aerthier | Somehow I Always Find My Way To You

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."

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?”

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.

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.

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.

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.

Edited 2023-03-13 03:36 (UTC)

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.

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.

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?"

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