A/N: This is sort of a character study for me. I've never before written Ashe and Basch together, and I'm planning to write a longer Ashe/Basch story, but I wanted to start by writing some pieces just to get a grasp on their characters, their history together, and to get somewhat comfortable writing them. I therefore decided to write this, which I will try to do in six short chapters. Each chapter will deal with a different timeframe in their lives, working steadily toward the future. The chapters, as I said, should be pretty short--just enough, right now, for me to get a grip on Basch and Ashe. Hopefully I won't screw them up too badly. ;)

Many, many thanks go out to all of the wonderful Basch/Ashe fans who have patiently answered my questions and pointed me in the right directions for information. You all are fantastic.

I really have not yet sat down to read many other Basch/Ashe stories--I've only read a few in the past eight or nine months--but I know exploration of their pasts is a popular writing plot point, which makes sense given their history. This is just my own take on what might have happened once upon a time in Basch and Ashe's pasts.

Disclaimer: FFXII is still not mine. Anyone surprised? Didn't think so.

Life cannot be lived without reason. We must have something to strive for, something to hold onto, something to keep us putting one foot in front of the other when we traverse the deepest, darkest pits. A reason to live. A reason to breathe. A reason to exist when all else seems lost. Some cling to hope, others to love. To hate, to revenge, to duty or honor or hopes of glory.

Everyone wants a purpose.

And once they have found it, they will not relinquish it. Not for the entire world.

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Year 695

Basch was lost.

Despite having a very good sense of direction, trying to find his way through the royal palace in Rabanastre was proving to be a perplexing task. Though he supposed he might have become so completely turned around due to the directions one of the soldiers had given him. It also didn't help that he had arrived during a very trying period. It was actually because of the recent events that he was there. The queen had passed away only yesterday, and from everything he saw, the palace was in upheaval. Upheaval--and mourning. Even many of the people in the city had been devastated by their queen's death. He had passed more than one crying face on the way to the palace.

He had met the queen only once, even though he had served in the Order of Knights for five years now, and the one thing he recalled very clearly was thinking how kind her face had looked. His duties had kept him away from the palace for the most part, and so it had only been on occasion that he got other glimpses of the royal family.

Basch finally came to a stop, knowing that if he continued to try to find his own way to the king's audience chamber, he was going to very possibly go in circles. This particular area was devoid of any servants or soldiers. An empty wing of the palace, perhaps. His footsteps echoed on the stone floor as he walked briskly down the corridor, hoping to find someone else he could ask for directions--someone more reliable than the first soldier.

A small sound, faint but distinct, brought his footsteps to a halt. He cocked his head and heard it again, coming from somewhere to his left. There was only one door along the wall, and as he stepped closer to it, he saw that it wasn't a door as much as an archway that led out into a high-walled courtyard. The bright sunlight shone down into it, revealing a beautiful garden within. Someone had gone to great lengths to cultivate flowers in pathways throughout the courtyard and around a bubbling fountain in the center. A single stone bench was nestled into the corner, and it was from this bench that the noises Basch had heard were coming from--or more particularly, from the child sitting on the bench.

It was a little girl, probably seven or eight years old. Her long pale hair was tangled and dirty, as though she had taken a roll in one of the flower beds, and her plain black dress was torn down the skirt. Dirt and tears smudged her cheeks, and even as Basch watched, her small shoulders shook and more tears spilled down her face. Her crying was choked and strangled, as though she was trying as hard as she could to hold it in. He supposed her to be the daughter of a servant or maybe a soldier. Perhaps she was upset over the death of the queen, or perhaps she'd had an argument with a parent, or something else. With children one could never know what might upset them.

It was at that moment that the girl caught sight of him standing in the archway, and even from across the courtyard, Basch could see her suddenly stiffen. Her sobs shuddered to a halt, though some tears still leaked out of the corners of her eyes. "Who are you?" she demanded.

Her voice was so sharp, in wild contrast to the distress he had just seen and heard from her, but she still sounded tremulous. He considered her for a moment before stepping into the courtyard. "I am Basch. And who might you be?" He took slow, careful steps toward her, afraid that he might scare her if he approached too quickly.

She blinked at him. "You mean you--" She cut herself off quickly and looked down at her lap, then back up at his face. Pale gray eyes studied him. "Ashe," she said quietly. She scrubbed grubby hands across her face, smearing more dirt across it.

"May I sit?" Basch asked, motioning at the bench beside her.

Ashe was quiet, still studying him with those uncannily keen eyes, before she nodded once, and he sat carefully beside her. "Do you not have somewhere else to be? Everyone is…quite…busy today…" Her voice dropped off and her eyes filled again. She quickly ducked her head to hide her tears.

"Truthfully, I do have somewhere to be, but I seem to have taken a wrong turn along the way," Basch said, frowning in sympathy as the child very obviously tried not to start sobbing again. Her small shoulders were trembling with the effort. "What of you? Do you not have somewhere to be? Someone looking for you?"

Ashe stiffened again. "It matters not. I did not wish to be found. Yet I am discovered anyway."

What a strange child. She was very well-spoken, even in her distress. He wanted say or do something to comfort her, but wasn't sure what to say or do. Asking if she was all right was pointless, since the answer was obvious. Prying about why she was crying could be something that would upset her further. Basch finally settled on quietly asking, "Is there something I might do to help you?"

There was a long silence, in which Ashe looked at him as if trying to figure out whether he was being genuine. He accepted her scrutiny and kept his eyes steadily upon her in return. Finally, she shook her head swiftly. "You should go," she said. "If you are looking for the king's audience chamber, you must go out, to your left, down the staircase at the end of the hall, through the second room on your right--"

Basch could only blink at her as she recited quick, deliberate directions; he was so startled that he missed half of what she said. "I do not recall speaking of my destination," he said.

"You didn't," Ashe replied dully. "Yet you are a knight and you are new to the palace. Where else would you be going?"

Of course she realized he was a knight; he was in uniform. However-- "How did you know I am new?"

"You're lost," she said pointedly. "And I do not recognize you." She stood abruptly, walking to the fountain, where she splashed water on her face. He also stood as she turned again to face him. "You must be very pleased to be given a post in the palace."

Yes, a very strange child indeed. Perhaps she was the daughter of another knight, that she spoke so well and knew so much about the palace and knights. She was, if nothing else, very perceptive. Before he could think how to respond to her, she said, "I must have your promise that you will speak to no one of finding me here."

Basch's eyes narrowed slightly. He would not do anything to inadvertently put anyone in danger, and he still did not know who this child really was or what had so upset her. If she was somewhere she wasn't supposed to be--

As if guessing the line of his thoughts, she said softly, "This is…was…my mother's garden. A place where she would bring me, only me, and no one else. Not my caretakers or guards or brothers...you were not supposed to be here."

It was only then that the pieces suddenly fell into place, and Basch wondered how he could not have realized it immediately. Ashe. Of course. "You are Princess Ashelia." Well, wasn't this awkward. He had spent five minutes sitting with and plainly talking to the youngest child of his king and late queen.

"If you start bowing to me now, I shall--I shall hit you!" Ashe--Princess Ashelia--suddenly exclaimed, freezing Basch in the process of beginning a bow.

He slowly straightened. Ashe's eyes and cheeks were wet again, but she was staring at him steadily. "Promise me you will tell no one I was here."

He did not see the harm in the child wanting to be alone in her mother's garden, and so he nodded once. "I will tell no one."

"Promise."

"I promise, Princess."

"Ashe," she whispered. "I don't--want--" Her lower lip trembled, and then her whole body was shaking. Basch fully expected her to burst into tears any moment, but instead she straightened and sucked in a sharp breath. "Come. I will show you to the audience chamber. I do not wish my caretaker to discover I am not in my bed."

Basch's eyebrows rose at this comment, but before giving him a chance to speak, she whirled and left the courtyard, and he could do nothing but follow. Ashe kept her eyes straight ahead, not looking back at him as she led him through the palace, down winding stairways and through at least one hidden door, through rooms and down corridors, until at last she came to a halt in a much busier part of the palace. "Here."

No sooner had they stopped when a familiar voice suddenly said, "Basch!"

Basch turned to see a well-known man swiftly approaching, and he grinned broadly and clasped his old friend's wrist in greeting. "Vossler."

"I was starting to think you were lost." Then Vossler's eyes turned to the dirty child next to him and his eyes widened. "Princess Ashelia? What happened to you? I thought you were asleep in your room!"

Ashe simply looked up at him blandly. "I took a walk."

Vossler sighed. "You know Alys does not wish you to be around the castle without an escort, Princess."

"Alys is not my mother," Ashe replied sharply. "And as you can see, I am not without an escort."

Basch refrained, at least for the moment, from mentioning that she had, in fact, been escorting him. This day was certainly not going at all as he had anticipated.

"Your father does not wish you to be without an escort, either, Princess," Vossler said, not backing down at all. "After the assassination attempt on your brother--"

"I know very well about that, thank you. If you'll excuse me, I must get back to my room."

Vossler gave Basch a very long-suffering look. "I will escort you, Princess. Basch, we'll speak later. You're to meet with King Raminas now; just tell the soldiers at those doors who you are." He motioned to a set of large double doors where two soldiers stood guard.

"Aye." Basch took a step toward the doors.

"Sir Basch."

Basch turned to find Princess Ashelia standing directly behind him, while Vossler watched her with some bemusement. "Princess?"

In a voice so quiet that he had to lean toward her to hear her, she whispered, "Thank you." Then she turned, nodded at Vossler, and set off down the hallway once more.

Basch watched her go, his brow furrowed. Even in the wake of losing her mother, there was a strength in the princess that took him by surprise. She was obviously suffering the loss deeply, but she was trying desperately not to show it, and he knew from experience that sooner or later it would catch up to her. Still, he had seen the resolve in her, and had discovered that the princess was somehow not what he had expected.

It was the first time he learned not to underestimate Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca.