But instead of finishing any of those up... I decided to start writing a Penelo X Larsa fic (Final Fantasy XII). It appears that I'm a dabbler through and through, leaping upon any passing pairing and fandom that in the least interests me. But hey... at least I'm consistent in my inconsistency! Now, let's see if I can pull through on my promise to make THIS a multi-chapter story... and eventually write something with honest to god dialogue in it!
Title: The Bloom Upon the Bough, Chapter 1
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Pairings: Penelo X Larsa
Summary: There's a difference between need and desire, between what you want and what you'll receive.
Disclaimer: Nothing but the particular combination of words in this piece belongs to me!
There's a difference between need and desire.
Larsa Ferrinas Solidor knows, perhaps more than anyone else, about the needs of his world. He knows how many pounds of rice must be harvested every year to feed the people of cities and how many taxes can be imposed upon the poor until their livelihood is ruined and how many levies can be placed on the rich until they groaned. He knows how much money it takes to repair roads destroyed by acts of God and buildings by acts of armed resisters. He knows to a man how many soldiers are in his army and how many resources need to be taken from the earth and from the people to keep them securing the boundaries of his empire. He knows, as perhaps only Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca does, of the precise weight a kingdom can exert upon its ruler. And he knows, to an almost painful degree, how much his people still have need from him, from all of the house of Solidor.
Larsa knows need and how it can be met so easily with the body of a Rozarrian noble woman in the throne beside his own. Larsa understands need and the cries of his people and knows how to subdue them both as painlessly as possible.
But desire is a different beast altogether.
Desire is a girl from the gutter, flaxen hair held back from her face and shocked eyes calling to him for help. Desire is a hand tentatively placed in his, short nails raking the fabric of his gloves. Desire is the tip of her fingers, tentatively stroking his face and wiping away the trecharous tears that had fallen after he had truly understood the weight of the legacy he was the only survivor to. Desire is the moonlight that had lit her from within as she had lain across his bed, holding his hand and whispering in his ear, trying her best to make him feel something besides rage and agony. Desire is waking up with his face in her hair and her arms around his and realizing that she's the last beautiful girl in the world and nobody could ever hope to take her place beside his worn-out body.
Desire is love and desire is want, mingling together until even the emperor of Archadia bends his knees to beauty. It has no place in his world, not the way need does, but he can't deny it anymore than he can deny her every wish and need.
Larsa knows more than anyone else in the world that there's a difference between need and desire. But when he closes his eyes and thinks of Penelo as he last knew her...
[eyes closed and lips smiling, hair in the wind as she had promised to come back, sometime soon, someday]
...He can't quite recall why mere politics should ever seperate their two beings.