Okay, this is a challenge I like to do sometimes when I need to just blow off some steam. Here are the rules:

1. Pick a character, pairing, or general fandom.

2. Turn your iTunes on shuffle.

3. Write a drabble or short story related to each song that plays. You only have the timeframe of the song to finish writing.

4. Do ten in a row, then post them.

Also, a note: I've never played Revenant Wings, so all of these were written as if that game pretty much never happened (sorry! haha). They're all in and around the storyline of FFXII itself.

Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own FFXII, or any of the songs named in here. I just combine awesome things belonging to other, more important people and try to produce something even fractionally as awesome :D

Here we go!

1. Disney – "Gaston"

"I don't need your help anymore, okay?"

"Of course," Balthier replied, retracting his hand with a bemused expression. "I seem to have forgotten that you're a full-fledged sky pirate now, too. No doubt the high, glamorous life of plundering and pillaging awarded so few is now a thing itself within your own reach. Who am I to speak of times so long past?" He offered a small bow, at which Vaan wasn't sure whether he should be impressed or insulted. "I suppose congratulations and well-wishings are in order, and may I deign to hope you suit the post as well as you ever did that of the brazen dreamer." Insulted it was.

Vaan opened his mouth to deliver a well-thought-out retort (at least it would be, once he thought of one), but Balthier turned sideways toward Fran and went on, "We'll be staying in Rabanastre a short while. Better pay a visit to the new queen, hadn't we? I shudder to think what might befall us were she to hear of our visit through… other means." And with that, the two of them sauntered (more like strode leisurely, but to Vaan it seemed much the same as a saunter) off toward the aerodrome's exit, leaving him standing there with his mouth still hanging open like a dead fish. He clamped his jaw shut in annoyance, grinding his teeth in an effort not to growl audibly. Who did that pirate think he was, anyway? He'd been missing off the face of the world for over a year, and he finally returns to Rabanastre and thinks he still knows everything? A lot had changed in that year!

It was then that Vaan noticed a pair of teenage girls standing a few paces off to his left, looking in his direction and whispering excitedly to each other. As they started to make their way toward him, he shot a haughty look at Balthier's back, which had almost reached the door. See? he challenged, though he knew the man couldn't hear him.

"Um… hi," one of the girls greeted him in a breathy voice, her friend standing behind her and urging her forward. Vaan smiled at them, trying his hardest not to appear awkward as he noticed how pretty their flushed faces were. "I was just wondering… if you'd like to… maybe," he raised his eyebrows expectantly as she took a deep breath and blurted, "introduce us to your friend over there?" She flung an arm wildly behind her toward where Balthier and Fran were just now disappearing through the entrance to the aerodrome, as the second girl giggled excitedly.

Needless to say, that was not what Vaan had expected (though some part of him told him maybe he should have). The grin vanished from his face as a scowl instantly replaced it. He wordlessly shoved past the girls and stalked away angrily, hearing the one who'd approached him say, "I told you he didn't look nice. We should've asked that viera instead…"

Of course, Vaan couldn't help but think bitterly has he stormed out of the aerodrome and toward the west gate (he tried not to notice Fran and Balthier chatting with a small group of people a few yards away). Of course they wanted to talk to Balthier. The dashing sky pirate Balthier, smooth-talker and lady-killer extraordinaire, whom everyone always talked about.

"Let Balthier handle this, he's got that way with words."

"If it weren't for Balthier, we wouldn't have ever made it that far."

"You know Balthier? The sky pirate? What's he like? Can you introduce me?"

"I can't wait till Balthier comes to visit again!"

Balthier, Balthier, Balthier! Sure, they were friends, that much was undeniable. They'd been through a lot together with their other companions, and the older pirate had taught Vaan a lot of things in that time. But still it frustrated him to no end. What was so great about Balthier, anyway? He stole, he lied, he cheated; did none of that matter to anyone?

Soon Vaan found himself in front of Migelo's Sundries, inside which he knew Penelo, the one person he could usually count on not to gush about Balthier (at least not in front of him, he had no idea what she said when they were apart), would be working as she often did. With a pang he remembered that she had asked him to stop by earlier to help her with something, but he'd forgotten entirely. He opened the door somewhat guiltily and trudged inside.

Penelo glanced up at the entrance and instantly her friendly expression changed to one of reprimanding exasperation, a look she often reserved for her childhood friend. "You're late," she said shortly from behind the counter.

Vaan smiled sheepishly. "I know, I'm sorry," he began. "I was… busy." It was a lame excuse, and he could tell by the look on Penelo's face that she didn't buy it. "Well… I'm here now. What did you need help with?"

She shook her head and replied, "It's okay, it's been taken care of already."

He frowned. "Really?"

"Yeah," she nodded. He was about to let out a misplaced sigh of relief when she went on, "Balthier stopped by about an hour ago and offered to help. Since you were nowhere to be seen, I let him take—"

"ARGH!" Vaan yelled in frustration, throwing his hands in the air and storming out of the shop as Penelo turned to the girl beside her and asked with a blank look, "Was it something I said?"

[A/N: Okay, I cheated a little bit on this one… But come on, Disney songs are short! How can you expect me to write something worth reading in two and a half minutes?]

2. Good Charlotte – "Where Would We Be Now"

"…I want that letter delivered as swiftly as you can manage under the circumstances."

The man bowed respectfully, answering, "Yes, Your Majesty."

"And send for my guard, if you will. I'd like to pay a visit to a certain informant in Lowtown. Word carries he may posses some knowledge that could very well assist in my efforts with the liberation of the lower city, but I am not so naïve as to award trust where it is not yet due."

"As you wish, Your Majesty."

"Good. You may go."

As the servant strode away and closed the door behind him, Ashe sat down heavily in her chair, a beleaguered sigh escaping through her lips. The life of a ruler was difficult indeed, as each day was kind enough to remind her. But she was deep in the process of finally attaining the peace she and her late family had long since dreamed of and fought for, and she was not about to cast all their efforts in vain because of her own mental hardships. Besides, she'd faced much worse that this by herself before, hadn't she?

Though she often found herself wondering unwillingly how things might be different had she not been by herself after all. Had he never left her alone to begin with.

It was well known that Ashe missed Rasler more than she cared to admit, but it was also well known—or at least well thought—that she had overcome her sadness in favor of strength in order to lead the kingdom of Dalmasca to an eventual peace with the surrounding nations of Archadia and Rozarria. In truth, however, she could never completely keep herself from dreaming of what her life would be were he still alive. Would the war ever have happened? Would her father have lost his life that fateful day over three years ago? Would she and Balthier and Vaan and Larsa and everyone else have ever even met and become such friends? Would Vayne still have stolen the crown from his own father's brow?

These and other unanswerable questions Ashe found had the unfortunate habit of constantly plaguing her dreams and waking moments alike, whenever the occasion arose that she had little else to distract her from her own mind. When her thoughts lingered on her fallen prince, she always felt the same pang of sadness for his loss, the same touch of guilt that she now ruled Dalmasca without him by her side, the same sting of nostalgia for what might have been had things ended differently that day at Nalbina, the day she lost him forever and her fate took a drastic change.

It was no lie to say that some part of her wished that day had indeed ended differently, she knew as she leaned forward on the desk before her and rested her elbows on its cool surface, rubbing her temples absently. But it was also no lie to say that she had overcome much in her life and that she now was stronger for it. She wasn't glad things had turned out this way per se, but she was able to convince herself that perhaps her life became the way it did for a reason. Perhaps—and though she was almost loathe to admit it—Rasler's death did little but open the door for her to fulfill her own purpose—to bring peace to the war-ridden people of Dalmasca. Though her time with him had been short, it was by no means without purpose, and would by no means go forgotten.

Ashe rose from her chair and steadied herself with a deep, calming breath. Regardless of what anyone said, she was Queen Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca, and she would play her role as such with the same tenacity and dedication with which she assisted in her nation's liberation from the Empire which was now their ally.

No longer would she trouble her already tired mind with needless visions of how her life might be different had the past been altered. Instead, she would look back upon it as it should be—a series of treasured memories which served together to bring her to this point. She would not wish for her late love's miraculous revival, but nor would she allow the importance of his memory to lessen her strength to lead.

Because after all, little good could a leader do who did naught but follow the shadows of her own past.

3. My Chemical Romance – "The Sharpest Lives"

"You have done well."

"Thank you, your majesty," the soldier replied, keeping his head low in respect of the monarch before him. Receiving such praise from this very man was what he had worked for all this time, ever since he had been forced to watch his sick mother—his last connection to the world he knew—wither away and die in front of him. That had been, he knew, the final thread that had succeeded in unraveling the last throes of his fears and his sanity, leaving him lost and alone and granting him the insatiable need to fight—to fight for something, anything, a ghost of a purpose that might prove his worth to the world that he no longer felt he belonged in.

A morbid sliver of thought in his clouded mind had him convinced that his mother's death had been the fault of his brother—his weak, cowardly brother who had abandoned them both upon Landis's fall and fled for Dalmasca with his tail between his legs, leaving the younger of the two to watch over their poor mother until she faded away. And for months, they had lived as such, the soldier watching in helpless pain as his mother grew weaker by the day, knowing how much she missed her other son—the good son, her firstborn (if only by minutes), who could do no wrong and who'd had so much potential for greatness. Late at night, she would sob and lament that she would never grow to see him fulfill the great purpose she'd envisioned for him, and no matter how much the younger son watched over her—how much time he gave to her care, how much of his love he offered her—he could never rise above second-best in her dying eyes. And when at last she drew her last breath, it was his name she called. The deserter, the coward, not the faithful son who'd remained by her side.

But in the end, the soldier could never bring himself to blame his mother. For the blame was to reside in one and only one—his brother. His brother was at fault for it all—her sadness, her single-mindedness, and ultimately her death.

And so he fought. The ruthless desire to one day meet his brother once more and to bring him to the justice he so greatly deserved served as such a powerful driving force that none in the army could hope to outmatch him before long, a fact of which the Emperor had taken notice. And now, here he stood, bowed before his leader—his king—as he finally received the recognition and status he's been aiming for, the position that would allow him to command a faction of the Archadian army as his own and provide him with the means he needed to find his brother and make him see his sins for what they were.

"It is with great pride that I present to you this helmet—this symbol of leadership within my forces," the Emperor spoke again, his voice echoing about the throne room, betraying the power in the words he chose.

The soldier stepped forward and accepted the polished helmet from the servant before him, bending on one knee as a sign of great respect. "And it is with great honor and humility that I accept such an offer. With it I vow to be both sword and shield to you, my king, for your command is my law."

"Rise, then, and go forth, as Judge Magister."

The soldier lifted the helmet onto his head, masking his face to the world he'd left behind. He straightened to his full height and offered the sign of fealty to the Emperor, a hidden, satisfied grin spreading across his face. It was time.

No longer was he Noah fon Ronsenburg, younger brother to a sinful coward and orphan with no home to return to. Now, he was and would forever be Judge Magister Gabranth, feared warrior of the Archadian Empire and loyal servant to the Emperor himself.

And with his own hands, he would bring justice to the world that had left him behind.

[A/N: Made a lot of that up... But come on. Gabranth is one of the best characters in this game. He needs a bit more character expansion.]

4. Matchbox 20 – "How Far We've Come"

"Ivalice will know a new Dynast King, and man will keep his own history. The tyranny of the gods is ended! We are their puppets no more! The freedom for which we have longed is at hand!"

I could feel a vague sensation of the ground shaking beneath where I lay, but a dull, buzzing fuzziness was clouding my perception. What had happened? I remembered my brother—he'd been hurt, somehow. He'd fallen, I'd run to him, and then… nothing? My tired, muddled brain was having great difficulty thinking straightly, but whatever had happened, some small part of me seemed to know that my brother had been responsible.

As the sharp tingling that continued to spark through the surface of my skin began to subside, I felt an intense heat radiating from somewhere above me, but I knew that any attempt to open my eyes would prove impossible. What had he done? Or perhaps more importantly, why had he done it?

As my sense of self was acting slow to return, I was left with little to do but attempt to gain a grasp on the situation at hand. We'd come to stop him, that much was certain. The moment I'd finally realized the extent of the measures he'd taken in order to further his own power, I remember being filled with an intense sadness and regret. I'd looked up to him for as long as I could remember. To me, he had always been the picture of honesty, exactly what the next Emperor of Archadia should be. The thought of my own succession to the throne had never even so much as occurred to me a possible outcome. So much had happened over the years, and in my eyes he'd proven himself a thousand times over. So then… where did it all go wrong?

No longer was he the kind, honest brother I'd idolized. Now, he was nothing more than another power-hungry dictator. He wasn't fighting toward the peaceful expansion of our nation. He was heralding the coming of an apocalyptic reformation, in which only those most worthy would have even the meanest hope of survival. This wasn't the Empire I wanted. And this wasn't the brother I knew.

I'd come here knowing that it had been left to me to steal back the right to rule from the one who no longer deserved it. It may sound cruel, but in truth, it would have been crueler to allow my brother the horrid visions he'd fashioned himself. For too long had I followed blindly in his shadow. But no more.

By now, I had almost regained the majority of my sense of perception. The buzzing in my ears subsided, just in time for a feral battle cry to reach them. One I recognized instantly as belonging to Judge Gabranth.

The sound of his voice gave me the jolt of energy I needed to open my eyes at last. Across the room, Gabranth and my brother were locked in place, the former's sword striking through the latter. I wanted to move—to somehow stop these two men whom I cared for most from harming each other. But before I could gain the strength needed to stand (or even lift a hand, for that matter), a magicite sword controlled by my brother swung itself at Gabranth, striking him in his helmet. I barely heard his claim of, "Even a stray has pride," before he was tossed away as if with no effort at all.

I forced myself into a sitting position as Basch knelt by his brother's side. Gabranth spoke again, but this time I could only hear the words, "…pay my debt."

A dark, electrifying wave of foreboding swept over me. I turned to glare at my brother in disbelief as he stepped back and shouted, "Burn in Hell, Gabranth!" It was hearing this curse, melded with the sight of my brother's magickal swords springing forth in attack, that finally forced me to my feet. I was standing between them before I could think, my only goal being to protect my protector, be it in adverse with my brother's wishes or not. This time, he had gone too far.

The swords were absorbed harmlessly by the nethicite I'd wielded at the last second. I fixed my brother—who was staring at me in complete shock and disbelief—with a determined glare as the nethicite shattered from the force of the attack. Busy as he was discerning why I had stopped him, he didn't notice Vaan take up Gabranth's fallen sword and rush at him, effectively striking him in the chest and knocking him from the platform. As they all rushed after him, a small part of me felt regretful—not for what I'd done, but for the fate that had befallen my dear brother. Whether from exhaustion or the sheer weight of my emotions, I dropped my arm and sank to my knees, wishing more than anything that I had been able to put a stop to him sooner and perhaps avoid the multitude of bloodshed by his hand.

As Penelo jogged over to me and placed her hands comfortingly on my slouched shoulders, I heard Gabranth whisper to his brother behind me. "Basch, tell me… He is a good master?"

My breath caught in my throat, even as Basch answered heavily, "Aye." Gabranth had been my only ally among the Archadian army and royal family, and now because of it he had become just another casualty brought on by my brother's ravenous thirst for power. I would not be so self-important as to think of the entire outcome as my own fault, but still I couldn't deny the dream that there must have been something I could have done, something to somehow lessen the hardship we had all been forced to endure.

And as Basch and Penelo left to finally put an end to my brother's rampage, I vowed to myself that never again would Ivalice be made to suffer the way in which he'd made it so.

[A/N: Okay, so I cheated a little on this one too… But I wanted to get to the end of the scene!]

5. Linkin Park – "Numb"

"Ground to Garuda 491. Come in! You've not been cleared for takeoff!"

The boy sitting at the airship's controls ignored the voice streaming from the communication device to his left. Cleared for takeoff? It was no one's decision but his own whether or not he had clearance, and anyone who dared say otherwise be damned.

"Come in Garuda 491!" the voice said again, receiving as little response from the teen as previously. He reached over to turn off the device, when suddenly the voice changed to one he recognized. One that sent a shiver of anger down his spine.

"Ffamran!" it shouted his name. "What in the hell do you think you're doing? That ship is a prototype! It hasn't been fully flight-tested yet!"

Bah, 'fully flight-tested.' Little to the man's knowledge, Ffamran had in fact taken the ship on a few 'test flights' of his own in recent weeks, so not only did he know of its full functionality, he was also likely the best pilot it had seen.

As he maneuvered the ship above the reaches of Archades' tallest buildings, he picked up the communication piece and rather than turn it off as he'd planned, he spoke into it, saying, "I've had about enough of you and your insane practices, Father." He spoke the last word as though it were a curse, something his tongue was loath to let slip into open air. "I've decided the post of Judge isn't quite my style, not if it means listening to you muttering to yourself every second."

"So this is how you intent to repay me for all I've done for you?" his father demanded. "You had such promise! I had hoped you would never deign to stoop to the level to which your brothers had let themselves fall and instead follow my own path here in the city. The Empire can do so much for you!"

"And look what it's done to you!" Ffamran retorted, anger boiling inside him. He didn't elaborate, knowing his father would likely understand his meaning, and if he didn't then the man was even farther gone than his youngest son had believed. But he knew, no matter what league of insanity had claimed his father, he could never be what the man wanted him to be. From then on, he would find his own place, not the one handed him by the man he despised above all else.

"Ffamran, if you do this now, you will forever be branded a traitor and enemy of the Empire. What father would want such a fate for his beloved son?"

It was a challenge, Ffamran noticed. He knew his father well, after all, even in his state of apparent madness. Whether these words were true or not, it didn't change the way he felt.

"Goodbye, Father," he said into the device with a note of finality. "May the Empire bring you every happiness a man of your stature and intellect is by birth due." And with that, he switched off the device and tossed it behind the pilot's chair, where it clanged off the surface of his abandoned Judge's helmet and rattled to a halt.

It was done. And there was no going back. He was now a fugitive of the Empire. Likely before he landed his name would be spread across Ivalice with orders for his return, safe or otherwise.

Hmm… he mused thoughtfully. Perhaps a change of title is in order… He racked his brain for a suitable alias for himself, one that would not have him suspected by passersby of attaining affiliation with the Empire. His thoughts rested on stories his oldest brother had told him of days long ago, of pirates of the sea and sky who—to him—embodied the very freedom he'd decided to claim. There was one in particular he always found himself dreaming to identify with. What was it again? Ah, yes…

'Balthier.'

He liked it.

6. The Ataris – "In This Diary"

I can't believe we're practically on Archades' doorstep already. It seems like only yesterday we were escaping captivity on the Leviathan, and now here we are, camped outside the entrance to the Sochen Cave Palace, about to sneak into the capital of the Empire. It's been a really long journey. I've probably experienced just about every sort of ache, pain, and minor injury that exists, and we've pretty much learned to go mostly without sleeping or bathing. I've been hot, tired, and sore for what seems like my whole life, and I can't even remember the last time I had a proper meal.

But you know? Despite all that, it's really not so bad. I've gotten to see so many amazing places that I never even knew existed. Take the Tchita Uplands we're camped in right now, for example. Once you get past the tough fiends and annoying traps, it's really a beautiful place. Living in Rabanastre, surrounded by desert, a place like this was something I never thought I'd get a chance to see. It's sunset now, which means the setting sun illuminates the plains, almost making the grass glow with a faint, pinkish color. It's times like this when I wish I had the ability to take what I see and remember it forever, imprint it permanently in my mind. Basch is starting a fire in front of our tent, with Ashe trying to tell him he's doing it wrong "for the twelfth time." (Sometimes I think they can argue like a married couple, but I don't tell them that.) Fran and Balthier are just standing a bit away from the tent, whispering to each other. I wonder if they're planning to steal anything in Archades… I wouldn't put it past them, but I know they don't mean any harm. I've learned that even though they're pirates, they're good people. And I can trust them.

Then I look at Vaan. He's pacing back and forth, swinging a sword lazily in front of him. He stops and looks at the colorful sky, and I see him smile. And I know that to me, that's what makes all this hardship worth it. Back in Rabanastre, he was always dreaming. But since the war started, he doesn't really smile anymore. Well, until our journey began anyway. I guess it just took my dragging myself away from the home I knew and facing danger after danger to bring the smile back to his face, and for me to realize how much I missed it.

I don't even like to think about how worried I'd be if I were still stuck in Rabanastre while he paraded around Ivalice on this campaign for justice, or whatever it was he called it. He has a tendency to get himself into trouble, and I'd hate to wonder what might happen to him if I wasn't here to keep an eye on him. I know he thinks I worry too much, but he just doesn't get it. I don't know what I'd do, if he wasn't there. I care about him a lot. Maybe too much.

I almost don't want to admit it, but maybe if I do it'll be easier. This journey has changed the way I feel about him. He's always been my best friend, for as long as I can remember. Maybe more like a brother to me, really. But now, I've seen how strong he is. And how sure of himself. And how mature he can be if he really tries. And I realized that as much as I want to be there for him, I want him to be there for me too. Sometimes he worries me sick, but deep down I love him for it.

There it is. I love him. And some part of me feels like he thinks the same about me. We've been through a lot over the years, what with the war and all. And now all this.

Maybe if we both make it out of this alive, I'll tell him someday. But for now, I'm happy just watching him be happy. So I'll see this through until the end. After all, I can't let anything distract—

"What are you writing?"

Penelo jumped in surprise and looked up just as Vaan grabbed the small notebook from her hands and yanked it away from her. He held it up so the fading sunlight shone on its pages and squinted at it in the growing darkness.

"Vaan!" she shouted, rising to her feet. "Give that back!" She reached her arms out for the journal, but he held it just out of her reach.

"Come on, I just wanna see what had you so distracted you didn't hear me calling your name like five times," he answered with the ghost of a grin. Penelo stopped attempting to reach the book and gave him an odd look. He'd been calling her? Had she really been that engrossed in her writing?

She decided it didn't matter. She had to get the journal back from him before it was too late. After all, this hadn't been exactly the way she'd wanted him to discover her secret. …Well, maybe it wasn't as much of a secret as she wanted to believe it was, but that didn't change her opinion of the matter. "Well, you have my attention now," she pointed out impatiently, attempting to climb on his back to reach the book. He just laughed and scanned the page with his eyes. "Stop it! That's mine!"

Again the first response was his laughter. "Oh, so you mean if I read it I'll find out some big—" He froze mid-sentence, staring at the last page. Oh no… Penelo thought, her heart sinking into her stomach as she watched the grin slowly slide off his face. Feeling a jolt of terror and embarrassment at his blank expression, she took the chance to reach up and tear the notebook from his slack grip, where she promptly shut it and tucked it safely into the opening of her right boot.

She took a deep breath and chanced a glance at Vaan, whose eyes were darting back and forth as though he were still reading the journal. "Okay," she began somewhat awkwardly. "I can explain—" Her voice broke off as she wondered how that was true. Could she explain? What could she possibly say if he'd really just read everything she'd written?

To her mild surprise, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and a brief, breathy laugh escaped his lips. "Anyway," he said in the same tone of voice he'd used before, "I told you I was calling you, right? Basch has dinner ready. You don't wanna starve, do you?" He flashed her a grin, which she found herself slowly returning despite her confusion. Was he going to pretend like he hadn't seen? Or maybe… he really didn't read what she thought he had. But no, that was impossible. He'd been staring right at the page. He couldn't have missed it…

"But didn't you—?" she said incredulously, eyeing him through the ever-dimming evening light.

"Come on," he cut her off before she could finish her thought. She wanted to say more, but when he reached down and took her hand, lacing his fingers through her still shaking ones, she suddenly forgot whatever thought her confused mind was forming. He smiled at her again, and as he led her back toward their camp, she realized that maybe whatever existed between them wasn't something they needed to talk about. Maybe it just was. Whatever happened, she knew that nothing had changed—well, at least not for the worse. They had a journey to complete, after all.

But Penelo silently decided she would rather face fifteen coeurls while silenced and blinded with only a stick to defend herself than ever go through that ordeal with Vaan and the notebook again.

[A/N: The fluff had to show up at *some* point, didn't it? I can't help it, it's just what I do :D haha]

7. Taking Back Sunday – "Liar (It Takes One to Know One)"

"…So I simply told the fool that our orders had been direct from one 'master of the house' and he all but handed over the key. Simple, really," Balthier explained as he rummaged through the multitude of shining trinkets scattered about the mansion's treasury, a smug expression on his face.

As he hefted a thick, golden goblet and examined its jewel-encrusted rim with the eye of a seasoned expert, Fran cocked her head to the side and asked, "To what end do you tell such untruths? Words hold great power. One mustn't misuse them."

Balthier regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, before returning his eyes to the trove and answering, "Lies are but one of the most common methods a man uses to get what he wants. It's only natural, to tell the truth. Though at times the truth itself is a thing unnatural in comparison." He offered her a brief smirk, as though his logic was undeniable.

Still, Fran was unconvinced. In her village, such things as speaking untrue were impossible, for the viera were one in mind with the Wood around them and through it each other. Her life had been a stifled yet honest one, and this seemed yet another facet of the hume world that eluded her comprehension, for she had yet spent precious little time there, especially compared with her time in Eruyt Village. "If it is by nature that you tell these… 'lies,'" she pressed, narrowing her eyes at him, "then how can trust exist between you? And how does one know when another is feigning honesty?"

"Ah," Balthier said, eyes gleaming, "that is the true test of character, isn't it? Spend many enough days with a man, and soon you'll see his lies from his truths as plain as his eyes from his nose."

An interesting concept… Fran wondered silently. Though from her few months of experience with Balthier since their meeting, she doubted she'd ever be able to fully tell when he was lying and when he was not.

-0-0-0-

"There is little to be said for a sky pirate with broken wings."

"Fran, I told you," Balthier replied in a frustrated voice, sounding vaguely out of breath as they ran at top speed through the streets of Bhujerba. "I merely have a bit of an errand to run before we can take off."

Fran eyed her partner carefully as they ran, the exertion hardly affecting her as it was him. "You are lying," she said simply.

Balthier glanced at her and a light smirk appeared on his face, followed by a brief chuckle. He neither confirmed nor denied this, but she knew it to be true. Three years they'd been traveling together now, and much had happened that had taught each of them the other's ways and mannerisms. And among those, Balthier's changes of character when he told a lie. They were so subtle that another hume would have no chance of noticing them, but to a viera who knew what she was looking for, the challenge was small.

"Hey, you! Get back here!" a muffled voice called from somewhere behind them. Fran glanced over her shoulder and saw a line of soldiers chasing after them as they ran.

"Perhaps," she began in a whimsical voice, "you could invent a more convincing lie to tell to our pursuers."

-0-0-0-

"Just hold on tightly and don't let go. Wouldn't want to miss our flight, now, would we?"

Fran tightened her arms around her partner's neck as he continued his dash for the entrance of the cave they were in danger of becoming trapped in. This had started out as a simple treasure hunt, like so many others in the years before. But it was in fact a trap, set to snare the two of them as they entered unawares. Inside they found not what they'd been searching for, but instead what seemed like an army of bounty hunters. Furious, they'd fought for what had seemed like hours, only for one man they didn't know to lose his head and detonate a massive explosion, which had resulted in the deaths of six of the hunters and the decomposition of two of the cave walls. So here they were, running for their lives yet again as the mountain cave collapsed in around them.

Fran felt her grip on Balthier's shoulders loosening as her strength waned uncontrollably, but before long they rounded a bend and the Strahl came into view at last. Balthier raced inside and set his partner down in her navigator's seat before placing himself into the pilot's chair, and in seconds they were in the air and speeding away from the cave and the trap that had almost claimed them.

"Hang on until we get to Balfonheim," he ordered her, fixing the horizon with a steely glare. "We can replenish our supply of potions and fix you up."

"You need not hurry," Fran assured him, though her voice was somewhat fainter than usual as she hung an arm over the gash across her stomach, courtesy of the leader of the gang of hunters. "This wound is nothing to me. I am alright."

She saw his eyes flicker in her direction for a fraction of a second, before he said in a strangely quiet, almost accusing voice, "You're lying."

Despite her exhaustion, a small smile touched Fran's face. "It would seem your habits have a way of catching on."

[A/N: Fran and Balthier's dynamic is like my favorite thing, pretty sure.]

8. I Fight Dragons – "No One Likes Superman Anymore"

"I have failed you, my brother…"

He'd been given one task—one task to do in place of his fallen brother, a man who'd given his life to assist their efforts in righting the wrongs Ivalice had been done under the misguided rule of the now reformed Archadian Empire. One task that he couldn't even do properly. It had been five years since the fall of Vayne Carudas Solidor, and for those five short years he had attempted to fulfill his task to the best of his ability—no, to perfection, for there was room for no less. But now, he had failed. And the price would be much more than his own exasperation.

Angry at himself and his carelessness, he yanked off his helmet and threw it at the wall roughly fifteen feet away with such force it scuffed the deep bronze paint. He covered his face with his hands and fought not to scream in frustration. This was his fault. He never should have let his charge near that crowd. He should have known. He'd heard whispers of a rebellion forming, of an assassination attempt, but never did he dream it would come at such a time, in such a manner. But still that was no excuse, and it could not free him of his guilt.

"Basch!" a female voice called from the hall behind him. Basch lifted his head to see who'd addressed him.

"Majesty…" he said, offering a respectful bow as Ashe stepped into the room. He strode to her side quickly, the rattling of his armor echoing morbidly in the wide room. "Where is he? What has befallen—?"

"Calm down, Basch," she ordered him, holding her hands out to slow him. Her voice was steady, but her eyes were tired, betraying her worry. "He is alive. The healers are with him now, but they have requested to be left well alone in order to employ the highest of their power and concentration. …Their task is a difficult one." Basch's breath caught in his throat, but he remained silent. "We shall know soon enough," Ashe finished. She paused a moment, before placing a hand gently on the soldier's shoulder, exchanging with him a gaze of understanding through which she allowed him to see that she too was afraid, but that she knew worrying too much would get them nowhere. Satisfied, she then turned and swept out of the room, leaving him alone once again.

With a heavy sigh, Basch leaned his back against the wall beside the door, unable to keep his guilty thoughts from straying from his broken promise to his brother. He allowed himself to slide into a sitting position, and there he waited until the verdict he feared more than any made itself known to him.

Over an hour later, there was a knock at the doorframe. Basch opened his eyes and rose to his feet as a woman he didn't know—one of the healers, he assumed—stepped in and offered him a brief inclination of her head.

"What has happened?" he demanded—admittedly a bit harsher than he'd intended, but the woman appeared to take no offense to his tone.

Instead, she smiled and answered, "He is alright. And we believe he will make a full recovery in time."

Words could not express the relief and gratitude that filled every inch of Basch's being at this news. "May I see him?" he asked, voice shaking through deep, calming breaths.

The emotion must have been apparent on his face, because the nurse's smile widened. "Of course. This way." She led the way down the hall and around a corner, where Basch saw Ashe emerge from a room a few yards ahead of them. As they came to a halt and the nurse bowed to Ashe, Basch noticed the queen looked almost as relieved as he felt.

"He's awake," she said with a small smile, before stepping aside so Basch could enter.

As he stepped toward the wide, double doorway, an unbidden sense of fear and guilt swept over him. What if he didn't want to see him? What if he blamed Basch for not providing the protection that was his sole purpose? Before he could change his mind, Ashe poked him hard in the back, forcing him over the threshold and through the doorway.

The room beyond was twice as wide as the one he'd spent the last hour waiting in, but had a low ceiling and the back wall was covered in elaborate windows. The other walls were lined with shelves of potions, elixirs, bottles of ether, and various salves and ointments for treating all sorts of ailments. Directly between him and the windows sat a narrow bed on which lay the injured seventeen-year-old Basch both strongly wanted to and was direly afraid to see.

The clinking of his armor gave away his presence, and he shifted nervously as half-closed brown eyes turned to meet his own intense blue ones.

"You…" the teen said in a strangled whisper.

"Lord Larsa," Basch found himself saying as he dropped to his knees and lowered his head, "I cry your pardon and your forgiveness. Had I been more vigilant in my task of guarding you, you could have been spared this pain. I can but hope your mercy reaches farther than my meek competence."

"Why do you say this?" Larsa asked, his voice growing stronger with each word, though it still retained a tone of exhaustion. Basch raised his eyes to see confusion on Larsa's face. "You bear no fault… nor responsibility. In truth, had you not been there… things would not have ended as favorably as they had." Basch wanted to argue that four enchanted bullet wounds to the chest could hardly be counted a favorable possibility, but despite that, Larsa was alive. So perhaps he was right after all. "I want to… thank you," he went on, a small, weak smile touching his face.

"But I failed," Basch rebutted quietly. Larsa studied him for a long moment, and Basch felt as though the young emperor knew to which promise he was referring.

"Not so," he finally replied. "It was your swift hand that caught those responsible and saw me quickly back here. I have you to thank… for my life."

Basch shook his head. "You deserve not one who would allow such harm to befall you, my Lord. Instead I beg you free me of my post and seek instead the arm of one worthy of protecting—"

"Enough!" Larsa shouted, a flash of anger brightening his eyes. But his look of frustration was quickly replaced with one of pain, and he squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, a hand clutching at his chest. Basch rose an inch or two from the ground in reflexive concern, but Larsa's expression cleared a second later, and he fixed Basch with a steely glare. "I will not… have you speaking so of yourself. You are my guard… and I would trust no other to the task. Accidents such as this will happen. I only wish that you learn to deal with them in a way that diverges casting yourself into guilt. You are of no more good to me that way than had you yourself been attacked in my stead."

As Basch rose to his feet, he allowed himself a wry smile. Larsa had always had a quick tongue, a trait that had only intensified in the years in which he'd watched the Emperor grow in age and intelligence. He truly was going to be alright after all. "As you wish, my Lord," he answered obediently. He allowed himself to think that perhaps he hadn't failed his brother after all. "But, if I may ask one condition…"

Larsa quirked an eyebrow and blinked slowly. "What condition?"

"From now, when the occasion should arise you must make a public appearance, I wish that you don protective armor might a similar situation occur in which I cannot serve my full duty."

Larsa was silent for a moment, as though studying Bash to discern whether he was serious. Finally his face broke into a grin and he replied in an almost ironic tone, "I suppose your request is not entirely without merit."

[A/N: Okay, okay, so I cheated on this one too. But I just couldn't stop! I guess I'm using these songs more as prompts than as time limits… Ah, well. Whatever produces better stories, right?]

9. blink-182 – "What's My Age Again?"

"You've still got much to learn about women like Fran," Balthier observed as he cut down a malboro, causing it to growl and fade from existence.

"What do you mean?" Vaan asked him as they sheathed their swords and continued leading the way through the east end of Golmore Jungle. He still didn't understand why his comment about Fran's age had sparked such a reaction from the viera, even from the rest of the group. He'd just been genuinely curious, that was all.

Balthier sighed. "Exactly my point."

They rounded a bend and were met with a trio of gargoyles, two of whom immediately began to cast silence on members of their group. As Vaan and Balthier attacked one, an arrow from Fran's direction whisked by them and sunk itself in a second. "Well, do you know how old she is?"

"As a matter of fact, I don't," he answered as their gargoyle fell and they turned to see Basch and Ashe finish off the last one while Penelo and Larsa healed them all. "I always thought it irrelevant to ask. And tactless." Vaan wasn't sure what 'tactless' meant, but from the gleam in Balthier's eyes he assumed it must have been something insulting. So he let the subject drop, at least until they left the jungle and reached the Paramina Rift.

As the party stopped by the life crystal to rest, Vaan decided that even though it may be 'tactless,' he was still curious, but he knew he wasn't going to get anything out of Balthier. So instead he went for a more reliable source.

"Penelo!" he called, waving her over a bit away from the group. She looked up and made her way over to him with a somewhat weary expression, as though she knew what he wanted. "I need you to do something for me," he said once she was within earshot.

"And that would be…?"

He put an arm around her and stooped down, so only she would hear him when he said, "Can you talk to Fran for me?"

Penelo looked mildly impressed for a moment. "You want me to apologize for you?"

"What? No," he corrected her. "I know she won't talk to me, but I still wanna know how old she is."

Just like that, the impressed expression was gone from her face as she shook her head. "You just never learn, do you?"

She shrugged his arm off her shoulders and started to walk away. "No, wait! Come on, Penelo, please? Do this for me?" She turned and glared at him, but found she couldn't just ignore his pleading eyes. She kind of hated him for it.

"Ugh, fine," she answered. "Wait here." Vaan thanked her quietly as she turned and strode back over to the group. Fran was sitting on a large, snowy rock near the crystal, re-stringing her bow. With a slightly embarrassed sigh, Penelo sat down beside her. "Hi," she greeted lamely.

Fran didn't seem to mind the sudden guest. "Hello," she said in her usual, misty voice.

So how do I do this? Penelo thought. She decided on an indirect approach. "I wanted to thank you for letting us see your village." Fran hesitated a moment in her work, but then continued as if nothing had happened. "I didn't know the viera lived so… cut-off from the world. It must have been really difficult to leave."

Fran looked up, studying the gray sky for a moment in silence. "For so long had the Wood sheltered me, I suppose I would have been… content to stay. That is, had I not known of the world beyond."

"Was it… hard to get used to life out here? You know, after living there for so long?" Penelo bit her lip after saying these words, wondering if Fran would discover her intentions.

The viera regarded her for a brief second, before answering, "For fifty years, I have lived among the humes. I have seen much of their culture and come to know their thoughts and speech. But that time compares meek to the days I spent in the Wood. Perhaps one day the difference will be none, but even now I yet feel like a child in this world."

"I guess you've lived a long time…" Penelo observed thoughtfully. Fran turned and faced her, a strange glint in her eyes. Suddenly afraid, Penelo stiffened under her gaze, worried that she'd made the viera angry.

"This was not done by your will," Fran guessed finally, and Penelo knew she'd figured it out.

Penelo sighed. "Is it that obvious?" she asked ruefully. She'd kill Vaan when this was over.

A small smile touched Fran's face. "Yes, I have lived long. Though I do not know to the year exactly how much time I have spent in existence. It has been… several of your hume lifetimes, I can guess. We viera, we live in order to learn. But to learn takes time, so time we give ourselves. The passage of days flows differently in the Wood, so much so that centuries go by as though an instant. I do not like to be reminded of the time I spent in ignorance of the world's troubles, thus my discomfort."

"I'm sorry for bringing it up," Penelo admitted. "I just… I can't help it when Vaan asks for my help."

For a while, Fran seemed to study her, before saying, "You are kind, Penelo. Do not trouble yourself by heeding the burdens of others." With that, she stood and slung her bow back onto her back. As Penelo rose to her feet as well, Vaan—who'd been leaning against a mountain wall a bit away, stepped forward almost eagerly.

Fran turned to gaze at him and he was sure her look could have melted all the snow on the ground around them. Uh-oh… he thought. Maybe I shouldn't have asked after all… He watched as Fran waved her arm and muttered something, before a strange tingling feeling spread through his lower legs, vanishing after only a few seconds.

Confused, he went to walk toward them, but quickly discovered he couldn't move. Well, to be more specific, he couldn't move his legs. "What the—?" He swung his arms and shook his shoulders, but it was though ice had encased his feet and legs where they stood, rooting him to the spot. As he glanced up and saw Penelo laughing, he realized what had happened.

Fran had Immobilized him.

"Fran!" he called in an almost hurt voice. "Hey!" It was times like this he really wished he'd bought that Esuna license when he'd had the chance… It would be ages until this wore off.

"Well, we've rested enough," Balthier said loudly, smirking in Vaan's direction. "We'd better get going then, hadn't we? Don't want to keep the Gran Kiltias waiting."

"What? Wait!" Vaan shouted uselessly as every single one of them turned to leave, some hiding their laughter better than others. He even saw Balthier give Fran an appreciative nod as they went. "Penelo! Larsa! Ashe! Guys! I'm sorry, okay? Come on, don't leave me here! Hey!"

It was then he decided it really didn't matter how old Fran was after all.

[A/N: I write serious things so often, it's good to throw in something light-hearted every now and then :D]

10. Masterplan – "Spirit Never Dies"

This was it. It was now or never. Do or die. Their last chance to finish this and put things right. To reverse and set straight what seemed like a lifetime of pain, destruction, and heartache. And all they had to do was defeat this one man.

Well, one insane man merged with a powerful god. Easy, right? Right. Yeah.

As Vayne—now one with the Undying Venat—landed on the ground before them having just gone through a frightening transformation, the six stood silent in what they knew would be their final stand together. Win or lose, this was the end of their journey. And everything was riding on this one battle.

"Everyone," Ashe said in an almost shaking voice. "I… Thank you. For assisting me in my quest for Dalmasca's freedom."

"The burden was not yours alone to bear," Basch corrected her with a nod, stepping forward and drawing his sword.

"Yeah, Dalmasca belongs to us just as much as it does to you," Vaan said with a grin, rubbing the back of his neck and twirling his spear before gripping it tightly with both hands. "You think we're gonna leave our fate to some washed-up princess who's supposed to be dead?" Ashe felt a smile touch her face. Under different circumstances, she would have been livid at being spoken to in such a manner. But she knew Vaan better than to think it an insult, and right then, that was really what she needed to hear.

"Personally, I could have done with a little less adventure on this journey, mind you," Balthier complained sardonically, straightening the cuffs his sleeves.

"But a man is not a proper sky pirate who flees when met with a challenge," Fran pointed out as she strung her bow, her eyes gleaming with mirth.

Balthier scoffed as he yanked his gun from its holster and checked the aim. "I suppose a little danger never hurt anyone. And who knows, there may even be something in it for me." That was Balthier, ever the pirate watching out for his own gain. Ashe counted herself lucky that in this situation, their gain would be the same.

"We're all with you, Ashe," Penelo added last, dagger poised and at the ready. "Let's finish this."

Ashe smiled, silently thanking Galtea for the blessing of such loyal companions as she too took the blade from her back and steadied it before her. There was nothing else that needed said. They'd been through much, both gaining and losing along the way, but now they were ready.

It was time to bring an end to Vayne's corrupted rule, and with it restore to Dalmasca and all lands conquered by the Empire the peace and salvation that was more than due.

[A/N: I'm done! Yay! A nice short one to finish it up, but I think it makes a good ending piece all the same. Huzzah!]

All done! Let me know what you think and send a review if you can :D I like hearing from readers to let me know I'm not wasting my time with all this writing XD

Till next time!

-oMM