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Ashelia B’nargin Dalmasca would have never thought she’d sigh deeply and so often again; she saw no good reasons to. Last time she had felt so alone had been during her two-year underground hiding from the Empire. No longer had she had to hide. The rightful heir had claimed her country back from the Empire, with the help of her newfound allies. Under the starless sky of Dalmascan, Ashe stood proudly once more as Princess of Dalmasca, soon-to-be her new Queen.

Queen, Ashe mused wryly. Queen Ashelia, as she would be known to the world and the future written history from now on. The name did not roll nicely off her tongue, nor did it sound pleasant to her ears. She was supposed to be a princess, but not a queen. Her hands were meant to be in the arm of her prince, not on the arms of the throne.

Ashe let out another soft sigh. It was not her choice, she resigned. It had never been her own choice. Born to play the role of a beloved princess, later forced into the role of a resilient group leader, and now shouldered the role of a ruler; all drive by some mysterious force called fate. Such was the story of Ashelia B’nargin Dalmasca.

Standing alone on the royal palace balcony, the princess stared out at the Bahamut ruin, as she had been doing every night since her official return to Dalmasca. Her eyes were unfocused; her thoughts miles away. The unseen crown on her head as the queen was taken off and carefully tugged away in her mind. For now anyway. For a few precious moments, Ashelia was just a young woman. One who had fought for the freedom for her country, and won.  

The cost for freedom was high. A bit too high, if she would allow herself to admit selfishly. Nothing could be more precious than freedom for her own people, Ashe knew. Yet, no matter how much she willed herself to think as a queen first, woman second, she couldn’t bring herself to justify her personal price for freedom: the deaths of those she loved for the sake of her country. First her husband, then her father, and later…

The princess put a quick halt on her train of thoughts. It was a dangerous zone she was treading; she could feel the unbreakable facade she had been trying to hard to build starting to crack if she were to let herself continue on the list of lost love ones.

There was never a confirm death of a certain sky pirate. She steeled herself and squared her shoulders.

But it had been months since the selfless sacrifice of the seemingly selfish sky pirate…

No, Balthier couldn’t die. He must not die. Ashe closed her eyes and swallowed hard, ignoring the sudden painful lump in her throat.

Princess. No need to worry. I hope you haven’t forgotten my role in this little story.

She opened her eyes and relaxed visibly as she heard his voice echoed through her mind. How could she have forgotten his role in her story? She had sought for his approval openly more than once: if Balthier had thought she would be strong enough, then she must be strong enough. He had made her believe in herself, believe in the impossible task of reclaiming her country. With his borrowed strength, both physically and mentally, against all odds, she had won. Now, all alone in the night, she would need to draw strength from him again, strength from his final words, for those were all she had from him. Once more, she would have to believe in another impossible – his survival. 

I am the leading man.

His words were strangely spoken in his usual casual tone despite the tense situation. There might even have been a touch of tenderness in his voice, Ashe dared not to entertain that idea. As confident as ever, he’d ensured her his immortality, done his best to put her at ease. Ashe desperately needed to believe him and his claim. For it was her only hope. And to lose that flickering flame of hope, to fathom the idea of him sacrificed himself for the safety of Rabanastre, it wouldn’t just break her heart, for it had already been broken too many times, it would simply pulverize it.

“Please, come back,” Ashe mumbled underneath her breath unconsciously. “If you die… If you die, I…” she quickly pursed her lips thin and stopped herself, half afraid she would spill her weakness to the still air of the warm Dalmascan night. Those few words were the very same ones she had wanted to tell him, had she the courage. It had left unspoken at the very last moment when she had begged him to return. What good would it do had she confessed her feelings, she had constantly wondered ever since the fall of the ruin, and every single time her answer would be the same: nothing. Perhaps it was an excuse for her lack of courage; or perhaps she had only been realistic. She was a princess; he was a pirate. She had Dalmasca; he had Fran…

 “Fool…” Ashe shook her head and berated herself in frustration, turning her back at the Bahamut ruin, as if it would make her thoughts stray away from the sky pirate. She focused her eyes on a pair of spotless glass doors leading to the interior of her private quarter. How she would gladly trade the intricately decorated metal-framed glass doors for a pair of weather-worn wooden ones, her empty palace for a cozy small room in the street of Rabanastre. If only she could be a commoner, free to live and love as her heart desired…

Ashe let out another exasperating sigh, quite disappointed in herself for letting lose in her secret fantasy. A fantasy she could never have attained in spite of, and because of, her status as the sole survivor of the Dynast-King bloodline. A fantasy as unattainable as the heart of the missing sky pirate. A small personal price to pay for the good of all her people, the future queen reasoned, drowning the desperate cry and need from the woman within. As always, the queen in her won.

Ashe dared to take one last look at the dark silhouette of Bahamut ruin before turning in for the night. She would need whatever restless sleep she could get every night. For by sunrise, she would have to yet again pick up the unseen crown in her mind and play the role of the future Queen.

“Goodnight, Father. Goodnight, Rasler.” She whispered under her breath while looking up in the starless sky, as if both were watching over her. The thought of it gave her rare comfort. 

“Goodnight, B-,” she caught herself before she could finish the name. Crutching her fists tightly by her sides in frustration, she silently cursed herself for letting her thoughts constantly drifted back to the sky pirate. She would never admit it, not even to herself, but she did miss him. Terribly.

He would come back, Ashe reassured herself. She had to believe. He would come back for his Strahl, as he had said. Not for her, but for his airship. It mattered not to her, the princess convinced herself with resignation, so long as he survived.

For if he died, she…

You know what they say about the leading man?….

Yes, she knew. She knew by heart. With the fond memories of the shrewdly and somewhat irritably cocky grin of the sky pirate, Princess Ashe walked back to her quarter with one single thought in her head.