A/N: So, this is just one out of the three mega-fics that I have planned for Penelo, and I simply have no idea how a simple short discussion eventually develop into this monster of a fic (actually I still wonder why all my fics tend to mutate in size). This prologue really doesn't explain much but… it is required to provide a proper grounding for what is to come eventually.

So, erm, happy reading to you all.

Prologue

This was not what she had expected.

In fact, for almost a year when Penelo awoke in her bed each morning in her small, cramped, but somewhat cozy apartment – an apartment situated directly below Migelo's bustling shop, which was the best shelter that an orphan like her could ever hope for – she knew exactly how her day would turn out. Her life, in the aftermath of the Dalmasca's hard earned restoration, pretty much fell into a monotonous, uneventful routine, perfectly predictable in every way. To be sure, her daily humdrum schedule consisted mostly of waking up, brushing her teeth and braiding her pigtails, followed by running up and down town to handle arbitrary chores and perform shop errands for Migelo, while keeping the orphans in line, babysitting Migelo's children in the evenings, and belly-dancing for extra pocket gils in taverns on weekends.

However boring and unpleasant the habitual routine might sound to most people – especially to Vaan's ears – Penelo had never once expressed any interest in leaving the safe haven which she had painstakingly created for herself over the years.

For sure, if life's a stage, Penelo would be the dancer on it. No matter how complicated the dance, how complex the movements, there's always a set of steps to follow, a routine to be performed, an expected act. Her life was very much a reflection of the dances that she knows by heart, with every sway, every precise movement, and every expression set accordingly. Styles may vary, partners may change, the stage may alter – and it certainly always does without forewarning – but the fundamentals of the performance remains, and it was unbecoming for a dancer to modify a dance for her own purposes. A good dancer would be able to find harmonious balance amidst the complexity of the world's stage.

Except that, every now and then, Vaan would show up uninvited and interrupt her.

Lucky for Penelo, his visits were often few and far in between, as Vaan was almost never around town. Ever since he unexpectedly inherited the Strahl from its previous infamous captain, Vaan considered it his utmost duty to uphold the long-standing reputation of the Strahl on behalf of his ex-mentor and, in the interim, stand in as the Strahl's temporary captain.

When Penelo last saw him, he even took to wearing Balthier's expensive undershirt beneath his vest. Vaan had, rather smugly, insisted on referring it as an honorary tribute in memory of his possibly deceased friend and fallen comrade. Penelo had thought, rather silently to herself, that it was nothing short of a fashion catastrophe and a complete disgrace to Balthier's name. Though, she had long learned not to question Vaan's taste – or the lack of it – in fashion. As orphans, naturally, they were poor, with not a gil to name, often saving and scrapping, licking on the rim of their bowls, and wondering where their next meal would come from. Yet they were not so horribly impoverished that Vaan couldn't even afford a decent shirt.

It's just one of her best friend's eccentricities, and to keep track of every single one would no doubt result in a heavier workload than Queen Ashe and Emperor Larsa had combined.

Vaan took the skies ever so often, too flighty to settle down on a permanent place, constantly searching for his so-called destiny and fulfilling his dream of becoming an outstanding, famous sky-pirate whose mighty name would ring for centuries to come. Riches and treasures were just a minor part of the buccaneer appeals, but Penelo knew that it was the hair-raising quests which were the sirens that call to his adventurous nature.

While the newbie sky-pirate could easily score perfect As in a piloting test, he honestly could never – for all his love for rainbows, sunshine and trouble – navigate his directions properly on any continent. The boy was naturally poor in setting suitable flight courses, lacking the aptitude of charting routes, which led to unnecessary wastage of pricey fuel. If that was not bad enough, maintenance of the Strahl wasn't exactly easy on their thin purses. Archadian airship models and its repair parts are rare and hard to come by, and even if one were lucky enough to acquire it, it would probably cost an arm, a foot and two teeth. Not to mention, Vaan's talent in accountancy was almost as terrible as his navigational skills.

Or most likely worse.

Over and over again, Vaan renewed his offer to Penelo, requesting her to accompany him as his first mate, to leave her housewife-cum-shop girl life far behind her back, and travel the world with him. There was so much to be seen, so many places to be explored, so much fun to be encountered, and all these would be hers to claim if she would just hop on the airship with him. And over and over again, Penelo playfully punched him hard on his forearm, jokingly brushed him aside, and told him that she's almost perfectly satisfied with her peaceful life.

To Migelo's relief and Vaan's distaste, Penelo seldom complained about her current mundane lifestyle, because, unlike most restless youngsters of her age, she had taken great pleasure from the long sought tranquility and peace that the war didn't permit. Under Queen Ashe's just rule over the last year, Rabanastre had been restored to what it was when her parents and brothers were still alive; while her life could never returned to what it had once been, what she had now was about the closest that she could have dreamed for.

Prior to the Archadian invasion, Penelo had a home: a real, proper warm hearth, with a loving family. She had a father, a doting man who adored his only daughter and treated her like a princess. She had a mother, a firm and formidable woman with a nurturing soul, grooming her to be the perfect lady. She had two brothers, her personal knights, who would fight her battles for her and guard her from her nightmares.

But everything had been snatched away from her during the war, and the world she had known was destroyed.

Her brothers fought to secure home and hearth, and they died in the destructive Nalbina war, which took away many young lives that night. Her parents had been less fortunate and were caught up in a bloody raid while distributing food to the needy and tending the injured soldiers. She knew her family died for what they believed to be right, but sometimes, in the lonely dark nights, she would dream of how nice it would be if her family was still with her.

In a way, Penelo was resigned to her fate instead of railing at the injustice that she had endured and she tried to keep a bright outlook of the future. She did not have it easy, losing her home and finding herself thrown out to the streets at such a tender age, falling from a merchant's daughter to nomadic street rat, but she believed herself to have fared better than many who had suffered fate worse than hers. Migelo, God bless his old Bangaa soul, had been a true friend and charitable guardian, offering her a home and providing her with food and shelter in needy times when most people are selfish and wary. He had asked for nothing but an extra helping hand, which Penelo was only too glad to give. Needless to say, she had been awfully grateful for his kind hospitality and would forever hold herself in his debt.

Although Penelo was just shy of seventeen summers, sometimes she felt and act very much like a settled down old maid who had watched seventy winters flown by on her rocking chair instead. But, she reasoned with herself, better an old maid with a roof over her head than a crippled beggar starving on the streets.

Penelo was contented with what she has now, even if she had regrets from time to time.

Her fixed routine, however, was shattered imminently one morning when she was rudely awakened by a pair of rough hands, owned by none other than her poor excuse of a childhood best friend.

In those wee, dark hours of the morning, when the moon patrols the skies while the sun was resting, Vaan had unceremoniously barged into her room. If Penelo hadn't worked a busy night shift the day before and had only managed to crawl her way to bed about an hour ago to catch some overdue lack of sleep, she might have given Vaan a good beating on his head and stuffed what remained of him into the deserted back alley.

But Penelo was too tired to be concerned by anything, especially anything that originated from Vaan's mouth. She had to rise early for work tomorrow and face a long hectic week spread before her. She couldn't afford to lose any more sleep. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried her best to block out the living nightmare by pulling the blankets tightly over herself, covering every inch possible while muffling his incessant chatter with the pillows over her ears, curling into a fetal position and, if possible, burying herself deeper into her bed.

Ever persistent and not one to just simply give up without a fight, Vaan had boorishly snatched her blankets, exposing Penelo to the chilly night air. If that was not annoying enough, he continued with his morning call antics and hopped onto her bed, bouncing up and down to gain her attention. Soon enough, Penelo's patience reached its breaking point, and in retaliation to the mental torture that she's been receiving, she gave the intruder a violent kick that sent him tumbling off the bed and hitting the floor.

Sitting up and hugging her pillow, both eyes half closed and sleep-muddled, Penelo tetchily demanded that Vaan quickly get over with his pirating sermons, in which Vaan was only too glad to oblige. To be honest, tired as she was, Penelo couldn't really pay attention to what Vaan had to say, and she only vaguely remembered him rambling excitedly about his next venture, speaking at the speed of eighty miles an hour without ever stopping to catch his breath. Thinking it was just one of his usual boasting sessions, Penelo nodded at everything Vaan said, whether it was a question or a comment, hoping that once he got bored of babbling to an unresponsive audience, he would just leave her alone and let her resume her precious sleep.

Somewhere along the way, Penelo had dozed off into deep slumber again.

Later on, Penelo couldn't actually quite recall how she was transported from her bedroom to the Strahl's sleeping bunks. Based on the scratches on her feet and the sickly bluish bruise on her knee, she reckoned that she sleepwalked her way to the airship. She didn't even hear the noisy engines burring behind her or the shaky take off that followed, and she slept soundly like a well-fed baby all the way throughout the journey.

In the end, what caused her to fully awake was a very rude and horrible rough landing that threw her off the bed bunk. Gathering herself off the floor, she first released a string of invectives under her breath, and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand to shake off the last vestiges of sleep. She then looked up and slowly took in the foreign surroundings around her which sent her into a state of muted shock. Hastily, she pulled herself up and stumbled over to the tiny, round porthole at the end of the room; tripping over her bags as she pasted her face onto the glass and stared out.

Her jaw dropped to the floor.

This was totally not what she had expected.