Chapter Thirty-Three: Partaking of the fools banquet; the leading man falls to his vices

Author note: I am deviating from canon slightly here as I am completely leaving out Al-Cid's visit to Balfonheim and all talk of the Rozzarian fifth column. I like Al-Cid and think he is a character worth greater exploration, but that whole bit just doesn't fit with how this story is going so….there it is.

It had been a busy day. Fran had recovered sufficiently, she insisted though Balthier had argued, to help him teach Vaan and Penelo how to fly the Strahl.

Balthier could tell Fran was not feeling her best however, primarily because he was able to give Vaan one good wallop to the back of the head in annoyance before Fran restrained him.

Balthier could not understand how the boy, who had proved a surprisingly good co-pilot on their escape from the Cataract, could think, even for a moment, that Balthier would ever let him barrel roll the Strahl!

Vaan did have excellent reflexes however, Balthier didn't rate his chances of surviving, let alone flourishing in any future career in piracy, but he could at least fly the Strahl as a last resort.

Fran had retired early after a long day of preventing Balthier, when his patience was all but exhausted, from perpetrating aggravated homicide; leaving him to his own devices.

He did not quite know how to feel about this, so he decided not to dwell on any vague feelings of unease or loneliness and instead set to work tinkering with the Strahl.

The news filtering into the port from Dalmasca and Archades was less than heartening to say the least and Balthier suspected that the Strahl would need to be in fighting trim.

Day-dreaming on nothing in particular while he checked the oil pressure and changed the inertia coil on the left secondary Glossair ring, Balthier was brought to immediate attention by the sound of a soft soled shoe scuffing over the metal plated floor of the Aerodrome's maintenance pit.

Casually, as if reaching for one of his arrayed tools, Balthier stretched his hand out for the Arcturus bartered from Rikken in exchange for a batch of counterfeited Gil bonds that could pass muster in any of Archadia's banks.

' It is me Balthier.'

The voice came from somewhere behind him, around the bulk of a badly rusted and ill-maintained air freighter docked next to the Strahl. Somewhat perplexed Balthier waited for the Princess to emerge.

' We did not see you at dinner, so I thought I would check on you.'

Ashe was dressed in her usual scandalously short skirt and high necked collar, though she had removed her elaborate metal greaves and wore delicate silver twined slippers on her feet.

Balthier put his habitual smirk in place and put down his tools, stifling a yawn he picked up a cloth and whipped the oil and grime from his hands.

' Apologies Princess I did not realise it was so late.'

Ashe was caught in a cool square of silvered crystallight, the illumination causing her white high-collared jacket to glow.

Without a by-your-leave Ashe, looking oddly abstracted, walked over to the Strahl and tapped her fingers distractedly against the painted hull.

' You should eat Balthier, you have not eaten since the Pharos and you appear pale.'

He blinked in surprise, surely the Princess was mistaken? But the sudden untwisting of his very empty stomach confirmed her statement.

Bemused both at her show of concern, albeit expressed without once meeting his eyes, and by the fact that he had in fact completely forgotten to eat, Balthier pitched his response to be both polite and non committal.

'I thank you for your concern, Princess. Did you come down here just to remind me to eat, or was there something you wanted?'

Ashe cast a downright furtive glance his way, still addressing herself primarily to the Strahl.

'I have been speaking with Basch regarding the rumours we have heard of a large fleet of airship converging on Rabanastre. It seems likely that my Uncle Halim intends to meet Vayne in battle.'

' Yes,' He drawled adjusting his sleeves out of habit, ' And I had him pegged as a smart man, the Marquis, ah well, can't be right all the time I suppose.'

Ashe turned to face him for the first time, ' My Uncle commands an impressively large fleet, do you not think he may be able to best Vayne in battle?'

Balthier snorted, 'Not while Vayne holds the Manufacted Nethicite. You saw what one little bauble did to the Eight Fleet, Princess. All the airships in Ivalice are just cannon fodder compared to that.'

Ashe nodded, ' Basch was of similar opinion. Yet Vayne must know that the Empire is not the unstoppable Juggernaut it once was. We have bested two Judge Magisters already, perhaps three, if Gabranth is indeed dead.'

He shook his head as he rose to his feet, ' There are always more fools to fill the armour of a Judge, Princess. We have dealt a good blow to the Empire, I'll give you that, but Vayne is likely unperturbed.'

Ashe frowned, edging slightly closer to him, ' Because he is mad, or because he wishes a war to destroy all Ivalice?'

Balthier was wondering exactly why the Princess had come down to the aerodrome in her slippered feet and suspected, though he cast no aspersions against her majesty in doing so, that it was not solely to check on his general well-being.

' The one goes hand in hand with the other. Remember Princess, Archadia has no qualms against razing whole countries to the ground.'

Was it simply to discuss the political climate? Balthier felt his smirk deepen, the Princess was a very driven young woman he would grant her that.

However he had known Ashe for over half a year now and it seemed to him that there was something more to her almost coy actions than merely a desire to discuss the worsening state of political affairs in Ivalice.

Ashe stroked a finger thoughtfully over her plump lips, Balthier watched as her daintily clad feet turned inward, toes almost meeting.

' And Vayne would see Rabanastre a smoking pile of rubble in the desert before relinquishing her to her rightful ruler.' Ashe mused.

He nodded, 'And the Marquis, Princess, don't forget Ondore. He has given up his own principality to lead the Resistance, to stop without even one skirmish with the Empire would see him a laughing stock among his peers.'

Ashe looked startled, ' Uncle Halim would never risk Dalmasca for his own pride!'

She shot back, forgetting her almost coquettish mien for more natural behaviour.

Balthier was beginning to suspect the true reason for her being here, though he was not sure yet how he intended to respond.

' Princess he already has. The Marquis knows you live, he knows you seek other means to win back Dalmasca and still he goes off to play war games with Vayne.'

Ashe did not argue further merely stood quietly stroking her bottom lip and gazing into a middle distance.

' Basch said very similar.'

He raised both eyebrows, ' Oh?'

Ashe nodded still not looking at him, her finger pressed to her lips and the other arm held protectively across her chest.

Balthier moved away from his scattered tools and approached her from behind, though he did not take that last step to her just yet.

' Yes. Basch believes that even if it means delaying my return to Dalmasca war should be averted at any cost.'

He snorted, ' I wonder how the man ever came to be a soldier let alone a Knight, far too much a pacifist in disguise it seems.'

Ashe turned so she faced him; the movement closed the gap between them. She looked up at him with intense, storm grey eyes.

' I am inclined to agree with Basch. I have had my fill of bloodshed.'

' Haven't we all, Princess. Sadly I think the time for peaceful solutions is long past. Vayne will hunt you down even if you forsake any claim to your throne, Ashe. He will hunt all of us down.'

Ashe nodded, ' So we must take the fight to him.' She said firmly.

Balthier said nothing; he was waiting to see how this odd scene would play out.

It felt as though a pall of anticipation hung gossamer light but pervasive as cobweb over their heads.

'Princess may I enquire as to the real reason you sought me out so late in the night?' He broke the silence eventually.

Ashe blushed slightly, tellingly, 'I wished to discuss with you the next course of action.'

' In the middle of the night, in your slippers?'

Balthier had never seen Ashe in anything but her full regalia. Such as it was.

The blush crept up the Princess' throat to shade her cheeks a deep rose, she glared at him icily.

' You have made yourself scarce all day, Balthier, this was the first opportunity I have had to speak with you since the Pharos.'

'And this could not wait until morning?' He asked mildly around a yawn.

' I had thought you might like the company.'

Ashe admitted reluctantly something burning in her ever earnest storm tossed regard.

' Company, Princess?'

Balthier purred recognising in her eyes, in the strange waiting tension between them the same desire as in the Sochen Caves. He had walked away then, better sense dictating. Would he walk away now?

Did he want to walk away?

Ashe watched him with tense focus; both hopeful and anxious. Was she hoping he would play the gentleman again, or hoping that he would take what was being so covertly offered?

The Princess exuded the scent of Galbana lilies and Jasmine, and Balthier inhaled that pleasing scent almost greedily.

Could a starving man be blamed, Balthier mused vaguely, if he fell upon a feast laid out for his delectation?

Even if he knew the meal, in its devouring, would curdle in his stomach?

' I am glad Fran is recovered.' Ashe said suddenly.

Balthier blinked; jolted from his thoughts as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown on him.

' Me too.'

He admitted with simple, un-gilded honesty, before he could stop himself. It had been a long, tiring day indeed, to let honest sentiment escape him.

' I do not love you.'

Ashe said equally suddenly but the radical change in subject didn't disturb Balthier.

He understood. He and Ashe, it seemed, understood each other in this regard very well indeed. He smiled on the Princess.

'Thank you, Princess, I don't love you either.'

Balthier drawled carefully pulling her into the circle of his arms. He held her lightly, she could pull away, end this folly, anytime she wished.

' Good,' Ashe said standing on tip-toes, her slippers not granting her the extra height of her heeled boots, to slip her arms around his neck.

'I doubt a pirate knows much of love, at any rate.'

Balthier chuckled and shook his head, 'I wonder then at your reasoning for being here, if you have such low opinion of me.'

He commented dryly as he lowered his face close to hers.

' I told you.' Ashe whispered irritatedly her lips brushing his, 'I wished to discuss with you our next course of action.'

Balthier's eyes were already closed in anticipation of that next course of action, but a question slipped into his front brain and demanded he verbalise it.

'Princess, do you compensate Basch in similar fashion, when you turn to him for strategy?'

A sharp and well aimed clenched fist to the gut was an eloquent answer.

Balthier grunted but didn't let go of her, it was nice to hold a woman in his arms that didn't have a near pathological distaste for physical contact.

' Don't be impertinent, Balthier.'

Ashe snapped, though her hand had slipped to the back of his head and she raised her lips to his.

' Never Princess.' He purred against her lips.

It occurred to him in the tiny, transient moment of time between contemplation of the act and the act itself, that both he and the Princess must be fools indeed.

In his greedy, cynical heart, Balthier was aware that he was about to embark on an act of betrayal that cut three ways, and knew equally well, as he thought Ashe must know, that the only people who would be hurt by this was he and Ashe.

The thought did not give him pause. The scent of jasmine and Galbana lilies mingled with that of engine oil and lubricant, the copper tang of the Strahl presiding over all.

The pretty silver slippers came off, dropping with barely a sound to the metal grated floor, they were soon joined by a leather and velvet vest and jewel crusted jacket and collar.

A white shirt billowed gracefully down to mingle like a silent confession of guilt next to a brilliant red skirt.

There was the metallic tinkle as the Princess' golden elbow guards clattered to the floor and a louder thud as twin belts, heavy with over-stuffed pouches, fell to the ground soon after.

The Strahl, silent in inert judgement, bore witness to another of Balthier's many transgressions.

This time, he would have argued if he was ever called to account, the stolen bounty tasted so very, very sweet; even if the delicious siren in his arms had called out to a dead man with every breath.

It was only fair, Balthier reasoned, as he afforded a gentle smile upon Ashe over the group meal the next day and felt it returned behind a demurely raised hand, because the name that echoed in his heart with every beat belonged to another woman entirely.