Author's Note: There are some chapters of this story I like and others that I don't. This is one of the ones I don't. The reason for that is that it bums me out, and I'm not a fan of most of the wording. Either way, I hope you enjoy it more than I do!

"Cage of Freedom"

Weeks had passed since their final encounter and, to the untrained eye, things progressed as usual. Ashe was sure Basch had noticed something amiss, but she knew he'd never confront her. She supposed he felt "undeserving" or some such after what had transpired, but in truth she didn't care what the reason was. She was only too happy to never embarrass herself like that again.

And yet, despite her better judgment, Ashe still wanted him. By now she knew that she wanted him so desperately that she was shamefully close to repeating the last experience. But she concluded the only way he'd accept her was if he were ready, and she was not prepared to wait. For Ashe also knew she would die of old age and a have a tomb twice the size of Raithwall's built to commemorate her before Basch felt deserving.

She couldn't help but think that there wasn't much to deserve. Aside from her title, she was hardly a princess at all. More than anything, she only wished he could see past the crown and discover that she was only a woman. A woman who wanted him, nothing more, nothing less. The fact that after all her hardships and work she should be deprived such a simple thing made her want to scream bloody murder.

Still, she remembered in her youth, her father had told her that great rulers had to make sacrifices. Would this be hers? Sacrifice her happiness, her only desire to fight for a country she may never rule anyway? She was sick of being a princess without a throne. If she were the queen of Dalmasca, that would at least be a half-decent excuse. As it stood, she was just a leader of the resistance with nothing to her name but an ill-refuted title. Would her royalty shadow her all her life? Would it be her only companion? Would it consume her?

Anger no longer raged within her. Nor did lust, or frustration. She felt as if nothing consumed her, as if the finality of Basch's rejection made her hollow. What would become of her? She knew: she would go on to rule Dalmasca and wed some foreign dignitary for the sole purpose of heirs. They would not be lovers but once, and then only friends, if that. She had been fortunate when she was engaged to Rasler, but the gods did not shine so kindly on one twice. Was Basch satisfied with that? To watch her march down the aisle, walking towards a stranger?

Yet that was her fate and she saw no escape. It was for the good of Dalmasca. For her people, she would have to forfeit her personality. She would be a kind and benevolent ruler who would bear many sons and daughters, and who would be content watching others have all that she could not. With bitter spite she thought of how feverishly her father fought for her to have the life she desired. With his death, so too did her life end. Now she began a new one, not as Princess Ashelia B'nagrin Dalmasca, a warrior who fought to the end for her country; but as Queen Ashelia B'nagrin Dalmasca, a woman who sat atop a throne and smiled for the public.

And all the while, she knew Basch would be there. As her Captain of the Dalmascan Order of Knights, and nothing more. He would watch her grow from a woman to a queen to a wife to a mother, forever there as a reminder of the life she left behind. He would talk with her, but only on matters of war and battle, and she would have be to content that they'd have the opportunity to talk at all. The idle hours she'd waste away in dull banter with her husband, whom she doubted would be very interested in anything she'd have to say anyway. Somehow, the past queens of Dalmasca all met similar fates, and she wondered why she'd ever thought she'd be any exception.

Ashe was at an utter loss for what to do. The battle with Archadia drew nearer, she knew, and not months would pass before she'd reclaim her throne. Vayne would die, through one means or another, and she would crowned queen of Dalmasca. The kingdom would be restored, and her people joyous. She would put smiles back on the faces of children and adults alike and a great celebration would be had. And still, Basch would be there, solemn and gruff as usual. He would not dance. He would not sing. He would only watch as she slipped farther away into a shadow of her former self.

It was strange to think she feared becoming queen. Even after her father died and Dalmasca was conquered, she sought her title with vigor. She embraced the day she could be called Queen Ashelia, savior of Dalmasca. Now she trembled at the thought. The invocations had never before struck her as they did now, and she feared terribly for what might ensue in the years to come.

Still, no matter what the future held, she would have to endure it with a smile. She would do so for her husband, who loved her even in death. She would do so for her father, whose legacy would live on in the hearts of her people for decades to come. She would do so for country, whose denizens' spirits had grown heavy with oppression. But, above all, she would not do it for herself.

Queen Ashelia B'nagrin Dalmasca, savior of her country and restorer of peace, would never again do anything for herself.