Um...hi? Ah-ha. So...apparently, it's been about 3 years since I updated this. The bad part is that I've had one scene written out in this chapter since I first started, but I dunno. I lost my muse for it, which is weird, considering Final FantasyXII is my second favourite game in the series (next to Final Fantasy VIII) and Balthier is my all-time favourite Final Fantasy character. He truly is. And, on top of that, Basch/Balthier is, in my honest opinion, the BEST pairing in Final Fantasy. It makes the most sense out of ANY pairing.
They understand each other like no other pairing. I did a full explanation on my tumblr (xenobia4 tumblr), but I'll post it at the very end of this chapter.
Anyway. This is the LAST chapter. This was ALWAYS going to be the last chapter. I feel horrible that I never updated it, but I was determined to finish it this past month. So I did. I sat down and was like, "I WILL GET THIS DONE." Anyway. I won't keep you all any longer, though, to be honest, if it wasn't for GHOSTSherri, I would have forgotten all about it. I got an email with a new review on this and I honestly had just forgotten about it - completely. See, I thought I had it finished. Because I had the second-to-last part all typed out on my computer, I guess I thought I had uploaded it.
If there are still any reader out there, this is all for you.
Disclaimer: Just on the plot and some character names.
6
Forgotten
"How many days have they denied your access?" Al-Cid asked, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned on his desk.
Basch's brow furrowed. "Four. I know not why."
"Is it not obvious?" The Rozarrian glanced to some papers on his desk, as though not wanting to state the reason. "To the Council, you are impeding the conviction of a thief. They would hope to acquire a confession from a broken man." Basch's entire expression dropped. He had suspected, but very much he had prayed it not to be truth. "We can only hope our friend has the strength to withstand."
The judge's eyes cast downward as he took in the information he had already suspected. He could feel his heartbeat quicken: the last time he had seen Balthier, his ally had hardly seemed capable of withstanding much more of the torture he had been put through. His entire being had been shattered. He and Al-Cid had spent much time trying to find a way around the Rozarrian Prison laws to get Basch back inside, but thus far they had come up with naught.
With everything going in the wrong direction, he feared for Balthier's well-being and found himself praying to the gods that he would not give in to the prison demands.
The large door at the end of Al-Cid's quarters clanged as it opened.
"Sir," a young woman spoke as she entered the room, garnering both of their attentions. "There is a viera asking for your presence."
Basch glanced to Al-Cid, who pushed off of his desk and waved his hand. "Granted."
The woman nodded and bowed before exiting the room. Not a moment after, Fran walked into the room, pushing the door well open, leaving it to bang shut behind her. Her strides towards them were an unspoken frustration. She stopped short of the Rozarrian and, after a quick glance to Basch, focused all of her attention solely on Al-Cid.
"The item claimed stolen is in the hands of its owner," Fran spoke as her head followed Al-Cid. Her eyes then fell on Basch, whose face was befuddled. "Not of my doing, with that face," was her response, which only deepened his curiosity.
It was strange, carrying on in others' presence, acting as though they hardly knew each other. As far as the outside world was concerned, they knew nothing of each other and only associated because of the commonality of the imprisoned Archadian. Even Al-Cid could not know the man he believed to be Judge Gabranth was really Basch fon Rosenberg. Though it might have been safe to allow this man to know, they could not risk it and the consequences that would undoubtedly follow.
"A farce, then." Both of their attentions were pulled to Al-Cid, who was now behind his desk and sifting through papers. Seeming to find what he was looking for, he grabbed a pen and began writing hastily. "If we are to free our friend, we will need that item; which is?"
"A tiara." He faced his head back to the paper. Before Basch could comment, she followed up with, "Embedded with nethicite. An heirloom to a judge."
Al-Cid's head was nodding as he continued to write. "The name to this judge—"
"Judge Malst."
He stopped writing, appearing stunned before bringing his gaze to stare intently at Fran. Basch pulled his attention to Al-Cid, eyebrows pressed together, questioning the change in demeanor. "Judge Malst? You are certain?" his voice was filled with ambiguity. When she nodded, his shoulders tensed, but he nodded, nonetheless, and returned to writing the paper. As he finished, he set the pen down, staring down at his written script. An air of silence filled the room, and then he released an aggravated shout and slammed his fists on the desk. "To think a high judge to be responsible for this act is a disgrace to the Empire! It brings shame! Judge Gabranth"—he pulled his head up to meet eyes with Basch—"you will escort me to the Rozarrian House. I shall confront Judge Malst about these acts and be granted our friend's release." He stood with the paper in hand and folded it as he walked around his desk. "Lady Fran, if you would rather, a flight to Rabanastre can be arranged for your immediate return."
She slowly nodded her head. "A kind act, that; but yet, without Balthier's escort, I will remain." She turned to look at Basch. "You will return him?"
A quick nod as a response. "You have my word."
"Come," Al-Cid spoke quickly as he passed Basch to walk to the door. "We make haste."
Another acknowledgement to Fran, and then he followed after Al-Cid, the door clanging as it opened and shut.
-o-o-o-o-
Balthier failed to hold back a shout as a foot made contact with his abdomen. Curled into the fetal position, trying to protect himself, his arms found their way up to cover his head and face with his hands and forearms. When his cellmate's foot pulled back, he was half-expecting it to be over, that was until the man's foot came down, slamming on the side of his ribs. The man finally stopped and stepped back, leaving Balthier to collapse into the sand, panting and groaning in agony. Every breath pushed his lungs against his cracked and bruised ribs, making him wheeze and hold back crying pains.
It was hard to believe that the assault occurred for something he had naught to do.
The guards had shoved him back into the cell after an interrogation, having him fall into the bulky cellmate, to which the man did not take lightly.
Reaching down, the man grabbed Balthier's arm, dragging him to his feet before shoving him against the bars showing opposite the platform. He grabbed the bars for support, still panting as his heart raced and pounded violently in his chest. The only thing to escape his throat when he felt the inmate pull at the band to his leather pants was a muffled groan. Once his pants were down his thighs, the bulky man grabbed the cheeks of his buttocks and pressed himself up against the sky pirate. With his legs spread farther apart, one of the man's hands left his skin to take himself out of the confinement of his own pants. Pressing his hand back against Balthier's backside, he gave his bum a harsh squeeze, then inserted himself, getting a unwilling cry from the brunet's throat.
He would have thought he would be used to this treatment by now.
Every day – multiple times a day – he was subjected to this type of behavior. His back still bled from the most recent "interrogation," which the inmate had made certain to rub sand into. His health had well declined, his body frail and malnourished, his mind in no better shape.
His grip tightened around the bars and his face contorted as the man roughly shoved himself back in, his paces getting faster.
Balthier groaned.
He was ready for this to end – he was not sure how much more he could handle. Days had passed since he had spoken with the Archadian Judge, which only had him believing that there was no way to have him freed from this prison and that Basch had just given up.
He would not blame him.
Hands found their way to his neck, gripping around his throat and cutting off his airway. With one hand still holding the bar, his other reached for the hand around his neck as he tried prying the man's fingers off. His face turned red and he became more frantic the longer he went without hair, his nails digging into the man's hands. The only response he received was the grip tightening as splashes of white light flashed across his vision. His other hand faltered, falling from the bar as his strength left him, and he felt his body being shoved against the bars.
Suddenly, the hands left his throat and he began coughing and sucking in breath-after-breath. He felt the weight of the inmate pull off of him and he collapsed to the sands, his own hands at his throat. As his senses came back, he grabbed the band of his leather pants as he tried to make his way back to a stand; the inmate had been pulled off of him by a duo of guards. He barely had his pants back on when one of the guards grabbed his arm to pull him out of the cell.
Out of the pan and into the fire.
His head spun and his chest tightened, knowing what was coming. The marks on his back still burned and stung from before and just the thought of more being added about had him breaking down. The last time lashes were added, he had no longer been able to hold back and he screamed. For the first time since being put behind the walls, his vocals finally betrayed him and he lost it.
He could not go through it again.
Not again.
His entire body tensed as they forced him in front of them and he heard the cell door clang shut behind him. His hands were bound to his back and, as they passed in front of other cells, some of the other inmates taunted him, snickering and laughing, others flashing obscene gestures. The remarks that were called towards him were no different than usual. His originally form-fitting pants were now sagging, and he had nearly tripped over them more than once. As the door that would lead to the passage out to the platform came closer and closer to his view, his heart began beating viciously, blood rushed to his head and his breathing became quick.
No.
He would not let it happen again; and when the front guard opened the large door, Balthier felt his eyes sting as he shook his head, saying the very words he had been so determined to stay away from.
-o-o-o-o-
Basch stood outside of the Rozarrian Capitol Prison with two imperials that were under Al-Cid's order. A prison guard read over a letter he had just extracted from an envelope handed to him by the judge, expression impassive as his eyes traced over it. When he looked back up to Basch, his expression was vague while the Archadian Judge's was stern. Handing the script back to him, the guard stood straight and placed his hand to his chest in the manner of a salute. "Quite right, sir. Please allow me to escort you to Director Graams." With a nod, the guard stood back and turned on his heel, taking the lead to direct the judge and imperials.
After entering a stone overhang, the stairs that led upwards were made of wood and wrapped around the outside of the prison's inner walls. The two imperials took stance at the bottom while Basch ascended with the guard to a tattered wooden door. The guard rapped on the door before pushing it open. He held his hand up to Basch. "Wait here." Another nod from the judge and the guard disappeared through the door – it clanked shut behind him. Basch stood impatiently, the look on his face giving away his aggravation. He looked back at the letter, rereading the words and releasing a sigh as he did. Shifting his helmet under his arm, he looked back up as the door opened and the guard stepped back out, face apprehensive. Blatantly nervous about what he was about to say, he inhaled and stood straight. "Apologies, Judge Gabranth, but it seems that our Director is currently unaccounted for."
Basch's entire persona fell. "Unaccounted for? Then where has he taken residence?" The way the guard adverted his gaze answered all of the questions Basch could have asked. With an obvious look of anger and aggravation, Basch turned on his heel – the guard, startled, reached his arm out, expression shocked.
"Uh, sir—!"
"The responsibility will be mine," he said coarsely as he descended, passing the two waiting imperials at the end. Without even stopping, and as the two began to follow in his haste steps, Basch commanded: "Jarthe, find me the key holder of the East Block; Brahms, remain and await if the director is to return."
"Sir!" they both said as they went in separate directions.
He did not even sport an ounce of acknowledgement to the guards positioned outside of the inner walls, which housed the prisoners. Perhaps it was the manner in which he strode the reason they chose not to pursue, but he paid it no heed, his sole focus on his entrapped ally. As he entered the right area of the prison, his ears were filled with the loud noise of inmates yelling and shouting. It seemed louder than he recalled. As his feet dug into the sand with his harsh steps, his eyes fell upon the cell that had been housing the sky pirate, but one thing appeared out of place: the cell door was opened. Though it could have been because Balthier was out on the platform, he recalled the other inmate being held in the same cell, so this was highly unlikely.
His steps increased to where he was at a jog, his armor shaking.
"Balthier?" Basch said as he came through the prison to the sky pirate's cell, but the cell lay bare. He looked around – not even the bulky man was in the cell; it just stood open. He walked into the cell to see the brunet on the platform, this time the rope not around his wrists, but hanging loosely around his neck. His stare was blank as he stared at a section of the platform in front of him, mouth slightly open. His hands were behind his back and the bangaa that was the usually promoter of torture came up behind him and began to tighten the rope.
Basch's eyes stood wide and he called out his comrade's name again, but it carried naught over the loud yells and shouts amongst the other inmates. He jerked his head to the inmate in the right cell: a scrawny man that appeared to have been living in the prison much too long.
"What are they doing?!" his voice shouted, panic stricken.
The person just looked at him, eyes bulging against a thin face. "He confessed and the sentence was carried out. The little thief's about to be hanged."
Basch jerked his head back and gripped the iron bars and began screaming for his ally over and over. He growled and ran out of the cell, trying to find his way out to that platform or at least where he could get the executioner's attention. Yet, all hope of finding a door leading out seemed hopeless and when the shouts and cheers intensified, Basch almost skidded to a stop outside of a cell that a guard was about to go into to break up a fight. As he pushed passed the guard, he punched one of the inmates, leaving them dazed, and yelled at the guard to find a way to cease the execution. The guard, appearing dumbstruck, quickly left after noting that both of the inmates had quit their fighting. Basch's full attention turned back to the inner area, where Balthier still stood dead-eyed on the platform.
The bangaa's position had shifted and he now stood by a rather large lever. The rope now fully secured around Balthier's neck.
"Balthier!" he began shouting. "Stop! STOP THE EXECUTION!"
His voice did not carry over the roars of the inmates and he released another growl, taking leave of the cell. Running as quickly as he could, his helmet long dropped to the sands, he found the large wooden door that Balthier had undoubtedly been brought through time and time again. Grabbing the wrought-iron handle, he began pulling as hard as he could, but the door refused to budge. He started pounding on it, yelling for someone to open it, but it became apparent that no one was on the other end. Face red, eyes burning and heart frantic, he released a yell and ran back through the prison, ending up at the same cell, where the one inmate was still incapacitated and the other was nowhere to be seen.
"BALTHIER!"
His hands were gripping the bars with such force, feeling became lost. All he could do was continue to yell his ally's name over and over, but it meant naught and the bangaa pulled down on the lever, releasing the floor underneath Balthier's feet.
Basch just stood - eyes wide as unnoticed waters streaked his face.
The rope swung back and forth and the shouts continued throughout the prison, but Basch's muscles finally loosened and the paper he had been carrying around fell to the sands.
We, the Judge Magistrates of the Rozarrian Capitol Prison, hereby note the innocence of Ffamran mied "Balthier" Bunansa and state that he be released a free man.
Signed,
Magistrate Halmes
Rozarrian Head of Council
-o-o-o-o-
Basch sat on a bench on the outer deck of one of the side towers in the Archadian Palace, his expression blank as he stared at the burgundy cloth he held in his hands. The only thing he had been able to offer the sky pirate as some form of comfort was now covered in his ally's dried blood, permanently staining the fabric. They had found it on Balthier's person, shoved into a false pocket, as though to keep it hidden from others' view. Folding it over his index finger and thumb, Basch shut his eyes and brought it up, setting it on his closed mouth as he inhaled the strong scent of the other.
The last physical being of his fallen friend.
Sunlight flooded through the arches in a cruel irony, bleeding its early morning glare through the palace streets below. He had not spoken since arriving in the city and stood stone-faced while the priest spoke at Balthier's funeral, which had been held at the break of dawn that morning.
A funeral for a twenty-three-year-old man.
A funeral that should not have even been.
For the second time in his life, he was forced to witness the death of a beloved ally and attend their service; but Rasler's was different. That had occurred on a battlefield – one expected to lose friend and foe alike. There had been no just reason for Balthier's to even transpire. He had been an innocent man forced into something he had naught to do. All so a corrupt Judge could claim to convict—
His fist made contact with the stone bench.
The pain that came with it was a welcome.
He opened his eyes to stare at the cloth, which had fallen to the ground.
"I will come back for you, Balthier. I swear that to you."
The last words he had spoken.
The final words he had ever said to Balthier…and they had been a lie. He never made it back to him and he had to wonder what the younger man thought when Basch had not returned. Did he think him a liar? Did he think Basch had given up on him? Abandoned him, even? Would the brunet still be alive if Basch had been able to make it back?
A sharp jolt shot into his chest when the answers to each question echoed a harsh "yes."
He shut his eyes, memories flooding back to the Nalbina Dungeons, where he had been held after being falsely accused himself. Even if it was a chance meeting, Balthier had undoubtedly saved not only his life, but all Dalmasca and Archadia. The fates had been just, and even when he still stood guilty to the others' eye, Balthier had not been as quick to believe, not even when the public turned their backs on him.
"I didn't see him kill anyone," Balthier's voice echoed around in his mind in response to Vaan calling him a traitor. With the world against him, the sky pirate did not bother believing the words of the Empire and accepted him. And yet, when it was Balthier standing accused, Basch had originally been convinced the sky pirate guilty.
He had not even trusted Balthier until they had started to actually know each other. He had looked at him as a thief and nothing more – disgusted at how the sky pirate could desecrate tombs in search of meaningless trinkets.
But then he got to know him and saw what the man had been through; the death of his mother, watching his father be driven into madness, not even having a single soul to watch after him or care what had happened. Yet, Balthier would care for others without question, though he would not let that on. Willing to risk his life for another, not caring of any consequence.
The gods must be laughing at the sardonicism which plagued him now.
"Because of Balthier's false conviction, an internal investigation took place, freeing many innocent people. Perhaps a silver lining of an atrocious misconduct," Al-Cid spoke in somber tone, trying to get Basch to not experience the guilt he knew the Judge undoubtedly felt.
"If this was the consequence, then the price was too much," Basch had responded hastily, his tone harsh. "An innocent man – a good man – was brutally beaten, tortured and violated for a false confession. You ask me if the outcome came at too high a cost? Then my answer is yes. A free man was branded a thief and executed for a lie. Even one innocent life is too much."
His eyes started to burn and he tore his gaze away, tracing the ground.
A sharp pang jabbed at his chest as the visual memory of Balthier's execution returned to his mind. If he had only arrived sooner, his ally would still be alive, standing next to him. All of the images of his ally's battered form came rushing to him; his frail voice the last time they had spoken, all of his energy gone – his will shattered. The expression on Fran's face spoke the loudest, though. He had promised to have Balthier back – to bring him back safe. The look behind her eyes…. She had said nothing, merely nodded her head in that slow manner that she understood, but she disapproved, before leaving Basch's and Al-Cid's presence, due to head back on her own. Basch heavily doubted she would go back to Archadia, so it was speculated that she would return to Rabanastre.
Either way, the feelings she felt were just.
Basch knew he deserved whatever hate and despise would be delivered to him. He made a promise and he failed it. Yet, it was not the promise to Fran that had him up in arms, but the promise he had given to Balthier.
The words continued to ring in his ears and his anger only grew.
The 'T' that was branded to the side of Balthier's face flooded his vision and just holding the cloth that he had given to his friend built a boiling rage inside him. Gripping it tight, he released a shout and threw it, but it merely floated a few feet away, only being carried a few extra feet by the wind that had blown through the arches.
It was not fair: Balthier deserved none of it.
He had been plagued so much in his life, the last thing he would ever deserve was being treated as such. He would not wish that on any man he knew, no matter the despise.
A fog built up in his vision as saltwater invaded his ducts and the sunlight turned to hazes, casting halos. It should not have ended this way. Rather, he and Balthier should have been on the airship, returning together to Archadia and laughing about the fallacies of the Rozarrian Empire.
The halos in front of his vision began dancing, swirling to a mystic blue and forming shapes in his eyes. As they continued to move, he tried blinking them away, but the orbs moved to form the outline of a being – a hume. He shook his head and blinked several times, trying to get his vision to go back to normal, but as the orbs shaped into familiar features, he found himself keeping his eyes open, so as not to distort or rid the form. His mind was playing cruel tricks on him. When his reflexes finally kicked in and forced him to blink, the form was still there and his heart fell to his bowels.
"Bal – Balthier?" Basch's eyes became wide seeing the almost-mystic form of his ally standing only feet away from him. A light smile ghosted over Balthier's face. As though studying the judge's tormented expression, he brought his hand up to touch the side of Basch's face; though Basch could not feel it physically, his eyes glazed over at the sensation. Slowly losing his composure, Basch came out with, "I am sorry." Water befell his face when he blinked. "I am so sorry, Balthier. I should have—" He cut himself off as he took his own hand and put it over where he knew the others' was. Whether the form be truth or lie, he did not care. All that mattered was that he was witnessing his ally standing before him – he cared naught of the falsehood.
The form followed Basch's lead as he brought his hand down, keeping his hand in contact with Balthier's; he looked down as he let his fingers grasp the sky pirate's hand, watching carefully. Looking back up, he saw Balthier watching their hands. As Basch uncurled his fingers, Balthier looked back to him. "Please. Forgive me?"
With the ghost of a smile still on his face, the image brought its arms up and placed them around Basch's neck and shoulders in a faint embrace. Shutting his eyes, Basch did the same, only lightly laced his arms around Balthier's back. His heart hammered in his chest as a pang weighted itself in his stomach at not being able to physically feel the hold. His mind could only act as though the feeling was there and more water traced his face at the realization.
Could this have been the same as when Princess Ashe had seen Rasler?
Basch felt a streak of water befell his face. "Balther," he whispered, his chest aching. He pulled back at the same time the mystic-form did. Peering into his eyes, Basch was able to see all of the pain and torment Balthier had experienced through them; the physical and the mental: from his mother's death, the leave of his older siblings, his father's drive into madness, the abandonment of his home, the killing of his father, only to be disowned even to the end. It was as though the anguish from the prison was merely a scratch added to a life full of misery and running.
However, behind the tired eyes was also a sense of reprieve – freedom from the confines of a life that had been over long ago. Slowly shutting his eyes, the image leaned forward to meet their lips. Feeling his entire body become completely overwrought with shear regret, tears flowed from Basch's ducts as he shut his eyes, imaging the sensation to such a sense that he was able to feel it.
He stayed like that for a long moment, his mind taking over entirely.
The desperation to feel Balthier in his presence was overwhelming.
The softness of the other's lips, the breath that did not even exist—
Yet, when Basch opened his eyes, he stood alone.
He looked around, but there was no trace of Balthier's mystic form in any direction. He cast his eyes downwards.
Had he imagined the entire thing?
When he brought his hand up, his expression fell soft.
The burgundy cloth had returned to his hand, still stained. He held it to his chest and cast his eyes out of the archway just as the wind picked back up, blowing clean air to his face. Smiling through the dampness and the pain, his voice trailed out with, "You will never be forgotten, Balthier. And that, by the gods, I swear it."
~Fin
Sad, isn't it? From the very beginning, I had no intentions of Balthier coming out of this alive. He was always going to die. Which bites, because I hate character deaths, but it just fit with this. Like I said: Balthier is my ALL-TIME favourite Final Fantasy character. I love him. He's literally the Tony Stark of the series.
Hidden pain and all. That rant I told you about? Yeah, here it is:
I'm in the minority with this, but one of my all-time favourite Final Fantasy pairings is Basch/Balthier from Final Fantasy XII. Even more than Seifer/Squall (FFVIII) and any pairing you can give me from FFVII. Something about these two just click.
Basch had to watch his home get destroyed, then his brother and him split sides. He's framed for killing the King by his own brother and imprisoned for two years while everyone labels him a traitor. All the while, he still fights for Dalmasca - not for glory or honor or to restore his name, but FOR DALMASCA and the people.
Then you have Balthier, whose mother died in childbirth. He watches his father slowly be driven into madness. He's made an Archadian Judge by that very same person who no longer looks at him like a son. So he runs - steals an airship and becomes a sky pirate, only to get led right back to everything he had been running from. He's forced to kill his father, who, even in his dying breath, calls Balthier a filthy sky pirate.
And we can't forget when these two people met: Balthier was trying to escape a dungeon when they come upon Basch in chains in a suspended cage. With Vaan and everyone else accusing Basch as a traitor and a murderer, Balthier just nonchalantly passes all of that off and says, "I didn't see him kill anyone." He doesn't judge this man that's been branded. Yet, at the same time, Basch stays weary of Balthier, doesn't trust him or his intentions, and just looks at him like a thief.
But, as the story progresses, Basch slowly starts to trust this man and even hints once or twice for regretting not trusting Balthier when this man, who never trusts anyone, trusted him almost from the get-go. Then Balthier is willing to sacrifice himself to save this group of people he hardly knows.
The point is that their relationship would make so much sense. Because Balthier understands Basch where no one else did and vice versa. Basch knows what it's like to be betrayed by family - the ones that are supposed to always be there for you, no matter what. He can understand what Balthier experienced by having to kill his own father, even though Basch's brother, Noah, had a turn-around at the end. He still fought his own blood for what he knew was right. It's on this level that THEY UNDERSTAND each other.
Argh. I'm ranting so much more on this than I should. I just wish more people were fond of this pairing, instead of the only m/m pairing that seems to be famous with the Final Fantasy XII community; that one that I hate with flaming passion. Basch/Balthier is, without a doubt, the best slash pairing throughout the Final Fantasy series. It clicks so much more than any other. Why can't more people understand that?
That was my rant and that's why I love their relationship.
Anyway, thanks for reading everyone. Sorry if I tugged at your heartstrings. But I got this finished for you all.
Thanks again, everyone!