AN: More shite drabbles

"Who are you Vossler, to talk of trust?"

"A son of Dalmasca."

Ashe could taste something acrid in her throat. It tightened around her pharynx, halting the passage of air into her lungs. Only every so often would she remember to breathe in the stale oxygen of the Shiva. It was a familiar sensation, one that had persisted when she had learned her father was deceived. But this time it was more urgent. It gnawed on the insides of her chest until numb.

The princess looked over to Basch hoping to find some weak reassurance in his eyes. It was peculiar; not so long ago he was the last person in Ivalice that she would have placed her faith in. Now she sought comfort from the man.

If Basch was irate he showed no sign of it. His eyes were pensive instead, perhaps grasping at memories, trying to pinpoint where Vossler had made his final decision.

When had he?

Ashe believed that she had knew Vossler better than anyone. He had not shown any signs of weakness in the two years that they hid so why now? If Ashe could endure fruitless exploits one after the other, surely a hardened knight could too.

His judgement had guided Ashe through many perilous times yet now it doomed her to bear the shame of her enemy's shackles. Perhaps she was better off with the sky pirates. They may rob Ashe of her valuables but at least they would not rob her of her pride.

No, she would not bend the knee. The desert sun had tempered her into something tenacious and unyielding. If Vossler thought she would give in so easily, then he was a fool.

Too bad Vossler blew up afterwards.