[Somehow, it seems even longer than a year since he last saw the streets of Rabanastre. After the fall of the Sky Fortress Bahamut, any return he might have made had been delayed out of necessity— a need to heal, to recover, and once the painfully slow process of healing was through, it had been so long that writing seemed inadequate.
It was months longer still before he and Fran finally made their way back to Dalmasca with the intent of reclaiming what was theirs. His ship was in good hands, he knew, but he ached to be at its helm once more. They had left a note in its stead, but there was one more matter that he needed to tend to before they left the city.
He had considered returning the ring in person, though in the end he had decided that would be too difficult— for the princess, he could not say, but certainly for him. Such a decision was what brought him to one of the palaces many balconies now, in the early hours of the morning, approaching the desk that was situated to look out over the city.
He would leave the envelope for her to find. It would have to be enough.]
It would have been nice to see him, perhaps. Or, maybe Ashe, of such a quick temper and an even more brash tongue, would have been infuriated. It takes more than a crown to subdue a fire, particularly the one that lights her heart and her blood. The wisdom of age is slowly given to Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca.
She steps out onto the terrace of her suite long after breakfast is over and any surprise guests have departed. The little leather pouch comes away easily in her hand, the ring surprisingly warm.
The letter, well... Something better. That's what he writes.
Ashe wonders what that is. For a prince, it had been his father's glory, a swift death in an epic battle, a bleak procession and funeral shroud that all of Rabanastre had shut down for. For a pirate...
She sighs, but there's a smile in it. Fondness.
For a pirate, it would be the open sky. The smell of the sea. Adventure. Life. Love. Tomorrow.
No, she thinks. He would never be so chained to a castle, would he? Fortunately, Ashe is hardly prone to girlish fantasies. He is not her lover. He owes her nothing. In fact, this is far more than he owed, in the end. Recompense for the ring had come in saving Rabanastre. The home of her heart, the jewel of her beloved nation.
Hand closing around the ring, Ashelia believes she can still feel the warmth of his hand, smell the scent that was so uniquely him, leather and aftershave and the world.
[ Later in the day, a courier is dispatched to the Sandsea with a letter. It makes into Balthier's hands without so much as a rustle of wind. He'll never even see the courier's face.
Ashe's tidy, flourish-free scrawl fills only a few lines. ]
Pirate,
Come when you can, with or without something better.
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fuck revenant wings
It was months longer still before he and Fran finally made their way back to Dalmasca with the intent of reclaiming what was theirs. His ship was in good hands, he knew, but he ached to be at its helm once more. They had left a note in its stead, but there was one more matter that he needed to tend to before they left the city.
He had considered returning the ring in person, though in the end he had decided that would be too difficult— for the princess, he could not say, but certainly for him. Such a decision was what brought him to one of the palaces many balconies now, in the early hours of the morning, approaching the desk that was situated to look out over the city.
He would leave the envelope for her to find. It would have to be enough.]
1/2
It would have been nice to see him, perhaps. Or, maybe Ashe, of such a quick temper and an even more brash tongue, would have been infuriated. It takes more than a crown to subdue a fire, particularly the one that lights her heart and her blood. The wisdom of age is slowly given to Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca.
She steps out onto the terrace of her suite long after breakfast is over and any surprise guests have departed. The little leather pouch comes away easily in her hand, the ring surprisingly warm.
The letter, well... Something better. That's what he writes.
Ashe wonders what that is. For a prince, it had been his father's glory, a swift death in an epic battle, a bleak procession and funeral shroud that all of Rabanastre had shut down for. For a pirate...
She sighs, but there's a smile in it. Fondness.
For a pirate, it would be the open sky. The smell of the sea. Adventure. Life. Love. Tomorrow.
No, she thinks. He would never be so chained to a castle, would he? Fortunately, Ashe is hardly prone to girlish fantasies. He is not her lover. He owes her nothing. In fact, this is far more than he owed, in the end. Recompense for the ring had come in saving Rabanastre. The home of her heart, the jewel of her beloved nation.
Hand closing around the ring, Ashelia believes she can still feel the warmth of his hand, smell the scent that was so uniquely him, leather and aftershave and the world.
She smiles, and it's a wistful thing. ]
2/2
Ashe's tidy, flourish-free scrawl fills only a few lines. ]
Pirate,
Come when you can, with or without something better.
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