Any Other Way (FFXII:OGC)
Any Other Way
Fandom: FFXII: OGC
Characters/Pairing: Ashe/Balthier
Rating: G
for astrangerenters
Summary: Just as they cannot stay together, they cannot truly stay apart. Balthier, Ashe, and the years in between.
Notes: This is really more of a sketch than an actual story. Interesting, self.
- - -
Over the years, they exchange trinkets like some more fortunate lovers exchange kisses. He brings back exotic spices for her food and jewels for her brow: things she cannot see and touch from Rabanastre. To him, Ashe gives the tributes she feels she does not deserve: silks and rings made for her name-day, ostensibly from the poor who love her, or coins made in her image by visiting dignitaries. She does not ask what he does with them, nor does she care. They are what she has to give, and Balthier always seems amused, which is worth more to her than the convenience a utilitarian gift might provide.
It is the language they use to tell the stories their lives do not have time to tell. Ashe sips tea with coconut and berries, and smells the sea as her mind escapes to a walk on the beach, laughing at Balthier’s terrible humor. Balthier trades away three silver coins to lodge and feed himself and Fran for a week, and imagines having been beside Ashe when the gift was given, watching her lip curl in a smirk as she sees what the artist did to her nose. He brings her back a hairpin, won in poker from the barmaid’s daughter, and leaves it on her balcony - and the cycle starts anew. In payment for the silver swan, wrought in delicate filigree and tarnished a charming mottled black, Ashe conveniently leaves a short volume of bawdy poetry out on her balcony table. It was a gift from the author’s son, trying to curry her favor, but Ashe can only imagine what Balthier’s reaction will be; she pictures him giving a dramatic reading to Fran, voices and all, and has to turn away from her ministers for a moment of wry amusement.
It is not that they never meet. Tales have spread, and while some may still gossip, none think it too desperately odd for their queen to occasionally spend a day or two with the sky pirates who helped save her kingdom during that time of war and occupation. But it is harder, then, for they cannot escape to daydreams; together, it is that much more obvious why they must be apart. There is no beach between them that would last; there are no jewels to be won in this poker game. They are left with the irresistible pull of the sky, the undeniable weight of a throne, and one Viera who watches them with equal parts amusement, affection, and exasperation.
But inevitably, a few days after they fight, and fight, and part from each other fighting, one of them will see something that makes them think of the other: Ashe, a strange pair of spectacles which resemble Al-Cid’s; Balthier, a jar of dried berries said to give sweet dreams. The table on Ashe’s balcony, their delivery service, is never empty for more than a few weeks. Just as they cannot stay together, they cannot truly stay apart.
The day might come, Ashe knows, when she stops receiving these trinkets entirely: some day that certain airship will find a different port, and its captains will be lost to her. Just as Balthier fears the day he drops in on the balcony only to find the table gone, replaced with, say, a child’s sandbox, or a more distinguished piece of furniture for a guest diplomat whose stay in that room has become semi-permanent. They both acknowledge the situation, but only to themselves, and when alone. To each other, they give gifts, and possibilities.
And it is enough, for both of them. They do not need more; their lives are full of enough excitement and stress and business and work and politics and adventure and gain and loss -- this tiny bit of pleasure they draw from the game they play is more meaningful than either would admit. It is perhaps a strange way to court, through trinkets traded and tales half-imagined, but they could not - and cannot - have it be any other way.
Fandom: FFXII: OGC
Characters/Pairing: Ashe/Balthier
Rating: G
for astrangerenters
Summary: Just as they cannot stay together, they cannot truly stay apart. Balthier, Ashe, and the years in between.
Notes: This is really more of a sketch than an actual story. Interesting, self.
- - -
Over the years, they exchange trinkets like some more fortunate lovers exchange kisses. He brings back exotic spices for her food and jewels for her brow: things she cannot see and touch from Rabanastre. To him, Ashe gives the tributes she feels she does not deserve: silks and rings made for her name-day, ostensibly from the poor who love her, or coins made in her image by visiting dignitaries. She does not ask what he does with them, nor does she care. They are what she has to give, and Balthier always seems amused, which is worth more to her than the convenience a utilitarian gift might provide.
It is the language they use to tell the stories their lives do not have time to tell. Ashe sips tea with coconut and berries, and smells the sea as her mind escapes to a walk on the beach, laughing at Balthier’s terrible humor. Balthier trades away three silver coins to lodge and feed himself and Fran for a week, and imagines having been beside Ashe when the gift was given, watching her lip curl in a smirk as she sees what the artist did to her nose. He brings her back a hairpin, won in poker from the barmaid’s daughter, and leaves it on her balcony - and the cycle starts anew. In payment for the silver swan, wrought in delicate filigree and tarnished a charming mottled black, Ashe conveniently leaves a short volume of bawdy poetry out on her balcony table. It was a gift from the author’s son, trying to curry her favor, but Ashe can only imagine what Balthier’s reaction will be; she pictures him giving a dramatic reading to Fran, voices and all, and has to turn away from her ministers for a moment of wry amusement.
It is not that they never meet. Tales have spread, and while some may still gossip, none think it too desperately odd for their queen to occasionally spend a day or two with the sky pirates who helped save her kingdom during that time of war and occupation. But it is harder, then, for they cannot escape to daydreams; together, it is that much more obvious why they must be apart. There is no beach between them that would last; there are no jewels to be won in this poker game. They are left with the irresistible pull of the sky, the undeniable weight of a throne, and one Viera who watches them with equal parts amusement, affection, and exasperation.
But inevitably, a few days after they fight, and fight, and part from each other fighting, one of them will see something that makes them think of the other: Ashe, a strange pair of spectacles which resemble Al-Cid’s; Balthier, a jar of dried berries said to give sweet dreams. The table on Ashe’s balcony, their delivery service, is never empty for more than a few weeks. Just as they cannot stay together, they cannot truly stay apart.
The day might come, Ashe knows, when she stops receiving these trinkets entirely: some day that certain airship will find a different port, and its captains will be lost to her. Just as Balthier fears the day he drops in on the balcony only to find the table gone, replaced with, say, a child’s sandbox, or a more distinguished piece of furniture for a guest diplomat whose stay in that room has become semi-permanent. They both acknowledge the situation, but only to themselves, and when alone. To each other, they give gifts, and possibilities.
And it is enough, for both of them. They do not need more; their lives are full of enough excitement and stress and business and work and politics and adventure and gain and loss -- this tiny bit of pleasure they draw from the game they play is more meaningful than either would admit. It is perhaps a strange way to court, through trinkets traded and tales half-imagined, but they could not - and cannot - have it be any other way.