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One
The training grounds sing with the twang and thunk of bow strings firing and finding their targets. It’s not the same as the music of clashing steel, but it’s familiar and relaxing in its own unique way. Felix takes a deep breath, the noise of his classmates fading to nothing as he stares down the lane at the target. His arrows are inching closer to the bullseye, but he knows he can do better, he has to be better. He rolls his shoulders and settles into his stance, then carefully nocks an arrow and draws it back.
The bowstring snaps with the tension and ricochets off Felix’s fingers. He drops the training bow with a curse and a hiss, pacing and clenching his hand to try and dull the pain. Sothis help the Professor when Felix sees them next! I want you to train with the bow, they said. It’ll help with your speed, they said. He scoffs at the thought.
“Are you okay, Felix?”
Felix settles and turns around, coming face to face with Ashe, his eyes bright and full of concern. “I’m fine,” Felix replies curtly, pushing past the other boy to pick up the bow and restring it so he can get back to practice. No sense in wasting more time. He stops when Ashe grabs his wrist.
“You’re bleeding.”
Felix doesn’t look but feels the warm liquid pooling in his fist and running through his fingers. “I said I’m fine,” he insists, jerking his arm from Ashe’s light grasp. “Enemies don’t care if your bow breaks or if you’re bleeding.”
“Good thing this isn't a battle then,” Ashe half-laughs. “If you keep going, you’ll just make it worse.” He sighs. “You don’t have to go to the infirmary, but let me help you wrap it at least.”
Felix huffs, annoyed yet slightly intrigued that Ashe isn’t letting him off the hook so easily. “Fine. But be quick about it.”
Ashe darts away as Felix sits at the edge of the archery range. He returns just as quickly with a small pouch and waterskin. Ashe is painstakingly gentle with Felix’s fingers, apologizing as Felix hisses against the sting from the water as he washes the blood away. In no time at all, the wound is clean and Ashe carefully wraps a cloth around the cut to staunch any more bleeding.
He finishes and ties the bandage with a small knot. Felix grunts a rough “thanks,” but before he can move away, Ashe takes his injured hand and brings it to his lips, placing the softest of kisses over the wrap. Felix scoots back and pulls his hand away sharply. “What the hell?!”
“Oh! I’m sorry!” Ashe exclaims, raising his hands. “I wasn’t thinking, it’s a habit! M-my brother used to tell me injuries would heal faster that way.” He chuckles nervously and tucks a stray piece of silver hair behind his ear. “You should be okay to go back to training, but if it starts bleeding again, let a healer take a look so it doesn’t get infected.”
Ashe quickly gathers the first aid supplies and exits the training grounds leaving Felix alone and surprised, staring at his fingers.
Two
Felix never understood the nobility’s fascination with grand balls and parties. To him such things were a waste of time that could be better spent training. Especially now in light of Tomas’ betrayal and the return of the Death Knight. This wasn’t the time for a celebration!
Unfortunately, the staff didn’t agree and the Professor expected to see everyone at the White Heron Ball this evening. So here he was, hiding in a corner of the ballroom away from his classmates and other students, biding his time until he could return to his room. He was getting ready to do just that, when from the corner of his eye, he sees Ashe wobbling toward him.
“Hi Felix!” Ashe hiccups, face flushed a rosey red and grinning from ear to ear. “Isn’t this fun? Are you having fun?”
Felix scoffs. “What’s the matter with you? Have you been drinking?”
“Of course not,” he gasps dramatically before dissolving into a fit of giggles. “Okay, maybe a little. Sylvain said–”
“Sothis’ tits, of course it was Sylvain,” he sighs as Ashe goes to take another sip of champagne-colored liquid. “Give me that!” He swipes the glass from Ashe’s hand and the other boy laughs harder.
“You can try it if you like! It’s really tasty! Oh! I’ll go get you one, stay right here!” Ashe turns quickly and stumbles, falling toward one of the tables. In a blink, Felix sets the glass down and grabs Ashe by his sleeve, holding him to his chest, saving him from colliding face first with the table.
“Oops,” Ashe laughs, unbothered by the almost accident.
Felix helps Ashe stand upright and sighs. “That’s it for you tonight. We have a mission coming up and you’re no good to us injured. I’m taking you to your room.”
“Felix! How forward of you!”
“Shut up! That’s not what I meant and you know it!”
Ashe only laughs harder.
Felix takes Ashe’s arm and helps him out of the great hall and down the stairs toward his dorm room. The cool night air seems to sober Ashe up as they walk, his footsteps becoming more solid and steady. The din of the ball fades behind them into a comfortable silence as they approach the first floor of student rooms.
“I’d never been to a ball before tonight,” Ashe admits softly, breaking the silence. “I had a lot of fun, but it was… different. I bet you attend these kinds of things all the time, right? This wasn’t anything new.”
“I avoid them if I can,” Felix says disdainfully.
“Really? Why?”
“They’re a waste of time. I’d rather be training.”
Ashe chuckles and Felix lets himself think it’s such a beautiful sound. “I guess I’m not surprised,” Ashe says, but doesn’t elaborate. They fall back into quiet save for the echo of their boots on the stone as they walk. Finally, they approach Ashe’s room. Ashe leans on Felix as he helps him up the few steps to the door. Felix waits as Ashe regains his footing, though he doesn’t open the door right away.
“It’s almost like a story,” Ashe whispers, tilting his head to the stars dotting the sky. “After a lavish party, a maiden gets escorted back to her quarters by a handsome knight. Before they part ways, she gives him a goodnight kiss, the first of many as they slowly fall in love.”
Felix tenses, heat rising to the tips of his ears. “You’re no maiden and I’m not a knight.”
Ashe hums thoughtfully. “You’re not wrong about me,” he concedes. “But I think you’re wrong about you.” He turns to meet Felix’s eyes. “On the outside, you’re harsh and hold others at an arm’s length like you don’t care, but deep down, I think you care a lot.” Before Felix can ask what he means by that, Ashe leans forward and places a chaste kiss on Felix’s cheek. “Thanks for walking me back, Sir Felix.” He smiles mischievously. “Sleep well.”
Ashe unlocks his door and steps across the threshold leaving Felix staring dumbfounded at the dark wood as if it held all the answers.
Three
Felix receives many letters during the war, part troop movements and supply requests and part frivolous correspondence from his friends. He rarely answers the latter. His energy is better spent on keeping his territory running while his father galivants around the country chasing ghosts.
As the months drag and turn into years, most of his friends get the hint and their letters stop coming. Yet despite the silence from Fraldarius, one sender is not deterred and his letters arrive every other week like clockwork.
Felix holds the newest envelope in his hands, shadows dancing over the ink as the candlelight flickers. There are more important messages clamoring for his attention, yet he opens this one first regardless. The letter is written in a familiar scratched scrawl and dated just over a fortnight ago:
Dear Felix,
I wish I was writing with better news. Rumor is spreading through upper command that Count Rowe plans to submit to Adrestia. The West is holding the line, but I’m not confident we can defend it much longer. We've taken heavy losses of late and without a king to rally behind, our soldiers are restless and the citizens' hopes are dwindling. I... I can't stay here if we surrender.
I’ve been in touch with Yuri and he’s offered me a place in the underground resistance. He’s heard of a monster moving through the area near Garreg Mach, slaying soldiers, bandits, and thieves. Abyss was vulnerable before, I can only imagine how they’re dealing with this threat in addition to the war. If I join him, at least I know I’ll be doing some good.
Can you believe it's almost the millennium festival? Or, what would have been the millennium festival, I suppose. Do you remember five years ago when we promised the Professor we'd meet again, together as a class at the monastery? I wonder if anyone does… It sounds silly, but I’d like to return like we promised. I’m not entirely sure why; nostalgia or naivety or something. Even so… Would you consider joining me?
xo
-Ashe
Felix refolds the parchment and returns it to the envelope. He opens a drawer in his desk and places it at the top of a pile of other such letters.
A week later, Felix rides south.
Four
Five years is a long time. It doesn’t seem like it in the moment, but a person can change a lot in five years. The day of what would have been–what should have been–the millennium festival is an overwhelming rush of emotions, everyone drawn back to the place where it all began.
The professor is alive, returned from the dead like some prodigal son or storybook saint.
Dimitri is… well, now everyone can see what Felix had seen all along. He’s more monster than man, more ghost than king.
His eyes scan the gathered group and linger on one silver haired archer. Ashe is taller now, as tall as Felix in fact. His eyes still sparkle like gemstones, but they’re tarnished and tired, the eyes of a man no longer a boy, forced to grow up too fast. And in Ashe’s case, in more ways than one. (Felix refuses to think about how they’re similar in that way.)
Against all odds, their friends and classmates are alive. Save one.
Dimitri tells the story of how Dedue rescued him from prison, but likely died in the process. Felix was never close to the Duscar man, but he knew Ashe had grown close to him during their school days. As the boar speaks, he watches the archer, noticing the subtle shifts in his posture and the rapid blinking of his eyes.
After the boar storms off and the group breaks up for the night, Felix finds himself hanging back instead of rushing off to find out if his old room is in good enough shape to sleep in. Ashe hesitates as well, unaware of Felix’s presence, his head bowed and facing the altar of the dilapidated cathedral. Felix watches him silently, out of curiosity or genuine concern he isn’t sure.
The eerie silence stretches on and Ashe finally breaks his tableau. When he turns around, his watery gaze finds Felix’s and they stare at each other. Ashe looks as though he’s trying to determine that Felix is real, a tangible, corporeal form, that his mind isn’t playing tricks on him.
Before Felix can say a word, Ashe moves, his long strides closing the distance between them in a blink. He clutches Felix in a hard embrace. Felix tenses, his arms stiff at his sides, and doesn’t know how to react. Instead he follows Ashe’s lead.
Ashe lets Felix go after a moment but before pulling away completely, he leans forward and places a soft kiss on Felix’s forehead. He steps away, hands on the swordsman’s shoulders. “I’m glad you’re safe,” he whispers and Felix wonders how, even after all this time, Ashe is so open and earnest with him.
Five
Reunion and loss in equal measure happen over the next few moons. The tides have finally turned in their favor and tomorrow the army marches on the Imperial city. The tension is palpable in camp, no one truly wanting to acknowledge what comes with the dawn.
Felix keeps away from the center of camp. Alone in his tent, he meticulously cares for his blades. It’s as much a distraction from the present as it is habit and battle preparation. From the corner of his eye, he sees a shadow move over the fabric of his tent, stopping at the closed flap.
“Felix?” It’s Ashe. “C-can I come in?”
Felix sets his weapon aside and mumbles an assent. He sees Ashe hesitate a moment more before finally pushing the flap aside and stepping in. The archer is tense and initially avoids looking at Felix. Something’s wrong. Felix stands quickly, ready to jump into action. “What’s happened?”
Ashe startles and finally meets Felix’s eyes. “N-nothing!” he stutters, hands raised placatingly. “Everything’s okay, no one’s in danger or anything.”
The swordsman relaxes minutely and crosses his arms. “Then what are you doing here?”
“I… I have something to tell you and I’m afraid if I don’t tell you now I won’t ever tell you and I can’t go into battle tomorrow with this on my chest. If I die, I want to die without regrets.”
Ashe takes a breath and finally looks into Felix’s eyes. He stares past all his walls and barriers, directly into Felix’s soul. “I love you, Felix. I think I’ve loved you for a long time. Ever since our school days when you told me pursuing my ideals wasn’t foolish.” He tucks a silver strand of hair behind his ear and Felix doesn’t miss the way his hand quivers. “That meant a lot to me – It still means a lot to me. I’ll never forget it. You’re more knightly than you think, Felix, and I’m grateful to have met you.”
Felix’s heart thumps loudly in his ears. This must be a mistake. He’d say it was a cruel prank, but that’s not like Ashe at all. Felix knows he keeps people at a distance, especially his friends, and even he can admit he was hard on Ashe when they were younger. But the look in Ashe’s eyes speaks volumes and he knows Ashe isn’t lying to him.
“Ashe–” Felix starts but is cut off as Ashe takes his face in his hands and brings their lips together. Felix stands frozen, overwhelmed by the warm roughness of Ashe’s nimble fingers and the sensation of the kiss. It’s sloppy and rushed, but dripping in truth and passion.
It’s over all too soon and Ashe pulls away, his face bright red even in the low light of the tent. “I don’t expect you to return my feelings, though I hope you do,” he whispers with a soft smile that would send Felix’s head spinning if it wasn’t already. “Get some rest and tomorrow we’ll put an end to this war.”
Ashe turns on his heel and exits the tent out into the darkness. Felix reaches out and takes a step as if to give chase, but stops. Instead, he brings his hand to his lips, ghosting over the phantom pressure of the kiss.
Plus One
Shouts and cheers echo throughout the throne room, cascading back to the entrance hall and out into the city of Enbarr like a wave. Felix shakes the blood from his blade before sheathing it, trying to catch his breath.
We did it. We won.
“Felix!”
Sylvain slams into him from behind, picking him up from the ground and spinning in a circle like he did when they were children. Felix didn’t care for it then and he certainly doesn’t care for it now.
“Put me down, you oaf!” he says, slapping at the gauntlets around his waist.
Sylvain releases him with a laugh and a bright smile and holds out his hand. Felix’s lips curl into a half smile as he clasps his best friend’s forearm.
He moves among the soldiers, assisting in the after battle recovery. As he goes through the ranks, he finds more of his friends. Annette sobs while he holds her close; Dedue gives him a sage nod; Ingrid offers her hand, but Felix embraces her instead, happy that she returns the gesture.
As he works, his eyes dart across faces looking for one man in particular.
Near the steps to the Imperial palace, he finds a squad of soldiers from Ashe’s battalion.
“You,” he addresses the closest soldier. “Where’s Commander Ubert?”
The soldier bows slightly. “I haven’t seen him, Your Grace.” Felix cringes at the formal title. “We were ambushed in the courtyard, demonic beasts.” Felix’s eyes widen as the soldier continues. “He was one of the first men in. I saw the beast throw him from his mount and I lost sight of him.”
Felix grasps the soldier by the shoulders and pushes him against the wall, the soldier’s armor giving a loud thud against the stone. “You didn’t go back for him?!”
“We couldn’t, Your Grace! It was chaos! We had our orders!”
“Fool!” Felix shoves the soldier against the wall again then stalks off toward the courtyard.
The recovery work seems to have only just begun in the eastern courtyard. The bodies of three giant Demonic Beasts take up most of the southern edge of the lawn. Soldiers carefully move their fallen comrades to another area to be accounted for and arrangements to be made.
Felix doesn’t dare let his gaze linger, subconsciously afraid of who he might find.
He marches toward the northern antechamber and the medical tent the healers have set up. As he approaches, a gentle and familiar face steps out into the sunlight.
“Mercedes!” he calls to her before he can think better of it.
Mercedes looks up sharply at the panic in his voice. “Felix, are you alright?”
He shakes his head, willing his heart to stop racing and his breathing to slow. “I’m fine, but Ashe… Have you seen…”
Movement from the tent behind Mercedes draws his attention. She smiles softly and steps aside. Limping out of the tent behind her is Ashe. Surprise is evident on Ashe’s face and Felix can feel the relief on his own. Felix takes him in. Ashe isn’t wearing his armor or weapons; his clothes are bloodied and torn; his bow arm is wrapped in bandages and resting in a sling across his chest. Like Felix and a majority of the army, he’s battered and bruised, but he’s alive.
He’s alive.
“Felix–” Ashe starts but doesn’t finish as Felix steps in and kisses him. Ashe hesitates a moment before wrapping his good arm around Felix’s waist and kissing him back.
Felix feels like he’s on fire. The kiss is electric. It’s worry and relief, softness and hunger, it’s all the things Felix hadn’t said the night before, though he should have.
When they break apart, Ashe looks as dazed as Felix feels, as though they’re waking from a dream. Ashe recovers first, bringing his hand to Felix’s face and wiping away the moisture beneath his eyes. Ashe smiles and Felix feels his lips curl slightly as well.
They both know they have things to discuss, but now they have all the time in the world.