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When Balthier finally decided to retire for the night, Ashe had already fallen asleep. She had spent a leisurely, almost heavenly half-hour soaking in the bathtub, and then had changed into her pink cotton nightgown -- the one Balthier had been so fond of back in Rabanastre. Afterward, she had crawled between the sheets and hoped for a dreamless sleep. She didn't know if she could handle any more dreams at this point.

They all just seemed to shatter at her feet anyway. First her mother -- her beautiful, loving mother, Queen Yasminia, dying when Ashe was only four. Then losing not one, not two, but all eight of her brothers to war. Then Rasler and her father ... dreams of a happy, peaceful Dalmasca fallen at her feet, and she, powerless to pick up the shards and fix them.

And now Balthier -- the one thing in this whole ordeal that truly made sense to her -- well, he wasn't meant to be hers. It couldn't possibly work out that way. No, Ashe knew that nothing good would come to her, not any time soon. Maybe not ever at all. Perhaps this was a fool's errand. Maybe Dalmasca's crown was an unattainable goal. Even if it was, she couldn't let herself give up on it, not yet.

But if she got it -- if it all came down on her side, finally, what would she be losing in turn? When had her entire goal become so skewed, so blurry and unfocused? Of course, she knew the answer to that.

When she had met Balthier. Before, it had all made perfect sense. Revenge against the Empire, the restoration of her kingdom. It was all she wanted, all she thought she'd ever need. Enough to make her content, maybe even happy.

And now -- even if she got her crown back, she knew that without him, happiness would be the unattainable goal.

She finally fell into a deep sleep, and that was when Balthier returned to the room.

He smiled to find her sleeping. She only ever looked truly peaceful whilst she slept. In repose, she actually looked like the young woman she was supposed to be. During her waking hours, the burden of her life took its toll on her, and it was impossible for her to keep it from showing on her lovely face.

Ashelia was easy to read, at least, Balthier thought she was. He felt certain that she shared his feelings. Yet he was terrified. Terrified to share them with her, terrified that he even felt them in the first place. In his wonderfully unplanned life plan, nowhere did he ever carve out a spot for love. He had Fran, whom he loved with his entire being (but in a completely unromantic fashion -- they had tried that once and it had been horribly awkward), and he assumed she'd ever be the only woman (viera counted as women, he surmised) that he would need in his life.

There was no room for a Princess who had risen from the ashes like Phoenix. Ashe. The name now, made more sense than it ever had to him. A bit of destiny, that.

No one had said anything about painfully sad ice-crystal eyes framed by impossibly long lashes, skin that looked like gold dust had been sprinkled upon it, or silky flaxen hair. Had anyone said anything of the sort to him, he would have laughed heartily and continued on his way.

But it had only taken one sidelong glance in the Garamsythe Waterway so many weeks ago for him to realize that there was nothing ordinary about this girl, this situation. Not because she was a beauty, though she definitely was that, but because she just was. There was no other explanation needed for him.

Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca just was.

And soon, she would be Queen. He had no doubt of that in his mind. And no finer Queen could he imagine. But what was to become of them, then? Part of him wanted to believe that there would be nothing to worry about, that everything would remain the same as it was now. But the other part, the bigger part, the part he tried his damndest to ignore, knew that everything would change. That part of him knew that he would lose the only woman he had ever -- would ever -- love. Fran, she didn't count. He loved her, but it was an entirely different situation. No, this was about Ashelia.

There was another part of him. A dark, selfish part that he loathed. That part of him wanted to ask her to give it all up -- for him. Oh, he'd never do it, to be sure, but the thought was in his mind more often than not. He wondered if -- in some hidden corner of her mind or heart -- if she ever had the same thought.

Probably not. Ashelia was Dalmasca. Her whole goal was to see it restored, with her on the throne.

Queens do not consort with pirates. She had said those very words to him, only that morning. Had she meant it? And if she had -- then maybe he'd been misreading her intentions all along ...  

He readied himself for bed and crawled in beside the Princess. She instinctively curled up closer to him and sighed contentedly. He absently ran his fingers through her hair and exhaled heavily. None of it mattered, he knew. Tomorrow could go to hell, as far as he was concerned.

As long as he could still have moments like this ...

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The next morning, neither of them said anything of their thoughts the previous evening. Ashe smiled at him, greeted him with a kiss, acted as though she could see no end in sight for them. And he took her cues, acted the same.

Inside, they both ached.

They met the rest of the group and began the incredibly long trip to the Feywood. They took a shortcut through the Cerobi Steppe back to the Tchita Uplands, thus effectively avoiding Archades altogether, and continued onward toward the mystic Feywood. They decided to go via Mt. Bur-Omisace and arrived there late in the evening.

"We could rest here tonight, Highness, and continue on in the morning," Basch said when they reached the Mountain.

Ashe nodded her acquiescence, and began helping to set up tents. The day had been long, trying, and her bones felt like jelly. All she wanted to do was collapse onto her bedroll among piles and piles of blankets and sleep, and she knew that wouldn't happen if she shared a tent with Balthier. Turning to Penelo, she smiled slightly. "Penelo, would you mind very much sharing a tent with me tonight?"

Balthier's eyebrows quirked at the Princess' request. Avoiding him, was she?

Penelo, oblivious to what was going on, merely nodded. "Of course, Ashe," she said. She smiled apologetically at Balthier. "I guess you get Vaan tonight."

"Oh, bloody hell," Balthier snapped. "Princess? A word?"

Ashe closed her eyes, put a hand to her forehead. "Not tonight, Balthier," she said softly. "I'm -- tired."

"We're all tired!" he exclaimed. "And you're not sticking me with Vaan."

"So stick him with Basch, and share with Fran. Whatever you need to do, just do it," Ashe said quietly, not wanting this scene, not wanting it here or now.

"Um, I'm right here," Vaan said, obviously insulted.

Penelo shook her head at him covertly. "Not now, Vaan," she whispered.

Ashe turned, headed for a tent, but Balthier grabbed her roughly around the waist and lifted her off the ground. "Balthier! I'm not -- not doing this now!" she shouted.

"Oh, yes, you are," he said crisply. "Come on." He carried her away from the group, out of eyesight or earshot, and finally put her down.

She folder her arms across her chest and looked at him stonily. "Feel better now?" she asked him coolly.

"No, I don't feel better now," he retorted. "What the hell is going on?"

She didn't look at him, couldn't look at him. "I'm just tired. I just want to sleep. And I know that if you're with me ..."

Balthier's eyes shone angrily. "Oh, I see. Because that's all I could possibly want, right? Because I'm just some randy sky pirate with naught else on my mind but a good shag."

Ashe's eyes sparked. "I didn't say that ..."

"You didn't have to," he hissed. "Did it ever occur to you, Princess, that if that's all I was in this for, I'd be gone by now?"

Ashe finally looked at him, and her gaze pierced his heart. "Well, then, what are you in this for?" she said stonily. "Oh, wait, I remember. Treasure. That's the only reason you've stuck around so long. Me -- I was just a bonus."

"Damn it all to hell," Balthier cursed, feeling his blood boil. "Are we really going back there again?"

Ashe shook her head, willed herself not to cry. She'd made it through worse things in her life with minimal tears, she wasn't about to start crying now. "No, Balthier, we're not. We're not going anywhere." She stopped, took a deep breath. "And that's just the point. There's nowhere for us to go, so why bother?"

"Why -- why bother?" Balthier shot back at her. "Ashelia, what exactly are you saying here?"

"I'm saying that this -- this is never going to work. We both know that. And there's no reason to prolong the inevitable." She bit her lip, took a step closer to him. Placed her hand on his cheek and looked at him longingly, wistfully. "I wish ..." She let her sentence drop off, unfinished.

"Ashelia, you don't have to do this," he told her, quiet now.

"I do. Someone has to. Before it's too late. It might as well be me. I'll be Queen someday, and the tough decisions will be mine and mine alone to make. So I'll start now," she said.

"I'm not going anywhere," he told her earnestly. "I'm in this for the long run."

"Something more valuable, right?" she said softly as she looked down at her own ring. "I hope you find it."

She turned and walked back to camp, left him alone with his thoughts.

"I already have." He sighed into the cool evening air, watched her walk away from him.

And for once, he didn't have all the answers. He didn't know how to repair what was broken here, didn't know if it was even something he should fix.

But should didn't matter. He needed to fix this. Before he lost her for good, to a crown.