Part 3 – Fingers Length

3.1 – Pain

If she was really honest with herself, she'd never at all expected to come this far. But she had. They all had, together. It was over at last, the long journey finished with. It should've been something of a sad time for it was uncertain whether Balthier and Fran had perished in the sinking of the Bahamut. Though Ashe had a feeling, that even though they hadn't sent word, that the intrepid twosome were still alive and well.

So she focused instead on the here and now, half-safe in the knowledge that her friends were alive. There were six people on the Strahl at present. Vaan sat at the controls of the airship, fortunately having learned enough about flying not to send them hurtling to their deaths. For now they simply hovered over Rabanastre, Penelo sat beside him, ready to act as both navigator and co-pilot for their short journey to the Garland. Larsa sat away from the rest and for the first time since Ashe had first met him, he appeared deeply unsettled. Unsurprising really though, considering he'd just helped to kill his own brother, the only family he had left.

Then there were the two twin brothers at the back of the ship. Larsa had already said his last, heartfelt goodbyes to Gabranth and had calmly left, leaving Basch alone with his brother. Ashe desperately wanted to be at his side, to show him her support, but she knew she couldn't intrude. The moment was for the brothers fon Ronsenburg and them alone.

All was silent on the Strahl apart from the hum of the hover rings and the murmur of voices in the rear of the ship. Ashe kept her eyes resolutely on the Resistance fleet ahead, determined not to intrude. So it was and so it continued.

After a minute or two more, the murmurs at the back of the ship ceased, momentarily replaced by an almost inaudible sniffle.

That was as much as she could bear to stomach. Excusing herself, Ashe fled the bridge; unable to prevent herself from going to the man she loved when he needed her most, even if he didn't know it.

Basch looked like he'd been carved out of stone. His face was frozen in a curious mixture of emotion somewhere between horror and grief. No tears were shed but they glittered in his eyes, the only visible signifier of his pain. He stared at his almost perfect mirror image, whose eyes were now and forevermore closed.

He didn't even notice Ashe step in onto this private moment. His eyes were reserved solely for his brother. There was an old wives tale from Landis, Ashe had heard tell once from her second governess, a Landisser called Poruny. It went that if you wished hard enough, bent all your thought to a special someone, they would hear no matter how far away they were and return within the coming of the full moon if their bond was true. Ashe wondered if Basch had heard of it.

He raised a hand to his eyes and wiped the tears away, breaking the silent, immobile vigil. When his hand came away, the tears were gone and so was his grieving expression, replaced by the usual stoic appearance Ashe had come to know. But today she knew it to be nothing but a façade.

She took his hand, hoping he would understand that it was okay to grieve. It brought back memories of Rasler. After learning of his death, Ashe had cried solidly for a week, locking herself away from the world, keeping the curtains drawn for what good was sunlight to her? And then she'd been able to carry on, though Rasler would always own a part of her, or perhaps it was because she'd realised this that gave her strength.

"It's alright," she told him. And it was. Basch had no reason to fear showing such strong emotion around her. Like a high, stone wall, she'd stand strong against any storm to shelter those she wished to guard. And like that, as if her words had been the hand that turned the tap, Basch's eyes filled with tears anew.

"He is at peace now," she said, keeping her eyes only on Basch, not daring and not wanting to look away.

"Aye."

This time, Basch couldn't contain himself and the crystalline drops rolled down his face. She dropped his hand then, moving forward to hold him tightly, to weather out the storm at his side. He didn't move much, his hands remained at his sides but neither did he pull away. Then the hands inched forward and met around her back, his face found its way into her shoulder and he grieved.

Ashe held him and said nothing, thought nothing except that she would be there for him for as long as he needed her.

And that, she supposed, was what love was all about.

3.2 – Unconditional

It was such a strange thing. As brothers they hadn't been the closest. In fact, theirs was probably one of the worst fraternal relationships in the history of Ivalice. After the fall of Landis fifteen or so years prior, Basch had only seen Noah thrice before their meeting at Giruvegan. The first time Noah framed him for the murder of King Raminas; the second and third he interrogated Basch about why he still lived, once a year. The closest family bonds were rarely forged in such a manner.

So strange a thing, that Basch had been able to forgive his brother all that. Even stranger that he felt able to grieve for the brother Basch considered as dead to him over fifteen years ago, just as Noah had to him. But family was family and it would be senseless to keep a firm grasp on resentment for a man who was no longer alive to bear it.

So he wept and wept into Ashe's shoulder, quite unsure of how he'd managed to find himself in her arms. But he didn't question why, he didn't really care why. Once again he knew though, that she was trying to save his life with kindness.

Though his mind was for Gabranth, his heart thought only of Ashe. If she asked him repay her kindness with love, then he would do so in a heartbeat. If she asked him to move Ivalice for her, he would ask how far. But she'd never do any of those things because she never asked for anything. And what, pray tell, would a queen do with love anyway?

She asked for nothing but gave herself away willingly. Never would Basch have asked for her support at a time like this but she gave it unconditionally. Never would he have pleaded for her to sooth him in his hour of need but she did it anyway, murmuring nonsense sentences and constantly saying one thing over and over: "It'll be alright. It'll be alright."

But it wouldn't. How could it be? With everyone he'd ever cared about in the grave but one, the remainder being unobtainable even in his wildest dreams, how could it possibly be alright?

How could it be alright when he had to choose between them, his obligations to the living and to the dead?

His tears dried then and he disentangled himself without grace from her arms. Ashe didn't say a word to him, she didn't move from the spot. She just stood there looking at him, her concern worn on her sleeve for Basch to see. And he was grateful beyond words. Her hands hung loosely at her sides. Looking at them reminded him of that day in Old Archades. The day when he'd realised that his heart now belonged to her.

He couldn't meet her eyes though he felt no shame. Instead, his eyes remained on her hands and he thought of taking hers into his, expressing his gratitude in a way beyond words.

"Might I…" he said, haltingly. He looked into Ashe's eyes, saw her mouth stay resolutely shut as she waited for him to finish. "Might I… have a moment alone?"

Visibly, she didn't change at all. Once she would've demanded thanks. Now she demanded nothing.

"Of course," she told him. "You know where I am if you should need me."

She departed, leaving Basch alone with his brother. He took Noah's hand instead.

"Forgive me."

3.3 - Daydreamer

The next day passed like a whirlwind but she wasn't paying attention. There'd been a celebration the previous night in Rabanastre, one which she was expected to attend, to prove that she was who she said she was. Though none of Raithwall's shards remained to prove her quality, they accepted her nonetheless as their queen and saviour. Ashe absented herself quickly, not being in the mood to celebrate.

She'd returned to the Strahl, dry docked in the Rabanastre aerodrome, managing about one pace a minute as her subjects came up to her, sang her praises and tried to shake her hand as if her greatness would rub off on them. She didn't feel very great, simply tired. Eventually, the docent had intervened, allowing Ashe unhindered passage to the airship, for which she was grateful.

The airship was empty, much like it had been on the day she'd tried to steal it in Bhujerba. She'd last seen Vaan and Penelo, the new custodians of the ship, at the celebration dancing round one another so it was little wonder that they weren't here. Larsa had already gone home on the Alexander, having a nation to set in order and little time to do it. Basch she had last seen carrying his brother's body to the city morgue and she hadn't seen him since. The Heavy Cruiser Anima hovered over the city still, ready to ferry the body once it was embalmed and anointed.

She sat down in her usual seat in the cockpit, thankful for the silence, allowing her to think clearly for the first time in hours. Her thoughts, as usual, were concerned with Basch. In recent weeks, she'd taken to occasionally daydreaming, wondering about the future and the object of her affections simultaneously.

In her last daydream, she'd envisaged herself marrying him.

She knew that could never happen. She knew her people would never quite believe that Basch wasn't the kingslayer Archadia had made him out to be, even if she went before them and officially pardoned him. But it was a pleasant daydream.

Besides, she didn't want to marry again. In these uncertain times, husbands had an unfortunate habit of dying.

She decided she would tell him though and soon. Now would be an inappropriate time but soon she would tell him. When the dust had settled and when he was on the highroad to recovery, only then would she offer him all that was the best and worst of her. Everything she had, everything she was, she would give it all to him without exemption.

And that was settled, Ashe decided. All she had to do was wait for the right moment.

She supposed she should return to the celebration being held in her honour. But instead, she simply sat on her chair, choosing to daydream how best to tell him.

She thought about it for a long time.

3.4 - Living

He wondered how they could celebrate. It seemed so bizarre that the rest of the world hadn't stopped and sombrely remembered those who had fallen. Everyone had lost someone during the war, whether they were lost in the constant border skirmishes in Old Nabradia, or slain during the massacre at Nalbina fortress.

Everyone had lost someone yet still the blaring street music permeated the cold, stone walls as if they weren't even there. It reached Basch's ears and without words told him that life continued on, that though the dead would be remembered, this night was for the living.

It was difficult to leave Noah's side. He remembered his home village of Winfell, age six, where he'd been afraid of the dark and the night noises as a child and Noah had always been there to fight the monsters under the bed. He remembered moving to Landisalia, his homeland's capital, age 8, where the noises had been different and metallic in nature but terrified him all the same. And Noah had once again protected him against the unseen enemies within and without. Now, in Rabanastre, now a man fast approaching his fourth decade, it was an odd twist of fate that now Basch acted as his brother's guard against the darkness.

But he supposed Noah didn't need guarding against something he'd never been scared of. In fact, it was quite like him to be the first one to die, to be the one to fight first against the unknown demons beyond.

They were grown now though and neither needed a guard. But Basch knew there was someone else. Someone who might not need him but someone he himself couldn't live without.

He placed a hand on Noah's shoulder. "I will honour your request. Though first there are affairs that must be put in order. I pray you understand."

Noah didn't answer. But corpses made very poor conversationalists.

Basch took his hand away and left, heading towards the land of the living where the drums beat and the people danced, going through the smiling crowds who didn't know his real name. Occasionally women would stop him and ask to dance but he politely declined each time.

She wasn't where she was supposed to be, but then she never was. The raised platform where a spry, middle-aged noblewoman called Lady Gelmeria, deputy head of the Small Council, had announced to all and sundry that Princess Ashelia did yet live was empty. Ashe had been there too at the time, shaking hands with the great and the good but Basch hadn't stayed long enough to hear her talk to the people.

To find her, he would have to rely on his instincts and the knowledge of Ashe's movements he had amassed over the course of the journey. Unusually for a member of the royal family, Ashe had always seemed to be disconcerted by large crowds, particularly when she was in the limelight. Though she would take to the stage, he doubted that she would remain at the celebration.

That narrowed the list of possible places down by a considerable margin, down to only two. It was doubtful that Ashe would willingly choose to descend into the Garamsythe Waterway for some peace and quiet, leaving only one other place.

Fairly confident in which direction to choose, Basch made off with purposeful strides towards Hanger 13 of the Rabanastre aerodrome.

000000

He thought for a moment he might've missed his guess. There was no clear indication that anyone had boarded the Strahl, the lights of the hanger were off and the entrance to the ship itself was closed. All the same, Basch decided that since he was there, there was no sense in not eliminating it as a potential place that Ashe might be hiding. So he stepped forward and fumbled in the semi-light for the switch which opened the hatch.

Finally finding it, the stair collapsed neatly to the ground beside him. Inside, the dim emergency lighting was on, something which helped Basch to narrowly avoid tripping quite heavily over the staircase. As he climbed the stairs, he thought he heard someone stirring inside though couldn't be certain.

When he emerged in the fuselage, he spotted an arm on the bridge dangling loosely from one of the chairs, the bangle on the wrist and the skin tone instantly recognisable even in a state of semi-darkness.

He felt better for knowing that she was here after all, a feeling that would've been inexplicable two months ago, but quite rational in its own irrational way now. They were alone on the Strahl, all alone.

That made him nervous, for he feared he would be unable to control himself, just as he hadn't been able to control his grief earlier. He knew that he should go.

But he found himself calling, "Your Majesty," anyway.

3.5 - Almost

"Your Majesty."

The person calling her startled her out of her daydream, where Ondore had been walking down the aisle to give her away to a startling handsome Basch, with armour as polished as mirror glass and a smile as bright as the sun. So absorbed had Ashe been in the daydream that she wasn't even sure of the sex of the person who called for her. But she was annoyed that her peace had been disturbed and turned around to give them a piece of her mind.

Her remonstrance died on her tongue. For there standing in the passage was the man she'd just been imagining.

"Oh," was all she could say and for a moment all she could do was stare.

"Am I disturbing you, Ashelia? If so I can-"

"No!" She said, finally realizing that she'd been staring for a while. She gave him an uncomfortable smile and hoped he hadn't noticed while simultaneously wishing he had. She waved to his usual chair. "Please, sit with me a while."

He did so, sitting in the chair across from her. She moved forward and took his hand between both of hers. "How do you feel?"

"Better, my lady, but the wound will take many a day to heal."

Ashe nodded. "I understand." And she did. Basch was strong. He would recover in his own time. Sitting there with him like this, she felt tempted to spill her guts to him but refrained. The moment was still not right. "Basch, I have a request I would ask of you," she found herself saying before she knew it.

"But name it, my lady, and it shall be done."

"Kiss me," she was tempted to say but didn't. It just seemed to be getting harder and harder to manage her self restraint. But she didn't miss Basch's quick glance at her lips, and she feared for a moment that she had given voice to her desires. Though she hadn't, she was intrigued by the minute glance. Suddenly, the temperature in the cockpit seemed to jump a few dozen degrees and beneath her clothes, her skin burned. It was so difficult, being this close to him, touching him but not touching him. So, so difficult.

"Ashelia?" Basch whispered, and Ashe couldn't help but pretend to notice the notes of desire he put into those four syllables. It was as though her name had been given her just so Basch could pronounce it with so much emotion. But she had to catch hold of herself. She'd forgotten that she hadn't told him what she wanted of him, apart from his heart.

She wanted to ask him to stay in Rabanastre, to resume the role he had once held and damn what her people thought about it. But his touch was electrifying, when his fingers brushed the palm of her hand it sent shivers down her spine. Ashe simply didn't trust herself. Not now, this wasn't the right moment. "Would you leave me to think for a while?"

The question killed the mood faster than an arrow through the neck. Basch looked her in the eyes momentarily, his face unchanged by her request. "Certainly, Ashelia. If you have need of me, I shall not be far." He took his hand away and before she knew it, he was heading for the door.

This wasn't the way Ashe had planned this. She hadn't meant to phrase her question in quite such a manner and she regretted it the moment he got up to leave. What on Ivalice had compelled her to say that? But obedient as ever, he was doing what he thought she wanted. He paid her a last glance just as he made to leave the bridge, and once again looked down at her lips. Then he was on his way.

Despite her mortification, Ashe knew that this second glance couldn't be a coincidence. Could it be that… that?

Did he feel for her what she felt for him?

Until now, she hadn't even considered that was possible. But then when she thought on it, there were a plethora of clues to the contrary. His repeated skirt offerings, his protectiveness, his Freudian slip in Nalbina, the way he'd taken her hand in Old Archades, his subtle glances… she had been so blind.

Suddenly it seemed like the right moment.

"Basch, wait," she demanded, jumping out of her chair and catching his wrist before he got to the stairs. He stopped in his tracks, though whether it was the touch or her words that stilled him, she couldn't guess. "Don't go."

He turned around slowly and didn't look her in the eye when he did. They were close now, almost as close as they had been a few hours before but the circumstances were a world away from one another. A different tension was in the air, a different heat pervaded her senses.

Not quite sure what to do next, Ashe stood there within easy reaching distance of the man who'd been constantly invading her daydreams. She quickly tried to think of something witty to say, to try and impress him but nothing came to mind. Well to hell with thinking then, she thought.

Like that day in Old Archades, Ashe took his hand in her own. His skin was cold on hers, tough and unyielding but she didn't care. To her, there was nothing in the world that felt so right.

Then she raised his hand a little. Though she didn't realize it, she looked like a female mirror image of Al-Cid at that moment. She took his hand, bowing slightly and pressed her lips to the skin.

The differences between her method and Al-Cid's were many. Where he had been smooth and practiced in his motions, she almost managed to headbutt Basch's arm. When he'd straightened, he'd been completely at ease, giving his little bird the customary offering of sunglasses. When Ashe straightened, she met Basch's eye uneasily and offered him a smile that was supposed to be easy and carefree. Instead, it felt strained and fake.

She was so concerned with her own inadequacies that Ashe was taken completely by surprise when she found her back to the wall, the small amount of bare skin rising in goosepimples because of the coldness of the steel wall on her back. But she could feel the hairs on her arms and legs stand up too. That might've been more to do with the fact that Basch's face was so close to hers, so very, very close.

"Oh," was all she was capable of saying.

They stood staring at each other, the features of Basch's face blurry and contorted at such close range but still beautiful all the same. Then she tilted her head to the right, their noses slid past each other, their lips almost met.

Then they heard the sound of the hanger doors opening.

3.6 - Emulation

"Remind me why we're here when we could be enjoying the party again?" Penelo asked.

"Because I forgot to lock the Strahl," Vaan muttered, coming up with the first excuse he could think of as they entered the hangar.

"Wow you even managed to leave the door wide open," Penelo gestured to the flight of stairs allowing easy entry into the airship. "Are you sure you're cut out to be a sky pirate? I thought they always said the first rule about being a sky pirate was that you shouldn't leave open invitations for you to get robbed."

Vaan considered the stairs, wondering why the Strahl was open. He was sure he'd closed up the ship before leaving it a few hours ago. But he didn't bother telling Penelo that. She probably wouldn't believe him, since she had a nose that could smell bullshit from ten paces.

But then he heard something moving around inside the ship. Turning to Penelo, he saw that she'd heard it to.

"When Balthier comes back, he'll kill you for getting his airship stolen you know," Penelo told him in a singsong, I-told-you-so voice.

Vaan didn't answer. Instead he just ran to the Strahl and up the stairs. As he got to the top, clear voices met his ears.

"So you're basically saying that if I were to marry again, that it would be best if I chose someone from Rozarria?"

"Aye. Likely, it is the best potential alliance Dalmasca could have."

"Yes, though if Al-Cid is anything to go by, Rozarrian men are somewhat… polygamous."

"I wouldn't know anything about that… good evening Vaan."

Vaan looked at the scene before him. Basch and Ashe were sat in the cockpit, sitting opposite each other and in close proximity. They looked a bit red in the face but he supposed it was very warm out this evening.

"Hi guys," Vaan said, not quite sure what he should say. He'd figured out the tensions growing between the two over the last few days, or rather since Penelo had added certainty onto his initial suspicions. It all looked quite innocent to him though. "What're you talking about?"

"Basch is advising me on future allegiances Dalmasca should make," Ashe informed him quickly. "Is Penelo not with you?"

"I'm here," she said, following up the stairs. She took one look at the two in the cockpit, and then took Vaan's hand. "Come on. The Strahl's safe. Let's get back to this party."

"But…" Penelo gave him one of those significant looks which Vaan recognised as a cue to stop talking and just do as she said. "Right, well see you guys later."

Just before they left, Vaan caught Penelo winking in Ashe's general direction. Then it suddenly hit him. So he was right. But before he could get a second look, he was already being dragged down the stairs. At a pace halfway between walking and running, she led him out of the hangar, not daring to say a word.

"Did you see their faces?" Penelo asked, once they were back in the aerodrome, the hangar door safely closed behind them. "I can guess what they were up to."

"Would you like to show me?" Vaan asked, offering his hand to her and smiling at her.

Penelo took the hand and seemed to take it gladly. "I'd be happy to."

3.7 - Nerves

Ashe hadn't made much of an effort to conceal her disappointment, but, in the whirlwind of events that followed over the next few days, it was always tucked to the back of her mind anyway. In all honesty, she hadn't expected to be so busy. But since the Small Council had officially welcomed her back to reside in the royal palace, her daylight hours had become consumed by the state and nothing but the state.

Dalmasca had carried on without her for two years. Just because she had returned from the dead didn't mean it had any intention of slowing down for her benefit. After the Small Council had officially accepted her as queen (with Archadian approval, courtesy of a letter left by Larsa), it had begun there and then. They'd discussed trade agreements with her, border relations, lords of the land keen to swear fealty to her and those who were not, barely pausing to make sure she understood. They sought her opinion on the economy, the state of the military, controversial laws concerning basic civil liberties; to all of which she pretended to look like she knew what she was talking about.

Ashe prayed that she'd be able to pick it up as she went along.

Her evenings were no less cluttered and full of appointments. Grand feasts were held in her honour all over Rabanastre which she was expected to attend. The moment she set foot through the doors of manse almost as great as her own palace, sycophants descended on her, trying their damnedest to win her favour. She would smile and nod, eat their food and drink their wine and pretend that she didn't miss the simplicity of her past life or the company of her friends.

…Or the company of Basch.

At night, she would lie beneath the covers in the bedroom she'd once occupied in days long past, and stare at the velvet canopy, thinking. Always she thought about the same thing. They'd been so close to one another, their lips so close they could each feel the other's breath. And then they'd both panicked at the sound of others and broken apart, talking about state matters for the audience. It was fitting, she supposed, that she had discussed marriage with Basch.

After that, he hadn't tried to kiss her again and she hadn't pushed him to do so. Sometimes, Ashe would lie there and wish she had, so she would know what it felt like to kiss him rather than having to rely on her imagination alone. Practically speaking, she supposed it would be like how she used to kiss Rasler, no different except for the person whose arms she was in. But she didn't know for certain.

She did know that her feelings weren't one-sided though and that took the edge off her disappointment. All the same, she found herself missing him, wishing, simply wishing.

It was five days and four nights before she sent for him. Blaming it on her hectic schedule, Ashe couldn't quite deny that the reason it had taken so long was that she was… nervous. She hated the word, right down to its socks, but that didn't stop her from being so all the same. But, in the time they'd sent apart, it had given them time to think. There was no way of knowing what Basch thought on the matter, though she could guess. She prepared for the positive and the negative, praying it wouldn't be the latter but ready for it if it came.

But there was no doubt in her mind whatsoever. She wanted this. She wanted it on the Strahl and she wanted it now, with all that came with it, the good and the bad.

To be ready for this intimate audience, Ashe had had to refuse a prominent Rabanastran lord's invitation to a banquet in her honour. The lord had been offended but she didn't care; it was worth it. Though the upcoming visit worried her a little, she hadn't agonised over her choice of attire, a habit forced upon her by two years in the wilderness, both literal and political. She'd chosen a simple white blouse and with it, more to humour Basch than anything else, she'd donned the white skirt she'd not returned to him after Tchita.

She only hoped he saw the funny side.

Pacing like a father waiting for his firstborn to arrive, Ashe walked in a straight line, up and down, up and down, putting all her thought into the sound of her bare feet sinking into the carpet. If she thought about anything else, Ashe knew it would only lead back to this meeting. Her footsteps reminded her of nothing but footsteps.

Knock knock

She looked up to the door, ending her pacing and struggling to find her voice.

"Come in."

3.8 - Regrets

In all his thirty-seven years, Basch had felt the pangs of regret quite often. He'd felt them when Landis fell and he felt them when he ran away, unable to do anything for his homeland. In the Nalbina Dungeons, regret and misery had been his closest companions. He'd thought about Raminas, Rasler, Reks and Ashe, how to some degree he felt responsible for their respective deaths or, in the latter case, her fake suicide. Fleeing the Bahamut, he regretted not trying to reconcile with his brother sooner before the gods had claimed him as their own.

He regretted not taking the opportunity to kiss Ashelia when he had the chance.

In some way, he felt he'd atoned most of his regret through guarding her, taking wounds intended for her, staring into the jaws of death for her. By guarding her, Raminas and Rasler would be pleased, his deeds absolving his regrets over Landis and Dalmasca. But they would be turning in their graves if they saw what happened on the Strahl five days ago.

But another part of him said that Raminas and Rasler would want her to be happy, to live and enjoy life where they could not. Then when he delved deeper into it, he wondered if there was any other person better suited to the task.

That wasn't for him to decide though.

Apprehension gnawed at his insides as he made his way to her rooms. Tonight, no matter what she wanted to say to him, Basch had to have the first word. He'd failed to tell her that he intended to honour his brother's wish, so caught up in the maelstrom of emotions he had been. But it wasn't fair to simply not tell her and he wouldn't dream of going without saying goodbye. His mother would never speak to him again in the afterlife. It was just bad manners, something she had deplored.

So he made his way there, each step falling heavy as he considered just how he was going to break the news. If only he knew what Ashe was going to tell him. For all Basch knew, she had summoned him to tell him that what happened had been a mistake never to be mentioned again. But in his heart, he doubted that that was so. He'd seen the look in her eyes that night on the Strahl. What he had seen had been nothing but genuine.

He suddenly found himself outside her door. So consumed by his thoughts he'd been, that Basch hadn't even realised in which direction he was walking. Well there was no sense in beating about the bush. He raised his hand.

Knock knock.

From within, he heard the voice that sent him somewhat weak at the knees.

"Come in."

3.9 - Tea

Her heart went aflutter the moment she saw him standing there, his hands held awkwardly at his sides. A series of different thoughts and urges went through her mind when she saw him there and unable to choose which one to act on, she said and did nothing. Instead, Ashe took the moment to simply observe him; much in the same manner she would observe a painting, a masterpiece, appreciative.

It didn't surprise her that she could find the telltale signs of discomfort that radiated off Basch. The way he held her eyes belied confidence though she also caught how he held himself, how his hands fidgeted a little, how his chin was set. The moment extended on and on and Ashe became sure she wasn't the only one making an analysis, trying to decide where to take their first step through the field of landmines. In the end, she decided it would be best simply to play hostess.

"Come in, Basch. Sit with me."

There was a small three piece suite in her room, purposely put there for intimate audiences such as this. She sat down on the small sofa, placing one hand on her lap and the other on the empty seat beside her. Basch seemed to take a moment to come to his senses and she realized that he was still staring at her. To be more precise, he was staring at her legs, or to be more precise still, what she was wearing over them. He smiled.

"You're wearing it after all this time," he said.

"So it would seem." The moment she said it, she cursed herself. Her tone had been heavy and sarcastic, just the wrong sort of way she imagined to speak to the man of her dreams. She smiled in discomfort. "I wore it for you." Hoping that would negate her previous rudeness, Ashe waited for a reaction.

"I am honoured, Ashelia."

Her heart skipped a beat when he said her name. "…I…" Damn it all but she still couldn't think what to say.

Basch finally closed the door, the latch making a satisfying click. Here, they were alone and here, they had their own little world where possibilities abounded. Here, she could leap off the sofa and kiss the man like she should've done five days previously and no-one would be here to remonstrate with her. Getting up, she closed the curtains, despite it being only three in the afternoon. The room was dimmed, though enough light managed to permeate the thin material of the veils to allow Ashe to see clearly.

When she turned around, she found Basch seated in one of the armchairs, his chin resting on the bridge made by his interlocked fingers. Once again, he was watching her and the thought made her shiver. But for the pleasure she took, came pangs of disappointment. The look on his face was still troubled and he'd chosen to sit in one of the armchairs. Ashe shrugged it off. He was probably just as nervous as she was.

"Would you like some tea?" Ashe asked as she made for the sofa again.

"My thanks but nay. I've never taken to tea."

Ashe raised her eyebrow at that. Considering the city's position on the tea road, stretching from the Ambervale of Rozzaria all the way to Archades and beyond, almost everyone took tea in Rabanastre. "You don't mind if I do, do you?"

"Not at all, Ashelia."

It was a strange thing. Though their nerves both seemed to be getting the better of them, Ashe marvelled at how easy it was to play her part in this domestic scene. Pouring the tea into its cup, Ashe tried to concentrate on not spilling it over the surface of the table. Though neither of them said anything, Ashe could feel the weight of Basch's stare on her. With a heavy clunk, she set down the teapot and picked up the cup by the saucer. The cup rattled and the tea within rippled, as though someone had dropped a tiny stone into it. Some of the tea spilled over the side into the saucer.

It amazed her how she'd stared into the jaws of death multiple times over the last two years and barely felt a tremor. Now, something as simple as pouring tea in his presence made her tremble. To silence the rattling, she picked up the cup and took her first sip, barely managing to swallow the scolding beverage.

"Basch…" she said, setting down the cup. The rattling began again. "I… that is…"

As her efforts to start the conversation petered out into nothing, Basch for the first time in the meeting took the initiative.

"Ashelia, there is… somewhat I must tell you."

Ashe put the cup and saucer down, terrified she'd drop it. "Yes?" But he didn't say anything more. "You can tell me anything, Basch. I shan't overreact."

"Very well. Before he died, my brother entrusted me with a charge." When he paused, Ashe reached for the cup of tea again, her mouth suddenly dry. "Noah asked that I should take his place… to act as Lord Larsa's protector."

The sound of breaking crockery reached Ashe's ears before she even realised she dropped the cup, saucer and all. Her fingers felt numb when she moved them. Her trembling had stopped at last.

"You… you are to go to Archades then?"

"Aye."

Ashe closed her eyes to help collect her thoughts. Despite the shut door, the closed curtains, the real world had still managed to invade their own. But she wasn't heartbroken like she'd expected to be. The numbness of surprise had already worn off and she felt the love in her heart grow, despite the news.

They did say that absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Then she suddenly felt daring and stood up. "When must you go?"

"On the morrow," he replied with reluctance.

"In that case," she said, moving towards Basch and sitting down on his knee, "we must make best use of the time allotted to us."

And she kissed him then and all was right with the world.

3.10 – Wish

"Watch for me on the northern road."

It was late and she was tired but now was not the time for resting. She stood upon her balcony, ignoring the gargantuan shadow that was the Bahamut and focused her eyes on the north-east. For twenty minutes she had stood here, ignorant of the wind's bitter chill. The breeze caught at her silken shawl, trying to tear if from between her arms but her grip was strong. She held on.

"Look for me as I come from the south."

They say in Landis that if you wished hard enough, bent all your thought to a special someone, they would hear no matter how far away they were and return before the coming of the full moon if their bond was true. They call this a wonderwish, she calls it a flight of fancy, but she wishes all the same, ever and always for the same thing.

The sky is moonless this night.

She both knows and doesn't know that in the north-east, where her eyes are so intently staring, the one she wishes for is watching the southern road and looking beyond, making the same wish.

The woman sighs and returns to the warmth of her fireside, closing the door of glass behind her.

Author Note: And that's it. A big thank you to everyone who took the time out of their lives to read and/or review this. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.