Archive of Our Own

1👻

Ashe combed a few pieces of hair behind his ear and smiled at himself in the bathroom mirror. The carnival he worked at had landed in Fhirdiad for the next week, which meant a flurry of new and exciting customers. He adjusted his various pieces of mostly fake jewelry, his right ear adorned with an earring clasp and chain that ran down to his lobe and a series of bangle necklaces that decorated his bare skin. The fabrics draped over his body were beautiful tones of azure and silver, highlighting the natural greys of his own hair and his brilliant green eyes. Ashe even wore a little makeup for the evening, just enough to catch a passerby’s eye.

Ashe was a fortune teller at the carnival, specifically a medium. People would enter his tent, and he would see if there was anyone in the liminal space between worlds who wanted to share any words with them. And if nothing came along, he would do what he could to make their money worthwhile. Not everyone was harassed as much by ghosts as much as he was.

He made his way to his tent, pinning back the open flap and getting comfortable. He sat on a plush chair, a less comfortable wooden chair seated in front of him with a small wooden table between them. It wasn’t exactly the most accommodating of arrangements, but they needed it to be something that could be easily stashed and moved to the next city, so it had to do. He was explicitly not allowed to carry candles (fire hazard, the owner had repeatedly told him), so he settled for small lights strung up around the tent, bathing him in soft orange tones.

Ashe waited for a customer to arrive, cheek resting on his palm as he tried not to look too bored.

The first person to enter his tent was a man with a friendly smile plastered on his face and a head of bright red hair. He didn’t seem to realize what was going on, or perhaps he realized and was making a big show of not knowing. It was a little tough to tell in the lowlight.

“Hey cutie!”

Well, if anything, he was at least somewhat drunk. Most of Ashe’s patrons tended to be. Ashe giggled at the petname and ducked his head in a small bow.

“Welcome, I’m Ashe! If you like, you can shut the flap behind you.”

The man identified himself as Sylvain and closed the flap behind them as he took a seat in the little wooden chair and spread his legs out, dominating the space. And boy, did he take up a lot of space. “So, like,” He started, running a hand through his hair, “I heard you do tarot readings? You’re a fortune teller or something, right?”

Ashe tried to keep his smile friendly, drumming his fingers on the table as a few of his rings clacked against the cheap wood. “Actually, I don’t really do that --”

“Anyway,” Sylvain continued, finally leveling his gaze on Ashe. “I was really hoping I could get a reading on my love life. Things have really taken a turn for me, and I need a little spiritual guidance, y’know?” Ashe sighed and let his smile dissolve, hanging his head. Luckily, he kept a pack of cards on his person at all times for his own personal use, so he could at least make sure he would get paid for his time. He slipped a pack of cards out and handed them to Sylvain.

“Please shuffle the cards, then hand them back to me.”

Sylvain nodded and mixed the cards with surprising efficiency, sliding them back across the table when he was done. Ashe could only wonder what this unusual man did in his free time, dressed like a wealthy noble and hanging around a seedy carnival. Ashe pushed the thought to the back of his mind and cut the deck in half. He flipped three cards.

The Fool.

The Tower. Oh no.

Eight of Swords. Oh. Goddess no.

Ashe grimaced at the cards and looked up at Sylvain, who seemed to be laughing at the results. “Oh, that seems pretty accurate.” Ashe tried to pull the cards away, but Sylvain grabbed The Tower card and eyed it curiously. “What’s this supposed to mean? That I’m like, an idiot in a big house with a bunch of weapons?”

Ashe looked at Sylvain with a completely blank expression. Oh, this poor fool.

“The Fool is at the beginning of the Major Arcana, and symbolizes beginnings. It can be representative of a person, someone who maybe has no idea what is going on or what they are doing.” Ashe tried to keep the acerbity out of his voice as he took the Tower card next and laid it back in the center of the reading. Ashe pointed at it next. “This is bad.” His finger moved to the Eight of Swords. “This is worse.”

“What exactly does ‘bad’ and ‘worse’ mean?” Sylvain asked, clearly a man with no sense of self-preservation.

Ashe groaned and went back to The Tower. He hated giving people bad news. “The Tower means something very big and very bad that you don’t expect is about to happen. The Eight of Swords is a card that means fear and anxiety.” Ashe cleared his throat, trying to avoid looking Sylvain in the eyes. This was getting more painful by the second. “If I had to guess, I’d say my cards are saying you are not very good at love, and you’re about to get your just desserts for it. And it’ll be real bad for a while. So uh, now you know! Keep a lookout and maybe, like, be careful?”

Sylvain seemed nonplussed. “Oh, cool. Thanks, magic cards.” He went to get up, Ashe putting the cards back and lugging his big crystal ball off the ground to rest in front of them with a satisfying thud on the table.

“Wait! I am actually here to talk to spirits for you. Wouldn’t you rather try something like that?”

Ashe put on his best smile, hoping he could get Sylvain to stay just a few moments longer. He could sense something hovering around the other man, but it was tough to tell without direct skin contact. “I feel something near you, and I’d really like to figure out a little more. Please?”

A slow, friendly grin spread on Sylvain's features. “How could I say no to someone asking so nicely?”

Ashe laid his hands on the table, palms facing up. “Give me your hands, and focus directly into the crystal ball. I’ll tell you what I see and hear.” Sylvain’s hands slipped into his, warm and sunkissed. Ashe tried not to blush.

His thoughts of how cute the man in front of him looked were instantly squashed as he heard a hoarse whisper in his ear: “If that whore isn’t dead soon, I’ll drag him down here myself.” Ashe jumped, his eyes widening.

Sylvain's brow furrowed at the other's reaction. “Woah. You spaced out there for a second. See something spooky?”

Ashe stared at Sylvain’s face, his eyes wide as dinner plates. There was a hand loosely coiled around his neck, the other tangled in his hair. Harsh breathing reverberated throughout the tent, the hands tightening and relaxing with every breath.

Ashe went about as white he could, given how pale he was to begin with. “That’s bad.” His voice hitched as he spoke.

Sylvain laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Something on my face?”

Ashe had never seen anything like this before. He could vaguely make out the spirit, wrapped tight around Sylvain like a constrictor. He almost looked like Sylvain, if Sylvain had recently been murdered or thrown off a cliff. His features were rough and ragged, dirt and blood clinging to his body. He was so close to Sylvain, but Ashe could hear every word the ghost whispered in the other man’s ear as if he had shouted it from the rooftops. Ashe took in a shaky breath and tried to focus himself. His eyes fell onto the crystal ball, watching the slow shift of lights play off the surface. Easy, he told himself. Relax.

“Someone from the afterlife isn’t happy with you. They’re really upset, actually. Does that ring a bell?”

Sylvain hummed, and the ghost let out a terrifying snarl. “Uh, rings a bell, but nothing specific.”

Ashe squeaked as the ghost moved even closer to Sylvain’s face, Ashe noted now how his eyes lacked any sense of humanity. His mouth twitched open too far back, revealing a row of sharp, jagged teeth. The hand around Sylvain’s neck suddenly looked more monstrous than it had a moment before.

“Have you ever, maybe, made anyone upset?” Ashe tried not to sound as petrified as he felt. It wasn’t working.

“I mean, that could be anyone! You want an alphabetized or numerical list of the people I’ve pissed off?” Sylvain began recounting multiple conquests, of women and men scorned in recent history. The hand tangled in Sylvain’s hair yanked hard, Sylvain responding with a lazy roll of his neck.

Ashe managed to interject with a tight squeeze to Sylvain's hands. "Could you give me a summary instead of a story? Please?”

Normally he would love to hear more, but this sounded like a mix of incredibly stupid and wildly unhelpful. The ghost growled and left the imprints of his hands on Sylvain’s body, moving to Ashe now with bloodied stumps. Ashe tried not to stare at something that he knew his customer could not see.

“I’ve wanted to kill the little bastard since he was six. Every day he breathes is another day I wait for him in Hell.” The ghost breathed out, his eyes burning like hot coals.

Ashe was shaking. This was a lot for a first customer. “M-Maybe someone who’s known you since you were little?”

Sylvain snapped his fingers, eyes locking on Ashe’s and only now registering the utter fear painted on his face. “Oh! My brother.”

Ashe bobbed his head quickly. “Uh huh!”

Ashe’s hands were now coated in sweat, unable to hide from Sylvain’s searching gaze. Right, he thought. I guess I should tell him what I’m seeing.

“Your brother, he’s been, well, haunting you. I’m not gonna say the things he’s saying, since they’re pretty bad, but, he really hates you.” Ashe’s voice went quieter with each word, tearing his eyes away at the final admission. Sylvain’s eyes darkened.

“This isn’t funny anymore.” His hands fell away as he rooted around in his pockets.

“I’m sorry!” Ashe called out, but the money had been dropped on the table and Sylvain left his tent, the hands dissolving as he walked away. The brother hovered for a few seconds longer, turning to Ashe and grinning wildly before vanishing from sight. Ashe felt his body relax as the ghost disappeared, sighing loudly and slumping over in his chair.

Well, if that wasn’t an omen for the night to come, he didn’t know what was.

2👻

Some time had passed before his next customer came in. One of the other Carnie operators had brought him a corndog as a snack, which he scarfed down quickly. Ashe sort of hated the food at the carnival, but it was easier to sneak in quick bites than go out and spend needless money on extra food. He pulled a hand mirror from under a sea of pillows in the back of his tent, checking to see if he smudged anything. Ashe smiled at his reflection, enjoying the clinks of jewelry as he tucked the mirror back into its hiding place. Sometimes he saw himself as a character in a fairy tale, dressing up and assisting a hero along their journey as some sort of wise soothesayer. He would prefer to be the hero, and he was trying, but it was hard with a mostly-dead family and very little money to his name.

For now, he would offer guidance. Soon, his time would come where he could slay dragons and rescue those in need. Few heroes started off as heroes, most were commoners like he was. But when duty called, they answered the call to action. His call would come some day; he could feel it buzz in his veins.

His next customer came in quickly and yanked the tent flap shut behind her, shaking like a leaf. Ashe took a seat and beckoned her over with a hand and a warm smile.

“Everything okay, Miss?”

She sat down quickly, her hands gripping the plush velvet of the tablecloth.

“Welcome to the --”

“Are ghosts real?" She cut him off. "Like, really real?”

Ashe blinked, trying to process exactly what brought this girl into his tent. Perhaps a dare? Or a cruel joke played on her by a friend, giggling outside his tent? Hard to say. He extended his hands and made sure his smile was still present.

“Well, they are for some people. If you give me your hands, I’ll see if there’s anything they’d like to share.”

The woman’s hands jumped from the cloth to his palms, squeezing tight. Her eyes were screwed shut, her head hanging low. Ashe ran his thumbs along the back of her knuckles, a shushing noise leaving his lips. “Hey, hey.” He squeezed her hands in return, prompting her to look up at him. “Everything’s all right. When I get nervous, I take a look in my crystal ball and focus real close on it.” Her eyes traveled down to the ball, swirling with a soft light in the center. “Now, breath in for eight seconds,” he took in a long, slow inhale as he paused, “then exhale for six.” He sighed as some of his own tension melted. She let out a noisy breath and smiled, her face lit up in wonder.

“I’m Ashe, by the way.” She perked up at the introduction, smiling back at him.

“I’m Annette. Nice to meet you!” Glad to see her ease into her seat a little, Ashe focused on the energy around her and waited to see what spoke up. The room remained blessedly silent. A welcome reprieve from the previous encounter.

“I don’t see any spirits. But I do see a kind, positive energy that surrounds you and keeps you safe.”

Annette blushed and her smile eased into something softer. Ashe was overcome with a desire to hold her in his arms and shower her in any affection she wanted. The energy that poured off her in waves was so genuine, so honest, it made him want to tell her everything. The ghost of his brother leaned forward and smirked at him, pressing a finger against his cheek.

“Aww, d’you have a crush? Cute.”

Ashe scrunched his nose up and turned to face the ghost, getting ready to tell him off before realizing he definitely should not do that with company. Annette’s head tilted to one side in curiosity.

“What kind of stuff do you see?” She asked.

“Oh, all sorts of things.” He turned his attention back to Annette, flashing his teeth as he laughed and pulled away from her hands, scratching his cheek. “Let me see if I get anything else.” Sending someone away with only an aura reading was never enough in his eyes. Ashe’s hands moved to the crystal ball as the light twisted and changed colors under his fingers. He lost himself in the shifting colors, letting his mind drift.

Whenever Ashe couldn’t focus on someone else’s troubles, he always found he drifted back to his own.

He would see the restaurant his parents used to run on fire, tears streaming down his face as he held his little brother and sister close to him. He saw his brother, dragged from his adoptive father’s home late one night kicking and screaming. He saw his adoptive father, sitting bloodied and barely conscious in front of a Church Executioner.

He felt their ever present sorrows, insistent they remain at the forefront of his mind. Ashe furrowed his brow and brought his focus back to the ball.

“Everything okay? Your face is really making me nervous,” Annette said, putting a hand on top of his. “I’m not scrubbing pots for the rest of my life because I’ve failed a whole bunch of tests I didn’t study for, right?”

Ashe shook himself out of his daze and looked back up at Annette with a bright smile.

“Yep! Sorry, ghosts can make my head a little fuzzy.” Lonato walked up to the table and looked at him with such disgust, it almost made Ashe want to shrink back into his seat. Focus, he repeated to himself. You’re with a client.

“I see a bright and beautiful future ahead of you,” Ashe began.

Lonato’s hand slowly clenched into a fist, tears running down his face. Christophe looked upset with his father, standing in between them. “Leave him alone,” Christophe said, stretching his arms out. “He’s got nothing to do with this.”

“You will fall in love with someone who truly makes you smile, and makes you glow with the same happiness you bring with you everywhere.” Ashe kept his eyes trained on Annette, desperately trying to ignore the scene occurring at his side.

“You are wasting your time, Ashe.” Lonato said, his words cutting through him like a knife.

“You’ll have two beautiful children, and they’ll be happy and love you and your spouse a lot. They’ll fight, but it’s never anything too bad.” Annette laughed and her face colored, kicking her feet under the table. One kick landed directly in Ashe’s exposed shin, tears springing at the corners of his eyes as he tried not to yelp.

“Pay attention to me, boy!” Lonato’s fist slammed against the table, and Ashe held back a wince when no sound rang out from the contact.

“Anything else you need from me this evening, Annette?” Ashe said as he drummed his fingers on the table.

“No, I think that was perfect! You’re really sweet!” Annette placed her payment on the table and bounced off as Ashe slouched back and glanced at Lonato with an annoyed twinge in his expression.

“Unless you’ve got money that isn’t all currently seized by the Church, this is very much not a waste of time, thank you.”

The Lonato he knew before the execution had been a kindhearted, friendly man. Always so good with his little brother and sister, so loving to all of them. In the last few months Ashe had known him, something had changed. Christophe had died almost ten years ago, and Lonato dead for five now. Every day after his older brother had died, Lonato seemed to store another piece of something dark in himself. In his final days he would shut himself away in his room with various minor lords and governors in Gaspard to conspire against the Central Church, Ashe had later learned. Instead of stealing Lonato away like they had Christophe, they let him stage his attack and get struck down by the very same woman who took Christophe away. The ghost he was stuck with was the amalgamation of all of his revenge, hovering around Ashe to chastise and belittle him for not trying to achieve some lofty goal of singlehandedly taking down an entire church. Once the last of Castle Gaspard had been turned over to the church and Ashe found himself and his siblings back on the street, he looked for a job that would put him up and keep him fed. The carnival worked out just perfectly.

It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. He didn’t have any other option.

3👻

It only took five minutes for his next customer to come in, shutting the flap behind them with a pull that Ashe worried might rip the fabric.

“Let me make this clear,” the man started as he sat down, avoiding eye contact immediately. “I don’t think what you’re doing is real. You’re just trying to make a quick buck off of people.” Despite this little tirade, he placed the money on the table.

“That’s okay!” Ashe said as he slid the money to his side of the table, pocketing it before he could change his mind. “Put your hands out, and we’ll be done before you know it.” He grumbled and held his hands out on the table, Ashe taking them and giving a friendly squeeze.

Ashe began to rub little circles into his customer’s hand, hoping it would soothe him. His gaze fell on Ashe for a fraction of a second, expression surprisingly neutral before it fell to the floor. Ashe tried not to be too endeared. Christophe would bully him all night if he kept thinking all his customers were cute.

“Now, is there anyone on the other side who may be holding onto something here? Something that ties them to you?” Ashe asked, hoping to get a little more help than he had with previous customers this evening.

The other man refused to respond. His hands went tight, then lax, as if he was communicating solely by touch. Ashe nodded in some semblance of understanding and let his eyes slide shut, putting out his feelers for any sort of sign.

Ashe’s mouth opened to speak before he had the chance to process and understand what he was about to say next. “I shouldn’t have left you by yourself.” The man’s back straightened and Ashe watched his adam’s apple bob. Ashe opened his eyes and saw two hands clasped over their own, a man with matching navy hair hanging over his face, looking at his customer with love in his eyes. He wasn’t much taller than either of them, and his hair hung down to his waist, tied in a loose ponytail. While the two of them didn’t look exactly the same, it would be foolish to assume they weren’t related.

His customer spoke up before Ashe had a chance to say anything else. “What are you doing.” Ashe’s teeth clicked in his mouth loud enough that he probably heard it from across the table.

“I’m … trying to figure out who this person is. He seems like he regrets a lot of what happened between you two.” The hand over their own was clasped so tight Ashe nearly felt the sensation, instead only feeling the lingering chill that death brought along with it.

The other man responded quickly. “I don’t care.”

“That isn’t true.” The ghost said, shaking his head in disbelief. Ashe realized his customer was, intentionally or not, staring right at the ghost in front of him. “I know you care, Felix. And I care too. Every day I think about you and how much I love you. And how I wished I had been there to see you grow. You shouldn’t have been alone, Felix.” Ashe had been ready to say this all, but Felix was snarling at the spiritual presence.

In seconds, Felix snatched his hands back, glared at him with a fire in his eyes that completely disarmed Ashe, and smacked the crystal ball on the table. Ashe snatched it before it fell, hugging it to his chest.

“W-what are you doing?”

Felix pointed a finger at him, the ghost watching him in horror. “You’re all con artists. Just using other people’s emotions to milk them of their money.” Ashe gulped and glanced over to the spirit, who could only offer an apologetic look.

“He has my old temper, it seems.” The ghost didn’t seem particularly thrilled by this statement.

“Felix,” Ashe said, forgetting the other man hadn’t told him his name. Felix froze in place. “All I want to do is tell you the things that people didn’t get a chance to tell you when they were alive. And this person, he really misses you. And really, really loves you.” Ashe set the crystal ball back down on the table, rubbing the heel of his palm on it in case it had gotten any smudges from rolling away from its perch.

“If you want, you can leave. But I think he has more he wants to tell you.”

Felix nodded slowly and sat back down, his hands extending back across the table. Ashe took them again, even though he could already picture the ghost quite clearly. The ghost’s hands returned to the top of Ashe’s and Felix’s own. “He is so strong. I’m so proud of him.” Ashe thought he heard Christophe sniffle in the background and smiled.

“He says he’s very proud of you.”

Felix looked down at his feet as he choked back a sob. “Okay. I get it.” He pulled his hands back and rustled back around in his pockets, pulling out extra money for Ashe. “You’re not faking it. This sucked.” As soon as the money hit the table, he turned on his heel and left. The ghost stayed a few moments longer, his eyes lingering on Christophe.

“He has a good soul.”

Christophe beamed and glanced down at Ashe, hands in his pockets. “Yeah, just a little bundle of sunshine. Your little brother seems almost tolerable.”

He laughed and dissipated from the room in a small wisp of smoke.

4👻

Most of the night stretched on in silence as the carnival’s main event took place. Dorothea and Petra were out tumbling, Leonie juggled and swallowed swords, and Raphael could lift anything and anyone. Ashe had seen the show enough times that he didn’t need a refresher, and all those people made him nervous. Christophe had taken his usual seat across from Ashe, leaning forward on the table and yawning.

“I dunno how you don’t just pass out when things get so slow.”

Ashe laughed at his brother and shrugged. “I know I’ve got work to do! Can’t work if I’m sleepin’.” Christophe shrugged, his eyes sliding shut. He winked out of existence as a large man appeared in the entrance to the tent.

“Come in!”

The customer gently closed the flap behind him, glancing around the tent. He gave some sort of noise of approval before sitting down, patiently looking at Ashe. Unlike Felix, this man was almost all eye contact, and it made Ashe blush a little.

“I apologize,” he said, his voice concerned. “I do not know exactly what this is. I was told to visit here before I left.”

Ashe straightened up and went on his spiel. “I’m Ashe, and I’m a Medium! People come to my tent, either brought here by fate or by some hope that someone on the other side may have some words left to share with them! It’s my job to relay those messages. Do you think that’s something you’d like?”

The other man sat on this explanation for a few moments before giving a nod and bringing his chair a touch closer. “All right, Ashe. I am Dedue.” Ashe held his hands out, and Dedue took them in his.

Ashe tried not to blush harder. Goddess, did he have big hands. He could feel a toothy grin behind his head and he didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

Ashe let his eyes slide shut, Dedue’s careful touch teleporting him to another world entirely. He saw a woman laughing as two small children ran around between her legs, whooping and hollering at one another. They all had the same silvery white hair, the mother’s hair in a braid that fell down to the small of her back, the little girl with a bundle of hair tied up hastily behind her head. The memory warmed Ashe down to the soles of his feet as he swayed in his chair and hummed to himself.

“Oh, you have such lovely spirits with you …” Ashe said as he opened his eyes to see the two women standing over Dedue's shoulders, the mother smiling at Ashe while the sister scrunched up her face and laughed. Dedue smiled at Ashe as well, and Ashe was convinced he wouldn’t be able to focus while this man looked at him like he was the world. “Do you know who the spirits may be?”

Dedue’s face went solemn. “Everyone I was once close to has died. But I imagine the people you see are my mother and sister. I hold them close to my heart.” The sister turned to face Dedue and stuck her tongue out. Ashe could smell the lingering spice from the memory, could still hear the laughter playing in the back of his mind.

“They’re really wonderful. They love you so much.” Dedue’s smile returned for a brief moment, as Ashe remembered he was talking about ghosts, and this was not a conversation with a happy ending. “What happened?”

“I am from Duscur.” Dedue said the answer as if it was obvious. His hands heated up and Ashe winced as the last pieces of the memory disappeared, the scent of burned remains now filling his nose. He couldn’t see, his vision clouded by smoke and ash. But he could hear, he could smell, he could almost taste the desolation that the Tragedy brought upon the Duscur lands. For a split second, he could see someone standing over two bodies, sobbing loudly and begging for them to wake up. The fires became hotter, Ashe’s vision going black.

In those final moments of the memory, Dedue’s hands became too hot to hold. Ashe pulled back and scrubbed at his eyes, realizing too late that he ruined all of the makeup he had painstakingly applied earlier today. When he pulled his hands back, he found the back of his hands were damp with tears.

“But … why? They didn’t do anything wrong.” Ashe couldn’t stop the wobble in his voice as he tried to make eye contact with Dedue again through the blackened soot that clouded his vision.

“There are people who will never understand.” Dedue took his hands back and gave them a gentle squeeze. Ashe was now crying in earnest, which made Dedue’s sister roll her eyes and gesture to him.

“Brother, look at this crybaby!” Her arm was thrust out in a flurry of movement as she shook her head. “Crying over spilt milk that wasn’t even his.” Ashe knew she was right, he had no reason to cry. But imagining the burden of a dead country on a single man’s shoulders made Ashe get a little emotional, even if he had never experienced it. Ashe gathered himself as much as he could, realizing he was probably giving a pretty piss-poor reading if he was blubbering this much. He cleared his throat and tried to make eye contact again.

“Your mother and sister live on in your heart and memories. You are filled with a love that moves you forward, and kind hands that aid you in whatever you do.”

Dedue nodded, pulling his hands back as he shot a glance over his shoulder. Ashe’s breath hitched at the movement, the sister turning and looking at him with a glint in her eye. The mother’s hand reached down to grasp Dedue’s shoulder and she leaned in, whispering something in his ear. His face remained unmoving as he got up, fishing around in his pockets for proper payment. Ashe shook his head.

“It’s on the house. If you continue carrying them with you, bringing their love and thoughts to the people you touch, that’s payment enough. Remember you’re more than people’s horrible opinions, please.”

Dedue smiled, ducked his head in a small bow, and left the tent. Ashe fell back into his chair and decided to go back to crying for a little while.

5👻

The night had begun to draw to a close, a few of the various other Carnies coming in to check on him. Raphael poked his head into the tent and smiled wide, Ashe waving in return.

"Hey Lil' Ashe!"

"Hey Big Raph!"

There wasn't any particular reason Raphael needed to call him that old nickname since he hit his growth spurt a few years back, but Ashe couldn't deny it was a little cute.

"Everything holding up okay in here? All the ghosts being nice tonight?"

Ashe nodded. "As nice as ghosts can be!" Raphael seemed to take this as an affirmative and left soon after, likely to go get himself some gross carnival food. Ignatz stopped by as well, along with Leonie, but there was one final customer that came in before he had a chance to pack up his tent.

A tall and imposing man in a navy blue cape stumbled in with a haggard look on his face. Ashe would normally have assumed this man was drunk, but he couldn't smell the telltale punch of alcohol coming off him. He mumbled an apology as he sat down, his eye focused on the ground. Ashe couldn't get over the sense that this man looked familiar, but couldn't figure out exactly how.

"You caught me just in time! Welcome to my tent, I’m Ashe. Are there any spirits you believe have something to tell you?"

The man looked up as he was addressed, folding gauntleted hands on the table. "Ah. Well, yes. I do believe there may be spirits with something to tell me." Ashe found himself staring, now realizing this man was covered in full plate armor. What was some kind of general doing at a carnival? And even if he was here for fun, how was he doing it in armor?

Ashe snapped himself out of his confusion and put his hands out. "Could I have your hands, please? It's easier for me to do this with physical contact." His customer nodded and unbuckled both of his gauntlets, resting them on the ground. His hands hesitated above Ashe's for a few moments before he gingerly rested them in Ashe's hands.

The resulting memory that came to Ashe knocked the breath out of his lungs.

The familiar smell of fire and burning flesh flooded his senses again, the screams now much closer than they had been before. Ashe doubled over from the pain the vision sent through him, as if he could feel every hot slash against his own body. He felt strong hands on his body, wrenched away in moments and replaced with new screams, something splattering against his face and chest. There were people around him, whispering words Ashe couldn't hear, fading in and out of the vision. But there was one sound that rang true, despite the chaos surrounding everything he saw and felt.

The wailing of a child.

Ashe found himself sitting back at his table as the other man stroked his hands. Ashe shook himself out of his daze and realized his cheeks were wet. Again. He groaned at himself and swiped at his face with the back of his forearm. His customer started to get up.

"Please stay! I-I'm sorry, it's been kind of a hard night for me."

The other man hesitated. "It seems I will only be adding to your troubles if I remain." Ashe sniffled loudly and shook his head, patting the table insistently.

"No, no really! I can handle this." Ashe wasn't entirely sure if he was talking to the customer or himself, but it didn't matter. He cautiously sat back down, his eye back on the ground. "Okay, so I saw a warzone. Are you a general or something?"

He looked at Ashe as if he had three heads. Ashe only could offer a shrug and a nervous laugh.

"Goodness, well. You probably saw Duscur." He explained as Ashe gaped. "You are familiar, right? My father, my step mother, and a knight in their service died that day. Along with many people I knew and cared about." He paused and took a deep breath. "I was supposed to die that day as well."

Ashe blinked twice, realizing just who was sitting in front of him and feeling like the world's biggest idiot. "Y-you wouldn't happen to be the Crown Prince, w-would you?" The prince blushed and brought a hand to cover his face.

"I would rather you just call me Dimitri, if that is all right."

Ashe thought he was going to pass out on the spot. He had been so forward with the prince! Someone who was going to be King! He somehow managed to not die and pick his jaw up from the floor. "Sure, uh! Sure! If you don't mind me asking, what brought you to a carnival?" What brought you to see me, Ashe stopped himself from asking.

"Oh, I thought it would be the kind thing to do." Despite the fact that he looked like a mess, Dimitri's smile was genuine. "My comrades and I have been fighting nonstop. A carnival seemed a welcome reprieve." His voice lowered, his eye traveling up to meet Ashe's. "I came here after Dedue's glowing review."

Ashe flapped his hand dismissively. "Oh, it's nothing really!"

Dimitri leaned in close, his voice now down to a whisper. "I … I had always assumed I was the only one who could see them." Dimitri's gaze moved to Christophe, who had fallen asleep on an array of pillows Ashe kept in the tent for ambiance. Ashe suddenly felt very naked.

Sure, Dedue and Felix seemed to have some sense of the ghosts that hung around them, but no one had ever been this upfront.

"What do they say to you?" Dimitri asked.

Ashe swallowed and turned around, looking at Christophe. "He doesn't tell me much. That's my brother. He died almost ten years ago now."

"Was he a knight?" Dimitri seemed much more interested in interviewing him as he folded his bare hands on the table.

Ashe nodded. "One of the best. He was, well, he was accused of being involved with the tragedy. And they killed him." Dimitri's eye glanced upwards, as if trying to search his mind to recall. “My adoptive father hangs around too, but he seems to be missing. A-and my parents, they don’t hang around me. I have a younger brother and sister. They watch over them.” Dimitri nodded, his hands fussing with the velvet of the tablecloth. “You might know him. My adoptive father, I mean. He was a lord in the Gaspard territory. Lord Lonato?” Dimitri’s hold on the tablecloth suddenly went fiercely tight. His expression was unreadable.

"I am familiar." He said nothing else. Ashe tried not to read too much into it. Of course the future King would know why Lonato was dead. Ashe cursed himself for being awkward.

“You and I are a lot alike, it seems.” Dimitri said, as if he wasn’t a King talking to a man playing dress up in a carnival tent. Ashe felt his face heat up and remembered this wasn’t his spirit reading, and was really not the time for him to be pouring his heart out to a man of such status.

"I-I can go back to speaking with your spirits, if you like. I don't think they'll show me … that again." Ashe placed his hands back on Dimitri's and took in a long grounding breath.

Ashe opened his eyes to see four new ghosts in the room. Three of the ghosts looked much worse than Dimitri did, coated in blood and gore with their faces mostly obscured. The one man was massive and imposing, somehow making Dimitri look small. He held a tall glowing lance, his cloak a mirror of Dimitri's own. The second man reminded Ashe of Felix's ghost, but something about this spirit was different. Where before, he had seemed quiet and remorseful, this version of him seemed starved for something. Attention, revenge, blood, Ashe couldn't quite tell. The third was a woman of much shorter stature, delicate brown hair curled around her head. She wore a blood red gown that hit the floor and a thick cloak to cover her wiry arms. Where the two men seemed to hunger something violent, Ashe thought her expression was something more akin to sadness. The hunger for vengeance rang out in each of them as they spoke, one after another.

"You must get revenge where we could not."

"You have not killed them all, Dimitri. You let yourself waste away."

"They will kill you all if you do not kill them first. The Emperor must die."

These phrases repeated over and over, and Ashe could see why the man looked so haunted. Their hands would touch his armor, leaving streaks of red in their wake. Ashe tore his gaze away and looked at the final ghost. She sat away from the others, looking on as if Dimitri was behind a glass window. Her clothes were regal as well, wearing a muted blue and brown gown with a wreath of gold around her head, framing long golden hair. She turned and waved at Ashe for a moment, then returned to staring at Dimitri.

"Why don't you go to him?" Ashe asked, feeling bold enough to talk to a ghost he knew his customer could see as well. Her smile became serene, the hands folded on her lap gently gripping her skirts.

"I cannot. But one day, I will."

Dimitri’s eye followed Ashe’s, looking back at him in confusion. “Is there something there?” He asked, squinting as if trying to see her. Ashe nodded, waiting for the woman to say anything else. She made no move to communicate further, and Ashe wasn’t one to pry.

“Yeah, but I think your other ghosts keep her away. She can’t reach you,” Ashe replied, Dimitri’s jaw locking. Ashe took a deep breath, going over what he planned to say. Much like with practically every other reading tonight, he couldn’t say what the ghosts were saying. Dimitri had heard it all, it did him no service to repeat their vengeful mantras in person.

“You already know about your other ghosts.” Ashe began. “They are hurt. They’re scared.” One of the ghosts took hold of Dimitri and slowly, carefully inserted the blade he held into his side. Dimitri winced but made no other acknowledgement that it occurred. Ashe cleared his throat and continued his reading. “You hold them close to you. But,” Ashe tried not to watch the blade come out on the other side. Dimitri’s breathing was shallow, a soft whistle through his nose. “You need to let them go. Spirits don’t always know what’s best for us. Otherwise, you’ll never truly become your own person.”

A wave of deja vu hit Ashe and he compulsively ran a hand through his hair. Should he be saying this to himself about Lonato? Was he holding onto the belief that he, some barely-scraping-by twenty something was going to figure out why the hell the Central Church had killed his entire adopted family? It wasn’t even an ounce of what Dimitri was going through, but it rang true nonetheless.

Dimitri tried to smile at Ashe, but it looked more like a flash of teeth. “Is that what they say to you?” He asked, his voice steady.

“No, it’s not,” Ashe answered firmly. “But Dimitri? You really shouldn’t listen to whatever they're saying.” Confidence from an unknown location began to swell in him as he leaned forward, eyes locking with Dimitri’s own. “We need to focus on the good in our lives. Ghosts like them aren’t helping us, they’re holding us back. We can remember them, but we can’t let them drag us along on their fantasies. It isn’t fair!” Dimitri nodded, the three ghosts around him winking out of existence. They were still hovering around Dimitri, Ashe was sure, but he had his fill of them.

“Thank you, Ashe.”

Dimitri took one of Ashe’s hands and raised it to his face, dusting a small kiss on top of his knuckles. Ashe tried not to choke on his tongue. “Your words ring true with me.” He said, that single blue eye staring deep into Ashe’s soul. “They sound much like those of an old friend, something of an adoptive father I had as well.” His hold lingered for a few moments longer, his hands slipping back as Ashe tried to dial his brain back to the present. “I have a request of you, if that is all right.”

“O-of course!” Ashe stammered out. “A-anything.”

Dimitri’s smile was warm, and for the first time that night, he looked like a person, not a ghost walking among the living. “I have to go back to the others, but I would like to come see you again. Will you be here much longer?”

Ashe nodded feverishly, his mind going foggy and his face going hot at the suggestion.

Dimitri stood back up and placed his payment on the table, snapping his gauntlets on and taking his leave. Ashe let out a long, shaky breath and fisted both of his hands in his hair, silently screaming. This was insane! This was too much. The future King of Faerghus wanted to see him? Personally? He thought he was going to explode!

As if on cue, Christophe rolled over on his pillows and shot Ashe a sly grin. “You’re so screwed.”

Ashe, not appreciating the double entendre at all, threw Christophe a rude hand gesture and got up too fast, getting to work on breaking down his tent for the night.

+1 👻👻

The carnival packed up for the evening, the tents coming down and the performers all squirreling away into their trailers. Ashe, the stubborn fool he was, had stashed away everything but his chair, sitting right in the spot where the tent had been set up prior. A few of the other performers came to say good night, Dorothea shooting him a cheeky smile before locking an arm around Petra’s waist as they went into their trailer for the evening. Ashe forgot just how cold it got in this region, and cursed himself for not grabbing his jacket out of his trailer during the wait. If he went back and grabbed it, there was a chance that Dimitri might miss him, and he didn’t want to chance --

“Ashe?”

Dimitri looked at him with a confused expression, still lumbering around in that huge suit of armor. It would have been silly if it hadn’t been so imposing. Ashe squeaked out a hello, wiggling each of his fingers in a shy wave. “Y-you wanted to see me?” He said, his voice faltering. It was plainly obvious how much larger Dimitri was, head and shoulders above Ashe. The other man moved closer and noticing Ashe’s shivering form, unbuttoned his cloak. He whirled it around Ashe’s shoulders, the scents and warmth mingling in his mind.

“Yes, I did. I’d like to you return with me.”

Ashe blanched, his hands going tight on the cloak around his body. He worked a few words around his mouth, unable to find anything that encapsulated what he wanted to say. The first thing that he managed to say was, “I-I have two younger siblings-” Dimitri held a hand up, and Ashe's teeth clicked shut.

“They can come. Or, if you prefer, they can stay at the castle.”

Ashe was speechless. The future King of Faerghus, a man he met maybe an hour ago, wanted to solve all of his problems with a simple wave of his hands. He was powerless to stop the tears running down his cheeks, unable to stop the comparison in his mind to the kind, open embrace Lonato had given him all those years ago.

“W-why me …?” Ashe asked, wondering when he’d be woken up from his dream.

“Well, you successfully met almost my entire group of friends, and every single one of them had wonderful things to say.” Dimitri replied, placing a hand under Ashe’s chin and tipping his face up to look at him. “I think you are something special, Ashe. To let you stay here would be a foolish mistake on my part.” Ashe responded with an embarrassing hiccup, Dimitri taking Ashe into his arms and enveloping him in a tight embrace. Dimitri nestled his head into the juncture of Ashe’s neck and shoulder and hummed softly. “When I said you and I are a lot alike, I was not joking. We are both surrounded by death. You have flourished despite it, I am still struggling to rise past it. I want to keep you close.”

Ashe sobbed on Dimitri’s shoulder, his entire body shaking from emotion. He was waiting to wake up, to roll over on the cot in his trailer and get ready for another day working at the carnival he kind of hated, surrounded by people all struggling to get by. His brother and sister would go back to stacking shelves at general stores, or picking up odd jobs that made Ashe worry endlessly for them. Dimitri let him cry, his body an anchor in reality. After what felt like ages, Ashe pulled back and wiped at his face, bright red and puffy from the near-constant crying this evening had plagued him with.

“Okay. I’ll go with you.” Ashe would be an idiot if he didn’t take up Dimitri on his offer. Who was he to deny the future King? “I should tell the others.” He rubbed at his face again with his forearm, but Dimitri’s warm gaze on his own didn’t waver.

“Of course. I’ll stay here. You can keep the cloak for now, if you like.” Dimitri said, and Ashe couldn’t tell if he was flushed from crying or because his heart was beating out of his chest.

Ashe hopped off the chair and held the cloak close to his body, the Crest of Blaiddyd emblazoned on its back. It fluttered behind him as he walked to the cluster of trailers, mixing with the rich azure of his costume. He went to each trailer, one by one, and told each of them the good news. Ignatz offered him a smile and a wave, while Raphael frowned and pulled him into a bone crushing hug. Dorothea and Petra both seemed upset, but were excited to hear he was going on an adventure. Leonie gave him a firm handshake and a smile, sending him off on his way.

Ashe made his way to his own trailer next, raiding it for all of his favorite belongings. His hand mirror, a bow he had been carrying around since he left Castle Gaspard, some less suggestive clothing, and a rolled up painting Ignatz had done of Christophe. Ashe looked around for his brother, somewhat surprised to find he had not made any untowards comments towards Dimitri and himself. Ashe figured it was likely because Dimitri could see him too, and he must have held some sort of restraint from smarting him around the prince. Ashe’s eyes fell on the crystal ball, sitting on its pillow and shining multicolored in the lights. He shook his head and left it behind, tucking his belongings into a knapsack and returning to where Dimitri sat. The other man stood up, offering to take the bag. A few other people had arrived since Ashe had left, recognizing the three men from earlier now standing around Dimitri. Ashe curled the cloak around himself, feeling terribly small compared to each of them, their stature suggesting how much they had been trained and hardened by war.

Dimitri closed the distance between the two of then, bag in his hand, and leaned down to kiss the top of Ashe's head. Ashe covered his face with his hands and turned red all the way to his ears. When Dimitri stepped back, Sylvain laughed and clapped a hand to Dedue’s back.

“Who would have thought His Highness was such a charmer, huh? Every lady I tried to proposition tonight knocked me flat on my ass when I did the same thing.”

Dedue remained stoic, shaking his head at the other man's antics. “You are not His Highness. Your methods are also … different.”

“True, true.” Sylvain answered, glancing over to Felix. “Speaking of ladies, are Annie, Mercie, and Ingrid ready to go? His Highness has us camping out at the Castle before we leave to travel west.”

“I am not their keeper. Ask them yourself.” Felix snapped back. Over his shoulder, Ashe saw an exhausted look on Felix’s brother's face. He muffled a giggle behind his hand as Dimitri turned back to his friends and gave them a wave.

"We'll start heading to the castle now. Ashe, where did you say your siblings were?"

"Oh!" Ashe piped up, hugging the cloak a little closer. "Zoe and Gabe are doing some restocking at a general store. But we should just grab them in the morning, i-if that's all right." He looked up at the moon hanging in the center of the sky, his face illuminated in its pale glow. Dimitri's eye seemed to hang on him a moment too long before nodding in agreement.

"All right, then. Have you been on a horse?"

The group of men were heading out to the stables, Ashe following along behind. He had been on a horse, but it had been a few years since he had tried to ride them back at Castle Gaspard. The horses he had trained on were placid pack horses, not the war horses these men all rode. "Yeah, but it's been … a while." Dimitri laughed and placed a hand on the small of his back.

"You can ride with me."

Ashe blushed again as Sylvain let out a low whistle. From behind him, he heard the sound of a fist connecting with someone's body, causing Sylvain to laugh and grunt. "Look, all I'm saying is His Highness is being rather --" another punch rang out. "Relax, Felix! What, do you want to --" Ashe spun around as he watched Sylvain get tackled to the ground, laughing all the while. Dimitri and Dedue both sighed in unison.

Dimitri nosed at the top of Ashe's head to get his attention. "Don't mind them." He spoke under his breath, as Ashe felt a smile against his hair. "They are always like this. They mean well." Ashe tried not to feel so different from all of these men. The Prince thought he was worthwhile to bring along, so that must have accounted for something.

Dimitri noticed his silence and moved his hand from Ashe's back to his shoulder, turning them to face each other. "Ashe." He spoke, his voice thick with sincerity. "I promise, this will be a worthwhile venture."

Ashe's head bobbed quickly. "O-oh of course. Anything is better than the carnival, really." He took a deep breath and got up on his tip toes, pecking Dimitri's cheek. It felt incredibly wrong to kiss someone of his status, but Dimitri started it! "Just have some nerves, is all!" He laughed at himself and fiddled with the furs hanging down from the cloak. Dimitri placed a hand under his chin and turned him gently to face him again, their eyes locking.

"I understand. I have faith in you." Their faces were close, and Ashe could feel the longing in the other man's eye, sending shock waves through his body. He slowly curled his hand around Dimitri's wrist and pressed a kiss to the cool metal. 

"Yeah. Me too, Dimitri. I trust you."

He couldn't remember in any of the stories he had read if the hero ever got to kiss the king. Probably not. In the back of his mind, he wondered if maybe he could pen a story of his own. A boy who had lost so much, a teen who had been given a gift then had it ripped from his hands, had to grow up on his own and become an adult too soon. But finally, finally he had a chance to go on his adventure. And he would be a fool if he didn't take it.