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A day after the battle in Magdred, the spirits of the entire monastery were heavy with sorrow. Most people after a harsh battle, even one of seasoned blood, would be feeling guilt or stress. The horrors of the battlefield are not for those who are young or faint of heart. There’s blood, mutilation, and death. For many of the students, this was still a new part of their time here at Garreg Mach as they prepare to become knights and warriors. There was still much to get used to when it came to quelling warring bandits. But Madgred didn’t just have bandits. For most of the students, it was another hard battle that just happened to transpire. People died, they lived. But, for others, it was the hardest battle of their lives. And with the green blood in their veins, it almost felt like the world was on its way to collapsing.
He wouldn’t leave his room. They’d returned to the monastery to heal their wounds and spirits but he refused, shutting himself away in his room much like Bernadetta did at the end of every skirmish. Dimitri came to knock on his door, asking if he could do anything as the prince of Faregus, to appease his sad soul. He was met with a dejected “No” and nothing else. Mercedes and Annette came, offering him safe passage with friends to the cathedral to pray for the fallen man he was mourning. All they got was a tearful rejection mingled with a forced thanks. Ingrid asked if she could enter to read him some of her favorite stories but she was yelled at and then apologized too as he, again, declined. Even those of other Houses came to offer support. Caspar asked if he wanted to train but to no avail. Ignatz and Raphael asked if he wanted to go out to the town to get his mind off things but he refused. No one could get past the door between them and Ashe, the adoptive son of the recently fallen Lonato.
“I’m concerned.” Dimitri pondered, poking a fork at the bits of food on his plate. “Ashe isn’t like this. He’s taken Lonato’s passing very hard.”
“I mean you would too.” Sylvain shrugged, his eyes scanning the dining hall for a girl he hadn't seen before. “Lonato was his father basically, right?”
“Not basically. He was.” Ingrid hadn’t touched her food at all in worry. Her hands lie demurely on her lap as she stared at the vegetables and meat.
“That makes sense. Then how do we help him?”
Sylvain shoveled a bite into his mouth “Probably just leave him alone. He doesn’t want to see us so we’ll leave him be. Mourning takes time.”
“But he has meal duty tomorrow.”
“What are you worried about food tomorrow, Ingrid?”
“Sylvain, please don’t accuse me right now. Shut your mouth.”
“I was joking.”
“Don’t joke.” His voice boomed across the table. Ingrid and Sylvain had almost forgotten he was there he had been so quiet. With his plate clean and his eyes now forward, his heavy brow fixed on Sylvain. “Ashe has lost the one man he called family. Think more of him.”
“Y-yes Dedue.”
“But cooking is his favorite thing to do.” Sylvain rebuked. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but each time he had meal duty, he just absolutely glows! I think if being a knight falls through, he’d be happy opening a restaurant! That kid loves his cooking! But if he can’t make it tomorrow . . . I just worry what that means for his soul.”
There was a small pause as Ingrid began to eat her food in silence. Dedue cocked his head towards Dimitri. “Your Highness, where does Ashe come from? He is not one I know well yet.”
“Gaspard, I believe. Ashe hasn’t told me much besides that and how he followed Lonato so piously.” Dimitri sighed. “The poor boy.”
“May I have permission to speak to him?”
Dimitri blinked. “Of course? Dedue, now that we’re here, you don’t have to ask me permission for everything you know.”
“I understand.” Dedue stood up in one fluid motion, grabbing his clean plate and Sylvain’s as well. “May I ask the cooks for permission to use their space?”
“Deude, you can do what you want here. I’m not your employer here, just a friend.”
“Thank you, your Highness. I will be busy the rest of the day, I hope that is okay with you.”
“Yes its fine!” Dimitri sighed and rubbed his temples. “I swear, Dedue, I’m not your mother. Okay, how about this. I will not require your protection until tomorrow morning. Is that sufficient?”
“Yes, your Highness.” With dishes behind him, he bowed deeply at Dimitri. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”
*~*~*~*~*~*
“I don’t understand. Lonato, why?” His eyes were raw from crying so much, he could tell. Had he ever cried this much in his life? Ashe leaned his head against the wall under his window with another heavy labored sigh. The tears were coming again, he could feel them. Were they for Lonato or for a man he hardly knew? He couldn’t tell anymore. After knowing about the assassination plot, he couldn’t help but have his mind wander to the dark recesses of his mind. Who was Lonato to him? Was he anyone important to Lonato? Had he been lied to this entire time? No, no that just didn’t seem right. Lonato took him in when no one else would. Why would a man that noble and that thoughtless lie to him like that? There had to be some other reason. But what if there wasn’t? What if Lonato had only taken him under his wing as another soldier to use? Or a status to flaunt? No, that didn’t seem right either. Lonato had taught him so much about hospitality and compassion. The thoughts replayed in his mind over and over as he clutched his hands closer to his chest. Regardless, a man he knew had died. How could he ignore that?
In the mists of the spiraling and billowing thoughts, there was another knock at the door. A slow, heavy knock. Ashe wiped his tears off on his sleeve and composed himself for a moment. “No thank you, please go away.”
“I do not wish to remove you from your room.” Dedue’s deep voice echoed into the small chamber from the cracks in the door. “I have something for you.”
“I said no thank you!”
“You have not eaten all day. Please.”
Ashe paused a moment as his stomach answered for him with a lowly growl. “Please leave me alone. I don’t want to talk.”
“Nor do I. I just have a gift.”
He sniffled and stood up, feeling his knees buckling from sitting down for so long and probably the lack of food. As he did, a smell wafted through the space under the door. It smelled like a medley of spices he could only recall being in marketplaces back in Gaspard. A sweet aroma mixed with salts and herbs. He felt his stomach lurch both in hunger and in pleasure as he realized he could also smell the fatty oils of a cooked fish and red beans within those spices. He placed a hand on his gut to make sure his entire body didn’t explode out of itself as he stood up. He stumbled towards the door and unlocked it, opening it just a bit. More of the familiar, homey, smell filled his room and his nostrils. From the limited scope from the crack in the door, he could see what he was smelling; a perfectly grilled fish on a bed of beans and vegetables.
“I . . . Dedue. What—“
“I asked the cooks what those in Gaspard ate. It’s good we only have river fish here.” Dedue placed his large hand between the door and the doorframe to hold it open for Ashe. “Please eat. You may mourn but you may not mourn on an empty stomach.”
“Dedue!” Ashe stumbled like a drunk man through the door and into Dedue’s chest, tears streaming down his face. For a moment, he couldn’t get the words to come out of his mouth. He knew he felt an overwhelming sense of comfort, like he’d been transported back home to the restaurant he helped with when he was young. But he also felt joy seeing someone else cook it for him, guilt that he hadn’t eaten all day and someone had to bring food from the dining hall to his room, and appreciation at the man holding the platter. He had no words for that, just a few sobs that had become commonplace over the days’ time. He gripped onto Dedue’s uniform to keep himself from falling over, tears blotting onto his buttons. “I . . . I-I—“
“No words. I understand.” Deude placed his free hand on Ashe’s head and slowly ruffled his hair. “Home has a familiar smell. It never leaves. Please, eat. Think of home for a while.”
“T-t-thank you.” Was all Ashe could muster. He composed himself long enough to stand up straight and grab the plate, the warm steam mixing with his steady flow of tears. “I’m so—“
“Also I am taking your meal duty tomorrow. Do you accept?”
Ashe leaned against the doorframe. “Oh no, I completely forgot! I. . . I mean—“
“I shall take it for you then.” Dedue interrupted. “If you wish to help, you may. I want to cook with you sometime. It may be tomorrow or later.”
“I. . . Dedue how do I thank you? I just . . . I’m—“
“Eat. That’s all the thanks I need.” He gave a small bow to the freckled boy before walking away down the hall. Ashe used this opportunity to shuffle back into his room, lock the door, and start digging in before the meal so graciously given to him went cold. With one bite, he closed his eyes and imagined the Gaspar fields and the noon-day sky blessing them with a chilled warmth. He could hear the birds around him singing as a breeze blew his hair around.
It was just what he needed to feel at peace for just a moment.