”
“She sent you to check on me, did she not?”
“I came to rescue you, actually.” Penelo hid her smile against the baby’s hair. “I owed you one, didn’t I? Come on, Vaan said your cooks were doing something amazing down in the kitchens, and I’d love to find out what it is.”
“As would I,” he replied, falling into step beside her and pushing away wistful thoughts. He’d mastered many things in his life, but seemed forever doomed to be conquered by fair-haired women. As if in agreement, the baby blew bubbles at him over Penelo’s slim shoulder, and cooed cheerfully when he smiled. She reached out a fat little hand, and he offered his finger for her to hold. Ignoring it, she snagged his medallion again and chomped on the small end, staring at him almost challengingly. Larsa sighed with mock severity and let her win; he walked companionably beside Penelo, linked by the chain around his neck and the child she held.
And along the way, the baby began to doze, lulled finally into stillness by the sway of Penelo’s hips and the cool metal in her tiny grasp.