A few things: 1. Thank you, from the bottom of my romantic heart, for reading this story and reviewing. I started it to keep myself entertained during my free time at work and it's served that purpose well. I had so much fun writing it and these two characters. This chapter is bittersweet because 2. This is the end. I believe I've written everything I can about Ashe and Balthier after this tenth chapter. I have no interest in explaining Balthier's reasoning for disappearing (especially since he won't tell me himself) nor of their ridiculously happily ever after. And finally, 3. This chapter was inspired, in part, but the soundtrack of The Young Victoria and Walk the Moon's Shut up and Dance. Spot the references if you can.
Once more, thank you for reading and if you can spare a moment please, tell me what you think.
10. In which Ashe discovers true treasure in the form of a returned ring and friends during her coronation festivities.
Ashelia B'nargain Dalamsca's coronation was a grand affair, with enough pomp and circumstance for even the Archadian Empire to take notice.
Every resident of Rabanastre, it seemed, lined the streets in celebration, cheering for their queen with a deafening roar. Ashe was resplendent in a fine cream colored gown, trimmed with glittering gold and purple.
As streamers fell from the sky, colorful and fluttering, Ashe thought it all reminiscent of another ceremony three years prior. She wore a similar gown, though at present no veil. Still, the crowds, the adoration she felt from them; the colors, music, parade through the city to the grand cathedral was all eerily similar.
The only true difference, veil aside, was the absence of a companion beside her. Ashe felt Rasler's ghost as easily as she heard each cheer, and he was sorely missed though not forgotten.
Ashe lifted her right hand and smiled down at the simple, unadorned silver ring resting on her slender finger. Her left hand was bare, though the ring that once rested there now hung around her neck. A reminder of the love she once had and filled her eyes but she blinked them away.
Love found, then lost, and now returned.
Against all odds, Rasler's ring had been returned to her. A part of her wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Of course it had. What kind of leading man didn't return with smug triumph?
Ashe scanned the crowds, waving at times, hoping for a glimpse of white hair and tall ears, or a flippant smirk-anything of her returned friends, but of course he would not make it that easy for her.
Ashe was alight with nerves, not only for the coming ceremony, but also for the moment when he did choose to reveal himself. She was still deciding on her reaction: bursting into weeping tears, or setting Belias on him for staying hidden with no word. At present, she was favoring the later.
She watched the ring on her waving hand, its silver glinting in the sun.
Returned. Her kingdom returned, and now this. The others-Rasler, her father and brothers-were all branded upon her heart, but here was her golden chance to start anew, to rebuild and make better.
Ashe raised her head to the blue sky, streamers brushing her cheeks, sun warming her tan face, and smiled. When tears once again filled her eyes she closed them and let them fall. Through her tears and smile, she silently thanked the gods for all that had been returned to her.
When it was all over and her ascendance as queen had been signed and sealed into law, the crown placed upon her head?
Queen Ashelia napped.
In the days preceding the coronation, Ashe had been awash in a sea of preparations that seemed unending.
Everywhere she turned there seemed to be some servant in need of approval for this flower display, that menu choice, or that seating arrangement. There were dress fittings, wine tasting-and what of Dalmasca's heroes? Where should they be placed at the banquet?
Ashe's tired mind felt ready to combust with it all. And so, in the quiet hours between the coronation and banquet, Ashe stripped from her heavy gown, letting it pool in cream waves on her carpet, and climbed into bed, feeling decadent in the act of returning to the sheets before noon.
Her mind drifted off immediately, exhausted as it was. Just as she crossed the threshold of consciousness and peaceful sleep, there was a soft rattle at her balcony door and quiet footsteps.
She dreamt of a warm body lying beside her, soft hands brushing her hair, and a tenor voice whispering a congratulations to her. She smiled in her sleep.
Ashe watched the revelry from her throne, taking a moment for herself and her throbbing feet. She wore another gown, this one turquoise to bring out her blue eyes. It was far more comfortable than her coronation gown, showing a slice of her midriff and cut from a lighter cloth. It was meant for a celebration, which she and her friends indulged in wholeheartedly.
Larsa broke away from the dancing and approached her, ascending the dias on which her throne sat with a confidence that seemed too mature for the thirteen year old. But then, for a thirteen year old emperor, it was entirely necessary.
"Your majesty," Larsa bowed with a twinkle in his eyes, and a smile threatening to bloom on his lips. "May I have this dance?"
Ashe smiled and rose from her throne, taking Larsa's outstretched hand and allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor.
"Queenship suits you," Larsa said as the dance started.
"As opposed to living in the sewers as a rebel?" Ashe countered.
"Resistance," Larsa said, throwing her own line back at her with a solemnity that did not quite reach his eyes for they still sparkled with mirth.
Ashe laughed, a mellifluous sound that caused Larsa and those around her to smile in response. How wonderful it felt, basking in celebration and triumph; a complete treasure.
"I don't suppose you've heard from our resident sky pirate," Ashe said when her mind turned to thoughts of treasure and her returned ring.
"I haven't," Larsa replied, "though I have suspicions that perhaps you will shortly."
Ashe's eyes narrowed as she thought of the implications of that statement, and all the tricks Balthier undoubtedly kept up his well tailored sleeve.
"Where is he?" Ashe asked in a knowing voice, but Larsa merely smiled as he neatly and gracefully spun her.
Rather than come back into Larsa's arms, Ashe's right hand was instead grabbed by another, with the other circling her waist and pulling her close against a beautifully embroidered vest.
"Where is who," Balthier's smiling face asked her.
After a year thinking the man was dead, Ashe was surprised at the rush of joyous emotion that flooded her. She wanted to laugh, weep, smile, and yet she stood frozen on the spot as other dancers whirled around her. The spot where his hand held her bare waist felt hot and she seemed unable to focus on any other feeling. As for the sight she beheld...
Balthier looked more handsome than ever, with not a mark or blemish upon his face. His green eyes were locked on her, an earnestness that silently pleaded for approval and begged for forgiveness.
Ashe could not help the giggle that escaped her lips. "Of all the leading men to grace Dalmasca with their heroism you, Balthier Bunansa, are without a doubt the most infuriating."
Balthier's answering grin was relieved. "Charmed as always, I see."
The newly crowned queen of Dalmasca rolled her eyes but did not pull away. "Dance with me."
And so they did, Balthier taking the lead, their eyes locked as they spun slowly around the ballroom.
"You know," Ashe said quietly, "I'd expected the son of a lord of Archades to be well trained in the dancing arts. I believe you're holding back."
For Balthier's part...that wasn't entirely inaccurate, though he would sooner paint the Strahl a ghastly orange than admit he was holding back in any endeavor.
And yet, being in Ashe's presence, holding her, listening to her laugh after a year of absenting himself, Balthier could hardly remember why he would voluntarily do so. He had expected the full wrath of Hell be set upon him for his silence and entrance. As well as for the ring.
Instead he found a queen at peace with the world around her, a drastic change from the perennially tense and high strung princess of a year ago. This queen before him left him in rapture with her dazzling smile, as well as her touch. And gods, his hand felt ablaze as it rested on her soft and bare waist. Distraction would be a good reason for his inattentiveness towards the dance.
In this moment, as he stared into her eyes, endured her flippant remarks, he had a sense that he was standing before destiny.
"If you're implying that I am in anyway lazy, Princess, that simply won't do." Balthier flashed a cheeky grin and tightened his hold on her hand and waist. "Now stop talking and dance with me."
Ashe laughed again and together, they finished their dance, and the next, and several more, until finally they stood stationary on the dance floor, breathing heavily in their finery as they continued to stare at each other. The music stopped and the sudden silence was like breaking glass for Ashe and she realized with a start where she was.
To her right, Vaan and Penelo had finished their own dance, with the former heading straight to the buffet table, and the latter left abandoned and rolling her eyes until Larsa approached and engaged her in conversation.
Further along, Basch stood in his brother's armor, ever solemn and alert, though his lips tipped up into a smile as his eyes caught hers. She returned it and a second later found Fran, her hair silver as the moon, standing with her haughty yet soft gaze as Al-Cid told a story at her, using wild gesticulations. The beautiful Viera caught Ashe's eye and nodded, grace and friendship exuding the action.
All of her friends, here, and in once place, returned to her.
Her eyes rested once more on Balthier and gods help her, she could not help the small leap her heart made. She longed to reach out for him, to finish what they had started so long ago in the metal corridors of the Strahl, yet his words from that stolen moment rushed back to her: if I kiss you, I will not be able to stop.
The flutter of promised pleasure from those remembered words nearly brought her to her knees.
Ashe took a breath. "I think I shall retire. I trust you know where your bed chambers are located?"
Balthier's eyes flashed at her veiled intent. "Found them this afternoon, though I was quite put out to discover someone already in the bed, napping."
Somehow, Ashe was not surprised to learn her dream was not, in fact, a dream.
Ashe only had to wait fifteen minutes before she heard a thump on her balcony, followed by a rattle at the glass doors. Balthier's lithe figure stepped through and he had all of five seconds before Ashe crossed her bedchamber and eagerly claimed his lips for her own. He groaned at the feel of her and the desire that spread through him like wild fire.
The intense hunger that roared through him had him grasping her shoulders and pulling her against him. He guided them both away from the balcony doors and Ashe melted against him, her own arms reaching up to hold him against her, moaning softly as he deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking hers.
Gods how he had missed this-her taste, her softness and surety. And her; being in her presence, claimed by her.
The back of Ashe's knees hit the edge of her great bed and she broke away to sit, sinking into the plush mattress and blankets. Her hands reached up and pressed flat against the gold embroidery of his vest, feeling the utter solidness underneath. Half a second later, her slender fingers hooked onto his gold buttons and deftly unfastened one, and then another.
"Don't you want to know what I've been up to this past year?" His voice was thick with rising lust and despite his question, Bathier did nothing to stop Ashe, nor did he want to, as she slowly opened his vest and pushed it off his shoulders.
Ashe grabbed a fistful of his soft white shirt in each hand and pulled him on the bed. He slid a hand under her and grasped the small of her back and moved them further onto the bed, his other hand sliding neatly under her skirts and caressing her smooth leg; she drew a sharp intake of breath, the sound sweet and enticing.
"Later," Ashe promised with a wicked gleam in her eyes as she beheld Balthier in her bed, atop her, strength and sensuality melting off of him. Her eyes came back to his, dark from burning need, and then the curve of his nose, the sharpness of his cheekbones, and finally the bow of his lips.
How often did she crave this moment while a cheerful fire crackled next to them during a night watch? How often did she tell herself that it was impossible, that station and politics would separate them no matter her own desires?
How often did she dream of this moment, only to awaken and remember reality, remember the worst?
Her hand, gentler than before, carefully cupped his cheek, as if he might be glass. "Are you really here?"
"I can assure you, Ashelia, this is no dream." And he seized her lips once again.
Later, she would laugh, cry, and gasp in awe at the tale of his absence, but for now, as her court reveled in the ballroom below, Ashe basked in the miracle that was Balthier returned.
~End~