Vaan's villa off the port was warm and inviting and his own. The floors and the columns were tiled in pieces of glazed clay and seashells, making seaside patterns out of turquoise and cream colored blocks. The walls were clean white stone, the roof built out of old ship wood.

The rooms were open and square with high ceilings. Sun was constantly filtering in through the large open windows. The gleaming tiles and white stones soaked it up during the day and glowed faintly in the night, a faint miasma of warmth.

In the summer, Vaan lived there with a viera named Oiyana. She was taller than Fran, leaner, with hair nearly down to her ankles, though she rarely let it down. She kept it looped at the back of her head in braided ropes.

Vaan helped her braid them, in the summer. She would sit in the window of their villa, he behind her in a chair. They would talk about Golmore, the Feywood and all the other wealds across Ivalice as he wove the creamy strands of her hair.

Reddas came to visit them, in the summer. Oiyana liked a particular kind of white wine that he would bring for her. In return, she and Vaan would cook him dinner.

"Is it part of Balthier's legacy that you live with viera?" Reddas would often joke.

Vaan would laugh, that ridiculously bright laugh of his, and shake his head. "What Oiyana and Fran have in common is that they don't expect much from us. They know they're going to outlive us, we're just a pleasant diversion."

believe

The first night he'd spent in Balfonheim, he'd spent in Reddas's bed.

Vaan's hunger to hear the pirate's stories had been much stronger than his exhaustion, and as the others had retired one by one in the night, the two of them had been left alone.

Vaan hadn't been that drunk, neither had Reddas. They'd simply sat up long after midnight and Reddas had finally hesitated in his story.

"You don't see eyes so bright in Balfonheim anymore," he'd commented. He'd reached out to touch Vaan's face and…

"Are you saying I'm too young and stupid for this?" Vaan had asked, laughter in his voice and in his bright eyes.

"No," the pirate lord had replied, realizing it to be true. Vaan knew what it was to be a sky pirate better than any of them did, better than Balthier who had too obviously become lost in himself in the face of his father. "I only suggest that your joy for life has invigorated this old pirate's soul."

Vaan had kissed him then, had taken what he'd wanted and Reddas had let him, delighted in his spirit.

don't

Vaan left the villa in the fall to go hunting. Oiyana left in the winter to go somewhere warmer. She stayed with a Bangaa in Rozaria during these months and returned with giggling tales of her stay there while confessing she'd missed Vaan's gentler touch.

During the hunting season, Vaan spent his time with anyone who would have him. It was more than clans and nationality, when there was a beast rampaging on the Highwaste, everyone came together to kill it. Everyone came together in the evenings to celebrate.

"Hey," someone said to him around the campfires. "You're Balthier's boy."

Vaan smiled wryly, wondering if it was his dress or his speech that had given him away, regardless it was too late to deny it now. The point was not to deny it besides, it was their legacy now.

"He taught me a few things, yeah," he agreed.

"You know, I've heard from more than a few lasses that he's more than just an excellent pirate."

Vaan laughed; yes he'd also heard that from more than a few lovely women, many of whom he knew for a fact Balthier would not have touched under any circumstance.

"Yes," Vaan agreed, knowing better than to ruin Balthier's mystique and so his own. "He is quite the hero to us all in that way."

hear

When Penelo had returned to Rabanastre to help Tomaj look after the Sandsea, Vaan had gone looking for Balthier. His beautiful Revenant Wings had sunk into the turbulent depths of the upperworld, it would take some time before he could buy another.

He'd hoped that Balthier would take him on as a crew member.

"What makes you think I would do something like that?" Balthier had wondered coldly. Fran's chiming and rarely heard laughter rang out at his protestation.

"Because he turns a better dagger than either you or I, Balthier," she offered quietly. Vaan had long since learned that she had a beautiful sense of humor when at ease with her partner. When there was work to be done, she reverted immediately back to her silent, pensive self… but over dinner and a bottle of wine, Vaan better understood why she had left the reflective groves of Eruyt.

"I am a pirate," Balthier sniffed airily, glaring at her. "Not a mercenary. I don't take on children for profit."

Vaan had smiled. "What makes you think I'm a child?"

"Not a hair on your chin, my dear Vaan, and I doubt there ever will be," Balthier had responded leeringly, trying to embarrass him; a flush would have been as good as proof.

The churl, who he had so come to know, had come creeping, stood before him with a laughing expression of hunger and confidence.

"I have hair in other places, if you'd like to see," he'd murmured, running his fingers along the intricate detailing of Balthier's vest. "I'm sure there's quite a bit you could teach me there…"

you

The campsites were often cold and dreary. A bed partner was a welcome distraction, sometimes a necessity to even survive the worst of nights.

Vaan was developing a reputation of his own. He was vaunted as Balthier's heir, even between the sheets.

It bemused him, as he knew it bemused Balthier, that these accounts were grossly exaggerated. He was not as large as it was rumored and Vaan's predilection for simply enjoying Balthier's touch had bereft him of many chances he might have had to learn from the man. Balthier was the master yet, and Vaan suspected he, perhaps, had Fran's purring sensuality to thank for that.

Perhaps the myths were why Basch was flushing across from him, his face flickering in and out of the firelight.

It was just the two of them. Vaan had separated from the hunting caravan days ago to pursue a rumor of treasure buried in some secret chamber of the Necrohol. His time with Balthier had taught him much about avoiding the traps nestled in every nook and cranny of the stones. His time with Fran had taught him how to move in silence, like shadow, never disturbing the tortured spirits of all who had died in agony there.

Basch… Basch said he had been asked to investigate one of Larsa's missing scouts. Vaan wondered how that lordling could dare to send his knight into the depths of his worst nightmares. The site of Zecht's folly had rung deeply with Basch, reminding him too much of a more beloved Sun-lord who had been consumed by that war. His wrists were still scarred with the word Kingslayer: always whispering that loyalty was not enough, principle was not enough. He and Reddas had too much kinship beneath their armors and swords.

Vaan had almost killed Basch in the halls beneath the earth. Had found him in the remains of a chapel and thought him a phantom until he spoke.

"Vaan? By the queen, I did not ever dream I would see you here."

Which is how they had come to be here, huddled around a crystal Vaan had cast aflame, a trick that Reddas had passed along to him. Basch blushing across from him.

"Since you've been gone," the knight spoke hesitantly. "I've heard… many things about you."

Vaan smiled. A leering thing that he had perfected over time when people began to test his mythos. He crawled around their campfire, coming up out of the darkness like a sultry creature. He pushed Basch onto his back and the man did not resist him.

"Don't believe everything you hear, fon Ronsenburg."

everything

In the summer, Vaan returned to his villa on the cost. Oiyana and Reddas were waiting for him. Oiyana had flowers woven into her hair. Reddas's shirt was unlaced down to his abdomen. They were sprawled in their chairs, Oiyana's favorite wine glistening in the warm light.

"I'm home," Vaan announced with amusement.

Oiyana rose to her feet, swaying to him, kissing him hungrily. He carefully slipped a ring on to her finger, a sunstone inlaid in gold. She admired it with deep pleasure, drawing him towards the kitchen table with a laugh.

Reddas caught him by the waist as he approached, also pulling him down into a hungry kiss. "I've heard things, Vaan," he teased.

That churl, that pirate, was silent for a moment, running his hand along Reddas's bare chest as Oiyana poured him a glass of wine.

"I'm sure all of it's true," he murmured, looking up to meet Reddas's gaze.

Vaan's eyes glittered like sapphires, a crooked smile on his lips.

"You will have to tell us all about it," his viera invited, pressing the drink into his hand.

Sipping at the sweet distillation, Vaan considered just where to begin.

Standard Disclaimers.