Foreordained: A Balthier and Fran Fanfiction
The sound of metal against metal filled his ears. With another tug of his gauntleted hands, he fought to free himself from his confinements. It wouldn’t come off. The damnable helm was stuck fast to the rest of his armor. A panic began to settle itself in the pit of his stomach. Again he tugged; again his freedom was withheld from him. His breathing sped up, eliciting a whimper from his lips. Warm tears began to gather on his eyelids, mixing with the collecting sweat. It took all the strength within him to hold back his cries.
Eyes focused on a man in front of him, one which he feared he would grow to resemble in the passing years. The older man wore a smirk of approval on his thin lips. And the boy, he did not miss the madness playing in that frozen gaze.
“You have honored the house of Bunansa, young Ffamran. You have made your father proud.”
However, the words died as they entered his ears. They lacked all warmth, all kindness. His father was not overjoyed because his son’s new found position brought the family reverence, but because it would mean he would have leverage within the Senate and House Solidor.
With the ghost of the utterance echoing in his mind, warmth spilled down his cheeks. The tears could no longer be dammed up. He was ashamed of himself for showing such signs of weakness; however, Ffamran understood. His father was lost to him, a man whom he once looked up to with admiration and love. His hero had turned against him, imprisoning a boy whose only desire in life was freedom. And the worst part was he just wanted his father to look at him the same way he did his work, with that strong passion and intensity.
The boy watched as Doctor Cid pivoted on his heel, making his way back to what he considered his laboratory and Ffamran considered Hell. When did everything start spiraling toward certain disaster? When did he truly loose his father? Ffamran reached out for him, but he paid no attention to his son.
“Father!” he cried.
When his hand met with Cid’s shoulder, the man faded in front of his very eyes. A sob caught in his throat, choking him. Ffamran fell to his knees with a loud clang. And from there, his body met the cold floor, his head searing with pain.
When Balthier awoke, he found himself on the floor of his quarters, tangled in the bed linens. Hands quickly sought out his face, bringing him much relief when they brushed against clammy skin in place of harsh metal. It was all a nightmare, a horrifying one that brought back a flood of feelings that he had not long since buried along with his name.
It felt as if the right side of his forehead was ablaze. Long fingers hit tender, wounded flesh, causing him to recoil, a strand of curses following not far behind. He would have to see to the injury before it began to swell further.
Taking slowly to his feet, he stood momentarily before his bed. The moonlight poured in through his window, dimly lighting his room. He wondered if perhaps his father was looking at the same sky he was at that very moment. The little boy within him certainly hoped so, but the rapidly maturing young man was a realist. Even if Cid was admiring the stars, the last thing on his mind would be his prodigal son. In fact, he would wager that his father had forgotten all about him, tossing his memory of Ffamran away with the rest of his failed projects. And it was that thought that made Balthier quickly shut his eyes and clench his teeth, as if he were forcing back any unwanted reaction from his reflection. There would be no more tears spilled for the sake of a relationship that had died months ago, at least not if he could help it. He didn’t need his father; that much he did discover. He was a fresh seventeen and doing alright for himself. The future was bright, and Balthier was soaring on the wings of freedom. It was that thought that brought a smile to a once pained face. Freedom.
The young man took several steps to a dresser positioned not far from his bed. Sitting upon it was a basin of water and a hand towel. After dampening the cloth, he brought it carefully against broken skin. The coolness stung at first but soon provided much needed comfort.
As he tended to the wound, his light eyes began to wander around his chamber. There was not much to be had in the area of treasures pillaged so far, but some of his favorite trinkets from home were on display. Gil and several sparkling jewels lay on the table to his right, along with a half rolled up map of Ivalice and scattered papers bearing his hand writing. One in particular caught his eye, bringing a mischievous grin to his face.
Returning the towel to the dresser top, he picked up the piece of parchment and began to look it over, refreshing his memory of a surely ingenious scheme. It upset him to think that he had almost forgotten all about the plan that would have his name on the lips of every man, woman, and child in the world. What better way to mend a failing heart than to do what sky pirates do best?
His target would be the Rozarrian Treasury, a very big risk for a young pirate with little experience in thieving. To be successful would bring him fame beyond measure; to fail would mean certain death. And the most glorious thing about freedom was that one was not tied to anything that would feel the backlashes of his demise. He had no family of his own, no real friends to speak of. There was not a person in all of Ivalice that would grieve his death. He had no desire to be forgotten quite yet, at least not until he made a name for himself, but to know that his life was untouchable to everyone brought Balthier happiness, even if this realization came to him with the thought of being dead.
A dull ache began to make itself known in his head, but it had nothing to do with hitting it against the nightstand during his fall from bed. Callused fingers began working soothing circles into his left temple. In the dread of the nightmare and the joy that his next project brought him, he had almost forgotten about his sickness. The Archadian flu had been besting him for four days. After the initial two days of hardly being able to move without his stomach violently flip-flopping and fever induced delusion, the illness had worked its way into his head, causing his sinuses to swell and mind to whirl periodically. He had thought earlier that he had overcome it, but he was apparently wrong judging from the wooziness he felt rising within him.
Steadying himself with his free hand, he briefly paused to collect his bearings. He wasn’t going to be a victim of the damned cold any longer. It had put him out of commission for some time, and he was beginning to long for the feel of the pilot’s chair beneath him, having been on bed rest since falling ill. He was a sky pirate after all; and not just any sky pirate, but the sky pirate Balthier. What was he doing allowing a little virus beat him into submission? No, it ended then and there. With new found strength, he decided to precede full speed ahead first to Balfonheim to gather supplies and then to Rozarria. All that was left to do was set the coordinates. Thus, he threw on a pair of pajama pants over top of his boxers and made way to the cock pit.
Hitting the entrance panel to the cock pit, the door opened with a hiss. He took a step inside, the door sliding closed behind him. For a moment, Balthier had to take in the magnificence that was the Strahl. Absence certainly did make the heart grow fonder, though four days could hardly be considered a long absence. His palms began to itch for the controls. He couldn’t contain himself much longer.
As he approached his seat however, he realized that he was not alone. In the co-pilot’s seat sat a Viera woman, Fran. They hadn’t known each other long, maybe a month or so, and he doubted he would get the chance to know her in the future. She was only there because of a temporary partnership, and she didn’t seem like the type to stick around after business was finished. Still, it was nice to have a companion, for however long it might last.
It surprised him, as he slipped between the two chairs, how relaxed she was. He knew that she was aware of his presence, but the woman didn’t bother to acknowledge it. Some might think it cold of her; after all, he did at first, but that was before he really had come to understand her behaviors. She wasn’t trying to be rude. She was simply being Fran, and he didn’t know any other way to explain it.
Taking to his seat, Balthier’s eyes were suddenly transfixed on her. Not many things Fran did as of late surprised him but seeing her out of her armor certainly did. It would be the first time such a thing happened. In fact, he began to entertain the idea that she never changed out of it. And not surprisingly, she proved him wrong.
When he met Fran, he would readily admit that he found her remarkably beautiful. The young man had never seen anything quite like her before. Now though, he was faced with what would appear to be a different side of the same woman. Soft white hair that was normally tied up fell down her back by the masses, snowy curls caressing the sides of her face. Instead of armor, the Viera donned a silver negligee that rested mid-thigh. Balthier would have never thought he would say that he found a woman more attractive covered up than scantily clad, though he couldn't deny that he was thinking that very thought.
She sat in a most relaxed position with her legs tucked beneath her. Her right arm rested at her side while her left one was lying in her lap. He traced the contours of her body and felt a little ashamed in doing so, but her curves were so smooth and skin so lovely that he couldn’t help himself. For a few moments his eyes rested on the rising and falling of her chest, liking the way her breasts looked beneath the silk. And then they trailed upwards to her swan like neck and her full lips that seemed to always be slightly puckered. Her nose was turned up by nature giving a particular elegance to her face that he was unsure any Hume woman could manage. At last he came to her eyes, the color of rubies. They were focused on something that he was unable to place, and he wasn’t certain he would want to even if he could, for that meant he would have to look away from her. Slowly her eye lids fell over the red orbs, resting for a second, before she opened them once more, her long white eyelashes glistening in the starlight.
As he took a deep breath to reclaim himself, she looked over in his direction, a long tress shifting to cover one breast from his sight. Most might find her expression to be a blank slate, but he was learning. It was a friendly look that held no irritation for being disturbed. Balthier thought that she might be pleased with his presence, though to say so for sure might be too presumptuous.
“How fairs your health, Captain?”
If someone were to walk up to him on the street and ask him to describe Fran’s voice, he wouldn’t be able to. From the first time they exchanged words, he had been trying to place just what it sounded like and his wits failed him every time. He knew only that it was music to the ears, soothing and gentle and…Fran. He refused to imagine her sounding a different way; the match was just too good.
The question was simple really, as many questions between them were. The answer should have been equally as simple. However, he failed to find the words that would make up his reply. The honest answer was he felt shitty, but that seemed a bit too crude for her ears. But, he couldn’t very well deny his sickness. She had been the one taking care of him the first two days, so she knew that if he were to say he was feeling splendid, it would most definitely be a lie. Balthier decided to take the middle ground. He wasn’t feeling good per se, yet he had felt worse.
“My head aches and I’m still a bit sick to my stomach.”
He reasoned that she must have been turning his answer around in her head for awhile because she made no attempt to reply right away. Her eyes were studying him though, that much he did know. Their gaze rested heavily upon him, and the young sky pirate didn’t know what to think or how to act.
“It is not a surprise that your head pains you judging from the injury you are sporting,” she spoke, and he detected a note of amusement in her tone. “You are in need of further rest. Allow yourself another day.”
The last thing he wanted was to appear weak in the eyes of a woman, especially Fran. He failed at that though. It was that knowledge which made him slouch in his chair just a tiny bit, much like a little boy who didn’t quite get his way. Balthier was positive she caught this, but his pride was already wounded. It mattered to him little what she thought of him now.
“Perhaps,” he said, punctuating the word with a sigh.
Readjusting himself into a much more comfortable position, he peered out of the corner of his eye. Rubies were still fixed on his form, and so he turned his head toward her. Balthier wondered if the look he was getting was one that meant she wished to be spoken to. From the very start, he knew she was not one to converse idly or frequently, choosing each of her words with precision and care. It would be untruthful to say it didn’t unnerve him in the very beginning, but he had grown accustom to it now. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his lips; it was meant to be a gift to her.
“And how fairs the girl who has stolen my heart?”
He watched as she was unable to hold back a grin, her lips parting ever so subtly that her pearly teeth showed. For a moment, he thought that she might have to bring a hand to her mouth, preventing any laughter that might try to escape. However they were not on comfortable enough terms for her to act so freely in his presence. He didn’t miss the sparkle in her eyes though.
“I was busy doing maintenance and repairs on her while you were ill. She is ready to fly at your command.”
It was with that thought that he was unable to hold back the foolish smile from his face. His Strahl, she was the only thing that he truly cared about in the world. She was his wings, and that, to him, was everything. The very idea of being behind her again made him giddy.
“Perfect.”
His fingers sought out the buttons on the panel. Why bother to wait for morning? He could fly her to Balfonheim right then and there; they would reach the port by midnight if they started now. And from there, he could make arrangements to fly to Rozarria. Before he was able to lay a hand on any levers or buttons, her voice halted him.
“There is no need. I have already set coordinates for Balfonheim Port.”
To say the least, he was a bit puzzled. Balthier didn’t know much about the Viera race, but he was quite sure they weren’t able to mind read. Perhaps she was special? Even that thought seemed to be a little farfetched.
“Fran?”
The woman sat back in the co-pilot’s seat, her hair rearranging about her shoulders. Lids lazily closed over ruby orbs, white eyelashes kissing her cheeks. Again, the young Hume was uncertain what this behavior meant. He wished she wasn’t so damn hard to read.
“While you were fevered and gave me little choice but to be your nurse, I saw the plans for your attack on the Rozarrian treasury lying on the table in your room. There remains three weeks until the rains in Giza. We are unable to complete the hunt, and subsequently end this partnership, until then.”
To say that he was blindsided by her confession would have been the understatement of the year. He never imagined her to be one to snoop around in other people’s belongings. Then again, she was a pirate just like him, so it shouldn’t have come to much of a surprise. But what was her agenda when setting his coordinates for him? Could it be possible that she desired to join his cause? That was the only explanation he could come up with, or at least wanted to come up with.
“Then you will agree to take part in this most dangerous conquest of the Great Sky Pirate Balthier?”
Silence filled the room. Her lack of response wasn’t one that he thought meant rejection. Perhaps she just didn’t want to admit that she actually did want to go on an adventure with him. He grinned.
“I’d be happy to have you, Fran.”
As she rose to her feet, Balthier thought that their conversation was over for the night. However, she didn’t make a move for the door or out of the chair’s general vicinity. Finely toned cocoa thighs rested against the control panel. One of her palms met with the cool metal, and her other hand snaked beneath her breasts before fingers encased her upper arm. Fran’s deep red eyes appeared to be hypnotized by the stars for sometime. Balthier thought he might have seen a trace of moisture gathering in the orbs, but he couldn’t say for certain.
The Viera made no attempt to speak to him for a long while. There was no awkwardness between them; Balthier knew better than anyone that sometimes a person just needed time to think. He wasn’t going to be the one to deny her that.
His own mind began to stray from focus. There was no reason for him to remain there, yet he found it impossible to leave. It was something more than just being behind the Strahl again though. It could have been the way the low lighting gave a peaceful ambiance to the room, or perhaps the way the stars’ gentle glow made Fran seem to radiate, or even because he just didn’t want to be alone, didn’t want to go back and suffer another nightmare.
And then her lips started to move. He recognized the tone as one of insecurity. Beneath that could have very well been a degree of fear too. Whatever else was hinted at was irrelevant. Something was off inside of her. He had never seen the collected Fran so lost and worried before.
“I was born a child of the Wood, and as I grew up, I became married to it. It provided me little freedom, yet I was forced to abide by its rules.” Then a sigh escaped her. “Balthier, I am an adulteress. My heart, it belongs to another.”
Then he was positive that what he witnessed before were tears in her eyes, for one slipped down her cheek. She made no move to clean its liquid path, yet Balthier could see that she was upset by her actions, by allowing someone to see her cry.
“I am in love with the sky.”
Shame clouded a once stoic voice. It was as if she refused to admit it to herself. Regardless, Fran had just confessed to the both of them and a countless number of stars where her true feelings laid. She could no longer deny it, and maybe that’s why she was crying. She had truly come to accept it.
Balthier was a bit jealous of the sky. How he wished she would look longingly at him with those eyes like she did the heavens. To be marveled at by such an exotic creature, it would be one of his fondest desires, no matter how doubtful they were in coming true.
The concept was not unfamiliar to him. He, too, was in love with the sky and couldn’t bear ever being away from it. The thought crossed his mind as to whether Fran would ever get to pilot an airship after their parting. It was unlikely, and that saddened him.
Yet, there was something that he could do for her, and only he could do for her. He could be the one to give her the sky. It wasn’t such a hard thing to do; he had all the necessary means. And he wondered if she would accept his proposal.
“If it’s the sky you desire, I can give it to you.”
He wasn’t able to bring himself to look at her when he spoke those words. Instead, his eyes were downcast, his mind hopeful that his blush was shadowed from her view. There was no reasoning behind his embarrassment save for the fact that he was just a boy offering a full grown woman the freedom she so desired.
“We could be partners, Fran. I am in need of a co-pilot. And the Strahl, she sings under your touch.”
Gaining the courage to focus on her, his eyes shifted to the right. The expression on her face was one of pure shock. Her delicate little mouth formed a near “o,” her brow furrowed. Slowly she eased herself into the seat, rubies never leaving him for a second. There was a long pause, one that was rather uncomfortable, before she found herself.
“If your words ring true, I accept.”
An overwhelming amount of happiness flooded the very depths of his soul. He would no longer have to pilot a ship alone; no longer have to be alone. If he so desired, he could stay up all hours of the night chatting to his companion, though he didn’t think there would be much of a response from her end. But that didn’t matter, just as long as someone was willing to listen.
From the newly established partnership, he felt his wings grow stronger, as if they could never tire. It was wonderful to know that someone in all of Ivalice shared his love of flight. Fran was his kindred spirit of sorts. Silently, Balthier thanked his mother for reading him fairy tales as a child, for it was in them that he learned sometimes two people were fated to meet, that nothing could break the will of destiny. And that’s what she was, his destiny.
“They do.”
Feeling a tickling sensation in his throat, Balthier began to cough. At first it was nothing more than one or two, but soon he found himself in a fit. It took him quite some time to regain control of his breathing. He supposed it was safe to say that he still had a little way to go before he would be completely cured of the flu.
“You need sleep. Take your leave of me,” she commanded gently. “I am fully capable of handling the ship.”
Doing as he was told, the young man rose from his seat. Giving Fran a once over, he smiled down at her. She would be there tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that. There was no need to stare at her for long moments as if to ingrain every inch of her into his brain. The Viera was different than him; she wasn’t going to fade. With a subtle nod, he made head toward the door.
“Thank you, sky pirate.”
He grinned wildly knowing that he had been the cause of some happiness. It was uncertain as to whether he would ever let Fran know how he felt about their partnership, but he was leaning toward keeping it a secret. She wasn’t the type to go for that sort of stuff anyway.
“I believe the pleasure is all mine.”
Then, Balthier bowed in a most gentlemanly fashion. He left quickly afterwards to keep the effect of the moment. As he was walking down the hall, the young man began to replay the last few seconds in the cockpit. His actions, they were very reminiscent of a leading man taking his leave. He entertained the idea of being the just that. It was a title that he found appealing. From there on out, Balthier would strive to overcome his opponents, to sweep a damsel off her feet, to be the leading man.