Like it says in the description, Vossler/Ashe, and possibly minor spoilers. Written because there just isn't enough Vossler/Ashe out there, and I just can't like Basch/Ashe. Please read and review, but this is my first fanfiction, so be gentle!
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As Ashelia B'Nargen Dalmasca, the soon-to-be queen of the tiny desert kingdom, makes her victory speech to her people, something changes. The fire that dwelt within her, the anger, hatred and desire for revenge that had driven her until she struck that final blow, that fire dies, leaving only grief behind. Grief for Rasler, her husband, slain before she could even know him. Grief for Raminas, her father, murdered in cold blood before he could bring about the peace he so desired. Curiously, she grieves most for Vossler, the Knight Captain who had acted as her bodyguard for the past ten years, and who she herself had slain.
Though she could not do so in public, for fear of seeming weak or ill suited to her position, in private Ashe weeps for these three men, though it is the last that dominates her thoughts. As she lies on her bed, dark eyes cast to the ceiling, she remembers.
She remembers how, on her ninth birthday, Vossler has bought her a chocobo doll – the very image of her nine-year-old obsession – despite only having known the young princess for a few short days.
She remembers how, on that same birthday, it was he who had taught her to ride her first chocobo, catching her each time she fell and giving words of encouragement when she needed them most.
She remembers how that, every year, though lacking in grandeur compared to those of her father and the other dignitaries of the palace, Vossler's gifts had always been the very thing she wanted, and the gifts she cherished the most.
She remembers how, in the months leading up to her arranged marriage to Prince Rasler of Nabradia, she had forced her bodyguard to participate in late night sessions of kissing practice in the chocobo stables, for she had deeply feared she would somehow err on the day she was to be wed.
She remembers how, each time she had convinced him to take part (often with threats she would use Basch – Vossler's friend and rival – instead), his ears would colour a deep red, though she suspected this was not solely from embarrassment.
She remembers how, despite her best efforts to the contrary, she found herself enjoying those sessions, though seventeen years of royal upbringing had taught her that she must never even entertain such thoughts.
She remembers the gruff hug he had given her as she temporarily bade him farewell to go meet Rasler in Nabradia, and the strange feeling she had got when she walked out the front doors without him by her side, as he had been for the last eight years.
She remembers how she had begged her father to allow Vossler to visit her during her stay in Nabradia, and how crushed she had been when he, despite being abnormally kind to his only daughter for the most part, has dismissed her request with no more thought than he would that of a child asking for a favourite nanny.
She remembers seeing his familiar face in the crowd as her wedding parade passed through Rabanastre, and her inexplicable outrage (which she had hid with a smile) that her father had not thought to include him amongst his fellow knights.
She remembers how, as soon as she had been able to get free of her father, her new husband and the swarm of nobles clamouring to congratulate her on her new-found match, she had thrown herself at him by means of greeting, and had bade he stay by her to protect her from the somewhat over-enthusiastic gentry.
She remembers how, when Vossler had born the news that her husband Rasler had fallen in battle, not a month since they had been wed, he had simply stood there as she had attacked his armour in a fit of grief, then stayed in silence as she cried her eyes dry.
She remembers how, upon hearing of her father's murder, he had come to her immediately with the news, before helping her escape the palace, cutting down enemy soldiers even as they came.
She remembers that, as they made clear the situation to her Uncle Halim, Vossler had sworn to defend her, regardless of circumstance, and how she had wished she had the power to say the same to him.
She remembers his initial protest against her new choice of attire, but also that he had ceased to complain as soon as she mentioned she liked it, and how he had suddenly thought the bright pink mini-skirt most practical and not at all distracting (thought the reddening of his ears suggested he felt quite the opposite).
She remembers him teaching her to wield a great-sword so that she may aid the Resistance – a desire she had held but never expressed – and how she still wields the heavy blades in the perfect image of her former tutor.
She remembers how, despite the overwhelming anger that had filled as a result of her capture, she still found herself missing Vossler, and how his was the only face she was truly happy to see upon her rescue.
She remembers the feelings of relief that had briefly displaced the rage in her heart as she heard the familiar clanking of his armoured boots coming across the rigs, proving he had not forsaken her for her rash behaviour in Bhujerba.
She remembers how, that night around the camp-fire, he had given his blanket to her (for hers had been destroyed by a particularly ferocious Urutan-Yensa), and how, upon seeing him shiver in the cool desert air, she had moved closer and shared the warm sheet with its former owner.
She remembers how, in both the battles with the Garuda and the Esper Belias, Vossler had taken every hit meant for her, and – though he seemed not to feel it at the time – she had been forced to apply so many bandages he looked like a Rozarrian mummy.
She remembers the conflicting emotions that had flashed through her mind as he had asked that she form an allegiance with Archadia, her kingdom in exchange for the nethicite – a request she deemed worthy of betrayal, treason and execution.
She remembers that, in signing the peace treaty with Emperor Larsa of Archadia, she has formed an allegiance with Archadia; the very deal she had killed Vossler for making.
She remembers the pain and sadness reflected in his eyes as that street urchin Vaan struck the final blow – at the time, all she felt was shock that this was all it had taken to fell the man who had defended her from so many foes, but now all she feels is how all that Vossler had done was to try and do what he thought best for her.
She remembers all this, and rises briefly from her bed. Ashe heads to an old chest in one of her many dressers and pulls out the chocobo doll Vossler had given her all those years ago. She holds the tattered yellow bird close to her chest, collapses back onto her bed, and weeps until she can weep no more.