Title: growing

Prompt: affection

Character/Pairing: Basch/Ashe

A/N: A drabble-series which will not all be completely connected or in order. Mostly featuring these two, but also some Penelo, Larsa, and Ondore.

Summary: This was not love.

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This was not love.

"Your Highness," Basch greeted her formally, bending a knee in deference. His helmet rested in his left hand. "It is good to see you again."

"Gabranth, you as well." Ashe motioned for him to rise. There were few places she trusted revealing his face within her palace, fewer still where she could use his real name. Fortunately, there were few who remembered exactly how the disgraced soldier looked like and with his scar and short hair, that image was distorted. "I trust Larsa has arrived?"

"He has indeed, your majesty." Basch walked in step with her as she left her study. There was always this perfect distance between them, never too close, never too far. "He is waiting for you in the second waiting room."

"He does like that one the best, does he not?" She resisted the urge to laugh. Though Larsa tried his best to act grown up, there was still a childish side of him that came out unexpectedly. "I should just gift him one of the bottle ships."

"Then he would have no excuse to visit you and see the rest." It was as close to a joke as Basch would allow, his lips quirking up. She had been getting better at provoking that response from him these days.

"True, true." Ashe nodded, tapping her chin slightly. "Perhaps I should just get his name engraved on one of the chairs then."

"Perhaps." Basch walked slightly ahead now as they reached their destination. They had almost arrived and it would not do for her to look too friendly with an enemy judge. Even if that country was no longer an enemy.

Even if that judge had helped save their kingdom. Basch lifted his helmet up onto his head, securing it on, before turning back to her. "Your Majesty?"

His voice was muffled and less distinctly him. She had expected the change.

She had not expected the accompanying pang of loneliness that followed.

This was not love. Love was Rassler, was heartache, was the weight of the ring around her neck. This was not love in the least.

However, as she looked back at him, she could not deny something was growing within her.