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

Interlude: Larsa's thoughts

Warnings: Deviousness. And all from our girly-little prince.

Word goal: 500

7777777

Oft times, Larsa caught the other judges, looking at him. It wasn't in any matter akin to the ones that Vayne or his elder brothers gave him, but it was one that he was familiar with—suspicion. At first, Larsa believed that he was being paranoid—his judges wouldn't be so wary as to be suspicious of him! But then, Larsa realized that it wasn't because he was paranoid—

It was because of how he looked.

He remembered Anden's words, from the time of his conception, to the very day it was now: "What a pity you were born a boy. You would've been better off as a girl." He hadn't believed his elder brother then, and now—well, he was a firm believer now.

Thus, Larsa tried to do everything more masculine—from the way he dressed, to his hair—and the results were a sad, pitiful thing to his bruised and princely ego. His long hair (which he cut to look more like Vaan's) was artfully mussed, but not the way he wanted it to be. His clothes (he had changed them to Archadian full regalia) were awfully too tight on his sixteen year old body and he—for the life of him—couldn't get his kohl or fingerless gloves on right!

When Basch had caught wind of his attempt to gain more acceptance into the male part of society, the man had laughed it off and ruffled Larsa's hair affectionately, saying, "It is only a matter of time until you are fully grown, my prince. Do not rush anything."

And from then on, Larsa was pissed.

Sure he looked a bit (quite the understatement if he did say so himself) girly, but that did not mean he wasn't as capable as those… those more masculine than him! He could knock an arrow, he could rough it out in the wilderness, and what he knew he could do better than any masculine man was dance.

All right, so that wasn't a total masculine area of affinity, but he tried his best.

Larsa just wanted everyone to accept him.

Four years after a war and still, no one wanted to accept him for the girly boy he was? Didn't they realize that all his brothers before him (Anden, Josin, and Vayne) were just—if not on par—with his girlishness? Seriously, Anden enjoyed steam baths, and Josin liked singing—and Vayne? Well he loved to dress up. And he, Larsa, liked to be himself, to the utter most possibility.

He stared at himself.

Clear, pale blue eyes stared back into his. Arched eyebrows that he had somehow inherited from a bygone relation, made the expression on his face somewhat grave, as if he were in constant grief. His straight nose created the illusion of imperiousness, and he cursed his genes for it. Thin lips completed his inherently royal visage. And though he had a narrow chin and semi-high cheekbones, he still couldn't understand why everyone thought he looked girly. He looked perfectly normal, thankyouverymuch.

"Damnit," he muttered, bringing his fist to shatter the mirror in front of him. The only girl that had ever told him that he was handsome was Penelo, and even then, the idiot girl was humoring him. What he did not need was another proverbial suck-up. He needed a friend, and not someone cooing over how 'cute' he looked in his new get-up.

"I hate my life," he mumbled, wiping the blood off his fist. He knew the first thing he'd do after this bath: spy on Basch. That man had always made him feel better (in more ways than one).

With a small sigh, Larsa stepped out of his bathing chambers, and readied himself for his small spying session. As always.

7777777

Mwhahah. I loved this chapter, no offense. It just made much more sense to all those freaky PeneloxLarsa lovers that PENELO is a bimbo, and is therefore useless to all male characters. Yes, I hate her in the game, and I hadn't bothered to level her up in FFXII. Penelo is an awful character that I never really liked, all right? So don't mind me. I won't bash her for the rest of the story. ;)