AN: Inspired by concept sketches of Fran and her sisters. So cute!
One day, they are walking through Rabanastre, and Fran spots a young girl, braiding her younger sister's hair.
"What is it?" Balthier asks later aboard the Strahl, for she'd stilled suddenly, in the middle of the square, overwhelmed by the memory of Jote, of herself, of Mjrn, in the mossy glens of Eruyt, Jote's fingers weaving through her hair as she read aloud stories of Hume wars and great Wyrms, of the Gods and the Mother wood, of all manners of things. Here in the belly of their airship, elbow deep in engine oils, the pangs of sisterhood are long gone to her, but still she remembers, the three of them, Mjrn considerably smaller, their hands linked and their smiles identical. Everyone could tell they were sisters.
"I was simply...remembering my sisters. I have two." Fran grabs a wrench.
Although to others this knowledge would seem only barely important, in their relationship, this information is the largest offering she has ever given him and Balthier smiles, curious.
"I did not know you had family."
She ponders a reply, then:
"Exiled Viera are considered dead to the Wood, and so it is best to think that I have no family at all. I would not regret my decision to leave in a thousand lifetimes...I do not miss my village, but I miss my younger sister at times, such as this time. Since seeing those Hume children playing in the square today."
"Is she much like you?"
Balthier sits down next to her as she picks apart their engine, handing her tools when she asks as he works upon their pipe system.
"I could not say. She was but a child when I left. But what I knew of Mjrn, I know she is lighthearted and good."
"And the other sister?"
"My leaving broke her heart, I think, and severed our closeness."
There is silence.
"I too have sisters." He finally says, seeming lost in thought. "Three. They are much older than I, or my two brothers. Married now, I imagine, with children. My father saw very little use in them, except as beautiful things. He was more interested in my brothers and I."
"You have a large family."
"I would not say so. My brothers have been dead ten years now, lost to the wars and to Draklor, and to my sisters I am a stranger. As for my father..." He trails off.
Silence again. Fran stands, and slips her hand into his and squeezes in gently, and this is all that is needed to coax him to lay his head on her shoulder and close his eyes.