T I T L E : Blood and Water
C H A P T E R : Death of a Sky-Pirate
A U T H O R : ViviBell
R A T I N G : K-T. Like, one bad word. xD
S P O I L E R S : Yush. Takes place after the game has ended.
P A I R I N G S : Hinted at FranxBalthier
S U M M A R Y : One off. Bahamut has crashed and Balthier is left in ruins against the debris of the aircraft.
He cannot move his legs.
And he can barely see the blue heavens above him.
His time is drawing to a close and his life flashes before his eyes...
A life he had left behind.
D I S C L A I M E R : Don't own SquareEnix's FFXII - or any of its original characters. Obviously, the OCs are mine. ;)


C H A P T E R O N E

From a distance the flash was brilliant; the explosion, beautiful.
The hellish roar did not deafen the people of Dalmasca, and their licking flames lightly glazed the skies of Nalbina in its crimson light.
In a second it was all over - the sky-terror Bahamut skimmed the clouds of its burning engines before descending to earth in a whorl of soot and sand, torn asunder like the cruel chains that confined the peoples to Archadia.

Once more, they were free.

Individuals at last – the proud nation before it was stripped of its monarch and independence.

For Balthier, it was enough. For the noble sky-pirate, the piercing aches of his bones and the fierce ringing in his ears was worthwhile for the county he had helped restore to its former glory; for a princess he had aided in securing her throne; a general whose name was replenished; for two orphans he had returned a home to. But what did he, a man swearing fealty to no one receive in return?

The embers of the fire continued to sizzle on hot plates of metal, the heat basking the curves of his face in soothing warmth. His eyes lolled from side to side, unfocused and uncoordinated as they scanned an azure sky for signs of life, helplessly searching for an exit from the thick rolls of smoke that billowed before his line of sight, concealing the the heavens behind a haze of smog.

His hands twitched anxiously as he tried to move – but to no avail. They curled around vapors of dust, feeling the spicy heat of smoke slip through his grasps. The back of his hands merely swiveled from side to side, brushing his scorched skin against the bed of sand beneath him. The Archadian had little hope of moving, nonetheless, he tried; tried with all the might his throbbing limbs could muster to unlatch himself from his sandy tomb.
But it was useless. Useless to move legs that were bent, bruised and broken, and arms that burned with the intensity of the inferno around him. The bandit tilted his head to the side, wincing painfully as muscles clenched and tightened around his throat causing him to splutter and groan. To the east, his eyes caught sight of more debris; more smoldering bars or iron torn from the main bulk of the airship, still attached to thick bolts in its corners.

The more he stared, the more surreal the surroundings felt to him – the less he knew here he was, or what had truly happened. All that remained to him were the wails of sirens and the frantic clatter of metal before an eerie silence and a vociferous collision. Again, there was that excruciating pain in the back of his head and neck and Balthier's eyes squinted in response. He had no idea of time and space – how long he had been lying there, or where he had fallen. All he knew was that his body was deteriorating under the pain of his earlier stunts and the vague sting of a cut along the side of his brow was growing dimmer as the minutes past.

Everything was.

The old sores were retreating into a pleasant numbness until the ache of his chest grew dull and the pain in his limbs vanished. All that remained was the metallic tang of blood on this lips to remind him that he was injured – perhaps too injured now to be recovered.

Yes. He thought as the soothing deadness crept up his leg and caressed his skin into numbness before working the rest of his body. His eyes fluttered shut and he let out a shuddered breath as he readied himself for an impending sleep – one that he feared he would not wake up from.

In the void of his mind, he could barely tell what had been and what was; and the past and present weighed thickly in his thoughts as an inky darkness settled over the scene.


N O T E S : Okay. This is a oneshot... for now. At the moment I am unsure whether I should continue or not - but I'll see what you peeps think before I make any decisions.
Hope you enjoy the opening scene.

V