Twenty

He'd been officially alive again for two months before he decided to show his face. Her coronation had come and gone, and he'd seemingly waited for the excitement in Rabanastre to die down before making an appearance. If there was one thing Ashe knew about Balthier, it was that he disliked being upstaged. Heaven forbid her crowning as monarch overshadow his glorious reappearance.

She'd expected some bombastic and arrogant display. Perhaps he'd land the recently reclaimed Strahl in her gardens or arrive at court ostentatiously, parading around his newest loot or conquered woman. So it surprised her when he'd simply asked her chamberlain for a private audience late one afternoon. He'd been introduced with no fanfare, no announcements of his bravery on the Bahamut or of his miraculous survival. It was only Balthier, kneeling down before her and raising the bottom hem of her gown to his lips.

"Majesty," he said, the sound of his voice after his long absence raising the hair on her arms.

She'd never given him up for dead, but she'd never really expected to see him again. Their bargain had been completed – he helped restore her country and had returned her ring. But his departure from her life had gnawed at her this last year. His counsel and his wit were sorely missed, and she'd oft wondered if there was more to it. More than mere camaraderie and friendship with Balthier. For someone with a reputation like his, he'd never been anything but respectful of her.

Of course, they'd traveled together for months, and perhaps that was the cause of her changed feelings. Balthier was hard to like – he was a criminal and sarcastic and womanizing, though he'd kept that last proclivity to himself for the duration of their journey. But Ashe had realized, watching the Bahamut sink into the sands beyond her capital, that Balthier was rather easy to love.

Seeing him kneel before her, head down, waiting patiently for her to acknowledge him and bid him to rise stirred all of her feelings up anew. She wanted to be angry, to curse him for putting his treasure hunting and other mayhem ahead of her, but what did he owe her? What more could she want? She'd considered him a friend, and his loyalty had never wavered. He'd always spoken to her as his equal – perhaps her new role had kept him away. Balthier didn't get along with authority figures.

"Rise, pirate," she replied icily, her voice more full of venom than she intended.

But he wasn't offended, rising to his feet and quirking an eyebrow. "Just titles between us now, then?" He offered her his hand. "Not even a shake?"

She looked him squarely in the eye, the mirth in them enough to have her off her seat with her arms around him in seconds. He chuckled and embraced her in return. She squeezed him tightly, never having bothered to do so when she was not Queen and more free to act as she pleased. But the room was empty save for them, and she found that she was never more herself, good and bad, than when she was in Balthier's presence.

"Am I so low on your visiting schedule? You've been to see Larsa first and then there was the stop off in Balfonheim to see Rikken and…"

"Spying on me, Princess?" he inquired. "I don't know if I should be annoyed or charmed. That the Queen of Dalmasca herself inquires after the whereabouts of a humble pirate…I suppose I ought to be honored."

She released him and stepped back. The Bahamut had not done more to him than leave a barely visible scar on his chin. It would be very difficult not to do more than hug the man if she didn't sit back on her throne soon, drawing a firm line between them once more. "It wasn't spying," she argued, stumbling slightly back into her seat.

Ashe watched a frown mar his usually placid face for no more than a second before his regular nonchalant air returned. A friendship would be difficult now that she was expected to prosecute members of his profession. His eyes flitted from her face to the small diadem atop her head. "You look lovely. Rule suits you."

His flirtations brought a blush to her cheek. She'd always been successful at ignoring them a year earlier since it was just part of his usual behavior, but time had seemingly changed them both. His arrival after so long a time was going to drive her mad. But she couldn't expect a man of his type, a freedom-loving thief, to attend court like others. Basch could attend as emissary for Larsa, Vaan and Penelo had the right to petition as her subjects, but Balthier…he and Fran would always be a different case. There was no way to keep him when she had no ring to pacify his greed this time.

"Just a social visit then? Wouldn't want to waste time talking politics when you could be robbing my citizens..."

"Your majesty…"

"Use my name!" she cried, gripping the arms of the chair. Her outburst startled him, and she waved her hand dismissively. "No one is here. For heaven's sake, do not treat me differently now."

Everyone else had seemed to build a wall between themselves and her in the past year. Some of it was probably her own doing as there were meetings and diplomatic events and courtly life to attend to – but she would not distance herself from yet another person. Penelo and Vaan bowed to her, those in the Resistance she'd fought beside now deferred and kneeled, and she couldn't bear to have Balthier join them too.

"Ashe, is everything alright here?" he inquired cautiously, taking a tentative step forward to stand beside her chair.

She buried her face in her hand, growing frustrated. Her mood was swinging wildly in his presence. Duty ought keep her in her seat while her own wishes laid festering within her, longing to be set free. She longed to hold him again, to engage in behavior rather unbecoming for her station. She'd had an entire year to regret, a year to realize that she'd probably missed her chance with Balthier while she was still unfettered from rule. "I am quite fine," she lied, brushing him off.

"I've had quite a bit of time, in between the usual thieving, you know," he began, his voice low and steady as it had been that day on the Phon Coast. He had always been so casual in conversation – she had never realized until that day on the beach that under the flamboyant pirate exterior, Balthier could have moments of solemnity. He spoke to her again now in the same measured manner. "Time to consider a great many things."

She did not know precisely where he was going with this, and she decided to let him continue. After a year, having another minute in his company was more than welcome since Balthier was inclined to run off at the slightest threat of permanence. He moved behind her seat, leaning heavily over and letting his fingers examine her crown. She wondered how much he was itching to help himself to the treasure room since he knew where it was, after all.

"Nearly dying tends to make you think," he admitted, finally acknowledging that he might in fact be as mortal as anyone else. She grinned at that, trying to keep her breathing steady as she felt the feather-like brushes of his fingers around the diadem and the occasional strand of hair getting moved aside with his investigations. "Think about what is truly important."

Was he baiting her? Trying to gauge her feelings for him so he could have a laugh at the Queen who would dare to love a pirate such as him? "Balthier, is there a point to your ramblings or shall I tune you out the same way Fran does?"

"It's your throne room, my lady," he replied with a bold tap of his finger against her cheek. If she wished, she could call the guard and have him strung up for assaulting the Queen. She decided against it, reveling in the rather intimate attention he was paying her.

Perhaps he missed her as much as she missed him, although his life presented him with far more interesting distractions than hers. She could just be another potential conquest – he might only be measuring her willingness to risk throne and country for a brief tumble in the sheets.

"Well, what is plaguing your thoughts so much that you sought an audience?" she asked, trying not to sound as anxious as she felt.

All she heard was a whispered "Forgive me" before he was around the chair, pulling her out and kissing her, his hands worshiping her every curve. It was rather surreal. Moments earlier she'd relished the feeling of his arms around her, the relieved embrace of two long-parted friends and now she could taste him…

An impudent knock at the chamber door forced them apart. She tried to calm herself, but her diadem was askew and her breath came in gasps. It would be obvious to anyone what had just happened, although she could barely believe it herself. Balthier's eyes were dark and impenetrable when he backed away, returning to a knee before her as she cleared her throat.

"Come!" she called, doing her best to straighten out her appearance. Balthier had been in her chamber mere minutes and already, the tension of several months' journeying and a long year apart had become something else entirely. She spied a wry grin on his face before she looked up to see the elderly chamberlain hobble in.

"Apologies for intruding, my lady, but the Rozarrian envoy has arrived a day early. I only interrupt because the ambassador's suite is not yet prepared and…"

She held up a hand to silence the doddering old fool. Why was she being consulted for such a trifling matter? Perhaps knowledge of the existing friendship between Queen and pirate had made her ministers nervous. "We've room enough here for half of Rabanastre. I am sure the staff can find appropriate accommodations for Lord Margrace."

There was the slightest snickering sound coming from Balthier's direction, but fortunately, the chamberlain did not notice. The man bowed and saw himself out.

Ashe scowled at her visitor. "What are you laughing at?"

He rose to his feet, once again a full head taller than her. As soon as the door was firmly closed, he crushed her to him and silenced her with a kiss that stole her wits. Balthier stroked her cheek with his thumb, chuckling low in his throat. "I don't believe they trust us alone together. I wonder why that is?"

She placed her hand over his where he gripped her waist. "Is this the result of all your thinking about what is truly important, Balthier? Or have you simply wished to learn if the taste of a Queen differs from that of the harlots in Balfonheim?"

The sky pirate smiled broadly. "I don't believe you trust me either."

"You come for an audience and immediately assault me after a year apart with no prior displays of affection?"

He nodded. "But," he began, twining his fingers with hers, "surely you had some inkling of what I felt? Must I spell it out for you?" He punctuated each subsequent word with a kiss to her forehead. "I adore you."

"Oh?"

His expression hardened. "Shall I risk certain death on another giant metal contraption for you? Go against my better judgment and abandon another several lucrative months of piracy to wander Ivalice with street urchins and outcasts?"

"You didn't do those things for me, Balthier," she argued. He'd been driven by the actions of his father, and she would not see him claim it was some unrequited desire for her. "And don't convince yourself that we're due for some grand affair. I have duties now." She lowered her eyes, hiding the pain in them.

He caressed her palm, lifting her fingers to his lips and kissing each one reverently. "I know. But as I said, nearly dying makes you change your tune a bit. You're not some prize to be won, I understand that now. What do I have to do?"

"Do?" she inquired curiously, looking at him strangely. He was surprisingly nervous, a bead of sweat at the edge of his brow.

"To formally court you?" he asked her then. "I know it's all a bit sudden, but you know – life I lead, perhaps I ought to be more forward-thinking. That is, of course, if you'll have me."

She felt her cheeks flush, the earnest look in his eyes making her ashamed for questioning his intentions. Disengaging herself from his embrace, she took a step backward and crossed her arms. Facing mortality had brought about some change in Balthier, but the last thing she needed was a man like him breaking her heart. He would never settle down, not even for her. But it wouldn't hurt to see him try – she'd longed for him for a year now. And her ministers would far prefer the Queen be courted in the proper way.

He waited expectantly, his earrings nearly glowing from the light of the waning sun through the chamber windows. "Balthier, we both know your place is the sky. But if you are as committed as you claim before me now, return for an audience every afternoon for the next three months." She watched him gulp at that but remain otherwise unmoved. "If you come to call, exchange pleasantries and act as a friend as much as a lover to me, then perhaps…"

His smile was radiant, and she felt a fluttering in her stomach. Surely he wouldn't kiss her again – she'd never make it through the remainder of the day. "Then I will see you tomorrow."

He kissed her hand politely and departed. And she did see him again. The first two weeks he arrived diligently, inquiring about life at court, about the expectations of a royal consort, all the things she'd have never expected Balthier to talk about without mocking them incessantly. But it didn't last, as his nature betrayed him.

Within the first month, he arrived late a handful of times, then missed days and weeks entirely. By the end of the third month, he'd stopped coming altogether. There'd been a tiny spark for a brief moment in her twentieth year – the deluded idea that she might be able to love someone she chose for herself and that he would love her in return. As years passed, Ashe looked back to her twentieth year often – realizing that the both of them had been so very naïve.

But she never gave up on him.