~2 years before~

The dark strains my eyes, broken only by the colorful glowing symbols and buttons crossing the dashboard. A pencil presses against a callous on my ring finger as I scribble down note after note, design after design. Nearly two years have passed since we bought a junky little ship from a graveyard outside Rabanastre. Nowadays, she's sailing the skies smoothly, much larger, sleeker, and all around better than before. She doesn't rattle; she hums happily. She doesn't shake; she fights turbulence relentlessly. She doesn't fail; she perseveres constantly.

"This one blends in," I murmur, circling a button on my rough sketch of the board. The wide, rough surface bites at my pencil, greeting my ears with the gentle scrape of granite to paper. Ever since we picked her up, Dern took his time building in the designs I draw out with meticulous effort. He taught me how to fly, how to think quickly, how to calculate. He taught me how to run days effectively without a wink of sleep. He taught me to care for someone other than myself.

"What if we..." My voice trails off in the darkness.

The Castean is grounded for tonight, on the outskirts of Archades. Much closer to the empire than I prefer, but there's a good deal in store for us if we play our cards right with this bangaa bandit. The ship is concealed by Dern's own version of a device the empire crafted years ago—a device that renders my baby completely invisible. Every possible way to track our ship is blocked—which is why I nearly choke on air when three loud knocks rattle against her side.

"Gods above," I growl, tossing my work into the copilot's seat and lean further toward the windshield. From here, I can't see our visitor.

Huffing, I pick up the pen and scribbling down a note for Dern to increase visibility and hurry away to the entrance of the ship. Unable to see, I brace myself for the worst and pull out a dagger. I'm stunned into silence upon seeing the fearful expression of a slim, small boy outside. He didn't bother to disguise himself, still dressed in the tight white stockings, cropped black pants, and a patterned purple shirt he wore all day. His blue eyes search the empty space he sees ahead of him nervously in the dark, though I can tell he's trying to keep himself calm.

"Larsa?" I drop down and out of the cloak of the Castean, tucking my knife away. His face breaks out in a momentary smile, his short arms tying themselves around my waist. All too quickly, he pulls away, taking a deep breath. "What are you doing here?" My heart fills with dread and I check our surroundings carefully. "What if you were followed?"

"I assure you, you have worse problems at hand," my brother replies dutifully, incredibly level-headed for a frightened child. "Shera, they found your location. You're being hunted as we speak."

"By who?" I frown, crossing my arms. The metal of my left arm's thick armor clinks against the bracelets around my other wrist.

"Vayne," he sighs, though his voice is rushed. "Please, Shera, fly away! He brings with him four well-armed soldiers."

"Let them come," I snap, earning a shudder from his narrow body. "If it's a fight he wants, it's a fight he'll get. I'll not have him leave until this sand is stained with his blood."

"You don't understand," he protests, taking my hand in both of his. "They come bearing spells to freeze you in time and bring you to Archades. I know what my brother has done, but I respect him, and I beg you to do the same for my wishes. I fear a fate far worse than death awaits you if they find you here."

"I'm not afraid of their damn magic," I shake my head, scowling. His face falls a bit farther.

"Shera, I beg of you..."

"Shae." I force myself to meet his icy blue eyes. "Call me Shae, Larsa. I am not the Shera you once knew. Shera was fooled, tread upon, weak. I'm no longer those things. So please, call me Shae."

"Shae," he starts. The name is unfamiliar on his tongue, sounding odd to both of us. He continues without hesitation. "Listen to me! They come to bring harm to you and your friend. That harm, no doubt, will not end promptly. If you will not do it for yourself, if you will not do it for me, then please, do it for your partner."

"Don't bring him into this," I practically snarl, ripping my hand away from his. "Don't try to manipulate me like he did." His eyes grow stormy.

"Why is this so difficult?" he demands. "Run, Shae! Run and hide! It's the only thing you're good for!" His fists are clenched at his sides. "You ran and left me alone in the midst of chaos. You ran with no thought. I ran as well, but to save you, not to let death come to you with weapons bared and shields raised." Larsa, the young boy of ten years, of especially dark hair, of sharp blue eyes, throws a finger out to the side, emphasizing his point clearly. "So run! Take my request as you will—a brother to a sister, a prince to a princess, one friend to another—and run!"

"I won't," I huff, pulling my dagger free. "How much time do I have until they arrive?"

"Shera..."

"How much time, Larsa?"

"I apologize for interrupting, but I do believe neither of you are getting anywhere." Dern steps out of the cloak, arms crossed over his loose brown shirt.

"How long were you there?" I demand, glaring daggers into his eyes. He shrugs, staring back steadily.

"Since you stepped outside." Ignoring my protests, he turns to face a weary Larsa. "I understand you're her younger brother. Good; I've heard a lot about you. Splendid things, of course." Dern sighs, reaching a hand up to comb his hands through his thick, sun-bleached brown hair. "I heard what you said, and unfortunately, I agree with you."

"Dern!" I huff, shoving at his shoulder. "Go inside. This isn't your fight."

"It isn't?" he raises an eyebrow. "As I recall, the men are coming to retrieve both of us. This ship belongs to me and to you. And I suppose you already know my purpose in the grand scheme of things—keeping you out of dire situations caused by your probable idiocy."

Sighing, he shakes his head, reaching out to grasp my arm. "Listen to your brother. He possesses insider information we don't have. He knows the true danger you pretend to know full well. I... cannot deny that your idea sounds much more enticing to me. However, it is not probable." He nods towards the ship. "She can take a night on the run, though I don't know if the cloak will run while we fly. It's merely the first draft."

"Please," Larsa whimpers, hugging himself to save his body heat in this cold breeze of nighttime.

"I've waited years to prove Vayne a fool," I growl, turning sharply on my heels. "Larsa, know that I'm only doing this for you. But know, too, that Vayne will fail you despite his admiration. He admired me once and then he used me for his filthy plans." I feel my hands balling up and I can't stop it. My teeth are clenched and my throat is tight.

"Larsa, if he ever... If he ever causes you that pain... Run for help. Don't run to hide. You and I are very different. I fear, you endure. I'll run, just like always. Go home; I'll see you another day."

"Soon?"

"Go home, Larsa."

"Be safe," he nods, watching my back as I head back toward the invisibility of my ship. Even when he can't see me, he knows I'm there listening. "I've grown much since you left; I can handle our elder brother. Best wishes to you, Shera."

"How the bloody hell—?!" I demand, barely catching my breath as I reach up to tug on my hair. "Vaan, you absolute, ignorant little—"

"Calm down," Basch cuts in, setting Larsa down on the ground beside where Penelo's fallen to catch her breath. Ashe sighs, swiping her bangs off her sweaty forehead. Fran paces away from the group, though I can feel the anger radiating from her. Balthier sighs, running a hand through his hair and Vaan sheepishly searches for an excuse for his actions. "We survived."

"Yeah?" I snap, glowering at the knight. "And Larsa nearly lost his head. Fran's bow was thrown into the thick of that abyss of a jungle and Penelo was almost torn in half!"

"I wasn't trying to—!" Vaan starts, protesting.

"You damn well nearly got us all killed!" I shout, flicking dripping blood off the end of my fingertips from a slice down the length of my forearm. "When we say run, we mean run. Not 'steal Fran's bow and try to play hero by throwing a helpless boy on the ground and firing arrows like a madman!'"

"I just thought I could help," he huffs, plopping onto the ground bitterly. "Larsa lost his sword, too."

"I know!"

"Calm down," Basch repeats. Fuming, I turn with the intention to beat him into the mud. Balthier huffs, gripping my shoulder and tugging.

"This is utter nonsense, Shae. Grow up." Ignoring my scowl, he looks around at the group. "Well, I doubt they sell weapons in Bur-Omisace."

"They don't," I grumble. Three pairs of eyes stare hard and I shrug. "I mean, why would they? They probably make them only for the refugees..." Seeing that I'm digging myself into a hole, I just take a deep breath and shake my head, trailing off.

"Do you plan on going back in?" Ashe asks, stepping up. "You'd be mad!"

"We can't have a defenseless Fran, now can we?" Balthier counters. Fran shoots him a steady glare over her shoulder. "Fine, not defenseless, but not nearly as powerful just the same. Happy?" She doesn't reply, turning back to the night sky. "Somehow, Vaan killed all those things—with some help. I'll be fine."

"I can't have you going back alone," Basch says firmly, shaking his head.

"But you've gotta watch Ashe," Vaan protests, jumping to his face. "I'll—!"

"Absolutely not," Balthier cuts him off, arms crossed. "No."

"But...!"

"No."

"Then take Shae," Ashe replies, her patience wearing thin. "We'll make camp and you two can retrieve the lost weapons."

"Why me?!" I demand, stomping a foot like an angered toddler.

"I suppose you could lend your spear to Fran," Balthier mutters.

"No."

"Well, there we are." He nods toward the jungle and starts back toward the dim lamps and heavy greenery. "Let's get on with it."

"Don't strangle him," Vaan grumbles, falling back to the ground.

"No promises," I huff, hurrying to catch up. Balthier rests his gun on his shoulder and saunters along as if he's got nothing better to do than take an evening stroll. I roll my eyes, clutching my spear and walking up at his side. "You're certainly dead-set on suicide."

"If there was to be bloodshed, I'd have brought Vaan along," he replies simply, raising an eyebrow at me. "These weapons shouldn't be far."

"We were running for a long time," I point out, though I scan the greenery as hard as I possibly can in search of a silver bow and a sharp sword. "How much ground do you think we covered?"

"Hard to tell," he shrugs, looking up at the foliage blocking the sky. "Must you talk so much?"

"Fine, I'll live in complete silence from here on out," I scoff.

"That would be desirable."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Ah-ah-ah," he chides, shaking his head. "You've already broken."

"Are you even looking?" I demand. Wordlessly, he trails off the path and fishes in a bush. I pause on the path, hands rested on my hips impatiently. Finally, I huff. "Balthier, there's nothing—"

"Here we are." The sky pirate straightens, lifting Fran's bow from the bush. Smugly, he turns to me and holds up the delicate curve of silver. "You were saying?"

"Damn you," I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "And Larsa's sword?"

"I'm no dog," he retorts, looping the bow over his shoulder. "We'll have to search like usual."

Sighing, I keep an ear out of monsters, though I doubt much will attack us as we're surrounded by the limp, bloody bodies of panther after panther. The black wildcats line the streets like Dalmascans after an Imperial execution. Too far?

"I do believe I see a blade over there," Balthier says, breaking me from my thoughts. He nods toward a cluster of wilted flowers just ahead. I squint at the flower bed to see the thin outline of a narrow sword sticking up from the dark grass. Huffing, I start toward the weapon.

"Gods above, Balthier, how do you...?" I pull Larsa's sword free from the soil and turn back to see the pirate wandering off the path and into the jungle trees. "Balthier?" He merely spares me a glance before continuing into the trees and disappearing into the dark. Caught between following and heading back, I take a deep, exasperated breath and head after him. "Balthier!"

I spot the golds and greens of his vest in the dense wood, stomping through bushes and brush and weaving around tree trunks to catch up. The heat and the moisture gather in beads of sweat on my skin and draw biting bugs toward my flesh. Waving them away, I push past the final trees to find a cleared patch of grass. But that isn't what steals my breath away.

The patch of bright green grass leads to the edge of a short cliff, a drop falling down into a deep blue lake below, separated by clusters of lagoons and a long stretch of water leading out to the horizon. The moon hangs overhead as if illuminated by Fate's goodwill, shining onto the glittering waves below. At the edge of the lake resides a steep, sandy beach littered with driftwood and fireflies. What sort of oasis is this?

"It's a nice little treasure, now isn't it?"

I turn to see Balthier leaning against a tree trunk nearby, staring out at the waves with a satisfied smile resting on his face. His gaze turns to me and I frown, looking back at the moon. Mesmerized by the light, I set Larsa's sword against a nearby log and stand closer to the edge. My right arm wraps around an extending branch of a tree at my side and I lean over the cliff, taking a deep breath. Saltwater. We're by the ocean?

"How'd you know this was here?" I ask, not quite trusting Balthier enough to close my eyes as much as I wish I could.

"The smell, the light," Balthier shrugs, setting both his gun and Fran's bow aside. He eyes the spear I hold in my left hand. "Planning on killing anything anytime soon?"

"You never know," I retort, though I give in and toss it to the ground beside Larsa's sword. He stares at it the same way he did when he first saw me wield it, a curious look taking over his eyes.

"Where did you get it?"

"The spear?" I ask, raising an eyebrow when he comes to stand beside me on the edge. "Do you recognize it or something?"

"No," he shakes his head. I huff, sparing the moon another glimpse.

"I stole it some time ago. Not sure who it was, just saw it in the open and made it mine."

"Oddly enough, that strikes me as something you might do," he mutters, glancing at me. Scoffing, I eye his proximity to the edge of the cliff and shrug.

"I'm a pirate first, of course, but petty thievery is a hobby of mine."

"Petty? You stole a man's only defense."

"Who said it was a man? Anyway, I'm sure he had a knife or fork nearby." I grin, brushing the loose strands of hair out of my face.

"Fair enough. Though, I hope you can promise me something."

"Shoot," I reply, leaning back against the tree branch and crossing my arms.

"Never leave me with only silverware to defend myself against the weight of the world," he replies simply, his lips quirked up into a smug smile. I roll my eyes.

"I suppose I could strike that deal. A jammed gun's not worth much to me, anyway." He holds out his hand, raising an eyebrow. I raise mine back. "What, you want me to shake on it?" His smile only grows, gleaming like the earrings twisting from his ears. "Honestly," I huff, reaching out my hand and gripping his. "Happy?"

"Oh, very much so," he murmurs.

Frowning, I move to pull away only to suddenly be jerked to the side. I hardly have time to take a breath before I crash into the waves below the short cliff of twenty feet, spinning underwater uncontrollably. I can't tell which way is up, even when I force my eyes open. Panic bubbles up in my chest and a burst of air breaks through my lips. A crash echoes somewhere around me as I try to find air. Something grips my wrist; I fight back, gritting my teeth. A sudden tug has me breaching the surface and clinging to the nearest dry land.

Unfortunately, that "dry land" is a very soaked Balthier, giving me the most mock-laced laugh I've ever heard as I choke on water and gasp for air. I huff, punching his shoulder and untangling myself from him to try and stand. My feet don't touch the ground and my head goes under for half a second, leaving me choking again. Balthier chuckles, shaking his head.

"My apologies; it was wrong of me to assume you could swim."

"I can," I snap, splashing a wave of the dark water over his head.

"Now, now," he admonishes, cocking his head to the side. "I've just saved your life again. A crumb, madam?"

"Seriously?" I scoff, rolling my eyes.

"You owe me two, actually," he recalls, reaching his hands up to slick his short hair back. His white sleeves are soaked, though I suppose he doesn't care about that anymore. "And so, I have two questions. First, what is the name of your ship?"

"That's what you want to know?" I counter incredulously. "Fine. She's the Castean."

"Castean," he repeats, eyes narrowed on something in the distance. "Interesting choice. Second, the name of your partner."

"Dern," I reply. "Larsa told you so."

"You're certain that's all? No surname?" he asks, his brows drawing together.

"No surname," I frown. "Why's it matter so much?"

"It doesn't," he sighs, finally looking back at me. "I was hoping your clues would make deciphering easier, not more difficult." He's lying.

"My most sincere apologies," I sneer. He raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't have time to react when I dive forward and shove him underneath the water, laughing. Roughly, I drag him back up, the pirate coughing and shoving me away as I snicker until my sides hurt. "It's wonderful to see the leading man so unkempt," I tease, swimming past him to shallower water I can stand in. Huffing, he follows, pushing his hair back with one hand. "Oh, and I do believe you owe me a crumb—for saving your life just now. I won't even count your rescue from that treant earlier."

"Cheap," he comments, shaking his head in mock disapproval, though he waits for my question patiently.

"How about your surname?" I ask, cocking my head to the side.

"I don't have one," he replies smoothly. "Left it in favor of simpler titles. You don't see me demanding more names from you."

"You would if you could."

"You're not wrong."

I scoff, giving him another weak splash.

"I hate to be redundant, but I have to ask again: why are you so intent on learning all it is I left behind?"

"I find stories intriguing," he shrugs easily, green eyes glittering in the moonlight. "Whether or not they're fiction, it doesn't matter to me."

"Are you implying that I've lied?" I accuse, pushing my drenched hair out of my face and stepping closer. "Because you haven't exactly been honest yourself."

"It's difficult to build friendships and alliances off of lies," he points out. I scoff.

"Friendships, huh? Is that what you call trying to kill me by throwing me off a cliff?"

"To be fair, I threw myself off that very same cliff."

"Fair?" I raise an eyebrow, shuffling my feet across the heavy sand below them to slide past him. "I'd hardly call you—" I'm cut off as the lake floor drops off suddenly and leaves me spewing water from my mouth and yet again clinging onto the nearest piece of land, aka, Balthier. He laughs, though the heavy weight of his arms at the base of my back isn't unwelcome as I unintentionally cling to his shoulders. "For Fate's sake...!" I spit a dried leaf from my mouth and shake my head. "I'll drown before we get back." I frown, looking at the shore. Absently, my fingers trace over the pattern embroidered on his vest. "Speaking of which, won't the others be worried by now?"

"Who knows how deep we had to venture?"

It's an innocent enough question, simple and harmless. But the sudden realization of our proximity has my nerves jumping at every rumble from his voice that vibrates through my fingertips and elbows and knees, all of which are locked on him somewhere. My breath catches and I turn to see his eyes level with mine. A small wave pushes pass and neither one of us can fight the instinct to tighten our grip.

A trance swallows me like the water and my mind tries to play out what might happen if I just broke that inch of distance between us, if I moved closer and took that invitation written clear across those smug-smiling lips. What would he do in turn? Perhaps that's the key to all those mysteries lurking beneath his tanned skin... The fan of breath over my face combined with the chill of the air slaps me in the face and knocks me out of that trance. Coughing awkwardly, I push away and move to swim toward the shore.

"I think they'd be worried regardless."

"You think they care that much?" Balthier counters easily, wading behind me. "About you?"

"Aren't you flattering?" Did that not take as long as I thought it did? I frown, shaking my head. Don't dig yourself into any more holes, Shae. It was an impulse and you resisted it. Get on with your life.

"Have you considered your own failed charm recently?" he retorts. I roll my eyes, searching for something to bite back in return only find myself clumsily clambering over unforeseen rocks. Sighing, Balthier moves forward and his hands warm my waist as he tugs me back from the wall of slippery stones. "I'm beginning to wonder... What is the going rate for rescuing princesses these days?" My heart catches in my throat and my mind surges forward at a hundred miles an hour. Did he hear me talking to Larsa in Jahara? How can he possibly know...? "I think rescuing damsels in distress may be worth just about half that amount."

"I'm no damsel," I huff, shoving his shoulder-relieved. I pry myself away from his grasp and drag myself up onto the sand. Groaning, I shake the water from my boots and from the armor fastened around my forearm. "I swear to the gods, Balthier, if this rusts because of you, I'll most definitely be leaving you stranded with silverware alone."

"Why not unhook it and let it dry to reduce the moisture, then?" he counters, carefully wringing water from his shirt. He sighs. "I was due for a new wardrobe at any rate."

"You chose to shove me," I point out, stepping past him. "Now, let's get those weapons and head back to camp."

The walk back is slow and full of casual, light banter. Balthier keeps an eye out for monsters and I struggle to hide the horrified blush that has yet to drain from my cheeks. Finally, I take a deep breath and decide to let my naturally flirtatious ways get the better of me. Conversation falls and I take a deep breath just as we draw near to the others and I can hear their fire popping. I heave a sigh, catching the sky pirate's attention.

"You know, I've been thinking about what you said."

"What thing that I've said?"

"About the going rate for princesses and damsels," I shrug, feigning nonchalance. My walk slows to a pause and his does too, his eyebrow raised expectantly. "You said a damsel's would be half of a princess's, yes?"

"You know something then?" he replies, his voice laced with curious amusement.

"Perhaps," I grin, cocking my head to the side and clasping my hands behind my back. "Close your eyes."

"Excuse me?" he raises an eyebrow. "Is this because I threw you off a cliff? I thought you had fun."

"I won't hurt you," I huff. He eyes me a moment longer before complying. Fighting a laugh, I shake my head and press my lips to the edge of his jaw, drawing away at just the right angle that leaves the tips of our noses brushing before I straighten and continue my walk toward camp with a triumphant smile crossing my reddened face. Balthier chuckles, shaking his head and following me.

"Well, I suppose I'll have to have a chat with Ashelia later, won't I?"

And although it's completely and utterly unnecessary, I throw my head back and laugh.