I do believe that this is the first Final Fantasy XII, Pirates of the Caribbean crossover to be posted on fanfiction. True or not, I am enjoying myself writing this because I am a rabid Balthier fan, and I just happened to watch Pirates over the weekend. And then it hit me…
So. Enjoy; it may be a little wacky, so bear with me. Reviews will be extremely helpful since I feel I am treading paths never walked before.
TGD
Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or Final Fantasy XII. They are the property of Disney and Square Enix.
"Wait! Balthier! You're leaving already? But you just got to Rabanastre!" Vaan was running after him. Nostalgically, Balthier recalled the times when they were traipsing about Ivalice as a (almost) family, together with Ashe, Basch, Penelo, and his dearest partner, Fran. Vaan had tailed him like this then, too. Just behind them, Penelo herself was jogging to keep up. He sighed, and would have rubbed his temples had his arms not been full of supplies for the Strahl.
"Well now, Vaan, I can't stay, first of all because darling Fran is waiting for me and my supplies in the Bhujerban Aerodrome, and second of all— she wants them now." he snapped.
"Why couldn't you have gotten the repair parts in Bhujerba then? You must have wanted to visit us." Penelo said slyly.
"Being on an isolated sky city has its detriments when you are out of a certain, instrumental part of your ship!" Balthier retorted. "And I just happened to run into Vaan when I came to buy the fore mentioned instrumental part." The orange Gate Crystal was coming into view now; he'd only have to touch it with a Teleport Stone and off he'd be to Bhujerba, leaving the nosy brats behind. He set his packages down to rummage through his side pouch, searching for the stone that would send him back to his ship. Penelo gave a fake teary sigh.
"Then, good bye for now! See you soon!" she jumped forward to give him a hug, and Balthier took a step backward to dodge her. He was not one for arbitrary and unnecessary shows of affection when it came to girls much younger than he was, and Penelo hugging him in the middle of Rabanastre was extremely low on his priority list. As he moved, he saw the small blue "crystal" of manufacted nethicite hanging from Penelo's neck; a gift from Larsa. Vaan spotted it too.
"Penelo! You know better than to wear that thing around Gate Crystals!" Vaan shouted, as suddenly Mist condensed around them. Balthier wore a look of utter horror as, when he had taken a step back, his hand brushed against the now glowing Gate Crystal. He only saw a blinding flash and heard Vaan calling his name, before he was whisked (in his own bitter words) to you-know-not-where.
Wherever he'd ended up, Balthier made a splash landing in the middle of a harbor, and, coughing and spluttering on the salty water, managed to swim to the closest dock. He hauled himself out of the drink, shaking his head to rid the water from his face and wringing his cuffs out. A man wearing a plain grey overcoat and brown leather tricorne approached him, concern written in every wrinkle of his aged face.
"Are you quite alright?" the dock manager looked him up and down, taking in his intricate gold embroidered vest, skin tight leather trousers, shin guards, and steel shoes, all, of course, dripping water. Balthier gave him a lopsided grin when the man's gaze lingered on his colorful rings and bracelets. The poor manager didn't know what to think; either the man who had mysteriously appeared in the middle of Port Royal's harbor was a slightly eccentric member of the nobility, or a very well dressed scoundrel. It could have gone either way; while a little short on aristocrats, the port was certainly filled with scoundrels where no one was looking.
"Ah, yes, thank you." Balthier replied. "Just a little damp." His drawl suggested aristocracy. The dock manager nodded, but continued to stare. Balthier frowned at the attention.
"I know I'm attractive, my good man, but could you please stop gazing at me?" he asked. The dock manager flushed.
"How dare you insinuate…!" he sputtered. Perhaps the man was a scoundrel after all.
"Forgive me, I could not resist." Balthier smirked. "Now, I could use a little help. Where am I?"
The dock manager straightened. "Welcome to Port Royal, one of the most important cities you will find in the Caribbean, governed by Lord Weatherby Swann."
The sky pirate could feel a headache coming on. Port Royal? Caribbean? Weatherby Swann? Honestly, who wanted a name like Weatherby? Then again, Ffamran wasn't much better. One thing was for certain. As far as he knew, he was not in Ivalice anymore.
"Thank you," he murmured vaguely, walking toward the town. Perhaps there was a tavern he could go to in order to think on his troubles, accompanied by a nice mug of ale. Then it hit him that he probably did not have any money to pay for the mentioned mug of ale, if that was what taverns served here at all.
How would he ever get home? What would Fran think? What misadventure had he gotten himself into now? It was all so frustrating. Balthier patted himself down to make sure he still had most of his possessions in his… possession. Lohengrin in its black scabbard was still strapped to his hip (it wasn't the best sword, he would have preferred Deathbringer to be swinging from his hip) and Danjuro, tucked away in its plain brown sheathe, was also present. He gave a sigh of relief that he'd not lost them. Lohengrin could be replaced easily; it was Danjuro that would have broken his heart. Self assessment complete, Balthier sat down on a barrel in the sun to dry out and observe the populace of this Port Royal. They dressed like shabby Archadians, in fact, their fashions were very similar. Which meant… yes, there they were! Coin pouches and wallets dangled from their belts, jangling with money. Here was a game that Balthier could play very well. He would only need a little money to get started here, and everybody knew that it made the world go round.
Balthier stood, stretching. He was dry enough now that he wasn't uncomfortable, and this Caribbean weather (or what he'd experienced so far) not so bad. Now, off to work… there was a rather well suited man coming down the alley, engrossed in a book. Balthier began to walk up the alley, toward him. Just as they were about to pass each other, the pirate pretended to trip on an upended cobblestone, stumbling forward and knocking into the man with his shoulder as he fell. Using his shoulder as a shield from his victim's eyes, Balthier drew a tiny knife from its sheath on his leg, cut the string attaching the man's wallet to his belt, which dropped the purse into the pirate's belt pouch, and returned the knife to its place in one smooth stroke.
"Steady on!" the man who he'd just pick pocketed grabbed the offending shoulder and pushed Balthier away.
"Ah, I am so sorry, sir! I just tripped, you see…" he made a show of apologizing profusely, gesturing to the stone that had caused him to "trip".
"Watch where you're going!" the man said angrily, storming away. Balthier dusted himself off, a faint smile dancing on his face. Now then, what was the money like in this new place?
He ducked away from the main thoroughfare and dumped the meager contents of the pouch into his palm. There were a few dull silver coins which he identified as "shillings", and two different sizes of copper colored coins, the smaller being farthings and the larger being pennies. Balthier frowned. Gil was much easier to understand. As he walked back to the waterfront, he began creating a mental map of the place. It was always good to know your surroundings; one never knew when an escape was in order. At the mouth of the harbor, three grisly skeletons hung from nooses. They must have been pirates. Balthier was all too familiar with the ways that brigands were punished, and a quick drop and a sudden stop was a favored method of execution.
From the castle upon the hill, a loud fanfare began to play, drums rolling and flutes tootling a patriotic tune. From the gossip, he picked up that a certain James Norrington, Captain in the British Imperial Fleet, was being promoted to Commodore today, hence the increased amount of soldiers patrolling the streets to maintain order. Sitting back on his barrel again, Balthier turned his eye to the various boats anchored in the harbor. There were all manners of them, but they had nothing on some of the ships he'd seen in Balfonheim. A few things caught his attention.
There was a mast tied up at the dock. Balthier snorted, and continued looking. On a smaller ship flying the Imperial colors of the world he was in now, there was a small drama unfolding as two soldiers in bright red confronted a ragtag man bedecked in beads, dreadlocks, and a faded red bandana, muskets cocked. How Balthier wanted a hold of a musket. It made his fingers itch with the want to hold a gun again. Why he'd thought to bring Lohengrin of all weapons to Rabanastre versus Fomalhaut, he'd never know. At least he knew he could do some significant damage with Danjuro.
He wandered leisurely down to the dock where the confrontation was taking place. Fran always said his curiosity would be the end of him, but he wanted so badly to see how this story played out! Balthier silently meandered to the pier in time to hear the soldiers say in wavering voices,
"What's your business in Port Royal, Mister Smith?" The first soldier, a rather plump man said.
"And no lies!" the thinner of the pair supplied.
"Oh alright, you've caught me. I'm here to commandeer a ship, sail to Tortuga, steal, pillage, and otherwise pilfer my weaselly black guts out, savvy?" was the dramatically delivered reply. Balthier smiled. Perfect delivery.
"I said no lies!" the thin soldier shouted. His companion blinked.
"I think he's telling the truth."
"If that were the truth, then he wouldn't have told us."
Balthier seated himself on a crate this time, leaning back in the shade of the over hanging loading dock to enjoy the show. The pirate (for indeed, that is what the bandana wearing man happened to be) had now just started engaging the two marines in idle conversation. Above, at the fortress, the official sounding music had stopped playing, and Balthier had begun to grow bored of the act in front of him. Just as he was thinking he should move on and start thinking of a solution to his problem (namely, how to get back to Ivalice), he was distracted by the sight of a girl falling from the fortress battlements. He leaped to his feet, and the three men were distracted by the splash as the girl hit the water.
"What was that?" the thin soldier asked his partner. They were interrupted as Balthier climbed aboard the ship for the best optimal diving spot.
"Pardon my intrusion," Balthier said, dumping his pouches and weapons into the arms of the two soldiers and handing his vest to the pirate who'd been narrating a story when the girl fell into the sea.
"Hey! This is a private ship, property of the Royal Navy! You aren't supposed to be here! What are you doing?" the fat soldier protested loudly.
"Oh? Then what is he doing here? I thought this was a private ship?" Balthier smirked, gesturing to the pirate. Both soldiers blushed. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I have a damsel in distress to rescue." With that, the sky pirate dove overboard and into the water.
A pulse rippled through the water. Balthier winced slightly, careful not to release his held breath, at the feeling as it passed through his body. Above water, the two guards, Murtogg (the thin man) and Mullroy (the thick man), shared a look.
"Did you see that?" Murtogg asked his friend, who gave him a puzzled look. A harsh wind began to blow, and the pirate, who had been examining Balthier's vest (and wondering how much it would sell for) looked up at the flag as he realized the wind had changed direction, a dark frown on his face.
Balthier's head broke the surface of the water. The girl he'd rescued was wearing a very frilly dress that was not making swimming any easier. Luckily, the dock wasn't far off, and he heaved the girl's head above the water, handing her to the two soldiers waiting for him, and clambered up after her.
"She's not breathing!" Murtogg shouted with a panicked air.
"Move," the pirate shoved the vest back into its owner's hands and drew his knife. Ripping open the girl's dress to reveal a very stiff corset underneath, he slit the strings holding it shut and tore it off her, handing it to Mullroy. Immediately, she gasped, coughing a good amount of sea water onto the pier.
"I wouldn't have thought of that…" Murtogg said somewhat dejectedly. The pirate glanced back at his "companions."
"Obviously, you've never been to Singapore," he said, then grinned roguishly at Balthier, who had finished tightening the straps on his vest, and added "or worn a corset."
"I have no idea to what you refer." Balthier said crossly, realizing that the pirate was alluding to his own restraining wear. He ran a hand through his bronze colored hair, tousling it to make the water come out. This was definitely going to be a trying play if this pirate was going to be a supporting character. Luckily, the other pirate was too busy to reply, and instead fingered a golden medallion worn around the girl's neck, the dark frown returning.
"Where did you get that…" he murmured.
They were interrupted as footsteps rattled off of the wooden planks. An entire squadron of soldiers surrounded them; a man dressed in officious blue get up that Balthier assumed was the recently promoted Commodore Norrington drew a sword held it near the pirate's neck threateningly, forcing him to stop his inspection of the medallion and stand, while the rest of the soldiers trained their muskets on Balthier. Close behind Norrington was the man from whom Balthier had cut his purse. The man rushed forward, with a little cry of "Elizabeth!" That must have been the girl's name. When he laid eyes on Balthier and the pirate, he gave an infuriated shout.
"That's the man who stole my wallet!" he said, once he was capable of speaking. Balthier winced.
"Ah, it would seem I have been caught." the sky pirate groaned. Then the Governor spotted Murtogg holding Elizabeth's corset. The soldier hurriedly dropped the article, pointing at the bandana wearing pirate.
"Shoot them." the Governor said tersely. The sound of cocking guns filled the air. Balthier felt cold. Is this the fate of the leading man, to be shot down in some obscure corner with none to know of my fate? He thought. Luckily, salvation appeared in the form of Elizabeth's pleas.
"Father!" she cried, as he bodily wrapped her in his blue coat, but switched her attention to the Commodore. "Do you intend to kill my rescuers? Even if he did steal your wallet—" her glanced flicked to Balthier, then to the other pirate— "and he put my honor in a compromising situation?" Norrington looked at her disbelievingly, before grudgingly nodding to his squad, who put their guns up. He sheathed his sword.
"Now… I believe thanks are in order?" he held his hand out to the bandana wearing pirate, who suspiciously took the proffered hand. He winced when the Commodore viciously yanked his sleeve up, revealing a "P" branded into his arm. Pushing the sleeve up further, a blue tattoo of a bird flying over the sea was exposed.
"A brush with the East India trading company and… Jack Sparrow?" he asked, a smug air entering his voice. Jack Sparrow grimaced.
"Please, it's Captain Jack Sparrow." Captain? Balthier perked up. This supporting character's role may have just been elevated a little bit.
"Well, well, well… Keep your guns on them, men! He's a pirate!" Norrington barked, and the guns were leveled at them once again.
"These are his, sir!" Mullroy nodded toward Balthier, handing over the man's pouches, sword, and dagger. Murtogg confiscated Jack's belongings as well. Norrington eyed the bejeweled hilts of Danjuro and Lohengrin, raising an eyebrow as he saw the silvery white blades with their rune engravings.
"It seems you have an eye for expensive trinkets, pirate. How much of this is stolen?" he asked. Balthier offered him a smirk as Gillette, Norrington's shadow, snapped some archaic chains onto his wrists.
"It's all mine, actually." he replied. It wasn't actually stealing if it was stolen from a fiend or found in a chest, was it? Norrington snorted.
"From your voice, no one would ever suspect you were a pirate, would they." he sneered.
"I prefer it that way. It makes things easier." Balthier returned. Gillette put handcuffs on Sparrow next, and Norrington did his inspection of the pirate's affects.
"Neither additional shot nor powder… a compass that doesn't point north…" he put the said items back on the pile and drew Sparrow's dagger. "Not quite as flashy as that man's… but I almost expected it to be wood." he slammed it back into its sheath with a snap.
"Take them to the cells!" Norrington ordered. "The hanging will be arranged, mark my words." As they were led away, Elizabeth fled after them.
"Please, I must protest—" she cried, but the Commodore cut her off.
"These men have led lives of blackness and evil," he began, but Balthier objected.
"I am only guilty of a cutpurse, Commodore. Hardly enough to call an entire life of blackness and evil." he called. I saved Ivalice, for goodness sake! he thought.
"It is enough to condemn you, thief!" Norrington retorted. Elizabeth scrambled around him, trying to stand between the Commodore and the pirates (though it seemed they believed that Sparrow was the only pirate there).
"Commodore…" she whispered. "Please…" Behind her, a grin broke out across Sparrow's face.
"Finally!" he whispered, and swung his chains around Elizabeth's neck. She gasped, the soldiers started forward, Balthier raised an eyebrow, and Norrington and the Governor gave a collective "No!"
"Don't shoot! Elizabeth!" the Governor cried.
"Commodore, my affects, please! And don't forget my hat." Sparrow hissed menacingly. When the man hesitated, Jack pulled Elizabeth closer, and she gave a little shriek.
"Where are his belongings? Hurry, give it over!" the Governor shouted. Elizabeth, tears sliding down her face, took them from Mullroy.
"And now…" Sparrow turned her around to face him, smiling and placing his gun against her temple.
"You're contemptible." she snarled, pulling his buckles tight with undue force and smashing his tricorne atop his head.
"I know." he murmured, and then turned her back to face his audience, resting his head smugly on her shoulder. The Governor looked as if he were about to explode.
"Now, let this be remembered as the day that you almost caught… Captain Jack Sparrow." he shouted, backing under the overhanging pier then pushing Elizabeth toward the soldiers. Balthier simply sidestepped her as she was caught in the arms of the Commodore and the Governor before they grabbed him as well, clutching his arms with a death grip. In the mean time, Sparrow had fled, grabbing a rope and kicking a pulley that sent him rocketing into the air. At the same time, a cannon crashed through the pier in front of them, several soldiers screaming as they fell into the hole. Balthier had to admit he was a little impressed. Sparrow now dangled above them, going in circles around a loading crane and screaming.
"Open fire!" Norrington howled, all semblances of dignity lost.
"Hey! Watch it!" Sparrow shouted back down as bullets whined around him, before using his momentum to swing to another crane and loop his shackles about another rope and zip lining to freedom. The man had tremendous luck— he managed to cross a stone bridge while the soldiers were shooting at him without a scratch.
Norrington was breathing hard, looking as if he were ready to have a Commodore sized temper tantrum. "Take him away." he jerked a hand toward Balthier. "The rest of you, after Sparrow."
After a rush toward the local gaol, Balthier found himself roughly shoved into a small cell with a straw covered floor, and the door clanged shut behind him. He watched morosely as his possessions were hung on a long nail near the gaol's entrance, and then had his shackles removed by the guard, who reached through the bars to remove them. For a moment, Balthier considered smashing the guard's head against the door, rendering him unconscious, then affecting his escape, but decided against it. The latticework of the bars would prevent him from reaching the guards head fast enough to enact his plan. So he let the guard remove the chains, and rubbing his wrists absently, retired to a corner to wallow in self pity.
"Here's a pretty, pretty pickle." he murmured to himself. He wasn't trapped per se; when the guard had left for the changing of the watch, Balthier had made an examination of the lock. It was a very archaic pin-and-barrel kind, very easy to pick. He probably could have done it with a few nails if he'd had them. "Awfully lax security, hm?" he murmured, reclining deeper into the corner. "How am I ever going to go back?"
So yeah. Please. Please. PLEASE review.