Author's Note: Although I should be studying for a government test, it seemed important to get this little scene on paper. I don't know if I'm going to finish it just yet (I've got a crazy schedule), but if there's even the slightest inkling of interest, I'll get it done. Just for the record, I find Vayne Solidor to be one of the most interesting and dynamic characters in FFXII. This is a little glimpse at his dark past.

Do enjoy. A definite warning for moderate gore.

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XII. I did, however, give those mysterious older brothers of Vayne's names and histories for the purpose of this story.

695 Old Valendian

His cries echoed down the shadowy corridors of the Robur Ultimus, the last and deepest dungeon of the mighty Archadian fortress. Not in his darkest dreams had he ever imagined this: his own wrists held fast by the heavy iron shackles; his own blood streaming down his back. It was with a twisted half-smile that he chided himself for making sure the dungeon masters were so well-trained. They certainly knew the art of pain. His screams were testament to that.

The black-gloved hand went up silently and the dungeon master stayed his whip. Clodius Nerva Solidor, second son of Emperor Gramis, raised his head. The blood on his back was warm, and he surprised himself with the hazy recollection of a summertime swim. Another half-smile at this: Summer afternoons? Now? Even weakened, he retained an inkling of his wry humor.

Somewhere in the darkness he heard the thick, joyless sound of clapping.

"I would expect nothing less from a man of your reputation," said the owner of the black-gloved hands, coming forward into the ring of light. "Most men would have swooned by now from the pain, but you… you—" He leapt forward and his fingers found Clodius's throat. "You're quite another matter, aren't you?" His voice was a low hiss. Clodius gurgled incoherently, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

"Commander of the 3rd Imperial Fleet, an accomplished strategist, a Solidor—" He spat this last word with bitter contempt. The fingers relinquished their hold on his neck and retreated back into the darkness.

"It took months to figure out how you had fooled father so completely. I used every trick I knew to uncover your treachery." Treachery? Clodius's dark eyes shot up in disbelief.

"You know what the penalty is for treason, don't you?" His younger brother was circling him now, the brother he had held in his lap and sheltered from bad dreams in the night. Clodius heard the footsteps stop abruptly behind him, a muffled shuffling, like something being passed, and then—

Whshck! Whshck! Whshck! The stripes came down hard and fast. Clodius shut his eyes tight and pursed his lips, trying in vain to contain his screams. Twenty times the whip came down, and twenty times he heard his brother roar in unsuppressed rage. He marveled for a moment at Vayne's strength. Only sixteen years old and he had the force of two men. No, three. This last half-smile bent into a grimace at the final blow.Spent, Vayne tossed the whip aside and came around to face his brother.

"You should know," he said, panting slightly, "there is nothing I wouldn't do for House Solidor." He bent over, his hands clasping his gold-girded knees. Seeing Vayne's thin shoulders shake with his every heaving breath reminded Clodius of skinned knees and of bandages, of chasing bumblebees and tearing through the underbrush. The smallest of smiles spread slowly across his lips, even as Vayne straightened and drove a dagger into his belly.

"You see, Lord Brother, there is a difference between you and I." Vayne's hold on the dagger was firm as he pushed it smartly into his brother's flesh.

"I am unafraid of consequences."

Any reviews are welcome. Thanks for reading, everyone.