FFXII Fic: Knots, Ties and Tides, Chapter 9 (Larsa/Penelo, Ashe, Migelo, Cast)
If I had the sense god gave to a squirrel, I wouldn’t be putting this up right now.
For one, I have a feeling nobody’s actually in the mood to read fic, it being not so much the holiday season as the season for soul-crushing school projects, tests and papers. Hell, I barely have time for fandom anymore-- I doubt there are many exceptions to that rule floating about. And for another… well, for another, I think anyone actually still keeping up with this fic might want to murder me with a spoon for handing them yet another delaying cliff-hanger. Mea culpa for the excruciatingly slow pace of this, everyone. And if it helps any, you should keep in mind that I’ll eventually write the next chapter of this, oh yes I will. It might take some time… say, a month or two, but the prospect of a showdown between my leads is much too juicy to let up.
In any case, this one’s for threewalls and sheffiesharpe. The ending scene of this literally couldn’t be written without their brilliant input. So, er… at least I’m not the only one to blame for it all? ;)
Title: Knots, Ties and Tides, Chapter 9
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Series: Knots, Ties and Tides
Characters/Pairings: Larsa/Penelo (...Somewhat), Ashe, Migelo, Cast
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Ashe asked Penelo to make a sacrifice for Dalmasca's sake, she had no idea that this was what her Queen had in mind...
***
The rest of her meeting with Ashe passed by in something of a blur. If anyone bothered to ask her later what it had consisted of, she knew that all she'd be able to do to describe it was gesture vaguely into the air and mutter something about marriage contracts and grand betrothal ceremonies and appeasing the masses and receiving help from the Kiltias and and so forth, insert the standard political gibberish here. And to be frankly honest, Penelo was too dazed to absorb anything more than the news that she was now as good as engaged and wed to Larsa, with all the world learning of just what would happen as soon as they secured the Emperor’s blessing. Hell, she hadn't even raised a protest when Ashe had said that they really should get all of this settled as soon as possible, giving her a deadline of three more days in Rabanastre before she was married off entirely.
All she could do was stare down at her own hands and watched with distant concern at the horribly silly way they kept shaking. Because it was funny, in a strange sort of way-- just very, very funny. Who could have predicted ahead of time that she’d be able to survive and even thrive beyond wars, famines, plagues, invading hordes, judges, bounty hunters and the fruits of Vaan’s various dumb-assaries… only to finally find herself at the mercy of someone who wasn't even quite three katanas high?
If you looked at it that way, of course, the situation was very nearly side-splitting.
And in the end, all she had done when Ashe had asked her if she finally felt selfless enough to consent to this arrangement-- this pre-arrangement-- was nod shakily and wrap her arms around herself.
It was all but settled at this point. It had been for a while, probably. And with everything depending on her, with everyone looking towards her... was there any answer she could give but yes? Was there anything she could do but follow along?
Nothing besides throttle Larsa, some evil little imp with a suspicious resemblance to the boy himself quietly and persuasively whispered. After all, as long as she left him intact enough to nod his head as they were engaged, what were a few bruises? Or contusions? Or possibly even gunshot wounds either?
And he'd deserve it too, Penelo knew, the hands she’d clenched at her sides still badly trembling. Because in the end, however sweet he had seemed, however caring he had pretended to be, he really was nothing less than a scion of his empire. He was just the same as every other northerner she had ever know, with sweet lies tripping off his lips while he manipulated her with his tongue. At this rate, she'd be lucky if she didn't have his hand jammed up her colon anytime soon, so he could manipulate her like his own personal puppet even better after they hit the wedding altar.
No, she wouldn’t put it past that bastard. That goddamn, runty, two-faced little bastard. That horrible little flippy haired, green-booted, silver tongued, wide eyed, perky smiled, manipulative, deceiving, lying, betraying, unbelievably cunning son of a filthy imperial--
Penelo knew she didn't have quite enough insulting adjectives in her vocabulary to describe just what she felt about her new intended right here. But oddly enough, she had a feeling that when she next saw her dearly beloved, she might be able to improvise the thrilling feeling she wanted to convey during their next meeting.
But in the end, she knew she wouldn’t have even the petty little satisfaction of raising her voice to him. For before she left, Ashe had left her one last warning.
"You are all but a noblewoman of Dalmasca now," her liege murmured, "and I expect you to act as such presently. Whatever wild passions might move you when you are with Lord Larsa-- for the better or for the worst-- I expect you to restrain them. Whatever else you might think him to be, he still holds for us some of the best hopes for Dalmasca's rebuilding. And neither of us can afford to offend him enough to withdraw his offer here.”
In other words, Penelo knew, she had best shut up and smile, whatever else Larsa wanted to do with her presently.
"But that doesn't mean I..." And for nearly the first time since Penelo had met her, Ashe seemed almost to hesitate for her words, her usually straight forward eyes downwardly turning. "That doesn't mean I say this to be cruel or unfair to you, Penelo. I have never intended to do such to anyone under my rule. I would that you believe that if I had my free will, I would have spared you from a fate you seem to find so appalling. But as it is now..."
As it was now, the House of Solidor had somehow managed to outmaneuver them both. Just as their empire had always done, they had pressed forward on whatever advantages they could find to have whatever satisfactions they could seek.
"I know," Penelo said quietly, closing her eyes tightly. "I know you meant well. After all, you were right from the very first time we talked about this. There really isn't anything I shouldn't be willing to sacrifice for my friends and my home and my family."
"Yes," Ashe replied, and the eyes that she raised once more were glittering almost feverishly. "And after all, it's not very common that one can sacrifice so little and yet gain so much for so many. If anything, Penelo, you should consider yourself lucky.”
***
If the meeting she had had with Ashe earlier had felt blurry about the edges, it was nothing compared to what Penelo felt as she found herself striding back to Migelo's Sundries for perhaps the last time ever, her hands fisted at her sides and her hair in short braids bounding off her shoulders and her frantic, fluttering heart lodged somewhere deep inside.
Until now, after all, she wouldn’t have even thought it possible for the normal world to feel the way it did currently: as though everything around her were spinning at its edges, reading to fall askew or perhaps even shatter at the slightest touch.
But since everything she’d ever thought about this whole situation had proven to be wrong, maybe it was only natural for her to see the world this way. She had thought Ashe was the main puppet master in this scheme, and she had been wrong. She had thought that she’d prove smart enough and strong enough to evade this fate, and she’d been wrong. She’d even thought that she’d one day be able to take control of her own life and live it the way she wanted and oh god, oh god, she’d been completely wrong there.
And most of all…
Most of all, she had thought that Larsa had always been a friend and an innocent in this, no matter what. And in another funny way, finding out that he wasn’t any of those things was what made her tremble hardest.
Because he was supposed to have been her friend. Her friend, damn it all. He was just supposed to have been her friend, her smart, sweet, gentle, almost ridiculously girlish friend. And it’d be all right if he was more than a little love struck by her, if he thought it was all right to pretend a silly little crush was some sort of grand passion. It’d be all right if he went a little far in playing his feeling out or if he was controlled by his elders in Archadia into going on the insane mission of finding the future mother to his flippy haired babies before they were even a twinkle in his eyes. She wouldn’t have been so hurt if he had only been a puppet for others, instead of the one who had knowingly held her strings the entire time.
Because in the end, he was supposed to be someone could have proven her, once and for all, that it didn’t need to matter what family he belonged to or what foreign land he had hailed from. And in the end, he was supposed to have been her faith in the future and her hope of Dalmasca healing, no matter what it had gone through because of Archadia in the past. Though she supposed that, with all the hopes this marriage represented, she wasn’t fully wrong.
But even if she’d been right about that, she'd been wrong about what kind of person Larsa really was. Hell, maybe she would never fully understand who or what was right and wrong about the boy she'd spend the rest of her life with.
Child or adult, puppet or puppet-master... he could be any or all of these things. When she was with him, she couldn’t even trust her senses.
Her thoughts sputtered abruptly, though, when she found herself suddenly walking on loose bits of gravel, instead of the usual streets of Rabanastre. And when she actually turned her head to look around her, instead of marching on blindly while lost in thought, she realized with a sudden shock that she was standing in the middle of her old playground near the heart of her home.
This could be the last time she ever laid her eyes on this place, she knew, and whatever hot anger she had been feeling abruptly died down.
The last time her feet traced the steps her parents had once strolled along or kicked at the same stones her brothers had once played with. The last time her fingers touched the thick metal bars her friends had once taken turns swinging at or traced the dust beneath the rusted gates. The last time she placed her body on the swings she had always loved or that another boy, three months before his death, had once pressed her against before kissing her eager mouth.
The last time, she thought. The last time, just as myself. Just because of Larsa. Just because of one strange little boy who thinks because he wants me, I owe him--
There was no reason to cry, Penelo knew. And that was just why she wasn't. Because, strange as this was, bizarre as this was, wretchedly unfair as this was, there was absolutely nothing here worth her tears. She was lucky in a way, after all. Lucky to be plucked out of the gutter and all but launched into the stars, even if it was by a trajectory she didn't even know if she wanted to be a part of. She was lucky because-- hell, hadn't she thought before of what accepting Larsa's offer would do for her?
She'd thought of that just before she'd left him to visit Ashe, after all. She’d be lying if she said the idea didn’t intrigue her at least as much as it had proved repulsive. And there was no denying that at least a part of her had thought about delaying being crowned royalty just long enough to figure out if that was something she could indeed live with.
And now that she knew she really never had a choice but to accept... Well, there were far worse fates than living a life where you followed the rules and kept your head down and let other people tell you what to do. She’d been living like that all her life. Maybe it was time she accepted it.
So there was no reason to cry, she told herself, knotting her arms around her body once more. Not when she was so lucky. There was absolutely no reason here for tears.
But it was a long time before she could bring herself to cross Migelo's doorstep again, to collect her new fiancé. And even after all was said and done, the thick leather bands around her wrists remained dark and damp for all the hours of the night still left.
***
Of course, Migelo being just who he was, he knew just what she must have been doing right before she entered his shop. And Migelo being Migelo once more, he didn't let something as paltry as being technically cold-blooded, covered in scales and sporting a tail about as long as Penelo's entire body keep him from immediately clucking over her like a mummy chocobo tending to her young.
Somehow, only a few minutes after she entered, Penelo found herself seated in the comfiest and warmest of his store rooms, a mug of steaming chocolate being pressed into her hands, a completely unnecessary blanket being draped around her body and a giant lizard patting her on the head, as though to keep it level on her shoulders. And, smiling ruefully, she found herself drinking the chocolate, shrugging off the blanket, signing in relief that the “newest clerk” had been exhausted by a busy day’s work that he had already fallen asleep in the back rooms and giggling half-hearted at Migelo’s antics, more or less at the same time. And when Migelo shook his snout the eighth time in a row at her in concern, all she could do was wanly smile.
After all, this could be one of the last times she’d ever saw him as well. After all, from what Larsa had told her, she doubted that any Bangaa, no matter how highly they might be regarded in Rabanastre, would be welcome in Archadia's capital.
And after it was all over and done with and Migelo’s clawed hands were gently tapping on the table they were sitting at-- a clear sign that he was worried but didn’t want to show it, not that it would escape her anyway-- Penelo knew just what he’d want to know now.
"If I asked you," Migelo finally said, "what this was all about, child, would you actually answer true?"
Fingers still around her hot chocolate mug, Penelo could feel her eyes blurring again and felt stupid and ridiculous, even more so than the fool Larsa had already made of her. "No. I‘m sorry but I can‘t. Not really. Though I'm sure you'll learn about it soon enough."
Migelo's rough, work-scarred scales gently guided Penelo's face till it met his sad, sky blue one once more. "Bah! You sound like you're talking about a death in the family. It can't be so bad if you're still here and still speaking, can it now?"
"That's not true," Penelo said shakily. "It absolutely can be. Especially when you've got everyone breathing down your neck to do something involving little boys that you really, really, really don't want."
This being an exceptionally juicy piece of gossip-- the sort that all Rabanastrans thrived on-- Penelo could all but see Migelo‘s snout snorting in shock. "Should I start fearing for poor Kytes around now?"
Despite herself, Penelo couldn't help but giggle, feeling some of the tension slough off at the thought. "Nah. Not really. If anything, it's our little guest's hide that you should be concerned about me getting my hands on."
Her old friend guffawed. "The one that kept trying to convince me that he really wasn't nobility from Archadia? And that he absolutely needed to know everything he could about you in order to sell every single potion we had in stock?"
She just snorted. "I'm sure. You didn't give anything away did you, Migelo?"
He just smiled that hilariously wide giant lizard smile at her. It was the sort of warm, strange, and patently amazing smile you could only stop taking for granted once it was on the verge of being gone. "No, of course not. Not that I needed to. Strange though that boy may have been, he was a charmer. Managed to sell out practically every single x-potion he had left, just by batting his eyelashes. If you don't come back to the store soon, Penelo, I might just have a new Number One Sales Associate in Rabanastre on my hands."
Despite herself and her new appreciation of Larsa‘s cunning, Penelo found herself sputtering in surprise once more. Because it wasn’t enough that he had first out-plotted her. Or even that later on, he had somehow managed to out-dance her. No, now he was even out-selling her. Larsa really was willing to strip her of everything she had before he shanghai'd her off to his home, wasn't he?
What would be next-- her title as the best inventory person Migelo’s Sundries had? Oh, the inhumanity of it all!
"He was also surprisingly good at ordering what goods the shop needed next," Migelo continue thoughtfully. "You should tell that young man that if he doesn't have any other plans, I could always use a head like his at the store. I mean," he added apologetically, "now that you're not around and all."
"Somehow," Penelo managed through gritted teeth, "I don't think that's in his future dance-card. But I'll let you know if his plans change anytime soon. After all, shop clerk is probably one of the least destructive jobs he could hold in the future."
And then, not able to stand it any more, Penelo founds herself rising from her chair and automatically moving towards the exits, her hands fisting at her sides once again while her feet marched to a martial beat beneath them both. And when even Migelo, concerned as he was, didn't make a move to stop her, Penelo knew she really must look like she had murder on her mind.
"Tell our little guest," Penelo said coldly, "that he can find me anytime he wants. Whether that'd be good for his own health though... well. That I'll leave for him to judge."
***
She woke up the next morning to the tentative feel of fingers in her hair, to the light touch of calloused thumbs against her scalp.
For a minute, try thought she might, Penelo could not quite remember where on earth she was. The last memory she could conjure up was of walking the streets of Rabanastre by herself, grim and gray and groggy with a pint of rot-gut that she had managed to steal away from... god, she couldn't even remember what. Hell, she wasn’t even sure-- and here she was fighting off a deep shudder-- she even wanted to remember what.
But now she was in bed, still dressed in yesterday's outfit and covered in today’s blankets, with a dulling hang-over already settling down on her and clogging up all of her thoughts. And some distant part of her knew she should probably be getting up right now, probably bathing and dressing and pasting on a happy face before she could go find Larsa again and pretend to be thrilled at the fact that he had completely rearranged her life without so much as a pause.
But she felt too tired, much too tired, to even picture doing these things. So for now, all she did was close her eyes and lean gently into the hands that were touching her hair so gently, so easily and so kindly. Touching her as though she were someone precious, someone delicate. Maybe even someone worth saving.
No hume had touched her like that since her parents and her brothers had died, though Migelo had done his best to serve as her new family. Even Vaan, after a while, had learned to keep his distance, to act as though he was too tough to ever need anybody. And to her surprise, Penelo found tears springing to her eyes at the thought of being loved like that again, that simply and sincerely.
She really had to stop getting damp over everything, she thought, smiling a little into her pillow. If she didn't, she'd turn into a human hosepipe eventually and then there'd go all of Ashe's plans for her future.
But for now... maybe it wasn't so bad, lying here in her bed with her eyes closed and her mind very nearly at ease, simply lying back and enjoying the feel of gentle fingers in her hair once more, combing and caressing...
And then the mouth attached to the hands began to speak and Penelo's eyes snapped open and saw that, joy of joy of perfect joys, what she'd been dreading had come to her already.
"Good morning," the future emperor of Archadia said to her, hovering next her shyly and keeping his eyes demurely down. "Are you ready for breakfast, my lady intended? If I have predicted Lady Ashe's whims correctly, we have perhaps three more days in Rabanastre... and so many possible ways to spend them presently."
***
For a perilously long moment, Penelo's mind automatically snapped into Faster Pennycat Kill Kill mode, while she contemplated just how many ways there were to strangle, spindle or miscellaneously mutilate everyone's favorite tiny manipulative bastard. But after discretely wiping her eyes and taking a deep breath (in with the spiritual peace! out with the homicidal mania!) she managed to steady herself enough to speak.
"Morning to you too. How'd you know that much?"
Right now, there was a healthy chasm of about six inches between their two bodies, with Larsa apparently having had to extend his arm out to… to pet her while she was dozing, or whatever else the creepy, manipulative jerk had tried to do to her in her sleep. Personally, Penelo would have much rather preferred being separated from him by six feet or six miles or even six separate territories… but at this point, she knew she had to be grateful for whatever buffer she had.
But terrifying enough, Larsa inched just a little bit closer to her at that, his smile widening further. "If I told you a little bird had informed me, as a friend of mine would say, would you take it as information enough?"
It was a struggle not to respond to that by asking Larsa if telling him to fall ass over kettle into the nearest gaping chasm would also be information enough. "No," Penelo finally gritted through a smile so false it hurt her teeth. "I'd really love to hear just how."
Larsa smiled far more sincerely and scooched another horrifying centimeter nearer, prompting Penelo into cowering to her bed sheets. "Ah! I've always admired that curiosity of yours, did you know? And in this case, you may trace my source of information to nothing less than the randomization of all the possibilities that politics might yet yield."
Still huddled, Penelo could only blink blindly at him. "...Say what?"
If anything, Larsa just looked more pleased at her blank face and more willing to encroach on her personal space. Penelo watched with wide eyes as yet another valuable inch between them was lost. "I mean to say that I guessed at the outcome based on my personal observations of the Lady Ashe's thought patterns. Apparently, she detests taking too long to make a decision. Dangle bait long enough in front of her and she shall snap to it as of short."
"Not," he added hastily as Penelo's eyebrows raised upward, "to disparage the Lady Ashe's thinking or behavior. I do still believe her very dedicate to peace, despite her... occasionally warlike proclivities. She merely strikes me as a bit..."
"Nutty?" Penelo suggested, trying to fold herself into her sheets like syrup being swirled into pancake batter. "Batty? Screwy? Psycho? Rabidly and terrifyingly kill-happy?"
"Unorthodox," Larsa concluded smoothly, his knees crossing another fearful inch towards his new fiancé. "Not that I fault her for being so, it having brought us to where we are now."
Right now, there were only about three blessed inches of free space between them. If he came any closer, it'd be Archadia encroaching into precious Dalmascan territory once more. And sadly enough, it didn't seem as though her nation would have any more luck this time either.
All of a sudden, trying to breathe in the inner peace somehow became a lot harder.
"Right," Penelo said and if she had been a better actress, she probably could have kept the thread of sarcasm and rage from coloring her voice, strong enough to curdle chocobo spit. "Of course. I'm sure that's absolutely the only reason we're about going to get married right now."
Larsa stopped for a second at that-- but only for a second's time. "I beg your pardon?"
Think happy thoughts, Penelo told herself, still clutching her blankets to her like they were her maiden virtue. It was like Ashe said-- Dalmasca had more to lose in this than Archadia did and Larsa-- Lord Larsa-- had to be kept happy at all costs. "Nothing, Larsa. It's nothing. Don't... don't worry about it that too much here."
But if Penelo knew nothing else about Larsa-- and right now, she was fine with admitting that she really didn't know anything-- she knew that he was probably the most ridiculously curious person she'd ever encountered. Even Vaan, with his stupid mania for breaking and entering the worst places at the worst time possible, thus landing her into this stupid mess, wasn't as much of a pest when a mystery was around.
"It's when people try and tell me not to worry," he said mournfully, "that the real troubles always mount. Penelo, how..." And he hesitated here, his eyes sliding curiously down the humongous length of bunched blankets. "How exactly did Lady Ashe break the news of our betrothal to you? She did let you decide on it before she told you of our engagement, did she not?"
Chocobos, Penelo thought haplessly. Fuzzy wuzzy adorable just-hatched chocobos of the sort that always seemed to hatch Uncle Mortimer's feathery and widowed bride. "Not really. She just... told me that I was more or less engaged to you. I didn't really get the chance to decide on anything much. It was pretty much a ‘shake your head yes if you love your country and no if you‘re an ungrateful wretch that would willing let people suffer for your own selfishness‘ sort of thing."
"Hmmmm," Larsa said, tilting his head. "That is a real pity. I had actually arranged it with her to allow you have some time to think of the matter. Since you probably didn't know much about the politics of arranged marriages, I thought it would be better for everyone involved if you felt this was something you decided on for yourself. Which--” And here he paused to flash a smile that made the blankets she was shrinking under seem terribly flimsy-- “isn’t even so very far from the truth, honestly."
Babies, Penelo thought desperately. Sweet cute fat little babies, with those chubby little cheeks she'd always liked. "That... that was nice of you, to give me time to adjust to the idea. Really. That was... thoughtful."
"Yes," he said, beaming, "I thought so too. Most noble marriages wouldn't have had such accommodations. But then, most noble marriages wouldn't have had the advantage of having a bride as radiant as you."
Basch, Penelo thought in one last stab at rational thinking, her hands clenching hard on her mattress. With his hair wet and his chest bare because of a dip he had taken in the deepest lake nearby because she had "accidentally" thrown in a valuable magical scroll and needed someone as strong and as strapping as Ashe's guardian to slowly and carefully fish it out. "I... I guess you could see it that way."
"Yes," Larsa said again, eyes shining and lips parting and cheeks flushing as his knees inching forward just a little more, may god help them all. "Yes I can. Yes I do. Considering how many ways this could have gone wrong... we really are very lucky in our circumstances, aren't we?"
His eyes were still shining when she threw her blankets aside to breach the single inch that their bodies were still separated by. His lips were still parting when Penelo brought herself closer. And his cheeks were flaming an even deeper shade of red when Penelo twisted her fingers into his shirt's coarse collar, pulling him close to her in a way only one other boy had ever been.
But as soon as she used her new-found leverage to lift Larsa off his feet and slam his entire body against the wall next to her bed, he didn't look quite so enchanted by what could come next. Fascinating, wasn’t it, how that worked?
"That depends," Penelo snarled, "on just how you plan to get lucky."
***
Author's Note: Though it might be breaking the fourth wall, I feel as though I should come right out and declare that, Penelo's hysterical denial to the contrary, Larsa pretty much is a teenager at this point. (Being 3 weeks from 13 is close enough, right?) I have to admit that it's a bit of a change from my earlier plans, yes... but I can promise you that writing and reading him this way will be a hell of a lot more fun. If also significantly more traumatizing in the long run.
...Poor Penelo. Poor, poor Penelo. And, in the next part, even poorer Larsa. ;)
And before anyone lays it on me for having Larsa be incredibly creepy with the touching-Penelo-while-she’s-sleeping-thing… well, yes. I’m pretty sure it’s patently impossible to have Vayne Solidor as a brother and be well-adjusted at the same time. Not to mention, Larsa’s always been more than a little touch-starved in his daily life. Who the hell could possibly hug him in Archades-- the giant, mobile suits of armor that always address him by his title or his psychopathic and kill-happy family? He’s going a bit overboard with Penelo, yes, but keep in mind that he’s still thrilled at the thought of socially acceptable physical contact with another human being. He’ll scale back soon enough… at least if Penelo’s throttling leaves any effect!
Also since I'm planning on laying out most of Larsa's motivations on the line in the next chapter, I just wanted to ask what my readers think drives him before hand and reward the first person who gets it perfectly right with a little something. ;) Just why do you (my current and no doubt very patient reader) think Larsa is pushing for a marriage at a ridiculously early age? And what exactly do you think attracts him to Penelo in the first place?
For one, I have a feeling nobody’s actually in the mood to read fic, it being not so much the holiday season as the season for soul-crushing school projects, tests and papers. Hell, I barely have time for fandom anymore-- I doubt there are many exceptions to that rule floating about. And for another… well, for another, I think anyone actually still keeping up with this fic might want to murder me with a spoon for handing them yet another delaying cliff-hanger. Mea culpa for the excruciatingly slow pace of this, everyone. And if it helps any, you should keep in mind that I’ll eventually write the next chapter of this, oh yes I will. It might take some time… say, a month or two, but the prospect of a showdown between my leads is much too juicy to let up.
In any case, this one’s for threewalls and sheffiesharpe. The ending scene of this literally couldn’t be written without their brilliant input. So, er… at least I’m not the only one to blame for it all? ;)
Title: Knots, Ties and Tides, Chapter 9
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Series: Knots, Ties and Tides
Characters/Pairings: Larsa/Penelo (...Somewhat), Ashe, Migelo, Cast
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Ashe asked Penelo to make a sacrifice for Dalmasca's sake, she had no idea that this was what her Queen had in mind...
***
The rest of her meeting with Ashe passed by in something of a blur. If anyone bothered to ask her later what it had consisted of, she knew that all she'd be able to do to describe it was gesture vaguely into the air and mutter something about marriage contracts and grand betrothal ceremonies and appeasing the masses and receiving help from the Kiltias and and so forth, insert the standard political gibberish here. And to be frankly honest, Penelo was too dazed to absorb anything more than the news that she was now as good as engaged and wed to Larsa, with all the world learning of just what would happen as soon as they secured the Emperor’s blessing. Hell, she hadn't even raised a protest when Ashe had said that they really should get all of this settled as soon as possible, giving her a deadline of three more days in Rabanastre before she was married off entirely.
All she could do was stare down at her own hands and watched with distant concern at the horribly silly way they kept shaking. Because it was funny, in a strange sort of way-- just very, very funny. Who could have predicted ahead of time that she’d be able to survive and even thrive beyond wars, famines, plagues, invading hordes, judges, bounty hunters and the fruits of Vaan’s various dumb-assaries… only to finally find herself at the mercy of someone who wasn't even quite three katanas high?
If you looked at it that way, of course, the situation was very nearly side-splitting.
And in the end, all she had done when Ashe had asked her if she finally felt selfless enough to consent to this arrangement-- this pre-arrangement-- was nod shakily and wrap her arms around herself.
It was all but settled at this point. It had been for a while, probably. And with everything depending on her, with everyone looking towards her... was there any answer she could give but yes? Was there anything she could do but follow along?
Nothing besides throttle Larsa, some evil little imp with a suspicious resemblance to the boy himself quietly and persuasively whispered. After all, as long as she left him intact enough to nod his head as they were engaged, what were a few bruises? Or contusions? Or possibly even gunshot wounds either?
And he'd deserve it too, Penelo knew, the hands she’d clenched at her sides still badly trembling. Because in the end, however sweet he had seemed, however caring he had pretended to be, he really was nothing less than a scion of his empire. He was just the same as every other northerner she had ever know, with sweet lies tripping off his lips while he manipulated her with his tongue. At this rate, she'd be lucky if she didn't have his hand jammed up her colon anytime soon, so he could manipulate her like his own personal puppet even better after they hit the wedding altar.
No, she wouldn’t put it past that bastard. That goddamn, runty, two-faced little bastard. That horrible little flippy haired, green-booted, silver tongued, wide eyed, perky smiled, manipulative, deceiving, lying, betraying, unbelievably cunning son of a filthy imperial--
Penelo knew she didn't have quite enough insulting adjectives in her vocabulary to describe just what she felt about her new intended right here. But oddly enough, she had a feeling that when she next saw her dearly beloved, she might be able to improvise the thrilling feeling she wanted to convey during their next meeting.
But in the end, she knew she wouldn’t have even the petty little satisfaction of raising her voice to him. For before she left, Ashe had left her one last warning.
"You are all but a noblewoman of Dalmasca now," her liege murmured, "and I expect you to act as such presently. Whatever wild passions might move you when you are with Lord Larsa-- for the better or for the worst-- I expect you to restrain them. Whatever else you might think him to be, he still holds for us some of the best hopes for Dalmasca's rebuilding. And neither of us can afford to offend him enough to withdraw his offer here.”
In other words, Penelo knew, she had best shut up and smile, whatever else Larsa wanted to do with her presently.
"But that doesn't mean I..." And for nearly the first time since Penelo had met her, Ashe seemed almost to hesitate for her words, her usually straight forward eyes downwardly turning. "That doesn't mean I say this to be cruel or unfair to you, Penelo. I have never intended to do such to anyone under my rule. I would that you believe that if I had my free will, I would have spared you from a fate you seem to find so appalling. But as it is now..."
As it was now, the House of Solidor had somehow managed to outmaneuver them both. Just as their empire had always done, they had pressed forward on whatever advantages they could find to have whatever satisfactions they could seek.
"I know," Penelo said quietly, closing her eyes tightly. "I know you meant well. After all, you were right from the very first time we talked about this. There really isn't anything I shouldn't be willing to sacrifice for my friends and my home and my family."
"Yes," Ashe replied, and the eyes that she raised once more were glittering almost feverishly. "And after all, it's not very common that one can sacrifice so little and yet gain so much for so many. If anything, Penelo, you should consider yourself lucky.”
***
If the meeting she had had with Ashe earlier had felt blurry about the edges, it was nothing compared to what Penelo felt as she found herself striding back to Migelo's Sundries for perhaps the last time ever, her hands fisted at her sides and her hair in short braids bounding off her shoulders and her frantic, fluttering heart lodged somewhere deep inside.
Until now, after all, she wouldn’t have even thought it possible for the normal world to feel the way it did currently: as though everything around her were spinning at its edges, reading to fall askew or perhaps even shatter at the slightest touch.
But since everything she’d ever thought about this whole situation had proven to be wrong, maybe it was only natural for her to see the world this way. She had thought Ashe was the main puppet master in this scheme, and she had been wrong. She had thought that she’d prove smart enough and strong enough to evade this fate, and she’d been wrong. She’d even thought that she’d one day be able to take control of her own life and live it the way she wanted and oh god, oh god, she’d been completely wrong there.
And most of all…
Most of all, she had thought that Larsa had always been a friend and an innocent in this, no matter what. And in another funny way, finding out that he wasn’t any of those things was what made her tremble hardest.
Because he was supposed to have been her friend. Her friend, damn it all. He was just supposed to have been her friend, her smart, sweet, gentle, almost ridiculously girlish friend. And it’d be all right if he was more than a little love struck by her, if he thought it was all right to pretend a silly little crush was some sort of grand passion. It’d be all right if he went a little far in playing his feeling out or if he was controlled by his elders in Archadia into going on the insane mission of finding the future mother to his flippy haired babies before they were even a twinkle in his eyes. She wouldn’t have been so hurt if he had only been a puppet for others, instead of the one who had knowingly held her strings the entire time.
Because in the end, he was supposed to be someone could have proven her, once and for all, that it didn’t need to matter what family he belonged to or what foreign land he had hailed from. And in the end, he was supposed to have been her faith in the future and her hope of Dalmasca healing, no matter what it had gone through because of Archadia in the past. Though she supposed that, with all the hopes this marriage represented, she wasn’t fully wrong.
But even if she’d been right about that, she'd been wrong about what kind of person Larsa really was. Hell, maybe she would never fully understand who or what was right and wrong about the boy she'd spend the rest of her life with.
Child or adult, puppet or puppet-master... he could be any or all of these things. When she was with him, she couldn’t even trust her senses.
Her thoughts sputtered abruptly, though, when she found herself suddenly walking on loose bits of gravel, instead of the usual streets of Rabanastre. And when she actually turned her head to look around her, instead of marching on blindly while lost in thought, she realized with a sudden shock that she was standing in the middle of her old playground near the heart of her home.
This could be the last time she ever laid her eyes on this place, she knew, and whatever hot anger she had been feeling abruptly died down.
The last time her feet traced the steps her parents had once strolled along or kicked at the same stones her brothers had once played with. The last time her fingers touched the thick metal bars her friends had once taken turns swinging at or traced the dust beneath the rusted gates. The last time she placed her body on the swings she had always loved or that another boy, three months before his death, had once pressed her against before kissing her eager mouth.
The last time, she thought. The last time, just as myself. Just because of Larsa. Just because of one strange little boy who thinks because he wants me, I owe him--
There was no reason to cry, Penelo knew. And that was just why she wasn't. Because, strange as this was, bizarre as this was, wretchedly unfair as this was, there was absolutely nothing here worth her tears. She was lucky in a way, after all. Lucky to be plucked out of the gutter and all but launched into the stars, even if it was by a trajectory she didn't even know if she wanted to be a part of. She was lucky because-- hell, hadn't she thought before of what accepting Larsa's offer would do for her?
She'd thought of that just before she'd left him to visit Ashe, after all. She’d be lying if she said the idea didn’t intrigue her at least as much as it had proved repulsive. And there was no denying that at least a part of her had thought about delaying being crowned royalty just long enough to figure out if that was something she could indeed live with.
And now that she knew she really never had a choice but to accept... Well, there were far worse fates than living a life where you followed the rules and kept your head down and let other people tell you what to do. She’d been living like that all her life. Maybe it was time she accepted it.
So there was no reason to cry, she told herself, knotting her arms around her body once more. Not when she was so lucky. There was absolutely no reason here for tears.
But it was a long time before she could bring herself to cross Migelo's doorstep again, to collect her new fiancé. And even after all was said and done, the thick leather bands around her wrists remained dark and damp for all the hours of the night still left.
***
Of course, Migelo being just who he was, he knew just what she must have been doing right before she entered his shop. And Migelo being Migelo once more, he didn't let something as paltry as being technically cold-blooded, covered in scales and sporting a tail about as long as Penelo's entire body keep him from immediately clucking over her like a mummy chocobo tending to her young.
Somehow, only a few minutes after she entered, Penelo found herself seated in the comfiest and warmest of his store rooms, a mug of steaming chocolate being pressed into her hands, a completely unnecessary blanket being draped around her body and a giant lizard patting her on the head, as though to keep it level on her shoulders. And, smiling ruefully, she found herself drinking the chocolate, shrugging off the blanket, signing in relief that the “newest clerk” had been exhausted by a busy day’s work that he had already fallen asleep in the back rooms and giggling half-hearted at Migelo’s antics, more or less at the same time. And when Migelo shook his snout the eighth time in a row at her in concern, all she could do was wanly smile.
After all, this could be one of the last times she’d ever saw him as well. After all, from what Larsa had told her, she doubted that any Bangaa, no matter how highly they might be regarded in Rabanastre, would be welcome in Archadia's capital.
And after it was all over and done with and Migelo’s clawed hands were gently tapping on the table they were sitting at-- a clear sign that he was worried but didn’t want to show it, not that it would escape her anyway-- Penelo knew just what he’d want to know now.
"If I asked you," Migelo finally said, "what this was all about, child, would you actually answer true?"
Fingers still around her hot chocolate mug, Penelo could feel her eyes blurring again and felt stupid and ridiculous, even more so than the fool Larsa had already made of her. "No. I‘m sorry but I can‘t. Not really. Though I'm sure you'll learn about it soon enough."
Migelo's rough, work-scarred scales gently guided Penelo's face till it met his sad, sky blue one once more. "Bah! You sound like you're talking about a death in the family. It can't be so bad if you're still here and still speaking, can it now?"
"That's not true," Penelo said shakily. "It absolutely can be. Especially when you've got everyone breathing down your neck to do something involving little boys that you really, really, really don't want."
This being an exceptionally juicy piece of gossip-- the sort that all Rabanastrans thrived on-- Penelo could all but see Migelo‘s snout snorting in shock. "Should I start fearing for poor Kytes around now?"
Despite herself, Penelo couldn't help but giggle, feeling some of the tension slough off at the thought. "Nah. Not really. If anything, it's our little guest's hide that you should be concerned about me getting my hands on."
Her old friend guffawed. "The one that kept trying to convince me that he really wasn't nobility from Archadia? And that he absolutely needed to know everything he could about you in order to sell every single potion we had in stock?"
She just snorted. "I'm sure. You didn't give anything away did you, Migelo?"
He just smiled that hilariously wide giant lizard smile at her. It was the sort of warm, strange, and patently amazing smile you could only stop taking for granted once it was on the verge of being gone. "No, of course not. Not that I needed to. Strange though that boy may have been, he was a charmer. Managed to sell out practically every single x-potion he had left, just by batting his eyelashes. If you don't come back to the store soon, Penelo, I might just have a new Number One Sales Associate in Rabanastre on my hands."
Despite herself and her new appreciation of Larsa‘s cunning, Penelo found herself sputtering in surprise once more. Because it wasn’t enough that he had first out-plotted her. Or even that later on, he had somehow managed to out-dance her. No, now he was even out-selling her. Larsa really was willing to strip her of everything she had before he shanghai'd her off to his home, wasn't he?
What would be next-- her title as the best inventory person Migelo’s Sundries had? Oh, the inhumanity of it all!
"He was also surprisingly good at ordering what goods the shop needed next," Migelo continue thoughtfully. "You should tell that young man that if he doesn't have any other plans, I could always use a head like his at the store. I mean," he added apologetically, "now that you're not around and all."
"Somehow," Penelo managed through gritted teeth, "I don't think that's in his future dance-card. But I'll let you know if his plans change anytime soon. After all, shop clerk is probably one of the least destructive jobs he could hold in the future."
And then, not able to stand it any more, Penelo founds herself rising from her chair and automatically moving towards the exits, her hands fisting at her sides once again while her feet marched to a martial beat beneath them both. And when even Migelo, concerned as he was, didn't make a move to stop her, Penelo knew she really must look like she had murder on her mind.
"Tell our little guest," Penelo said coldly, "that he can find me anytime he wants. Whether that'd be good for his own health though... well. That I'll leave for him to judge."
***
She woke up the next morning to the tentative feel of fingers in her hair, to the light touch of calloused thumbs against her scalp.
For a minute, try thought she might, Penelo could not quite remember where on earth she was. The last memory she could conjure up was of walking the streets of Rabanastre by herself, grim and gray and groggy with a pint of rot-gut that she had managed to steal away from... god, she couldn't even remember what. Hell, she wasn’t even sure-- and here she was fighting off a deep shudder-- she even wanted to remember what.
But now she was in bed, still dressed in yesterday's outfit and covered in today’s blankets, with a dulling hang-over already settling down on her and clogging up all of her thoughts. And some distant part of her knew she should probably be getting up right now, probably bathing and dressing and pasting on a happy face before she could go find Larsa again and pretend to be thrilled at the fact that he had completely rearranged her life without so much as a pause.
But she felt too tired, much too tired, to even picture doing these things. So for now, all she did was close her eyes and lean gently into the hands that were touching her hair so gently, so easily and so kindly. Touching her as though she were someone precious, someone delicate. Maybe even someone worth saving.
No hume had touched her like that since her parents and her brothers had died, though Migelo had done his best to serve as her new family. Even Vaan, after a while, had learned to keep his distance, to act as though he was too tough to ever need anybody. And to her surprise, Penelo found tears springing to her eyes at the thought of being loved like that again, that simply and sincerely.
She really had to stop getting damp over everything, she thought, smiling a little into her pillow. If she didn't, she'd turn into a human hosepipe eventually and then there'd go all of Ashe's plans for her future.
But for now... maybe it wasn't so bad, lying here in her bed with her eyes closed and her mind very nearly at ease, simply lying back and enjoying the feel of gentle fingers in her hair once more, combing and caressing...
And then the mouth attached to the hands began to speak and Penelo's eyes snapped open and saw that, joy of joy of perfect joys, what she'd been dreading had come to her already.
"Good morning," the future emperor of Archadia said to her, hovering next her shyly and keeping his eyes demurely down. "Are you ready for breakfast, my lady intended? If I have predicted Lady Ashe's whims correctly, we have perhaps three more days in Rabanastre... and so many possible ways to spend them presently."
***
For a perilously long moment, Penelo's mind automatically snapped into Faster Pennycat Kill Kill mode, while she contemplated just how many ways there were to strangle, spindle or miscellaneously mutilate everyone's favorite tiny manipulative bastard. But after discretely wiping her eyes and taking a deep breath (in with the spiritual peace! out with the homicidal mania!) she managed to steady herself enough to speak.
"Morning to you too. How'd you know that much?"
Right now, there was a healthy chasm of about six inches between their two bodies, with Larsa apparently having had to extend his arm out to… to pet her while she was dozing, or whatever else the creepy, manipulative jerk had tried to do to her in her sleep. Personally, Penelo would have much rather preferred being separated from him by six feet or six miles or even six separate territories… but at this point, she knew she had to be grateful for whatever buffer she had.
But terrifying enough, Larsa inched just a little bit closer to her at that, his smile widening further. "If I told you a little bird had informed me, as a friend of mine would say, would you take it as information enough?"
It was a struggle not to respond to that by asking Larsa if telling him to fall ass over kettle into the nearest gaping chasm would also be information enough. "No," Penelo finally gritted through a smile so false it hurt her teeth. "I'd really love to hear just how."
Larsa smiled far more sincerely and scooched another horrifying centimeter nearer, prompting Penelo into cowering to her bed sheets. "Ah! I've always admired that curiosity of yours, did you know? And in this case, you may trace my source of information to nothing less than the randomization of all the possibilities that politics might yet yield."
Still huddled, Penelo could only blink blindly at him. "...Say what?"
If anything, Larsa just looked more pleased at her blank face and more willing to encroach on her personal space. Penelo watched with wide eyes as yet another valuable inch between them was lost. "I mean to say that I guessed at the outcome based on my personal observations of the Lady Ashe's thought patterns. Apparently, she detests taking too long to make a decision. Dangle bait long enough in front of her and she shall snap to it as of short."
"Not," he added hastily as Penelo's eyebrows raised upward, "to disparage the Lady Ashe's thinking or behavior. I do still believe her very dedicate to peace, despite her... occasionally warlike proclivities. She merely strikes me as a bit..."
"Nutty?" Penelo suggested, trying to fold herself into her sheets like syrup being swirled into pancake batter. "Batty? Screwy? Psycho? Rabidly and terrifyingly kill-happy?"
"Unorthodox," Larsa concluded smoothly, his knees crossing another fearful inch towards his new fiancé. "Not that I fault her for being so, it having brought us to where we are now."
Right now, there were only about three blessed inches of free space between them. If he came any closer, it'd be Archadia encroaching into precious Dalmascan territory once more. And sadly enough, it didn't seem as though her nation would have any more luck this time either.
All of a sudden, trying to breathe in the inner peace somehow became a lot harder.
"Right," Penelo said and if she had been a better actress, she probably could have kept the thread of sarcasm and rage from coloring her voice, strong enough to curdle chocobo spit. "Of course. I'm sure that's absolutely the only reason we're about going to get married right now."
Larsa stopped for a second at that-- but only for a second's time. "I beg your pardon?"
Think happy thoughts, Penelo told herself, still clutching her blankets to her like they were her maiden virtue. It was like Ashe said-- Dalmasca had more to lose in this than Archadia did and Larsa-- Lord Larsa-- had to be kept happy at all costs. "Nothing, Larsa. It's nothing. Don't... don't worry about it that too much here."
But if Penelo knew nothing else about Larsa-- and right now, she was fine with admitting that she really didn't know anything-- she knew that he was probably the most ridiculously curious person she'd ever encountered. Even Vaan, with his stupid mania for breaking and entering the worst places at the worst time possible, thus landing her into this stupid mess, wasn't as much of a pest when a mystery was around.
"It's when people try and tell me not to worry," he said mournfully, "that the real troubles always mount. Penelo, how..." And he hesitated here, his eyes sliding curiously down the humongous length of bunched blankets. "How exactly did Lady Ashe break the news of our betrothal to you? She did let you decide on it before she told you of our engagement, did she not?"
Chocobos, Penelo thought haplessly. Fuzzy wuzzy adorable just-hatched chocobos of the sort that always seemed to hatch Uncle Mortimer's feathery and widowed bride. "Not really. She just... told me that I was more or less engaged to you. I didn't really get the chance to decide on anything much. It was pretty much a ‘shake your head yes if you love your country and no if you‘re an ungrateful wretch that would willing let people suffer for your own selfishness‘ sort of thing."
"Hmmmm," Larsa said, tilting his head. "That is a real pity. I had actually arranged it with her to allow you have some time to think of the matter. Since you probably didn't know much about the politics of arranged marriages, I thought it would be better for everyone involved if you felt this was something you decided on for yourself. Which--” And here he paused to flash a smile that made the blankets she was shrinking under seem terribly flimsy-- “isn’t even so very far from the truth, honestly."
Babies, Penelo thought desperately. Sweet cute fat little babies, with those chubby little cheeks she'd always liked. "That... that was nice of you, to give me time to adjust to the idea. Really. That was... thoughtful."
"Yes," he said, beaming, "I thought so too. Most noble marriages wouldn't have had such accommodations. But then, most noble marriages wouldn't have had the advantage of having a bride as radiant as you."
Basch, Penelo thought in one last stab at rational thinking, her hands clenching hard on her mattress. With his hair wet and his chest bare because of a dip he had taken in the deepest lake nearby because she had "accidentally" thrown in a valuable magical scroll and needed someone as strong and as strapping as Ashe's guardian to slowly and carefully fish it out. "I... I guess you could see it that way."
"Yes," Larsa said again, eyes shining and lips parting and cheeks flushing as his knees inching forward just a little more, may god help them all. "Yes I can. Yes I do. Considering how many ways this could have gone wrong... we really are very lucky in our circumstances, aren't we?"
His eyes were still shining when she threw her blankets aside to breach the single inch that their bodies were still separated by. His lips were still parting when Penelo brought herself closer. And his cheeks were flaming an even deeper shade of red when Penelo twisted her fingers into his shirt's coarse collar, pulling him close to her in a way only one other boy had ever been.
But as soon as she used her new-found leverage to lift Larsa off his feet and slam his entire body against the wall next to her bed, he didn't look quite so enchanted by what could come next. Fascinating, wasn’t it, how that worked?
"That depends," Penelo snarled, "on just how you plan to get lucky."
***
Author's Note: Though it might be breaking the fourth wall, I feel as though I should come right out and declare that, Penelo's hysterical denial to the contrary, Larsa pretty much is a teenager at this point. (Being 3 weeks from 13 is close enough, right?) I have to admit that it's a bit of a change from my earlier plans, yes... but I can promise you that writing and reading him this way will be a hell of a lot more fun. If also significantly more traumatizing in the long run.
...Poor Penelo. Poor, poor Penelo. And, in the next part, even poorer Larsa. ;)
And before anyone lays it on me for having Larsa be incredibly creepy with the touching-Penelo-while-she’s-sleeping-thing… well, yes. I’m pretty sure it’s patently impossible to have Vayne Solidor as a brother and be well-adjusted at the same time. Not to mention, Larsa’s always been more than a little touch-starved in his daily life. Who the hell could possibly hug him in Archades-- the giant, mobile suits of armor that always address him by his title or his psychopathic and kill-happy family? He’s going a bit overboard with Penelo, yes, but keep in mind that he’s still thrilled at the thought of socially acceptable physical contact with another human being. He’ll scale back soon enough… at least if Penelo’s throttling leaves any effect!
Also since I'm planning on laying out most of Larsa's motivations on the line in the next chapter, I just wanted to ask what my readers think drives him before hand and reward the first person who gets it perfectly right with a little something. ;) Just why do you (my current and no doubt very patient reader) think Larsa is pushing for a marriage at a ridiculously early age? And what exactly do you think attracts him to Penelo in the first place?