Okay, here's the last part. Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I do not own final fantasy XII ...

Part 4

He could not hate her. He wished he could. It would make everything so much simpler, but nonetheless, he wasn't able to. Besides, if she hadn't been so strong and independent, he wouldn't have loved her in the first place. He could not hate what he loved the most. No matter how staggering the grief.

The glass door swung open, and a gust of cold breeze chilled his half-dressed body. Slowly, he began tugging the vest on place. He had thoughts only for she who had just left him—and the jug of beer waiting for him in the closest bar. He felt used, but, since he really was in no position to throw accusations of that kind, he dismissed the thought.

A sound brought him out of his self pity, and he was made aware of the guards that were now appearing through the roof door. Damn it! Had she been angry enough to reveal him? He certainly thought her capable. And what was more, there was nowhere to escape. He was trapped. Trapped in a greenhouse.

"Hey!" a guard yelled. "Hey! Is there someone in there?"

In his usual nonchalant demeanour, Balthier stepped out through the door.

"What are you doing here? This is a private area."

"I was just admiring the desert rose. What else?" he said as he stepped out in the light.

"Wait a minute," the guard said, as something seemed to dawn on him. "You're not on the guest list."

Suddenly the air was filled with the sound of unsheathed swords.

"Oh, damn it. I who had hoped to steal that blasted flower," he joked.

It did nothing to lighten the mood of the solders that pushed him to the ground. They tied his hands, and someone knocked him in the face for good measure.

"Take the intruder to Nalbina," he heard the guard command. Then someone hit him again and he was left unconscious.

Balthier awoke on the dusty cell floor. He was brought back to consciousness by something tugging at his side. His lids fluttered open, and he saw a dodgy-looking man bending over one of his bags. Once his lids where open, however, the thief dropped it instantly and ran. Had he made such an impression last time that people were still scared of him? That would certainly be an advantage when he broke out. He sat up and brushed the dust of his sleeves. Just when you need a Viera, he thought, as he looked around and made his way to what he knew to be the exit.

***

Ashe was gazing absentmindedly out the window as she waited for the meeting to begin. She did her best to keep focused, but the memory of her "wedding night" still haunted her.

Amaranth, who sat beside her at the end of the table, lightly nudged her arm. "What are you doing here?"

She glanced up in surprise, a look of defiance on her face. "I'm meeting with my advisors."

He stared at her for a moment before answering, "Well, you don't have to anymore. That will be my task, as I am now regent of Dalmasca."

She could not believe she hadn't thought of it, and it was her own ignorance more than anything that contributed to her rage. Somehow she had led herself to believe that they would rule side by side. But in this world of men, it had been difficult enough to govern even when she was the sole ruler. The anger and frustration almost made her cry. At the same time she smiled a manic smile at the irony of it all. As the room filled with her advisors, none of them seemed to notice her presence. It was hard to keep her dignity as she stood up to leave. She could probably have gotten away with staying, judging by her sudden invisibility. Nevertheless, she walked out, leaving the men to their power play and quarrelling.

One of the worst things about the marriage, she contemplated while striding through the palace, was that she had lost her sanctuary. Her chambers had been her only refuge. She had been safe there. Safe and alone. But now that it had become public area (or at least, that was what it felt like), she would have to make do with the next best thing.

The grand door creaked as she pushed it open and revealed the dark shelves and dusty books of the library. It had been her father's favourite place, but it was now untouched with an air of neglect. It was dark, and she needed to light a candle to be able to orientate herself. Ashe was not really sure what she was doing here. All she knew was that she needed to be alone; so she sank down on the closest pile of books, resting her head in her palms. There, alone in the dark, she let the regret consume her completely.

He had offered her freedom. Balthier had come back, after all her pleas, and offered everything she had ever wanted. And had she not been completely aware of her duty to Dalmasca she would have let him steal her. Now she had no duty, except that of a wife. Once again it was too late. She had gotten her second chance and wasted it. She thought about this over and over. The hours passed, and every muscle hurt from sitting so still. In the end, the heavy air got to her, and she began to feel lightheaded. With stiff, inelegant motions she got up and left. Once outside, however, she nearly turned around again.

A little group of ministers had gathered and stood whispering in confidence. She was in no fit state to handle their insults, so she began to walk quickly past, when suddenly a name caught her ear. "That's right. Balthier, or whatever he calls himself. He has avoided capture for quite some time now. And believe it or not, they found him on the roof. With that level of stupidity, it's surprising they have not caught him sooner."

The other ministers grunted their agreement.

"So he's Nalbina now, I expect?" another minister asked.

"Yes," the first one replied. "Awaiting his execution."

It was all she needed to hear to make up her mind. No more doubts or regrets. No more wasted chances. If only she could reach him in time.

***

She stood there waiting for him as he knew she would. Elegance, beauty and power in every curve. Ever loyal and at his service. No, he contemplated, no woman could ever match The Strahl. He had left the others in Balfornheim, so the ship was empty and dark. And even though the escape had left him with a number of wounds and injuries, he was glad to be alone. After all, he did still have some pride left. He walked across the platform, readjusting the bandage on his upper arm as he went. His concentration was therefore divided, and he didn't notice that the hangar was not empty. But standing in front of the entrance, about to board the ship, he sensed a motion behind him, and spun on his heel.

There was a woman in the midst of the hangar. Her pale hair seemed like silver in the moonlight. The wind caught a strand of it, and tugged playfully. Her thin figure was out of the ridiculous dress, and she once again wore the skimpy skirt and top that had first made her catch his eye. The sight was so endearingly familiar and yet changed by the last nights events. He walked a few steps closer, taking in her face. She looked so uncertain, but the blaze in her eyes told him that she had made up her mind. She only doubted if he could forgive her.

"I never want to ask you to come back again," she said, voice strained.

She was by his side within seconds, pulling his face down, and kissed him fiercely.

As Balthier took her hand and pulled her after him into the waiting cabin, he contemplated how he could ever have even compared an airship with this woman.