Postgame Larsa x Penelo. Rated T for suggestive language, mature themes, and vague academic pretensions. Ignores Revenant Wings canon because I'm too poor to buy a Nintendo DS.
Edited 3-1-08 because this --hole of a site stripped all the entry dividers. Then some spaces. And a few periods, for good measure. WTH. The writers don't proofread well enough as it is. :O
Foreword & About the Diary
Early this year, a pair of biological survey subs discovered a radar anomaly off the northern coast of what is left of the great jungles of Kerwon. Buried under centuries upon centuries of silt and seaweed was the historical find of the decade—the wreck of a small, sleek-bodied airship. The exterior was heavily corroded, but several interior compartments (possibly used to smuggle black-market goods) remained miraculously sealed. Inside was the true jewel of the site: a woman's personal diary, penned during the last years of the Archadian Empire.
During my painstaking translation of the fragile book, I discovered it to be more than a simple chronicle of daily existence—pressed into the pages were two locks of hair: one pale, presumably belonging to the Dalmascan author, and one dark, purported by the entries to have belonged to Emperor Larsa Ferrinas Solidor himself. Though this claim is wholly unverifiable, I, for one, believe it to be the truth. Holding the book in one's hand, it is almost impossible not to believe—not to imagine the scratching of her pen upon the page, the musk of the leather binding tickling her nose, or her tears pooling smudges in the delicate swashes of the letters.
It is, at its heart, a love story.
Am-Amane Helias, Professor of Classical Linguistics,
Temple Hill University
Federated States of Roza-Szarita
September 15, 706
I'm home. I'm home I'm home I'm home. The war is over almost before it started. We did it and even though I'm lying in my own bed writing this I don't believe it. I am going to wash every day and wear nothing but silk and make Vaan feed me peeled grapes or something.
I feel sorry for Ashe, Basch, and Larsa, though—their work is just starting and there's so much of it do. Everyone in Rabanastre wants Ashe back, and she's going to do the best job of ruling Dalmasca since Raithwall and you'd better believe it. I mean, who else could act on their conscience against the will of gods? Her I'm not worried about, but Larsa...
My stomach hurts whenever I think of him, and the look on his face when we killed Vayne. He lost so much. Gabranth I couldn't save. He was bleeding inside for too long, and by the time we got him on the Strahl there was nothing I could do. Larsa said he was all right, but how could anyone be, after that? I made him come with me to the aft cabins for a little while, before we dropped him off on the Alexander, just to give him a little space. When I sat down with him on the cot he just broke. Archadians lie all the time, even Larsa, and even when he should know better. It's ground in so deep I'm not sure they even know how to stop. I didn't know what to say, if there was even anything I could say, so I just let him cry. I can't even imagine.
He'll be going back to Archades in two days, with Basch…I mean, 'Judge Magister Gabranth'. I hope I get a chance to say goodbye. Better put this away for now. Migelo is throwing us a party the likes of which the Sandsea has never seen.
-ooo-
September 19, 706
Larsa is gone. Too much official business no goodbyes from Rabanastran street rats. I should have expected.
The Bahamut finally stopped burning. The salvage crews found bodies inside that were too badly charred to identify.
We haven't heard anything from Fran or Balthier. Not a thing.
-ooo-
October 9, 706
I bought some incense at the Bazaar, and we burned it for them in the Strahl's berth at the Aerodrome: red pine for Balthier, and Kerwon clove for Fran. Vaan tried to pretend he wasn't crying. I didn't. Pretend, that is.
The ship needs some work, mostly replacement of the hull plates that got shot up and probably the fuel lines too. We're starting on it tomorrow. I don't know what I'm doing. Nono will help, but I wish Fran were here.
-ooo-
October 27, 706
Vaan and I are moving out of the apartment above Migelo's shop. We're not going far, just closer to the Aerodrome. Migelo is taking it pretty well, and Kytes is going to stick around for a while.
I never paid much attention to how much money we made hunting—mostly Balthier took care of the gil. Turns out it was a lot. Really a lot, especially since Basch and Ashe gave us their take, and Balthier and Fran...aren't coming back. When Montblanc showed Vaan the ledgers, I thought he was going to faint dead away on the carpet. It's enough to live on for a while if I can keep him from blowing it all on something dumb, like a life-size solid gold chocobo.
If I wrote Larsa a letter, would he get it?
-ooo-
November 20, 706
I got a letter back! The Emperor of Archadia made time to write back to me. It's kind of a weird feeling. He signed it "Lamont", and there was no return address. Sneak. Things in Archadia aren't so good. He's got the name and the face, but nobody wants to take orders from a slightly-more-than-thirteen-year-old.
People would take him more seriously if he stopped wearing those silly boots, I swear.
-ooo-
January 7, 707
Vaan has ants in his pants about getting started on this Grand Piracy Adventure and it's getting on my nerves. He came back to the flat with an ugly tattoo of a bellwyvern on his back (way to spend our grocery money), and has been trying to grow a beard, which is not working with hilarious results. I think he's bored. I'm bored. Bored. Lots of bored. But it is kind of nice, in its own way. I can appreciate boredom. It means nothing and no one is trying to kill, kidnap, or eat me. Vaan and I apparently do not see eye to eye on this.
-ooo-
July 3, 707
Months of nothing. Then Strahl disappeared this morning, right after we finished tuning it up.
Balthier is an impossibly selfish, stupid, egotistical son of a Giza toad who couldn't even be bothered to post a letter telling us he wasn't dead, that jerk. We spent all his money. Serves him right.
I guess it's time to see how much a nice second-hand cargo ship costs…
-ooo-
July 19, 707
Okay, I take some of it back. Balthier has an impressive stash of favors to cash in, one of which happened to be a great deal on a smuggler-modded Bhujerban light cargo ship. We've named it the Harsh Dawn.
I think it's time to go play with some engines.
-ooo-
September 25, 707
Ashe's coronation was today. I had to wear pinchy shoes, but it was worth it because I got to see Larsa again. He turned all red when I hugged him. It was cute. He's bigger, but not much bigger, and still all bony. Basch couldn't take off his helm for obvious reasons, but I think he had a good time anyway.
Balthier popped up out of nowhere (without an invitation, because I guess nobody could figure out how to send him one) and Ashe made about sixty million of those little gaspy noises. Fran was there too, in a gown with her hair down and no weapons anywhere. It was seriously the weirdest thing I've ever seen. No…actually watching Vaan get the snot beaten out of him by a pumpkin in the Sochen Cave Palace was the weirdest thing I've ever seen. But this was a close second.
-ooo-
December 2, 707
I got a letter from Basch today, of all people. Not that I'm objecting, but he always seemed closer to Vaan than to me, once he got the screaming and punching out of his system, anyways. Larsa's coming back for a state visit, to sign a treaty with Queen Ashe banning manufacted nethicite (about time!!). He asked about Vaan and Ashe, who are both just fine. The rest of his letter was just…just weird. He's either trying to write in code, or steering Larsa through puberty has knocked all his marbles out. Since he got through two years in an Archadian prison with his sanity intact, it's probably the first one. I'm hoping. The general conclusion (Vaan and Migelo are the only ones I trust with this) is that he's asking us to kidnap the Emperor for an afternoon. Vaan thinks this is a very good idea, and plans to go through with it whether it's what Basch meant or not.
-ooo-
April 8, 708
Vaan is loving this. I finally convinced him to let Queen Ashe in on The Plan. He wanted to sneak into the palace again without her help, but let's be honest…the first time was a total fluke. And I am not involving Old Dalan. He likes us well enough, but spilling The Plan to Lowtown's top information broker? Not so smart.
We get to go shopping for a hovercycle and grapples today. Excited!
-ooo-
May 21, 708
Big day tomorrow. I'm nervous. Not about the job, really, because the stakes aren't high. The worst that happens is that we get busted, Basch and/or Queen Ashe bail us out, and we look like total idiots in front of Larsa. It's more about seeing him, I guess. Ashe has been Queen about two years now, and it's really changed her. She's not cold with Vaan and me, exactly…more like…it's obvious we are what we and she is what she is. On the road, she ate the same food and slept on the same ground we did. Unless you scrubbed her down, got that beat-up old sword out of her hand, and put a crown on her head, nobody would know her for royalty. I certainly didn't.
I don't want it to be the same way with Larsa. I don't want him to be the emperor. I just want him to be the kid that whiffed Basch with a snowball on the way to Bur-Omisace. He's probably not, but there's no harm in wishing.
-ooo-
May 22, 708
There's really no way I can keep calling him a kid with a voice that deep. He'd probably still get Basch with the snowball, though.
Gods was today tiring. I'll finish tomorrow.
-ooo-
May 24, 708
Busy yesterday. As I was saying…he grew up. He really did. And I thought he was cute before.
I never missed not having "boys" in my life, not since the time Vaan picked the locks on Migelo's liquor cabinet for Reks and Giana. I barely remember anything from that night but Vaan's horrible kissing and how much trouble he had figuring out my underwear, and all the throwing up the next day didn't cast the whole ordeal in a much better light. But still…I got back my taste for wine now that I'm older. Maybe it's the same.
I'm kind of worried about Larsa, though. He really didn't look so great, like he hadn't been sleeping enough. When I magicked away that horrible sunburn he got sandsailing, I could feel it inside too. He's not sick or hurt in any way I could fix, but…he's all stretched out and worn down and he's only fifteen. It kind of scares me.
-ooo-
November 2, 708
Piracy isn't what I imagined it to be. There are only so many ancient ruins to loot in the world, and most of the ones left don't have anything more interesting than zombies and bat poop. The easy money is really in running drugs north across the border, or raiding the little Bhujerban mining islands for refined skystone. You have to hurt people that don't deserve to be hurt, either way.
All the slime came oozing out of the woodwork after Reddas died. Everything he built up in Balfonheim is collapsing, and "honest pirate" is becoming an oxymoron again. Balthier and Fran are the exception to the rule, and even they've done some nasty things when their backs were to the wall. Playing the gentleman and stealing only from the people with the deepest pockets it is a luxury most pirates can't afford. Balthier knows how to stay a step ahead of the Judiciary because he used to be in it. He knows how the Archadian gentry wire up the security systems in their estates and townhouses because he lived in them. Living like he does takes wit and skill most people haven't got, and even if you've got…it's so easy to slip just once and watch your whole world go up like dry brush. Vaan has no idea how dangerous this game really is, and worse yet doesn't know how much he doesn't know. If he keeps coasting on luck he's going to get us both killed.
-ooo-
January 13th, 709
We're running down to the last of the Saved the World money. The landlord likes us, but heroes've still got to pay rent, and I am not asking Queen Ashe to make up the difference. Decent Marks aren't coming up as often as they used to, either. I sound like a total hypocrite, but it's hard to drum up quick cash in peacetime by any method I am willing to use. Hireswords are shit out of work when the armies are off killing menacing critters instead of each other. See also: pirates. Sigh, sigh, sigh. Now that the Rozarrians don't have them pouncing on shadows, the Archadian Navy has a heck of a lot more time to go after people like us.
Vaan's schemes are getting nastier by the month. It's not his fault. It's business.
I still don't like it.
-ooo-
February 4th, 709
Vaan isn't speaking to me. I told him exactly what he didn't want to hear—the truth. This was his dream. I thought it was mine too, with all the stories he told me, but it's not. I feel like a harpy for spitting on it, but I'm trying to keep his stupid neck out of a noose! That's what they do to careless pirates, see. There is no little slap on the wrist and a stern talking-to by the Night Watch, or a couple days in the lockup until Migelo comes down to "sort it out" with a cask of wine and a box of cakes with a 200 gil note stuck to the bottom.
I thought we would be together forever. No…that's not right. I didn't really think it, but I never imagined a future without him around because it's like imaging a future without my arm or my leg. But I'm tired of hurting people, and that's what Vaan is going to have to do, sooner or later. I did enough for Queen Ashe. I killed for her, even, since she is my queen and I wanted my home to be Dalmasca again, free, the way it was supposed to be. Now we are, and I'm done with swords.
-ooo-
April 28, 709
Vaan is still disappeared. He withdrew half the pitiful amount of money in the Clan account and…poof. Oh gods I hope he's with Balthier, and not trying to make it on his own.
I took out my dancing bells again for something to do, but without my drummer there's not much point. No one else can do it like he did because no one else knows me as well as he does…or did. Migelo has been giving me things to do around the shop because he feels sorry for me. It's depressing. I find myself writing to Larsa every week instead, even though I don't send most all of the letters. Mostly it's a way to keep my hands busy.
-ooo-
June 17, 709
Larsa wrote me another letter—with an offer of sponsorship to the Healer's Collegium in the Akademy at Archades. It's the best medical school in Ivalice. Fran told me I have the talent inside me—more than her, even, and I don't think she likes admitting to be second-best.
Nobody knows why it happens, why some people have the power and some don't. I know the glyphs, but that's not all there is. It's barely half. Magic can only fix what a body could repair itself. It can't set bones, give blood, help a mother through troubled labor, or ease the ache in an old man's knuckles. I can't waste what I was given, even if I have no idea why it chose me.
I don't want to leave Rabanstre, but I don't think I can stay, either.