For those who think Delita was the over-ambitious, uncaring bastard... and would like to continue to think so, I'm afraid you might not like this fic. So please, no flames about his character, because yes, he will be a bit OOC, and probably so will Ovelia. They will actually talk to each other and no, I don't plan on ending the story with their deaths. This will be Tactics from their point of view, and I warn you now, I don't plan to follow the story... much. In fact, I'm really just feeling my way around, and this story may or may not continue.
The 'what if' question was, was Delita and Ovelia completely silent after the kidnapping and before Zierchele Falls? Granted, I spent "Ivalice days" leveling up my characters before bothering to go rescue Ovelia... but they should've had plenty of time to get to know each other. And what if they did. If I got any of the story points wrong, let me know, because I can't say I understood the politics 100 percent. Otherwise, I might just leave them the way I think it is.
Yes, get to the story already, well, I have one more thing to say. I'm really not too well versed in Victorian English or whatever the translator used very, very well for the PSP FFT:WoL. So forgive me if they don't talk the way they 'should' consistently.
Lastly, I wish I owned Final Fantasy Tactics... but I don't! Now I hope you enjoy the read!
For the Kingdom of Peace
Ovelia awoke, and a sudden pain in her chest reminded her of what had just happened. Punched in the gut by an unknown assailant in the Orbornne Monastery. She remembered little else of that harrowing night except the overwhelming fear and anxiety.
The young girl opened her eyes and saw that she lay in the ruins of an old church, where a remnant of the roof gave shelter from last night's storm. Rising slightly and leaning on her elbow she looked around wildly, finally settling on the back of a gold and scarlet clad man—that's the man!—who seemed lost in the contemplation of the sunrise and the break in the rain clouds as he sat against the crumbling walls.
Delita turned around at the sound behind him, settling his eyes on the figure on the ground.
"Your Highness," he said with a smirk and bent down to one knee. "I hope you rested well."
Ovelia glared at him.
"What are your plans with me? Who are you?"
Delita only continued his infuriating smile; Ovelia gritted her teeth. "For what purpose do you take me from the monastery?"
"You should thank me, princess, for I have saved your life."
"Of what madness do you rave? You have kidnapped me!"
Delita turned his back and moved towards the chocobo that was resting on the ground under one of the trees. He reached into the satchel hanging from the saddle.
Carrying some fruit and bread, he walked over to the princess and sat on an outcropping of rock a few steps from her.
"Forgive me, Highness, I have no lemon cakes to offer but cold apple and bread."
"Do not mock me. You have not answered my question."
"You have not taken my offering of food. I assure you it is free of poison."
Reluctantly, Ovelia moved to take the food from Delita, wincing at the pain in her gut as she did. The memory of her captor's blow sent a fresh surge of dislike toward the man.
Delita noticed the slight wince as he took a seat on the ruins of a stone column. "I was sent by the Church to intercept a vile plan devised by the White Lion to assassinate you."
"You speak of nonsense. Duke Larg was the man responsible for my stay at Orbornne these past many years. I was to be escorted to Duke Larg in the Royal City of Lesalia before you came!"
"Why were you to go to Lesalia, do you know?"
"I..." Ovelia looked away, troubled by the fact that she actually did not know. "It was what was told to me. I assumed a peaceful reunion."
"Understand, Highness, that Prince Orinus resides in the Royal City of Lesalia. His Queen Mother Louveria and her elder brother Duke Larg would much rather have one of their own blood ascend to the throne."
Ovelia's eyes widened.
"The attackers at Orbornne were Larg's men flying the flag of the Black Lion. Had Duke Goltanna been properly blamed for your death, then two birds will have been killed with one stone. The death of the true heir, and his principle rival for Orinus' regency."
In truth, Ovelia had never thought much about the world outside of the monastery as she grew up. She had only been told that living away from the royal family would stop a war and keep many people from dying.
"I... I don't understand. They could have disposed of me at any time..."
"Had these past years been happy ones for Larg, he would have been content to leave you at the monastery for the rest of your life, I assume. However, Goltanna is still as healthy as ever and remains a formidable foe. He needed a plan to tarnish Goltanna for good, have him disposed for treason, and for himself to become the unchallenged regent of Orinus."
"H-how do you know so much?"
"We have ears in many places, Highness."
"Who are 'we'?" Ovelia asked, then realized the obvious answer as Delita remained silent. "A rhetorical question, forgive me."
Seeing as the man still didn't seem to have much to say, she sighed, weary of all she was hearing. "So what plans await me now? I should sooner declare myself a woman of the cloth and be free of this political battle."
"Would you? And abandon the kingdom to the lot of selfish nobles? How would you be able to rest your royal head at night while the land of Ivalice is controlled by a puppet King?"
She shook her head, staring at the broken stone around her.
"Would that I were born no princess."
Delita raised his eyebrows. "Would you rather have been born a commoner?"
"I have lived an isolated life in the monastery, I know nothing of the outside world. All I wish for is... is a life of peace."
Delita stood up. "And that you shall have, but endeavor is necessary to achieve that dream. A life of peace, a world free of social class, war, hatred. Can such a world be realized by idle thought? Those who only dream shall become the pawns of others. I seek to be no one's pawn, but to turn them on their head and face what they have done!"
Ovelia looked at the man in shock and in confusion. Of what does this man rave?
"Nobles and royalty, they only know of using commoners as tools! Highness, there are some ill winds stirred by those who seek to control; and the storm brews stronger every day. More and more innocent victims shall also fall prey to their arts."
He was now looking at the clouds, shaking his head.
Ovelia thought she heard him say "Tietra" under his breath, but she wasn't sure.
Then Delita turned towards Ovelia, as if he was scrutinizing her. She shifted uncomfortably.
"Pray, tell me your name. I do not even know. And please, stop calling me 'Highness', my name is Ovelia."
"Delita Hyral." He sat back down on the ruined column for a second, before getting up again, an agitated look upon his face. "We have idled far too long, we must make haste."
"To realize the life you wish to seek, my lady," he replied ambiguously.
"You said you were sent by the Church, ought that be our destination?"
Delita stayed silent.
After eating the rest of her portions, she found herself nestled between Delita and the head of the chocobo. Holding the chocobo's neck, she leaned forward but still couldn't help but blush at the close space they occupied together. The ride was not uncomfortable, but getting used to the motions of the chocobo and trying to lean as far from Delita as possible made her unsteady.
Never had she felt so naive. Never had she the company of friends but one. Never had she any contact with men younger than Father Simon. She didn't know why her cheeks were so hot or why she felt a strange attraction to him, be he a possible enemy.
"Pray, do not choke our ride, Highness."
"I am not!" Ovelia suddenly realized she really was holding onto the chocobo's neck quite tightly.
"Lean back. You can also hold the front handle of the saddle for more support."
As she stared at the passing hills and forests, she wondered how a life of such monotony had turned to this. She was a princess and was taught the mannerisms and her royal background. In the end, she felt she was but a name and a title.