Shackles We Bear
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XII or any of the characters there within. They are property of Squaresoft, etc.
It was unlike Fran to show patience as the restraints were fitted to her wrists. Normally, when he and Fran were captured, an escape maneuver was already in sway—Balthier would have obtained a weapon by now and the person cuffing the viera would soon see the floor up close. The viera warrior never took well to being tied up; but since their numbers had grown from a versatile two to a bulky, uncoordinated five, a smooth getaway was out of the question.
Balthier did not miss the spiteful gaze of his companion as the Imperial locked the restraint on her wrists. Even the guard appeared uneasy with that tall figure promising retribution in those smoldering crimson eyes. Sighting a potential scene from the imposing Imperial, Baltheir slid between the pair of them.
"My cuffs seem a tad tight, would you mind loosening them a bit for me?"
The guard scowled and gave the pirate a forceful spin around with the butt of his lance.
"Get on with you," he growled heatedly, shoving into Balthier's shoulder blade with unnecessary force.
"All right, all right, no need to be so pushy; I am already cuffed, you know."
The Imperial gave him one last brusque push for the airy comment as the group was herded forward like a flock of cockatrices. Walking beside Fran, he leaned slightly toward her and whispered in a not so quiet tone. "And here I thought Imperials were supposed to be more regal or some such." Fran flashed Balthier a small smile. Oh, how he lived for that.
"Quiet you!" the guard demanded.
"My, my," Balthier continued unfazed, "and they eavesdrop too. Very unbecoming of the Imperialist Guard."
"Sir, permission to execute." The irked man called over their heads. Fran's expression changed on the spot. She cast a meaningful glance in Balthier's direction; he had strung the soldier a little too tightly and the string was going to snap. The head Imperialist made an unenthused stopping gesture without bothering to turn about.
"Denied. Judge Ghis wants to speak with them first."
Balthier clicked his tongue with a shake of his head; casting a sidelong glance at his tormentor.
"Too rash, you'll never make Captain that way."
The guard had been needled one time too many and the sharp end of his lance swung down on the sky pirate. A loud clang resounded in the hold as all turned to see the furious guard thrown off balance from the blow that glanced off Fran's restraints.
"Walen!" the commanding officer shouted, infuriated. "What do you think your doing? Did I not just tell you they are wanted alive? You have trouble hearing, soldier? Until you can follow orders, you will be put back into basic training."
During the counts for insubordination, Fran nudged Balthier with her elbow.
"Removing guards one at a time is not a good plan."
He shrugged innocently. "Thought I'd give it a try."
Vaan had joined the two in the confusion and looked with anxiety at Balthier.
"What are you doing? You're going to get us killed."
"We're like to meet that fate at the end of this walk. I'm only trying to make our lives a little more manageable." He responded in quieter tones as the guards regrouped with, he noted amiably, one less in their ranks. Vaan did not appear reassured as they were all ushered forward again.
"You are too rash." Fran said in undertones, obviously made unhappy at the sky pirate's nonchalance of the life-endangering experience.
"That's why I have you here, to balance that particular ghastly trait…and to save my neck." He smiled at her. She shook her head lightly with a barely perceptible sigh. He lived for that too.
The party had just parted company with Judge Ghis, leaving Balthier unnerved and oddly cold about his comment on Doctor Cid. What could the mad doctor be up to now?
"The Judge's words upset you." Fran said from beside him. Balthier hummed a soft agreement.
"It seems fate does run in circles."
Fran glanced down at her restraints and tested their strength. They held firm. Still, the lock was an abysmal piece of technology and she made quick work to loosen it just to the point of falling open. Balthier could have undone his some time ago without entirely releasing the harness for wandering Imperial eyes to see, but he appeared too distracted for such a menial task. That thoughtless mention of Doctor Cid had sent the sky pirate into a momentary relapse—to question why precisely he had gone down to the palace's golden riches for that particular treasure a common street thief had beaten them to.
Fran sighed softly once more. "The path you have chosen will see you to him again."
Balthier looked up at Fran, seeming to already grasp the truth to her words. She returned his gaze, that difficult gaze that Balthier had not been able to puzzle out. He dropped his eyes. "The same fatal obsession runs through my veins."
Fran was silent.
The sky pirate gazed at his own bindings. Mediocre in their design, the cuffs would be easy enough to unclasp; unlike the chains the good Doctor had set upon him since his youth. In his early years, the promising young lad was educated in one of the finest institutions of Arcadia, where he learned of history, geography, physics, law, and etiquette; while outside instruction came from his father. He knew the distinct dissimilarities between magicite and nethicite, as well as manufacted nethicite. He recognized a true nethicite stone from a base imitation. He was well acquainted with stories of the Sun-Cryst and its supreme power. This lofty legend of the Dynast-King and his three stones cut from the Sun-Cryst was made history at Doctor Cid's discovery. That fateful day the Doctor went to Giruvegan was the day Ffamran lost the father he once knew and held dear.
Though Balthier did not share his father's deep-seated interest in research of the magical stones, he developed other useful abilities. Blathier was endowed a silver tongue and what was worse—he knew he possessed such a weapon. More often than not, people would trip and stumble over themselves to bestow his wants at his feet. With flamboyantly lavish words of grandeur and the inherent aristocracy of the Archadian gentry rolling pleasantly off his tongue to fall sweetly in the ears of the simple pedestrian, he always got what he wanted. So it was unusual for him to feel guilt; perhaps it was due to his graceful decent into age and the maturity that came with it, or it might have been because of the partner that had borne familiarity in him; a bond of trust and companionship (and a dash of tenacity) that made them a team.
A particularly interesting hunt that fetched a high price sent Balthier on a quest to obtain a Dalmascan family heirloom. Rumor had it that the Goddess Magicite was hidden in twisting corridors Rabanastre's castle and he recognized the Dusk Shard at once in the hands of that thieving boy. He was not going to leave without it. And he always got what he wanted. He still had not informed Fran of his discovery, the true potential of the Goddess Magicite, the stone's authenticity to legend. The risk should have been made clearer to him—life-threatening events meant little, he and Fran often squeezed out of them with everything intact; life, body and prize; however, he risked his groomed restraint of the obsession—the folly of his father. Fran understood that Humes could not be perfect, but this particular weakness was destructive in every sense of the word. It destroyed lives, the mind…significant relationships. Though Balthier may have claimed he was not like his father in that horrible obsession, he stood before them all, a silent hypocrite. Guilt. What a positively dastardly feeling.
Fran's head shot up with a sharp inhale of breath, causing Balthier to glance over at her. The viera often surprised him with how well she could read his emotions.
"Fran, what is it?" he moved so that he could stand beside her. She did not answer him right away. Her breathing was becoming quick and short. Balthier knew he should be worried when she winced and spoke as though it was a laborious task.
"The stone, it is being shut away. They try to take its power." An exclamation startled him as Fran's posture slunk downward and cringed in pain. She made no effort to hide her discomfort now. "Burning. Burning."
Balthier instinctively came forward in effort to calm her in any way he could, but she shied from his touch and quickly shook her head.
"N-No," she stammered through eyes filled with pain, "please, stay back."
By now, Balthier knew Fran meant something significant was going to happen and he obeyed her without question. Vaan and his girl on the other hand, were completely oblivious to this obvious position of threat.
"Fran?"
"Such heat," she gasped between labored pants, "the Mist—it's burning!" she fell to her knees. An Imperial shoved Vaan aside and demanded that Fran stand. Balthier was quick to snatch the boy and girl by a shoulder and pull them back, away from viera and soldier. Penelo followed the unvoiced command easily enough, though Vaan proved slightly more resistant. The boy wanted to question Balthier for such rough treatment, but was interrupted by the shout of Vossler.
"Hold her down!"
"Wrong answer." Balthier muttered as he released the pair he had pulled to safety.
Fran screamed, utterly incensed, and ripped free of her metallic bonds as though tearing a sheaf of paper. In a violently precise charge, she brought down all of the soldiers, leaping from one to the next with deadly accuracy and dealing even deadlier blows. The viera warrior's hand to hand combat was outstanding, to say the least, though the Imperials hardly had time to raise a fist to her. Blood marred the face of one soldier who dared fight back as the frenzied viera slashed at his face with long, sharp nails.
Balthier took the opportunity to fiddle with the lock on his restraints. A twist here, a turn there, a push on the spring and he was free.
"What's wrong with her?" Penelo asked fearfully, shocked by the sudden, horrific transformation in Fran.
"I always knew Fran didn't take well to being tied up." He said as a soldier landed ungracefully on the floor beside them and made no move to get up again. "I just never knew how much." Balthier lightly tapped Ashe with the back of his hand when he noticed she was the last of the party still bound. "How about you?"
"I like Fran's idea. Let's get out of here."
The sky pirate made quick work of her restraints and they fell to the floor with a loud clang. No longer imprisoned, the party was free to make their escape. His eyes shot toward Fran, she was still crouched down like a wild creature; still berserk with rage. Balthier was unsure if she was ready to be pacified, she may need time yet, but they did not have much time to spare.
Cautiously walking to her, Balthier extended a hand and smiled a soft smile, a smile he normally reserved for his most devastatingly influential entreaties. She glared up at him.
"Betrayer." She snarled. He was startled by the comment. It took him a moment to discern that she no longer looked at him, but over his shoulder—over to Vossler. In the next moment, Fran darted after Vaan as the boy dashed bravely at the traitor; Basch not far behind. The viera, however, overtook them both and was the first to lay a blow on Vossler. And he, likewise, managed to strike her thigh with his sword as she recoiled from her air strike. The action angered Balthier and he charged forward as well, promising to return the ungentlemanly assault on his trusted companion.
Fran seemed perfectly capable of delivering her own righteous justice; though injured, she did not let up her ruthless attack, even when Vossler caught her again on one arm. The second assailing strike sent Fran stumbling back to regain balance. Others moved in to take her place, swarming the fierce soldier. The viera made no more attempts to dismember the guards, heavily favoring her injured arm to the fight that did not last long after.
Vossler fell at last, overwhelmed by the party, and Balthier took no more interest in him as his eyes sought Fran once more. She crouched still, a little ways from everyone, still heaving and nursing her bleeding arm.
He came as close as he dared and knelt before her, speaking in soft tones.
"Fran, are you all right?" Obviously she wasn't, but his calm might become hers. Or at least he hoped it would. Her head moved sharply up at his gentle words, her pupils narrowed to slits, her expression severe. He saw his own folly in her eyes; her hatred for the humes who sought nothing but power and disregarded the willing rape of Mist to obtain and secure that power. She knew his story. She knew of his father and how this fatal fascination with nethicite ran through his veins, as was bestowed upon him from his father.
You are to blame.
Those eyes seemed to say, and he could not deny it. Balthier took a deep, steadying breath.
"I know Fran," he continued even more softly, "but that is not who I am, and this is not who you are. Come back to us, Fran. Come back to me. Together we will right these wrongs, change this world for the better." The severe slant of her eyes was shifting, her curling lips falling slowly back into place. "Together we will conquer our enemies and keep our freedom. I can't fly alone—I can't imagine going back to that. Think how quiet that airship would be." Was that a small smile? "Come back, Fran."
Her body shuddered once and she closed her eyes with a tremulous exhale.
"Balthier."
She swayed dangerously, but he had her arm across his shoulders in the next instant and was helping her to stand.
"There's a girl, come on up now," he could not keep the note of relief from his voice. He fished in his pocket for a potion; the last of his stock. Items did not last long in a party of five, he thought grimly. He handed her the vial and she weakly accepted it. The potion would restore a little of her strength, but the wounds had to be properly treated for, else they scar.
She downed the potion in one gulp and returned the empty vial to him which he stowed back in his pocket.
"Forgive me." She whispered almost too softly for him to hear.
"There's nothing to forgive." Balthier said, giving her another smile which she returned.
"Hey you two, hurry it up!" Vaan shouted unmindfully.
"You've the manners of an ill-tempered Westersand cactaur." He retorted to the blonde boy. "Let's have you carry Fran then, and I shout the orders?"
Vaan sheepishly shrugged an apology and continued to run. His girl, on the other hand, glanced back and skidded to a stop; doubling back to the sky pirates. She retrieved an item from her front pockets as she ran. Balthier curiously watched her approach.
"I'm sorry, Vaan can be so oblivious."
Balthier smiled at her, causing her to unconsciously bite her to lower lip.
"So I've gathered."
The girl giggled; a high giddy sound.
"Here, Fran can have this. I-I was going to save it just in case, but, Fran looks like she needs it more." Penelo said in a rush and quickly offered up the vial. "I-It's a Hi-Potion."
Surprise flashed across Balthier's features. How did she come across this? The potions were rare, and where they were plentiful, they were outrageously expensive. Fran accepted the potion without a second thought and so Balthier spoke for the both of them.
"You have my deepest gratitude." He said with a slight incline of his head, his eyes never leaving the girl's. He was certain of the blush across her cheeks now. Beside him, Fran was more stable on her feet and the weight she had leaned on Balthier lifted.
"Better?" he inquired of the viera softly. The warrior nodded, an unvoiced "better, but still hurting", as the ship gave a great lurch, reminding them that they were not long hanging in the sky. "Time to move." His arm still around Fran, Balthier looked to Penelo. "Go, we'll catch up to you. I won't have either of you on my conscience." The girl started and took off like a shot, casting a single anxious glance at the pair of them. Must have learned it escaping Imperials on the street.
Once she was out of earshot, Balthier glanced at Fran.
"Vaan is right though. I'm afraid we will have to step it up a bit. Can you manage it?"
"Of course." Fran said determinedly, though she still winced to putting weight on her right leg.
"Right, we've been in worse scrapes." Balthier spoke to distract her as much to distract himself as he pushed them both into a loping trot. "Remember the time we were grilling that undercover Imperial for information when he called for backup, then we made our grand escape on the hovercycle right into that full rank of soldiers and we knocked Judge Ghis right onto that pile of cockatrice leavings?"
"And it appears he has not forgotten who pushed him into it." Fran smiled more broadly now as she referenced the not so distant image of that same Judge's sword at Balthier's neck.
"Oh, it was an innocent nudge; really, the man can't stand on his own two legs."
"Nudge? You shoved him over!"
Fran laughed with Balthier at the memory, and oh, how he lived for that.
Author's Note: Balthier and Fran make such a cute couple--I adored them at the very start; I really hope I captured their characaters. Writing dialogue for Balthier was so much fun! I simply must do it again sometime...(And Balthier is SEX-E)
Yes, I realize there are some transgressions with this story and official cutscene's there, but I tried to explain some occurances. Notice that Balthier wasn't beside Fran when she started going into her berserk rage (though Vaan and Penelo were when the first guard was hit). Among other's which I will not point out! Haha, I still like to laugh at how much talking was going on while the ship was going down. I myself personally, would be running for my life, injuries and all, go figure.
Judge Ghis seemed especially mad at Balthier; I just HAD to make a reason as to why. (impish grin)
I hope you enjoyed and will please review!
Blackfire 18