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Ashe stood on her balcony, lifted a hand to shade her face from the late morning sun, and scanned the skies for the Alexander, Larsa's flagship, which would soon arrive for a routine diplomatic meeting. On an ordinary day she would be waiting inside, reviewing treaties and notes and agendas in preparation. But today was by no means ordinary, and so she could not settle down to her paperwork, not until she had visual confirmation that the ship would be docking at the appointed time.

When it appeared at last, the dark shape sliding into view over the northern horizon, Ashe let out the breath she had been holding. He would be here soon, and Basch with him.

It had begun five years ago, as they escaped the battle of the Bahamut, after Gabranth died in the back of the Strahl, and, with his last breath, asked his brother to take his place, to watch over Larsa and build a new, better Archadian Empire. Ashe was there, standing at the door, loathe to eavesdrop but eager to know the fate of her father's killer. She would have expected to be jubilant at his demise, but instead her heart ached: for Basch, for Larsa, for questions that would never be answered. When Basch emerged from the room, eyes hollow, she took his hand and guided him into a storeroom, then shut the door behind them.

Slowly, as if in a daze, Basch lowered himself to a crate and rubbed at his temples. Ashe leaned against the door and took his measure. Finally, when she felt a decent interval had passed, she cleared her throat, and he looked up. "I am sorry," she said. "Are you all right?"

His hands fell into his lap, and he looked away. "I-- scarce know how to answer." He went silent again, for long enough that Ashe was unsure that he had more to say, before he moved to face her and cleared his throat. "I had thought Noah good as dead to me, through all the years I served your father. Then he betrayed us both, and I would have killed him with my own hands, had the opportunity presented itself. But in the end, he became my brother again, just in time for me to lose him forever." He took a heaving breath and closed his eyes, but still no tears fell. "I have mourned him once already; will the gods expect me to grieve again? Is this a cruel joke, that I must needs step into his boots, clean up after him one more time? Or is it the fate I deserve?"

Ashe shook her head. "You deserve only kindness and gratitude, and yet the world asks you to forsake your reward and take up the mantle of a monarch's right hand once more. In the service of peace, and what greater cause is there than that?"

Basch turned away. "My duty should be to you: my princess, my queen."

"Only that?" Ashe took a careful step forward, and rested her hand on Basch's shoulder.

He looked up at her, eyes widening as he registered the tenderness of her fingers against the side of his neck. "I-- I dare not."

"And why not?" Ashe sat down on the crate next to him. "You will be a Judge Magister, no longer under my command. All these months past, you have been not only my protector and my advisor. You have also been my friend. Soon you will have a new liege; let me become something else to you."

"How can I presume? You are royalty, and I am a commoner."

Ashe smiled. "You are anything but common, Basch." And she leaned forward and kissed him, a light brush of lips; his hand drifted across his lap to cover hers, resting on her thigh.

That was how it had begun -- finding peace in darkness, surrounded by chaos -- and so it continued, the two of them contriving to steal moments in secret as they could. Five years of trysts in Ashe's quarters, in secluded gardens, in the Judge Magister's office in Archades. Five years of open secrets, of knowing looks from Larsa and Penelo and Ondore, five years of putting off Ashe's noble lords and their ever-increasing demands that she marry. For five years, they had danced around the topic of the future, but now all that would change, whether she willed it or no. Better to take the impending change in her own hands and shape it into the form most palatable to her.

Ashe turned, tearing her eyes from the ship and wrapped her dressing gown more tightly around herself. Yes, she thought, with a glance to her belly, her secret would keep for a little while longer, but not much beyond that. If nothing else, the maids would soon start gossiping, and then all would be lost. This meeting was fortuitously timed. She walked off the balcony and into her rooms, thoughts turning to the diplomatic discussions that would come first. To keep her attention focused, at least for now.

Basch stepped out of the conference room, Larsa keeping pace at his side as they made their way down the hallway, toward the suite of rooms that was kept for the Emperor's entourage at each state visit. They were the same rooms that Vayne had claimed when he had ruled here as governor, and the implications were not lost on the Archadian delegation: Dalmasca remembers.

"That was a good meeting," Larsa said, stretching his legs as he walked. "Do you not concur, Judge Magister?"

"It was productive, my lord," Basch replied. "I will certainly agree to that much."

Larsa turned to look at him -- still looking up, but not craning his neck as he had done for so long. He and Basch were almost of a height, now, and Basch suspected Larsa might someday be taller. "Is something wrong?"

"It is only that Queen Ashe has given me much to consider." As Basch spoke, tone diffident, he made a hand signal at his side, indicating that he could not speak in front of others. Larsa nodded to indicate that he had seen, then picked up his pace accordingly, though not so quick as to raise the alarm among the rest of his retinue. Soon enough, they were through the doors, and Larsa dismissed the rest of his staff with a brief word. Then he settled down on the sofa at the center of the room while Basch took off his helm and leaned against the window frame. Larsa crossed his legs and focused his attention on Basch.

"Tell me what troubles you."

"It is difficult to say with any precision." Basch looked out the window into the queen's gardens. They were meticulously groomed, the hedges trimmed, the small stream flowing over a bed of rocks; each one, he knew, had been chosen and hand-placed by one of the gardeners. And the gardeners had been selected by the queen. "Ashe signaled me to attend her this evening, in her quarters. There was some urgency to her request, but she did not enlighten me as to its cause, and I found her manner quite inscrutable."

Larsa nodded. "The queen keeps her own counsel, as ever."

Basch shook his head. "True, in most circumstances. However, I have known Ashe nearly her whole life, observed her in many moods and situations. I know her mind, more often than not. But today, her face was opaque to me. As though she wished to conceal something." He frowned at the memory of her blank expression, her cold manner. "Not only from the room at large, but from me."

"Ah." Larsa rose and strode to the window, linking his hands behind his back. "Well, it would not do to have you distracted by worry." A light smile touched his lips, and Basch found the knot in his stomach unclenching, if only a little. "I release you from your duties until our diplomatic discussions reconvene tomorrow."

"Thank you, your majesty." Basch swept into a bow, and Larsa dismissed him with a small hand motion, leaving him to return to his own quarters, and prepare.

A light rap on the door roused Ashe from her light slumber -- she had, of late, fallen into the habit of afternoon naps, one of many physical changes that distressed her greatly. She had always known the production of an heir would involve relinquishing some control over her own body, but the reality was more disturbing than she had expected. Perhaps, she thought, it provided a partial explanation for her distracted state over the past few days. Then she shook her head; her anticipation of this conversation was reason enough.

"Enter," she called out, lifting herself into an upright position on the sofa and patting her hair back into place.

Basch opened the door and slipped into the room. He was out of armor, a hooded brown cloak thrown over his head to mask his identity. "Good evening, your majesty." He pushed back the hood, then took off the cloak entirely, hanging it on a rack by the door, before turning to her.

Ashe rose and took a few quick steps toward him. "No need for such formality," she said. "We are quite alone."

Basch nodded and closed the gap between them. "It is a fine thing to see you, as always," he said with a bow of his head, the compromise they had long ago reached to marry a show of fealty with a warm greeting between lovers. He reached for her hands and she let him take them, slipping her fingers into his callused, warm palms, tracing the curve of his thumbs with her own. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers, and she tilted her head back to receive his kiss, gentle and formal to start, but always with a promise of passions to come. When she pulled away, it was not without reluctance. A part of her wanted to delay the difficult discussions, to lose herself in him, but the furrow at his brow would not allow her to wait. He knew something was amiss, and he worried; best to keep him wondering no longer.

"I apologize for my earlier brusqueness," she said.

He lowered his head with a quick shake. "It is ever so, is it not?"

"Not usually so much as all that." Ashe leaned around in an attempt to catch his eye. "Of course I may not be free with my affection toward you, but I do my best not to err on the side of coldness."

Basch shrugged. "Coldness is to be expected toward the man who murdered your father." The truth of that story had been put about some years before, though most now believed that Basch had died in wreck of the Bahamut, redeeming his years of absence through his sacrifice. As for "Gabranth", Ashe had absolved him of his crime, the blame deflected to Vayne and his orders. But his name would never be well loved in Dalmasca. "Still, it is true; you seem distracted. Concerned. And you summoned me here with an unusual urgency, given that I last saw you but three months prior."

"Yes." Of their own volition, Ashe's hands drifted down to cup her belly yet again. "I have news that I must discuss with you, with some urgency, as you say. In fact, had this visit not already been scheduled, I would have devised some pretext to call you here." She took his hand and led him to the couch, sitting down and indicating that he should do the same. He followed her, eyes dark with worry, brow furrowed. "The truth is, I am with child."

His hand went limp, and he pulled away, face turning white with shock. "I... see."

She gave him a moment to digest her words; when his color began to return, she continued. "You must trust that this news came as much a surprise to me, a month past, as it does to you now. I did not intend for this to happen, and in fact took steps to prevent it."

"I had always assumed such," Basch replied, faintly. "So then, how..."

Ashe shrugged. "No method is foolproof. Even now, I cannot say whether I erred, or if we are the objects of random chance. Regardless, it has happened, and although this is not the circumstance I envisioned, I cannot say I am truly sorry."

"No?" Basch's eyebrows drew together.

"No," she repeated. "In truth, I have begun contemplating my need for heirs, and considering how it might best be fulfilled. I had meant, in fact, to raise the issue with you, although I had not come up with the best way to broach it. But it seems that life has intervened with my nascent plans." She brought a hand to her stomach again, cradling it with exasperated fondness. "Literally."

Basch took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "So, you will bear the child."

Ashe nodded. "I have considered all my options, and this seems the best. I will birth this child and name him or her my heir." She lifted her chin and met Basch's eyes with a smile. "Gods willing, your son or daughter will rule Dalmasca someday."

Somehow, of all the things Ashe had said in the past few moments, it was this thought that overwhelmed Basch at last. Not only would he become a father, he would be father to a prince, or a princess. Of a future king or queen. He, a man with no homeland, no title, no name? He could scarcely believe that this was not a dream, or a nightmare, that he would not open his eyes and find himself back in his cell, tormented by his brother and thoughts of a future that would never be.

He leaned away from Ashe, shaking his head. "The Council will never accept it," he said. "A foreigner, a commoner, the right hand of the Archadian emperor? A traitor, the man who killed King Raminas? To put his child on the throne..."

"The Council will accept it because I will give them no choice," said Ashe, eyes flashing. "This is my child, perhaps the only one I will ever have. If they want an heir of the blood, then here it is. To challenge me would mean losing the royal line of the Dynast King." She reached out and joined their hands again, and Basch grasped her fingers, clinging for dear life. "I am decided in this, Basch. I will raise this child, and someday he or she will ascend to my throne. But I will not force your involvement. If you prefer your identity as the father to remain anonymous, I will honor that request. Or you are welcome to claim the child as yours. As my husband, as captain of my guard, as Queen's Consort -- though not styled as king -- you would be welcome. As Basch or as Gabranth, whichever mantle better suits."

Basch's mind whirled with so many possibilities, he could barely sort through them all. Was Ashe saying that she wanted him at her side? How could he leave Larsa? How could he turn away her request? "What is your wish?"

Ashe smiled at him, with such tender affection that Basch thought his heart might break. "I wish for your happiness," she said. "I know you, love, and I know that whatever I say, you will take as an order from your queen, because you believe it to be your duty. But I don't want you at my side out of duty. I want you to choose the path your feet prefer to follow. That is what I wish."

Basch squeezed her hand, then pulled back. "In truth, I know not what to think," he said. "I cannot remember if anyone has ever asked me what I wanted out of my life. I have duties, obligations, and I fulfill them. A man of honor does not question which of his duties to carry out. So you will forgive me if it takes me some time to decide."

"Although I understand, I ask that you not take too long." Ashe glanced down at her still-flat stomach. "So far, my maids have been discreet, but I do not know how long that will last, and stays will only hide the secret for so long. I will need to inform the Council soon."

Basch nodded in acknowledgement. "I understand."

Ashe favored him with a sideways smile. "Now, will you stay for some supper? Or do you prefer an opportunity to be alone with your thoughts?"

"No, I would stay with you." Basch lowered his eyes. "Please."

"Good." She lifted a hand to his face, sliding her fingers over his cheek and down to his jaw. He closed his eyes and brought his arms around her as she turned to settle against him, her back to his chest. He ran his hands down her arms and then joined them over her belly, curving around the softness, echoing the protective gesture he had seen from her several times already. Whatever he decided, in a few months he would have a daughter, or a son. Completely aside from his obligations to Ashe or Larsa, he realized with a jolt. He had a duty to this child, the life that would soon come into the world. A duty that must guide his choices, now and forevermore.

"I will stay with you," he said again, but more heavily this time, the words slow, poignant with this sudden realization. "With you, and the child. I do not yet know exactly how, but--"

Ashe turned around, hand resting on his chest, face inches from his. Her brow knitted, and she tilted her head to the side. "Are you certain? You said--"

"I was wrong." Basch tightened his grip on her lower back. "You must understand: when I search for happiness, I cannot remove duty from the equation. I gain happiness, satisfaction, from doing my duty. Were I to turn my back on duty, I would be lost." He lifted a hand to her hair, lifting the strands of pale gold away from her face. "Consider my duties in turn. My obligations to Larsa would be drawing to a close regardless, for he is nearly a man grown, no longer in need of such close guidance. My obligations to you were either discharged long since or have been derelict for many years, depending on your point of view. And so one set of obligations rises above the rest: those of a responsible father." He lowered his eyes. "I would fulfill them. For the child's sake, and yours, and my own."

Her fingers curled into a fist over his heart. "So."

"So," he replied, and then she leaned forward to kiss him, her mouth firm on his, warm and yielding as he tangled his fingers in her hair. Then he pulled away, cupping her head in his hand. "I will speak to Larsa in the morning to devise a plan of transition, determine how best to set aside the name of Gabranth."

Ashe smiled, leaned her forehead against his. "So my protector will return to me?"

"He will." Basch touched her hair again. "He should never have left."

She shook her head. "He is blameless, and he should never forget that." She kissed him again, slowly and tenderly, and he pulled her close, words lost in her touch, her scent, his sudden visions of a future at her side, a dream he had never thought to grasp for his own. Now it would be his, and there was no other place he would choose to be.