Final Fantasy XII, Basch/Balthier, twilight-"Let the evening in the back door, fill the room..." - 1
Full prompt is: Final Fantasy XII, Basch/Balthier, twilight-"Let the evening in the back door, fill the room, ceiling to the floor."
Dalmasca is not the place it once was, and there are days when Balthier regrets it. A clever man can profit from peace just as easily as from war, but there is a calm to the land that unsettles him. Sometimes, at the Strahl’s helm, his eyes drift closed and he remembers more… interesting times. Times when excitement and adventure were not to be found only in the corners of the world, but all across the map. Times when people were brought together by nothing more than circumstances and fate - people that, by all rights, never should have met.
Paths that, in an orderly world, never would have crossed.
One day, on one less-than-compelling quest or another, he abruptly changes the airship’s course, heading toward a city they’ve not seen in many months. Fran glances at him silently, unquestioning as ever when it comes to his sudden whims. He gets the distinct feeling that she knows more than she’s letting on, but it doesn’t faze him. There is a face in his mind, and he won’t quite rest easy until he sees it again.
They are known at the palace, even after all this time. Heroes are not soon forgotten, especially charming and handsome ones, and Balthier turns to smile at the whispering admirers lining the corridor as he walks. But he does not pause, not even for more familiar faces. They are welcome to walk and talk, but nothing will keep him from his destination for one moment longer. Fran recognizes his mood and keeps Vaan and Penelo well-occupied with stories of their escapades and questions about how life in Rabanastre has changed. They do not seem quite as restless in these peaceful days as Balthier, and their contentment pricks at him a bit.
But in the next moment, they are in the throne room, and nothing else matters but seeing that face again. He stops and bows to greet the queen, wonders if perhaps she thinks this visit is for her. Then his head is raised again, and he’s looking over Ashe’s shoulder, eyes locked with the man standing just behind her.
Somehow, no words pass between them, but everything begins to happen at once. An excuse is given, something about a diplomatic mission, though Balthier can hardly imagine a less likely pair of diplomats than the two of them. Fran takes Basch’s usual place as the queen’s personal guard, and Ashe, with perhaps the smallest hint of sadness in her smile, says her goodbyes, wishes them a safe and speedy journey, hopes with her eyes more than her words that they will be back soon. Balthier feels for her - he hasn’t forgotten what it feels like to be alone - but the Strahl is waiting, and time is not a friend today.
The airship takes them to a tiny hut in the middle of nowhere, a forest Balthier isn’t sure even has a name. Usually this place is a last refuge in desperate times, somewhere to lie low until trouble has passed by. He has never been so happy to be here.