Disclaim it: I still don't own FFXII. I suck.

Warnings: My overuse of angst. Watch out, kiddos! I allude to much angst in the future. Or maybe randomness, but c'mon. Throw me a bone, will ya?

A/N: I love the support. –Hug-

Word goal: 700

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Chapter One Title: Questionable Motives

"Queen Ashelia of Dalmasca has invited us to a celebration," Larsa announced, regal voice echoing throughout the study. "It says on this parchment, that the celebration is to honor her second year of reign."

His regent said nothing, and thus did the soon-to-be-king sigh, clearly at a loss. "She clearly hinted for you to show up—will you?" Larsa persisted further, finely arched eyebrows quirked.

The mug of X-Potion in Basch's hands wobbled noticeably. Not again, he thought, body hunched over a glass table in the center of the room. There was only one reason he had left Dalmasca, and that was because he had nothing left to avenge—his homelands were utterly decimated, and his twin had fallen at the hands of his own kingdom—so what did that leave him with? Nothing.

But what was it, that made the bitter and weary man regret his decision to leave Rabanastre and Ashelia? Was it Noah's death or the sparkling blue eyes that pleaded heavily with him?

Basch didn't know.

"Basch, stop mulling your past over and answer me," Larsa murmured, leaning against the marble entryway. He trained his gem-like eyes on the older man and narrowed them imperceptibly. "Asides which, you're required to come with me, so I shouldn't have asked you at all. You are, after all my guardian and regent to Archades."

Basch couldn't help but frown at Larsa's intonation.

"My lord," he started stiffly, "I do not want to go."

"And pray tell why?" Larsa queried, though the prince new fully well why.

Clever boy, Basch thought. If he was Larsa's age, he'd have been too busy looking at modeled swords, not questioning other's motives. Basch heaved out a large breath. "Although I must apologize for my forthrightedness, I cannot deny you that this news worries me very much, my lord." Basch ran a hand through his short hair and said quietly, "You know very well that I had ties with this nation, and I am not ready to face what I once lost."

Larsa nodded, satisfied. "Good answer," he acknowledged. "But, my Judge Regent, this is as good as any time to get some closure, fix broken ties and mend them anew. So will you then, Basch?" the prince began to pace, and continued, "Will you let yourself be free for once? Of the boundaries that hold you? Of the limits that bind you and make your mind fetter with unresolved problems? Will you, Basch? Will you please?" Larsa appeared sincere in his request, and Basch hesitated.

Looking at his ward's youthful face reminded the veteran of his own youth. Young, naïve, willing to hope for a change for the better good—yes, he and Larsa had a lot a like.

So, he thought, allowing a faint curl of resignation to curl at his lips. What harm was there to go? He'd see Vaan and Penelo, and perhaps even Fran and Balthier. Ashelia was a definite person he'd come into contact with, seeing as though he'd be a royal visitor in her palace. That man all he had to do was avoid her like the Black Plague. And considering that that wasn't hard to do, he'd have no problems evading her.

Even as a little feeling of intuition niggled in his gut, Basch ignored it, placing the mug of Potion on the table.

"I'll go," he finally conceded.

"Very well then," Larsa answered, turning back to walk to his conference room. He motioned, with a gloved hand, for Basch to follow, and the world-weary man did so, carefully masking his face once more.

And not once, on their way to the K'nven, did he catch Larsa's self satisfied smile.

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Wow. I wrote that? –Checks brain waves- Yep. xDD Unfortunately, I didn't reach my 700 goal. ;( I think I'll make up for that by writing an interlude: Larsa's thoughts! HAH! So, there. ;d