Author's Note: What up! Yes, it's that time, time for the long awaited sequel to Payment as Repayment! THAT time! You asked, and though a lot later than expected, I have delivered!
I've discovered my Penelo likes having things to do. I barely even realize it when I write her like that, but that's the way I see her.
"Payment as Repayment" was told more from Larsa's view, so in "Taking Tea and Taking Time," I wanted to focus on Penelo's feelings. The whole thing has a different vibe to it than PaR, but that's intentional. It's another point in their lives, where it's regressed to normalcy, and not everything is in front of you and perfectly spelled out and take action now. I'm really happy with the way this came out and the composition of it. I felt I conveyed it exactly as I'd hoped (though I admit when I started writing it, I totally winged it). (Hell, I'm still winging it.)
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XII. Frealz.
Taking
Tea and Taking Time
Chapter
One: Eleven O'Clock
Penelo paced for unending minutes before she forced herself to stop, scared she might walk holes into the fine carpet of her bedroom. It was unnerving to have such a big room all to herself, with windows taller and wider than she was, and curtains sewn of softer cloth than the most costly of Migelo's sheets. Even more unnerving was her bed, which could probably fit four of her if she weighed about two hundred pounds more, though luckily it never felt too large, what with the colossal mound of pillows.
Too nice a room for a street urchin, she thought. Maybe I have castle fever.
What a silly notion! People wanted to come to these places, not leave them. Archadia was a beautiful country, especially its capital city and castle, with sprawling grounds and rooms the size of an entire house. Sadly, it only furthered her point that this was a place for royals or dignitaries or at the very least attendants, none of which she happened to be. Just in good favor with the emperor, that was it, so she grew more uncomfortable each day – not under the Archadian sun, but under the stares of passing servants.
And of course she was Dalmascan, which made things rather awkward. Whenever she was introduced to an ambassador (on Larsa's insistence, for she felt like such a dreadful misfit when he did it, but smiled anyway), they went so out of their way to be nice or impress her, as if to say, "Yeah, sorry about that whole invasion thing."
With a sigh, Penelo flopped onto her bed; the mattress sunk snugly beneath her, like a cloud cushioning her fall. Above all her worries, she feared she was overstaying her welcome. It was terribly kind of Larsa to allow her room and board after rescuing her from the harem, but it had been months. He seemed to enjoy her company and adored pleasing her, even letting her train with the court's dancers, the finest in Archadia. Yet there was a tugging at her heart for her home, and the smiling faces of Vaan and Ashe, and perhaps even Balthier and Fran, should they decide to break from the sky and touch ground for a day or two in Rabanastre.
How to tell Larsa? He had done so much and she felt so ungrateful, which couldn't be farther from the truth: She was full of so much gratitude she could barely contain it, that her heart was full to bursting with it when Larsa was with her. But he was not with her often, only as often as was possible; they went for walks, ate dinner together, strolled through the palace menagerie. One time she even danced for him, though she was so nervous she nearly tripped and fell on her face, and thus refused every obliging inquiry for an encore performance since.
These days, however, Larsa found himself increasingly occupied by his country, so their walks were few and their dinners quiet.
The sun was high, droplets of light leaking between the drapes, falling against the backs and pooling at the hems. Larsa was with his advisors, but would take tea soon, and she would like to be there with him. Tea they always shared. Not to mention noon was a soothing time of day, with the sun high as hope: the perfect time to confront him. Yet she was horribly nervous, wringing her hands together until she could scarcely tell one finger from the other.
To be certain, she whispered her speech to herself as she rose and walked circles: "Larsa, I can't thank you enough for all you've done, and I've really enjoyed my time here and all the time I've spent with you, but I do miss Dalmasc – AH!" Penelo collided ungracefully with a bedpost, her head smarting something awful. She almost laughed at herself, until her vision cleared and she spied the time – then laughter was the last thing from her mind.
Penelo drew a great breath and stood, then left her room and began down the halls. The Archadian palace was larger than life. The ceiling soared high above her head, marble with arabesque etchings of stone. The windows stretched up, magnificent views of the grounds and the city beyond them glowing proudly in the sun. Tapestries hung from the walls, woven of rich purples twining into vibrant golds. There were servants in every room and stalking streamlined up and down the corridors, bowing as she passed, all busy. She wished she had something to do; she offered to work for Larsa, but he refused outright. She was aguest, he insisted. So she occupied her time with dancing or helping in the garden or exploring the library (in truth, climbing the shelves was more interesting than reading what was on them; she was convinced she was channeling Vaan and his impishness when she scaled them; she was further convinced she was channeling his incapacity for stealth when she got caught).
She trotted down flights of stairs and emerged in another hallway, nodding at a passing boy with papers packed to popping under his arms, then continued on her route. As always, they were taking tea in the garden; Larsa would already be there. It made Penelo feel funny, the phrase "taking tea" and the fact that she was the one taking it. Not even Migelo "took tea," and for so many years of her life he was the wealthiest being Penelo knew. She wondered if Vaan, when he visited Ashe, took tea – then hoped sincerely not: he would be awful at taking tea, would have crumbs all over himself. Penelo bit back a giggle. Vaan taking tea would be enough to take down an empire.
She was soon outside, tracing the pathway that led to the rose garden, where lacquered benches and tables dotted the ground for just such occasions. As she expected, Larsa was already seated, a teapot, set of cups, and tray of delights before him. Penelo quickly sidled into the vacant chair.
"Sorry I'm late," she said, blushing. He had so little time to spend with her, she hated to make him waste it.
"Not at all," he replied kindly and smiled. He was much too kind, but it was such a virtuous fault she thought perhaps she was just too jaded.
They talked while she stirred her tea: he recounted relations with Rozarria and Dalmasca. She was sipping gingerly when he told her he would be flying to Rabanastre the next day to talk with Ashe personally. She was so eager to say something, she nearly choked inhaling her tea.
"You're going to Rabanastre?" she asked between fits of coughing. He hastily handed her a handkerchief.
"Yes, but that's not – are you all right?"
"Fine, fine!" She wheezed a few more times into the handkerchief and smiled. "I'm fine."
Larsa seemed skeptical. "Very well. And yes, I am traveling to Rabanastre to speak with Queen Ashe. Why do you ask?"
"Can I go with you?" Penelo blurted, then laughed nervously. She had an entire mantra prepared for this moment, but seemed to have condensed it into five words. Speaking after I think, mused Penelo. I wonder if Larsa has an instructor for that.
Larsa appeared bemused for a moment, as if curious of her motive, though nodded and sipped his tea. "Of course you may. I'll have the servants pack your things. I'm sorry, I didn't realize… I've been keeping you all to myself. You must miss your friends."
"I do, but don't feel bad or anything. You're my friend too." Friend. When he didn't object to the word, Penelo suddenly wasn't in the mood for tea, much less food. "And I can pack my own things, it's no trouble."
"Of course."
To Penelo's surprise, conversation did not resume; the garden was filled solely with the sounds of tea sloshing silently and cups chiming as they alighted on their saucers. It seemed an eternity before a servant came to summon Larsa away; he bowed regally to Penelo before departing. Penelo curtsied in return and spent the next two hours in the garden, consumed by the need to do something. Larsa's voice as he bade her farewell tolled clear in her mind all the while, even as the gardener chatted amicably with her while they pulled weeds. Why had he sounded so dejected as he left? Had she said something wrong? Penelo became so engrossed in wondering that soon she was pulling out more flowers than weeds. She would have continued, too, had the gardener not demanded she leave before the massacre of magnolias escalated into a full-on slaughter.
When Penelo returned to her room, she was only half surprised that her things were already stowed. He may have said "of course," but in Larsa's language that translated to "nonsense, you're my guest." Sometimes she thought Archadians were too polite for their own good. (For goodness sakes, she also sometimes thought, even Vayne was polite. She wished they could be more like Ashe, weaving a healthy curtain of curses every now and then, and wondered if Larsa was at all repressed by his regality.)
There was only a set of clothes and nightclothes on her dresser; the rest, she assumed had been carted away by servants.Despite living there, Penelo kept only a few articles of clothing. Larsa never attempted to buy her fancy dresses: he knew as well as she did that she didn't find them very practical or appealing; though she would have been flattered, they were both of the opinion that a dress unappreciated was someone's fine craftsmanship and hard work wasted.
Still, they had packed quite a bit, but it occurred to Penelo that she hadn't asked Larsa how long they were staying.
Must be at least a week, she concluded, if they've taken all my things. As a week with her friends sounded lovely, so at dinner she did not ask. After she ate, with nothing to do and nothing to pack, she went to bed. It took her hours to stifle her anticipation. In fact, she was so preoccupied with it she didn't have time to remark on Larsa's strange silence at dinner.
The flight to Rabanastre was as long as she knew it would be, a journey made even longer by Larsa's absence. She was not allowed on the bridge, only in her cabin. She hoped against hope that he would come visit her, but after an hour passed and he had not, Penelo decided he must be very busy and spent the rest of the trip watching clouds flit past her window, drifting in and out of naps.
When they sunk into the aerodome, a party was waiting to welcome them. Vaan burst from it and ran to her, hugging her tightly. The complete lack of bows or curtsies earned them skeptical looks, but both were far too happy to notice.
"Vaan!" Penelo was seized and spun around, overcome with laughter. "Good to see you too!"
Vaan set her down and they were off to the palace, absorbed in conversation. He told her all about his adventures around Ivalice and the months he spent flying with Balthier and Fran, as well as the boring ones where had to do honest work on charter ships. ("The East Ivalice Company is such a bore. The only way to start any excitement is to 'accidentally' drop a wanted poster of yourself around the stewardesses. But after that you get sort of fired, so mostly it's just a bore.")
"And how's Ashe doing?" Penelo asked as they neared Rabanastre's center.
"Really good." Vaan walked casually, hands slung behind his head, elbows toward the sky – it was a picture so familiar, Penelo felt as if she'd never been away. "Basch too. They're spending more and more time together."
Penelo's heart skipped a beat. "It isn't…"
"War?" He laughed. "Nah, don't think so. Can't imagine what else, though."
She smiled. "Of course you can't."
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, just that you're as clueless as ever."
"Hey!"
They chased each other the rest of the way to the palace, where they raced up the steps. Penelo felt like a kid again, trading barbs with Vaan, though it wasn't any harder to best him in a battle of wits than it was before she left. When they arrived at the door, the Archadians' somber silence quieted them down. They drifted to the back of the assembly as they entered, whispers lost among clinking armor.
"So, what do you do around here?" asked Penelo.
Vaan grinned proudly. "I work in the kitchens."
She raised her eyebrows, mildly stunned. "Really?"
"Yeah, it's just as dull as it sounds. But Balthier and Fran are off in Rozarria, and I don't like being in the same room as Balthier when Al-Cid's around, so I stayed behind."
She nodded. "Good idea."
Larsa fell into step beside them. Penelo hardly noticed until, for the first time since tea the day before, he spoke to her. "I'll be convening with Lady Ashe for a good while today. I'm sorry you won't be able to see her. Will you be all right with Vaan?"
"Yes, I'll be fine. Thank you." She was puzzled by his tone: regal, proper, formal, as if he were talking to a stranger. True, his schedule had kept them from being intimate the past few months, but he never spoke so coldly. Not to her.
"Jeeze," whispered Vaan when Larsa was ahead of them, "what's up with Prince Pipsqueak?"
Penelo laughed. "He's taller than you now, you know."
"But I'm older."
"Which means?"
"I'm… mentally taller."
The guards glared at Penelo when she laughed too loud (out of respect, or perhaps genuflection, they did not wear their helmets inside city limits). "Just mental, Vaan, I think."
"C'mon," he said, tugging her away, choosing not to notice her remark. "Those guys give me the creeps. Let me show you all the secret passageways. It's really great. Does Larsa have any in the Archadian palace? Probably not." Vaan smiled – the kind of smile when he had a secret he couldn't wait to share – as they ducked into the hallway.
Penelo cast a glance over her shoulder, but Larsa seemed not to be looking at her, just staring ahead. The way he looked and the way he had spoken made her cold, even with the desert sun streaming through the windows.
Penelo had a wonderful time listening to Vaan brag about the castle as if it were his own. He lead her through so many passageways, her head began to spin. Finally they ended up in the lower levels of the palace, just in time for supper.
They did not eat with others, but with the servants and kitchen staff. Penelo became a quick favorite of the head chef – she annoyed him, peeking over his shoulder, until she warned him Larsa was allergic to green peppers. Even though she insisted Larsa wasn't the type to blame, the chef was convinced she'd saved his career and his life, and served her all the plumpest potatoes and oldest wine. Vaan, who had been working there for weeks and was the exact opposite of the chef's favorite (and who got served no potatoes or wine at all, just string beans and water), glowered pitifully.
After dinner, the two visited to the stables.
"Bet they don't have horses like this in Archadia," said Vaan smugly.
Penelo fed a carrot to one, patting its nose. "All the horses in Archadia are white, and they're taller, but no, not horses like this."
He pouted. "I bet they don't have such big stables."
"They're bigger, actually."
"Well, they don't have me working in the kitchen!"
She grinned. "Yup, that's another thing they have going for them."
Vaan threw a carrot at Penelo that struck her squarely in the arm. She shrieked, hauling hay into her hands and running after him. She chased him up and down the stable until he tripped on a broom and fell, then she pounced on him and rubbed hay in his hair.
"Stop that!" He shoved her off, shaking his head. It looked as if his hair, a similar color, were falling out as he did.
She leaned back against the stable wall and stretched. "This is nice. Too bad you can't come back to Archadia with me."
"Why can't I?"
Penelo blinked. "Um… I don't know, actually. Because you work here."
"Not really." Vaan brushed hay off his shoulders, grumbling about its scratchiness. "I could work here anytime. Besides, I haven't been to Archadia since the last time Balthier went, dragged kicking and screaming by me because the mark was just too good."
She sighed, ignoring his private victory and his exaggeration of Balthier's trepidation. "I couldn't ask it of Larsa. He's already done so much for me. I couldn't repay all my debts to him in two lifetimes."
He crawled over and took a seat beside her, sprinkling hay in her face. Then, he said seriously, "Larsa's a good guy. I don't think he wants anything from you in return."
"I still feel bad. I've just been living in his palace. It's weird, I don't belong there."
"Well, I've just been living in this palace. I don't feel bad."
"No," Penelo corrected, "you work here. I don't work there, not even as a dancer. I think Larsa would feel guilty if I did."
"But you feel guilty that you don't! That's not very fair of him!"
She gave him a gentle look. "Don't be mad at him, he's just doing what he thinks is right, and I don't want to upset him. He's got a lot on his shoulders, including me."
"And we all know you're pretty heavy."
"Hey!" Penelo stuffed more straw grass in his hair, wrestling him to the ground.
It was then, with Penelo sitting on top of him and his hands on her waist trying to push her off, that light flooded the stables and in stepped Ashe, Basch and Larsa.
"These are our stables," Ashe was saying, when suddenly she spied Penelo and Vaan. "… Oh."
Basch and Larsa followed her gaze; Penelo's face lit up like a tomato as she scrambled off of Vaan, hay pouring from her hands.
"We were just playing," explained Vaan, who wasn't the least bit flustered. Penelo, on the other hand, couldn't muster speech to save her life – or her dignity.
"Of course," said Ashe, though it was clear to even the horses how unconvinced she was. She cleared her throat. "Let us start down here." She led the other two in the opposite direction. Basch politely averted his gaze; Penelo caught Larsa's eye for a split second before he turned and followed the captain.
"Larsa, wait!"
Vaan grabbed her wrist before she went off. "Don't bother them. Come on, we should be going anyway. I'm supposed to show you to your room."
"But…" Penelo's protest was lost as they left the stable and walked back to the palace main, Larsa's lingering look lodged firmly in her mind.