He asks her to marry him a year after the culmination of the War of the Lions.
Valmafra would say she's surprised, but it would be a lie. Because Orran Durai is a practical man, with hardly a romantic bone in his body. They chose to stay together more out of convenience than anything else – because it was more difficult for Valmafra to adjust to her new muteness than she'd liked to admit, and because the church still sought Orran to make him pay for his father's crimes. But the truth is, Valmafra likes doing things on her own, answering to herself and herself alone. Throwing Orran Durai into the equations just complicates things unnecessarily.
But Orran Durai is a practical man, so there must be some logical reason why marrying her is a good idea. Perhaps the church will finally be convinced that they are, for all intents and purposes, dead if he fades into obscurity, behind the façade of a family. So when Valmafra accepts his proposal, it isn't because she loves him – it's because she knows she owes him for his protection, and because she possibly still can't survive entirely on her own.
It's Delita who weds them in the end, and Ovelia is the only guest to their small and private wedding. And, not for the first time, Valmafra detests her very literal lack of a tongue. She can't say the sacred words that irrevocably bind her to Orran; all she can do is nod.
For Orran, it's for the irony – the fact that the very thing that binds them now is what destroyed their loved ones in the first place. For Valmafra, it's a formality –she is a woman with high standards, and she can never see herself spending the rest of her life with a man without marrying him first. But for both of them, it's to remember the people lost in the war, the mountains of corpses trampled on by selfish, greedy men. Cardinal Delacroix. Folmarv Tengille. Marquis Elmdore d'Limberry. Dycedarg Beoulve. And even Delita Heiral, to an extent.
And, not for the first time, Valmafra finds herself wondering about Ramza and Alma Beoulve, if Orran really did see them alive and healthy and well at their own funeral, or if he was simply hallucinating. But she could swear she could see the silhouettes of a boy and a girl riding together on Chocobos…
In place of the marriage oath, Delita asks her a series of questions – if she will protect Orran, if she will stay with him through health and sickness, 'till death do them part – and she nods to all of them. And as Delita pronounces them man and wife, Orran and Valmafra smile at each other for the first time in what feels like forever. It doesn't feel like anything's changed between yet, and yet things are simultaneously so vastly different.
And she admits that 'Valmafra Durai' has a nice ring to it.
Valmafra never gave much thought to her wedding night – she always chose to worry about the wedding first. But now, come to think of it, she's sure that a man shouldn't be crying on his own wedding night. She's never been very good at comforting people, but she puts a hand on her husband's back and suitably softens her expression, praying that he'll fully open up to her now that she's his wife.
Orran forces a smile for her sake. "I'm sorry," he chokes out, furiously drying his eyes with the back of his hand. "It's… It's my father, you see. He should be here." To lighten the situation and diffuse the tension, Valmafra levels him with a flat stare. "No, not here literally, in this bedroom, I mean…" He exhales sharply and gives her a small, yet much more genuine smile. "You know what I mean." So she takes his hand and entwines her fingers with his, resting her head on his shoulder.
So Orran and Valmafra Durai's wedding night is far from conventional. Then again, nothing in their so-called "relationship" was conventional to begin with. But deep down, Valmafra knows that she wouldn't have it any other way, at least when it comes to Orran.
She gives birth to a daughter two years later – Meliadoul, named after Knight Templar Meliadoul Tengille, sister to the late Isilud Tengille and ally to Ramza Beoulve. Valmafra's seen this woman only in the tales Orran weaves of her – proud, strong, and loyal until the very end. The name is her idea in the end, mostly because she thinks naming their daughter "Alma" will send her husband into tears.
And when Mel grows a little, it's almost as if the roles are reversed – Valmafra goes out into the city to find work, and Orran stays home to take care of the family. It's for the best, Valmafra supposes; she's never been the warm, nurturing type anyway.
Since she can no longer speak, she can no longer work as a mage, but her skill with blades has dulled only slightly over the years. So when she joins the city watch, it's only partially because of the more than decent pay – it's because she finally has something to do, because she's finally useful and not a dead weight to Orran kept around only for convenience.
(But that never really was the case as far as Orran was considered, was it?)
Occasionally, King Delita comes to see the city watch. And every time he does, he gives Valmafra a special little nod that confirms that she hasn't landed in his bad graces, and that he won't be getting rid of her anytime soon.
It's shameful to admit just how much that possibility terrifies her.
Three years later, she gives birth to twins – a boy and a girl. The names "Rapha" and "Marach" come quickly and easily. By now, Meliadoul is old enough to understand that her mother is mute, cannot speak, though the small girl never once questions why, and Valmafra can't be more grateful.
And, as the children grow up, it's almost scary just how similar Rapha and Marach are to their namesakes. Though Rapha is a few minutes older than Marach, their relationship is almost the same – they're joined at the hip, rarely apart. Orran says that they're one soul split into two bodies, and Mel giggles as she tugs teasingly on his ponytail, and he laughs, and Valmafra realizes that this is the family life that she's always envisioned that she'd have one day.
She just never imagined that that day would come so quickly.
When the children are grown and away from home, Orran confides something in his wife – that he's writing an anthology chronicling Ramza Beoulve's escapades. And, naturally, Valmafra disagrees, stating with a wide array of hand motions and facial expressions that this is a terrible idea. The Glabados Church has left them alone for years now, and things are peaceful – why her husband has to ruin things, she has no idea.
"I'm doing this because it's right, Val," Orran says earnestly. "Ramza, and Alma, they…" He trails off; Valmafra doesn't even need him to finish for her to understand his message. "I know things have been… difficult, but…" Difficult? Things have been far from difficult, Valmafra realizes. Because now she has everything she's ever really wanted in life – a place to call home, something she never had when she was working for the church. "Please, let me do this."
When she finally relents and nods, he kisses her on the forehead and hugs her tightly. "Things will work out," he says quietly into her hair. "You'll see."
Things don't work out, as she stands with her children at her husband's execution five years later. Orran, you idiot, she'd say if she had her tongue, but she schools her expression into a calm one for her family's sake, because she knows that Mel and Rapha are sobbing somewhere behind her and that Marach is looking away, and that Orran doesn't need to have Valmafra's tears or anger to be the last thing he sees before he passes on. For the next several minutes, all she can see is fire.
And then, it's over.
Okay so… this. Um, I don't really know where I was going with this?
So even though we only see them together for one scene, I always assumed that Valmafra was the progenitor of the Durai family, because Arazlam Durai had to come from somewhere. So Orran obviously got some during his lifetime. And I always assumed that it was with Valmafra, since they their relationship would be symbiotic, AKA mutually beneficial.
And… we don't really see much of Valmafra, either. Period. So I took a lot of liberties with her character in this. In this, her job comes first, but she does want things like a family and a husband and a stable home as well. Also, she totally wears the pants in the relationship and has Orran totally whipped. Orran also struck me as a "let's name our children after our dead friends!" sort of guy.
I really want an updated, extended version of this game. With every character and every plot point totally stretched out. With everything animated like the cutscenes in the PSP version.
Please review!