Save Me from Sin

By Maia's Pen

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story contains spoilers, if you have not beaten Final Fantasy XII you may want to hold off. Also, this story involves a romance between the characters Balthier and Ashe. If this is not a pairing you enjoy, you may not want to read.

Disclaimer: As much as I wish Balthier was mine, he is not. Neither is anyone or anything else dealing with Final Fantasy XII.

Chapter 1

Sweat glistened on his brow, and his arms stiffened from cramps . . . it was difficult to support ones entire bodyweight via hands only. This was not a particularly relaxing situation. However, Balthier Bunansa was never one to give up due to some challenging discomfort. Inhaling carefully, he clutched the royal canopy as though it were weaved with golden thread. As a spasm threatened his forearm, Balthier reminded himself not to relinquish his grip; after all, he was dangling thirty yards up! As lovely as the Rabanastre rooftops and city lights were, he much preferred to enjoy them once his feet had located the palace flooring. Now exhaling, he heaved himself up and into an open palace window. There now, much better, Balthier applauded himself, gently dabbing his forehead clear of perspiration. Since he was most certainly not afraid of heights, Balthier now allowed himself to admire the Rabanastre city lights below. The view from The Strahl was superior, but he had to admit that the city was lovely from up here.

While he was, in fact, entering the palace both uninvited and illegally, Balthier did not consider himself to be breaking an entry. Not this time. Rather, he thought of this as a sneaky social call. Breaking in was far too easy -- he had done that before, two years ago on the night of Vayne Solidor's celebration. The night he and Fran met Vaan. The night that changed his entire life.

Balthier sighed, taking a moment to consider how utterly black the sky was this night. Dangling as he just was, he had probably stood out like a sparkling diamond necklace against a black frock. Of course, he had not been noticed by the guards thanks to Fran. Currently she was doing a brilliant job distracting those guards stationed below him. Approximately twenty minuets ago Fran had approached the guards playing the role of a citizen wishing to leave flowers for the ailing Dalmascan queen (as dozens of others were also lined up to do). Once she pretended to faint from grief the guards were at her side trying to assist the fallen beauty. It was times such as these that Balthier truly appreciated his exotic partner. He had originally estimated that it would take him eighteen minuets to scale the east wall and climb inside. Grinning smugly at his pocket watch, Balthier noted that it had only taken him fifteen.

Turning his attention from the window, Balthier had to squint in effort to see his surroundings. It was horribly dark inside the palace! He was quite sure that the inside of a coffin would be more welcoming. As his sight began to adjust to the darkness he noticed several lanterns hanging on the walls, but he was not about to light them. He had made it this far without any guards at his heels, and he rather preferred his mission continue that way. His plan was simple, as he liked best: sneak in, see the queen, and then sneak out. He aimed to accomplish these three things without getting into any skirmishes. He was not worried about himself, but those sword fights always ended in somebody's clothing being torn. The other day he had purchased a fine new vest and he would hate to place it in jeopardy.

Plucking a small hand-light from his pocket, Balthier spotlighted a palace map. He had purchased this map from a Moogle the morning before. It had certainly cost him a hefty sum of gil, so he trusted that it would be accurate. A thoughtful frown graced his lips as he studied the map. Ah, yes! He now smiled. Things looked good. According to the map the queen's bedchamber was at the end of this very hall. Balthier was slightly surprised that there were no guards stationed here . . . but who was he to dare question Lady Luck? If she desired to favor him on this day, then so be it!With his small light to guide him, Balthier began walking slowly down the hall. He was careful to keep his light aimed down, below the windows. As he advanced he could not help but admire some of the palace's finery. The crimson carpeting alone was luxurious, and Balthier imagined that The Strahl's entryway would look splendid with such a rug. What truly gripped his attention were the many jewel encrusted vases and decorative weaponry aligning the walls. For a moment he felt those sticky pirate fingers itch . . . however, he reckoned that stealing from the palace was basically stealing from the queen herself. Even the naughtiest of pirates had morals, and stealing from good friends was taboo.

As he rounded the next corner Balthier was feeling so confident in his sneakery that he dared to hum a merry tune. This proved not the best decision, as his jingle attracted the attention of a domesticated Giza wolf. The canine was a pet of the queen's and must have been napping someplace nearby. In any event, the beast now seemed quite agitated that Balthier had disturbed him. . . or that he had snuck into the palace -- Balthier was not sure which. As the wolf snarled and assumed an attack position, Balthier merely tisked and calmly drew a small Cockatrice bone from his satchel. He had been warned about the presence of this pet wolf from the map selling Moogle. Like any professional pirate, he had come prepared.

"Hello, Herbert," Balthier whispered, addressing the beast by -- what he had been informed was -- his name. "Care for a nice bone, good fellow?"

Fortunately Herbert had a change of heart; he approached Balthier and politely sat down, even offering his paw in exchange for the treat. Balthier pat Herbert atop the head and handed him the bone. Herbert scampered off happily, totally forgetting about the fact that Balthier was an intruder. Balthier decided that from this day forth he would always carry a little goodie on his person incase he should find himself in a repeat situation.

"Ah ha!" Balthier exclaimed quietly, glancing upward. "Here she is."

The door before him was incredibly grand—taking up the width of the halls end. It was solid gold and dripping with precious gems. The glittering jewels formed a mosaic in the likeness of a crown. Balthier had not seen craftsmanship of its equal. To top off the splendor, a decorative flag hung above the doorframe with the words Her Majesty woven in silver thread. Balthier tucked his map neatly into his pocket; he did not require a map to confirm that this wasthe queen's bedchamber.

Balthier hesitated, shifting his weight from side to side. He was unsure how to best make his entry. After all, he had not seen the queen in over two years . . . not since before he and Fran had stopped The Bahamut from crashing into Rabanastre. He . . . never made an appearance at her coronation. He had not even told her that he had survived to her face . . . instead he left tidings with Vaan to return Lord Rasler's wedding band to her. He probably should have returned the ring himself, in person . . . and it was not as though he did not care . . . he had simply been terribly busy. Yes, indeed! The life of a sky pirate and all . . . thieving, pillaging, flying, exploring ruins, romancing women, evading bounty hunters, and all such important things had deterred him. There were a multitude of perfectly good reasons why he had stayed away. Only, now, present circumstances had led him back into Rabanastre. Led him back to sneaking into the palace. Led him here: standing before the queen's personal chamber. Balthier did so hope that he would find her alone in her bedchamber, it would be a nuisance if she were surrounded by armed guards . . . that would just be too cruel a game for the gods to play on him! Especially since he did, initially, try to gain entrance like a good law abiding hero. Or. . . at least as a hero anyway. Just two days prior he and Fran had waltzed up to the palace door, introduced themselves as the ones who risked their lives for Rabanastre, and asked to gain audience with the queen. He and Fran were well aware that common folk were not permitted to visit the ailing queen but, surly he thought, heroes such as themselves were an exception. Alas, no. As it turns out they were not excluded from this rule. No worries of course, hence Balthier's current standing. He just hoped that the queen was alright. . .

Two weeks prior word had spread like wildfire throughout Ivalice: Dalmasca's queen had fallen deathly ill and was to be bedridden, without visitors, until she regained health. At once he and Fran knew that they had to discover the truth of this rumor. Vaan and Penelo knew nothing and Basch had been unreachable. Balthier was here to find out for himself what the Hell Wyrm was going on!

Instead of knocking, Balthier jiggled the large golden door handle. He was careful to do it slowly so as not to cause sound. As he had expected, it was locked. This was no worry for a pirate such as himself. He commenced to slip the tip of a fine dagger into the lock and twisted it expertly until it clicked open. After picking hundreds of locks this one was almost a disappointment with how simple it was to crack. He expected better for the protection of the queen!

Once opened, Balthier strode cautiously into the grand bedchamber suite. It was fairly dark inside here as well, he wondered if the queen had retired for the night? Only a few dim candles illuminated the room, but they provided light enough for him to examine the finery. There was a glorious couch sewn of rare Spee fur, tables carved from trees of Feywood, and curtains trimmed with Red Chocobo feathers. Balthier new quality when he saw it, and the furnishings in this room were worth an incredible fortune! Hung upon the walls were life-sized paintings of the queen's late parents. The eyes of the painted figures seemed to follow Balthier as he moved in and out of the shadows . . . it was somewhat unsettling. The king's stare seemed to be cursing him for steeling into his daughters bedchamber after nightfall. He imagined that the mother's eyes, however, were approving of his stealth . . . and good looks too, naturally. Balthier grinned, entertained by his silly thoughts, and then reminded himself to be more modest. He was a pirate and no queen, dead or alive, would grant him a second thought.

Balthier rounded a corner and was surprised to find the queen herself on the other side! Her back was to him and she was leaning over her bed, vigorously packing a traveling satchel with camping gear and hi-potions. She seemed in a tremendous hurry to cram it full! She also appeared to be in fine health. Nothing in her posture seemed at all frail. Balthier ran his hands down his vest to smooth the fabric, and then tugged on each sleeve end so he would look his best. He was in the presence of royalty. "Well, well," he casually strolled up behind her. "Your highness, it seems that rumors of your failing health have been greatly exaggerated."

Queen Ashe spun as though she had just been caught in an Aero attack! Gasping, her hands flew to her chest. Her action drew Balthier's eyes to the area -- and he could not help but make note that -- she looked stunning in black lace. The queen was clothed in dark lace from the hood round her head to the fringe of her boots. The hooded robe had long sleeves, thus concealing the armor which he was certain she adorned beneath. Her leggings were pinstriped grey and ebony . . . this material covered the rest of her and disappeared neatly into those knee-high boots. Her sense of fashion was still distracting to any mans vision. Realizing the he was staring at her feet, Bathier's eyes drifted to her face . . .

. . . his breath hitched in his throat . . . even now, gapping in disbelief as she was, Queen Ashe was even more beautiful than he had remembered. Balthier's eyes drank in her soft features until at last he met her gaze. Instantly their sight fused: her emerald eyes fumed like a tropical storm; wild with confusion, blustering with resent, yet . . . through the untamed squalls he saw the sentiment build. As a sole tear rained from her sight, Balthier felt more vulnerable than he had since. . .

. . . Ah, yes . . .

. . .that is why he truly stayed away so long.