She wondered how he could see. Sure there were instrument panels and blinking lights and monitors in front of him, but if he had her vantage point, it was all darkness ahead. Only the thin beams of the Strahl's lights provided illumination as they floated through the skies over Ivalice. Though she had pegged him as talkative in the very short time she had known him, he was currently quiet, his focus on the controls.

He hadn't actually said anything since they had departed the Bhujerba aerodrome. As they flew west, they continued into the night and would not reach the Westersand for several hours. Fran had departed first, and Ashe presumed that she would be relieving him at the controls so he could sleep later. The children departed shortly after, their yawns piercing the quiet of the cockpit. Basch only followed them at her insistence. She did not yet know what to make of the man, but reason told her that a journey through the sandsea required them to be at full strength. If he was to serve as her shield in Vossler's place, then he needed to sleep.

She, however, remained here in the cockpit with the pirate. The darkness that enveloped the airship and the constant humming of the engines were lulling her into complacency, and she couldn't help but bring her legs up onto the seat. She propped an elbow up on the armrest and rested her head, but she would not leave. Though he had agreed to "kidnap" her, there was still no way of knowing that Balthier would honor their agreement. He'd wanted to leave her in Bhujerba, and who knows? He might yet stop the airship in Rabanastre and force her, Basch and the children out. It was his ship after all. He had definitely sounded intrigued by the promise of treasure, but the flight from Bhujerba was a lengthy one. He had plenty of time to change his mind.

"The children have probably stolen my cabin, but if you'd like, you can lay on the bunk in the back," he muttered, his voice echoing off of the walls. He didn't turn around, merely gesturing with his hand to a bunk at the rear of the cockpit. "I could fetch you a blanket as well. All the comforts of home."

She stared at the back of his seat in front of her and frowned. He was trying to get rid of her. As long as she stayed there with him, he'd have no real way of masking a change of course. "No," she lied. "I'm not tired."

A distinct snort was his reply. "Suit yourself, Princess. Just trying to be an accommodating kidnapper."

She sighed. Perhaps he was actually trying to be kind. She uncurled herself from the little ball she had put herself in and set her feet back on the ground. "Where do you keep the blanket?"

"Pull out the drawer under the bunk. Help yourself." She rose from the seat and wandered back to the rear of the cockpit. The bunk did not look all too comfortable, but it would certainly be a step up from the seats. A gentle tug opened the drawer, and a warm looking cotton blanket was a welcome sight. She grabbed it quickly and shut the drawer, moving back up to the front.

Holding the blanket in her arms, she stood beside his seat and gazed out into the skies, the beams of light rather faint against the clouds. Everything was set in a darkened blue hue. She examined the many monitors and dials on the console, wishing she knew what they meant.

"You wouldn't have made it out of the aerodrome. You know that, don't you?"

His voice startled her, and she gripped the blanket protectively against herself. "It was not my finest moment, I will admit that," she replied. He flicked a few switches and turned to her with a grin. He tilted his head to the right, gesturing for her to sit in Fran's usual seat.

As she sat down, he turned back to the console, his features concentrated and serious. But his voice was, as always, light and teasing. "I don't mean the fact that you can't fly. You wouldn't have even cleared the hangar without asking permission to depart. And you sound nothing like me." He frowned at one of the monitors for a moment before continuing. "I had planned to wait in the corridor until you gave up, but of course, Vaan had to intervene."

She grinned slightly, her face reddening in realization. It had seemed the simplest thing to do. Get the ship, fly to the tomb, claim the shard. She had not thought of something as routine as aerodrome procedure. "That is quite enough, thank you. I very much appreciate your assistance, so let's just forget what happened earlier, shall we?" She wrapped herself in the blanket and tucked her legs beneath herself again.

They sat in companionable silence, the sounds of the engines soothing her once again. Only the occasional flicking of a switch indicated Balthier's presence beside her. "Do you have supplies on board? Rations? Camping equipment?" she inquired a short time later. In her haste to leave her uncle's estate, she had not even considered how long it would take them all to cross the sandsea. She wasn't used to being away from Rabanastre. How could she have forgotten something so vitally important?

"Camping supplies…yes, we will certainly manage there. Rations…I think not."

She sighed. "Should we stop in Rabanastre first? I was neglectful. I will pay for our rations from my own purse."

He shook his head. "Fran and I will pay our own way. Surely there will be some caravans in the Westersand to supply us." They returned to silence again, and she closed her eyes in her shame. No foresight, Ashelia. No planning. Vossler would be furious. Crossing the sandsea…lands vaster than Dalmasca itself and without a scrap of food? And she wished to reclaim her throne? She could not even plan a simple mission! Her mind recounted the last failures she'd endured. Vayne Solidor seeing through their attack on the fete, being captured in the sewers, losing the Dusk Shard to that Judge Magister, her uncle's wish for her to stay in hiding…

"Stop beating yourself up, Princess."

"What?"

He looked over from the console. "You are not alone in this. Stop worrying about every minor detail."

She met his eyes. "Food for six is not a minor detail, Balthier."

"Personally, I'd be more concerned about heatstroke, water, things like that." He smiled as she yawned then, his fingers flicking another set of switches. "Offer still stands for the bunk."

She shook her head. "Someone has to keep you company up here." He did not break his eyes away from her, and she looked down, her fingers rubbing the twin rings on her left hand.

He stood up then and marched to the back of the cockpit. She whipped her head around to watch him. "What are you doing?" she exclaimed in surprise as he crouched down to retrieve a blanket from beneath the bunk. Her eyes darted back to look out, but they were not suddenly plummeting through the air. The ground was not quickly rushing towards them.

The sky pirate stretched out on the bunk and draped the blanket over himself. "Auto pilot."

Her brain slowly processed what that meant. "You mean…all this time…you could have…?"

A chuckle from the back of the cockpit. "Of course. Although I do prefer the solitary joys of flying on my own. But even a leading man needs rest. And you just missed your chance at this bunk. Be a good girl and wake me in an hour, would you?"

She could only gape at him. He sat there flying for hours knowing she was behind him, struggling to stay awake…and he did nothing! He must have known she didn't trust him. She was quickly learning that it was a serious mistake to underestimate the sky pirate Balthier. With a huff, she wrapped the blanket around herself and did her best to get comfortable.

------------------------------------

She could tell that Balthier missed the Strahl. They had been on foot to Jahara, to Mount Bur-Omisace, and then all the way to Archades. Now they flew with this man Reddas to Balfonheim, and she watched the sky pirate examine every console, every panel. Vaan had been at Balthier's heels, but even the boy grew tired at the sky pirate's scrutiny, and he had retired to another part of the ship.

Reddas answered every question Balthier flung at him without complaint. When was the last time your something conduits were replaced? How often do you tune up your what's it? Do you know they make a much cheaper whatever at the shipyards in Rabanastre? Ashe didn't understand most of what Balthier was asking, but he appeared to find Reddas' ship a flying deathtrap.

The sky pirate was clearly on edge, the encounter with Dr. Cid just hours behind them. The Princess herself was not in the most easygoing mood herself; the arrogance of the Archadian man and his taunting remarks were enough to leave her fists clenched even now.

There was a brief lull in Balthier's interrogation. Penelo spoke up. "How soon until we reach Balfonheim?"

"Another hour," Reddas replied, his voice remaining even despite the constant haranguing he was being dealt from Balthier.

"Would have been thirty minutes in the Strahl." Balthier's words had been muttered quietly, but Reddas cleared his throat then, obviously having heard them.

She rose from her seat and strode to the back of the cockpit where Balthier was crouched down, peering at some panel against the wall. He knocked it with his fist, seeming to be in another world entirely. She had never seen him like this, so overtly combative. Ashe usually expected that sort of attitude from herself. They were both under a great deal of stress, and the jeering request from Cid to go to Giruvegan was upsetting the sky pirate as much as her.

She crouched down beside him. "A word, Balthier?" She needed to get him out of the cockpit before Reddas sent him out the airlock.

He rose to his feet without glancing at her and marched down below decks. She followed him, reaching an empty corridor. The sky pirate skidded to a halt in front of another panel, and he dared to take it off the wall to scrutinize the copious wires and blinking lights within. "Can you believe he flies like this? Look at how that's frayed." He wasn't even speaking to her, she could tell. He set the metal panel down and began rummaging through one of the pouches at his side. Some tool, pliers she assumed, was produced then, and he set to prodding at the wiring with them.

"We're in the air, Balthier. Stop." He ignored her, his eyes wildly flicking back and forth over the complex mass of wires. For as worried as he was about Cid's obvious madness, he was demonstrating remarkably similar qualities at present.

The past few months had brought many changes, and the one she least expected had been her attitude towards Balthier. She'd tried to convince herself that Dalmasca was her only care but seeing him leading them through the Draklor Laboratory had solidified something for her. She was still unsure what that was, but seeing the usually cool and collected man in this state of mind made her feel incredibly guilty.

He'd never wanted to go back to Archades. But he had. She liked to imagine that it was entirely for her, but it wasn't worth deluding herself. He had gone back to deal with the unfinished business between himself and his father. Though he'd been fairly calm during their earlier confrontation, it had clearly frustrated him, as evidenced by his attempt to tear Reddas' ship apart as a distraction. Finally, she grabbed his wrist and pulled it back. "I said stop."

He gave her a scornful look. "He's likely to crash and kill us all. Can't you hear that clicking?"

She heard nothing but what sounded like normal engine noises. "No, Balthier. I do not hear a clicking. You need to stop this."

The sky pirate shook the pliers lightly in her face. "When we burst into flames on our approach to Balfonheim, you'll know that I was right."

She tried to tug the pliers from his hand, but they wouldn't budge. Her fingers brushed over his, and she had to bite her lip at the contact. She remembered the icy feeling when she had tried to grasp the ghostly image of Rasler. But Balthier was pure warmth. What was happening to her? "I know you're upset about your father…"

He yanked his hand back as if her touch burned him, replacing the pliers at his side. "I knew it. Look, Princess. That deluded fool is not my father. I told you, I lost my father. That man is not the one who raised me. As far as I'm concerned, my father is dead." He picked up the metal panel from the floor and reattached it. "And now that doddering idiot is trying to send you on a wild chocobo chase. He is trying to exploit your desire for power."

"My desire for…" she interjected angrily, her words trailing off. She thought back to their conversation on the Phon Coast. It seemed so long ago, though it had not even been a week yet. He had warned her then, and he warned her again now. But the sincerity he'd expressed then was gone.

"You will make for Giruvegan. You intend to go, don't you?"

She scowled at him. "I will consider every option available to me. Unless Reddas has a better suggestion…"

"And you trust him right away, Reddas?" She almost wished he'd get back to tearing the other man's ship apart.

"Well, I seem to be very trusting of sky pirates as of late. What's one more?" she snapped back, and he was barely able to conceal a flinch at her harsh tone. "In any case, you've no need to continue on with us. You led me to Archades as promised. You and Fran are free to go." She felt for the ring on her left hand, wondering if Balthier was wearing Rasler's in his assortment of jewelry. "Free to find your something more valuable."

He said nothing, merely staring at her. Maybe it was better if he and Fran did leave. She was getting dangerously close to him, and she could not afford to fall for a sky pirate. She only had room for Dalmasca…and for Rasler in her heart. His features softened then, the anger slipping away. She looked down, could not face him. Her thoughts drifted to her husband. How could she be so selfish…how could she even consider another man like this…

"I won't leave. You know that."

He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze and walked away. He descended further into the ship and away from the cockpit and Reddas. She watched him go, her confusion growing.

------------------------

They'd just gotten back from Giruvegan and as soon as the skystone was installed in the Strahl, the Cataract awaited them. They had a day to rest. The Whitecap was crowded, and they were crammed into a large wooden plank of a table in a corner with a clear view of the sea. Vaan, Penelo and Fran had just returned from mark hunting, not longing to waste a day in idleness. They had stopped in for the evening meal and were just departing for the manse to enjoy Reddas' hospitality.

Basch remained at her side, his warnings for her to drink more slowly ignored. Tomorrow, she had grumbled, that is for me to worry about tomorrow. She had a high tolerance. She had not spent two years underground planning attacks every single day. Whatever Balthier ordered had a horrible taste, but down it went, burning its way to her stomach.

Rasler wanted her to take revenge on Archadia? It made no sense. It had been days since they had left the ancient city, but she could not shake the image of her husband. His face was entirely calm, waiting for her to take the Occurian sword and avenge his death. How could this be what he wanted? He had not been a malicious man. But it was him, she thought as Balthier returned with another pitcher of the foul stuff. She let the sky pirate pour her another glass, her eyes on her wedding band.

"Are we all set with provisions?" Balthier asked the knight, his image slightly blurred as she lifted the glass to her lips. He and Basch began talking then, the words drifting around her but not sinking in. She remembered the sight of the 8th Archadian fleet imploding in the skies. Rasler wished that for Archades? Why do you want this?

She knew that her mood and alcohol shouldn't mix, but she drained every drink Balthier placed in front of her. Basch was clearly growing agitated with her, and he gave her arm a gentle shake. "You need to rest, Majesty."

"I can get her back, you go on ahead," she vaguely heard Balthier reply, and Basch had unconsciously tightened his grip on her. "I stopped drinking, and they've stopped serving. I thought you were going to do a last minute check of everything?"

Basch grunted and released her arm, and she reached again for her glass. Balthier pulled it away as a show of good faith to the knight. "See? I'm a fine babysitter." She looked back down at her ring, the metal seeming to be part of her skin. She felt a draft then as Basch rose and left, and she was alone with him.

He pushed her glass back, the sound of it scraping against the table alerting her. "This is all you get, may as well finish." She looked at him and shook her head.

"I'd like to walk out of here of my own accord, Balthier," she answered, the tavern seeming far warmer than it had just moments ago. She had not had much time alone with him since they had argued after Archades. The Princess had almost forgotten the feelings that he arose within her, but as he smiled across the table, she felt them rising to the surface. Her ring felt suddenly heavy on her hand, and incredible guilt flooded her.

She stood up unsteadily, the sheer quantity of alcohol making her feel like she was bobbing around in the sea. He rose with her, and a not entirely unwelcome arm found its way around her waist to steady her. "Better sleep," she told him confidently, "Pharos tomorrow."

He nodded and began leading her to the exit. "Yes, you'll definitely need plenty of time to sleep this off."

The city was bustling at night, drunken revelers flooding the streets. Everyone seemed so happy, so carefree. Of course they were. None of them had been told to destroy an Empire with nethicite. None of them had been given a sword to cut the stuff. None of them saw their dead husband urging them to do the Occuria's bidding.

She noticed then that Balthier was not leading her to the manse, but in the complete opposite direction. She had been so consumed with her thoughts of Rasler that she did not notice they had entered the aerodrome. "Why are we here?" she slurred.

They entered the Strahl's hangar and climbed the metal steps to board. "Just want to see if they've got the skystone in. And to see if they've fiddled with anything they shouldn't have," he replied. Balthier half dragged her up to the cockpit. He led her to the bunk at the rear and helped her to sit. "Won't take more than a minute, I promise."

She stayed upright, leaning her back against the cold metallic bulkhead. "Basch will question you," she remarked, the alcohol making her sound a bit more excited about the prospect of sneaking about the aerodrome with him than she actually was. She closed her eyes and listened to his footsteps grow quieter as he headed down to the engine room.

It was strange to be alone in the Strahl's cockpit, especially without her owner. She could distantly hear the voices of other pirates in the hangar and the light, airy sounds of busy moogles bustling about even at this hour. Her eyelids felt heavy, the drink she'd consumed contributing to their weight. Tomorrow, this ship would carry her to the edge of the world. What would it be like there? And what decision would she make at the end of it all?

Would she follow what Rasler seemed to ask for…or what Balthier had urged her at the Phon Coast? She felt for the ring on her hand. Two long years gone and buried, but he was still with her. But now this sky pirate was with her too. And he was flesh and blood. She heard him approach then, a muttered apology for his delay. "Better get you back before the Captain hires someone to slit my throat."

"I could sleep here. I should have accepted the offer that night. This bunk really isn't so bad," she mumbled. It hadn't been so long ago, standing beside him clutching that blanket. She opened her eyes and saw his amused grin at her intoxicated state.

He let out a soft chuckle and grabbed her hands. "Not a chance, Princess. Up!" A tug and she was off the bunk, but her legs were unsteady, and she clutched at his arms. "Careful now," he said quietly, his eyes studying her face.

She could already feel herself sobering as he held her securely. What she did in the moments to follow could not be a side effect of an alcohol-addled mind. "I want to thank you for staying with me. And for tomorrow, thank you for that too."

He shook his head, trying to keep his distance. Wasn't he an infamous philanderer? Why was he being so polite? Surely he had another motive for bringing her to the Strahl so late. He could have easily checked the skystone in the morning. "It's nothing…"

"It's not nothing," she insisted, and her hands held his sleeves, pulling him closer to her. "I said before, you could go and find your treasure. So I want to thank you for staying." She glanced at her hand where it gripped the fabric of his shirt, her silver band gleaming against the stark white of the cotton.

The image of Rasler flashed across her mind then

"Stay? Ashe, I can't stay," her husband mumbled, his arms wrapping around her tightly. "I must go to Nalbina with the rest. I must lead them."

"But why?"

"You know I must…"

She wrapped her arms around him then, her head pressed against his chest. She was rewarded with the constant beating of his heart. Rasler's heart could not beat like this now. The bluish image she'd seen again and again did not breathe like Balthier. "I want to thank you for staying," she repeated. He rubbed her back gently, his reluctance quickly fading. His fingers began to expertly tickle and tease the exposed skin at the base of her spine. He felt so real. It felt so wonderful to touch and be touched again.

Rasler's kiss was always gentle, always careful and planned. He held her in his arms that night, the last one they would have in their marriage bed. He always kissed her first. She was young, she thought that it was proper to let him dictate how it would go. But something was different that night, something she could not express. She held her husband's face between her hands, his eyes sad for he would be off to war. Her lips brushed against his, finally taking the initiative.

She kissed Balthier first, but he hesitated. "This is what I want…please," she heard herself mumble back. That was all he seemed to need, his hands immediately reaching to fumble with the collar she wore. Her hands collided with his, helping him to remove it.

Balthier's kiss was not gentle. It was rather rough, almost enough to throw her off balance. It was not careful or planned but passionate and impulsive. She could not withhold the moan that emerged at his forceful handling of her.

Rasler held her hands, pressing kisses to each of them. He picked her up and brought her across the room to their bed, his hands gently pulling her robe aside. His lips brushed against her cheek, his hand tangling in her hair. "You are so beautiful, Ashelia," he whispered against her face as he laid her down.

His shirt and vest were on the floor now, and she let him tug her skirt down to her ankles. She stepped out of it and sought his lips again desperately.

"Princess," he muttered against her lips then, his hands stilling their exploration of her skin.

"Stop calling me that, you always call me that," she hissed back, pulling him to the bunk. His feet seemed to shuffle along the floor, his earlier enthusiasm seeming to wane already.

She had cried when it was over. "Rasler, please don't leave me. You might be hurt." He held her tightly against him, pressing reassuring kisses to her skin. "Stay with me…"

"Slow down, you can't possibly want this." She silenced him again by pulling him back down to meet her lips, her frustration building. She tugged at his belt as she continued to stagger backwards, dragging his increasingly stubborn form with her. Who was he to know what she did or did not want? He allowed her to remove the belt, but he pulled her closer so she could not undo his trousers.

"Balthier, what is wrong with you?" They'd been dancing around this for a while, hadn't they? Wasn't he going to demonstrate how he achieved his stellar reputation? They stopped their motion as the back of her legs collided with the bunk. She stared up into his face and was nearly startled by the concerned look he was giving her. She shoved him, moving away from the bunk to retrieve her skirt. "Forget it then, I do not want to know."

"Ashe…"

She tugged her skirt up to her hips, fumbling back on the floor again for her belt. "I said forget it."

"This is for the wrong reasons," he argued as he put his shirt back on. "You're thinking about him." She did not even need to see the hurt look in his eyes to know who he was referring to.

She watched him put his clothes back on, as if they had not just…as if they had done nothing. He looked up from buttoning his cuffs. "You really think he would want you to destroy Archadia?"

She looked down and focused on redoing her belt. He came close again, but not close enough to touch yet. She thought of Rasler. She remembered the calm expression on his face while he waited for her to claim the Treaty Blade. "I don't know what to believe any longer. But it cannot be a coincidence, seeing Rasler…"

"It's not him, Ashe. You see what the Occuria want you to see. They're using him to get to you," he said softly, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders.

"Of course it's not him! He's dead!"

"Ashe…"

"Stop feeling sorry for me!"

"I don't!" he shouted back immediately, his voice so much more forceful than it normally was. "But you need to realize something! Every time you think of him, every time you touch that damned ring on your finger..." Her right hand immediately moved to hold her left, to cover the silver band. "You're letting the Occuria control you. You have no trouble considering the wishes of a ghost, but you can't handle a living man right in front of you!"

The sound of her hand cracking his face was so loud. It stung painfully, the feeling in her fingers…and the truth in his words. She regretted her action immediately. Reaching for him, she pulled him down and kissed him desperately. The warmth of his lips was almost too much to bear, and her mind was pulling her in two different directions. When he placed a gentle hand to the side of her face, she pushed him away. What was she doing?

She hurried out of the cockpit as quickly as she could, stumbling slightly because of the alcohol still in her system. He did not chase after her immediately, but she felt his eyes on her back as she trudged back to the manse.

The following day, she gave express orders that she not be disturbed for their flight to the Pharos. Nobody had asked why; even Basch had nodded without a second thought. They assumed that the task set out by the Occuria was all that plagued her mind. They were half right. She stared up at the curved ceiling over Fran's bunk, the very unique, fresh smell of the Viera's cabin drifting about. As troublesome as the task at the Ridorana Cataract would be, the events of the night before were pushing their way to the front of her mind. She twisted the wedding band around her finger again and again, willing her most recent memories away. But they would not go.

------------------------

Balthier powered down the ship, and Vaan and Penelo left first to hurry off to the manse to let Reddas' associates know of what had happened. Fran was still a bit unsteady on her feet, and Basch helped to escort her from the cockpit.

Despite the long flight back from Ridorana, she had not fully grasped the totality of what they had done until they landed back in Balfonheim. She was in her seat behind him once more. Her mind replayed her sword slashing through the false Rasler, the blue form dissolving into mere particles. The voice that was not his echoed in her ears still.

She heard Balthier sigh quietly, and she rose to her feet. Without looking to her left, Ashe merely stood beside him. Going over the events at the Pharos, his words from the Phon Coast returned to her then. About the past…and trying to break free of it. And how he had reiterated that again in this very cockpit just a few nights prior. You have no trouble considering the wishes of a ghost…

His voice was quiet, subdued. "Now Ashe, when I told you about cutting ties to the past, I did not think you would follow my advice so literally."

Despite everything, she found herself smiling at his remark. Looking from the corner of her eye, she saw him slouched in the seat, fixated on some spot on the control console in front of him. They'd both cut ties that day, she to Rasler and he to his father. She could tell that he did not want to speak on that subject yet, but she could not bear to leave him alone in his grief.

You can't handle a living man right in front of you, he had said. Maybe it was time to try.

A glance down to her hand once more. At the ring that stayed there as one last link to the past. She knew she'd put it back before she departed for the manse, but for just a few minutes, she had to find out. The Princess could feel his eyes watching her then as she slipped the metal band from her finger and set it down on the console in front of her, her breath hitching slightly in her throat as she pulled her hand away from it.

Her hand felt lighter, and she let it rest on the top of his seat to ease the tremors she could not conceal from him. He raised his own hand up then, bringing hers down from the seat back to hold in his own. The simple gesture made her eyes burn as she recalled how cruel she had been the other night.

He squeezed her fingers. "Stop beating yourself up, Princess." It had all come back around, hadn't it?

She let out a quiet chuckle and slipped her hand away from his. "We'd better go." Ashe turned and headed for the exit hatch. He was out of his seat with a hand to her shoulder as she reached the bunk in the rear of the cockpit.

He turned her around and caught her hand again. The sky pirate had taken her ring from the console, and he slid it onto her finger where it had been before. She felt her heart beat faster at the intimacy of the gesture, her cheeks flushing. "It's just a ring now," he said quietly. "Remember that."

She closed her eyes then and felt his lips graze her forehead softly. He let his face linger near hers a few silent moments longer, and she wanted nothing more than to tilt her head up to meet him.

"You don't have to if you aren't ready," he mumbled, seeming to read her thoughts.

Ashe raised his hand and brushed her lips across his knuckles. "Thank you." She met his gaze and gave him a confident nod. "I'll see you at the manse."

He turned back to sit with his ship, and she departed.