By careful planning, Balthier predicted he would arrive back at Penelo's estate precisely one week and sixteen minutes after she'd thrown him off of it. Time hadn't exactly flown by, per se, but it hadn't been quite as miserable as he might have expected. Of course, he'd not spent it idly; he was better served in action and planning rather than sitting morosely in a bar drinking away his troubles. This was a battle he was determined to win, after all, and he was a master strategist.
Penelo would never stand a chance. Oh, she might give it a good attempt, but he would wear her down eventually, and he could even look forward to the challenge. The reward would be well worth the effort, and he fully intended to wage war until she surrendered.
And that blasted ring was burning a hole in his pocket. A half dozen times when she'd been ensconced in the palace he'd almost presented it to her, but he'd suspected she would have refused, until suddenly he'd realized that didn't want to win her that way, even if she might have accepted. He didn't want to use it as a tactic to sway her to his suit. He simply wanted to give it to her, a symbol of a promise. One she could believe that he would keep forever.
He only wondered what he would find upon his return - would she have once again marshaled her defenses, or would she have ceded to him a bit of her trust and welcome him?
"Penelo's it! Penelo's it!"
"Hurry, hurry, everyone hide!"
"Shhh! You want her to catch you?"
The gleeful cries of the village children echoed around her as they scurried off in different directions, each hoping to outwit her in their game. Of course, the blindfold tied around her face would hinder her ability to find them - but they were loud and rambunctious children, and she could use their snickers against them. She'd taken down more capable foes before - how much of a challenge could a group of children present, really?
The toe of her boot snagged in a clump of grass, causing her to trip, much to the amusement of the children - but she righted herself in time to avoid a nasty fall. A titter of laughter off to her left; she pivoted and forged ahead. A chorus of shrieks arose, and then there was the stampede of a herd of small feet across the grass as her prey raced away. Arms outstretched, she pursued them, knowing that in a few moments, some of the older children would grow more daring, drawing nearer and nearer.
There! A tug on the leg of her pants; she swiped a hand out, but came away with nothing but empty air.
"I know that was you, Silvie!" she called, eliciting a giggle from one of the girls.
"Maybe it was! But you still haven't caught me!" the girl shouted back.
A tap on her shoulder - she spun, and again caught nothing, and the rustle of the grass told her that the culprit had made a clean getaway. Perhaps she was getting slow...
A hush descended, usually a sign that one of the children was about to get particularly daring. She tensed, waiting for her opportunity to strike, relying upon her other senses to tell her where her target would be.
A break in the wind - she reached out, snagged not a shoulder, but an arm. Not a child, then; none of the children were more than four feet tall. One of the parents, in all likelihood - they frequently stood by to observe the games.
"Oh," she said. "I'm so sorry. I'm afraid I can't really tell where I'm headed." She touched the blindfold. "If you would be so kind as to point me in the direction of the children...?"
"That's cheating!" one of the children - Nial, she thought - shouted, but was quickly shushed into silence by the others.
"It's not cheating," she countered. "It's making use of available resources!"
A snicker from behind her, a pair of warm hands gripped her shoulders, turning her about. And a warm voice whispered at her ear, "Straight ahead, twenty paces. Six children - five of them will go right, but I think the one that accused you of cheating will go left. When you hear them begin to move, feint right, and then dive about thirty degrees left. You'll catch him."
At once she felt almost giddy, a fierce rush of excitement welled within her, and she smiled with helpless delight. "You're early," she said.
"I beg your pardon," came the reply, but he was smiling, too, she could hear it in his voice. "It's been one week and twenty-seven minutes. If anything, I'm late." And he gave her shove toward the cluster of children.
She counted her steps carefully, listening with each one, until finally she heard a flurry of movement. She feinted, then dived in the opposite direction, stretched out her arm, and caught a fistful of clothing. "Aha!" She crowed triumphantly. "I've got you, Nial!" The boy pouted as she fumbled to untie the blindfold and handed it over to him.
"Nial's it!" the cry went up among the children, who dutifully scattered.
"I'm bowing out for today, everyone! I'll see you again soon!" Penelo called as she headed back to rejoin Balthier, who was waiting for her on the sidelines, near a cluster of parents who had gathered to watch their children frolic.
"Well done," he said. "He looks like a handful, that one."
"First time he's been caught," she said. "I'll be the envy of all the children for it. How did you know what he would do?"
"He reminds me of myself. I would've done the same thing in his position, I think - let the larger group be the distraction, low-hanging fruit and all that." He offered her his arm. "Shall we?"
She cleared her throat, trying for a slightly more refined air as she bid the group of parents good day - likely a futile endeavor, as they'd been watching her make an utter idiot of herself entertaining their children for the better part of an hour. Then she placed her hand on the crook of his arm and let him lead her up the hill and back towards the manor.
"I see that you have been keeping in good spirits in my absence," he said.
"What, did you expect to find me having taken to my bed to weep and pine away for you?" she asked lightly.
"I admit there is a certain appeal to that," he replied. "I was cruelly banished by an unfeeling miss, it seems only fair that she be affected as well."
"Cruelly banished?" she echoed, squinting up at him speculatively. "And here I thought you might have learned your lesson. Shall we try for a month this time, do you think?" She tilted her head to the side, but the sly smile that lingered on her lips belied her words.
"I most humbly beg your pardon," he said. "I shall, of course, defer to your better judgment and mind my manners."
She shook her head, laughing. "Balthier, you do nothing humbly."
"Well...no. But then, I have much not to be humble about." And of course, his flagrant arrogance sent her once again into gales of laughter.
She wiped away tears of mirth, sighing. "What have you been up to, then, since your cruel banishment?"
"Weeping and pining away, of course," he said, eliciting another burst of laughter from her. "I assume you've been here for the duration of my banishment?"
"Of course. There is still much to be accomplished, and I don't have an airship of my own yet. But Ashe will be returning in a week or so to take me back into the city to visit with her draftsman. She says he's very good, and I'm looking forward to working with him to come up with a suitable design," she replied.
"I cannot say I will be looking forward to her majesty's return," he said dryly. Only a week alone with her - or as alone as they could possibly be in a house full of servants. But her brows lifted in surprise.
"Are you planning to stay that long?" she inquired as they crossed the sprawling lawn and started up the steps.
"I have no pressing matters to attend to," he said. "And you cannot convince me you lack the space to house me." Before he could reach the door handle, the massive door had swung open, and a servant ushered them inside.
"You got closer to opening the door yourself than I ever have," she confided in a low voice. "I swear, it's uncanny. Someone must be watching at all hours. I think I've forgotten what it's like to open a door for myself."
"And do you miss it?" he asked. "Doing things for yourself?"
"Yes," she sighed. "It's not that I'm not grateful, but I can scarcely want something before it's in my hand, and I just wasn't raised to sit on a sofa and do nothing. I don't know how to do nothing, and so I've been throwing myself into estate management, but I imagine I'm just overtaxing my steward. Honestly, I think he'd like me out of his hair for a bit." She offered a sheepish smile. "So I've sort of taken to spending time with the tenants and the children in the village. Their parents must think me terribly odd."
"They adore you." He grinned down at her.
Again, that look of surprise, her mouth dropping open. "They do? How do you know?"
"Oh, I overheard bits of conversation. Their children like you, and so naturally they do as well. You're not too stuffy to join in a game, you've asked them not to use your title. You make them feel comfortable, respected." He admired the flush of pleasure that rose in her cheeks - she did care what they thought of her, she wanted their friendship, not their subservience.
"Well, I can hardly put on airs for them, can I? I came from a family poorer than most of them." She absently plucked at imaginary lint on her pants. "I'd be the worst sort of liar if I tried to pretend my origins were more than common."
"I think there are many who would lord their wealth and prestige over them. I think they respect you all the more for your lack of pretentions." He tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. "I think you've already won their favor, and you could safely escape and travel for a while without fearing a revolt in your absence. And your steward might appreciate the opportunity perform the task he was hired for," he said with a hint of a smile.
"I will. Of course, I'll need an airship first - I think I got my fill of traveling on foot a year ago. I want the freedom only travel by skies can offer." She sighed. "But I suppose I can wait for my ship to be built. And until then, I'll just...well, I can always go over the details with my steward again."
That unlucky man rounded a corner, his arms laden with papers, and grimaced at the sight of them. Penelo had not yet noticed him, and Balthier coughed discreetly into his hand, subtly jerking his head to indicate that the man should flee while he was still able. Wide-eyed, the man took the hint, scurrying frantically away. Clearly, Penelo had been driving the poor man up the wall. He'd certainly have to do something about that.
"Are you so eager to be rid of me, then?" he asked. "Weeks upon weeks you've had to settle matters with your steward, and yet you plan to leave me to my own devices while you go over details?"
Wide blue eyes met his, horrified that she might have given him the impression that he was unwanted. "No, that's not at all what I..." She let the sentence trail off as her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Wait. What have I missed? Why don't you want me to meet with my steward?"
Well, he'd given it an honest effort - but she was too accustomed to examining his motives for him to be able to pull the wool over her eyes for long. So he cast her an indulgent expression as he said, "Because the poor man just happened by and performed a flawless impersonation of a man bound for the scaffold as soon as he spotted us. And when I shooed him away, he fled as if the very hounds of hell were nipping at his heels." He fixed her with an speculative look. "You are turning out to be a very managing sort of female, aren't you?"
"I am not!" she said, affronted. "I'm just -"
"A manager. You manage things. You manage people." He chuckled at her indignant expression. "Darling girl, let's give your unfortunate steward a bit of a respite, shall we? Just for a bit."
She cast a regretful glance over her shoulder. "I suppose I have been a bit overbearing," she admitted. "Perhaps I'd better apologize."
He stayed her with a hand on her shoulder when she would have pursued the poor man. "No, darling, I rather think that a bit of peace in which to work will be apology enough."
He had managed to cajole Penelo into taking him on a tour of her estate, a task which took them from the manor house to the village and then back for a leisurely stroll amongst the apple trees and occupied them for several hours, which was probably more than her steward had dared to hope for. Balthier found that he could easily while away the hours this way, in simple exploration and conversation. He had also discovered that Penelo was absolutely hopeless at any form of flirtation - oh, she could recognize it easily enough, but she grew amusingly flustered. She simply didn't know how she was supposed to react - she blushed, but not the coy, simpering sort of blush he'd have expected from a noble lady. Instead she colored wildly, fiercely, covered her face with her hands, snapped at him to cease embarrassing her.
As if he would ever. She really ought to have known better.
Oh, she thought she was threatening - he managed to back her up against the wide trunk of an apple tree, and she planted her dainty fists on her hips and tilted that stubborn little chin up at him. She had grown too accustomed to having her every wish fulfilled, her every order obeyed to the letter; she truly thought she could quell him with just that firm, no-nonsense look.
But really, had his nature faded from her memory so quickly? Surely she knew that there was little he enjoyed more than kissing all of that fierce indignation out of her. She was as much as daring him to do it. And he leaned in for the kill...until something struck his right shoulder. An apple? And before he could wonder further, he was struck again, this time in the center of his back.
Penelo rose onto her toes to peek over his shoulder. "Nial!" she gasped.
Balthier turned; a small, blond-haired boy flanked by four other children clutched an armful of apples, his fist clenched around another, ready to let fly another missile. His face was flushed an angry red, expression murderous.
"You get away from Lady Penelo!" he shouted.
Balthier ducked, barely dodging the fruit that was lobbed at his head. "There, now, lad -" Another apple whizzed by his ear, struck the trunk, exploded into chunks which splattered his shoulders and Penelo's.
"You'd better not lay a hand on her!" Another two apples fired off in quick succession, both missing their mark, and the boy was running out of ammunition.
"Nial!" Penelo cried again. "Stop that!"
Balthier spoke in a low voice intended only for her ears, "Darling girl, I rather think he's attempting to defend your honor." His lips curled in wry amusement; she'd made more conquests than he'd imagined - for he'd certainly never thought to be challenged by a ten-year-old knight defender.
Only one apple remained, but the boy had paused on the swing at the shock of Penelo's rebuke. His lower lip trembled, but his face remained twisted in childish anger.
"He oughtn't be touching you like that, miss," he said pugnaciously.
"Nial," Penelo's voice took on a more conciliatory tone. "I appreciate your concern. But he is here at my invitation, and should be treated with a bit more respect." She cast a sly glance at Balthier. "Just a smidge, mind. He's far too aware of his own consequence as it is. But that does mean no more throwing things. All right?"
Slowly, Nial's hand came down, his shoulders slumping in sullen acceptance. And Balthier realized Nial wasn't the only enemy he'd inadvertently made - at least two of the other children were glaring at him, two boys, perhaps a year or two younger than their ringleader. The other child, a girl, clutched the hand of a toddler, and while she was not precisely glaring, she eyed him with a sort of wary interest.
Penelo cleared her throat. "This is Balthier," she said by way of introduction, sweeping a hand in his direction. "He's come to stay for a few days."
Disbelieving rumbles from the children. "No, he ain't!" one of the boys said. "He died in the Bahamut; everyone knows that."
Penelo shot Balthier a speaking glance before continuing tightly, "Clearly, he's not quite as dead as we initially believed him to be. But I assure you, this is Balthier."
One of the boys looked ready to dissent further, but Nial elbowed him, hissing, "She'd know, wouldn't she?"
Miffed, the chastened boy mumbled, "Well, he don't look like no hero."
That comment riled Balthier as even the apples lobbed at him hadn't managed, and Penelo laid a restraining hand on his shoulder, whispering, "Balthier, you are not going to engage in fisticuffs with an eight-year-old!"
"Please," he murmured back. "I was only going to...talk to him."
"With your hands around his throat, I'm sure," she retorted. To Nial, she said, "Your mama will be disappointed if you don't come back with apples, and I won't get that pie she promised me. And your mama makes the best pies around...just, please, don't tell my cook I said so."
Mollified by Penelo's charming smile, Nial mumbled his agreement. He and the other boys hauled themselves up into the nearby trees in search of the needed apples. The remaining girl looked longingly up into the branches, but she was tethered to the ground by the toddler's hand.
Penelo took pity on her. "You, too, Viola. I know the boys don't always share like they ought to. Why don't you let me take Mia for a bit so you can get your own apples?"
With a heartfelt, "Oh, thank you, Miss!" Viola turned the toddler over to Penelo's care and scrambled up the nearest tree.
Penelo scooped the child into the safety of her arms as apples began to rain down around them, plucked from the trees and then dropped unceremoniously to the ground to be gathered when the children were through.
"Am I to assume that this is a frequent occurrence?" Balthier asked.
"Oh, yes. Almost daily. It's good for them, after all - some of the poorer families might subsist on bread and the occasional bit of meat otherwise. But they can also trade the apples for other things they need, and some of the women bake pies or pastries, or other such things. Of course, they're generally happy enough to send a bit of whatever they've made to the manor as payment." She bounced the baby on her hip, eliciting a gurgle of laughter, and smiled. "Nial's mother really does make the best pies, you know."
Apples continued to fall; Balthier wondered absently if one of the little demons might fling some at him just for fun, now that they had a ready excuse. "How do they expect to carry so many home?" he asked in awe as they littered the ground, so thick around them that he wondered how the trees weren't yet barren.
"Oh, someone'll be out soon with sacks. I swear, they're always watching." She jerked her head towards the manor house in the distance. "There. You see?"
And sure enough, a little maid was scurrying across the expansive lawn, a couple of burlap sacks in her hands. Penelo shifted the child in her arms, said, "I'll go get them. Here, you take Mia."
"What? No. No, no -" Blast. She'd already tipped the squirming child into his arms and was hurrying off to meet the maid. What the hell was he supposed to do with it? He squinted at the child, who stared at him with wide brown eyes. Fuzzy blond ringlets framed a cherubic face, which promptly scrunched up as the child wailed her displeasure at being held aloft rather than cuddled.
He didn't know a damn thing about children. What had Penelo done? Sort of balanced the child on her hip? He awkwardly shifted the child in his arms, positioning her on his right side, relieved when the furious screech abated. One tiny, chubby fist clenched in his shirtfront, and she popped the thumb of her free hand into her mouth to suck and resumed staring at him with those wide eyes.
"What?" he inquired shortly. "She foisted you off on me; I don't know anything about children."
The child blinked at him as if baffled.
"Sir," Viola peered down at him from a branch above his head. "Mia's just a baby. She doesn't know a lot of words yet."
Fascinating. Balthier rolled his eyes. "What good is she, if she can't talk?"
A snort from above. "Babies aren't good for nothing."
Well, that was certainly elucidating. Even the child's own sister didn't care for her. Abruptly the hand clutching his shirt released, and tiny, grubby fingers patted his cheek. He tried to jerk his head away. "Now, now, none of that." But the child was entranced with the stubble that shadowed his jaw, rubbing her palm over it with a spellbound expression. Around her thumb, she gurgled out a high trill of laughter, and Balthier suddenly found the child...not entirely objectionable.
Penelo would probably want one of these someday. She had looked perfectly natural holding the child - caretaking came to her with utter ease. She had always been the mothering sort; looking after everyone made her feel useful, needed. And she had missed her family desperately - it was only natural that she would want a family of her own, a chance for the happiness that had been snatched away from her in her childhood. Children to love, a husband with whom to build a life. Somehow, he didn't have to try very hard to picture it - Penelo, with a couple of children clinging to her. A little girl who looked like her. A little boy who looked like him. It was disturbing, how easily the image came, the realization that she could make him actually want that. Not because he'd ever felt any particular affinity for children, but because he would do anything to secure her happiness. Because her happiness had become essential to his.
Penelo reappeared to drop the burlap sacks at the base of a tree, and reach out for the child in Balthier's arms.
"Here, now, Mia," she crooned, but the child shook her head stubbornly and wrapped her chubby arm around Balthier's neck, hiding her face in his shirt. Dumbfounded, Penelo withdrew.
Balthier felt a cold, seeping wetness through his shirt, which could only be the child's saliva. "It appears that I've made a friend," he said, trying in vain to mask his distaste.
Penelo made a futile attempt to smother a snicker, but was saved from incriminating herself any further when the children scrambled down from the trees to collect their harvest. After the fruit had been gathered, Balthier attempted to set the child back down so her sister could take charge of her once more, but the recalcitrant child merely burst into a noisy chorus of wails, and reached once again for Balthier.
Penelo sank down in the grass to the child's level. "Mia," she said. "You can come back and visit with Balthier again soon. Okay?"
The plaintive wails faded to sniffles; though she didn't speak an answer, the child seemed to understand. She let her sister take her by the hand and toddled after her, casting the occasional sullen glance over her shoulder. As the children disappeared in the distance with gleeful shouts of thanks, Penelo planted her hands on her hips.
"Well! Mia certainly took a shine to you," she said.
"I have been known to have that effect on ladies," he said dryly. "Will we face any further interruptions out here, do you think?"
"I don't believe so," she said. "They usually -" But the words ended abruptly on a squeak of surprise as he lunged for her, dragging her into his arms. His fingers tunneled into her hair, cupped the back of her head, bringing her lips to his. He'd been waiting a week for this, and he would no longer be denied the pleasure.
Earlier, they'd been interrupted - but now they were well and truly alone. She sighed, the stiffness of her surprise leached away, her palms flattened on his chest as she settled into the circle of his arms.
She had missed him. He could taste it on her, feel it in the way she pressed closer, shivered with delight. As he had missed her; the way she rose onto her toes to meet him, the prickle of her nails on his flesh even through his shirt, the way her hair tangled around his fingers. As if every part of her longed to twine itself around him, entangle them together for all time. And he was not averse to the idea.
She had to love him, if even only just a bit. Didn't she? She had been pleased by his return, had bloomed like a flower beneath his praise, had melted into his embrace with a sigh of relief, as if the only place she could truly relax was within his arms. As if it were the one place in all the world that she truly belonged. He had felt that, too, with her - as if she were more than just a mere person, but a destination. She was every sense of peace, of homecoming, of perfect bliss he'd never thought to have.
To lose it, to lose her, would be devastating. But how to hold on to her, how to keep her, how to determine if she even wished to be kept? Of late, they had spent so little time in one another's company, and she was still wary, unsure of his intentions. He needed time yet, time to acclimate her to his presence, time for her to settle and resolve her doubts...time to secure both her love and her trust.
She drew away slightly, having sensed his distraction. Worrying her lower lip, she looked up at him as if trying to read his face for some idea as to what he'd been thinking of. What she saw there he did not know, but he thought he'd seen the briefest flicker of surprise in her eyes before she pulled away from him entirely.
"We should probably head back," she said softly after a moment, her gaze sliding away from him. "Cook'll hold dinner, but she does fuss about it."
And after a fragile moment of silence, she offered him her hand.
