Entry tags:
FFXII: The Shield and the Sword
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Pairing: Vossler/Ashe
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Ashe and Vossler, side by side. For
ff_flashfic.
The first time Ashe fights at his side, Vossler's heart is in his mouth the whole time. It doesn't matter that she has the grace of a dancer and that her hands are steady, her eyes intent -- he's afraid that someone will get in a lucky hit and strike her down. He spends the whole time watching her, and not enough watching for himself: he comes out of the battle with three flesh wounds and a black eye for his trouble. She is unharmed.
"You should not worry so much," she tells him, as she bandages his arm, and he wants to protest -- protest all of it: a princess kneeling beside him and bandaging his arm, a princess fighting beside him, a princess out here with the resistance this way. She speaks, though, as if she hears his thoughts: "Where else would I be, my husband lost, my home taken from me?"
After that, things go better. They fit together, in battle -- Vossler watches for her, yes, and she watches for him. Time and time again they find themselves coming together in the thick of a fight, back to back.
When Ashe kisses him, that's the excuse Vossler uses for it feeling so natural. It isn't, of course -- could only happen at such a time, with a widowed princess and their homeland held by the enemy.
When she distances herself from him again, when Basch comes back as if from the dead and Ashe's mind turns again only to Dalmasca, he tells himself it was worth it. For a while, he was the glove to her hand, the shield to her sword.
That should be enough.
Pairing: Vossler/Ashe
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Ashe and Vossler, side by side. For
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The first time Ashe fights at his side, Vossler's heart is in his mouth the whole time. It doesn't matter that she has the grace of a dancer and that her hands are steady, her eyes intent -- he's afraid that someone will get in a lucky hit and strike her down. He spends the whole time watching her, and not enough watching for himself: he comes out of the battle with three flesh wounds and a black eye for his trouble. She is unharmed.
"You should not worry so much," she tells him, as she bandages his arm, and he wants to protest -- protest all of it: a princess kneeling beside him and bandaging his arm, a princess fighting beside him, a princess out here with the resistance this way. She speaks, though, as if she hears his thoughts: "Where else would I be, my husband lost, my home taken from me?"
After that, things go better. They fit together, in battle -- Vossler watches for her, yes, and she watches for him. Time and time again they find themselves coming together in the thick of a fight, back to back.
When Ashe kisses him, that's the excuse Vossler uses for it feeling so natural. It isn't, of course -- could only happen at such a time, with a widowed princess and their homeland held by the enemy.
When she distances herself from him again, when Basch comes back as if from the dead and Ashe's mind turns again only to Dalmasca, he tells himself it was worth it. For a while, he was the glove to her hand, the shield to her sword.
That should be enough.