The First Kiss
Title: The First Kiss
Canon: FFXII Original
Characters: Larsa, Vayne, Gabranth (mild Gabranth/Larsa but in a guardian way)
Rating: PG
Warnings: spoilers (general post-game), very mild shounen-ai themes (only if you look for them >__>)
First kisses are precious commodities in the world of politics, but what happens when a child wants to give his to the man who had loved him from birth?
***
“Larsa Ferrinas Solidor!” Sharp and swift, cutting deep into the boy and rendering him motionless. Paired with a stern glance and pursed lips, there was not a chance of the boy approaching any closer. But he countered it quickly with his best weapon.
Larsa pouted.
“But I have to say goodbye!”
“You are meant to be in bed! Dawn is yet to unfold and here you are out of bed with naught a coat nor cloak to shield you from the cold!” Vayne sighed, exasperated as he looked his brother over. Little Larsa in the genderless cotton shift that all children wore, barefoot as he hugged a fat frilled pillow to his chest. He could not help but soften at the sight of those large eyes pleading and trying to restrain sleep simultaneously.
Vayne dropped to one knee before him, holding out his arms.
“Come here and let me at least try to make you presentable. We cannot have a Solidor running around the palace underdressed.” Removing his cloak, he tucked it around the boy’s slender shoulders. “There. You ought to be far more careful Larsa, the morning chill oft leaves children with a chill in their chests.”
The same stubborn pout.
“You were going to leave without saying goodbye. I had to say goodbye if you were not!” Childish reasoning, plain and simple yet so perfectly clear.
“What am I to do with you, hm?” Vayne sighed once more, pulling his brother close. “Promise me you will go straight back to bed after this?”
“I promise.” Larsa vowed slowly, stressing the two words as though all his heart were in the action.
“Alright. You may have your goodbye kiss and then you need to creep back to bed without waking Gabranth. Gods know he needs the sleep, looking after a terror like you.” He tapped his brother’s nose, chuckling as Larsa wrinkled it much like a bunny would.
The little eight year old threw his arms around his brother’s neck before pressing their lips together to claim his permitted kiss. Suddenly a three-day conference in Nabradia seemed not so bad now that Vayne had the blessing of his younger brother. But he could feel it on his back.
Disapproval.
He gently guided Larsa from him, his large hands closing upon those small shoulders.
“To bed with you, little Solidor.” Leaning closer he rested his forehead against his, voice hushed. “I have told you before about the rules we must abide by. What is the one concerning public display?”
“We cannot show displays of affection in public.” Larsa stated reluctantly, cheeks hot as he pursed his lips stubbornly. “They are naught but Senators and you permitted a kiss.”
“I know, little love.” Vayne enfolded him in another hug before rising. “But we must be more careful. Now I must be off. Sneak back into bed just like you promised and please at least pretend that you like your new Global Politics tutor.”
He watched his brother go; all the while avoiding the disapproving glares he received from the Senators around him. They were to accompany him on this conference, and he knew somewhere between exchanges of business talks there would be subtle speeches about his affection for his brother.
“Why is it bad to kiss my brother?” Gabranth almost dropped his coffee mug as the eight year old demanded an answer. “Why is there an imbecilic rule about public displays of affection when there is another rule that says we are to love our family equal to the Empire?”
The Judge Magister placed his mug safely on the table before inspecting his charge’s determined expression. Larsa would see through a lie in a heartbeat in this state.
“Perhaps it is intended to prevent one’s emotions from betraying them? A ruler and all members of his family must remain level-headed at all times.” Gabranth could see the conflict in Larsa’s eyes. Those eyes never failed to reveal his true feelings.
“Of course,” he gently tilted Larsa’s chin up, “it does not mean you are not to love anyone. It means you cannot show it to too many people of lesser, untrustworthy ranks lest they come to believe a son of House Solidor follows his heart more than his head.”
“But why is it that our hearts cannot rule our heads? Surely then there will be peace?” The boy squirmed, hands fisting as he refused to break the stalemate of their gaze.
“Hearts act on impulse without pondering over consequences, young Solidor.” A new voice entered the room, though not unfamiliar to them. “Mind your manners and your schedule while you are at it. You are six minutes late for your Global Politics lesson.” Judge Magister Drace; both Magister and Mentor to Larsa, as well as a mother though she would never admit it.
She tutted at him, smoothing his hair into place before drawing a kerchief from her breastplate and fussing over his mouth speckled with crumbs from his breakfast.
“And your pouting will have no effect on me. Now run along before your tutor has reason to complain to me about your tardiness.”
Larsa looked at Gabranth before facing Drace and tilting his head up expectantly. He wanted to see if Gabranth was right.
Drace leaned forward as if to kiss him before she hesitated, eyes quickly surveying the room. Larsa forced himself to accept Gabranth’s reasoning. He was right. Mind over the knee-jerk reflex of the heart.
“Larsa, please.” Drace coaxed him gently, a hand on his cheek. “Your lesson.”
“My kiss.” He hadn’t the slightest clue as to why he was feeling so insecure and needing reassuring kisses so badly but his heart ached today. His brother was away and his father cared too little, leaving the boy with a full schedule of lessons and an empty heart.
The sole female Judge Magister could not refuse those crystalline blue eyes. She remembered only two other Solidors with blue eyes; Lamont Solidor and the mother of Larsa who he had been ordered to kill. It seemed blue eyes, honest and pure, spelled sorrow and tragedy for the Solidor who possessed them. She prayed Larsa would be spared such anguish.
Leaning down she gave him a maternal kiss on the corner of his mouth, now free of crumbs, before ushering him to his first lesson of the day.
He was learning slowly. The Senate discreetly slipped books they approved of to be incorporated into his studies. Kisses were complex things; many different kinds with many different meanings. The books stated they were not to be given so freely, and kisses on the mouth were saved for one’s spouse and/or sexual partner.
Larsa closed the book, heart catching in his throat. He felt shamed. How could he have been so incorrect in displaying affection? He had naively thought kisses were exchanged with all who held a special place in his heart. It seemed only a kiss on the cheek was acceptable and even that was to be kept secret. He was now ten years old and ten year olds should know better, especially if they were a Solidor.
“My Lord?” Gabranth touched his shoulder lightly, “is all well?”
“Lord Brother is in his room?”
“Aye.”
“Excuse me Gabranth.” Slipping off his seat he pressed his palms to the secret door, one of many, that would lead to Vayne’s room.
Just as Gabranth had stated, Vayne was indeed in his room. Lounging on his bed littered with papers, the elder Solidor almost jumped as the door opened. A guilty smile was on his lips.
“Larsa you should not sneak up on me like that. Those passages are for emergencies.”
“Who was your first kiss given to?” Larsa felt his cheeks flush darker as each word left his mouth. Vayne blinked at him, warm brown eyes confused and amused as he patted the space beside him on the bed. The boy sat beside him without question, awaiting his answer impatiently.
“It says I am to be married to a chosen bride the Senate will choose. Am I to give her my first kiss?”
“Officially I am to say yes to that. Your bride should receive your first kiss.” Vayne admitted. Larsa looked crestfallen. He chuckled.
“But I say that officially. Unofficially, I say steal it. Steal it or demand it from the one person you think deserves it. Then keep it a beloved secret between the both of you, so you may look on it when you are with your bride, and remember it was not official but special.”
“But who? Who was your first kiss?” Larsa pressed, brows creased. Had his brother given his first kiss to a potential bride, just like the books suggested?
“I demanded one from Zargabath when I was nine.” Vayne laughed, shaking his head at the memory. “He was my guardian when I was younger and I adored him more than anyone, even Revenal.”
Larsa could not help but smile, giggling as he hugged his brother’s arm and rested his head against his shoulder.
“Was it magickal? The silly romance novels say first kisses are magickal.”
“It was awkward and wet.” Vayne chuckled, kissing his brother’s brow. “And Zargabath looked as though he would suffer an attack of the heart if someone saw. But nevertheless, I got my first kiss just as I had demanded.”
A pleasant silence as Vayne reminisced, idly stroking Larsa’s soft locks.
“Do not wait for the Senate to decide who gets your first kiss. Be they a maid, a squire, a Judge or…even a Judge Magister.” He looked at Larsa knowingly, smiling a little as the boy flushed. “It is yours to give or demand as you see fit."
If Vayne had done it, then he could do it too. It only required him almost a month’s worth of gathering courage and careful schedule planning. An extra ten minutes he had managed to arrange, free of lessons and obligations, leaving him unsupervised in the private courtyard.
“My Lord, it would be wise to come inside now. Your brother has requested your presence at dinner this eve.” Gabranth stepped into the courtyard, noting that oddly there were no Judges present. “And ‘tis unsafe to be here unsupervised.”
Larsa pivoted, an expression on his face Gabranth had yet to see. He seemed happier without his uniform. A simple blouse, breeches, stockings and soft boots. He was a boy on the cusp of adolescence, not the young heir to a House and Empire.
“Gabranth, come here please.” He offered a hand free of the usual glove that hid it. The Judge Magister nodded, obeying without as much as a second thought. Standing before him dwarfed the youngest Solidor, the boy barely brushing his chest. Larsa leant his cheek against the cold breastplate before blue eyes slid up to catch Gabranth’s gaze.
“Would you do anything for the Empire, Gabranth?”
“Of course.” The answer swift and simple.
“Absolutely anything?”
“If it is ordered of me.” What was he asking?
“Look at me properly.”
Blue eyes met grey.
Anything. I would do anything for you, not the Empire, my Lord.
“Do you love me?” Not so steadfast was his tiny voice. Instead it was weighed down by insecurity, a certain fear for the answer.
“You are my charge, Lord Larsa.” Gabranth answered after a moment of grasping around his mind for the right words he could offer. He could not answer that without jeopardizing his position. “I am to protect you with mind, body and soul.”
“And the heart too?”
“And the heart.” The man added. Of course he would protect him with his heart.
“Then kiss me.”
Five more minutes before he was needed as an heir again, five more minutes he could spare as a boy. He knew his cheeks were as red as hot coals, but Larsa refused to break the gaze they shared. He wanted this. He needed this. He would not permit the Senate to decide this.
“M-my Lord?” Gabranth retreated, breaking eye contact as he turned his head slightly. How could he grant this?
“The Senate decides much of my life, Gabranth.” Larsa explained quietly, resting his forehead against his plated chest. “Let this be one of the few moments I have control over.”
He was sure Larsa would be able to hear the echo of his pounding heartbeat within the cage of his armor. Slowly he placed his hands on those lithe hips, lifting the boy to stand on the rim of the ornate fountain in the center of the courtyard so they were almost eye to eye. The lady of stone seemed to smile at them knowingly.
Larsa’s hands were warm as they touched his cheeks, and his lips were dry from nerves when they touched his. But the kiss itself was hot as he cupped Larsa’s face and guided his head to tilt so their mouths could meet better. He loved him; mind, body, soul and heart. He knew he just could never tell him.
But for this moment, for this one moment he could show it.
He had failed him. Looking up into those blue eyes so heavily weighed by sorrow and fear, Gabranth felt his heart twist. The pain in his body came to nothing in comparison to those eyes. He had promised forever. He had lied.
The war was over. A new era was dawning. A brighter one for Ivalice and though the road would be rocky, there was hope for them all. His brother would make sure there would be hope left for this little one too.
He cursed inwardly at the way his hand shook as he lifted it. Larsa had removed his gauntlets, desperate to feel real skin and not leather and metal. He cupped his face, thumb wiping a stray tear.
“Be strong, son of Solidor. You are our last hope for peace. This is your chance to write your own fate untouched by the Senate and the Gods. You have a chance to seek what you desire.”
“All means nothing if I am to be alone.” Fear, so much fear. Larsa’s eyes were wide; pools of glossy sapphire swimming with terror. They both knew happiness would become scarce in Larsa’s life. “Why did you promise me forever when you knew you could not give it?”
The question needed no answer, just a simple glance that allowed their eyes to meet.
I love you my Lord. My charge. My friend. My brother. My son. My everything. He would love him until he drew his last breath.
Larsa traced the chiseled jawline, noting the faint stubble that had grown back already. He knew every contour of his face, every muscle required for every expression. He knew he would never again see him angry or sad or content, nor would he give that elusive smile Larsa would be graced with during certain ‘magickal’ memories.
It was Noah whose gaze flickered to the side, meeting his brother’s eyes for the last time. It was Noah who nodded to Basch, drawing on their brotherly bond to secure reassurance that Larsa would be looked after.
It was Gabranth who suddenly cupped Larsa’s face and pulled him closer, pressing their mouths together in what would be their last kiss.
It was Gabranth who whispered goodbye to the twelve year old Larsa Solidor. It was Larsa Solidor who wept brokenly over the still body whilst a room away cheers erupted at the blossoming peace.
After a few moments, it was the Child Emperor who left the room with not a tear in his eyes.
Canon: FFXII Original
Characters: Larsa, Vayne, Gabranth (mild Gabranth/Larsa but in a guardian way)
Rating: PG
Warnings: spoilers (general post-game), very mild shounen-ai themes (only if you look for them >__>)
First kisses are precious commodities in the world of politics, but what happens when a child wants to give his to the man who had loved him from birth?
***
“Larsa Ferrinas Solidor!” Sharp and swift, cutting deep into the boy and rendering him motionless. Paired with a stern glance and pursed lips, there was not a chance of the boy approaching any closer. But he countered it quickly with his best weapon.
Larsa pouted.
“But I have to say goodbye!”
“You are meant to be in bed! Dawn is yet to unfold and here you are out of bed with naught a coat nor cloak to shield you from the cold!” Vayne sighed, exasperated as he looked his brother over. Little Larsa in the genderless cotton shift that all children wore, barefoot as he hugged a fat frilled pillow to his chest. He could not help but soften at the sight of those large eyes pleading and trying to restrain sleep simultaneously.
Vayne dropped to one knee before him, holding out his arms.
“Come here and let me at least try to make you presentable. We cannot have a Solidor running around the palace underdressed.” Removing his cloak, he tucked it around the boy’s slender shoulders. “There. You ought to be far more careful Larsa, the morning chill oft leaves children with a chill in their chests.”
The same stubborn pout.
“You were going to leave without saying goodbye. I had to say goodbye if you were not!” Childish reasoning, plain and simple yet so perfectly clear.
“What am I to do with you, hm?” Vayne sighed once more, pulling his brother close. “Promise me you will go straight back to bed after this?”
“I promise.” Larsa vowed slowly, stressing the two words as though all his heart were in the action.
“Alright. You may have your goodbye kiss and then you need to creep back to bed without waking Gabranth. Gods know he needs the sleep, looking after a terror like you.” He tapped his brother’s nose, chuckling as Larsa wrinkled it much like a bunny would.
The little eight year old threw his arms around his brother’s neck before pressing their lips together to claim his permitted kiss. Suddenly a three-day conference in Nabradia seemed not so bad now that Vayne had the blessing of his younger brother. But he could feel it on his back.
Disapproval.
He gently guided Larsa from him, his large hands closing upon those small shoulders.
“To bed with you, little Solidor.” Leaning closer he rested his forehead against his, voice hushed. “I have told you before about the rules we must abide by. What is the one concerning public display?”
“We cannot show displays of affection in public.” Larsa stated reluctantly, cheeks hot as he pursed his lips stubbornly. “They are naught but Senators and you permitted a kiss.”
“I know, little love.” Vayne enfolded him in another hug before rising. “But we must be more careful. Now I must be off. Sneak back into bed just like you promised and please at least pretend that you like your new Global Politics tutor.”
He watched his brother go; all the while avoiding the disapproving glares he received from the Senators around him. They were to accompany him on this conference, and he knew somewhere between exchanges of business talks there would be subtle speeches about his affection for his brother.
“Why is it bad to kiss my brother?” Gabranth almost dropped his coffee mug as the eight year old demanded an answer. “Why is there an imbecilic rule about public displays of affection when there is another rule that says we are to love our family equal to the Empire?”
The Judge Magister placed his mug safely on the table before inspecting his charge’s determined expression. Larsa would see through a lie in a heartbeat in this state.
“Perhaps it is intended to prevent one’s emotions from betraying them? A ruler and all members of his family must remain level-headed at all times.” Gabranth could see the conflict in Larsa’s eyes. Those eyes never failed to reveal his true feelings.
“Of course,” he gently tilted Larsa’s chin up, “it does not mean you are not to love anyone. It means you cannot show it to too many people of lesser, untrustworthy ranks lest they come to believe a son of House Solidor follows his heart more than his head.”
“But why is it that our hearts cannot rule our heads? Surely then there will be peace?” The boy squirmed, hands fisting as he refused to break the stalemate of their gaze.
“Hearts act on impulse without pondering over consequences, young Solidor.” A new voice entered the room, though not unfamiliar to them. “Mind your manners and your schedule while you are at it. You are six minutes late for your Global Politics lesson.” Judge Magister Drace; both Magister and Mentor to Larsa, as well as a mother though she would never admit it.
She tutted at him, smoothing his hair into place before drawing a kerchief from her breastplate and fussing over his mouth speckled with crumbs from his breakfast.
“And your pouting will have no effect on me. Now run along before your tutor has reason to complain to me about your tardiness.”
Larsa looked at Gabranth before facing Drace and tilting his head up expectantly. He wanted to see if Gabranth was right.
Drace leaned forward as if to kiss him before she hesitated, eyes quickly surveying the room. Larsa forced himself to accept Gabranth’s reasoning. He was right. Mind over the knee-jerk reflex of the heart.
“Larsa, please.” Drace coaxed him gently, a hand on his cheek. “Your lesson.”
“My kiss.” He hadn’t the slightest clue as to why he was feeling so insecure and needing reassuring kisses so badly but his heart ached today. His brother was away and his father cared too little, leaving the boy with a full schedule of lessons and an empty heart.
The sole female Judge Magister could not refuse those crystalline blue eyes. She remembered only two other Solidors with blue eyes; Lamont Solidor and the mother of Larsa who he had been ordered to kill. It seemed blue eyes, honest and pure, spelled sorrow and tragedy for the Solidor who possessed them. She prayed Larsa would be spared such anguish.
Leaning down she gave him a maternal kiss on the corner of his mouth, now free of crumbs, before ushering him to his first lesson of the day.
He was learning slowly. The Senate discreetly slipped books they approved of to be incorporated into his studies. Kisses were complex things; many different kinds with many different meanings. The books stated they were not to be given so freely, and kisses on the mouth were saved for one’s spouse and/or sexual partner.
Larsa closed the book, heart catching in his throat. He felt shamed. How could he have been so incorrect in displaying affection? He had naively thought kisses were exchanged with all who held a special place in his heart. It seemed only a kiss on the cheek was acceptable and even that was to be kept secret. He was now ten years old and ten year olds should know better, especially if they were a Solidor.
“My Lord?” Gabranth touched his shoulder lightly, “is all well?”
“Lord Brother is in his room?”
“Aye.”
“Excuse me Gabranth.” Slipping off his seat he pressed his palms to the secret door, one of many, that would lead to Vayne’s room.
Just as Gabranth had stated, Vayne was indeed in his room. Lounging on his bed littered with papers, the elder Solidor almost jumped as the door opened. A guilty smile was on his lips.
“Larsa you should not sneak up on me like that. Those passages are for emergencies.”
“Who was your first kiss given to?” Larsa felt his cheeks flush darker as each word left his mouth. Vayne blinked at him, warm brown eyes confused and amused as he patted the space beside him on the bed. The boy sat beside him without question, awaiting his answer impatiently.
“It says I am to be married to a chosen bride the Senate will choose. Am I to give her my first kiss?”
“Officially I am to say yes to that. Your bride should receive your first kiss.” Vayne admitted. Larsa looked crestfallen. He chuckled.
“But I say that officially. Unofficially, I say steal it. Steal it or demand it from the one person you think deserves it. Then keep it a beloved secret between the both of you, so you may look on it when you are with your bride, and remember it was not official but special.”
“But who? Who was your first kiss?” Larsa pressed, brows creased. Had his brother given his first kiss to a potential bride, just like the books suggested?
“I demanded one from Zargabath when I was nine.” Vayne laughed, shaking his head at the memory. “He was my guardian when I was younger and I adored him more than anyone, even Revenal.”
Larsa could not help but smile, giggling as he hugged his brother’s arm and rested his head against his shoulder.
“Was it magickal? The silly romance novels say first kisses are magickal.”
“It was awkward and wet.” Vayne chuckled, kissing his brother’s brow. “And Zargabath looked as though he would suffer an attack of the heart if someone saw. But nevertheless, I got my first kiss just as I had demanded.”
A pleasant silence as Vayne reminisced, idly stroking Larsa’s soft locks.
“Do not wait for the Senate to decide who gets your first kiss. Be they a maid, a squire, a Judge or…even a Judge Magister.” He looked at Larsa knowingly, smiling a little as the boy flushed. “It is yours to give or demand as you see fit."
If Vayne had done it, then he could do it too. It only required him almost a month’s worth of gathering courage and careful schedule planning. An extra ten minutes he had managed to arrange, free of lessons and obligations, leaving him unsupervised in the private courtyard.
“My Lord, it would be wise to come inside now. Your brother has requested your presence at dinner this eve.” Gabranth stepped into the courtyard, noting that oddly there were no Judges present. “And ‘tis unsafe to be here unsupervised.”
Larsa pivoted, an expression on his face Gabranth had yet to see. He seemed happier without his uniform. A simple blouse, breeches, stockings and soft boots. He was a boy on the cusp of adolescence, not the young heir to a House and Empire.
“Gabranth, come here please.” He offered a hand free of the usual glove that hid it. The Judge Magister nodded, obeying without as much as a second thought. Standing before him dwarfed the youngest Solidor, the boy barely brushing his chest. Larsa leant his cheek against the cold breastplate before blue eyes slid up to catch Gabranth’s gaze.
“Would you do anything for the Empire, Gabranth?”
“Of course.” The answer swift and simple.
“Absolutely anything?”
“If it is ordered of me.” What was he asking?
“Look at me properly.”
Blue eyes met grey.
Anything. I would do anything for you, not the Empire, my Lord.
“Do you love me?” Not so steadfast was his tiny voice. Instead it was weighed down by insecurity, a certain fear for the answer.
“You are my charge, Lord Larsa.” Gabranth answered after a moment of grasping around his mind for the right words he could offer. He could not answer that without jeopardizing his position. “I am to protect you with mind, body and soul.”
“And the heart too?”
“And the heart.” The man added. Of course he would protect him with his heart.
“Then kiss me.”
Five more minutes before he was needed as an heir again, five more minutes he could spare as a boy. He knew his cheeks were as red as hot coals, but Larsa refused to break the gaze they shared. He wanted this. He needed this. He would not permit the Senate to decide this.
“M-my Lord?” Gabranth retreated, breaking eye contact as he turned his head slightly. How could he grant this?
“The Senate decides much of my life, Gabranth.” Larsa explained quietly, resting his forehead against his plated chest. “Let this be one of the few moments I have control over.”
He was sure Larsa would be able to hear the echo of his pounding heartbeat within the cage of his armor. Slowly he placed his hands on those lithe hips, lifting the boy to stand on the rim of the ornate fountain in the center of the courtyard so they were almost eye to eye. The lady of stone seemed to smile at them knowingly.
Larsa’s hands were warm as they touched his cheeks, and his lips were dry from nerves when they touched his. But the kiss itself was hot as he cupped Larsa’s face and guided his head to tilt so their mouths could meet better. He loved him; mind, body, soul and heart. He knew he just could never tell him.
But for this moment, for this one moment he could show it.
He had failed him. Looking up into those blue eyes so heavily weighed by sorrow and fear, Gabranth felt his heart twist. The pain in his body came to nothing in comparison to those eyes. He had promised forever. He had lied.
The war was over. A new era was dawning. A brighter one for Ivalice and though the road would be rocky, there was hope for them all. His brother would make sure there would be hope left for this little one too.
He cursed inwardly at the way his hand shook as he lifted it. Larsa had removed his gauntlets, desperate to feel real skin and not leather and metal. He cupped his face, thumb wiping a stray tear.
“Be strong, son of Solidor. You are our last hope for peace. This is your chance to write your own fate untouched by the Senate and the Gods. You have a chance to seek what you desire.”
“All means nothing if I am to be alone.” Fear, so much fear. Larsa’s eyes were wide; pools of glossy sapphire swimming with terror. They both knew happiness would become scarce in Larsa’s life. “Why did you promise me forever when you knew you could not give it?”
The question needed no answer, just a simple glance that allowed their eyes to meet.
I love you my Lord. My charge. My friend. My brother. My son. My everything. He would love him until he drew his last breath.
Larsa traced the chiseled jawline, noting the faint stubble that had grown back already. He knew every contour of his face, every muscle required for every expression. He knew he would never again see him angry or sad or content, nor would he give that elusive smile Larsa would be graced with during certain ‘magickal’ memories.
It was Noah whose gaze flickered to the side, meeting his brother’s eyes for the last time. It was Noah who nodded to Basch, drawing on their brotherly bond to secure reassurance that Larsa would be looked after.
It was Gabranth who suddenly cupped Larsa’s face and pulled him closer, pressing their mouths together in what would be their last kiss.
It was Gabranth who whispered goodbye to the twelve year old Larsa Solidor. It was Larsa Solidor who wept brokenly over the still body whilst a room away cheers erupted at the blossoming peace.
After a few moments, it was the Child Emperor who left the room with not a tear in his eyes.