fanlisting | fanfiction | fanart | lj icons | other graphics | contact/submit

If it were up to me, he had said, you would not have to fight at all.

A lark, that. She told her memory bitterly, spitting venom upon the recollection. What place does a soldier-prince have to tell one to stand down?

A bone in her back shifted slightly, made a disconcerting pop as she rolled her shoulders. She felt the tension gradually slip away, but deep inside there remained a knot, a tension she could not relieve. With a calculating look, she watched the front line swipe, cut, and hack away at the entite, that wretched creature with no Flesh or Bone, only sheer Will and Magick forging it, making it whole. Of all the creatures they had faced Ashe found herself fearing only this. She wondered if the others shared her sentiments, and gave a quick look at them all. Penelo held her staff close to her body and stood, hunched, on her left, torn between casting a spell on the entite or on her comrades, who seemed in need of assistance. On her right stood Vaan with his crossbow readied, taking aim at a spot between the fighters lest he wound them instead. They both looked determined, waiting for their chances to strike or lend needed aid. Ashe looked at her hands; they seemed somehow foreign as they clenched taut around the bow and shot. An insurmountable feeling of uselessness came over her.

The front line seemed weary but pushed onward, perhaps in spite of their exhaustion and pain. Basch's steady face glowed in the light of the entite. His scar looked more painful in this luminescence, like a fresh wound that cut deep. Fran gave a cry and launched herself forward, her spear held loose in hand, a battle stance coming natural to her. What cause would the Viera have to hone them to war, she wondered, they who watch Ivalice, never intruding, never aiding? Some bitterness still resided, but she willed it away. Balthier held his katana outward and angled across himself, his weight shifting between either foot, keeping his stance readied and easily mobile. They ached; she was sure she saw the pain in their faces.

A sudden desire to do something seized her like a cold wind. Her skin prickled as the urge came upon her like a great tide. She found herself standing straighter, her face hardening, feeling surer of herself than she had in a long time. Ashe took one last look at her hands and threw down her bow, stepping past the arrows as they clattered to the floor.

Penelo frowned but didn't speak, in the middle of a curative spell that, by the looks of it and the length of the incantation, was to fall over them all, bringing a relieving salve to their weary bones. Vaan lost his focus entirely and gaped at her, nearly dropping his own weapon as she charged forward.

"Ashe! What're you doing?" He called after her. Words could not stop her now.

How she wished he had not spoken. It would only disrupt the others, and she wanted so badly to be anything but a hindrance. Now the others turned their eyes upon her, sparing whatever attention they could lest they render themselves completely vulnerable. Basch looked up immediately at the sound of her name, ever a loyal son of Dalmasca, but he did not sheath his axe, sidestepping instead so he moved closer to where Ashe ran, possibly on the hope to intercept her from harm. Fran's eyes flickered briefly toward her, returning to the entite when she felt the chilling air of a Blizzard spell building up within it. She warned the others and steadied herself for the icy stab. Balthier, however, merely stepped further to the side, allowing her a wide berth through which to pass. Ashe could feel his eyes upon her like weight on her brow. He wanted to see what she would do.

Weaponless she rushed forward, drawing on the surge of strength she felt growing inside her, that she felt tickling at the knot deep within, unraveling the binds of powerlessness and grief, drawing from it the needed strength, the desired power. She had enough time to shout, in a voice unlike her own, so stern and sure, "Stand aside!" and they obeyed without objection, keeping their weapons at ready, but falling back to the second lines.

All things around her paled to a hue of purple-black as she raised her arms and clasped her left wrist in her right hand. With eyes tightly closed, she prayed. I must be strong. She willed her body to focus on these words, to let the swell within her rise over her doubt and indecision. Her head fell back, pale eyes falling open but unseeing as she lifted her arms over her head and let them drop open as if to embrace the Heavens. Slowly did she Ascend, her strength buoying her in the air, sparks of light flaring and dying out as she rose higher and higher above them, above the entite, bathing her entire body in its radiance.

Suspended in the air, held in the grasp of the Mist, she curled herself inward and clenched her fists, holding them against her chest. Spiral out, keep going, she urged, feeling the knot inside unravel further, each strand untangling itself and crackling in the unknown reservoir that lay dormant within her. The force of releasing each burst of power left her gasping, her body trembled as beam after beam hastily sped from Form to Entite, striking it as surely as a weapon, crashing like raging tides upon a beaten shore. She heard the cracks and thuds, reassured heartily by each successful blow, yet it drained her utterly. The explosions brought forth a burst of light and her surroundings returned in a rush, bringing her back to the narrow path of the Paramina Rift. The strength inside her faltered. She found herself on solid ground again.

The entite flickered and grew thin, like an eye closing. The light it gave off seemed feeble, weakened. It was with supreme satisfaction that she watched it die out completely, her body feeling so heavy like an anchor falling undersea, as the strength left her completely. Her shoulders sagged, her knees bent, and to the cries and shouts of her comrades, Ashe tumbled to the iced earth.

"You were careless," Basch spoke evenly but she could hear the irritation in his voice as he chided her, in his reserved way, tending carefully to the throbbing wound in her scalp. His fingers were rough in her hair and she winced. They felt like thorns.

"But highly effective." Only Balthier dared give her praise in such a jesting, condescending tone. She felt her resolve waver as she turned to him quickly, her head reeling from the sudden movement, hoping to catch a trace of the sarcasm on his face before he hid it from her. However, to her surprise there was none there at all. There was that teasing smile, yes, but it did not reach his eyes, and thus was not genuine. His eyes looked confused and wary. Did he know how oft they gave 'way to his heart?

Vaan stepped up to her aid, encouraged by Balthier no doubt. "Yeah, lay off a bit, Basch. I doubt we'd have won that without her."

"The Mist called, and happily she answered. There is danger to be had in binding your hands and letting it take control." Fran's tone was entirely unreadable. Ashe hoped she was not imagining the look of sympathy on her pointed, exotic face. "We Viera cannot choose when the Mist seethes, but Humes can."

"Don't do that again, okay?" Ashe stared at Penelo without uttering a word, whose face flushed hot in return and her hands faltered as she handed a potion to Basch, who took it with a nod of thanks. "I mean. . . don't scare us like that, Ashe. We want to fight, too."

Ashe hung her head and nodded limply. Basch abandoned his gentle prodding of her scalp and cracked open the potion instead, tipping a bit of the soothing concoction on her throbbing head. "I am ever yours to command, Highness, but you shan't find the others as easy to direct." Ashe swore she saw him smiling, his scarred face becoming almost unbearably handsome with such a pleasant expression. She wished she could smile back, but she had not the energy. He held the top of the potion to her lips and she sipped at it carefully, wincing as the strange mix of ice and syrupy gel slid down her throat and into her belly, undoing the pain her brashness had wrought. "Do not think they will stand idly by when next you get such an urge."

Basch gave her small shoulder a comforting, paternal squeeze before he rose to his feet, turning to address them all. "We make camp here. The Lady Ashe is unfit for travel, and undoubtedly we could all use a reprieve."

Only Vaan protested. "Couldn't we find a place less. . . cold?" Ashe heard a thwack as Penelo slapped his arm.

"Why don't you find us a warm spot in the Rift, Vaan?" She challenged.

"Why don't you stop hitting me, and do something useful?" Vaan rubbed the pink flush on his bicep and glowered at her.

Basch heaved a great sigh as he broke up the row. Grumbling to himself, Vaan readied the tents as Penelo huffed and knelt in the snow, clearing a spot for a magicked fire. Only Fran and Balthier remained near her. She watched the two of them discreetly from the corners of her vision. Fran gave a long, thoughtful look at Balthier, who stared back at her. What passed between them she did not know, but Fran seemed capable of understanding for she moved politely out of hearing range and went to scout for nearby creatures lest they ambush their slowly building peace.

Ashe liked it not that she would be alone with the sky-pirate, and she told him thus, cringing at how weak and hollow her voice sounded. There was not enough strength in her to stop the internal shame and reprimands at how foolish she had been to give in so easily, and she felt ready to collapse anew under her mental weight. Her glib did not deter Balthier, however. A part of her was relieved she had not chased his company off so quickly--she found herself longing for comfort.

"You won't brush me off that easily, princess." He quipped as if reading her mind. How she hated this knack of his. A queen must be unruffled, unreadable, a tabula rasa to friend and foe alike. To be scanned and judged easily would not bode well for her.

"You too would have me stand by, like the Marquis and Al-Cid before you?" Ashe bit her tongue at how near to burst her confession was. She would not be made to sit aside while others fought, while others plotted and took action. It was her kingdom that she sought, and it was her hand that would reclaim it.

His voice was steady, as if trying not to upset her. "I would have you choose carefully. The rest is no concern of mine." Earlier would she have reeled at this seemingly flippant brush-off. She had traveled with him too frequently now not to recognize what lay beneath.

"Al-Cid would have me sit idle for my protection. . ." She began, harking back to the unexpected meeting of the Rozarrian noble at the altar of the Gran Kiltias. It had weighed heavy on her conscience since they departed, like a stone she could not throw off. It was the first of several times she was counseled to remain stationary, an insult she could not lower herself to endure. Thankfully, Balthier interrupted her thoughts.

"Al-Cid would have you close at hand for his protection." He spoke quickly, as if annoyed, and kicked the ground with the toe of his shoe. Ashe lifted her head and stared up at him, her neck tense from the movement. She hissed and pushed a hand against the cramp in her neck, letting it drop back to her side in defeat, knowing the pain would lessen in time. Balthier seemed to sense her discomfort and crouched instead, sharing with her a slightly pitying smile, as if sorry she had not seen this as easily as he had. "To have the heir of Dalmasca roam about with the Empire on her tail would not bode well for a man who sues for peace. Your plight for your throne is cause enough for war. T'is a small wonder that the Marquis and he would delay it."

Ashe closed her eyes and felt shame anew wash over her. How foolish she had been... her mind was ever narrow these days. What she would give to be blessed with a broader sight, for an even mind; what she would give to think as he did, or like any of the others, all of whom reason and careful thinking came easily. Why had she been bypassed? I am not fit to be heir. . .

Why, why was it so hard for them to see how dire was her quest? Why could they not understand how badly she needed to act, and act now, for she had stood by far too long while the world above her changed and grew? "Would that my honour meant aught to one but myself. . ." She mumbled.

Balthier tsked and she imagined he had shot her a reproachful look. Playful or not she could not bear to gaze upon it. "It's something to me, princess. . ." He said, hastily tacking on as an afterthought, "And Fran as well. To Basch, surely--talk not to an imprisoned man of honour. . . and to fellow Dalmascans, of course."

She let his words sink in, juggling them around inside her head with the slew of others that she precariously balanced with every day that passed. She longed for rest, but there was no peace to be had in her dreams. Ashe tried again, hoping to relay but a portion of her side for him to understand. "All my attempts for restoration, for right, have been stalled," her voice shook with anger. "By the Empire, by masked allies," she thought of Vossler with a pang of hurt so strong she clutched her breast, her heart aching. "And . . . worst of all, myself. I have no power, no rule, and no might. I am unfit to claim my father's crown, too weak to carry out our promise. . ."

Oh, would she but go a day without Rasler's memory haunting her! His voice, his smile, his face. She forced herself to stare hard at Balthier, hoping to drive the spectre from her mind.

Balthier held her gaze unwavering. When he next spoke, he was quiet, truly curious, as if he were testing her. "Then what are you doing out here? What are you doing with the Sword of Kings? Though it might be sticks against the Empire's legions, you've a band of allies loyal to your cause, able to lend our arms to the task." His lips pursed against his next words. She watched his expression stiffen. "How unkind of your Highness to overlook that." He seemed truly offended.

Ashe slammed her hand flat against the snow-covered ground. "You don't understand!" She cried, catching the attention of the others. They glanced quickly over at the two in surprise, only now having noticed their discussion. Fran stayed Basch's hand as he moved to step forward and interrupt, his brows creased with concern. She shook her head and nodded toward Vaan, who was struggling helplessly with the last tent. Penelo warmed her hands before the fire and stared curiously at Ashe and Balthier, looking away tactfully so as not to give the impression of eavesdropping.

Ashe lowered her voice and looked pleadingly at Balthier. She urged herself not to cry, but felt her eyes water in spite of herself. "I look upon it gladly, kindly. I look always with fondness on the sacrifices made," again her voice caught, thinking once more of Vossler. That was a wound freshly laid, bleeding anew when her thoughts strayed over the raw surface. Her voice struggled and she furiously ran the back of her hand over her eyes, grinding away the tears forcibly enough to make them water fresh with pain. When she next spoke, she aimed every word personally at Balthier. "I know it is not your war to fight. . . nor is it theirs." She gestured towards the camp, towards Penelo and Vaan who were bantering playfully again, to Fran who was surveying the land with her spear at the ready. Basch surveyed them all steadily. "By all rights it is mine to fight alone. Nevertheless, you make it yours, and I am grateful for your aid. . . So very grateful."

"'Awaken, Ashelia B'Nargin, and take up your sword.'" Balthier intoned, echoing the words of Anastasis. He made a show of examining the nails of his right hand instead of looking at Ashe. "Can't say I think much of dreaming geezers, but I believe this one hit the mark.

"I can only tell you this, princess, and that's to not overlook your own strength." He reached out and closed his hand over the one she had slammed into the ground, holding it tight. Warmth flooded through her at once, from her heart, from his palm, and from that smile that, she saw, had reached his eyes at last. "There's more power in here than you reckon. More, I would wager, than you give credit. You'd do best to realize that soon."

Ashe cursed her pale complexion, knowing for sure that he could see her blush as certain as she felt the heat in her face. She heard herself stammering stupidly in reply, not wanting to take her hand out from under his but staring from it back up to his smile with a trapped look, like a caged rabbit. After a moment she saw his eyes dim and his smile become the same wry grin she had first hated. Someone had approached them from behind. Balthier withdrew his hand and stood up, tugging idly at his sleeve cuffs, not meeting the eyes of the one who approached. He walked by Ashe without looking at her.

Basch stared unpleasantly at Balthier's back and shook his head, willing the displeasure away. He held a hand out to Ashe and gently lifted her to her feet without any strained effort. He scanned her face quickly, glossing over the surface to make sure she was all right. She tried not to flush anew as she wondered if he could see her still-flamed cheeks. Ashe hardened her shoulders and waited for a further tirade, hoping his opinion of her had not taken a complete nosedive beyond repair. All he said was, "I pray the council given to Her Highness did much to lighten Her Heart."

Ashe tried to smile but found her face tight and unyielding to the warm expression. "You pray true, Basch." She channeled all the heart she could spare in the words and gave him a meaningful look, squeezing his hand in her small fingers, not minding the rough skin as she had before. Basch smiled kindly and inclined his head and neck in a partial bow, falling into step behind her as they made their way to the camp Vaan (with begrudging assistance) had erected. He stared proudly at the encampment and gave a haughty look to Penelo, egging her on.

"Give it up, Vaan. You're helpless without us." Penelo teased.

"Oh, please don't start up again," Balthier interjected testily, timing it just as Vaan opened his mouth with a bitter stare at Penelo's back. The two turned to regard him with looks of mixed hurt and offence. Balthier pinched the bridge of his nose and waved them aside. "Save it for later, I beg you. There are more important matters at hand."

"Yeah, like sleep," said Vaan eagerly, hastening to steady himself and his expression into a mirror of Balthier's. He nodded solemnly and turned on his heel, ducking under the flap of his tent and disappearing inside. After a moment, his head broke through the flap and his eyes betrayed the growing panic that threatened to dismantle his stern face. "Hey, Penelo? Where are--"

"You noticed, huh? I think I'll bunk with Fran tonight." Penelo beamed, gazing happily up at the Viera with a warm smile. Fran gave a little smirk and nodded her head in acceptance.

Vaan bristled and gaped open-mouthed at the pair of them, unable to speak as Penelo started chatting animatedly to Fran, letting the latter duck into the tent first. Penelo turned to spare one last look at Vaan and stuck out her tongue. With a look of regret, she glanced at Basch and said, "Sorry that you have to baby-sit, Basch. But it's someone else's turn for a change." With that she, too, disappeared inside.

Basch fought against the smile that spread over his lips. Ashe knew he did not want to offend Vaan.

"Baby-sit?!" Vaan protested. "Who does she think I am, Kytes?" He grumbled and scowled deeply, drawing back inside the tent, caring not if anyone joined him. Ashe felt a pang of sympathy for the boy, hoping he did not take Penelo's words too much to heart or as an assessment of the party's regard of him.

Ashe knew it was hopeless before she asked, but she at least had to try. "Balthier," she began in her most polite and diplomatic voice, as if speaking to a person who was likely to explode at a sudden word. "Would you be willing--"

"Absolutely not," He said at once, looking deeply--but, Ashe was pleased to see, jokingly--offended that she would even think to suggest such a thing. "My patience is strained paper-thin after a day's fighting, and you'd have me spend the night with that noise box? T’would be a lucky day indeed if you woke up and found both of us alive and unharmed." Balthier shook his head and sighed. "No dice, princess. I won't have it."

Basch nodded and said his goodbyes to Ashe, sharing a look with Balthier that Ashe missed for he had turned away from her and left only his back to be appraised. Balthier watched him go with an unreadable expression until he and the princess were the only two not in a tent. He looked pointedly at her and raised an eyebrow. "I told you I wasn't to be brushed off easily." He moved forward and extended his hand, bringing it down lightly on her shoulder as he passed. Ashe felt his fingers squeeze the part of her back that had previously popped and ached. She tried not to flinch under his touch, hoping he would not misread her reaction. "Honestly," he heard himself muttering under his breath as he walked into the tent. "Me, babysitting."

Ashe realized that her breath was caught in a tight ball in her chest, and with a great heave, she let it pour out of her like grain from a ruptured sack. She turned and followed Balthier into the makeshift haven, finding him preparing the separate bundles of linen and heavy cloths that they might call beds tonight. In the tent he seemed remarkably less witty; subdued, somehow, in close quarters. She would not lay enough import on herself to think him nervous, but he seemed remarkably ill at ease. Ashe eyed him thoughtfully as she knelt before her sleeping parcel, folding back the blankets so that she might slip inside. Balthier was sitting in the middle of his, undoing the clasps on the back of his shoes, making a point not to look at her. She tried not to think on it as she slid off her own shoes and nudged them to the side. Still on her knees she edged herself under the sheets and blankets, delighting in the warmth that rushed over her as she pulled them up to her neck, nestling happily inside the heated bundle.

Eyes closed, she heard Balthier do the same, listening carefully to the puffs of air and sighs he released, taking strange delight in these exhalations, imagining the tension seeping from his face when removed from close scrutiny. The light in the tent grew dim as Balthier huffed out the candle-lamp, and Ashe found her eyes struggling against the newly created dark. To her surprise, Balthier seemed to have more words to say, though she could not think of how to reply.

"Think on what I said, Ashe." He said quietly, his voice... was it, tender? Her eyes flew open and she bristled, finding his gaze resting solely upon her laying but an arm's length away. She could slide her fingers down the sides of his face if she so wished it.

Ashe bit her lip and wrestled with the only response of which she could think. "Please don't misunderstand me, Balthier..." She began, waiting for a nod from him before she continued. "But... what investment does a sky-pirate have in the will of a deposed royal?"

Balthier chuckled and sat up slightly, resting his head in the palm of his hand, his elbow planted firmly on the ground. "You hold too fast to titles and roles," He gently chided her. His expression stilled, and Ashe knew he was speaking seriously again. "As a friend to another. . . as man to woman, that is my investment. Words of caution to be shared and, mayhap, heeded."

Later she would wonder why she had ever said it, why she dared let the words trickle from her battle-weary and aching mind down to her lips, but quicker than she could catch the words were they rolling off her tongue, past her teeth, and out into the space betwixt them. She thought only of his hand on hers when they spoke outside, the warmth in his palm that, though its presence was fleeting, she deeply cherished. "Balthier. . . Would you touch me?"

The question sounded especially stupid to her so she could only wonder what he must have thought. To his credit his only visible reaction was a cocked eyebrow and a look of stricken surprise. Ashe flushed and spoke quickly, extracting her hand from underneath the blanket and using it to gesture helplessly before her. Oh, how could she possibly explain this hunger to him, when she failed at expressing her own intentions?

"Not as lovers... I do not mean... even no more than a handshake would suit, but--"

Stupefying her beyond explanation, Balthier simply smiled kindly to her, a look that warmed her heart and made her want to tremble with a flush of pleasure. His eyes brightened as they had when they spoke outside, and he reached out to clasp her wildly flailing hand in his, catching it like a frenzied bird. He brought it close to his heart and bent his head, keeping his eyes locked firmly on Ashe as he lightly kissed her knuckles. She was thankful for the darkness of the tent, glad at least that he could not see her blushing much worse than she had before. She found her heart leaping at the feel of his lips on her skin, almost aching with desire. She felt the tension that had reached fever pitch inside her soothe itself under his touch, and she wondered why her body was so eager to be physically comforted--and by him of all people. Had she been left alone for so long? Had she truly hungered for companionship this eagerly? Ashe found herself feeling oddly lighter and more relieved than she had minutes prior, wondering when this change had come upon her. She felt a good deal more relieved than she had in the past two years. Balthier locked his fingers with hers and held her hand tight, as if a force greater than sleep threatened to separate them.

The only sound to be heard in their tent was that of the clinking of her wedding ring against Rasler's, the token of compensation she had lent to Balthier for his companionship through past Giza. Ashe marveled briefly at her decision to set her mind on needing the aid of a rogue. She could have denied him the ring, could have denied him one of the remaining tokens of her husband and her past life. She had not. Why? She wondered, her sleepy mind carefully urging the matter aside for the time being. To her there was nothing more valuable than this moment: comfort, finally. Ashe closed her eyes and felt sleep descending heavily upon her.

"I understand, princess," was all Balthier said of the matter, and with a last desperate but hearty squeeze of his hand against hers she drifted off to slumber, those words soothed Ashe more than Balthier could possibly know.