Somehow I Always Find My Way To You

[portolan]

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Normal Pirate Coworkers

[portolan]

They've settled into something of a routine, as much as a pirate's life can. Sometimes Balthier even forgets Aerith is still a fresh pirate, her past life only months behind her.

Impossible to when, one day at the markets, someone looks a little too long, face reserved. "You sure look like that missing princess."

Balthier knows that look, and without missing a beat, he laughs. "She does, a little, but I can assure you this one is not royalty. None of the manners, for one."

[floresco]

Just before panic sets in Balthier speaks up, dismissing the vendor's remark in brilliant fashion while she nods along with a laugh, trying not to look relieved.

"He's right!" She takes a step closer to Balthier, trying to read the vendor's expression. The vendor, squints and clocks their head to the side.

"Yeah? Sure didn't know they made sky pirates that pretty."

[portolan]

“We come in all sorts,” he shrugs, but the shopkeeper’s expression doesn’t change.

“Big reward for that princess.”

Not betraying the way his heartbeat picks up, Balthier sighs dramatically. “Would love that reward, but alas, she can’t possibly be the princess.”

He puts an arm around her waist, tugging her closer. “We’ve been married since before the princess went missing.”

His face doesn’t betray his wince but —

“Aren’t you that pirate famous for philandering in every port?” another customer asks, clearly listening intently.

Well fuck. They’ve got an audience.

Wedding With My Work Wife

[portolan]

The invite makes it to him alongside a job. It is, of necessity, a somewhat private affair, which isn’t to say it’s small. And it’ll be a good chance for Aerith to expand her understanding of frankly normal people and normal customs. Not to mention keep up their ruse of being married. He’s kept an eye on the rumor circuit, and it’s helping eclipse that his strange hire might be the missing princess.

The wedding takes place at a private house and sprawling garden in the desert, all full of twinkling lights and beautiful plants. The ceremony is at sunset, and the weather goes from warm to crisp as the sun sinks below the horizon. The food is wonderful, and the music is vivacious, and it’s good to drink and laugh and see old friends.

“Well what do you think?” He asks Aerith as they get a moment alone. “Little more fun than a court wedding isn’t it?”

[floresco]

Even though when she's put on the spot she still isn't the greatest liar in the world Aerith's getting better at it, and maintaining this ruse Balthier's concocted to keep her identity safe has become easier right along with it. She's still not sure she's what could be considered a good pirate yet, but she's getting there, just like she's getting used to mingling with regular people and doing things away from the weighty protocols of being a member of the royal court.

That is to say, this party is a lot of fun! Once she realized there wasn't anyone to click their tongues disapprovingly when she helped herself to one too many canapes, Aerith let herself relax and enjoy things, even going so far as to let the grandfather of the groom take her out on the dancefloor for a song or two.

It's while she's recovering from the unexpectedly lively jaunt dancing with what she presumed was a creaky old man that Balthier finds her, and Aerith greets him with a smile, lifting a flute of champagne from a passing tray and having a sip while she nods earnestly. "A lot more fun! I'm doing okay, right?"

[portolan]

“How do you think you’re doing?” he asks with a grin, turning her question back on her.

It was good fun watching her lose her breath getting danced by the groom’s grandfather. To aeriths defense, the man loved surprising people that way and didn’t have that many new faces to pull it on. She’d kept up admirably, though he suspected she had dance training. One of the few things from he former life he valued.

– the kidnapping

[floresco]

She's been sailing the skies on the Strahl long enough to know what it feels like when a ship is circling the sky. Beyond that and the shaft of light filtering in from beneath the door of the tiny room she's being kept in, there's nothing but the weak light of the lantern illuminating the drab confines of her cell to look at.

Any view would be a waste. In between reluctant bites of the bland, cold food she's given twice a day, she can barely summon up the will to care about anything. Hours drag by while she stares at the ceiling, her confrontation with her kidnapper playing through her mind again and again in between brief stints of restless sleep.

Aerith tried not to believe it, but the man seemed to know so much. How Balthier had taken to doting on her, and how close they'd become. He detailed the route they'd taken and stops they made together, convincing her this was a con Balthier enjoyed working, using her to amuse himself before the trade-off happened. Balthier handled the kidnapping, and they handled the return - like money laundering, but for people.

The longer she stayed in that cell thinking about the life she was being dragged back to the more it became difficult to imagine that things were going to turn out otherwise. Instead of hope, the abrupt shift in the airship’s course when it stopped to hover afloat fills her with dread. What if it’s worse than her parents? What if they’ve been offered more money by a rival kingdom?

It doesn’t catch her attention that the footsteps she hears approaching are running, her stomach’s too tied up in knots as she moves, resigned, to sit on the edge of her little cot and wait for the trade-off.

[portolan]

His first mate had wanted to wait another day or two; they weren't entirely ready, and in all likelihood the crew and the Strahl were going to sustain damages. They also weren't particularly close to any borders. Assuming they were successful, they might meet authorities trying to get out to the sea.

Balthier didn't care. If they didn't do this now, there was a real chance there was no other shot. He'd have gone in by himself if the crew mutinied, and he wouldn't have blamed them. If she made it across the border, he'd have found a way to sneak into the court and whisk her away again. And if that didn't work, he'd have found a way to follow her to wherever they sent her. He wasn't letting them put her back in that cage.

But when his first mate pointed out flimsy errors in his reasoning, stupid mistakes from being tired and frazzled and awake only on tea and fumes, Balthier had relented. They needed a plan. A real one.

He knew Piaget's moves, and Piaget knew his. This was personal. It was designed to make Balthier slip up and scions it was working.

So his mate took over as acting Captain of the Strahl, chasing down the Wyrmwing and backing her into a gully that scooted up to a tiny finger of Jagd made artificially by his father's test, about the only useful thing his father had ever given him. They fired, and in the chaos, Balthier snuck a lightcraft down to the dock bay -- he knew the Wyrmwing's base model. Had worked on half a dozen like her. The illusion spells were no real match, but he know the second he slipped inside the alarms would be off. He had to trust his gut that Piaget would have her in the brig because he only got one shot at this.

He's halfway down the access hall when the alarms start. There are three doors because of course Piaget extended the holdings. His magic tells him there's only a body in one, so that's where he goes, forcing an indelicate mass of magic onto the lock and absolutely frying the spell. All good and well, but he still has to pick the physical thing manually, forcing himself to keep his hands steady.

It clicks. He swings the door open and his legs threaten to buckle with relief. She looks terrible -- pale, sickly, hair limp and greasy. Not that he looks much better with the state he's been in.

"Aerith," he breathes, voice cracking, knowing if he stoops down to hold her he won't get back up. But he holds his hands out to her, keeping the door open with one foot. "We don't have much time."

[floresco]

Balthier is the last person Aerith expects to see, but instead of relief, the miserable look on her face compounds itself. All she can think is that he's come to handle this personally - maybe he didn't trust his partner in crime as much as the man had made it seem. It didn't matter. She's cried enough, and any more tears she sheds over this will be done in private. Even if this breaks her, Aerith will hold it together until he's gone and she's been handed off.

"Fine." Her hands are balled in tight fists at her sides, ignoring his hands as she gets to her feet and walks to the door of the cell. She may have hated her birthright, but she is still a princess, and she's going to maintain her dignity to the very last.

Only then does the clang and bleat of the ship's alarm register, but before she can question it they're off, dashing down the brig's corridor in a way that suggests they are in fact - not at all running to meet her parents.

– nightmares

[floresco]

Her heart was whole and happy that first night. Safe and comfortably wrapped in Balthier's arms, she was too exhausted for dreams and slept soundly as a stone while curled up comfortably against him. Even after her terrible ordeal it still felt like bliss, being with him like this and basking in the knowledge that he wanted her in the same ways she wanted him.

The night that followed was received similarly, with Aerith tapping out her magic on healing Balthier before wrapping her arms around him and drifting off to sleep. She slept like that for almost half the night or more, until the musty chilled air of the cell Piaget kept her in began to fill her senses.

Her captor is there, looming in the doorway and grinning triumphantly. Aerith feels her muscles tense in alarm and tries to throw her hands up, as though she could beat him away.

"You're never getting out Princess," there's a gleeful ring to Piaget's voice, and with a loud guffaw he slams the door of the cell.

Aerith sits up with a shout, her eyes opening wide and confused as she looks around at the welcoming confines of Balthier's quarters, tears rolling down her face.

[portolan]

Balthier had napped in and out the last day, basking in Aerith's company and eating when he could. The magic is taking, but it takes a good deal of energy to support and he's wiser than to fight it.

The result is that he's entirely ruined his sleep schedule, and after waking and watching Aerith rest against him for awhile, peaceful contentment across his face, the aches began to bother him, so he carefully extracted himself to go bathe and shave and reset himself a little in the privacy of the night.

He's halfway through brushing his teeth when Aerith's cry startles him. He spits the excess, dropping the brush in the running sink and wiping his mouth on the back of his arm as he bolts for the room, still only clad in his towel. He's beside her in a second, pulling her tight to him.

"Aerith, it's alright, I've got you," he says like one would to a startled animal, rocking her even as his eyes go to the door, magic simultaneously checking the locks. All in tact. "You're safe. It's alright."

[floresco]

She sucks in a whimpered breath and shivers, folding against him, her face buried against his chest. Balthier is grounding at this moment, pulling her back to herself as her mind reels and works to shake off those pangs of despair clinging to her heart in the wake of having Piaget materialize in her dreams.

"It felt so real," Aerith murmurs when she lifts her head to look at him, smiling weakly. "I'm sorry, I know it was just a dream." She leans back far enough to push her hair back from her face, trying to clear her head as she rests against his shoulder.

"I don't like thinking that Piaget's face and that horrible cell are going to keep sneaking up on me like this."

[portolan]

He always loves hearing her say his name, but this is something else entirely, and when she adds "my" too it, he lets out a sound of utter adoration. Maybe he should feel self-conscious about just how gone he is for her, but it's hard to feel anything but safe and wanted with the way she's cradling his face and whimpering gently in pleasure.

He can feel her shifting, trying to adjust to this new sensation, and when her legs come up around him, it's so easy to shift into her hold, one hand nestling into her hair, the other arm wrapping under her. It's a few more gentle rocks of his hips before he's in her tip to hilt, and he wants to just sit in this moment of being as close as they possibly can. But he starts to arch his wanting hips, rocking out and back in, gasping between kisses, and the desire to move, to be moved with, to make them both feel the sweetness of release is stronger than the desire to bask.

Aerith starts to speak, and he only hears the first few words and begins to chuckle. "I know--" he starts, thinking she's going to tell him she's never done this before, but then she gets the rest out. For a tiny moment he freezes, entirely speechless.

Then he kisses her hard, thrusting all the way back into her, crushing her to him. It's something he's been so careful not to let himself think, but her saying it is like a gate opening, all that he was still holding back flooding out. "Aerith," he murmurs, aware there's moisture on his cheeks again, nuzzling his nose against her. "I love you. I didn't -- I didn't know what I was going to do if I'd lost you." And he kisses her again, mouth open wide, ravenous, intimate, his body moving just as hungrily, just as reverently. Every place they touch is on fire, every inch of her utterly perfect, and he knows there isn't anything he wouldn't do for this woman.

– morning after

[floresco]

It felt amazing to wake up beside him, and better still to not have to worry that she shouldn't be there, still half-draped across his upper half, her hair everywhere. At first, she doesn't move at all past opening her eyes so she can peer up at his face, enjoying the slow depth of his breathing as the morning light warms up his face. She didn't think Balthier could get any more beautiful, but she's never been happier to find out she was wrong about something.

When she does finally move it's to stretch out against him, her lips pressing against his jaw while her hands brush over his shoulders. "I love you," she whispers against his skin, following the words up with another kiss, perfectly happy if he took a while to wake. Aerith had nothing but time for gently lavishing affection on Balthier.

Re: – morning after

[portolan]

Still recovering from his wounds and the energy healing takes from him, he sleeps deeply with no dreams. It's likely that that's a result, too, of her warmth draped against him, an anchor and a shield from the world.

He hazily stirs as she stretches out, head heavy and thoughts slow. Something brushes against his jaw and his shoulder and he lets out a questioning hum, not quite able to form words, not quite sure when or where he is. Her voice registers first, and for a moment panic seizes through him as he tenses, trying to sit up. The first mate must have put him down with a sleep spell again, blast it, he has to get to her, has to find Piaget --

There's another soft touch -- lips. He struggles to get his eyes open, memories shifting around, trying to sort themselves out.

"Aerith?" he whispers. His hands squeeze, not realizing the warm thing he's holding is her.

[floresco]

Breathing out a hum of agreement when he says her name, Aerith reaches up to brush her fingers against his cheek.

"You better not have been expecting somebody else," she says in a sleepy murmur before kissing his cheek and then, once she ducks her head down, his shoulder, her body snuggling into his.

– kidnapping 2 piaget is still an asshole

[floresco]

She knew something was wrong, and when he didn't come back that night, or the next morning, Aerith was certain Balthier had not evaded Piaget's men. If her suspicions and the grim faces of the crew were any indications, they were going to need help.

The next two days passed in a rush of movement, finding Aerith dispatching crew members to gather information while she took the Strahl to a port she knew was friendly, seeking out the woman they had run into one afternoon. Balthier had said she was a great adventurer, and while Aerith still felt a little inferior in comparison to someone so ready, able, and worldly, that was the kind of person she needed help from now.

Zeda, thankfully, was willing to not only lend a hand, but call in a few favors as well, so when word finally reached the Strahl that Balthier was in custody, being held somewhere in the sprawling rigs over the Ogir-Yensa Sandsea, they could move out straight away.

The informant - who made sure to mention that Aerith owed him one at least ten times during the conversation - explained that from what it looked like, Balthier was being held as part of some kind of exchange with a foreign kingdom.

Aerith didn't need to hear any more than that. They reached the Sandsea by the end of the day and cloaked the Strahl before heading out, with Zeda telling her the plan as they fought their way through the landscape.

Since they were outnumbered, a diversion was the best way - and when the first of the explosives they'd set close enough to where Piaget was staked out to be unnerving for him - they went into motion.

There were a few explosives rigged to timers throughout the area, and while they went off, causing Piaget and his men to go running to investigate, certain the Urutan-Yensa were behind it and waiting in the wings to attack. It allowed Zeda and Aerith to slip through their campsite and straight to Balthier, and while Zeda kept watch (helping herself to a few of the spoils Piaget's goons had left laying around), Aerith dashed to Balthier.

"I'm here, you're safe now," she said, eyes full of tears as she reached for his restraints and hastily began to undo them.

Re: – kidnapping 2 piaget is still an asshole

[portolan]

He didn't regret separating, and he didn't even regret that he was the one who'd been captured; if anything, he suspected he'd been the target. The trap was too well laid, and one of his safety passages had been compromised. Someone in town had been paid off.

No, what he was worried about was whether Aerith made it back alright. And how much it was going to hurt her when he never came home. He'd overheard enough; they were taking him back to her country to stand trial for kidnapping. He'd be sentences, so even if he escaped, he'd be running forever, to be killed on sight. Kidnapping a noble was a high enough offense that other countries would take up the charge. He'd be hunted until he was gone.

And she'd be taken back to that life she hated, Piaget claiming the gold for both.

Balthier knows when to give a pointed jab of sass and when to keep his mouth shut, but it's only when he's alone, baking and dehydrated with sand everywhere it can reach, that the silent tears come. For her. For him. He should have -- he should have married her. He should have taken her to some other continent. He should have killed Piaget.

He tries to conserve his strength, but they have in binds that disable his magic, and he knows every day he's weaker it will be harder to escape. His only chance, really, is to get away before the hand off. But between the low amounts of food and water and the way someone comes to rough him up periodically, he loses track of how long it's been, and by the time he hears the distant sound of an explosion, he doesn't know if he's dreaming.

When he hears Aerith's voice, see's her silhouetted in the harsh light as he blinks from the sting of it, he's sure he's dreaming.

Except she feels entirely solid, and the moment he realizes it's her, he collapses against her, face against her chest as tears overwhelm him. "You found me," he croaks, equal parts surprise and pride and relief. He groans as she shifts him to undo his bonds, but it doesn't matter. She's here. They'll get out of this.

[floresco]

The sight of him like this hurts her heart, and she wonders, as she frantically works to free him if she looked the same when he found her in that cell aboard Piaget's ship. She ducks her head, resting it against the top of his while he hides his face against her chest, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"I'll always find you," she whispers against his hair before planting a firm kiss on the crown of his head. It isn't often that she's called upon to be the hero, but after this, it feels like if Balthier needed it, she could find a way to make anything happen.

"We got about ten minutes lovebirds," Zeda calls from a few yards away. "The last one's gonna go off soon and really surprise them."

Aerith throws the last of Balthier's tethers away, the space between them filling with soft green light as she presses her hands against his back, healing him as much as she can in as little time as possible. There's no way she'll be able to mend him fully, but he needs to be strong enough to flee to where the ships waiting.

"Can you walk?" She wants to ask if he can run, but, one thing at a time. "The Strahl's hidden about half a mile from here. We can't go back the way we came, but Zeda knows a shortcut."

Honeymooning

[portolan]

While their wedding was beyond wonderful, they still fly with a crew, which meant not much private time outside their bedroom. Besides, honeymoons were customary, and if anyone deserved one for what they'd gone through to cement their marriage, it was the two of them.

Through a friend of an old colleague, they borrow a small two-person craft -- with a few choice crew members alerted to their locations and timelines, just as precautions -- and went out to a remote mountain range with a small population and lots of spectacular ruins.

Really, it was astounding she'd been a pirate this long and he hadn't gotten her underground. There'd been a whole civilization with extensive buildings and temples and even train transit that now sat below parts of the continent. This particular spot was in the same style, though apparently disconnected from the greater network. As was such, it was nearly untouched, a treasure he knew about through his long run as a purveyor of fine things.

They'd spent most of the day delving deeper into the ruins, a warm eerie feeling to the light spells still coming on, staring at murals and laughing at each other's absurd guesses of what things were used for.

They'd stumbled across a throne room -- unclear for a royal or a god -- with stunning mosaics on the floor. Nearby was a cabinet full of jewelry and other ceremonial objects. So it took Balthier all of thirty seconds to put a diadem in Aerith's hair and murmur, "My lady, I've come to worship at your altar," before kissing her like the newlyweds they were.

[floresco]

Running away with Balthier was fun the first time, but getting to do it a second time, as his wife was even better. Had they just drifted alone for a few weeks she would have been happy, but getting to explore was a new kind of thrill, one that had her bouncing around through the ruins, excitedly trying to take in every detail.

The throne room was no exception, and it isn't until she feels the diadem settle on the top of her head that she tears her eyes away from the rest of the throne room, meeting his gaze with a laugh.

"Finally, the respect I deserve!" She grins before happily getting caught up in that kiss before drawing back and plucking a long string of gems from the shelf beside where the diadem sat, draping them around his neck before tugging the end like a very fancy leash. "Shouldn't you wait until I'm on the throne to worship me?"

[portolan]

Balthier would have married Aerith again in a heartbeat, but seeing her light up and snoop the second she set foot in the ruins made his heart all that much more elated that this woman is his wife. It's so easy to imagine years spooling out like this, full of adventure and laughter.

His pulse quickens as she loops those jewels around his neck, and he happily obliges the way she leads him toward the throne, not questioning the jolt of want her leading him ignites, even if he's immediately aware it will be resurfacing in his thoughts later.

"Is that an order, your grace?" he teases. "This is your honeymoon; it's only fair you get what you want."

– clothes shopping

[floresco]

All the clothes in this shop are incredibly fancy, and - a good deal more revealing than what Aerith usually goes for. Still, she finds herself drawn into the exotic designs hanging throughout the space, curiously looking through the garments as she moves.

"Oh this one," Aerith pulls an emerald green gown out slightly so Balthier can get a better look. It's ornate, with ropes of pearls hanging over the front, giving it an almost harness-like effect, the long silky skirt cut with a high slit that Aerith's sure would give her husband much to look at.

"Where would I wear it?"

[portolan]

"That's one of my favorite colors," Balthier says, even as his eyes take in the ropey pearls and high slit. "And you have the build for the rest." That he does raise a playful eyebrow at, sliding a hand briefly down her lower back and over her ass. It's not that they never did that sort of thing before, but since being married he takes a particular thrill in getting to flirt with her wherever they are.

"There's always an occasion for a beautiful dress," he counters. "I could take you to the theater, or we could crash some high end event, or maybe we'll just walk around feeling important. You should try it on since you like it."

[floresco]

Aerith studies the dress while he speaks, her fingers idly tracing the intricate crisscrossing of pearls on the front, a brief but unexpected pang of desire running through her when she feels his hand move over the curve of her ass.

She's grinning by the time she looks at him, eyebrows raised in challenge. "We should find you something nice then too," Aerith tilts her head back toward the dress and lets her fingers run over the pearls again. "Maybe something with straps at the front, like this."

No matter what he's wearing or doing, Balthier is completely captivating to Aerith, who knows she's never met anyone as beautiful as he is, but something about the thought of him clad in something a little more risque and revealing piques her interest in a way she hadn't expected, but is keen to lean into.