King Raithwall’s tomb was, although she would never admit it out loud to the other members of her party, musky and heavy, full of arcane lore and more Steelers than one could shake a fist at. She hadn’t been prepared for the bombardment of dust and ash when she’d pushed open the first heavy, clunking doors, and she didn’t especially like the smug look that seemed to have permanently attached itself to Balthier’s face, but she pressed on with her shoulders squared and her chin held high, and, because she was prepared, her sword held out in front of her form.
She was struggling with her divided attention, hoping to focus on the twisting passageways and inscribed messages on the crumbling stone walls, but her eyes kept flickering over to the Sky Pirate, nervously watching him as he yearned for - no, studied! He promised!- the treasure boxes and urns that littered the walkway. Between him and Vaan, whose fingers were positively itching to get into some old loot, it was hard to keep track of all of the corners and archways they walked through, and Ashe hoped fervently that they wouldn’t get lost on the way back.
She wondered what her people would think if they saw her now. Look at our princess, they would say, wandering through Raithwall’s tomb like a common thief, and certainly reveling in the presence of several!
Her sword felt heavy in her hands as she swung it at a Steeler, coming down with perhaps more force than was necessary, and feeling slightly guilty at the feeble, rattling cry it gave off as it fell to the ground in a twisted heap of wings and limbs. Sometimes the sword dug painfully into the rings still adorning her fingers, and she would wince at the flash of pain and think only briefly of taking them off to do battle, but then Rasler’s face would appear before her and she would swallow hard and think of the sweet smile that had crossed his face that last time she had seen him alive.
She often wondered if she was doing his memory justice. Should she allow the members of her party to continue in their lives, even if they were full of thievery and pirating? What would Rasler think should he see her intimate thoughts as the party lay around a slowly flickering fire at night, camped out in the sands, exhausted from a long day of honing skills and mastering abilities? Would he become angry with her for finally putting the memory behind her, or would he approve of her moving on after two long, painful years?
It was hard to dismiss it when it was the first time in those years that she’d really felt alive again. It felt like her life had a purpose again, a real goal she could strive for, as opposed to the years she spent wandering through the sewer waterways waiting for the opportune moment to strike with the resistance. No, it was much better now that she had a direction and a focus, and, even better, an enemy to take out her aggression on.
Raithwall’s tomb was a maze of corridors and intersecting chambers, and most of them were filled with piles of old, long stripped bones or the charred remains of some unlucky thief who’d managed to get into the structure. The beasts that took up residence within the crumbling walls were strong against her sword, and after several hours of aimlessly walking, struggling to find the correct path, she could feel the sweat beading on her forehead, and the exhaustion weighing heavily on her body.
“We should rest,” Basch announced, sheathing his sword and holding a hand up to the arcane inscription carved into the nearest wall. “We should set up camp and regain our strength.”
“I second that idea,” Vaan said with a little bob of his head, flaxen hair flying in front of his face as he leaned against the side of an archway. Ashe stood with her back to the others, staring out into the empty corridor ahead, wishing she knew the way to go, and wishing that everything could be easier. Fighting back rising anxiety, she glanced back over her shoulder to check on her battle-weary comrades.
“It is in our best interest to recuperate,” Fran agreed, and Ashe had no choice but to comply.
“We rest here, then,” she instructed them, turning to face Basch, whom she knew would take her orders without question. She knew it was wrong to abuse his loyalty and his oath, but she needed some time to think, and she wished to be awake while doing so. “I’ll take first watch.”
It was evident that he wished to protest, and a myriad of emotions flickered over his face before his features hardened into acceptance, and he nodded once, swiftly, turning to the others and raising one hand.
“Set up the mats,” he told Vaan, who complied with a loud sigh of resignation, obviously meant to be heard by the others. Penelo, who seemed to have a remarkable knack at picking up on not only her friend’s frustrations, but also on the current temperament of the other comrades, went to help him, clearly hoping to soothe over any tempers Vaan might have rattled.
Ashe stood while the others prepared the sleeping area under the guise of watching for beasts, but her eyes were focused far beyond the stone walls, and it took her several moments to realize that the group behind her had quieted and stilled. When she looked back, they were all lying out on the sleeping mats, and Vaan was already drooling onto his arm.
Watch was slow, and the lights in the tomb were dim, and there were no signs of beasts attempting to enter the corridor they’d chosen for the rest. Ashe sat with her chin propping on her palm, lost in her memories of days long gone. During the day she could easily put her own thoughts aside, but at night there was little else to keep her attention, and she couldn’t help but dwell on how things might have been different had the Empire not invaded, and her father had not been killed, and Rasler…
Then he was standing before her, vibrant and colorless at the same time, gazing at her with a smile that she couldn’t quite place. She reached out for him, but her hand simply grazed through the air, and his image faded once more, leaving her alone and thoroughly shaken.
After a long while there was a rough hand on her shoulder, and Basch was standing behind her.
“I will take over,” he told her, letting his hand drop back to his side. “You should rest; it will be a long journey through the catacomb still.”
“Yes, you’re right,” she agreed, rising to her feet with a small push off the ground, dusting off the small pebbles that stuck in her hand. “Thank you.”
Basch nodded in agreement, and when she moved over to the mats, he took up her position on the ground, his sword held in front of him at the ready. Ashe paused, deciding whether or not to inform him that he would likely see few beasts during his time awake, but then she smiled a little, realizing that Basch was unlikely to take heed of such a warning.
The ground was hard and unyielding, and whenever she switched positions another section of her armor dug uncomfortably into her form, and there was a chill that she couldn’t shake, causing her to tremble lightly as she hugged her arms close. She let her gaze fall on the others, but they were all fast asleep, breathing hard and steady, and she envied how easily they were able to disregard the ominous air that surrounded the tomb.
Every time she closed her eyes she saw images: flashes of her father’s lifeless body bent over his chair at the treaty signing, blood pooling beneath him, and flashes of Rasler lying in the coffin, his face pale and ethereal looking, so proud and loyal even in death. Perhaps it was her heritage and the tomb, and she had a feeling that there was something in the maze of corridors that only she could feel, and it was affecting her far worse than anything in the past two years of resistance living ever had.
There was a short snort from the opposite side of the sleeping quarters, and then a little snore, and Ashe was oddly comforted by Vaan’s rather obnoxious nocturnal noises, feeling suddenly as if the people around her were the only comfort she had in Raithwall’s final resting place. She heard Penelo give a light little sigh and roll over, and Ashe did the same, turning to the opposite side on her mat.
Balthier was lying to her left, and against all of her better judgment, Ashe scooted closer to his sleeping form. He provided warmth that she couldn’t get otherwise, and it helped to shake off a small bit of the chill that still threatened to overtake her body. It had been a long while since she had last slept next to anyone, and she snuggled in as close as she dared to get without touching him, for fear of waking him and unknowingly repulsing him. She didn’t know what his feelings towards her were, but right now, he was warm and comfortable, and before long she felt her eyelids drooping, and then she slept.
o.0.o.0.o.
Ashe awoke the next morning feeling oddly refreshed, even though the dust in the air was still rather agitating to her system, and the foreboding atmosphere still circled around her head.
Vaan seemed energized, and she was glad, for his enthusiasm seemed to influence the rest of the party as well, keeping everyone in high spirits and smiling. She led them through corridor after corridor, hoping that she wasn’t simply leading them in circles, though she voiced her fears to no one. When she reached a large set of double doors, she paused, and stopped the group in front of them.
“The Mist feels stronger through the portal,” Fran announced, and as usual, Ashe was glad for her incredibly honed senses.
“Then it should be the correct path,” she said. “This tomb was designed to test, not to invite.”
“And a fine job of testing it has done,” Balthier replied, cocking his head to one side. “It’s been testing my resolve not to open the chests littering the alcoves.”
Ashe felt her cheeks flush, knowing that he was looking at her and making a pointed remark about his respect for her request not to loot the Dynast-King’s grave. Without another thought, she pushed the heavy, creaking doors open, expecting another blast of dust and debris and receiving nothing but a cool breeze of air that felt wonderful against her face.
She was disappointed to see that instead of leading them into a large antechamber as she had hoped, they were facing another mass of corridors to maneuver through, and, along with it, a trio of sword-wielding skeletons, conjured up by some dark and arcane magic.
The skeletons went down easy enough, but choosing the right direction was another matter. When the end of the intersecting hallways had not been found after several more hours, and the rucksacks were far depleted of regenerative tonics, Ashe had to concede that she’d led them in the wrong direction, and she simply didn’t know where to go next.
She was angry at herself for not being able to feel the pull of the Dawn Shard, expecting that for some reason she should have an innate sense of where it was within the confines. She stopped and balled her hands into fists, biting hard on her bottom lip as the others ceased behind her, and their footsteps stopped echoing through the stone walls.
“We’re lost, aren’t we?” Vaan asked.
“We are not lost,” Ashe snapped, taking a few paces forward to check if anything in the next corridor looked either familiar or promising. “We’re just…”
Her voice trailed off as she could think of nothing but her inability to get her party out of the catacomb, and her failure as a leader to correctly maneuver them to the Shard itself. Her shoulders dropped forward, and she fought with the panic bubbling up in her chest, lodging painfully as a lump in her throat.
“Perhaps the point of this tomb is to lead one in circles to weed out the unworthy,” Balthier suggested suddenly. The tension in the air dissolved, Ashe turned, feeling grateful to the Sky Pirate for providing an excuse, however weak it may be.
“Such a test would not be unlike the old kings,” Fran agreed, though Ashe couldn’t make out the expression on the Viera’s face. “More time to rest, then?”
“Yes,” Basch nodded, stepping forward with his sword in one hand. “We are making progress, but we won’t get anywhere if we are weary.”
It hurt her to agree, but Ashe knew they had to quit for the day and regain their strength. While the others prepared the sleeping mats once more, she stared off down the hallway, cursing Raithwall and all of the twists and turns within his tomb, and at the same time, cursing her own lack of knowledge of a grave that was such a huge part of her background. What good was she as a successor to the Dynast-King if she couldn’t even find the Dawn Shard in his tomb?
“Highness,” Basch said, his voice startling her from her reverie. She turned to face him, and his features were full of sympathy, though for what, she couldn’t tell. “You are exhausted. I insist I take first watch.”
“No, I’m fine,” Ashe insisted. “You should not have to do it again.”
“We cannot make the children do it,” he pointed out with a slight nod back at Vaan and Penelo. “It is my duty.”
His fierce loyalty, despite Ashe thinking that she was wholly undeserving of it, still made her feel proud, and she nodded once before making her way over to the sleeping mats. As the party fell into a battle-weary slumber, there was little noise other than the soft crackling of the fire that they had positioned their mats around, and Ashe waited until she heard the steady, rhythmic breathing of those around her before allowing herself to lift her head.
Basch was out of sight, sitting against the wall just around the corner, and there was no movement within the small camp. Ashe let her head fall back down before scooting closer to Balthier once more, and, feeling comforted in his warmth, and even though it was stolen, she drifted off into a dreamless rest.
o.0.o.0.o.
Whatever luck might be in the tomb, it was with her the next day, for within a few hours she had found the antechamber she knew to be the final resting place of the Shard, and she led her comrades inside the heavy doors.
“The Mist gathers here,” Fran announced, sounding vaguely alarmed. She stopped, and the group stopped with her, turning to gaze back at her.
Vaan began asking questions, but Ashe didn’t hear it, for she too could feel the Mist, or perhaps the Shard, and whatever it was had an odd pulling sensation upon her figure, like it was drawing her close only to devour her when she got there. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant feeling, but she couldn’t shake it, and when she heard only silence from her party she continued down the steps towards the bottom.
There was a monster waiting for them, larger and more powerful than any monster she had ever encountered before, and after they had defeated it she knelt on the warmed stone floor, panting and wheezing, feeling drained in ways she had never experience prior. Her magic power was waning dangerously low, and she knew that she needed to perform just one more Cure spell, but when she tried to weave the magic between her hands the chamber swam before her eyes, and she nearly swooned.
Then there was a hard hand on her elbow, holding her upright, and she turned expecting to find Basch only to come face to face with Balthier, and without looking at her he tossed a potion to Fran while supporting Ashe’s own faltering form.
“You shouldn’t tire yourself so much,” he said to her, leading her to a small outcropping in the stone where she could collapse, rather ungracefully, into a trembling heap. “You’re rather important to this particular facet of the journey, you know.”
Unable to say anything in retort, Ashe merely stared at him, watching him as he busied helping the others regain enough strength to stand and move around. When the party was assembled, she summoned all the power she had left to open the large doors and enter the small chamber flooded with a brilliant light, emanating from the small bauble sitting atop a miniature pillar.
The Dawn Shard felt warm and welcome in her hands, and while it didn’t rejuvenate her as she had desired, it still felt as if it belonged there, and she could feel through her palms the steady pulse of its magic hum, almost as if it were beating inside her veins.
When she turned, Rasler was there, just as he had been the night before, still smiling enigmatically at her, almost as if he knew what her future held, and could see that everything would work out. Knowing that it would never be that simple, Ashe stared at him, wanting to reach out but realizing that the others could not see the swirl of his cape nor the dimples of his cheeks. He turned, and began to fade, and he was replaced with an emptiness that didn’t feel uneasy, but merely right.
“Highness,” Basch said, and his voice was strangely loud in the silence. “We should rest before proceeding back through the tomb.”
“Everyone is exhausted,” Penelo agreed, looking tousled and tired. “But we got the Shard, and it’s what we came for.”
Her body feeling ready to shut down, Ashe had never heard a better suggestion, even with the Shard reverberating through her arms. There was a seal on the door that led to the Shard’s resting chamber, and the idea of not having to stand watch for beasts had merit.
“We rest here,” Ashe instructed, looking pointedly at Basch, who understood and closed the doors with a resounding thud. “We need it.”
She was almost unwilling to put down the Shard, but eventually she set it back on the pillar, feeling that it would be safer there, where she couldn’t accidentally roll over it, as unlikely as it seemed. Being cautious was never bad, and she couldn’t afford to make another mistake now. Her last few days had been riddled with enough of them.
Vaan fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, evident by his raspy snores, and Penelo seemed to follow soon after. Fran, who appeared more relaxed after the defeat of Belias and the dispersion of the accumulated Mist, curled herself into a ball and ceased to move. It was difficult to get Basch to lay down with no one on watch, but exhaustion was a more powerful motivator than he gave it credit for, and he was soon leaning against the wall with his head bowed low against his breast plate.
Ashe smoothed out her mat, distracted by the hum she could still feel coming from the Dawn Shard, and when she looked over to see if everyone was sleeping she found only one not yet asleep.
He said nothing, but met her gaze, lying on his back with his fingers locked behind his head, elbows splayed out in both directions. If she had been able to move, she would have laid down immediately and feigned sleep, but she found herself frozen in place, cheeks burning, because he knew, he had known all along, that she had curled herself behind his warmth to rest.
She expected him to say something, a snide remark perhaps, or a witty clip, just to play it off as something that all women in her position would undoubtedly do, but instead he unhooked his hands and held one arm out to the side in a clear invitation.
And oh how much she wanted to reject it, to pretend that she didn’t need the comfort of someone next to her, especially not him, and her head was pounding with a rhythm that matched her heartbeat, but she couldn’t. She slowly stood and made her way over to him, feeling all the fool while doing so, knowing that her cheeks were aflame. She settled herself next to him and laid back into the groove he’d created, finding that he was easy to conform to, and that her body slipped comfortably against his side.
Unsure, she let her head fall onto his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her waist, sitting gently on her hip. It was the most comfort she’d had in the past two years, the most contact with anyone she’d allowed herself to obtain, and it was only the exhaustion, of course it was, but it brought a sting of tears to the corners of her eyes that she fought furiously to keep inside.
He let his head fall against hers, so that his cheek was lying flush to her forehead, and while she struggled to stay awake, if only just to savor the feeling of being held by someone again, feeling warm and safe, she simply couldn’t muster the energy any longer.
She closed her eyes, and she slept. |
