100, 200, 300, 400 or 500 words exactly.
FFXII. Fran, origins. The Wood is not a sanctuary.
FFXII, three snapshots. Unfortunately, Judge Ffamran missed the part of the job description that involved mass killings. There is no comfort to be had at home.
FFXII. The beginning of the end. Ivalice changes; the trouble with time is that every passing year devalues itself as currency.
Where the surface matters, but not how they thought it would.
Basch and Fran. An oasis and an invitation.
You ran the bath while he collected the key you left for him at reception. You opened the champagne as he stepped from the lift. You slipped into the bath as he turned down your hall.
FFXII. Vaan asks a personal question. Penelo's drunk enough to answer.
FFXII. Vossler the monarchist (sort of), suddenly learning the difference between country and crown.
FFXII. Ffamran and Fran, Basch and Vossler, Ffamran and Cidolphus. Three interludes, and the methodologies of freedom.
Wear your corporate success proudly, sweetheart; collars and cuffs synonyms for platinum-class shackles.
FFXII. Balthier and Fran. A mutually negotiated endeavor and satisfactory outcome for all.
FFXII. Ffamran meets Fran, as well as the rest of the YPA.
FFXII, Balthier and Fran. Do we call this kidfic?