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Chapter Text

It wasn’t often that Dedue found himself in Fhirdiad these days. In truth, he wasn’t fond of the city - he never had been. While he had some good memories there, they were far outweighed by the unpleasant ones. The times he’d endured harsh words and unfriendly looks, the cold streets filled with people who didn’t want him there, the drafty castles where he never quite belonged, no matter how openly their prince welcomed him.

Though he had lived in Fhirdiad with Dimitri before the war, it had never been a home to him.

Things were different now. Not as different as he might like, but still, Fhirdiad had changed. The Kingdom had changed, Fódlan had changed. Because of Professor Byleth - King Byleth, now - and Claude.

Now when Dedue walked the streets of Fhirdiad, though he might receive a few cold looks, most people greeted him with unconcern. There were far more outsiders within Fódlan now than there had been even five years ago, much less before the war. The Kingdom’s history with Duscur was fraught still, and would be for years, but change had come hard and fast. Now, it was unfashionable to greet ousiders with disdain or hatred. Even if someone still believed the lies about the Tragedy of Duscur, they would be firmly encouraged to pretend otherwise.

Trade had flourished, and the country with it, and though the first years of King Byleth’s reign had been full of uncertainty, now few could deny that they had chosen the correct path. Now, though Dedue would never be truly fond of Fhirdiad, he could walk its streets with a certain sense of peace.

After all, he too had contributed to this. He had fought for his people and his land, restored their home, and even now he still did all he could for them, reaching out to Fódlan, to Almyra - he had even visited Brigid, and spoken with ambassadors from Dagda and Sreng, though neither had yet invited him to visit.

Every time he visited Fhirdiad it felt different. He had memories here, memories that would never leave him - precious ones, full of friendship and loyalty alongside the hardship and pain. He could see those memories in the stones, in the snow that melted along the rooftops. It was spring, but still the snow lingered, along with a chill in the air.

Last time he’d been in the city, it had been to meet with some of the nobles about trade routes they wished to establish. For all that Faerghus was Duscur’s closest neighbor, his people had been far more willing to reach out to Almyra and Brigid, and even the more far-flung parts of Fódlan. They were only slowly, reluctantly beginning to allow the people of Faerghus to trade with them.

Dedue thought that was entirely correct. Fódlan had changed, but many of the people who led the noble houses of Faerghus were the same people who had supported the massacre of his people and the annexation of their country. The folk of Duscur would never trade with them - but the younger nobles, the houses who had supported King Byleth’s efforts to restore Duscur, they were slightly more welcome.

But that wasn’t why he was there today.

In truth, he wasn’t here on official business at all. He was here for one thing only: to see Ashe.

When they had first met again after the war, it had been strange. Awkward - even uncomfortable. Dimitri’s capture and apparent death had left Ashe with few options. He’d thrown in with House Rowe, fighting for them. Though he had eventually learned of Dimitri’s survival, it had only been after Gronder Field, where again he had fallen. Ashe had never returned to his classmates’ sides, and Dedue could not blame him for that. They’d all had to walk their own paths during the war.

But Ashe still held guilt in his heart for that, even now. He had apologized to Dedue when they met again, apologized for not fighting at his side, at Dimitri’s side. Though Dedue had attempted to assure him that it was all right, he still saw guilt deep in Ashe’s eyes whenever they had the opportunity to meet.

And in truth, they met often. At least, often for Dedue, who had few close friends and was constantly traveling. He would visit Ashe while in Fhirdiad on business, and sometimes - like now - would find excuses to visit even when there was no real business.

There was guilt between them, and history, but even so Dedue found Ashe’s presence a comfort. More so than most of his former classmates, now scattered across Fódlan and beyond. Ashe had always treated him with friendship, and he’d never allowed prejudice to change his opinion of Dedue. Even now he did what he could.

Despite briefly fighting against their now-king in the war, Ashe had sworn his loyalty and thrown himself into rebuilding efforts. In return, King Byleth had made him a knight. Dedue knew also that Ashe had been offered House Gaspard, but refused it - likely out of guilt, though they had never spoken of it. Now he served the king, mostly in Fhirdiad. He had begun by helping the commoners rebuild, but now that Fódlan was more stable he spent most of his time encouraging equality, fostering connections.

He was a bridge between the common folk and the nobles, championing their causes and speaking for them. He also made an effort to encourage the people of Fhirdiad to reach out to foreigners - those from Duscur especially - and build an understanding.

Dedue knew that, as a young man, Ashe had dreamed of being a noble knight. Now he lived up to that ideal, but it was clear too that he would never believe he had done enough.

Dedue knew exactly how that felt. Perhaps they all carried this guilt, those who had once been Blue Lions. The guilt of losing their prince, their king. The guilt of being unable to save him.

Many of them, Dedue hadn’t spoken to in years. He could not reach out now in an attempt to heal their guilt, though perhaps someday - someday it would be possible. But Ashe he spoke to regularly, and Ashe he trusted. That was why he was there, outside the modest townhouse that was Ashe’s home.

A servant answered the door when he knocked. It felt odd still to know that Ashe had servants, but Dedue knew that Ashe employed them mainly because he was expected to, and that they were treated well. Often they were hired from the ranks of the poor and untrained, given an opportunity to learn the work of a servant in Ashe’s home so that they could find a more prestigious position, and sent off with a glowing recommendation when the time was right.

Still, it was strange.

“I am here to see Sir Ubert,” Dedue said. He did not recognize the man at the door, but saw his eyes widen and ignored it. “I sent a letter ahead so that he would be aware of my arrival.”

“Um, yes,” the servant said, and stepped back from the door. “Please, wait in the sitting room. Shall I bring tea?”

“Thank you,” Dedue said, and took a seat in the small, well-kept room. Ashe did not live beyond his means, did not seek to impress. He had never been that sort of a person - he had never forgotten his origins. The simplicity of his furnishings and home were far more of a comfort to Dedue than lavish surroundings would have been.

Another nobleman might have kept Dedue waiting, but Ashe, of course, did not. He entered the room with a tentative smile that blossomed into something true when he saw Dedue, and Dedue stood up to greet him.

They had both aged, but Ashe still looked so very much himself. His clothes were made of finer fabric, but their style was simple. He was still slender and not particularly tall, his hair was still tucked behind his ear, and the spray of freckles across his nose had not changed.

He was still as lovely as he had always been.

“Dedue!” For a moment, Dedue thought Ashe might embrace him, but he held back, simply reaching to take Dedue’s hands in his own and squeeze them gently. “I thought you would be coming tomorrow. You arrived sooner than I expected.”

“The weather was fine for traveling,” Dedue said. “I made good time.”

“Please, sit down,” Ashe said, and they did. His servant brought in tea and small, dense spiced biscuits, and for awhile they talked about small things: Dedue’s recent journeys, Ashe’s successful attempts to rebuild parts of the Fhridiad slums, what their mutual acquaintances had been up to. It was pleasant, it was easy. Dedue was not one for small talk and never had been, but he had always found Ashe easy to talk to - and Ashe, for reasons that were beyond Dedue, seemed to feel the same about him.

He always had, even back at the monastery. Even when everyone viewed Dedue with wariness, when they whispered behind his back, when they kept their distance from him. Ashe had not listened to the rumors, had not kept his distance. Of course all of the Blue Lions had no choice but to be around Dedue - but not all of them made an attempt to get to know him. To understand him.

Ashe had from the very beginning. Back in those days, when the only person he could consider a true friend was also the prince he served, that had meant a great deal to him. It still did now that the world had changed, now that he had cautiously made more friends and acquaintances - here, at home in Duscur, and further afield. Few were as close as Ashe - few took up such space in his heart.

“Did you come here to talk about trade routes again? I didn’t think I’d see you back so soon.” Ashe poured them both more tea, the pot still warm.

And that brought them to the crux of it, the reason for Dedue’s trip. He felt suddenly uncertain, anxious, though he knew there was no reason for that. “I am not here on business,” he said. “I came to ask if you would like to come on a journey with me.”

Ashe’s eyes widened. Dedue could not fault him for his surprise - he’d never made an offer like that before. But close on the heels of that surprise came a smile, happiness and excitement all tangled up. Ashe’s face was so open, his emotions so clear. Dedue wondered if he was that way with everyone, or if this was a gift that few received.

“Of course I’d like to,” Ashe said. “And this is really good timing, I’m not in the middle of anything right now - I mean, everything I’ve been working on here will do fine without me around. Where would this journey be taking us?”

Feeling pleased, Dedue noticed that Ashe had said yes even before Dedue had told him where they’d be going. Perhaps he simply wanted to travel - but perhaps there was more to it. “Almyra.”

Again, Ashe’s eyes widened. “Almyra, really? I’ve never been there, but I’d love to go. Would we - would you be visiting the king?”

Ashe knew, of course, who the King of Almyra was. Everyone did now, since he’d taken the throne and extended the hand of friendship across Fódlan’s throat. He knew Dedue had been there before, as well, and that he and Claude were friends. But Ashe had not seen Claude since the war, and had not known him well even before then. To Ashe, Claude von Riegan was King Khalid of Almyra, a foreign power both somewhat terrifying and oddly friendly.

“Yes,” Dedue said. “He has invited me to visit him. He suggested that I bring you along.” What Claude’s letter had said, in fact, was If there’s someone you can trust, bring them along too. There was no one Dedue could trust in this matter more than Ashe.

“Then I’ll go,” Ashe said. His smile was genuine. Dedue could see the excitement in his eyes, and he found a matching emotion growing within his heart.

Their travels went about as well as such things could. Fódlan was a safe place to travel these days - nearly all of the chaos and disturbance caused by the war had been mended. King Byleth ruled with a steady hand and a kind heart, and they had prioritized making people safe, making sure they could live without constantly watching their backs.

As desperation eased, fewer folk had any reason to turn to thievery or banditry. Such people did still exist, of course, but the average traveler had little to fear so long as they took the main roads, all of which were protected by the nobles whose land they crossed. And, of course, Dedue and Ashe were not average travelers.

Dedue traveled often - for the first few years, it had been nearly constant. Creating treaties with other nations, reaching out to encourage trade and simply to be there, to show the face of a man from Duscur and remind everyone that his people still lived. That their land was once again their own. These days, Dedue found himself needed at home as well - as delegations from other peoples and nations came to Duscur, he was expected to be there to ease the way. He had been traveling less as a result of that.

Ashe operated almost solely out of Fhirdiad, and traveled only when summoned to the king’s court or when there was some other business to attend to. But he was a knight, and Dedue’s height and bearing spoke of his own skills as a warrior. They were not to be trifled with, not easy targets for anyone looking for money or the thrill of slaughter.

Claude had offered to send wyvern riders to ferry them to his capital city, but Dedue had declined. He had never been fond of flying, and they were in no hurry - and taking the longer overland route meant long days and precious nights spent with Ashe.

Dedue could not have said exactly when his feelings for Ashe changed. He’d always been fond of Ashe when they were at school together, but Dedue’s heart had been weighed down by the loss of his home, by his duty to Dimitri. Even if he had desired to do so, he would not have indulged in an affair of the heart - and in truth, he had not desired it. Not then.

Not during the war, when survival was all that mattered, survival and keeping his prince alive. And not immediately after, when he was mourning Dimitri, buried in his own guilt, his efforts to restore Duscur the only thing that felt as if it had any meaning to him.

It had been some time after then. Sometime after they’d met again, after Ashe had smiled at him so tentatively in the halls of the king’s palace. He’d pulled Dedue aside and told him quietly, simply, that he was sorry. It had been such a small gesture, and even now Dedue could not have said if it had been the words or merely Ashe’s presence that had made his heart lighten just the smallest bit despite everything that had come between them.

In truth, he had not thought to see Ashe ever again. After Gronder Field, he saw little of any of the others. But Ashe - Ashe had tentatively struck up a friendship, had sought Dedue out when he could. And Dedue found himself doing the same, found that Ashe’s presence was comforting, his friendship valuable.

And somewhere along the way, his feelings had turned to something more.

It had been a handful of years since then, and still Dedue hadn’t decided what to do about those feelings. He had few enough friends, he didn’t wish to jeopardize that. He’d had few romantic entanglements too, most of them brief and not initiated by him. And if that weren’t enough to give him pause, his service to his country meant constant travel, constant worry about his people, about what he could do to improve their home.

And so he’d simply visited Ashe, enjoyed his company, and told himself that someday - perhaps someday they would both be at a place in their lives where things could change. Where their history ceased to matter and they might have a chance.

Dedue did not know if now was that time. What he knew was that for the course of this journey he could enjoy Ashe’s company, and that their trip might ultimately be a healing one. Not only for himself.

So they traveled across Fódlan together, sometimes sharing conversation, sometimes simply enjoying the scenery. The journey was unhurried, something that Dedue appreciated, and when they finally crossed Fódlan’s Throat and entered Almyra, he was rewarded by Ashe’s wide-eyed, undisguised interest.

Having never been to Almyra before, he had many quiet questions for Dedue. They stayed a day and night in a small town near the pass, buying provisions for their journey across the plains to the capital, and Ashe was amazed by the food, the people, and most of all the similarities to Fódlan.

This close to the border, many Almyrans could speak their language. The peace between Fódlan and Almyra had been good for both countries, and though Ashe received a few suspicious looks from folks who likely had once fought the Alliance, mostly he was welcomed. Dedue, in his Duscur clothing, enjoyed an unmixed welcome. Duscur and Almyra had been trading partners for years now, but his people were still rare enough visitors to be remarkable.

They traveled onward. The plains were beautiful in their own odd way, the open sky above them clear enough that Ashe mentioned he felt as if he could fall into it. The weather held, and though summer was coming it was not yet warm enough to be unpleasant.

It was, Dedue thought, one of the most pleasant traveling experiences he’d had. Much of that was due to the company.

They arrived at Almyra’s capital safely. The city had immense and impressive walls, but they were ancient, and it had spread beyond them long ago. They arrived in the heat of the late afternoon, when the city was bustling, and Dedue watched Ashe look about them with undisguised interest. It was larger than Fhirdiad, and more colorful as well, with wyverns soaring the skies above and people crowding the streets. He looked forward to having the chance to explore, to being able to show Ashe the things he had come to enjoy about this place, the shops and restaurants he visited whenever he came for business.

There was a small population of Duscur folk here as well, merchants and traders. Of all the foreign nations Dedue had reached out to, Almyra had the best relationship with his own. That was due to many factors, but the most important one had, of course, been Claude.

He’d reached out to Dedue first, in fact, with a formal message not long after the reestablishment of Duscur - which in turn had not been long after he’d taken the throne of Almyra. He’d invited their representatives to visit his capital city, though Dedue still did not know if Claude had known that he would be the representative.

They had not been friends then, but they had respected one another. They had a history, and shared grief, and somehow that became a steady foundation for trust and real friendship. Claude had sent traders to Duscur, helping to get the reborn country’s economy flowing, and in return some of Dedue’s people had come here with goods of their own - and some had chosen to stay.

Dedue could not blame them. He was quite fond of Almyra as well, and perhaps more importantly, Almyrans had no preconcieved biases about his people. They’d barely heard the name ‘Duscur’ before Claude established trade relations, much less had the chance to create negative stereotypes.

It was… pleasant. A fresh slate, in a way.

He led Ashe through the streets. In truth, it would be difficult to get lost, given that their destination was the palace. Though the side streets could become narrow and hopelessly confusing, the main boulevards of the city were clear and brought them easily and directly to the walls of the palace. There, they were expected, and a well-attired servant brought them to a receiving room, bringing them tea and refreshments.

Dedue had been here before, but Ashe was understandably amazed. The palace was beautiful, all shining marble and inlaid tile, with wide windows and high ceilings. It was constructed so that breezes flowed freely, cooling the interior even in the height of the afternoon. Everything - the architecture, the furnishings, the decorations - was exotic and foreign to Ashe, he knew, and it seemed that he would not ever get tired of seeing that look of wonder on his companion’s face.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Ashe breathed. He held a cup of tea in his hands, but hadn’t taken a sip of it, too occupied by his study of a detailed, incredibly complex rug. “We have some Almyran traders in Fhirdiad now, but… this is incredible. So much more detailed than anything I’ve seen before.”

“Well, no offense, but we don’t really send you guys our best stuff.”

Dedue turned, the faintest of smiles on his lips as he saw Ashe flush and whirl toward the doorway.

“Oh! I’m - I’m sorry,” Ashe said, though Dedue didn’t think he had anything to apologize for. He bowed, a carefully respectful gesture. “I didn’t hear you come in. I want to thank you for your hospitality, Your Majesty - um, King Khalid.” It was obvious that he was flustered, uncertain what the proper etiquette was.

Dedue realized as well that he had not warned Ashe that they wouldn’t be presented formally to the king. In truth, he hadn’t thought about it - he’d visited Almyra often enough to be used to Claude’s ways. But Ashe was used to the formality of Fhirdiad, even that of King Byleth’s court. And really, it wasn’t that Almyrans didn’t have their own customs, their own expressions of formality. It was simply Claude, who was entirely too casual with his friends.

“Hey, it’s good to see you again, Ashe.” Claude was smiling, a reassuring sight, but Dedue studied him closely nonetheless. Though they did not see each other often, Claude was a dear friend, and Dedue knew that the crown sometimes sat heavy on his shoulders. Though his reign had been good for Almyrans, not all of them agreed with his choices.

But though there was a hint of weariness in his eyes, the set of his shoulders, there was no tension in the way he moved. He’d brought none of his personal guard with him, also a good sign - when there were active threats, he would often have one of the very few he trusted nearby no matter where he went.

It seemed things were peaceful, for now.

“Your accent’s not bad,” Claude said, walking over to them, “but it’s all right if you call me Claude. I like it, actually. Always reminds me of some of the good times.”

Dedue thought Claude liked to have a name just for his Fódlan friends, almost like a separate self - like he was able to step outside of being King Khalid and simply be Claude, who did not have a kingdom on his shoulders. If that was the case, Dedue did not blame him.

Ashe looked torn between propriety and the admittedly easier prospect of using a name he could pronounce without difficulty. Dedue took pity on him.

“I have always called him Claude,” he said quietly, and Claude smiled, turning to greet Dedue with an easy clasp of hands.

“See? I really don’t need all the Your Majesties either, at least not among friends. You’re not here as diplomats, just visitors. Don’t worry too much about the political implications.” He stepped back, looking them both over. “You must be tired after your journey. We’ll have plenty of time to talk - why don’t I have someone show you your rooms? You can rest awhile, wash up if you need to. We’ll have dinner together this evening, after you’ve had a little time.” Claude grinned, impish. “I’m expecting to hear all the court gossip, Ashe. Dedue never brings me anything juicy.”

Ashe smiled, flushing a little, unused to Claude’s easy manner and the glow of his direct attention. He’d always been charismatic, but since becoming king he’d honed it to perfection, another weapon in his arsenal. It was not easy to hold the throne of Almyra.

“It would be good to wash off the travel dust and settle in,” Dedue said. For a moment, Claude caught his eye, just a touch more serious than he had been. “And I am certain you have business to deal with as well.”

“The work of a king is never done,” Claude said, still smiling. He summoned the same servant who had shown them in, and they were whisked off to their respective rooms.

Dedue had stayed in the palace before, and he was given the same set of rooms he usually used. Ashe was housed a bit further down the hall. This wing was not lavishly appointed - it was used for guests like them, people who were friends of the throne but did not need to be flattered or impressed. It was comfortable, cool, and they each had small adjoining baths for their own use.

“Are you all right?” Dedue asked quietly when Ashe lingered for a moment before entering his room.

“Just tired, I think,” Ashe said, managing to summon up a smile for him. “And a little out of my depth. I don’t usually meet foreign heads of state.”

Dedue smiled at him, a brief and soft thing that he hoped would ease Ashe’s mind. He did his best not to read anything into the faint flush that colored Ashe’s cheeks. “You have nothing to fear from Claude. Treat him as you did when we were all at school together and you’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t know him that well then,” Ashe said, biting his lip nervously. “But - you’re right. I’ll try not to be too formal.”

Dedue nodded, and for a moment he wanted to reach out, to hold Ashe, ease away his worries. But he did not.

“Rest,” he said. “Dinner won’t be until after the sun goes down.”

Ashe smiled at him and took his advice, disappearing into his room. Dedue retreated to his own. Familiar as they were, it felt strange. He had been sharing close quarters with Ashe for the whole journey, and now they were apart.

He was lonely, he realized, and felt foolish. He had spent so many years of his life alone. The last time he’d spent so much time around one person had been during the war.

Dimitri.

Dedue closed his eyes, pushed that worry from his mind. He washed up, changed into fresh clothing, and felt grateful that he was not tired from the journey - because, as expected, not long after he’d changed there was a knock on his door.

It wasn’t Claude who came to fetch him, but a member of his personal guard. This was no surprise, as Claude surely had plenty of business to attend to and the folk who formed his guard were those he trusted most in Almyra. They had pledged themselves completely to Claude’s protection, and if Claude - cautious, clever, incredibly slow to trust - allowed them to guard his safety, Dedue would place his trust in them as well. If nothing else, he could always be certain they would do what was necessary to keep Claude safe and alive, even if that may not be what was best for Dedue.

In this case, that didn’t matter. It had nothing to do with Claude’s safety and everything to do with Claude’s secrets, which they had also sworn to protect. Which Dedue, also, had protected for nearly two years now.

It was a woman who came to retrieve him. She was short and wiry, old enough that her hair was iron-grey streaked with dark brown. Though even smaller than Ashe, she moved like a warrior and had two long daggers sheathed at her sides, daggers Dedue knew she could wield with deadly skill. Claude had mentioned once that she was skilled with poisons, too, and that long ago he’d learned from her. Before he’d been king - before he’d even left Almyra.

“Nasrin,” Dedue said, and offered a respectful bow. Claude’s guard took no titles - gave up everything, in fact, except the protection of their king.

“Dedue,” she said, and smiled. Her eyes crinkled warmly, and in that moment she looked like nothing more than an old aunt greeting her nephew’s friend. “It’s good to see you again. Our king has been getting lonely for the sound of that barbaric Fódlan language you all speak.”

“Has he?” Dedue said, and he saw something more serious flicker through her eyes.

“Actually,” she said. “It seems he’s heard quite a bit of it recently.”

Dedue inclined his head. “I believe that is why he asked me to come.”

“Follow me.” Nasrin led him through the halls. Servants bowed respectfully as they moved deeper into the palace, until they were in a wing that seemed to see few servants - seemed to be little used.

“Khalid says that our guest is doing well,” Nasrin said as they made their way down a long hallway. “But still not well enough to become part of palace life. And he asks to be locked in at night, and sometimes during the day.” She delivered these facts without blinking, without apparent judgment. “Khalid has said that you are welcome to visit him at any time you wish, but if the door is locked, please do not attempt to disturb him.”

“Of course,” Dedue said. They stopped in front of a doorway, and Nasrin knocked, and the door opened.

And Dimitri stood before them.

For a moment, all Dedue could do was look at him. The mere fact that Dimitri was standing there, that he had opened the door himself, meant that he was almost unrecognizable as the man he had been the last time they met. He looked different enough that that could easily be true - he’d clearly been eating well enough to fill out much of the flesh that had been missing from his bones. His hair, which had once been long and tangled, was now shorter and pulled back messily. The scars where his eye had once been were covered with a simple brown eyepatch.

Though he wore loose Almyran clothing, he looked like himself. Older, scarred, still thin and with a weariness in his face that was undeniable, but he looked like Dimitri, not like a revenant barely clinging to life. A ghost of the man who had once been Dedue’s dearest friend.

“Dedue,” Dimitri said. His eye flickered to Nasrin, still next to Dedue, and her presence seemed to steady him. He smiled, a real thing, though careful and with the air of a man who still did not smile often. “I cannot say how glad I am to see you.”

Your Highness, Dedue began to say, because it was still there, embedded in his very bones. He had served Dimitri for years, had survived because of him, had rested his hopes on Dimitri.

It hadn’t worked out that way, but in that moment it was as if the years fell away, as if they were nothing more than children again.

Then it passed, and Dedue remembered who he was now, and who Dimitri was not.

“Dimitri,” he said, because there was nothing else he could say. He exhaled and felt a weight fall from his shoulders, felt the chains of fear disappear. “I am glad to see you, as well.”

While he had thought he believed every word in Claude’s letters, while he trusted Claude completely, Dedue realized then that there was part of him that had held back. There was a part of him that had thought Claude must be mistaken, that the broken madman Dedue had sent to Almyra could not possibly have recovered in any appreciable way. There was a part of Dedue, it seemed, that had believed he’d sent Dimitri here to die in comfort, or to be locked away, unable to ever walk among the living again.

But here Dimitri was, standing before him and acknowledging him, looking - not whole. Not well, exactly. But somewhere on the way to it.

“Come in,” Dimitri said, and stepped back from the door to allow Dedue to enter. Nasrin did not follow.

“I trust you can find your way back,” she said, with the hint of a smile. “We’ll expect to see you at dinner.” She inclined her head to Dimitri with casual respect, bowed somewhat more deeply to Dedue, and left.

In truth, Dedue barely saw her leave. He was stepping into Dimitri’s room - rooms, as it turned out. A small but comfortable sitting room, with doorways that led off to what were likely sleeping quarters and a bathroom. The rooms of someone who lived in the palace, not a visitor like Dedue - but modest. The sort of thing that would belong to an honored servant.

Dedue did not know what to say, how to begin. Eventually he settled on, “Will you be taking dinner with us?”

Dimitri smiled again, perhaps on the edge of embarassment. He was easy to read still, his expressions not so different from the ones Dedue had memorized when they were children. “Claude has told me I may take meals with his court when I feel ready, but - I do not. For now, I prefer to eat alone.”

“You look well,” Dedue said.

“Better than the last time you saw me,” Dimitri said, and it wasn’t a question. He gestured for Dedue to sit, then took a seat himself. “Dedue, I - I must thank you, wholeheartedly. I owe you my life.”

“I was not the one who found you,” Dedue said. He’d paid the man off thoroughly for his silence, even if he hadn’t truly known who he’d found.

“You were the one who believed I could be saved. You were the one who sent me to Claude.”

And that was true, so Dedue inclined his head, agreeing. “I hoped that he could help you. But in truth, this is - far more than I thought possible. I do not mean that as an insult.”

“I wouldn’t take it as one,” Dimitri said. “I know what I was. Sometimes - sometimes I believe I still am that. I am not cured, Dedue, but these days…”

He looked at the room around them, clean and comfortable and warm. Down at himself, clothed and bathed and well-fed.

“Some days, I feel almost like a person again.” His words were quiet, full of tightly suppressed emotion. “Some days I can tell my nightmares from reality. Some days it isn’t even difficult - I can speak with people, I can walk in the gardens. Some days - sometimes - I can believe that it might always be like that. This is a good day.”

Dedue listened. It was difficult to imagine the Dimitri he’d sent here with Claude becoming this man - but it was equally difficult to imagine the young prince he’d once known becoming that man, as well.

“But they aren’t always,” Dimitri continued, wearily. “I still sometimes lose days to madness, I lose track of reality. There are ways - techniques I can use to keep it from happening, or to keep it from getting too bad, but sometimes I fail to use them, or they don’t work as well as I would wish, or I - simply fail myself. I am not well, Dedue.” His shoulders relaxed then, as if that confession had removed some of the weight from them. “But I remember what it feels like to be a man. You cannot imagine how much of a comfort that is, simply remembering that. Simply knowing that it is possible for me to be that, sometimes.”

“I am glad,” Dedue said, and was not shocked to hear his own voice stumble. Dimitri looked up then, eye wide. “I believed I had failed you. No - I did fail you, all those years ago. When I sent you here with Claude, it was all I could think to do. I believed that I would never be able to speak to you like this again, but here you are. I am… I am amazed.”

Dimitri smiled. “You did not fail me. You saved my life, and Claude has saved whatever there is left of the rest of me.” He said it so simply. “I will never be the King of Faerghus, but I have a chance to be a man again. Because of you, Dedue. Because of your loyalty, which I do not believe I ever deserved.”

Dedue could have argued, but instead he stood. Dimitri blinked up at him for a moment, then stood as well, uncertain.

“Dimitri,” Dedue said, quiet and formal, “would it be acceptable if I touched you?”

For a moment Dimitri looked at him, confused. “Yes,” he said finally. “That would be quite all right.”

And so Dedue stepped forward and pulled Dimitri into an embrace. A gesture of friendship, of brotherhood, the sort of thing Dedue would never have allowed before, when he was a servant and Dimitri his lord. Those days were long since past, and though Dedue remembered much of them fondly, he was not that boy anymore. Neither was Dimitri.

When he pulled away, he did Dimitri the small kindness of pretending not to notice the tears Dimitri blinked from his eye. “You always deserved my loyalty,” he said quietly, and now Dimitri could not argue.

They sat, then, and talked of other things - smaller things. Dedue told Dimitri of his journey, and of Duscur, and of many of the other journeys he had made. Claude, it seemed, had over the past few months slowly brought Dimitri up to speed on the changed face of Fódlan. His pure delight over the restoration of Duscur was a balm to Dedue’s soul, though Dedue did have to firmly put an end to his attempt to apologize for being unable to do it himself.

Though Dedue did not directly address the unification of Fódlan or its current king, Dimitri didn’t seem bothered by the sideways mentions of the topic. What he thought of his own lost throne, Dedue did not ask. Not yet. Instead, they spoke of Dimitri’s life in Almyra.

It seemed that it was only in the last couple months that he’d come to this set of rooms - before that he had, by his own choice, lived in a locked cell. He still interacted with few people, which also seemed to be his own choice. Claude, of course, who seemed to regularly visit Dimitri, walk with him in the gardens, and sometimes take meals with him. A woman named Thaddea, a healer from Dagda, who had taught him much. Some of Claude’s personal guard, and some of his trusted servants.

Dimitri did not seem to be a secret, exactly. Closer to a hermit, hiding away of his own choice, only just beginning to take halting steps into the sunlight.

And how incredible it was to see, to think of how far he had come.

They spoke for some time, the sun growing lower outside, and Dedue could see him growing more weary. He did not think Dimitri often spent so long speaking to anyone, even his regular visitors.

“I am expected for dinner,” Dedue said, and Dimitri nodded.

“Please visit again, my friend. I - may not always be able to speak to you, but even so, I would like to see you again.”

“Will you see Ashe?” Dedue had told Dimitri of his traveling companion, of the good man Ashe had become. He wondered again if he ought to have sought out someone who had been closer to Dimitri - Felix, perhaps, or Ingrid. But it was Ashe he trusted the most, and - more practically - it was Ashe he knew how to find.

Dimitri’s answer seemed to come easily. “It will shock him to see me as I am. But - yes. I would like to meet him.”

They both stood, and for a moment Dimitri hesitated before reaching out to clasp Dedue’s forearm, bidding him farewell.

“Thank you,” Dimitri said. “For coming to see me. For - all that you have done.”

“I did not do it for thanks,” Dedue said, quiet and honest. “I did it because you are my friend.”

Dimitri looked away, unable to hide the emotions written so clearly on his face. Dedue did him the courtesy of once more pretending not to see, but in his heart he could only be - happy, really. Happy that Dimitri had not changed, or rather, that he had begun to find his way back to the man he should have been.

Dinner that evening was a relatively subdued affair, at least for Claude. His fondness for feasts and celebrations was well-known, but he was also a good friend - and so refrained from using Dedue’s arrival as an excuse for a feast. Instead, they took a quiet dinner with Claude’s inner court: a couple of his generals, currently in the capital. A few lords and ladies, bright in their Almyran colors. Some of Claude’s personal guard, and a few visitors like Dedue, ambassadors from other lands.

He and Ashe were seated at Claude’s table, and Claude engaged them in easy conversation while the Almyrans spoke around them, their language flowing easily. Dedue spoke it decently enough, but the same could not be said of Ashe, and so Claude spoke in the language of Fódlan - accentless, as he always had. He explained the dishes to them, pointed out things he thought they would especially like, and asked about their journey.

He didn’t ask about Dimitri, though. Not until Ashe rose from the table for a moment, letting a servant lead him to the washroom. Then Claude smiled and said, “So you saw our friend.” There was something uncertain in his eyes.

Dedue nodded. “He is doing well. Far better than I imagined. I - cannot thank you enough.”

Claude’s shoulders relaxed and his smile turned true. “I thought so, but I also feared I might be imagining things - might have lost perspective.” He looked away then, not explaining that, but it was unnecessary. Dedue understood. He knew that, even for someone as canny as Claude, emotion could sometimes cloud perception. “He was happy when I told him you were coming. Nervous, I think, but happy.”

Dedue’s heart hurt at the thought of that, the thought of his old friend restored enough to miss him, to want to see him. “You’ve worked wonders.”

“Not me,” Claude said with a shrug. “Thaddea has helped him more than I thought possible, but mainly - it’s been him. He chose to try, and he’s thrown himself into it. I can’t take any credit for that.”

Though he would not say so, Dedue didn’t think that was true. He thought it was likely Claude did not understand, or did not want to understand, what the mere fact of his presence had meant to Dimitri. His support, his protection.

Dimitri had loved Claude once. To know that he hadn’t been given up on by someone he loved, to know that Claude still believed in him - it could inspire a man like Dimitri. Give him something to strive for.

“I would like to take Ashe to see him tomorrow afternoon, if he’s feeling well enough,” Dedue said instead.

“I never knew Ashe that well,” Claude said. His eyes were sharp now, that mind working behind them. “But I trust your judgement, Dedue. If you believe this is a good idea, then I’ll agree.”

“Ashe will want nothing from him,” Dedue said. “Only the knowledge of his survival. It would - be good for him to know that.”

Claude looked at him for a moment longer, then nodded. “He’s strong enough now to understand, to refuse requests and make his own choices. I’m just not sure that he would. He still feels too much guilt.”

And that, Dedue understood as well. He and Claude were united in this, had been since the beginning. Dimitri’s death had been the end of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Dimitri’s survival, if known, would be something else. Those who had once pledged themselves to him would have demands and pleas, would want to pull him back into the politics of Fódlan.

Just after he had been found, Dedue had known it would be all too easy for someone to use the mad prince of Faerghus as a tool, a weapon. Now, Dimitri was capable of understanding if someone wished to do that - but Dedue knew that Claude was right. If his former subjects came to him now, his guilt might be too heavy for him to refuse.

But Ashe would not ask anything from him. Dedue knew that was true. Ashe could be trusted - Dedue had trusted him with much already.

They did not speak further about Dimitri - Ashe returned, and Claude struck up a conversation about what they should do while they were in Almyra. When dinner was over, Dedue declined an invitation to a late evening performance of some sort, and just as politely declined a servant’s help to show them back to their rooms. He was weary now, and uninterested in the Almyran court politics that he was expected to be a part of simply because he was Claude’s friend.

“You know the palace very well,” Ashe said as Dedue led them through the halls. “I don’t think there’s any way I’d have managed to get back by myself.”

The palace was large, and the hallways confusing until you learned the trick of which tapestries marked which wings, which rugs marked which hallways. It was larger than the castle in Fhirdiad, where Ashe had spent the most time as a noble, and very different. Dedue would not have expected him to be anything but confused, and he found himself strangely soothed by that.

The day had been an emotional one for him. Ashe, perhaps, was a comfort without meaning to be.

“When I first came, I got lost a few times,” Dedue said. “There are still many areas of the palace I’ve never visited.”

“But still,” Ashe said, and turned to him. His eyes were wide, and such a soft green, the sort of thing that was so easy to fall into. “It’s amazing. Dedue - you’re amazing.” He flushed then, and looked away, and Dedue didn’t know what to say. “I mean… you’ve traveled so much. You know so much about so many things, so many people. You’re friends with the King of Almyra!”

“You’re friends with the King of Fódlan,” Dedue said, because he still didn’t know what to say.

“We’re not really friends,” Ashe said. “I barely even visit their court. I don’t - I don’t really belong there.”

Dedue understood that feeling. He understood it down to his bones, and he still felt it often. For all his hard work, all his efforts, he had helped rebuild his homeland - but even so, he roamed. He had been changed by the war, by loss. There was some part of him that even now felt like it did not belong.

In so many ways, he and Ashe still shared these things.

“You’ve done good work in Fhirdiad,” he said, careful, considering. “But perhaps it is time for you to travel. The world is a wide place. There may be something that suits you better.”

Ashe looked at him again then, and Dedue couldn’t tell what he was thinking. They were outside his rooms, Dedue’s a short distance down the hall.

“Maybe,” Ashe said, and smiled. “I’d like to see more of Almyra, anyway.”

“Rest, and tomorrow I’ll take you to the marketplace,” Dedue said. There was some small business he had to conduct there, and it would be much more pleasant with Ashe by his side.

“I’d love that,” Ashe said, and his clear delight at the idea made Dedue’s chest fill with warmth.

Chapter Text

The next day dawned bright, already warm not long after the sun rose. Another of Claude’s personal guard brought Dedue a message before they set out, confirming that Dimitri would see them both that afternoon. But the morning was for their explorations, and Dedue knew from experience that it was the best time to visit the Almyran marketplace.

He walked the streets with Ashe by his side, an echo of their arrival the day before. Ashe asked him quiet questions, his delight at the new sights and sounds barely contained. And that was even before they reached the marketplace - when they did, Ashe’s eyes widened and he reached out, taking hold of Dedue’s arm.

“It’s… incredible,” he said, breathless, and Dedue did his best to ignore the way Ashe’s small hand felt on his arm. How pleasant it was to be a steady point of stability for Ashe, who was visibly overwhelmed.

Not that Dedue could blame him. ‘Marketplace’ was an insufficient word to describe this, the trading hub of the entire country of Almyra. It spilled over multiple city blocks, and even outside the walls into the plains, where one could go to visit traveling horse or wyvern traders. Inside the city, there were shops that had been there for hundreds of years side-by-side with stalls set up just that morning, stalls that would sell all their wares and be gone before the afternoon meal was eaten.

It was noisy and beautiful and crowded. There was some form of organization - carpet sellers were in a certain quarter, food stalls in another, weapons merchants elsewhere, and so on - but it was difficult to tell at first simply because of the variety of goods on offer. One could get nearly anything they might desire here, and since Claude’s ascension to the throne, that had begun to include goods from all across the world as well.

Dedue led Ashe through the streets, already bustling though the sun had risen not long before. They took their time, with no need to rush, stopping to look at a shop that sold sturdily-made bows, a stall with tiny beaded flowers, a display of brightly printed fabrics. In his fumbling Almyran, Ashe bought them both cups of hot, sweet coffee, delivering Dedue his with a triumphant smile that Dedue could not help but respond to.

They sipped their coffee and walked the streets until they arrived at a small stone building. Outside it hung a banner embroidered with the patterns of Duscur, patterns as familiar to Dedue as his own heart. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Every time he stepped into one of these small pockets of Duscurian goods, it felt a little like a home away from home. There were tools, finely made with Duscur iron. Herbs gathered from the hills and dried. Blankets made by weavers, jewelry crafted by artisans. Elsewhere in the city were more of his folk, working in inns and stableyards, employed as servants and artists and all sorts of things. But this shop, he knew, was the center of their community here.

“Dedue,” Tamoh, the woman who owned it said, coming out from behind the counter in greeting. She smiled to see him, clasped his arm in greeting. He introduced Ashe, who bowed politely, and then he stepped aside with her and took care of the business he’d come for.

The main part was a few letters ensuring trade routes and goods on their way. The rest - the part Dedue felt most responsible for - was making certain his people in Almyra were not in need of anything. Dedue wanted to be certain they weren’t living in fear, or facing taxes and discrimination that others did not. The people of Duscur living in this city had not been here for that long - only the past few years, since trade opened up between their countries - but they’d established themselves. Even so, Dedue had the ear of the king, and if it was necessary he would bring any concerns straight to Claude.

It was not, it seemed, necessary. There was no history between Duscur and Almyra, no bad blood to fear. Instead, Dedue simply spoke with Tamoh while Ashe wandered around her shop, exclaiming softly over the things that he found there. Dedue could see her growing more and more pleased with each quiet gasp, and he wanted to smile. Ashe, he thought, could endear himself to anyone without even trying.

“And who is your friend, then?” she asked finally, raising her eyebrows. They were not related, but she had been the first Duscurian to settle here, back when Dedue was staying in Almyra for a time to work out the terms of their treaty with Claude. They had known each other well, and as she was older than him, she had a tendency to treat him familiarly.

Almost like family.

“That is Ashe Ubert, of Fhirdiad,” he said. “A knight in the king’s service.”

“Hm,” Tamoh said, sizing Ashe up again. “He’s more polite than most of them.” There was not a single Duscurian who had not been damaged in some way by knights of Faerghus, but Ashe was also clearly not old enough to have been part of that. She had always been the sort to reserve her hatred for those who earned it.

“We were at school together,” Dedue said, his eyes also on Ashe. It felt like so long ago.

“I see,” she said, and there was a note of amusement to her voice. Dedue realized that Tamoh was looking at him now, not Ashe. Watching him, watching the way his eyes rested on Ashe.

He looked away, embarrassed at his own obviousness. She smiled, the knowledge clear on her face, but said nothing.

“Is there anything else I ought to know about?” Dedue asked, attempting to bring the conversation back to business. She laughed and allowed it.

“Things have been going quite well here,” she said. “You don’t need to worry about us so much, Dedue. Perhaps it’s time to think of yourself, hmm?”

Dedue did not have to respond to that, thankfully, because Ashe approached then. “This is beautiful,” he said, holding a dagger. Its hilt was inlaid with semiprecious stones in distinctly Duscurian patterns. “I’ve never seen anything like it - it must have taken such skill.”

Tamoh smiled at him, pride gleaming in her eyes. Dedue knew that it was her niece, back in Duscur, who had made it, knew that Ashe had won her over without even trying.

He had that way about him, indeed.

Ashe purchased the dagger (Tamoh charging less than she might have, Dedue knew, but he was thankful that at least she had charged him) and tucked it away. Before they left, Tamoh disappeared into the back and returned with a small paper parcel.

“A few treats,” she said, and winked at Ashe, who blushed very prettily.

Outside, Ashe turned to him and said, “She seems nice.” His cheeks were still a little pink, a smile tugging at his lips.

“She is,” Dedue said. “Should we find somewhere to eat?”

Down a side street, they found a small fountain. Out of the bustle of the main marketplace, it was quieter and felt almost calm, and they were able to find spots to sit on the edge of the fountain, the cool spray of the water keeping the rising heat of the day off them. The parcel Tamoh had given them proved to be an array of pastries, made in the Duscur style but with spices and dried fruits that were purely Almyran.

Though Dedue hadn’t eaten anything quite like that before, he remembered an offhand mention of such delicacies in a letter from Claude - they enjoyed a certain popularity in Almyra, it seemed, and Dedue could see why.

“This is all so amazing,” Ashe said as they ate. “I feel like I’ve barely even seen the tiniest bit of Almyra, and even so it’s much more than I expected.” There was a wistful air to his words, a quiet wonder. “I think I love it.”

“Claude will be happy to hear that,” Dedue said. “I am sure that if you wished to stay, he would find a place for you here.” There was a part of Dedue that ached, saying that. Though he did not visit Fhirdiad often, he was able to come to Almyra even less often. The thought of Ashe so far away…

“No,” Ashe said, and it was quiet but certain. “I - might want to leave Fhirdiad eventually, but there are other places I want to see, too.” He looked at Dedue, and he smiled. “I feel like maybe I’ve gotten stuck. When I was a child, I never even dreamed I could travel. It just wasn’t a possibility, when what I really needed to do was survive. Then, after Lord Lonato took me in -”

A shadow of pain crossed Ashe’s face, another echo of the scars that branded them all. But he simply closed his eyes for a moment, let it pass, and continued. “I traveled all over Fódlan on those missions we used to do. But during the war, I went back to Faerghus, and I… I’ve never really left since then.”

“There is nothing wrong with that,” Dedue said. “Many people never leave their home. You have done good work in Fhirdiad.”

“I like to think I have,” Ashe said, “but I see what you do… all the traveling, the way you bring people together. It’s amazing, Dedue. I feel like you’re really changing the world.”

Dedue looked away, his cheeks warm. In the face of Ashe’s undiluted admiration, he didn’t know what to say. He had never been a man of many words in any case.

“I remember, back at Garreg Mach, how just getting to know you taught me so much about the world. About Duscur, but about - understanding people, too. I always thought that if people just spoke to you, they could learn so much.” Ashe tucked the last of their pastries back in the parcel, hands careful. He was not quite looking at Dedue, his own cheeks flushed. “It’s been a long time since then, but I feel like… I feel like you’ve done so much, while I’ve been stuck in place.”

Dedue searched for the right thing to say. “The war changed things for all of us. You and I have walked different paths, Ashe, but that does not make one better than the other.”

“I wish I’d stayed by your side during the war,” Ashe said. He said it so softly, as if it was a secret he’d hidden away, a regret he’d held onto for years. “I believed that serving House Rowe was the right thing to do, and I didn’t know where to find you, but I wish I’d searched. It might not have changed anything, but - even so, I wish I had.”

Dedue felt his heart beat hard in his chest. To think Ashe had held this regret for so long, even knowing it likely would have made no difference. There were so many things Dedue could have said, but - the truth was, he needed to process those words. Needed to think about what they meant, for him and for Ashe.

But he also knew that there would be no better time than this.

“The past is past,” he said, as quiet as Ashe. “But there is something I must tell you.”

Ashe turned to him then, hearing the solemnity in his voice, all of his attention on Dedue.

It was second nature for Dedue to glance around them first, make sure no one was close enough to hear. Even though they were in Almyra, where few could understand them and even fewer would know what they were talking about. He’d kept this secret for so long now.

“Dimitri is alive,” he said.

For a moment, Ashe simply stared at him. Perhaps if Ashe had been anyone else, if Dedue had been anyone else, that would have been followed by doubt. But this was Ashe, who had always come to him with an open heart, and when he finally spoke, it was in a hushed and awed tone. “How?”

Dedue told him. He told Ashe how Dimitri had been found in the mountains, emaciated and barely living, years after he’d been reported dead at Gronder Field. He told Ashe how Dimitri’s mind had been shattered into pieces, how he’d been unable to distinguish reality and his nightmares. How Dedue had not believed he would ever truly recover, and how he’d asked Claude to bring Dimitri here, to protect him from those who would use the last prince of Faerghus for their own devices.

He told Ashe of Dimitri’s recovery, which seemed miraculous but which he now knew was the result of long months, years of work. On Dimitri’s part, but on Claude’s as well, for all that the Almyran king would refuse any credit.

Ashe listened, wide-eyed, and when Dedue finished he said, “Can I see him?”

“Yes,” Dedue said. “He asked to see you. This afternoon, when we return to the palace, we will visit him.”

“I can’t believe he’s alive,” Ashe said, and he smiled, a thing of true beauty. “It’s amazing.”

“It is,” Dedue said, and he found himself smiling too.

That afternoon, Dedue brought Ashe to Dimitri’s room. He knocked quietly and felt Ashe shift next to him, nervous. For a brief moment Dedue placed a hand on Ashe’s shoulder - it was meant to be a comforting gesture, but it immediately felt too intimate, too personal.

Even so, Ashe settled beneath his touch, taking some strength from him, perhaps. And then the door opened, and Dimitri was there.

“Your Highness,” Ashe said, and his voice was choked with tears - that soft heart of his immediately overflowing with emotion.

“I’m not that anymore,” Dimitri said, with a gentleness that reminded Dedue so achingly of the young man he had once been. “Come in, Ashe. Please.”

Ashe was crying in earnest now, but he wiped the tears from his cheeks and nodded. Dedue followed them both inside, closing the door behing them. They settled at Dimitri’s small table while Ashe struggled to get himself under control.

“I didn’t think I would ever see you again, Your High- Dimitri.” Ashe stumbled over the name, seemingly scandalized to be uttering it, but he managed.

“It amazes me as well,” Dimitri said. There was still the weight of weariness in his eyes, his voice, and Dedue thought it was likely that never went away. Dimitri’s burdens were heavy, enough so that simply carrying them at all was remarkable. “I’m pleased to see you again, Ashe. Dedue told me that you are a knight now?”

The question made Ashe smile despite the tears still glittering in his eyes. He began to tell Dimitri of the mercy that King Byleth had shown him, the knighthood he’d received, the work he’d done since. Speaking of it clearly calmed him, and by the time a soft knock on the door interrupted their conversation, Ashe’s eyes and smile were both clear.

Claude entered, balancing a tray with a teapot and four cups. Dimitri stood to help him, taking the tray and scolding him softly. “You should have brought a servant to carry that.”

Claude brushed it off with a wave of his hand and a smile. “I don’t want servants following me around every hour of every day.”

Dedue wondered for a moment if Claude had brought one of his personal guard, Nasrin or one of the others. If they were standing in the hall, listening in case their king was threatened. He didn’t think so. He thought it was more likely that Claude considered himself safe with Dimitri, considered that sort of protection entirely unnecessary.

Ashe poured the tea for them all, and they spoke more - Ashe told tales of Fhirdiad, the reconstruction, the changes that had taken root in Fódlan. Claude asked clever questions, the ones he always seemed to think of so easily, his curiosity piqued by this glimpse into the lower classes of the land he’d left. Dimitri asked simpler things - if the trees still flowered at the same time, if those who should have been his people seemed happy.

Finally, he looked down at his half-empty cup of tea, took a breath, and asked, “And the others?” His eyes flickered between Dedue and Ashe. “Claude has told me what he knows, but…”

“I’m not in contact with any of them,” Claude finished, simply and without regret. “I know, in general, what they’re doing. But anything beyond that, I can’t say.”

Dedue, in truth, knew little more than Claude. But Ashe - he knew Ashe had kept in contact with some of their old friends, and through them likely knew more. So he looked to Ashe, and nodded in encouragment.

“Well,” Ashe said, biting his lip, uncomfortable to suddenly be the center of attention. “Sylvain is the Margrave now. I haven’t seen him in awhile, but he comes to Fhirdiad sometimes, and we write letters. He’s working on making peace with Sreng, and he’s… well, he’s all right.”

“Unmarried still,” Claude said with the faintest of smiles, and Ashe nodded.

“Though causing less trouble these days, I think. Um, I haven’t heard from Felix in awhile, either, but I know he’s working as a mercenary somewhere. The last time I got a letter, it was sent from somewhere around Nuvelle. But that was nearly a year ago. He hardly ever visits Fhirdiad.” There was an echo of sadness in Ashe’s voice as he said that, and Dedue saw it mirrored in Dimitri’s face. “Oh, but Ingrid is a knight in King Byleth’s service as well. Her father passed not long after the war, and she’s in charge of Galatea now. She’s doing really well.”

“I am glad to hear,” Dimitri murmured. “I believe that’s the sort of future she always wanted for herself.” It was a spark of hope amongst the tales of his childhood friends, Dedue thought - because while that was what Ingrid had wished for, certainly those were not the fates Sylvain or Felix had desired. The loss of their king had set them adrift, leaving Sylvain to accept a mantle of power he didn’t want and Felix to lose any real sense of purpose. Dedue had seen the beginnings of it long ago, when they’d last met after the war at Byleth’s coronation.

He might have followed a similar path, if he had not had Duscur to drive him onward. Dimitri’s death had taken something from all of them.

“Annette and Mercedes are doing well, also,” Ashe offered, almost apologetically. “Mercedes joined the church and lives at Garreg Mach now, and Annette is a teacher at the School of Sorcery. They both write often, and I’m able to see Annette from time to time. They’re - they’re happy.”

“That’s good,” Dimitri said, and the relief in his voice made it clear that he meant it. It must have been haunting him, Dedue thought, the idea that he had abandoned them all. Failed them all. But though their lives had gone different directions, they had kept living. Somehow.

Ashe hesitated for a moment, looking at Dimitri, then at Claude, and then back again. “None of them know. About you.” It wasn’t a question.

“No.” It was Dimitri who answered, though he looked at Claude first. “I am not sure if I… have the fortitude for that. Not yet.”

“But someday, maybe?” Ashe set his cup of tea down. “Will you… will you come back to Faerghus?”

Dedue had not asked that. He could not have said why, only perhaps that it felt too soon. He remembered how Dimitri had looked when he’d been found, and he would not easily forget that - would not forget how far the man sitting here with them now had come. But Ashe had never seen that wreck of a creature, did not truly understand what effort it must have taken to even be capable of sitting here, speaking to them.

“I won’t,” Dimitri said, and it was unequivocal. Absolutely certain. Dedue saw, for a moment, a flash of pure surprise on Claude’s face.

He hadn’t known of Dimitri’s decision.

Ashe’s shoulders sank a bit. Dimitri continued, his words measured. He was clearly thinking them through as he spoke, choosing them with care.

“Faerghus is part of Fódlan now. My return would only call that into question - would only destabilize the unity that Professor Byleth and Claude worked so hard to build. I have no wish to do that. I am not the man they remember me as, and I could not be the king that they might want. I am not well, Ashe. What recovery I’ve managed has been hard-fought, and if I were surrounded by memories… I cannot say that I would not crumble.”

Though it seemed difficult for him to say that, it also did not seem to Dedue as if Dimitri was ashamed of it. It was an acknowledgement of weakness, but also an awareness of his own reality. Next to Dimitri, Claude moved with care, pouring him another cup of tea and pressing it into his hands. The easy gesture of a friend, not a caretaker, and when Dimitri looked at Claude Dedue saw a familiar emotion in his eyes.

“Even now,” Dimitri said, turning back to them with a rueful, sad smile, “you are seeing me at my best. Much of the time I’m not this capable, not this well. Sometimes I am far worse. I believe that I will get better over time, have more good days than bad - Thaddea agrees, and I trust her judgment far more than my own. But I am not there yet. And even when I am, I want to stay here.”

He said it with certainty again, and once more he was looking at Claude.

“I want to build a new life. Be a new man.”

Claude’s expression was carefully neutral, but Dedue had known him for years now. Their friendship was built on shared experience, on shared dreams, and Dedue had found that he’d come to understand Claude in ways he could not expect. He could read him now, banked hope in his eyes, practicality in the set of his mouth, kindness all through him.

“You can stay as long as you want,” Claude said, and when he smiled there was something heartbreaking about it. “And when you’re ready, you can be whoever you like.”

It was no surprise that Claude would say such a thing. Dedue remembered that morning, Ashe at the fountain, how he had been certain then that if Ashe wished to stay Claude would make it possible. He would have done it for Ashe, a man he didn’t know well at all and had no responsibility for. Dedue had seen him do it for people who hated him, Almyrans who opposed his rule. Of course, then, he would do it for Dimitri.

He looked at Ashe then, and saw Ashe looking at the men across the table from him - the King of Almyra and the man who should have been King of Faerghus. Just a man, now. Ashe’s brow was furrowed, his eyes contemplative. Dedue did not know what he was thinking.

He turned over Claude’s words in his own mind and pointed out what seemed, to him, to be obvious. “Surely word will get out, eventually.”

“Yeah,” said Claude, and he smiled. “But I’m not concerned.” He’d thought this through, it was clear with the ease he said it. Dedue would have expected nothing else from Claude, whose head for strategy put most to shame. “Once Dimitri’s ready to be out and about, we might dye his hair. But I’m not sure even that is necessary. How many people saw him during the war?”

Dedue thought it over, and saw Ashe’s forehead wrinkle in thought too. In truth, not many had. Even Ashe had not. Though he had known Dimitri well before, would he truly have recognized the prince if Dedue had not told him who he was going to meet? Perhaps, but it probably wouldn’t have been his first thought. Would anyone who had not seen him during the war, seen the man he had become, easily recognize the man sitting there now?

“You see,” Claude said, reading the expressions on their faces. “Even if we change nothing about his appearance, there aren’t many people who would instantly recognize him as Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. And even if someone did - “

“There is little anyone can do if I simply refuse to accept that identity,” Dimitri said. It seemed shockingly obvious when he said it like that. “I am not that man anymore. And while I may not always know what is real and what is not, I know who to trust.”

He looked at them then, the four of them in that room, and Dedue knew that it was true. When he’d asked Claude to take Dimitri to safety in Almyra, he’d done it because he trusted Claude, he knew that Claude would not allow Dimitri to be used by anyone unscrupulous. That was still true, and even more so because Dimitri was aware of himself now, because he could decide on his own what to do.

And he had decided. Dedue could see that. It settled something inside him, knowing that.

“I guess… I guess that makes sense,” Ashe said. “But, Your Highness… Dimitri.” His eyes were wide, full of concern for Dimitri, for the friends they’d all once been. “When you’re ready, please tell the others. I think they’ll understand. And it’ll… it’ll help.”

He lowered his eyes, his cheeks flushed, and didn’t say more. But he didn’t have to, because Dedue - and Claude, certainly him as well - understood.

Just knowing that Dimitri was alive, that he had not failed his friend so completely, had eased a burden of guilt Dedue had hardly been able to carry some days. He’d thought it might be the same for Ashe, and he knew that someday hopefully that would be the case for the rest of the former Blue Lions, as well.

Someday. But it would be at Dimitri’s pace, as was right.

“I will,” Dimitri said softly. He reached across the table, movements faintly awkward, and took Ashe’s hand. “I need time first, but I will. I promise you that, Ashe.”

There were tears in Ashe’s eyes, but he was smiling. As he clasped Dimitri’s hand, Dedue found himself unable to look away from that smile.

They spent weeks in Almyra.

After the long journey there, it would have been foolish to do anything else. And there was so much to see, so much to show Ashe in particular, who had never been there before. Dedue found a quiet joy in doing so, a pleasure he did not put words to. The look of happiness on Ashe’s face filled his heart, eased parts of him that he had not known were aching.

Dedue sought out the few small shops owned by his people and introduced Ashe to those from Duscur who had made Almyra their home. They visited the marketplace again and again, once or twice even accompanied by Claude, who liked to walk among his people when possible.

Nasrin and another of Claude’s personal guards - Jahan, a man nearly as tall and broad as Dedue - took them both out on a few days’ ride to a part of Almyra that Dedue had never seen before. It was a place of incredible natural wonder - twisted, colorful rocks that looked like something out of a dream. They spent time there exploring, and when they returned Claude and Ashe working together finally convinced Dedue to allow Claude to arrange a feast for them all to enjoy.

There was music, dancers, a few show fights, more food than anyone could possibly eat. Ashe showed off his rapidly-improving Almyran, his clear desire to get it right incredibly endearing to Claude’s courtiers. Dedue did not pass up the opportunity to speak to a wyvern breeder and a textile merchant about possible trips to Duscur, but mainly he enjoyed himself.

And of course it went without saying that the entire time they were in the Almyran capital they visited Dimitri regularly.

It was true, what he’d said. Some days he would not see them. Some days the door was locked and Dimitri did not answer to anyone’s knock - other days he sent a message with a servant or one of Claude’s guards, asking them not to come. Sometimes he would cut a visit off abruptly, and more than once Dedue heard him muttering under his breath, saw his eye track something that wasn’t there.

But other times he was in good spirits. Weary, perhaps, physically less hardy than he had once been, but aware of who he was, where he was, who he was speaking to. They would take tea in his rooms, or sometimes walk with him in the palace gardens. Dedue visited Dimitri as often as he could - sometimes Ashe would come, and occasionally Ashe would go alone. They spoke of everything and nothing: their explorations of Almyra, wise advice Dimitri had recieved from his healer, fond memories of Garreg Mach. Nothing of the war, nothing of those lost years, but that was for the best.

Despite his no doubt numerous responsibilites, Claude accompanied them more often than Dedue might have expected. It was impossible not to see the way Dimitri brightened when Claude smiled at him, the way Claude’s proximity seemed to settle some part of him. They had been close once, Dedue knew, but that had been long ago. These months in Almyra seemed to have given that new life - and though Claude, as always, was harder to read, his mere presence at Dimitri’s side so often spoke volumes.

Dedue, it seemed, was not the only one who had noticed that.

It wasn’t until a few days before they were meant to leave that Ashe said anything. It was after a quiet evening meal, one of the rare times Claude managed to eat apart from his court. He’d spent it in Dimitri’s small set of rooms, the four of them eating simple servants’ fare, talking and laughing. It had been a good night, a pleasant one, though they did not stay late. Claude disappeared to attend to some matter or other, Dimitri’s fatigue showed on his face, and Dedue walked with Ashe back to their rooms.

When he paused outside his door to say goodnight to Ashe, Ashe paused as well, and hesitated, and then said, “Can I come in?”

Of course Dedue said yes. Of course he held the door open so that Ashe could enter, and then they were alone together.

It wasn’t the first time. They’d spent many days and nights with only each other for company on the journey here. Since they’d arrived in the capital, Dedue had often had Ashe to himself, to the point where he worried he might be monopolizing Ashe’s time. Might be imposing where he was not wanted.

But Ashe never said no, never sent him away, and now he was here in Dedue’s room as the sun set.

“We’re leaving soon,” Ashe said, and it clearly wasn’t what he wanted to say, there was clearly something else weighing on his mind. But Dedue could not guess what it was, and so he simply nodded and lit the lamp on his table, admiring the play of the light in Ashe’s pale hair.

“Will they… I mean, Dimitri seems all right, and I’m delighted he’s alive, but…” Ashe stumbled over his words, then gave up. Whatever circuitous route he’d been trying to take to get to the point, it clearly wasn’t working, and unfortunately Dedue knew that he was no help there.

Ashe sighed and bit his lip and said, “I know he says he doesn’t want to come back. And I’m sure it’s true that he isn’t ready, that he needs to recover more, but -” He took a breath, and flushed, embarrassed. “But isn’t it really because he’s in love with Claude, too?”

Dedue did not know what to say to that. He hadn’t realized until that moment that Ashe had seen Dimitri’s fond looks, the way he’d turned towards Claude like a flower to the sun, and come to the same conclusion that Dedue had.

“I think it’s all of that,” Dedue said slowly. “He is not well. But he also… wants to stay. For Claude, and to choose his own path.” Then he said something that he had thought before, years ago, but had never dared say aloud. “I believe he wants the chance to be something besides a king.”

Ashe was quiet for a long moment, mulling that over. “He would have been a good king.”

“Yes,” Dedue said. There was no doubt in his mind that that was true. “But he will be a good man, as well. After everything he has been through, he deserves the chance to choose his own path.”

“No, I - I didn’t mean to imply that he didn’t.” Ashe looked sorry now. “I know what would happen if he went back… I know how hard it would be. But I guess, I guess I’m just worried. Claude is the king. I know he’s your friend, and he’s been good to Dimitri, but… I just don’t know if Dimitri has a chance.”

In truth, Dedue didn’t know either. He didn’t even know if Dimitri wanted a chance, if Dimitri had realized his own feelings yet. “When we were at the monastery together, they were lovers.”

Ashe’s eyes widened. He hadn’t known - but then, nobody had, except for Claude and Dimitri, carrying on their quiet love affair under everyone’s noses. And Dedue, who had made it his duty to observe his prince.

“Claude loved him once,” Dedue continued, quiet. “And Claude cares for him still. Whether or not they will have another chance at that kind of love, I can’t say. But Dimitri will be safe here regardless.”

“I hope they get another chance,” Ashe said softly. Dedue expected him to have his eyes downcast, to be miles away, thinking of their prince - but when he looked at Ashe, Ashe was looking at him, and he could not read the emotion in that gentle gaze.

Between them, the silence stretched until it broke. Until Ashe broke it.

“It feels foolish to talk about this now. Our lives have changed so much, our paths are so different now, but… but if I can wish for another chance for Dimitri, I can wish for one for myself, too.” Ashe took a breath, drew himself up straight, and Dedue realized suddenly that he was trembling.

He was afraid, uncertain, and all Dedue wanted was to reach out. He stopped himself, as he had always stopped himself. For years, he had done so, prevented by duty or loyalty or the certainty that his touch would not be welcomed. Prevented, indeed, by just those things Ashe had spoken up: their diverging paths, so separate.

Ashe looked up at him, and Dedue knew he was not imagining things. “I liked you so much, back at school together. But you never… I didn’t think you would look at me that way. And then after, during the war, I thought you were dead. I cried so hard. I knew it had just been a stupid schoolboy crush, but still. I wanted to turn back time and have another chance.”

He took a breath. Dedue held very still, as if any movement would shatter this truth. “After the war, when I learned you were alive, I was so happy. But everything was different. We were so far down different paths, and I thought… I figured that we probably wouldn’t see each other again, and even if somehow we did, my feelings would be different because I was different.”

Ashe hadn’t looked away, all this time. His eyes were a clear, soft green, and Dedue felt as if he could fall right into them.

“But then I saw you again, and… and my feelings weren’t any different, but everything else had changed. You had become someone so amazing, and I was just, just this, just a knight who barely deserved the title he’d been given. I knew then that I really had missed my chance, that I had no place in a life like yours.” Ashe smiled, and though it was shaky, it was real. “But I realize now that this is my chance. I’m not going to let it slip through my fingers.”

“Ashe,” Dedue said softly. Only his name, and nothing more, because there were not words for how he felt.

Had it been that long? Since they were at school together? Had Ashe really cared for him so long?

He would not have been able to return Ashe’s feelings then. He might have wanted to - he thinks he would have, he could still remember the comfort that Ashe’s friendship had been. But his duty had been to Dimitri, first and foremost, and he wouldn’t have let his feelings for anyone else get in the way.

He remembered, before this journey, thinking that perhaps someday they would have a chance. He did not realize, could not have known, that Ashe believed that chance had already passed. That Dedue had claimed a place in Ashe’s heart long ago.

His own heart thumped in his chest. He reached for Ashe, trailed fingers down his soft cheek. His hand was trembling, almost imperceptibly.

“Do you not see how amazing you are?” Dedue had never considered himself eloquent, so he did not try to be. “You have always been a light in the darkness. For all of your friends, but for me especially.”

Ashe closed his eyes, keeping any tears from falling, though even in the dim lamplight Dedue could see them threatening.

“I love you,” he said, and it was quiet, and it was simple, and it was everything Dedue had never dreamed of hearing.

He could not respond. He could only bend down and lift Ashe’s face to his and kiss him, putting every word that he could not voice into it. It was sweeter than any pastry, it soothed the ache of his heart. It felt like home.

“Dedue,” Ashe said when he pulled away, and he surged upward, pulling Dedue down and kissing him again. Ashe was small but seemed to fit perfectly in Dedue’s arms, just as his lips fit perfectly beneath Dedue’s own.

“Let us take this chance,” Dedue said when he could breathe again, eyes never leaving Ashe’s. Ashe smiled, bright as the sun, and Dedue lifted Ashe as easily as anything. The low sofa that graced each of the guest rooms was nearby, and Dedue brought them to it, sinking down with Ashe still in his arms.

They kissed again and again. Dedue had been dreaming of Ashe’s lips for some time, and now he could have his fill of them, and he did. They kissed until they were both breathless, they kissed until Ashe’s warm weight against him became too much of a distraction, until Dedue found his hand daringly on Ashe’s thigh.

“We should stop,” he said, though he didn’t want to. Still, it was too soon, wasn’t it? No matter how long he might have wanted Ashe, no matter how long Ashe might have wanted him, wasn’t it too soon?

But then Ashe said, “Do we have to?” He was half on top of Dedue, stretched out across his chest. His cheeks were flushed, his lips red and wet and half open, as if begging to be kissed.

Dedue leaned down to do just that. Ashe shifted, just a little, and his thigh brushed the growing hardness between Dedue’s legs, and they both went still.

“Oh,” Ashe said.

Dedue opened his mouth to apologize, feeling his cheeks heat, but then Ashe smiled. And carefully, deliberately, he put a hand on Dedue.

Though there were layers of fabric between them, Dedue still felt certain he could feel the heat of Ashe’s touch. His hand on Ashe’s waist tensed, unconsciously tugging him closer.

“We can stop if you want to,” Ashe said, “but I - I don’t want to.” Though his cheeks were flushed, his gaze was steady. Though Ashe could be uncertain, could be nervous at times, in this moment he was not shy. And it seemed he knew exactly what he wanted.

Who was Dedue to deny that, when it was exactly what he wanted as well.

“Come here,” Dedue said, and he pulled Ashe into another kiss. This time he made no attempt to hide the hunger he felt, the desire. He thought of all the times he had seen Ashe and wanted him, all the times he’d pushed it down because they were only friends, because it was unworthy of him to want Ashe like that. He thought of the mornings on their journeys here, how he’d once come upon Ashe washing at a creek near their campsite. How the water had dripped down his pale skin, the lightly muscled lines of his body. How much Dedue had wanted to touch him then.

He’d turned away. Now he no longer needed to.

He tugged Ashe’s shirt from his pants, making room for his hand to slip beneath the fabric and brush over the smooth skin of Ashe’s back. Ashe’s breath caught at the touch and he caught Dedue’s lips with his own, hand still pressed against his erection.

It felt like a miracle to be granted the right to touch Ashe, to explore his soft skin. Dedue moved one leg, sliding his thigh between Ashe’s, and was rewarded with another soft gasp. He could feel Ashe through his clothes, that hardness between his legs, and Dedue almost couldn’t believe that he was the cause of that.

He slipped his tongue into Ashe’s welcoming mouth and let his hands drift lower, until his palm was cupping the curve of Ashe’s bottom. Ashe moaned into the kiss and moved against him, his small body aligning perfectly with Dedue’s as he pressed against Dedue’s thigh.

Dedue would have been happy with that, ridiculously so - just touching each other, kissing, exploring Ashe’s body. But Ashe had other plans. When air became necessary and they finally broke their kiss, he placed his palms on Dedue’s chest and pushed himself upright, never taking his eyes off Dedue.

“Can I - um,” he said, his cheeks flushed pink, “I want to… taste you.” His hand on Dedue was at the waistband of his trousers now, fingers on the top button.

“You can do anything you want,” Dedue said, his voice low and breathless. There was a part of him that still could not believe this was real, could not believe that Ashe was looking at him like that, touching him like that.

Ashe began to unbutton Dedue’s pants, and Dedue lifted his hips so that he could slide them down. Once his cock was free, Ashe slid down his body. Dedue was large enough that the couch was a bit cramped, but still Ashe managed to balance on Dedue’s hips, looking down at him.

“I’ve thought about doing this a lot,” Ashe confessed. “About making you feel good, being able to touch you.” He did, then, wrapping one hand around Dedue’s shaft. Not moving yet, just touching him. He had small hands - Ashe had always been small, even after he’d grown as much as he ever would - and Dedue was large, and the sight of it -

The feel of Ashe’s hands on him alone was so much. The sight of it was almost too much.

“Goddess,” Ashe said, “you’re so big. I thought you would be, but… wow.” And before Dedue could say anything, before he could process the worshipful tone Ashe had said that in, Ashe leaned in and took Dedue into his mouth.

Dedue could not help himself. He moaned at the pleasure of it, the wet heat of Ashe’s mouth. Ashe was careful, went slowly, and Dedue didn’t know if that meant he had little practice or if he was simply taking his time, enjoying himself. It didn’t matter. He could only watch, transfixed, as Ashe took him deeper and deeper. But he couldn’t take all of Dedue, not yet, and so he wrapped his hand around Dedue’s shaft and began stroking him while his mouth went to work.

It felt incredible. Dedue could barely stand it, the warmth of Ashe’s mouth on him - and more than that, the visual of it, the sight of the man he’d tried so hard to bank his feelings for giving him that kind of pleasure.

Dedue reached out, tenderly brushing Ashe’s hair out of his eyes, and Ashe made a small sound of pleasure. He looked up, meeting Dedue’s gaze with his own, all lust and need and deep affection.

“Ashe,” Dedue said, his voice cracking in the middle as Ashe lathed the underside of his cock with the flat of his tongue. It was all Dedue could do to stay still, to keep from moving up into Ashe’s mouth. But he didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want him to be at all uncomfortable, so he found himself gripping the back of the sofa instead, fingers digging in to the cushioned back.

Ashe made a soft mmm sound and redoubled his effort, managing to take Dedue deeper, his hand picking up the pace. The pleasure was building fast, and Dedue knew he could not last much longer.

“Ashe,” he said, breathless and so close to losing himself, “I’m -”

But he did not get to finish his warning. Ashe pulled back just enough to slide his tongue around the head of Dedue’s dick, looking up to meet his eyes again. And like that, with Dedue in his mouth and his cheeks pink, his lips slick, he looked so beautiful and debauched that Dedue could not take it anymore.

He came with a cry, his body stiffening beneath Ashe’s attentions. He came in Ashe’s mouth, despite his attempt at a warning, and that seemed to be exactly what Ashe wanted, because he wasn’t surprised. He swallowed it down, or most of it, intent on what he was doing, intent on Dedue. And all Dedue could do was lay there and let him, overcome by orgasm and awash with admiration of this impossible, filthy man he loved.

Ashe let Dedue’s softening cock slip from his lips and raised his arm to wipe Dedue’s cum from his lips, his chin. He was smiling and flushed still, and Dedue had not forgotten Ashe’s own need, could not forget it. He reached out, dragging Ashe up to kiss him, tasting himself on Ashe’s tongue. Ashe moaned into that kiss, hips bucking against Dedue, too keyed up to do anything else.

“You’re incredible,” Dedue said against Ashe’s mouth. He reached down, fumbling one-handed to open Ashe’s pants. Once Ashe realized what he was doing, he helped with shaking hands, eager. Between the two of them they managed to free Ashe’s erection and Dedue wrapped his hand around it in an instant.

Ashe’s cock was smaller but perfectly formed, like every part of Ashe. With Dedue’s large hand he could enfold Ashe almost completely, a firm grip that had Ashe gasping immediately, gasping and thrusting against him.

“Dedue, I - I can’t, I’m about to -” Ashe was so close already, the barest touch of Dedue’s hand almost enough to get him there. Dedue could not help but love it. How could he do anything but love the effect he had on Ashe, love knowing that he could do this to Ashe? He could not tear his eyes away from Ashe, from the expression of pure pleasure and need on his face. He had done that, was doing it.

Ashe loved him. Ashe wanted him.

“It’s all right,” he said, low and sweet, in Ashe’s ear. “I want to see you.”

And then Ashe was coming with a cry, arching, spilling into Dedue’s hand. Dedue held him through it, held him close, kissed his temple while he was catching his breath. Ashe, limp and spent against him, could only smile.

Later, after they’d cleaned up, after Ashe had asked quietly if he could stay that night and Dedue had responded of course, you are always welcome, when they were curled together in Dedue’s bed, they spoke again.

“I know what I want,” Ashe said, curled against Dedue’s side, “and it’s you. And I’ll take… well, I’ll take anything, but - but there’s something else I want.”

“Hmm?” Dedue carded his fingers through Ashe’s silky hair. In truth, he already knew he would try to give Ashe whatever he wanted. It didn’t matter what it was so long as he could keep this feeling, this calm and deep contentment that he had not felt in years. Ever, perhaps.

His home strong and restored. His dearest friend alive and healing. His love in his arms.

There was little more Dedue could ask for.

“I want to travel with you,” Ashe said in a rush. He lifted his head from Dedue’s shoulder to look in his eyes. “I’d never left Fódlan before this, but I - I love it. I know it won’t always be like this, I know it could be hard or frightening, but I want to see the world. I want to help you, I want to help people understand each other like you do. Maybe it will help, if people see a knight of Fódlan and a man of Duscur traveling together.”

And then, quieter, laying his head back down, he said: “And I’ll be able to stay by your side.”

“I would like that very much,” Dedue said. He remembered Ashe saying that the work he’d done in Fhirdiad could continue on easily without him. He knew, also, that there was little chance King Byleth would deny a request like that.

Suddenly a future with Ashe in it seemed beautifully possible.

The morning of their departure dawned, and Claude appeared at the door of Dedue’s room.

Dedue had said his farewells to Dimitri the night before, as they intended to leave before midday. He had embraced his friend once more. Dimitri had promised to write when he could, and Dedue had promised to visit when he was able, though both knew that likely wouldn’t be for some time. Still it was a balm, a true comfort to know that Dimitri was safe, was well, was on a path towards building some sort of life. Claiming a future for himself.

Not so long ago, that would have seemed impossible.

“All packed?” Claude said when Dedue let him in. “I came to bring you a few letters to take back - for Byleth and for Hilda, since you’ll be passing through Goneril territory.” He smiled. “And of course to say farewell to a friend.”

“I’ll carry them, of course,” said Dedue, and took the letters, tucking them into his pack. He saw Claude peer about his room, a familiar look of curiosity on his face. “What is it?”

“Oh,” Claude said, “I just thought Ashe would be here,” and he winked.

Dedue felt his face heat, but remained impassive. “I will not insult your intelligence by acting as if I don’t know what you’re talking about, but - how did you know?”

“I suspected when he was the one you decided to bring, and then - well, it was pretty obvious from the way you looked at each other. Things have changed in the last couple of days.” Claude’s teasing tone faded into something more sincere. “I’m happy for you, Dedue. You’ve been alone for too long.”

There was a part of Dedue that wanted to point out that he was not the only one. He and Claude had built a friendship over the years, and it would not at all have been beyond the bounds of propriety - but he also knew how private Claude was, especially about matters of the heart. He knew, too, that the last relationship Claude had attempted had ended in disaster when the man had proved to be motivated by little more than a desire for power.

Claude had always been wary of opening himself up to people. It was unfortunate that the world seemed inclined to keep proving him right.

So Dedue avoided that bit of pain and simply allowed himself to - well, enjoy it. Enjoy the well-wishes of a friend, the kindness of someone like Claude, who truly did wish the best for him.

“Thank you,” he said instead. “I don’t know what the future will bring, but I know what is in my heart. I wish to build a future with his happiness in it.”

“And your own,” Claude said, and there was an air of command in his words - an order, not a wish. Then he smiled again, and it was gone. “You have a kind heart, Dedue. Ashe is a lucky man.”

Dedue was not sure what to say to that. He looked away, embarrassed by Claude’s easy praise. “I have not told Dimitri yet.”

And then Claude laughed, easy and more than amused. “Are you kidding? He knows. We’ve been talking about you two.”

And that - in retrospect should not have been a surprise, but Dedue did find a smile on his lips at the idea of Claude and Dimitri, two men with more than their fair share of burdens, putting their heads together and gossiping about nothing more substantial than the love lives of their friends. But then, he supposed if he could imagine anyone doing such a thing, it would be Claude - and if he could imagine anyone being coaxed into it, it would certainly be Dimitri.

“I cannot thank you enough for all that you’ve done for him,” Dedue said, but Claude waved it off, as he always did, as he always would.

“I’m just glad you were able to come see him. He’s missed you.” Claude smiled, softer now. “I did too. Come back again soon, all right?”

“I will.”

Dedue stepped forward then and pulled Claude into an embrace, warm and certain. He felt Claude stiffen for a moment before embracing him in turn, and knew that it was because Claude was still not used to this - had never gotten used to this sort of thing, had never had a chance to.

In his heart, in words that would never pass his lips, Dedue sent up a silent prayer, both for his lost king and for this one who had always stood alone. He could only hope, could only pray that Dimitri would be a comfort for Claude, as Claude had been for Dimitri. But that would be out of his hands. Had always been out of his hands.

His own life, his own happiness were what he could make for himself. For himself and for Ashe, who held his heart.

He released Claude and they said their farewells, Dedue thanking him for his hospitality, Claude teasing him for his strict courtesy. Once Claude had departed, he finished packing and went to Ashe’s door, knocking gently. Ashe opened it in moments and smiled at Dedue with an open, sweet happiness that made Dedue feel as warm as sunlight.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes,” Ashe said.

And they set out from the palace side by side, on the first of many journeys together.