The courtiers at Ashe's coronation dance so gracefully and so beautifully. Penelo watches wistfully in her storebought finery, aware that even if some minor noble asked her to dance (whether mistaking her for true nobility or even on the tenuous strength of her claim to heroism and the queen's ear) she would probably make a fool of herself.
There is a tap at her shoulder, and she looks up in surprise to find Balthier standing there. He holds out a hand to her, smiling gallantly. "Would you do me the honor, milady?"
She blinks at him stupidly. "I--- what--- who--- me?"
He laughs. "Yes, of course, my darling dear--- why shouldn't we; we're both beggars at this feast, after all---" his eyes lift from hers, and she follows his gaze across the room to where Ashe--- Queen Ashe--- stands, surrounded by admirers, sycophants, hangers-on.
Penelo is suddenly aware that Ffamran mied Bunansa might well have been admitted to that circle--- she doesn't quite understand the Archadian version of nobility, with the wrenches that elections and advancement through accomplishment throw into a simple peerage system, but his family was well-placed enough, of that she is sure.
The sky pirate Balthier is another matter, though, hero or not, and yet he is stubborn enough, independent enough that though his father is dead (and was never mad to begin with, had a goal that even Penelo can grudgingly agree with, to free humanity from their not-exactly-godly masters) he will not resume his name and station.
And so he stands here with her; as he says, beggars at the feast. And asks a budding sky pirate for a dance when he would rather lay his hand in a queen's.
She gets to her feet, riding a wave of mingled pity and exasperation. "I'd be delighted," she says, drawing his attention back to her.
On impulse, she stretches and kisses his cheek. He blinks at her, surprised, and then his eyes fix on her and a slow smile spreads over his lips. "Perhaps we won't have to spend the evening begging after all," he says with a hint of mirth and a hint of promise, and she thinks that even being the ingenue and not his leading lady might be no bad thing.
"Beggar at the Feast, Master of the Dance": FFXII (OGC): Balthier/Penelo, G
There is a tap at her shoulder, and she looks up in surprise to find Balthier standing there. He holds out a hand to her, smiling gallantly. "Would you do me the honor, milady?"
She blinks at him stupidly. "I--- what--- who--- me?"
He laughs. "Yes, of course, my darling dear--- why shouldn't we; we're both beggars at this feast, after all---" his eyes lift from hers, and she follows his gaze across the room to where Ashe--- Queen Ashe--- stands, surrounded by admirers, sycophants, hangers-on.
Penelo is suddenly aware that Ffamran mied Bunansa might well have been admitted to that circle--- she doesn't quite understand the Archadian version of nobility, with the wrenches that elections and advancement through accomplishment throw into a simple peerage system, but his family was well-placed enough, of that she is sure.
The sky pirate Balthier is another matter, though, hero or not, and yet he is stubborn enough, independent enough that though his father is dead (and was never mad to begin with, had a goal that even Penelo can grudgingly agree with, to free humanity from their not-exactly-godly masters) he will not resume his name and station.
And so he stands here with her; as he says, beggars at the feast. And asks a budding sky pirate for a dance when he would rather lay his hand in a queen's.
She gets to her feet, riding a wave of mingled pity and exasperation. "I'd be delighted," she says, drawing his attention back to her.
On impulse, she stretches and kisses his cheek. He blinks at her, surprised, and then his eyes fix on her and a slow smile spreads over his lips. "Perhaps we won't have to spend the evening begging after all," he says with a hint of mirth and a hint of promise, and she thinks that even being the ingenue and not his leading lady might be no bad thing.