Borderline dubcon. AUish, maybe -- I haven't played in long enough that I'm not sure if this slots quite right into canon.
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"They say that Princess Ashelia died of grief." Vayne Solidor stepped out of the shadows of his stateroom in Dalmasca's palace and into the spotlight where the prisoner sat: the rebel leader Amalia, her jaw tight, her eyes burning defiance. He walked a circle around her, taking his time about it, observing her from every angle. Her blond hair, the planes of her cheekbones, muscles taut and ready to spring into action. "Took to her bed, turned her face to the wall, and stopped eating. That she withered away, despairing for her future and that of Dalmasca." He shook his head as he took another turn about the floor. "A pretty story, but not one I've ever believed. Too convenient. Too unlike a queen. Too well-tailored to Ondore's purposes. Don't you think so, Amalia?" He stopped, right in front of her, and stooped down to her height, to look straight into her face. She was the right age, to be certain. And her lieutenants had fought to the death to protect her. A simple rebel leader, or something more?
She lifted her chin to angle her eyes over his head, but she said nothing.
Vayne smiled without softening. "It must chafe at you, to live this lie. To pretend to be less than you are, to crawl through underground tunnels and sleep on the ground."
"I am no less than any other soldier who fights for Dalmasca's freedom!" She spat out the words, before deigning to meet his eyes at last, anger and contempt written across her face. "No less, and no more."
Vayne shifted his weight back on his heels and clucked his tongue. "Defiant to the last, my princess." Her knuckles whitened, gripping the arms of the chair; she would have lunged, Vayne knew, but for the three soldiers that stood behind him, holding a knife at the throat of Vossler Azelas. Her captain's life for her consent to this conversation -- that was the bargain, and they all knew it. She was unarmed; the Archadians would kill them both before Vayne suffered as much as a bruise. And yet, he could see her making the calculations. He could learn to admire such spirit.
"Do not," he said, holding up a hand, "bother to deny it. I know your family too well, and Ondore is too deeply in my pockets to hide the truth any longer. You are in a tight spot, princess. But I can offer you a way out."
"Were I locked in a burning building and you held the only key, I still would not take your aid," Ashe retorted.
Vayne gestured to his left, then his right. "But you are in a burning building, princess. Dalmasca is a tinderbox, waiting only for the right match to strike it. Would you really stand by and watch it burn?"
He stood up, stepped back to allow his words to sink in. Finally, she slumped back into her seat and looked away. She would hear him out.
"I am governor of Dalmasca, and will remain so for the foreseeable future. You must know that you cannot drive Archadia out by force. Why, then, not work with us instead? I am unmarried; you are a widow. Certainly you see that an alliance by marriage secures your homeland's best possible future. Your nation would become a favored state; your sons and grandsons would someday rule an empire. What, my lady, do you have to lose?"
"My liberty," she said, quiet but determined. "Mine, and Dalmasca's."
"And what good is liberty if you are not alive to enjoy it?" Vayne took her hand and drew her up out of the chair; her fingers were stiff and cool beneath his. "You will, with time, see that our betrothal is a perfect solution to this problem." He leaned forward and placed a light kiss on her unyielding mouth. "And if not, well." Letting go of her hand, he shrugged. "Imperfect solutions are better than none." He stepped back from her with a low bow, and a meaningful look at Azelas. "I look forward to your answer, princess." He left her alone in the room, giving her time to think. He had very little doubt as to what her ultimate response might be, but she deserved the opportunity to escape her fate. At least it would not be on his head.
"Imperfect Solutions", FFXII (OG): Vayne/Ashe, PG
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"They say that Princess Ashelia died of grief." Vayne Solidor stepped out of the shadows of his stateroom in Dalmasca's palace and into the spotlight where the prisoner sat: the rebel leader Amalia, her jaw tight, her eyes burning defiance. He walked a circle around her, taking his time about it, observing her from every angle. Her blond hair, the planes of her cheekbones, muscles taut and ready to spring into action. "Took to her bed, turned her face to the wall, and stopped eating. That she withered away, despairing for her future and that of Dalmasca." He shook his head as he took another turn about the floor. "A pretty story, but not one I've ever believed. Too convenient. Too unlike a queen. Too well-tailored to Ondore's purposes. Don't you think so, Amalia?" He stopped, right in front of her, and stooped down to her height, to look straight into her face. She was the right age, to be certain. And her lieutenants had fought to the death to protect her. A simple rebel leader, or something more?
She lifted her chin to angle her eyes over his head, but she said nothing.
Vayne smiled without softening. "It must chafe at you, to live this lie. To pretend to be less than you are, to crawl through underground tunnels and sleep on the ground."
"I am no less than any other soldier who fights for Dalmasca's freedom!" She spat out the words, before deigning to meet his eyes at last, anger and contempt written across her face. "No less, and no more."
Vayne shifted his weight back on his heels and clucked his tongue. "Defiant to the last, my princess." Her knuckles whitened, gripping the arms of the chair; she would have lunged, Vayne knew, but for the three soldiers that stood behind him, holding a knife at the throat of Vossler Azelas. Her captain's life for her consent to this conversation -- that was the bargain, and they all knew it. She was unarmed; the Archadians would kill them both before Vayne suffered as much as a bruise. And yet, he could see her making the calculations. He could learn to admire such spirit.
"Do not," he said, holding up a hand, "bother to deny it. I know your family too well, and Ondore is too deeply in my pockets to hide the truth any longer. You are in a tight spot, princess. But I can offer you a way out."
"Were I locked in a burning building and you held the only key, I still would not take your aid," Ashe retorted.
Vayne gestured to his left, then his right. "But you are in a burning building, princess. Dalmasca is a tinderbox, waiting only for the right match to strike it. Would you really stand by and watch it burn?"
He stood up, stepped back to allow his words to sink in. Finally, she slumped back into her seat and looked away. She would hear him out.
"I am governor of Dalmasca, and will remain so for the foreseeable future. You must know that you cannot drive Archadia out by force. Why, then, not work with us instead? I am unmarried; you are a widow. Certainly you see that an alliance by marriage secures your homeland's best possible future. Your nation would become a favored state; your sons and grandsons would someday rule an empire. What, my lady, do you have to lose?"
"My liberty," she said, quiet but determined. "Mine, and Dalmasca's."
"And what good is liberty if you are not alive to enjoy it?" Vayne took her hand and drew her up out of the chair; her fingers were stiff and cool beneath his. "You will, with time, see that our betrothal is a perfect solution to this problem." He leaned forward and placed a light kiss on her unyielding mouth. "And if not, well." Letting go of her hand, he shrugged. "Imperfect solutions are better than none." He stepped back from her with a low bow, and a meaningful look at Azelas. "I look forward to your answer, princess." He left her alone in the room, giving her time to think. He had very little doubt as to what her ultimate response might be, but she deserved the opportunity to escape her fate. At least it would not be on his head.