Our Love to Admire – Nocturne
Balthier/Ashe, PG
Inspired by: C'mere, from Antics
Oh, how I love you
In the evening, when we are sleeping
We are sleeping. Oh, we are sleeping
-C'mere, Antics
The mountain air clears his sinuses, but not much else on his mind. Having one's own airship usually negates long journeys like these, and he tends to let his mind drift to unpleasant things when he's saddled with foot travel. He misses the familiar hum of the Strahl, the lights on her panels, and the sturdy pilot's chair. Instead, he's sitting on a rock with his gun in his lap on watch.
Halfway to Archades now since they left Bur-Omisace behind. Every day a step closer to a place he sought never to return. Sure, he's been to the outskirts of the capital several times on business, but Archades proper, never. And Draklor, to boot. It's not going to be easy getting in there, and he'll have to find some contacts from the old days – ones who won't sell him out within minutes. They only need transport to the building. He can still visualize the sterile corridors even though he hasn't been there in years. And even then, he wasn't supposed to be there, but the top scientists had privileges and sometimes let their offspring traipse about the place.
Glancing over, he wonders how he'll tell them. He wonders if he should tell them. Of course, Fran knows about Cid. Not every minute detail, but enough to know how difficult this journey is for him. Basch might suspect – Balthier hasn't exactly masked his interest in the nethicite, and the knight is a fairly steady judge of character. Perhaps he's already made some connection between his accent and Archadian origins not so far beneath Larsa's on the social ladder. He'd be right.
Vaan and Penelo, he muses. Would they have aught to say if they knew just how intertwined he was with the Empire, whether he chose it or not? Though the years have come and gone and he's stayed away, the bonds of family are not easily broken or erased. And while the man at Draklor is not the one who left for the Jagd Difohr, the family resemblance is uncanny. Does Cid look the same? Or has his madness changed him into something else? Vaan and Penelo will surely put it together if they confront Cid. Will they hate him for saying nothing? And why does he care?
And the Princess. Sighing, he lets his eyes drift to her sleeping form, and despite the mass of blankets and her placid face, he knows she's got her sword by her side even now. How much the two of them have changed in these many weeks together. This is her journey more than any of theirs. Rarely does Balthier enjoy being a mere passenger on a voyage, but though his burdens weigh heavily on him, he knows that hers are far worse.
He runs. Ashe confronts. There is a strength in her that he'd suspected from the start, but there is more to it than that. How one can press on, refuse to back down even when all is lost…widowed and orphaned within weeks and then declared dead yourself. He does not entirely understand how she can face each day with such stubborn determination. He's never been a patriot, so Ashe's devotion to her country confounds him. Were their situations reversed, he'd probably turn his back on Dalmasca as Dalmasca has turned its back on her.
There is a rustling in the mossy reaches just outside of their camp, and he tears his eyes away from her to scan the darkness. Nothing but a lost worgen pup looking for his pack. No point firing a bit of shot at it. Sweet little Penelo is remarkably demonic when woken suddenly from a deep sleep, and he'd rather not deal with her in such a frenzied state. Balthier watches the animal sniff the ground a few paces away, tensing as the pup catches their scent. The little thing hurries away, realizing that he is far outnumbered, and Balthier relaxes.
He turns back to see that Ashe's sleep has become troubled. As it has for the past few nights. While he cannot speak for when they rested at Nalbina, every night in camp since they left Paramina, Ashe has slept fitfully. Though her stirring is not enough to wake the others, he's taken last watch every night and has borne witness. Perhaps it was seeing the dead fellow again in the Stilshrine – though Balthier had still seen absolutely nothing, she'd clearly been rattled by it.
A woman of Ashe's character would never let on during the day that she is shaken and continues to be upset about it. Not her – she'd just as soon join a traveling mummers' group than admit to any weakness. But she cannot hide so easily in her dreams. By the time he comes on the watch, she clutches at her blanket with white knuckles and her face is stained with teary streaks. He isn't sure why he hasn't tried to wake her, to convince her to speak of her nightmares and hopefully by doing so, end them. Would she expect him to share his bad dreams in return?
Ashe probably dreams of the man whose ring he yet carries, a man he'd never met or frankly known much about. Balthier dreams of someone he's lost – but that someone is still alive. He dreams of long corridors with flickering lights, of metallic bulkheads and beakers and burners. Of his father's office at Draklor with its organized chaos. Stack of papers here, books piled up there. It is remarkable how much his mind can conjure when he is dreaming. He hasn't been in the place in years and yet he is there so easily in dreams. When they arrive, he'll be able to navigate the place without hesitation.
She lets out a soft cry, but it is not enough to wake the others. He watches her grip her fingers – what seems like a nervous habit during the day is more readily discerned when she does it in sleep. Ashe is seeking a ring that is no longer there, yet she will not let go. The price of sky pirate loyalty. He took the band to prove a point, but she still struggles with her decision. Seeing Rasler again deep within the shrine has probably brought the burden of guilt to compound her worries.
It takes a great deal of will power to remain in place and not go to her. He hasn't quite figured out when he started to care for her. Perhaps it's just been these past few weeks of watching her troubled sleep. There is so much there that one cannot see during the day when her Princess façade is in full effect. But in sleep she is merely a young woman who very much looks her nineteen years. Would he have been capable of all that she has done when he was nineteen? He doubts it. He couldn't do it now.
He'll tell her about Cid, just her. It will be up to her whether or not the others need to know. She keeps pain hidden as he does – she will understand. Perhaps he'll tell her more. Watching tears streak her pale face in the moonlight, he knows he can't hide from her. She needs to know what nethicite truly can do. That it can destroy families and send children running from the comforts of home to uncertain and dangerous places. That nethicite has kept him running to those places for six years.
He sighs, chastising himself for letting his thoughts grow so serious when he could be plotting their big caper. This is why he much prefers air travel. Lots of dials and clouds to distract the mind. Ashe has turned away, thankfully ending the distraction by turning her back to him in sleep.
Balthier lets the crisp mountain air drift in and out of his nostrils, and he keeps the watch.