Title: Yggdrasil
Author: YukariYoukai
Pairing: Vaan/Balthier
Summary: In return for a flower, Vaan recieves the power to change the world. AU; Balthier/Vaan
Chapter: 2/?: "Thou art as Beautiful as Passing Night"
Notes: Beware the time skip! Vaan is now 17.
Fire.
Vaan awoke to the high pitched screeching of the trees and --- wait. Trees didn't screech. He ran a hand over his face, trying to restore some semblance of calm, and grimaced when he smeared sweat on his cheeks. He leaned on the head board of his bed and rested his hands on the general roughness of the blankets tangled 'round his legs. It was early morning, cool and grey. His head throbbed with the echo of the nightmare and his gut twisted with the feeling of Something Not Right.
Slowly, he pushed the bedsheets aside and clambered out of bed, leaning his head out of the hole in the wood bungalow that counted as a window. The chilled morning air led his mind to full awareness and his eyes widened. The screeching was no dream; it had not come from the trees, as he initially thought, but from a moogle. The 'kupo-po-po!' was uttered so quickly as to make a sound resembling gibberish to the listener caught unaware. Vaan quickly grabbed his satchel and his weapon – a handsomely crafted sword called Platinum, who he had stolen from a some-such fiend on his travels --- and pursued the shrill cry of alarm.
He hazarded a guess at the identity of the moogle --- Locke, perhaps, or Terabitha judging from the pitch of the shriek --- while he rushed further into the wood, desperate not to lose the sound. The early morning passed into decent waking hours, but Vaan had still not located the moogle. The shrieks had stopped completely, with the odd crash or ominous thump reverbrating through the rotted wood planks telling him how close he was. He wondered if the Overseer had roused yet, or even stopped fussing over deadlines long enough to sleep.
The canopy thickened as he blindly pushed further on, until he slipped on the slick sap oozing from one of the branches he prowled on and slammed his fragile hume cranium on the unrelenting wood of… the Wood. He swore loudly in surprise, rubbing at the abused area of his head until it ceased to make his vision blur. After he checked that his satchel and weapon were secure at his waist --- thank Ivalice for pure luck his leg hadn't been lopped off by his clumsiness --- he rose, albeit slowly. Upon which, he cursed again… Mentally, of course. The Salikawood had passed into complete silence.
Slowly, slowly he pulled his sword from its position on his waist and regulated his breathing. It wouldn't do to panic; no, not at all. A harsh stomp made his head snap to view behind him. His sword moved from almost-ready to slice in the next instant and Vaan yelled: "Put him DOWN!" Because from the mouth of a Nightmare, fused with what had probably been a lightning elemental, dangled Locke. The grim satisfaction that he had indeed been right didn't register in Vaan's conscious mind. He charged.
---
Balthier, aged two and twenty years, was bored. He had to finalize the plans for a farming town out past the Salikawood. Honestly, he could care less if every backward, grubby low class farmer had their terribly small patch of land to shit on, but his Great and Wunderful father had 'entrusted' him to do a good job. 'Entrusted.' His father never trusted anyone to do a job he could do himself. And there wasn't a job in all of Ivalice that Great and Wunderful father would admit to not having the knowledge or skill to complete. Balthier sighed, pushing aside musings of his egocentric father in favor of checking the meticulous detail of Nabudis' blueprint.
…
…
"Sigh."
Maybe he would go for a walk. It was probably some ungodly hour and… Yes, Balthier confirmed as he stepped outside with his battle axe strapped to his side – in case of emergency; this was, afterall, an uncleansed swampland – it was an ungodly hour and by all rights he should be asleep with his blood wool sheets pulled firmly above his gently pillowed head. He sighed again, oppressed by the helplessness of it all, and strolled into the Salikawood. A nice brisk walk, he thought, to clear the mind. Of course, Balthier could never get what he wanted.
---
Fucking elemental horses and their fucking retractable horns and their fucking lightning and just FUCK. Vaan stumbled forward and fell to his knees.
His head fucking throbbed.
Locke was sprawled in front of him, unconscious. Vaan reached for him, even as his vision wavered, because he knew if he could just pick up the moogle, he could make his way to the bungalow. Trembling from his previous exertion, he leaned forward. The grains of wood in the planks below him swirled and he closed his eyes to guard against the dizziness. Fucking wood, he added for good measure. He sensed more than felt his necklace move off of his clavicle. There, securely wrapped in a old monogrammed handkerchief, swung his instigator --- his propagator, his 'der wille de macht' --- from a thick necklace of thrush. He felt it thrum once, strongly enough that the rotted planks bit further into his knees, and then his trembling arm stilled; he blacked out.
---
"Clear the mind indeed," huffed Balthier. The damned boy he carried on his back was no feather weight, despite how skinny and helpless he looked sprawled in the midst of Balthier's path after only a few minutes of walking. A few minutes, thought Balthier. Not even a decent hour to himself. It was so unfair.
The soft, shallow breaths tickling his neck were no boon either. None at all.
---
Vaan woke up in a sweat for the second time that day. His heart pounding, his muscles aching and a smug-looking stranger eyeing him from a desk. "Where…" Vaan paused as he felt the cloth shift under his hand. It seemed very expensive. Was it blood wool? He recalled selling large amounts of the raw material at the bazaar after his stint in the Giza Plains, but had never once seen the finished product. The stranger snorted delicately. It didn't sound like a snort at all to Vaan, who spent a lot of his youth near Seeqs or Beings with Lots of Phelgm. Vaan glared. "Who are you?"
If the blood wool sheets and the delicate "snort"-ing didn't give him away, then the introduction sure did. "I am called Balthier van Bunansa of the Archades. Chief Surveyor of the land right outside of this room, and of the highest class of Archadian Noble." To this, Vaan treated the stranger – Balthier van Bunansa – to a real snort, equivalent to the lower levels of Seeq incredulity and phelgm-clearing. Balthier crinkled his nose. "And yet I sense these titles carry no leverage with you."
"However did you guess," asked Vaan, mouth twisting into a sneer that only an orphan could love.
"…At any rate, I would think an exchange of like information is in order."
The blonde blinked in surprise, then collected himself enough to mutter. "I don't have any titles."
"A name would suffice."
Vaan snorted soft enough that any Seeq in the area surely wept at the Hume-ness of it. "Vaan. I don't have a last name, so don't bother asking."
Balthier smirked. "As I see it, Vaan, you are in my debt."
"Oh yeah?" Vaan bristled. "How is it my fault you were by moogle encampments?"
"Moogle encampments? Vaan, I found you not one hundred yards from here."
"Liar!" The blonde hissed. There were no homes such as this near the bungalows, he knew it.
Balthier raised his hands placatingly. "I think it early in our aquiantance for accusations." Vaan glared, but the Bunansa remained uncowed. "Your debt?" he offered.
"I should think a 'Hell no' would suffice," Vaan snarled, pushing off of the bed and stomping past Balthier.
"The exit is the second door on your left," Balthier called after him.
"Slam," replied his bedroom door. He leaned back in repose. Now that That was taken care of, he could get down to business. Enough of the philanthope act, he was a Chief Surveyor! Shuffling a few papers with an air of self-importance, Bathier cleared his throat and began to read. Within a few sentences, he found his boredom levels threatening to drive him to do something stupid again.
"I won't stand for it," he declared to the document in his hand.
"Neither will I," a grave voice replied. Balthier spun gracefully to meet Vaan's scowl with a pleasant smile.
"Twice in one day? We're becoming fast friends, you and I."
"What have you done with my necklace? And what of my weapon?"
"You had no such items on your person."
Vaan did not lower his smoky gaze. He was staring so intensely that Balthier half-expected some sort of beast to leap out of the boy's eyes and consume him whole. "All you do is lie," he growled. Balthier smirked that infuriating smirk again and Vaan felt his chest heave in one big fiery breath. He wanted to rip this man into quarters, string him by his loins and tear off his jaw so he could stop twisting his mouth into sardonic posture.
Being a Chief Overseer came with the hazard of becoming ridiculously observant, which amused Balthier to no end. It also helped him out of a few tight spots, consequently, so he knew Trouble before He even came knocking at his door. Just like he knew this boy was very close to doing something very stupid.
"If you don't believe my story, why not let me guide you to the place I found you? You can search the area, if you like." And while you're on a fool's errand, thought Balthier, I will very securely lock the door and board up the windows.
"No," Vaan protested. "I refuse to leave without my necklace. You have it, because I could not have taken it off."
The brunette rose with all the grace handed to him by Archadian Nobility and serenely walked right out of his bedroom. "Coming?" The desert-hume muttered a particulary filthy oath he had learned from a Bangaa and followed.
Notes: I hope they don't sound terribly Victorian. I am trying to keep it within the game's level of archaic-speak, but cut scenes ---enraptured by them as I am--- are few and far between. At any rate, I would like to thank all who reviewed. Lying I am not when say I: "I enjoyed every one!!" By the by, RISOKURA, I see that you have updated Sway and I REFUSE to be left behind! Rwar!