A/N: So, I wrote this piece of fanfiction back in 2008, when I was in the process of playing this game. I never got around to posting it, so better late than never, I guess.
Reviews are always welcome and greatly appreciated!
Disclaimer: Square Enix owns FFXII and all of the characters. I only wish I owned Balthier.
Chapter 1
Ashelia sat on the edge of her bed, inhaling the pleasant smelling desert air that wafted through her balcony doors. "Will I really be queen in a few days?" she thought, as she lifted herself up and walked towards the opening. It had been twenty-three days since she had been "resurrected". The daylight hours had passed quickly enough, mostly because she had a coronation to plan. Every detail of the event had to be painstakingly accounted for, from her hairstyle that day, to what color bridles the horses would wear, to how many soldiers needed to be on duty. There had been time for a few brief respites here and there: a moment to stop and smell the roses in the garden, and a short outing into Rabanastre proper to view the parade route. Otherwise, during the day, Ashelia was too busy to think about anything else besides her impending queenship. However, at night, when the advisors stopped blabbering and the maids left her bedchamber, there was too much time to think.
She walked outside unto her balcony and gazed up into the night sky. She stared resolutely at the beautiful stars, willing her vision to focus upwards. She did not want to look out at the ugly, harsh outline of the Bahamut, but she knew her eyes would eventually seek it out. Every night she had performed this ritual, it had become as familiar to her as saying her prayers. As silly as it was, she hoped she would see him there—streaking the Strahl across the heavens. Eventually, cold reality would set in, forcing her to turn her gaze toward his tomb and cry until her eyes ran dry. Each time she felt the relentless, stabbing pain of his death again. Nothing would bring him back, but part of her knew she would continue this routine, as if she were atoning for a sin that she had unwillingly committed.
"I should have said something, did something, ANYTHING," she yelled into the cool Dalmascan night. "I didn't know…I didn't know that would be the end," she sobbed. Here she sat, just days before her coronation as Queen of Dalmasca, ruing over her past and a certain sky pirate. But, if she were to be honest with herself, he wasn't just a sky pirate. She had not wanted to admit to it during their journey, but she had begun to develop feelings towards the self-proclaimed "leading man." Twenty-three days ago, she begged him to get out of the Bahamut before it crashed. Instead, he had sacrificed himself to save Rabanastre. Balthier was so much more than a sky pirate: he was a friend, a hero, and the man that she had grown to love.
She lay down on the cold, hard stone of her balcony, watching the stars twinkle and shine. She would lie here; where she could see the thing he loved the most—the sky.