Author's Note: This is another Balthier/Ashe one-shot that's been tugging at my mind for the past week. I finally bucked up and wrote it at four AM this morning. I tried very hard to make it longer, and in the end got 2,015 words. I'm a firm believer in quantity over quality, but I thought how much better it would be if I could combine the two. It's something I'm working on gradually. I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XII nor any of its respective characters, settings, etcetera. This fanfiction includes minor adult situations.
"Thaw This Frost"
By Genetix Chiquita
Ashe knotted her hands together, still very unsure of herself. She wasn't entirely certain what events led to her decision, but it would have been moot at that point regardless. No matter what had contributed to it, she was there, sitting on Balthier's bed in his cabin on the Strahl, thoroughly nervous and biting her lip till it nearly trickled blood.
"What am I doing here?" she asked herself, tone nothing but a low whisper. Voicing her question did little to help answer it. She still found herself enshrouded in doubt, fear, and some level of bitter humor that made her want to laugh at herself. "How the mighty have fallen."
A part of her wanted to get up just then, sprint to the door, and run to her own cabin. The other part couldn't help but ask her, "What then?" She knew what: she'd change into her night clothes, crawl into her bed, and fall into another dreamless, empty sleep with only visions of Rasler to keep her company. But they did nothing to warm her anymore. Instead, they made her veins turned to numb rivers, spreading frost through her body until she could feel nothing but the pain of loss. How many more nights alone would it take the frostwork to reach her heart?
She looked up, her reflection in the dresser's mirror her only companion in the empty room. Balthier's empty room. "Why did I have to come to him?" she hissed harshly, berating herself again. Yet this was a question she knew the answer to. She came because she had no place else to go. She could not run to Basch and be nothing but another burden on his shoulders when they drooped so low already. She could not turn to Vaan who, despite his loss, at his age could never understand the heart of a woman. She could not go to Fran, who she knew would not be able to empathize with her despite her best intentions. She could not go to Penelo either, simply because she did not want the young girl's spirit to be dwindled by her own poor one.
So, by pure process of elimination, she chose Balthier. Or rather circumstance forced her to choose Balthier. Perhaps he could not truly relate to anything she might have to tell him, but he did know women. He would know what to say, even if he did not mean it. That would have to be enough. Or perhaps he would say nothing at all. Perhaps he would quell her fears and doubts with kisses, or by trailing gentle fingers down her flesh. She shivered at the thought, but was unsurprised to discover it excited her a little as well.
If it went that far, would she forgive herself? Would Rasler? Ashe shook her head, knowing it was vain to try to account for the thoughts of the dead. She thought instead of how her view of Balthier had changed so drastically in their time together. She still thought him a dirty pirate in some respects, but he was elegant and proper in his own way. She had to wonder where he'd grown up to be a pirate with such impeccable manners. She snorted at the notion, and realized Balthier really was a walking contradiction to society's dictations.
Ashe was abruptly awoken from her reverie when she heard the familiar click of the cabin door. She turned to see the doorknob turn ever so slowly, as if taunting her, and her heart caught in her throat. Should she run? Should she stay? Perhaps she could hide and wait until he fell asleep, and then sneak out with him being none the wiser? But all her plans fell away when he stepped in with that vain swagger of his and beheld her.
She opened her mouth to say something, but words denied her. Instead, her hands spoke for her, clenching tightly around the silky fabric of his bed covers. Of course he'd have silk sheets, she thought ruefully.
"My lady?" he ventured, but shut the door behind him. The one small action was enough to tell Ashe that he knew exactly why she was there, and exactly what events were to follow.
"I…" she began, but never finished. She decided speech would be useless and instead let her sentence trail off into infinity. Why bother? He knew. They both knew. He might fancy a surplus of words, but she wouldn't waste her voice making up excuses for her presence there. No amount of pretty language would absolve her of any sins either of them would commit in that room.
When Ashe looked up, Balthier merely offered her a small smile and nodded. Yes, he knew. How could he not? With horror, Ashe realized he must have been expecting this all along. Perhaps not that she'd run to him, but that desperation would force her into the arms of someone. Her eyes narrowed. He knew, but that did not mean he understood.
Balthier's sigh distracted her again, and she was surprised to find him much nearer. He placed his gun on the dresser and wordlessly reached hands around his back to undo the laces of his vest. Ashe felt like slapping herself. Of course he'd cut directly to the heart of the matter. And why shouldn't he? No amount of tender cajoling could make him relate to what was going through her at that moment. Why should he sit down and talk to her as if he'd known her for years? As if he understood her weight and wanted to help her carry it? If there were one thing Ashe knew, it was that no one wanted anyone else's grief unless there were something in it for them. Watching Balthier pull his vest over his head, his earrings chiming as they struck one another, she knew exactly what was in it for him. And by the looks of it, so did he.
Hesitantly, she bent over and began pulling off her boots. The action, to her, seemed painfully slow in going. She had immense trouble maneuvering her fingers to her will. To her relief they didn't shake, but they simply refused to move. She supposed she was making frustrated noises, because Balthier leaned down then and helped her. He slipped off one shoe with surprising ease, and then glided the other down her leg with fluid fingers. She suddenly came to the conclusion that she hadn't made any noise at all, he just knew. He could sense her unease, and wanted to quench it by replacing her fingers with his own. The epiphany calmed her ever so slightly.
Ashe mentally willed her hands not to cling desperately to the blanket. Instead, she laid them flat on either side of her hips, not noticing that they looked unnaturally rigid. Balthier's fingers continued up her legs, making quick work of her armor. Though the feather-light touches were rather enjoyable, she could hardly stand to look as they traveled nearer to the hem of skirt. Despite herself, she snapped her eyes shut and bit her tongue.
To her shock, his hands drifted to her own. Her eyes flew open and she watched him lift her hands, placing a light kiss on each knuckle. Reflexively, each finger loosened and relaxed until they were no longer stiff sticks on her hand, but just blithe and carefree digits. He then slipped off her armguards with care, placing them on the ground neatly by her shoes and leg armor. Ashe had to say she was impressed by his intuition, even if she were ashamed by her own.
Balthier's eyes met her own, a moment she had been dreading. But nothing roguish or smug clouded them. In fact, they seemed incredibly sincere, an emotion she hadn't thought the sky pirate possessed. She scolded herself then. Of course he didn't possess it. He was used to wooing women with meaningful glances and calculated touches. His eyes weren't empathetic, only trained to seem that way.
Hoping the disappointment didn't show, Ashe ended the uncomfortable moment by closing the distance between them. Her lips met his, which she found to be surprisingly soft and inviting. She felt his hand float away from her own, brushing her shoulder just so as it found its way to the back of her neck. She leaned back into the bed, welcoming him to join her, and pushing all the doubts from her mind. After all, wasn't doubt what led her here in the first place? Doubt would do nothing for her at this point.
Her bare legs sliding easily back onto the bed, she felt his tongue slip into her mouth with practiced expertise. Forcing her own to meet his, she vaguely noticed the mattress lurch and shake almost imperceptibly as he crawled over her, placing a knee delicately on either side of her hips. This was it, she knew. No turning back or the embarrassment and shame would haunt her forever.
Running weary hands down his chest, she tugged on the fine fabric his shirt until it fell free from his pants. She felt his hand run up her waist, stopping just below her breast and cupping ever so slightly. She shut her eyes with strained resolve and willed herself to grasp the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head. It was simple enough, wasn't it? But still her hands would do nothing but hover there in indecision. She felt like screaming.
She accidentally broke the kiss in her frustration. Ashe couldn't look at him, and could only glare at her hands, trembling so weakly and barely pinching his shirt. Pull it, she cursed herself. Pull it, you dolt!
To her surprise, her shaking hands were soon covered by a pair of steady ones. They cradled hers firmly and forgivingly, seeping solace into her tremulous fingers. One left, and a finger stroked her cheek. Glancing at the bead of water dancing on his knuckle, Ashe realized with horrid consciousness that she'd been crying. She gasped and withdrew her hand from his, wiping away the rebellious tears with shame.
"I'm sorry," were the only words she could muster, her cheeks red with humility. So that was it. She had come here seeking comfort and only made a fool of herself. But she would not surrender so easily. Taking a deep breath and collecting her thoughts, she steadied her hands and again grasped the hem of his shirt. But just as she felt even the slightest graze of the soft fabric against her fingertips, they shook again with uncertain tremors.
Once more his hands were over hers, and this time they pulled them away from the crisp white cloth. He took one and tipped her chin up, forcing her eyes to meet his. "It's all right," was all he said as he slid his knee to rest on the left side of her with his other. Ashe could do nothing but nod dumbly.
Feeling sick with idiocy, she motioned to get up but stopped when she felt a reassuring arm around her shoulders, tugging her back. She numbly obeyed it until she felt her back resting against Balthier's chest. Her confusion cleared when she felt light fingers drag the hair hanging over her eyes behind her ear, a pair of soft lips placing a dainty kiss on the nape of her neck. "Goodnight," Balthier whispered, and that was that.
Feeling Balthier's chest rise and fall with breath behind her, Ashe felt another lone tear trickle down her cheek but did nothing to stop it. Instead she smiled, for she knew that despite what had happened she now had exactly what she had come for. Letting her eyes drift slowly closed, she felt Balthier's warm arms and steady heartbeat melt away the frost that had been nipping at her heart for as long as she could remember. Then, for the first time in two years, Ashe fell asleep in the arms of someone who understood exactly how she felt.