disclaimer: I own nothing
teaser: in which fairytales, legends, and sorted mythology are told by knights, pirates, urchins, and princesses to hold off boredom and depression (more or less)
author's notes: yay for spring break! I'm actually get shit done. What a surprise. XD I figured I'd get this done and move onto another project of mine, so here you go. Ah, sorry about the sudden angst at the end. That's where Balthier and Ashe wanted to take it, and I can't argue with the muses, can I?
/the lord of the Dead who stole the daughter of the Spring, as related by Balthier/
(or the retelling of Hades and Persephone)
All was quiet in the Balfonhiem Manse, which in itself seemed a violation. People had always been running back and forth in the port city, voices raised in argument or in jovial merriment. Reddas's own husky, deep voice had reverberated through all halls.
But the man was dead and all was quiet.
Even Ashe could not find words to break the heavy silence that surrounded them all, and within a day's time they would be on the Bahamut and she would face her destiny.
Her heart twisted in mourning. She couldn't believe that she had come this far, after so long, and now hesitated. Reddas had made her think. The man's sacrifice had been selfless, a desperate attempt to correct past wrongs… could she ever be so humble? So moral?
She had said she had set aside the Occuria, and the Nethecite, and revenge. But had she really? Did some part of her still yearn for vengeance for what had been done to her? Ashe knew she wanted Vayne punished. Was that not a want of revenge?
Her thoughts would not ease and she tossed over in her large bed. Though Reddas was gone, and with him their connection to the port city, no one had questioned their stay at the manse. Instead, the pirates had gone about their duty, preparing the funeral rites for their leader.
Vaan had retired the minute they had arrived and he would not even allow Penelo to come into his room to offer comfort. Basch had eventually explained to Penelo that sometimes a man needed time to himself to settle with the idea of death.
It was the first time Basch had referred to Vaan as a man.
But she did not cry for the pirate. And not because she had not come to care for him. It was not that at all. She was merely all dried up inside. She had no more tears to shed. She was tired of mourning constantly, of one blow after another.
Reddas would not want her to mourn for him, she told herself stubbornly. What he did, he had done to make peace with himself. To be able to ease the heavy guilt of his soul. It was what he had had to do.
She still wished he was here now, offering words of wisdom, preparing for battle with the rest of them.
There was a knock on her door. Ashe blinked and sat up. Basch, no doubt, looking to ease his own grief by going over battle plans that would likely never be used nor do any good. But she would let him talk, and they would both find some measure of comfort.
"Enter," she said as she swung her legs over the wide, soft bed. The rooms in Reddas's manse were all small, but cozy, filled with deep colors of red and blue and green, making Ashe think of her own bedroom in Rabanastre.
"Trouble sleeping, Basch?" she asked as sheturned from the door to reach for her robe.
Truly, she had no problem with the man seeing her in her brief nightgown—Balfonheim was too hot to wear anything more than a thin, thigh-long gown—as this man had changed her diapers but she knew that Basch had a highly evolved sensed of propriety and she sought to ease his embarrassment.
"An illicit tryst with your knight, Ashe?" Balthier drawled from behind her and tsked. "Very unbecoming."
A heavy blushed stained her cheeks and she wheeled around, shamed that a squeak escaped her lips and she clamped a hand around the collar of her robe like a virgin maiden.
"Balthier," she hissed, "Just what do you think you're doing here?"
Balthier shrugged and walked into the room like he had every right to be there. Which wasn't even close to the truth. Since that meeting in the Feywood their relationship had been strained at best. The friendship had dissolved under heavy tension.
Sometimes, Balthier would catch her eye and Ashe would recognize the heat in his on a fundamental level, but would have no knowledge of how to respond. And Balthier would so cleverly dismiss her that she doubted that the heat she saw in his eyes was even for her. How could a man blow hot one moment and cold the next?
And she hated that she couldn't read him anymore. Of course, he had always managed to give off some air of anonymity, but she had always been able to catch some inkling of what he was feeling, of what he was thinking. Especially after the Phon Coast.
But now… now it was as if he was purposely masking himself from her. And she could not ascertain why.
"Balthier, I'll thank you to answer my question and leave," she said tightly, making sure to keep distance between them. No matter what she did, or how cold Balthier become to her, she could not forget how badly she had wanted him to kiss her, how desperately she had needed it, and how weak that made her.
Balthier turned and looked at her and Ashe felt her breath catch in her throat. They stared at each other for a long moment and Ashe wondered if she shouldn't just leap the distance between them and hold him until he gave into her.
She held herself back.
Then Balthier said, "I think you remember that I've yet to tell a story?" When she blinked at him, Balthier went on, "Everyone else is waiting for you, Ashe. It's high time I showed you all how to tell a story properly."
Ashe released a breath and wondered why his answer hurt her so much. "I'd rather just go to sleep, Balthier. You can tell your story without me."
"You can't fool me, Ashe," Balthier told her with a gentle wag of his finger. "None of us will sleep this night, even if Reddas had not died. Tomorrow is the end, isn't it? After all this time, you'll finally have reached the end of your journey. And we with you."
"Yes, I know that." She loosened her hold on the neck of her robe and looked away. "How could I forget?"
"Ashe," Balthier said and his voice was gentle. "Don't think on it yet. Instead of worrying about this in your bed until the sun breaks the horizon, why don't you come down with me and listen to a story? We'll all feel better for it."
He held out his hand for her and Ashe gnawed her lower lip for a moment, before stepping toward him and taking his hand. She felt better the moment his fingers closed around hers and she allowed him to guide her from her room and down into the large study of the manse.
The study had been designed in the old Northern Rozzarian style, with the floor sinking into a small circle in the center, where a fire could be made, the entire circle lined and fitted with thick cushions acting as seats.
The rest of the party was already assembled, Vaan staring into the fire, Penelo looking at him every so often, and Basch and Fran talking in soft voices.
She and Balthier ascended the steps into the circle, the warmth from the crackling fire hitting them immediately. Basch looked up at them and Ashe felt his scrutiny of her robe and her less than pleased look.
But she smiled to show him that it was not Balthier's fault.
The said sky pirate took a seat closest to the set of stairs and Ashe had no choice but to sit beside him.
"Well, now that we're all present and accounted for," Balthier drawled, dropping his arm onto the back of the high cushions. It just so happened that Ashe was close enough to Balthier be included in the span of his arm. "How about we begin?"
"You're the one who insisted in dragging us out of bed, Balthier," Basch pointed out, looking non-to-pleased at the way Balthier had his arm draped around Ashe's shoulders.
"You're just worried that my story will make yours look like something an illiterate two-year-old would tell." A grin crossed Balthier's face, sharp and fast. "But, your fear is not without its merit. I promise not to mock you for your poor story telling when I'm through."
"If you would please being, Balthier," Fran said, her voice deep to hid her chuckle.
"Because you asked, Fran." Balthier turned his head and looked at Vaan. "You might get a kick out of this, Vaan. It has those gods from your tale."
Vaan looked up, his eyes still worried, but light now with slight interest. "Really? So there's blood?"
Ashe realized then that Balthier was trying to drag Vaan out his dark thoughts without making it look like that was what he was doing. And she wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and hold him tight for that fact alone. And it was the most amazing feeling because she couldn't remember the last time she had wanted to hug someone for just being them.
"The only way you'll find out is if you listen," Balthier told him.
"Once, long, long ago, the world was ruled by many gods. The king of the gods was called Zeus, and he had many brothers and sisters. And all the gods lived on a mountain that touched the sky, referred to here as Olympus.
But there was one god who did notdwell in the hallowed halls of the heavens. His name was Hades, the lord of the Underworld. His duty was to guard and control the souls of all those who passed on and crossed the river that lead to the afterlife, the River Styx.
He was unwelcomed on Olympus. That was not to say he was a deformed man. In fact, all the gods were unearthly beautiful, and Hades more so than others, for in his eyes were the secrets of man, and that made him all the more attractive. But, his disposition was so dank and so dreary that by merely standing beside someone they could feel the weight of his burden and death pressing down on them. Where there was light, Hades was to bring darkness.
And so, no god ever invited Hades to Olympus.
But this was fine for Hades, for he found he had a deep dislike for the ways of Olympus. He had no time for parties andfoolish tricks onthe mortals—he had enough of that from his duties—and the goddesses and the gods and their affairs and wars. Instead, he was content to shun Olympus as Olympus shunned him.
Of course, over time, Hades found that he became lonely. There were other gods and goddesses down in the Underworld with him, who helped him control and ferry the souls of the dead, but they had been born in the darkness. Hades knew the light, remembered embracing it as a young boy, and missed it.
He came into the habit of slipping up into the world of the mortals occasionally, not speaking to the living, but rather just enjoying the sunlight as he could not do in the kingdom of death. He would spend an hour or two lying on the soft grass, soaking up the sun, before returning to his kingdom, content.
In time, though, even this came to be not enough. Hades yearned for something more, though he did not know what. He thought to question his brother, Zeus, on the matter, but did not want to visit Olympus and get embroiled in one scandal or another that was always going on up there. Instead, he thought to ignore it until the ache in his breast faded.
It came to pass that one day, while finishing up his time on earth, Hades heard beautiful singing from behind the wall of foliage and trees that he relaxed under. He gathered himself and sought the noise out.
He found that it belonged to a group of nymphs and one goddess. The daughter of Demeter, goddess of the agriculture and fertility, the young goddess of Spring.
There had only been whispers of her existence until that moment. It was said that Demeter had had an illicit affair with Zeus that begot her with child and Demeter had come to love Persephone so deeply that she feared that some god would take her daughter from her, and this fear soon became not unwarranted as Persephone grew into her beauty.
And so Demeter had hidden the girl away, safely on earth, away from prying eyes. Until the moment that Hades heard her singing.
Never before had he felt this tightness in hischest! This inability to properly breathe. It was like his breath had been stolen from him and he could not look away from the beautiful girl who smiled with the innocence of spring.
It was than that Hades knew he would love her for all his eternity and would want no other woman.
But Demeter would never surrender Persephone. She had denied Apollo, it was said, so what hope did Hades have? Ah, but Hades would not allow Demeter to stand in his way. If she would not give him permission, than he would simply not ask for it.
The next day Persephone trailed away from the nymphs that watched over her at her mother's behest. Her laughter rose like sunbeams into the sky, her long wave of golden hair flowing behind her. She captured the very essence of youth and happiness.
Suddenly, she came upon a man she had never seen before—not that she had seen many men. He was tall and dark-haired and all at once she knew she should run and return to her mother and to the protection of the earth.
Somehow, though, she could not.
Persephone was curious about the man who now approached her. She couldn't move, and secretly, she did not want to.
Hades reached her and held out his hand. "Come with me," he said to her and she could not stop herself from reaching out and taking his hand.
The nymphs arrived just into time to bear witness as the Lord of the Dead gathered the Daughter of Spring into his arms and carried her to his chariot, where they descended down into his realm. The nymphs began to cry wildly as they realized what had been lost to them.
Demeter came for them and learned from them what had happened. Though they had seen Persephone be kidnapped by a dark man, they had never before seen the Lord of the Dead and they had no idea that it had been Hades who had stolen away Persephone.
Demeter's heart grew heavy with the devastation of her loss and she wildly began to wander earth calling for her daughter. So deep was her despair that the land around her turned to salt and would not grow. Snow covered theground and the people starved and died and cried out for comfort, but Demeter's heart could not hear them in her grief.
Finally, Zeus could no longer ignore these events. He was angry at Demeter for keeping Persephone from prying eyes—for one of his favorite sons, Hercules, had once desired her—and he had long ago vowed never to interfere with the workings of his brother Hades.
But he was also the god of all mortals and as their prayers to him became louder and louder, he could no longer turn a deaf ear.
He summoned a haggard and half-crazed Demeter to him and she stood, shaking, at the foot of his throne, desperate to return to earth to resume her search.
"Woman, look upon your earth," Zeus commanded of her, his face stern and unforgiving. "See how the people suffer. It is time for you to come out of your mourning and see to your duty before there are no more mortals left for us to rule."
"What care I for the lives of mortals?" Demeter shrieked, ripping out her hair as she dropped to her knees. "The life of my daughter is gone. She is lost! Lost to me! Let the world suffer with me, let them know this mother's grief."
"This grief is selfish. What if Persephone is happy where she is?"
"No!" Demeter cried. "She yearns for me, of this I am sure, and nothing on earth will grow until I can hold her once more in my arms."
Zeus saw that his sister would not bend on this and sighed deeply.
"And if I were to tell you I know where your daughter is—"
"Persephone? You know where she is? Then tell me! You must tell me!" Demeter all but leapt upon him in her desperation to know but Zeus stood and walked stiffly toward her, his face dark and unreadable.
"She has gone with Hades, our brother and Lord of the Dead, to his kingdom far below earth. There she resides with him as his consort, and soon to be his wife." Zeus grimly rubbed his long beard.
"No," Demeter moaned and dropped to her knees, beating her breast. "No. Collect her at once, brother. Bring her back to me or I swear I shall not allow a single sapling to spurt on this earth. I swear upon my immortality the world shall be a bleak and cold one."
Zeus saw that he had little choice in this and, at last, consented to speak with Hades.
Meanwhile, Hades lived the months in joy with Persephone, who brought light to every corner of the Underworld. And she found that she was happy with him, but there was an uneasiness in her breast that she could not ignore, and the ache grew deeper with every passing day.
"Does something trouble you?" Hades asked of her as he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her against his body. "I would give you everything I have if only to ease your sadness."
"I'm not sad," Persephone replied to him and then paused. "Not very. But I—I miss my mother's world. I miss the grass and the sun and the flowers and the nymphs and—"
"I understand." Hades dropped his arms from around her, hiding the pain in his eyes. "This kingdom of mine is dank, and dreary. What person would willingly bind themselves to it, for however short a period of time?"
"No," Persephone was quick to protest. "It's not that. Truly. Happy am I with you and I would like to stay here, at your side, but… I cannot deny that I yearn for the taste of Spring, the sweet smell of blooming. It is all I have ever known, it was my staple of life. But this place is not so terrible that it destroys all warmth in it. Perhaps all I need is more time to adjust? Perhaps in time I will forget the Spring."
"That won't do. I know what it is to forget the light and I would not wish it on you." Hades was not a man to bear his soul, indeed if gods have such things, but he could not stop himself from saying, "Before that moment that I saw you in the glade, I thought my heart had forgotten sunshine and spring. It was not so."
Persephone said nothing, but reached out to take his hand and draw him to stand beside her. Hades went and looped an arm around her waist and together they stood.
"The earth suffers. I know you feel it dying. Your mother will give it no rest until she has you once more." Hades drew away from her again. "Surely you feel that."
"Yes. And I miss my mother as well." She looked over at him. "What should we do?"
"Give me time to think on it," Hades answered and then, feeling a great love and tenderness in his heart, he reached out and stroked her cheek. "I do not think I could bear to be parted from you."
"Nor I," Persephone whispered in return, long after he was gone.
At last, Zeus descended upon the Underworld, roaring for his brother. Hades did not appear before him in great haste, knowing very well there was little Zeus could do that would harm him.
"Where is she?" Zeus asked of him the moment they stood facing each other in the Underworld's throne room. "You have caused quite the mess, brother. It's one thing to dally with women, if you so wish, but it's another to take them from their homes!"
"You refer to the woman I seek to make my wife?" Hades lifted a bow, coolly unaffected by the glare of his brother. "Is that not the right thing to do?"
"Demeter has damned the earth, you lout! Nothing grows and the people die. You of all people should know that." Zeus looked down into his brother's passive face and wearily rubbed his temples. "Enough. I made a vow not to interfere in your ways, but in this I must make a ruling. You are to return Persephone to her mother's side. We'll find you another woman to take to wife."
"Unlike you, brother, my heart is not so easily turned. I will have none other save her." Hades looked away, down to the River Styx, the place where all souls go upon their passing. "But take her. I find my kingdom that you have so graciously bestowed upon me is becoming too crowded."
Persephone entered the room, looking between the two gods. "My lord?" she breathed to Hades as he approached her and brought her into an embrace.
Into her open palm he discreetly placed six small seedlings. Persephone did not look down as her fingers closed over them, but she blinked.
"Return to your mother, Persephone. I know you long for her." He brought her into his arms and said against her ear, "Those are for your journey, should you become hungry."
As Zeus led her back into the world of light, Persephone chewed silently on the seedlings, careful not to alert the king of the gods. And swallowed them without a moment's hesitation.
On the desolate earth, Demeter awaited the arrival of her daughter. When, at last, she saw Zeus bringing to her Persephone, the world at once burst to life. Flowers and scents and Spring filled the air as Demeter rushed to her daughter and pulled the young woman into an embrace.
"Oh my darling! My darling!" Demeter cried robustly, all but absorbing her daughter in one large embrace.
"Persephone, I have one thing I must ask you. But it is of the utmost importance that you answer." Zeus approached the girl and looked down into her eyes. "Did Hades press you to eat anything while you stayed with him? A fruit perhaps? Sweet meat?"
"But, of course, my lord Zeus," Persephone said and ignored her mother as she gave a low wail of terror. "Before leaving, Hades granted me pomegranate seeds and I grew so hungry that I ate them all at once."
"No! No!" Demeter's eyes grew wild and the earth shook around her feet. "I will not have it! I do not care what the law says! Hades will not take my daughter from me! My daughter!"
Zeus ignored. "The law, child, says that any living creature that eats the food of the dead must remain as the dead within the Underworld. How many seedsdid you swallow?"
"All that he gave me." Persephone answered without a hesitation. "Six."
It was then that Zeus saw the truth in her eyes. That Persephone had known what was to happen to her if she had eaten what Hades had given her. And he saw that, in her eyes, there was not one ounce of regret.
"Hush, sister," Zeus snapped to Demeter as she sobbed to the heavens. "Persephone has saved herself. By eating only six seeds, she will only spend six months of the year with Hades, who is to be her husband. The other six will she spend in the sun, with you."
"And when I do not have her, the world shall suffer with me!" Demeter vowed and quickly brought Persephone into her arms. "Oh, my darling, please take heart. Hades will not dare to harm you. Do not be afraid."
"I am not, Mother," Persephone answered and looked over at Zeus. "Should I not return now?"
Demeter clutched Persephone to her and held her tight, but Zeus quickly freed the girl with a mere flick of his wrist. Then he brought her back down into the Underworld, and the earth became barren once more.
But the people knew that it would not last, for the oracle said that the Queen of the Dead would soon retake her rightful place as the Daughter of the Spring, and all would flourish once more. For now, they would suffer winter and merely pray for spring.
In the Underworld, Persephone flew into Hades' open arm, their laughter ringing out through the vast, soulless halls of the Underworld and for a moment, just a moment, the place where all souls went shone with the light of the sun and smelled, distinctively, of spring.
Then, Hades kissed his new bride and the image died around them, but they took no notice.
Caring little for such things, Zeus left them there and vowed never to return again. He sent his son, Hermes, every six months to collect Persephone, who half-reluctantly, half-eagerly left her husband's side to stand by her mother.
For though she loved the Lord of the Dead, Persephone was forever a child of the light and naught would change that.
But Hades preferred it that way. For, though their six months apart was long, he knew she would return and on her lips would be the sweet taste of Spring, and for the rest of his eternal life, that would be enough."
Penelo leaned back into the softly cushioned wall and sighed. "Oh, Balthier, that was so romantic."
Vaan looked less than pleased. "It was alright. I guess." He frowned and looked away. "Couldn't you have told a story about Troy instead? I bet you know a lot of them."
"Sorry. War stories were never my forte," Balthier said easily and grinned over at Fran and Ashe knew that he was lying.
From what little he had been willing to speak to her of his younger years, Ashe imagined Balthier—he had been named something else, Ashe realized, but she couldn't remember what Doctor Cid had called him—had lapped up stories of war and death and retribution.
Penelo yawned, immediately looking sheepishly over at Balthier, as if she was half-afraid he'd accuse her of finding his story tiring.
"I believe we should turn in," Basch said, standing. "Vaan? Penelo? That was not a suggestion."
"Indeed, no. Tomorrow, we make in all haste for the Bahamut. Rest is not optional," Fran agreed and looked over at Balthier. "We should all get rest."
Ashe wondered at the look that passed between them and couldn't help but feel a small pang of envy. How long had it been since she had been able to share such eyes with someone? Not even Vosslar, when he had been alive and had been her man…
She shook her head and cleared her thoughts.
"But do I have to?" Vaan whined slightly, too tired to realize just how young his voice sounded at his words. "I'm not tired or anything. Maybe just one more story."
"Sleep." Basch's voice suggested that the subject was quite final and woe to anyone who tried to change his mind.
"But, Basch—"
""Fran, if you would please cast sleep…"
"I'm going, I'm going," Vaan muttered sourly and stuck his tongue out at no one in particular—because Basch would kill him. "Then you have to go to bed, too. I mean, why do you get to stay up and I don't?"
"Could it be because we're older?" Balthier said beside Ashe, mostly under his breath. "Heavens no. That couldn't possibly be the reason."
"C'mon, Vaan. They're going to bed." Penelo tugged at Vaan's wrist, leading him toward the stairs. "And you can even tell me one of your stupid war stories if you can't sleep."
"They're not stupid, Penelo. They're… they're… they're a lot better than your stories. They never have a point!" Vaan shot at her angrily.
"Oh, so falling in love and living happily ever after isn't a point?"
"Of course it isn't!"
"But tearing your enemy limb from limb with all the blood and death and destruction is a point?"
"It's not about that!" When Penelo snorted, Vaan shouted at the top of his lungs, "It's about justice! And honor! An—and war! And really, really, really important stuff like that."
As Vaan and Penelo's voices faded, Ashe felt her own fatigue return. She got to her feet, the world spinning in one, long circle, before she regained her balance and made to follow the two, praying that by the time she reached her bedroom, they at least would have reached some impasse.
"Princess," Balthier called, and stood as well. "A word?"
Basch grunted in tell-tale disapproval and Balthier turned to grin winningly at him.
"I promise, Basch, she will be returned to you in almost the same condition she leaves in now." And before Basch realized what exactly Balthier had said, the sky pirate had moved, taking Ashe's elbow and guiding her along with him.
She quickly freed herself and walked ahead of him, down into the hallway of Reddas's manse and onto the cement balcony that overlooked the sea. The fresh salt in the air soothed her and she inhaled deeply, a chill sweeping across her skin.
"What is it you wish to speak to me about, Balthier?" she asked, not wanting to look at him in fear that she would regret it.
"How are you feeling?" Balthier asked. "About tomorrow?"
"You purposely goaded Basch just to ask me that?"
"No. I purposely goaded Basch because the man makes it far too easy. Plus, it's quite humorous to see his face contort like that." Balthier gave a great, heaving sigh. "Such frowns! His face is bound to get stuck like that, you know. Yours, too. You should smile more often. You're quite pretty when you do."
"Balthier," she said warningly, feeling a small spurt of heat in her cheeks.
"But I truly wanted to talk to you, Ashe. Tomorrow, perhaps, is the most important day of your life. I wanted to see how you felt."
And he did, truly. She could hear the sincerity in his voice. And her traitorous heart turned over and sighed quietly.
"It's strange. I've dreamed of this day for so long, so sure that I would be glad to see its coming. And yet… now I find that I wish to hesitate, wish to pray for more time. I fear what comes, Balthier. Tomorrow and the days that follow." She wrapped her arms around her suddenly chilled shoulders. "What if I am not what is best for Dalmasca? What if I am ineffectual? A poor ruler? What if I am too weak to do what they need me to do?"
"The last thing you are, Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca, is weak. Wife before you're sixteen, widow before you're seventeen, an orphan shortly thereafter, all eight brothers dead long before, the weight of an entire country that thinks you dead, a world on the brink of war, all on your shoulders. And, yet, here you stand, ready to face it. That's the opposite of all that is weak." Balthier came up to her side, close enough to touch her. "You'll never be weak… more's the pity."
She turned head—not in anger as she would have done but two months ago, but in curiosity; Balthier was a paradox of himself, he was a puzzle that she could never fully piece together—and looked at him. "Why do you say that?"
"Because if you were not so strong, if you were more weak, than I would ask you to run away with me. To steal away into the night, leave all this beyond you and stay with me." Balthier gave a short, curt laugh and looked into the sky. "But I suppose that if you were not so strong, I would not want to ask you."
There was nothing for her to say. Nothing she could say. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish caught and dangling on a hook.
Because, oh, she felt the pressure on her chest. A part of her, a strong part, a nearly unbearable part, wanted to take his hand and look into his eyes and tell him to ask her. Because if he asked her, then she would go with him. She could not say no to him.
And another part of her dreaded him asking her. Because if he asked her, than she would go with him. She could not say no to him. And she could no longer think about herself only. Not like this. Not when she had the weight of an entire people upon her.
She couldn't. And it broke her heart.
Balthier turned and faced her and Ashe wondered what he saw in her eyes and if he would ever tell her. She didn't think he would, and maybe that was for the best.
"I'm not a patient man by nature," Balthier said at last and lifted his hands to her shoulders. "But I could wait for you, Ashe."
"Wait…?" she muttered, confused. And then she wasn't.
Rasler.
The ghost of her husband lingered between them, like a solid wall. And she wanted to tell him. Tell him that she loved Rasler, but she wasn't in love with Rasler. That, without her knowledge, her heart had decided to move on.
There were so many things to tell him, Ashe realized, that she had been holding back from him. And she wanted to give them to him, everything he wanted, everything she had. For a moment Ashe the woman outweighed Ashelia the princess. And she nearly said, let's go, Balthier. Wherever you want to go. Let's go.
But, she didn't. Instead, she merely said, "Balthier."
He brought her closer and tilted her face up to his with two fingers under her chin. She considered telling him no, but she couldn't make her lips form the words. This was perhaps the only time she would be able to be this close to Balthier again… perhaps it made her selfish and little, but Ashe did not want to say no.
She lifted herself to the tips of her toes and slid her arms around his neck as his dropped down to her waist. And she thought: yes. Please. If only just this once…
And he kissed her, slanting his lips just so against hers, his fingers tightening on her hips. She wished for two more inches so they were at a perfect height, but Balthier solved their problem by lifting her off her feet an inch. She clung to him because she would never be able to cling like this again.
The kiss was sweet, but there a tang of salt behind it that was all Ashe's doing. Because even as their lips mated—tongues dancing, teeth grazing, hands groping—she knew that soon she would let him go. Soon she would have to let him go.
His mouth was warm and tasted of the sky that was his mistress, and he parted her lips to accept his tongue and he sighed into her accepting mouth like he had been waiting for this and she knew the feeling. Because her body melted in ways it had never melted before and she tilted her head and caught his bottom lip and suckled and wished she was someone else, anyone else.
She wished she was weaker.
And Balthier put her back on her feet, his hands lifting to tangle in her hair, breathing hard against her head, and she clutched at his vest, trying to keep her heart in her chest and knowing it was futile. It was already his.
"You'll have to forgive me for that, Ashe," Balthier said, not letting her go, not just yet. "But I have this feeling that you'll be keeping me waiting forever. And a man needs something to sustain himself."
She looked into his eyes and knew that this man was going to break her heart, and he wasn't going to know it. Because he thought she still loved her long dead husband. And maybe that was for the best, too. But she knew that within but a few days' time her heart—opened again so suddenly—would be as it was two years ago, torn asunder and shattered with no foreseeable way to pick up the pieces. And Balthier would have been the culprit, the innocent culprit.
Ashe forgave him for it. For leaving her—as he would—and for whatever else he was going to do that would leave her hollow and empty again. She forgave him for it.
Balthier stepped back. "I think we should head to our rooms, princess. Before I break my promise to Basch."
She nodded and let her death grip on his vest go. "Balthier," she began, knowing if she said the next words, she would regret them later. "Whatever happens tomorrow, I want you to know that I—"
A finger pressed against her lips. "Let's not say anything we'll wish we hadn't, alright? So years later we can just chalk it up to curiosity easily sated."
"Thank you, Balthier," Ashe told him, knowing this was all she could safely say to him.
Balthier lifted his shoulder in a wiry shrug, his lips curled harshly. "Being chivalrous is really a bother. I don't know how Basch puts up with it."
He turned to go away, and Ashe couldn't just let him go.
"Balthier… if you had asked me—asked me to go with you, I would have said yes." If she could not tell him that she had given him her heart, she could at least give him this.
"Then it's a good thing I didn't ask, isn't it?" Balthier called over his shoulder, understanding her enough to know that she would go with him and regret abandoning her duty.
She watched him retreat and felt a little hitch in her next breath. But she held back her tears, knowing it was foolish to shed them. It was as Balthier had said. She was not the kind of woman who could forget everything and jet off with him, no matter how much a part of her yearned for it.
And because they both knew this—Balthier could not stay, and Ashe could not go—they both knew that there were some things better left unsaid, even if Balthier did not believe she loved him fully yet. That was why they had fought so fiercely in the Feywood. Because you could only keep things inside so long before they started to burn.
Sometimes, things did not end like a fairytale. In fact, things rarely did. Ashe's life was living proof. The golden princess in the shimmering kingdom, married to her Prince Charming, only to lose all and fall in love once more with the very man she could never possibly have.
She accepted that. That this was to be her sacrifice. Not for her people. But rather for Balthier. To chain him—even if to her—would be to destroy him, and she could never clip his wings. She would let him go on believing her heart yet remained to Rasler, so their parting did not hurt him as much as it hurt her.
But Ashe could not stop herself from whispering, "I love you," when she was sure Balthier could no longer hear.
notes: let me just say, this wasn't the intended ending for the series. I wanted something light-hearted and happy, but instead it got all dark and angsty. It wasn't really my fault. It was the characters' fault. They should've stuck with the program, you know?
reviews
Withdrawn: well, I guess that did get very heavy on the Balthier/Ashe, didn't it? Well, it didn't end happily all the same. XP Fran's tale was meant to be like a splash of cold water, a dose or reality, because every one up to that point had been telling tales of fantasy and good-vs-evil and happily ever afters, and life isn't like that. Rhianna's story seemed to suit Fran, just because she seems the most grounded in the group.
Fade to Blue: the actual myth of Rhianna has a lot of subplots and side-stories, and like ten different versions, but through all of them Rhianna ends up marrying out of neccessity rather than choice and ends up suffering because of her husband's faults. I thought her story was rather sad.
sharperimage: Fran's tale was supposed to parellel how Balthier and Ashe were beginning to realize that they can't really get what they want, and they sort of have to be happy with what they have. XD Balthier's tale relates to how he has to let Ashe go, and how Ashe has to go even though maybe she wants to stay. The happy (kinda) end was just Balthier being hopeful.
Feeny: right on the money! I have a PS3, too, but like no games for it. I have Uncharted: Drake's Fortune, and Devil May Cry 4. That's it. And I beat them all ages ago and so the PS3 just sits there, collecting dust. That never actually happened to my PS2. Where the hell is Final Fantasy XIII?
Zaz9-zaa0: I know! Balthier/Ashe banter for the win! This stuff honestly just writes itself. I gave you some closure this time around, only it's really sad closure. Sorry. Balthier and Ashe just can't seem to make it work this time around. Those crazy kids. Next time, I'm going to give them happy endings (or not). But hey! Maybe, in my mind, Balthier still manages to get into Ashe's pants and they all live happily ever after! Take THAT reality!
Talim-Hime: Thank. Rhianna's tale worked out real well, didn't it?
Story Weaver1: I also got the feeling that Ashe was desperate for love, or the love that she had lost. That's what I got from her chasing after Rasler's ghost. Maybe I was wrong. XD Obviously, Balthier has some issues with Ashe's dead husband, and one can hardly blame him since Ashe spends nearly all the game following the ghost wherever he goes, huh? I'd assume she was on the rebound, too.
BruHaeven: it took me a while ot beat FFXII, too. I kept thinking about getting it, but something also came up on me. FFXII was weird on pairings, since I'd assumed I'd like Basch/Ashe best of all, but there relationship didn't seem romantic at all, nor could it really be romantic. And I thought I'd totally ship Vaan/Penelo but then little Larsa literally dragged Penlo away