More than any other time, Ashe loved the desert in the cool of evening, as the sun sank behind the jagged bulk of Bahamut. She studied the horizon, where the sun vanished beneath the edges of the world, leaving behind a tapestry of gold-shot crimson shading to rich violet and indigo. Bahamut perched at the edge of her city like a patient predator, and it seemed to her she saw it move, though of course that was just her imagination.
She found that she was twisting the ring on her left hand round and round her finger, and forced her hand to still. Rabanastre was never silent, but it was as peaceful as it was like to be, with everyone safely tucked into their homes for the evening. Below her in the courtyard, the guards changed shifts; she could hear the quiet sounds of them exchanging sign and countersign, and the scrape of metal upon metal as the departing shift removed their helmets and tucked them beneath their arms. Farther away, she heard the calls of chocobos in the stables, and the sound of an airship docking at the aerodrome.
"Your Majesty?" Her maid's voice was quiet. "You will take chill."
Ashe turned and walked through the open doors, letting the maid close them behind her and draw the curtains. She walked behind the carved wooden screen that hid her dressing area and began to unlace her gown.
The maid assisted her out of the formal dress she had worn for this afternoon's meeting. Ashe raised her arms and the maid lowered a silk nightgown over her head. It was white, as she preferred, and fell to the floor, leaving her arms bare. The maid offered her a white silk peignoir and Ashe slid her arms into the sleeves, savouring the slide of fabric over her skin. She could live without luxury--indeed, she had, for two years as Amalia and the duration of their journey thereafter--but it made her enjoy these small moments even more, for having experienced their absence.
She dismissed the maid and settled into bed, a book open on her lap. She stared at the pages before her, illumined by the steady glow of the candle by her bed, rather than reading them. After a moment, she closed her eyes, tilting her head back against the pillows. Her neck ached from the weight of her crown, and the meeting this afternoon had been a matter of trade negotiations, a subject that always gave her a headache. In many ways, reclaiming her kingdom had been a simpler matter than ruling it, and Ashe missed the open challenge of battle, as compared to this cautious dance of words.
She breathed in deeply and released it slowly, making a conscious effort to relax. Slowly the tension ebbed from her muscles.
She must have slumbered, for she woke with a start when a cold draft whispered across her skin; even the desert grew chill after the sun sank below the horizon. The candle guttered and blew out, leaving her in darkness. Her eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness when she heard a soft sound. She reached for the sword that hung by her bed, too slowly, and found herself pulled from her bed with her arms pinned behind her. A familiar scent, of sandalwood and pine, teased her nostrils and she froze.
"Well, princess, this is almost too easy." His voice was light and amused in her ear, and she shivered as his breath stirred tendrils of hair that tickled her neck. "I thought you might struggle harder against being stolen away."
She tried to tug away, to no avail. "Stealing into the palace to rob the treasury again, are you?" she retorted.
He laughed. "Why venture to the treasury when I could have Dalmasca's Queen?"
"Do you propose to ransom me?" She startled when his breath tickled the side of her neck moments before his lips pressed against her skin, sending tiny shivers rippling down her spine.
"I thought perhaps you might offer trinkets or," his hand curved round her ribs and slid up, stopping just short of the swell of her breasts, "other enticements to retain your freedom."
Ashe forced herself to breathe slowly and ignore the fact that her nipples had drawn taut. "And if I wish to be stolen away?" It seemed almost a dream, to have him here, warm and solid against her back once more. She had woken from many such dreams aching and restless, more often since he had returned her ring.
"Well, then I would of course be obliged to assist you." His fingers inched up, just brushing against the underside of her breasts, and Ashe bit her lip to hold back a quiet moan as his fingers caressed her through the layers of silk. She could feel the heat of his hands even through her garments.
He relaxed his grip on her wrists and she pulled free, turning to face him. The faint silvery glow of the moon limned him in shades of black and white, reminiscent of evenings camping on the Phon Coast as they journeyed to Archadia. He seemed no different than he had when he had left them in the cockpit of the Strahl and taken Fran over to the Bahamut to divert it from crashing down in the middle of Rabanastre.
"Why have you come here, Balthier?" she asked him.
He shrugged. "I wanted to see you, princess." He spoke lightly, but his expression gave the lie to his tone, as he fixed his gaze intently on her face.
She chose to accept his words at face value for the time being, and leaned forward to kiss him. His hands closed around her upper arms, holding her close to him. He tasted faintly of mint. The tip of his tongue traced across her lip, soft as a breath. His hands slid up her arms to her shoulders and then inward along her collarbones, tracing down the front of her peignoir to the sash that held it closed at her waist. He loosened the knot and trailed his hands back up, separating the panels of fabric and pushing them back so they slithered off her shoulders to pool on the floor with a soft rustling sound.
She reached up, one hand sliding into his hair, the other tugging at the fastenings of his vest. When she had the garment open, he shrugged his shoulders and it slid away. She ran her hand up along his shoulders to the back of his neck and tugged at the laces of his shirt, drawing the linen away from his skin. She could smell the sandalwood-and-pine scent of his soap, and mixed with it, the faint crisp scent of the desert at night. He had left the balcony doors slightly ajar, and the curtains snapped faintly in the chill breeze that ruffled the ends of her hair. He scattered light kisses along her jaw and then nipped at her earlobe. Ashe tilted her head, feeling goose bumps rise on her skin as the tip of his tongue traced the edge of her ear.
"Cold, princess?" he murmured, his fingertips brushing along the sensitive skin of her inner arm.
"Come here," she ordered, pulling him back towards her bed. It had been over a year since she'd seen him, and much of that time had been spent in agonizing uncertainty, not knowing if he and Fran had made it safely out of the Bahamut. It had gotten harder after he had sent back her ring; she longed to go find him, to ask why he had stayed away, but she had duties to her people. Yet he was here now, and she was not inclined to question it.
He went where she pulled him, laughing, his clever hands working quickly to unfasten his belt. Ashe helped him tug his pants down, but paused in confusion when she realized he was barefoot.
"Boots tend to make noise," he said, noting the direction of her gaze. "Can't have the guards interrupting my kidnapping efforts. I've no desire to spend the evening in a prison cell when I could spend it with you."
"You've a phrase for every situation, haven't you?" Ashe asked as he bent to remove his pants.
"Several, actually." He half-knelt and drew his hands lightly up her calves, inching her nightgown up. "A leading man who doesn't know his lines can hardly put on a good show." His fingertips moved in tiny circles behind her knees. Ashe braced her hands on the bed behind her.
"Lines, are they?" She thought she did an admirable job of keeping the hurt from her voice.
He pressed a light kiss just above her knee, his tongue flicking out to caress her skin. "What would you have me say, princess?" His breath tickled her inner thigh, and she bit her lip. "That I thought of you the whole time I was gone? That other women pale in comparison to you?"
She considered slapping him, but she suspected he would simply laugh at her. "I would have you tell me the truth, pirate."
"Truths are tricky things," he mused, pulling her gown higher and following the hem with his lips. Ashe gripped the edge of the bed harder as his mouth moved closer to the juncture of her thighs, but instead he rose to his feet and drew the nightgown over her head, tossing it to the floor to join the rest of their garments. "But since you asked me so sweetly..." He bent his head to trace her collarbone lightly with his tongue. "I must admit that I did miss you."
His hands circled her waist and lifted her until she was seated on the edge of her bed, then trailed upwards to cup her breasts. His thumbs flicked over her nipples, maddeningly gentle, and she leaned forward to kiss him. He moaned when her teeth scraped his lower lip, not at all softly. One of her hands tangled in his hair, holding him still, and the other slid down across his chest. She paused when her fingers encountered a scar that had not been there before, curving around his ribs and perhaps the width of her smallest finger.
"I never figured you for a tease," he murmured against her lips, the edge of his fingernail circling her nipple. She arched her back into the caress, her hand sliding lower, across his abdomen to cup him gently. He moaned, and leaned into her caress. She curled her fingers around him, stroking the smooth skin. His hands tightened on her breasts, pinching her nipples sharply between his fingers. Ashe made a sound that was certainly not a whimper and kissed him harder, aware of the slow, throbbing ache between her legs.
His hands fell away from her breasts and he gently moved her hands back to the edges of the bed. She sensed rather than saw his smile as he knelt in front of her, placing lingering kisses on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. "Balthier," she said, one hand sliding up his arm to his shoulder.
He looked up at her. "Best hold on, princess," he said, and then his mouth was between her legs, his tongue stroking her. Ashe moaned, her hand tightening on his shoulder, and he pressed his mouth harder against her. Her vision blurred, as though they were wrapped in a cocoon of dense Mist. Her memories never did this justice, as though it was too intense for her to recall just how it felt when his tongue curled against her skin and it seemed as though she could not get enough air. She knew she was making frantic noises as her nails dug into his shoulder, but she could not seem to quiet them. It was too much, almost bordering on pain, and her hips jerked frantically against his mouth. His hands gripped her hips, holding her still, and Ashe clutched at his shoulders. She was so close...
The absence of his mouth against her skin was nearly as shocking as the pleasure, and it took her a moment to recover. He was already lifting her, moving her backwards on the bed and coming to join her, his weight warm and welcome against her skin. Ashe wound her arms around his neck, spreading her legs farther as he pressed forward, and tilting her hips up to meet his. He slid into her slowly, so slowly, and she moaned. It had been a while, and she felt stretched, though not uncomfortably so.
His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her up to him for a kiss. She could taste herself on his lips; not unpleasant, but different. His tongue traced her lips slowly as he began to move, slow at first and then faster. Ashe wrapped her legs around his waist, hearing her own cries as though at a distance. Harder, faster, and she could hear his moans as well. Then, at last, it seemed that her entire body clenched tight around him. His mouth muffled her scream, and her arms fell back to the bed, her muscles going limp. His smooth rhythm faltered, and he pressed his mouth hard against her neck as he shuddered.
Silence descended on her chambers, broken only by their breathing. After several long moments, he moved off her, sprawling at his ease on his back. Without his body pressed to hers, she felt chilled, and fumbled for the covers. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close against him and stroking her hair idly.
"Will you truly steal me away?" she asked after a few moments.
"Anywhere you wish to go, princess," he answered her sleepily.
She poked his shoulder, not too hard. "I am the Queen now."
"Ah, yes, but 'princess' has a much better ring to it."
She would have glared at him, but could not muster the energy to lift her head to do so. Instead, she shifted so that her head rested in the hollow of his shoulder. She would move in a moment, but for now, it felt good to be held, to lie entwined with him as they had never been able to do during their adventures for fear of discovery. She was just going to close her eyes for a moment, and then she would have the palace staff prepare a room for him.
She fell asleep curled up with him, her palm resting over his heart.
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