He's exhausted and shaken; it's not his first time killing, but it's not any easier. Aerith is quiet, and some part of him wails with worry that, in dealing with Piaget, he's broken something between them, that that heinous scab succeeded in ruining Balthier afterall. He does his best to push it away; it's a disservice to Aerith not to trust her, and gods he doesn't want to put either of them through any more than they've already dealt with. All he wants is to be home, bathed, and curled up with her.
He gives a few orders when they get back, puts Zeda in charge for the time being, and finally they're able to slip off into their chambers.
He takes a shaky breath as the door closes, and before his own emotion has a chance to catch up with him, Aerith makes a comment he can't quite read. He freezes, mind not quite able to form what he needs to ask, but then she's burying her face in his chest sobbing. At least it breaks the spell. He holds her as tightly as his tired body can manage, tucking her head under his as silent sobs shake through him, too, tears wetting his cheeks.
"I know," he murmurs, stroking her hair with one hand. "I know. He put us both in an impossible situation." It doesn't feel like what he wants to say, but other than the feel of her in his arms, he might as well be a fog over the plains. He feels far away, tired, small. He hates Piaget for making her scared again, and the knowledge that the man is dead makes his stomach feel heavy and sick.
"He was going to ship you back to your parents, get the ransom, make you watch me be tried for treason and put to death." It's barely a whisper, and his grip tightens on Aerith. Being the reason she was sent back to a life of misery was worse than being imprisoned.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2023-04-14 04:04 am (UTC)He gives a few orders when they get back, puts Zeda in charge for the time being, and finally they're able to slip off into their chambers.
He takes a shaky breath as the door closes, and before his own emotion has a chance to catch up with him, Aerith makes a comment he can't quite read. He freezes, mind not quite able to form what he needs to ask, but then she's burying her face in his chest sobbing. At least it breaks the spell. He holds her as tightly as his tired body can manage, tucking her head under his as silent sobs shake through him, too, tears wetting his cheeks.
"I know," he murmurs, stroking her hair with one hand. "I know. He put us both in an impossible situation." It doesn't feel like what he wants to say, but other than the feel of her in his arms, he might as well be a fog over the plains. He feels far away, tired, small. He hates Piaget for making her scared again, and the knowledge that the man is dead makes his stomach feel heavy and sick.
"He was going to ship you back to your parents, get the ransom, make you watch me be tried for treason and put to death." It's barely a whisper, and his grip tightens on Aerith. Being the reason she was sent back to a life of misery was worse than being imprisoned.