Title: Again
Chapter: Nine
Warnings: Mild sensuality
Rating: PG-13
Final Fantasy XII, Balthier/Penelo

            It had taken almost two hours longer than he’d expected to reach Rabanastre, as Balthier lacked both a map and Penelo’s wonderful sense of direction. Of course, it didn’t ease his irritation any to be forced to hawk a weapon simply to gain enough gil to make the flight out of Rabanastre to Archades.

            Though he was certain that Larsa would not harm Penelo, he resented the heavy-handed manner with which the little lordling had taken possession of her. Balthier had little respect for authority and none at all for a half-grown, pompous child who’d seemed far too interested in Penelo for Balthier’s taste even when was at the tender age of fourteen. So if it was to be war between the two men, Balthier would make certain he would come out the winner.

            He spent the short journey aboard the ship in his cabin, enjoying a long, hot shower and availing himself of the clothing he’d purchased as well as taking the time to shave and trim his somewhat ragged nails. He lounged upon the bed, waiting impatiently for the ship to dock, then collected his things for storage upon the Strahl. A few minutes later, he was headed out of the Aerodrome towards the palace.

            Though the palace was heavily guarded, Balthier scoffed over how ridiculously easy it was to distract a couple of sentries and slip by unnoticed. Once within the inner grounds, Balthier did not attempt to conceal his presence and all the sentries he passed seemed to assume that he belonged there. It took no more than ten minutes to locate Larsa’s study – the guards posted outside and the stoic-looking servant standing at the ready without the chamber confirmed Balthier’s suspicions.

            “I’m afraid I cannot allow you to pass,” the servant said, fixing Balthier with a disapproving glare. “His majesty must not be disturbed. If you’d care to make an appointment, I can see about getting you an audience. Next month, perhaps, or a little later.”

            “Now is good for me,” Balthier responded. “If you would kindly step aside…”

            “I will not!” The man bristled, gesturing to the guards. “Have this gentleman removed from the premises at once.”

            The door opened and Larsa appeared in the doorway. “Let him enter,” he said. “It’s all right, I’ve been expecting him.”

            “There, you see?” Balthier murmured snidely, knocking the servant’s powdered wig askew. “He’s been expecting me.”

            “Of course, my lord. Shall I send for a fresh tray of tea?” The man offered.

            “Yes, do,” Larsa replied. He stepped back, leaving room for Balthier to enter. “Do come in, Balthier, I think we have much to discuss.”

            Silently, Balthier entered the chamber, closing the door behind him.

            Larsa took a seat. “You are later than I had expected,” Larsa said. “I sent for tea over an hour ago, and now it is quite cold, so you will have to wait for a fresh pot. You’re getting slow,” he sighed. “First you require assistance from a woman to escape your predicament and then you cannot even come to rescue her in a timely fashion.”

            Balthier scowled. “I apologize if my tardiness offends you,” he said sarcastically, “but I was left in the middle of Dalmasca’s Estersand with neither a map nor a navigator. It was an area with which I am unfamiliar. It took longer than I had expected to find my way back to Rabanastre.”

            Larsa ‘tsk’ed disapprovingly. “As a sky pirate, you should be prepared for any eventuality,” he admonished. “Perhaps it’s time for you to go into a new line of work.”

            Balthier pinched the bridge of his nose, reminding himself that injuring Larsa would be high treason and it would be best not to commit it within the confines of the Palace.

            “Where is Penelo?” He asked.

            Larsa folded his hands together. “Probably sleeping, as she should be at this time of night.”

            The servant entered with the fresh tray and silently removed the old one. Larsa prepared a cup of tea for himself, then offered the tray to Balthier, who declined it.

            “Please, sit,” Larsa said.

            “I am here to retrieve Penelo, not for a friendly little chat with your majesty.” Balthier performed a mocking half-bow. “If you will not tell me where she is being held, I will find her myself.” He flung open the door.

            “Stop him,” Larsa said calmly, sipping his tea. The sentries outside blocked the doorway at once, shoving Balthier roughly back within. Infuriated, Balthier fished the gun out of its holster, cocked it, and took aim at Larsa.

            “Let me pass,” he gritted out.

            “He will not kill me,” Larsa informed his guards blithely. “He realizes that if killed me he would never make out of the palace alive, and he values his own life too much to imperil it.”

            “Oh, but I could cause a great deal of pain without ever endangering your life. Of course it would get me thrown in prison again, but I’m beginning to think it might be worth it.” His lips curled into a mirthless smile as he surveyed the younger man. “Perhaps I should just shoot off that ridiculous ponytail,” he said. “You look more and more like your dear brother Vayne every time I see you.”

            It was the wrong thing to say.

            “Bring him in and sit him down,” Larsa ordered. The sentries, large and heavily armored men, overpowered Balthier. They knocked the gun from his hand, escorted him to a chair and pushed him down into it.

            “Now,” Larsa said, “we begin. Five years ago, I told you to stay away from Penelo. You failed to heed my warning then, and you would disobey it now.”

            “I do not answer to children barely out of the school room,” Balthier answered. “You mistake me for a loyal subject. I do not suffer your meddling gladly.”

            “In future, you will heed my words and stay far, far away from her. Am I making myself clear?” Larse set his empty cup upon the tray, fixing Balthier with a clear, hard look.

            “Oh, quite clear, my lord,” Balthier remarked scathingly. “If I had any intention of heeding your words, I imagine I would be quite intimidated.”

            Larse ignored the caustic remark. “I allowed Penelo to go to you this evening only because I lacked another suitable option. I would not have minded seeing you get your comeuppance – however, I am aware that it would greatly upset Penelo if she were ever to discover that I knew of your situation and did nothing. I removed her from your company as quickly as possible, and it shall continue thusly if you try to see her. You will find her continually made unavailable to you, so it would be a waste of your time even to attempt it,” Larsa explained.

            “Is Penelo aware that you’ve taken to deciding what she is and isn’t allowed to do?” Balthier asked. “Somehow I feel she would not take kindly to that.”

            Larsa shrugged. “I see no real need to make her aware of it. You are not a fit companion for her – all you will do is hurt her, and this I will not allow. She fancied herself in love with you once; I will not have it happen again. If you have any respect for her at all, you will keep your distance.”

            Balthier shrugged off the restraining hands of the guards, surging to his feet. “Penelo is not a child to be commanded, nor a pet to be controlled.”

            “No, but she is very dear to me, and I will protect her – even from herself. If she has a weakness for you, then I shall ensure that you remain far removed from her.” Larsa motioned for the sentries to allow Balthier some space.

            “She is neither your subject nor any relation to you. What right have you to make her decisions for her?” Balthier bent to retrieve his weapon, slipping it back into the holster.

            “The right of a concerned friend, as well as the right of a prospective husband,” Larsa said. “I have every confidence that Penelo will eventually consent to become my wife.”

            The statement brought Balthier up short. “She has given you reason to think so?” He asked.

            “No, not as yet.” Larsa linked his hands together. “However, it is my belief that in time she will realize the advantages of such a marriage. Don’t tell me you are surprised,” he said mockingly. “Surely you realized that someday someone would want Penelo. She is a remarkable woman – obviously she would have other suitors. You did not imagine she would await your pleasure in perpetuity, did you?” Larsa chuckled, smiling with grim satisfaction. “Do not play the part of the jealous lover now, Balthier. You are like a spoiled child, hoarding his toys – your desire for Penelo extends only so far as ensuring that no one else may have her. You do not want her for yourself; you merely do not wish to lose to another man.”

            Balthier ignored the inflammatory words, turning towards the door with his jaw clenched tightly as if to keep his own angry words from spilling out unchecked.

            “She will not go with you,” Larsa warned. “Even if you should find her, she will not wish to leave with you.”

            “One never knows,” Balthier growled, wrenching open the door. “Perhaps she prefers men to boys playing at being adults.”

            He slammed the door behind him, and almost ran into Fran, who was waiting in the hallway just beyond the door. She looked unusually disturbed.

            “When did you arrive?” He asked.

            “Not long ago. I had been…searching for you,” she said absently.

            Curious, as the palace was rather large. “How did you find me?”

            “I followed your scent,” she replied, “and the sound of your shouting. I am given to understand that young Penelo assisted in your escape from Nalbina Fortress?”

            “Not so young anymore,” he said. “But you understand correctly. She did admirably; I am certain you would have been impressed. She’s become quite the successful little pirate.” He hesitated. “Do you know where Penelo is staying? Can you take me to her?”

            Fran inclined her head. “That way,” she said. “Fourth corridor. Travel north to the North Wing. Second corridor to the west. I believe the sixth door on the right is Penelo’s chamber.”

            Balthier frowned. “Are you well, Fran? You seem troubled.”

            Fran appeared about to speak, then thought better of it. “No, ‘tis nothing, and certainly not my place to say besides. I believe I shall stay out of this particular intrigue.” She folded her arms, her expression easing into the neutral, indifferent one to which Balthier had become accustomed. “I remain in Archades for a number of days, though I now travel alone. Should you have need of me, I can be reached in any Aerodrome – leave a message for me with the stewardess and she shall see that I receive it when next I arrive. Until we meet again, Balthier. I wish you good luck.”

            Somehow, Balthier had the sinking suspicion that he would have need of it.

            ---

            Either Balthier was getting rusty or the mechanics of locks had advanced so far that he could no longer keep up with the new technology. It took him nearly fifteen minutes to pick the lock on what Fran had said was Penelo’s room. He sincerely hoped she was within, for he did not think he had time enough left in the night to unlock every room in search of her.

            Finally, finally the lock gave, and the door slid open silently. He moved quietly across the floor, heading to where a sliver of light from the hallway slid across the large, ornate bed. Rumpled covers were strewn across it, twisted and tangled as if its occupant was particularly restless this eve.

            He sifted through the mountain of blankets and pillows, carefully lifting each off until he uncovered a tangled web of platinum hair spread across the mattress. Digging further, he unearthed a shoulder and arm swathed in soft white line, a pale throat, a sweet, delicate face. Her eyebrows drew together in a frown, her lips pursed. She murmured something, twisting violently around. Her fingers clutched the sheets in a death grip, knuckles white and tense.

            A sensation of unease crept over him – he felt vaguely like an intruder, as though he were viewing upon her face things not meant for his eyes, emotions she would never show him. He invaded her privacy and observed her in moments when her subconscious bared her soul to prying eyes.

            He sat at her bedside, stroking back her tangled hair. Her frown eased just a little, but a pathetic little whimper left her throat. The sound was so heart-breaking, it made him ache for her.

            He kissed her forehead. “What it is that troubles you so,” he murmured. Not that he would ever become her confidante, he mused. She would not trust him with her secrets, and rightly so.

            She made a distressed sound, her head tossing on the pillow. Balthier decided it was time to wake her before he did something phenomenally stupid – like climbing into bed beside her and comforting her the only way he knew how.

            He covered her pursed lips with one hand lest she scream and draw unnecessary attention.

            “Wake up, my dear,” he murmured in her ear. “It is time we were going.”

            She jerked awake, gasping as his lips brushed her cheek, the small sound thoroughly stifled by his palm. Her own hands came up, prying his hand away from her face. She brushed back her disheveled hair with trembling fingers, shoved back the tangled covers, and sat up.

            “Oh,” she mumbled. “It’s just you, Balthier.” Heaving a sigh, she slung her legs over the side of the bed to stand up. Her nightgown gathered at her thighs, exposing a generous amount of her smooth, slender legs – legs he had not had the privilege of seeing in long years. When she noticed the direction of his gaze, she huffily yanked the material down. It pooled around her calves, swirling enticingly over her skin as she crossed the room to pour herself a glass of water.

            In the high-necked white nightgown, with her hair unbound and falling nearly to her waist in soft, unruly waves she looked as young and innocent as a child. He wondered when exactly she had started wearing nightclothes – or were they merely for Larsa’s benefit? Perhaps she did not feel comfortable sleeping unclothed in a bed that was not her own.

            She drained her glass, then set it aside on the table. “You shouldn’t have come,” she said.

            “I rather dislike being in someone’s debt,” he replied. “You came to my rescue, and so, in turn, did I come to yours.”

            She shrugged. “Maybe that excuse would work if I had happened to be in any real danger. But you know Larsa, Balthier. You know he wouldn’t hurt me. There was no reason for you to come here, so why did you?”

            “The Strahl is docked here,” he said. “Perhaps I was merely curious to see how this whole debacle was going to play out. I must admit I was intrigued when he sent a squadron of imperial soldiers to arrest you, especially since you seemed quite upset about it yourself.” He flashed her a grin. “Alas, what am I to say? I possess more than my fair share of nosiness. Why did the boy choose to have you arrested, by the way?”

            Caught unaware by the question, Penelo floundered for an answer.

            Chuckling, Balthier approached her, smirking at her obvious discomfiture. “You know,” he murmured, threading his fingers through her hair to draw her closer. “You could simply have told me it was none of my business.” His other arm slipped around her waist.

            Penelo’s hands came up to push against his chest, a violent blush coloring her cheeks. “I-it’s none of your business,” she breathed.

            “Too late,” he returned, closing the scant distance between them. “Now I’m dying of curiosity.” The moment his lips touched hers, all her pretenses of resistance melted away. Her arms twined around his neck, and she lifted onto her tiptoes, pressing herself flush against him.

            This was what he’d been missing – the knowledge that, despite the fact that he’d intentionally avoided her for the past five years, she’d been his the moment she had re-entered his life. He was suddenly certain that she would not marry Larsa – she could not marry Larsa, not with the incredible passion that still existed between them.

            There was a conveniently placed bed close by, but it was neither the time nor the place for him to be thinking along those lines – unless he missed his guess, and he seldom did, Larsa would be sending an inconvenient interruption along any minute. Therefore, it was imperative that he remove her from the premises at once to ensure that there would be no such disturbances. He was even seriously considering taking the long route back to Rabanastre to allow himself a few more hours with her.

            “Penelo,” he whispered against her lips, even as she made a soft sound of protest when he broke the kiss. “We’ve got to get going.”

            “What?” Her eyes were closed, her lips seeking his. She wasn’t paying any attention.

            “Come,” he cupped her cheek, kissing the corner of her mouth. “I will return you to Rabanastre myself. But we must leave immediately – I fear your fiancé will soon be arriving.”

            That jolted her out of her sensual stupor. “My fiancé?” She asked, nonplussed. “Wait…do you mean Larsa?”

            “Have you another fiancé to speak of?” Balthier inquired irritably. “I was under the impression that they were typically one per customer.”

            Penelo threw back her head and laughed, irrationally pleased at Balthier’s minor display of jealousy.

            A knock sounded at the door. “Penelo, are you within?”

            “Damn. So the boy has come himself,” Balthier muttered. Penelo clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

            “Don’t be rude,” she admonished lightly. “Larsa isn’t a boy any longer, and he certainly won’t appreciate you calling him one.”

            The door opened and Larsa stepped through, frowning at Balthier. He registered the very small amount of space separating Balthier and Penelo, took into account Penelo’s rumpled appearance and swollen lips, and drew the logical conclusion.

            “I think it is high time for you to remove yourself from Penelo’s chamber,” he said crisply to Balthier. “It would not be appropriate for you to spend an undue amount of time within it, considering the lateness of the hour and the lady’s current state of dress.”

            “Penelo comes with me,” Balthier responded. “Gather your things, sweetheart, and we’ll be off.”

            Larsa fixed Penelo with a meaningful look, one which Balthier could not fail to see and could not fathom the reason behind. He intensely disliked being out of the scope of knowledge. Penelo fidgeted under his weighty gaze.

            “I…I…no,” she said finally. “I’m not going anywhere, Balthier.”

            Balthier stared, astonished. “You’re staying? Here? With him?”

            “Not with him, no,” she snapped back, defensively. “But in the palace, yes. Just until tomorrow.” Somehow along the way she’d forgotten that it was not in her best interests to encourage Balthier’s affections, though she could not understand why he had chosen now of all times to reassert them.

            “Until tomorrow,” Balthier said thoughtfully. “I see. And then you will fly back to Rabanastre?”

            “Of course,” She retorted. “What else should I do? I can’t stay here indefinitely.”

            Balthier shot a triumphant look to Larsa, who glowered back. Thoroughly confused, Penelo watched the byplay between the two men with interest.

            “Then I shall, of course, take my leave,” Balthier said. “Good night, my dear. Sleep well.” He swept Penelo into his arms for a kiss that was almost indecent, especially in front of Larsa. She could not possibly mistake it for anything but what it was – a declaration of possession. All of a sudden, the tension between the men became clear. Though she resented being a point of rivalry between the two men, she held her tongue as Balthier strode boldly out the door.

            Larsa closed the door, speaking in a low voice lest he be overheard. “If you wish not to repeat your past mistakes, you will have to discourage him,” he said.

            “I know.” Penelo wrung her hands. “I didn’t plan it or anything – it just sort of happened.” Even to her the excuse sounded flimsy.

            Larsa sighed. “I do not want to see you hurt again,” he said. “I worry about you – what will be the results of it ‘just sort of happening?’” He asked. “The last time, he left you with Ellie. Are you willing to risk another child?”

            She winced. “I know,” she said. “I was just…caught off-guard. It won’t happen again. I won’t let it happen again.” She was pleased that the statement sounded firm and solid.

            “I’m pleased to hear that,” Larsa replied, “because, to me, it sounded as though Balthier might’ve been planning an impromptu trip to Rabanastre sometime in the near future.”

            She could hear the aggravation in his voice. “Why would he do that? He said he’d never go back.”

            “I’m just going to hazard a guess, here – because of you,” Larsa said. “Do try to be on your guard. Not just for your sake, but for Ellie’s as well.” He sketched a small bow. “It is time I should retire,” he said. “I wish you good night and a safe journey back, tomorrow. I will try to see you off, if my schedule permits.”

            “Okay. Good night.” She folded her arms over her chest. “And, Larsa…thank you. For being concerned about me, and for Ellie. You’re a good friend.”

            He smiled noncommittally as he left the room.

            Penelo watched the door close behind him, then collapsed onto her bed with a heavy sigh. What was Balthier thinking? Why would he want to go back to Rabanastre for her?

            And then it hit her – that tiny, nagging sensation that had been tugging at her memory all evening.

            The handkerchief. She’d invited him back!