Secret Admirers (FFVIII/FFXII)
Secret Admirers
Fandom: Crossover, FFVIII/FFXII
Characters/Pairings: Ashe, Balthier/Irvine
Rating: PG
Notes: for astrangerenters' prompt on the Valentine's Day Meme: "FFVIII/FFXII - Irvine/Balthier, "always a competition"". Full of whimsy and fluff and probably crack.
- - -
I.
Ashe sees the door to her room is slightly ajar; it gives her pause, although she does not yet panic - many of the servants are still new to their posts. Nevertheless, she sidles in, gently, slowly, staying aware in case something is amiss.
On the table beside the door sits a small leather bag she does not recognize.
Carefully, Ashe picks the bag up and turns it over. A cascade of gems fall into her hand, glimmering blue and red and fiery-golden in the light. A small note lands atop the pile. Carefully, she opens it.
From a Secret Admirer.
II.
The door is closed, but this time Ashe pauses because the handle is still warm beneath her palm, as if someone had just touched it. Carefully she opens it; there is nothing on the table, and she feels a small pang of disappointment -- which she dismisses as utter folly a moment later.
It is when she turns that she sees her entire table is covered with roses: red roses, deep-red, dark-red, like heart's-blood. Ashe wonders how she didn't notice the scent immediately. Amongst the red, there is a note; she picks it up, her heart racing.
Your other admirer is nothing but a useless pirate. I give you these in honest affection.
III.
This time, her bed is covered in rose petals. Ashe wants to be touched, or flattered, or creeped out, or something, but it has been a very long day and all she wants is to crawl somewhere between soft fabric and claim unconsciousness. The note on her bedstand is resting atop something silver and gleaming, however; as she approaches, it resolves in her tired eyesight to a gleaming silver bracelet, as thick as her fist.
Do not listen to the worthless cowboy. I can show you the skies.
The next morning, she dons the bracelet, all the while scoffing at her own whimsy.
IV.
Her room has been empty for a week, and while Ashe practically is pleased to not have the disruption, some small part of her feels a twings of sadness as she turns the bracelet on her wrist. She is embarrassed at her own reaction when she enters her rooms and notes the lying in the middle of her table.
She opens it. A necklace gleams up at her, amber and turquoise mixed with delicate silver, forming a graceful loop in the box's belly. In the center, another note. Ashe is dismayed to realize she has come to recognize their handwritings.
The pirate has no idea what you are worth. If you are going to wear his treasure, do me the honor as well. It pales next to your beauty, but it would warm my heart to see it.
The next day, Ashe dons both their gifts, cursing her sense of sentimentality. She is surprised at how well the two gifts match.
V.
She can hear the voices through the door as she approaches. Ashe grips the still-warm handle and turns it, slowly, opening the door a crack.
"I should have known." This voice is deep, with a strange accent Ashe cannot place.
"What," says a voice that is all too familiar. "You never expected to see me again, did you?"
"Why do you think I did this?" the first voice replies, sounding amused. "I'm too brilliant for you, I know. But I can't let you have her."
"I'm sorry," Balthier replies, his voice rich with humor; "I wasn't aware she was yours to give away."
"It ain't her I'm after, darlin'," the unknown stranger replies with a chuckle. "It's you."
Silence falls, and Ashe, full of morbid curiosity, opens the door more fully. She is greeted with the sight of Balthier and a strange, tall man (wearing some sort of ridiculous hat) locked in an embrace. Lip-locked in an embrace. In her rooms.
Ashe closes the door behind herself, and smiles. This is the best gift yet.
Fandom: Crossover, FFVIII/FFXII
Characters/Pairings: Ashe, Balthier/Irvine
Rating: PG
Notes: for astrangerenters' prompt on the Valentine's Day Meme: "FFVIII/FFXII - Irvine/Balthier, "always a competition"". Full of whimsy and fluff and probably crack.
- - -
I.
Ashe sees the door to her room is slightly ajar; it gives her pause, although she does not yet panic - many of the servants are still new to their posts. Nevertheless, she sidles in, gently, slowly, staying aware in case something is amiss.
On the table beside the door sits a small leather bag she does not recognize.
Carefully, Ashe picks the bag up and turns it over. A cascade of gems fall into her hand, glimmering blue and red and fiery-golden in the light. A small note lands atop the pile. Carefully, she opens it.
From a Secret Admirer.
II.
The door is closed, but this time Ashe pauses because the handle is still warm beneath her palm, as if someone had just touched it. Carefully she opens it; there is nothing on the table, and she feels a small pang of disappointment -- which she dismisses as utter folly a moment later.
It is when she turns that she sees her entire table is covered with roses: red roses, deep-red, dark-red, like heart's-blood. Ashe wonders how she didn't notice the scent immediately. Amongst the red, there is a note; she picks it up, her heart racing.
Your other admirer is nothing but a useless pirate. I give you these in honest affection.
III.
This time, her bed is covered in rose petals. Ashe wants to be touched, or flattered, or creeped out, or something, but it has been a very long day and all she wants is to crawl somewhere between soft fabric and claim unconsciousness. The note on her bedstand is resting atop something silver and gleaming, however; as she approaches, it resolves in her tired eyesight to a gleaming silver bracelet, as thick as her fist.
Do not listen to the worthless cowboy. I can show you the skies.
The next morning, she dons the bracelet, all the while scoffing at her own whimsy.
IV.
Her room has been empty for a week, and while Ashe practically is pleased to not have the disruption, some small part of her feels a twings of sadness as she turns the bracelet on her wrist. She is embarrassed at her own reaction when she enters her rooms and notes the lying in the middle of her table.
She opens it. A necklace gleams up at her, amber and turquoise mixed with delicate silver, forming a graceful loop in the box's belly. In the center, another note. Ashe is dismayed to realize she has come to recognize their handwritings.
The pirate has no idea what you are worth. If you are going to wear his treasure, do me the honor as well. It pales next to your beauty, but it would warm my heart to see it.
The next day, Ashe dons both their gifts, cursing her sense of sentimentality. She is surprised at how well the two gifts match.
V.
She can hear the voices through the door as she approaches. Ashe grips the still-warm handle and turns it, slowly, opening the door a crack.
"I should have known." This voice is deep, with a strange accent Ashe cannot place.
"What," says a voice that is all too familiar. "You never expected to see me again, did you?"
"Why do you think I did this?" the first voice replies, sounding amused. "I'm too brilliant for you, I know. But I can't let you have her."
"I'm sorry," Balthier replies, his voice rich with humor; "I wasn't aware she was yours to give away."
"It ain't her I'm after, darlin'," the unknown stranger replies with a chuckle. "It's you."
Silence falls, and Ashe, full of morbid curiosity, opens the door more fully. She is greeted with the sight of Balthier and a strange, tall man (wearing some sort of ridiculous hat) locked in an embrace. Lip-locked in an embrace. In her rooms.
Ashe closes the door behind herself, and smiles. This is the best gift yet.