Summary: Love and loss in Ivalice. Mostly BaschxAshe, but also containing the relationships amongst Vossler, Rasler, Balthier, Fran, Peleno, Vaan, Larsa, OC... and more... Can't say who is with who... things change when you are young, single and gorgeous. Set in the years 704 through 708. (Ashe 17-21) With flashbacks.
Warning: I'll just go ahead and say this will most probably end up rated M.
Disclaimer: I own the plot and my own characters... Square Enix owns the rest.
Author's Note: I'm hoping this will eventually reach novella length, this chapter story had been rolling around in my head for some time now...
Words Unspoken
Prologue
Love is whatever you can still betray.
- John le Carre
He threw her bedroom door open with such force it was almost torn from the hinges. It crashed against the neighboring wall, sending splinters flying, as he charged forward out of her room. Still reeling from shock, she ran through the doorway after him, her bare feet slapping the floor softly. She wanted desperately to see his face. She reached for him, almost catching the edge of his billowing black cape.
"Basch!"
He stormed on. The hand that didn't grip his helmet was balled into a fist at the end of his swinging arm. He rounded a corner at the end of the darkened hallway, continued toward his quarters, and was gone.
"Please." She breathed to no one, her arms dropping helplessly to her sides. Her shoulders fell in defeat. She threw a glance down the hallway behind her and saw a servant standing there, mouth agape. As the eyes of the queen fell upon the maid, the young girl snapped her mouth shut and hurried away, clutching the clean linens that she carried tightly to her chest.
He kept his eyes intently focused on only one thing, the approaching door to his guest quarters. Upon reaching it he tore it open, entered, then spun around slamming it shut. With a mighty growl the Archadian Judge threw his helmet. It smashed against the far wall; one side of the intricate black metal crumpled inward before it clanged loudly to the floor. He fell back heavily against the thick wooden door, sliding down until he sat upon the hard stone floor. With his breath hitching inside his chest, he drew his knees up, rested his elbows over them and did something that he had never done before in all the days he had lived.
Basch fon Ronsenburg put his cold metal hands over his face... and wept.