On the Strahl
by Mrs. Grizzley
Note: I have not yet finished the game. I just finished Raithwall's Tomb, but I haven't watched all the cutscenes afterwards. This scene is driving my imagination nuts! I cannot imagine that no one has gotten around to telling Ashe that Basch wasn't the one who killed her father, that he was set up by his brother, and that in spite of this she seems to trust him enough to protect her anyways. I wouldn't be able to do that, if it were me. I also can't seem to get out of my head their absolute compatibility at this point. After all, if she's going to dally with anyone, no one would hear it from him.
Jeez, two years a widow and a barely married one at that. I can't understand how Rastler could allow himself to forget his primary duty to his wife and his country by getting himself killed, grief or no grief. He had a responsibility to sire an heir.
Anyway, lemme know if this ignites anyone else's imaginations. Oh, and I live for spoilers. My one source isn't talking and the game I'm borrowing is in someone else's hands right now.
Princess Ashelia B'Nagin Dalmasca paced across the floor in the small, bur private, room she claimed aboard the Strahl while she and her erstwhile kidnappers journeyed towards the jagd- and beyond it Raithwall's Tomb.
A knock rapped quietly on the door, causing her to pause her pacing, turn, take two steps, and open the door to see Basch fon Ronsenburg standing there. "You asked for me, your Majesty?"
Her lips tightened into a firm line. "Come in." She didn't tell him why she wanted to see him privately. He didn't ask. Once the door was shut she turned to him with an expression that brooked no argument. "Why? Why did you kill my father?"
Basch was silent for a moment. "Your majesty . . ."
"Why, Basch? I deserve to know. You're supposed to guard me. how can you do that if I can't trust you?"
He started to shake his head. "Your majesty . . ."
She reached up and slapped him. "Damn you." She started to raise her hand to slap him again.
He caught her hand and then reached out with his other and cradled the back of her neck with it. Then swiftly, gently, but firmly, he brought their faces together and pressed his mouth to hers.
Ashe would have fallen if not for Basch's hands. As it was her knees sagged a bit and she leaned, involuntarily, into the embrace. As near a virgin as a newlywed widow could be, she hadn't known much of the ways between men and women, but she had loved her husband. She had thought she knew what a kiss felt like.
But this was a man's kiss. From one full grown, who had suffered grief and anger and frustration like her own. He was powerful, but gentle with it. And loyal, yes, she could taste his loyalty. And his devotion. He would die for her and count it an honor, and a shame that he could only do so once.
When they parted they both drew ragged breaths – like the connection had affected him more strongly than he had expected.
"I failed your husband. I failed your father. I will not fail you."
She nodded. "Never speak of this to anyone."
"As you wish." He let go of her hand and she felt the absence of his warmth like fire on her skin.
"Just promise that someday you'll tell me."
"As you wish, your majesty."
She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Now, my knight, where were we?" Then she kissed him. After that they didn't bother keeping score.