"I can't believe it's really been five years." Penelo stood on the edge of the balcony, a thousand stars glittering overhead. She looked back at the party in the imperial ballroom, stuffed with senators and Judges and courtiers and foreign dignitaries, all gathered to celebrate the anniversary of the emperor's coronation. And the emperor himself, standing next to her, not a hair out of place despite a face flushed from dancing. Dancing with her.
"Indeed, my lady," Larsa said. "At times, I forget just how many years have passed."
"And yet here you are." Penelo looked at the boy emperor, really looked for the first time in years. They saw each other, not as often as she would like, but often enough that she hadn't really paid attention. The boy emperor wasn't a boy anymore -- he'd grown taller than her, for one thing, maybe even taller than Vaan. And was that a shadow of beard on his cheekbones, under his chin? Almost she reached out to touch his face, but she caught her hand halfway. Instead, she turned to a passing waiter; she plucked a glass of wine off the tray balanced in his hand and raised it. "A toast," she said. "To the Emperor, to his first five years, and our hopes for fifty more."
Larsa took a glass of his own, returning the toast. "To five years of peace and friendship," he replied, "and the promise of a hundred more." They drank, and then he leaned forward and kissed her, lips sweet with wine and the eagerness of youth. She sighed, and he pulled away, swiftly.
"Apologies for my forwardness," he murmured, lowering his eyes. "I presumed upon your kindness, your friendship. It will not happen again."
Penelo shook her head and rested a hand on his chest. "It had better happen again." This time she kissed him first, and the sweetness was not all from the wine.
FFXII: Larsa/Penelo, PG
"Indeed, my lady," Larsa said. "At times, I forget just how many years have passed."
"And yet here you are." Penelo looked at the boy emperor, really looked for the first time in years. They saw each other, not as often as she would like, but often enough that she hadn't really paid attention. The boy emperor wasn't a boy anymore -- he'd grown taller than her, for one thing, maybe even taller than Vaan. And was that a shadow of beard on his cheekbones, under his chin? Almost she reached out to touch his face, but she caught her hand halfway. Instead, she turned to a passing waiter; she plucked a glass of wine off the tray balanced in his hand and raised it. "A toast," she said. "To the Emperor, to his first five years, and our hopes for fifty more."
Larsa took a glass of his own, returning the toast. "To five years of peace and friendship," he replied, "and the promise of a hundred more." They drank, and then he leaned forward and kissed her, lips sweet with wine and the eagerness of youth. She sighed, and he pulled away, swiftly.
"Apologies for my forwardness," he murmured, lowering his eyes. "I presumed upon your kindness, your friendship. It will not happen again."
Penelo shook her head and rested a hand on his chest. "It had better happen again." This time she kissed him first, and the sweetness was not all from the wine.