Author's Note: Another chapter for you to read. I will expect perhaps two more just to wrap the story up. I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 29
"Fran, I have a feeling we're going to be settling here for a couple of months," Balthier said as optimistically as he could, but he would laugh at himself if it were not so painful. Fran's broken leg had been set in half an hour, but his injuries had needed five hours and he had so dearly wished he could have put his gun to his head and pulled the trigger.
The doctors said they had given him painkillers but hell if they were, because he never seemed to feel the effects of them! A slight shift in position caused fireworks to explode in his head. His right side wouldn't have been mangled if he had simply strapped himself into the pilot seat. But he hadn't, and now he was grimacing from a broken right arm and collarbone.
"Yes, I imagine it will be several months. You should take advantage of this opportunity so long as you have it," Fran replied, sitting neutrally on her bed. His legs were not damaged—about the only parts of his body that weren't—and he had taken a walk to clear his mind of the pain and eventually found himself at Fran's door. She had crutches much like Marskot, but she seemed not to like them much.
"Opportunity for what? I can do nothing whilst I sit here," Balthier grumbled. His foul mood had scared off virtually everyone except Marskot and Fran. Ashe was a rare visitor for him and that circumstance had also put a damper on his spirits. "And if you're referring to who I think you are, isn't she a bit busy lately?"
He scowled out that part and turned to glare out the window. How would he get through these next—how many months was it to be? Three?!—with so little to distract him? No treasure-hunting, no flying. Balthier let his chin fall in despair and was briefly grateful that his head hadn't received more injuries from the crash.
"You will have nothing to distract you. You can work on your own to set up the situation to your liking, or the council's. Whichever needs more work to meet," Fran said. Balthier continued to ignore looking at her, because he knew she was giving him one of those no-nonsense looks. 'Don't be a fool,' that expression said. 'Do both yourself and her a favor.'
"Would she even want to marry a scoundrel like me?" Balthier said. The notion that she might have to marry someone else anyway caused him to chew his lip in frustration. But why would she want to marry him? He could bring nothing to the table. He had plenty of stolen goods likely to be rejected by her blasted council, and the Strahl. There was no money and no prestigious status.
He continued to look out the window, because at this point Fran had to be frowning rather severely at him. "You will only hurt yourself and her if you continue to dodge this, Balthier. She is bound to be queen, and is the last surviving member of Raithwall's line. She will be forced to marry, whether it be to you or another."
"Yes, but as I asked before, why would she want to marry a scoundrel?"
"You know her heart better than I."
Do I? Fran may disagree, but it was a legitimate question. She may be far older than either of them, but did she know the complexities of such a feeling as love? Love? Is it really that? Yes, they had had a few flings along the trip, but neither one of them had uttered that dreadful phrase, 'I love you.' For him it had been his usual repertoire of sweet nothings and she had answered with vague phrases of encouragement. Well, I have been thinking of a long term relationship for some time, but is this it? Would I actually want to be married?
He frowned pensively as he thought back to the life that had ended and how its future would never be. If he had continued being a Judge and had not run away, he would be married to Sari. There were no 'ifs' or 'buts' about it. He would be married to her. But what would be different? Would being a Judge have eventually broken his spirit, or would life actually have improved? He loathed thinking of the 'what ifs' but at the moment it was all he had to go on.
Clunk, clunk, clunk.
Balthier did not need to turn to know who it was. As Fran was in bed, the only other person it could possibly be was—
"Still pondering the great philosophical question of the age? Should I or shouldn't I? You've already heard my thoughts on this," Marskot replied as he stumped into the room.
"Yes, a dozen times in the past three days," Balthier grumbled.
"I will continue to say it, so long as it fails to penetrate that thick skull of yours," the Dorstonian snapped in response. Balthier had only seen Ashe twice in the past three days, and only briefly, but she contributed his grumpiness to his suffering and let the issue slide. Marskot and Fran were not so forgiving, and the pirate anticipated that one or both would eventually start swinging crutches at him.
"Try not to. My head hurts enough as it is." He banished the other two from his mind and continued contemplating the situation as though it were a science experiment he might get a glimmer of information from, but the damn variables were all wrong! Sari was not Ashe. Not by a long shot.
He could say with plenty of certainty that he would dearly miss Ashe when he left. It had taken more time than he would ever admit to get over Sari, and he still longed for her on occasion. Or he did. Life had straightened out once Ashe had gotten used to his former heritage, if only they hadn't been traveling back to Archades then life might have actually been perfect. Well, now you're no longer in Archades, so what are you waiting for?
"For this pain to stop befuddling me," Balthier muttered to himself.
"What was that?" Marskot asked.
"I'm going to see if I can sleep any better now that the dignitaries have stopped hailing to get into the queen's good graces," Balthier said and heaved himself to his feet. He desperately wanted to fiddle with the strap to his sling, but the doctor had already chastised him once for it being too loose. He glanced over to see Marskot smirking at him for some reason, but he simply said, "Take care, Fran." Balthier did not like walking through the palace in such a disheveled state, but he would shelve his vanity if only for the freedom to clear his mind. As much pain as it had caused him, the council was not remiss in their ways of thanking heroes. Marskot was stuck in the ward for the moment, but he and Fran had been given suites fitted a bathroom, a small kitchen, and a bedroom that was separated into two rooms by a cushion.
Balthier stared longingly at the inviting bed, but he resigned with a sigh and fell onto the couch. Bad idea. When the pain had abated he situated himself so that his right shoulder was comfortable. The doctors did not want him to lie down lest his collarbone shift, so he was forced to sleep upright. And the others wonder why I'm so tired.
"Mrrraaaaaoooooooo"
Sari could feel her patience run dangerously thin. It had taken ten minutes for her to convince the guards at the gates to let them into the palace grounds. She wasn't sure if it was her wiles or the annoyingly consistent howl emanating from the box at her feet, but all they needed to do now was find him. But the Dalmascan palace was far bigger than she had anticipated.
"Can you get that cat to cease her crying? We're almost there, damn it," Sari said for the countless time. No wonder Ffamran had crumpled to the cat's whims.
"I've told you she doesn't like being in a cage," Vale replied in frustration. "Remember when we let her out on the airship? She was quiet then!"
"Where is Ffamran? I wish I would have remembered his name. I knew we should have written it down. I don't know why I'm doing this for him," Sari looked desperately for someone to help her. She was dressed in commoner's clothes, so all the passing nobles pretended they were not there. Why can this never be easy?
"Good afternoon, my violet rose. How may I serve you?"
Sari and Vale turned slowly to see who had addressed them. Vale's eyebrows lifted in surprised and Sari had to keep from snorting with laughter. It was a noble dressed in the finest fabric with pretty frills on his sleeves and front. Dark in complexion, he gave them a self-assured smile. Who the hell is he and what does he see in me? Sari glanced down briefly at the work trousers she was wearing and decided that they must accentuate her figure somehow.
"Hello. You were speaking to me, yes?" Sari asked. She did need help, but now she was looking for an escape. Vale seemed to feel the same because she bent down to pick the cat's cage up again.
"Yes, my name is Al-Cid Margrace of Rozarria. Is there any way I might make this day more enjoyable?"
Sari's mind raced. It was awfully tempting to play along in his lovely little game, but if things went awry she might get in trouble for being too rough with a Prince of Rozarria. Yet he was of the noble status and her clothes were common. She was expected to be at his service. Oh hell, what could happen? I'll play innocent for now. "Perhaps you may help us. We're looking for someone who is supposed to be here." She put extra emphasis on the 'we,' that she and her sister would not separate.
"Do you know his name?"
"No, he's changed it since I've known him," Sari replied, taking a step back as this Al-Cid approached her. "From the news I've heard, he was reported to be the Hero of the Bahamut." Sari stiffened slightly at the flicker of recognition in Al-Cid's eyes.
"I don't believe he's here anymore. You know how sky pirates are. They don't care to stay on the ground for too long," Al-Cid said. "Why would someone as beautiful as yourself care for such a scoundrel?"
"Because I would like to dump the annoying furball in the cage on him." Sari said it with a little more snip to her words than she had intended, but she was sure the noble was lying through his teeth about Ffamran's whereabouts.
"Ah, well, I can see that it is sent to him. Why don't you accompany me for the rest of the day and I will soothe your cares away."
Sari gave him a noble-worthy sneer and turned her back on him. "Come, Vale. WE need to be searching."
"Sari?"
She thought her ears were fooling her, but when she turned there was a face she had not seen in years. "Marskot?" He stumped closer, swinging his crutches with every other step, and then suddenly she was hugging him. "Marskot! Ah! It's been so long! How are you? What happened to your leg?"
He did not immediately answer because his eyes rested on a point behind her, and she turned to see Al-Cid flaring at them at a complete loss for words. She could sense the building electricity in the air between the two, but it sizzled in one sentence: "I hope you have an excellent day, Al-Cid."
"Vale, let's go," Sari commanded.
They walked some distance before Sari asked, "You're familiar with that character?"
"Oh yes, I am familiar with him. He's only constantly flirting with Queen Ashelia."
"Is that—"
"Yes," Marskot said.
Ah, yes, Sari thought. The forbidden romance. Few others know of it.
"I sincerely hope you were not falling for his flattery. You can do leagues better than him," Marskot suddenly said.
Sari huffed in response. "Ffamran flattered me better than that."
"It's Balthier now."
"I told you that was his name!" Vale suddenly piped up from behind. "I'm not stupid. I can remember stuff."
"Well, I'm sorry, Vale, but it really doesn't matter now. We are headed to Balthier's room now, right?"
"Of course. But I'll warn you, he's extremely grouchy. Remember when he broke his arm the first time?"
Sari flinched. "Unfortunately yes."
"Multiply that by two."
"Well, why do I want to put up with him then?"
"To get rid of Artemis?" Vale supplied.
Sari frowned and said, "That'll work."
"Oh please, Sari, stay. I don't want to deal with him alone for the next three months."
Sari came to a sudden halt and gaped at Marskot. "Three months?! He'll go crazy! Why so long?"
"Broken collarbone."
Sari reflexively grimaced and reached up to touch her own collarbone. "Ouch. That must be painful."
"Well, he should be happy to see you guys. I can't believe you hauled the cat the entire way."
"Vale broke me. I remember how attached he was to that cat. I also imagine the servants of the Bunansa estate are sick of caring for the paranoid little brat."
"Artemis never liked me much."
"I'm not sure she cared for any of us except Ffa—Balthier."
"She liked me," Vale said.
Boom, boom, boom.
Balthier jolted from his slumber, glad that he actually managed to sleep and annoyed that someone had disturbed it. "Who is it?"
"Marskot and a few old friends."
Balthier grumbled unintelligibly under his breath. What the hell is that sound? He could hear the mournful howl just outside, but he didn't ponder it before he opened the door and squinted at the people through it.
"Balthier, how nice to see you. Now will you please take your damn cat," Sari said in greeting, holding up the cage.
"Hi, Sari. Vale. What are you doing here?" Balthier asked as Vale entered and hugged him.
"Vale thought it would be nice to give you your cat."
Balthier threw Sari a withered look. "That cannot be your only reason."
"Maybe it is. Why does it matter to you? I have no plans to steal you back. As far as I'm concerned your name is 'Mud,'" she replied. "But I have another good reason to stay. I haven't seen Marskot since he left all those years ago."
Balthier had sat back down on the couch and smirked when he saw Marskot's cheeks tinge pink. "Vale, open the cage already. I know Art doesn't like it much."
Vale shrugged and opened the tiny little door on the cage. It took several seconds for the animal's pink nose to appear as she gingerly sniffed the air and creeped out onto the unfamiliar terrain.
"Hi, Art," Balthier said as he reached out his good hand to scratch her head. She ducked it though and slunk off, turning back to give him evil looks. Balthier slumped back against the couch again. "Being the hero is awful. Even the cat hates me."
"Oh, Balthier, you are not free from sin. You should've known we'd all come back to haunt you," Sari replied. "I'm impressed. I've never seen so much emotion from an animal before."
He didn't answer. His head sunk back to the couch with his emotions. I didn't expect to be welcomed with open arms, but this complete alienation is depressing, he thought.
Marskot seemed to sense the direction of his emotions were going because he said, "Take it easy, Sari. I know he really hurt you, but you hurt your parents when you left. His reasons were no less legitimate than yours."
"I suppose, but you can't blame me if I'm still a little miffed." She was only met by silence and Balthier refused to look at her. "Balthier, I'm sorry. I know you're in a lot of pain and I shouldn't exacerbate it. I was only half-serious, but seeing as neither of you have fully working arms, I'll be an extra pair for you." She reached down to pick up his good hand and he gave it a squeeze.
When the others had left Balthier had lain his head back down on the cushion. He had closed his eyes, but he was never able to sleep again. As the time passed and the sky darkened, he heard the door open and close twice, the faint stirrings of Artemis as she ate whatever she was given, and the low boom of thunder off in the Giza Plains. He was startled awake yet again by something. Night had already fallen as he looked around, but then a shape materialized at his side and he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Oh, Ashe, it's you. What are you doing here? If you get caught—"
"It's worth the risk, I'd wager," she replied and sat down on his lap. "You're not the same. The Balthier I know wouldn't mind a little adventure."
"The Balthier you know has far less to lose. I did not traipse all the way to Archades and break my collarbone for you to lose your kingdom again," he said, but his tone was soft. He sat up a little straighter and allowed her to lean against his chest, and he let his left hand stroke her hair.
Light flashed in the room and he jumped, even as the accompanying boom shook the walls.
"Hah! Now who's afraid?" He could faintly see her smile in the dark.
"Not afraid. Merely startled. I didn't know thunderstorms could even reach the palace," he replied, recalling every day he had spent in Rabanastre was always bright and cloudless.
"Of course it rains here. It's just rare," Ashe said.
"Hmm…" he could feel her breath on his lips, and in another moment he was kissing her. It may have been a matter of days, but her skin felt smoother to the touch already. It took no time before he deepened the kiss and could taste the sweetness of the wine from her dinner. She moved to wrap her arm around him—
"Ow! Gods damn it!" He closed his eyes again the pain and then relaxed when it returned to numbness.
Ashe sighed. "I'm sorry, Balthier." It's fine, Princess." He wanted to curse his poor luck for what he said next. "I think we're going to have to keep it to kissing. I can't do much more in my present condition."
"Where does it hurt?"
"Almost everywhere."
For the second time that day he could not look a woman in the eye, and chose instead to look out onto the balcony at the falling rain.
"Balthier, you have nothing to be ashamed of. I owe you everything. Waiting for you to be fit again will be the least I can do. But, Balthier, I wanted to ask you about your plans after…"
He closed his eyes and grimaced again, but not in pain. "I don't know anything yet," he replied.
Ashe must have heard the undertone of frustration because she changed the subject. "I saw Al-Cid today and he complained of a black-haired beauty running with the wrong crowd."
Balthier narrowed his eyes. "Sari? And just what the hell was he doing talking to her?"
"Balthier, you are no longer responsible for her. You shou—"
"That does not mean I can't still be her friend. I wouldn't want her marrying him anymore than you. He's a bigger cad than I."
"Well, it sounds like she brushed him off and he was angry about it."
"I'm sure. Two years with Sari has taught me she wouldn't like him much."
"Why do you hate Al-Cid so? Aside from the obvious reasons," Ashe asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, I've heard far too many stories of the entire Margrace family's affairs. They have objectified women and cast them away as such. I would never cheat on you," Balthier said."
That sentence hung on the air with all the possibilities that were ahead of him. Balthier could practically feel the questions bubbling into Ashe's mind, but she kept silent. He was afraid to answer, and so he never would. They passed the rest of their times in silence.
