{Fan Fics} Hide-and-Seek and Shield

[breyzyyin.livejournal.com]

Username: Yin (of breyzyyin)
Class: White Mage
Title: Hide-and-Seek
Summary: A gift exchange piece for the Holy Swords Gift Exchange for mako_lies: a fic featuring Vaan. Vaan reminisces about his brother while trying to help out a younger orphan.
Characters/Pairings: Vaan, Reks, Kytes. Migelo and Penelo are also mentioned.
Word count: 1,503
Rating/warnings: G. Spoilers for Final Fantasy XII.

----Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XII or any of the characters from that game. They are the rightful property of Square-Enix.----

Footsteps rounded the corner, and the boy pressed himself closer to the cold stone wall he was hiding by, silently praying that the crates and barrels would keep him out of sight.

If he tried to move now, he was sure to be seen. If he stayed, he might be found eventually anyways. He was trapped, one way or the other.

And all for what?

He smirked to himself and looked down at the small tome in his hand. He'd even bought it himself with the small amount of Gil he'd managed to save up as he imagined he would get in trouble with Migelo and Penelo otherwise if they found out he'd stolen a gift for someone...but a thief had taken off with a lot of other wares from the merchant right as Vaan had been leaving, and the orphaned slum rat made for the only possible suspect for the crime in the merchant's eyes.

...The irony of the situation was definitely not lost on him. He made a mental note to just skip the purchasing stage and go back to stealing whenever he wanted something later on: it would waste a lot of unnecessary time and effort on his part if he was just going to be accused of stealing something in the first place. He could already see Penelo rolling her eyes exasperatedly at his newfound logic.

All he wanted was to be able to get a small little gift for his friend's birthday. Kytes was a sweet-natured little kid, and he seemed to be rather sad recently. An academic historical tome had seemed right up his alley and was guaranteed to make his day!

But now? Now it felt like Vaan the street urchin was playing a high stakes game of hide-and-seek. The chances were that if he was found, he was going to get the tar beaten out of him by the merchant's thugs. They didn't exactly seem the sort to listen to reason when he caught sight of their scowling faces as he'd fled from the merchant's accusatory finger and insults.

When he was much, much younger he remembered playing hide-and-seek with his brother. He'd hide in pretty obvious places like right under the counter at Migelo's shop, the merchant smiling good-naturedly down at him and loudly whistling to feign innocence for the youth's benefit...and Reks would always wait a really long time before "finding" him, though he usually always knew where Vaan was right from the beginning.

Sometimes he'd wait so long that Vaan's legs would cramp and the young boy would start to panic, thinking that maybe he'd hid so well that he would never be found.

But always, just as he was on the edge of despair, his brother's gentle face would swim into his watery vision.

"I found you, Vaan!" Reks would say with his warm voice and a good-natured laugh.

And no matter how it would look to others, Vaan would laugh through his tears and grapple onto his brother's torso with a death grip...Reks returning the hug reassuringly.

How he'd childishly, foolishly wished that what had happened to his brother later on had been some kind of prank, some kind of prolonged hide-and-seek game.

That one day he would go into that awful room with the permeating dead silence to find Reks sitting in that horrible chair still...and suddenly, the blank look in his brother's eyes would disappear, that warmth and gentleness he was so accustomed to and yearned to see again returning instantaneously.

"I found you, Vaan!"

He swallowed hard to fight back the tears that threatened to fall once again. He knew there had been no chance of that being a game, but a stupid part of him had always hoped--no matter how hard he'd tried to suppress it.

He'd latched onto his older brother desperately, trying to will him to come back as his strength, his life finally gave out from that half-dead state. He'd cried so much then that he never even knew when they'd finally pried him away from the body that was no longer Reks.

It figured his brother would beat him to the sky.

When he finally did become a Sky Pirate, the first thing he ever hoped to hear was an "I found you, Vaan!" on the wind. It was the silliness of that thought, the childish belief in it, that kept him from crying now.

"...Vaan?"

Kytes' voice sounded further away down the corridor. He stiffened: he had been gone awhile now, so it only made sense that Penelo had gotten worried and sent one of the more responsible orphans out to go look for him.

But...

"Hey, kid!"

Loud voices. The merchant's thugs, possibly. Just great.

Depending on the information they'd gathered as they hadn't really gotten a very good look at him when he was fleeing from the merchant, Kytes might be blamed for the theft due to his appearance here. Not what he'd had in mind for a birthday gift at all.

Hushed voices in threatening tones could be heard drifting towards him. Kytes was stammering nervously, unsure of what to do. The poor kid was a lot younger than the teenaged Vaan and not quite as used to being in trouble or having to think on his feet yet. ...He was probably terrified.

"I found you, Vaan!"

Vaan darted out from his hiding place, taking a quick second to realize that the men weren't the goons the merchant had hired to protect his wares. No, they were just slum dwellers who figured that scaring a small kid was an easy way to get money for themselves...even worse!

He growled under his breath and tackled the nearest bruiser, deftly jumping up and grabbing the startled boy's wrist in the process, shoving the younger orphan down the passageway.

"Kytes, get out of here! Hurry!"

The brown-haired boy looked terrified, but beyond stumbling a little from Vaan's push, he seemed hesitant to move, "B-but..."

"JUST GO!"

Someone grabbed Vaan by the back of his hair and yanked him backwards off his feet. There was a sharp pain in his scalp and the world went white for a moment, but he thankfully saw a blurry Kytes running...and then the ground came up fast.

***

"...V-Vaan?"

Reks looked younger. Instead of the protective, smiling face his brother wore whenever he found him, he looked worried this time...on the verge of tears even.

His whole body hurt. He tasted copper. Had he fallen from an extremely "clever" hiding spot?

"Hey...you found me." he wanted to joke, to laugh.

He hurt so much, but he wanted Reks to smile at him like he always did.

"I found you, Vaan!"

He missed that caring voice, that laughter that kept him going even after their parents died, the fighting escalated, and everything fell apart.

"Vaan, hang on! Please!"

The younger Reks blurred in his vision. Wet droplets splashed onto his face.

It was Kytes who was sitting over him, Kytes who was crying just like Vaan himself had when his world had ended.

Memories kicked in and he remembered getting the tar beat out of him.

He smiled, glad that the smaller boy had managed to get away safely from the look of things.

"Hey, Kytes, I found you!" he said, and raised his aching arm to hit the other orphan playfully in the shoulder.

Still clutched in his hand was the small tome that had been the start of all of his troubles. Apparently, it hadn't been worth enough to take.

"I'm...okay, really. Once I rest a little bit, I'll be fine.” he tried to make his voice sound reassuring, like how Reks did when he was upset over something at Kytes' age. With a great amount of effort, he sat up.

Kytes sniffled and hugged Vaan. Clearly, he'd been terrified...but the tension seemed to leave his shoulders as he wept.

"I got this for you." Vaan pressed the book into Kytes' palm once the youth had finished sobbing, "Happy Birthday."

Kytes gave him a watery smile and looked down at the unexpected gift, his face still blotchy and tear-streaked, "Oh, a Black Magick tome!"

...Darn. Served Vaan right for not reading the titles more carefully. He was mentally laughing at himself now.

"I can't wait to show everyone!" the smile on his face was genuine now and not forced for Vaan's benefit, "Thank you, Vaan!"

"Don't mention it." he was helped to his feet gingerly, as the younger boy insisted on helping him back to Migelo's no matter how Vaan tried to insist he could walk on his own.

"Vaan?" Kytes' voice was quiet, the book clutched to his chest...cradled there protectively with the hand and arm he wasn't using to help support the older boy's weight. Vaan was glad to note that the happy smile from before was on his face still.

"Hmm?" He hurt a bit too much with the effort of walking to really talk much anymore.

"...Thank you for even looking."


*****

Username: Yin (of breyzyyin)
Class: White Mage
Title: Shield
Summary: A gift exchange piece for the Holy Swords Gift Exchange for my sister Breyzy of breyzyyin, who requested a fic featuring Gabranth. Gabranth and Larsa both reflect after the events at Mt. Bur-Omisace.
Characters/Pairings: Gabranth, Larsa, Gran Kiltias Anastasis. Zargabaath, Drace, Bergan, Emperor Gramis, Vayne, and Basch are also mentioned.
Word count: 1,732
Rating/warnings: G. Spoilers for Final Fantasy XII.

----Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XII or any of the characters from that game. They are the rightful property of Square-Enix.----

The sound of an airship either taking off or landing in the distance came through the open window, but as soon as it dissipated the only sounds that could be heard were the muffled noises of everyday protocol throughout the Imperial Palace. A somber, dark air hung over the place and there was a decided rush to the mannerisms of the soldiers and officials as they prepared for the darker days that laid ahead.

...And why shouldn't there be? His mouth was set in a grim line. Emperor Gramis was dead, supposedly by a senatorial plot, though he suspected and knew otherwise...and full-fledged war was all but assuredly looming on the horizon.

But, at that moment, that seemed only one small aspect of the troubling thoughts looming through his mind.

Gabranth turned his head from the open window to stare at the boy sitting on the couch on the other side of the room.

Since returning from Mt. Bur-Omisace, Larsa Ferrinas Solidor had sequestered himself in his room and had not moved a muscle since, staring blankly out at the air in front of him.

Gabranth could hardly blame him given the recent events. Unsure of what to say or do in the current situation, but reluctant to leave the young lord's side, he remained where he was.

Unfortunately, the silent and heavy atmosphere of the air also forced him to dwell on unpleasant thoughts of his own.

The Kiltian temple that housed the current Gran Kiltias was majestically grand in size, with a simplistic design that seemed fitting for the peaceful air of the place.

He had seen the refugee camp outside, the looks and murmurs of fear from the residents. The stoic way the acolytes regarded him. He swallowed, the motion thankfully hidden by his helm.

He did not want to be there anymore than they wanted him to be there. It reminded him too much of those early years after Landis: it showed a mirror into what his own personal actions in service to Archades meant for the rest of the world.

He'd only gone in with a small entourage...though, as Zargabaath had implied under his breath in passing before Gabranth had left the airship, there was no doubt that Bergan would not be far behind with his own forces. It was Gabranth's duty to recover and protect Lord Larsa, like as he would to avoid unnecessary bloodshed...he could do nothing in response to Bergan's own orders and intentions. Those were Vayne's orders, and he was already held suspect and with something akin to disgust in the new acting regent's eyes. The feeling was fairly mutual, truthfully...it had been ever since Vayne's first "half-breed" comment when Emperor Gramis had appointed him Judge Magister--it had increased ten-fold due to recent events.

But he had sworn to protect Lord Larsa...to become his shield, though that wording had always felt odd when associated with a person such as himself. He had sworn to Emperor Gramis, to Drace in her final moments with the memory of her blood on his sword still coming far too swiftly for comfort...he had sworn to himself. He would not forsake that path now, no matter what else would happen.

"Gabranth!"

He had paused in the hallway before the main chamber at the sound of the boy's voice.

Larsa ran towards him, stopping only an arm's length away. Despite Gabranth's face being completely covered, it seemed as if Larsa's clear gaze caught his own rather sharply.

The boy swallowed nervously, as if fearful of the response to the question he now poised, "My father...?"

Unable to meet the twelve-year-old's gaze any longer, Gabranth turned his head. He resisted the urge to reach out a consoling hand to the youth, long since feeling he'd lost the right to comfort anyone, "...I'm sorry."

Larsa's head dropped, a sad smile forming on his face, "I already knew as much." he muttered, the words barely audible under his breath.

"Lord Larsa..." the Judge Magister was unsure of what he had originally planned to say. In truth, anything he probably would have said would have been inadequate. But he remembered Judge Bergan's orders, and knew he only had a limited amount of time before the more bloodthirsty Judge decided they'd wasted enough time trying to peaceably get Larsa to leave. What was about to happen was not a sight he wanted Larsa to see: "I've been assigned to escort you back to Archades."

Despite his grief, Larsa seemed to soak in Gabranth's words quickly, "My brother's orders?" he asked.

A nod, "Judge Bergan is coming to...discuss things with the Gran Kiltias. He will arrive shortly."

He didn't have to say that Bergan would also deal harshly with anyone he felt impeded Archadian rule. That included the people of Mt. Bur-Omisace...the refugees, even--if they gave aid to resistance forces or if Larsa tarried too long among them.

With Bergan being the one assigned to the task by Vayne, it was all but implied: he was very good at what he did.

"If I leave with you...will they be spared?"

"..."

...No, there was no way that Bergan would not depart without any casualties. He did not want to voice that out loud though.

"It is best for you to leave regardless, Lord Larsa."

The Gran Kiltias Anastasis, an ancient and wizened figure, stood in the open doorway of the main hall. The Dreamsage met Gabranth's regard evenly with a knowing look in his eyes and the Judge Magister had to look away once again.

The religious figure was well-aware of what Gabranth's silence meant for him. The fact that he seemed to accept it calmly made it all the more harder to look at him.

"But..." Larsa knew it as well, and hesitated.

"Lord Larsa!" This time, Gabranth did reach out and grab the youth's smaller shoulders with his gauntleted hands, an urgent tone creeping into his voice, "Please!"

If they left now, at least some of the senseless tragedy could be avoided. At least then the boy wouldn't have to see what was about to occur.

"It is imperative that you make it back to Archades, young lord." the voice of the Dreamsage was clear and calm, "Be sure to speak of mercy for those who are tying to dwell here in peace."

The gentle, firm tone of the Gran Kiltias Anastasis broke through Gabranth's momentary panic, and he dropped his hands quickly though he did not even think in the silent moment that followed to apologize for his momentary impropriety. Larsa took only a second more to dwell on the Gran Kiltias' words, staring at both him and Gabranth in equal measure, before he nodded his head in solemn understanding.

"Very well. Judge Gabranth, once we leave here send word to Judge Bergan immediately. By doing so, there should be no justification for severe casualties regardless of his orders." he stared at the Gran Kiltias, who smiled peacefully still, "...I'm sorry for everything."

It was not hard to piece together what happened only moments later when Lord Larsa had safely boarded the airship. Bergan had been sent to make an example of something, a strong warning...and the blood of several acolytes and the Gran Kiltias Anastasis himself covering the floors of the ancient temple had done just that.

He supposed that, knew that, had Larsa not returned then...it would have been much worse. The refugees and several more of those housing them on that mount were no match against an imperial assault. The Gran Kiltias had seemed to know full well his fate and had accepted it with serene grace in order to protect as many of his people as he could.

Gabranth doubted he would ever find that kind of clarity in the moment of his passing, that sort of understanding. Too much lingered in his life: anger and hatred, sins committed out of spite and a sense of the greater good, than he cared to admit to.

Emperor Gramis had wanted him to be the shield that would protect his youngest son. Drace had asked the same of him.

...How could he protect anything when there was nothing but blood and death in his actions? When all he knew was the sword?

His thoughts went to Basch and a momentary flash of anger coursed through him: how was it that he was able to still protect when he had fled from Landis, from his family, so long ago? It made no sense...not when there was so much in his own past that he would never be able to atone for.

"Gabranth."

Larsa’s voice was soft, and he still remained staring out at nothing in front of him.

"Lord Larsa?" he was unsure if he'd actually addressed him or not.

"...I did the right thing, didn't I? At Mt. Bur-Omisace?"

There was a hint of a child’s fear in his tone, his hands gripping his knees tightly.

It had been apparent to Larsa as well. Gabranth sighed, closing his eyes. He'd hoped to spare the boy some of that knowledge at least, but he knew well enough how perceptive and intelligent Larsa was. At least he hadn't witnessed the act himself.

"...It was the only thing you could do." he stated as gently as he could and noting how strange that seemed, "The outcome would have been much worse otherwise."

Larsa nodded, and for a moment he seemed incredibly small and fragile to Gabranth. So many thoughts must have been racing through his head: his father's death, word of Drace's, the guilt over Gran Kiltias Anastasis' and the other acolytes' executions...almost without thinking, Gabranth's hand reached out as if he intended to grasp the twelve-year-old's shoulder in a comforting grip as Basch had done for him so long ago, but suddenly Larsa's head shot up and he stood. The sadness in his eyes had become something akin to determination.

"Let's go, Gabranth. I would like to have a word with my lord brother."

Gabranth blinked in surprise, nodding as he followed Larsa out the door. He thought of Emperor Gramis, of Drace, of the Gran Kiltias and the slain acolytes of the Kiltian temple...of Larsa's bravery despite his grief.

...He did not believe himself to be a shield, but he would do what he could to protect Larsa. All he could do at this point was but try, for everyone's sakes.