It's easy enough to pretend to be watching the tavern while he actually amusedly watches her sip the ale.
"Oh, worse than me," he promises cheerily. "One of the ways you're a natural fit for the profession."
He's debating actually telling her that she ought to use her freedom to ... live ... when he's interrupted by a familiar voice saying his name. He turns his head and grins. Celia, and old friend. Who he doesn't note is gorgeous with flattering clothing. He's just getting up to hug her.
"I heard a gorgeous pirate was in town but I didn't think I'd be so lucky as to run into you," she laughs, kissing him on each cheek.
Aerith, however, absolutely does notice how beautiful the strange woman calling to Balthier is, and her stomach sinks while she watches him react so favorably, going so far as to rise from his seat to let this stranger kiss his cheeks and call him gorgeous.
Glaring daggers at them both, she bites her bottom lip, quickly finishing off more than half of the glass of ale in front of her before clearing her throat loudly.
"Do you touch everybody's husbands like that? Because you're certainly touching mine."
Celia raises a brow between the two of them as Balthier has to bite back a laugh.
“Little controlling there are we?” She asks.
Balthier puts a hand to her arm to still her, clearly a familiar action. “Celia. My wife, Aerith.”
“Not your usual type.” Her eyes narrow, and he suspects she’s running calculations on whether this is a con or he’s gotten himself into trouble.
“Cute as a plains hare and dangerous as a saber cat? I beg to differ. Aerith, Celia and I are old friends. Not a better swordsman on this continent.”
And it’s absolutely to prove the ruse that he steps closer to Aerith, pressing a kiss to her hair. “She’s not used to southern customs,” he shrugs at Celia. He’s only enjoying this because it’s fun to see the princess so flustered.
Her eyes narrow at the remark, lips pursing into a thin line before she hums in acknowledgment of the introduction. Choosing to believe that her disapproval is stemming more from the fact that she's in a strange situation she doesn't quite yet understand how to navigate, rather than anything else, like jealousy.
Trying not to look as irate about being kissed on the head as she feels, Aerith nods mutedly after Balthier's remark.
"Beg your pardon," she mutters icily, looking back down at her ale.
Oh dear she hasn’t been this irritated since the first few days of her kidnapping. It’s … endearing.
Celia shrugs. “Whatever works in your bedroom is not my business.”
Balthier was halfway through taking a drink and chokes with laughter. “Celia you’re going to kill me without drawing your sword.” If Aerith didnt first.
Celia's remark leaves Aerith wide-eyed, something she knows a wife isn't supposed to be about relations with their husband. Shifting in her chair she forces herself to look up, her expression more haughty than aghast - it's an easy defense to reach for, and something she's spent years learning how to do.
She turns her head when Balthier speaks, raising her eyebrows. "I could use the peace and quiet." Reaching for her glass Aerith finishes her ale with all the ease of the seasoned drinker she is not.
"Nice to meet you, Celia," Aerith begins, rising from her seat. "If you choose not to return him in one piece if at all, I'll understand," too fixed on getting herself out of this terrible situation Aerith's already circling the side of the table before she explains herself, talking over her shoulder as she heads out the door.
"My northerly sensibilities and I are going to the apothecary. The chef's helper needs something for his elbows back on board."
Honestly Balthier is considering intervening on this one, but Aerith's fierceness beats him to it. And, well, maybe he deserved that.
"I'll see you at home," he calls, but otherwise lets her go, hanging back with Celia for awhile and catching up, assuring the other that Aerith is simply homesick and culture shocked, and laying a more believable groundwork that their marriage is real; if Celia spreads it, people will believe it.
He does feel bad though; when he was a young not-quite-pirate he was prodded and laughed at and put in uncomfortable situations, and much as many were harmless, the humiliation still stung. That hadn't been his intention.
So he doesn't stay that long, and after he sees to the errands he had in town, a few messages to the right people give him a sense of where she might be. It doesn't take long to find her.
"I'm going back to the ship," he says. "Are you joining me or staying out?"
Really, he's checking the temperature of where she's at.
It's difficult for anyone to look rankled while eating a bag of sugar-dusted fried dough, but Aerith manages it splendidly, glowering by the vendor's stall she purchased them from, a parcel from the local herbalist tucked under the crook of her arm.
Bristling when he pipes up, she lifts her head, primly dusting the sugar off the tips of her fingers as she regards him cooly, looking very much the appraising princess.
So much energy to hold a grudge and judge others. That's nobility for you. Any apology is just going to be thrown back in his face, so why bother?
"The stall near the big fountain is the best, but the wait is shorter at the one by the tailor." Which is all he gives before turning to walk off -- though not so quickly she couldn't catch him if she wanted to.
"I want you to spend the afternoon with me." Which, she thought was obvious, but, clearly not.
"But if someone else is going to come up and paw you, you need to warn me before they get to you!" Aerith's aware her reaction hadn't been good, and her lack of experience was funny to him, but that didn't mean she had to be okay with being a source of amusement for him.
He could tease, or point out her words had been very much to the opposite, but--
Instead he holds his hand out. "Then I'll spend it with you."
Celia's a lot. He knows that, though he's surprised it bothered Aerith so much. He's sympathetic, though. He knows this isn't how he was raised to communicate, and the girls had it worse.
"It's alright to ask for things, you know. Makes it easier for me to know what you want and what upsets you. That's how us commoners do it."
She doesn't look happy, exactly, but she still walks to him when he extends a hand, halting beside him and tilting her bag of fried dough in his direction, wordlessly inviting him to have one.
"I didn't know if she was one of those lovers that old person at the shops said you had," Aerith finally says, still frowning at him. "I thought leaving was better than finding out, that's all."
Balthier hadn't asked for an explanation but Aerith's pride made her feel compelled anyway.
A peace offering. He does his best not to chuckle at her, instead taking some of the fried dough and starting to walk with her.
"Celia and I were lovers a grand total of, hmm, three weeks? It was a terrible fit." He's watching her face carefully, still trying to figure out which part of all this has set her off. "That was, gods, a decade ago. But even if she were my lover, I promise we don't just jump each other on tables in broad daylight, whatever your governess said about us." Surely it's that?
Busying herself with another piece of fried dough, Aerith's grateful for the task of chewing, aware it's keeping her expression neutral while he briefly touches on his past with the woman from the tavern. It makes sense, Celia seemed very beautiful and worldly - two things Aerith had felt anything but in that moment.
"The longer I'm away from home the more I realize she told me anything she could to keep me from trying to leave," she answers, laughing humorlessly.
Ah, the discomfort of realizing how small your world is, that's something he remembers.
"She did her job then. I imagine they persecute governesses who teach their charges to run away."
He takes another bite of bread, hazy memories hugging the back of his thoughts. "It was a lot, when I first left. It was frustrating being wrong all the time. If I seem amused, it's as much at myself as it is you." By his calculations, that had to be what was bothering her.
"Almost nothing is what she said it would be like," Aerith pauses, considering.
"Well." The corners of her lips twitch amusedly as she spares him a sideways glance, rolling her shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. "There are rogues afoot, certainly," Aerith adds playfully.
It's good to see her smiling again, even if it's good for her to feel the sting of how wrong she is. If she does go back, she'll be a better leader for it.
The thought makes him oddly sad. Maybe because he still thinks she shouldn't go back.
"They didn't let you out much, did they?" he asks, a bit of pity slipping into his voice. There was such a huge world to see, and most people, even the free ones, didn't even notice it.
His feet know the way, and it's not long before he sees the edges of the building peaking over the rest. Not time to draw her attention to it, though; better to see the entrance.
"For things like state affairs, balls, to sit at the women's table during meetings with other kingdoms. I never got to go anywhere like this." She could recall more than a few instances where their convoy had stopped for one reason or another in a city or town, but even then she hadn't been allowed to do much more than look out the window.
Perking up when a high-roofed building begins to come into view, she looks to Balthier, eyebrows raised in confusion. "Where are you taking me?"
"When I was a boy, my mother took me out in the city often, sometimes the outlying towns," he says thoughtfully. "It wasn't until my father cobbled up titles that I got too pinned down."
They turn again, and the building comes into view. "The old conservatory, for plants from foreign regions. There aren't many left these days, but the one at home was my favorite place to go as a boy. This one's grander." It's like a palace, but one only full of plants.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
"Oh, worse than me," he promises cheerily. "One of the ways you're a natural fit for the profession."
He's debating actually telling her that she ought to use her freedom to ... live ... when he's interrupted by a familiar voice saying his name. He turns his head and grins. Celia, and old friend. Who he doesn't note is gorgeous with flattering clothing. He's just getting up to hug her.
"I heard a gorgeous pirate was in town but I didn't think I'd be so lucky as to run into you," she laughs, kissing him on each cheek.
no subject
Glaring daggers at them both, she bites her bottom lip, quickly finishing off more than half of the glass of ale in front of her before clearing her throat loudly.
"Do you touch everybody's husbands like that? Because you're certainly touching mine."
no subject
“Little controlling there are we?” She asks.
Balthier puts a hand to her arm to still her, clearly a familiar action. “Celia. My wife, Aerith.”
“Not your usual type.” Her eyes narrow, and he suspects she’s running calculations on whether this is a con or he’s gotten himself into trouble.
“Cute as a plains hare and dangerous as a saber cat? I beg to differ. Aerith, Celia and I are old friends. Not a better swordsman on this continent.”
And it’s absolutely to prove the ruse that he steps closer to Aerith, pressing a kiss to her hair. “She’s not used to southern customs,” he shrugs at Celia. He’s only enjoying this because it’s fun to see the princess so flustered.
no subject
Trying not to look as irate about being kissed on the head as she feels, Aerith nods mutedly after Balthier's remark.
"Beg your pardon," she mutters icily, looking back down at her ale.
no subject
Celia shrugs. “Whatever works in your bedroom is not my business.”
Balthier was halfway through taking a drink and chokes with laughter. “Celia you’re going to kill me without drawing your sword.” If Aerith didnt first.
no subject
She turns her head when Balthier speaks, raising her eyebrows. "I could use the peace and quiet." Reaching for her glass Aerith finishes her ale with all the ease of the seasoned drinker she is not.
"Nice to meet you, Celia," Aerith begins, rising from her seat. "If you choose not to return him in one piece if at all, I'll understand," too fixed on getting herself out of this terrible situation Aerith's already circling the side of the table before she explains herself, talking over her shoulder as she heads out the door.
"My northerly sensibilities and I are going to the apothecary. The chef's helper needs something for his elbows back on board."
no subject
"I'll see you at home," he calls, but otherwise lets her go, hanging back with Celia for awhile and catching up, assuring the other that Aerith is simply homesick and culture shocked, and laying a more believable groundwork that their marriage is real; if Celia spreads it, people will believe it.
He does feel bad though; when he was a young not-quite-pirate he was prodded and laughed at and put in uncomfortable situations, and much as many were harmless, the humiliation still stung. That hadn't been his intention.
So he doesn't stay that long, and after he sees to the errands he had in town, a few messages to the right people give him a sense of where she might be. It doesn't take long to find her.
"I'm going back to the ship," he says. "Are you joining me or staying out?"
Really, he's checking the temperature of where she's at.
no subject
Bristling when he pipes up, she lifts her head, primly dusting the sugar off the tips of her fingers as she regards him cooly, looking very much the appraising princess.
"I'm going to eat kebobs."
no subject
"The stall near the big fountain is the best, but the wait is shorter at the one by the tailor." Which is all he gives before turning to walk off -- though not so quickly she couldn't catch him if she wanted to.
no subject
If she wasn't enjoying her bag of treats so much, she would have been tempted to lob them at his head.
no subject
"Alright, out with it. Do you want me to spend the afternoon with you, or do you want me to leave you be?"
no subject
"But if someone else is going to come up and paw you, you need to warn me before they get to you!" Aerith's aware her reaction hadn't been good, and her lack of experience was funny to him, but that didn't mean she had to be okay with being a source of amusement for him.
no subject
Instead he holds his hand out. "Then I'll spend it with you."
Celia's a lot. He knows that, though he's surprised it bothered Aerith so much. He's sympathetic, though. He knows this isn't how he was raised to communicate, and the girls had it worse.
"It's alright to ask for things, you know. Makes it easier for me to know what you want and what upsets you. That's how us commoners do it."
no subject
"I didn't know if she was one of those lovers that old person at the shops said you had," Aerith finally says, still frowning at him. "I thought leaving was better than finding out, that's all."
Balthier hadn't asked for an explanation but Aerith's pride made her feel compelled anyway.
no subject
"Celia and I were lovers a grand total of, hmm, three weeks? It was a terrible fit." He's watching her face carefully, still trying to figure out which part of all this has set her off. "That was, gods, a decade ago. But even if she were my lover, I promise we don't just jump each other on tables in broad daylight, whatever your governess said about us." Surely it's that?
no subject
"The longer I'm away from home the more I realize she told me anything she could to keep me from trying to leave," she answers, laughing humorlessly.
no subject
"She did her job then. I imagine they persecute governesses who teach their charges to run away."
He takes another bite of bread, hazy memories hugging the back of his thoughts. "It was a lot, when I first left. It was frustrating being wrong all the time. If I seem amused, it's as much at myself as it is you." By his calculations, that had to be what was bothering her.
no subject
"Well." The corners of her lips twitch amusedly as she spares him a sideways glance, rolling her shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. "There are rogues afoot, certainly," Aerith adds playfully.
no subject
It's good to see her smiling again, even if it's good for her to feel the sting of how wrong she is. If she does go back, she'll be a better leader for it.
The thought makes him oddly sad. Maybe because he still thinks she shouldn't go back.
no subject
"Take me to your favorite place in this city, it's something I should know, right?"
no subject
"Hmm, favorite place --" It's a good query. There are restaurants he likes, a few good public squares, a nice view of the skyline.
No, he knows where he's going to take her. He changes their direction, heading toward a different sector. "It's a bit of a walk."
no subject
"I don't mind, I like getting to see everything."
no subject
His feet know the way, and it's not long before he sees the edges of the building peaking over the rest. Not time to draw her attention to it, though; better to see the entrance.
no subject
Perking up when a high-roofed building begins to come into view, she looks to Balthier, eyebrows raised in confusion. "Where are you taking me?"
no subject
They turn again, and the building comes into view. "The old conservatory, for plants from foreign regions. There aren't many left these days, but the one at home was my favorite place to go as a boy. This one's grander." It's like a palace, but one only full of plants.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)