What You Leave Behind [Balthier/Ashe, Penelo, Larsa, Al-Cid, Vaan ; PG]
Title: What You Leave Behind
Author: stillskies
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Rating: PG
Genre: Character Study
Characters/Pairing: Balthier/Ashe, Penelo, Larsa, Al-Cid Margrace, Vaan
Wordcount: 1,201
Disclaimer: Not mine. Squeenix owns them all. ♥
A/N: Written for chainddove because she wanted Balthier/Ashe not written by her or owlmoose. Enjoy! ♥
It is difficult and everything she expects. The whirlwind meetings, the political maneuvering and the treaties - after all, they did not save their worlds only to allow war to destroy them all. She sheds her armor and steps back into the silken clothes she had left behind; the sleeves chafe her upper arms and the midsection is too loose. The seamstresses cluck their tongues and take new measurements, murmuring under their breaths about how to drape fabric to soften the hard edges that years of combat have shaped.
She does not acknowledge their displeasure - her body is her own, and she will do as she pleases with it. Her conviction sees her training with the guard, twisting gracefully as her sword arches through the air and disarms the man in front of her. The training yard is hushed as the man pulls himself to his feet and grabs his sword. She sees the lunge before he moves and easily steps out of the way. Her sword is biting into the skin between the guardsman’s helmet and armor. She allows the blade to rest there a moment before pulling away and allowing him to stand.
The guardsman removes his helmet and for a moment, Ashe cannot breathe. The moment passes, and the man’s features settle into something less familiar, more strange, but the eyes remain and she turns away. “Dismissed.” Her voice echoes until the sound of boots drowns it out.
***
Penelo writes. Sometimes, Ashe replies. Other times, she allows the letters to sit on her writing desk, opened and waiting. There is never anything of consequence in the letters - idle chatter and general overviews of everyone’s health. Vaan’s adventures are always skimmed over, as though Penelo finds them tiresome or of little importance. Ashe has begun to suspect it has more to do with her; after all, the adventures of a sky pirate - even one as inexperienced as Vaan - are incomplete without mention of his ship.
Ashe tries desperately not to think of the Strahl, and so she is grateful to Penelo even as she resents the omissions. After all, she is not some delicate girl who needs to be protected. She can guard her own heart and her own mind despite the emptiness that grows a little more each day.
***
No one mentions her empty ring finger, though she is not so dense as to miss the growing rumors. Tedious details have been filled in along the way, and if Ashe were prone to idle gossip, she supposes she would find the some of the stories entertaining.
Rather than dispelling them, she simply ignores them. So much of her life is for the public - after all, what more is a queen than a public figure? Her power comes from the people and so her life too belongs to them. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t hoard memories; they weren’t there, nor did they rise to defend her. Her life before the throne was restored to her is her own.
Unconsciously, she moves to touch her ring - years of habit are not so easy to break - and feels the impression that the metal has left. A ghost ring, she thinks.
She hears the ghost of a laugh as she stands in the middle of her room, touching the ghost of a ring that disappeared months ago with the ghost of a man she might have known.
***
It takes months for her to be able to think of him - them, she amends, because he was not the only one who disappeared that day. Her subconscious does not listen to her desperate pleas to leave her in peace, and when she sleeps, she feels the heat of the flames on her face and hears her own voice echoing in her ears.
She awakens in a cold sweat, his name on her lips. The bed sheets are damp and the breeze from the balcony raises gooseflesh on her skin. Her robe is at the foot of her bed, and she quickly pulls it on as she moves toward the balcony.
The night is cool and the sky is clear, unobstructed. She can see the stars and remembers when she was a child. Her father had told her that the stars granted a wish to one who asked. It has been years since she’s thought of this silly superstition, but as she gazes out across the city, she feels the sudden urge to make a wish.
It takes a while, and when she steps back into her room, her skin is cold and her cheeks sting.
***
The request does not surprise her; it has been nearly a year since she’s taken the throne and her advisors grow more restless by the day. She knows that it is only a matter of time before a betrothal is announced, and she would rather seal her own fate than be surprised by it.
There are only two appropriate suitors, and the choice is easily made. It is decided that she will announce her engagement to Al-Cid Margrace at week’s end.
***
Larsa writes to her, asking if this is truly her will. She does not reply; she knows Larsa will understand.
She steps onto the balcony and allows the sun to warm her face. A flash of white catches her eye and she quickly turns, trying to follow the movement. The wind gusts and she watches as a lone envelope slides across the patio table. She frowns and picks it up. The envelope is heavy.
Her hands are trembling as she carefully opens the envelope. Inside is a piece of white card stock and her ring.
She reads the letter and allows herself to breathe. The ring feels warm in her palm and a weight that she has been attempting to ignore for so long lifts. There is a knock on her bedroom door, and she enters the room and quickly places the note on her writing desk.
The maid looks at her strangely before announcing that everything is set. She nods distractedly and places her wedding ring back on her finger. It feels different from before - lighter, almost.
She allows the maid to lead her to where her advisors and Al-Cid await.
***
Al-Cid takes her hand and kisses her cheek. He lingers longer than necessary, and Ashe is about to pull away when his voice reaches her ears. “It is a shame that we will not be wed.”
She blinks, but that is the only outward show of surprise. When they step on the balcony, Al-Cid remains one step behind. She looks out over the eager faces, all expecting an announcement of great import. She smiles - really smiles for the first time in a year - and when she speaks, she ignores the increasingly redder faces of her advisors.
***
Penelo is waiting for her afterwards. “Are you coming along?”
Ashe nods.
“You know,” Vaan says, appearing from around the corner with a loaf of bread, “I think people look down on royals who run away to play sky pirate.”
Ashe smiles. “Let me worry about my propriety, Vaan.”
“We’re supposed to meet them in a week,” Penelo informs her.
“Then we should be leaving,” Ashe says.
Penelo and Vaan grin.
Author: stillskies
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Rating: PG
Genre: Character Study
Characters/Pairing: Balthier/Ashe, Penelo, Larsa, Al-Cid Margrace, Vaan
Wordcount: 1,201
Disclaimer: Not mine. Squeenix owns them all. ♥
A/N: Written for chainddove because she wanted Balthier/Ashe not written by her or owlmoose. Enjoy! ♥
It is difficult and everything she expects. The whirlwind meetings, the political maneuvering and the treaties - after all, they did not save their worlds only to allow war to destroy them all. She sheds her armor and steps back into the silken clothes she had left behind; the sleeves chafe her upper arms and the midsection is too loose. The seamstresses cluck their tongues and take new measurements, murmuring under their breaths about how to drape fabric to soften the hard edges that years of combat have shaped.
She does not acknowledge their displeasure - her body is her own, and she will do as she pleases with it. Her conviction sees her training with the guard, twisting gracefully as her sword arches through the air and disarms the man in front of her. The training yard is hushed as the man pulls himself to his feet and grabs his sword. She sees the lunge before he moves and easily steps out of the way. Her sword is biting into the skin between the guardsman’s helmet and armor. She allows the blade to rest there a moment before pulling away and allowing him to stand.
The guardsman removes his helmet and for a moment, Ashe cannot breathe. The moment passes, and the man’s features settle into something less familiar, more strange, but the eyes remain and she turns away. “Dismissed.” Her voice echoes until the sound of boots drowns it out.
***
Penelo writes. Sometimes, Ashe replies. Other times, she allows the letters to sit on her writing desk, opened and waiting. There is never anything of consequence in the letters - idle chatter and general overviews of everyone’s health. Vaan’s adventures are always skimmed over, as though Penelo finds them tiresome or of little importance. Ashe has begun to suspect it has more to do with her; after all, the adventures of a sky pirate - even one as inexperienced as Vaan - are incomplete without mention of his ship.
Ashe tries desperately not to think of the Strahl, and so she is grateful to Penelo even as she resents the omissions. After all, she is not some delicate girl who needs to be protected. She can guard her own heart and her own mind despite the emptiness that grows a little more each day.
***
No one mentions her empty ring finger, though she is not so dense as to miss the growing rumors. Tedious details have been filled in along the way, and if Ashe were prone to idle gossip, she supposes she would find the some of the stories entertaining.
Rather than dispelling them, she simply ignores them. So much of her life is for the public - after all, what more is a queen than a public figure? Her power comes from the people and so her life too belongs to them. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t hoard memories; they weren’t there, nor did they rise to defend her. Her life before the throne was restored to her is her own.
Unconsciously, she moves to touch her ring - years of habit are not so easy to break - and feels the impression that the metal has left. A ghost ring, she thinks.
She hears the ghost of a laugh as she stands in the middle of her room, touching the ghost of a ring that disappeared months ago with the ghost of a man she might have known.
***
It takes months for her to be able to think of him - them, she amends, because he was not the only one who disappeared that day. Her subconscious does not listen to her desperate pleas to leave her in peace, and when she sleeps, she feels the heat of the flames on her face and hears her own voice echoing in her ears.
She awakens in a cold sweat, his name on her lips. The bed sheets are damp and the breeze from the balcony raises gooseflesh on her skin. Her robe is at the foot of her bed, and she quickly pulls it on as she moves toward the balcony.
The night is cool and the sky is clear, unobstructed. She can see the stars and remembers when she was a child. Her father had told her that the stars granted a wish to one who asked. It has been years since she’s thought of this silly superstition, but as she gazes out across the city, she feels the sudden urge to make a wish.
It takes a while, and when she steps back into her room, her skin is cold and her cheeks sting.
***
The request does not surprise her; it has been nearly a year since she’s taken the throne and her advisors grow more restless by the day. She knows that it is only a matter of time before a betrothal is announced, and she would rather seal her own fate than be surprised by it.
There are only two appropriate suitors, and the choice is easily made. It is decided that she will announce her engagement to Al-Cid Margrace at week’s end.
***
Larsa writes to her, asking if this is truly her will. She does not reply; she knows Larsa will understand.
She steps onto the balcony and allows the sun to warm her face. A flash of white catches her eye and she quickly turns, trying to follow the movement. The wind gusts and she watches as a lone envelope slides across the patio table. She frowns and picks it up. The envelope is heavy.
Her hands are trembling as she carefully opens the envelope. Inside is a piece of white card stock and her ring.
She reads the letter and allows herself to breathe. The ring feels warm in her palm and a weight that she has been attempting to ignore for so long lifts. There is a knock on her bedroom door, and she enters the room and quickly places the note on her writing desk.
The maid looks at her strangely before announcing that everything is set. She nods distractedly and places her wedding ring back on her finger. It feels different from before - lighter, almost.
She allows the maid to lead her to where her advisors and Al-Cid await.
***
Al-Cid takes her hand and kisses her cheek. He lingers longer than necessary, and Ashe is about to pull away when his voice reaches her ears. “It is a shame that we will not be wed.”
She blinks, but that is the only outward show of surprise. When they step on the balcony, Al-Cid remains one step behind. She looks out over the eager faces, all expecting an announcement of great import. She smiles - really smiles for the first time in a year - and when she speaks, she ignores the increasingly redder faces of her advisors.
***
Penelo is waiting for her afterwards. “Are you coming along?”
Ashe nods.
“You know,” Vaan says, appearing from around the corner with a loaf of bread, “I think people look down on royals who run away to play sky pirate.”
Ashe smiles. “Let me worry about my propriety, Vaan.”
“We’re supposed to meet them in a week,” Penelo informs her.
“Then we should be leaving,” Ashe says.
Penelo and Vaan grin.