~3 years before~
"You really should prepare."
"For?" I murmur, eyes narrowed as I concentrate on the marks coming from my pencil. A new design for the dashboard came to me when I was halfway between sleep and awareness last night; I need to record it before I forget.
"Well, we're attending a ball in a few days' time, are we not?" Dern looms over my shoulder, dark eyes scanning over the page. "The plans can wait; I can already make out what you want, anyway."
"I'll forget them," I mutter. He chuckles and suddenly my sketchbook is ripped away. Dern closes it neatly as I protest. "Dern! I need to—"
"Practice. For all you're worth, I guarantee you can't dance."
"What's it matter?" I huff, slumping in my seat. "We'll stand out less if we just talk nonsense with others, won't we? We're only invading some party to steal some jewels."
"No, then we'll be remembered far easier," he shakes his head, kneeling before my seat and taking my wrists into his large, tanned hands and grinning. "My dearest Shae, would you allow me to—"
"No," I sniff stubbornly, pulling my hands away and standing. I walk over to the largest, most expansive window on the Castean and watch the still ground below.
"Don't be that way," Dern scoffs, coming to stand behind me. He rests one warm hand on my shoulder. I can see him in the reflection of the glass, watching me with that stupid grin. I fight my own smile. "I promise I won't laugh."
"I promise I don't believe you." Raising an eyebrow and offering the slightest of knowing smiles, I turn to face him. "Besides, I'll catch you glancing down the front of my shirt."
"I was eighteen, Shae, give it a rest," he groans, rubbing his face tiredly. "That was two years ago."
"And I'm still only seventeen, so it's still not warranted," I fire back playfully. He chuckles, shaking his head and tugging at the dark patch of hair on his chin.
"Ah, so next year it's acceptable?"
"Don't get your hopes up. You're still so much older than me, remember?"
"Yes, old Malachaius would have a fit if he saw us daring to share a ship, wouldn't he?"
"He'd fall to his little nu mou knees and beg the Fates to burn us in Hades," I laugh, grabbing hold of his shoulders. "No, I suppose I'm young and dumb, so I must trust my elders to teach me." Dern raises an eyebrow; I hit the back of his head. "So, teach me."
"It's only three years," he huffs, taking hold of one of my hands.
A heavy weight finds my waist and pulls me close; I feel my face burning up with the unfamiliar proximity to this man. Granted, he's my best friend and I wouldn't distrust him for a billion gil, but it's an odd situation for the two of us to be sure. We're so close that I can smell the madhu on his breath and the woody cologne he insists on wearing every day. I can feel the muscles underneath my fingertips tense and the hand at my hip tighten as he takes a step. I stumble along, letting myself get frustrated.
"Loosen up, Shae," he instructs in a light voice, tapping a finger against my waist. "It's like trying to teach a brick."
"Maybe if you slowed down a bit I could—"
"Here." He stops, looking down at me sternly. "Close your eyes."
"What? No."
"Shae, just trust me." I glare back up at him stubbornly before the genuine smile on his face breaks my resolve and my eyes fall shut all too easily. His hand moves to the small of my back and presses my body to the massive, muscular frame in front of me. "Don't tense up. Just feel what I do instead of trying to copy it through sight."
Chewing the inside of my cheek, I continue to stumble along with his motions. I do, however, begin to pick up the simple movements easier. He laughs when I trip and I bite back a reply, keeping my eyes shut as we go around and around and around, just as we always do.
"There, see? Not so hard."
"That's what you think," I breathe, peeling my eyes open to see him grinning again. How one runaway pirate can hold so much joy I may never know. "What?"
"Nothing. Can't a man smile every once in a while without being interrogated?"
"You're always smiling," I huff, shaking my head.
"I'm always happy."
"I don't believe you."
"You think I would lie to you?" He raises an eyebrow. I roll my eyes, flicking at the silver ring in his ear.
"Maybe you would. You could, if you wanted. I'd probably believe you."
"Somehow, I doubt that."
"Says the happy man. I changed my mind. Wipe the frown off your face before I do it for you."
"So, you've resorted petty threats. Interesting development, Shera."
"And you have yet to change, Adamar."
"Question," he says, cocking his head to the side. From here, I could count the faded freckles sprinkled across the bridge of his nose. "Would you lie to me?"
"Of course," I grin. "I lie to you about plenty of things, Dern."
"Oh?" He's clearly amused.
"Well, to start, I always lie when you ask if you woke me," I ramble, staring at our intertwined fingers. "And when you build something, I always call it impressive. Sometimes I tell you I'm drawing designs when I'm really drawing anything else." I shrug, forcing my eyes up to his as a teasing grin crosses my lips. "Remember that instance where you left the shower completely naked and I saw? I may have immortalized it somewhere in that sketchbook."
"Fates, Shae, why," he groans, rolling his eyes. "The moment was awful enough as it was."
"Blackmail."
"People might pay to see that."
"Then I'll make a good coin or two."
"I'd say a couple hundred coins, actually."
"If your ego takes up any more space in this room, Adamar, I may just have to crack a window," I retort. "I was thinking of sending the drawing to your brother anyway."
Right then, Dern slips up and stumbles. In an effort not to crush me, he chooses to fall backward, leaving me sprawled across him in stunned silence. And then I laugh, sitting with my knees on either side of his hips.
"I suppose that's not what you wanted to hear?"
"Most definitely not," he scoffs, frowning up at me. "My family needs no such image in their heads. In fact, they need not know their wayward son still lives."
"Oh, and I need the image in my head?"
"You don't get a choice," he shrugs, sitting up and pushing me off him. He grins as I stand, stretching his burly arms over his head. "Besides, you may just want it someday."
"You're repulsive," I huff, kicking his knee. "Now are you going to help me, you big oaf, or am I wasting my time?"
The next room is expansive, massive, filled floor to ceiling with staircases and platforms and doors. Flickering torches dance with their eternal flames, casting eerie shadows onto the ornate, carving-coated walls of the tomb. Rough, golden stone is the material of choice for every item in sight, aside from heavy iron doors decorated top to bottom in hieroglyphics and twisting designs. Balthier and Fran break off, murmuring back and forth beside a short railing. Vossler takes a deep breath of the musty air, dark eyes scanning the room.
"Incredible," the knight breathes, stepping up beside me and Ashe. Frowning, he glances at the pirates conspiring a short distance away. "It wounds me to look on as they pillage so solemn a place."
"Yet without help, you and I are as nothing," the princess reminds him.
"I can't say I blame them," I admit with a shrug, watching Fran fight a rare smile. Vossler looks at me with disdain.
"Of course. You, too, are after riches here. Something about debts, I assume?"
"I wonder where you got that idea," I scoff, offering a slight smile. "That, and I would rather have some gil to fix my ship up before I resort to sailing the seas alone. I don't have much respect for those types."
"I don't have respect for any pirate types."
"I understand," Ashe nods. "Though, I sense Shae is of a different sort than Balthier altogether."
"Do elaborate," I encourage, intrigued.
"He thinks ever and always of his own profit. Assure him of it, and he shall remain true to our cause." She spares me a quick glance. "Not that you would stay if there was no personal profit for you as well, though, I've seen you be far more caring than he. It's certainly an attribute I can learn appreciate."
"I do not share Your Majesty's trust," Vossler sighs.
"We will continue this later," Ashe says dryly. "Now we should concern ourselves with finding the Dawn Shard." She steps forward, eyes scanning the darkness. "It sleeps, in waiting. Somewhere deep within."
"How can you be certain?" Vossler asks.
"I can hear its call." With that she starts down the stairs, shoulders squared and chin held high. I huff, shaking my head. Careful, Princess. Last time I listened to voices terrible things happened.
Black blood splatters to the stone floor as I pull my spear free from a rotting chest, grimacing at the mess. Basch wipes off his stained blade, frowning as Penelo heals a cut on Vaan's arm.
"Best save your energy for when it truly counts," he advises, his pale eyes gently stern.
"You sense something?" Balthier asks, staring down the barrel of his cooling gun.
"There always seems to be big trouble at the ends of these tombs," Vossler replies, eyes narrowed on the pirate. "I thought you of all people might know that."
"I apologize for my inadequacy," Balthier shrugs, eyes wandering around the dimly lit room. "However, I do believe your trouble is fast approaching. This is the third switch we've located."
"Perhaps there's a new waypoint connected to them all?" Basch suggests, staring at the familiar statue positioned before us.
"I don't see the point in standing around," I admit.
My feet ache from an eternity of wandering dark halls and stabbing at zombies and bats and liches. Bruises stain my skin and a shallow lash caked with dry blood rests on my collarbone. The others are in the same general shape, smudged with blood and dirt and grime. The Mist is heavy in the air, rippling waves of glinted color and our own reflections floating around us like a blanket of mirrors. A Mist that aids our own magicks, yes, but a Mist that aids our enemies' as well.
"Wait," Penelo speaks up, resting her hands on her hips. "Remember those doors we couldn't open earlier?"
"There could be a mechanism in these pillars that's unlocked those doors," I nod, frowning when Vossler scowls at me. "It's worth a try."
"I think we need to stop for a rest," Ashe's defender cuts in. I roll my eyes, shoving Vossler out of my way.
"And I think you need to shut your mouth."
We backtrack through a series of winding halls, Vaan and Penelo chatting with Fran like they're wandering the streets of Rabanastre. Basch pushes on the pair of heavy stone doors that were previously locked. The sound of scraping rock echoes through the empty spaces of the tomb. He turns to face us and Ashe nods.
"In we go, then."
"Yes, Majesty," Basch breathes, leading the way into the room.
The ceilings are lower than they were before, if not more ornate. Through my boots, I feel the uneven tiles as we walk down a long series of staircases. The ground evens out onto a platform and turns to the left. Basch leads on without hesitation, taking the final three steps into a room of no light. I follow uneasily. Just as the final sole hits the new floor level, a row of torches bursts into flames, illuminating the room foot by foot. My heart catches at the base of my throat.
Before us stands the figure of some odd creature, towering high over even Fran's ears. Bright orange fur lines its head and its limbs, a stark contrast to gray skin and iron horns. A beam of light bursts from underneath its massive, clawed feet as it steps forth, shaking the ground. An ogre-like hand grips an ornate, hooped sword to its left and it throws its head back to release a horrible roar. Vossler is the first to move, rushing ahead of Ashe and raising his blade.
"Its motions should be slow because of its size, but exercise caution!"
"You betcha!" Vaan calls, drawing his daggers and rushing toward the monster.
"Have you no fear?" Basch mutters to himself, pulling his own sword free and sticking close to Ashe as she presses into the fight.
The room quickly grows unbearably hot; Penelo casts reflect spells over each person as efficiently as she possibly can. A blast of fire flows from the beasts palm to me; the heat stops before it burns my skin, doing no damage to me at all. I fight a grin and call up the ice spell I stole in Rabanastre before we left for Bhujerba.
The simple collection of frozen shards strikes the creature's skin and it bellows out another cry, angrily slashing its sword down toward Ashe. Basch dives out just in time, barely containing enough strength to stand as the flat of his blade meets the flow, his teeth grit and a bead of sweat trailing down the side of his face.
Roaring, the beast lifts a smaller second pair of hands and folds them together, a wall of fire swirling and billowing out behind him. Penelo looks at a lost, clutching her staff and searching for the right spell to chant out. Ashe raises her shield, though she stands behind two knights. I scan the ceiling, the walls, anywhere to shelter myself from living hell this monster is brewing.
There's a piercing whistle from the back of the room and suddenly I'm knocked flat on my stomach, unintentionally breathing in mouthfuls of water. Choking, I push myself up above the receding waves and gasp for air. The creature shrieks, swinging its blade. I'm splashed repeatedly as three pairs of feet run past. Swords clang, slash, slice, staining the water red.
I watch Basch pull his sword free from the monster's throat, watch the beast fall to its knees with gallons of crimson pouring from its orange-furred neck. Sparks erupt from its body and flames engulf its hunched form. Its massive sword clatters to the ground, raising up ripples of shallow water. A blinding flash of white light blanks the room out; I raise my arm with a wince to shield my eyes. Moments later, a fiery red crystal dangles in the air as if suspended by the weakest of skystones. Inside glints a golden emblem resembling the very beast Basch felled.
"Before we celebrate, might I ask who it was that decided it would be best to drown us?" I demand, wringing the water from my hair with a soured expression. Balthier merely smirks. Before I can strangle him, his partner speaks.
"In vainglory they arose, shouting challenges at the gods," Fran murmurs, stepping up to the front of the group and eyeing the crystal. "But prevail they did not. Their doom was to walk the Mist until time's end. A legend of the nu mou." I fight a scoff. I know a thing or two about the nu mou, those damned rats.
"My family tells a story of the Dynast-King and an Esper," Ashe speaks up, resting her chin between her forefinger and thumb. "The story goes that in his youth, the Dynast-King defeated a mighty gigas for which the gods took heed of him. Thereafter, it was ever bound to him in thralldom." Balthier watches her pace past him, a pirate's familiar greedy glint in his eyes.
"So all this time it's been here guarding the Dynast-King's treasure," he says, head cocked to the side.
"Not so," Ashe replies, her voice strong and taking on a nearly smug edge; Balthier's face falls immediately and I feel my own heart sinking into the pits of my stomach. "The Esper is the Dynast-King's treasure."
"That's your treasure?" the sky pirate demands, enraged. Even Fran looks ready to fire an arrow through the princess's head. Ashe turns to face him, defiant.
"In the Esper we now command rests a power whose worth is beyond any measure."
"Is that so?" His tone is bitter; I can't help but feel utterly disappointed. What a waste of time. "Call me old-fashioned, but I was hoping for a treasure whose worth we could measure."
"I'd hate to agree with him," I add, shrugging. "But, well, I do."
"My apologies," Ashe bites back. "A simple misunderstanding. It won't happen again, I assure you."
"No, it won't," Balthier grumbles, crossing his arms. I huff, watching the princess push the heavy iron door before her open. "What do we do with this, then?" He motions toward the crystal stiffly.
"Whatever you wish. One of us must choose to behold its power, though," Ashe replies, staring hard into the new room.
"I'll do no such thing," the pirate sniffs, walking past her into the new passageway.
The rest of us follow, each staring at the crystal warily as we pass by. The passage leads to another steep staircase into the dark. A teleportation device glimmers in the center of the next landing; no magick emits from it, so we continue up the next set of stairs, legs burning, stomachs growling, and palms sweating. What if there's treasure in the actual tomb itself? A dim glow shines from the top of the stairs. Ashe pushes past, staring up at the blue-gray orb gleaming atop a stone altar. The silence is broken when Basch notices Vossler's complete change in demeanor.
"What's wrong?" he demands. Vossler frowns, pausing before turning to Ashe.
"Your Majesty, we must go."
Ignoring him, Ashe steps up the broad sandstone stairs leading up to the lustrous alter. Her eyes never leave the shining nethicite. Suddenly, she stops, gasping.
"What…" she whispers. "Rasler…"
Dazed, Vaan stumbles forward, staring at whatever it is that has Ashe's undivided attention. I frown, glancing at Balthier. He merely shrugs, looking back toward the curious scene. Ashe reaches out a hand and grasps at something invisible, stunned when there's nothing there. Taking a deep breath, the princess gives a sharp nod, reaching up to twist the silver ring on her finger.
"You will be avenged."
A bright light shines from her hand and suddenly she holds the Dawn Shard, tracing a finger over the amethyst details striped across its surface. Something feels entirely off; I look up at Balthier to see an unreadable expression on his face, as if he's debating several courses of action within himself.
"I..." Ashe's voice trails off and she tries again. "We can leave now. But first, someone must claim the power of—"
"I already have," Basch interrupts, earning seven stares. "As your protector, Majesty, I deemed it appropriate that the power should be close to you at all times and not…" He shakes his head; I scowl. Yeah, we get it. Dirty, good for nothing pirates, huh?
"Then we leave," the princess nods, trying to infuse her voice with confidence. It merely trembles with whatever emotion her visions instilled.
We head down the stairs yet again, only to find the teleportation statue gleaming brightly in the dim light of the tomb. Ashe waits for all of us to join the circle around the waystone before pressing her hand to its rough surface and shutting her eyes. A bright flash and half a moment later, the air is fresh and warm. The air of the living, not of the dead.
Laughing, Vaan and Penelo race off into the sand, feeling the hot sun on their skin. Exhaustion strikes me like a runaway chocobo; I yawn, rubbing my face and shaking my damp shirt before stepping into the light. At least the heat will dry me off quickly. Halfway across the empty trail of columns and blood stains and uneven sands, a distinctly deafening whirring echoes through my head. Shadows pass over us and I look up to see an entire legion of massive Imperial ships slowing over our heads. Fates above…
Smaller ships rain down around us, trapping us in a circle of machinery as they land. I sigh, bumping into Basch's back accidentally. Fran huffs beside me, her ear twitching in clear irritation. Here we go again.