Disclaimer: I do not own Square Enix’s Final Fantasy XII, nor am I making any money off this fanfiction.

-o-o-

Author’s Notes…

Hi, guys! Thanks to everyone for the kind reviews! They really do help encourage me, not to mention the WAFF, haha.

Sorry this took a couple months to get out. I wrote the first chapter just a few weeks before my wedding, and since then, it’s been sort of like a roller coaster of stuff happening. But now I’m back on schedule, so here you are, chapter two!

-o-o-

Scarlet Ribbon

Chapter Two

Lidia

-o-o-

Penelo couldn’t even remember the last time she had stepped foot within Archades. A few months, at the very least. She made a habit of not visiting very often, and over the last couple of years, the time in between her visits had increased. It was something Larsa had picked up on and had not been afraid to remark upon. He always begged her to stay with him—days, weeks, months, the longer the better.

Shrugging her pack more firmly up on her shoulder, Penelo ignored the stares from those gathered around the aerodome and started toward the front desk. A docent was filing her nails there, eyes narrowed in concentration and a pretty painted lip pinched between her teeth. It was slightly chilly in the dome, and everyone was dressed for it but Penelo. It hadn’t occurred to her that autumn had settled upon this region of Ivalice when she’d been packing. She’d been in too much of a hurry to get here.

Chocobo dung! She’d just have to get a new wardrobe while she was here.

“Look, Daddy, it’s a pira—”

Penelo swiveled her head to the side just in time to see an elderly gentleman clap a hand over his son’s mouth. The boy was watching her with wide blue eyes, and though he tugged at his father’s hand, it was to no avail.

The man didn’t bother apologizing to her. Dressed in the fine clothing that the gentry all wore and looking down the beak of his nose at her, he harrumphed and merely escorted his child away toward one of the windows. The private airship that had just dropped Penelo off was on a dock outside it, likely refueling for its next trip. She would have taken the airship she owned with Vaan, but she hadn’t wanted to leave him stranded.

She closed her eyes and swiped a hand over her face. It was morning in Archades. She’d left Rabanastre just when the sun was setting. Though she’d slept all day, she was still exhausted from the beating the scotch had given her. She’d have to stay away from that type for a while and get something less lethal next time she felt the urge to drink her woes away.

When she reached the docent, she set her pack down and waited patiently for the young woman to look up. The docent was currently engaged in a slight snarl, the file working furiously over her nail.

Penelo cleared her throat.

The docent jumped, then looked up and hastily set the file away. “Hello!” She dipped into a quick bow. “Welcome to the Aerodome, miss. The East Ivalice Company proudly offers—”

“I don’t mean to interrupt.” Penelo placed one hand against the counter, the other still around the straps of her pack. “But do you think I could go ahead and book an airship for a week from now?”

Fair was fair. She didn’t much know how this trip was going to go, and if it went on the poor side, then she had a scapegoat. An airship ticket she had purchased—she’d come up with the reason for hurrying away later, although maybe she wouldn’t even need one.

“Oh! Certainly.” The docent disappeared behind the counter for a moment before she straightened with a large file. She ruffled through the pages until she got to the one she needed. There seemed to be a nervous energy about her, from the slight hop of her steps, the bounce of her shoulders, the way she kept pushing her hair back behind her ear beneath her hat. “Now, where will you be flying to?”

“Rabanastre.”

“Morning, noon, or—”

“The morning’s fine.” The earlier, the better.

There was something wrong about making departure plans when she had only just arrived to see Larsa. She knew it, and it didn’t stop her for a moment. Already, this place was making her skin crawl.

The docent began to hum to herself as she jotted this information down, her quill scurrying across the page. She asked a few more questions, like what Penelo’s name was, and Penelo gave the answers. It was clear this was going to take a while, so she allowed her gaze to wander.

A few people went back to whatever they had been doing before they’d been caught in their staring. A seeq snored from a nearby cushioned bench. The aerodome imperials marched back and forth in their black and red livery, their faces stern as always. A child screeched from somewhere in the aerodome, followed by quick ssshing noises. And lastly, a moogle was chatting near one of the windows with another of its kind. They both had dark skin. Had they ventured out from the Salikawood area?

An airship caught Penelo’s attention just past where one of the moogles’ yellow bon bon was bouncing as he talked. The thing was huge, much larger than any she was used to seeing housed in an aerodome. It was black with green accents, and the Rozarrian flag was hanging from its bottom in several areas. They looked like they could be rolled back up and stored away once the ship was in flight.

Penelo turned back to the docent, pointing in the direction of the ship. “Is that—?”

The woman looked like she could barely contain herself. “Princess Lidia’s royal escort?!” She waited a moment, then bobbed her head up and down at a rather alarming pace. Now she really looked like she just couldn’t quite contain her excitement. One of her hands went to her chest. “And I was invited to the ball tonight being held in her name!”

Penelo didn’t know what to say.

Princess Lidia.

So that was her name.

“Lidia Margrace?” Penelo cleared her throat. For some reason, she had a thick lump lodged in it, and it didn’t seem like it was to be going away anytime soon.

“The very one!” the docent all but squealed. “Oh, I’m so excited!”

Lidia.

It was—well… a pretty name. It flowed right off the tongue, in fact. And she was related to Al-Cid, of course. So she must be gorgeous. She probably even had the lustrous, curly hair that Al-Cid had been gifted with. The dark skin, the almond-shaped eyes.

Yes, she was probably so beautiful that—

“My heart is not with her, Penelo. I have tried. I have tried, time and time again, to put my feelings aside and move on…”

“Excuse me,” Penelo interrupted as the docent was rambling on about the color of the dress she had picked out just for this occasion, “but could you tell me where the nearest tavern is?”

-o-o-

There was one right on Rienna, as it turned out.

Penelo knocked back her second shot, grimaced as it burned all the way down like the first had, and then sighed in satisfaction. The flavor of mint flooded her mouth in an aftertaste. It was amazing how quickly liquor could quell one’s nerves, though if she didn’t stop now, that wouldn’t be her only problem. She needed to be able to walk in a straight line to the palace, after all. She’d never forgive herself if she tottered in like a foolish drunk, never mind that she still had no clue as to what she planned to do.

“I’ll have a Bandersnatch,” came a smooth, familiar voice to her right.

Penelo whirled on her stool, and it swiveled with her. There, one hand leaning against the counter with its fingers decorated in the usual rainbow rings, stood Balthier in all of his handsome glory. The last time they had laid eyes on one another… Why, when had that been?

“Balthier!” She fumbled forward, pushing her double shot glass away from her and slapping a hand against his shoulder to grip it. A merry grin had already taken its home on her mouth. “Balthier, it is so good to see you!”

“And you as well, Penelo, but I might I say that you seem a bit…” Balthier’s eyes gave her the look over, and came to settle at last on her eyes. Penelo licked the sugar away from her lips that still coated them and raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“…And how much have you had to drink?” There was no scorn in his tone, just amusement. He settled more heavily against the counter, resting his knuckles against his cheek. His skin seemed darker than normal. Had he been out in the sun recently? Oh, Balthier. So handsome, so cordial, so infuriating sometimes, but gods it never failed to rile her up at the best of times. She’d spent a good deal of her younger years pining for the man.

“Oh, you know… two shots! They were really good… Citrusy… he recommended sugar to make it go down better…” Penelo flailed a hand in the direction of the bartender to indicate whom she was talking about.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the bartender lift four fingers.

“Liar!” she cried, but she settled heavily back into her seat with a sleepy giggle. Why had she thought she had only done two shots again?

After a moment’s rumination on that, she decided that even though it really was good seeing Balthier, she needed to get to the palace. Only six days left! Six days, and Larsa would be married off to that—Lily? No… Lucia…? No, that wasn’t it, either…

Balthier had turned to rest both his elbows on the bar top behind him, his gaze on the festivities decorating the streets beyond. “Princess Lidia, hmmm?” he murmured. Had Penelo been in a clearer state of mind, she might have noticed how there seemed to be something oddly forlorn in his expression. As it were, she jumped down from the stool and exclaimed delight, startling him when she stumbled, unable to hold herself up.

“That’s it, Balthier! Good! Lidia! That’s her name!”

Her old war companion got a good grip on her elbow and helped her upright. “Penelo, perhaps you should sit down.”

“No!” She shook her head back and forth furiously. That turned out to be too much for her, and she groaned as dizziness swamped her vision. “Oh, gods…” She clapped a hand to her forehead. “Balthier! Balthier!”

“I’m right here.”

“Oh, good—I thought you were gone…”

“Dare I ask what was in your drink?”

Penelo finally opened her eyes. The world seemed all right again, fortunately. She wouldn’t be able to stomach another bout of queasiness. “I don’t know… citrusy, but minty afterward… Something good…” She tottered in the direction of the door, tugging her arm away from Balthier. “I’ve got to go! Thanks.”

“Forgetting something?”

Blinking, she turned around. Balthier wore a slight smirk on his mouth, and the straps of her bag dangled around his fingers. When he noticed he had her attention, a single, perfectly shaped brow arched in further amusement. “Well?”

“My bag!” Penelo gushed, toddling back to him. “Oh, you’re so resourceful, Balthier! I would have just walked right out without it!” Again, she smacked her hand to her head, though this time Balthier reached out with his free hand and gripped her wrist.

“You should quit with that; you’ll do yourself an injury.” He released her to dig into a pouch at his side, and out fell several coins of gil onto the bar. “Forget the drink,” he said to the bartender. “I have her tab.” With his smirk spreading just an smidgen, he put his arm around Penelo’s shoulders and steered her outside like she had initially planned. “I assume you’re going to the palace?”

He was being very amiable about this, paying her tab, leading her about, reading her mind. When had he learned to do that? It was a trick she hoped that he could teach her. It would have come in handy all these years, knowing what Larsa was really thinking.

“You’re a good man, Balthier!” She beamed at him.

“Others would disagree—there, watch your step… Good girl.”

-o-o-

Penelo settled into the air cab and rested her forehead against the window. An incoherent groan left her. Outside the cab, she could hear Balthier speaking with the pilot about where they were headed, and there was the jingling of chops. Damn Archades. Why did everyone have to be so superior to everyone else, anyhow? It wasn’t like that in Rabanastre at all. Getting around in this city was so difficult! It was one of the reasons she hated it.

After another moment, Balthier settled in beside her. “They’ve gotten pickier with the chops of late.”

“What do you mean?” Penelo mumbled.

Her friend deposited the chops in a purse tied to his belt. “Well, I’d say I haven’t had my chops examined so closely since before…” He paused in thought, blinking several times as he gazed somewhere in the vicinity of the roof of the cab. Several seconds passed, and he shrugged very lightly, busying himself again with the chops. “Never, if I’m to be quite honest. Larsa must be insisting on more security as of late.”

Penelo couldn’t help but notice his lip curled on the emperor’s name.

“Because of the wedding?” Penelo suggested, though personally she felt that maybe it was just because the snobby nobles didn’t want to mingle at all if they had to with the commoners. What would they do when their titles didn’t matter, their blood, their fortunes, be they small or large? How she would pay for such a day to come.

“I gather you’re in disagreement with it?” Balthier asked, misreading her expression.

“That, too,” she agreed glumly. “I just—guess… I’m a bit bitter lately about nobles. I don’t even know why, a few years ago and I was able to ignore it for the most part.” A moment later, and she remembered who she was talking to. Sitting up more quickly than her drunken state would have liked her to, she whirled on her seat to face him and was hit almost immediately with the dizzying after effects. Clutching at her head, she peered at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, I keep forgetting you reclaimed your heritage recently.”

Balthier crossed one leg at the knee and settled back into his seat to get more comfortable. It would be a few minutes before they arrived at the palace. “Is that so?” He let one hand rest in his lap while his other arm stretched out along the back of the seat. “I suppose it’d be easy enough. I haven’t exactly been the epitome of noble, after all.” A rakish grin was thrown her way.

Recalling his recent escapade in Balfonheim that Vaan and she had helped with, Penelo giggled. She only meant for it to last a moment or two, but before she knew it, she was doubled over at the waist. It wasn’t even that funny.

“Do me a favor?” Balthier’s chocolate brown eyes were filled with amusement again. “Watch the liquor next time, would you? You’re in quite a state, though I suppose I might give to be in that frame of mind, as well, the situation permitting.” All pretenses of mirth faded away to be replaced by that shadow that had been there earlier in the bar, and he let loose a sigh.

“What’s the matter, Balthier?” Penelo teased once she had regained enough breath to do so. “Love troubles?”

His eyebrow arched for a second time. “Pardon?”

“Sorry. I shouldn’t even be accusing you of anything like that.” All of a sudden, her life seemed so depressing. Was it the alcohol? Maybe. But she wanted nothing more in that moment than to crawl up into her bed and forget the rest of the world for a few days. “I’ve never been in love myself.”

“Is that what you call running to the emperor of Archades the moment some carefully hidden letters is delivered to your door?” Balthier’s voice was as dry as the Estersand.

Penelo blinked and looked up, her misery forgotten in the face of her surprise. “How did you know about…?”

Balthier did his casual shrug, fingers drumming once against his thigh as his eyes shifted to look at the passing scenery. They were nearly there now. “Who do you think put it into the captain’s head? I dare say he wouldn’t have thought to give them on his own… Not when he hadn’t even discovered them, per se.”

“You did?” Though she wished it could be better between them, Penelo knew Balthier and Larsa loathed one another. With Larsa, it was more a crisp irritation; never outright rude, polite only out of necessity, that sort of thing. Balthier was much the same, except his words grew more clipped depending on whatever they happened to be discussing at the time. They didn’t see one another very often, needless to say.

So then how had Balthier come across Larsa’s letters?

Unless…

“Were you snooping around?” Penelo sounded more impressed than she might have had she been sans liquor. “Balthier!”

“They were collecting dust… It was the least I could do for him.”

Penelo was getting a sinking feeling in her chest about this. Balthier would never do anything for Larsa out of the blue just to be nice. It would have come with a price and a request to help; otherwise, Balthier wouldn’t think to lift a finger. So why, then, had he chosen to have Basch deliver the letters?

Her friend’s eyes settled on hers, as calm and mysterious as ever. “I’d like to tell you more, but I’m afraid that would spoil the ending, and I do so love the element of surprise.”

The cab came to a halt, and Penelo jerked a little in her seat, tearing her gaze away from Balthier and looking to the silhouette of the palace instead. Oh, gods. Oh, gods, oh, gods, oh, gods. Here it was. The palace. Larsa. Everything and nothing all at once. Her life was about to change irrevocably. No one could tell her otherwise and expect her to believe it.

Balthier’s hand was nicely warm when it settled onto her shoulder. “Another favor, if you will?”

It took effort to remove her eyes from that of the palace and the imperial guards making their way across the landing to them. “Yes?”

“You might want to consider breathing. You look as though you’re likely to pass out.”

-o-o-

“P—Penelo!” The first imperial guard to reach them skidded to a stop, his armor clanking around him. His head swiveled in the direction of his companion, and Penelo imagined a look of abject confusion on his face. She tried not to giggle very hard at that, but with the alcohol swimming through her veins, everything really did seem much funnier than usual. It was either that, or cry, and she’d rather die before she cried in front of Balthier.

Much too embarrassing. He’d probably think her still young, foolish, and naïve.

“We weren’t aware of your arrival,” the second guard said after a long pause. “…I’ll go and inform Lord Larsa.” He hurried off, or as fast as he could in all that heavy armor. It was still decently quick.

“This way, shall we?” said the second guard. Penelo felt his eyes land on Balthier. Another moment passed in which everyone just looked at one another and the wind from being up so high pushed and pulled at those wearing clothes. “…Lord Ffamran.”

Balthier’s head dipped into a nod. “Sir.”

Yet another moment. Penelo was beginning to feel awkward just standing around on the platform, not to mention chilled. She rubbed at her arms to try and sustain warmth and thought enviously of how thick Balthier’s clothes were this day. A high collar for his jacket, one of his peasant shirts underneath a vest. It was more much than what Penelo had on. She would have prepared better, but she hadn’t expected to be outside on the landing all day.

Finally, blessedly, the guard nodded to Balthier in return, and he did an about face, heading back indoors. “This way, this way…”

-o-o-

The first guard hadn’t gotten very far. His companion was in the middle of leading them to Larsa’s study—Penelo recognized the path, for she had walked it many a time herself—when what sounded like distant shouts reached their ears. They all paused. Balthier’s brow rose, Penelo blinked up at him in question without really expecting an answer, and the guard, strangely enough, hung his head and sighed miserably within his helmet.

Penelo put a hand over his shoulder, not that he could really feel it beneath the armor. “What is it?” She had to close her eyes and wet her lips, regaining her composure. For a moment there, she had sort of wanted to nod off. Was it her, or were the effects of the alcohol increasing the longer she moved about? What was in those drinks?

“N-Nothing, of course…” the guard muttered. “Lord Larsa and Princess Lidia get along swimmingly… Oh, gods, I’ve said too much. H-Here we are, just follow me, we’ll be there at any m-m-moment…”

It was the first time Penelo had seen an imperial in so much obvious fear of their life. He was squeaking! Not to mention the stutter…

Even though he had said it was time to move onward, the poor guard’s feet refused to budge. He stood there, hunched as much as he could in his armor, poking his forefingers together as he continued to ramble on under his breath. Just what was on the other end of the corridor, if the shouts weren’t enough of an indication?

“Come along, Penelo,” Balthier murmured, gripping her gently by the elbow and directing her forward and away from the imperial. “We’re like to get another word out of him within the next century, and I imagine you haven’t the time for it.”

Penelo waved at the imperial as they left him behind. Snatches of his mutterings drifted to her, “Can’t be cursed… She’ll kill me… Got a family to mind…”

Cursed?

They reached the end of the corridor. There stood the first guard, looking just as petrified as the second, and several yards from him were Larsa and a girl Penelo had never seen before. Judging by the fact that she was screaming and hissing in Rozarrian, Penelo could safely assume that this was Princess Lidia.

Penelo stared dazedly at her for a time. This was the woman who was going to take Larsa away, off into the realm of marriage, where Penelo couldn’t follow. Lidia would become empress, and if she didn’t ban Penelo from Larsa’s life immediately, she would soon enough. Lidia and Larsa would grow old together, spawn children for the empire… Lidia would take Penelo’s seat by Larsa at the breakfast table… She’d be the one to pounce on Larsa to wake him up in the mornings, or tease him ruthlessly when everyone else was too afraid and respectful to try.

Lidia would be on Larsa’s arm at all the parties, the balls. She’d have Larsa’s ear. Larsa would chuckle into Lidia’s ear fondly as he had done to Penelo, murmuring fond jokes that no one could hear but them. When Lidia walked into a room, Larsa’s eyes would lock on hers with the joy he had always reserved for Penelo. Then they’d—meet… and embrace… and k—

Penelo shook her head firmly past the mist of tears that had begun in her eyes. Balthier was still here, and better yet, the most important and future important people of the empire. She couldn’t lose her chocobos now. There’d be plenty of time for that later, when Larsa was safely married to Lidia and Penelo was at home, able to cry all she wanted and rend her pillows to shreds in fits of post rage.

Why did she care so much about this…? She should be happy… for him… maybe…

But it was hard to find any shred of happiness for the girl at all. Though very gorgeous, with tumbling black curls as Penelo had expected, an olive green complexion, narrow brown eyes, and at least a foot on Penelo, right now, it was hard to like her. The screaming hadn’t stopped at all, and as Penelo watched, the princess jabbed a finger into Larsa’s chest and hissed something that sounded rather vile.

Larsa grabbed her finger and jabbed one at the princess in return, though he didn’t touch her, just let it hover near her face. Rozarrian flowed easily off his tongue. Penelo had known he could speak it; until now, she’d never heard it from him. He was angry, it was true, but… it sounded kind of nice, the foreign syllables, exotic.

Beside her, Balthier cleared his throat.

Larsa and Lidia stopped in their fighting at once, looking over at the two of them as though asking who dared to interrupt them.

Balthier’s lips pulled into one of his usual smirks. “Oh, do continue. Weren’t you in the middle of counter cursing her, Larsa? That can be a tad tricky if you’re not in the mind to complete it. It could be a bit troublesome for you, being cursed—”

Balthier spoke Rozarrian?

Larsa’s face closed in around his rage, becoming absolutely murderous, but before he snipped anything at him, his eyes flitted away from Balthier’s and landed on Penelo.

It was like watching the sun come up in the morning, lighting all the land and causing the flowers to open their petals for a bit of early warmth. All the anger left Larsa’s expression, all the dark intent, and in the next moment, his eyes became incredibly light, and he looked as though he had never had a more joyous occasion. Releasing Lidia, he strode away from her and down the corridor toward Penelo.

“Penelo! You’re here!”

Lidia snarled wordlessly at his back, adopted something close to a sulky pout, and disappeared around the corner. Lovely.

Quite pleased and feeling a swell of satisfaction—ha! Take that, Princess!—Penelo strolled forward to meet him. The closer she came to him, the more beautiful he became. Maybe it was the alcohol thinking for her, or the rush of emotions she had had seeing him with Lidia. Either way, he was glorious, like a god. The dark fall of his hair, the perfect curve of his mouth, the thickness of his lashes over those green, green, green eyes.

And he loved Penelo, not some pathetic excuse for a Rozarrian hussy.

She’d meant to hug him once they neared one another. Instead, she lifted up onto her tiptoes and threw her arms around his shoulders. Her heart singing, the liquor pumping through her blood more strongly than ever and causing the world to tilt a little, she brought her lips to his in a firm kiss.

Larsa stiffened all over in surprise.

One moment, Penelo was watching with a dreamy smile the look of awe that had come to his face. The next, Larsa was sort of swimming in and out of view, and Penelo groaned, putting her hand back to her forehead. No, not now, now what?

But she couldn’t… keep her eyes… open…

Everything grew dark around the edges—then it consumed her, and she knew nothing more.

-o-o-

Absolutely stunned, Larsa looked down at the fainted Penelo in his arms. First her appearance, and then the kiss, and now… she was… out cold? What had happened to her?

Already set to be angry—he had plenty of fuel left over from the latest fight with Lidia—Larsa cut his eyes over to Balthier. The pirate, though decked out in the finery of his noble heritage, was looking highly amused. After a moment, he finally deigned to meet Larsa’s gaze, and it was with a smug little smile. Larsa wanted to slap it from his face, as he always did. But someone had to be the proper gentlemen here, and Balthier had decided long ago it wasn’t to be him.

“Four shots of something with Bhujerban spirits mixed in,” Balthier drawled. “I expect she couldn’t handle to see you whilst sober.”

Bhujerban spirits? Heavens! No wonder at her queer behavior!

Joseph stepped forward with a clank of his armor and swiftly put a fist to his heart. “My lord, if you’d like me to take her to her chambers—”

Larsa clutched the woman in his arms more closely to him, and then, on second thought, placed his arm under her knees and lifted her from the floor. He gave a short nod to his guard, barely spared a glance at Balthier, and started for the elevator.

“I’ve got it, thank you.”

“But—my lord—”

“I said I have it, Joseph,” Larsa repeated.

The guard fell silent. Just as well—Larsa had a lot of things to mull over just now, and being interrupted was not going to help him come to any conclusions.