A/N: Thank you so very much to my reviewers: Drink. Juice, Baschashe, kissychan, and Laguna's twin sister. I really appreciate the feedback! :)
Sorry this took so long. I had about three different versions of this and was pulling bits and pieces from all of them until I was satisfied with what I had. I also had to take a few days to edit my second co-written original manuscript so that it can be ready to submit to my publisher. I nearly went insane after three straight days of staring at a computer screen and editing, but I did it, and now I can focus on Ashe and Basch. And then update my Vaan/Penelo stuff. Whew.
For this chapter, I was trying to avoid writing about more deaths, but the fact of the matter is, Ashe was surrounded by death. She lost a lot of people, and I couldn't avoid that; I think it plays a lot into why she is who she is, and things she might fear. I think that she probably would have handled it in different ways at different ages, and each new death would have taken its toll on her. So even though I worried this chapter and the last would be redundant, I needed to write both.
Year 701
The stone floor was cold under Ashe's bare feet. She moved silently through the palace halls, curling her toes on the hard, chill floor. Her feet only warmed when she took detours through rooms laid out with intricately designed carpet. She glanced briefly over her shoulder as she moved stealthily through rooms and corridors. There were guards stationed throughout the palace, but they didn't notice her. She knew every alternate route, every secret passage, every nook and cranny big enough to crawl into or through. It was with ease that she wound her way to the opposite side of the palace. She had lived here, after all, for fourteen years, and that was plenty of time to acquaint herself with the layout of her home. It had, perhaps, been frustrating for her caretakers, though her elder brothers had always encouraged her in her antics. The amount of scolding they had received on her behalf had endeared each one of them to her, even when they teased her and pulled her hair and took her toys.
She had always thought it was difficult being the youngest and the only girl, but she knew now that it had certainly been easier than being the only one at all.
It was as though there was a strange, bubbled haze around her. She didn't even know where she was going, and she didn't care. Somewhere, anywhere, as long as she was moving, because she was afraid of what might happen if she stopped. At least walking, she knew she was still alive, still feeling.
She knew she was still feeling because her feet were cold. It was the only thing she knew right now, as absurd as that would have sounded if she had tried to explain. Would anyone else understand that she felt completely numb everywhere else? Numb and empty, a complete void of nothing, and she didn't know how that could be possible. She should be feeling everything, not nothing.
The last echo of the palace bells faded completely, ending the death toll for the final prince of Dalmasca. She should be crying. She should be yelling. She should be doing something to show how affected she was by the death of her last living brother, but the tears would not come. They had not come at all, not when she lost her first brother to the plague, and not now that the last one was dead. It was as if every death only made her more distanced, more hollow.
Death had stolen so many away since the plague hit Rabanastre. It was indiscriminant--it took peasants and nobles, servants and knights, sweeping in and setting into some while leaving the person in the next bed untouched. How was it that five of her brothers were dead from the ravaging disease, yet she was unaffected? Why should she be spared?
Ashe was beyond fear that she would fall ill; everyone said the plague had already chosen its victims. All that was left was to watch them die. Then it would be over.
As if it was just that easy. As if it could ever truly be over. All of her brothers were now dead--one born too early to live for more than a few days, one to an accident before she was even born, and one to lung disease when she was but a child. And now the rest gone, leaving her the sole surviving heir to the Dalmascan throne.
She did not want it. She did not want any of it. She did not want to see her father, to witness the terrible grief in his eyes. Did not want to be the one that the kingdom would look to as their future ruler. Did not want to walk past her brothers' empty rooms or the training yard where they had helped her learn to wield a sword.
Most of all, she did not want to feel nothing.
Ashe only recognized where she had ended up when her feet stopped moving, almost of their own accord. She was outside the barracks on the grounds, where soldiers and knights bunked when they were on duty at the palace. What was she doing here?
The lights within the barracks were on, for though it was nearing midnight, no one was truly sleeping much these days, particularly the knights and soldiers.
And of course, they would have heard the bells.
"Lady Ashe?" a light, tenor voice asked in puzzlement.
Ashe turned to see a young soldier approaching from the side of the barracks. She had no words, though, still staring dumbly and wondering what she was doing here.
"My lady, you ought not be out here at this hour! You will catch cold!"
The stupefied haze was suddenly punctured at those ridiculous words, and Ashe started laughing. She couldn't help it. Catch cold? With people dropping like flies left and right, with her last brother dead, all this soldier thought about was that she might catch cold?
Her humorless laughter cut off as quickly as it had begun, and it was only then that Ashe realized she was no longer standing. She was kneeling on the chilly earth, the soldier crouching beside her, his worried voice in her ear. "Lady Ashe! Are you all right?" He tried to help her to her feet. "Come, you must--"
She yanked away from him, and he immediately backed away a step, still frowning at her with that deep concern. "My lady, please--"
"Ashelia?" A new, very familiar voice met her ears, and she froze as footsteps approached swiftly from behind her. "Lady Ashe, what are you doing here?" Basch stepped in front of her, worry written on his own face.
She knew, now, why her footsteps had carried her here. Aside from her father, there were very few people in her life who truly saw and understood her. Her brothers had been some of those people, and now that they were gone, she had no one left to turn to. There were also very few people who were constants in her life, but Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg was one of them. He had safeguarded her family and trained knights and soldiers at the palace for six years, and aside from her family, seemed to be one of the only people who truly saw her. Her father was in too much pain to really see her clearly right now. And she needed to be seen clearly. She needed to be understood, because she did not understand herself.
Vaguely, she noted that Basch was speaking quietly to the soldier, and then the soldier was gone and Basch was kneeling on the ground in front of her. "My lady?"
When she didn't respond, he leaned back on his heels and rubbed a hand across his face. "I am…at a loss," he said quietly. "I would express how sorry I am about Garred, but I fear words could not possibly suffice. He was a great man." When she still did not speak, he added heavily, "We have lost many great men."
"H-How?" The question came out somehow torn and pleading at the same time.
Basch was watching her, waiting for her to clarify her question. She wasn't even sure what she wanted to ask, but as he continued to steadily look at her, the words were drawn from her mouth in a whisper. "How can you bear it? All this death…all of it. What do you do? How do you keep on with such--" strength. Basch had the greatest inner strength she had ever witnessed, and he had faced such loss of his own. She knew that he had lost his homeland to the Empire, and also his own family, including a brother. She had asked him about his brother only once, and he had told her, "I--lost him to the Empire when Landis fell."
There had been such pain in his eyes when he said this that she had thereafter refrained from asking anymore on the subject.
"Everyone suffers loss, Ashelia," he told her now, his voice heavy. "No one escapes it in life."
"How do you continue?"
"I have hope. I believe that as long as we draw breath, there is always a chance."
"It's not enough." Ashe's voice came out harsh, much harsher than she had intended. "It's not going to bring anyone back. Not any of my brothers. Not my mother. Not anyone."
"Yet still we must press on."
"Why?"
Basch was a long moment in responding, and when he did speak, it was with a very simple answer. "Because we are still alive to do so."
The rest of the haze surrounding Ashe vanished as if someone had ripped it away. The slender thread that had been holding her together snapped, and she quickly discovered that her emotions had not disappeared. She later understood that it was shock that had numbed her so terribly the past days, an unwillingness or inability to face the pain, but at the moment, all she understood was that she hurt. She hurt so desperately and so deeply that it was all she could do to breathe. She doubled over and wrapped her arms around her stomach, trying to somehow hold in the agony. The words that came seemed like they should have been shouted, but they emerged in a ragged whisper. "Why me? Why me? Why am I the only one left? Why didn't death take me as well? Why…" Her breath caught and she was suddenly weeping, wrenching sobs that were torn from her without her concession and she hated it. She didn't want to be crying, not at all, especially not here in the middle of the grounds while Basch was watching.
Yet she could not stop it, could not even find the strength to stand, and when Basch rested a hand on her shoulder, she shattered completely. She did not know how to accept the comfort when she herself did not know if she had the right to be comforted.
She somehow found her feet and fled, her bare feet racing back the way she had come. There was no sneaking this time; she dashed past startled guards, and yet none stopped her as she ran to her room. She was out of breath when she got there, more because she was still crying than because the running had tired her. She flung herself on her bed and screamed into her pillow. She screamed until her throat was raw and her tears had stopped flowing. Then slowly, achingly, she curled up, shivering and shuddering, but at least the horrible sobs had stopped.
Ashe didn't remember falling asleep, but when her eyes opened again, the sun was shining brightly through her window. Her feet were still bare and dirty, her dress was a rumpled mess, and her hair a snarled disaster. She did not care. She still ached horribly deep inside, but she somehow felt slightly better for having released some of the agony through her tears.
She lay in bed for quite a long time, until her thoughts turned to her father. She thought that now she might be ready to face him. She needed to see him. She was the only one he had left.
She tried not to feel guilty about that, but was not certain she was entirely successful.
Ashe changed her clothes, combed her hair, and splashed some water on her face. She pulled on a pair of slippers, and finally deeming herself at least vaguely presentable, she quietly opened the door to her room. When she stepped out into the hall, it was to find Basch standing beside her door. One look at him and she realized how tired he looked. His eyes met hers and she stared at him for a long moment before asking, "Have you been here all night?"
There was a pause before he replied, "Aye, my lady."
Ashe pulled her gaze away from his. She knew him well enough to realize that he had probably followed her on her frantic run through the palace to make sure, no doubt, that she was safe.
She closed her eyes briefly and nodded. "I wish to see my father."
"I shall escort you."
Ashe gave another nod, and Basch fell into step beside her. She glanced sideways at him as they walked through the corridors, and she found herself wondering if he had ever questioned why he was the only one in his family to survive. If he had ever been angry at the loss of those he loved. She wondered how he could maintain such deep conviction in the face of so much death and destruction. And she wondered if she would ever have the strength to do the same without doubting herself.
It was the first time she truly understood how much she had come to depend on Basch's unwavering strength.
