?

Log in

No account? Create an account
Zoicite☆For all I carry are murdered

jyuufish


"Cause I'll be lighting fires for you.."

~I'm there in the Light when you need me~


Previous Entry Share Next Entry
~The Flame: Larsa~ {Final Fantasy XII}
Zoicite☆For all I carry are murdered
jyuufish
Title: "The Flame"
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Song Inspiration: "The Flame" by Arcadia (duran duran off-shoot band)
Rating: PG-13 if only because there are alot of fluffy feelings mentioned.
Pairings: Larsa/Al-Cid with mentions of Larsa/Penelo in terms of marriage
Notes: This is what's been in my mind, waiting for the right time to come out. The dynamic of Larsa and Al-Cid appeal to me because if you think about the type of cultures that both represent, Larsa is decidedly british and Al-Cid is spanish. Well historically England and Spain haven't liked each other a whole lot.. so I like the thought of in the ficitional world, both Princes making an effort to see eye to eye amid cultures that are near polar opposites. Also, while this doesn't mention shota of any type, Feelings of a questionable nature between a young 13 year old and his much older friend and ally lay underneath the surface. (But then most people that know me, if I do write shota, I try to write it so that it is absolutely clear that both parties are on equal ground... I hate the balance of control being completely on oen side.) This isn't beta'd either, because I am lazy. -_-

Crossposted to shitan

"I could feel the breeze,
Blowing change,
Blowing through my doorway.
Warm and restless just as you walk by"




Having been the young prince of the Archadian empire as well as adopting the title of Emperor upon the death of his older brother, Vayne. Larsa had alot of time to concentrate upon his new position as monarch of his country. Now with Vayne gone, there was certainly a type of calm and peace that had settled. Larsa had seen to it that he sent reconstituion to those contries that had suffered underneath his brother's nefarious plans. Dalmasca and Nalbadina having recieved as much aid as could be mustered by the work of his pen as he passed laws and measures. Certainly this was all really hard work for a 13 year old, but Solidor men had always been gifted with genius as well as charisma. Anyone who followed them, would follow near blindly.

But Larsa had no need for blind loyalty or affection from anyone. As a youth, he had found out what he knew from questioning the way things were, and those questions sent him all over the place, into places that his brother would of severely reprimanded him for such precociousness on his part. But even as he looked upon a draft, he had to admit that his natural inquisitiveness had led him to some wonderful places and equally wonderful people. There was Basch, his trusted bodyguard and advisor, he though that it was good to keep the opinions of someone not invested in the kingdom close by. Basch told him in his usual gruff way when he thought something wasn't particularly adviseable. Then there was Penelo, someone that he'd call in to dance for him. She was the type of girl that he hoped to marry, thinking that she would make a very good Queen, though he realized that the age of thirteen was perhaps too young to think of marriage, however when the time was right he knew he'd press his suit. But if marriage didn't occur, he did not plan on caging her.. she'd be as free as a bird and able to do whatever she pleased.. just as long as sometimes she'd dance for him.

Then there was his very first friend, the mere thought of him could at times cause Larsa's brows to either bunch together or his lips to curve into a smile, depending upon the memory that he was recalling.

He realized he had been young and perhaps it had been foolish to sneak into Rozzarria like that. Considering the fact that both empires had been consistantly at odds with each other for as long as he could remember. But there was something vibrant that attracted him once he had gotten off the airship. A life that was so vitally different from what he had been accustomed too. The streets were filled with life, the people were dancing and celebrating, the sun bore down hotly but to make up for that there was unbrella'd little alcoves to sit and nestle away from the heat of the sun. Most women didn't wear much but then neither did the women. All of these he soaked up like a greedy child that was unused to such a lack of inhibition. By nature he was proper and was considered to be a little prim too, so he knew that he stuck out like a sore thumb.

But the nights, the nights in Rozzaria was like no other, the moon coming out, lanterns dangling in the streets, an air of revelry filled every entrance, nook and cranny. He could of just have easily lurked in the shadows and just watched, it was all so very fascinating, this new culture, this new explosion of thought, idea, the fact that the mind -didn't- rule everything. It was all about what felt right at the time, a concept that was near foreign to Larsa. He stood in the shadows all night, watching the dancing and the wine passing freely from squash shaped carafes. He would of stayed there forever had a hand lightly tapped him on the shoulder, and he had to turn around in order to see who had discovered him.

And found himself looking up into merry grey eyes that seemed to be framed by blue purple hair that just didn't want to stay in the same place for more then a few seconds, Larsa figured it was the dancing. Everything about the older guy was generous; his lips, his facial stubble, his shoulders and if one traveled downwards, his clothing and physique was just as generous as everything else. That was the start of three days of adventure in which this young man conducted him on a tour of his country, from merely finding out that the little one had never -seen- it before. Everything, Larsa found out, had a story behind it. From the woman who baked her bread in the early mornings, to the orange trees that danced in the center of the capital city. All of this fascinated Larsa and he made sure to ask questions upon questions, so many questions then one normally would have patience with, but which this man answered with debonair aplomb.

That was when Larsa begin thinking outside the box, not about just Archadies, but about everywhere else too. His curiousity sparked for other such countries, finding that this man was showing him that there was a story to everything.. and a veritible rhyme and reason to things. The three days that he enjoyed with his generous tour guide was perhaps more then he had ever expected, started finding that he liked it when the other man called him 'his little bluebird' though he took it for the fact that this culture was exceedingly open about many things, open in the way that his country wasn't. Larsa was used to devotion and loyalty, but never affection.. even the affection he was given from Drace was still cool and inhibited, but he found he liked everything that the man was teaching him, about how to live.. and how to laugh.

At the end of the three days, Larsa had not wanted to leave, though he hadn't wanted it to come because he knew that his tour guide deserved to know the truth as to who he really was, it was only fair.. for there had been a level of trust that had passed between them, and Larsa would of felt shoddy had he not told him something as to identity, so he did and with baited breath, not even realizing that his revealing would lead to something far greater, a revolution of sorts. And yet those memories lived on, of watching the man hit on every pretty little thing at his side, and thereby causing Larsa to groan with the way that after a fashion he had been able to tell when it was coming. He didn't dare to think that those three days could of been the man hitting on him, being considered a pretty little thing himself. He was much too practical to be woo'd in that manner as of yet.. and there had been so much for him to do that he didn't have time to dwell on such things when other more entrancing concepts hit him from all sorts of fields.

The pen hovered mid-air and a smile on his face as he rested his chin on the palm of his hand, thinking of lantern-light and the soft scent of cologne that was familar to his memory and caused his brown eyes to grow a bit dreamy. So much that he barely noticed Basch's voice clearing.

"Prince Al-Cid Margrace is here to see you... and would like a private audience" he could hear the resigned tone to Basch's voice and he tuned out of his dreams.

Before he could respond, there was the sound of a sweeping.. for the Prince of Rozzaria's entrances were never silent, and a husky voice thick with the accent of his country rang out. "It's been a few weeks, my charming little bluebird.. I was hoping to heigh you off to an afternoon's adventure if you've the mind." and the scent of cologne crossed the border of memories and into reality. Larsa smiled softly and got up from his desk, it was a nice afternoon in Archadies and he had done enough work for the morning. Able to shed the worries of his position, and just be. That was Al-Cid's gift to him.



"Never put my trust in fate,
Surprises do arrive so late
Why should I be surprised by you?"

  • 1
Very lovely~ (and now I can't get the image of a little bluebird Larsa out of my mind...must. play. FFXII...)

Too bad at my point in the game there is no Larsa to be found! *sigh* Stupid Dr. Cid. (I've asked myself why he cannot simply die like a man...but then, the villains never want to.)

I am sure that Al-Cid uses pet names for all of those close to him, and I can imagine that Larsa gets called alot of things.. like kitten, blue bird, poppet, emperorling, just really cutsy things, and I am sure that Larsa grouses about it because he likes to be thought of as mature.

The main game example being when Al-Cid visited Mt. Bur-Omisce and patted Larsa on the head when Larsa clearly expected a handshake. Ah! The look on Larsa's face~

Emperorling, now that nickname is the one that sticks in my mind. *chuckles*

Poor Larsa, has to wait around for Basch to get the stool so he can sit on his throne.

Sad day. >.>

  • 1