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Yule Day One, Purity of Ju-Harle

The Yuletide holiday had always been one of her favorites, because it had been a favorite of her mother, and then of her father, but now the festive candles and shimmering silk curtains brought her only loneliness, the feeling welling up in her chest until it consumed her, and all happy thoughts associated with the ceremonies were soon gone.  She sat in her room, staring out the large double-windowed doors, wishing that the tradition of candles in windowsills and wreaths weren’t so popular among Dalmasca’s citizens.  She envied all of the families below her that got to spend the holiday with their loved ones, when she was sitting alone in the Royal Palace, wishing that she had not made it to her current station alone.

She consoled herself with thoughts of how happy the people in Rabanastre were, and how much more joy this Yule brought than the last, when there was still oppression and Archades, and Imperial guards at every corner of the city.  She knew that, in time, her aching emptiness on the holiday would pass, and she could learn to enjoy it once more, perhaps even partake in some of the festivities planned out in the streets below the palace, but for now, her heart held too much remorse and regret for Yule to mean anything more than a day in which she would sit by herself while everyone else celebrated, counting their blessings and making time for family.

There were generally five days observed before the Yuletide holiday celebration officially began; Ashe knew the meaning of the days, as she had from childhood, and, once upon a time, she had delighted in making a log to hold the five candles that represented the deities and martyrs associated with the varying days, all in differing colors to signify the quality revered on the accompanying set of hours.  The still had the log that her mother had created when Ashe had been very young, and it was sitting out on her dressing drawers along with a small box where the candles were kept.  She wasn’t sure yet if she would light them at all.

Instead of dwelling within her royal chambers, which already held a vast number of nostalgic recollections and rather painful memories, Ashe ventured out to the balcony.  The air was cooler than most days, and deliciously fresh, as the moisture-soaked breeze from the Rains in Giza Plains made their way north to Rabanastre, decreasing the temperature within the city and making the harsh sun far more bearable.  Ashe liked this time of year, for being outside was not intolerable, and she enjoyed the cool far better than she enjoyed the overbearing heat that Dalmasca was usually surrounded with.

She let her hands sit comfortably on the railing, the stone feeling rough and solid beneath her palms, and even now, looking over her city was a comfort, like a joy she never thought she would rediscover.  The crown that she wore during the day was only a symbol of how strongly she felt connected to the sprawling city below her, and in honesty, much of her heart was tied up with the comings and goings of the swell of people that rarely looked up at the palace at all.  She wished that she could devote herself entirely to it, and forget all of her empty musings and lonely, sleepless nights, but sometimes the sheer fact that she was indeed alone was the only thing she could think about at all.

She let her gaze drift over to the ornate pillars framing the sides of her chamber’s doors, and she noticed something sitting atop the small marble table near the corner, something that sparkled slightly in the moonlight, a shimmer that caught her eye immediately as being foreign.

She walked over to it and picked it up, and though the object was wrapped in a soft, sheer cloth, the covering fell away easily.  It was a bracelet, which looked to be several twines of metal overlapping and intersecting to create a beautiful, rich pattern of silver.  It was smooth and sleek, and, because she was vaguely curious, it fit perfectly around her hand when she slipped it on.

It was not something she could recollect from any former journey or any dealings with foreign royalty, and she knew that it was not a piece from her own collection that she had inherited from her mother.  The origin of the work eluded her, as she was not very good with deciphering other designs native to anywhere but Dalmasca, but it was beautiful, and she rather liked the look of it against the pale sheen of her skin.

She did not know where it came from, and there was no note to give her any sort of clue.  She stared down at it, thinking that perhaps, and only perhaps, it was a gift, as gifts were normally given on all five days preceding Yule, usually corresponding with the day’s color and quality ceremonies.

Ashe did not know what connection the bracelet had to her, or Dalmasca, but it was the day of tribute to Ju-Harle, the martyr revered for purity, and the white candle that sat snugly in Ashe’s old wooden box was to be light in memory of innocence.

The queen stood out among the moonlight for a long time, trying to come up with an explanation for the beautiful trinket left upon her table.  She knew not how anyone could read the enclosed area that jutted off from the palace, but it always could have been slipped in by guard or servant, and the matter from where it came was not really the foremost question on her mind.  Ashe wanted to know who had sent it.

When she had exhausted all possibilities, which had ranged from the boisterous Al-Cid to her own handmaiden Jalia, she retired to her room and closed the double doors behind her, enjoying the way the silk curtains flared up with the last gust of wind emitted through the crack.  She kept the bracelet on, for, in some odd way, it comforted her, and went to her dressing drawers where the log sat, unused and covered in droplets of old, hardened wax.

The wood was rough and worn, having had years of use under Ashe’s mother, and the queen gingerly pulled open the wooden box to stare down at the candles sitting side-by-side within it.  They were created from Dalmasca wax, which lasted a much longer time than ordinary candles, and, before the occupation, had been one of Rabanastre’s most luxurious exports.  The wax was grainy and slightly textured, but when it burned, the flame was bright and strong, and the melting was minimal.

The candles smelled strongly of cedar, and it brought back memories of Ashe’s mother that she didn’t want to relive at the moment, and she fought them back by bringing the white candle out and setting it in the first hole in the log.  She lit a match and let the flame hit the wick, which promptly took up the orange glow and shimmered for a moment before the candle was fully lit, bathing the room in a warm sheen.

As much as she thought she would hate lighting the candle, the familiar glow caused her chest to loosen, and the emptiness to ease just a little around the edges.  She let her fingers fall upon the bracelet, which rested easily on her wrist, and she felt somewhat more complete than she had earlier, and thought that perhaps Yuletide wasn’t such a bad holiday after all, and that maybe tomorrow she would partake in some of the festivities around the palace.

She fell into her satin sheets feeling that perhaps life wasn’t so lonely after all.

Yule Day Two, Courage of Zayn

She made true to her hopeful thoughts from the night before and attended a ceremony at the Temple of Brii, accompanied by Jalia and several guards assigned from typical duty, and she found, though she was apprehensive initially, that being with her people brought her a far greater joy than she had expected.  The festivities were loud and full of laughing and shouting, and Ashe was easily caught up in the joy of the occasion, and the happiness swelling through the city that she suspected had a lot to do with the liberation of the country so many months prior.

She wore the mysterious bracelet to the ceremony, unconsciously hoping that someone would explain its suddenly appearance or shed new insight onto the situation, but there seemed to be no one that noticed it upon her wrist, nor understood the intricacies of the woven metal pattern.  She was disappointed, but not overly so, because after thinking on it, perhaps the mystery was part of what made the trinket so beautiful.  Although she was desperate to know who had sent it to her, she was wise enough to realize that if it was to be revealed, it would be in good time.

She felt bad leaving the festivities when she did, as the sun began to dip below the horizon and the air took up the slight chill it always had in night during the Rains, and Ashe and Jalia walked slowly back to the Royal Palace with the guards following a few paces behind, enough to give them a fair amount of privacy.

“Do you know of anyone leaving anything on my balcony?” Ashe asked her handmaiden, whose look of surprise gave her the answer she needed.  Jalia shook her head.

“No, Your Grace, I am the only one allowed in your bed chambers.”

Ashe thought about this, and then smiled at the servant woman, hoping to ease any fright she may have given her as far as job security. If Jalia knew nothing of anyone entering, it meant that no one had been inside her chambers at all, and instead the trinket had been left on her balcony from the outside.  She wondered how anyone could climb up the stone-laden walls without detection, but it was the only explanation, and it only increased the aura of mystery about the bracelet dangling from her wrist.

The Palace was quiet and calm when they arrived back, and Ashe went immediately to her room, wishing to be alone with her thoughts, which had not bothered her during the celebration that day.  She took the bracelet off and set it gently on her dressing drawers, marveling once again at the beautiful twines of metal that created the intricate design.  She changed into her silken nightshift and put on her robe, then went out to the balcony to observe the stars that shone brightly on the clear night.

Out below the balcony, more candles had been lit and placed in windows, giving the entire city of Rabanastre a warm glow, as if there were large candles lighting the streets themselves.  Ashe liked the combination of the swelling of voices below and the cool breeze that fell against her skin.

She wasn’t sure what made her look over at the table in the corner once more, but she was surprised to see another object lying on its smooth surface, this one covered with nothing but the moonlight.  It was sword, easily distinguishable from her vantage point, and as she approached it she could make out the details laid into the silver hilt.

The weapon confused her far more than the bracelet had, because it was not something that one would normally give as a gift to a reigning queen, and it narrowed her list of sources down considerably.  She knew now that whoever was sending her the Yule gifts was someone she had come in contact with either during her two years living underground in the sewers, or during the journey she partook in to regain her throne.  Her thoughts flitted instantly to Basch, but she would have known if Judge Magister Gabranth had been in Dalmasca, and she then let her memories settle on Al-Cid.  It was not something she would expect from such a flirtatious prince, but she also wouldn’t put it past him, and therefore he seemed the most sensible deduction.

Her hand fell to rest on the silver hilt, and the blade felt snug and comfortable in her grasp.  She raised the weapon to her face once, closing her eyes, and then made several passes with it, enjoying the feel of holding a sword once more, and the way it flowed gracefully through the air with each arc and parry she practiced, alone on the balcony, bathed in twinkling starlight.

By the time she had finished, she was breathing hard, but she felt good, the sort of warmth that she had experienced while journeying with her old comrades, and it was nice to feel the tautness of her muscles once more, having grown lax with lack of use.  She took the sword into her chambers and set it on a small armoire, looking it over for any sign or trace of origin.  She could find none, and if there was any, she could not decipher it, but it was a beautiful, smooth weapon, and she was pleased with its appearance on her balcony.

The thought of the gift brought to her mind the log lying on her drawers, and she realized that she was to light another candle tonight.  She made her way over and grasped the long yellow taper, its ochre hue used to commemorate the courage that the second Yuletide revered.  She enjoyed the second day, because courage was something she had always sought after, and those who had possessed such a quality, like her father and Rasler, had always been people whom she had greatly admired.  It made her happy to light a candle to remember those who had fallen while showing great bravery, and as she lit the wick, she thought about her brothers who had gone before her, and wondered if they were proud of what she had accomplished as queen.

She watched both candles flicker in the slight breeze, the white and yellow wax tapers complimenting each other nicely against the dark brown of the Yule log, and then she went to bed, her mind still puzzled over the gifts she’d been left, wishing that she knew the source of the objects.

Yule Day Three, Sacrifice of Sameya

The third day was usually a somber day, without the noisy festivities of the second, and it was a time in which most citizens stayed indoors with their families, remembering sacrifices which had happened within their own lineages and recounting stories of loved ones passed.  For Ashe, it was a poignant and meaningful day, one in which she sat for several hours and simply thought about her mother and father, and her brothers, and Rasler, all who had sacrificed something that perhaps they had not known at the time to get her to where she was, with the crown on her head, and the people under her rule.

As she was sitting near her balcony doors, Jalia entered with a warm cup of spice tea, and Ashe gratefully accepted it, bringing the steaming liquid to her lips and enjoying the pleasant taste.

“Jalia?” she asked before the handmaiden could leave.  “What does your family do during Yuletide?”

“Are you asking about our traditions?” the young woman asked, and Ashe nodded.  “Well, we exchange small gifts on the fourth day, and visit the temple on the fifth.  My mother always cooks a huge Yule dinner to end the holiday, and it takes all three of us girls to help her get everything ready.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Ashe mused, and then looked over at her servant with a soft smile.  “You needn’t come to the Palace on the fifth day of Yule.  Spend it at home with your family.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Jalia said with a small bow, and when she left the room, Ashe turned back to the balcony, wishing that she could send all of the servants home for the holidays, and then wondering how lonely and deserted the palace would feel with only her presence within it.  The thought frightened her somewhat, and, with a shiver, she made her way to the balcony hoping that the fresh air would clear her thoughts and restore her perspective.

Thoughts of Rasler and her father were weighing heavily on her mind, so much that she felt as if she were reliving the declarations of their deaths over and over again.  She could still feel the aching pang in her chest from when they had told her that she was a widow, a widow at only seventeen, and the horrible constriction from when it was announced that her father had been slain, and she had ran from her room only to find herself, inexplicably, running under the city in the sewers, guided by Vossler, knowing only that her throne was in jeopardy, and her life was in danger.

Though the day was to celebrate sacrifice, Ashe couldn’t help but think that her father had not truly sacrificed anything, but was simply a victim in a violent chain of reactions that he could not have foreseen.  For a long time she had used Basch as the scapegoat, and it had helped having someone to blame, and someone to pin all of her problems on, but after awhile it was apparent that blaming would not help her to run away from her mistakes, and she was glad that Basch was finally cleared of the deeds he did not commit, even if it was only in her mind.

It was habit now that she turned to look over at the balcony, and sure enough, though she had been sitting by the window all day, there was a flat object covered in a smooth cloth.  She was too surprised at how they had escaped her notice to wonder what it was at first, and she spent several minutes inspecting the sides of the balcony, trying to find clues as to where anyone would have climbed up.  If they had entered on the right side, they would have been nearly completely concealed in trees and leaves, and the shadow of the palace would have made it even more difficult to be seen.  She concluded that it must be the way the gifts were being brought to her enclose, and promised herself that she would watch closer the next day in order to catch the person in the act.

After her search was complete, she approached the marble table and gently lifted the leather cloth from the new object.  Her breath caught almost painfully in her throat when she saw the charred edges of the portrait, done in traditional royal style, with smooth, smudged edges and neutral, almost monochromatic tones.  It was Rasler and his brother, who had been a few years older than he and already killed by the time of their marriage, and they were very young, still only children, painted in a stiff, un-childlike pose that reflected all of the elegance and poise that royalty strived so hard to hammer into their young.  The sight of his face, even a younger, charcoal created one, caused tears to sting into the corners of her eyes, blurring the image held in her shaking hands.

Where was this found?

She looked around her balcony once more, knowing that it was empty and for some reason, not caring, and when she saw nothing that alluded to any sort of answer, she went back to staring at the portrait on her fingertips.  It had obviously been found somewhere dank and moldy, for it smelled faintly of fungus, and if the burned edges were any indication then she could only conclude that it had survived through the bombing and been lost somewhere within the dungeons.

While staring down at the youthful image of her departed husband, Ashe’s brain worked furiously through the mystery that she simply couldn’t solve.  So far, the gifts had all corresponded with the day of the Yuletide holiday, and the idea of “sacrifice” was so obviously embodied in the portrait she held.

It narrowed her suspects down even further, but instead of making anything clearer, it only created more questions.  She knew not of anyone who had recently been to the Nabudis Deadlands, or to the dungeons intersecting beneath it, but it was virtually open to anyone who wished to venture through it, full of fiends and monsters, and more likely than not, a good handful of treasure.  Ashe was only more confused by the appearance of such a portrait, given the nature of the area that it had undoubtedly been retrieved from.

She held the charcoal drawing close to her chest, fighting back the tears, and then walked back into her chambers, drawing the doors and curtains closed.  She did not wish to dwell on past events that she could not change, but it was nice having an image of her beloved, even if it was an old portrait in bad shape.  She set it down on her dressing drawers, near the Yule log, and pulled the blue candle out of the box.  Blue had always been Rasler’s favorite color, and it was fitting that now she could remember him on the corresponding holiday hours.

She spent a long time staring at the glowing flames, so much that the flickers of light blurred in her vision, and when she could come up with no suitable answer to why anything was happening, and why she was receiving such gifts during the holiday when she was very much alone, she retired to bed, but slept restlessly.  There was too much on her mind for her to drift easily into a blissful rest.

Yule Day Four, Wisdom of Maimun

She had fully intended to be watchful of her balcony during the fourth day, to see if she could catch her mysterious gift-giver in the act, but there were meetings that kept her far from her bed chambers, and she was unable to return to them until after nightfall, when the last senator had gone home for the holiday, and she had effectively dismissed the majority of the palace servants.  She felt acutely lonely in the silent, darkened hallways, but it was her home, and she had watched it from afar too long to be frightened of the shadows within it now, even when they lingered over portraits and corners.  Her room was warm, and Ashe welcomed to heat, for the air outside had taken a decidedly chilly turn after a particularly heavy storm hit the Giza Plains to the south.

While in her chamber she delayed advancing towards the balcony, wishing instead of savor the feeling of being alone, and she poured herself a glass of the sweet wine that Jalia had left for her on her drawers, next to the Yule log.  She had been taught since a young age to appreciate the tartness in Dalmasca’s wine, and even though her father was gone, she still enjoyed drinking a glass by herself.  The heady, rich scents that hovered above the red liquid reminded her strongly of him, and the times in which they had sat together with her brothers, simply enjoying the company.

After awhile she set her glass back down on the drawers and made her way out to the balcony, proceeding slowly through the double doors and wasting no time in heading towards the marbled table.  As she suspected, there was a fourth object lying on the smooth surface, kept within a leather pouch. She picked up the satchel and stared down at it, knowing it from somewhere that she simply couldn’t place.  There was a memory, a quick snippet, and she could see the pouch but not the hands holding it, and then the recollection was gone once more, and she slipped her fingers inside to find a cool, ridged trinket.

She pulled out a crystal, attached to a small cord that was meant to wrap around her wrist.  She could feel, only by touching the jewel’s surface, the Mist that was held within, churning in the pressured confines and causing the color, which was a dark violet as opposed to crystals’ usual blue hues, to roll and bubble.  It didn’t take much to feel the power begin to lace up her arms, causing her fingers to tremble, and it was clearly a magic-enhancing device, one that would aid in her frequent spell-casting that she was so fond of.

“Who?” she asked aloud, frustrated.  “Who is doing this?”

There was no answer in the stillness of the balcony, and she was aware that she was almost painfully alone, standing with a crystal in the palm of her hand, knowing that when she went back inside, she would be one among few presences within the palace.  It was a sobering thought, but she doubted her suitor was in any way dangerous, and should he finally show himself, she expected that she would take care of things easily if a situation should arise.

The breeze held a chill, and Ashe went back into her chambers, studying the intricate details adorning the metal twine wrapped around the jewel.  It seemed to match the interweaving silver of her bracelet, and though she knew not what the significance was, the gift would be a useful one should she ever have to defend herself without a weapon.  The Mist that was held within the crystal burned brightly with magic, and she smiled down at it, knowing that it was a good and practical gift, highly usable.

She poured herself another glass of sweet wine and lit the fourth candle, which was a deep jade in color.  When all of the wicks were crackling with flames before her, she went to her bed and laid down, staring up at the four-posters surrounding her, hearing nothing save the chirping of crickets past her doors.

She fell asleep, but she knew not how long it had been when she awoke suddenly, hearing footsteps out on the enclose past her chambers.  She bolted upright with a frightened cry, suspecting an assassin and knowing her guards had gone home, but when there was no rattle to the door handles she pushed herself up out of the satin sheets and slowly made her way to the curtains.  Peering through them, she saw nothing to allude as to who the intruder was, and she grabbed the sword from her bureau, slowly opening the doors to the cool night air outside.

There was no one she could find on her balcony until she turned around to head back towards her chambers, and only then did she see the figure leaning against the far wall, opposite from her marbled table.  She sucked in her breath quickly, but relaxed when she realized that she could recall the slope to the shoulders and the angle of the neck.

“Balthier?” she asked, lowering her blade down to her side.

“Ah, princess, you do remember,” he said, keeping to the shadows so that she could not see his face.  The inflection of his voice was the same, just as she had remembered, with the same teasing, taunting tone that always managed to creep into his words.

“It is queen now,” she told him, though she had to admit to herself that she did not really mind the old nickname, for it brought up fond memories of her travels and her companions.  “You would do well to remember that.”

“How could I forget?” he asked, spreading his hands wide in a helpless gesture.  “It is far too quiet inside the palace tonight.”

“I dismissed the servants for the holiday,” Ashe told him, setting the sword down on the table to keep her fingers from cramping around the hilt.  It had been a long while since she had journeyed with her weapon continually in her hand, and she knew that her muscles were not what they used to be.

“Always compassionate,” he smirked, and she could see his expression briefly in the moonlight.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow up in suspicion.

“Have you not figured it out?” he shot back, taking a step forward.  She studied him for a moment, and then nodded once.

“You are the one who has been leaving me gifts,” she stated.  “What I don’t know is, why?”

He paused for a moment, and began to walk around the edge of the balcony, his hands running along the smooth railing.  She watched him move, realizing that he had gotten to her enclose easily by way of the Strahl, and she chastised herself for not looking out for an airship sooner.

“I found them on my hunts,” he explained.  “I thought they suited you.”

“How do you know the traditions for Yule?” Ashe asked, shaking her head.  “Archades does not celebrate it the same.”

“I had some help with that,” Balthier grinned, and the wryness was apparent on his features.

Realizing that he was referring to Vaan and Penelo, Ashe ducked her head and laughed a bit, missing her other comrades with a sudden pang.

“Why did you do this, when you did not deliver my ring in person?” she asked, growing serious again.

“I wanted to apologize,” he shrugged, but his mannerisms seemed a bit off.  He seemed… tense.  “I should have given it to you face-to-face.”

Ashe glanced up at the moon, observing the stars twinkling by its side.

“It is the fifth day,” she mused aloud.  “The most holy day of Yule.”

“Which is why I am here,” he told her.  “So you at least knew where the gifts were coming from.”

“Do you not have a fifth gift?” she asked, letting her head fall slightly to one side.  The question seemed to off-put him, and the change in demeanor was unlike the Balthier she had traveled with.  She had rarely seen him nervous or anxious, and he was obviously both.  When he did not answer, she narrowed her eyes a bit.  “It is rude to begin a courtship without properly finishing it.”

“Courtship?” he asked, clearly startled.

“Yes,” she said.  “Many courtships begin the same way during Yule.  Did Vaan and Penelo not share this?”

She could see the corners of his mouth quirk upwards in amusement.

“They failed to mention that,” he admitted, turning his head so that she could no longer read his features.  She too turned and began moving back towards her chambers, picking up the sword from its resting place on the table.

“Well, I thank you for the gifts,” she said, “and am grateful for you for making my holiday less lonely.”

She got only a few paces before she could hear his footsteps shuffling behind her, and then there was a hand on her shoulder that felt blissfully warm.  Human contact was not something she received often in an intimate manner, and having his fingers rest upon her skin was a wonderful sensation.

“Wait,” he said.  “Ashe.”

She turned to face him, keeping her face blank.  “Yes?”

“I’m sorry I don’t have a fifth gift,” he told her.  She glanced up at the moon one more time, and then let her gaze find its way back to his face.

“Do you mind if I take my own, then?” she asked.  It was obvious that her question startled him, and he shook his head slowly, staring at her.  When she leaned in to claim his lips in hers, his shock was even more evident, and it took him several moments to properly respond, but when he did, she opened her mouth at the flick of his tongue, and she lost track of how long they stood there beneath the sea of stars, wrapped up in each others arms, the sword lying on the floor where it had fallen, forgotten.

When they pulled apart, Ashe found herself breathless in a strange, giddy state that she had not known for quite some time.  She wasn’t sure what Balthier’s expression read, though it was far more open and honest than it normally was, but when he failed to let go of her elbows she decided that it must be a good look, for he seemed unable to disengage.

“Happy Yule,” he whispered, grinning in his charmingly crooked way.

“Happy Yule,” she said back, unable to hold back the smile spreading across her own face.  She hoped he realized that she meant it, completely, and it had been one of the best Yule holidays she had ever had.

And, quite possibly, the start of many more.

Yule Day Five, Love of Lamya and Rida