Disclaimer: You'd best find the disclaimer you need to correct me, then.

A/N: Hello, everyone! Welcome back, and thank-you for the lovely reviews I've recieved over the past week. Just two days ago, I beat the game for the first time! excited applause Vayne sure is one tough bastard! (In case anyone is curious, I had watched the cutscenes beforehand... yup. Youtube spoilers. But if it means I write better, it's okay, right? The ending movie still has the power to make my heart beat faster, no matter how many times I watch it... 15 sounds about right). Please enjoy the next chapter!
As a side note: I'll answer your review here, Amy, since I think a lot of other readers were wondering: I address the issue of the partnership between Fran and Balthier in a special way. The way I see it, they're basically extensions of the other person. They are partners (and we've already been over the implications of sky pirate partners in previous chapters between Blayne and Siyana), they are sometimes lovers, and they are the closest of friends. Balthier is the freedom Fran has always been loning for, and Fran is the anchor Balthier needs to keep himself sane. So when Balthier wants to do something for Fran, it's not a matter of jealousy. Their relationship goes so far beyond such emotions that Balthier is honestly surprised when Siyana brings it up. "It's Fran" is not an evasion, it is the truth. And (if I may say so), I don't think Balthier is really worried about Siyana switching allegiances to Fran... he knows that Fran is not looking for a long-term relationship, and he knows that Siyana is fairly set in her preferences. The reason he was jealous of Basch is a different matter, one which will soon be discussed in great detail.
I hope that answered your concerns! If not, feel free to let me know (all those lines, and I'm still not sure if I explained myself properly! And I call myself a writer.)

'Where is everyone?'

Fear not, Princess of Dalmasca. We Occuria have chosen you, and you alone. Ashelia B'Nargan Dalmasca, we see your heart desires power, and power most holy shall we grant. Seek you the Sun-cryst, slumb'ring star. In tower on distant shore it dreams. The mother of all nethicite, the source of its unending power. The Dynast-King, his fallow shards, coarse trinkets cut from Sun-cryst's light.

'Such power exists?'

In times that are long passed away, we sought to save this Ivalice, and chose Raithwall, the Dynast-King. He took the sword, and cut the Cryst. Three shards he took from its gilt grasp, and so became the Dynast-King. His words and deeds run through your veins.

'That's why I was given it. The Sword of Kings.'

The treaty held with kings of old is but a mem'ry, cold and still. With you we now shall treat anew, to cut a run for hist'ry's flow. Now take this sword, this Treaty-Blade, Occurian seal, mark of your worth. Cut deep the Cryst, and seize your shards. Weild Dynast-King's power. Destroy Venat!

'But Venat – Venat is an Occurian. A being like you.'

Venat is a heretic!

The nethicite is ours to give, to chosen bearer, or to none. The heretic trespassed and set the rose of knowledge in Man's hand. With imitations they profane. It is anathema to us. We give you now the Stone and task. Administer judgement. Destroy them all!

'Judgement? Destroy them all? The Empire?'

The Humes ever skew hist'ry's weave. With haste they move through too-short lives. Driven to err by base desires, t'ward waste and wasting on they run. Undying, we Occuria light the path for wayward sons of Man. Oft did we pass judgement on them so that Ivalice might endure. Eternal, we are hist'ry's stewards, to set the course, and keep it true. The chosen is our hand, our fist, to let live some and crush the rest. Princess, you have been chosen. Take revenge against those who stole your kingdom. Fulfill your role as saviour. Attain to your birthright!

"Ashe! What's with these Occuria? What gives them the right to tell you what to do?" Vaan was indignant, Fran just as quick.

"Will you take revenge, as they ask?"

We crowded around the princess.

"We could not see them, but we heard the Occuria speak." Surrounded by white light, hearing mystic voices ring inside our heads, we had listened, helpless, as Ashe was manipulated. "They may be gods," Basch continued, "but we are the arbiters of our own destiny. Your Highness, I am against this." He shook his head. "The Empire must pay, but destruction?"

"Um." Penelo interrupted the flood of words that had been restrained by the Occuria's will, bringing us back to our original purpose here. "Does anyone know what happened to Doctor Cid? Wasn't he saying he'd be here?"

Basch looked around, distracted. "He should have arrived by now."

"And I should have realized by now." Balthier approached from behind me. His voice was the false-light tone I'd heard so many times before. "He's not coming."

We all turned to look at him. The mask was back in full force. I would have to work hard to get back through it again. "He laid out the bait and we bit. Remember what he said?" His voice was irritated, I thought, but the annoyance was internal. "He wanted Ashe to get the Stone. He wanted that all along. That's why he flaunted his nethicite, and reeled us in with his stories about Giruvegan, all to bring Ashe to the Occuria."

"But wait." Penelo frowned, thinking. "If we got a hold of the nethicite, wouldn't that be bad for the Empire?"

Balthier's face had a look that said, 'as if that would matter to Cid.' Aloud, he said, "maybe he wants to see what would happen when foes with nethicite collide? That'd be just like Doctor Cid." The emphasis on his father's title was telling – the scientist who experimented with empires.

Ashe, who had been silent under the onslaught, seemed to come to a decision. "I will search out the Sun-cryst."

There was nothing more to say to that – no one had enough power or knowledge to gainsay her. The others left, eager to be gone from this strange place. Ashe, too, turned to go, but Balthier's voice stopped her. I stood at his side, staring as he did at one of the great carven thrones.

"'History is built by our hands.' That's his favourite line." He stood with his back to Ashe, voice contemplative, as if he'd forgotten we were here. "He'd never stand by and watch the Occuria's Stones shape things. So, he was talking to Venat all along." He turned, and his mask was in place, but his eyes were dark. "He wasn't mad at all then, was he?"

I fell into step beside him, but he did not want to talk. His mood was dangerous, and I couldn't tell if it was a good thing that his anger was directed only at himself. When he'd said we, what he'd really meant was I. He'd taken the bait. He'd trusted his own judgement in the matter of his father, that his own instincts would not lead him astray, and had failed. I could think of no words of comfort that he would hear.

We remained silent as we gathered around the Way Stone and left the Round of the Chosen behind. After the transport, no-one was quite ready to move on yet.

"'In tower on distant shore dreams the Sun-cryst,'" Basch quoted. He looked at Fran. "Do these words mean aught to you?" The viera shook her head. For once, the lore of the viera could not help us. Basch looked down, confounded. We would need a destination if we were going to find anything, much less the Sun-cryst. Vaan spoke up.

"Didn't Reddas say he was going to follow some 'other course'? Maybe he found out something that can help." I stared at him, amazed. Sometimes the boy was just idiotic enough to have sparks of sheer brilliance. But Balthier disagreed.

"I'd rather stay out of that sky pirate's debt, thank-you," he said. For some reason, when he said the title, there was an ironic cast to his voice which I couldn't explain.

"What's wrong with Reddas?" Vaan asked, voicing the thoughts of the party. Balthier turned on him. I hoped the boy was smart enough to realize that Balthier was in a bad mood and not to push it. "I mean," the boy continued, stammering now, "if you can't trust your own kind, who can you trust?" Our kind? Obviously Vaan didn't realize the first thing about sky pirating: when your own kind consisted of thieves and bounty hunters, every man was an island.

"You an expert on pirating now, are you?" Luckily for Vaan, Balthier took the statement as a joke. Vaan put his arms behind his head, a habit of his. No one else seemed to catch the sarcasm in Balthier's voice.

It was enough. No one had any better ideas, and we needed information. The decision was made to return to Balfonheim.

The Way Stone before us (which was no longer the Empyrean Way Stone, but had been mysteriously reset) took us back to the Gate of Earth. Fran then used the second Teleport Stone she'd bought from Dyce to take us back to the port city.

I hadn't realized how much I'd missed the sea breeze until I felt it caressing my face yet again. I sighed. If I ever got a choice in the matter (and lived through this adventure), I would live by the sea.

Outside the stasis of Giruvegan, the setting sun cast its blood-red glow over the waves, turning the foaming tips pink. Time seemed to catch up to us, then, and we felt incredibly sleepy – I felt like I'd been fighting for days… and perhaps it was true.

We dragged ourselves to Saccio Lane and identified ourselves to the Watch. There was some confusion – we were not expected for another several days at least – but in the end we were granted admission. We were shown to our own rooms, and I fell into the soft, neatly made bed, the sound of the sea in my ears, and slept like the dead.

I woke late, dressed in the clothes put out for me, and made my way down to the salon for breakfast. As I embarked on a meal consisting entirely of fruit (that being one of the many things in which my diet was severely lacking), I listened as the others came to join me, their talk surrounding me in a pleasant jumble. No further speculation upon the Sun-cryst and Reddas could be made that had not already been brought to light, discussed, and exhausted, so we did not mention it. Instead, we exchanged plans for the day, argued over the order in which we would use the bath, and generally did our level best to forget circumstances. I smiled. I finally like I belonged somewhere, like I was part of something worthwhile. I even considered that f-word: family. For the people surrounding me had certainly treated me better than my own relations.

Just as we were finishing, an attendant appeared and told us that Reddas was indisposed, and would be so all morning, but that he would see us this afternoon with all haste. We replied that this would be perfectly satisfactory and the servant retired.

The party, in the end, resolved to give me first chance at the bath in return for my excellent work on the map, and insisted upon it whenever I tried to refuse. At last, my desire for cleanliness won out. The effect was not quite so dramatic as it had been the first time, but that is not to say it was not just as welcomed. Afterwards, as my hair dried, I sat at the desk in my room and wrote out a fair copy of my Giruvegan map, which I took to the Cartographers' Guild moogle at Sea Breeze Lane and sold for a staggering amount of gil (and made a friend for life: apparently the moogle in question was of no small standing within the Guild, but had been in danger of losing his station, which this recent acquisition would turn around. He wrung my hand repeatedly and said that if there was anything he could do to thank me, I should let him know, kupo!)

Free maps in hand, I went to Beruny's. My pole was still the best weapon on the market for me (there was the Ivory Pole, of course, but since it didn't have an elemental affiliation, it wasn't really an option). I did, however, upgrade my sword, and afterward, there being no new news on the Blayne front, I went to the Whitecap for a long-delayed drink.

As I stood at the bar waiting for my order, I scanned the tavern for an empty table, and my eyes lighted upon Balthier. He noticed me at the same time, and waved me over with a casual flick of his hand.

I sat down across from him, unsure of what to expect, but he was in a surprisingly good mood considering how I had seen him last.

"Cheers," he said, with a quirk of his mouth, and we clinked glasses. After taking a long sip, I looked at him questioningly. He grinned: a true smile, with no reservation or calculation behind it. The effect was like the sun breaking through endless clouds of rain. Balthier was genuinely happy, a thought which gave me a warm feeling of my own inside.

"Nono's brought the Strahl from Rabanastre," he said, "all repaired, except for a few minor systems. I was just on my way to the Aerodrome when you came in. Would you like to come along?"

I nodded – how could I pass up the opportunity to work on one of Ivalice's most legendary airships?

Balthier drained his drink, and I mine, and we set off for Chivany Breakwater, and the Strahl. Balthier had a love for his ship that was profound, and it showed in his motions as he walked quicker than his usual jaunt through the lanes of the port.

"By the way," he said, as I worked to keep up with him, "have you sold that map yet?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Not the only copy, I trust?"

"Of course not. I made another one this morning."

"How much did it go for?"

I felt pride sweep over me and I grinned. "12500 gil."

Balthier actually stopped walking. "Congratulations. But why so much, might I ask?"

I shrugged. "He was desperate. I could have named any price I wanted. I had my eye on a Diamond Sword, so that's how much I asked for."

He nodded. "Fair enough. Good work."

We'd reached the Aerodrome. If Balthier had been alone, he would have run, I think. As it was, I was hard put to match his pace as we headed for the private hangars.

Fran was there awaiting us when we entered. "You arrive at last," she said, eyebrows raised. Balthier let the comment pass.

"I brought Siyana along," he said simply. "She wanted to know more about engine subsystems."

I blinked. It was true, I knew next to nothing about engine subsystems, and I was eager to learn all I could. But I hadn't said anything about it to Balthier.

Fran nodded, seeing all, saying nothing. "Welcome, Siyana. Take good care of her."

"I promise," I said, slipping off my jacket. I could understand Balthier's enthusiasm. It had been far too long since I had spent time in an airship.

Balthier handed me a wrench and a pair of pliers.

"Now, to work!" he said.

As we worked, we talked. Balthier told me of the Strahl – how she had been comissioned by a wealthy nobleman and built by the Shipwrights' Guild of Archades. It had been on the verge of scrapping because the gentleman hadn't liked the cost of the dual-motion wing design, but Balthier had rescued it, taking it with him when he left the judges – and Archades – for good. I began to feel a curious affinity with the Strahl – Balthier had saved us both.

"To think that any shipwright would destroy a ship this beautiful," I mused, tightening an ether nodule.

"Well, I've made extensive modifications," Balthier admitted, stripping a wire, "but yes, I couldn't bear to think of her consigned to the scrap heap. So I used my authority as a judge for the last time to get myself into the hangar, and that was the last of Ffamran." He paused. "The second-last time now, I suppose."

We did also talk about airship systems. Balthier showed me the mechanisms behind the wing design and how to perform routine maintenance on the Strahl's cannons. The ship also had some unique subsystems that Balthier had designed himself, though he hadn't been able to impliment them until he'd met Fran and all her mechanical brilliance. I learned a great deal, and to this day I feel more connected to the Strahl than to any other airship, even the Shera, because the former's were the insides I first learned intimately.

It was nearing afternoon when we finished, tired, sweaty, covered in grease, and exhilerated. Balthier stretched and sighed with satisfaction.

"It's been too long, Strahl my girl," he said, patting a bulkhead. He made no indication of having spoken, so I made no sign of having heard. "And now," Balthier said, as if nothing had happened, "time for a bath."

So for my second bath that morning, I was with Balthier. The Strahl's tub was significantly smaller than Reddas', but at least it had one, fed from a reservoir of Water Crystals and Fire Stones ingeniously contrived.

"Only for port," Balthier informed me. "Otherwise the load is too heavy for flight."

The close quarters were conducive to many things besides bathing, and Balthier showed all the signs of wishing to partake in them. I caressed his back and planted a kiss on his lips. "We don't have enough time," I said regretfully. "Reddas wants to see us soon."

Balthier shrugged. "True enough. Tonight, then?"

I nodded. "Of course."

As we left the Strahl, Fran joined us. She had been working on the front of the ship while we had worked on the back, and she had been done first.

"So, Siyana, did you learn all you needed about engine subsystems?" The viera asked. I nodded, realizing or the first time that Balthier and I had spent several hours alone together without a suggestive glance or even thinking about sex… at least on my part. But we had made a date, and now… was I even daring to believe I was… good enough?

We met up with the rest of the party and were ushered into Reddas' presence with little ceremony. The pirate was issuing orders to the trio of Rikken, Elza, and Raz, and sounded quite irate.

"Ships in the water! Send fishing dories if need be, I care not. Glossair engines are as good to us as the sky to a fish. Leave what boats have foundered. I want souls saved, not driftwood!" The pirates ran out, hardly looking at us as they pushed past. Reddas rubbed his forehead.

"Our armada ran afoul of bad water in the Ridorana Cataract. All engines stopped asudden, becalmed. Trouble with Mist thick as death, it seems. Those seas are in jagd." He sighed. "I expected airship trouble, not a fleet foundering midst the waves." He looked to Ashe. "Tell me of what happened in Giruvegan. From the lay of your eyes, I measure all did not go well. Cid – was he false as I feared?"

"Yes." Ashe's voice betrayed only a portion of her emotions. "But we may have caught a glimpse of his true intent. We may now know what it is Cid searches for." She told Reddas of our journey and the discoveries we'd made. When she'd finished, the pirate sat back in his chair.

"So the deifacted nethicite was only a fragment? And these Occuria – I know not, and care to know even less."

Fran spoke for the first time. "If we strike this Sun-cryst with the Sword of Kings, no new Stone may be born. We say the Sun-cryst is the source of all nethicite's power. If we might break it, the Dusk Shard would be as a thing lifeless. As for the manufacted nethicite, who can say?"

"There is another way." I turned to Balthier, surprised that he would be the one to suggest it. "We use the Treaty-Blade to cut a new Stone from the Cryst, use that to fight the Dusk Shard and the manufacted stones."

"Would you like to know the best use of nethicite is?" Reddas replied. "Will or nill, I'll tell you. You pick it up, and throw it away."

Reddas struck me, in his words and deeds, as someone very frightened, though of what, I was not sure. Certainly the nethicite, but I could not as yet divine his connection with it.

Vaan turned to Balthier. "Either way, we gotta find this Sun-cryst first, right? Don't we?" Again, midst this dance of thrones and mighty concerns, Vaan's simplicity was the voice of reason. "Across the sea… In a tower on a distant shore… Reddas?" he looked to the pirate.

"Familiar words, Vaan." Reddas' voice was pensive. I must own, I was a little surprised. Not only had Vaan been right – again – but the pirate king seemed one of the least likely to have information on old forgotten legends that even Fran knew not. "I saw something of the sort written in some documents I chanced upon during my visit to Draklor," he continued. "The Naldoan Sea, the Ridorana Cataract, and the Pharos Lighthouse." He looked as us, eyes serious. "I sent my fleet to fish out the truth behind those words… and caught trouble."

"Then proof is ours," Basch said simply. "This lighthouse on the Naldoan Sea is the tower on the distant shore. The strong Mist that becalmed your ships is a grimmer, yet clearer sign than any we might hope for. The Sun-cryst is there."

"All well and good," Balthier spoke up pragmatically, "but how do we get there? Those seas are in jagd, as I recall."

"Try putting this one in your ship," Reddas said, by way of response. "'Tis a skystone made to resist jagd." He tossed it to Balthier, who caught it and inspected it carefully. I caught my breath at the value of the stone which Reddas had just casually given away. A skystone to resist jagd… the possibilities were endless! Nowhere would be out of reach. It was one of the reasons why the Archadian fleet was so feared and powerful. Not even jagd was safe.

"More spoils from the Draklor labs, is it?" Balthier's voice confirmed my thoughts. "Why not use it yourself?"

"That's just the thing." Reddas shrugged. "My ship's a Bhujerban model – it will not work. But should it fit the Strahl, she'll fly in jagd." He turned to Ashe, who had stood silent during the debate. "Lady Ashe. I would accompany your Highness… if you do not object."

"I am in your care," Ashe replied instantly. Balthier blinked, as surprised as I by the speed of Ashe's response, as well as her wording. Care implied weakness, something the princess could not abide. Mayhap the same instincts that led her not to question Reddas' motives led her to trust him, but I was unsure. It was not like Ashe to so readily accept anyone. "But, tell me one thing," Ashe continued, "why do so much for us?"

Reddas paused. When he spoke, his voice was laden with memory. "The Nabudis Deadlands."

Ashe's voice was hesitant, sympathetic. "Nabudis… was your home?"

Reddas did not look at her. "Nay, but a memory forever burned in my heart."

After such a pronouncement, there was not much left to say. It was late evening, and the party was still feeling the effects of our journey through Giruvegan. A somber mood prevailed upon us as we departed for supper and ate in silence, Balthier and Fran coming in late after installing the new skystone.

I broke the silence tentatively. "Will it work?" Balthier helped himself to some ghysahl.

"Fits like it was made for the ship," he said, though he did not sound like he considered this entirely good news. "We ran some quick tests and it looks all clear, but obviously there's no way to test it under jagd conditions until we leave tomorrow."

Ashe nodded, satisfied. "That will more than suffice." She stood to leave. "Everyone, get some rest. We've got an early start tomorrow morning." I studied my plate, determinedly not looking at Balthier. Whether or not he and I got any rest tonight remained to be seen.

For all that Balthier had been the last to arrive he was one of the first to leave, departing the salon with hardly a glance at me. It was all right. It wasn't needed. I waited a suitable amount of time lingering over my dinner, making sure that someone left in between (it happened to be Penelo). So eager was I that I did not even detour into my chamber, but went straight to Balthier's. When I knocked, he opened the door himself.

The room was ablaze with candlelight. It held a massive four-poster bed, spread with a coverlet of rich maroon velvet. For a moment, I had a dizzying flash of my boudoir in House Flamenca. There was one difference, however. Coiled innocently in the centre of the bed was a length of silken rope.

I looked at Balthier.

"Only that," he said gravely. "Only if you truly want to."

My blood throbbed in my veins. "Yes," I said, wrapping my arms around him. "Oh, yes."

He laughed and kissed me. "Let me take you out of your clothes first."

I did. We undressed one another slowly. After so much ripping and haste, it seemed almost odd to be taking our time. The shadows gathered in the corners of the room.

He trailed one tasselled end of the rope over my bare skin. "You're sure?"

I arched my back. "Ffamran…"

"Because I will make you beg," he breathed into my ear. There was a thrill in his speaking the words aloud, a thrill in my inarticulate reply. He knelt over me and stretched my arms above my head, pinning my shoulders between his knees. He kissed the insides of my wrists to taste my pulse as it raced. When he tied the first knot with a hard jerk, I gave a small cry. It was exciting, and strange, and wonderful. He glanced down at me.

"Go on," I whispered.

He'd learned to tie knots somewhere – perhaps on an Archadian troop transport ship – for his motions were expert as he lashed one wrist to the bedpost, threaded the rope around the other bedpost and lashed the other wrist. I was bound hard and tight, my arms and legs splayed wide. The feel of it when he'd finished was beautiful beyond words.

"…Very nice," he said, and I might have wept if I were not so excited.

He made love to me with his lips and tongue and hands, with the endless patience I'd sensed in him from the first. Again and again, he brought me near the crest of desire and abandoned me there. I jerked my hips in helpless frustration when he took his mouth away, hands above my bound wrists clenching and unclenching. And ah, gods! It felt so good!

"Ffamran…" I writhed, almost in tears. "Please!"

"Is this what you want?" Between my thighs, he sat back on his heels, caressing his erect shaft. The sight of it nearly undid me. "Tell me."

I did, ragged and gasping.

"All right," he said, as if it had been his idea all along.

He spread my thighs wider, pushing my knees toward my straining shoulders. No more teasing, now. He fit himself inside me, deeper than he'd ever gone. My loins rocked against his as I climaxed, over and over. I wanted it to last forever. He held off for what seemed like hours, stroking me long and slow, until something changed and a driving urgency seemed to overtake him. Deep, deeper… deepest. He buried himself in me, groaning, and spent his seed with a shudder that ran from the crown of his skull to the bast of his spine.

We lay there for a long time, panting. I felt fluid, languid, even the residual ache in my muscles pleasure of the most wonderful kind. I wanted to hold him, then, mold myself to his body. Still he did not move.

"Ffamran." I spoke into his ear. "You could untie me now."

"I'll try." He rolled off me, picking at knots grown tighter. "Gods!"

He laughed, and I laughed with him. It made my heart soar. He freed one wrist and kissed it. There were marks where the rope had been. "Better?"

"Yes." I flexed my arm, watching him work on the other wrist. "I don't want you to leave." The words came out before I could remember thinking them, and as soon as they had I wished I could take them back.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sephira," he murmured, taking the time to plant a kiss on the palm of my outstretched hand. "Not tonight, I promise you."

Now that this conversation had started, I didn't want to back out.

"I don't mean tonight."

He freed my other wrist. "Tell me."

"You." I tossed off the coils of rope, sat up, and shook my head impatiently. "Ffamran, you know the effect you have on women." I drew him down to me, wrapping my legs around his waist, illustrating my point. "I know you do, and you use it to your best advantage. If anyone could be an expert on that, it's me. And it's that exact confidence that's so attractive, that makes everyone want to be with you." I raked a hand through my hair, knowing I was treading on dangerous ground. "You're so…" I shook my head again, trying a different approach. "And the damnable thing is, I never wanted to be one of them. Not at first. You were the first one I'd decided to resist, exactly for that reason." I let out a breathy laugh – to this day it is my abiding proof that the gods have a sense of humour. "Good job I did of that. And now you smile at me, and it feels like my heart's on a string and it's being yanked out of my chest."

Balthier said nothing, just looked at me, and I could not decipher the look on his face. He did not return my embrace, but he did not push me away, either.

I did not apologize. It had been too long that we hadn't talked of this. It was obvious to me now that he cared for me, and that should have been enough, but I needed to hear it from his own lips, and I knew I wasn't going to.

He leaned down to kiss me. "All right." If he was intending to say something more, he did not. We made love one more, languorous and sweet and slow, altogether different from the last time, and just as nice. The best part, as always, was falling asleep together, curled beneath the warm coverlet. It felt so terribly good to feel my body nestled into his, soft and warm and naked, to hear his breathing slow and deepen into sleep. There was an intimacy to it beyond lovemaking.

I reflected, in the comfortable space between waking and dream, that I had just willingly put myself in a position to beg from Balthier – the one thing I had sworn never to do. And, gods! I had enjoyed it. And he had laughed, and smiled, and hadn't batted an eye when I'd called him Ffamran. I loved him, utterly and completely. And nothing that could happen would change that.

A/N: Next up: the Pharos Lighthouse! (however redundant the title might be - Pharos means lighthouse in Latin.) Get ready to confront Cid!