Author's Note: I wrote this some months ago so of course I'm not completely pleased with it anymore, but I figure it's better to post it than let it rot on my hard drive. I hope others like it!

You have no idea how much fun I have writing Vaan all the time. It doesn't matter what story. He's just so hilarious.

I also dedicate this to my new fandom friends, confused0705, astrangerenters, coeur-delanuit, statikv, bouncywild, rhianna-aurora, iceprincessd, and mrsteninch! For the first time, I feel I've found someplace I belong on LJ! Corny and lame, but there it is! You guys fill my nights with so much awesome, Christopher Walken is jealous!

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XII.

Taking Tea and Taking Time
Chapter Two: Twelve O'Clock

The next day, Penelo was late to rise. Even after she awoke, the hot Dalmascan sun kept her in bed for a good thirty minutes. She forgot about the humidity while living in cool Archades, so it seemed to beat upon her extra hard, making sure she took notice of its presence.

She groaned, throwing off her covers, wiping sweat from her brow. It was nearing noon, so the sun was at its hottest, leaking through her windows directly into her face. She squinted and fumbled and fell out of bed, feeling rather pathetic as she crawled to the window and closed the drapes. As soon as she was in shadow, she felt the subtlest bit cooler.

After dressing, Penelo went down for breakfast without checking the clock and found Vaan in the kitchen. Rubbing her sleepy eyes, she asked, "What time is it?"

"Almost noon," he said, scrubbing a pot. There was dish grease and bubbles on his nose that made Penelo smile. "We already ate, but there's a big basket of bread over there, and some apples too. But the chef worships you, so I'm sure he'd cook you up an omelet if you asked."

Not wanting to be any trouble, she shook her head. "Bread and apples is exactly what I was hungry for."

Vaan grunted, unconvinced, and continued scrubbing.

Penelo ate her breakfast as he finished washing dishes, listening to him complain the whole time, as it was easy morning conversation. Then she helped him stack them and stow them away, for though she had no intention of ever working in a kitchen, knowing the general layout of one might prove useful.

"Ashe isn't busy this afternoon," Vaan told her as they closed the silverware drawer, work done. He wiped his hands on his apron and pulled it off, hanging it on a peg. Above it the word "Von" was etched into the wood – she would have asked, but she'd heard enough of Vaan's griping until at least lunch, so kept quiet. "If you want to go see her, I mean. Now that Larsa's gone, nothing to distract her."

Penelo, who had been tracing grooves in the wooden cutting board, stilled. "What?"

Vaan looked at her quizzically. "I said nothing to distract her."

"That's not what I'm asking about," she said heatedly. "Larsa left?"

"Well, yeah." He leaned against the counter. "Didn't you know?"

Her voice sounded hollow, even to her. "No."

Vaan sighed. "I thought it was weird that you weren't going back with him, after what you said last night." He ran a hand through his hair, eyes shamefully glued to the floor. "Gods, I'm really sorry, Penelo. I should have said something. I thought you knew."

Penelo, though not wanting to add to his guilt, couldn't help but ask, "How could I?"

He shrugged. "I figured after they saw us last night," at this, Penelo's cheeks pinkened, "that you guys might've gotten into a fight this morning. But I guess… I guess you were just sleeping. I'm the worst."

"No," Penelo told him, "it's not your fault. I thought he was staying longer… I should've asked."

"He should've told you."

Though she thought that was true, and a rush of righteous indignation surged through her, she ignored it and shook her head. "I shouldn't have assumed."

A silence passed between, unbroken until Vaan asked awkwardly, "What now?"

Penelo heaved a sigh, something she hadn't expected to do while visiting her hometown. "What time is it?"

He glanced at the wall behind her. "Noon."

Mustering a little smile, she motioned to the kettle sitting quietly by the stove. "Let's take tea."

Vaan's eyebrows rose inquisitively, but he set off to pour water nonetheless.

After taking some of the worst tea she could possibly imagine ("I bet they don't have tea like this in Archadia," bragged Vaan, to which Penelo said, face screwed up in disgust, "Uh, no, no they don't.") Vaan took Penelo to see Ashe and Basch.

To Penelo's surprise, Ashe was dressed casually, and greeted her with a warm smile. She was not how Penelo always envisioned a queen to be, but she was something better: how a friend should be. Penelo was glad the crown had not changed Ashe, as she had feared, and supposed that she had Basch and Vaan to thank for that.

Basch, too, looked well. He was getting on in his years, but was handsome as ever, with the same battle-scarred, gruff face she had a brief crush on after they first met (though now with a decent shave). He shook her hand warmly, and was utterly and (in her opinion) adorably perplexed when she threw her arms around him in a hug. She supposed his face must have been priceless, for it evoked a chuckle from both Vaan and Ashe.

"I've missed you!" Penelo told them, releasing Basch. "Both of you!"

"And we you," said Ashe, before receiving her hug. Vaan looked upon that with less humor, and a hint of jealousy if Penelo knew anything.

"How have you been?"

And so they spent the next hour talking about all sorts of things, from politics to decorating to the five surefire signs that what was on your plate was made (or rather burned) by Vaan. Penelo felt in warm company the entire time, and did not miss the glances passed between Basch and Ashe, or how they stayed in close proximity, or the way their hands brushed every so often when they thought Penelo was distracted by Vaan in an argument. Despite the sadness she felt at Larsa's sudden departure, she couldn't help but beam. Her friends finally had the happiness they so deserved.

"And how is Lord Larsa?" asked Basch. "I pray he is well."

Penelo's face dimmed, which she cleverly hid – or would appear to have done to a stranger, but to friends it was clear her smile did not reach her eyes. "Weren't you with him yesterday?"

Though Ashe noticed Penelo's change in mood, she said nothing. "We had such little time. I'm afraid politics was all we had the chance to speak of."

"And stables," grumbled Vaan sourly.

"Oh," said Penelo, and spent a minute searching for the proper words, her finger placed thoughtfully to her chin. "Well, he is… well. He's very busy, though, making preparations for something. We talk bits and pieces about it, but I'm not really sure what all the hubbub is about."

"He seems distracted," remarked Basch.

Ashe nodded. "And forlorn, today, when he left. Why did you not go with him?"

Penelo was about to reply with a brilliant lie (or so she deluded herself into thinking), when Vaan cut in, "He didn't invite her."

Penelo stopped in her tracks. "Vaan!"

"It's true!"

Ashe and Basch stopped as well, exchanging glances.

"He did not invite you?" asked Basch, skeptical.

Penelo sputtered as Vaan became her personal speech bubble. "He just left without even saying goodbye. Can you believe that?"

"VAAN!"

"Well, that explains it," muttered Ashe thoughtfully.

"Explains what?"

"Vaan," whispered Penelo, and it seemed in her absence she had not forgotten the tone of voice she reserved specifically for her best friend, "just shut up."

Basch provided Vaan's answer: "Why he seemed in such a hurry to leave."

Penelo could hear her heartbeat in her ears, drumming slowly, her blood thickened by dread. "What?"

Ashe quickly cut in, "What Basch means is it's all a misunderstanding."

"Well, he hasn't been treating her all that nice anyway," muttered Vaan gloomily, "ignoring her while planning some stupid thing, and not even telling her what it is."

Basch sighed. "It's a wedding."

Penelo watched the exchange before her, feeling oddly detached, as if she was floating above it all. The drumming in her ears grew louder at the word "wedding," until it drowned out Vaan's cries of outrage and Ashe's rushed explanation. It grew so loud that she could not even hear her feet as they slapped angrily on the floor as she fled the room, nor could she hear Vaan's footsteps fade as she easily outran him, nor could hear the sob that escaped her throat.

The sun sunk behind the dunes of the desert, and still Penelo would not emerge from her room. She could hear Vaan outside her door, slumped against it, bouncing a ball (where he got it from, she could only guess) against the wall. The sound would have driven her insane (which he had probably been counting on) were she not absorbed in her own thoughts, staring out the window.

Rabanastre was still bustling, even in the night. The city light obscured the stars, but Rabanastre was its own sky, with constellations of streetlamps and candles. The aerodome glowed brightest, larger than the moon, nothing but a shining yellow disc in the distance. Every so often airships rose from its depths, or drowned beneath them, or huge pillars of light blinked and wagged in the sky to herald aircraft. She thought of arriving there only the day before, but it seemed years away now.

Her mind turned to Archadia, and how her sweating skin yearned for its cool breeze. She thought fondly of the garden and pulling flowers of every color, exotic flora that could never bloom in a desert climate. She thought of the friends she'd made in town, and of the kindly dance instructor who told her she had real talent, but most of all she thought of Larsa.

After the harem, they spent much time together, getting to know each other. He was charming and polite and cared for her greatly, or so she thought. He was everything she never found on the streets outside her small circle of friends (which was really family, as they were orphans and each other was all they had). At first, it was hard to be around him, like whatever she did she wasn't sweet or sincere or polite enough (and she learned soon that setting herself to his standard of politeness was just ridiculous, because not possessing even half the words in his vocabulary, it was impossible to ever be as regal). As time wore on and she grew to know him better, she learned to be herself, and perhaps a bit of a better person for meeting him.

When Dalmasca was reclaimed at Archades fell to him, they went their separate ways, but wrote as often as their lives permitted. And that night when he'd found and freed her, she kissed him for the first time and realized that it was not in fact the first time she wanted to. So they only grew closer, finding new qualities about each other to mirror and adore and dislike but ultimately accept because they were lovers, and above that they were friends.

But then, two months ago, he became absorbed in work (Penelo was not sure what kind of work royalty did, but assumed it involved plenty of meetings, because people came in and out of the palace to see Larsa so often she could only hope to assign them numbers if she wished to remember them all, and even then, they were nearing the triple digits). They had less and less time to spend together, until they could not see each other outside the bedroom, and eventually not even there. So Larsa suggested she get her own room, as he was only a burden to her while he was so busy, and how awful it was of him to burden a guest.

Penelo sighed. Guest. The word made her heart heavy. She hadn't realized it before, but as the months passed, she had started calling the Archadian palace her home. Silly, of course, and vain, for she had grown up on the streets of Rabanastre behind a sleazy old shop – someone like her could never call a palace home. But that's what it felt like now; she imagined that she could see it over the peaks of the desert, splendid and welcoming and cool enough that you could wrap yourself in a blanket beside a window and fall asleep comfortable. Who she was there, useless, was the real problem, because she loved the palace truly, not for its vastness or lavishness or fine trim, but simply because it reminded her of him.

Larsa's face appeared in her mind; her heart sunk lower. It suddenly didn't matter where she was – she missed him so. Anywhere she could wrap herself in his arms would be comfortable… She did not realize just how much she liked (and liked was the word she was resigning herself to use, for he had gone and left her and not even said goodbye, so like was all she was giving him right now) him until…

Until you found out he was getting married.

And she should have known, she really ought to have known. Penelo knew that, leaning her head against the hot windowpane, feeling her eyes water. He was a prince, and princes didn't marry street urchins, and he was only doing what he thought was right all this time, keeping it from her, not wanting to hurt her.

He must have been engaged since those two months ago, when he began edging her out of his life. Her eyes stung, thinking of all the glances he didn't give her, the fewer kisses they shared, until the entirety of their relationship became taking tea.

And then… and then he intended to cart her off! The heat of the night seemed to gust up and fill her with smoldering anger. He packed all her things – all her things! – and brought her over to Rabanastre and dropped her there without a second thought! How convenient she made things for him, when she asked if she could go! How relieved he must have been! The grateful sigh he must have been hiding!

Penelo stood then, turning away from the window, pacing her room.

"Should have known? Should have known?" she asked herself. "Ha!"

Why should she blame herself? Where was she at fault? He offered her a home, she accepted! He offered her his heart, she accepted! Then he stripped her of what made her heart beat, and would have her moping about in Rabanastre, rejected and… and blaming herself?

"Penelo?" came Vaan's voice at the door. "Penelo, are you with someone in there? Who are you talking to? If it's Larsa, I swear I'm gonna–"

Penelo did not ask what Vaan's reasoning behind such a stupid question was (which was a good idea, as it was in fact, "Well, he might have hidden in your closet, to surprise you, and I was going to say before you interrupted me that I'd feed him to wyrms, but…"), just flung the door open. Vaan's let out a yelp of surprise – that which he had been leaning against suddenly gone – and fell at her feet.

"Vaan, you're going to help me pack," she told him, as he looked curiously up at her. "And then you're going to fly me to Archades tomorrow."

"I don't have a ship," he said, though he was clearly excited about chewing Larsa out in his own palace.

"We'll take a sky cab if we have to." She extended her hand and pulled him up.

He was already rocking on his heels at the prospect of a new adventure. "I'm sure Ashe will let me borrow one. It's been years since the Pirse accident, I'm sure she trusts me by now."

Memories of the time Vaan had nearly killed them both flashed through her mind ("It wasn't my fault," he always protested. "I didn't know I was flying in a restricted zone and those imperials came out of nowhere. In my defense, they could have warned me before they started shooting!"), but she smiled optimistically. "Yeah, who wouldn't?"