Questions Answered, Truths Revealed

[kursetheseeds.livejournal.com]

Characters: Larsa and Ultimecia
Progress: Complete
Summary: Larsa's in a rage over Balthier's betrayel - Ulti takes advantage
Location: Narshe
Date: Waaaay backdated, but it answers a lot of questions
Warnings: ...She's a manipulative bitch?

Larsa was furious. He was livid, absolutely livid. Spitting mad! After Gabranth had revealed Vayne's executioner to be Balthier, the Sky Pirate himself, the shock of such news had been quick to settle in but the anger had been quicker to dig in its claws. He had been ready to lash out, verbally or physically, the blood pounding in his ears, the anger tightening his chest and driving the adrenaline to flow rapidly through his veins, fueling him more and more.

The door slammed behind him, the snow crunching beneath his heavy steps. He wore no gloves, no scarf, his jacket gaped. The cold air and wind was like that of a sharp slap to the face and yet the furious Solidor stormed onward. It was nearing dinner time, the sun had begun to set, citizens were closing their shops and preparing to head home. The streets were empty. Yet Larsa cared not for those who passed by and greeted him; most stayed clear out of his path, watching on concerned, confused.

How could Balthier have done that?

Larsa had been warned never to trust a Sky Pirate. He'd been warned, and now look at where it'd gotten him. And Vayne no less. Swearing under his breath, he damned the man, cursing his name. The cold had begun to creep in, chilling him to the bone. But he kept on through the snow, breathing heavily, the anger wanting to burst out, to explode. He was nearing the edge of town, hands balled into tight fists at his sides.

In contrast, Ultimecia was actually, for once, fairly peaceful. None of her schemes needed her attention at the moment, she wasn't watching others' minds or searching for more susceptible ones - she'd found a moment to simply sit. And was quickly becoming bored with it.

During her initial meeting with Larsa - which, true to her "word," she hadn't followed up on afterwards as she established herself as a quiet woman who liked to remain private - a small, very delicate little hook had been placed into his mind, already open to her through his extreme emotions and nightmares without his ever knowing. And as she contemplated what facet to approach next, she felt the shock travel down that small link, and quickly focused on it.

Anger, and rage, and pain, emotions she could fuel. A cruel smile twisted her lips as she reached down that small connection, slowly enough that he couldn't feel it, and barely twisted, pushing all that bundled-down emotion out into the open as it continued to build. She allowed herself a chuckle before she stood, finding the coat she'd stolen from the Shumi Village and putting it on. A few quick steps and she was out of the house, appearing as if she'd just been going on a slow walk towards the mine entrance and back, lost in her own thought as she quickly schooled her expression.

The ambush was ready - now, for her supporting player.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Larsa had found his gloves. He left them in there, gritting his teeth to keep from shouting. The anger was building and building, more and more. He wanted nothing more than to throw his head back and scream at the darkening sky, unleashing it. Somehow. But he managed to keep it in check, as much as it pained him to do so.

Just a few more steps and the mines were nearby; Larsa stopped in mid-step and dropped to a crouch, a fist driving into the hard, cold ground - exactly what he wanted to do to a certain man at that moment. He ignored the pain lancing up his arm, jarring his shoulder, bruising his knuckles - and drove his fist into the ground once more. Then his hands came up to cover his face, shaking, one wet with melting snow and dirt on his knuckles, blood and small lacerations from the stones. Why? For what purpose?

Those were the thoughts racing through his mind. No thoughts on the past and Vayne's conquest for power entered his mind; it was mainly focused on the here and now, how Ivalice and Gaia were two completely different worlds.

Larsa took a shuddering breath, the foggy patches spreading out from his lips, and let himself fall forward onto his hands on the snow, hair hanging in his face and curtaining the pained, angered expression. He didn't care about the knees of his pants soaking the snow up and getting wet, or how his long trench-coat pooled out around him, also getting wet. He didn't care for the cold and snow numbing his palms and fingers, how his throat lay exposed and susceptible to the cold.

Preparing ahead a little, Ultimecia sent a brief, weak mental pulse that someone was behind him, not strong enough for him to notice it for what it was, so he wouldn't attack her in surprise and force her to defend - and reveal - herself.

So when her jacket draped over his shoulders and she bent down a little over him, it was with an air of total concern for his well-being.

"Lord Larsa? My lord, what are you doing? What's happening?"

What her little mental hook couldn't do was tell her what was happening, the causes and reactions in words. She needed a more substantial link for that, and if something had upset Larsa this much, she needed to know what it was.

The feel of the jacket falling over his shoulders and back surprised him. He turned towards the voice, staring at her. It was the weirdest coincidence to simply bump into her, and at such a late an hour as this in the evening. "Lady.. Kerina?" Larsa pushed himself back so he was sitting in the snow with his legs beneath, folded. "Please- it's all right-"

Pulling the jacket off his shoulders, he twisted and draped it fully around her form, pulling it in around her neck. He couldn't have a lady suffering after all.

The anger was beginning to fade, gradually, the prior rush of adrenaline leaving him fatigued now as it had begun to ebb out of his system. The cold had begun to really settle in. "I must look a fool. I apologize." Larsa barely registered the pain in his knuckles, the blood and cuts.

Once such a strong an emotion as anger quit him (or anyone for that matter), he was left feeling strangely disoriented.

And yet, the next time, it would be easier to evoke those emotions in him. It was a wonderful thing, those pathways becoming used, desensitized - so easy to exploit.

But at the moment, there was a script to follow. "Do not worry about me, Lord Larsa." And she removed her jacket again to put it on his shoulders. A way of offering comfort without being overbearing and too coddling. "Something must trouble you - will you kome to my home? It is warmer there, and you may rest."

"No- I wish not to impose," he tried to explain, to protest, "I was only out for a walk. Gabranth might worry and I-" Oh to hell with it all- Larsa shrugged off the jacket and pulled it back around her shoulders. He stood then, forcing himself to his feet, teeth beginning to chatter.

"Please, Lady Kerina. Keep your jacket. See that I wear my own, you need yours more than I." He kept his hands to her shoulders so she wouldn't try again to pass on her jacket to him. "Allow me to at least walk you back home, but that is all."

Yours is also very wet and there is the wind koming." It was just a little spooky, actually - Narshe actually had a lot of wind, being basically in a bunch of mountains, but at the moment she said that it was only a very light breeze. A few moments after that, however, the wind did come again, as it always returned.

And she favored him with just a bit of a frown, though she didn't try to give him her jacket again, much as a more mature woman might give to a - well, a stubborn teenager. "You are also wet to the skin and have kome to injure yourself some way. At least warm yourself before you head to your home."

Well she certainly was persistent. Larsa sighed softly to himself, and nodded, giving her shoulders a squeeze. "Very well, then. 'Twould be foolish of me to refuse. I will accept your gracious hospitality, Lady Kerina, if not for but a few hours."

Larsa ignored how his jacket was in fact wet, as well as his pants, pulling it closer to himself to keep out the nippy breeze. His injury, he would deal with once they were inside, once the numbness wore off and gave way to the pricks of needles and pins; perhaps he could wrap his knuckles up, he must have forgotten his potions at the house.

Ultimecia didn't appreciate his hands on her shoulders, but she tolerated it - for the moment. He was still bleeding, and he wasn't worthy of touching her. As soon as she could, without raising suspicion in him, she slipped from his grasp, turning gracefully to stand beside and just behind him, placing her own hand on his shoulder to propel him forward and to the small house she'd taken over as her hiding spot.

It wasn't far, only a few dozen more feet, and when they arrived she shut the door tightly behind them, locking it quietly when he wasn't looking. The house was plain, with no personal touches other than what the previous owners had done - not surprising for a woman who wanted to keep out of the public eye.

"There is a hook for your jakket, there. And take this." Unlike Larsa at that moment, she was prepared - drawing a potion from a drawer, Ultimecia held it out to the young man. "Kome, sit by the fire and warm yourself."

Glad to be out of the cold, Larsa thanked her and slipped out of his jacket. Onto the hook it went and he rubbed his hands together before taking the offered potion. "Thank you."

He didn't second glance at it, moving to where the fire lay within the bricked encasement. Once Larsa was seated, he undid the cap and downed the contents. It helped to warm him considerably, slowly stitching his slight injuries back together, and left only the dried blood.

"Do you not find it lonely here?" he then spoke up, asking and looking away from the flames to where she was, rolling the vial between his hands. She was a simple woman, kept to herself by the looks of it, kept out of the public eye and didn't seem to mind the solitude at all. Larsa was used to the solitude most of the time (in Ivalice that is), minus the Senate hounding him or Basch checking in on him so often.

Finding a rag the previous owners had left in the house, the sorceress dipped it in a bucket of melted snow she'd stuck in a corner for water. She desperately wished for many of the conveniences of her world - electricity, for one thing, was still virtually unknown in this town, as well as hot running water. But at least her magic could make up for most of the lack, if she was circumspect. Moving over to the fire herself, she settled on a bench, near the young ruler but not near enough to be invasive, and took one of his hands to begin wiping away the blood.

"I didn't kome from a pleasant time, as many did - the lakk of people pounding on my door, trying to break it down, is a relief instead of a kurse. Spending the remainder of my days kwuietly would be a blessing."

Of course, the way she meant that was much more sinister than it sounded... And she used the opportunity of physical contact, and emotional vulnerability to add slightly to her mental hooks, setting them in further.

The next experiment would be interesting.

Larsa was used to being tended to. His entire life growing up, the servants or the Judges had tended to his every need; from his requesting Drace at times to read him a storybook before bed, to his meals and to bathing and clothing. This was something he should have been used to, especially when it was in the act of cleaning him up. But no, his eyes strayed to the hand holding his and the cloth wiping at his knuckles and fingers.

Glancing up, Larsa's brows knit together. Those hooks were sinking in, bit by bit, it was clear in the way he gazed at her. Concerned, confused, curious. "Was there a reason for why these people wished to hurt you so, Lady Kerina? If I may ask of course. I understand it can bring one pain to speak of the past and remember; if you wish not to discuss it, I will not pry further.

It was good he didn't fight it - her instinct would have been to force him to remain, and that was the last thing she could afford.

She remained silent, looking down at his hand and her lips pressed together, as if he'd asked her to discuss something far in her past that still had an affect. And in a way, that was true - even though the facade she was presenting was the opposite of the way things had developed.

"On my world," Ultimecia began at last, telling the flat, unembroidered truth in a voice that didn't shake, but was cautious - reserved, as if she were trying to hide, "there are born some few women, never many at a time, who possess the kapability for great magik. We are not born with it - the magik is handed down at the user's death, in a kontinuous line, from one woman to another, and most never suspekt they will ever get it until it komes to them. We are kalled the Sorceress, once we receive it. And over time people bekame afraid of the power we had, though it was nothing anyone asked to be. And a group gained power as they kame to kontrol us. SeeD. When they diskovered a new Sorceress, they would kome and take her away to be sealed or disposed of. We bekame hunted kreatures, some of us given away by our own families, others watching their parents fall trying to defend them, mothers torn from their children or even killed in front of them. A Sorceress' life is doomed to be a short one, no matter what she has or has not done."

SeeD.

Larsa shifted in his seat, his gaze lingering on her face. He'd watched her the entire time she had told her story. Anger, sadness, disgust- anger at SeeD, sadness that women were being hunted and captured like wild beasts, disgust at the sheer thought alone of it happening. SeeD. The group whom he had grown close to during his time with them, the Commander, Lady Rinoa, Selphie, Quistis. And this was what they did? Mercenaries, captors of Sorceresses, killers even.

"I am familiar with them," he finally spoke up, blue-gray eyes watching hers and then lowering in thought. His tone was non-too pleasant, faintly hardened at the revelation. "SeeD. My brother, he spoke with their Commander on a daily basis. Commander Leonhart. He went as far as to assign them to guard me during the earlier days of my stay in Alexandria."

Both his hands enveloped hers, warm and strong. Larsa leaned forward, eyes lifting again to catch hers. "I promise you, Lady Kerina, I will do all in my power to keep you from harm. And from them." His hands squeezed gently. "I was not aware of the incongruous business SeeD kept to, however, I am partially aware of the Sorceresses as the Lady Selphie has made mention in the past. Unfortunately I was not informed of all this which you have just told me.

"..Thank you, Lady Kerina. For sharing with me such knowledge, for sharing with me your past. I can only imagine how painful it must have been, to recount such a tale."

She had to be fair. She had to be scrupulously fair in this explanation, because she was walking a very fine wire. Her control over Larsa was not so complete, especially at a distance, that she could afford to just fill his mind with lies and have them solidify. Thus, she was forced to tell the truth - or at least a version of it.

"It is said they were small at first, until they kame into kontakt with Sorceresses. I do not know for certain; it has been many, many years since they were begun, and many from my home respekt them and enkourage their programs. But those many are not the few who suffer.

"I only ask of you this." Her hands gripped his, her eyes a little flat, but probably in panic more than anything - at least that was the way she was trying to show it. "Please do not tell them of me. I will remain here, where it is unlikely we'll ever meet, and stay in my house if they kome to this town. But do not tell them I am here, nor that you know of my power."

It was probably in that very moment that Larsa decided he was going to do everything he could to keep this woman safe. The fear in her eyes, the desperation in her tone, the way her hands gripped at his. He wished he could reassure her with more than just words. He wanted to keep her safe and hidden for as long as it took.

"Lady Kerina," the emperor began quietly, "your secret is safe with me. For eternity. I promise you- no, I swear it to you, on the name of Solidor- I will keep you from harm even if that means risking my very own life. They will never know of your presence here in Narshe, nor your ability.

"It is my duty to House Solidor to all that I possibly can to protect anyone from meeting a fate worse than death. I assure you, you will be well protected."

The Sorceress let her head drop, hiding a triumphant expression just in time as she pressed Larsa's hands to her forehead - a seeming act of supplication and thanks, but in reality a screen for her real expressions.

"Thank you, my lord." Her voice was quiet purely by force of will; if it hadn't been, she would have been laughing in triumph. "I promise, you won't regret it."