UnShaekable (FFXII)

L) Suffering's Bargain

We rush up the stairs as quickly as our legs will carry us. My legs burn, but not nearly as much as my blood does when I see Vayne's tall, slender figure standing in the center of the round room. The breath is knocked from my lungs upon seeing his pale eyes for the first time since I was arrested in Rabanastre with Vaan and Balthier. His dark hair brushes over his shoulders as he turns to face us with his hands clasped behind his back. Larsa stands beside him, brows furrowed and hands balled into fists. If I didn't want to deal with the repercussions, I would rush at Vayne and skewer him on my spear by his throat before anyone could stop me. Larsa gasps upon seeing us. Vayne lifts a hand out to the side, his face devoid of any emotion.

"I bit you welcome to my sky fortress, the Bahamut. I must apologize for my delay in welcoming you aboard my ship." He presses his hand to his chest and gives the slightest bow. Vaan frowns and Balthier rolls his eyes. "Permit me to ask: who are you? An angel of vengeance? Or perchance a saint of salvation?"

"I am simply myself," Ashe replies softly. "No more and no less. And I want only to be free."

"Hm," Vayne hums. "Such a woman is not fit to bear the burden of rule." He extends his hand yet again, eyes narrowed on the princess. "I'm sure you've learned my dear sister is in the same situation. You have, after all, been traveling together for some time."

"I have no desire to take away your imaginary playpen of kings and kingdoms," I retort, catching his eyes in a bitter glare. "I've never had an interest in the throne; you know this."

"Ah, but you have the desire to take away my life, and that is fuel enough," he replies smoothly.

Anger burns in my chest and I grit my teeth. His lack of reaction, his empty voice... I want him to feel the same rage that I do, to feel my pain. To suffer at my hand as I did at his.

Gods, I'm more like Gabranth than I thought.

"Weep for Dalmasca, for she is lost," he continues, redirecting his focus to Ashe. The slightest of smiles tugs at his lips. "Observe well, Larsa. Watch and mark you the suffering of those who must rule, yet lack the power."

"No."

Vayne's face falls and he takes a deep breath. Larsa scowls up at him indignantly, raising his sword toward our elder brother. Somewhere in the flames of my fury, I feel pride well up. That's my boy.

"No, Brother," Larsa says in a voice that's almost mocking. "I will not. Though I lack your power, I will still persist." My heart sinks when Vayne chuckles.

"Bold words, child. It seems you've spent too much time with our Shera."

"Cocky #$%^&*#," I scoff, pulling out my spear and rushing toward him with Vaan hot on my heels.

I raise the sturdy wood of my spear to block the first quick, sharp jabs he throws at me with his fists, ducking under a swing from his leg and bashing his head with the blunt end of my weapon. Balthier fires twice, but it seems as though Vayne doesn't feel the bullets, turning to deliver a swift kick to Vaan's chest. He spins midair and hits me square in the face with his elbow. #$%^ you, Vayne. I crinkle my nose and spit out a mouthful of blood from where I bit my tongue upon impact. I should've gone to training more when I lived with him.

Basch and Ashe rush in with their blades at the ready as Penelo sends out a flurry of healing spells. Fran fires a trio of flaming arrows, momentarily distracting Vayne long enough that Basch can get a good slash in. But my brother's as fast on his feet as the hares in the plains surrounding Jahara; the knight's flat on his back with a nasty nosebleed in mere moments. Fran scorches him in response and Balthier's gun cracks again. Back on my feet, I lunge at him, blocking a few more attacks as though my spear is a quarterstaff and leaping backward to evade a strike from his boot. Vayne backs off as well, lifting his chin as he stares us all down.