Of course it was inevitable, being in such close quarters, that he would eventually have a run-in with the queen. He simply hadn't expected it to be quite so soon. But she had been lured by all the commotion in the conservatory, and had appeared promptly, a cadre of armed guards flanking her in the doorway. No escape. Penelo's joy slipped away into restrained silence; Balthier's amusement died a similarly swift death, his face setting to stony impassivity.
Ashe's expression was bland; she was not surprised to see him. "You." She motioned imperiously to Balthier. "With me. Now."
He bristled at the command. "And if I refuse?"
"Your compliance is not necessary. You may come under your own power or be compelled to do so. It makes no difference to me." She made a tiny gesture and the guards moved forward in unison.
"Ashe, wait." Penelo darted in front of him, holding out her hands in a placating gesture. "Please, can't we just -"
"Penelo. This is not negotiable. Step aside." Though Ashe did not speak sharply, the authoritative note in her voice made Penelo's spine go rigid, her brows raise skyward, her hands drop to her sides to clench into fists. The climbing color in her cheeks bespoke a brewing storm, and Balthier could almost feel sorry for the queen - Penelo, in a temper, was a force to be reckoned with. But then, it would hardly behoove them to begin this war anew.
But this was between Ashe and himself, and it would not do to embroil Penelo in such a battle. He squeezed her shoulder gently. "Don't interfere, darling girl. I'll take care of this."
She drew in an infuriated breath, gasped, "No! This is my home; I won't have my guests ordered about!"
"This is long overdue," he said. "I took the risk in coming; I'll shoulder the consequences." He dropped a careless kiss on the top of her head, strode around her to approach the queen. "Shall we, then?"
Ashe's eyes narrowed on him. "See that he follows," she said to her guards, and turned on her heel, retreating down the hallway. Balthier rolled his eyes as the guards surrounded him, pressing him on after the queen.
And something thwacked him in the back of the head. He stopped, rubbed the wounded area, muttering, "Damn, what...?"
A guard coughed, masking what sounded suspiciously like a snicker; a small, soft leather boot rested on the marble floor near his feet. He glanced over his shoulder, struck dumb at Penelo's furious expression. The little witch had lobbed a shoe at his head!
But Penelo merely jerked her chin up stubbornly. "You can both go to the devil!" she snapped, and slammed the doors of the conservatory so hard the glass panes rattled.
Balthier had expected to be shoved into an imposing office, forced into a chair, perhaps even bound and interrogated mercilessly. Thus he found himself somewhat surprised when Ashe lead him into a sunny parlor room, directed him to a plush sofa, took a seat in a chair opposite him, and called for tea.
"That could have been handled better," he said, as it became clear he was as yet in no danger of being tossed into a dungeon. "You've deplorable timing." All that vibrant joy extinguished at the whim of the overbearing queen. And now Penelo was furious with both of them; Ashe for her cavalier demands, Balthier for giving in to them.
"I have found it wise in the past never to underestimate you," Ashe retorted. "Therefore compelling your obedience was a necessary evil."
"You might have asked," he sighed.
She shrugged. "You might have refused."
A maidservant entered, bearing an elegant china tea service on a silver tray. She prepared two cups, offered them up to Ashe first, then Balthier, and exited the room silently. Ashe stirred her tea, studying Balthier's neutral expression.
"If I were going to have you arrested," she said finally, "I would have done it weeks ago. Contrary to what you may believe, security at the palace is quite excellent. Had it been my wish, you would never have made it within the walls."
Balthier had suspected as much, but hadn't been willing to test the theory on the off chance that he was mistaken. It had simply been too easy to move about the palace for him to believe it wasn't by some design. "What is this about, then? If you did not object to my presence at the palace, why now?"
She fixed him with a clear, searching gaze. "At the palace, your presence was under strict control. You could move about, but had you attempted to steal Penelo away, you would have very quickly found yourself apprehended. Here, you are something of a variable - my influence is limited, my power less than absolute. I would know your intentions before I leave Penelo in your hands."
He snorted, affronted on Penelo's behalf. "She's not yours to give. She's not a pawn to be given; she's capable of choosing for herself."
Ashe's stern expression melted into one of relief; she curled her hands around the delicate teacup, smiling fondly. "Balthier," she said softly, approvingly, "I do believe you've given me my answer."
His brows drew together, utterly baffled by the change that had come over her.
She continued, "I was married once, you know. And you have always looked at Penelo like my husband once looked at me. Even a year ago I saw it in you. But you didn't see it in yourself; you couldn't accept it, and instead you left her to suffer and grieve. How could I let her weather that pain again? She deserved to be protected. She deserved to be sure of you."
Ahh, understanding at last: Ashe had not intended to separate them, merely she had hoped to save Penelo further pain had he proved himself the same selfish, self-serving man he had been a year ago. He relaxed infinitesimally. She would protect Penelo even from him, had it come to it.
"She will be sure, eventually," he said. "This time I shall see to it that her trust is not misplaced."
"I believe you," she said. "You've changed. Perhaps not altogether...but enough, I think." She set aside her empty cup. "I'll be returning to Rabanastre soon, and Penelo has expressed the desire to remain here. I trust I can depend upon you to inform me of any changes?"
He nodded his assent. "I suppose I owe it to you. You took care of her in my absence."
"I promised you that I would, and I kept my word," she said. "See that Penelo can trust you to do the same."
If they had expected Penelo's fit of pique to have abated in their absence, they were doomed to disappointment. After they had ascertained that she had left the conservatory in a snit, the steward had approached, Penelo's lone discarded boot tucked under his arm, wringing his hands, to inform them that she had stalked away in a fine temper, and he did not know where she had gone.
"Surely," Ashe said hesitantly, "she must still be here?" But her voice wavered - Penelo had fled from both of them before; she was not one to sit idly by and allow others to determine her fate. They had both erred grievously with her, showing her such marked disrespect. Although she could not have understood the nature of it, she would understand that once again she had been treated like a child, as if her wishes were of no import to them.
"She might have run," he acknowledged dully. Any progress he had made with her might've been erased in one careless moment. His battle with Ashe had been resolved, but perhaps at a cost too great.
Ashe's eyes widened in horror; she turned to face the steward and spoke firmly, "Search the grounds. Everywhere. Inform all of the servants immediately."
The manor was thrown into chaos in moments as swarms of servants roamed the halls searching for their lost mistress. Balthier beckoned to Ashe, directing her to follow him outside.
"If she's here," he said. "She won't be found inside the house. She prefers the outdoors." He'd found her twice before, and neither time had she been safely ensconced indoors. "It's hardly been half an hour. She couldn't have gone far."
Ashe trailed after him, bemused. "Where are we going?"
"To find her, if we're lucky." He vaulted down the front steps, crossed the verdant green lawn in quick strides, and paused at the edge of the orchard - there, at the base of an apple tree, lay a small leather boot, the match to the one Penelo had thrown at his head earlier.
"She's here," he said. "She's here, somewhere." He sighed in relief - she hadn't fled, not this time.
They found her shortly thereafter, wandering aimlessly through the orchard, her bare feet sliding silently through the grass. She paused briefly, her attention momentarily garnered as she heard them approach, but she quickly turned her face away and continued on.
Beside him, Ashe drew in a sharp breath at the cut. He cast her a quelling glance; her wounded pride was not currently a concern. Balthier caught up to Penelo, Ashe on his heels, and they fell into step beside her, but she steadfastly refused to acknowledge them.
Long, silent moments passed. Eventually, Balthier ventured a comment. "We thought you might've run."
A tense hush, and then finally she deigned to speak. "I considered it," she said. "But then, what would be the point? Between the both of you, I'd just get dragged right back again."
He winced at the resentment in her voice; all they had succeeded in doing was to dredge up bitter memories of her less than fair treatment at their hands, wrenching her all-too-recently acquired autonomy from her hands once again.
"I would have followed you," he acknowledged carefully. "But not to force you to return anywhere you did not wish to go."
Instead of pursuing his statement, she said, "Do you know what it's like to be treated like a child? To have people in closed-door meetings behind your back, discussing what's to be done with you? To make your decisions without your consent? Because that's all you've done with me."
"Penelo, it wasn't -" Ashe began, but Balthier shook his head firmly and she lapsed into silence. She didn't need an explanation; she needed an apology.
"Everyone is so concerned with what they think is best for me. But no one's bothered to consider what I want. No one asks. No one cares." Penelo trailed her fingers along the trunk of a tree, sighing. "I think I could have been happy here. But if my wishes are disregarded in my own home, then it's just another sort of prison, isn't it?"
"I was wrong," Ashe said quietly. Penelo turned her head in surprise, hardly having expected to hear such a thing from her. Ashe flushed beneath the pointed gaze, a rare display of discomfiture from her. "It was wrong of me," she said. "I should not have presumed to give orders in your home." She twisted her fingers, appearing duly chastened. "I've meddled more than I ought to have done, but I do promise that it will not happen again."
Penelo considered that a moment, then nodded once, sharply, to indicate her acceptance of Ashe's admission. "You don't get to be queen here, Ashe. You are a guest - and that privilege will be revoked if you overstep again. I've tolerated it too long already."
That quiet rebuke carried more weight than a furious tirade would have; Ashe accepted it with good grace, understanding it for both the pardon and warning it was.
Balthier cleared his throat. "I suppose I have a few apologies to make as well," he ventured.
Penelo rounded on him. "You suppose?" she inquired icily.
Ashe's eyes rounded at the rancor in Penelo's tone, and she took a step backwards. "I'll...leave you to, ah, converse. I shouldn't want to intrude." And she beat a hasty retreat, all too eager to leave Balthier to fend for himself in the face of Penelo's ire.
Balthier sighed, braced himself against a tree trunk. "You threw a shoe at my head," he accused gently.
"You were a condescending bastard," she snapped back. "You're every bit as bad as she is! Worse, even!"
Because he was supposed to be her supporter, not her captor, not her guardian. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and said, "You're right."
The simple statement drew her up short. She eyed him suspiciously, warily, as though she suspected his easy acknowledgment to be a trick of some sort, a ploy to soften her anger. "Oh?" she asked. "Please, do continue."
"You're right," he said again. "I was a condescending bastard. I've made so many mistakes already with you, and I shall probably make many more along the way. But I am learning from them, darling, and I shall endeavor not to make the same mistakes in the future." He eased away from the tree, taking a hesitant step towards her, gratified when she did not withdraw. "I apologize," he said, "for making you feel inferior, for my presumption, for not respecting your wishes. It was not well done of me."
"No. It wasn't." Penelo mulled over his apology for a few moments, and finally asked, "If I asked you to leave, would you?"
A muscle in his jaw ticked. But he said, "Yes. Although I hope you will not." And he waited, tense, for her response.
For a moment she said nothing, merely considered him as if trying to determine whether or not he had spoken the truth. And he wondered what she saw in his face, whether she might see any worthiness in him. But her own expression was guarded, closed. All of the ground he had gained with his earlier gift had been lost in one fell swoop.
Finally her lips pursed, and she swallowed hard and said, "I want you to leave, Balthier."
Somehow, he had not truly expected the deathblow to fall, had expected her, in her infinite mercy, to forgive him his lapses. And already his mind whirled with possible ways he might manage to finagle his way back into her good graces. Letters, gifts, court events at which they might meet once again - but he needed her to trust him, to be able to take him at his word. And so he would have to leave, and hope that she might, at some point in the future, become receptive to his overtures once again.
He couldn't have managed a bow to save his life, but he indicated his understanding with a brief nod, began to walk away on legs that felt leaden. She let him get perhaps twenty feet before she called his name. He stopped, turned, expression wary.
"I'm banishing you from the entirety of my estate," she said. "I don't wish to see you. Not in the manor, not in the orchard, not in the gardens, not in the fields, not in the village, not anywhere. Is that understood?"
"As you wish," he managed to say, and made to leave once again.
"For one week."
He jerked to a halt, whirled around. Stared incredulously. Struggled in vain to suppress his relief. Scrubbed his hand over his mouth in a futile attempt to quell the grin that had surfaced. And then he was striding back to her.
"One week," she said again as he approached. "And then, if you like, you can -" But he had swept her into his arms, gathering her against his chest, pressing a searing kiss to her lips. Any protest she might've made was vanquished beneath the heat of his mouth on hers, but she allowed it for a few moments before she drew back slowly and settled her cheek against his chest.
"You really would have left, wouldn't you," she said wonderingly as he stroked her hair. "Just because I asked."
"Yes," he said. "Although I am a bit wounded that her majesty escaped with a lesser punishment."
"She's already preparing to leave; it wouldn't have accomplished anything. Most of her things are already packed; she's unlikely to be here longer than a few more hours," she explained. She pushed away, gently extricating herself from his arms. "You still have to go. Just for a week." She worried her lower lip. "I had to be sure. Can you understand?" she asked hesitantly.
"Darling girl," he sighed. "While your methods were somewhat disheartening," - terrifying - "I can understand the need for them. I hope, in the future, you will be able to take me at my word alone." She wanted so badly to trust him, had, even in her anger, provided him an opportunity to prove himself. She was going to forgive him; he knew it viscerally. Despite all of his missteps, she was going to forgive him. And in a week's time, when he returned to her, he suspected a good portion of her misgivings would have abated. Perhaps there would still be challenges ahead, but none of them would come down to a lack of faith.
She nodded, a wisp of a smile lingering at the corners of her mouth. And he thought that perhaps they understood each other just a bit better than they had only moments before.
"In a week, then," he said. And this time his gait was slow, unhurried, confident as he walked away.
When Penelo at last reached the manor, the panicked servants had already been reassured that their missing mistress had been located and their efforts redirected into assisting Ashe in the preparations for her departure, and so she was none the wiser as to the upheaval her disappearance had caused.
She found Ashe at the forefront of the activity, like a commanding officer directing her troops, waging war against the trunks and furniture and various other things she'd brought with her. When Penelo approached - without Balthier - Ashe's eyebrows rose dramatically. She murmured her instructions to one of the servants, and then stepped away from the fray to reconvene with Penelo some distance away, where they could talk in relative peace.
"Have you...quarreled?" she inquired uncertainly.
Penelo's shoulders rose in a shrug. "A bit," she said slowly. "I told him to leave, Ashe," she said after a short silence. Ashe's sharp, indrawn breath surprised her - she knew Ashe had never been particularly fond of Balthier, and the expression of dismayed shock on her face was certainly unexpected.
"Just for a week," Penelo clarified. "But I didn't initially qualify it, and he would have done it. What do you suppose that means?"
Cautiously, Ashe ventured: "Did he argue? Attempt to change your mind?"
Penelo shook her head. "No. I think he wanted to, but...no. He would have left simply because I asked him to."
Ashe summoned a reassuring smile. "I know I have mismanaged things, but I think perhaps you ought to know what passed between us this morning. When you were safe at the palace, his hands were tied - he could not have stolen you away even had he tried. It took a clever bit of work to manage it, I assure you, to ensure that he might be able to enter easily enough but not to leave with you."
Penelo's brows knitted in confusion. "But Vaan helped him -"
"Vaan came to me. Dear, really, there is very little that goes on in the palace that I do not know about - and I would not be so foolish as to leave the Garamsythe Waterway entrance unprotected. It was a carefully orchestrated undertaking. But I think it worked out rather well." Ashe sighed. "You needed security, and he needed - well, he needed a firm no for the first time in his life, a situation he could not manipulate to his benefit. A learning experience, in which he would have to put someone else's wishes above his own. And it was a learning experience for you, as well, I think."
It really had been, Penelo realized - she had learned much about herself and about him, because simple conversation with one another had, by necessity, become their primary mode of interaction. She had learned that he could use a touch of humility, that she didn't have to tolerate his highhanded behavior, that she could gleefully walk away from him if he displeased her. For once, all of the power had been hers, and she had enjoyed it to the fullest extent. And she thought maybe he had, too, in a way - for a change he had been forced to work for something he wanted, and he relished the challenge. He had settled down into the role, ceased straining at the bonds placed upon him, and actually listened to her, learned that some things had to be given freely.
"And so we come to today. Of course, you will be a sight more vulnerable beyond the protection of the palace. I merely wished to discover what he might do, whether he would revert to former bad habits now that you are free of the palace. It's one thing to pretend a change that has not occurred, and quite another to have actually changed - for your own peace of mind, you deserved the latter. And so I told him that I would require assurance before I would leave you in his hands." At Penelo's incensed gasp, she made a gesture of placation, "Please, dear, I said it only to gauge his response. But you would be pleased, I think: he said that you were not a pawn to be given. That's what you wanted, isn't it? To be a person, not a possession." She offered a smile. "So you see, I think he has learned something after all."
"Oh." Somewhat shaken, Penelo found herself pressing her hand to her heart like some sort of woebegone damsel. "You have been rather thorough, haven't you?"
"Perhaps a bit overzealous, I admit," Ashe said wryly. "Please understand; you gave me your loyalty when I had need of it, and you've earned mine in return. Of course I would wish to protect you from further pain if it was within my power to do so. I owe you a debt I can never repay."
Penelo sighed. "You have gone to great lengths already. And I do appreciate both your efforts and the outcome - but I would appreciate it more if you were to give up running interference. Some things I must do for myself."
Ashe's lips twitched. "Agreed. For what it might be worth, I do believe he has changed, at least enough to, ah...approach worthiness. And I do not give my favor lightly."
"Your counsel will be taken under advisement," Penelo replied primly, earning a brief spurt of laughter from Ashe. She stuck out her hand, grasped Ashe's in hers. "Let's part as friends, then. I will write to you, of course. And I may attend the occasional court function, if it is necessary."
"Dear, you needn't make any court appearances if you don't wish to do so, but your company would be very welcome indeed. I should like to see you from time to time." She clasped Penelo's shoulder warmly, and said, "Be well, and be happy." She turned to go, but tossed brightly over her shoulder, "And should it come to it, do let me throw you a grand wedding."
A wedding? Penelo gaped after her wordlessly. A wedding? In all the time she had spent with Balthier - and without him - she had never, not once, considered such a thing. It was the stuff of fantasies, and she had preferred not to build dreams on a man who would never have fulfilled them. Rather, she had existed only in the moment, knowing full well that each moment might be the last, and she would have to content herself with no more. He had made her no promises, and she never would have believed him even if he had. At least...not before today.
But Ashe was convinced he had changed. And he had made an honest effort to demonstrate as much to her, to foster trust regardless of the cost to himself. She had spent so long defending herself against his nefarious scheming, she hadn't really stopped to consider whether or not he might actually have had honorable intentions instead.
He had said he would return in a week. She only hoped he would bring with him answers to all the questions that consumed her.