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 13 takes place a few weeks after Chapter 12 and right after the main party obtains the Treaty Blade from The Ancient City of Giruvegan. Oh, and this chapter has an M rating for a reason—you have been warned. ;)
Author's Notes: Not proof-read so will probably contain a lot of grammatical eyesores. Sorry.
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"Restore Dalmasca's sovereignty, and make our amends with Lady Ashe. It is the only way to aver war!" Larsa tried his best to keep his voice down as he beseeched his Lord Brother, but Vayne would have none of it.
"It is a war of necessity. Your Lady Ashe herself is bent on it. She desires it above all else. She will not rest until her revenge is full-wrought."
Larsa clenched his fists in frustration, "I fear you misread her intent. She would sooner shun war than embrace it."
The older Solidor shook his head and sighed, "You are young, Larsa." He tried to lay a gloved hand on top of his younger brother's head, but Larsa stubbornly moved away—almost seething. "And you presume beyond your ken!"
Vayne clicked his tongue in annoyance at the younger Solidor's impertinence, but decided that a confrontation would shatter the fragile peace between them. "Then let us look closer. Judge Gabranth!"
The Judge Magister crossed the room and stood silently behind Vayne, careful to avoid any temptation to steal a glance at the younger heir.
"I would have you seek after the Lady Ashe... and adjudge whether she makes overtures of peace, or war. Yours shall be the eyes of the Empire." Vayne continued, pretending to be oblivious to the obvious tension between Larsa and Gabranth—though it was so thick, it was almost palpable.
Judge Gabranth nodded his assent to the command. "And should I espy war, I am to put her to the sword. Is that your wish, Excellency?"
Larsa's eyes went wide at the Magister's words—how blunt and callous they sounded, and it pained him. "It will not come to that, I am sure. I have faith in her—faith in you both." The younger Solidor bit his lip to keep his voice from shaking... he did not want Gabranth to once more draw his swords against the others. The boy laid a trembling hand on a gauntleted forearm, head bowed low to avoid looking up at its owner. "On you, Gabranth, shall I wager our fortunes."
Gabranth hastily withdrew his arm from the contact, the slight straightening of the older heir's back was enough of a sign to do the same. "As you wish." The Judge Magister bowed stiffly to both heirs before leaving the room, the heavy door thudding closed behind him.
For a moment there was an awkward silence between the three men left in the room. Doctor Cid merely watched the short exchange with the usual half-mad expression on his face; Vayne stood silently in his spot, chin cradled by a gloved hand and eyebrows furrowed in deep thought; and Larsa, lower lip still caught between his teeth, wanted to say something—but opting not to cause another argument, decided to follow the Judge Magister outside.
"I take my leave Lord Brother... Doctor Cid." The younger Solidor inclined his head slightly before hurrying out of the room to catch up with his Judge Protector.
Once they were alone, Doctor Cid tilted his head to one side, a crooked smile on his lips. "The young lord seems quite attached to his Judge Magister, do you not think so?"
"Gabranth is not his, just as Larsa is no longer his lord and master! The hound serves me now." Vayne snapped angrily, quickly silencing the old doctor. "You would do well to never bring this up again Doctor Cid, as the matter tries my patience."
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The young Solidor finally emerged from the labyrinth of hedges situated in the palace gardens, a bit out of breath. There was a little gazebo situated in the heart of the maze. It was made of marble, with vines climbing up the pillars from disuse, and flower bushes almost growing over it, shielding it from the sun. Lord Gramis had mentioned in passing that it was the Empress' favourite place. However, it had been closed off after her death—the pain of her passing was too much for the Emperor to bear.
Larsa had inadvertently discovered it in his early years when he tried desperately to hide from the Judge Magisters who were tasked to guard him, and none of them were able to find him—save one.
"Gabranth, there you are!" The young Solidor hopped up from the marble seat and approached the Judge Magister who had just made his way out of the maze, slipping his hand in Gabranth's larger one, unafraid—there was no one to cast judgment upon them there.
The Judge squeezed the small hand gently before removing his helm with his free hand and placing it upon the marble table. "Forgive my delay, there were—"
"Important imperial duties which you must attend to—yes, I understand Gabranth." Larsa finished for him with a laugh. The blonde smiled warmly before bending down to give the boy a chaste kiss. It was only here that they had no fear of being caught—where they could look at each other without hesitation, and kiss and touch slightly without shame. The marble gazebo was their own little world, and for now, they were safe.
Larsa looked up from where his head rested on Gabranth's lap, appreciating how speckles of sunlight played on the blonde's face. "Gabranth... I do not want you to go. Can you not stay here? With me?"
The Judge Magister smiled but shook his head, "I do what I must Lord Larsa."
"But you can choose to stay!"
"You know that I cannot." Gabranth said firmly as he ran his fingers through the Solidor's hair.
Larsa closed his eyes and sighed, knowing that the Magister would no longer change his mind. "I do not want you to draw your swords against the others..."
There was no reply, the rustling of leaves remained the only sound between them.
"Please Gabranth, do not fight them again."
"You doubt my skill?" The blonde coaxed Larsa to look upward to meet equally blue eyes, thumb brushing over a slowly reddening cheek. Larsa laid his hand on the much larger one on his cheek, "It is for them that I fear... your skills with the sword are without comparison."
Gabranth smirked as he bent down, lips barely grazing a small ear. "I have... other skills—which are yet unmatched."
The young lord's face turned a deep crimson in color as he turned away from Gabranth's teasing lips. "Do not tease me so, I was being quite serious!"
"As was I." The Judge breathed, fingers trailing down the boy's smooth jaw and further down his neck, stopping only to trace small circles lightly at the base of Larsa's pale throat.
Larsa reached up a gloved hand to stay the teasing fingers. "Do not start something which you do not intend to finish Judge Magister."
"Perhaps..." Gabranth trailed off as he dipped his head to kiss the young lord gently. However, as soon as it began, Larsa turned away from the kiss and sat up, back facing the Magister.
"There is something on my mind that has been plaguing me as of late... and I was hoping that... perhaps, we could talk about it."
Gabranth frowned, the sudden change of mood did nothing for his nerves, but he nodded in acquiesce. "I am listening Lord Larsa."
The Solidor swallowed the impossibly large lump in his throat as he gathered the courage to speak. "It is... about Basch."
The Judge's lips drew taut at the mention of his brother's name. He knew it was coming, one would have to be either blind or stupid to not see the identity of their faces—and yet, he had hoped that the matter remain unspoken.
"He is my twin and I have condemned him. That is all I have to say on the matter." Gabranth dead-panned, reverting to his Magister state—though he turned his gaze away from piercing cobalt. There was too much shame in what he had done to his own kin, and too much anger to resent doing what he had done.
For a moment, Larsa was speechless, but the initial shock of realization was slowly replaced by guilt for having kissed the Dalmascan Captain. Fear ran up his spine at the thought of Gabranth's rage for his infidelity—could it even be called that at the time he had done it?
"You know there is more to it than you say! He is your twin, your brother!" Larsa pressed, blue eyes pleading.
"He is no longer my brother. He died the moment he abandoned Landis."
"This, from one who has slain his own king!" The young lord snapped before he could think, immediately regretting it.
Gabranth abruptly stood up, his face a mask of indifference though his eyes betrayed the pain dealt by Larsa's words. "You have long known that you keep hounds in your service."
Larsa reached out to grab at the Magister's cape, "Gabranth, that is not what I meant..."
"There is nothing more to be said."
The blonde grabbed his helm from the table and walked briskly to the opening of the labyrinth, intent on getting as far away from the Solidor heir as he possibly could.
"Gabranth listen! There is something you must know! I... I kissed him! I kissed Basch fon Ronsenburg."
Larsa's words stayed Gabranth's steps, and he clenched his fists as a debilitating pain shot through his chest—making it feel like it wanted to burst. "That is... no concern of mine."
"I have done you wrong Gabranth, but know that I love you... truly." The young lord whispered almost inaudibly as he did his best to hold back the tears which threatened to spill over.
"Do you?" It was more an accusation than a question.
"I do."
"And him?"
"He was there for me when no one else was."
"And you would go back to him."
"I was never his."
"And still you kissed him." Gabranth laughed bitterly. The one thing he thought his twin could never have, was again stolen from him. He no longer had his honor, and now he did not have Larsa's love. "The fates have always favoured Basch more than I, you are no different from the rest he has taken from me."
"I was neither his nor yours then." Larsa hissed, anger overriding his guilt.
"Then why kiss him?" Gabranth's voice shook with emotion. He felt angry, hurt, and betrayed—and yet he did not know if he had the right to feel the way he did.
"I... I was..." Larsa held back a sob, "I needed someone—I was in so much pain, for having lost you once. And he was there—he took me in, with open arms and acceptance without fear. I had wanted that—needed it so badly. I just... it just happened. I cannot say I regret it now, because it was real then."
Gabranth knew that he had been the cause of the young lord's despair, of his sadness, and his tears—he knew he deserved this punishment, and still it hurt.
"Knowing that you have him—will you still remain mine?"
"Only if you shall make me yours." Larsa's features were set in a determined expression.
The young lord did not know when he had first asked for it, whether he was in the throes of passion or was in complete hold of his faculties at the time—but one thing was certain, he wanted it. However, Gabranth had always given him the same answer, and from the looks of things, this time was no different.
The Judge dropped to one knee in front of the Solidor heir, large hands cupping his boyish face. "Forgive me Lord Larsa, for not having the strength to keep you then, and forgive me now—for I cannot do as you ask. Not yet."
"Why is it that you will not have me? Do you not love me?" Larsa bit his lip in frustration as he pulled Gabranth's hands away from his face. He loved the Judge Magister and he knew that Gabranth felt the same—and yet the Judge refused. Every time he asked, Gabranth would refuse him and Larsa could not understand why.
"I love you, my lord, but trust me when I say you are not yet ready." The blonde murmured against Larsa's turned cheek before placing a soft kiss on the boy's temple. "But I shall... soon. There is no need to hurry."
"Do you promise?" The Solidor heir smiled, wrapping his arms around Gabranth's neck and placing a light kiss on the older man's brow.
"I promise."
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Weary and aching from training the new imperial recruits, Gabranth soaked in the Magister's bath. Zargabaath was out on the Alexander on a military campaign, and the blonde could not wait to spend a substantial amount of time alone in there—the hot water did wonders for his tired muscles. Though worn out from an afternoon of intense exercise, Gabranth was more than a little frustrated, emotionally—and sexually. Every time the young lord would ask it of him, Gabranth would be at his wit's end in trying to keep himself at bay. Only honor and duty had kept Larsa's virtue intact. But still, honor and duty did nothing for the Judge Magister's less than honourable needs.
Gabranth grunted as he immersed his head in the frothy water, intent on washing off all sweat and grime from his blonde mane—as well as getting rid of any more impure thoughts that managed to make its way in his consciousness. When he surfaced, he leant back on the marble side of the large bath. Gabranth sighed in contentment as he slid a little lower, half-lidded eyes watching the foam swirl lazily about the surface—the hot water and the warm air was making him drowsy. Fatigue finally winning over, the Magister fell into a light sleep, his head swirling with the promise he was yet to keep.
The sound of splashing and the rippling in the bath water brought Gabranth much too quickly into consciousness and the jerking movement of his neck pained him. Blue eyes wide and back muscles impossibly taut as he reached his right hand out—only to realize he was without his weapons... or any clothes for that matter. The blonde suddenly remembered where he was and allowed a small sigh of relief as he waves his hand at the steam which obscured his vision.
A choked gasp escaped the Judge's lips as he moved away until the marble painfully pressed against his back. Larsa, as naked as the day he was born and with one leg already in the water, was unceremoniously plopping himself in the bath.
"LORD LARSA? What in the name of Ivalice..." Gabranth's words died in his mouth as the young Solidor sat up opposite him in the water, an innocent smile on those pink lips. "Hello Gabranth!" Larsa chirped happily as he stretched his limbs out, unintentionally brushing against the older man's own—making the latter nearly jump out of the bath. The Judge cursed under his breath as a traitorous part of his anatomy had chosen this time to make itself known. He quickly gathered the foam in his arms and let it float about his person in a poor attempt to hide his highly inappropriate reaction to the situation.
Gabranth stared, mouth gaping open without any words coming out as he stared at the young boy. Larsa, on the other hand, looked back at him with an innocent look on his face—obviously unaware of the effect his presence was having on the Judge. For Larsa, a bath was just that—a bath, something one could share at will—it wasn't as if Gabranth had not seen him before. Larsa and Vayne had shared many baths together while talking of many things, modesty was not really a problem when it concerned a bath. However, Gabranth was a hair's breadth away from panicking and bolting out of there, his tongue had died on him and he settled for incredulous staring, uncertain what the young lord was playing at.
"What's wrong Gabranth? My brother and I have shared many baths together—have you not done the same?" Larsa giggled as he made to move closer to the older man. The blonde unconsciously moved away. Of course he had shared countless baths with Basch—hot water was hard to come by in a peasant household and sharing was the norm, it wasn't really an option. Up till recently, the Magister's bath had been communal. Now that there were only two of them left, they had an unspoken agreement to give each one time alone to bathe. This, however, was not the same thing—it was very, very very different.
"Y-y-you shou-shouldn't be here L-Lord Larsa," Gabranth whispered, squirming uncomfortably as he tried desperately to keep his body under control. "Is there something wrong with your bath? I-I could ha—ave it checked... right now would be a good time."
Larsa shook his head, "No no, nothing is wrong with my bath. I just thought of sharing a bath since Zargabaath is out on a campaign—and my lord brother is not one to come in here looking for me. It's just a bath, we aren't doing anything improper." The young boy gave a hearty laugh as he lathered himself with a washcloth soaked in the soapy water. "Please, continue bathing—don't stop on my account Gabranth."
"Still—it is highly improper. Perhaps I should... continue my bath when you've finished yours." The blonde insisted as he stared intently on an invisible spot on the wall. He tried to desperately calm himself enough to actually step out of the bath without making known his predicament.
"By the gods! You have my favourite bath salts in here?" Larsa all but squealed as he moved up and leaned over the blonde to grab at the glass jar on the marble behind him.
Gabranth barely bit back a moan when the young boy's hip brushed lightly against his arousal. Larsa froze, arms still outstretched, the cursed bath salt jar still held by now shivering fingers. The blonde looked mortified as Larsa turned into various shades of crimson.
A curtain of wet, obsidian hair obscured Gabranth's view of Larsa's face as he clutched the salt jar to his chest, scooting to the other end of the bath. There was a long and awkward silence that followed, nothing but the sound of Larsa putting an unhealthy amount of bath salts by the handful into the water could be heard.
"Lord Larsa—" Gabranth began.
"I think I've put enough bath salts in the water. Do you not think so?" Larsa interrupted a little too brusquely as he shoved the jar in the blonde's face, obviously trying to avoid the latter's eyes.
"Yes, I believe so." Gabranth replied as he took the jar from the younger boy, hands overlapping the smaller ones briefly in an unspoken apology.
"Would you...?" Larsa handed the blonde the washcloth he had been holding before he turned around, sweeping his hair to the front to reveal the porcelain skin of his back.
With the voices of his ancestors cursing him ringing in his ears, Gabranth took the cloth and dipped it in the frothy water. The blonde murmured an apology to his forefathers before pressing the wet cloth gently against Larsa's back. The boy responded with a soft sigh as his tense shoulders slowly settled into a more relaxed position. Gabranth slid the cloth lower down Larsa's spine then back up slightly protruding shoulder blades.
The blonde repeated the motion of soaking the cloth, rubbing it up Larsa's back, then down his spine. The temperature in the room suddenly felt like it shot up a few hundred degrees and Gabranth could feel that he was sweating profusely, but he remained where he was—as if mesmerized by the swirling patterns the soapy water made as it ran down smooth, pale skin.
A choked cry made Gabranth look up, and he found Larsa flushed, lower lip caught between his teeth—he highly doubted it was due to the heat. "G-Go on..." The young boy arched into the Judge's touch as he rubbed the wet cloth against Larsa's back. Gabranth swallowed before he placed a light, hesitant kiss on the moist base of the young boy's neck.
"Gabranth..." Larsa breathed hotly as he pressed his back against the Judge's chest, hand guiding Gabranth's own to his chest—sending a shiver down the latter's spine.
"Shall I?" Gabranth asked huskily, though his hand had already made its way around slight shoulders and now rested on a slightly heaving chest.
"Please..." Larsa whispered breathlessly.
The blonde dropped the washcloth into the water and let his hand roam over the wet skin of Larsa's chest. Calloused fingers teased over sensitive nubs, coaxing a soft moan from the boy's mouth. Gabranth bent down and captured Larsa's mouth in a kiss, drinking in the Solidor's soft whimpers as the Judge's hand moved below the water, down the smooth stomach and past the navel till it slid precariously over a narrow hip—waiting.
The boy rolled his head back to rest against the crook of Gabranth's neck, cobalt eyes barely focusing on the man's intense gaze. Gabranth rocked his hips slightly, checking for an adverse reaction from the younger boy, but Larsa only moaned in response.
Larsa suddenly turned unexpectedly, straddling a now surprised Judge Magister. "My Lord...?" Gabranth asked in a shaky voice as he let his hands rest lightly on the boy's hips. Larsa had always preferred Gabranth touching him from the back, not like this—never face to face, and the Judge worried if there was something wrong.
Larsa looked up at Gabranth with an unreadable expression before he looked down and shyly dipped his hand in the water, wrapping slender fingers around the Judge's erection. Gabranth bit back a moan as he stayed the Solidor's hand with his own. "Larsa, don't." The blonde bit out with much difficulty, forgetting his formalities.
Large blue eyes glared back at Gabranth, small fingers tightening their hold on the blonde. "Oh gods...!" The Judge hissed as he released his hold on Larsa's hand and snaked his own into wet, black locks. Gabranth pulled the boy into a kiss, tongue immediately thrusting between pliant lips and into the warm and welcoming wetness of Larsa's mouth. Larsa moaned into the kiss as Gabranth similarly wrapped a calloused hand around his straining erection.
The hesitant and uncertain pace at which Larsa moved his hand along Gabranth's member was driving the man crazy with need. He sped up his strokes on the young lord's erection to show him how he wanted it, smiling slightly as Larsa whimpered, hips thrusting into the tunnel of Gabranth's hand. "G-Gabranth I nggghnn..." Larsa's sentence ended in a moan as Gabranth sucked on an exposed throat, nipping at the pale skin lightly, leaving faint red marks as he went.
The blonde's other hand trailed from onyx locks, down the arched spine, pausing slightly to trace random patterns on the small of Larsa's back. Gabranth laved the head of Larsa's erection with his thumb, making the boy cry out, one arm bracing himself on the Judge's shoulder as he tried to mimic the action with his other hand.
Gabranth's free hand slid even lower until it hovered precariously over the cleft of Larsa's buttocks. Slowly, gently, he ghosted a finger between the pale cheeks. Larsa's eyes snapped open, the hand on Gabranth's erection abruptly stopping its ministrations. "W-will you...?" The boy asked softly as he nodded his consent.
"Only if you let me."
Larsa nodded again before tucking his head under Gabranth's chin, both hands now clutching tightly to the older man's shoulders. Gabranth pushed the tip of his finger gently to the tight ring of muscle, not quite penetrating yet. Larsa whimpered at the slight sting, but shifted his hips to allow the Judge better access.
Gabranth pressed against the ring lightly, gauging the young lord's reaction before plunging the digit into Larsa's entrance. Larsa cried out in pain at the intrusion and his knuckles blanched as he clutched Gabranth's shoulders tight enough to bruise. "I-i-t hur—ts... Gabr—anth—" Larsa choked back a sob which was silenced by Gabranth's lips on his.
"Shhh, love... it will get better." Gabranth cooed softly, not realizing the term of endearment. "Shall I stop?"
Larsa shook his head, not trusting his voice at the moment—thought he pain had faded into a dull sting. Gabranth pushed the digit deeper into the passage until the writhing body above him accepted it entirely. The blonde moaned hotly against the Solidor's feverish skin at the tight heat clenched around his finger.
Gabranth slowly slid the finger out slightly before pushing it in again. A soft moan escaped Larsa's lips as he grew accustomed to the digit inside him. The blonde thrust his finger a little harder, repeating the motion until the young lord was writhing above him.
"Does it feel good?" Gabranth teased as he rubbed against a bundle of nerves within Larsa which sent pleasurable shivers through the boy's body. Larsa moaned wantonly as he pressed harder against the intruding finger, thrusting his arousal into Gabranth's other hand.
"Does it?" The blonde pressed his knuckle against the bundle again, Larsa's unbridled moans and soft pleas bringing him to an impossible state of arousal. "Yes! Oh gods... please..." Larsa begged as one hand returned to stroke the Judge's arousal. Gabranth bit down on his lip at the renewed pleasure, not knowing how much longer he could last with this new-found pleasure.
The blonde removed his hand from Larsa's arousal and grasped the boy's hip to steady him. Larsa mewled at the loss of contact but gasped as he felt another finger slide inside him—the water aiding its entrance. "It—it won't fit..." he managed to gasp out before Gabranth thrust the digits deep inside him.
Larsa threw his head back, lip caught between his teeth as he tried to stifle an obscenely loud moan as the pleasure built up from within. He stroked Gabranth's length at the same pace as the latter's thrusting fingers. The rhythm built up, thrusting, stroking, and pulling in time with each other. Everything was turning into a blur as pleasure flooded Gabranth's senses, making him lose control of the pace.
Larsa moaned into Gabranth's ear, begging for more as he thrust his hips against the blonde's fingers. The young lord bucked almost wildly against Gabranth as he gasped for air. He could see stars behind closed lids and he felt a familiar feeling building up from the pit of his belly.
"Gabranth, I'm so close..." He whimpered helplessly before pressing his lips hard against Gabranth's. The Magister drank in the boy's moans greedily, tongue marking its territory. The fingers inside Larsa brushed against his prostate again, finally sending him over the edge, clenching painfully tight around Gabranth's fingers.
The young lord cried out as he rode the waves of his orgasm. Gabranth came undone soon after, the sound of his name on Larsa's lips in the throes of orgasm and the erratic pace of the boy's hand on his manhood ripped the orgasm through his body.
They rode out the waves of their orgasm together, hands clutching tightly unto slippery skin as the water sloshed about their writhing bodies—a tangled mess of arms and legs. Larsa clung limply to Gabranth's neck, exhausted from their late afternoon activities. Gabranth felt about for the abandoned washcloth and gently ran it over the tired boy's body, before washing himself clean.
"I've never had a bath quite like this before..." Larsa yawned sleepily as he let strong arms lift him out of the water. Giggling slightly as a kiss was pressed to his forehead.
"I should hope not." Gabranth said a little too seriously, earning him a raised eyebrow from the boy in his arms.
"Is this referring to the kiss I shared with Basch?"
"And if it was?"
Larsa kissed the Judge's cheek affectionately, "you are the first—"
"And only one." Gabranth finished for him, intent on keeping it that way.
Neither the Empire nor Basch could take Larsa away from him now.
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Unbelievably late update, internship turned out to be harder than I expected. -.- I really apologize for the crazy ass delay.
Anyway, another M chapter (rating change is in order now I think)—I don't know if it was done any better than the first. There's a good reason to put it in though, since the next chapter's going to go back to story plot and possible conflict (again)!
Don't worry, I got it a bit planned out, so the next update might come sooner than expected. :)
Thank you to my readers. Cheers!
Seph. :)