The bitter winds that characterize Paramina are not at all present in the Feywood, but it is no less treacherous. Ashe is grateful to be able to shed the heavy woolen coat and can swing her sword arm more freely, but the swirling Mist in the ancient forest is just as confounding as she remembers it. She must stand near her companions or she will surely lose them. The clusters of petrified trees and clear brooks are beautiful, but it is easy to lose one's way. The Mist is thick here and even more impenetrable in the snow fields beyond.

The ground is soft under her boots and not as slick as the icy rift was the day before. There had been little conversation among the three of them. The snows had been furious, and merely marching through it had exhausted them so much that they fell asleep without a word spoken in their camp. They'd entered the Feywood early that morning and are making slow, but steady progress. By evening they will reach the less confining snowfields and will hopefully be able to shelter in one of the ancient shrines that dot the landscape.

A strange calm has settled over her since she entered the Feywood. Perhaps the many days of longing to get here have brought this feeling on, but she doesn't dare discuss it with Balthier or Fran. They will think it some Occurian interference, and Ashe has already noticed some unease on the Viera's part. She remembers how terribly the Mist can affect the Viera, and she feels horrible for making Fran return here. Ashe watches the way Balthier always keeps within an arm's reach of his partner and how his eyes dart sideways to see how the Mist affects her.

Ashe trails behind them a few paces since she has not had as much practice in the field as they have in her two years cooped up in her palace. She was so obsessed with reaching the ancient city the last time she was here that she paid her surroundings little heed, and she is now discovering how truly beautiful this forest is. A dangerous beauty, she reasons, but the trees soar far overhead while flakes of snow swirl about in a dance all their own. She catches brief glimpses of herself as Mist surrounds her, but as soon as her mirrored twin is visible, it disappears.

It will be another full day's walk once they reach the snowfields, provided that the Mist doesn't act up. That would add another day to their journey if they are turned about by the trickery of the seemingly endless plains of white. Giruvegan waits beyond, and Ashe wonders if the stone gate will allow them passage. Vaan alone has the ability to call forth Belias, but Ashe imagines that the trick needed only work once. She will pry the door open with her bare hands if she must.

They round a cluster of trees, stepping over the gnarled roots only to spy a large grouping of bird-like creatures, one of the many peculiar inhabitants of this wood. Their screams echo as they are spotted, and Ashe draws her sword quickly, setting her pack down on the ground. Fran deftly draws her bow and sends an arrow through the head of the first creature while Balthier's gun crackles, felling a second. This has given her an opening to get in closer with her sword.

The whooshing of arrows and the popping of the shotgun are mere background noise to her as she slices her way through, deflecting their heavy wings as best she can with her shield. Some more creatures fall to her companions' attacks while her sword finds a good spot in the creatures' ribs. She does not take the time to wonder at their origin – of fiends that walk upright like men but have wings. If she hesitates, they could very well take her head off.

But again, it has been some time since she was at her peak of strength and one of the angered beasts swats hard, knocking her to the ground. Though her pride is more wounded than her body, she is still too stunned to move and awaits another strike. Fortunately, the creature collapses backward, having been beaten in the head soundly by the butt of Balthier's shotgun. Fran has managed to dispatch the remainder, and the sky pirate holds out a hand.

"I should have given you the gun, Princess," he remarks as he hauls her up. His hand seems to linger on her wrist for a few seconds before Fran joins them, and he snatches it back to turn away and apparently inspect the corpses for anything of worth.

"Are you injured?" Fran asks her, and she shakes her head. "We ought to rest and take our midday meal. The afternoon will take us even further into the Mist."

Ashe nods in agreement, brushing dirt from her clothes. She and Fran set down their packs and set out some food. It is good to take a rest, and her feet ache from the two days of walking. They've settled beneath a small grouping of trees, and she leans her back against the rough bark, letting her fingers brush over the twisted roots. Balthier arrives a short time later, his arms full of some metallic plating from the creatures' wings, and she shakes her head.

"Did you really need to pillage now?" she asks.

He puts the metal in his own pack and scowls at her. "Perhaps you've forgotten my vocation, Princess. I am a man concerned with treasure."

"Even now when it is dangerous? It's not as if you'll be heading to the bazaar to trade those tomorrow," she complains, helping herself to some dried meat and a chunk of bread.

"Especially now when it is dangerous, Highness," Fran interjects wryly. "You may not know this, but Balthier likes busying himself with his pirating in moments of abject terror."

"Abject terror?" her partner protests. "I am anything but terrified. It costs money to fuel an airship, Fran. Unless you'd prefer to flap your arms and see how far you get, hmm?"

Ashe smiles and snatches Balthier's canteen from him. "Fran, I don't know how you put up with this."

The Viera smirks and chews a piece of bread. "My punishment for leaving the silence of the Wood."

Balthier rolls his eyes and takes turns glaring at the two of them. "What is this nonsense? I am not going to endure much more of this feminine chatter," he moans. "Gang up on me one more time, and I'll leave you both to have tea with the Occuria while I get drunk on some Bhujerban madhu on board the Strahl."

Fran rises to her feet and shakes her head. "I've only said what you've deserved," she notes, gathering her bow and quiver once more. "I'll go on ahead and check to make sure the paths are clear."

She departs, and Ashe watches Balthier make a face behind the Viera's back. "Sometimes I wonder how the two of you can snipe at each other like that and still be partners," she muses aloud. It also amazes Ashe that she and Balthier often argue similarly – how come she herself hasn't murdered the pirate yet for his quick tongue?

Balthier shrugs. "Keeps the mind sharp to bicker with Fran," he explains, tapping a finger to his head. "She's a right champion at belittling my inadequacies and pointing out my shortcomings…of which I'm firmly convinced there are none."

"Of course not," she replies agreeably, but they then fall into silence once Fran is out of sight. The feelings Ashe has been able to tuck away for the past day and a half are rearing up once again, and she wonders if Fran has wandered away on purpose. It would be just like Fran to let things play out as they will.

Balthier reopens his pack to inspect the metallic loot he's swiped while she eats the remainder of her meal quietly. How long will Fran stay away? Now isn't really the best time for a discussion of feelings and emotions, especially with Balthier's prickly behavior the past few minutes. But Ashe cannot shove her feelings aside. His intentions towards her are still so unclear, and she'd rather know than have this looming over her. She has quite enough to worry about already, and the strange situation with Balthier will only compound her anxiety. Whatever his answer, she will at least have one less issue to dwell upon.

She watches his eyes dart across the plated metal, his fingers running across the surface to seek out imperfections. "Balthier?" she inquires slowly, and she begs for Fran to return and interrupt this embarrassing display.

"Mmm?"

"On the Strahl…the day Basch boarded," she begins, trying to get him to meet her eyes. He cannot lie to her if he is looking her in the face, can he?

Balthier holds up a hand to silence her. "We've discussed this, Princess. I said what I had to say to convince him you were not on board. I do not actually believe that you should be executed for war crimes…"

"I know that."

"Then what are you trying to insinuate?" he finishes, finally looking up and giving her a strange look. His eyebrows arch, and he crosses his arms as he often does when displeased with the course of a conversation.

But she must press on now that she has started, and Fran has stayed away. The curiosity and worry has been bubbling inside for days now, and her heart is racing. How will she ask him? She cannot simply ask him straight out what his intentions are – she does not have the courage for that. Best let Balthier's own previous actions inform his answers. "Basch said something in the past. About…affection for me in the past?"

Balthier is quick to block her. "He may have. We are all your friends, Ashe."

He has always been effective at evading and dodging, both in the field of battle and in the field of conversation. She must push him. "I'm not sure that's what he meant."

The sky pirate waves his hand dismissively. "The man was trying to catch me in a lie."

"Balthier, why did you kiss me?"

There, she's done it. And surprisingly enough, she's stunned him. What had he expected her to ask him? He'd kissed her so passionately – why should she not question his intentions? His eyes are focused again on the damned monster scales.

"I see," she mutters. He looks overwhelmingly guilty – perhaps guilty for leading her on. Why does this distress her so? "It was naught but a distraction then. Your silence is all the confirmation I need…"

"Ashe," he interrupts, but before he can finish whatever he means to say, Fran's loud scream reaches them and they are both on their feet and running in seconds. Balthier calls out to his partner, and as they race through the snowy dirt, Ashe notices how much thicker the Mist has grown since they sat down to rest. Whatever has happened, it was her fault for bringing Fran here.

They find the Viera lying almost motionless on the ground, her bow clutched protectively in her arms. Balthier is by her side immediately, whispering something she cannot hear. It was wrong to make Fran endure this for her sake. The guilt begins to overwhelm her, and she can only collapse in a heap a few feet away from the sky pirate and his ill partner.

"It grows too strong," she hears Fran tell him. "Too violent."

"We have to get you out of here," Balthier replies, trying to help his partner to sit up. She should have come alone. Fran's breaths are shallow, and her usually calm expression is replaced with a deep frown as if she is in horrible pain.

"No, I promised…" the Viera mumbles as Balthier keeps his arm securely around her shoulders.

"Don't say that, Fran." The last thing Ashe wants is for Balthier or Fran to feel like they must jump in front of bullets for her. She asked for their help and did not demand it. They are not her soldiers to be ordered about. "We must turn back."

"We'll find another way," Balthier agrees. Ashe cannot think of any other way to get to Giruvegan. What other method is there? Her worry grows, but she will not show it when Fran is clearly so ill. "Here, let's get you up…"

"I will not be carried," Fran says stubbornly, pushing her partner's hands away to rise to her feet by her own power. "I may not be able to endure this, but the Mist affects you very little. You must continue without me."

"And leave you here? You're mad," Balthier chastises her, hovering near Fran like a mother cockatrice with her chick. Ashe does not need to spend the remainder of the journey alone with Balthier now that she knows his true feelings…or lack of feelings, rather. She must send him back with her.

"I will return to the Strahl," Fran mutters, walking shakily back to return to where they had taken their meal.

Ashe's nerves are growing increasingly unsteady. She can sense tension in Balthier as well, and she can tell that it is not just worry for Fran that is making him clench his fists and walk so stiffly. She moves ahead to stand in front of the Viera and block her way. "That is not safe, Fran. Let me continue, and Balthier will get you back…"

But it appears that Fran's resolve will not falter. "Majesty, you made a foolish journey alone from Archades. I will not see you abandon all that you have worked for. Let me take my own journey alone. You must confront them."

"Fran," Balthier interrupts, but Ashe knows they have both lost.

"Stay with her," Fran says to her partner, walking past them and back to her pack. "Protect her. I am sorry."

Ashe is silent then, as is Balthier. Fran gives them each a serious look – a look that implies that she would be angered if they do not continue onward. Ashe can only nod as the Viera shoulders her belongings and begins walking away from the heavier bits of Mist that had so affected her. And then they are alone.

Balthier speaks first, gathering his things together. "You heard the woman. Let's move." It is the last thing he says for the next several hours as she follows him back through the Mist and into the snow fields.

-----

A day passes, the only words between them concern Fran's fall to the Mist and the sharing of meals. The rest of the time, Ashe languishes in the space of her own mind, wondering why she can't simply revert to the thought of Balthier as her trusted ally and friend. All bets were off once he crossed the line and kissed her. And his silence and lack of apology have infuriated her. She should be concentrating on Giruvegan. They may spend days looking for some way to destroy the Occuria's power or perhaps she will need his support to confront them verbally. So much is uncertain and she now travels at the side of a man she thought she understood.

Balthier shoots at creatures, eats, sleeps, and keeps moving forward. He seldom glances back as he walks the open expanse of snow, the fields dotted sporadically with the ruins of a civilization long abandoned. The Mist and its false reflections grow stronger as they continue forward, and it seems to creep into her bones and slowly gnaws at her mind. How much would this affect Fran? The Viera is one of the strongest people she's ever met and seeing her crouched on the ground shook Ashe deeply. Feeling the Mist invade her own senses now gives her some small insight into Fran's own struggles with it.

Does he hate her now? Seeing his concern for Fran has affected Ashe more than she realized. Balthier is rarely, if ever, without Fran by his side. They complement one another and watch the other's back. Ashe has never been so close to anyone. Her time with Rasler had been so very short, and Balthier and Fran's partnership is the strongest bond she's ever known. He is almost lesser without her – his steps not as light and full of confidence, his face more readily showing agitation. She has done this to him.

They pass through the gate to the city later that afternoon and still the Mist grows stronger. Giruvegan looms just ahead. They need only touch the ancient transporting device. Ashe knows that the darkened passages and impossibly wet paths within await. The great crystal in the center will be just as confusing to navigate as it was on their first arrival. And so she hesitates.

"Could we rest before we enter?" she asks timidly, loathing herself for sounding so frightened. Balthier pauses just before the device, his hand all set to let the ancient magicks send him within the city confines. Instead he nods quietly and sets down his burdens. Ashe sets down her own things and wanders to the edge of the platform. The city lies across the placid waters, and she leans against the old stone wall at her side, watching for some sign.

Do the Occuria know she is here? They've been so close to her all this time. Perhaps they influenced the Mist to lower their morale as well as their numbers. What effect is their meddling having on Emperor Hammad? Has Rozarria made their way to Dalmascan soil? Ashe prays that Larsa has been doubling and tripling his efforts to prevent a war in her absence, regretting that the young man has so much of her responsibility to bear as well as his own. Anyone but Larsa would let Rabanastre fall to another foreign conqueror.

Balthier is beside her then, and she sneaks a glance over to see him staring across the waters to the city as well. His eyes are pained, so much more emotion in them than she is used to seeing. How insensitive she's been to him all of this time. She's been so preoccupied with her anger. Not only has the man had to contend with the sudden departure of his partner, but he's returned to the place that drove his father mad to help her. What does a simple kiss matter when he has all of that upon his shoulders? Why does she have such trouble realizing that others have feelings and troubles no less than her own?

She turns and leans her back to the cool stone, letting her palms brush against its roughened texture. "Do you resent me?"

"Resent you?" he stutters out seconds later, turning to her with a startled expression. "Why?" Is he lying again? Trying to set her off-balance?

"Because our numbers are fewer now. Because of Fran…"

He shakes his head and smirks that same smirk she's grown to loathe the sight of. "Fran's little Mist allergy is not your fault, Princess."

He mocks her now. "How can you joke about that?" she replies bitterly, preferring their long hours of silence to this. "She is your partner."

Balthier pivots on his heel, looking away from Giruvegan and instead to her. The flash of anger in his eyes reminds her of his confrontation with Basch days earlier. Will he goad her until she strikes him as well? He takes a step forward, and she realizes that the wall she leans against is now keeping her trapped between Balthier and any possible escape. She's started this conflict, there is no denying it. Perhaps it would have been better if they'd simply gone into the city. Now they must wait until the following day, and this argument will undoubtedly affect their ability to concentrate within the city.

"Do not preach to me about how I should feel and react," he warns her, wagging an arrogant finger in her face. His voice is cold, as cold as it had been when he'd confronted her about Giruvegan earlier. She'd had an Occuria-induced headache shortly thereafter, and she knows that that is probably the only way to avoid his anger now.

She rises to her full height but will not move from the wall. She will instead use it to lean against, to support herself against him. "Then do not belittle the suffering of others." It is a weak counter, for she knows that what Balthier says isn't always what Balthier feels.

He is within arm's reach now. She could slap him away if he continues to challenge her. "I will not stand here and be ordered around by one whose mind is not entirely her own." She can tell by the way he recoils at his own words that he regrets them, but it's all he had to say to dissolve their friendship entirely now.

"All this time," she mumbles, feeling her resolve begin to crumble like the ruins they'd passed in the snow fields that day. "All this time you truly have thought me mad." The wall cannot support her now. "Are you waiting for me to have another little episode? A mental break? Will you play the great hero and knock me to the ground before I unleash more horrors upon the world?" Stepping away from the wall, it is Balthier who backpedals slightly as she pushes away from the stone to stare up at him. "Is this entire affliction of mine a game to you? Just another chance for the leading man to be the center of the universe while everything else collapses around him?"

"With me at the center?" he spits in disbelief, and she wonders if he will simply toss her in the water until she calms down. "My good lady, are you not the center of your own little world in this tale? The victim we ought pity?"

It wounds her deeply to hear him say these things. Perhaps she should send him away, back to Fran and the Strahl and out of her life for good. She's brought him nothing but trouble. He does not need to be shackled to her when all he has ever craved is his freedom. Perhaps telling him to leave will be the only way she can show him what she can no longer ignore or keep hidden away – the fact that she truly does love him. She cannot understand it – not fully, not yet – but denying it will only cloud her thoughts. It matters little – he thinks her mad and a burden.

"Balthier," she says quietly. She lost Rasler too soon. Now she must give up whatever this is with Balthier before it comes to anything. "Why are you always so cruel?"

He's staring at her now, watching and waiting. Will he go if she tells him to? It would betray Fran's wishes, but he could return to his life of treasure hunting. War between Rozarria and Dalmasca would affect him very little when there are profits to be made elsewhere. She does not wish to be alone, but he has made it clear that he thinks she is on a fool's errand.

"You flirt and then you bite," she tells him, searching his eyes for some recognition of what she is saying. He has always been so many things in one man, and she has fallen. She's fallen so hard she can feel the ache in her bones. "You smile at me and then you lie. You kiss me and then you…"

Her back is against the wall again, and his hands are like fire upon her body. His lips seek hers, yearning for a taste of her. Her breath is stolen, and she will never understand him. Balthier is one giant riddle, but he's nearly biting her in his intense need to kiss her. Is this more of his cruelty? This differs from the way he'd kissed her in Ridorana. There the kiss had been the first delivered in the manner of a last, as if he were searching for something in her. Whatever passion he'd put into the one at Ridorana is tepid in comparison to the way he's loving her now, if that is what she dares to call this.

She cannot break away to ask his intentions, though she will, by the gods. His hands are at the bottom of her blouse, and he lifts it to touch the bare skin of her stomach, of her back. She cannot stifle the moan that erupts from her at the feeling. Ashe can only put her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her as she stands on the tips of her toes. She lets her fingers stroke the short hair at the back of his head as she feels his hands beneath her shirt committing every inch of her skin to tactile memory.

Seconds earlier she thought they would be parting forever, and now he is pressed against her, his tall, lean body firmly holding her against the ancient stone. He must come up for air, and her name is on his lips as he breaks the kiss, waiting only a few seconds before plunging back down to claim her mouth again. Her whole body is aflame, never knowing such intensity of feeling before. Her mind is numbed, knowing only the richness of his kiss and the roughness of his hands under her blouse. Mist languishes all around her, invading her senses and clouding her judgment.

Confirmation at least that he lusts for her is evident, and one hand moves from her shirt to her hip, gripping and squeezing like it should belong to him. They are out in the open, though no other man would set foot in this place. She can smell the calm waters paces away and the familiarity of his own scent mingling with it. If he would be greedy then she will take what she wishes as well. Moving down his arms, she can feel the muscles beneath his shirt. Taking the material in her hands, she pulls it out from where it is tucked in his trousers so precisely as always, her fingers meeting taut flesh beneath.

He nearly growls at her touch, pressing himself against her. Finally his mouth seeks places other than her own, trailing eager kisses along her jaw to her ear, behind it, and then he nuzzles her neck. She can feel moisture against her pulse, his tongue darting out quickly to taste her skin. The hand upon her hip bunches in the fabric of that Archadian-style skirt, tugging upward until she feels his hand upon her bare thigh, and she cries out at the contact.

"Not here," she exclaims. In broad daylight, no matter how deserted this place is, it is not the right time for such things. She doesn't even have outright proof that he does this for reasons beyond pure lust for something he is forbidden to take. He doesn't stop and so she must pull her hands from under his shirt, already missing the feeling of skin she's never even seen beneath her fingertips. She sets her palms upon his chest and gives him a push. "Gods, Balthier, not here."

He staggers back away from her as if he is intoxicated from the taste and touch of her. "I'm sorry," he mutters, his voice low and nearly unrecognizable. Ashe can barely breathe, wondering how such ardor is possible between two people. Though he now stands a few paces away, her arms want to reach and pull him back to her, as if there is some invisible tether keeping them attached.

Balthier clears his throat then, running a nervous hand through his hair and adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. There is the slightest bit of amusement in his voice. "Well, I'm afraid that certainly complicates things."