Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nothing of the Final Fantasy World, that belongs to good ole' Square Enix.

There was moisture glistening on blond lashes. For a second I registered only confusion at that detail and absently wondered if it was perspiration left from the arduous battle we had just survived. But no, there was no sweat elsewhere on my knight's countenance, the Strahl's climate controls kept the ship at a chilly 69 degrees, and my own body's moisture had dried into a slightly crusty film against my skin long ago.

They are tears, a voice whispered in my head, and I refused to believe it for a few seconds more, holding stubbornly to the fact that Basch never cried, was perhaps incapable of that particular display of emotion. Had he not proven this time and again? My mind flashed through all of the settings in my life where his tears would have been appropriate, even expected: The death of my husband, our explosive reunion, visiting the ruins of Nabudis. He had struck down his own brother, twice, in battle and nary a muscle had flinched in grief. I had only glimpsed a distant sort of pity, as I watched him watching Gabranth on the slow ride up to the heart of the Bahamut, to Vayne. Even this had transformed into steely determination, into unrelenting purpose, when Basch directed his gaze back to me and gave a curt nod. Whether he had been reassuring me of his readiness, or was perhaps simply satisfied that I was yet unharmed and ready to face my true enemy, I was still not sure. His stoic acceptance had been no surprise; that was who Basch was.

This, though, this extra sheen over his eyes, and the beads collecting on the fringes around them, was wholly unexpected. I glanced back, curious, to the hall behind the cockpit, where the late king slayer rested in one of the rooms. Gabranth, the blade that had taken my father's life, had departed his own only a few minutes ago. Larsa had related this news to me in a hushed voice, his face pinched and looking far too old, and I had felt a momentary guilt over my euphoria for this day's victory. There had been no joy for me at Gabranth's passing, indeed I found it difficult to feel anything for the corpse occupying this ship. My purpose already achieved, his death was simply another casualty of war, one that I perhaps cared less for than the rest. It did not ease the pain of losing my father, nor did it dampen the elation of finding freedom. My eyes slid back to my knight, who stared at the expanse of sky beside him but did not see it.

Basch's grief, however, affected me. It made me squirm with discomfort and a surprisingly strong urge to assuage, to ease. He had called Gabranth by another name, I remembered, and bid him live.

Noah, my mind supplied, his twin brother, who at the very last offered reconciliation, only to be mortally wounded. Basch was given the promise of a reunion with his brother and that reunion was spent watching him die. Need you question why Basch mourns?

Basch's eyes abruptly tore from the window beside him and clashed with mine, like a physical weight on my body.

"Basch," his name escaped me before I could think to stifle it, the syllable breathy and hesitant. He held my gaze for seconds that seemed to stretch and twist into something more and I watched with a detached wonder as a myriad of emotions chased across his face, his jaw clenching and lips pressing into a tight line. The movements seemed to speak volumes, but I didn't know the language as his familiar face contorted into utterly foreign lines, and I was left staring in bewilderment.

Basch weeps… I felt my eyes stinging in return and flinched at the sensation, and the moment ended with a snap. Basch abruptly rose from his seat and exited the cockpit. I dropped a hand that I hadn't realized was extended towards the now empty seat and Vaan's voice cut through the silence.

"It's not easy losing a brother, you know… even if you weren't on the best of terms."

And that was an understatement if I had ever heard one. The relationship between Basch and his twin had been impossibly damaged and warped, and what could Vaan possibly know about that? How could he understand the events that would cause kin to turn against one another, to draw blades with the intention of spilling a brother's blood, the same blood that ran through your veins?

"Perhaps you should try to talk to him, Ashe," Penelo said in her quiet soprano and I turned to her with a small gasp, where she sat twisted away from the controls of the Strahl, watching me instead of the sky. "He's been so strong this whole time, but even he must need someone to lean on every once in awhile."

She had already turned back to help Vaan pilot before I could formulate a reply, and I found myself nodding to the back of her head like an idiot. I gazed at the hallway from the cockpit a moment more before I steeled myself and rose to follow my knight. I had not the slightest inkling of what I might say to him, or how I could possibly help, I only knew that Penelo was right; Basch had been our pillar of strength, unerringly, as we roamed the breadth of Ivalice. I could not deny him some measure of support in his hour of need.

Basch weeps, I thought again, and hastened my steps to find him with a heart that ached for his pain.

And I found him, not with his deceased twin as I had thought, but up on the observation deck of the ship. He stood grasping the rails along the edge and his whole body sang with a tension that hurt to witness.

"I would not have you witness me like this, Lady Ashe," He said, his voice somehow lower than normal, rougher, though I would have thought both impossible. I gasped quietly as I realized he had known it was me though I had not announced my presence, and he had not turned. I paused, still in the shadows of the doorway into the ship, and focused on taking slow steady breaths, still not knowing what I should do, what I might say that could aid him. Should I give him solitude, as he asked? But no, he had not said I should leave, not precisely. I once again began to approach him.

"There is no shame in mourning your brother, Basch," I said, close enough now to reach out and brush his hair, if I so wished. He still would not turn to me. "It is not a weakness, and speaks only of the greatness of your heart. You need not hide it from me."

"I grieved for and accepted my brother's passing long ago, in my cage 'neath Nalbina. He has been dead to me since he used my face to slay my king and betray my princess." I shifted my gaze to his hands and noticed his knuckles were white, so tightly did he cling to the brass rails.

"And yet you forgave him, on the Bahamut," I caught myself reaching once again for his hand, and pulled my arm back to curl over my chest instead. "And carried him back onto the Strahl rather than leaving him to perish with Vayne. These were noble actions, the actions of a true knight and steadfast brother."

"They were reflexes from the ghost of a limb I severed years past, no more!" The anger in his voice startled me, and I retreated a few steps from him. I was on the verge of fleeing back into the ship, away from my miserably failed attempt to comfort when Basch finally turned to me, and suddenly I could not move. There, unmistakable on his cheeks, were twin tracks of tears silvered by the sun. His face, however, was darkened with anger.

"Do not speak to me of greatness of heart, of forgiveness. I hate the man that just died on this ship, and I hate myself the more! He would take with his last breaths the one thing that is most precious to me, that I cannot bear to part with. You do not know the immense amount of shame I carry, happily, because I am weak and would do anything to keep what I love most."

"What do you mean?" I whispered, trembling now at his anger. "Basch –" I lifted one arm and slowly, cautiously, let my hand rest on his, seeking to relax his grip somewhat, "What has caused this?"

But he had dropped his gaze to stare at where my hand covered his, a slow look of horror spreading across his features. He jerked his arm away like I had burned him and took several quick steps away from me before turning and walking back. I fought the urge to back away from him and ignored the way my heart was pounding against my chest.

"That you need ask proves my talent for deceit, Princess. You believe me virtuous and unwavering but my heart is twisted, there is a constant battle within me. If you but knew – " Another tear rolled down his cheek and I reached out and caught it, my body acting before my mind could register my intentions. Basch closed his eyes at my touch and, wonder of wonders, leaned into my hand, causing me to cradle his face. I gasped at the sensation of his cheek against my palm, his beard surprisingly soft, and allowed my thumb to brush gently against his skin, smoothing the moisture away.

"If you but knew how I have longed for your touch, craved your – " his voice was hoarse now, barely more than a whisper and I took a step closer to him, to better hear his words. He covered my hand with his own, and his expression caved. Basch squeezed his eyes closed and bared his teeth in a grimace, wearing a mask of such bitter sorrow I could not help but respond. His tears began to flow in earnest.

"Shhh…" I heard myself whispering to him, not mindful of what came out of my mouth, only desperate to do something, anything that could ease that pain from him. "I am here, Basch, I am here. Tell me how I may help you, please, just don't cry anymore, please." And on it went, the words spilling from me without any real consideration.

"You are a good man. Nothing you or anyone could say would dissuade me of that. Please, Basch, tell me what is wrong, why do you hurt?"

"Enough, Ashe," he said, and I felt a strange thrill at hearing my name without a title from his lips. "No more of your sympathies, I beg you. You will break me more completely than the dungeons of Nalbina could ever manage. I am not worthy of your concern, please leave me be…" But he did not pull away; and instead turned his head a fraction of an inch to press his lips into my palm. I could feel his breath ragged against my skin, and I froze at the intimacy of this gesture.

"Oh," I breathed, and found it impossible to draw air into my body again. Oh, the back of my mind was saying, I understand now. However, the majority of me was focused on that single point of contact between Basch's mouth and my skin, and how I had always wondered what his beard felt like and even though it was soft his mouth was so much softer and he was moving it even now, whispering something I didn't bother trying to catch because his lips were gliding against me and it was astonishing, the way it felt and –

And then my mind stopped functioning altogether as my body shifted into autopilot. Placing my other hand against his shoulder for support, I took a small step closer to him and lifted onto the balls of my feet and brushed a kiss against his cheek, letting my eyes drift closed. The connection was brief and feather soft and we both stilled immediately after. My lips were scant millimeters from his skin, wet from his tears, and I could still feel tiny puffs of air against my palm where Basch breathed, shallow and quick. How long we held this pose, I could not with any accuracy describe. It felt like we stood somewhere outside of time, far outside of the Ivalice I had walked and known and understood. I waited, having crossed some huge, invisible line, for Basch to either follow or turn back.

He followed.

Slowly, he turned his face toward mine, and each time my lips met his skin by chance it drove a small breath from me until I could feel warm air not against my palm but upon my mouth. The kiss started out trembling sweet and painfully cautious, like the fragile beginnings of peace after a war. His lips were parted only the slightest as he pressed them against mine and they were warm and soft and strangely resilient. I moved my mouth gently to match his, letting my lips fall apart and the friction was something else entirely that set tiny fireworks off behind my eyes. I was still reeling from that feeling when Basch moaned, a strangled sound caught somewhere in his throat and where before we had simply been sharing a chaste joining of mouths, now he was kissing me and I was drowning in sensation.

My arms had risen to wrap around his neck and his were crushing my whole body to him so that I no longer had to work to stay on my toes and my head was crooked at an awkward angle, almost painful, and Basch was everywhere. His nose against my cheek, his hair on my shoulder, his tongue inside my mouth, his hands pressed into my back, his heart above my chest, and I had become utterly lost within him. He was my world entire for that short time that we kissed. And somewhere, beneath the rush of Basch in my mind I realized that I had been his world for a long time.

Eventually, as kisses must when they happen on a small airship crowded with various passengers and two adolescent pilots given to gossip, the kiss grew calmer, no longer a battle to meld as tightly as possible. We allowed our lips to part several times only to slide them back against each other and I discovered I liked the end of a kiss as much as the beginning or the middle of one. And that I enjoyed kissing my knight very, very much.

That's when my brain function began to return to normal again, and the real world came crashing back into place; a world where queens who had newly reclaimed their country's independence did not engage in passionate anything with their knights, wrongfully accused or otherwise. And Basch had known this, had been painfully aware of that fact, had hidden his love of me and battled with himself for years, because of that fact.

I had overstepped those boundaries put in place for generations between liege and subject; dragged Basch with me into territories very much forbidden, and now I must step back. So I stepped back, easing myself out of his arms and onto more solid ground, bolstered with eons of propriety. Guilt settled onto my shoulders as I realized the part I had played in damaging his conscience further and I imagined I could see it crashing back onto him as well.

Though it was now more difficult than I thought possible, I brought my eyes up to meet his, despite the heat blazing against my cheeks from shame and something more. Basch held himself like one defeated, resigned to his lot and I knew true regret, for the first time, for being who I was, the last of the line of Dalmasca. Were I anyone else, I would be his. Perhaps, spoke a bitter voice in my head, were you anyone else he would not love you as he does. I mentally and physically shook my head at those thoughts, they were pointless to consider.

"Basch," I said, my voice faltering and unsure, "I – we cannot – "

"I know, Lady Ashe, you need not remind me. I am aware."

"I'm so sorry…" I whispered, and I was, for so many things. For who I was, for kissing him, for not kissing him sooner, for not recognizing his devotion to me until now, for hurting him. Above all I regretted hurting my loyal knight. Though it may not have matched the depth or intensity that Basch seemed to possess, I could not deny that I loved him, too, and would do much to protect him from harm in any way I could.

"Do not apologize, Ashe," he said gently, once again my name unadorned surprising me. A bittersweet smile tugged at his lips. "There are many things I have to regret, but knowing the kiss of the one I hold closest to my heart will not be one of them. If there was shame in what passed here, let me bear it for you. I would do so gladly knowing that your heart was light and your soul content." He reached out slowly and caught a strand of hair between his thumb and finger to play with it and I had to fight not to close the distance and press a kiss against his fingertips.

His smile dropped, his arm with it, replaced by a sorrow that already seemed distant, disappearing beneath the driving force of duty. Though the distance between us now was more familiar, I found myself aching for that burning nearness we had moments before. Basch's gaze drifted away from my face and when he spoke again, his voice was strangely hollowed out.

"It appears I must honor the promise I made to my twin upon his dying bed, though my whole being cries against it."

Suddenly I was trembling, remembering his words from before. He would take with his last breaths the one thing that is most precious to me…

"Tell me," I said, my voice wavering as a cold fear clawed inside me. "What oath did Gabranth exact from you before he died?"

"Ashe..." My name from his lips only inspired more fear now.

"Tell me," I gasped.

Basch drew himself up, visibly collecting himself into the Knight Unfaltering. His back stiffened and his shoulders pulled themselves straight, and he clasped his hands behind his back and tilted his chin up. He met my eyes with his own narrowed and steadfast and answered.

"I humbly request the Lady Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca, Queen of Dalmasca accept the withdrawal of Captain Basch fon Ronsenberg from the Knights of the Order of Dalmasca so that I may take up a new post as Gabranth, Judge Magister of Archadia and personal bodyguard of his Royal Majesty Larsa Ferrinas Solidor, Emperor Impendent of Archadia."

I bowed my head for a short moment, not wanting Basch to witness my pain, but my pride was too great to allow me to wipe the single drop of moisture that rolled down my cheek when I faced him once more. My face felt numb and my body was so stiff that I ached as I struggled against the urge to throw myself at him. That was nothing compared to the turmoil raging inside me. But my voice was steady, cold even when I replied.

"I accept. Dalmasca will miss her finest knight, but eagerly anticipates forging a friendship with Archadia's esteemed Judge Magister and his young charge, Larsa Solidor. Farewell – " my voice cracked only a little, "Captain Basch fon Ronsenberg. Dalmasca shall grieve your passing."

If Basch, Gabranth, noticed the tear that tracked along my face, he did not show it. He only gave a deep bow, his final as a knight to his liege and said upon rising, "Farewell my queen." He turned abruptly on his heel and with a few long strides had disappeared into the Strahl, but not before I noticed the moisture again beading, glistening and heavy, on his blonde lashes.

"Farewell Basch," I whispered, and dropped my head into my hands as sobs began to wrack my body.

A/N: Well then..

Though this is my first fanfic published on the internet, it's actually the third or fourth I've written. This one just happens to show an uncommon amount of restraint in terms of smut, and I figured I should start slow with the whole fanfiction community relationship, you know? I've been a silent reader on this site for a few months now and having plumbed the depths of the Basch/Ashe stories (my favorite couple) I deemed it time to start writing my own.

My apologies about the copious amounts of melodrama, but the whole final fantasy 12 world seems to ooze melodrama and it's so fun to try and emulate that same style.

Hope y'all enjoyed!