The door of Larsa’s private study opened and an immaculately groomed servant entered, bowing deeply. “Miss Penelo has returned and is requesting an immediate audience with you, my lord.”

Somehow, Larsa imagined she was doing a fair bit more than simply requesting an audience, however he could not fault the servant’s diplomatic euphemism.

“Good,” he said. “Send her in at once, then.”

Not five seconds after he’d given the servant leave to admit Penelo, he heard her voice echoing down the hallway.

“Larsa, what in the world are you playing at here?” She burst through the door, obviously in a fine snit. “Having me arrested! Couldn’t you have just requested that I return?”

“Of course, I could have,” he admitted, rising from his chair to move around the desk towards her. Her lips were pursed in irritation and she looked just a little bedraggled – like someone who’d been through a grand adventure. “But that wouldn’t have been nearly so much fun. What did Balthier do?”

“He drew a weapon on your guards. What did you think he was going to do, say goodbye and frolic gaily away?” She huffed, folding her arms across her chest. “Next time you might consider that I was not put on Ivalice solely for your amusement, so please leave me out of whatever mind games you might choose to play with Balthier,” she cautioned. “Emperor or not, I can still take you out.”

He smiled down at her, slipping an arm around her waist and drawing her close for a hug. “It’s good to see you again, Penelo,” he said. She offered her cheek for him to kiss, sighing resignedly.

“I wish you’d stop growing,” she told him. “It’s getting a little annoying to always have to be looking up at you.”

“I apologize,” he said. “Though I can control an empire, I fear I have no control whatsoever on when I shall stop growing.” He offered her a chair, which she took gratefully, having had little time to rest upon her frantic flight from the dungeon of Nalbina Fortress.

“I’ve taken the liberty of sending for some tea and having a chamber prepared for you tonight,” he said. “I imagine you will want to stay and rest for the night.”

“I can’t, I’m afraid,” she said. “I’ve got to get back to Rabanastre and –”

“She’s here,” he interrupted gently.

“Hmm? Who?”

“Elionora. Ashe is here for a brief visit and she’s brought Ellie along with her. That’s why I had you brought back here. If you’d gone back to Rabanastre, you’d have found her gone. I assumed you wouldn’t want Balthier to know why you’d had a sudden change of plans, which is why I took the liberty of arresting you rather than informing you of Ellie’s whereabouts.” He poured Penelo a cup of tea from the tray that a servant had brought, handing it across to her. “She’s beautiful, Penelo.”

“Oh.” Penelo sipped her tea. “Thank you,” she said.

“It’s been so long since last she saw me that she didn’t recognize me,” he said regretfully. “But I would have recognized her anywhere. She looks just like you. And, unfortunately, like Balthier.”

Penelo winced. “Not…not so much that anyone would really notice,” she offered.

“Perhaps, if the observer lacked eyes, they might not notice,” Larsa said sarcastically. “She’s got his eyes, Penelo, and that devil-may-care smile he’s so fond of sporting. I’m half-certain she’s got his temperament as well, she’s such a cheeky little imp.”

He reached across the table, laying his hand over hers. “You’ve got to protect her, Penelo. What do you think Balthier will do when he learns he has a daughter?”

Penelo shook her head. “He won’t find out. It’s been five years already, and I had to seek him out. He’ll never come around Rabanastre.” Still, something tickled the back of her brain, something important – some vaguely nagging worry that made her the tiniest bit nervous. “Besides, he wouldn’t want her, anyway. He’s probably got a dozen bastards scattered around Ivalice. He wouldn’t concern himself with my daughter.”

“You can’t be sure of that,” Larsa said. “You need someone to protect you, and Ellie needs a father. Marry me, Penelo. I will claim Ellie as my own. Even if Balthier should discover her then, there will be nothing he can do. One man cannot take on an Empire.”

Penelo resisted the urge to point out that their small party had done just that, and had come out victorious.

“You know I can’t do that,” she said. “I don’t love you, not like that. And besides, everyone would know Ellie wasn’t yours – she would’ve made you a father at fourteen, Larsa. Not that it’s impossible in and of itself…but you’ve been so heavily guarded all your life, it’s as good as impossible.” She straightened her shoulders. “Ellie’s been just fine without a father so far. She can’t miss what she’s never had. It’s kind of you to offer, but I don’t want your sort of life – not for me, and not for Ellie.”

Larsa sighed. “The offer stands,” he said, “should you change your mind. The fact of the matter is my advisors are urging me to take a wife. I would rather have you than some foreign princess about whom I know nothing. At least with you, I would have a wife I could love and respect. We’ve known each other a long time, Penelo. Would marrying me really be so horrible?”

“It’s not that,” she said. “You have always been a good friend to me, and I hope it will always be that way. It’s just that I couldn’t live in the cage that you live in, however fine it might be. Besides, you would be getting a wife who has made a career of piracy and who comes with another man’s child. I think eventually you would resent that.” She set down her tea cup and rose from her chair to look out the window.

“Never,” he replied. “Elionora is a beautiful child, Penelo,” he said. “Any man would be fortunate to call her his daughter. I may be young, but I am not a child, and I know my own mind. I would love Ellie as if she were my own. I’ll make you both happy, Penelo. You would have no cause to regret marrying me.”‑­

“Be that as it may, I can’t marry you, Larsa,” she said. “It’s kind of you to be concerned for Ellie and I, and I hope we’ll remain good friends, but I can’t let you make that kind of sacrifice for us. We’ll be fine.” She brushed back her bangs from her face, then smiled kindly. “Now, could you have someone take me to Ellie? I’d like to see her before she goes to sleep for the night.”

Larsa gracefully accepted the subject change and rang the bell pull, instructing the servant that had arrived to show Penelo to Ashe’s chamber. As the door closed behind her, Larsa slumped in his chair, sighing heavily.

“Rejected once again,” he muttered.

--

Penelo could hear the sounds of merriment all the way down the hall from Ashe’s chamber. The stoic servant showed no expression at the cacophonous ruckus and simple ushered Penelo towards the large double doors at the end of the hall.

He struck a brass knocker on the wood, and all within went quiet.

“Yes?” Ashe’s voice floated through the door. A high-pitched giggle erupted, obviously a child’s, and was frantically shushed by Ashe.

The servant’s expression did not change. “Miss Penelo is here to see you, your majesty.”

A gasp of delight from within. “Mama!”

Penelo smothered a smile.

Ashe cleared her throat. “Yes, yes, of course. Do come in.” The door swung open. “We were just sitting down to tea.”

Penelo entered the chamber, ignoring the large bed with its rumpled covers. Obviously the two had been jumping upon it, but Penelo wisely said nothing. For some reason or other, Ashe enjoyed babysitting Elionora. Perhaps she had a soft spot for children, or maybe with Elionora, Ashe felt she could recapture the childhood she’d never really gotten to have. At any rate, Ashe liked to pretend that Ellie was getting etiquette lessons whilst in her care and Penelo saw no real reason not to let her continue with the pretense. Ellie liked spending time with her, and, frankly, Penelo believed that Ashe needed some respite from her phenomenally boring queenly duties.

Looking the perfect little lady in her stark white pinafore, Ellie made a miniature curtsey as Penelo entered.

“Good evening, Mama,” she said sweetly. “Would you like some tea?”

Penelo smiled – so it seemed Ashe was actually giving her a bit of instruction after all.

“Tea? At this time of night? Perhaps we’d better have milk and cookies instead.” She held out her arms. “I’ll take a hug, though.”­

Ellie dropped the angelic pretense and ran to her, flinging her arms about Penelo’s waist. Her face buried in Penelo’s midsection, she mumbled, “I missed you, Mama.”

Penelo lifted the child into her arms, cradling her close, feeling Ellie’s soft blonde hair tickling her throat as the girl pillowed her head on Penelo’s shoulder.

“I was only gone for a day,” she said, rubbing her daughter’s back. “But I missed you, too, Ellie.”

Ashe motioned to the servant standing unobtrusively near the door, waiting to be dismissed. “Please bring a tray of cookies and milk,” she requested.

Ellie raised her head. Penelo swallowed hard – Larsa had been right. Ellie’s eyes were a bright, inquisitive green exactly the shade of her father’s. Maybe she’d denied the resemblance to herself too many times to be able to view her daughter objectively.

“Mama,” Ellie said, pressing her palms to Penelo’s cheeks. “You look funny. Does your tummy hurt? Maybe you shouldn’t have cookies. Auntie says I always eat too many and that’s why I get tummy aches.” She shrugged her small shoulders. “If your tummy hurts, I could eat your cookies for you, just so you won’t have to,” she volunteered.

“That’s very sweet of you,” Penelo replied, setting Ellie back on her feet, “but I’m feeling just fine. Why don’t you go play with your dolls until our cookies get here, okay?”

“Okay!” Ellie said. “Auntie likes to play dolls with me. She says she didn’t have any dolls when she was little.” Skeptically, she glanced over at Ashe. “Auntie Ashe, I think that must have been a very long time ago.”

“Go on, now,” Penelo urged, embarrassed. Ellie took the hint, scampering to the far side of the large room, plunging into the midst of a vast array of dolls and their many and varied accessories that had been scattered around on the floor.

“What cheek!” Ashe observed. “Imagine, calling one’s monarch old!”

“She didn’t get it from me,” Penelo said emphatically.

“No, I don’t imagine so,” Ashe mused. She hesitated, then said in a low voice, “She is very like him, isn’t she?”

Penelo frowned, a little uncomfortable with the line of conversation. When Penelo had found herself pregnant, there had been no doubt in anyone’s mind as to the child’s paternity. Everyone had known the child was Balthier’s, and yet it was not until just recently that anyone had ever referred to Elionora as anything but Penelo’s daughter. They had tactfully made no mention at all of Elionora’s father, generally declining to mention Balthier, even in passing, in Penelo’s presence.

Until now, anyway.

“She’s very like me, too,” Penelo responded defensively.­

“Yes, but she’s something more – she’s just a bit wicked on occasion. She must’ve inherited it from him.” Ashe motioned for Penelo to take a seat in a chair at the small table by the window. “How was he? It’s been so long since anyone has heard from him. Even Fran does not travel with him any longer, so I hear. She is expected to arrive in Archades shortly, as an emissary of her people.”

“She’s gone back to the Eruyt Village?” Penelo was surprised.

Ashe shook her head. “They will not have her back, and I do not think Fran would choose to join them even should they allow it. She comes because they will not leave, to act as an intermediary of sorts between our races. They use her for their own ends, and she allows it.”

“For Mjrn, I think she would do a lot.” Penelo understood the familial devotion. Family meant sacrifices. Fran would protect Mjrn no matter the cost, without any hope of reciprocation.

“For Jote, too, I think. They were close once, or so I am given to understand.” Ashe cleared her throat. “About Balthier. Did the two of you safely escape from Nalbina?”

“Yes, though there were a few times I thought we wouldn’t,” Penelo said. “I only wish we could have found Fran in time – she would have been a great deal of help.”

“Rest assured that by now she likely knows all about your exploits – Larsa managed to reach her just a few hours ago. Unfortunately, by then it was too late for her to come to your assistance, and you’d already managed rather nicely on your own,” Ashe said, approvingly.

A knock sounded on the door, heralding the arrival of their late night snack. A servant carried in a tray, and Ellie abandoned her dolls in favor of the cookies on the tray. Ashe handed her a cup of milk and a small plate of cookies, then settled into a chair across from Penelo.

“I’d rather not talk about this in front of Ellie,” Penelo murmured, sipping her milk.

Ashe hesitated, noting the way Ellie’s head had popped up with interest – obviously aware that the two adults were talking about her.

“She has a right to know about him,” Ashe replied. “Eventually, she’ll want to know. What will you tell her?”

“The truth,” Penelo said at once. “But not until she’s old enough to understand.”

Ellie kicked her legs, spilling a small shower of cookie crumbs upon her white dress. “Know about what, Mama?”

“It’s not important, sweetheart,” Penelo soothed, watching Ellie reach for another cookie. “Just one more, or you’ll get a stomach ache.”

“What will you do if he reappears?” Ashe asked. “Wouldn’t you rather have Ellie prepared for the eventuality than have her completely shocked and maybe even afraid of him?”

“He won’t show up.” Penelo was tired of defending herself to others. She understood that they cared about her, but Ellie was her child, her decision, her responsibility alone. “He’s got no reason to show up.”

“He has you.” Ashe said it as if it explained everything.

Penelo laughed derisively. “He left five years ago without so much as a backward glance. If he was interested in me, don’t you think he would have resurfaced before now? Not that it matters – I don’t want him around, anyway.”

“Do you say that because it is true or because you wish it to be true?”

Penelo couldn’t quite meet Ashe’s bold gaze. Embarrassed by Ashe’s astute observation and irritated at being called out on her blatant falsehood, she stood. “Ellie, it’s far past your bedtime. Go get your dolls, please.”

As Ellie scampered off, Ashe touched Penelo’s shoulder. “I do not mean to force you to justify your decisions, Penelo. You know I have no particular love for Balthier, but…you cannot fault him for failing to acknowledge the daughter he does not know he has.”

“I know that,” Penelo said. “If he had come by Rabanastre, even just once…”

“You knew what sort of man he was when you became involved with him,” Ashe replied. “I do not believe it is in his nature to settle down. However, he has a beautiful daughter, Penelo, and he has a right to know about her. Would you deny her the chance to know her father? Would you deny him his child?”

“I don’t deny him anything,” Penelo said firmly.

“Nor do you offer him anything,” Ashe countered swiftly. “You are just as guilty in this as he, and it is Ellie who will suffer for it. Your feelings are of no consequence – you must put them aside and do what is right for your daughter.”

“Mama, I’m ready.” Ellie trotted over with an overflowing satchel in tow. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Of course.” Penelo urged Ellie towards the door. “Good night, Ashe,” Penelo said briskly. “I’m afraid that this conversation will have to wait until a later date. Thank you for taking care of Ellie today.”

Penelo heard Ashe’s sigh of defeat as she closed the door behind her. The hallway was dimly lit, and to Ellie it seemed like it stretched forever.

“Is it very far away, Mama?” Ellie yawned widely.

“Not very far,” Penelo answered. “Uncle Larsa put us in another wing, but we’re not very far away from Auntie Ashe. Maybe we can have breakfast with Auntie Ashe and Uncle Larsa tomorrow before we go home.”

“Okay.” Another big yawn. “I like Uncle Larsa; he’s funny.” Ellie rubbed her eyes, then looked up at Penelo. “Mama, will you carry me?”

Obligingly, Penelo lifted the child into her arms. Ellie snuggled down, twining her chubby arms around Penelo’s neck, resting her cheek on her shoulder. Within moments, she was sound asleep and breathing deeply.

Penelo stroked her daughter’s soft hair – Ellie was four years old already, and Penelo had still not quite managed to cease being amazed at the tiny miracle fate had bestowed upon her. Though Ellie had not been conceived in the most ideal of circumstances, Penelo had been nothing short of delighted upon learning of her imminent arrival. And, rather than condemning her for falling pregnant outside of wedlock or berating her for her irresponsibility, everyone (apart from Balthier and Fran, of whom little to nothing had been seen since Ellie’s conception) had rallied around her and managed to cobble together a remarkably stable pseudo-family unit in which Ellie had grown and flourished.

Though Ellie was frequently into all sorts of mischief and trouble, she was a sweet and generally good-natured child. Penelo did not think she had suffered from want of a father – in fact, Ellie had never seemed to realize that the majority of her friends had two parents, or wondered why she had only a mother. Though she supposed someday Ellie would have questions about her father, Penelo hoped that the day she would need to provide those answers would be long in coming.

Penelo sighed, rounding a corner – and stopped short. There in the hallway before her stood Fran, her usually indifferent expression absent and a look of complete and utter bemusement upon her elegant face. Though it had been years since last they had met, the Viera had not changed at all. Not that Penelo had expected her to – the Viera lived for hundreds of years and Fran was fully grown.

“I thought…Balthier’s scent…”

Penelo had never known the Viera to be lost for words, but she knew there was a chance that if Fran were to learn of Ellie’s parentage, the information could find its way back to Balthier.

“I was with him earlier this evening,” Penelo said warily. “You probably smell him on me.”

Fran shook her head, her white hair slipping over her shoulders. “No, this scent…it is different. It is unlike anything I have ever…” she hesitated, focusing on the little girl curled in Penelo’s arms. “The child…”

“My daughter. Elionora.” Penelo moved to walk past Fran, but the Viera neatly countered the step, her dark eyes full of questions that Penelo did not want to answer. She lowered her own, lest Fran read the answers she desired within them. “It’s late, Fran. Ellie needs her sleep. Perhaps we’ll see you in the morning.” But hopefully not.

Fran stepped aside to let Penelo pass. She got only a few feet before Fran spoke again. “Your daughter,” she murmured. “And Balthier’s.”

It was not a question. Penelo stopped. “Don’t…don’t tell him. Please. Ellie is mine.”

"It is not my tale to tell. Though I suspect I will not have to tell him,” Fran said. “He will discover for himself. He comes to Archades to rescue you from Larsa,” she said. “I suspect he is here already, though as yet I have been unable to locate him.”

Penelo drew in a shaky breath – so that was why Fran had been so surprised to see her instead of Balthier! She had to get Ellie hidden safely away!

Doing a quick about-face, she all but ran down the corridor back towards Ashe’s room – the one place Balthier would be certain to avoid, as he had no particular love for the woman. She rapped on the door with the brass knocker, waiting impatiently for Ashe to come to the door.

“Penelo, what is it?” Ashe asked. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!”

“Not a ghost,” Penelo gasped. “Fran. She’s guessed about Ellie. And she thinks that Balthier is headed here. Please, can you take her for tonight?”

“Of course.” Ashe opened her arms to receive the sleeping child, who made not so much as a murmur as she was transferred from the arms of one woman to the other. “Penelo, I am sorry if I upset you earlier. It was not my intention to force my will on you. Of course Ellie is your child and you want the best for her. We all do. But I should not been so overzealous in stating my opinion.”

Penelo waved away the apology. “No, I understand. I just…Ellie is my little girl. I want her to stay mine. Just for a little longer. And…and I don’t want her to be hurt if he doesn’t want her, or make him think I expect him to take responsibility for her. We’ve done just fine on our own.”

“You’ve done wonderfully,” Ashe said. “Ellie is a treasure. If I had a child, I suppose I would want her to be just like Ellie.” As if in response to the praise, Ellie snuggled deeper into Ashe’s embrace. “Go, now. Ellie will be fine,” Ashe assured Penelo. She closed the door quietly, and Penelo, ill at ease, headed back towards her bedchamber.

Why was he coming? Hadn’t she told him Larsa would not harm her? Brooding, Penelo walked the darkened corridors. Fran was nowhere to be seen, and Penelo couldn’t help wondering if she’d gone to seek out Balthier, though somehow she felt that tattling was not quite the Viera’s style.

And she realized that she did not want him to know about their daughter – ever. Even if in some dark corner of her heart she still loved him, she knew he would not commit to a family – doubted even that he would care enough about his own child to be a regular figure in her life. Ellie deserved better. Penelo deserved better. It would be better for him to never know his daughter than for him to come in and out of her life with no rhyme or reason. She would have to protect Ellie’s fragile, developing psyche – even from Balthier. Even if it meant never seeing him again. Even if it meant concealing Ellie’s existence from him forever.

In complete emotional and mental upheaval, she entered her bedchamber. She washed her face and brushed her teeth, then changed into a respectably modest nightgown. She ruled out going to seek him out herself, as there was a greater likelihood that they would bypass each other entirely, making it more likely that he would run into Ashe and Ellie at some point.

Instead she climbed into bed, knowing that if what Fran had said were true, he would be along sooner or later to find her, and she wasn’t about to miss out on much-needed sleep waiting up for him.

Her over-wrought nerves and physical exhaustion caught up with her the moment her head hit the pillow. But her dreams were restive and troubled, fraught with fear and anxiety. In her dreams, Balthier’s handsome face twisted in derision as he mocked her for imagining he might actually care about the child he’d sired. She tossed and turned in her bed, covers catching around her knees, whimpering her distress.

The next thing she knew, a heavy hand was sliding over her mouth, and a warm voice was murmuring in her ear, “Wake up, my dear, it is time we were going.”