Truths: War

"War isn't about dying for your country; it's about making the other bastard die for his."

Ashe

"So I ran. Free at last. Funny how I went for the Dawn Shard. How could I have known that it was nethicite?" The look in Balthier's eyes was far away, perhaps miles up in the air and soaring on the Strahl. Freedom… was that his idea of freedom? Stealing his way into royal palaces and intending to take something of such worth to Dalmasca for his own personal gain – but then, Ashe had always loved her father. She probably would not understand what it felt like when you needed to escape from your own blood. All the blood ties she'd had were gone.

"And then, of course, I met you." She turned and looked at him again, out of surprise. He was being perfectly honest, something none of them had seen. Ashe had to wonder – had Fran known this whole time? He certainly couldn't have kept it from her; they were too close for that. "All that running, and I got nowhere. It's time to end this – cut ties to the past." Ashe frowned, shifting her hand only slightly to touch her ring finger. He didn't seem to notice, too busy staring out at the wide-open skies and taking in the salty sea air.

"It's hard to leave the past behind, I know." Indeed, these past two years up to not very long ago, she had been struggling to do that very thing. At first, she was trying to reconcile herself with Rasler's death, something that had shattered her in barely a heartbeat. Though their marriage had been for political reasons, neither of them had been able to deny that they loved each other. Rasler had even admitted once that he was tired of their relationship being seen as convenience. They had been so ready to play the roles, to gladly put on the masks and join in the cascading dance that was politics. Nabradia and Dalmasca had both been watching with hopeful eyes, praying their prince and princess would bring peace.

When Basch had brought back his body, the lifeless carcass that had once been her husband, Ashe suddenly forgot her role. Without her partner, the dance crashed to a halt, leaving her standing alone. There was no more Nabradia – she and her prince had fallen to Archades. Not long after that, her father, in hopes of peace, traveled to Nabudis to sign what he thought was a peace treaty. There… it happened. What went down in history as the day a traitor was made, the day a kingdom was destroyed, was all witnessed through the eyes of a boy – about Ashe's age, to be precise.

Vaan's brother – Reks.

Piled atop the sorrow that came at losing her husband, the man she was growing to love more and more, she lost her father as well – to the man she had once considered her friend and protector. Fueled by anger, she and Vossler created an elaborate scheme to fake her death, thus allowing her to escape. All they spoke of was building the resistance, creating a force strong enough to take on Archades and make them pay for what they did to Dalmasca. However, what was predominant on both of their minds for a time was something else entirely.

What they both wanted, his reported death or not, was to run their blade through the former Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg's body and see anguish on his face, for the anguish he caused Dalmasca – and, more personally, for the anguish he caused them. An eye for an eye, a life for a life, if you will.

When they had met on the Leviathan, so many emotions had budded up inside of Ashe that she had not quite known how to deal with them. There he stood, the kingslayer, the father-slayer, the kingdom-slayer, and he had the audacity to call her "Majesty". He stood there, a little smile on his face, relief in his eyes. Never mind the nasty scars she could see on his face and shoulders, he had the gall to look her right in the face and smile the way he had when she was younger. Basch himself, presumed dead for two years (though, really, the public thought was that she had committed suicide), had the very balls to stand there and look handsome, of all things.

Perhaps that was why she had slapped him, a move even she didn't quite understand. It infuriated her that he seemed to think there would be no change between them. She had wished that he would make a sound, or grimace, or even fight back a little. How she would have relished being able to fight the man who had ruined her life. Yet, all he did was stand there, taking her insults and remaining passive – when she slapped him, there was no resistance. He merely let it happen, as though he felt he deserved every bit of abuse she could hurl at him.

It had been long since she accepted the deaths of her father and husband, leaving her widow and orphan within the space of a week. Seeing Basch, her former captain, her once friend, had ripped open those wounds anew, and even when Vossler accepted him and they became friends again, she was still holding onto her hate.

Slowly, she began to expose herself more and more to Basch's company, and it truly did feel as though she was a young girl again. His smile was still the same, and his maddening way of acting like she would shatter like glass did a fiend rough her too much. Every time a stray paw would swipe its way across her body, it was he who would take her arm and administer the curative, using the utmost gentleness. It took a while, but that anger faded to something else… she saw that he could have never killed her father. His loyalty to her, and to Dalmasca, was too strong.

Vossler, however, quickly replaced the hatred that had left her heart at last. In betraying them to the Empire, he once more ripped a hole in her ability to trust, and she seethed with anger at him. When they faced him before they left, hearing him accuse them of being sky pirates sent a fire through her blood and made her only too glad to take up her sword against him. The biting fury with which their swords collided sent such reverberations through her arms sweet as honey, and she allowed the warrior inside her take over and fight to kill. It had not been her to take him down, however – it had been Basch who drove his sword into Vossler only the slightest.

When Basch pulled back, blood from the wound and blood on the sword dripped to the ground simultaneously, and the berserk state her mind had been in crashed to a halt. Everyone backed away, and alone she stood, seeing one of her captains standing over the other in victory. At first, she could not stop the rushing thought that another man had been slain by his hand (he was her friend), but then she saw. Though Vossler crouched on the ground, struggling for breath, blood poured from his upper thigh. Basch had struck a non-lethal spot.

At first, when the alarms went off, she heeded Balthier's initial statement that the ship was going to explode, and joined the others in the mad dash for the Strahl. Before she had quite reached the doors, she stopped and turned, looking back. Vossler… her closest companion for two years. Could he walk? Would he be able to save himself?

No… this was goodbye.

It wasn't until later that Basch moved further back into the Strahl, eyes scanning the walls. Ashe joined him momentarily, more to get away from the others than anything else, and when she stepped into the room he had caught sight of an oily rag. Picking it up, he unsheathed his blade slowly, and they both stared at the blood – still a deadly bright-red.

"You risk doing damage to your sword that way," she warned, seeing him take the rag to the sword. Basch did not look at her, and instead watched as the black stains of oil began to mingle with blood.

"Better to let it rust and fall to pieces than stain it with the blood of a friend."

After that moment, she forgave him. Ashe forgave him for everything, for every crime she thought he had committed, for everything he might have done. She forgave him for leaving her comrade to die, while at the same time she sought her own forgiveness – it was not just he who had left Vossler behind. She wanted to apologize for the slap, for every harsh word, for all the times she had given him a dirty look. As her throat did not seem to want to accommodate the words, she merely gave him an imploring look.

Setting the rag back where it was, the sword clean of blood, he sheathed it again and looked at her a moment. Their eyes locked, she caught sight of the red, angry scar over his eye and felt like she would shed a tear. Instead, he gave her another one of his smiles and placed his hand on her shoulder. His hand was heavy, and the warmth of his flesh heated her skin chilled from fear, excitement, and sorrow. Without needing to exchange a word, she knew he forgave her, and he moved back into the cockpit.

Was that when her heart had suddenly decided that she was enamored of him?

"The choice is yours to make. But don't give your heart to a stone. You're too strong for that, Princess." Ashe started a little – she had forgotten that she was speaking with Balthier. Looking over at him, she thought about what he said… giving her heart to a stone. She could see why he was concerned – they had seen what nethicite did to Judge Bergan. However, was she as strong as he thought? After all, while she hadn't come to such terms with the Dawn Shard, she felt strong connections to something else.

"…I pray you're right, Balthier."

Did it make her any weaker to admit that, without her realizing it, she had already given her heart to a knight?