Final Fantasy XII (Larsa/Penelo)
“…of course I do feel badly for Lady Scherada, but it’s her own fault for coming in blue when red is so the popular colour this season, and blue doesn’t really suit her all that well in the first place-…”
Only the knowledge that fidgeting was a very dangerous habit to pick up kept Larsa deceptively still in his seat. He nodded absently at the dark haired girl talking at him, wondering if it was wrong of him to hope for an assassination attempt that would put him out of his misery.
“…the Tantalus performing troupe is supposed to be coming to Archadia in the fall and I told papa to get me tickets but he says-…”
She was pretty enough, Larsa supposed, but her vapid nattering was setting his teeth on edge. It was completely beyond him why this girl’s parents had thought it was a good idea to set her sights on him, of all people. Not that he didn’t have a very clear understanding of the power he’d be giving any family he married into, but they had to know that the competition for the queenship was far stiffer than this. Half the girls in the royal court had tried at one point or another. And he wasn’t even that old yet.
“Oh! I love this song!” She gave him a shy glance through dark lashes. “Do you like to dance, Lord Larsa?”
Regrettably, Larsa had no interest in any of them.
He offered her a gentle smile. “Enchanting as that sounds, I fear I have other duties to attend to at present.” He stood smoothly, bowing at just the right angle. “You’ve been a lovely companion.”
The girl - Tiliana, he remembered - pouted prettily. “Must you go?” she asked, leaning forward to give him a good look at both her half-naked bosom and the costly ruby brooch pinned to the front of her red dress.
“Unfortunately yes,” Larsa admitted, years at court making it easy to say so with a straight face. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Tiliana. Please enjoy the rest of the evening.”
He swept down the dais before she could think up a protest, face a mask of polite indifference. One of his personal guard made as if to follow, but Larsa waved him off discreetly. He wasn’t going far, after all.
The room swirled with colour and light, bright skirts flaring in graceful patterns as dancers tripped across the marble tiles. Larsa weaved lightly through the crowds, pace hampered by frequent pauses to exchange pleasantries with dignitaries and other notable guests. It was something he’d long grown used to after having grown up at court, and Larsa played his role easily, outwardly calm and genial despite the frustrated scream clawing at the back of his throat.
It was refreshingly cool on the balcony when he finally escaped, moonlight and shadows a stark contrast to the yellow lights inside. Larsa let out the breath he’d been holding with a sigh, wandering over to the edge of the balcony and listening to the strains of music flowing mutedly after him. Heavy marble was cold beneath his arms as he leaned against the banister, the chill leeching through his sleeves and seeping into his skin. Not minding it after the stuffy ballroom, Larsa leaned out over the banister to watch his city sleep, the wink of lights within dark buildings nearly as distant as the stars from this height.
A soft step and the smell of women’s perfume interrupted his hard won solitude.
“You don’t seem to be enjoying the party, Milord.”
The tone was soft, and appropriately submissive for the court, but it rang dissonantly in Larsa’s ears, far too familiar to be easily dismissed.
He was smiling immediately, the expression far more genuine than any of the other times he’d tried it tonight. “Perhaps I might be convinced to enjoy myself more were the guests of a different… caliber,” he suggested, letting his smile reach his eyes as he turned smoothly. “Good evening Penelo. It’s good to see you again.”
Her lips twitched into a smile. “You too Larsa. It’s been too long.”
She looked lovely tonight, dressed for the ball in a pale yellow gown that was high at the waist and loose in the sleeves, long white gloves showing through the gossamer threads. Her hair was down for once and Larsa noticed that it was longer than he’d thought, framing her face in soft waves that shone almost white in the moonlight.
Larsa stepped forward away from the bannister. “What brings you to Archadia?” he asked, more than just polite conversation.
Penelo’s eyes sparkled with merry amusement. “I wanted to check in on you?” she suggested.
“I see,” Larsa responded dryly. “And since you happened to be in the area - and up to no good most likely - you thought you’d drop by.”
“Drat,” she sighed, not sounding in the least put out. “You’ve found me out. Why do you have to be so clever?”
A sardonic tilt of his head. “Aside from keeping my skin intact while I rebuild this country from the ground up?” He gave her a dazzling smile that would have had the girl inside falling all over herself in a heartbeat. “To keep up with you of course, my dear Penelo.”
She made a face at him. “Flatterer.” A smattering of applause echoed from inside, commendations for the musicians as one song ended and another began. “Although I must admit I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy to speak with you. Shouldn’t you be inside?”
Larsa shrugged. “Not immediately. I usually take a few moments to myself during evenings such as this.” He grinned cheekily, knowing it made him look younger but not needing to care for once. “And the fact that I haven’t tried to run away yet means my guards aren’t as particular about being around all the time.”
Penelo smiled, but her eyes were sympathetic. “This place is suffocating to you, isn’t it?” she asked, far too understanding to deserve anything other than the truth.
“Sometimes,” Larsa admitted, turning slightly to gaze at the darkened tapestry of Arcadia spilling out beyond where they stood. “But I belong here. This country and these people are my home. And I want to help them.” He glanced back at Penelo wryly. “Which means I need enough patience to survive boring parties.”
She chuckled, a rich, warm sound that reminded Larsa of the sun over Bhujerba. “Well, I’m glad I’m here to help you with that then.” The gentle strains of a waltz teased along the breeze as Penelo held out one white-gloved hand, palm up. “May I have this dance Milord?”
His hair swished along his jaw as he bowed low. “It would be a pleasure, my lady.”
Larsa reached for her hand and Penelo stepped in to him, eyes shining in the darkness as he arranged them appropriately and they began to dance. Penelo was all willowy grace and smooth strength in his arms, beautiful as she always was when in motion. Her dress whispered faintly as they flowed across the balcony, brushing against his legs and swaying in time with the music. Her gloves were satiny soft under his fingers, but Larsa could guess at the scars and calluses that etched the hands beneath.
She was still taller than him, Larsa noticed, although not by nearly as much as she had been the last time he’d seen her. But Penelo didn’t seem to mind tilting her head down to see him and, when she was smiling at him like that, Larsa couldn’t really bring himself to mind either.
And so they danced, until all too soon the melody faded into the darkness, leaving behind only companionable silence and the sigh of the wind. Regret twinged briefly in Larsa’s chest as he slowed them to a stop, releasing Penelo’s hand to bow respectfully. “Thank you for the dance.”
He could hear Penelo’s smile in her voice. “The pleasure was mine,” she murmured, and when she curtsied Larsa could see the tips of brown leather boots peeking out from under the hem of her delicate dress.
Larsa straightened with a smile. “You look lovely when you dance,” he told her honestly, admiring the becoming flush his words put on her cheeks.
She smiled again, helplessly. “And you’re an awful flatterer. But at least you dance well.”
A flare of light in the darkness made Larsa turn, and he raised an eyebrow at the colourful array of explosions streaking across the midnight sky. Odd. He hadn’t commissioned any fireworks for this evening…
“Oh!” Penelo’s hand curled around his shoulder as she leaned past him to look. “That’s my cue!”
She turned to him with an apologetic smile, hair catching the light from the fireworks in a cascade of red and blue and gold. “Sorry Larsa,” she said. “I’ll try to make sure I have enough time for a proper visit the next time I come.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” he promised solemnly.
Her radiant smile did some dangerous things to his pulse. “Good,” she murmured, stepping forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I will too.”
Larsa blinked and Penelo gave him an impish smile and a raised eyebrow. Then she was gone, edging past a red clad guest at the balcony door to melt into the swirling crowd beyond. Larsa watched the graceful sway of her hips as she went, feeling unaccountably warm for having been stood on the balcony for the last half hour.
He stood for a moment, staring after the spot where Penelo had disappeared, then jerked his thoughts back abruptly as he realized he was not alone. Arranging his expression into something blandly pleasant, he glanced at the rather put-out looking young woman standing in the doorway. “Ah, Lady Tiliana,” he greeted courteously. “How nice to see you again. I trust you are enjoying yourself?”
“Yes,” she answered, fluttering her eyelashes at him even though it must have made it difficult for her to see in the dark night. “Although…I was hoping to ask you again for that dance.”
Larsa very deliberately did not sigh, contenting himself with the brief moment of peace he’d just shared. “It would be a pleasure,” he lied, stepping forward to offer her his arm. “Shall we?”
Tiliana giggled and slipped her arm in his, pressing as close as she dared. Larsa glanced over with a polite smile then paused, blinking as he stared at the front of her red dress.
Misinterpreting the look entirely, Tiliana preened happily, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the large ruby she’d been showing off earlier was conspicuously absent.
Suppressing a smile and a roll of his eyes, Larsa led Tiliana back into the brightly lit ballroom, absently wondering if Penelo would be wearing that brooch the next time she came to visit.
~owari
Only the knowledge that fidgeting was a very dangerous habit to pick up kept Larsa deceptively still in his seat. He nodded absently at the dark haired girl talking at him, wondering if it was wrong of him to hope for an assassination attempt that would put him out of his misery.
“…the Tantalus performing troupe is supposed to be coming to Archadia in the fall and I told papa to get me tickets but he says-…”
She was pretty enough, Larsa supposed, but her vapid nattering was setting his teeth on edge. It was completely beyond him why this girl’s parents had thought it was a good idea to set her sights on him, of all people. Not that he didn’t have a very clear understanding of the power he’d be giving any family he married into, but they had to know that the competition for the queenship was far stiffer than this. Half the girls in the royal court had tried at one point or another. And he wasn’t even that old yet.
“Oh! I love this song!” She gave him a shy glance through dark lashes. “Do you like to dance, Lord Larsa?”
Regrettably, Larsa had no interest in any of them.
He offered her a gentle smile. “Enchanting as that sounds, I fear I have other duties to attend to at present.” He stood smoothly, bowing at just the right angle. “You’ve been a lovely companion.”
The girl - Tiliana, he remembered - pouted prettily. “Must you go?” she asked, leaning forward to give him a good look at both her half-naked bosom and the costly ruby brooch pinned to the front of her red dress.
“Unfortunately yes,” Larsa admitted, years at court making it easy to say so with a straight face. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Tiliana. Please enjoy the rest of the evening.”
He swept down the dais before she could think up a protest, face a mask of polite indifference. One of his personal guard made as if to follow, but Larsa waved him off discreetly. He wasn’t going far, after all.
The room swirled with colour and light, bright skirts flaring in graceful patterns as dancers tripped across the marble tiles. Larsa weaved lightly through the crowds, pace hampered by frequent pauses to exchange pleasantries with dignitaries and other notable guests. It was something he’d long grown used to after having grown up at court, and Larsa played his role easily, outwardly calm and genial despite the frustrated scream clawing at the back of his throat.
It was refreshingly cool on the balcony when he finally escaped, moonlight and shadows a stark contrast to the yellow lights inside. Larsa let out the breath he’d been holding with a sigh, wandering over to the edge of the balcony and listening to the strains of music flowing mutedly after him. Heavy marble was cold beneath his arms as he leaned against the banister, the chill leeching through his sleeves and seeping into his skin. Not minding it after the stuffy ballroom, Larsa leaned out over the banister to watch his city sleep, the wink of lights within dark buildings nearly as distant as the stars from this height.
A soft step and the smell of women’s perfume interrupted his hard won solitude.
“You don’t seem to be enjoying the party, Milord.”
The tone was soft, and appropriately submissive for the court, but it rang dissonantly in Larsa’s ears, far too familiar to be easily dismissed.
He was smiling immediately, the expression far more genuine than any of the other times he’d tried it tonight. “Perhaps I might be convinced to enjoy myself more were the guests of a different… caliber,” he suggested, letting his smile reach his eyes as he turned smoothly. “Good evening Penelo. It’s good to see you again.”
Her lips twitched into a smile. “You too Larsa. It’s been too long.”
She looked lovely tonight, dressed for the ball in a pale yellow gown that was high at the waist and loose in the sleeves, long white gloves showing through the gossamer threads. Her hair was down for once and Larsa noticed that it was longer than he’d thought, framing her face in soft waves that shone almost white in the moonlight.
Larsa stepped forward away from the bannister. “What brings you to Archadia?” he asked, more than just polite conversation.
Penelo’s eyes sparkled with merry amusement. “I wanted to check in on you?” she suggested.
“I see,” Larsa responded dryly. “And since you happened to be in the area - and up to no good most likely - you thought you’d drop by.”
“Drat,” she sighed, not sounding in the least put out. “You’ve found me out. Why do you have to be so clever?”
A sardonic tilt of his head. “Aside from keeping my skin intact while I rebuild this country from the ground up?” He gave her a dazzling smile that would have had the girl inside falling all over herself in a heartbeat. “To keep up with you of course, my dear Penelo.”
She made a face at him. “Flatterer.” A smattering of applause echoed from inside, commendations for the musicians as one song ended and another began. “Although I must admit I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy to speak with you. Shouldn’t you be inside?”
Larsa shrugged. “Not immediately. I usually take a few moments to myself during evenings such as this.” He grinned cheekily, knowing it made him look younger but not needing to care for once. “And the fact that I haven’t tried to run away yet means my guards aren’t as particular about being around all the time.”
Penelo smiled, but her eyes were sympathetic. “This place is suffocating to you, isn’t it?” she asked, far too understanding to deserve anything other than the truth.
“Sometimes,” Larsa admitted, turning slightly to gaze at the darkened tapestry of Arcadia spilling out beyond where they stood. “But I belong here. This country and these people are my home. And I want to help them.” He glanced back at Penelo wryly. “Which means I need enough patience to survive boring parties.”
She chuckled, a rich, warm sound that reminded Larsa of the sun over Bhujerba. “Well, I’m glad I’m here to help you with that then.” The gentle strains of a waltz teased along the breeze as Penelo held out one white-gloved hand, palm up. “May I have this dance Milord?”
His hair swished along his jaw as he bowed low. “It would be a pleasure, my lady.”
Larsa reached for her hand and Penelo stepped in to him, eyes shining in the darkness as he arranged them appropriately and they began to dance. Penelo was all willowy grace and smooth strength in his arms, beautiful as she always was when in motion. Her dress whispered faintly as they flowed across the balcony, brushing against his legs and swaying in time with the music. Her gloves were satiny soft under his fingers, but Larsa could guess at the scars and calluses that etched the hands beneath.
She was still taller than him, Larsa noticed, although not by nearly as much as she had been the last time he’d seen her. But Penelo didn’t seem to mind tilting her head down to see him and, when she was smiling at him like that, Larsa couldn’t really bring himself to mind either.
And so they danced, until all too soon the melody faded into the darkness, leaving behind only companionable silence and the sigh of the wind. Regret twinged briefly in Larsa’s chest as he slowed them to a stop, releasing Penelo’s hand to bow respectfully. “Thank you for the dance.”
He could hear Penelo’s smile in her voice. “The pleasure was mine,” she murmured, and when she curtsied Larsa could see the tips of brown leather boots peeking out from under the hem of her delicate dress.
Larsa straightened with a smile. “You look lovely when you dance,” he told her honestly, admiring the becoming flush his words put on her cheeks.
She smiled again, helplessly. “And you’re an awful flatterer. But at least you dance well.”
A flare of light in the darkness made Larsa turn, and he raised an eyebrow at the colourful array of explosions streaking across the midnight sky. Odd. He hadn’t commissioned any fireworks for this evening…
“Oh!” Penelo’s hand curled around his shoulder as she leaned past him to look. “That’s my cue!”
She turned to him with an apologetic smile, hair catching the light from the fireworks in a cascade of red and blue and gold. “Sorry Larsa,” she said. “I’ll try to make sure I have enough time for a proper visit the next time I come.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” he promised solemnly.
Her radiant smile did some dangerous things to his pulse. “Good,” she murmured, stepping forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I will too.”
Larsa blinked and Penelo gave him an impish smile and a raised eyebrow. Then she was gone, edging past a red clad guest at the balcony door to melt into the swirling crowd beyond. Larsa watched the graceful sway of her hips as she went, feeling unaccountably warm for having been stood on the balcony for the last half hour.
He stood for a moment, staring after the spot where Penelo had disappeared, then jerked his thoughts back abruptly as he realized he was not alone. Arranging his expression into something blandly pleasant, he glanced at the rather put-out looking young woman standing in the doorway. “Ah, Lady Tiliana,” he greeted courteously. “How nice to see you again. I trust you are enjoying yourself?”
“Yes,” she answered, fluttering her eyelashes at him even though it must have made it difficult for her to see in the dark night. “Although…I was hoping to ask you again for that dance.”
Larsa very deliberately did not sigh, contenting himself with the brief moment of peace he’d just shared. “It would be a pleasure,” he lied, stepping forward to offer her his arm. “Shall we?”
Tiliana giggled and slipped her arm in his, pressing as close as she dared. Larsa glanced over with a polite smile then paused, blinking as he stared at the front of her red dress.
Misinterpreting the look entirely, Tiliana preened happily, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the large ruby she’d been showing off earlier was conspicuously absent.
Suppressing a smile and a roll of his eyes, Larsa led Tiliana back into the brightly lit ballroom, absently wondering if Penelo would be wearing that brooch the next time she came to visit.
~owari