a/n: Hello, everyone! This is a collaboration fic between me and the-seeress-yeul for the ship Larsa/Penelo from Final Fantasy XII! We've been planning this AU of ours for this ship for a long time and we were hoping to bring it to life with this fic. In this AU, Larsa is aged up to Penelo's age and Larsa has run off from Archadia, abandoning the Solidor name because they don't want another Solidor in power, and he and Penelo are married. This fic will also be on ao3 posted by the-seeress-yeul's account (her name there is VaansAbs), so please check her profile out if you're on ao3 too! We've tried our best to refine it, since I have written all of Larsa's parts while the-seeress-yeul wrote all of Penelo's separately, so there could be a few mistakes here and there. Regardless, we both hope you enjoy this fic! :)
disclaimer: Neither I or the-seeress-yeul own Final Fantasy XII.
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It had been four years since the fall of the Archadian Empire.
In those four years, the people and the lands that had suffered had healed. Their wounds were now a passing memory. Or well… they had almost healed. Still fresh in their minds was the damage that had been done by Archadia's royal family, the Solidors. Granted not everyone had been responsible for the things they had done. Penelo's companion, Larsa, was one such person.
He was Vayne's younger brother and the late Emperor Gramis's youngest son. Though he had remained shut up in the palace for many years, it seemed like fate had had enough of it and when the gears finally began to shift and Vaan had met Ashe and the way forward had been presented to her, he had stepped out on his own and had been adamant about stopping his brother and he had done his best to ensure the safety of the people of Archadia, Dalmasca and well, the world.
It wasn't to say it had all been in vain, really. Larsa had done many good things and because of Penelo, his eyes had opened to the plight of the people of Dalmasca who had been subjugated under the Empire because of his brother. However being the last surviving Solidor at the end of the war, he had gone into hiding, abandoning his name in favor of his alias of Lamont from long ago, and his birthright to the Empire and had instead chosen to accompany Penelo and together they had journeyed throughout Ivalice and had seen many more things than they had when traveling with Queen Ashe.
Through those four years, their bond had grown and solidified into something more. They were together and had someone from the outside been looking in, they would have said they were a couple and it was true they were. The two were now in their early twenties now and things had gotten serious between the two. Penelo had just found out she was expecting and was about to share the news with Larsa. There was a kind of ethereal glow to the dancer and she felt very warm, and was very happy. It was as if she was going to burst. She wanted to share these feelings with Larsa and when she saw him return to their room at the inn they were staying in, she clasped her hands together, smiled brightly at him and welcomed him "home." The two lived off of the gil Penelo earned from her dancing gigs and Larsa did what he could to pitch in as well.
Walking over to him, she grabs one of his hands with both of hers and squeezes before gently placing a kiss on his cheek. Her eyes are shimmering as she says, "I have some news to share with you, but… how was work?" It is only then that she notices something seemed off. A kind of apprehension laced through the air and seized hold of her heart. The happiness she had felt before was slowly fading away and fear was soon replacing those feelings. The look in his eyes did nothing to assuage her worries. "Did something… happen? You look as if you've seen a ghost or something worse."
He exhales. Four long years had brought forth a period of the same tranquility he'd always longed for in the past. He'd long since he willfully left behind the name of Solidor that stained his presence, his very soul, and had opted to take on the name of Lamont once more.
Perhaps it was a case of nostalgia, but he could never seem to bring it to himself and part with such an alias—it's as if it's the only thing left of his past nowadays as Larsa goes on to carve his own path and memories. His partner and companion, Penelo, seemed to have been very accepting of this change for him. He needed something new, somewhat of a new leaf for him. He could not bear to continue onward with that Solidor name. 'Larsa' was the name that was to accompany 'Solidor.' Hence, it would make do to leave it behind as well. Not only for his sake, but also for her sake.
Even if it had been four years, the Solidor House had been a recognizable name. Even if he did drop it, one could still know it's him through 'Larsa.' And to be recognized and put Penelo's life in jeopardy isn't something he's willing to risk, especially when the feelings for her grew into something so warm in his chest, in the home they share. Larsa hadn't been too worried when the feeling of freedom rushed him beyond the threshold of his room, beyond the territory of Arcades, because he knew he would not encounter much trouble. He was often kept indoors, away from the public—even if he did go outside, the amount of people would be dwindled. Although, Penelo had been a reason for him to be skeptical. He didn't wish to intrude in her life and whisk her away. She had her own friends and people she considered 'family.' Larsa admitted to his fears, but they've been long since quelled ever since she told him that she loves him so. Oh, his heart would have soared that day.
So, when he comes back to their home and she'd grabbed for his hand so gently (so lovingly), he feels his jaw hurting from his smile that would be worn for her and only her. His other hand softly places a small pouch of gil on their table, gil that he'd tried to collect from the hunts he voluntarily participated to fund themselves. It may have been four years, but he's not a fool—he wouldn't join in on the tougher quests because of his identity. He had to stay safe for her, for them. He'd thought to share with her the news that they have plenty of gil to last for this month, but then it dies. There had been a reason why he'd gone out to do a little more extra hunts than what he'd usually do. Despite the quietness of where their home is, he'd been on the edge lately. He didn't desire to trouble her with these thoughts (that had a chance of being passing deliriums), but… He did promise that he'd tell her the truth.
His bravado quaking inwardly, Larsa tries to reassure the both of them by leaning downward, his lips lovingly at her forehead and then her cheek. His hand gives hers a tender grip, one that is secure. "Work ended as it usually would—I had managed to accumulate a little extra gil this month for us." With the easier topic concluded, this is when he slowly feels the apprehension piling up. He knows that she can see it, because he hadn't tried concealing it from his eyes. " …I am hesitant to admit it, but… I feel as though something unfortunate will befall us soon." Bravado mustered up, he tried again, "Before I had the chance to approach the topic of the bill I had selected, I had found myself being questioned by my petitioner instead. He… He had inquired about my face. Said he had thought he had seen it before." I am worried, he thinks, but doesn't tell.
To think that they had been able to live for so long in obscurity only for their lives to be ruined. No. Not yet. They weren't ruined yet. Penelo knows he is doing his best to reassure her that everything would turn out alright but… Letting go of his hands, she turns away from him and walks over to one of the windows, a hand resting on one of the curtains as she looks at the citizens below and the other rests on her stomach. Tears begin to form in her eyes as she watches the people go on about their lives without a care in the world. Four years since the end of the war and it seemed like everyone had forgotten everything that actually mattered. "Did he… say anything else about… you?" The shaking in her voice is undeniable and she tells herself she must keep it together. They'd both been through their own struggles together and alone. Why should now be any different? Oh, that's right. Their lives were at stake, and her's probably more so if the people ruled that she had been hiding a known "war criminal."
"Larsa, I…" The hand that had gently lingered on the curtain tightens its grip. There's a lump forming in her throat and it's getting harder and harder to talk, to speak, to say the words she wants to say. How could she tell him now the news that had filled her with so much joy only moments ago now that they were facing a possible threat to their way of living? "I… I'm…" A million and one thoughts race through her mind. They both knew powerful people and people like Vaan. Balthier and Fran were exceedingly skilled at hiding. If they could only get in touch with them or any of their old friends… Surely someone would help them… right?
Larsa isn't sure why it feels heavy in his chest. The shadows that trail behind him under the sun didn't seem as free as it used to be. His posture had been stiff, contradicting his smile from earlier, all his happy thoughts prior had been brief. The calm before the storm, he'd call it. His brows crease when his beloved releases his hand to peer from the windows, and Larsa dreadfully feels the anxiety in him suddenly multiplying. But, before all is lost, he gathers his will and he looks at her with dampened eyes as he recollected his memories. "He… He inquired about my name as well. I had told him 'Lamont' as I had done so many times prior. I had assumed that had been everything, but he brought up my voice. It… reminded him of Archadians." He knows that she's frightful for what he would say next, and he can't blame her. "In my efforts to avoid it, I had hastily exited after I remarked about the time, saying I must hurry back here."
Slowly but heavily, he leans against the wall behind him. Apprehension on his face, he feared his actions may have slipped. Normally when people had asked about this sort of stuff, he'd be remarkably calm and easily darting past it—but this time… He'd heard that this small town seldom had any knowledge about Archadia, hence why he'd agreed to stop by the hotel here for rest. He never expected to be interrogated, much less when he was on his way to earn gil to support him and his love.
While at the window, Penelo sees two strange men make their way up the stairs to the inn and push their way through the patrons to get inside. There's a sinking feeling in her stomach that they weren't just two thugs looking to cause trouble. It was now or never and she couldn't live with herself if she didn't tell him before their lives became a living hell. Turning away from the window, she rushes over to the young man who had succeeded in capturing her heart and wooing her where another failed. She throws herself into his arms, squeezing him passionately, but gently. The tears fall down her cheeks now in torrents and she doesn't try to stop them. "Larsa, the thing I wanted to tell you earlier… Well, you see I'm pregnant." She pulls away from him and looks into his eyes. "We're going to have a child."
When she lunges into his arms, Larsa acts upon instinct, embracing her back with his forehead creasing in worry and love, and mostly, fear—the fear of losing her. As if she was just about to fade away from him, he tightens his arms, almost desperately before time is up. He listens patiently all the same, awaiting what she wishes to say with a burdened heart. He'd been expecting a confession of fear or a declaration of love one last time as he could thundering footsteps outside the premises. "…Y-You are expecting?" he asks her incredulously, breathless, hopeful. His eyes shine with so much hope, even appearing glossy at some point. His heart soars, despite the situation they're in. He's… going to be a father? A father? Him?
The news brings a wistful smile to his face as he embraces her even more, leaning downward to take in her lovely scent one last time. He would have to miss their own child's birth. He would miss her too, of course—he'd miss her hair, her scent, her eyes, her breathtaking smile, her laugh, the way her eyes twinkle when she's happy, the way her braids sway as she dances, the way she said his name, everything. Oh, they must've been burdened with the worst timing ever, the worst fate ever. The footsteps sound even louder now; Larsa clenches his fists in his embrace with her, a sole tear down his cheek. "I love you, Penelo," Larsa murmurs one last time, closing his eyes.
A bang erupted on their door, a harsh knock initiating on the other side.
Time for them was being cut too short. They had been wed for four years and been together even longer. Since their fateful meeting, the two had seldom parted ways. Vaan had liked to joke that they were joined at the hip but a part of her always wondered if he had ever been jealous of how close she and Larsa were compared to the two of them.
What she and Larsa shared and what they could tell each other… Well, Penelo feels it was much different than what she and Vaan shared and told one another. But she knows he would never tell her anything. He'd hide it from her and be happy for her no matter. She is curious about what he'd think now, about the predicament she and Larsa are in now and if or what he would do to help, but there is no counting on him or anyone else to save them. They were rabbits caught in their den. There was no way out as the pounding on the door continued. Just for a moment longer she wanted to remain in Larsa's arms, but all good things must come to an end and if they didn't answer the door now, the men on the other side would break it down regardless of the scene going on inside.
She untangles herself from her husband and walks over to the door. Taking a deep breath, she tells herself it's now or never and to remain as calm as much as she possibly can. Her hand firmly on the door knob, she turns it and opens the door to reveal a group of five burly men and what looked like an equal amount of officers all waiting with considerable amounts of anger, frustration and downright confusion on their faces. She knew they never should have left Balfonheim. It was safe there, much safer than where they found themselves now. In Balfonheim, there was Rikken, Elza and Raz who ruled over the city, even now, in Reddas's place. They had kept them safe for so long, but here in this provincial town in Rozarria… There was no escaping their fate.
Larsa sits, back against the chair as his head gravely bows downward—his back faces the door, yet he does not make a motion to get off or run. That would only raise suspicions, and Larsa isn't sure if the suspicions could even pile up any higher than they are right now. He stays in the same position on the chair, though. Lying would earn a brief period of relief, but would also raise the stakes up—that, he just couldn't risk.
He bites the inward of his lip, anxiety building up in his chest. It's only when one of the men stomped in after Penelo's polite welcome does Larsa finally feel himself dreading what's to come in a few moments. They had asked about Lamont and someone else that Larsa could not see had accepted his wife's offer. Footsteps, loud and slow, entered into their room—suddenly, Larsa feels cold. The room begins to lack the usual homey warmness it typically contained with Penelo's smile and the gentle intrusion of the sunshine at the windows.
"May I help you?" No amount of skill can hide the sadness in Penelo's eyes. If anything, no matter how much she wished to hide the truth, her countenance would give it all away. There would be no lying.
Larsa's shoulders exhibit a slight jostle when the sound of thundering voices all chimed in, asking if there was a 'Lamont' here. Penelo listens as one of the burly men asks if Lamont is around and another one who seemed much kinder than the first said it was to assuage their suspicions. Her eyes dart to the officers lingering behind the others and she knows that they didn't need to confirm anything. They already knew everything as soon as they set their eyes on Penelo. The last time she had been in Archades, there had been rumors abound about her and Larsa, and their relationship. This had been before he had been banished.
Penelo's voice is soft as she replies, "Come inside please. I'm sure this is something that can be discussed between all of us."
Someone, another unknown man, had looked at him. Larsa can tell because it feels as though he'd been pierced—by a dagger? By a sword? He isn't quite sure, for both options being uncomfortable all the same. One of the previous men asked if he could look upward, asking if he is ill. But Larsa could hear it; the onslaught of suspicions laced in the man's tone really speaks volumes. He obeys, albeit, reluctantly. Dimmed, his eyes look upward.
The man gasps lightly in return before gritting his teeth and hastily approaching one of his partners to whisper into their ears. That did it, Larsa thinks. But once their conversation is over, Larsa continues to wearily observe how they nodded, opting to sit down. Given how he has already given his face away, he quietly sits upright, facing more towards the men. One of them, an officer, speaks up, asking Larsa to confirm his identity with narrowing eyes.
"Lamont," he gravely answers, trying one last time to throw them off. "Lamont Nsfeirra Ridosol." His gaze is hard, adamant, and his lips sag downward.
The men musingly murmur to themselves, exchanging various glances and information. Larsa would think they'd also exchange rumors heard among the towns he and Penelo had traveled to. Rumors do spread at alarming paces. If they'd been aware of his identity, then they would know to keep track of the rumors circulating around him throughout the years, all sorts of information. He may have exchanged his family's name for another, one that he'd came up with after some contemplation, but he cannot change his face. He can't fight nature. So when the officer in the back suddenly moves his hand to his back pocket and pulls out a very worn-out piece of paper, Larsa could tell this 'discussion' has taken a wrong turn.
The officer cries an alarmed noise, alerting his partner and the other men. The official points a finger at Larsa, exclaiming that he looks like the same child in the poster about the last remaining Solidor who had vanished into the skies after the war and plunged into exile. Larsa, suddenly very frightened, looks at Penelo before his heart starts to pump when the officials lunge at him.
She watches everything unfold with a heavy heart. There is no escaping what fate had in store for them. While they had fought to give "the reins of history back to man," this was not something Penelo had anticipated after the war's conclusion. Perhaps in another life, they were living freely together without the worries that burdened them so now. Perhaps in that life that weren't as they were now, but were just friends living their own lives and in that life there were still the societal barriers that would prevent them from being together. Anything, she thinks, would be better than this.
When the officer confirms his suspicions with the other men of his party and demands Larsa be taken, her heart drops to the floor, and while she cannot bear anymore of this, when Larsa looks at her, looks at her full of fear and trepidation, Penelo cannot stand it. Her heart feels like it's going to burst out of her chest. So when the men all leap out of their chairs and charge at her beloved, she immediately runs in front of them and stands between them and Larsa.
A stumble he acts on from the abrupt turn of events, Larsa could feel the rate of his heartbeat much much more than it would normally—a rush of feelings flow through him, a sense of being victimized and being some sort of predatory food.
The unabashed, visible sight of rage within each man's feature, scattered across from their darkening eyes and downcast lips, has led Larsa to believe that perhaps all hope is lost, for it didn't seem like there is even an ounce of kindness in their eyes. They would not listen to any more reason. His fingers clenched until his bare palms felt the pain of the crescent marks his nails inflicted on him. He would have to go. That's his only choice. Fate has finally cornered him, and he lost the battle — he lost the war. He lost everything. He lost.
"Please!" Penelo's voice is breaking. "Please! Do not do this! Not here! Not now! If you must take him away, then let him go away with some shred of decency! I beg of you! As his wife and bearer of his child, do not do this!"
The fumbled noises of the chairs tumbling backwards and footfalls rapidly stampeding had made him exhibit a wince and soon, Larsa braces himself—eyes closed, lips lightly shut, and his knuckles as colorless as his shirt. Desperate cries, he had heard instead. They sounded so troubled, and so hoarse; his heart shattered and he isn't sure if there is a glue strong enough to piece it back together.
They all stop at this but of course it does not last long. The officer who had belted out the order wanted it carried out and carried out now and if that meant they would have to arrest Penelo, then they'd do it, too. In fact, he charges up to her and shoves her out of the way causing her to stagger and almost fall to the floor. The once strong girl that she had been and still was wanted to protest but she had to protect the child inside of her even at the cost of her own pride. While she does not believe in the Gods that so guided humanity in the past, she prays to some god to let whatever judgment that was to befall them, be merciful. If not for the two of them then surely for their child.
Anger begins to flare up inside of her and while doing her best to quell it, her eyes are like fire and her words are like ice. "If you are going to separate me from my husband then at least allow me one last moment with him."
She had pleaded for his mercy. Larsa doesn't need to look to know that she's about to cry, but he looks anyway because it would probably be the last time he could see her. Amidst the raging exchange of words, Larsa could've sworn upon his deceased family's name that he was so, so close to retaliating for that shove his wife had taken to the floor. He can't help; if he did, there's a chance the baby would be harmed, and he certainly cannot and will not risk it.
"Heed her request," he wearily pleas them, already capturing his wife's hand in a comforting grasp as if it's his lifeline (it is.) Protests are quick to reject him, but he soon finds his voice. "Do remember that the situation is in your favor. Established already is our compliance, but surely sparing a few minutes for farewell exchanges could be allowed?" One of the men in the back looked as if indignant, and had it not been for the other man in the front to reluctantly allow their request to be done with, Larsa thought it would've escalated.
"Just be quick," one of them warns with a silent threat. But oh, Larsa wouldn't do that. He'd already been caught and surrendered his pride and life, but surrendering time from his beloved, knowing that it's the last time he would see her? If his brothers were aware of this, they'd laugh and mock him. What an insult to the Solidor name. But he didn't care, for they never did find love like he did. "Please, what are your words, Penelo?" he asks her once silence is finally acquired, his eyes piercing into hers.
Everything was happening so quickly and it angered her that their tender moment of happiness had been shattered so suddenly. Was the time they spent together, the happiness they had felt was it all an illusion? Was this the gods way of toying with them? If so then it was no wonder Balthier and Fran hated them and why she saw the appeal of Doctor Cid wanting man to take their fates back into their own hands. If this was all pre-determined then it had to be some kind of joke, right? While she wanted to believe that no god was this cruel, she remembered the Occuria so long ago how they would do anything, anything at all to get Ashe to do their bidding even going so far as to use her love against her. The fates must jest… truly…
"My words…? There are many things I wish to say but I cannot wrap them up so neatly in a bow like those men expect." Even now she was sure that they were listening to whatever the two of them had to say. If they were expecting them to bequeath a dangerous secret or something that could surely be used against the two of them in trial, they would be sorely mistaken. Nothing she had to say or anything she would do in the future contained any dirty little state secret. Penelo isn't that kind of person. Her voice may utter guarded words, her tone is sullen by cautiousness, but her eyes seem to scream other things. They yell, exclaim, cry at him with wordless words and emotions that the guards behind her couldn't catch on to. Those were meant for him—and most certainly, he wouldn't let an ounce of it seep to those oafs.
She wants to tell him how afraid she was for him, but she knows if she did those words would only worry him more and she did not want that. A fire burns within her and she resolves that she would remain strong no matter what happens and that she would see Larsa off with a brave, smiling face. She does not want his last memory of her to be one filled with sorrow but instead one he could look upon in times of strife and hardship.
"I just want to tell you how much i love you and cherish you. I know you must have regrets about how we had to stay in hiding for so long, but I don't regret it. I've loved every moment we've spent together and all the tokens of love you've gifted me with over the years. You've truly spoiled me as time has gone on but I think any husband would do the same. And I just want to let you know that no matter what happens, I'll be here and I'll be fighting with every ounce of my body for your freedom. The law may separate us but it cannot stop me. I'll use whatever resources we have at our disposal. This is wrong. This is cruel but," and she takes a deep breath, squeezing his hands hard. The tears she had shed earlier were gone and were replaced by steel in her eyes. "Just know that I love you and I'll always love you. No matter what."
She gives Larsa a warm smile, squeezes his hands once more and places a soft kiss on his cheek. Whether or not they'd have time for a brief kiss on the lips before they were separated was unknown to her but she prayed that this would be enough.
Perhaps there is someone pulling the strings; Larsa couldn't recall how he could've so easily let his trail be known to outsiders after being safely tucked away with her in their home for so long. All these years of staying hidden, was it all for naught now? Had it all been wasted? The small embryo in her belly… The only sign that clues him on how his family would soon expand… Was that for naught too? He could never see their child's face? Their childhood? Their life? How truly, truly cruel of the gods to toy with him.
As much as he would to deny these men more of his identity, he would not. He could not. He could not endanger her and the eventual fetus in her body—it grieved him to know he'll miss out on a lot of things, and the weight of it seemed tenfold heavier that their child would have a father locked up being chains and cages and be fatherless for gods-know-how-long.
One of the men behind Penelo scoffs the moment she spoke and it does nothing to quell him, nor the bubbling anger in him, his sad defeat leading to his capture, and it does nothing to quell the sadness in his heart.
His hands clutched onto hers, giving a final squeeze that signaled farewell, but not forever. He'd hope to come back. Those words she had told him gave him a semblance of life; he would live for her, for their family. "Penelo…" Upon releasing her hands, he'd go to cradle her tear-stricken cheeks. His time is running out. "You and your presence have patched up a hole lingering in my heart—it'd been a deep wound of mine, but each time you've smiled and laughed, it reminded me that I did not feel worthy of your love. But I threw that insecurity away, because—" His eyes meet hers. "—I love you, and that is eternal. Someday the stars would burn out, but not my love."
Penelo told him she'd fight for his freedom. His chest swelled up considerably, feeling warm, much too comforted. Larsa knows one woman against the laws would mark her doom, but he is not a fool to forget just how resilient his wife truly is. She'd bite, scratch, fight, love, care, and comfort.
The kiss on his cheek seemed to be the last straw for the men behind them, though. If they had not a title to defend for themselves, he suspected they would make disgusted noises the more he and Penelo talked. One of them walks forward, eyes narrowed sharper than daggers, and roughly grabs at Larsa's shoulder. It is time. "This may be farewell for now—" Larsa tries to tell her, halfway out the door. "—but it is not permanent, you have my word!" And he would never back out on his vows. She knows that.
Watching the men take Larsa away, ripping him away from her, and dragging him through the hotel like he was some common criminal made her nauseous. Even more so when she watches from the window. The townsfolk watch in astonishment and then disgust and horror when the men announces who they have captured.
Larsa walked with dignity and honor despite everything that had happened and, she suspected, would happen. She feared the people would throw things at Larsa but they were all too shocked or angry to do anything other than stare or shout things. She watched as the garrison came to collect her husband and that's when Penelo knew that there was no time to waste. The couple had little possessions and what they did have, it was easily packed up in a few bags and she was off.
Quietly she paid their hotel bill and headed for the aerodrome. Penelo does not want to leave Larsa behind by himself but she knew they would never admit her into the jail cell where he would reside for some time and she needed to take this time to contact their friends—the two with the most political sway that could help. She only hopes they would let her see Ashe. Her heart beats with hope and fear alike as she prayed Al-Cid would be with the queen of Dalmasca as well. He was only one of many that had his eye on her but one of the only two to truly care about her. The other being a certain sky pirate Penelo had not seen in some time.
Inside the aerodrome, it was a buzz of activity. Everyone either was scared that a Solidor was still living or were anticipating something else to happen. There are whispers of people who had once escaped from Nalbina when the Solidors had remained in power and her mind began to drift to Vaan and her friends, and the two Bangaa they had met—one not surviving while their friend lived on with survivor's guilt. If anything, Penelo doubts that Larsa would try to make a daring escape. There is too much on the line from them both that he couldn't risk it, she knew, and… he had lived in secrecy for so long so what was the point? Right?
There were many people trying to hastily book passage out of the city and the poor attendants were trying their best to handle the crowd. At this rate, there was no guarantee that Penelo would be able to book a passage out of the city and sure enough, moments later, an official was announcing that commercial flights were on hold for some time.
Great. Just great. Now what was she going to do? She didn't own a private airship. It was much too risky for her and Larsa, and there was no way for her to quickly get into touch with Vaan or Balthier. What was she going to do?
As she was pondering this, a familiar voice calls out to her that is barely audible above the din of angry complaints. Turning her body towards the direction of the voice, she sees Balthier and Fran. Relief washes over her and a smile replaces the annoyance on her face and she quickly walks over to them, carrying the two bags of belongings with her.
The circumstances prevented them from truly being happy at seeing one another especially once Penelo explained what was going on. Balthier, as always, was quick to offer his assistance but also quick to ask if she was really okay with leaving Larsa here on his own. Of course she wasn't and she tells them both that, but she had to do what she had to do. There was no hope for the two of them if she couldn't see Ashe. The two agree, and the pair take Penelo under their wing and onto the Strahl, promising her that she would see Ashe and that if the fates were kind, Al-Cid would be there as well.
Aboard the Strahl, her heart constricts as she thinks of Larsa. Would their time in the hotel room be the only time they would ever have together? Would it also be their last?
It didn't feel like that much later that the trio arrived in Rabanastre. Penelo left her belongings on the ship and followed her friends through the streets she had once called home. Her mind drifts again towards the friends she had once had here—Migelo, Kytes, Filo, Tomaj, and even Vaan. Were they all well? Had they stayed out of trouble? Was business booming? Did they… miss her?
All the while Penelo is lost in her mind, she aimlessly follows Balthier and Fran through alleyways and secret passages she hadn't known about and supposed this was information they had learned from Vaan and he had once thought it useful when Rabanastre had been under Archadian rule. She does not see the point of traversing these passageways until one led them to the palace.
The passageway led right into the gardens and in the gardens, Penelo could see Ashe with a familiar Rozarrian royal and knew the fates must be on her and Larsa's side. Balthier and Fran went no further and so Penelo went to meet her other two friends on her own.
Telling them of what had happened was even harder as she knew it must cost them greatly to keep these things so secret and that it would jeopardize Ashe's reign as queen and that was far from anything Penelo wanted. They both promised to do what they could for Larsa. She was so thankful for her friends. Friends she never would have made if she hadn't traveled alongside them when searching for a way to restore Dalmasca and Ashe's birthright. Despite her efforts to keep them reigned in, a few tears slip from her eyes that she wipes away in haste.
After that meeting, the days go by and they turn into weeks and then into two months. Two months since that awful day. But today was the day of Larsa's trial. Today she should have been able to see him. No doubt he was under terrible stress and she refused to believe that he looked withered. His clothes must be dirty and his hair would be longer and unkept. But she wouldn't know. She could not go to his trial. It wasn't safe for her. Instead she waits. She waits in the cabin that Al-Cid had prepared for her after that day. It was well-furnished and fit for a family. The family she should be raising with Larsa. A hand goes to her stomach that has grown and swollen. Their child would not have a father for who knows how long and that pained her more than anything else aside from Larsa's fate. She had fought relentlessly for his freedom behind closed doors and now all of her efforts were to come to fruition or fail today.
It was several hours later until Al-Cid returned from the trial bringing with him news of Larsa's fate. While he had attempted to veil things in pretty words to try and soothe her fears, he ultimately told her bluntly the truth of what had happened.
The public demanded justice. They had wanted blood. They did not want any of the cruel Solidors to remain despite the fact Larsa had done nothing to warrant such things except share a name and a birthrate to Vayne. Ashe and Al-Cid lobbied for anything but death and shared important information that would sway the public's minds. After all, all they shared was the truth. Wouldn't that be enough to set him free?
Unfortunately it wasn't. Larsa was set to be imprisoned in Nalbina for an indefinite amount of time and Penelo was to be banished from Archadia for an indefinite amount of time. She was always welcome in Dalmasca. It was her home and Ashe was her friend but they both agreed it would be better for somebody like Al-Cid to look after her, to keep her apprised of all that was going on, and for Penelo to hide from the public eye for a while to not incur anyone's wrath.
But she was not going to see Larsa for years. Perhaps even several long ones. Several long years of their child's life that he would not see and so this set in her a passion to keep a very detailed account of their child's life and so she requests from Al-Cid one thing and that is a journal and some writing utensils and anything she could colour with so that when Larsa returns to her (to them), he wouldn't feel like he had really missed anything at all.
And so three years go by slower than molasses. Their child, their daughter, Adelaide Solidor-Cartwright, was born on May 1st of that year fate split Larsa and Penelo apart. That day marks the day of a mother's efforts to chronicle her daughter's life for the future and for the father she would not see for some time.
.
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Larsa's Side
Refusing to succumb easily to the men's roughness with him, Larsa keeps his chin up, eyes in narrowed slits that could rival the sharpness of broken glass shards. The one who has a firm grip on his wrists tells him to walk faster and Larsa is left with little options, so he complies with a scowl. He only had enough time to look up for a few seconds, only to see his wife retreating from the windows and he can only hope she is off to contact help. He knows she isn't his wife for nothing; she knows what needs to be done.
The ex-prince knows he needs to escape, but an escape plan is fruitless in this situation. He needs to be held prisoner. There seems to be no way around this. If he were to somehow slither off, more people could get involved and he didn't want more sins to burden on his shoulders. No... He does not...
So with all his dignity, Larsa's bravado has not faded as he was harshly led away. When he speaks up, it's to ask where their destination is. His brow furrowed when someone responded with Nalbina Fortress because he knows he's going to spend his time being locked up instead.
They made sure he wasn't able to make use of his legs or arms before they shoved him into a sort of carriage that seems a bit run-down. Of course. No one would want to see a Solidor out and about in this day and age. All the pandemonium that would cause. With his arms and legs both tied up with the strongest knots he'd ever had the displeasure of experiencing, he sits up and makes an effort to rest his back against the carriage.
There's no escape, no escape, no escape, no escape—it's practically a mantra. And this is the mantra Larsa repeats as he feels himself jostling every time the wheels hit a road bump.
Several hours pass, or maybe it was days. Larsa doesn't know. He just knows that his limbs crack whenever he makes a movement. When sunlight shone into his eyes for the first time after a while, he almost felt silly that he thought he was home. It was probably slight delirium from all the unrest he had on the trip here to Nalbina.
The light was quickly barricaded by one of the uncouth men's faces, themselves all lined up in case Larsa makes a run for it. The one at the very front is the one to grab him, settling Larsa at his front and then the man shoves them into a dark opening that he does not recall. Vaan, a few years ago, used to mention escaping somewhere with Balthier and Fran in tow but the years had wilted some of Larsa's memories of the story. But maybe... This might be that place Vaan spoke of? It was certainly dark and smelly like what his friend described.
Larsa knew his fate became sealed when the man finally stops them at an empty cell, shoving him inside before slamming the barred door on him, tucking the key away.
A few weeks passed. It's hard for him to believe he's still somehow alive.
He never expected kind treatment, and true to that, everyone regarded him with glares or uncaring looks when he walked by. The guards stationed here in the dungeon were fortunate enough to let prisoners here roam within the dungeon area since there was nothing here that could potentially be used as a means of escape. Other prisoners seemed to be more miserable than him, often forlornly lamenting their woes and how they came to be here. He tried his best to converse civilly, but he keeps to himself other times. Food here is just bread and water, a far cry from what he once had back at the Solidor House—then he shakes his head before he thinks of his brother and father again. Now's definitely not the time for that. If he starts thinking of his family, then... He might think of... his wife... He cannot falter yet!
At the end of his first month here, someone had the gall to approach him. It was a Viera; she introduced herself as Relj. At first, he knew not even the littlest thing of her, but then she mentioned that she vaguely remembers him. While he was not the one to initiate it, Larsa was in the party when he was younger and he was with Vaan when they had gone off to accept a hunt from Relj back at Mt. Bur-Omisace. Relj was the only one kind to him at the dungeon, sneaking him some of her own food and offering some company. They sometimes exchanged stories. He's been sympathetic ever since she told him that she's imprisoned here for offering the guards herself in place of her friend to save her. "Knowing she is safe brings ease to my heart," she had told him once, and it was never brought up again.
Another month slowly passed when Larsa was approached by a guard who gruffly informed him that he has a trial in a few days. His heart rate fastened immensely—a trial? Who has enough power to have granted him a trial? Perhaps Ashelia had something to do with it? Once a part of their group, it would make perfect sense if Penelo had gone to her for help. Nevertheless, he was told of the day of his trial and he awaited with anxiety.
On the fated day of his trial, that is also the first day after two months that Larsa remembered what sunlight felt like. His wrists once again tied up, guards escorted him outside. He could feel Relj in her own cell giving him a sympathetic look. He never got to say goodbye to her, he realized with somberness.
The guards pushed him past furious people nearly rioting in the streets, quickly leading him into a large building. It was quite a mess to sort out. He could hear so many outraged screaming of people from inside and outside, screaming that a Solidor shouldn't be here. "Take his head!" a woman bellows while cradling her young daughter. Vayne's actions had certainly done a number on these people. Larsa could almost curse him if he weren't his beloved brother.
Pressured by the stampede of people, the court tried to issue a compromise. The people wanted blood for justice. Larsa was so shaken up that he almost forgot that Al-Cid and Queen Ashelia were in the midst of the court. Eventually, it was decided that Larsa were to be banished to Nalbina for an indefinite amount of time. Larsa himself was not pleased at all, but he reluctantly agreed, ignoring how his hope was starting to wane. The last thing he remembered that day was that he was back to seeing his cell again, Relj silent next to him with pity. "Time is only forever if you despair," he tiredly heard her say.
Three years passed. Three years of no sunlight, no seeing his friends, no more Penelo, no more anything.
It truly felt like he was at his death bed, him sitting in his cell with his long disheveled hair that reached his back and dirtied clothes that could qualify as rags at this point. He doesn't have to check to know that there's a beard growing for him too. Would Penelo even recognize him now? Relj tried to lighten the mood by saying how his wife would probably push him into the shower first before hugging him and he could probably agree. But the strangest thing happened after that, with two Nalbina guards unlocking his cell and telling him that he's been pardoned. Larsa almost fainted.
He was free now? After three years?
The guard informed him that it was due to Queen Ashelia and Al-Cid's pleading among the officials who were at his trial. Compromises and negotiations had to be made between them and there were long debates about things to consider. The public wouldn't like it; they wanted his head on a silver platter. But there was also the argument that Larsa himself never truly did anything to harm anyone. Such topics led to many debates, but it was finally in his favor due to the queen and Al-Cid.
The queen had to go back to her duties, but Al-Cid was kind enough to stay and greet him when Larsa came out of his cell. Al-Cid told him that he didn't tell Penelo of his release yet, giving Larsa a classic wink and saying how he could surprise his wife instead. Larsa was immensely thankful, sending much of his gratitude to him and also to the queen before he hastily made way with Al-Cid to his private airship at the nearest aerodrome. He purposely tried his best to ignore the silent spiteful looks in his direction.
For the first time after so long, happiness flourished in his heart—then came thundering anxiety. How was he ever going to make this up to Penelo? How would he make up three years? And then there was their unborn child before he was imprisoned! He felt like he failed someone, that person being his wife. Noticing his troubles, Al-Cid gives him a hearty slap on the back and tells him that Penelo is still very much in love with Larsa. That seemed to calm him down for the rest of the flight until he saw Rozarrian territory and his heart began pacing again as he noticed they were landing.
They were landing. Oh no. Larsa inhales deeply to calm himself as he follows Al-Cid on the path to the secret house Penelo had been staying in. When the house was finally in sight, his guide gave him a good luck push forward as they approached the door. And to make matters worse, Al-Cid did the knocking for him with a rather cheeky grin, so Larsa waited anxiously for her to open the door.
.
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Penelo's Side
Those three years had passed by exceedingly slowly. One of the only bright spots in her life was their daughter, Adelaide.
With her mother's hair and her father's eyes, she is a sight to behold. At three years old, she is very active and cheerful. When the two would happen to go out for a walk, Adelaide was always interested in the nature that surrounded them and the animals and bugs that coexisted.
Once the pair of mother and daughter had come across an injured bird, and Adelaide had cried, wishing there were some way that she could help. Comforting her daughter, Penelo had smiled and placed a hand on her daughter's ring of curls that were like sunshine framing her face, and had said, "Let's take them back home and see what we can do." Adelaide had brightened considerably at that and once they had returned home, the two worked their magic on the injured bird and it was healed and returned to its friends in about a week or so.
All these experiences had gone down in the journal that Penelo kept. For her other hope in this dark time was that one day Larsa would be free and despite the passage of time that had passed, he would still be able to take pleasure in all that had passed in their daughter's life in the form of this journal where Penelo kept detailed events and drawings. Adelaide also wrote in it occasionally, leaving messages to the father she still didn't know, but knew he couldn't come see them but would be able to one day.
Adelaide had just gone to bed for her mid-day nap. Penelo, writing in their journal, stops for a moment and holds it close to her chest as if it could somehow bring Larsa back to her and to Adelaide.
Wrapped up in her thoughts and emotions, she almost misses the knock on the door. Confusion and surprise colour her features as they live far from other people and it wasn't the day for Al-Cid's monthly visits.
Hesitantly, she places the journal on the table and walks over towards the door. Fearing it could be someone of ill-intent, she grabs her staff. Her knuckles turn white as her grip on it tightens and she tells herself to remain calm. Perhaps it was just Al-Cid. Perhaps… he had come with news about Larsa. She wanted to believe it was so, but after that day, she really couldn't be sure of anything at all. The ugly, cruelty of the world had come back to her full-force that day.
With her free hand on the door knob, she turns it, opens the door, and…
The first person she sees is Al-Cid but he's a few feet back with a smirk on his face. He, realizing that she had opened the door, bows to her, and remarks that the prince and princess were finally reunited.
Prince?
But then she realizes— No, she sees the other man with him, the one in front that had presumably knocked on the door. The three years he had been locked away had seemingly changed him in outward appearances and there was a kind of hardness to him that Penelo had never really noticed before. Taking all of him in, she finally looks into his eyes and breathes his name, "Larsa." It is then that the hold on her weapon falters; it falls to the floor with a clang, and she rushes forward to hug him, to hold onto him, and to never let him go.
Her arms are around his neck and burying her face into his shoulders, she says his name over and over and begins to cry.
"I'm home," Larsa says with his hoarse throat and relieved heart, his hands wrapped around her as if she is his last lifeline.