AN: I changed Larsa's age to 13 from the game instead of 12 and Penelo to late 16. It seemed more realistic.
She's Broken
Chapter 1: Living In Your Letters
Larsa Solidor, Emperor and almighty ruler of the glorious nation of Archadia, fourth son of the house of Solidor, most eligible sixteen-year-old bachelor in all of Ivalice, was snoring so loud that it echoed off of his palace walls and could surely be heard in the next room. His bottom half slept in his bed and top half on the cold granite floor; a puddle of saliva pooled generously around his delicately chiseled jaw. His almost shoulder length, wispy hair was draped all over his face, his breathing gently pushing it away, then sucking it back greedily to his face. The covers on his very large, very lonely king sized bed were rolled in a ball at his feet; one immense, fluffy, luxurious ball that matched the equally luxurious drapery that was pulled back to let in as much light as possible. The mid-afternoon sun shone brilliantly into the room through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the strongest rays of light hitting Larsa directly. The pale skin on his broad back only seemed whiter with the more light that hit him, almost like a weak glow. Thin sheets of sweat coated his back, face, legs and broadening shoulders; Larsa was going to wake up drunk, if he woke up at all that day.
Everyone, including the Counsel, knew that today and yesterday was the only two days out of the year to leave Larsa alone. He had ordered especially that no one was to enter his room under any circumstances and trusted that that word would be kept, but he took the extra precaution and locked the door anyways; no one could see what he was doing, they would lose all respect for him as a leader who does not act recklessly or with self-destruction.
His room reeked from the sour stench of someone who had consumed too much alcohol and looked as though someone who had did it in there. Larsa's honorable Emperor's clothing was thrown askew, his pants draped carelessly over his bedpost. Papers from his personal bureau littered the black marble floor with their perfect white in contrast with its opposite shade. The only paper neatly assembled, or even left on or in his desk, were 42 closed envelopes. They were stacked in piles of sixes, arranged so perfectly it would look as though their owner took great pride in them. One letter, however, the 43rd, was opened. Its contents, a single white piece of paper, was aligned neatly with where the chair should have been, as if its reader had abandoned it in the midst of a sitting.
Resting flush against Larsa's side, was a single bottle, three quarters full. Not just any bottle, but Rozarrian Puregrain, the most toxic alcoholic drink known in Ivalice for it being pure alcohol, and was illegal in Archadia. Its drinker had passed out before he was able to put its lid on; half of the contents had spilt all over the sheets beside Larsa. Some had pooled around him, but had long since dried. The situation was easy to read, and it was obvious to the onlooker what had happened here.
A carefully folded piece of paper was loosely held in the limp fingers of Larsa's hand that rested on the floor. The piece of paper looked as though it had been unfolded and refolded many times, due to its weathered edges. Its original white color had dirtied to a pale tan. The paper was freckled with many circular distortions, the kind only tears could cause.
It was Larsa's 16th birthday.
Penelo went missing a year ago today.
He had failed her. He had failed the only girl he had ever loved; his best friend. The only person left in the whole world that he knew he could always turn to and always trust, no matter how trivial or deep the issue. She always wanted to know how he was. Not how Archadia's commerce treaty with Rozarria is coming along, not how the rebuilding of the Empire was for the people, not how much income the agriculture generated for Archadia , but simply how he was feeling or what he was up to. She hardly ever inquired about the Empire, not because she didn't care, but because she knew that was the last thing Larsa wanted to talk about at the end of the day. Penelo only once asked for a favor from him and that was even half serious: Larsa, do me a favor and lighten the hell up. To her, he was never the Emperor or the Emperor's son, but always and simply, Larsa.
If he needed someone to listen, he knew no matter how bad things got here, he would always have Penelo as his safety blanket; his escape from the only life he knew. Now, Penelo was no longer in the picture, and his life went out of control. To know that he would never hear from her or speak, write, see, touch, feel her ever again, was something he could hardly bare. He had promised to keep her safe, and even if he was only 13 at the time, he meant it. As time went on, he started to mean it more and more until he decided to make it his personal life's goal. Under no circumstance, he once vowed, will harm be done to that woman as long as I have something to do about it.
When Penelo went missing, he did do something about it. For a month after, searching for her was top priority of his imperials. He even left the palace on several occasions to search himself or follow a lead. Of course, they were never useful and as time wore on, the panic wore down and Larsa had to reassign his imperials; it wasn't something that directly concerned his Empire and he knew was foolish. But what didn't wear on with time, was the misery and emptiness of being alone. It was like someone had taken a piece, no, it was if someone had only left a piece of his soul. Although he hadn't seen her since the fall of his brother three years ago, her presence was something that always lingered. Just to know she was out there and accessible if need be was a comfort in its own. Just to know she was alive and well soothed him.
He returned to her more often then he should. Retreating to his mind to relive his few moments with her, hanging on every scratchy word Penelo had ever written to him. No matter what the letter contained, even in the few when she was disappointed with him, he read it over and over. He survived for his Empire and his people (Larsa was the unofficial keeper of peace in the already unstable Ivalice), but he only lived in her letters.
There was a crash outside of Larsa's door, most likely a servant or an Imperial knocking over the decorative armor for the ninth time. The sound was loud enough to wake Larsa up, but he refused to open his eyes. He didn't want to see what he had done to his room the night before in his drunken state; however, Larsa was still more than a little drunk to feel regret.
Larsa did not want to move. He wanted to lie in his bed, as he was, and just feel. The first things he noticed were the angry afternoon sun that was beating down directly upon him and that he was uncovered. The putrid, sour smell of alcohol rushed his senses with each inhale; it quickly dawned on him that he was lying in it. The warm, glass bottle of Puregrain that rested against his back was pleasant; however, he knew that most of the bottle must have been spilt on account of its lack of lid. The air was just as still as the room. He even felt the folded piece of paper in his left hand. The only thing he could not feel was pain.
He almost smiled at how much of a help the Puregrain had been. It had gotten him so drunk so quick, that it even skipped the sloppy depressive part of being drunk; it had jumped right to the part where one forgets. The drink would have been useful over the past year and he promised himself right then that he needed more very soon. He wouldn't overdo it all the time, but at moments like these, erasing was better than feeling.
Larsa would get up that day. If he cleaned up well enough, which was a valid skill of his, no one would suspect his over indulgence had ever occurred. He was to ask of a favor from his two friends; he needed the Puregrain before its alluring effects wore off. He was afraid of what he should really be feeling right now.
Remorse washed over him when a thought suddenly occurred to him: Penelo wouldn't have wanted it this way.
But she's not there.
There may be a few gramatical errors that I missed and I apologize for them.
R&R please:)
