A/N

Hello and welcome to the first page of my first ever Final Fantasy XII fanfic. If you're reading this then that means I have already finished the writing of it and will be updating it at least once a fortnight. In it's entirety it spans three 'Acts' much like a play.

As to the actual story, there are a number of things you will need to know. Aside from the prologue, it is set before the events of the game; two years before in fact. It is pretty much one long 'what if?' question; the query being 'What would have happened if Balthier and Ashe had met before the game? He was son of a nobleman, she was a princess, it could have happened.' The story that follows contains my own imaginings that fill the holes that the plot of FFXII left behind however I've written it in such a way that, while the events of FFXII would not change, the interactions between certain characters would. The long and short of it is; this is almost an AU fanfic. It is placed in a familiar time and place but it deals with events that are arguably not in the same line of reality as the game.

This is quite a short first chapter but the second will be along soon enough.

FINAL FANTASY XII: WAITING IN THE WINGS

The newest production from Mischief Mage Enterprises.

Main Characters:

Ffamran Mid Bunansa – A devilishly handsome young Archadian aristocrat with a fondness for flying machines.

Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca – The stout-hearted princess of Dalmasca recently arranged to marry by her father.

Dignitaries and aristocrats:

Riccard, Agrias, Vayne and Larsa Solidor – Sons of Gramis Solidor, Emperor of Archadia.

Barrenthus and Mustadio Bunansa – Ffamran's older brothers.

Cidolfus Demen Bunansa – Emotionally vacant father to Ffamran.

Al-Cid Margrace – The charismatic son of the House of Margrace of Rozarria; a firm friend of Ffamran's.

Rasler Heios Nabradia – The gentle prince of Nabradia that is betrothed to Ashelia.

Others:

Captain Vossler Azelas – A Captain of the Knights of the Order of Dalmasca. Keeps a watchful eye over the princess.

Captain Basch fon Ronsenberg – A stern Captain of the Knights of the Order of Dalmasca. Is wary of Ffamran.

Ba'Gamnan – A cruel and bloodthirsty servant of the House of Solidor; has it in for Ffamran.

Act I:

'My heart is like and open highway.

Like Frankie said, I did it my way.

I just want to live while I'm alive

It's my life.'

-Bon Jovi

Prologue

Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca gritted her teeth as she slid the large wooden crate onto the floor from the bottom shelf of Cid Bunansa's office in Draklor Laboratories. Vayne was defeated, Dalmasca was safe and Archades was in the hands of men led by Young Larsa. All that remained now was to clear away the old rot and make way for a new age of peace. Ashe had decided, against advice, to deal with Draklor Laboratories herself.

Basch was accompanying Larsa to Rozarria for peace discussions and the signing of various treaties while Vaan and Penelo were assisting Marquis Ondore. It stung somewhere inside to list off her friends; it made her more aware of the ones missing.

The hole left by one friend in particular had prompted her to visit Draklor again. Apparently Cid spent a large proportion of his life in his office; there was a four poster bed in the corner and the remains of unwashed dinner dishes.

Methodically, she had looked through all the drawers, boxes and cupboards, searching for traces of Balthier the Sky Pirate as though finding evidence of his existence would bring her closer to him.

She wedged open the box before her using a large slab of nethicite from Cid's desk. Inside, within that small box, she found the only testimony in all of Draklor that Cid had had three sons. School reports, bills and, to Ashe's disgust, the contract made out to Ba'gammnan through the Judges to bring down Balthier after he'd fled Archades.

There was nothing about Cid's sons. Everything was about the costs of repair and upkeep.

Down at the bottom, creased, was the only indication that Cid had ever had a family: a photo of him and his three sons standing around. The photo still had most of its colour; it hadn't seen enough light to fade. She surveyed their faces.

There he was.

It was unmistakably Balthier. But the Balthier in the picture was younger with fewer cares, no bags under his eyes and with a light naiveté about in his expression that Ashe hadn't seen in the Balthier she knew. On the back of the photo the sons names were listed along with the date, his at the bottom.

Ffamran Bunansa.

The photo had been taken at the Ivalice Peace Conference two years ago; mere days before Balthier had run away and taken on that name. He had been younger then; less world weary and more boyish.

She knew all this for a reason. It was for that same reason that she missed Balthier more than the others knew.

She'd been there when it had all happened.

Chapter 1: Not so humble beginnings

Archades, two years prior

Politics.

Ffamran Bunansa slipped down in his chair as he sighed. The stretch hover car and well-upholstered seats had done nothing to lighten his mood. Another day in Archades, another stupid war conference to be dragged along to with his emotionally vacant father and two older brothers.

Or maybe it was a peace conference. It didn't really matter. They both involved a lot of aging old farts saying things they didn't really mean.

He looked out over the city.

Archades – the city that never tires of gossip and intrigue. A kicked shin in some bar down one end of town was a brutal murder worthy of vengeance by the time it got to the other end. If secrets were gold then gossips and celebrities were millionaires, selling their stories and their dignity for what they could. And just like gold, no one had any hope of holding onto a secret for very long, unless if they were dead.

That was the one advantage of his position, Ffamran mused: he was held high enough by his father's position as chief of secret nethicite investigations to have a small window through which he could observe the lives and scandals of the rich and famous without being a figure of any interest himself.

But then again that wasn't entirely true. He stole a glance at his father who was restlessly twisting at a nethicite ring on his finger, heedless of anything going on about him. If his father became any more consumed by his thirst for nethicite, Ffamran and his brothers would very quickly find their tales of neglect and anguish attaining a monetary value that would amount to a small town.

Ffamran pushed the thought from his mind, settling once more on the tedious situation before him. An entire afternoon at the Collective Embassies building smiling charmingly at high-to-do humes, bangaas and seeqs. It wasn't even the actual conference; that would take place tomorrow. It was just a chance for various delegations to size each other up and pinpoint people more likely to swallow a bluff, bribe or threat.

Ffamran had little respect for diplomats. He didn't see why they got paid so much for lying, cheating and swindling people out their money; something he could do in his sleep.

He tsked distastefully as he surveyed the city with all its nooks, crannies and a poor ratio of nannies to crooks. He had known, always known that someday he would escape this place.


Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca reluctantly drew back from the large window.

'Father?' she asked slowly, turning to look at the elderly man who was leafing through a stack of papers on the king-sized bed.

'Yes, Ashe?'

'Is it actually legal to build a city this large?'

The king of Dalmasca smiled.

'I doubt that there's a law on how powerful one nation is allowed to be.'

Ashe returned her gaze to the bustle down in the streets below. She, her father, Captain Basch fon Ronsenberg and the rest of the Dalmascan delegation were lodging at the Collective Embassies building of Archades for the duration of the Peace conference.

'Why are we here again?'

'Well the relationship between Archades and Rozarria are more strained than usual at the moment and it's looking as though neighbouring nations may be drawn into the crossfire. So this peace conference is designed to try and peacefully resolve the issues without resorting to warfare.'

'No I mean why are we here? The Dalmascan delegation. They don't listen to anything we say and even if they did they wouldn't care.'

'Well, my dear,' her father said slowly, walking over to her and laying a hand on her shoulder, 'we all have a duty to fulfil, as you will soon have to learn.'

Ashe made an irritated noise in the back of her throat.

'I don't see any reason why I should marry him.'

'That may be so, my dear, but I'm afraid that the state can.'


Ffamran sniffed disdainfully as he looked about the room. It was about eight o'clock at night and the great hall of the Collective Embassies building was packed full with more pot-bellied diplomats than you could poke a sharp stick at. It seemed that every nation in Ivalice had sent representatives, complete with flamboyant costumes and hats.

While Ffamran was not the son of a diplomat or a ruler, having a father with strong political ties to House Solidor ensured that he and the rest of his wretched family got VIP tickets to every international booze-up.

Bored out of his wits, Ffamran decided to play his favourite game: 'Name that fop.'

First off, distinguish the country bumpkins from the city rats. That was easy enough, the representatives from Giza, Dalmasca, Nalbina and every other hole in between were the ones gaping at their own gilt cutlery.

There was Marquis Halim Ondore IV in the corner, looking a little unaccustomed to not being on a floating island several hundred feet in the air. A short distance away was Judge Reddas of Nabradia, apparently has colour blind as ever. Today his colour scheme seemed to be 'Passionfruit.' In deep conversation with Reddas was the Young Prince Rasler Heios Nabradia. Close to him, all of House Solidor: Riccard, Agrias, Vayne, Little Larsa and their elderly father, Emperor Gramis. Hopefully it was a peace conference as it looked like one more major war might just finish him off. Each holding one of Larsa's hands was Judge Drace and Judge Gabranth, formerly Noah fon Ronsenberg.

Ffamran almost laughed as he saw the figure beside the blonde guardian. Captain Basch fon Ronsenberg, identical in nearly every possible way was standing shoulder to shoulder with his twin, fiercely ignoring him. He wondered whether they knew that they had identical 'cold shoulder' stances.

Naturally the captain was accompanying the King of Dalmasca, Raminas who had with him a girl that Ffamran had never seen before. He cocked his head to one side to take in the sight. Simple white dress, nice bone structure, regal posture, light figure, no jewellery, very pretty.

Ffamran made a movement with his hand and was soon joined by his Rozarrian friend, Al-Cid Margrace, son of the ruling family of Rozarria who flicked his thick black locks as he removed his sunglasses. He was older than Ffamran but in terms of maturity, they were almost on the same level.

'Ah Ffamran, how nice of you to notice me. I hadn't thought that your position granted you the right for disdain of your superiors' he said in a mock-hurt voice.

Ffamran waived the comment away.

'Al, you're more familiar with political mugs than I am. Who's that girl over there with the Dalmascan delegation?'

Al-Cid scrutinized the girl.

'If I'm not mistaken (which I'm certain I'm not,) that would be Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca. Heir to the Dalmascan throne should her father pop his clogs.'

'Such tact.'

'No less than you at the best of times. So, does that little miss light up your glossair rings? Care to take her for a drive?'

Ffamran watched her for a bit. He had graduated school several years ago with flying colours, a love of flying machines and a tank full of experience with women. He was a hot-blooded twenty year old male who knew that he could melt the chilliest ice queen to a steaming puddle. It wasn't a matter of if he could get her so much as a case of if he wanted her.

'Might be a bit of fun.' He said at length. 'Not much else to do.'


These gatherings of the influential always scared Ashe a bit. It worried her the way large porous men would strut about in large cloaks as much younger, handsomer women clung dumbly to their arms. It was amongst the wealthiest that Ashe saw the greatest degradation of female integrity.

It made her feel sick thinking about her own impending arranged marriage. The man's name was Rasler. In himself he was nothing particularly reprehensible or worthy of censure but he represented a suppression of her own strength and abilities through marriage.

Ashe was shaken from her thoughts by a silky voice near her ear.

'Evening, milady.'

She spun about to see a handsome young man. Judging by the spotless pale yellow shirt; well-tailored, navy blue coat; stylistically loose square navy tie, tight black pants, sleek agate rings and pierced ears he was an Archadian. Yes indeed, from the top of his golden brown head to the tips of his knee high Wild Saurian hide boots the boy reeked of juvenile aristocrat.

'May I help you?' she asked archly.

'Well yes I believe you can,' the tall, dark and handsome youth said. The image was tarnished somewhat by the fact that he was clearly aware that he was tall, dark and handsome. 'I was just wondering what a charming blossom like you was doing in a room full of gnarled old oaks.'

Ashe's eyes narrowed.

'Did you think that one up yourself?'

'Now that's a bit harsh don't you think? I was just about to offer you a drink.'

'My mistake, I was just about to decline it.'

'Well could I at least know such a beauty's name?'

Ashe paused.

'I am Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca. My friends and family call me 'Ashe.' You may call me 'unimpressed.''

'An elegant name for an elegant princess' said the boy, failing to hide his sarcasm. 'My name is-'

'Of no interest to me.'

'I hardly think you're representing your country appropriately.'

'I could say the same of you.'

'So what should I do to please you, princess?' the man asked, exasperated.

'Well,' Ashe began slowly, 'In your native street Archadian, I think the term is "Bugger off."'

And with that, she stalked away, fuming in her triumph in a correct first impression; Archades really was a stuck city full of people stuck up so far they were in danger of floating out of the stratosphere.