"You look pensive," Larsa observed casually, as he entered Penelo's receiving room. She was perched on a platform, holding as still as possible while she underwent the first of many fittings for her wedding gown. Though she would have preferred something much simpler, with a marriage of state one did not always get what one wanted – and Penelo would be forced to endure a ridiculously large formal wedding. Though the dress was lovely, it made her feel uncomfortably like a child playing dress-up in her mother's things.

"Oh, well, you know," she sighed. "I've been standing here for an hour." She fidgeted a little, earning herself a jab in the back by one of the seamstresses.

"Do stand up straight, my lady, or this gown will not fit correctly," the woman chastised.

Penelo winced. "I'm sorry, it's just that these shoes pinch my toes and make my back hurt."

"They are necessary to ensure the fit of your gown," the seamstress said, censure evident in her voice, as though she thought Penelo unworthy to become Larsa's bride if she could not make it through a single fitting without incident.

"I'm sorry," Penelo repeated, looking so miserable that Larsa felt guilty. After all, it was because of his status that Penelo had to suffer through that which was obviously so detestable to her.

"I think that will be enough for today," he said.

The seamstress gaped at him. "But, my lord, we have yet to finish pinning the hem…"

He waved dismissively. "It can wait. There are still some months left, plenty of time for all that. You may schedule another appointment with my fiancée's personal attendant on your way out."

"Very well." The woman was wise enough to know when she ought to give up. She escorted Penelo behind a privacy screen, neatly stripping off the heavy dress. Penelo struggled back into her normal clothing on her own as the seamstresses filed out of the room.

"I thought perhaps we'd have lunch together," he said. "We could take it in the nursery with Ellie, if you like."

Penelo brightened visibly – for the past month she and Ellie had been living in the palace, but though they shared the same set of apartments, Ellie's nursemaid took charge of her each day from early morning until bedtime. The time that Penelo had previously devoted to her daughter now was spent in meetings with foreign dignitaries, formal dinners, long, boring treaty negotiations, and meeting with chefs, designers and florists for the planning of their upcoming wedding. Suddenly she saw almost nothing of her child, who was often asleep long before Penelo returned to their rooms. It hurt something inside of her to know that some other woman was watching Ellie grow – a nursemaid was sharing in all the special moments of Ellie's life, moments that rightfully belonged to Penelo.

"That would be wonderful," she said.

"Let's be off, then." Larsa held out his hand, and Penelo set hers in his. "Send a message to the kitchens," he said to the attendant waiting discreetly by the door. "Tell them we intend to dine in the nursery, and request that lunch for three be served there in a half an hour's time."

"Of course, my lord." The man sketched a bow, and left to do as Larsa bid. Though his personal attendant was off on an errand, a lesser servant stepped into his place the moment they stepped out of the room, keeping a distance of a few yards behind them to allow the Emperor and his intended some illusion of privacy while still remaining within earshot lest they require something.

Penelo still had not grown used to the constant supervision – her personal attendant woke her in the mornings and followed her all day, keeping track of appointments and urging Penelo along to the next meeting or planning session from early morning until late at night. The strain was beginning to wear on her – she was constantly exhausted and frequently cranky. She sincerely hoped that once she and Larsa were married, things would slow down a bit…or she feared she might very well go insane.

A servant standing outside of the nursery opened the door when he saw Larsa and Penelo approaching. They entered the large common room and passed through to the nursery – Penelo felt it was too extravagant for such a young child, and Ellie really had no need of so much space or quite so many toys. But Larsa had insisted on making the transition from small, cozy apartment to large, spacious palace as attractive as possible, and it seemed he had accomplished that by buying out the entire stock of a toy store or two.

"Mama!" Ellie, who had been serving tea to a plethora of dolls gathered about a small table, hiked up her skirts and raced to the door. "Uncle Larsa! I missed you!"

Penelo's heart wrenched – they lived together, and Ellie missed them. "I'm sorry I've been so busy, honey," she said past the lump in her throat. "Can we have lunch with you today?"

"Yes, please," Ellie said. "Nanny is very nice, but she never lets me play with my mashed potatoes." She made a face. "And she makes me have a nap. But I never nap," she added in a conspiratorial whisper. "I just play quiet when she leaves so she won't scold me."

"Oh, do you?" Penelo couldn't bring herself to scold the child herself, though she knew she ought to. The doors opened, and a few servants entered carrying trays of food. One spread a linen table cloth over the child-sized table in the middle of the room; another set down china and silverware. A third served drinks, and uncovered large silver trays, revealing far more food than three people could possibly eat.

Thought Penelo would have preferred serving herself, she allowed the servants to perform their duties – and those included serving the food to all parties. Ellie nibbled lightly at her lunch, unnerved by the array of servants standing silently nearby, awaiting requests.

"Mama," she whispered, "why are they watching us eat? Are they hungry, too?"

Penelo thought she saw the lips of a nearby servant twitch as he tried to repress a smile. "No, Ellie. They're performing their duties. People work in this house, remember?"

"Oh." She stuck her fork into her mound of mashed potatoes, digging a small hole into which she flicked a cluster of green peas. "I forgot." She buried the peas under another mound of mashed potatoes, then topped her masterpiece with a piece of grilled asparagus. "Mama, will you read me a story tonight?"

Penelo glanced at Larsa, who shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," he said. "But your mama and I have an important meeting tonight with some of my advisors."

"Oh. Can I come, too?" she asked hopefully.

"I'm afraid not, darling," he replied. "It will be a frightfully boring meeting. I'm sure Nanny will have many more fun things for you to do together."

Ellie's face fell. "Okay," she said. Penelo's heart ached – she could hear the dejection and disappointment in Ellie's voice.

They passed the rest of the meal in silence, and when the time came for Penelo and Larsa to leave the nursery, Ellie murmured only a melancholy, mechanical goodbye.

--

Balthier pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing his headache would just go away. Unfortunately, said headache came in the form of Penelo's childhood friend, Vaan, who seemed to be following him everywhere. He'd abandoned Balfonheim a full two days earlier than he'd expected he would when he'd noticed he had gained a follower. Since then, Vaan had tracked him to Bhujerba, Nalbina, the Phon Coast, Mt. Bur-Omisace, and even back to Rabanastre. Though he had successfully avoided the persistent younger man up until this point, he knew his luck would not hold out forever.

"Oi," the tavern owner called as he dropped onto into a chair. "Vaan was askin' after ye."

"I'll just bet he was," Balthier growled. Could not the boy take a hint and realize that Balthier wished to be left alone? Would he have to spend a few days in the wilderness simply to evade him?

He grabbed a quick bite to eat, just on the off chance that Vaan frequented the same tavern. He needed to leave the city quickly if he intended to remain undiscovered by Penelo's erstwhile best friend, but he stopped briefly in the marketplace to stock up on some necessities before heading back to the Strahl.

Laden with bags, he boarded the Strahl and headed for the storeroom. As he made to turn the doorknob, he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked behind him. Surprise etched on his features, he turned – Vaan stood just behind him, wearing an irritated expression and aiming his gun at Balthier's head.

Balthier's eyes narrowed. "Would you mind letting me set these down before blowing my brains out?" he asked, indicating the bags. "It'd make such a mess and be quite a waste."

"By all means." The gun never wavered. Balthier set the bags on the floor and closed the door to the storeroom, more than a little pissed off at failing to recognize the signs of someone else on his ship – and failing to have security measures advanced enough to have kept Vaan out in the first place.

"So," Balthier began. "You've been a thorn in my side for weeks, now. You might as well get whatever it is off your chest so that I may be about my business."

Vaan was more than happy to oblige him.

"She's your kid; take responsibility," he said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"She's your kid," Vaan repeated stiffly. "Penelo's going to marry Larsa if you don't do something, and your kid is going to be miserable."

Balthier snorted – how had Vaan arrived at such a ridiculous conclusion? "Penelo wants to marry Larsa, and her daughter far prefers Larsa to me. I fail to understand how their affairs are any of my business."

"It's your business because you have a responsibility to Ellie, and it's about time you started living up to it. She's scared and unhappy, since suddenly Penelo has no time for her – and if Penelo actually goes through with it and marries Larsa, it'll probably be that way forever." He gestured to a chair with the gun, directing Balthier to sit.

"It's Penelo's decision. If she wants to marry Larsa –"

"She doesn't want to marry Larsa," Vaan said in exasperation. "She's going to make herself and Ellie miserable thinking that Larsa can give Ellie something that you're not man enough to give her. In the meantime, she's undergoing torturous days spent doing all the things she loathes that will likely continue in perpetuity and being separated from her daughter because her busy schedule no longer allows for time spent with Ellie. She's given up on everything she loves. The least you could do is see your daughter. She's scared and alone. She needs you."

"She doesn't need me," Balthier scoffed. "She needs someone who actually cares for her. She's biologically my child, but I feel nothing for her." He was hoping shock the youth with his callous lack of consideration for his own flesh and blood.

"Because she's a stranger to you," Vaan retorted hotly. "You haven't even tried to get to know her, to learn anything about her."

Balthier's eyebrows arched in surprise. "You don't think it's cruel that I don't love my own child?"

Vaan's brow furrowed in confusion, complete bafflement written across his face. "How could you love someone you've never met? Love doesn't just happen because you think it ought to."

"I see." Balthier, who had never truly loved anything in his life, had no concept of what it entailed or how it functioned. If what Vaan had said was true, then perhaps the lack of instant love for his daughter was less damning than he'd imagined. Perhaps it could even be considered…normal. And if it were normal, it might be a sign that he had not ended up as twisted as his own father.

"What if she doesn't like me? The last I saw of her, she looked like she'd prefer having teeth pulled to spending time in my company," Balthier said.

Vaan rolled his eyes. "She's four years old – if you make an effort to talk with her, if you play games with her, she'll definitely like you. Especially now, as she's starved for attention."

Something in Balthier identified with the child – he, too, had been left to the care of nursemaids by parents who were far too busy for their son. Though he had never had his parents' love and devotion and therefore had not missed that which he had never had to begin with, he could understand how such a transition from adored child to afterthought might make a child confused and angry.

"She'll be in the palace, and well-guarded," he mused thoughtfully – but he had always enjoyed a challenge and a good intrigue. Such a caper suited his interests.

Vaan shrugged. "I can get you in; the guards won't bother me. Penelo and Larsa shouldn't be any trouble, since they spend the majority of their time in meetings."

"Good. I do have a favor to ask of you," Balthier said.

"Hmm?"

"Now that we've reached an agreement of sorts, perhaps you could be prevailed upon to stop aiming that thing at my head?" Balthier suggested, irritated.

"What? Oh." Vaan tucked the weapon into its holster, a guilty flush suffusing his face with color. "Sorry about that."

--

Balthier was rather pleased to discover that Vaan had been correct; getting into the Palace had never been easier. Because the guards recognized Vaan and let him pass without incident, so, too, was Balthier admitted.

He did his best to commit the directions through the corridors to memory, though he suspected it would take him more than a few visits to successfully do so.

"It's about time for her nap," Vaan said. "You'll probably want to avoid the nursery, since that's the nursemaid's territory, and I don't think she'll ever let you in alone. But once Ellie's in her room for her nap, the nursemaid will leave her for an hour or two. That will be the best time to visit with her."

"I don't think she'd appreciate me interrupting her nap," Balthier said hesitantly.

"You're joking. She considers herself far too old for naps," Vaan responded. He turned down a corridor and paused before a large door. "You'll need to brush up on your magic," he cautioned. "If I'm not with you, you're not likely to get far within the palace. Vanish would be your best bet."

Balthier knew where he could obtain the necessary magicks – but he'd never been terribly good with spells. Ah, well – no time like the present to learn.

Vaan directed Balthier to stay out of sight, then knocked on the door before them. A young woman answered it, smiling when she recognized Vaan. "Sir. I'm afraid Miss Elionora is napping at the moment, perhaps you could return at a later time…?"

"Unfortunately I'm only in town for an hour or so," Vaan replied. "I was hoping I could have just a little while – I'm not sure when I'll next be in town, and I would hate to miss seeing her while I'm here." He smiled, easing closer. "Surely an hour wouldn't be too much to ask," he coaxed.

"Well…" the nursemaid hesitated. "I suppose…if it's just for an hour."

"I'm in your debt." Vaan kissed her fingers. "Would you be so kind as to fetch a tray of tea, and maybe some cookies? I'm famished."

The woman bobbed a curtsey. "Right away, sir." She hurried off towards the kitchens. Balthier came out of hiding, applauding silently as Vaan ushered him through the door and into the room.

"Nicely done," Balthier said. "I'm impressed."

"Thanks." Vaan shut the door behind them, grinning. "I learned from you. She won't be occupied terribly long, so let's hurry."

He crossed the common room, passed through the nursery, which Balthier noted was littered with a staggering amount of toys, and pulled open a door at the other end of the room. Though it was dark within, a streak of white slipped by, jumping into the bed, clearly seeking to avoid being caught at playing when she ought to have been napping.

"Nice try, Ellie," Vaan said. Immediately a small blonde head popped up from the pillow.

"Vaan!" She leapt out of the bed, her white nightgown swirling around her bare feet as she ran towards him. A few feet away, she noticed Balthier lingering in the doorway behind Vaan, and paused warily.

"You're not supposed to be here," she said petulantly. "My mama and Uncle Larsa don't like you."

"Ellie," Vaan rebuked. "Be nice."

"He's not nice," she countered saucily. "He said damn and made my mama cry."

"I'm sure he didn't mean to make your mama cry," Vaan replied. "He's really very…um, nice."

Balthier rolled his eyes at Vaan's pathetic attempt at a defense. "Vaan said you were lonely and so I came with him to visit you," he said to Ellie. "But if you want me to go, I will."

She glanced between him and Vaan doubtfully.

"If he leaves, I'll have to leave," Vaan told her. "He brought me on his airship. We came together, so we'll have to leave together."

"You have an airship, too?" Her eyes widened a fraction, clearly awed by the revelation.

"I do." Balthier offered no more information – if the child wanted to know something, she would ask.

Still she hesitated – torn between the desire for Vaan's company and the unwillingness to suffer through Balthier's. Finally, she arrived at her decision. "You can stay," she said. "But I still don't like you."

"I'm not so fond of you, either," he snapped back.

Infuriated, Ellie stomped on his foot.

Balthier bit back a curse. "Ouch! You little she-demon…"

"Children," Vaan interrupted, sliding between the two.

"He started it!"

"She stepped on my foot!"

"I don't care who started it, I'm finishing it," Vaan growled. "You two are exactly alike; that's probably why you rub each other the wrong way."

Balthier noticed Ellie's lips purse and her eyes narrow and wondered if she had actually realized the significance of the scene she had witnessed in the marketplace a month or so ago.

"Now – are we going to have any further incidents?" Vaan looked down at Ellie, who dug her toes into the plush carpet and stared down at the floor.

"No, sir," she mumbled.

"Balthier?"

Balthier gritted his teeth, resenting being treated like a child. "No," he answered.

"Good." Vaan smiled down at Ellie. "What do you want to do, then?"

Brightening, she took Vaan by the hand and dragged him across the room towards a veritable mountain of toys. "Let's play, Vaan!" She rooted around through the toys, eventually coming up with a couple of model airships. "Here, you can be the Bahamut, and I'll be the Strahl come to shoot you down!" The airships looked nothing like those they were intended to represent, but Vaan reached for one, nevertheless.

"That's not exactly the way it happened," Vaan protested, laughing.

"The Strahl doesn't have any weapons. She's a prototype airship designed with speed rather than combat in mind," Balthier added. It interested him that his child was so fascinated by airships – but then, perhaps it was in her blood. He wondered if Penelo had encouraged the child's interest in them.

"How would you know?" Ellie asked, defiantly.

"The Strahl belongs to me. I stole her from the Imperial army several years ago. They were going to destroy her, but I thought she was too beautiful to let that happen – so I took her." He knew that Penelo would likely not approve of telling the child such a thing. After all, thievery was nothing he ought to encourage the child to glamorize. But nor did he believe he would be doing right by the girl to lie to her, or even to sugar-coat the truth.

Ellie's face flushed with anger – whether at being corrected or discovering her beloved Strahl to be owned and piloted by the one man in all of Ivalice she could not abide, he didn't know.

Suddenly she erupted into motion, throwing the model airship she was still clutching at Balthier's head, then turning and running for the door. At Vaan's sharp rebuke, she paused and turned, trembling with rage.

"You're lying!" she said furiously to Balthier. "You're mean and a liar and you're not my papa!"

Shocked by the vehemence with which the child spat the hateful words, Balthier could only watch as she fled into the nursery, with Vaan quick on her heels. Obviously, Vaan would want to calm the child before her nursemaid returned. Balthier remained in Ellie's bedchamber, allowing Vaan and Ellie a bit of privacy.

Vaan caught Ellie halfway across the room, jerking her off her feet and slinging her over his shoulder. She kicked wildly until he set her down on the small sofa near the window, putting his hands on her shoulders to keep her from bolting.

"What would your mama say if she saw that?" He asked. "I'm disappointed in you, Ellie."

She sniffled. "He's a liar. The Strahl was your ship, Vaan. Yours and Mama's."

"Only for a few months. It's not a lie, Ellie – it really is his airship. Your Mama and I just borrowed it for a while." Vaan swiped a throw blanket across Ellie's damp cheeks, wiping away the tears. "You owe him an apology."

Her lower lip trembled. "I don't like him."

"You don't know him," he returned. "You haven't even tried to like him. And maybe if you weren't so rude to him he'd be nicer to you in return," he said. "Now, come on." He ushered her back into the bedroom, nudging her towards Balthier, who waited silently within. "Ellie has something to say," he prompted.

"Sorry," she muttered, clearly irate and embarrassed at being forced to apologize. Her eyes were fixed firmly on her toes.

Balthier surprised himself by kneeling down so that they were nearly at eye-level with one another. "Are you truly sorry?" he asked.

She glanced up briefly. "No. Sir," she added as an afterthought.

"Ellie," Vaan admonished, astonished at her impudence. Balthier held up a hand, silencing Vaan's protest.

"Then don't apologize," he said. "An empty apology is meaningless."

Surprised that she wasn't going to be further scolded, Ellie raised her head. "You're not mad?"

"Not particularly, no. I've been called worse." He set his hand on her head, stroking her soft blonde hair. "I think you're confused and frightened and perhaps a little angry, and I think you've every right to be. I'd prefer it if in the future you could express your anger with words rather than projectiles aimed at my head, but you don't have to be sorry for being angry, Ellie."

She frowned at him suspiciously. "I still don't like you," she said.

He managed a wry smile. "That's okay, too."