His brother is not so different; the curve of his mouth, the expression of his lips.
Balthier is unamused, his voice a dry painting.
"It won't work."
Vaan slinks and flirts and finds fatherly faults in the world, "Authority? Are you kidding?"
Ashe tries not to see and Fran… Fran walks with her thighs brushing, hair switching like a beautiful woman and like a horse (what's the difference, really? When the goal is to ride).
Penelo is no stranger to it, her prowess makes Larsa blush, stops Larsa from touching her.
"It's…" she flushes and Vann's hand slides the curve of her hourglass.
"Disgusting," Ashe comments primly, frigidly, and Balthier is unamused.
"You won't consort with the common folk?" he sneers.
"It's as much a part of battle as--" Bash ventures.
"One cannot," Fran comments in her endearingly stilted Allegiant, "truly appreciate it until one has fought."
"It is not to be—"
Gabranth is grinning, glad to be the cause of such strife and his mailed fist finds its way first to his brother's neck and then to Penelo's waist. The girl does not shy from him.
"You don't know how beautiful my brother is when he kills."
Ashe knows, and Larsa is perhaps trembling, wetting his lips.
"Royals," Balthier rolls his eyes and aches for attention.
"I know," Ashe is growling at the same time, holding her chastity to the curves of her breasts, flaunting it proudly in the short hems of her royalty.
Gabranth lowers his lids lazily, seductively relaxed and Balthier complains, "Archadians."
Vaan comes to him then, presses himself to Balthier, wraps him up in arms and legs and anticipation.
"You would know," he teases and propriety and authority are not for him, he kisses Balthier there and Ashe is aghast.
"I did not realize what I was consorting with."
"And what are you consorting with?" Fran purrs, rubbing her ankles together. Ashe watches the motion, Larsa is mute at her side. He had not expected this when he came to return Basch, to introduce Gabranth. "Heathens? Philistines? Deviants?"
A laugh explodes from Penelo, the sound chiming and joyful. Basch glances at her and thinks about how terribly wrong it would be to take her to bed tonight.
"Y-you," Ashe is losing her words to her lust and to the lust she feels at her side from Larsa. "C-casual… relations are—"
"What is it to the willing?" Balthier poses, his mood improving in leaps and bounds as he takes in Gabranth's gaze as well. "Larsa, you cannot tell me you and Margrace have not indulged in a spot of political flirtation?"
Gabranth is smiling cat bright, knows full well they have, but knows too that it was—
"No," Larsa flushes. "N-nothing of the sort."
Gabranth steps towards her. "Calm your indignation, Lady Ashe. Soothe your irritated sensibilities. Surely our sexual habits affect you very little?"
"They reflect on me," she barks. "Who I choose as my—"
"Bed partners?" Vaan suggests, bored and intrigued by the way Penelo fits beneath Basch's hand.
"Friends," Ashe frowns.
"Friends," Fran muses, smiling sleepily. "Sex, I believe, is no conflict of interest between… friends…"
"I'm sorry it makes you uncomfortable, Ashe, Larsa," Penelo speaks at last. "We can at least be discreet…"
Gabranth laughs at this, politics is the arena for discretion, not sex. If he wishes to display his rekindled affection for his brother sexually, he will. If he wishes to become better acquainted with the boy and the girl pirates, he will, perhaps even at the same time. If he desires to test the legendary prowess of Fran and Balthier, he will. Sex is not the jurisdiction of lords and after a brush with death… Gabranth is unwilling to spend his time hesitating over his pleasures.
"Certainly," he says. He turns his back to Ashe and touches Penelo and Basch again. "If the two of you would accompany me?"
Penelo's cheek are pink, but she nods and looks apologetically to her Queen and her Prince and then leaves.
Vaan stands hip cocked and eyebrow raised in amusement. He glances at Ashe and Larsa in turn and says,
"You're welcome to join us."
Ashe is affronted and tiny, young Larsa's cheeks blossom crimson. They decline. Vaan shrugs and playfully drags Balthier away. Only Fran remains then, lounging against the stone rail of the palace mezzanine.
Balthier calls for her, but she lingers, eyeing the lords. Something sparks in her eyes, bemusement at Balthier's change in mood and at Larsa's embarrassment, at Ashe's affront.
"You are welcome to join us," she says.
Ashe's cheeks finally darken, she wets her lips and shakes her head. "I will not participate in your orgy, Fran."
The viera smiles. "Perhaps another time then," she offers. "On a more personal level."
She leaves then and Ashe and Larsa are unable to look at each other. They separate hurriedly and head for their separate rooms.
Larsa wonders about peasant girls and boys and knights and pirates and princes. Ashe thinks about dead men and finds little pleasure in it.
Standard Disclaimers.