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."
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.
It's not like her to push him off and refuse help, or at least it hasn't been in months. A hot wave of rage makes him clench his own fists as she walks past him, tone tight. What has Piaget threatened her with? Or is it the simple horror of being sent back to that life?
Regardless, they'll have time to deal with it when they're back on the Strahl and far away from here. "This way," he says.
But they only make it about halfway down before two of Piaget's crew appear. Judging by their faces, no one anticipated he'd board the ship alone.
Well, he can use that. He stops abruptly, shielding Aerith with his body even as he readies an ice spell. It won't be pleasant, and he hopes they have a healer on hand. The moment he releases it, both their bodies go rigid, one yelling out in pain, the air around them plummeting in temperature. It will wear off in a few minutes, but not without doing damage.
"There'll be more," he says, reaching for her hand like he'll lose her again if he doesn't.
Things were not adding up - a feeling that's ramified when Piaget's men charge at them and Balthier responds by attacking. She expected them to react like comrades in arms, perhaps even going so far as to congratulate one another on their successful venture. When the two offending sky pirates hit the ground after being struck by Balthier's ice spell Aerith begins to realize she's misjudged the situation terribly.
There's no time for that now, there's no time for anything but to stare at him in confusion before finally, reluctantly, taking hold of his arm so that he can lead. There's enough fear still digging its hooks into her heart to keep Aerith from taking his hand like part of her desperately wants to, but that's something that can wait until they're back on the Strahl.
"Where are we going? You're not here to..." she can't bring herself to finish the thought.
He winces. He hasn’t meant to frighten her, and it’s the first time she’s seen him be so explicitly cruel to assailants. It’s exceedingly rare for him, but it’s not the time to explain that. He just has to hope her trust isn’t broken. The hand on his arms instead of his isn’t an ideal sign.
“I’m taking you home,” he says. He doesn’t care about revenge or making a point or any of that. He just wants her safe and away from here. If she thinks less of him for his methods, well, he will have to respect that.
They’re almost to the door when he feels the sizzle of magic, sees the glimmering lines of a military grade barrier spell lattice across the entire threshold. He’s clenching his jaw even before he hears Piaget’s voice, and he’s pulling Aerith behind him, putting his body as a shield. He doesn’t trust this monster not to damage his prize to hurt Balthier; that controlinf cruelty has always been his biggest weakness and what makes him so dangerous.
“We are leaving quietly or with a bang, Piaget. You choose.” And for maybe the third time in his life, he points his gun straight at another person.
Piaget is maddeningly calm, and its Aerith he addresses. “What did I tell you, Princess. It’s theater, all of it. He’s going to try to cut me out of the deal, convince you that you mattered, and hand you off in the night. Wouldn’t you rather go back with some dignity?”
Balthier sees red at the idea of locking in her in a lightless cell as any sort of dignity. He knows he has to get himself under control or they won’t get out of here, but a snarl escapes him, and he cocks the gun. “Last chance.”
Hearing the Strahl referred to as home makes her want to cry all over again. It sickens her to think it, but she had given up hope that she would ever have the chance to see his airship again, much less go back to it being home. As much as she does, there isn't time to dwell on how she regrets not taking hold of his hand. The imposing shape of Piaget halting their progress fills her with dread, and, when he speaks up Aerith can feel herself shaking.
The way Balthier changes - his rage evident in the way he levels his pistol and the firm ire of his voice - is unlike anything she's ever seen before. She wants to believe in him, and she feels like a fool for relinquishing that in the dingy little cell she's been locked in.
He isn't the only one who balks at hearing her captivity referred to as dignified, and she glares at Piaget from over Balthier's shoulder.
"I don't think there was anything dignified about the way you treated me!" Her hands ball into fists even as she trembles, wishing the knife Balthier had given her was still on her person.
"Was it dignified that he led you on like a besotted school girl?" Piaget taunts. "Trotting you around like some prize? If he hadn't, we'd never have located you."
Balthier's hand is shaking he's so angry. It's rare he misses his shot. Still, there's a stun spell woven into the bullets, and he wastes no time turning around and throwing magic at the barrier, hitting it with the butt of the gun as he curses under his breath, fingers skimming form sort of manual release, his body still between Aerith and the door.
His fingers catch, magic finding the break in the lock. Balthier had told Piaget to update those spells. Arrogant fuck. He digs in, slipping a lock pick up to dislodge the physical mechanism when he cries out, back arching before he slumps on Aerith.
Something's hit his back, lodged right between the ribs, a second one skimming his side, white hot pain erupting in both.
He snarls again, stumbling around to throw an ice spell. His control is gone, and the temperature drops, ice crystals forming on surfaces and their air fogging the space. Piaget's face twists before he's frozen solid. Balthier never was one to play dirty, but right now, he doesn't care.
And he's going to pay for how much magic he's using, but that's a future Balthier problem. Weight still against the door, clutching his side, aware its hot with blood, he throws another spell at the door. The barrier comes down. "Lightcraft," he rasps, and manages to stumble into the cargo bay. He has to brace himself to get his leg over, and when he sets his hand on the controls, it's slick with blood. "Hold onto me," he says, trying not to wince when she tightens her grip. They don't have time to waste, and the second she's settled, he's off.
The Strahl is blessedly close because his vision is hazy and he feels sick. If he hadn't practiced this maneuver a thousand times, it wouldn't have happened, but as it is, they bump and slide inside, scraping against other cargo. He gropes for his communicator, rasping into it, "We are returned. Disengage and depart. Full defense authorized." And then he slumps over, bloodied hand grasping for where Aerith's sits around his middle. "I think -- I need your services --" What's left of his voice is weak, but it's the calmest he's felt since he realized she was gone.
However calculated Piaget's words are, they fall flat in the face of the fury radiating off of Balthier. She's never seen him this angry, and she hates herself for thinking any less of him while locked in that cell.
"Oh, go fuck yourself!" She shouts back before everything bursts into motion around her.
If asked, Aerith would not have been able to detail how they made it back to the ship, or when exactly she began to cry. At some point, his blood seeped onto her dress as well, something Aerith barely notices between the tears rolling down her face, and his bloody hand taking hold of one of hers.
"Yes, of course," she manages in a wobbly voice, her hand turning to clasp his. Aerith's legs feel shaky as she climbs back to her feet, reaching to help him get up as well.
"Balthier." So many things come to mind to say, and her tongue gets tied up trying to find the right one. She wants to apologize, wants to thank him, kiss him, and promise to never leave his side again if it's what he wants.
She says none of those things, instead opting to frown at the floor while she puts all her weight into keeping him steady.
Her voice is strained when she says his name, and nothing else follows it. He's obediently trying to dismount the lightcraft, but he stumbles, mind and body not in sync. He gropes for her hand again, leaning back to try to catch his breath. "You're alright? He didn't -- hngh -- hurt you?"
Then she's shifting him, putting his weight on her and telling him he needs to lie down. She isn't wrong, much as he wants to protest. "You too," he says, and he's not sure if he means she needs to rest or he's telling her to stay with him. He's too busy trying to walk.
Keeping them both upright and moving takes most of Aerith's focus, but she manages to shake her head when asked if Piaget harmed her.
"I'm alright," she repeats quietly, the guilt she feels for not believing in him roiling inside her.
"We're almost there." She's no muscle-bound fighter and her arms are beginning to ache from the effort, but Aerith's willing to keep this up as long as she has to, to get him back to his bed and patched up.
She doesn’t sound alright. At least he thinks she doesn’t. It’s hard to tell, hard to focus.
As she leads him toward his room, crew move to get the doors, giving them space other than to tell Aerith if she needs anything anything to use Balthier’s comm or come find them.
He’s only hazily aware of it, trying to stay upright. “Bench,” he rasps as they get inside. When she steers him to it, he all but collapses, trying to get his best off but fumbling. He just wants the blood off before he lays down.
"Stop," she says gently, trying to still his hands as he reaches for his clothing. "Just stay still, okay?"
Far too shaken to be shy about this, she reaches for the laces of his waistcoat, loosening it and carefully pulling it over his head.
"You're going to be fine," she murmurs to him, but also to reassure herself. It is a lot of blood.
After his shirt's lifted away Aerith straightens up, looking him over with a frown.
"Stay here," she retreats to his washroom and returns with a stack of clean towels and washcloths and a basin of water. Aerith sets them down on the bench beside him and kneels so she can wring out a rag and bring it up to begin to clean the wound on his side, tears welling up in her eyes again.
It’s easy to just listen to her, hands falling away as he nods, moving his arms up when she guides him. He winces, hissing as it grazes his side, but the cool air is pleasant.
There’s a feeling of panic when she tells him to stay, some visceral part of him loathe to let her out of his sight, but he doesn’t have the energy of protest, leaning back against the wall and breathing deeply. He hears her come back, and tries his best to stifle a moan as she starts to clean him. But he gropes around for her arm, squeezing it lightly.
“Always dramatics with pirates.” He smiles weakly, and his whole heart aches seeing the tears in her eyes.
Her heart hurts when his hand takes hold of her free arm. She wants to straight up and kiss him, thank him for risking his life, but after the time she spent believing Piaget's lies, she doesn't think she deserves to.
"What were you thinking? You could have gotten really hurt," Aerith's voice is heavy and wobbly with emotion. She doesn't dare to meet his eye and risk sobbing outright. Instead, she focuses on cleaning his wound before the need to touch him wins out, and she pulls her arm free of his hold so that her hand can squeeze his tightly.
"Balthier, I–" She squeaks out a sob when she looks at him, rising to her feet as she shakes her head, dismissing the thought as she circles out of sight to tend to the wound between his shoulders.
“I wasn’t thinking,” he agrees, hissing as they shift but squeezing her hand back best he can. “I couldn’t let him take you back there.” He winces, pain flaring, heart aching as the sob twists her face.
He must have terrified her, being violent like that and now bleeding on her. And she was there for days. The thought still makes his stomach tight.
“I’m sorry I scared you. And I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”
"No, Balthier," she shakes her head, still thankful to be spared the weight of his stare right now. His words wound her, the pain he's in hurts her.
"How can you apologize? I should be the one apologizing." Aerith stops herself long enough to finish the important work of cleaning him up before she goes on. Aware he might turn her out for what she has to tell him.
"I started to believe him, and I'm so sorry. He knew so much about you, so much about us, and then, sitting in that cell day after day I–" Aerith stops herself and comes around to face him, kneeling beside him. "I'm sorry. I should have never doubted you, or how I feel about you."
There’s no denying that it hurts to hear she believed Piaget about him. Even addled, he can assume how nasty those lies were. And some part of him feels resigned to it, that someone like Aerith was never going to care for someone like him. That no one ever sees past the surface, doesn’t want to.
Except he’s still too fresh off the terror of losing her.
“Piaget manipulates, and he does it well.” He can hear the tightness in his voice though.
Then she’s in front of him, filling his vision with her beautiful face, and it’s not the apology that has his heart stuttering.
He’s still dizzy, still slow, but he gingerly reaches out his clean hand to touch her hair. “I should have been clearer about how I felt, so you didn’t have to guess. I was so worried about overstepping, I didn’t think…”
"Balthier, please don't." Her hand reaches up to cover his, the sight of his face making her squeeze her eyes closed with a sob. "You came for me, that's what matters. That's all that matters."
Her fingers lace with his before she makes herself open her eyes again, giving him a sad shake of her head.
"I hope you can forgive me for giving up on you. I was scared. Thinking that I would never see you, or the Strahl again broke my heart. I never want to be without either, ever again."
His face twists, confused by the intensity of her reaction. "What did he say to you?"
But his stomach is tight, because he can guess. Piaget knows his wounds, knows how best to twist a knife, and what worse than trying to break a relationship that matters to him, crack foundations and trust beyond repair.
He squeezes the fingers interlaced in his. "I was so scared I'd lost you." He gives her a watery smile, hating how upset she is but speechlessly happy that she wants to be here, to see him.
"Come sit on your bed. I want to bandage your side, but I want you close to where you can lay down first."
Aerith keeps hold of his hand as she stands back up, releasing it so that she can offer a steadying arm instead while he rises.
"He knew so much about you and us. The places we've gone to together, the gardens, the wedding." She begins only once they're on their way. It's an upsetting conversation to have. Aerith didn't want to start it until he was close enough to his bed that if he decides to kick her out she won't leave him in a precarious position.
"He said I wasn't the first woman you used this con on. That you were just passing the time until I got handed off to him for the big payout. That you wanted me to think you cared about me because it was amusing to you."
Kicking her out couldn't be farther from his mind. He almost protests when she takes her hand away, but feels ashamed for it -- that and he's grunting through the pain in his side. He reaches out for her, steadying himself, and feels foolish for thinking she was pulling away. Had she not just expressed she didn't want to be away from the Strahl? From him?
The thought makes him feel oddly ashamed, like he's being a fool for believing it. Couldn't have heard her right.
And as she starts to speak, his heart drops. He turns his face away, however briefly, so she won't see the shame and hurt there. Hasn't she already told him she doesn't really think that? And even if she does -- he knows he isn't going to push her away. That just doesn't make it hurt less that she thought him capable of that.
"You wouldn't be the first to think that," he says, as much for her as for him. "Piaget knows how to make people doubt themselves, see the worst in a situation, and my reputation doesn't help." A reputation Piaget had started. Maybe Aerith deserved to know that.
He grimaces as she helps steer him onto the bed. With her standing, she's taller than he is, and he wants to just put his hands on her hips and lean into her. Instead he balls his hands in his lap, trying to keep his voice even.
"Llogo was his informant; paid him off to tell him everything. I -- Piaget knows I've struggled romantically. We were close for a very long time. He sabotaged my reputation, convinced someone I cared about that I'd done some terrible things, started this reputation of mine, nearly compromised the Strahl. The man you were supposed to marry, they're old friends. I'd wondered, when I decided to intercept you, if the two of them were up to something, and then when nothing came -- I got complacent."
While he speaks she kneels and starts wrapping a roll of bandages around his middle, covering the area where the throwing stars clipped his sides. Everything Balthier says makes her eyes prick with tears, ashamed of herself all over again for letting her faith in him be damaged by those days isolated in that tiny cell and Piaget's lies.
Llogo. She remembers the man, and the thought of the times she's interacted with him is enough to turn her stomach. It takes focus not to let her rising anger channel itself into wrapping his bandages too tightly, securing them off with a steadying breath before she lets herself speak again.
"I don't care about your reputation," her voice is low but serious, shifting from where she's knelt to meet his eye again. "I wanted him to be wrong, but I was so scared. Scared of where I was going, of how you weren't coming, of what the rest of my life was going to be like without you in it."
As she speaks her voice gets thick with tears and she has to stop herself with another deep breath before she brings her hand up to rest against his injured side carefully, a faint green glow filling the space between them as she starts to heal him.
He's a good patient, staying mostly still but shifting to accommodate her. Honestly, it should feel nice, having her close and safe, but this is just another thing Piaget's tainted.
He'd hoped his explanation would help, but Aerith looks just as miserable, iterating again why she acted the way she did, her voice cracking and her eyes watery. As she places her hands to begin to heal him, he manages to get a hand on her face, thumb brushing a stray tear. It's terrible intimate, but -- isn't all of this? She already feared him a selfish fool; what else does he have to lose?
"I'm not upset with you," he says very gently, arching slightly as the magic starts to set in, uncomfortable but also taking some of the pain away. "Losing my freedom, being forced back to that life -- it's one of my biggest fears." If she wasn't concentrating so hard on his open wound, he'd pull her into his chest. As it is, his hand stays firm on her cheek, and he swallows before he manages to admit, "I wasn't eating, the first mate had to use a sleep spell on me -- I was so scared you were gone forever. That you were getting sent back to that life and going to be absolutely miserable. The idea that he would have soured your memory of all this, of me -- " It's his turn to get teary.
The light of the magic fades and she's finally able to look at him again, her chest aching from the force of his words and the way he delivers them. It's clear he means everything he says and it makes her want to kick herself.
"Balthier," Aerith moves again, this time to sit on the bed beside him, her hand covering the one he rests against her cheek as her eyes lock onto his.
"If I went back I would have remembered this, and you, every day." Even if Piaget had turned out to be right, it wouldn't have mattered in the long run. Even if it was traitorous to feel that way she would have treasured their time together, and the little sliver of real life she had been allowed to enjoy. She lets his hand go to touch his cheek instead, sniffling while she searches his face before giving in and leaning forward to kiss him.
His breath comes deeper in his chest, pain dulled, and he's grateful for it. Not just the healing, but for feeling like he has a piece of her with him.
Her hand slides over his, soft and warm, and he breathes out easier, like he's finally processing she isn't going anywhere, isn't rejecting what he's telling her. Wen she speaks again, it's his turn to get teary. Her hand strays to his cheek, and he sits rigid and frozen for a moment, mind convinced he's going to scare her off if he does the wrong thing.
It doesn't register immediately that she's kissing him, but when it does, he tightens his hold on her cheek, liquid escaping his eyes as he makes a low sound of -- apology, relief, affection.
"Yes you will," he says, but there's no negativity in it. His face stays close to hers, nose pressed into her cheek. "But you're willing to give me a chance, even when things look terrible, and that's more than I could have asked for." He presses his lips to hers again, choking back the sob he feels growing in his chest, and this time when he breaks the kiss he pulls her to him with his good arm, other one resting loosely around her and he just breathes in being here, being together.
"You should go get something hot to eat," he murmurs. "And a bath, if you want it, and then if you're so inclined, you should come rest with me." He can tell the magic is already taking hold, and his eyes are getting heavy.
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Date: 2023-02-18 01:34 am (UTC)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."
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Date: 2023-02-19 01:48 am (UTC)"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.
no subject
Date: 2023-02-19 02:04 am (UTC)Regardless, they'll have time to deal with it when they're back on the Strahl and far away from here. "This way," he says.
But they only make it about halfway down before two of Piaget's crew appear. Judging by their faces, no one anticipated he'd board the ship alone.
Well, he can use that. He stops abruptly, shielding Aerith with his body even as he readies an ice spell. It won't be pleasant, and he hopes they have a healer on hand. The moment he releases it, both their bodies go rigid, one yelling out in pain, the air around them plummeting in temperature. It will wear off in a few minutes, but not without doing damage.
"There'll be more," he says, reaching for her hand like he'll lose her again if he doesn't.
no subject
Date: 2023-02-19 06:51 pm (UTC)There's no time for that now, there's no time for anything but to stare at him in confusion before finally, reluctantly, taking hold of his arm so that he can lead. There's enough fear still digging its hooks into her heart to keep Aerith from taking his hand like part of her desperately wants to, but that's something that can wait until they're back on the Strahl.
"Where are we going? You're not here to..." she can't bring herself to finish the thought.
no subject
Date: 2023-02-19 09:11 pm (UTC)“I’m taking you home,” he says. He doesn’t care about revenge or making a point or any of that. He just wants her safe and away from here. If she thinks less of him for his methods, well, he will have to respect that.
They’re almost to the door when he feels the sizzle of magic, sees the glimmering lines of a military grade barrier spell lattice across the entire threshold. He’s clenching his jaw even before he hears Piaget’s voice, and he’s pulling Aerith behind him, putting his body as a shield. He doesn’t trust this monster not to damage his prize to hurt Balthier; that controlinf cruelty has always been his biggest weakness and what makes him so dangerous.
“We are leaving quietly or with a bang, Piaget. You choose.” And for maybe the third time in his life, he points his gun straight at another person.
Piaget is maddeningly calm, and its Aerith he addresses. “What did I tell you, Princess. It’s theater, all of it. He’s going to try to cut me out of the deal, convince you that you mattered, and hand you off in the night. Wouldn’t you rather go back with some dignity?”
Balthier sees red at the idea of locking in her in a lightless cell as any sort of dignity. He knows he has to get himself under control or they won’t get out of here, but a snarl escapes him, and he cocks the gun. “Last chance.”
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Date: 2023-02-20 12:43 am (UTC)The way Balthier changes - his rage evident in the way he levels his pistol and the firm ire of his voice - is unlike anything she's ever seen before. She wants to believe in him, and she feels like a fool for relinquishing that in the dingy little cell she's been locked in.
He isn't the only one who balks at hearing her captivity referred to as dignified, and she glares at Piaget from over Balthier's shoulder.
"I don't think there was anything dignified about the way you treated me!" Her hands ball into fists even as she trembles, wishing the knife Balthier had given her was still on her person.
no subject
Date: 2023-02-20 04:14 am (UTC)Balthier's hand is shaking he's so angry. It's rare he misses his shot. Still, there's a stun spell woven into the bullets, and he wastes no time turning around and throwing magic at the barrier, hitting it with the butt of the gun as he curses under his breath, fingers skimming form sort of manual release, his body still between Aerith and the door.
His fingers catch, magic finding the break in the lock. Balthier had told Piaget to update those spells. Arrogant fuck. He digs in, slipping a lock pick up to dislodge the physical mechanism when he cries out, back arching before he slumps on Aerith.
Something's hit his back, lodged right between the ribs, a second one skimming his side, white hot pain erupting in both.
He snarls again, stumbling around to throw an ice spell. His control is gone, and the temperature drops, ice crystals forming on surfaces and their air fogging the space. Piaget's face twists before he's frozen solid. Balthier never was one to play dirty, but right now, he doesn't care.
And he's going to pay for how much magic he's using, but that's a future Balthier problem. Weight still against the door, clutching his side, aware its hot with blood, he throws another spell at the door. The barrier comes down. "Lightcraft," he rasps, and manages to stumble into the cargo bay. He has to brace himself to get his leg over, and when he sets his hand on the controls, it's slick with blood. "Hold onto me," he says, trying not to wince when she tightens her grip. They don't have time to waste, and the second she's settled, he's off.
The Strahl is blessedly close because his vision is hazy and he feels sick. If he hadn't practiced this maneuver a thousand times, it wouldn't have happened, but as it is, they bump and slide inside, scraping against other cargo. He gropes for his communicator, rasping into it, "We are returned. Disengage and depart. Full defense authorized." And then he slumps over, bloodied hand grasping for where Aerith's sits around his middle. "I think -- I need your services --" What's left of his voice is weak, but it's the calmest he's felt since he realized she was gone.
It's alright. She's home. The rest is manageable.
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Date: 2023-02-20 04:59 am (UTC)"Oh, go fuck yourself!" She shouts back before everything bursts into motion around her.
If asked, Aerith would not have been able to detail how they made it back to the ship, or when exactly she began to cry. At some point, his blood seeped onto her dress as well, something Aerith barely notices between the tears rolling down her face, and his bloody hand taking hold of one of hers.
"Yes, of course," she manages in a wobbly voice, her hand turning to clasp his. Aerith's legs feel shaky as she climbs back to her feet, reaching to help him get up as well.
"Balthier." So many things come to mind to say, and her tongue gets tied up trying to find the right one. She wants to apologize, wants to thank him, kiss him, and promise to never leave his side again if it's what he wants.
She says none of those things, instead opting to frown at the floor while she puts all her weight into keeping him steady.
"Come on. You need to lay down."
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Date: 2023-02-20 08:43 pm (UTC)Then she's shifting him, putting his weight on her and telling him he needs to lie down. She isn't wrong, much as he wants to protest. "You too," he says, and he's not sure if he means she needs to rest or he's telling her to stay with him. He's too busy trying to walk.
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Date: 2023-02-20 11:03 pm (UTC)"I'm alright," she repeats quietly, the guilt she feels for not believing in him roiling inside her.
"We're almost there." She's no muscle-bound fighter and her arms are beginning to ache from the effort, but Aerith's willing to keep this up as long as she has to, to get him back to his bed and patched up.
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Date: 2023-02-21 03:07 am (UTC)As she leads him toward his room, crew move to get the doors, giving them space other than to tell Aerith if she needs anything anything to use Balthier’s comm or come find them.
He’s only hazily aware of it, trying to stay upright. “Bench,” he rasps as they get inside. When she steers him to it, he all but collapses, trying to get his best off but fumbling. He just wants the blood off before he lays down.
His stomach tightens. There’s a lot of blood.
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Date: 2023-02-21 03:29 am (UTC)Far too shaken to be shy about this, she reaches for the laces of his waistcoat, loosening it and carefully pulling it over his head.
"You're going to be fine," she murmurs to him, but also to reassure herself. It is a lot of blood.
After his shirt's lifted away Aerith straightens up, looking him over with a frown.
"Stay here," she retreats to his washroom and returns with a stack of clean towels and washcloths and a basin of water. Aerith sets them down on the bench beside him and kneels so she can wring out a rag and bring it up to begin to clean the wound on his side, tears welling up in her eyes again.
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Date: 2023-02-21 03:44 am (UTC)There’s a feeling of panic when she tells him to stay, some visceral part of him loathe to let her out of his sight, but he doesn’t have the energy of protest, leaning back against the wall and breathing deeply. He hears her come back, and tries his best to stifle a moan as she starts to clean him. But he gropes around for her arm, squeezing it lightly.
“Always dramatics with pirates.” He smiles weakly, and his whole heart aches seeing the tears in her eyes.
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Date: 2023-02-21 03:54 am (UTC)"What were you thinking? You could have gotten really hurt," Aerith's voice is heavy and wobbly with emotion. She doesn't dare to meet his eye and risk sobbing outright. Instead, she focuses on cleaning his wound before the need to touch him wins out, and she pulls her arm free of his hold so that her hand can squeeze his tightly.
"Balthier, I–" She squeaks out a sob when she looks at him, rising to her feet as she shakes her head, dismissing the thought as she circles out of sight to tend to the wound between his shoulders.
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Date: 2023-02-21 04:17 am (UTC)He must have terrified her, being violent like that and now bleeding on her. And she was there for days. The thought still makes his stomach tight.
“I’m sorry I scared you. And I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”
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Date: 2023-02-21 04:31 am (UTC)"How can you apologize? I should be the one apologizing." Aerith stops herself long enough to finish the important work of cleaning him up before she goes on. Aware he might turn her out for what she has to tell him.
"I started to believe him, and I'm so sorry. He knew so much about you, so much about us, and then, sitting in that cell day after day I–" Aerith stops herself and comes around to face him, kneeling beside him. "I'm sorry. I should have never doubted you, or how I feel about you."
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Date: 2023-02-21 04:51 am (UTC)Except he’s still too fresh off the terror of losing her.
“Piaget manipulates, and he does it well.” He can hear the tightness in his voice though.
Then she’s in front of him, filling his vision with her beautiful face, and it’s not the apology that has his heart stuttering.
He’s still dizzy, still slow, but he gingerly reaches out his clean hand to touch her hair. “I should have been clearer about how I felt, so you didn’t have to guess. I was so worried about overstepping, I didn’t think…”
Well didn’t think she’d be kidnapped.
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Date: 2023-02-21 05:18 am (UTC)Her fingers lace with his before she makes herself open her eyes again, giving him a sad shake of her head.
"I hope you can forgive me for giving up on you. I was scared. Thinking that I would never see you, or the Strahl again broke my heart. I never want to be without either, ever again."
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Date: 2023-02-21 09:02 pm (UTC)But his stomach is tight, because he can guess. Piaget knows his wounds, knows how best to twist a knife, and what worse than trying to break a relationship that matters to him, crack foundations and trust beyond repair.
He squeezes the fingers interlaced in his. "I was so scared I'd lost you." He gives her a watery smile, hating how upset she is but speechlessly happy that she wants to be here, to see him.
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Date: 2023-02-21 11:06 pm (UTC)Aerith keeps hold of his hand as she stands back up, releasing it so that she can offer a steadying arm instead while he rises.
"He knew so much about you and us. The places we've gone to together, the gardens, the wedding." She begins only once they're on their way. It's an upsetting conversation to have. Aerith didn't want to start it until he was close enough to his bed that if he decides to kick her out she won't leave him in a precarious position.
"He said I wasn't the first woman you used this con on. That you were just passing the time until I got handed off to him for the big payout. That you wanted me to think you cared about me because it was amusing to you."
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Date: 2023-02-22 02:44 am (UTC)The thought makes him feel oddly ashamed, like he's being a fool for believing it. Couldn't have heard her right.
And as she starts to speak, his heart drops. He turns his face away, however briefly, so she won't see the shame and hurt there. Hasn't she already told him she doesn't really think that? And even if she does -- he knows he isn't going to push her away. That just doesn't make it hurt less that she thought him capable of that.
"You wouldn't be the first to think that," he says, as much for her as for him. "Piaget knows how to make people doubt themselves, see the worst in a situation, and my reputation doesn't help." A reputation Piaget had started. Maybe Aerith deserved to know that.
He grimaces as she helps steer him onto the bed. With her standing, she's taller than he is, and he wants to just put his hands on her hips and lean into her. Instead he balls his hands in his lap, trying to keep his voice even.
"Llogo was his informant; paid him off to tell him everything. I -- Piaget knows I've struggled romantically. We were close for a very long time. He sabotaged my reputation, convinced someone I cared about that I'd done some terrible things, started this reputation of mine, nearly compromised the Strahl. The man you were supposed to marry, they're old friends. I'd wondered, when I decided to intercept you, if the two of them were up to something, and then when nothing came -- I got complacent."
And distracted.
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Date: 2023-02-22 03:24 am (UTC)Llogo. She remembers the man, and the thought of the times she's interacted with him is enough to turn her stomach. It takes focus not to let her rising anger channel itself into wrapping his bandages too tightly, securing them off with a steadying breath before she lets herself speak again.
"I don't care about your reputation," her voice is low but serious, shifting from where she's knelt to meet his eye again. "I wanted him to be wrong, but I was so scared. Scared of where I was going, of how you weren't coming, of what the rest of my life was going to be like without you in it."
As she speaks her voice gets thick with tears and she has to stop herself with another deep breath before she brings her hand up to rest against his injured side carefully, a faint green glow filling the space between them as she starts to heal him.
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Date: 2023-02-22 03:46 am (UTC)He'd hoped his explanation would help, but Aerith looks just as miserable, iterating again why she acted the way she did, her voice cracking and her eyes watery. As she places her hands to begin to heal him, he manages to get a hand on her face, thumb brushing a stray tear. It's terrible intimate, but -- isn't all of this? She already feared him a selfish fool; what else does he have to lose?
"I'm not upset with you," he says very gently, arching slightly as the magic starts to set in, uncomfortable but also taking some of the pain away. "Losing my freedom, being forced back to that life -- it's one of my biggest fears." If she wasn't concentrating so hard on his open wound, he'd pull her into his chest. As it is, his hand stays firm on her cheek, and he swallows before he manages to admit, "I wasn't eating, the first mate had to use a sleep spell on me -- I was so scared you were gone forever. That you were getting sent back to that life and going to be absolutely miserable. The idea that he would have soured your memory of all this, of me -- " It's his turn to get teary.
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Date: 2023-02-22 03:58 am (UTC)"Balthier," Aerith moves again, this time to sit on the bed beside him, her hand covering the one he rests against her cheek as her eyes lock onto his.
"If I went back I would have remembered this, and you, every day." Even if Piaget had turned out to be right, it wouldn't have mattered in the long run. Even if it was traitorous to feel that way she would have treasured their time together, and the little sliver of real life she had been allowed to enjoy. She lets his hand go to touch his cheek instead, sniffling while she searches his face before giving in and leaning forward to kiss him.
"I'll never doubt you again."
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Date: 2023-02-22 08:33 pm (UTC)Her hand slides over his, soft and warm, and he breathes out easier, like he's finally processing she isn't going anywhere, isn't rejecting what he's telling her. Wen she speaks again, it's his turn to get teary. Her hand strays to his cheek, and he sits rigid and frozen for a moment, mind convinced he's going to scare her off if he does the wrong thing.
It doesn't register immediately that she's kissing him, but when it does, he tightens his hold on her cheek, liquid escaping his eyes as he makes a low sound of -- apology, relief, affection.
"Yes you will," he says, but there's no negativity in it. His face stays close to hers, nose pressed into her cheek. "But you're willing to give me a chance, even when things look terrible, and that's more than I could have asked for." He presses his lips to hers again, choking back the sob he feels growing in his chest, and this time when he breaks the kiss he pulls her to him with his good arm, other one resting loosely around her and he just breathes in being here, being together.
"You should go get something hot to eat," he murmurs. "And a bath, if you want it, and then if you're so inclined, you should come rest with me." He can tell the magic is already taking hold, and his eyes are getting heavy.
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