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Message from the resident crazy. Or author. Whichever you prefer: So. It’s been like… Oh, 4 years since I’ve written –anything- that falls into the fanfiction category. I’ve done some original writing since then (NaNoWriMo and the like) but that’s noticeably different then writing fanfiction, as fanfiction you have to keep within boundaries you didn’t set yourself, heh.
I rediscovered my account the other day (through my younger sister in fact, who thought it’d be cute to see if I had an account here on the name I used to go by, Dark Angel Himeko) Feeling remarkably nostalgic and slightly shocked after reading through my old fics (“Did I REALLY right this trash?!”), I decided to try my hand at retouching an old hobby with some updates – Such as a better grasp on the English language (Gogohighschool!) and a slightly more mature outlook on everything.
Oh, and new victims… Err. Subjects. Yes, subjects.
I played through Final Fantasy XII days after purchasing it, which would’ve been sooner, but I am a habitual FFXI Online player; the game was a major reason I stopped writing fanfics altogether in the first place when I first started my Mithra on Lakshmi server three massive years ago. Regardless, after finishing XII for the first time (and consecutive times afterwards), I found myself dissatisfied with the ending. I mean, it had some redeeming points, for sure (and wrenched my heart with the scene with Basch and his brother) but all in all, I felt it left way too much open ended.
So, after much contemplating and pondering, I decided to try my luck and write. So, consider this an open-ended experiment.
-- Nivys
Shadows
Chapter 00: Gold
“I just don’t understand it.” Vaan leaned his forehead against the hull of his precious ship, a severe headache pounding behind his eyes.
“There’s no reason the ship shouldn’t be able to fly. Everything is in perfect order, even the Moogles at the ‘dome have said so.” Penelo stared intently at the stack of papers balanced neatly on her crossed ankles; the same all-green readings the Airship Technicians had gotten when they checked over the ship.
“I’ve heard some of the merc’s fighter ships are having troubles. Some can’t even get theirs to start, much less fly!” Liam, one of the many orphans who had previous resided in Lowtown, amended while he perched himself atop a crate in the hangar, hoping to escape the absurd heat Rabanastre suffered through during summer months.
“Why? There’s nothing interfering with the Royal Fleet! Larsa’s ship flew in just fine for the ceremony…” Vaan looked thoughtful.
“It seems entirely random. Fighter-class ships and cargo-transports are knocked out all the same. There’s stories floating around about a ancient being furious in the Barheim Passage, ooooh” Liam made a vaguely zombie-like gesture, and Vaan snorted derogatorily, while Penelo giggled knowingly.
“There’s nothing ancient left unturned in that passage. Trust me.” Penelo smiled again, remembering the chaos that ensued when they had first noticed the undead deeper in the passage were noticeably stronger. And when they had woke Zalera from his deep sleep.
“How would you two know?!” Liam pouted, a childish gesture for his upstanding fourteen years.
“We were there.” The new Sky Pirates replied in unison, and smirked at each other.
“One of my favorite of Basch’s stories, Barheim. Nothing like imagining you all running for your lives from about forty aggravated bombs.” A new voice joined the conversation, and Penelo and Vaan leapt up.
“Larsa!”
The young emperor waved and moved aside to allow his Judge Magister to pass by. “Basch!” The young crew practically tackled the Captain, having not seen him since he first left for Archadia.
“And for the record,” Penelo said with a frown, “It was Ashe who failed to notice magick made the bombs aggressive.” She grinned again and the collected group laughed, excluding Liam, who looked vaguely star-struck.
“Anyway, joking aside, we came to see if you were coming to Ashe’s Coronation.” Larsa looked older now, less like the child Penelo had almost mistaken for a girl at first, but still obviously young.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Vaan turned back to his ship, and frowned, “We were just trying to figure out what’s grounded this bird.” He knocked a knuckle against the metal, and then winced and popped the bruised spot into his mouth.
“Our carrier flew in fine.” Larsa glanced at Basch, looking confused. When the armored man nodded, Larsa looked back. “Are you sure it’s not mechanical?”
“Positive, they’ve been pulling their hair out and harassing every moogle within five days walking distance.” Liam finally spoke up, jumping down from his perch. “Anyway, later Vaan, ‘nelo. I’ve got work to do.” He mock saluted Basch and marched out, leaving the assembled friends shaking their heads.
“Funny kid.” Basch commented, absently brushing fingers through his short blonde hair.
“Good kid.” Vaan wiped the oil off his hands with a much-abused rag, and dropped it next to the ship, “His brother was in Ondore’s resistance fleet. Killed in the line of duty. Parents died trying to leave Rabanastre in a sandstorm.”
“Doesn’t let it get to him, though.” Penelo stretched, and linked her arms with Vaan and Larsa’s in a friendly gesture. “To the Palace?”
“To the Palace.” Larsa agreed.
“Aye, I know.” Balthier replied, polishing his Fomalhaut.
“You do not plan on going to see her?”
“Not at all. She’s got her place and I’ve got mine now.”
“Be as that may, you were friends. You should be there to support her.” Catalyna, the waitress at the Whitecap retorted, placing the pair’s drinks on the table and holding her tray to her chest. “Everyone knows what you did, Balthier. You saved Rabanastre.”
Balthier glanced up from his gun, looking thoughtfully at the tiny waitress. Despite looking (and acting, he mused as she tugged on her long wrist-thick black braid in irritation) remarkably young, the girl had just celebrated her 21st birthday, nine months after crashing her airship into the sea when the Glossair Rings failed. She and her three-man crew had taken up residency in Balfonheim, fusing themselves into the odd jobs the port town needed.
“You make a good point, Cat.”
“She makes those fairly often, you just don’t listen.” Fran defended, standing and hooking her bow onto its casing on her back.
“What is this, women-against-the-pirate day?” Balthier sighed dejectedly.
“Always!” The high-pitched voice of one of Cat’s crewmates (Balthier could never really remember which was which) shouted fro the kitchen, before the clear sound of a shattering dish cut through the noise. The furious roar of the tavernmaster, to which Cat grimaced, quickly followed it.
“Go, go to your princess. They miss you.” Cat gestured absent-mindedly, before spinning and dashing off to the kitchen to rescue her friend from likely murder.
Stepping in the sun, Balthier rolled his shoulders and glanced around. The streets were packed full of people, bartering, shouting, playing, and relaxing. Balfonheim came alive in the months following Vayne’s defeat.
The Strahl was anchored close to the docks, along with many other airships, and, on a floating barge, the broken fragments of a black hull. What was left of Cat’s Hellbender.
“One day…” Balthier mused, as the drop-hatch from his ship descended, “I’m going to ask her exactly how she managed to utterly and totally annihilate her ship like that. A ship designed as a war-class striker doesn’t fall apart if it hits water. Really.”
“No, it doesn’t. I doubt any of them would appreciate you reminding them of the ruin that has them stuck working at the Whitecap, though.”
“True.” Settling into the pilot’s seat, he thought of Vaan and the ship he was surely fawning over, still. “No self respecting pirate would shrug off anything happening to their ship, after all.”
Fran only nodded.
“Funny, I don’t feel it.” She pressed a hand to her jittery stomach, “I can rule just fine, but presenting myself in front of all these people…”
“They’re your people.” Penelo smiled warmly, touching Ashe’s shoulder. “They love you, Ashe. Like they loved your father. Trust me.”
“I’ve missed you Penelo. I understand we have our own worlds, but it’s just not the same without everyone here…” She gave a sidelong glance to the private balcony, where Basch, Larsa and Vaan discussed something that involved exaggerated gestures and stomping of feet.
“We’ve missed you too.” Penelo hugged her with one arm, before running off to find one of Ashe’s maids, shouting about more lace.
Tugging on the uncomfortable tied-up bodice of the dress, Ashe rose and strolled to where the men folk argued, and paused beside them, “May I inquire as to what has you all worked up?”
“Airships.” Vaan snapped edgily, and then grimaced, “Err, sorry Ashe. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“Speed versus safety in carriers, mostly.” Basch seemed to be the only one not worked up, though he obviously had opinions leaning towards safety.
“How about a fair balance of both?” Ashe looked thoughtful, tilting her head to one side.
“That would never happen. People push for one side or the other, and the Moogles can’t work miracles all the time.” Larsa tapped his fingers against his thigh in a restless gesture, and then looked out at the blue sky. “Perfect day for your coronation, Lady Ashe.”
“Everyone in the Palace is saying so, I suppose I should be glad.” Gathering up the thick skirts, she returned to her mirror, folding her dress carefully as to not send her maids into a fit.
“Mi’lady?” One of the aforementioned maids leaned her head into the room, “A airship landed outside the palace, the pilot claims he has a, ah… ‘special in’.”
A hushed silence fell over the room before Ashe rose a little too quickly, catching her heel on her dress and hearing the audible tear of lace. The maid’s face went flat, and Ashe almost stepped back like a reprimanded child. “Would this man be saying something about being the ‘leading man’?”
“Entirely possible. I just ran up here to tell you, mi’lady.”
“By the Gods then, let him in.”
“Yes ma’am.” The maid bowed once, stared intently at the tore lace, and then darted away with the soundless speed of a well-trained servant.
When the door swung open without a knock, and Balthier and Fran strolled in, as confident as ever, Ashe felt her throat catch. “Y-you look well.” She managed.
“And you look better then well.” Balthier smirked, “Suits you.”
“Not enough lace!” Penelo emerged from a back room, carrying a huge roll of hand-woven lace.
“Too much lace.” Ashe stopped her, gathering the bundle and depositing on the tabletop. “Actually Penelo… Could you cut the rim of lace out of the hem? I keep stepping on it.” Penelo paused for about a quarter of a second before diving whole-heartedly into fixing Ashe’s dress.
“Mi’lady.” The same maid as before knocked and leaned in, “Ten minutes.”
“Okay.” She rose abruptly, eliciting a startled yelp from Penelo. “Ack, sorry, sorry.” She helped her friend to her feet, and then dusted off her dress. “Here goes.” She inhaled deeply, shot a nervous glance towards Basch, and followed the maid out the door.
“If you guests would please follow me?” A second maid appeared, curtseying.
“Of course.” Larsa led the way, his Judge Magister close behind, and the other four following in a line, all there to support their friend on the first day of the rest of her life.
The Queen herself was blushing with pleasure, the fine silver circlet of rank glittering against her platinum blonde hair. She pressed her hands to her cheeks, and blushed brighter when she heard the cheer of “To the Queen!” cry from outside, in the streets, in the halls.
“I told you.” Penelo whispered knowingly into her ear as she filled the Queen’s glass with a rich red wine.
“Thank you.” Ashe whispered back, sincerely.
When the small device on Balthier’s belt beeped, he excused himself to the balcony to receive the message. And he came back inside looking shaken. “That was Elza. Balfonheim’s on fire.”
“Wait. How can a port by the sea be on fire?” Vaan looked confused.
“I have no idea, but it sounds bad. There’s been casualties already.” Balthier actually bowed, though barely, to Ashe, and added, “Sorry to cut your night short Princess, but Fran and I have to go.”
“I understand.” Ashe rose. “I’m going too.”
“Your Majesty…” Basch cut in.
“Those people helped me, helped us. It’s my turn. I’ll be ready to leave in five minutes.” And true to her word, Ashe was at the Strahl five minutes later, buckling on her trusted Durandal. Though they would’ve loved to take their own ship, Penelo and Vaan piled into Balthier’s ship along with the others (including Larsa, who also went against Basch) and felt a strong sense of déjà vu.
“Strahl, Strahl, come in. This is Rikken. The fires still raging on the Manse side of town, but it’s at least controlled near the Steppe.”
“Good to hear Rikken.” Balthier replied, as he guided the ship into the air towards Balfonheim. “Any chances of getting the Manse side under control?”
“It’s possible, but unlikely. We’ve got airships hauling out buckets of water but it doesn’t seem to be enough. But that’s not the problem Balthier.”
“Well, if that’s the good news…”
“No no, nothing like that. The problem is people are screaming arson.”
“No.” Fran joined the conversation. “That’s nonsensical. Even thought the people there may not be the best of friends, no one would willingly set Balfonheim alight.”
“That’s what Elza and I are saying, but no one seems to want to listen. Just get here as fast as you can, and bring some potions. We’ve got some badly hurt here.”
“Gurdy? Dyce?”
“All alive, though Gurdy lost one of her chocobos, and most of Dyce’s wares are ash.”
“It can’t be pretty for whoever’s dealing with them.”
“Not at all. Just get your ass here as fast as possible, we need you, and we need your ship.”
“Oh, what a sad day it is when I have to reduce the Strahl to carrying buckets like a tanker.”
Any other comment Balthier was about to make was cut off by the sight of Balfonheim below them in the night sky, a mass of orange and red and a heat so strong the sensors on the ship registered it all the way in the air.
Penelo went pale, and Vaan gripped her hand as they descended. Ashe started calling to Famfrit, willing the Darkening Cloud to her aide. If nothing else, it’d help a bit. Larsa and Basch exchanged worried glances, and Basch’s hand constricted on his axe.
When the ship touched down, everyone prepared for the worst. Ashe stepped down first, Basch right behind her. Famfrit appeared, and Ashe stepped forward alone. Those gathered stepped back from the hideous form and the Queen of Dalmasca. The first Briny Cannonade fired off, and a flame went out with a pathetic puff of smoke. The few people edged closer, staring at the Esper in wonder while he put out flames.
The pair moved slowly, cautious of rickety buildings, but not too slowly to allow the flames to spread where they had already been extinguished. In Ash and Famfrit’s wake, residents and Strahl crew alike passed buckets down lines to gather water.
“Ack, why are you here?” Cat nudged her way into the line, and rubbed at the bandage on her hand over a burn before being handed a pair of empty buckets.
“Rikken called us for aide. He needs working airships.” Fran replied, taking the two from Cat and passing her two filled ones.
Cat puffed up her cheeks irritably, then snatched the two full buckets and stalked off, annoyed. Fran glanced at her, confused, then continued hauling buckets. Watching as the Strahl was rigged up with a large, odd cloth container, she passed the buckets off to Basch, who passed them to Vaan, who tossed them at the flames Famfrit left behind.
The cry went up first, “It’s stable!”
“Stable!”
“The Manse is safe!”
“Well. Seems like Ashe was the only one they really needed.” Penelo indicated where the Queen was, as she dismissed the Esper and studied the ruin.
“This is bad. This is very bad.” Elza still held a full bucket, and dropped it at her feet, looking faintly ill.
“We’ll recover. We’re pirates, after all.” One of Cat’s crewmates (likely the one who broke the dishes earlier) replied, hefting Elza’s bucket and tossing the water on a smoldering crate.
“At least,” Cat reappeared, struggling with a huge container of potions, “The ships didn’t burn. ACK!” Losing her balance, the tiny waitress pitched forward. Fran snatched the crate out of the air with careless grace, while Basch managed to get a grip on Cat’s collar.
"Oy, oy, let me go!" Wind-milling her arms, Cat squirmed free and fell loose of Basch's grip, only to land face first in the water. Reappearing above the waves and pushing her hair out of her face, Cat's face went blank. "Just not my day, is it?"
“Apparently not.” Vaan grinned.
"Who… IS that?" Larsa edged towards the dock and looked over.
"A reject of a sky pirate who's going to spend the rest of her life serving me my drinks." Balthier replied with a smirk over the Strahl’s intercom. Somedays, he had to admit, Cat made it too easy to aggravate her. The scattered laughter and the furious growl told Balthier his joke hit home, as usual.
"The fires out on the west end!" Rikken ran into the square, nearly colliding with Elza in his haste.
"Completely?" Reddas' other crew member asked.
“Yes, thanks to the Queen.” Rikken looked proudly in the direction of Ashe, who was jogging over.
She returned to the group, face smeared with soot, “I’m glad the fire was stopped so quickly.” She turned toward the east, where light had started to appear on the horizon. “‘It’s always darkest before the dawn.’ Almost fits here, doesn’t it?”
“Pretty, and philosophical to boot. Sheesh, leave the rest of us a chance.” Cat’s hands appeared at the edge of the dock, grabbing feebly. One of the dockhands reached out and plucked her up, dropping the soaked waitress unceremoniously on her face. Sputtering and pushing back her hair, she rose to her knees, wiggling her nose experimentally for breaks.
“No, I just think before I act.” Ashe regarded her coolly.
“Touché.”
“Ashe.” Basch extended a hand, “We should return to the palace. We left no word you’d left.”
“That could get ugly.” Vaan mused.
“Balthier, is the Strahl ready to return to Rabanastre?” Larsa asked when the pilot landed the ship.
“Of course. Fran and I will likely return to help fix the town up, but the rest of you belong at home.” Balthier’s disembodied voice floated out of the speaker system.
“Basch and I must return to Archadia, the flight back was supposed to be done with by now.” Larsa touched his chin thoughtfully. “We best leave now.”
“Aye.” Vaan said, “I’d like to get back to fighting with my ship.”
“Fixing.” Penelo corrected.
“I think it’s well beyond the fixing stage Penelo, and well into the fighting.” He disagreed, offering her a hand up to the lift.
“You can’t really fight an object that’s inanimate.” They continued the argument while the others helped themselves onto the lift, shaking their heads.
“What about the Facers in the Stilshrine?” Vaan inquired.
“Those were definitely animate, made of stone or not.” Penelo retorted snippily.
“Is this really that important? I’m developing a lovely headache.” Balthier sounded less then amused when they stepped inside the cockpit.
“Indeed, can you two maybe continue this argument once we’ve returned to Rabanastre?” Basch rubbed his face, looking fatigued, “Preferably once we’re on a ship back to Archadia.”
Ashe smiled, “That was a bit on the mean side, Judge Magister.”
“Pardons, my lady.”
“Of course.”
Thanks for reading, and I love reviews. -hinthint-
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