Chapter Text
Caspar wasn't actually bad at reading people, usually. He had a tendency to be loud and to barrel into things with the energy of ten dogs on a single leash, but that didn't mean he was was completely oblivious.
Until it came to romance. At least, romance that wasn't about other people. He could pretty accurately notice when someone was flirting with anyone but him, but that was about it. When he was involved, Caspar always seemed to get things backwards. Sometimes he would jump to the conclusion people were giving him signals when they were really just being friendly. More often, people would hit on him or make suggestive comments and Caspar would completely miss them until he was told about it later. Either way, he always seemed to get it wrong. Too eager or too laid back, romance wasn't something that he felt he understood.
Don't even get him started on figuring out his own feelings. They were confusing and hard to figure out, and when he did manage to sort through them, his feelings were just as backwards. He got crushes on people totally unavailable or he felt nothing toward the people who were actually interested in him.
It was easier to just avoid the whole thing entirely. Romance wasn't for him and it wasn't what he was looking for. Crushes would pass, people would get over it, and he would be fine. He could just ignore the whole thing.
That's what he thought before he got a crush on Linhardt.
Linhardt was his best friend, his oldest friend, and was definitely not in the running. The butterflies he created in Caspar's stomach were decidedly unwelcome, and the way Caspar's heart leapt into his throat whenever Linhardt brushed hands was distracting.
Caspar had a habit of rushing into things, too impatient to wait and see and possibly mess things up by waiting too long. Maybe not wanting to make a move was another example of him being backwards where romance was concerned. Or maybe he saw the feelings, realized that he did not want them, and immediately jumped into denial without thinking about it. He would do his best to ignore those feelings and that was that, regardless.
What helped was that he was sure that he wasn't going to misread any signals from Linhardt. Linhardt was easy to understand, Caspar thought. They were friends. They had been friends for ages.
When Linhardt got him flowers for his birthday, it was because the greenhouse was so readily available and much closer to the dorms than the marketplace was, and Linhardt probably didn't want to walk all that way. Plus the Professor bought flowers for basically everyone, and there was no way the Professor was trying to romance everyone, so there was no point reading into flowers as presents.
When Linhardt said he was one of the few people he could stand, Caspar knew it was because they had been friends for so long. One time Linhardt asked if he wanted to spend the day together, just the two of them, and Caspar remembered what he said about not being able to stand anyone else and so of course that was it, he probably just wanted to get away from them for a while. When Linhardt told him he meant a lot to him, Caspar had found no problem telling him he felt the same, after all, they were friends. When Linhardt said more than friends, Caspar corrected himself: best friends.
That time he asked Caspar to dance at the ball was just the kind of thing Linhardt did to lazily prove a point; he always said it annoyed him that functions like that had unnecessary traditions about gender. Since Caspar didn't care about making a scene ever in his entire life, of course he was the best pick.
Linhardt's hands were warm in his as they waltzed. Caspar tried to ignore the non-platonic shivers he was getting from them. His dance partner was taller but Caspar was leading because Linhardt had said dryly that he was too lazy to. They both knew how to dance, being nobles, but Caspar was far more enthusiastic about the physical activity. Whether or not he was actually good at it was debatable. Good thing neither of them cared how well they could dance.
Step, step, spin. Step step, spin. Caspar was enjoying this more than he was comfortable with.
"Caspar, there's something I need to tell you."
Caspar took the distraction from his thoughts eagerly, without really thinking about what that could be leading to. "You know you can tell me anything!"
"I've switched classes."
Only the muscle memory his very exasperated dancing tutor had ingrained in him kept Caspar from stopping in his tracks. "What?"
Step, step, spin. Linhardt looked guilty for some reason; Caspar assumed that it was because he didn't even mention he was thinking about it. "I asked to join Professor Byleth's class."
"The Golden Deer?" That was weird, they all seemed so energetic. Caspar thought he was the only energetic one Linhardt could put up with. "Is it because Edelgard makes you go to class?"
"No, though I do have some reservations about her," said Linhardt, with that expression on his face that meant he was being patient with Caspar as he explained a problem. Normally that was for arithmetic. "The Professor is fascinating, and I think might have an unusual Crest…"
"Aw, don't tell me you have a little crush?" Caspar didn't mean it, he knew (or shamefully he hoped) that Linhardt's interest was probably scholarly. He wished he hadn't said it, though, as when he did it was like punching himself in the stomach.
Linhardt meanwhile, gave him the flattest look. "This is why you're so frustrating sometimes, Caspar." He stopped dancing abruptly. "I'm getting something to drink."
Instantly apologetic, Caspar followed him off the dance floor. "Aw, don't be like that, I'm sorry for teasing."
Linhardt sighed. "I know."
"I'm not mad about you changing classes," he continued, "But are you sure?"
Linhardt's smile was sad and Caspar didn't know why. "It'll probably be better this way. You can be very distracting from my studies."
Oh, maybe he was sad because they were going to be separated? Caspar wasn't really interested in switching classes, the Professor might have been good with a sword but didn't seem to be great at throwing a punch. He was content where he was, and it wasn't like he'd never see Linhardt again.
"But we'll still be friends, right?"
"If course, Caspar," said Linhardt, and to Caspar's surprise he hugged him. "We'll always be friends."
Linhardt rarely expressed himself through physical contact, and Caspar wondered if he was reading too much into it. The hug was warm and nice and did hell to Caspar's emotions. He felt guilty about how good the hug felt, and that he didn't really want it to end. Maybe they did need some space, and then Caspar could get over these other feelings he was having.
Linhardt let go. "I'm going to get some air." He turned tail and left so fast Caspar was left still wondering if his hair had always smelled so nice.
Soon Hilda asked him to dance and Caspar shook those thoughts from his head. He'd get over it.
Linhardt switched classes like he said he would and very quickly it seemed like that class picked up even more drama than it had already. Caspar worried about it. Maybe he should have been the one to switch classes, he wouldn't mind all the excitement.
They still hung out together, if less. Caspar's crush got easier to bear, though that was less because the feelings went away and more that as they got deeper they were ironically easier to manage. A crush made him flustered. Whatever it was turning into made him feel calm and safe around Linhardt. As calm as Caspar ever was, relatively.
The rest of the year passed quickly, and Caspar believed everything was probably going to be fine, weird new Professor or not. And then Edelgard crowned herself Emperor and went to war with the Church.
So maybe everything was not going to be fine.
They were both from the Empire and so met each other semi-frequently over those next five years. Caspar was eager to fight and didn't care about the cause so much. Okay, war was definitely worse than he imagined it would be but at least he was useful.
Linhardt was different. Linhardt was always asking questions like, were they on the right side or shouldn't they choose their own path rather than relying on family ties or what kind of people were they allying themselves with?
Caspar wasn't really sure what their alternative was. He figured he would let Linhardt keep asking questions and he would keep fighting until this whole thing was over. They both grew older. Caspar grew taller, the fighting putting more muscle on him. Linhardt grew more serious, just enough to worry about whether or not each battle would be the last they'd see alive.
More disconcertingly, he also got more good-looking as time went by. Caspar noticed that too, and tried to avoid it being distracting when he had bigger problems to worry about. He still thought abandoning romantic notions was the right choice, but a part of him caught himself wondering what would happen if he ever changed his mind.
He focused on reaching the next day first, and the next, and the next.
Then one day Linhardt was gone. He didn't even say goodbye; the Emperor had to tell Caspar about it herself.
"Caspar, it is imperative that you listen to me."
"But you just said my best friend is gone! I can't just wait here, I have to go looking for him!" Caspar needed her to give the order, to let him lead the search party, or he'd have to go on his own and then he might get accused of deserting.
"He's not missing," said Edelgard, with that look she had when she tried to explain something she'd made complicated to him.
Hubert, ever at her elbow, crossed his arms. "That lazy fool went and turned traitor. Who knew he had it in him?"
Caspar stopped pacing, freezing in his tracks. "What?"
"We have reason to believe he has defected." Edelgard looked angry about it but she at least tried to be tactful.
"Oh." Was that all? He thought Linhardt was captured or killed, not that he left. Caspar had seen the signs, obviously. Linhardt had been looking for any excuse to go. He hadn't even the first one to jump ship - Petra had also split and Dorothea never fought for them at all. It was not that big of a surprise.
What hurt was that Linhardt hadn't asked Caspar if he would come with him. Aside from everything else, he thought they were friends.
"If he has," said Edelgard, her serious voice on, "You cannot keep in contact with him. If he contacts you, you must pass it on to us. You might have to fight him on the field of battle, Caspar, are you prepared to do that?"
No. No, he was not. But Linhardt was a healer and Caspar was a front-range fighter and hopefully the two of them would be kept far apart. "You know me, I'm always raring for a fight!"
Maybe it was because he almost never lied that they believed him.
The war went on. Actually, the war picked up the pace. After the surprising return of the Professor and the now spirited offensive of the combined Alliance-Church enemy, things started to move quickly, the tides of war shifting more in a few months than they had in years.
Caspar fought where Edelgard told him to, because he liked to fight and because she was his Emperor. He had to follow her.
Sometimes he had trouble sleeping. It was common for him to be too wired to sleep, but recently it was because he'd lay down and with nothing to distract him he would wonder where Linhardt was. What was he doing? Who was he with? It was so frustrating. He couldn't tell if he was angry or sad that Linhardt left, or if he wanted to go find him. But if Linhardt had wanted Caspar with him, he would have asked, wouldn't he?
He started training at night, so he'd exhaust himself and fall asleep the moment he hit the bed.
Eventually, Caspar was stationed at Fort Merceus under the command of the Death Knight. He really, really didn't like that guy. Caspar wasn't sure about which side of the war was in the right, but he still liked to believe that he was on the side of justice. The Death Knight made him question that. Wasn't he the guy who kidnapped Flayn? Wasn't he at that whole business in Remire? Caspar hadn't been at either of those incidents, but he heard about them. He knew Edelgard kept the Death Knight around because he was incredibly good at killing people, which was useful in a war, but every day the Death Knight's execution order wasn't issued, Caspar got more frustrated.
The attack, when it came, was a surprise. Claude had snuck the troops into Fort Merceus, and Caspar was equal parts offended and impressed by the sneakiness.
He was assigned near the back exits to defend them in case the Empire actually had to retreat. Despite his second thoughts, he was ready to fight anyone. He couldn't lose. And if he did lose, he'd die. He was prepared for that.
He wasn't prepared to face Linhardt.
The sound of hooves on stone echoed as he approached, and Caspar's heart sank as he lifted his axe. They had actually got his old friend on a horse, the audacity. Caspar's hopes that Linhardt was going to be kept to the back and the two of them would never cross paths on the battlefield were dashed.
"Looks like we ended up on opposing sides, Linhardt!" Caspar tried to bluff through the sudden panic welling up in his chest.
"Certainly seems that way. I could almost weep for how things turned out. Do you realize, Caspar, that this may be the first time we ever fight?"
He said that, but he had not made a move to actually fight Caspar.
"Yeah, you're right. The first and probably the last!"
Caspar should have run toward him then. But then, Linhardt should have already hit him with magic before he got in range. He had a horse, and all of the advantage.
Neither of them moved.
Caspar couldn't stand the tension. "You first!"
"Don't be ridiculous," said Linhardt, his voice a bit sad in a way that to Caspar, who knew him so well, it sounded heartbreakingly distressed. "Why haven't you attacked me yet? You must know that closing the distance is your best tactic."
Caspar couldn't make himself move even if he wanted to. "Yeah? Well you must know that if I reach you, you're dead!"
Linhardt's horse whined and shook its head. He steadied it. "Caspar, we're at war. We're on opposite sides. As much as I hate to admit, we have to fight."
"We wouldn't if you hadn't left me behind!" Caspar's voice broke, which had never happened in battle before.
The look on Linhardt's face was rare - he looked stricken. After a moment he trotted up to Caspar, far closer than he should have gotten. "I had a promise to keep, Caspar. I thought I would go to the Monastery, no one would be there and I would come back. It didn't work out the way I had planned."
Caspar didn't even notice that his axe was loose in his hand, hanging down by his side. "But you wanted to leave for ages."
Surprise crossed Linhardt's face for a moment, but then the sorrow crept back. "Yes, but I always hoped to at least say goodbye before I did."
"I don't understand. Why would you have said goodbye?" Caspar swallowed. "I would have come with you."
Linhardt's mouth parted, and then he let out a breath and spoke so softly on the exhale. "Oh Caspar."
"Now we have to fight, and - but -" Caspar struggled. Had he ever actually said the words 'but I don't want to fight' when faced with one before? He gave up. He didn't know what to say, and what few ideas he did have broke his cardinal 'no romance stuff with Linhardt' rule.
Linhardt stared at him for one achingly long moment before lifting his staff. For once in his entire life, Caspar didn't fight it. He braced himself for the spell.
"I'm so sorry, Caspar," said Linhardt.
And then he cast Warp, and Caspar disappeared.