3. Higher
…
Larsa had forgotten how much he loved parties.
What was it about them that he loved so much? Perhaps it was the gathering of friends, family, and neighbors all in one place to celebrate a single event. Perhaps it was the smiles on their faces as they reunited with loved ones, sharing stories and jokes alike as they feasted and danced. Perhaps even, it was that warm feeling he had in his heart whenever he attended one.
It was all of that, and more so.
In the heart of Rabanastre's Palace Dining Hall, Larsa sighed in content, taking it all in. It had been converted into a celebration room this evening; a sea of rectangular wooden tables lined up in rows stretching from one end to the other. The smooth, dark wooden surfaces were adorned in red and gold patterned table runners and placemats. Larsa's eyes lit up at the vibrant array of Dalmascan cuisine: steaming plates of cockatrice meat, bowls of curry, fried and fresh vegetables, three different kinds of rice, large trays of sliced cactoid pears, and much more.
Seats were filled with Rabanastrans of all sorts - age, race, economic backgrounds - it mattered not to Ashe; it appeared she saw no reason not to invite the entire city. Seeing everyone sharing food, stories and laughter, it was clear that Ashe's intention was to bring her city together as a family.
Ashe was seated at the head of the table, her smile aglow with joy. As Basch and Larsa were her honored guests, they each sat on her left and right, respectively. Surrounding them were members of Ashe's court, as well as those who worked in the Royal Palace. Larsa could see Vaan standing across the room, holding a cockatrice leg in his hand as he joyfully spoke to his friend Tomaj.
Suddenly, Larsa saw a bottle of wine to his left. Ashe nodded at the young waiter who held it out to him.
"Larsa," Ashe called to him over the cheerful tune of reed flutes chiming in the background. "You are of age now; you must try the Bhujerban Madhu. It was sent to me by my Uncle; he says this is the finest wine in all of Ivalice."
Larsa had no interest in drinking. But Ashe was beaming with hope, and it was her birthday…perhaps there was no harm in trying. It would be rude otherwise to refuse.
Larsa reluctantly held the golden goblet out to the waiter and watched as he poured it half-way. When the Madhu first touched his tongue, it was tart and fruitful; but as it lingered, it became sweet, with a hint of cinnamon, and it went smooth down his throat. He found himself taking another sip, and then another, and heard a joyful chuckle from Ashe.
"Amazing, isn't it?" she said.
"Indeed." It was Basch who praised the wine, as he held up his own glass to Ashe. "To your Uncle: for making a wine more delicious than we deserve!" They clinked their goblets in cheers, and drank what little of the Madhu remained in them.
Larsa placed his goblet down immediately. He didn't wish to end up red-cheeked like Basch, despite the temptation of the Madhu's taste. "The Marquis made this himself?"
"Yes," Ashe nodded and placed her glass down. "A hobby of his as it were; it is his true passion." Her smile seemed a little wry yet with no shortage of fondness as she reminisced about her dear Uncle's penchant for spirits and the tales it had caused over the years.
What seemed like half an hour had passed, and after most of the guests had finished their dinners, Ashe stood, and Basch helped her bring the room to silence.
With Madhu-induced rosy cheeks, she smiled. "Thank you all for joining me to celebrate my birthday this evening," Her voice was strong and projected towards the back of the room. "I hope you all have enjoyed your dinner. In just a few minutes, we invite you to watch the Dancing Galbanas perform in the plaza. As soon as you are finished with your meals, if you would like: please join me outside to enjoy their performance."
Larsa quickly drank the last of his wine and got up to join her. If there were butterflies in his stomach, he wrote it off as the Madhu, and nothing more.
...
While the night failed to cool the desert summer air to the extent he had hoped, it was still much more tolerable than the day.
The town plaza was aglow with the light of flamed torches and the full moon in the night sky. In the center, the dancers stood in offset rows, each with their right knee bent. The freshly-cut galbana lilies placed in their hair did not budge even as their heads hung low, their gazes to the ground. They wore cropped tops that displayed their slender tanned bellies, along with long, billowing skirts of deep crimson, and jewelry that added gilded accents to their garb.
Larsa followed Ashe and her court towards the steps to the side of the plaza, and caught sight of Penelo. It was always easy to find her in a crowd, even now, and not just because she was standing in the front row. Ever since the moment he first saw her in Bhujerba all those years ago, he was drawn to her. Her striking beauty was one thing – those round, honey-brown eyes and charming smile could lure in anyone's attention – but there was something else about her. Behind those eyes was the strength of a survivor, and through that smile was the compassion of someone who could never hold an ounce of hatred in her soul.
He couldn't imagine anyone else to call his best friend.
Penelo must have heard their arrival, because she brought her head up and looked directly into Larsa's eyes. She smiled nervously, and gave him a small wave, one which he returned with no small amount of enthusiasm.
With Ashe and her court, Larsa took his seat and waited with brimming anticipation while the remainder of the guests made their way to the plaza. If her performance the other day was any evidence to her troupe's talent, Larsa could not wait to see what they had in store this evening.
"'Scuse me, sorry, 'scuse me, oops! 'Scuse-Thanks!" Larsa heard a familiar voice from the depths of the crowd. He felt, more than heard, someone roughly take their seat next to him.
Vaan sighed in relief. "Jeesh. I thought I'd never get through that crowd!" He relaxed easy into his chair, and smiled at the emperor. "Hey Larsa, that dinner was amazing wasn't it? Had to bring some of it with me, you know?" Vaan winked as he waved the star fruit in his hand before bringing it to his mouth to take a bite.
Larsa couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of his friend overjoyed by food.
"So," Vaan said after a moment, smacking gracelessly, "you excited to see Pen?" The edge to his voice was a bit teasing.
The wine gave Larsa's blush away, but he hoped Vaan wrote it off as firelight and nothing more. Something about Vaan's tone made him feel twelve again. Instead of returning Vaan's gaze, he watched the musicians from inside the Royal Palace arriving to join the band already in position behind the dancers. "Penelo told me she has something special planned for tonight," he dodged Vaan's hint with the stumbling grace of a half-inebriated politician, as he eyed a vast array of drums being wheeled behind the dancer's line; while some were simply shaped like large circles, others were shaped like goblets, and they all had colorful patterns painted onto them. It reminded him briefly of his visit to Jahara years ago.
Vaan's grin twisted at one corner and he nudged Larsa playfully, as though he were a friend from childhood and not, in fact, the emperor of Archadia. "Pen's always got somethin' special planned. Keep an eye on her and you'll see. But that shouldn't be a problem, huh?"
Larsa cleared his throat most dignifiedly and ignored when it cracked.
The last few groups arrived and took their seats, and the crowd settled into silence.
A single drum beat initiated the dance.
It was low in pitch, and resonated throughout the plaza, sending a wave through Larsa's heart, and the silence that followed sent a chill down his spine.
High-pitched, melodic plucking of sitar strings filled the air, bringing the Dancing Galbanas to life. Larsa watched Penelo raise her head and arms simultaneously, slowly, until her gaze and arms were reaching towards the night sky. The bangles on her wrists reflected gold light as she smoothly twirled her graceful hands. The strings' sensual hums and erratic rhythm mixed with the slow, fluid motions of the dancers' hands as they flowed down in wave-like movements until they reached chest-level.
With Vaan staring into the performance as well, Larsa felt no shame in focusing in on Penelo, whose hands parted until they were outstretched on each side of her swaying hips. From her shoulders, to the tips of her fingers, Penelo sent a wave of movement through her arms, alternating between right and left, until they resembled wildsnakes. While maintaining the flow of her arms, she held one leg out in front of her, and bent her knees further, sliding her back down an invisible wall, her body a perfect discipline of her art.
The melody's volume grew as the sitar player plucked the strings with more passion and intensity. The dancers' bodies undulated as they slowly lifted themselves until they stood tall once more. All at once, they moved in impeccable unison – a testament to the long hours of rehearsal they put into the routine. Each of them smiled at the crowd, holding their heads high with poise and grace.
The pace of the rhythm quickened, and they followed suit. The Dancing Galbanas sashayed their hips, alternating between right and left, as though each hip were drawing a small circle in the air. It was oddly hypnotic and unabashedly exotic; it was nothing like Archades, and Larsa could not look away. Their bodies undulated as they smoothly travelled to their left, their elevation shifting from high to low as they switched from standing on the balls of their feet to flat on the ground. They stopped and spun towards their right, swift and smooth, returning to the center of the stage.
The recognizable doums and teks of the goblet drums joined in, intertwining with the strings to form a harmony of sounds. More strings emerged, challenging the powerful drums. The soft, high-pitched whistle of the reed flutes chimed in, adding a more playful nature to the tune.
It was amazing to see such a slow, mysterious dance turn into a highly-intense, energized show; it bloomed like a Galbana under the sun. With each beat of the drums, the dancers would do a quick snap with different parts of their bodies: the hips, the ribcage, the shoulders and head. Not a single part of them was left unused.
The dancers stood on the balls of their feet, snapping their hips, one-two, one-two, causing the gold coins of their hip sashes to jingle. They travelled to the side so smoothly it looked as though they were gliding through the air. Still snapping their hips to the rhythm, they stopped travelling to do a smooth spin, reaching one arm out to the audience, who clapped and cheered.
Each and every one of the Dancing Galbanas was hypnotizing, but Larsa found he was unable to take his eyes off Penelo. Soon he found that his gaze on her was returned, as he spotted her eyes looking his way between spins. He thought at first - perhaps he was imagining it, his eyes confused by the shadows and the flickering firelight and the Madhu; however, when the spins stopped, and her eyes still lingered, he could not find a further excuse. It was real. She would smile at the crowd, then check on her troupe, then focus on herself and the routine. But her eyes, half-lidded and decorated with shimmering gold makeup, always returned to him, and every time they did, Larsa could not blame the warm temperature on desert air alone.
The pace of the drums increased gradually, as did the snapping of the dancers' hips until they were doing a full shimmy. The coins on their hip sashes jingled with more intensity, becoming instruments themselves. The dancers began to sway their hips side-to-side, and then into circles, all while maintaining the rhythm of their shimmy – an impressive feat, Larsa admitted.
Everything about this was impressive to him – not only the skill and grace of the dancers, but the energy they elicited from the crowd as well, and the fact that it was all planned and followed through. They each had a common vision and worked together to make it into a reality.
It was more than impressive to him; it was inspiring.
Towards the end of the shimmy, the dancers each pulled a shimmering gold veil out from under their hip sashes and threw them over their heads from behind. The cloth must have been made from the finest silk, as they floated in the air long after they were tossed. The dancers swiftly returned their veils to their backs, holding them with one hand on each end. Larsa watched Penelo spin, the silk following her, and for a moment it looked as though a wave of the Sandsea shimmered right before his eyes.
And then, all instruments faded to silence, except for the drums. The dancers dedicated this section of the routine to isolations. To the beat of the drums, the dancers isolated movements in their hips, popping them to their left, their front, right and back. Then they focused on isolating their rib cages, shoulders, and head. Larsa could have sworn he even saw their bellies vibrate, powered by their diaphragms.
That last move must have been a crowd favorite, because the audience erupted in hoots and hollers. Some people even whistled, including Vaan, and Larsa smiled in amusement as the sound rang in his ears.
The other musicians slowly brought their instruments back into the song, one-by-one. The pace of the song and dance quickened, and the music grew louder than ever, shaking the air of the plaza. After a sequence of hip snaps, snake arms, and spins, the dancers, on the balls of their feet, glided closer towards each other and the center of the stage, their bodies undulating with each step. They lined up into three rows, and as they did a sequence of swift, circular hip movements, they slowly lifted their hands to the sky. With one last tek from the drums, the dancers each maneuvered themselves into their final pose. From his seat in the center of the audience, Larsa could see that the individual poses, when viewed as a collective whole, formed the pointed petals of a galbana lily.
And amidst it all, when Penelo looked up again, one last time, it was his gaze she caught and did not release.
Stunned, Larsa was unaware of his surroundings until a few seconds after the audience erupted into a thunderous applause. When he realized he was the only person still sitting, he bolted out of his seat and joined them.
"So, how was that?" Vaan asked, nudging Larsa over the din of the applause. "Can't catch a show like this in Archades, huh."
But if Larsa had words to say, he could not find them. All he could do was clap.
...
Finally, Penelo could relax.
The dance had ended, and the audience seemed to love it; especially Ashe, who thanked her with an enthusiastic hug.
Penelo congratulated each of her troupe members, until she caught sight of her mentor once again. Malikah beamed at her as they embraced.
"We did it!" Penelo exclaimed, returning a high five Malikah offered. "That was a great show!"
Malikah's smile was warm and her eyes were sincere; she placed her hands on Penelo's shoulders. "Penelo, we couldn't have done this without you. The Dancing Galbanas wouldn't exist today if it weren't for your passion and hard work. Thank you for helping me bring dance back to Rabanastre."
Love swelled in Penelo's heart. "Thank you, Malikah," she said, and she again embraced her mentor and dear friend.
While the dancers were relieved for the night, the musicians continued to provide the party guests a positive, warm ambiance with cheerful, upbeat tunes. The crowd dispersed already, and everyone was enjoying the party throughout the plaza. Drinks were being served from the bar that was set up in the corner by a fountain and the echo of their performance lived on in the joy of the guests. In the center of the plaza, Penelo could see some of her troupe members had decided to dance freestyle, joyfully beckoning others to join them.
She was tempted to join them, but she was parched.
Penelo snaked her way through the crowd, receiving a few congratulations along the way that she nearly had to pry herself away from to get a drink. The bartender handed her a glass of water, and Penelo gratefully downed it in one go. She was about to return to the dance floor, but then something caught her eye -
She stopped in her tracks to see Larsa standing by himself, off to the side. Amidst all the life, he looked starkly still as he sipped his own glass and watched the dancing in the distance.
Penelo pursed her lips. It was a shame to see him without company.
She approached him, and even as she got closer, it appeared he was distracted - she followed his gaze to watch Vaan's antics on the dance floor, and rolled her eyes good-naturedly.
"Having fun?" Penelo asked when she reached him; she inferred from his wide eyes and lifted brows that she had startled him.
He hesitated for a moment; had he not heard her question?
"Y-yes," he smiled sheepishly. "Forgive me. I find myself still stunned by your performance."
He was so sweet; he always had been. Penelo couldn't help but smile and waved off the praise.
"Thank you, Larsa, but I can't take all the credit. None of this would be possible without my troupe."
Larsa drank the remainder of his water, the apple of his throat bobbing as he did. He looked into her eyes once more. "You must be quite proud of them."
She absolutely was.
"Yeah," she nodded, an understatement: her heart overflowed with pride just thinking of her students, but she was too winded to find the words. "I am."
A busboy plucked Larsa's empty glass from his hands without so much as a word, and with nothing left to fidget with, Larsa clasped his hands at his sides. Penelo took note of that quickly, and thought - no, it simply wouldn't do to have the emperor of Archadia spend his time in Rabanastre as a wallflower. Penelo had an idea.
"Larsa, would you like to dance with me?" She hoped flashing a grin would be enough to convince him. Light teks from the goblet drums joined in, accompanied by occasional doums. Lastly, a high-pitched, passionate string melody joined in. Those already on the dance floor started pairing up, circling slowly in synchronicity.
His eyes were wide for a second, and then they relaxed. "Of course," he said, nodding with grace.
Larsa held his right elbow out, signaling her to take his arm. Penelo smiled at the familiar gesture, and she was overwhelmed with nostalgia; it brought her back to a night years ago, to the first time they danced together under the night sky in Jahara, where he taught her the basic steps of the Archadian Waltz amidst the Garif before their trip to Bur Omisace. It was one of her memories with him she cherished most.
Penelo gladly took his arm and led him to a clearing in the plaza center.
"It's been three years since you last waltzed with me here, so don't make fun of me if I mess it up," Penelo warned, prompting Larsa to laugh.
"I wouldn't dare; you have my word."
Though Vaan's word never carried too much weight - he was a pirate now, after all, and before that just a thief - Penelo knew Larsa meant nothing but the truth. She closed the gap between them, and placed her left hand on his shoulder. From there, it was seamless, automatic, programmed in Larsa's muscle-memory since childhood, no doubt; he gently took hold of her waist with his right hand, and their free hands joined.
Surprisingly, the Archadian steps flowed smoothly to the Dalmascan melody as they glided in circles on the dancefloor. The music began to pick up in pace, as did their steps, and the pair danced so seamlessly, Penelo felt like there was no floor beneath them, as though they floated on the skies of Bhujerba. Odd, it was, for a dance so rooted in rigidity to feel so...fluid, so natural. It startled her only for a moment, a pleasant sort of surprise that kept her laughing and Larsa smiling down at her. He released Penelo's waist and swiftly spun her once, and the torchlights blurred around her until they became long ribbons of gold.
The world settled around her, and Larsa looked...Larsa looked ecstatic, the charm clearly written on his face aglow with joy. "You remember well!" he complimented, and Penelo didn't know why, but it made her blush.
Penelo let out a chuckle. "It's been so long, I was afraid I had forgotten."
ut then that smile that lit up Larsa's face faded, suddenly. "I'm sorry it has been so long," he said for what must have been the umpteenth time since she saw him the other day. "I really did miss you."
I really did miss you.
Though she did not wish for Larsa's spirit to dampen, it was a tremendous relief to hear those words. Penelo began to think that he was forgetting her over the years of maneuvering through the intricate maze of Archadian government. She wouldn't blame him if he had.
But he hadn't. Through it all, Larsa remembered her, and that spoke louder than any apology he felt the need to make.
"I've missed you too. But Larsa, don't beat yourself up about it. You're here now, and we're all really happy you are." As Penelo uttered those last words, the drums faded almost into silence, and the strings took the lead. The melody slowed, and each note was elongated, reverberating with passion. Their steps slowed to match the music.
She looked into his eyes, blue like the skies of Archadia. "Larsa," she began a bit more seriously - if this was to be a night of admissions, than she may as well make hers; who knew when she would see him again after this? "Hearing your plans for Archadia's future, I'm so proud of the man you've become. I still consider you my best friend, you know that right?"
Even if he didn't feel the same way, even if she was just an old friend he used to see once a year, doomed to fade from his memory, she wanted him to know how much he meant to her. He was the first reason for her to open her heart to the Archadian Empire, and the first glimmer of hope she had for a future without war. He was always so kind and understanding, listening to her troubles with no judgement in his heart.
How could she ever put that into words that would sound as graceful as he made his own out to be?
Larsa's lips curved into a smile again, and he spun her once more. "And I consider you mine! I never stopped."
"Really?" She was so relieved she could hardly believe it. "I was worried you were going to forget me," she admitted so softly it was almost a mumble in her twirl; as soon as it left her lips, she almost wished she hadn't said it. There was no reason to weigh Larsa with guilt that was not his to bear.
His eyebrows furrowed in worry. "Forget you?" he echoed, incredulous at the notion. "I could never…" he shook his head, his eyes never leaving her. The sincerity of it washed away any doubt Penelo had festering within her these past years, and she felt lighter in his arms.
All she could do was smile. "I'm glad we're still on the same page, then."
Larsa nodded before adding, "Not only could I never forget you, Penelo," he began - a bit shyly, if anything, "But I believe there is an opportunity that has presented itself in which manypeople could remember you for."
What is he talking about?
"What is it?" she asked, "What opportunity?"
At her question, a shadow cast over his eyes. "Penelo," he began quietly, "there is something I must tell you."
"What's wrong?"
His eyes looked… she didn't know how they looked. Scared, perhaps, or cautious, or neither at all - something unreadable that the dancer could not place. "I should hope nothing. I pray that what I bring to you is good news."
What? Penelo tilted her head, impatience and curiosity gnawing at her usual grace. "Just tell me, Larsa."
She saw his chest rise and fall in what must have been a deep inhale to calm his nerves. Just out with it already.
"Queen Ashe wishes to appoint you to the position of Ambassador, for a temporary assignment in Archadia. And should this go well, should you agree, she wishes for you to serve as a permanent member on the Council of Ivalice, as a representative of Dalmasca."
She couldn't believe what he just said.
Ambassador of Dalmasca? What? Her? What on Ivalice was going on?
"What?" It was all she could muster out of her thoughts, and she began to lose the initial grace in her steps. She must have resembled Vaan, fish-mouthed and wide-eyed, gaping at the Archadian as she tried not to trip over her own feet. But Larsa only continued.
"She wishes for you to begin immediately, should you decide to take the job."
Penelo opened her mouth, because she should have been saying something, but no words came to her. Yes, she was certainly mirroring Vaan in this lack of grace.
Larsa looked at her with understanding. "I apologize for bringing this news to you so suddenly," he began, but Penelo stopped him. She had to stop everything: his words, the dance, and the world that spun far too quickly around her. Her steps came to a halt, and she withdrew her hands from the emperor.
Suddenly, Penelo's words returned to her in a burst of confusion.
"But - why me? I'm not qualified for this!" She heard her own voice rise, and she saw a few heads turn her way.
"Of course you are," Larsa returned - purposely quieter.
"No I'm not," she insisted, shaking her head furiously at the notion of such a responsibility, "I'm just a dancer, and I barely just joined Lady Ashe's court. I'm - I'm just a glorified secretary, really."
But Larsa was having none of it. He took her hand and gently pulled her away from the crowded dancefloor.
He looked at her with sincerity in his eyes as he held her hands. "Lady Ashe sees potential in you as I do. Why else would she assign you to her court?"
"I - I don't know…" she stammered softly, barely audible in the sounds of celebration.
"Penelo," Larsa started, his eyes scanning the crowd around them. "What you have done here with your troupe examples great leadership abilities." He returned his gaze to her. "And your friendship with me…" he paused to smile, "was only made possible because you have a gift for diplomacy – more so than your own Queen." A second passed before he noticed the implications of his last words, and fear flashed in his eyes. "But do not tell her I said that; she might declare war over it."
Penelo let out a nervous laugh, a much needed release of the air she held tightly in her lungs. She mulled it over for a moment as she watched the celebration around her. "Do you really think I can do this?"
Larsa nodded. "I do." And she could hear in his voice that he meant it.
Yet still, she couldn't seem to believe it. "Larsa, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but it really isn't the same. It's not enough."
"Yes it is," Larsa insisted. "The details may differ, but at the core it is the same. You have a gift with people, Penelo. You understand them. You know what they need to learn, and you know what they need to thrive. And most importantly: you care for them deeply, and that is a necessity that is hardly met in politics. You have the potential to impact the lives of all Dalmascans for the better if you are to take this opportunity."
Once more Penelo was at a loss for words, her thoughts drifting to the world around her. She watched as Malikah danced joyfully with Vaan and Tomaj, while her students managed to get every last wallflower to join them on the dancefloor. She wanted nothing more than to see their continued happiness and prosperity; if she could do something to influence that, it would mean the world to her. But there was no way she was ready to take on anything this important...
He saw the doubt in her face, Penelo knew, because he still wasn't quitting. "If it is the complexity of the world of government and politics that cautions you, please, fear it not. I will teach you everything I know if I must, and once I have done that, we can learn together, for there is still much for me to learn as well."
She looked up into his eyes. They looked scared, still, which wasn't helping his cause for reassuring her. "But how? You're going back to Archadia..."
His mouth was agape when his eyes darted to the side. What now, she almost groaned. This was all too much right now! "There is a small detail I have failed to mention," he said nervously. "Ashe has requested that you live in the Imperial Palace for a month's time, until the Council meetings have concluded. It would be convenient, as this year's council will be held in Archades."
"Live... in Archades?" Penelo gasped. Leave behind Rabanastre? Her life, her friends, her art… for Archades?
Larsa exhaled. "Yes. Penelo, I do not expect you to come to a decision now. Ashe has requested that you speak with her on it after the party, and you can think on it overnight. Should you decide to take the job, tomorrow I will be waiting in the Aerodrome until midday. Meet me there, and we shall go together."
Penelo opened her mouth to say something – to protest, to further insist that he must be looking for a different Penelo, and she would offer to help him find her. So why wasn't she telling him 'no'? Why didn't she just end it all here, instead of leaving it open like her stunned mouth? Was she too afraid to let her friend down? But she was always honest with him, so why stop now?
Did she...did she want this? Did a small part of her actually believe she could do this?
Boom! A thunderous noise rumbled through the air, and everyone around them stopped dancing.
Penelo immediately followed the source of the sound in the sky, and she saw glittering explosions of brilliant red and gold lights bloom into the shape of desert flowers. She had forgotten there were fireworks planned for the celebration.
She turned to look at Larsa, who gazed in awe at the display of magic-induced lights before him, his smile illuminated by their red glow. He had that look of wonder in his eyes, like anything was possible.
Penelo hoped that look would never go away.
...
The echoes of traveler's voices, footsteps and luggage-dragging filled the air, but Larsa paid them no mind, not when his heart was pounding and his thoughts were racing like a skystone port on overdrive.
He stood, leaning against the railing as he looked out the window across the terminal, focusing on everything and nothing in particular; the world around him little more than background noise and imagery. The sun was shining high in the sky; midday was swiftly approaching…
Time, Larsa realized, was running thin.
Basch's deep voice, muffled from his Judge's helmet, pulled Larsa's gaze away from the brilliantly clear desert skies. "My Lord," he warned, and Larsa turned his head to face him, "I advise we depart shortly if you wish to arrive before nightfall."
"She will be here," he said, and even though he wasn't, he added, "I am sure of it." He kept his voice calm, despite his increased heart rate.
He directed his gaze downward so that all he could see was the floor, his tapping foot, crossed arms, and his chest. He became increasingly aware of how shallow his breathing had become. Perhaps he could try to slow it down…
But there was no time for that. Not when his proposal was an hourglass nearly emptied of every granule, not when Archades awaited him again, not when the Chop System itself was at stake…
And not when Penelo could be the one to make his vision a reality.
The realization hit him swiftly:
She will not show.
Of course not; why would she? No oneas virtuous as her would taint themselves in the twisted world of Archadian politics willingly. Penelo was no fool; even Balthier - Doctor Cid's son, born and bred into its snare - high-tailed it out of there as soon as he could take the helm of his own ship. Larsa was the only fool here to think for a second that she would show; Penelo would never do this. The war may be over, but he was sure her memories of it remained. He would not blame her if she wanted nothing to do with this…
Look out the window.
Larsa swiftly lifted his head back up, his bangs falling on his face in the motion. The sun was higher in the sky now – how much time had passed? Minutes? Hours? Neither at all? He let the doubt fester into mortification; not only had he disrespected Penelo in assuming she would want to come, he disrespected her in insisting it would be the right thing to do.
What did he know of her?
Before last night he hadn't seen Penelo in years. And yet he waltzed – quite literally – back into her life and expected her to give up everything for his agenda?
She is not coming.
She really wasn't, was she? Larsa had hoped she would at least be here to bid them farewell, but no; she did not owe him that. But she wasn't, and now he was sorry he ever put such a heavy decision on her shoulders. Was he a terrible friend? Did she no longer wish to see or speak to him? Will she ever forgive him?
She will never forgive you, or your country. Now you must move on.
He felt a firm, yet gentle touch on his right shoulder that shook him from his dwelling.
"My Lord – it is time." He could feel the pity in Basch's voice, and he felt disgusted with himself for hoping too much.
Larsa finally took a deep breath. Reluctantly, he lifted his weight off from the railing. "Alright – let us go."
They turned right to begin heading towards their gate.
Larsa was overhearing a man's complaint about a delayed flight to Bhujerba when he heard a shrill, panicked voice resonate throughout the Aerodrome.
"Waaaaaaaaaaait!"
Larsa and Basch immediately stopped and turned their heads towards the voice that was quickly approaching them.
Larsa saw blonde, windswept bangs that met with wide eyes the color of sand, and the world stood still. Long braids bounced against bare shoulders, and his heart overflowed with emotion. He heard her voice once more and he felt his lips widen into a full grin.
Penelo.
She was frantically running towards them, as quickly as she could while carrying two large luggage bags. She was flustered from running and worrying, and small strands of her hair had clung to the sweat on her forehead. Despite the dishevelled state of her appearance, she was the most beautiful sight Larsa had ever laid his eyes upon.
It was as though all the world's burdens had been lifted off his shoulders. The sight of her amidst so much doubt was enough to make him want to break down and cry with joy, but he didn't wish for her to see him in such a shameless state. He took a deep breath.
Penelo was directly in front of him now, and he watched her place her baggage down with a heavy thump. Her knees were bent and she leaned forward, resting her hands on her thighs as she breathed heavily. "I'm so sorry I'm late!" she exclaimed, and inhaled again, "I had to say goodbye to my troupe, and those girls love to talk!"
What was there to forgive? He should be asking for her pardon, if anything.
"'Tis alright. But Penelo, are you absolutely sure you wish to do this?" He couldn't let her go - despite how much he wanted it more than anything - without a warning.
She stood up and looked him in the eyes. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be," she declared with confidence, but it was short-lived. All at once, it fell in a nervous laugh, self-deprecating and unabashedly honest. "But Larsa, I would be lying if I said I wasn't absolutely terrified."
Larsa gently placed his hands on her shoulders. Her skin was warm from the last touches of Dalmascan sun. "Then I am grateful that you do not lie, because I am terrified as well. But seeing you here – simply knowing that I will not go through this task alone – makes a difference. Thank you, Penelo. Thank you for being here."
"I thank you as well," Basch added, "Archadia awaits Dalmasca's newest Ambassador with open arms."
"Thank you…" Penelo's voice was soft with humility.
"Well," Larsa said, "It is time we ought to board our airship." He swiftly grabbed Penelo's baggage off the floor.
"Oh Larsa, you don't have to do that; I can carry my own bags," Penelo protested.
"I know you can," he said, and he felt himself smirk just before he turned around and began to walk towards the gate.
"Larsa, really, give them back. I'm fine with carrying them," she called out as she followed him.
But he had no plans of returning the luggage to her – not yet. He began to walk faster.
"Larsa!"
He widened his strides, and he let out a chuckle, looking back to Penelo just so she could see how much fun he was having.
Her worried expression transformed into a slightly irritated one, and yet she remained as beautiful as ever.
Larsa looked ahead once more, and his stride turned into a full dash.
"LARSA!"
He could hear from her echoed footsteps on the tile floors that she began to run after him, but she was not catching up.
"Why do you have to be such a fast runner!?"
This was too much fun; he could no longer hold his polite pretense.
A fit of boisterous laughter had burst from his lungs, and it echoed throughout the terminal.
...
Penelo sat still on a leather passenger seat aboard The Sylph.
Larsa's private airship was silver and white, its shape was pointed and elegant; Penelo would never tell Balthier or Vaan, but it was the most beautiful airship she had the privilege to lay her eyes on. It flew smoothly through the air with grace, and its flight was so steady that if it weren't for the clouds outside the window, Penelo wouldn't have known she was on an airship at all.
But even with the stillness of the ride, Penelo felt her stomach turn this way and that.
She accepted her nervousness fully, and tried to breathe her way through it. Perhaps if she distracted herself, she would feel better. She turned to her right and scooted closer to the window. In between thin, summer clouds, she looked upon vast fields of yellow-green grass, with ancient ruins scattered about. As she gazed into the faraway grassland of the Tchita Uplands, her mind wandered to the night before...
...
She had met with Ashe in one of the drawing rooms of the Royal Palace.
It was dark, with only the dim, amber glow of magicite lights to illuminate the area. Ashe had been lounging on a red and gold loveseat nursing a goblet of wine when Penelo asked her about what had transpired earlier that evening.
"So I see Larsa has already told you; that was thoughtful of him. I wanted to tell you myself, but he insisted I enjoy my own party." Ashe smiled as she poured a new glass of Bhujerban Madhu. She stood and offered it to Penelo.
Penelo looked down and saw her doubtful expression reflected in the red wine. "But, why me? I don't understand; there are plenty of people in your court who are more qualified."
Ashe turned around and sauntered back to the tea table and grabbed her own glass, taking her last sip of Madhu. "The people of my council are of the same families as those in my father's court. While they may have experience in governing, they have only seen Rabanastre from above ground." She placed the glass down and turned to face Penelo with an opportunistic smile. "You offer a new perspective – one that can far better represent our people than anyone else in my court."
Were Larsa and Ashe both out of their minds? How much wine did they drink during that dinner?
"I want you to think on it. But Penelo…" Ashe approached her, and placed her warm hands on her shoulders. "I trust you, and I believe in your abilities. Please consider this."
"Of course I will, Your Grace."
Ashe shook her head and let go of Penelo. "Oh, none of that now!" she protested, and she smiled at her with Madhu-flushed cheeks. "After all we've been through; you are a sister to me. Call me Ashe, always, Penelo."
"Right – Ashe." She laughed at the strangeness of it, still new to her despite the years of peace. "I'll have to get used to this."
Ashe's smile had gone now, and she looked Penelo in the eyes. "Penelo, should you decide to go, I require from you but a single task during your stay."
Did she mean besides helping Larsa pass his bill? However she was supposed to do that…
"Of course," Penelo agreed, "What is it?"
"I need you to report to me your experience living in Archades. Send me one letter each week of how you feel and how you are personally treated there. If Larsa plans to open the gates of Archades to all, I need to know if my people are welcome there. Should you see any sign of ill intent, you are to report it to me immediately."
Penelo wasn't so sure about this, yet she found herself nodding obediently.
"Yes, your – Yes, Ashe," she stammered.
...
Penelo blinked, returning to the present.
She looked to her left to see Larsa sitting on the passenger seat across the aisle from her. He sat hunched over, with his chin in his hands, most likely in deep thought. His eyes were focused at the ground, but his mind was elsewhere. Penelo could have sworn she didn't see him take a single breath.
"Hey, don't overwork yourself before we even get there."
She knew she startled him when his face twisted into surprise, swiftly blinking several times. He inhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a brief moment before opening them to gaze into nothing once more.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked.
"I wonder how I will face the Senate Leaders after leaving them to fend for themselves the last three days," he looked to her with worried eyes too old for a young man of his years. "I fear they either hate me for it, or they took this as an opportunity to take over." He laughed miserably at the idea.
"I don't think they would do either," Penelo reassured. "I'm sure they understand, and I don't think they would do anything so drastic."
"I should hope not."
"You say they need to have more faith in you, and that's true; but remember that you need to have faith in them, too."
She lost him once more to the sea of thoughts that was his mind.
A powerful voice joined the conversation. "You should listen to Ambassador Penelo; she has a wise head on her shoulders." Basch entered the cabin with helmet removed, and stood in the aisle between Penelo and Larsa. "We will be landing shortly. I urge that you both keep your seatbelts fastened."
After Basch took his seat behind Larsa and fastened his seatbelt as instructed, The Sylph could finally prepare to land.
Penelo could feel the airship lower as it began its descent, and when it tilted slightly, she looked out the window to her right. She could see it now, cresting upon the horizon: the Imperial City of Archades. It was grand and impressive in scale, and the building's shades of bronze and amber paired well with the lush green of summer-ripened foliage. She immediately noticed that the city had expanded since her last visit five years ago. A new series of buildings that formed the shape of a crescent moon hugged the south end of the city.
This must have been the newest addition: a completely reconstructed Old Archades.
She remembered everything she saw when she last walked through the broken-down streets of the old capital: the walls that were eroding, the weeds that grew between the stones under her feet, and the weary-eyed faces of the people whose dreams were crushed by the city. She remembered the children, with no home to call their own, and how they reminded her of Kytes, Vaan and Reks, and even herself, growing up on the streets of Rabanastre. As she looked upon the renovated buildings, with their fresh coats of paint, she wondered if the dreams of the people she met there had received a similar treatment.
Under Larsa's rule, she had utmost faith that they had.
Her biggest question now, as they anchored in the grand private dock of the Archadian palace...was what did she have to do with any of this? What were her dreams?
Penelo supposed she'd come to learn it, all in due time.
...
Author's Note: This was quite a chapter! I remember writing the first draft for it during NaNoWriMo two years ago, in a hospital waiting room (actually all over the hospital). I remember sitting there struggling to describe how the song "Rain" by Faran Ensemble sounded for the dance scene between Larsa and Penelo.
The Aerodrome scene... I was working at the airport when the song "Strangers In the Night" by Wayne Newton started playing... and I had this image of Penelo running to Larsa in slow-motion, super cheesy I know. And when he saw her he was so relieved and full of love for her. I couldn't resist adding it to the story.
Chapter is named after "Higher" by Creed
Thank you always to Ridorana for beta-reading!
...
And thank you for reading! Please leave a comment and let me know what you think!
