Final Fantasy XII 1. Twenty

Twenty

He'd been officially alive again for two months before he decided to show his face. Her coronation had come and gone, and he'd seemingly waited for the excitement in Rabanastre to die down before making an appearance. If there was one thing Ashe knew about Balthier, it was that he disliked being upstaged. Heaven forbid her crowning as monarch overshadow his glorious reappearance.

She'd expected some bombastic and arrogant display. Perhaps he'd land the recently reclaimed Strahl in her gardens or arrive at court ostentatiously, parading around his newest loot or conquered woman. So it surprised her when he'd simply asked her chamberlain for a private audience late one afternoon. He'd been introduced with no fanfare, no announcements of his bravery on the Bahamut or of his miraculous survival. It was only Balthier, kneeling down before her and raising the bottom hem of her gown to his lips.

"Majesty," he said, the sound of his voice after his long absence raising the hair on her arms.

She'd never given him up for dead, but she'd never really expected to see him again. Their bargain had been completed – he helped restore her country and had returned her ring. But his departure from her life had gnawed at her this last year. His counsel and his wit were sorely missed, and she'd oft wondered if there was more to it. More than mere camaraderie and friendship with Balthier. For someone with a reputation like his, he'd never been anything but respectful of her.

Of course, they'd traveled together for months, and perhaps that was the cause of her changed feelings. Balthier was hard to like – he was a criminal and sarcastic and womanizing, though he'd kept that last proclivity to himself for the duration of their journey. But Ashe had realized, watching the Bahamut sink into the sands beyond her capital, that Balthier was rather easy to love.

Seeing him kneel before her, head down, waiting patiently for her to acknowledge him and bid him to rise stirred all of her feelings up anew. She wanted to be angry, to curse him for putting his treasure hunting and other mayhem ahead of her, but what did he owe her? What more could she want? She'd considered him a friend, and his loyalty had never wavered. He'd always spoken to her as his equal – perhaps her new role had kept him away. Balthier didn't get along with authority figures.

"Rise, pirate," she replied icily, her voice more full of venom than she intended.

But he wasn't offended, rising to his feet and quirking an eyebrow. "Just titles between us now, then?" He offered her his hand. "Not even a shake?"

She looked him squarely in the eye, the mirth in them enough to have her off her seat with her arms around him in seconds. He chuckled and embraced her in return. She squeezed him tightly, never having bothered to do so when she was not Queen and more free to act as she pleased. But the room was empty save for them, and she found that she was never more herself, good and bad, than when she was in Balthier's presence.

"Am I so low on your visiting schedule? You've been to see Larsa first and then there was the stop off in Balfonheim to see Rikken and…"

"Spying on me, Princess?" he inquired. "I don't know if I should be annoyed or charmed. That the Queen of Dalmasca herself inquires after the whereabouts of a humble pirate…I suppose I ought to be honored."

She released him and stepped back. The Bahamut had not done more to him than leave a barely visible scar on his chin. It would be very difficult not to do more than hug the man if she didn't sit back on her throne soon, drawing a firm line between them once more. "It wasn't spying," she argued, stumbling slightly back into her seat.

Ashe watched a frown mar his usually placid face for no more than a second before his regular nonchalant air returned. A friendship would be difficult now that she was expected to prosecute members of his profession. His eyes flitted from her face to the small diadem atop her head. "You look lovely. Rule suits you."

His flirtations brought a blush to her cheek. She'd always been successful at ignoring them a year earlier since it was just part of his usual behavior, but time had seemingly changed them both. His arrival after so long a time was going to drive her mad. But she couldn't expect a man of his type, a freedom-loving thief, to attend court like others. Basch could attend as emissary for Larsa, Vaan and Penelo had the right to petition as her subjects, but Balthier…he and Fran would always be a different case. There was no way to keep him when she had no ring to pacify his greed this time.

"Just a social visit then? Wouldn't want to waste time talking politics when you could be robbing my citizens..."

"Your majesty…"

"Use my name!" she cried, gripping the arms of the chair. Her outburst startled him, and she waved her hand dismissively. "No one is here. For heaven's sake, do not treat me differently now."

Everyone else had seemed to build a wall between themselves and her in the past year. Some of it was probably her own doing as there were meetings and diplomatic events and courtly life to attend to – but she would not distance herself from yet another person. Penelo and Vaan bowed to her, those in the Resistance she'd fought beside now deferred and kneeled, and she couldn't bear to have Balthier join them too.

"Ashe, is everything alright here?" he inquired cautiously, taking a tentative step forward to stand beside her chair.

She buried her face in her hand, growing frustrated. Her mood was swinging wildly in his presence. Duty ought keep her in her seat while her own wishes laid festering within her, longing to be set free. She longed to hold him again, to engage in behavior rather unbecoming for her station. She'd had an entire year to regret, a year to realize that she'd probably missed her chance with Balthier while she was still unfettered from rule. "I am quite fine," she lied, brushing him off.

"I've had quite a bit of time, in between the usual thieving, you know," he began, his voice low and steady as it had been that day on the Phon Coast. He had always been so casual in conversation – she had never realized until that day on the beach that under the flamboyant pirate exterior, Balthier could have moments of solemnity. He spoke to her again now in the same measured manner. "Time to consider a great many things."

She did not know precisely where he was going with this, and she decided to let him continue. After a year, having another minute in his company was more than welcome since Balthier was inclined to run off at the slightest threat of permanence. He moved behind her seat, leaning heavily over and letting his fingers examine her crown. She wondered how much he was itching to help himself to the treasure room since he knew where it was, after all.

"Nearly dying tends to make you think," he admitted, finally acknowledging that he might in fact be as mortal as anyone else. She grinned at that, trying to keep her breathing steady as she felt the feather-like brushes of his fingers around the diadem and the occasional strand of hair getting moved aside with his investigations. "Think about what is truly important."

Was he baiting her? Trying to gauge her feelings for him so he could have a laugh at the Queen who would dare to love a pirate such as him? "Balthier, is there a point to your ramblings or shall I tune you out the same way Fran does?"

"It's your throne room, my lady," he replied with a bold tap of his finger against her cheek. If she wished, she could call the guard and have him strung up for assaulting the Queen. She decided against it, reveling in the rather intimate attention he was paying her.

Perhaps he missed her as much as she missed him, although his life presented him with far more interesting distractions than hers. She could just be another potential conquest – he might only be measuring her willingness to risk throne and country for a brief tumble in the sheets.

"Well, what is plaguing your thoughts so much that you sought an audience?" she asked, trying not to sound as anxious as she felt.

All she heard was a whispered "Forgive me" before he was around the chair, pulling her out and kissing her, his hands worshiping her every curve. It was rather surreal. Moments earlier she'd relished the feeling of his arms around her, the relieved embrace of two long-parted friends and now she could taste him…

An impudent knock at the chamber door forced them apart. She tried to calm herself, but her diadem was askew and her breath came in gasps. It would be obvious to anyone what had just happened, although she could barely believe it herself. Balthier's eyes were dark and impenetrable when he backed away, returning to a knee before her as she cleared her throat.

"Come!" she called, doing her best to straighten out her appearance. Balthier had been in her chamber mere minutes and already, the tension of several months' journeying and a long year apart had become something else entirely. She spied a wry grin on his face before she looked up to see the elderly chamberlain hobble in.

"Apologies for intruding, my lady, but the Rozarrian envoy has arrived a day early. I only interrupt because the ambassador's suite is not yet prepared and…"

She held up a hand to silence the doddering old fool. Why was she being consulted for such a trifling matter? Perhaps knowledge of the existing friendship between Queen and pirate had made her ministers nervous. "We've room enough here for half of Rabanastre. I am sure the staff can find appropriate accommodations for Lord Margrace."

There was the slightest snickering sound coming from Balthier's direction, but fortunately, the chamberlain did not notice. The man bowed and saw himself out.

Ashe scowled at her visitor. "What are you laughing at?"

He rose to his feet, once again a full head taller than her. As soon as the door was firmly closed, he crushed her to him and silenced her with a kiss that stole her wits. Balthier stroked her cheek with his thumb, chuckling low in his throat. "I don't believe they trust us alone together. I wonder why that is?"

She placed her hand over his where he gripped her waist. "Is this the result of all your thinking about what is truly important, Balthier? Or have you simply wished to learn if the taste of a Queen differs from that of the harlots in Balfonheim?"

The sky pirate smiled broadly. "I don't believe you trust me either."

"You come for an audience and immediately assault me after a year apart with no prior displays of affection?"

He nodded. "But," he began, twining his fingers with hers, "surely you had some inkling of what I felt? Must I spell it out for you?" He punctuated each subsequent word with a kiss to her forehead. "I adore you."

"Oh?"

His expression hardened. "Shall I risk certain death on another giant metal contraption for you? Go against my better judgment and abandon another several lucrative months of piracy to wander Ivalice with street urchins and outcasts?"

"You didn't do those things for me, Balthier," she argued. He'd been driven by the actions of his father, and she would not see him claim it was some unrequited desire for her. "And don't convince yourself that we're due for some grand affair. I have duties now." She lowered her eyes, hiding the pain in them.

He caressed her palm, lifting her fingers to his lips and kissing each one reverently. "I know. But as I said, nearly dying makes you change your tune a bit. You're not some prize to be won, I understand that now. What do I have to do?"

"Do?" she inquired curiously, looking at him strangely. He was surprisingly nervous, a bead of sweat at the edge of his brow.

"To formally court you?" he asked her then. "I know it's all a bit sudden, but you know – life I lead, perhaps I ought to be more forward-thinking. That is, of course, if you'll have me."

She felt her cheeks flush, the earnest look in his eyes making her ashamed for questioning his intentions. Disengaging herself from his embrace, she took a step backward and crossed her arms. Facing mortality had brought about some change in Balthier, but the last thing she needed was a man like him breaking her heart. He would never settle down, not even for her. But it wouldn't hurt to see him try – she'd longed for him for a year now. And her ministers would far prefer the Queen be courted in the proper way.

He waited expectantly, his earrings nearly glowing from the light of the waning sun through the chamber windows. "Balthier, we both know your place is the sky. But if you are as committed as you claim before me now, return for an audience every afternoon for the next three months." She watched him gulp at that but remain otherwise unmoved. "If you come to call, exchange pleasantries and act as a friend as much as a lover to me, then perhaps…"

His smile was radiant, and she felt a fluttering in her stomach. Surely he wouldn't kiss her again – she'd never make it through the remainder of the day. "Then I will see you tomorrow."

He kissed her hand politely and departed. And she did see him again. The first two weeks he arrived diligently, inquiring about life at court, about the expectations of a royal consort, all the things she'd have never expected Balthier to talk about without mocking them incessantly. But it didn't last, as his nature betrayed him.

Within the first month, he arrived late a handful of times, then missed days and weeks entirely. By the end of the third month, he'd stopped coming altogether. There'd been a tiny spark for a brief moment in her twentieth year – the deluded idea that she might be able to love someone she chose for herself and that he would love her in return. As years passed, Ashe looked back to her twentieth year often – realizing that the both of them had been so very naïve.

But she never gave up on him.


	2. Twenty Five

Twenty-Five

"Meetings all day?" he asked, curling a sweaty tendril of her hair around his thumb.

"We do have a luncheon at the Corps of Engineers' headquarters this afternoon," she replied, licking her lips and working hard to disengage herself from his arms. "Larsa's brokering a very lucrative deal for aqueducts in exchange for half the new mythril mine near Nalbina."

Balthier shook his head in annoyance, keeping her seated upon the shelf. "Half the mine? You agreed to half?"

"We've more mines, Balthier. Half of one small, inconsequential mine is nothing compared to what the aqueducts will do for the new settlements west of the city, you know that."

He grunted, brushing her temple with a kiss. "Contract out for your bloody aqueducts."

She rolled her eyes and tried shoving him away. The Archadian summer was far more humid than Dalmasca's, and her sweat-slick thighs had nearly glued her to the shelf. And some lengthy treatise on Archadian criminal statutes had tipped over during their exertions to jut into her ribs. Never again, Ashe vowed. "Will you please let me down? I've got several hundred years of law codes crushing my side!"

Balthier moved away with an annoyed sigh, and she slid down onto the lush carpeted floor, settling her skirt with a frown. He did his best to rearrange the books again behind her. "You wouldn't happen to remember if the Magisterial Code of Conduct was on this shelf or the one where you rested your feet, would you? I didn't even notice it flying off…"

She chuckled, remembering some heavy book flying off when she'd held onto the shelf for dear life moments earlier. Ashe snatched the book from his hand. "Of course. You never notice when you're like that."

"And the Queen dares to concern herself with mundane things like books on shelves when she is being ravished by such a handsome fellow as myself?"

Ashe shelved the book and repositioned the bookend. "You are the most self-important man I've ever…"

He roughly covered her mouth with his own, pressing her back against the books again. Who would have thought that the Emperor's private library would be such an aphrodisiac for a foreign Queen and her paramour? If only young Larsa knew what grave sins had been committed in between his tomes of antiquated legal precedents!

Footsteps in the hallway made her jolt, and she tried shoving him off of her. Since Balthier had decided to actively pursue her again after a year of thieving with Fran in the outskirts of Rozarria, he'd become far more daring in his behavior. A romp in Larsa's library during one of her diplomatic visits to Archades was not their most scandalous activity by far, but it probably had the worst political implications.

Balthier seemed to get his thrills from danger, finding a new way to nearly get them caught every time. Ashe would be in an early grave, her heart palpitating both from his lustful attentions and from the thought of some patrolling judges finding her in the Emperor's library in the company of a pirate with a bounty on his head larger than her own treasury. The footsteps died down, and she stomped on his foot.

"We've dallied here long enough," she hissed at him, trying to ignore the seemingly magnetic pull he had on her. They'd done this dance for five years now. She'd allow him back in her life for a month here, a month there. It would be passionate and exciting, but all too soon, he'd get the itch. At least that was what Fran called it. Her partner could not lie still in a place as "boring" as Rabanastre for more than a month.

He'd have to scratch that itch, be it a treasure in a distant tomb or a dangerous mark hunt or even a fling with some nobleman's daughter. But he always returned, no apologies offered, expecting to be welcomed back like he'd never left. She'd had others too, as their long periods of separation made that a necessity. Yet, nothing lasted for either of them, and it seemed that he'd always find some excuse to dock the Strahl in Rabanastre for a spell.

His feelings for her never changed, that much was certain, she thought. If anything, they'd grown stronger. He ignored her protests and began to pull down the straps of her blouse as soon as she'd righted them. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the blissful sensation of his mouth on the delicate skin of her neck.

Balthier loved her, and she him, but the two of them would never agree on a permanent solution. He was noble through his father's bloodline, and therefore a suitable match, but he refused to settle down and marry. And she could settle for nothing less with the expectations of her position. Thus, they remained forever at an impasse – a rather physical and passionate impasse, but still a problem with no resolution in sight.

At twenty-five, she was expected to marry, and her ministers had been pressuring her, but she'd marry no one else. At twenty-eight, he was still in his physical prime. No tomb he couldn't pilfer from, no bar room brawl he would back down from. He simply wasn't ready, and she'd given up asking long ago. He'd promised her "some day" but neglected to give any sort of timeline. So long as he was healthy and mobile, he'd surely be sneaking about and raising his bounty. Even Fran had tried encouraging him to consider a more legitimate and law-abiding lifestyle, but he'd have none of it.

Ashe would have to entertain the idea of marriage sometime certainly, but no suitor would satisfy. Things with Balthier weren't just physical, although their stolen moments of late had mostly been confined to that. No one understood her as he did. No one else spoke to her the way he could – everyone else was sycophantic and humble while Balthier was simply himself. He was the only one who wished to know Ashe rather than Queen Ashelia.

She finally halted him when he tried lifting her skirt. That was how they'd gotten into this situation in the first place. Stilling his wrist on the fabric, Ashe kissed him slowly, relishing what she probably wouldn't be able to enjoy again for some time. There was some shipwreck on the southeastern edge of the Naldoan Sea, and he and Fran would be leaving within the hour to steal from it. And after that, who knows where the skies would take them?

"We have to stop," she mumbled against his lips. "I'm having breakfast with Larsa."

He set her clothes back in order, although she'd have to hurry back to her guest rooms and change anyhow. There was a fine layering of dust from the bookshelves on her skirt – the library wasn't as well used as she would have thought. Then again, the young Emperor of Archadia was in search of a bride and had little time for pleasure reading these days.

"Can't convince you to come away with me?"

This was his usual parting line. Balthier wasn't much for goodbyes, choosing rather to invite her on his adventures. She was as like to take him up on his offer as he was to marry her. His eyes sought hers, the same disappointment mirrored in her own as he prepared to depart for another undecided duration of time. She wanted to say yes, just once. Leave behind her duty for just a day. Biting her lip, she watched the sun rising higher just out the window.

"Stay here, wait five more minutes and leave if I don't return."

He nodded, gazing at her strangely. She departed, finding Larsa's aide. An excuse about a headache let her wriggle out of the breakfast with rest confining her until the luncheon that afternoon. She returned to the library, throwing the lock on the door this time.

"The things I do for you, pirate," she complained, knocking him to the floor. "Tell Fran I'm sorry for keeping you."

Balthier smiled, pulling her down atop him. "She'll get over it."

In her twenty-fifth year, a snap decision to lay with Balthier one more time had seemed harmless enough on the day. The palace library was profaned again, her moans stifled in the crook of his neck as they made love on the floor and thankfully, not against the shelves. They'd straightened up again and bid each other farewell. Balthier departed for the southeast and remained there, only returning nine months later upon word that the Queen of Dalmasca had given birth.


	3. Thirty

Thirty

She could hear the protests and gasps in the hallway as he barged into her study, his face red with fury. Ashe didn't bother to look up from her book as he slammed the door and stomped over to her.

"You could knock," she muttered.

He took the book from her hands, and she noticed that he took the time to fold a corner to mark her place before throwing it aside. "Is it true?" he asked, his voice cutting and full of menace.

She finally met his eyes but did not make a move to rise from her seat. "Is what true?" She knew exactly why he was here, and she had to admit that it touched her that he'd fly all the way to Rabanastre to confront her.

Balthier sighed, leaning against her desk while she remained in the comfortable chair near her bookshelves. "That you will wed this…this infant!"

Ashe concealed a smile and shook her head. "Lord Maese is not an infant. He's twenty-two." The same age Balthier had been when they'd met – the same age Balthier acted even now at thirty-three.

"You didn't answer my question."

She rose from her seat to stand before him. "No, I will not marry him. Although," she mused, watching Balthier positively quake with jealousy. "Marius needs a father."

He gripped her shoulders possessively. "Marius already has a father."

Ashe shoved his hands off of her. "No. I don't think he does."

She'd been amused at first by his arrival, but knowing what was truly upsetting him was infuriating. It had been a trying few years. She'd returned from that fateful trip to Archades with child, and it had taken the better part of three years changing her own laws to acknowledge her son as a legitimate heir. Not to mention the continuing scandal of their affair. It was common knowledge from Rozarria to Bur-Omisace that she and Balthier were all but wed.

The people had been absolutely tickled that the Queen and her sky pirate hero had produced a son, but the opinions of the common folk mattered little. The nobles had been furious that she dared to have a child out of wedlock – and her heir nonetheless. Ashe had been the object of scorn and a near rebellion, and still her ministers urged her to marry and produce another child – one with fewer questions surrounding its conception.

Of course, she had been foolish enough to expect that fatherhood would encourage Balthier to finally consider settling, but their son had just reached his fourth birthday and still the sky pirate wandered Ivalice aimlessly. Much as Balthier clearly adored his child, he missed milestones. First steps, first words, the very ceremony that had proclaimed Marius' place in the succession legitimate even though his father was a known criminal – Balthier had missed all of them.

And so Ashe had allowed her ministers to set the wheels in motion for consideration of marriage. She had no plans to marry any of the nobles the conservative old men set before her, but Marius was growing with one full-time parent and the other part-time. He did need a father, and trinkets and toys arriving from distant ports of call every other week did not make up for Balthier's absence.

Balthier scowled. "I do more for that child than I've done for anyone else in my life." He crossed his arms. "I give you half of everything I sell, half of everything for his schooling and his care. Many fathers would do far less." It was true. She'd never asked anything of him, but he'd vowed to help, even though she wasn't exactly destitute. But the money that bought the young Prince's clothes, wooden swords and model airships came from the spoils of piracy.

"He's a child, Balthier! Don't you understand that? He doesn't need a toy – he needs you!"

"And you'd let that ponce aristocrat Maese be a substitute for me? The man can barely lace his britches without help!" Balthier retorted.

"Then stay!" she screeched at him. "Stay and I won't have to settle for some asthma-ridden third cousin of Larsa, twice removed!"

"Do you sleep with them? Each of Marius' potential new fathers? Because that's what I've been hearing! They all get a turn in your bed…"

She struck him, and he finally stilled her after the sixth or seventh blow. "How dare you," she said acidly, "my business is my own." She had her favorites at court, and with Balthier gone for months at a time, she'd taken a few men to bed…but not Lord Maese and certainly not the numbers he was implying.

"I dare say it is my business. The mother of my son will not behave like the village whore!"

"The father of my son behaves no differently!" she accused him, infuriated that he would hold her to a different standard. He paced the floor, his fists clenched, and she could tell that he was regretting his outburst. He rarely raised his voice at her, though she was often inclined to yell at him. He'd never seemed to have a problem with her taking lovers before – perhaps now that his place was being threatened…

He ran a hand through his hair, and she bit her tongue hard not to make a crack about his receding hairline – a stressful lifestyle was going to leave him bald if he didn't slow down. "I don't know how to be a father any more than those other idiots."

"You've had four years to practice, but you haven't tried. Buying presents and giving piggy back rides every other month is not being a father," she replied, softening her voice. It was becoming clearer now – Balthier's grudge was not with her, but with himself. It had taken the threat of her marrying another to make him realize it.

He ceased his pacing and slunk into her chair, distress plainly writ across his features. "Marius deserves better than me."

She knelt before him, placing a hand on each of his knees. "Balthier, he loves you. But I won't see him cry again for days after you leave."

"He cries for days?" Balthier asked incredulously, guilt making his eyes redden. "Over me?"

Was he so dumb? Balthier had promised to attend the boy's birthday party but had forgotten and sent Vaan of all people in his place. Marius had been silent for a week after, and it had taken all of Ashe's strength not to have Balthier hauled into her prisons for some outstanding warrant or another. She couldn't bear seeing her child so upset, and though marriage to another suited her very little, it might possibly stop her son's tears.

She rose, settling herself in Balthier's lap. His arms tightened around her, their quarrel over as soon as it began. He buried his face in the bodice of her gown, always refusing to acknowledge that he cried like any other Hume. She kissed the crown of his head in the same way she kissed her son's, wondering how she'd been both blessed and cursed to love a man like Balthier and bear a son that took after him so much.

"I knew you were coming today," she whispered into his hair. "Fran said you'd be in town for a few weeks." Ashe didn't know what she'd do without Fran's regular updates. She and Balthier would jaunt off and wander from place to place, but Fran's letters let Ashe know that the father of her child yet lived and prospered. Balthier couldn't be bothered to lift a pen and write.

"Strahl's a bit banged up," he admitted, his strong hand rubbing circles on her back.

She chuckled quietly. "More like out of commission and in need of a new set of glossair engines. She said you barely made it here."

"That Viera needs to stop being so honest," he muttered. "And you'll be happy to know the excursion in Bervenia made no profit, so I'll be selling the shirt off my back to repair my girl."

Ashe brightened. The mighty Balthier, reduced to bartering for ship parts. Of course, Fran had implied in her letter that Ashe ought to take advantage of such a rare situation. Since the Strahl was so unique, it would take ages for the proper engines to be found and fitted to Balthier's exact specifications. "Well, could I buy the engines for you? I've some money set aside for discretionary spending."

"I can fix my own ship. I don't need your charity," he protested, warming up to her again and kissing her.

She stroked the tiny scar on his chin. "It wouldn't be charity. You'd work off your debt to me."

"I have a feeling I won't like the terms of this agreement," he sighed.

"Sir Mella has been called back to Archades. It seems that Larsa's eldest is ready for schooling. I hear Archadians start the rudimentary basics at three?"

Balthier nodded. "Some of aptitude at two, like yours truly," he bragged. "Where are you going with this?"

"With Sir Mella gone, our son is in desperate need of a qualified tutor. Of course, it's only basic arithmetic, language…writing next year…"

"You'd hold me captive here? As a teacher?" he complained. "Where's the adventure?"

"Getting to know your child better…is that not an adventure?"

He pressed his thumb to her lips to silence her. "You forget that abandoning my career for a time leaves a certain partner of mine in the lurch."

Ashe recalled Fran's post-script with a wry grin. "Oh, that's been dealt with. You see…Fran's been hired to serve as bodyguard now that Larsa's little one is old enough to start wandering the streets of Archades. If you go to the aerodrome, she should be boarding a ship right this instant."

"She what?!" he cried, nearly shoving her from his lap. "That traitorous Viera! She said not a word!" His eyes narrowed. "You! You've turned Fran against me!"

She shook her head. "I've done no such thing. Judge Magister Gabranth hand picked her for the position, and she accepted. Besides, you'll have your own rooms if my bed is too confining for you." As they spoke, her maids were preparing a suite of rooms for him on the other side of hers.

He was completely shocked at their deception. Basch and Fran had hatched the plan after the sad state of affairs of Marius' birthday, only bringing Ashe into the fold with Fran's letter that very day. "Down a ship and all of you knowing I'll partner with no one else…" he muttered grumpily. "My dear, it seems you've finally managed to trap me."

Ashe kissed him firmly, reveling in the man she loved despite his jealousy and his infuriating manner. Marius would have a tutor and a father for as long as Balthier's ship remained disabled and Fran busied herself in Archades. "Do not consider it a trap. Consider it your very first step into adulthood."

"I've no intentions of acting like an adult," he complained. "That boy will have his maths and his reading…but he'll be flying within the month, no matter what you say."

"He's four years old, Balthier."

He took her face in his hands. "And he'll fly."

She moved from his lap and took his hand, pulling him from the chair. She led him out of her study, past the confused guards who'd heard angry shouts minutes earlier. "Marius is having a love affair with _Callis Chocobo Goes to Market_. He expects it every night before bed." She tugged him down the hall to the nursery, pausing outside the door. "Shall we go meet your student, Professor?"

Balthier smiled, the thought of seeing his son putting that spark in his eyes that warmed her heart. "Lead the way."


	4. Thirty Five

Thirty-Five

"I don't want it!"

"But Lin, it's your favorite," Ashe said with a sigh, stifling the yawn that threatened to overtake her.

"Marius liked it, that's what daddy said."

"And you won't let me read you a book your brother liked five years ago?"

The mass of strawberry-blonde curls shaking wildly affirmed that _Callis Chocobo Goes to Market _was unacceptable to the Princess Linnea. Ashe closed the book firmly, wondering what was more irritating – her three year old daughter's temper tantrums or the threat of civil war in Rozarria.

"Very well, no stories tonight."

"I didn't want a story," the bratty thing declared, and Ashe knew that she'd behaved similarly at the same age. Her father never let her forget it. She tucked the blanket around her younger child, accepting the sloppy kiss Linnea offered.

"Good night," she whispered, nodding to the nanny as she departed the nursery. Her son was waiting for her just outside the door.

Prince Marius looked more like his father every day. All he needed were a few earrings and a bracelet or two. The boy brandished his toy gun at her. "Hands up, Your Majesty!"

Ashe yanked the toy from his hand. "In Dalmasca, we do not hold the Queen at gunpoint."

Marius shrugged, trailing after her. "Father says a monarch should defend himself by any means necessary." The child had also received his quick, blunt manner of speaking from his father.

"And that is why you train with swords, not with these cowardly guns."

Her son grunted his displeasure, but followed her through the halls, down the staircase and out into the courtyard. The sun had just set, and Marius had all but ordered her to attend his demonstration. He'd been training with the Knights' order for several months now, and he was determined to impress his parents that evening with a tournament against a few of the chocobo stable boys and squires.

Marius tugged her hand, pulling her to one of the two empty seats beneath the lanterns lighting the cobblestone courtyard. The royal guard stood watch with solemn expressions, but she did not miss the amusement in their eyes as the Dalmascan heir apparent dragged his mother to her chair. Ashe sat patiently as Marius and his friends got ready, her son's title and position cheerfully ignored as the boys arranged their swords and shields. The time came for the tournament to begin, but Marius' father was nowhere to be found.

She watched the parents of the stable boys file in, bowing to her before taking their leave to stand and wait. Ashe grew uncomfortable as the minutes passed and her son's cheerful face grew dour. It was clear that Balthier had forgotten. The other boys grew quiet as their Prince knocked over the sword stand with the temper he'd inherited from his mother, his wail of frustration like a knife to Ashe's gut.

Ashe rose from her seat with clenched fists as Marius stomped out of the courtyard, the murmurs of the other children and their parents giving her a headache. She ordered the guard to see Marius to his room and refused accompaniment as she saddled up her favorite chocobo and rode furiously out of the palace courtyard and west through the darkened streets of her capital toward the aerodrome.

She found him readying for departure, his fingers deftly throwing switches on the control console. He didn't hear her board, his melodic voice chatting amiably with the aerodrome staff.

"It'll be good to have my girl in the air," he remarked over the intercom. "Final check complete…" Balthier didn't get to hear the response because she ripped the radio from his hand, tearing the cord from the console in her rage.

He said nothing as she stood beside his pilot's chair, holding the now useless intercom in her shaking fist. "You won't even say goodbye to your children?" she spat at him.

Balthier looked away from her, his eyes focusing on some point beyond the console. "A tomb, just to the northeast of old Landisian territory. Gold, jewels, the like."

"What about Fran?" she asked, watching him tap his fingers impatiently on his arm rest.

"There's no time. Have to leave now or someone else will beat me to it."

She flung the radio at the glass, not even making a dent. "I forbid it!"

His eyes were cold then as he glared at her. "I'm going."

Five years she'd gotten him to stay. She supposed that Linnea's birth three years prior had postponed his initial plans to depart, and the Strahl only made short journeys – it was a family transport, not the ship of a pirate these days. Ashe should have known it was coming, should have known it would be sudden and impulsive, like everything else about Balthier.

"One more day. Marius is upset that you missed his fighting demonstration and…"

"Get out of here. I have to leave."

She struck the back of his seat. "Balthier!" There'd been no warning signs, no implication that he was planning to take off. They'd breakfasted together that morning, and he'd been as affable as ever. How quickly her fortunes could change. "We need you here. I need you."

"You can't keep me like some pet!"

"What brought this on?" she asked, moving to stand between him and the console. Ashe settled her hands on his shoulders, feeling the tension and knots there. Had he truly been miserable and concealing it? And for how long?

"Nothing brought it on, Ashe…just give me a few days, let me clear my head, live life as I see fit rather than according to your specifications, alright?"

She squeezed his shoulders, wishing she could understand his way of thinking. Ashe lived her life knowing she had duties and expectations. First to her children, second to her country. But Balthier needed far more freedom, and he had a difficult time putting anyone but himself first.

"What can I do to make you stay?" she pleaded, embarrassed at having to urge a grown man to stay and help care for his own children.

His features softened, and he took her hands from his shoulders, running his thumbs across her knuckles. "Nothing."

She thought of Linnea asleep in the nursery, of Marius sulking in his room with the guards for company. All of this while their mother, the most powerful woman in the world, begged humbly for the man who had still not consented to marry her to stay.

Wrenching her hands from his grasp, she moved away and to the rear of the cockpit. So many years ago, she'd asked him to steal her, to take her away from the confines of Bhujerba in search of treasure. Ashe stilled her progress in the entryway, where he'd leaned and teased her with that cocky manner of his. She wondered how she could have spent so much of her life chasing after this man, demanding his attention.

"Do not return."

She heard him shift in the pilot's seat. "Ashe, I'll be coming back in a few days."

"I said do not return. There will be no parades and songs for you, no luxurious meals and attendants. You are unwelcome in my capital from here on."

As she said the words, she didn't necessarily believe them, but she wanted him to. Could he not see what this would do to the children? What it would do to her? His boots on the metal flooring announced his presence behind her, but she would not turn around for him again. For too long, she'd had to bid him farewell. Let this be the last, she'd thought then.

"Goodbye, Balthier," she mumbled, marching off with her head held high and her heart ripping in two. As she moved back to where her chocobo was tethered outside of the aerodrome, she heard the Strahl's engines roar to life in the hangar. The vessel that had helped to save Rabanastre from Vayne Solidor rose into the skies and flew off into the night.

Linnea asked for Balthier for weeks, but Marius did not say a word. It seemed that he simply knew the way of his father.


	5. Forty

Forty

"Simply out of the question. I will continue to..." Ashe was wracked with that blasted cough, nearly doubling over from the pain of it. Clearing her throat, she eyed her son with a wary frown. "I will continue to sign all papers of state. Just because you happen to be a master forger does not mean I will allow you to do my job for me."

Marius sighed in irritation at the foot of the bed. "Mother, you're ill and need rest. Why won't you let me sign your damned papers?"

"Language!" the Princess Linnea chided him from the corner of her mother's chamber, looking over the top of her book at her brother.

"You are both going to be the death of me!" Ashe complained. "Out of here, now!"

Her illness had lasted four months now, and although her physician had encouraged her to stop working, she would not. It was a rare disease, this Valendian exhaustion. What she'd originally thought was usual fatigue had turned into something far more irritating. Her legs were like jelly, and she would spend more time sleeping than awake. Though it wasn't contagious, it was often deadly. The fatigue was merely the exterior manifestation of a disease that slowly shut down the processes of one's internal organs.

She was still in the small window before it would kill her. Ashe was thoroughly convinced that she would defeat the Valendian exhaustion, although it wasn't something as straightforward as defeating Vayne Solidor had been. Her children shared her confidence, but there were rumors in the streets that a fourteen year old Prince Marius would soon be leading Dalmasca. She'd ordered her best propaganda men to quash it, but she had not been seen in public since her illness began.

The children grumbled, packing up their things and leaving with a huff. They'd kept a constant vigil at her bedside. With their strength and her own fighting spirit, surely the disease would be beaten. Although, Ashe knew, her continuing insistence to work was letting the disease wreak havoc on her system. She could become a footnote on history if she didn't slow down and just rest for a time. Her physician had said that if she could simply switch off her mind for a day, she'd get through it in less than a month. But for Queen Ashelia, there was too much to do. She could not afford to cease being monarch. Marius was just not ready for that degree of responsibility, much as she'd been instructing him.

Then again, her own son had argued, he would have to deal with that responsibility if she worked herself to death trying to prevent him from having to rule. She was damned no matter what course she took. Looking down at her lap, her vision blurred at the piles of documents there and the others strewn around her. So much to do.

She dismissed the remaining attendants and shoved the papers off the comforter. Laying back against her pillows, she closed her eyes and tried to stop thinking of all that she had to do. It was nearly impossible. Instead of policy and the renewal of treaties, Ashe did her best to think of books and poems. Although she'd never had a great love of literature since she rarely had time for it, she tried to recite some lines in her mind. When that failed, she decided that reading something that wasn't important to her country's future might calm her.

Her mind wandered beyond the books the children read, although those had made up the majority of her pleasure reading these past several years. She thought for a few more moments, finally settling on something. A quick tug of the sash beside her bed brought the servant.

"Crisabel, could you bring me_ The Violet Bloom of Landis_? It should be in the library."

The servant raised an eyebrow. "Your Majesty?"

She waved the girl off. "Yes, I know what type of book it is."

Minutes later, a worn but still sturdy copy of the fairly trashy book was in her hand, and she sighed. The prose was a bit overwrought, the love affair lacking any sort of nuance, and the romantic scenes were more concerned with being shocking than being realistic. She wasn't very far into it when she fell asleep.

Her dreams were peaceful, although she was roused from one particularly strange one about her son playing at arms with a scarecrow by the feeling of someone else in the bed with her. Her eyes opened slowly, the bedchamber now darkened from the passing of several hours.

"Here I thought you were at death's door, but you have time to read this filthy book."

She must not have been fully awake, for she hadn't heard Balthier's voice in nearly five years. And what's more, he was still forbidden to even enter her kingdom.

"Come to laugh over me? Is this my punishment? To hear your voice taunting me as I lay here?" she asked the vision of him.

But the hand that brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead was flesh and blood and the gentleness of the gesture was one she'd known many a time in the past twenty years. Her eyes focused, and she realized that he truly was in the bed beside her.

"Don't be startled," he told her quietly. "Marius says you need to relax."

"Relax?" she inquired haughtily. "I distinctly remember banishing you."

He produced a thin slip of parchment. "And so you did, love, but you also sent word for me a week ago."

Balthier helped her to sit up, and he allowed her to use him for additional support since she could barely move. She scanned the parchment, not recognizing it - and she knew every scrap or scroll that crossed her desk. "What is this?"

He looked at her quizzically. "Well, it says here that you don't care what it takes, you simply must see me before you pass away. You signed it, and here I am, at great risk."

She read the sheet over and over, the handwriting an exact match of her own. Was this disease wasting away her mind as well as her body? But the signature at the bottom wasn't quite right. "Oh Balthier."

"Oh Balthier what?" he parroted back, seemingly unaffected by the fact that he was in her bed after he'd left all those years ago. But he always acted as if he belonged wherever he laid his head and always had.

She grinned, tears brimming in her eyes. It was so obvious now, but even Balthier had not caught it. "Your son composed this letter. He forged my name. See, he always writes B'Nargin with that flourish on the g."

Balthier was displeased. "So you aren't dying?"

"You wouldn't have come otherwise?"

He kissed the top of her head. "Ashe, you told me never to come back. You made that quite clear when you revoked the Strahl's permits in the capital. I figured that you'd only see my face again on your deathbed."

"Well, I may be in bed," she informed him, coughing slightly, "but I am not close to dying."

He squeezed her hand. "And I am glad to hear it. You don't know how worried I've been. News travels about these sorts of things."

She looked at him, seeing true concern in his eyes. These years had been hard on her, but he'd wanted a life apart and she'd certainly given it to him. She'd missed him every day, but she'd resolved to be done with it. But her children had urged a reconciliation for years now, especially now that Linnea was growing and becoming aware of the complex nature of her parents' relationship.

Though Marius and Linnea's father was forbidden from entering Dalmascan soil, the children themselves saw him often. Balthier made a point to stop in to stay with Larsa and his family whenever his son and daughter were visiting Archades. Ashe was probably the only person who hadn't seen him in all these years, though it pleased her to hear how much Balthier adored his children from both Basch and Larsa's letters. His hair was darkening rather than graying, and he'd finally started wearing looser clothing. She could tell he still kept himself in good shape for all his treasure hunting, but he wasn't the man he'd been a few decades earlier. Then again, she'd changed as well. Having two children and living a luxurious existence had filled her out, and she was already plucking gray from her hair.

"You're keeping well," she told him, yawning slightly and relishing the feel of his arms around her after so long a time. She often dreamt of him and had spent the past several years without court favorites. His absence and her growing age kept her from pursuing men like she had in years gone by. Additionally, it was improper now that she was being called the Mother of her country to which other mothers ought aspire. Of course, she thought she was an awful parent, but her son's behavior today warmed her. The boy was clever enough to trick the infamous Balthier to sneak back into Dalmasca.

"You've looked better," he told her honestly, fussing with her hair. "What's the word on your recovery?"

She grinned. "If I don't exert myself and use my mind for things like this awful book rather than statutes, I should be up and on my feet in a month."

"I wonder if my miraculous appearance is a healing measure or a harmful one?"

Ashe kissed his cheek, his light smattering of stubble scratchy, but familiar. "Well, you thought you'd be coming to see a dying woman. I'm sure you had a whole conversation plotted out. It heals me to see you thwarted in such a fashion."

"You never change," he whispered, holding her as tightly as her sore, fatigued body would allow. The children had been right - reconciliation was necessary. They'd given hints that Balthier was growing more morose as each year without her went by, though seeing Marius and Linnea was a temporary and helpful fix.

"Go on."

"Hmm?"

"Give me the 'Ashe is dying' speech. I want to hear it."

He seemed to just enjoy the feeling of her skin against his, his leg warm against hers though his were atop the covers. "You'll laugh."

"Perhaps laughter is a good panacea for what ails me," she nagged. "Balthier, I've not seen you in five years. Speak to me."

He produced a ring from his pocket, a simple silver band. "I'd thought to make you an honest woman before you passed on." She could only stare at the ring as he held it between his thumb and forefinger. "See, I told you it was awful. And I'll have you know that this wasn't stolen, but it's a ring that was handed down in my family for years."

She still did not move to take it. He'd really thought to marry her before she died? She didn't know if she was annoyed or touched. She went with the latter when she saw him look away and rub his eyes, always hiding anything that might peg him as sensitive though she knew him to be so when the situation warranted it.

"Is the offer still on the table? Seeing as how I'll probably be recovered sooner or later."

Balthier held open her palm and set the cool metal band down in it. "You entrusted me with a ring that meant a lot to you once. I'll do the same, and it can mean whatever you wish."

She eagerly accepted it now, knowing that she would never again hear a marriage proposal from a man of his nature. "Then I shall wear it. A formal wedding is negotiable."

"Thank the gods," he replied in relief as she slipped the band on. It fit perfectly - he must have had it refitted. He knew the size of her ring finger from memory even with five years' absence. "Let's wait till you recover so I can get a proper honeymoon out of you."

Ashe looked at her left hand, long bare of any sort of adornment. The simple ring meant more knowing their shared history with exchanging precious jewelry. Of course, this was intended for a dying woman rather than a mere ill one, but the sincerity in his eyes assured her that he would have eventually just shown up at her palace no matter what the laws were one of these days.

"You will stay?" she asked tentatively.

"You would demand it of me?"

She pondered the thought of Balthier as a permanent fixture at her court, and after so many long years, realized that it probably was never going to work. But the less she tried to control him, the more inclined he would be to stay around. Fran had told her as much years ago.

"No," she told him quietly. "I will not demand it."

He smiled, ignoring the dryness of her lips from illness to kiss her softly. "Then I will do my best to not incur your wrath. I will be here for the children as much as I am able. I will be a better man."

"You will be Balthier," she whispered. Ashe settled back down, closing her eyes and simply enjoying the feel of him near her once more. "And that is all I require."


	6. Forty Five

"Sliding up the sleeve, like so," Balthier said, demonstrating for Linnea.

The Princess was confused. "But what if I don't have sleeves?"

Her father laughed, pulling the playing card from his shirt sleeve and slapping it down on the table. "Never play cards without sleeves, Lin. That's the only advice I can give you."

Ashe paced nervously, biting her thumbnail. "I don't see how you can play cards at a time like this."

Balthier sighed. "Relax, it will all be over soon. Besides, if he puts so much as a scratch on my ship, I'll kill him myself."

She did not share her husband's confidence. The entire Dalmascan royal family was camped a mile away from the battlefield while Prince Marius led their airship fleet in support of Al-Cid Margrace. The Rozarrian leader's middle son, Lord Alil, had decided that his place in the succession made him unnecessary and so the young lord had fomented open rebellion against his father. It had only been small skirmishes until now, but Al-Cid had realized that his son had to be stopped before Rozarria broke out into civil war. Ashe was lending aid, as was Larsa, though it did not please her to see her own child fighting. Hopefully today's air battle would be the first and last.

The Strahl, newly outfitted with guns, was being piloted by the Dalmascan prince and co-piloted by Fran. It gave Ashe some comfort to know her son was in the Viera's capable hands. Her son had insisted that his parents remain on the sidelines, as Marius had a personal investment in the battle that she and Balthier did not share. Alil and Marius were the same age and friends for a long time – Ashe's son thought it best that he end his friend's desperate grasp for power before anyone was hurt.

"I don't suppose you'll wish for me to marry into the Rozarrian royal family after this, will you Mama?" Linnea inquired with a grin. Her daughter was as lighthearted and unserious as her father.

"Lin, you can marry whoever you wish to."

"She's lying," Balthier noted in amusement. "You'll marry someone she hand picks."

Ashe wrapped her arms around Balthier, leaning her head atop his. "And you'd rather see her throw her life away chasing some sky pirate like her mother did?"

He chuckled, bringing her hands to his lips. "It would please me greatly."

Linnea crinkled her nose at them. "Must you both be so disgustingly affectionate?"

The explosion of gunfire from the ships in the sky silenced them all. The battle had begun. Linnea leapt from her chair and clung to her father, still a girl of thirteen rather than the mature young woman she wished she could be. Balthier held them both tightly, and Ashe suspected that even Balthier had some worry for his son and his dear Viera friend who sailed through the skies just beyond their tent.

"Should we go out and have a look?" Balthier inquired, his voice serious now.

"No, I can't watch something like that. Please don't leave me here," their daughter whispered.

They passed the next hour or so in silence, the sound of gunfire and explosions outside providing more than enough noise. Balthier tapped his foot nervously, probably itching to get out and fight as well. But there was only one ship he would fly, and it was temporarily under his son's command. Ashe knew that Marius was a fine pilot, since he had learned from one of the best after all. But with each passing moment and each loud noise, her son might be ripped away from her. The fighting at Nalbina so many years ago had taken Rasler, but she hadn't been this close back then.

Finally, it stopped. One of her generals opened the flap of their tent and bowed. "My lady, the battle is over. Our side has achieved victory."

She nodded, grabbing her daughter's hand tightly and pulling her from the tent. Balthier walked behind them, and she was grateful that he was here for this rather than off on some treasure hunting excursion. The day was bright over the Rozarrian countryside, although the lush green fields were now peppered with fiery wreckage. Ashe watched the Dalmascan vessels return to their part of the field, flying overhead with a flourish as they headed back towards Rabanastre.

Balthier's shrewd eyes scanned every ship that passed. "Where's my girl?" he asked, desperately looking for the Strahl among the others.

Linnea embraced her, and Ashe could hear prayers falling from her daughter's lips with great haste. "Fran is with him, Mama. Don't worry."

Ashe's worry increased, though she wouldn't dare show it on her face now that the other generals and those from Larsa's entourage were milling about in the fields. The sound of clanking armor signaled the approach of a Judge Magister, and Ashe was grateful to see that it was Basch. "Any word from the Strahl?"

She knew that Basch and Larsa had stayed in the radio tent along with Al-Cid for the battle though Ashe herself had declined to listen to ships being fired upon and men and women screaming in pain as they fell from the skies. She could not see Basch's face, and his voice betrayed little. "We lost radio contact with the Strahl just before we heard the Dahlia surrender. But I don't think we ought to worry. I did not see her go down, my lady."

Ashe looked at him warily. "But she hasn't come back yet."

Balthier gave Basch a nod in thanks. The Judge Magister's duties lay with the Emperor, and he bowed to them and walked away, leaving the family alone to wait. With each minute that passed, Ashe felt increasingly on edge. "Balthier, could we..." she began, gripping her skirts tightly to keep her hands from quivering. "Could we not fly over ourselves? Larsa would happily lend you..."

He stopped her with a firm hand to her shoulder. "Calm yourself. Remember who you are."

Balthier was right, and she could be seen by anyone milling about. She could not even panic about her son and heir in public, could she? Linnea would have to visibly show worry for the both of them. But Ashe knew that sooner or later, even her daughter would grow old enough where such open displays of emotion would be considered signs of weakness in someone of royal blood.

Another few minutes passed, the blue fleet of the Rozarrian Empire slowly retreating to the west while the Archadian vessels waited, Larsa having ordered his own ships to stay behind for medical assistance. Ashe remembered Basch returning to her capital nearly thirty years earlier, bearing the dead Nabradian prince on his chocobo as he trudged into Rabanastre. Thoughts of Fran returning with Marius in a similar manner were beginning to cloud her thoughts, and she looked at every ship, begging for it to be the Strahl.

Finally, thankfully, her prayers were answered. Balthier and her daughter cheered openly as the smaller white ship approached, flying low over the battlefield. Ashe watched in anticipation as the ship landed just north of Larsa and Al-Cid's tent. Her heart leapt as she saw both Fran and her son emerge from inside. She wanted to run immediately to her child, seeing blood...so much blood on his clothes and hands, but Balthier held her still.

"You know he wants to do this right," he told her. Ashe sighed, knowing that she'd instructed her son well. He would report to his commanding officer and to Al-Cid before returning to his family.

She saw Fran come out of the tent first, and before the Viera could even say a word to them, Balthier had broken away and embraced his dear friend. Ashe rarely saw such an open display from her husband, but Fran was tolerating it quite well. The woman had even begun to hug back after all these years.

It was almost amusing to see the tall Viera letting Balthier hold her like that, but Fran's face was far too serious for Ashe to be humored for long. Linnea also moved to hug the Viera while Ashe hung back, her eyes darting between the scene before her and the tent a few hundred yards away. Fran's eyes were sad. "Prince Marius reports to Lord Margrace. I must attend to the Strahl."

Fran broke away and walked slowly back to the airship as Ashe saw her son stagger out of the tent. As he came closer, she could not see any visible wounds...but there was so much blood. Linnea ran ahead, nearly collapsing against her brother. Ashe did her best to remain calm as Balthier escorted her forward.

Marius saluted her, shakily taking a knee before her as though they were in court. "My lady, we are victorious."

Ashe allowed her tears of relief to flow freely, pulling the young man to his feet and embracing him. "Do not stand on propriety now, Marius. Thank the gods you have come back to me!" Her son returned the sentiment, holding onto her as he had when he was still a child.

"Mother...he..."

Balthier stood with their daughter while the usually smiling and joking Prince of Dalmasca sobbed openly. Ashe cried for her child, ignoring the blood on his hands that were now smearing her clothes. "Marius, what happened?"

Her husband was far more intuitive than anyone. "Al-Cid has lost a son today," he announced, and Marius started to shake in her arms. She was staggered by this news.

"Basch said the Dahlia surrendered..."

"She was already going down. Alil, he..." Marius muttered. "Fran and I found him in the wreckage."

Ashe saw her old friend, the now Emperor of Rozarria, emerge from the tent with Larsa supporting him. Al-Cid had seemingly aged several years since the battle had begun. His characteristic glasses were gone, the man's eyes reddened as Larsa helped him to his ship. They were probably headed for the remnants of the Dahlia. They had only wished to stop Alil's ambitions and now...

"It was the Strahl that fired the last shot," the Prince whispered in her ear then, and her eyes widened. Balthier gave her a knowing look. He'd been opposed to arming the Strahl, but Marius had been insistent. Her child would bear this grief for the remainder of his life.

"We shall mourn in Dalmasca, I promise you," Ashe told him as Balthier gently pulled Marius along and into the family's tent to grieve privately. Linnea followed them while Ashe remained out in the field alone. Al-Cid and Larsa departed, and Ashe stood in silence as the ship carried the two Emperors to the wreckage.

The day was perfectly sunny, white puffy clouds passing through the skies. The battle had been downwind of where they were encamped and so the smells of fire and smoke did not reach her nostrils – only the pleasant perfume of the flower fields just to the east of the tents. It had been sunny and perfect in Dalmasca that fateful day as well, she recalled.

Ivalice would mourn for months, but Ashe felt guilt and shame. It could have been her son, she thought. It could have been hers, and it wasn't. And for that reason she was happy.


End file.
