THE PRICE OF HONOR
Disclaimers: Final Fantasy XII and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.
Overall Story Notes: (minor spoilers) The story is about Gabranth and Larsa so in my story, Gabranth DID NOT die in the end of the game. :)
Chapter Notes: Chapter 9 occurs after the party has reached Mt. Bur-Omisace to talk to the Gran Kiltias.
Author's Notes: The focus is more on the storyline in this chapter, and be warned, this chapter is loaded with ANGST.
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Panic spread like poison in the Senate hall as the now lifeless body of Emperor Gramis sagged unceremoniously on his seat in the council.
"What possible cause could we have to lay hand on our Emperor?" A senate member screeched loudly as he stumbled backward, trying to move away from Vayne who looked at the Senate with utmost contempt. Another member clutched at his robes as he tried to stand his ground against the older Solidor heir. "A deception and an outrage! The Senate will not stand for this!"
Judge Drace stepped between Vayne Solidor and the other cowering members of the Senate, but she looked at them with similar derision. "A viper amongst our Senators?"
"With Chairman Gregoroth as its head. He confessed and passed his own sentence." Vayne announced, his low voice sounded calm over the alarmed murmurs of the remaining members of the Senate.
Judge Bergan drew his sword and loomed menacingly at the frightened group, "A viper with many tails. Much of the Senate is culpable."
Vayne nodded in agreement. "We had to strip the Senate of authority and assign powers of autocracy to myself until such time as order—"
"Spare me your lies! I see the serpent coiled here before me!" Drace interrupted the Solidor mid-sentence, her eyes meeting the latter's hardened stare.
Judge Zargabaath reached out to restrain the female judge, urgency present in his voice. "Drace, you speak too freely!"
"Zargabaath! Do not tell me you join in the mummer's farce!"
"With Rozarria poised to invade at any moment, our leader must have a free hand." Zargabaath fought to keep his voice levelled and his mind, rational—he could not let his emotions hinder his better judgment, and he hoped for her own sake, Drace would realize this sooner.
Vayne, seemingly unfazed by the female Judge's accusation continued as he walked slowly towards his father's corpse. "The once-great House Solidor is now reduced to myself and my dear brother Larsa."
"Surely you would not go so far!" Drace drew her sword from her scabbard and pointed it at the older Solidor heir. "Vayne Solidor! As Judge Magister and upholder of the law, I hereby place you under arrest!"
Judge Bergan poised his weapon against the female Magister's back. "You misunderstood. Lord Vayne did not make himself autocrat. It was the very ministry of the law which you serve. Do you see it now, Drace? When you bared your sword at his Excellency, you bared your sword at the law."
Unfazed, Drace hissed bitterly. "You wear your mummer's motley well, Bergan."
Drace quickly turned to strike the other Judge with her sword, but Bergan easily stopped her. The male Judge held Drace tightly by the face and with little strength, held her off the ground with one arm before throwing her violently on the cold ground.
"Such strength—inhuman!" Drace whimpered as she clutched her side, unable to lift herself from the floor.
"Zargabaath, take the Alexander. Accompany Bergan and bring Larsa back to me." Vayne commanded coldly.
"Your Excellency, Lord Larsa was placed under my charge." Finally, Judge Gabranth stepped up to speak, his hands balled into fists to contain his resentment at the current situation. He would not leave his ward in the care of Bergan, who was no more than a beast on two legs, nor in that of Zargabaath, whose loyalty to the Empire was too pious.
Vayne raised his brows in mock surprise as he laid gloved fingers to his lips. "Oh? Perhaps you mistook your orders then. I see no other explanation for why you were reporting on my doings to my late father." The Solidor's tone was laced with sarcasm and it stung the Magister like poison.
Gabranth's mouth ran dry at the accusation. "Your Excellency—"
"A hound, begging for scraps at the Emperor's table." Vayne continued sardonically, looking at the fallen Judge Magister in condescension. "Would you serve another master, hound? You may fulfil your duty as Judge Magister before us all. She has been tried and found guilty."
Gabranth turned his eyes to where Drace lay, her breathing ragged.
"Your Majesty, I beg you reconsider!" Zargabaath pleaded, his voice strained.
Gabranth wordlessly walked towards Drace, knelt down beside her and rested his helm on the ground. He ran gauntleted fingers over the hilt of his sword before he gripped it almost painfully and placed it on the female Judge's neck. A look of deep consternation crossed the blonde's usually stoic face and Bergan felt a smirk tug at the corner of his lips.
Drace reached up a hand to Gabranth's own and shook her head. "Do it. I care not. Live, Gabranth. Protect the young lord. Protect Larsa..."
The blonde bowed his head as if in defeat and whispered almost inaudibly, "Forgive me."
Drace tightened her hold on Gabranth's hand. "Pray be quick."
With eyes shut tightly, Gabranth took her life, feeling her flesh yield to the cold metal of the sword he drove into her body. His hold on the hilt tightened all the more that his knuckles blanched at the effort, releasing it only when he felt Drace's body sag limply in his arms. It was done.
Vayne took his father's hand and placed it on the Emperor's dead body. "And so House Solidor lives on."
He walked slowly towards the double doors which led outside the council chamber, but stopped abruptly beside Gabranth who stood motionlessly, head bowed low as if in prayer. The Solidor leaned close, lips almost grazing the Judge's ear as he whispered in the same poisonous tone, "Would you dare touch him now, Magister, with hands so stained with blood?"
Gabranth lifted his head, cobalt eyes wide with both surprise and fear, but he said nothing. The Judge swallowed the lump that formed in his throat as Vayne continued to hiss into his ear. "You have defiled him enough with your impropriety, hound. Leave him be—stain him no further with your sins. There is a price to pay to save what little honor you have left, Noah."
The Judge Magister felt his knees buckle beneath him at the mention of that name. His name. He had long buried that name because he had no honor left to deserve the name given to him by his father—he was too far gone in the darkness. Gabranth bit his lip as he bowed his head low, shame almost consuming him—and again, he said nothing.
Content at the damage he had already caused, Vayne allowed himself a small, cruel smile before he continued out the double doors which Judge Bergan and Zargabaath had opened for him. The doors closed behind them with a loud thud, leaving Gabranth alone with the bodies of Emperor Gramis and Judge Drace—the two persons who had entrusted Lord Larsa to him. Anger and frustration welled up in the Judge's chest, and for the first time in so long, he let the tears fall—hot tears rolled down his cheeks, the only sign of the emotional maelstrom that raged within him.
"Forgive me my Emperor, Drace... I do not think I am fit... I am not worthy... I can no longer protect him. My hands are stained with the blood of the innocent—I am too far gone into this darkness. I cannot... I cannot do this." Gabranth whispered, his fingers lost their grip on the hilt of his sword and it fell to the floor. The sound of cold metal crashing on the marble floor echoed in the council chamber which was now as silent as death.
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"In Archadia, Larsa. In Rozarria, Al-Cid. They dream not of war. Should Empire join with Empire, they will open for a new Ivalice in our time." The Gran Kiltias proclaimed in his solemn tone.
"Hah, Gran Kiltias! You speak much of dreams, but in the real world, war is upon us." Al-Cid cocked his head to one side, a hand on his chin.
Ashe beseeched the Gran Kiltias, her voice wavering and her tone, urgent. "I was told my coming here would prevent this war. I was to assume my father's throne and announce the restoration of Dalmasca... treat with the Empire for peace, and persuade the resistance to stay their hand. I have not come all this way to be asked to reconsider!"
Al-Cid shifted his attention to Ashe, though his expression barely changed. "A word from you and the resistance would stop cold.. and Rozarria's pretext for joining the war... scattered, off to the four winds. This was what we had hoped. Alas, circumstances changed. A full two years have passed since your reported death. Were it become known you were still alive... I fear it could only worsen our current situation.
"Because I am powerless to help." Ashe finished what she thought was Al-Cid's unspoken statement.
The Rozarrian shook his head. "Ahh! Nay, in fact, it has little to do with you.
Larsa, who had been listening, decided to speak. "Then what? If the Lady Ashe were to extend her hand in friendship... perhaps I could then persuade the Emperor. His Excellency will solve things peacefully—"
"The Emperor Gramis is no more! His life was taken." Al-Cid interjected, cutting the young Solidor.
"Father!" Larsa's eyes went wide and his throat ran dry. He raised a hand to his chest which felt so tight he could scarcely breathe. The young lord's knees threatened to buckle beneath him and he allowed himself to be pulled in a strong embrace.
No other words were spoken between Basch and Larsa as the older man led him away, the rest of the party bowed their heads in sorrow for what had happened. No one had the right words to say, and at that moment, there were no words for the grief that struck Larsa's heart.
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Airships littered the sky, flying swiftly toward Bur-Omisace. Fran stopped and squinted before she pointed in the direction of the temple of the Gran Kiltias. "There."
Vaan stopped abruptly and looked up. "Smoke?"
"What could it mean?" Ashe asked more to herself as she rushed to the temple, the party behind her.
The group came to an abrupt halt at the doors of the temple that had been brutally forced open. Thick smoke permeated the air, and the party squinted their eyes as they made their way inside. It was apparent that the temple had been attacked while they were at the Stilshrine of Miriam to retrieve the Sword of Kings.
"What in Ivalice—" Vaan started but Ashe blocked him suddenly with an extended arm, stopping him from walking further inside the temple. The boy looked up to protest, but he suddenly stiffened at the sight of a Judge Magister standing in the middle of the temple.
"Ah, our vagrant princess. Swift has your lust for revenge led you to the Sword of Kings." Judge Bergan's low tenor reverberated through his metal helm, sending shivers up the lady's spine. The Judge moved slightly to one side to reveal the body of the Gran Kiltias sprawled on the floor—seemingly dead. "You will surrender it to me. Too late, and to their sorrow do those who misplace their trust in gods learn their fate." Judge Bergan pulled out his sword, a grisly crooked piece of metal, as he approached the party—a strange energy emanating from his body.
"Fran, I don't like the look of that." Balthier hissed as he took a step back from the approaching Judge Magister.
"This mist—he holds a stone! It controls him as it did Mjrn!" Fran gasped.
"No. No, the power of manufacted Nethicite is the power of man! A weapon forged by his wisdom... and who would challenge the gods themselves! A fitting blood for a true Dynast-King. Raithwall did but pretend the title... a cur begging Nethicite scraps from his master's table. Hark! Ivalice hails her true Dynast-King, Vayne Solidor! He shall defy the will of the gods, and see the veins of history back in the hands of man! His time is nigh! The new Ivalice holds no place for the name of Dalmasca. The stain of Raithwall's blood... shall be washed clean from history's weave!"
Bergan pulled out another sword and the party engaged him in battle. The battle was long and hard, the Judge Magister bolstered by inhuman strength—but in the end, he was defeated. The Judge Magister clutched his head and began to twist and turn his body as if in great pain. He then went into a mad rampage, swinging his arms about in abandon until he collapsed on the floor, a ghostly figure leaving his body as a mysterious light shot out of it—and it was done. The Judge Magister Bergan was no more.
Balthier approached the body and examined it. "He set his very bones about with manufacted Nethicite." He frowned before turning to Penelo. "The Gran Kiltias?"
Penelo shook her head as she held back her tears. "Wait—What about Larsa?" The girl was suddenly concerned at what happened to the young lord as they had left him to grieve for the loss of his father, the late Emperor Gramis.
"Gone. Spirited away by Judge Gabranth." Al-Cid replied.
Basch frowned deeply. "So he was here."
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Larsa's vision was blurred with tears as he ran inside the castle, not bothering to be escorted by his Judge Protector. All he could hear was the sound of his frantically-beating heart and the sound of his own footsteps as he rushed towards his brother's study. The young lord pulled at one of the double doors almost frantically before it was pushed open from the inside.
Vayne Solidor stepped back to let his brother inside before closing the door behind him with a dull thud. "Larsa, I am most relieved that you have come home to me safely."
"Where is father?" Larsa choked as tears continued to fall on his already tear-stained cheeks.
Vayne pulled his little brother into a powerful embrace and the younger Solidor collapsed into it—crying like the child that he truly was. At that moment he was not Lord Larsa Ferrinas Solidor, heir to the Emperor of Archadia—at that moment, he was just Larsa, a boy who had lost his father. The young lord clutched at his brother's robes and sobbed into his shoulder, the force of his sobs wracking through his small frame.
"I am here with you Larsa. All we have left is each other." Vayne whispered as he ran his hand over Larsa's back, trying to give whatever comfort he could give. He cupped the boy's face in his large hands and looked his younger brother in the eye. "I will protect you my beloved brother, as you are the only one I have left in this world—as I am to you."
Larsa only tightened his hold on his older brother, suddenly feeling the fear of being left utterly alone. He nodded before he again buried his face in Vayne's chest—finding solace in the warmth of the only remaining family he had.
"I... I wish to see father—one last time." Larsa's voice cracked as he spoke.
"I have much to attend to, but I shall ask that Zargabaath accompany you." Vayne replied as he stood up and smoothed his younger brother's hair.
"No, I do not wish for Zargabaath to accompany me." Larsa turned his head and frowned, suddenly disconcerted at the fact that neither of his Judge Protectors had bothered to see him in. "I wish to be with Drace... or Gabranth..."
Vayne turned his back at his brother as he walked slowly towards his desk. "Larsa... Drace is—no more."
Larsa's head shot up at his brother's words... surely he did not mean—"No... more...?"
"She raised her sword against the law—and she was tried—"
"Brother, surely you do not mean—No! Brother, tell me it is not so!" Larsa ran up to his brother and clutched a larger gloved hand with his own. "Brother... please... tell me that it is not so!"
Vayne only closed his fingers around Larsa's small hand as he avoided the piercing cobalt gaze directed at him. "She was tried and found guilty—and the punishment... has been carried out."
Larsa clutched at his chest, the pain was suddenly overwhelming. His chest felt like it contained a gaping void and he found it increasingly harder to breath. The tears came again and Larsa cried, tears soaking a gloved hand as he tried his best to dry them. "Why brother? She... She did not have to die! Drace did not have to die..."
"It is the law Larsa, you know this. Drace was a Judge Magister, an enforcer of the law—but she raised her sword against it. What she has done decided her fate. Drace is no more." Vayne's voice was eerily calm as he spoke.
"F-forgive me brother, but my emotions... my heart... it hurts—it is as if someone has pulled it out of my chest and I cannot make the ache go away! I am too pained... I cannot—I cannot see clearly—" The young lord tried to collect himself, but a maelstrom raged inside of him and he could not bring himself to think clearly. He wanted—no, needed to find his Judge Protector... he needed to be with him. "I wish—I wish to see Gabranth... I will... go to him now brother."
Larsa walked slowly away from Vayne, who had since seated himself and had his hands steepled on his table. The young lord laid a hand on one of the double doors to push it open, but Vayne's words stopped him.
"Will you go to him, brother? Will you go to the man who carried out Drace's sentence? Will you seek comfort from her executioner?"
The young lord's hands balled into fists. "Gabranth would do no such thing brother! I know it in my heart!" Larsa opened the door and ran out of the study.
Running. Again, he was running. Away from the pain, away from the fear, away from the loneliness that had begun to creep in his heart—there was only one person—one person who could comfort him now.
Larsa stopped at an all-too-familiar door and he closed his fingers around the knob, suddenly hesitating. A chill ran up his spine and it made his chest ache all the more. Why am I hesitating? Soft footsteps reached his ears and he looked up to find that Vayne had followed him there.
"Enough, Larsa! Enough of this folly!" Vayne's tone was strained as he tried to keep his frustration at bay. "This has gone far enough. Go to your chambers and we will speak no more of this!"
Larsa shook his head angrily, releasing his hold on the knob—anger suddenly welling up in his chest. "This is no folly brother! I do not understand what it is—but I know that it is not folly!"
The older Solidor clicked his tongue in dismay as he reached out and held Larsa's upper arm tightly with one hand. "You shall go to your chambers Larsa, and there will be no more of this nonsense! You are an heir to House Solidor, a future heir to the Archadian Empire!"
The young lord struggled against the iron-tight grip to no avail, but he stood his ground and refused to leave. "I wish to speak to Gabranth—I wish to be with him!"
Without warning, Vayne backhanded his brother, the sound of his gloved hand against the smaller boy's cheek made a sickening sound which echoed down the empty hallway.
Larsa's head snapped back at the impact, the shock of the blow numbing the pain that accompanied it. He raised a small hand to his burning cheek, cobalt eyes wide in shock.
"You shall be the future Emperor of Archadia! Did you not think of this when you let him touch you? Tell me, Larsa, are you so willing to be held by hands so stained with blood?" The anger in Vayne's voice was almost palpable as he bit out the words through his teeth. He had thought that it was a fleeting affair, a curious venture—it was not supposed to come to this.
"I know enough of my duties brother! My whole life has been one of duty! I know the bonds of my position—and his! And I have decided... I have decided against it all!" Larsa shouted angrily, tears spilling from already-swollen cobalt eyes.
Vayne turned away, his own hands balled into fists. It was taking all of his will-power to stay his temper—he could not believe that his own brother would risk everything, give up everything... "You are telling me, dear brother, that you are willing to give up everything—for a hound?" He clicked his tongue. "A hound who killed his own king, his own people—"
"Enough brother! I will hear no more!"
"Drace died by his hand Larsa, that is the truth!" Vayne spit out his words like venom.
"And he has protected me by his hand!"
"Do not make this mistake Larsa." Vayne breathed deeply, trying to calm himself—his back now turned from his younger brother.
"I love him!" Larsa clutched at his chest, the sudden realization hitting him harder than his brother's hand. "Is love my mistake?"
Vayne closed his eyes. He had feared this would happen. It could not be. I cannot be done. He turned stiffly and met Larsa's large blue eyes with his own hard stare. "Yes, Larsa, and it shall be a most painful mistake." The older Solidor padded almost soundlessly to where his brother stood and held the boy's chin tightly in his gloved hand.
"There is a price for honor, brother—and know that Gabranth has decided to pay his dues."
Without another word, Vayne walked away, the sound of his footsteps fading into the pervading darkness of the corridor.
Larsa watched his brother's back as it disappeared at the junction before he turned back to Gabranth's door. He suddenly felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment at the realization that the Judge might very well have heard their verbal exchange. Pushing the thought from his mind, he raised a hand and knocked on the hard wooden door.
There was no answer.
Perturbed, Larsa knocked again, this time pressing his ear to the door. "Gabranth? It is I, I wish to speak with you."
The distinct sound of shuffling could be heard inside, and Larsa felt a weight press against the door. Surely Gabranth was in his chambers... but why won't he open his door—not even for him? An uneasy feeling formed in the pit of the young lord's stomach and he bit his lip in apprehension. "Gabranth please... I wish to speak with you... please, let me in."
Again, there was nothing.
Fear crept into Larsa's heart and his chest tightened—it hurt, he did not understand why, but it hurt terribly. Tears began to fall again and he pressed his now wet cheek on the cold, unyielding wood. He cried and pleaded with his Judge Protector. "Gabranth do not do this... tell me it isn't so—tell me that it was not your hand that killed Drace! Do not run from me... I love you. Gabranth, I love you."
The silence that followed his whispered pleas was cruel, and Larsa felt as though his heart had been crushed too many times over. He had lost his father, Drace, and now it seemed that he had lost Gabranth as well. The young lord hesitantly moved away from Gabranth's door and walked unsteadily further down the hallway, stopping at a particular door. He did not know why, but he felt a compelling feeling inside him that drew him to this one room. And so, Larsa reached out and pushed the heavy door open—eyes widening as he realized to whom the room belonged.
"Drace." Larsa whispered the name with reverence as he closed the door behind him, his eyes running over the chambers which spoke volumes of the life Drace had hidden beneath her Judge Magister armour.
The walls were lined with books upon books on different topics and the windows were draped with pastel-coloured curtains. There was her armour stand and a table with a picture frame on it. Larsa walked over to the desk and picked it up, it was a picture of Drace in normal dress—smiling... and with her was a young boy with a toothless smile. Larsa felt the corners of his mouth tug upward as he ran his thumb over the glass, he had never seen Drace truly smile... not like this—and it was amusing to see her without her armour. She had been very beautiful and happy when she was younger, the Solidor mused. And she had been a mother... he had not known.
Larsa sat on the simple bed which sat in a corner of the room and he buried his face in the light rose coverlet—the scent reminded him of a memory long forgotten—and it was comforting. The young lord curled himself into a ball and eventually cried himself to sleep.
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In the silence and darkness of the night, a tall figure hovered over the slumbering Solidor heir. Ghost-light fingers trailed over closed eyes, tear-stained cheeks, and partially parted lips.
A deep breath.
A melancholy sigh.
Hot tears.
A kiss.
"And I love you."
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This week's update! :D I've decided to update every Friday after class, as writing does wonders to lower my stress.
Well, this turned out very angsty—but all that angst building up just had to go somewhere. I also decided it was time to put in some major conflict in the story, thus, I came up with this chapter! :x
I have nothing much to say but THANK YOU to those who are still reading this. Drop me a line if you will, I'd like that. :)
I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Seph