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War wasn’t like in the tales. There was no gallantry in death.
Ashe Ubert had learned that lesson the hard way.
As a child, after Lord Lonato took him and his siblings into his household and taught Ashe to read, he’d often dreamed of one day becoming a bold, fearless knight. He’d spent years consuming every book Lonato had in his library—short fables and vast epics, fairytales both sweet and dark, romances and awe-inspiring legends. Countless tomes featuring brave knights and their many chivalrous deeds.
But the stories hadn’t prepared him for the reality of warfare. Lectures, practice missions, and mock battles hadn’t readied him for fighting day after endless day. For facing off against former classmates and friends. For death and blood and cold and hunger.
Ashe thought he’d known what it meant to be hungry, before, when he’d been forced into a life of thievery to support his younger brother and sister. Any food he’d found, he’d given to them, leaving his own belly to growl and ache, only thinking of himself when the lack of sustenance rendered his fingers too clumsy to divest oblivious nobles and merchants of their coin and his legs too weak to run away if he got caught.
They couldn’t afford the loss of his one and only talent. Worse, if he’d been discovered, his siblings would have been left to starve. Who would’ve cared for them, if not for him? To the upper classes, what was another grubby orphan or two on the streets? Nothing. Less than nothing.
Lord Lonato had gotten Ashe away from that life, had opened his eyes to a whole new world of daring deeds, of honor and chivalry and valiant rescues.
The fanciful, idealized tales painted quite the rosy picture of the knights of old. But those inspirational narratives all omitted one important thing—the ugliness.
They didn’t mention how it would feel to kill, to wash another’s blood off his hands. The cloying, putrid smell of decay. The spikes and crashes of adrenaline during battles that seemed unending. Panic, desperation, fear, rage, fight, survive—oh goddess, it’s them or me.
Ashe was so very tired of fighting. Tired down to the depths of his soul. Tired to the point where sometimes he wanted to close his eyes and never open them again.
But if they were to win this war so His Highness could take his proper place as king, unify the land, and bring peace to Fódlan, he couldn’t rest, couldn’t retreat, couldn’t put down his bow and quiver just yet.
Tomorrow, at dawn, they would begin their assault on Fort Merceus. If they managed to seize control, it would turn the tide of the war, or so everyone said. Another pivotal battle in a ceaseless line of pivotal battles. One more city to take, one more foe to vanquish. Forever and always, with no end in sight.
Ashe couldn’t easily imagine an end to all this fighting and suffering, but if there was any way he could help bring it about, he would. For his siblings, for all the helpless villagers whose homes and businesses had been razed to the ground, for all the innocents caught up in the scheming and machinations of the powerful.
That was what a knight did, though once his task was done, Ashe wasn’t sure he’d want to wear the label anymore.
Forcefully, he pushed those thoughts away. No sense torturing himself about what might be when tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed to any of them. Ashe had to steel himself for the battle ahead. He had to try to ignore the terror in his gut, the fear that this next battle would be the one he wouldn’t walk away from. That he’d cost his brother and sister another relative and leave them well and truly alone in the world.
It was during times like this, when he felt anxious and woefully inadequate, that he went searching for Felix.
Felix Fraldarius seemed to hate the concept of knighthood, but for all his derision and protests, to Ashe, he stood as a shining example of what a knight truly should be.
He was braver than anyone else Ashe knew, save for maybe the professor. He was skilled with both blades and fists. Loyal. Unwavering in his beliefs. He cared for and worried about his friends, though he buried that concern under layers of sarcasm, and he safeguarded his feelings behind walls as tall and unyielding as the ones surrounding the so-called Impregnable Fortress.
If there was anyone Ashe would want at his side, at his back, during battle, it was Felix.
And if, in his heart, his feelings toward Felix ran deeper than those of mere camaraderie or companionship, no one had to know but Ashe.
He had a gift for Felix, on this night before the dawn when they’d all have to be at their best, their very strongest.
It wasn’t much, but during the weeks they’d been marching to Fort Merceus, with their ultimate goal of the Imperial Capital beyond, Ashe had scrimped and saved, a bit here, another there, going without whenever he dared—for the moment when it felt most critical, and for the person he most wanted to protect.
Felix didn’t know Ashe wanted to protect him, of course. If he knew, he’d probably resent the very notion. He’d insist he didn’t need protecting. But Ashe knew better.
Beneath Felix’s prickly exterior was the tenderest of hearts. Ashe wanted to cradle it in his palms and shelter it from the world. He wanted, more than anything, to be allowed that privilege.
So, he looked for Felix and found him in his tent, alone, polishing his swords by candlelight. Ashe’s stomach clenched at the idea that Felix would isolate himself instead of joining his friends and comrades around their fires. But he knew Felix valued solitude, and as much as it pained Ashe to impose on this private moment, he felt compelled down to his soul to deliver this gift, for what might be the last time. Who knew what tomorrow might bring? Their army had the will but not the numbers to match. They’d be lucky to win, and they all knew it.
“Hey,” Ashe said, when Felix looked up at him. “Making your preparations?”
“As you see,” Felix replied. He inspected the blade in his hands for a moment before sheathing it and getting to his feet. “What is it? I’m not interested in reminiscing in front of the fire, if Ingrid or Sylvain sent you here to fetch me.”
“Oh, no, they didn’t send me. I wanted to see you.”
Felix crossed his arms over his chest. “Why? I haven't finished that last book you loaned me, but if you need it back, I have it here in my bags.”
“No, it’s not that.”
Felix arched his brows. “Then what?”
Ashe hesitated, fingers tightening around the small bundle in his hand. “I just… wanted to talk.”
“To talk.” Felix tilted his head, eyeing him speculatively. “You’ve been wanting to do that a lot lately. As you well know, I’m not really one for making idle conversation.”
“I know,” Ashe said, because he did know, but… “I didn’t think you should be alone tonight. I don’t think any of us should, but especially not you.”
“What?” Felix asked, his forehead creased with displeasure. “Are you implying I need to be coddled in some way?”
“Not coddled, I just—” Ashe broke off, shaking his head. The conversation seemed to be slipping from his grasp. Usually, he could barrel right through any barriers Felix put up, ignore the barbed words and sarcasm because he recognized them for what they were, but tonight he felt too sensitive, too haunted by bloodshed and the ghosts of those he’d lost. Not in the way His Highness had been and still was sometimes, not tormented by unseen specters, but crushed by grief for all that had happened and all that remained to come. There’d be more pain before they had any cause for celebration, Ashe was sure of that, if nothing else. “I don’t want to leave you alone tonight. We don’t even have to talk. I just want to be near you for a little while. Okay?”
Felix dropped his arms to his sides. “Why? Why me? You and Annette are close. If you want company tonight, why not go to her?”
“Because she’s not you!” Ashe burst out, heartache and frustration unleashing the words he’d never dared speak before. “You’re the one I need.”
Those narrowed amber eyes shot wide.
Ashe’s cheeks flamed, and his hands flew to his mouth in horror, but it was too late.
Oh. Oh, goddess help him, he hadn’t meant to say it. Only, his nerves were so very raw, battered, bruised, and exposed. All he’d wanted was simple comfort. Just to be in Felix’s presence, to spend a few precious minutes in the company of the person he…
But now the words were out in the open, and Felix was staring at him as if he’d never seen Ashe before.
The humiliation was too much for Ashe to bear. He wanted to run, but his feet felt staked to the ground.
He bowed his head, waiting for Felix to speak.
***
Felix Fraldarius had taken a few sucker punches in his lifetime, had the breath knocked from his lungs by a brutal blow or a fall from a horse more times than he could count… but none of that had ever shocked him quite as much as this.
Even in the dim glow of candlelight, Ashe’s cheeks were noticeably red. Felix couldn’t see his eyes, with the way his head was bowed and his gray bangs hung over his forehead, but in that blush and the rigid lines of Ashe’s body, he read the mortification loud and clear.
Felix didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t force a single word past the tangle of emotions clogging his throat.
He’d suspected, a time or two, that Ashe’s feelings toward him might run toward the romantic. Ever since the Blue Lions reunited on the day of the Millenium Festival, Ashe had often sought him out—sometimes to talk or recommend another book, sometimes just to watch Felix train without saying anything at all. But Felix had promptly dismissed his suspicions for the absurdity they were and attributed the increasingly frequent visits to Ashe just… well, being Ashe.
Not many people lived at Garreg Mach anymore. It wasn’t the bustling community it had once been, during their academy days. Cheery, genial Ashe was the type of person who needed company. He was kind to a fault. Earnest and passionate. The sort who openly craved approval and social interaction, always offering to lend a hand, always wanting to be useful.
Surely, Felix had thought to himself, after one of the dozens of times Ashe had come to find him—surely, Ashe was treating him the way he did all his other friends. There was nothing… more. He didn’t want there to be.
Felix wasn’t special to Ashe. And if he wasn’t special, he didn’t have to address it, this thing between them. He didn’t have to justify why sometimes it was Felix who went out of his way to be places he knew Ashe might appear. Or explain why just a glimpse of that freckled face or that sunny smile eased the ache inside him, relieved some of the anguish that radiated from the place where he hid old hurts and wounds that went deeper than the flesh.
The truth of the matter was, Felix didn’t know how to address this… thing, even if he wanted to. He’d told Ashe he wasn’t much for conversation—and that was the truth. He didn’t have that easy way of talking that came to others, like Sylvain or Ingrid or Annette. He didn’t know how to make himself approachable, and most of the time, he didn’t care to be. Felix had loved and lost—not in a romantic way, but he’d experienced the loss of loved ones all the same. And he never wanted to experience that kind of pain again.
It was best to ignore these feelings, then. Push them away, bury them deep. This thing with Ashe, he hadn’t let himself put a name to it. But now Ashe had said that.
You’re the one I need.
Not want, but need.
A part of Felix rejoiced. He recognized that need. If he allowed himself, he might feel it too. Might verbalize the sentiment in return.
Another part of Felix recoiled. He didn’t want to be needed. He hadn’t asked for it. He didn’t welcome it.
“Ashe,” he finally forced out, a rough scrape that tore at his throat. “I—”
“It’s okay!” Ashe interrupted. He glanced up briefly, a flash of green eyes through the sweep of his bangs. “It’s fine, truly. I know that you don’t—you—” He stopped and sucked in a slow, shuddering breath. “You don’t.”
Before Felix could attempt to say anything else, Ashe darted forward and pressed something into his hand.
“I’m sorry.” Ashe met his gaze with a shaky smile. “You don’t have to say anything. I didn’t come here to talk about that. Just—take this, please.”
In the next second, Ashe was gone, the stirring of the tent flap and the weight in Felix’s hand the only indication he’d been there in the first place. That, and the agony in Felix’s chest.
He looked down at the bundle in his palm. It was a leather pouch, and when Felix untied the strings, he discovered a small pile of dried, smoked meat.
A soft sound of surprise escaped him before he could bite it back. As far as Felix knew, after weeks of travel, their provisions were running dangerously low. He’d thought the smoked meat had long-since vanished to ravenous bellies. Constant fighting worked up an appetite, and in wartime resources were always limited.
Ashe could only have this tiny bounty if he’d been hiding away some of his share, letting himself go hungry when rations were meager to begin with. And now he’d given it to Felix.
That fool. Why would he—?
Oh.
Oh.
Smoked meat was one of Felix’s favorite treats, one of the few he allowed himself, which Ashe knew. Ashe had saved it specifically for him. Gone hungry for him.
It wasn’t just that he harbored feelings for Felix. It was that he was in love with Felix.
Felix understood that, now, with the same certainty he possessed when wielding a blade.
And Felix, well… love might be a word his mind instinctively shied away from, but… his feelings for Ashe had creeped upon him in increments, like the slow rise of the sun at dawn, lightening and brightening everything below until it was all he could see.
He hadn’t allowed himself to voice these feelings, and yet…
He knew what they were. He knew.
“Damn it.”
Felix paused long enough to grab his hooded cloak so he wasn’t running out into the cold night in nothing more than his shirt-sleeves, and then went after his stubborn, beautiful, big-hearted archer.
***
Ashe wasn’t in his tent, nor was he with Dedue, Felix saw, when he found Dedue setting a pot of what looked like the makings of porridge over the fire to slow-simmer until morning.
Felix sought out his other housemates next. Sylvain and Ingrid sat across from Mercedes and Annette, their faces lit by a dwindling fire. Annette leaned heavily against Mercedes’s side, exhaustion written plainly on her features, but she summoned a small smile for Felix.
“Have you seen Ashe?” Felix asked them.
“He said he’d tend to the wyverns before bed,” Annette replied. “But he looked upset. I think he might’ve wanted some time alone.”
Felix nodded in acknowledgement and headed toward the edge of the woods where the wyverns were tethered. He heard Annette call after him, but he couldn’t very well admit he was the reason Ashe was upset. That was between the two of them, and no one else.
A soldier Felix didn’t recognize sat at a fire near where the wyverns clustered together. Guarding one of their most valuable assets, no doubt. Felix tipped his chin at the man without speaking, his eyes scanning the wyverns for the one Ashe rode. Not seeing the creature immediately, Felix went deeper into the trees.
The shadows thickened the farther he got from the fire, so much so Felix was almost on top of Ashe when he finally spotted him.
He had a moment to take Ashe in—the way he had one arm braced against a tree trunk for support, the trembling slope of his shoulders as he hunched into himself, the echo of a muffled sob—before the snap of a twig under his boot gave his presence away.
Ashe spun toward him. “Felix!” He hurriedly swiped an arm across his eyes. “What are you doing here? Did something happen?”
Felix moved forward until he was close enough to see Ashe’s face by the light of the moon that filtered through the branches overhead. But now that he had Ashe in front of him, he once again found himself at a loss for words. Instead, he silently held out the pouch of dried meat.
Ashe made a wounded noise when he caught sight of it, a pained sort of grunt that hit Felix deep in the gut. “You—you won’t even accept that much from me?” he asked.
The devastation in the question had Felix closing the remaining space between them before he realized his legs were moving. He grabbed Ashe’s arm.
Felix wanted to reprimand him, to tell Ashe he should never have put Felix above himself, under any circumstances. But he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. It would hurt Ashe even more than Felix was already hurting him, and that was something Felix couldn’t abide.
Ashe jerked away, turning toward his wyvern. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying,” he said, thick and wet. “Of course you don’t have to accept it. Of course. Just—just set it there. I’ll collect it after I finish checking Loog’s harness.”
Felix caught his arm again. Ashe shuddered, but he didn’t fight as Felix steered him away from the sleepy, puzzled wyvern.
“Look, you don’t have to say anything,” Ashe said, chin dipped toward his chest. “Message received and understood. Okay? Like I said earlier, I didn’t go to your tent for this. I only wanted. I wanted…” He let the word hang there, then sighed shakily. “It doesn’t matter.”
Felix finally found his voice. “We should share this.” He shook the pouch. “It’s only fair.”
Ashe’s head shot up. “What?”
“You saved it for me, right?” Felix asked, though they both knew that to be the case already. “You want me to be well-fed and strong tomorrow?”
“I—” Ashe nodded uncertainly. “Yes.”
“Well, I want the same thing for you. So, let’s… let’s eat it together. All right?”
Ashe inhaled, long and slow. “Okay.”
Felix reached up to brush a stray tear from his cheek. Ashe shivered at the contact, skin to bare skin since Felix hadn’t thought to grab his gloves in his rush to leave the tent.
“Why?” Ashe breathed as Felix rested a palm against his jaw. “Why do you care if I’m strong too?”
In answer, Felix kissed him.
He hadn’t searched for Ashe intending this, but once their lips touched, Felix knew there was no turning back. After all these months, it seemed inexorable. And the truth of the matter was, in his heart of hearts, Felix didn’t want to escape this.
Ashe opened for him with a shocked, eager sound, and Felix accepted the invitation, yielding to his desire to taste. Ashe was so unbearably sweet under his tongue. Sweet and giving, exactly as Felix imagined he would be.
He dropped the pouch of meat to grasp Ashe’s waist with his free hand and backed him against the closest tree trunk, kissing him harder.
When the need for air forced Felix to pull his mouth away, he meant to speak, to tell Ashe how much he truly valued him and their conversations, their friendship, but at the end of the day, Felix was a man of action. Words escaped him at the best of times, but while he might not be able to tell Ashe everything he longed to, Felix felt confident he could show him.
He brushed his lips over a freckled cheekbone and heard Ashe choke out his name. Ashe’s fingers were gripping his shirt, and they tightened convulsively when Felix trailed gentle kisses down to his chin. He moved his hand from Ashe’s jaw to his collar, undoing the clasp to put his mouth there, in the dip at the base of Ashe’s throat.
With a breathy moan, Ashe tilted his head back to allow him access, and Felix lingered, sucking a mark into that tender skin.
“F-Felix.” Ashe’s hands moved, clenching in the material at the base of Felix’s spine when Felix slid a leg between his. “Oh, goddess.”
“Is this okay?” Felix lifted his head to ask.
Ashe nodded, arching into him when Felix applied pressure to the burgeoning hardness between his thighs. “Y-yes. Yes, please.”
Felix kissed him again. How could he help it when Ashe had started to rut against him, Felix’s every fantasy come to life?
It wasn’t long before he was hard too, aching behind the fastenings of his breeches. Felix moaned into the kiss, surprising himself, and Ashe abandoned his death-grip on Felix’s shirt to slip a hand between their bodies. His fingers brushed the place where Felix needed them most, but there he hesitated, making a questioning sound.
“Yes, do it,” Felix encouraged him and sighed in relief when Ashe’s nimble fingers undid his laces.
Ashe pressed the heel of his palm to Felix’s stiff length, but again, he paused, trembling slightly. “I haven’t… I mean, I’ve never—”
Felix shushed him and took over, quickly undoing Ashe’s fastenings and pulling him free of his trousers. He was firm and hot to touch, damp at the tip, his foreskin gliding silkily over the shaft as Felix stroked him.
Felix let out a pleased huff when Ashe whimpered and jerked his hips. As much as he wanted to make this last, here near the wyverns, where anyone could happen upon them, was not the time or place for lingering. Felix licked his palm to get it nice and wet and took them both in hand.
He started up a firm, fast rhythm, aiming to get them both off before they could be interrupted. Later, he’d take his time with this, but for now…
Felix tightened his grip and muffled Ashe’s keening cry with his mouth. Ashe clutched at his shoulder with one hand, and he was shaking in earnest, lifting up onto his toes, near the precipice after mere moments—not because Felix was particularly skilled at this, but because emotions were running high between the two of them, and it was the first time they’d ever touched like this. Or at all, beyond the occasional brush of skin whenever Ashe loaned him a book. Felix would’ve been more surprised if Ashe hadn’t been on the edge so quickly. He wasn’t far behind himself.
Ashe’s hand joined his, his palm and fingertips callused from years of archery, but the additional sensation, the feel of those fingers sliding between his, was the last push Felix needed to send him over. He came with his teeth sunk into Ashe’s bottom lip, tasting blood. It would probably be swollen later, but in the moment, Ashe didn’t seem to mind. He groaned, pushing hard into their clenched fists, and seconds later, his warm release added to the mess.
Felix pressed their foreheads together, panting against Ashe’s mouth. They were about the same height, though Ashe was still slighter, even now after they’d long left adolescence behind.
After a moment, Felix pulled back and looked around for something to clean them up with.
“Oh,” Ashe said, looking down at his sticky fingers. He was finally catching his breath, but his skin remained flushed from pleasure, which made Felix want to start the whole thing all over again. “Hang on. I brought some water for Loog earlier.” He disappeared for a minute and returned with a leather flask.
He used it to clean his hands and then passed it to Felix, who did the same. Felix bent down to retrieve the pouch of meat he’d dropped earlier.
“I’d still like to share this,” he said to Ashe. “If you want?”
Ashe nodded, not meeting his eyes. From shyness, Felix thought, if he’d read Ashe’s faint smile correctly.
“I can finish up here and then come to your tent?” Ashe said. “It won’t take me long.”
“Sure.”
Felix went back to his tent, steering clear of where his friends still sat. He didn’t want to get drawn into a conversation or field any questions about Ashe or why he’d been looking for him. Not yet.
True to his word, Ashe pushed past the flap and into the candlelit space only a few minutes later. He gave Felix another smile, this one broader than before but tempered by quiet shock, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had happened between them.
They sat next to each other on Felix’s bedroll, and Felix opened the pouch, offering the first strip of meat to Ashe. It was salty and smoky with a hint of rich spices, just the way Felix preferred.
For a while they ate in silence, emptying the pouch, and then finishing the contents of Ashe’s water flask to wash it all down.
“Thank you,” Felix said as Ashe tucked the flask into the pouch at his hip.
Ashe smiled softly. “You’re welcome.” He dipped his head, toying with the fur on the ends of his sleeves. “I… Is that why you came after me, just to share this?”
“No.” Felix drew in a breath through his nose. He’d hoped to avoid talking about his feelings, but it didn’t seem possible now. He owed Ashe at least that much. “If we survive tomorrow… if we survive this war… I want… I want what you want.”
Ashe raised his head, blinking those big green eyes at him. “What I want? Are you sure you know?”
Felix nodded slowly. “I think I do.”
“Well, just to be clear,” Ashe said, “what I want is to be by your side, no matter where you go. I want to stay with you, whether it’s in Fraldarius territory or somewhere else. I want to stay at your side, and maybe bring my siblings to live with us, eventually. They’re working in a minor lord’s household right now, not far from where we lived with Lonato, and they seem happy enough, but… someday, I’d like us to be together again.” He met Felix’s gaze, earnest as ever.
Felix couldn’t look away.
“I want us to be a family,” Ashe finished. “And I want that family with you.”
Once again, Felix struggled to speak around the emotions that choked him. But he would say this much. He had to.
“That… I want that, too,” he rasped out, and it felt like ripping his chest open, but it was worth the effort to see Ashe smile again, the way he used to, before Lonato’s death, before all this fighting started.
After the final few battles, Felix would let himself have this. He’d let them both be happy. It scared him, the thought of embracing a future with Ashe… more than the war, more than the possibility of his own death. Not the idea of being with Ashe, the idea of losing him.
There was only one solution, Felix thought, as Ashe leaned in to kiss him. He’d fight harder, be better, keep them both alive.
Felix wouldn’t accept any other outcome. They’d both suffered enough for one lifetime.
Ashe deserved a brighter future and the family he wanted. Felix was determined to give it to him.