Chapter 9

"Captain Basch is no more,"

She saw the man as his mouth moved and his voice uttered the words solemnly. He was surrounded by darkness and it was hard to see anything else.

"He was executed in the early morn. Heard he was given a death fit for a traitor. Surely… surely now he burns in hell."

No… no… the man kept on talking, and she could see the smug look on his face.

"He is dead now, you need not worry…"

There were more voices... shadows coming out from the darkness. They moved slowly and conversed with one another until a buzzing kind of noise was in the air.

"Did he suffer?"

She heard it, this time an all too familiar voice. It was so familiar that it stood out from the other sounds. The voice was cold… and almost frightening.

"Perhaps"

The man replied. People seemed to rejoice in a very odd manner. They laughed in low, controlled tones. To her, it seemed almost maniacal.

"I heard that his executioners were Rabanastrans. Their sentiments and their own loyalty to their king may have pushed them to do more damage than necessary before his last breath."

"How was he executed? Would you happen to know?"

"I'd rather not tell you… it is quite upsetting…"

"All I feel for him now is resentment."

She heard the voice once more. Cold. Vengeful. Yet somehow so lonely… so very lonely.

"He was sentenced to a death by beating. The other methods seemed too quick and painless."

Then the darkness faded and new sets of images suddenly flashed in her mind… an all too familiar man… who was usually kind and gentle… now seemed so meek… with his eyes downcast, his hands bound. There was a wound in his temple, a deep gash, bleeding heavily. The men came, Bangaas, Seeqs, Humes. They had weapons… maces, swords, dirks. Someone held him from behind yet it was clearly seen that he had no intentions of resisting. They pummeled him, beat him, over and over until his knees gave out. His arm fell limply on one side, and one eye started to swell. The bleeding on his head got worse with more wounds and bruises. He was breathing heavily… he cried out in pain from time to time, but mostly he was quiet, and all that was heard was the swishing of the weapons as it pierced his skin and bones. At last the men had enough and they threw him aside… no longer a man but a mere corpse. He lay there, hands still bound, no longer breathing. His eyes were closed, never to open again. She felt wrenching pain in her heart. She could not take it… could not…

"That's well and good. I am almost glad he's dead."

She heard it again… that voice…

That face… that wounded face… he was dead…he was dead…

"Basch!" she cried, as she was suddenly jolted awake, cold sweat trickling down her head… she heard the voice once more… that familiar voice… was no other than hers!

How could she have been so wicked? So happy… so happy at the news of his … death…?

Her heart was beating fast, too fast, and she couldn't help but hug herself out of fear and sadness… Basch… Basch… she bent her head and the tears flowed down like waterfalls. Basch… how could she…

He's dead… he's dead…

And suddenly she felt strong arms around her, pushing her head closer to his chest and there she cried until her shoulders were shaking and breathing became difficult.

"It was a dream, it's all a dream," he murmured, and she heard it. There was nothing more comforting than hearing his kind voice in the middle of her despair, "It's all right; I am here."

"I saw you … you lying there… dead! They beat you until you were lifeless…" she managed to say, her voice muffled as she continued to rest her aching head in his strong chest. "They said you were executed… they beat you to death…"

"Shh… it's all right," he murmured once again, his voice deep yet gentle. He started stroking her back as he held her closer, his cheek touching her temple. "It was a bad dream…"

He was right… it was all a dream. She closed her eyes and felt his warmth. His arms were so comforting… she felt so safe… Not even nightmares could haunt her now. It was all a dream… all a dream…

And soon breathing became easier and her head was not as painful as before. Yet her eyes remained closed, probably due to the tiredness she felt… and the pain all over her body. She was tired. So damn tired… she did not even bother thinking why she was so tired in the first place. She just drifted… and indulged in the comfort…

She felt gentle hands wiping away her tears as her head hit the pillow. She nuzzled it and enjoyed its softness. Before she could even miss the warmth she felt in his arms, she felt warmth once more as she felt a blanket getting pulled up… as it covered her from neck to toe. It was just so comforting… so comforting…

And before she knew it, it was morning once more. She opened her eyes and saw the sunlight coming through the window. She blinked once… twice… not quite sure of what was happening. Was it all a dream? In the middle of the darkness that had passed, Basch held her close. Was it a dream? Was it a…

She moved her head to the side and felt something slip off her forehead. She reached up and got it and realized it was a… damp cloth? She sat up on the bed, the blanket falling down to her knees, as she touched her head. What happened? She could not seem to remember. She looked to her side to get some sort of clue. There was a basin and some vials… she looked further and…

…saw him there. He sat quietly in a chair by her bed. His eyes were closed and his head was drooping to one side. His blonde hair suddenly looked longer, tousled as it was. She saw some locks springing up from his normally slicked hair. His chin looked a bit rougher, as unshaved whiskers were starting to grow there. Somehow he looked unkempt… yet… quite charming. She moved in her bed and sat on the edge until she was directly beside his slouched form. She reached up for his hair, unable to resist the temptation… and stroked it, quite tentatively at first, yet when he did not stir, she brushed the stray locks away from his face and watched him as he slept. Surprisingly, his hair was soft as she had imagined, although it seemed to be all over the place at the moment. She continued to stroke his hair, comforted by the mere act.

Comfort.

It was something she felt not too long ago. Could it have been a mere figment of her imagination? But it felt so real… the way he held her tightly, the way he murmured to her ears, the way he stroked her back. It was so real. She wanted it to be real.

Yet the thoughts that were before that seemed real as well. Could it have been a part of her past? Was it something she had forgotten?

It was impossible. Simply impossible.

The man before her now was an honorable man. Surely, he is not capable of doing an act so grave that people would hate him. Surely, she could not find it in her heart to hate him. That was unreal… surely it was.

Before she started to feel cold from the thought, she looked around her once more. She looked at the vials beside the basin and read the labels. The bottles contained medicines. Was she sick?

It was all starting to make sense now. She looked at the sleeping knight. She tried to remember what happened the other night. She had a wonderful time by the beach… and then there was a bonfire… hunters gathered around, singing, laughing. The food was delicious. People were teasing her and Basch as well. The warmth from the fire was soothing that she could not resist leaning her head on his shoulder as she heard the joyful singing in the background. He stayed still, as if he did not mind her leaning on him. And so she stayed there… until she was got drowsy and … that was it. That was all she remembered.

She must have been sick and Basch had been watching over her as she slept. That was probably it… It was the reason for her tiredness… her nightmares.

She looked at him as he breathed slowly, evenly. Poor sweet Basch, he must have been so worried about her. He loomed over her bed like a sentinel and she suddenly smiled at the thought. He must have been worried enough to stay close to her – when he always seemed like he always had the urge to avoid her. But then again… she noticed how uncomfortable he looked that she suddenly felt guilt in her heart.

She reached up for his face once more. Not really knowing why. She traced the scar across his forehead and felt something ache in her heart. Could it have been there for a long time? Images of him bleeding in front of her entered her mind again and she gasped, feeling the sharp pain in her chest. She withdrew her hand and shook her head. No, she must not think of those things, she told herself, it was all a bad dream. Surely it was not real… it was not real.

To keep her mind off the images, she wondered how he looked like without the scar. Could she have possibly known and just forgotten?

It did not matter. The flaw was oddly endearing. She never realized how vulnerable he could be. Her knight seemed so strong and invincible, but he was also human. His scar was just a proof that he could be hurt too… and somehow, he needed comforting just as she did.

Would he like it if she moved closer to him, envelop him in her embrace should he need the comfort? The thought seemed so preposterous that she had to shake it off her head.

Was she… starting to like him?

It would not be surprising, after all, he is not a man who is hard to like. He was strong yet gentle … and he always thought of her welfare and his duty… and …

His duty.

Maybe she was starting to be too comfortable as Amalia. She was still Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca after all. She was still queen. How could she have forgotten? She had more things to think about, more responsibilities, more duties and … surely she cannot think about something so trivial such as … love!

Love? Love was out of the question! Surely what she was feeling was not love… surely it must not be… yet whatever it was, it was so comforting and liberating and so wonderfully pleasant… if she could only stay as Amalia forever…

"Amalia!" he rasped, his voice still hoarse with sleep. She was suddenly jarred away from her thoughts as she looked at him as he was suddenly alert and awake.

She was surprised when she felt his hand over her forehead, as if checking her temperature and she had no choice but to stay still and look up innocently at him for the verdict.

"You are not as warm as you were last night… but you still look flushed. Perhaps you need more rest." He mumbled as he stood up in an almost fidgety way, reaching for the different vials and looking for the right remedy.

Poor sweet Basch, she thought, as she saw how the man seemed paler than he usually was. He must have truly been worried about her. If only he knew that the tint in her cheeks was caused by another reason altogether…

"I'm feeling fine," she said as she placed her hand over his arm, "I am not quite sure of what happened but thank you, you seem to have taken very good care of me."

He looked away from her, looking quite timid as usual, "You fell asleep last night, and before I knew it, you were burning up with a fever. I am so sorry. You must have been chilled from the cold night and the damp clothes you wore… I … should have…"

"It's all right,"

"But I…"

She shook her head, never taking her gaze away from him. "It was not your fault." She stood up, suddenly having the urge to embrace him. Yet she controlled herself, thinking about how distressed he already seemed to be to begin with and just settled with placing her hand on his shoulder and saying, "Thank you."

Her touch was starting to be something he longed for. It was getting harder to find the strength to move away from her, to resist her touch, to remember his place, to remember that this was all a game. It was unfair for her, and it was harder for him to remember that now. She was not her old self and he had no right to indulge in the feelings she showed him.

She can't even remember the anger in her heart … the loathing, the sadness he had been always part of. He had been there on her husband's death… his brother was the cause of his father's death… he was somehow to blame for her guardian's death …the pain he had caused her, albeit indirectly, she could not remember it… she could not even remember his presence and participation in those dark memories of hers – the reason why she was probably so distant when her memory was still intact. He used to remind her of her sadness … but now…

Could she have possibly felt it? Could she have known about the feeling he had repressed and suppressed for so long?

"Today… is my turn to make breakfast," he almost stuttered as he spoke, still a bit shaken from his thoughts. Her hand slipped off his shoulder and she smiled a sweet smile at him and soon she lied down in the bed once more.

"If you say so Basch, but I'm not hungry yet. Why don't you rest for a while?"

"As you wish," he replied, as he watched her. Her back was to him and he failed to see her close her eyes.

He was starting to be comfortable… so damn comfortable in this lie. He had to get away.

He opened the door quietly and stepped outside. He walked back and forth the porch until finally, he heard the sounds of the sea and he found the courage to stop and sit down for a while.

It was only a game of charades. Soon she would remember everything and all of it would be gone – this illusion, this freedom, this lifestyle.

It was all a lie.

But surely his heart could not lie? Could it?

He looked back and saw the remnants of the bonfire. The sticks were burnt and were dark in contrast to the white sand. Yet he remembered the colors of the previous night quite clearly, for the colors were quite different from the ones he saw now. It was the sky that was dark and the fire was bright.

He saw that corner where he sat, beside her, with her head on his shoulder. It was then that he was asked.

"So what is your story?" it was Amon who uttered the words, "How did you come together?"

He had fabricated the story… and he never knew he was capable of such atrocity. Such a story about a simple man and a simple woman… their supposed past and circumstance, it was all too good to be true. Perhaps he had always envisioned it in his mind … perhaps it truly were some fantasy of sorts.

"How did you know that you loved her?"

The question continued to nag his head. Eyes were focused on him, friends and strangers alike. It was as if the comfortable circle had some sort of spell … that even the darkest innermost corner of his heart was suddenly open for probing… and its contents were suddenly too easy to divulge.

How did he know that he loved her? How did he …

"My life seemed so dull and pointless. I lost everything," he started, trying to recreate the feeling in his mind, "I saw her joy, her innocence, her strength. I saw how it was to live again."

That was how it was, when she was but a mere girl, and he was a boy trying to be a man. In the middle of all her games and whims and laughter… he was there to see it all. She was there to lift his hopes up and he started to believe…

"I had nothing yet she seemed to not care. She breathed life into me… and I was no longer an empty cast of my old self. I wanted to live again, if not for myself, then for her."

How wonderful it was to go on living. He would gladly offer his every waking moment to her service. He wanted to bring her joy, to keep her safe, to make her live life to the fullest. It was only sensible as she practically owned this new life in the first place – after she had nurtured it and cared for it, from when it was like a sapling until it grew to a fine tree, a tree that would thrive and give her shade for as long as it lives.

"It seems impossible for me now to live without her. I would bear it all… pain, shame, loneliness, everything, just for her."

He loved her. He loved her. Damn it all. He loved her.

He tried to stop it… to no avail. It was just there. To stop it would mean to stop himself from living for the feeling was already an intrinsic part of him. It was too powerful, too stubborn; it simply would not go away. It superseded his pride, his honor, his will to live, everything. It was pointless to deny it.

Yet he knew of the pain it would cause him. He was already feeling it, now when she was so close to him – when everything seemed perfect in this world they had created. He knew it was a trap he would never escape from… he knew it from the start. But it was perhaps the inevitable, and the feeling would come out, shouting from his heart anyway. But that's the only place where it will stay. For he already vowed… the moment he died and took his brother's place. The life he lived was no longer his – no longer hers.

It was better this way, for his love was doomed from the start. He was only thankful for the strength it gave him, for the life it breathed into him.

He only wished he could put this borrowed life to full use, for her, for her kingdom, for those people she held dear.

He only wished he had enough strength to resist it … to resist her without hurting her. He wished for forbearance, and for a firm resolve.

And most of all he wished for her happiness.

If the gods were only as kind as people wanted them to be, he wanted to wish for a few more days… just a few more days to live this dream. He was still unprepared to face the reality. He cursed himself over and over for his fickleness. Yet if he could only have this one chance… Just a few more days … to serve her, to be with her.

To let her feel his love for her.

He could die a happy man. He would be glad to live as an empty shell once more – thinking he had something he held dear – something that would make him look forward to each night… each dreaming moment, when he could be himself.

"That's how I knew that I loved her…."

I love her…he muttered in his mind, almost grudgingly, yet feeling the tenderness in his heart. He said the words over and over, thinking it was the only venue in which he can shout it out loud.

I love you Ashelia


Author's Notes: It seems like it's going to go downhill from here. Oh man. I dislike writing sad chapters. But forgive me, I've been reading some stuff lately, both fics and books alike. I think it dragged my mood and yeah. And there's also that vaccine my doctor gave me… I feel sick… BUT ANYWAY….

Thank you thank you thank you to all those who have read the fic and especially those who reviewed. Thanks a lot!! I really appreciate it. I hope you stay around for the climax. I hope I can pull it off. Please wish me luck!

For the names section of the fic. You know what, I've noticed that Basch and Noah somehow complement each other. See, Basch could mean "to Strike" from "basca" whereas Noah could mean "rest/comfort" as seen from Noah from Noah's ark. So it's like, Basch is for offense, whereas Noah is for defense. Hmmmm…. Whacha guys think?

Anyway, see you guys next chapter! And I seriously hope I manage to do it soon!