Alternatively titled "Balthier's that one annoying bitch at the sleepover who won't shut up while everyone's trying to get their one hour of rest"
"So… How do we cross this time?" Vaan asks, pacing with his hands clasped behind his head.
"Well, we don't have a boat," Penelo sighs, placing her hands on her hips and peering out at the waves lapping against the sand. Salty ocean water washes over the toes of my boots, leaving droplets behind with every receding wave.
"And we don't have an airship," Balthier adds.
Everyone's eyes meet with one person or another, dread filling our gazes.
"I guess we're hoofin' it," I say finally, earning a loud, dramatic groan from Vaan.
When we finally step foot in Balfonheim, we practically drag ourselves off our chocobos and into the nearest tavern. Vaan and Balthier collapse into a booth, heads lolled back in exhaustion. Fran leans against a wall, eyeing the pair with Penelo slumped at her side. I stretch my arms, yawning, and plop down next to Basch at the bar.
Only Ashe remains standing, looking entirely unaffected by the journey. I'm not sure how; we spent days riding those cursed birds across all sorts of terrain—days fighting off monsters or to force our chocobos through shallow waters. At one point, Penelo's bird was stuck in a pool of mud, the thick, sticky kind, and Basch and Balthier had to jump down and pull the poor creature out by its reigns. Riding around from one coast to another is one thing; fighting your way through Hell for days is another.
"Two," Basch mutters when the bartender stops by us. Frowning, the burly man working the counter tugs at his beard and fetches us both a bottle of madhu.
"So, ya folks back here for Reddas?" he asks in a deep voice, leaning a forearm against the wooden counter. I half-heartedly knock my bottle against Basch's before taking a long, slow drink. "What happened out there?"
"A lot of bullshit," I grumble, eyeing Basch when he huffs out a weak laugh. "What, you don't think so?"
"I agree, for the most part," he shakes his head, turning his bottle of madhu around on the counter over and over again. "However, we learned much from the Occuria."
"Yeah, yeah," I scoff, brushing him off and glancing over at Vaan and Balthier. The former of the two has already passed out with his head on the table while the latter exchanges tired looks with his partner. "I suppose so. But we still had to haul ass to get here because Doctor Cid is still waiting for us to get a move on."
"You're rather crude for royalty," Basch reminds me under his breath.
"The hell's an Occuria?" the burly bartender asks, arching an eyebrow.
"None of your business," I huff. "Look, we're just here to see Reddas. Any idea where he could be?"
"At this hour?" the man asks, glancing back at the crudely carved clock at the back of the tavern. "Likely passing time on his beaut of a ship." He scratches his graying beard. "Then again, he may be resting."
"Well, then he'll have to wake up," Balthier sighs, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat. "Her Majesty won't be waiting any longer. Isn't that right?"
"I'm afraid so," Ashe replies, turning to the bartender. "He lives on his ship?"
"For the most part," the man nods, grabbing a cloth off the counter and reaching for an empty tankard. "He's always either there, or here. And I know he ain't here, so…" His voice trails off and he shrugs, wiping down the tankard.
"Right," Ashe nods, starting toward the door.
"You're going alone?" Balthier asks, frowning. The princess pauses with a scowl.
"I understand your lack of trust in him, but Reddas has been a valuable ally. I doubt I'll need protection, and I especially won't need it from you."
"Shit," I huff, taking another drink. Basch stands, taking a deep breath.
"Highness, I'll—"
"I will go," Fran cuts the knight off, taking long strides toward Ashe. "You all rest."
"Fran—"
"No," Fran shakes her head. Her naturally cold expression is somewhat softer as her gaze meets Basch's. "You are all tired. Get some rest and tomorrow we will resume."
"Thank the gods," I sigh, sliding off my chair. The bartender nods.
"I'm sure Reddas will cover your stay. Go ahead and take however many rooms you need."
"Thank you," Penelo breathes out, rubbing one of her eyes with the heel of her hand.
I don't hesitate to head down the hall to the very same room I left Jonan in. My heart sinks when I find that the room is back in order, minus the faintest red stain on the floor from where he laid. Sighing, I walk to the wooden table at the righthand corner of the room and set my half-empty bottle of madhu down. My eyes trace the pattern of the floorboards absently as I try to gather my scattered thoughts. With heavy eyelids, I drag my feet toward the bed, only to jump when the door creaks open and a shadow's cast across the room. I turn to see Balthier watching me with an eyebrow raised as he twists the switch on the wall to light the room's lanterns.
"Gods, that scared me shitless," I breathe, closing my eyes to take a deep breath. With a smile tugging at my lips, I shake my head. "Funny, because I honestly don't give a shit anymore."
"About…?" Balthier presses, meandering closer with slow steps.
"Anything." I look over his muddied, ruffled outfit with a sly smile. "Especially you."
"Is that so? I suppose I spent all that time saving your life for nothing." All that time? I do believe we're even.
"Oh, stop," I scoff, rolling my eyes. "Don't guilt me into loving you." At this, the pirate pauses and my heart skips a beat. That came out wrong. I speak quickly to recover before an awkward silence consumes us. "What's that one condition called? Shockholm syndrome?"
"Stockholm syndrome," Balthier corrects, cocking his head to the side. "That has nothing to do with guilt and I'm far from holding you hostage."
"Actually," I tease, flashing a slight smile. "I think you are."
"How's that?" Balthier asks, resuming his spaced steps.
"Because, Leading Man, you've got my heart locked up," I reply smoothly, reaching forward and dusting a bit of dirt off the sleeve of his shirt.
"I see… What's the ransom?"
"Oh," I laugh quietly, taking hold of his collar and jerking him closer. "Definitely something I can't afford."
"So you'd like for me to return it?" Balthier murmurs, a smug look crossing his face.
"That's up to you, I suppose," I shrug. "We could pretend it was a gift—just for you."
"Hm." Balthier gently tugs on a strand of curled hair the rests on my cheek, watching it bounce back into place with a light huff. "Well, the wrapping was disappointing, I must say."
"The wrapping…?"
"Yes. Unfortunately, it came with all…" Balthier backs away a step, gesturing toward me. "This."
"… Oh, shut it!" I snap, shoving him away with a huff. I reach for my madhu, sulking away to sit on the edge of the bed. "Why're you here, anyway?"
"Why am I…? Perhaps I presumed too much," Balthier mutters, raising an eyebrow at me. Rolling my eyes, I pat the mattress and wait for him to sit beside me before speaking.
"Too much, huh? That happen often?"
"It depends on the day," Balthier replies, playing with the cuffs on his shirt. "And the lady," he adds sheepishly. I roll my eyes, setting my madhu aside and crossing my legs.
"You have that many ladies, do you? How was riding with Vaan?"
"I may have quite a bit of bruising on my ribs," he grumbles, rolling his eyes. I laugh.
"He's got a grip, doesn't he?"
"I'll say." Balthier sighs, tracing a finger along the edge of his pointed sideburns. Rather, they used to be pointed. They're looking rough these days. "I hate to ruin whatever mood it is that you've established, but…" He shakes his head, staring long and hard at the door. "What exactly happened to my brother, Shera?"
"Why do you insist on calling me that?" I huff, ignoring the pang resonating through my chest. He really does deserve to know…
"It suits you," he shrugs.
"No, it doesn't," I sigh. "But to answer your question… We were always on the run from Vayne." I shrug, hugging my arms to my body. "One day, he sent a threatening letter and so, to protect me, Dern turned himself in. It gave me enough time to escape, but… I waited around for about a month before seeking him out." I shake my head, taking in a shuddering breath and fixating my gaze on the blankets beneath me. "He was a wreck—mentally, physically—and Vayne was waiting there for me. That's when he, y'know—"
"Carved the emblem?"
"Yes. That. I took Dern and ran. We made it back to the ship and I hoped everything would be alright after he healed. I was wrong, I suppose. He healed physically, but emotionally… We were both hopeless. I was jumping at every shadow, paranoid that Vayne had returned to finish Dern off for good. And Dern… he hardly spoke. He wouldn't listen to me, wouldn't look at me. I was the source of his misery and his joy at the same time." I shudder. "One night, I woke up and I couldn't see anything but eyes all around us. Watching us. I thought I had to save him. I thought…" my voice catches and I shake my head.
"You thought it would be better that he die at your hands than in Vayne's?"
"Exactly; I knew Vayne would've dragged it out until there was nothing to him but flesh and bones. I went into his desk and took his gun and…" I close my eyes, the pain still all too fresh. How could I? What right did I have? "He woke up—begged me to stop. Cried, even. I shot him twice in the head." My nails dig into my arms, leaving red imprints.
"After that, I couldn't breathe. I can't remember how long I sat there in disbelief. Finally, I got up and buried him outside my ship. I tried to shoot myself, too, but Jonan stopped me. Put me back into reality. He cared for me until he was certain I wouldn't take my life and then he destroyed the Castean and ran." I huff out a sarcastic laugh. "I was still working to repair her when I ran into you, Fran, and Vaan. Funny how that all worked out, huh?"
"…" Balthier frowns, though he's still looking at me. I tear my eyes away, looking around the room uncomfortably.
"That's… the first time I've ever really admitted to all that."
"I could tell." Balthier shifts. "You sounded guilty."
"Of course I sounded guilty," I defend. "I'd sound guilty no matter how many times I told that story."
"So you think," Balthier replies, but he doesn't sound snarky or proud. Merely lost in thought. "Hard to believe the reason I haven't seen him is simply because he's dead, not because he's still hiding away."
"Hard to believe I'm the one who did it."
"… That too."
"… Are you mad?"
I almost wish I could take the words back. I sounded scared, like a child who knows she's done something wrong. Who knows she might lose someone because of what she did so thoughtlessly. Who knows she'll only ever know fear. Balthier, never ignorant, picks up on this almost immediately, raising an eyebrow when my eyes meet his for half a second before falling to the floor again.
"What happened to your spirit, hm?" he asks, resting a hand on my leg. "It just blew away with the wind?"
"Something like that," I reply wryly, though it's half-hearted. Shaking his head, Balthier huffs out a laugh.
"You need sleep, Princess."
"I told you not to call me that, Ffamran."
"I don't recall hearing that," he replies, arching an eyebrow. There's a sly grin on his face that I wish I could slap right off.
"Get out," I scoff, rolling my eyes. "Don't you have anything better to do than bother me?"
"Not particularly," he mutters, looking around the room. The silence makes me uncomfortable and I struggle to bite back a question as it slips out. What's wrong with me tonight?
"Do you regret it?" I blurt, cringing when he frowns at me and I realize I'll have to clarify. There's no saying "nevermind" now. "Leaving Dern?"
"It's… not quite as easy as regret," he replies, hesitant to speak for once. "I wasn't lying when I said that Fran and I were caught up in our own situations—"
"But he's still your brother."
"Precisely." Balthier sighs, staring down at his lap. "And, despite our disputes, he was the only person who truly believed we could escape from our former lives."
"He always was an optimist," I mutter, hugging my knees to my chest and lifting my madhu off the floor. "Was that your favorite part of him?"
"Pardon?"
"Y'know, his character. His personality. I loved the determination," I shrug. "How he always told me it would be okay—and he was right until I ruined it all in the end. He made sure of it."
"You stole my answer, then," Balthier scoffs, snatching the green bottle from my hand easily and taking a long, slow drink. I roll my eyes, but it's halfhearted. Finally, he hands it back, raising an eyebrow when he realizes I still have questions.
"… Your fa—Dr. Cid mentioned that Dern sent letters talking about us. Did he…?"
"Yes, I received them as well," Balthier replies under his breath. I smile at the irritation in his tone. "I kept them in a pile in the back of my ship because, ridiculously enough, I couldn't bring myself to throw them out. I did eventually read a number of them out of mere curiosity."
"So, you knew I who I was from the beginning, then?" I inquire, setting the madhu on the floor to my left.
"No," Balthier shakes his head, fingers tracing the stitched patterns on the blankets. "I knew it was odd that you carried his spear. But I couldn't understand why the Imperials treated you the same as me and Vaan if you were affiliated with them, so I chalked it up to theft." I jump when he falls backward onto the mattress, startled for absolutely no reason. "I got a bad taste in my mouth the moment you mentioned having a partner who wasn't around any longer… Not to mention Jonan. Adamar never called the boy by name, but he wrote about a young pirate he wished he could change for the better—if not just to save you from what was required."
"It was when Larsa mentioned him by name."
"Yes. It all pieced together, for the most part."
"You're a damn good actor, Ffamran, I'll give you that," I huff, patting his stomach. He frowns, tensing when my hand hits his stiff vest rather hard. "I suppose now it makes sense that you tried to stop me when I threw my identity out as if it didn't matter."
"Or it could have been because you throttled the future ruler of Dalmasca," he retorts, catching my wrist when I move to hit him again. "Now, since we're apparently playing a game of questions, I think it should be my turn."
"Are we?" I tease, grinning sleepily.
"Aren't we?" Balthier arches an eyebrow. "I'll keep it easy. What's your favorite part of me, Shera?"
"Oh, now you're jealous of your big brother?" I laugh, turning over to lay on my stomach beside him. "I don't know, Ffamran. I can easily list off things I don't like."
"Is that so?"
"Definitely," I snicker. "First of all, this," I say, poking at his stubbly cheek. He huffs.
"I haven't exactly had access to a razor, now have I?"
"And yet Basch's beard looks just fine," I tease. "What else? You're a pompous prick—Leading Man, my ass. Just because you can take charge doesn't mean you should, Mr. Hypocritical Runaway."
"That one hurt. However," Balthier adds, "if anyone is a hypocritical runaway, it's you, dearest."
"Your own moogle crew doesn't know how to properly send your own ship to your location," I scoff.
"You're a sky pirate without a ship."
"You're so vain that you chose a partner whose backstory sounds almost exactly like yours."
"Even my Shera's backstory is painful similar," he muses, lips twisting into a wry smile when my nose crinkles.
"Your Shera? Gods, you really are selfish."
"And yet there you were mere days ago, demanding that I let you keep me as your own."
"I think you misunderstood that entire scenario," I huff, glaring at the wall when I feel my face growing hotter. "I only demanded that you don't waste my time."
"I'll give you that, Princess. As a man living by the words of the infamous wise man Jules, I believe the only thing worth more than time is information."
"Well, is there anything else you'd like to know?" I murmur, lifting one of his hands to examine a scrape across the back of a knuckle.
"If, perhaps, we could go to sleep," he replies.
"… I'm too tired to move."
"Shera—"
"Fine. I'll let you stay if you swear you'll stop calling me that."
"What if I swear to call you that less?"
"Good enough for me," I yawn, sitting up and stretching my arms over my head. Balthier pushes himself to his feet, nearly kicking over the bottle I set on the floor. Upon seeing me sleepily watching him unclasp the back of his vest, he raises an eyebrow.
"Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm fine," I sigh, my eyelids heavy. "I'm tired."
"Finally," he mutters, setting his vest on a nearby wooden chair. He pauses, glancing back at me. "How undressed am I allowed to be, for lack of a better word?"
"However you're comfortable," I shrug, kicking my boots off. Balthier chuckles, shaking his head and unbuttoning his cuffs.
"I promise you don't want that, Princess."
"Why's that, Ffamran?" I ask, fighting a grin at his scowl.
"Part of the deal is that you have you stop calling me that."
"Fine, fine. You didn't answer my question."
"I'll let you think a moment longer," he replies simply. I frown, watching him play with his puffy-sleeved shirt a moment longer before it clicks.
"Gods, you're not one of those barbarians who sleeps naked, are you?"
"I wouldn't call myself that," Balthier replies, laughing softly. "But I suppose so, yes."
"How did I not realize this sooner," I groan, rubbing my face. He shrugs.
"Because, out of courtesy, I didn't do such a thing if the… situation didn't call for it."
"What the…?" I roll my eyes.
"You're just as bad as Vaan."
"I'm not that bad."
"Oh, but you are," he mutters, kicking off his shoes and killing the light in the lantern before heading back toward the bed. All that's left to light the small inn room is the night sky through the closed window across the room.
"This thing's small," I point out, suddenly noticing how narrow the mattress is. It seemed so much bigger when we were halfway off and turned in the wrong direction mere minutes before.
"Oh dear," Balthier replies, crossing his arms. "However shall we fit?"
"I don't want to touch you, you nudist," I protest, sticking my tongue out. His only response is the twitch of a brow. Finally, he speaks.
"I'm clothed now, am I not? It didn't seem to bother you much at other more pivotal moments."
"For f—" I huff, tugging the covers up and burying myself underneath them, back turned to Balthier. With a mutter of "Melodramatic," Balthier pushes me over and takes up whatever space is left over. I flinch when his hand brushes my hip. "Leave me alone," I whine into the pillow.
"I don't recall that being part of our agreement," he teases, rolling over. I huff, turning to scowl at his wry grin.
"It is now. 'Leave Shera alone when she's trying to sleep.'"
"Shera, hm?"
"Dammit, Balthier," I snap, lightly punching his chest. "Now you've got me saying it. Just shut up already."
"I've got you saying it because it's right."
"Balthier—"
"Shera—"
"For fuck's sake!" I hit him again out of exasperation, earning a chuckle.
"Perhaps if you were a bit kinder to me—"
"What, you're fragile now? Want me to kiss it better?" I scoff. He shrugs.
"That doesn't sound like the worst option."
"That's not what I meant," I roll my eyes. Shaking his head, Balthier shuts his eyes and relaxes with a sigh.
"I know it's not."
"Then shut the hell up," I mutter, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before turning onto my other side and letting my exhausted eyes to close. An arm pulls my back closer to his chest in a loose grip that I don't resist.
"Goodnight, Shae."
"Hn."