Rabanastre; The Palace and environs

A.N: Hi everyone, sixty plus reviews...Yah! As always thanks for the interest and the lovely feedback.

Also hold on to your hats and buckle your seatbelts this is a rollercoaster ride of a chapter!

Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca would always remember, ever after, the morning of the day Rozzaria invaded Dalmasca.

She would always remember that one glorious morning, enshrined in memory later tainted by horror and fear and pain. She would remember that that one morning distilled a lifetime of hard won knowledge.

Life was never so good as if was before a fall. Misery and happiness were fleeting but repetitive. It was not possible to know happiness until one knew despair.

She did not know, she would never truly know, what was more preferable; to know both happiness and despair as intimately as a lover or to have never known either and be spared the exhilarating peaks and crushing lows of Hume experience.

On the morning in question Ashe was awoken by the sensation of lips against her hair, tracing the curve of her jaw as light as a feather, lips stroking sensitive skin like the flutter of butterfly wings.

Then, just as she was sinking into those sweet ministrations, she was jabbed in the ribs by a prodding finger and an offensively cheerful voice.

'Rise and shine Highness.'

Ashe's brow furrowed, she mumbled something incoherent in protest and reached blindly, eyes still closed, for the offending hand, clasping it and holding that hand captive against her chest.

Somewhere above her and close to her ear she heard a masculine chuckle. There was the rustle of bed linens as the other occupant of her bed shifted on one elbow and pulled his hand free before stroking his now free hand down her side, fingers tickling over the inside of her bent elbow. She shivered at the touch but refused to rejoin the land of the conscious.

Like a flower seeking the sun Ashe rolled over onto her back, hoping to encounter more soft, sweet caresses. It had been so long and she intended to savour every moment, sucking in this drowsy moment of affection as a plant sought moisture.

'Hmm, that did not look easy. I pity the bedsprings.'

Ashe did not bother to open her eyes, or respond to the drawling voice above her. She simply waited, half enshrouded in sleep, offering herself up to any further pleasures he might care to bestow on her.

He did not disappoint.

Her lips quivered as the pad of his thumb traced over her bottom lip, then followed the curve of her top lip, until she felt her mouth curling into a smile as his touch tickled over-sensitised skin.

'I know you are awake.' He murmured leaving her lips and running one finger over the ridge of her collarbone. 'Even you cannot remain that insensible. It is time to get up, Ashe.'

Still smiling faintly, eyelids twitching with the effort not to open, she remained pliant and languid under his dancing fingers as he fiddled absently with the pearl buttons at the neck of her nightgown.

Pop. The button came loose and quick and skilful as a pickpocket he flipped back the cloth and let his fingers pitter-patter over her exposed flesh. There was another rustling and the hot rush of breath against her tingling, expectant flesh as he ducked down and laid a kiss to the very centre of her breastbone.

'Come now, this is hardly fair.' The light drawl reverberated through her body as his lips walked a delicate path up to her throat. She felt his arms move in on either side of her, ready to take her up in his arms, as he leaned diagonally across her (to avoid her extended stomach). His breath tickled through the tendrils of her hair and it proved a real struggle to continue to pretend to be asleep.

'Here I am, lavishing you with my attentions,' he caught the thin skin over the rise of her collarbone between his teeth in a quick, teasing nip, 'and you cannot even bother to open your eyes.'

He shifted position again moving back from her to lie on his side beside her, instantly she missed the heat and immediacy of his body against hers, his lips and teeth on her skin.

She heard him sigh as his fingers idled in a complex pattern over her nightgown swathed stomach. 'The logistics of this seduction are proving complicated.' He muttered softly, but still loud enough for her to hear. 'I have never enjoyed mountaineering.'

With the deliberate, teasing deftness of a practiced lover, his hand darted lower, under the bed sheets, sweeping down past her stomach to other areas. Ashe could not stop her involuntary gasp and her eyes opened.

'Ahh, there you are.' He purred triumphantly, hand racing out of the sheets and resting, seemingly innocently, over the rise of her stomach. 'Good morning Highness.'

Ashe frowned fussily and raised a hand to scrub at her sleep rimmed eyes in an almost childish action. 'Don't stop.' She muttered mulishly.

Smirking with the smugness of the consummate sinner Balthier rolled over onto his back and clasped his hands over his chest politely. 'Don't stop what?' He enquired raising one eyebrow.

It was only then that she noticed that he was clean shaven. Ashe frowned and stroked a finger down the curve of one of his carefully maintained side-burns. 'You have already washed.'

Balthier was in fact, she now saw, partially dressed, wearing dark cloth pants and his shirt, open, but still covering his shoulders, arms and back.

Rolling onto his side to face her, he reached out to tuck loose threads of her hair behind one of her ear.

'I have been up some time. You, however, have been sleeping on the job. Your Secretary asked me to inform your majesty that your councillors expect your presence in some….hmm,' He affected great nonchalance as he rolled over to consult the time piece he had left on the bedside table last night, '….yes, some twenty-three minutes time for a privy council session.'

Ashe sat up in bed, or at least tried to, in any affect she eventually managed to manoeuvre her seven month and some spare days' pregnant body out of her bed.

'Why didn't you tell me?'

She snapped irritably as she looked about her chamber trying to decide which morning ritual to go about first. Should she go straight to the bathroom to wash or prepare her clothes first?

Balthier was smirking at her, lying comfortably stretched out across the bed, hands clasped over his chest and ankles crossed watching her dithering. 'I did try and wake you however you seemed quite bound and determined to loll about like an over-fed housecat.'

Ashe distained from comment, she had very little time to get ready before the council meeting. Bustling into the bathroom she was soon washed and dressed and ready to resume life as an active head of state.

By the time she re-entered her bedroom the bed was neatly made, her discarded clothes from the day before had been picked up from the floor and Balthier was gone without a trace.

Ashe could not help deflating a little. Admittedly there was only so far they could have gone with their…..early morning playfulness….as Balthier had said the logistics involved in circumventing her bulging stomach took the romance from any assignation, but still she had missed Balthier's odd predilection to be amorous in the mornings. He had been either absent in fact or in spirit for so long that she deeply regretted that she could not fully enjoy his return to form.

The council meeting proved to be much like all the other meetings, filled with her self-important councillors second guessing her decisions (casting aspersions against Balthier) and fretting over imminent war with Rozzaria.

Ashe, who spent every spare moment wondering whether the next time she looked out of one of the palace windows she would see an army massing on the horizon, was already exceedingly irritable when the midwife was ushered in to administer her health checks.

Ashe allowed the woman to poke, prod and fondle her, settling her gaze out beyond the large palace window. The long delayed Rains had finally reached Giza and the dark storm clouds on the horizon cast blackish-purple shadows across the sky. At the very least it was cooler for the advent of the Rains.

'Majesty?' The midwife, a former member of the Giza Nomad tribe, famed throughout Dalmasca for her midwifery skills, drew Ashe's attention back to her presence.

'Yes?' Ashe was slightly embarrassed to realise she had forgotten the woman's name.

'Madam, if it pleases you I'd like to call in one of the Palace physicians.' The woman said bobbing up and down in an awkward curtsey.

Ashe frowned, a jolt of concern coursing through her, 'Why is something the matter?'

'Oh, no, no; least I don't thinks so.' The woman raised a hand to her bright red cloth headdress, jangling her large hoop earrings as she did so. 'Madam is there a history of multiple births in you or the Master Balthier's family?' The midwife asked in offhanded fashion.

Ashe was anything but offhand in response, 'Multiple?'

Almost involuntarily she looked down on her great, advancing stomach. Balthier's jibes of weeks passed floated through her mind. He had said she surely had to be accommodating more than one baby to have grown so large.

'How multiple?'

Ashe had been studiously avoiding thinking too long or too hard on the ordeal that would be her labour. She was no stranger to physical pain, but the prospect of a long and protracted labour did not fill her with anything approaching pleasure.

The midwife smiled, just shy of laughter, 'Well, Madam, I'm pretty sure there's only the two in there. I'm almost certain you're carrying twins. Were not two of your brothers twins?'

Twins? Twins……more than one baby? Why has no one told me until now?

'Two.' Ashe said softly, suddenly feeling vaguely unwell. Balthier would not take this well, he was still struggling to accept one child ( but then, Ashe herself was not taking it well, never mind about him). 'My mother bore two sets of twins.'

The midwife unaware of the affect her news was having on Ashe, smiled brightly, her round cheeked swarthy face bright with a healthy cheer. 'Well, that's often how it goes. Twins run in families. But don't worry; there are two healthy, hearty heartbeats I can hear.'

That was good, Ashe conceded dazedly; healthy babies were good.

Ashe managed, somehow, to get through the rest of the midwife's visit without further incident and had just settled down to consider how to inform Balthier that his snide comments and devastatingly witty ripostes had borne decidedly ironic fruit, when the shrieking of a siren shattered her introspection and had her lurching to her feet and seeking a weapon she was not wearing.

Ashe was already rushing to the door of her private chambers when they crashed open and Balthier came in followed by Vaan in full armour.

'There are Rozzarian airships coming from the Sandsea. A merchant airship headed for Rabanastre reported seeing a large body of soldiers, marching in rank, coming from the direction of the Rozzarian border.' Balthier informed her succinctly without preamble.

Ashe felt for a moment as if she had been struck deaf and dumb. Black and white lightening danced behind her eyes, obliterating sight, and all she could hear was the sudden roaring of her blood through her veins.

Her worst fears had been realised. Ever since the bombing of the Cathedral she had woken in the night in terror that Rozzaria would send an army to besiege Rabanastre.

She feared that she could not breathe. Ice and fire seared through her body, scolding her flesh and shattering her mind. Her hands groped at her stomach as a sudden, bright, sharp, and agonising pain rocked through her body.

Her heart leapt to her throat but she swallowed it down hard, she had to deal with the immediate danger. She could not indulge in panic.

Ashe struggled to speak coherently as a distant part of her mind began screaming. 'What of the border blockade? What of our soldiers?'

'We lost contact.' Vaan sounded breathless and not a little worried. 'I sent some scouts out to find out why the border patrol didn't report in. They haven't come back.'

'Who is organising the people? Have the citizens been evacuated to Low Town?' She demanded.

Balthier nodded shortly, 'Being done. Guards have gone to Bahamut Haven to escort the people into the city and the safety of the Paling.'

As he spoke her uncle Halim entered the room as swiftly as he could on his cane. His expression was grim but firm. 'I have contacted Bhujerba. The Bhujerban air fleet are being mobilised, they will be here within seven hours.'

Ashe clamped her teeth down on her lip and ran to the window, looking beyond the heavy, rain laden clouds to the westernmost horizon. Straining her eyesight she thought she could just make out the tiny specks of darkness doting the sky, like a cloud of mosquitos that heralded the advance of the Rozzarian air fleet.

'Word has been sent to Nalbina, but Dalmasca does not have a great many war craft, nor soldiers.' Balthier said quietly, calmly. She turned from the window long enough to meet his serious gaze.

'Therefore I took the liberty to send coded messages to Landis and Archades. Now is the time to call in the cavalry, regardless of political niceties.'

For a moment Ashe felt a surge of irrational anger that Balthier, Vaan and her uncle had taken so many unilateral decisions without informing her, she was the supreme ruler of Dalmasca after all, but such petty thoughts died in an instant.

'It will take too long. Even if Larsa sends troops it is some nine hours flight from Archades to Rabanastre, less from Landis but still, as part of the autonomy treaty the Landissians have no air fleet.'

Ashe thought aloud as she crossed the room swiftly towards the three men.

'Vaan.' She looked up at her Captain and was distantly surprised when he snapped to attention and seemingly unconsciously performed a perfect military salute.

'Take the fastest ships available and the best pilots; do not engage the enemy unless they attack first, but I want Rozzaria to know Rabanastre is not without defences. Warn the Rozzarian fleet that unless they retreat back into Rozzarian air space immediately we will be forced to take military action.'

'Right.'

Vaan again pulled off a perfect salute turned on his heel and ran from the chamber shouting orders to the guards running hither and thither in organised panic throughout the palace. A second later Balthier turned on his heel to follow calling Vaan.

'The Strahl, Vaan, take the Strahl. She's still faster than the Veccara.' Balthier threw a lightening quick glance over his shoulder to Ashe, then caught Vaan by the arm and pulled him further away, out of ear shot.

Ashe did not have time to react to this act of secrecy; her mind was whirling. She crossed again to her window. 'Uncle, what do you recommend? You have the greater experience of full scale military engagement.'

Uncle Halim stepped up beside her and leaned heavily on his cane as they both watched Rabanastran guardsmen ushering panicked, frightened civilians back under the cit. Invisible for the moment the black swarm of Rozzarian ships inched closer.

'The timing is in our favour. Rabanastre can withstand a prolonged siege. Your granaries are full and the water supplies are good. We also have the time to gather in the people from outlying settlements.'

Ashe understood the implicit point her uncle would not enunciate. 'So we have no hope of fighting them? We must hide and hope the Paling holds that is your advice?'

'Ashe…' her uncle placed a hand on her shoulder and she angrily shook it off. It was not the advice that upset her for she knew it was sound, it was her own helplessness. She could not defend her kingdom.

'Ashe!'

She spun about on her heels as Balthier ran back into the chamber, something in the tone of his voice filling her with even greater dread. The suave and unruffled pirate façade was already fraying at the edges as Balthier caught her arm and started to pull her from the chamber.

'They've set up a signal jam. We've lost all means to contact, through radio, any of the troops in the air or communicate with our allies. Radar is down also.'

Ashe did not bother to pull her arm free of his bruising grip as Balthier propelled them down the corridors and through the palace towards the main communications hub, her uncle close on their heels.

'How are we to co-ordinate a defence of the city without radio?' Ashe demanded of thin air; abruptly a sharp, shooting pain jarring through her abdomen, almost making her stumble.

'That is the least of our concerns.' Balthier responded blackly as he swung open the door to the communications room.

The small stone room in the lower sections of the palace was crowded with communication equipment and a number of her privy councils who all began clamouring for her attention at once.

Ashe ignored them all as Balthier drew to a stop in front of the main communication relay where a decidedly anxious looking young man sat before the console tapping feverishly at buttons and dials.

'Listen to this.' Balthier's voice was harsh with restrained anguish as he, ignoring the young Dalmascan officer, snapped over a few relays. Instantly a rich, heavily accented female voice filled the room.

'…….the pure of faith need not fear……Faram loves his children; even the guilty shall know redemption in the bosom of their out my children, hide not behind your false walls and barriers, look not to your false goddess, the idolater Ashelia….'

Another sharp, piercing pain shot through Ashe's lower back and abdomen as she turned to stare at the other people gathered in the small room.

'Who is that? Where is this message coming from?' She demanded hotly, struggling to stand up straight as pain ripped through her body; yet she could not allow herself to become distracted by the sudden advent of this strange pain.

'The Empress Hepzibah.' Balthier sneered, lip curling. 'This is the signal preventing all other transmissions. It's being broadcast on all frequencies, throughout the city.'

Sudden comprehension sheared through Ashe's mind, 'In Low Town? She's sending that message to my people?' Rage rose like a Phoenix inside Ashe's breast, over taking the fear and pain.

Balthier nodded curtly just once. 'They know they can't break the Paling so instead they seek to break the people.' He shook his head disgustedly.

'……..embrace the love of your saviour. The righteous shall be rewarded. If you wish to live, to flourish in this life and the next, strike down the idolater, the harridan, the false goddess; kill Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca.'

The voice from the transmission rolled out from the communication relay speakers like an oil spill, thick, slow, honeyed and assiduous. Ashe twitched with mute, unutterable rage. The sharp, consistent stabbing pains in her abdomen were an almost welcome accompaniment to her fury.

'Can we disrupt the signal or eliminate it at the source?' her uncle crowded towards the console as Balthier drew away, an abstracted and thoughtful look on his face. Ashe caught his sleeve, holding him in place as she turned to her councillors.

'Go. Go down into Low Town. Make sure the people are safe. Find out how far the signal has spread and if any of the people are inclined to follow the advice. I will hold you personally accountable should any ill befall my people.'

One of her councillors, T'noy, a man she loathed and whom she knew loathed her to equal measure, stepped forward.

'And you Majesty, you must take shelter.' T'noy's supercilious gaze shot briefly to Balthier, 'You are a pilot can you not speed your wife to safety? The fate of Dalmasca's future rests in the Queen's womb.'

Balthier quirked an eyebrow and looked T'noy up and down in distaste from the man's shiny, patent leather boots, his heavily embroidered shirt and soft hands that had never known combat. Ashe had often called Balthier a peacock, but T'noy was truly nothing but a useless decoration.

'I am more concerned with Dalmasca's present sir.' Balthier replied coldly. 'If the Queen wishes to leave I will take her to safety, but only when she requests it.'

Balthier made it clear in his tone that he knew Ashe would never abandon Rabanastre.

'Sir T'noy you have your orders.'

Ashe stated coldly and reluctantly T'noy and her other councillors filed out of the room. Almost before they had left Ashe tugged on Balthier's sleeve and led him to the door.

'You need to dispatch that man, Ashe. The rest of your councillors are merely lazy and self-interested, he could be a threat.' Balthier murmured eyes watching T'noy's back with the meditative light of someone considering where to embed the dagger.

'T'noy can keep, we must deal with Rozzaria.'

After the liberation Ashe insisted on a full scale study and inventory of all the left over armaments and assorted weaponry that remained intact on the Bahamut. Most of the stocks had been removed and added to the Dalmascan armoury as the spoils of war, but some gleam of prescience or simple cynicism had led Ashe to maintain some of the Bahamut's functions and weaponry in case of a crisis such as this.

'Where are we going?' Balthier allowed her to tow him along the passages of the palace towards the grounds and the Walk of Heroes beyond.

'The Bahamut's cannons are still usable; sealed under a barrier of magick that can only be lifted by myself.'

She admitted in a whisper what had been her deepest secret, her greatest fear, and her last hope.

Balthier cast a sharp look down on her as they all but ran towards the memorial passageway leading towards the Oasis.

'Well, that was forward thinking of you, Highness.' Balthier finally admitted, sounding both surprised and impressed.

'It was to be a last resort.' Ashe ground out between her teeth.

Their present pace, the thumping of her feet on the marble flooring of the Walk of Heroes, sent shooting bolts of agony up through the soles of her feet into her womb to dance up her spine. She doubled over in pain and almost vomited as agony and bile crawled up her throat.

Balthier caught her, 'Ashe? Sweet gods, are you well?'

She clawed at his sleeves, '…..Bahamut can only be activated by my blood…..we have to go on…'

For an excruciatingly long moment Balthier simply stared into her eyes, dark gaze boring through her as he all but held her upright. Above their heads there was a sudden, squealing, shriek that jerked both their eyes upward.

Ashe watched, almost numb with fury and terror, as a missile streaked across the sky, scraping over the edge of the Paling dome and exploding in a shower of pearlescent sparks against the magickal barrier.

Balthier's expression hardened his mask of competent disinterest closing over his features as he propped her up against one of the pillars.

'Wait there.' He commanded in a voice that brooked no argument, even had she the strength to make one.

Ashe had little choice but to lean drunkenly against the pillar as the ground shook with the impact of more missiles and cannonade fire pounding the Paling and turning the sky into a rippling rainbow of liquid fire and magick. The shooting, aching, grinding pain shredding her insides seemed to resonate with each explosion.

Ashe was startled out of her pained stupor when strong arms caught her and lifted her onto a saddled and armoured waiting Chocobo. Ashe bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood against the pain that straddling the Chocobo caused her.

Balthier swung himself up on the mount behind her and snapped the reins, all Ashe could do, as the bird launched itself forward along the Walk of Heroes, was grit her teeth and try to stay conscious as the bouncy, jolting sprinting progress of the bird intensified her pain tenfold.

Almost at the base of the Bahamut the war Chocobo was startled by the scream of an open air dog fight. Ashe somehow managed to lift her lolling head to look back towards the city and beyond the wavering, cloudy, iridescent shield of the Paling.

The shadows of huge flying battle galleons passed above, harried and surrounded by smaller craft. Despite her orders the Dalmascan knights had engaged the enemy in the skies.

'Bloody hell, he better not scratch the hull. I just had her re-painted.'

Ashe only vaguely registered Balthier's voice as she saw the Strahl, fleet and swift as a bird, glide over the Paling and slip around an arc of cannon fire from one of the great Rozzarian battle cruisers.

Dismounting the Chocobo was a new experience in agony for Ashe. She could not straighten her spine to stand fully upright for the pain as Balthier secured the Chocobo to the Bahamut by the reins and half carried, half dragged, Ashe into the Bahamut's hull.

The inside of the former sky fortress was blisteringly hot, monstrously dark, and terribly claustrophobic.

The smell of burnt metal and wiring, cordite, and the ancient ghostly copper reek of blood permeated the haze like delirium of pain Ashe fell into as Balthier pushed, lifted, guided and dragged her over fallen debris and up the broken, creaking and unsteady staircases and metal ladders that were the only means of reaching the control deck.

The muted booms and roars of airship engines from above reverberated through the echoing metal walls of the Bahamut. Ashe staggered against the twisted, bent and broken hand rail on one walkway, collapsing to her knees and vomiting profusely as it seemed to her as if her insides rushed out from her body in a liquid wave.

Balthier pulled her to her feet; she could not tell if he was being gentle or rough with her, it did not matter. All that mattered was the hot scolding gush of fluids that had flooded from between her legs. Ashe stared down at her soaked dress in shock and terror.

Balthier, casting one swift, cursory look down at the puddle at her feet, tossed his head and grabbed hold of her.

He managed to manhandle her into his arms as he staggered towards the control deck. Ashe screamed as he folded her up in his arms and she thought for a moment she would die right there, staring at the dead and grey central power core of the Bahamut.

'…..I'm sorry Princess.'

Ashe was in too much pain as Balthier struggled to carry her while also negotiating the fallen girders and support pillars, the detritus of the Bahamut's décor, on his way to the control deck, to truly acknowledge the quiet sorrow and fear exposed in his apology.

Ashe was not fully lucid when Balthier reached the main deck, where once Vayne Solidor had stood and watched her uncle Ondore's Resistance armada rally to protect Rabanastre and given the order to fire the very same cannons Ashe needed to activate now.

When Balthier pushed a short dagger into her hands Ashe slashed at her own left palm without thinking. She did not feel the sharp, bright spark of pain as blood welled up from the cut.

Balthier guided her hand to the main control console and her lips moved numbly, mumbling the magick incantation to break the magickal sigils protecting the mechanism.

Balthier left her sitting in one of the dusty chairs, like a marionette with her strings cut, almost convulsing in pain, as he moved with brisk efficiency to fire up the engines of this magnificent juggernaut of war; his father's dream child.

Tears slid down her cheeks as Ashe folded in on herself upon the chair before the main viewing window in the control deck and stared out at a scene straight from her nightmares.

She watched small, fast, but poorly armoured, fighter gliders slip in and out and all around larger, stronger, but much less manoeuvrable, enemy battle ships. She screamed inside as some of the smaller fighters were caught in the strafing fire of the larger vessels. Shot out of the sky they fell in golden showers of burning wreckage.

For a moment, caught in a haze of pain, it seemed to Ashe that time had reversed, that everything she had lived through in the last five years was merely fantasy and she was back aboard the Strahl, watching the Bahamut fall, taking with it the man she loved.

'…….the pure of faith need not fear……Faram loves his children, even the guilty shall know redemption in the bosom of their god….'

The insidious, distorted echo of the Empress Hepzibah's poisonous and seditious words snapped Ashe from her stupor she turned her head, gasping in pain as another grinding, crunching pain all but poleaxed her. She saw Balthier pulling a hand held communication devise, like the one she had used onboard the Strahl to declare ceasefire five years ago, from a panel.

'I think that woman has done more than enough talking already.'

Balthier pressed the device into her hands. 'Speak Ashe. Let them all hear what a real Queen sounds like.'

Ashe shook her head, struggling dazedly to focus on her duty, '….Balthier….no….the weapon……we need the cannons…'

Why was he fussing with a communication device when all around them the fight roared on and Dalmasca's hard won freedom burned away with the dying day light?

'You are Dalmasca's weapon, Ashe. Speak to your people.' Balthier told her, for a moment stopping to press a trembling kiss to the top of her head, before turning to work on charging the cannon.

Ashe fumbled with uncoordinated fingers to activate the device. '……people of Dalmasca…' Ashe choked off when another body shaking pain tore through her, stealing her breath.

'People of Dalmasca,' Ashe almost screamed over and alongside the pain that ripped her apart from the inside out. 'People of Dalmasca this is Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca.'

Ashe heard her own voice, sounding shallow and rasping to her own ears, amplified and increased in volume as the Bahamut sent her voice outward through the air like a weapon all of its own.

A current of renewed strength surged through her as Ashe realised what Balthier had meant. Through the Bahamut Ashe could do to the Rozzarian's what they had done to her. She would drown out the Empress Hepzibah's voice with her own.

'People of Dalmasca I cannot offer you an eternity of peace. I am no goddess but merely a mortal woman of flesh and blood…' again Ashe was forced to stop as another wave of agony tried to force a scream from between her lips. Ashe sucked in a shallow gasp of air and refused to go quietly into death and defeat.

'I have tried to provide you, as my father did before me and his father before him, with a safe place to raise your families and a kingdom we can all be proud of. I have tried and maybe I have failed, but I swear to you that I will fight until my last breath and, gods willing beyond even that, for you all. I will fight to make your lives safe from strife and pain.'

Ashe could not stop the gasp of strangled pain as another contraction ripped through her, her fingers almost lost their grip on the speaking device.

'I can do no more than ask your sufferance. I will not, cannot demand, nor expect, your fealty, nor your obedience, only ask that you give me the chance to protect you, to deliver you and your families from this new threat.'

Ashe clutched at the cobwebbed and dust covered console before as she folded forward, eyes rooted to the viewing window and staring at the large Rozzarian battle airship that floated close to the Bahamut, almost mocking her with its shining white and silver gilt glory.

Underneath her the console lit up as Balthier finally managed to bring life back to the Bahamut, once a weapon wielded against her city, now Rabanastre's last and best defence.

The whole structure of the Bahamut shuddered and roared, for a moment Ashe thought the towering construct would shake itself to pieces with the two of them in it, as the core came to life and the cannon powered up.

The conduits, like the arteries of a long dead giant, burned with new life, red and gleaming through the smudges of dirt and soot as Balthier tapped and pounded at the buttons and dials and levers on the control panel. His dark eyes met hers as his hand wrenched down the firing level.

Ashe raised the speaking device to her lips and screamed her defiance straight towards the glowing white vessel before them as all around her the Bahamut roared into life and fury.

'I am Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca and I defy any god who would harm my people. I will strike down any who would take my home from me.'

From the viewing window of the Bahamut Ashe could not see the huge cannon, nor the pulse of pure energy, the last reserves of the hated Nethicite that she had left, like a poison, within the power core of this lumbering monument to war, that streaked across the sky towards the white gleaming vessel.

All Ashe could see was the retina scaring eruption of fire and magick and liquid Mist as the Bahamut's beam sliced through the vessel's shielding and pierced the flying galleons side like an arrow tip; rupturing its hull and sending the Rozzarian flag ship to rain down in pieces like a shower of comets upon the desert.

Balthier did not rest upon his laurels; with swift movements he activated the radar sensors above their heads and set up an auto-firing command to track and fire upon the rest of the armada once the cannon had recharged.

Ashe struggled to breathe through pain and mounting panic her hands trembled in her lap as she let the speaking device drop to the floor. Balthier crouched beside her chair and cupped her face in his hand.

'My waters…my waters broke..'

She had known that the pain she had been experiencing could be nothing less than the onset of labour, but still it was hard for her to comprehend. 'I am in labour.'

She did not resist as Balthier lifted her from the chair and helped her stretch her legs out on the floor of the control deck, cradling her upper body in his arms. The physical pain was nothing compared to the desperate, unfathomable terror she felt in her soul.

Another sickening jolt seemed to rock Bahamut's unsteady foundations as the cannon fired again. This time the blast missed, but did break through the enemy ranks allowing the Dalmascan knights, led by Vaan in the Strahl, to tear through the enemies flank.

'It's too soon……I'm not due.'

Ripping her gaze from the panorama of war before her she sought comfort, hope and solace in Balthier's sardonic brown gaze.

'Well then, feel free to stop whenever you chose. I have no skill in midwifery and even less desire to acquire any.' He whispered dryly gathering her closer in his arms.

Another grinding contraction bowed her spine; Ashe clawed as his sleeves and buried her head in his shoulder.

'I'm scared.' She whispered.

The confession slipped free of her lips unbidden. She had never conceded to fear before in her life. Not when Rasler died, not when Vossler, soaked in blood, had swept her away from the palace, the Imperial army at their heels, not even on the eve of their battle against Vayne Solidor.

Ashe did not think she had ever truly known fear until now; until this moment when her kingdom and her babies hung in the balance.

There was nothing left that she could do as her body betrayed her, no longer able to provide sanctuary for her unborn offspring, and all her best laid plans to protect her kingdom balanced on the knife edge of capricious fate.

'I'm scared.' She repeated, because it was too momentous, too visceral a realisation to be smothered or denied.

'I know.' Balthier whispered against the top of her head. 'So am I.'

Ashe whimpered, not so much in pain as in true terror. If her own confession had hurt her his horrified her. What, save the end of all hope, could scare him? Who was to save Rabanastre now?

A loud, shrill squeal and burst of static slashed through the mounting silence within Bahamut coming from the radio relay. The buzzing screeching noise transformed itself into a voice, a familiar, voice.

'…….This is Emperor Larsa Ferrinas Solidor of the Archadian Empire, under the edict of the peace accord between Archadia and Dalmasca the Empire is sworn to protect the sovereignty of Dalmasca. I repeat, to the leader of the Rozzarian fleet, break off your assault against Rabanastre or I will be forced to issue the command to open fire on your fleet….'

Ashe tried to surge to her feet but could not; Balthier however managed just fine. He hurried to the viewing window and actually laughed in sheer relief. 'Sweet bloody blue blazes. It's the entire thirteenth imperial fleet.'

Ashe tried to speak, to breathe, to leap to her feet and scream for joy. She did not care where salvation came from only that it had come; but she could not do anything. Her strength failed her finally and she fell backwards, with nary a whimper, into quiet, peaceful nothingness.

A.N: I apologise for any inaccuracies with Ashe's labour, I can thankfully say I have no personal experience of such and so have tailored the experience to fit my dramatic licence, not any form of factual accuracy.

P.S: Twins, huh, bet you didn't see that one coming, hmm?