This Armor
by Paper Bear

It was cold. She had never felt such a bitter chill in all her life. It was different from most other nights when the air was thick and damp. Tonight the air was stale with the scent of solitude that burned more than the Mist ever had. The uncanny draft wrapped its callous fingers around her arms, sending a trail of unwanted goose bumps to dance upon her ebony skin. She had known better than to have gone without the proper attire during the icy seasons. Even though she was a Viera, she was not immune to the cruelty of winter. She had known better, yes, but she had chosen to ignore it.

He would have lectured her in his typical charismatic way had he been there with her.

Fran had always been deemed an Ice Queen. She had never worn her feelings freely on her sleeves like those that did around her. Bottled up deep inside was where she kept her most private thoughts and feelings, thoughts and feelings no one had ever known. Her expression, stern and unrelenting, saved her little from the poor judgment of others. She was more than she had ever let be shown. To show her emotions freely was to expose her weaknesses for the entire world to see. To show her emotions was to allow herself to become vulnerable. Fran bit her lip, fighting the chilly draft that seemed to have grown stronger.

She had only wanted to protect herself.

A heart was but a fragile vase; it could only be broken and pieced together again so many times until it could no longer be fixed anymore. For her to expose herself, her deepest feelings and thoughts that she had never shared with another soul, was to place her heart on the table and take the risk of it being knocked down and shattered into a million pieces. The inner struggle to restrain her emotions took its toll on her gradually.

And now, all she had was regret.

There was no purpose in dwelling in the past. The past was gone; the present was all she had. She was not perfect. She was prone to mistakes as much as anyone else was, and she had made many during her long life. Perhaps her biggest mistake was leaving the Wood, the place she had once called 'home'. She had forsaken the Wood, and now she could no longer hear its quiet whispers. She was an outcast who was no longer wanted by her people. Even the voice had left her forever. For a Viera, there was no greater shame than to lose the voice of the Wood, but she had chose her freedom—and she had chosen it without shame.

She had sought freedom in the eyes of one man to whom she had exposed everything. There was no one who had ever known her, the real her. The part she had kept from everyone, even her own sisters, was revealed to him. His eyes had told great stories of tragedy and heartbreak, but also of bliss and achievement. His words, though sometimes caked with such sweetness that could woo any woman, had touched her in ways she never thought possible. She had always remained passive when he had tried his tactics on her, but when he had turned away, her lips turned upward. He had always had a way with words. They had grown close in such a short time. Their relationship had become tacit; all they had needed was just a glance to understand what was meant. It had not always been like that, not until she had let her barriers down for him to grow closer. It had taken much time for her to open herself to him, but he had always been patient with her. He had never rushed her nor had he ever pried.

There had been many hardships in their path, but together they had overcome them one by one. He had never once left her side, even when the whole world was against them. Together, with him, she had felt she could do anything. She had felt truly free for once in her life, and she had finally had a place to call home. He had become her staple of support, emotionally and physically. She had always appeared strong-willed and independent, but on the inside, all she had wanted was to have a shoulder to lean on—and he had offered his shoulder without reserve.

There was a saying that went, "All good things must come to an end."

She was a Viera. He was a Hume. Her lifespan was far greater than that of his. She had known this, and she had known what was to come. Every single time she had looked into his eyes, she was reminded of their fate. She had wanted to protect herself from the promised pain. She had wanted to save herself from the heartbreak of watching him grow old and frail. She had wanted to run away so that she would never bear the pain of watching him fall into eternal sleep, but she had also wanted to stay by his side until the very end.
And stay by his side was what she had done.

She had cursed herself for opening her barriers for she had known the consequences. She had held onto his cold, lifeless body and wept. She had known better than to allow herself to love another being, especially a Hume. She had laid her heart on the table for him, and now all she could do was pick up the shattered pieces and mend her broken heart.

But even though she had loved him, she had never once said those three words. Even at the very end, she wanted to protect herself, feeling if she had said those words the armor around her heart would crumble. Fran shook her head, closing her eyes. It did not matter if she had said them or not, because she had felt them. All she had now was regret, regret for not telling him she loved him.

He was gone now. Fran felt a part of her had been stripped away from her soul. With him, she felt at home. With him, she was free. With him, she was whole. Now, she had none of that. The only person who had ever understood her had ascended far beyond the skies of Ivalice, the skies she had once ruled by his side.

Author's Notes: Yes, I know it's pretty short. I really think this pairing is misunderstood. I thought I'd write a little one-shot revolving around Fran, her feelings toward Balthier, and the imminent tragedy of their relationship. I want to write a multi-chapter story soon, but the lack of ideas and time is really frustrating. Reviews are greatly appreciated! Thank you for reading.