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Ashe Ubert knows he’s gay before he comes to Garreg Mach, but he doesn’t know he’s Capital G Gay until he sees Felix Fraldarius for the first time. Hard eyes, dark hair, lithe and long to Ashe’s eyes under his uniform… it’s like being clubbed in the head. Just like Loog felt when he saw the Maiden of Wind for the first time. But of course Felix is no maiden, nothing close to it, and Ashe is far too shy to make anything like a move. But he’s happy to find that they’re in the same house, content to be moving in his orbit. Someone else is in that orbit too, defining it even more so than the other two in the group of childhood friends that comprise the molten core of the Blue Lions — Sylvain.
Sylvain. The name sends a twinge of uncomfortable jealousy down Ashe’s spine in a way he’s never really felt before. He doesn’t like it but there it is nonetheless. Sylvain, tall, cheerful, easygoing skirt-chaser who Felix nevertheless puts up with for reasons that aren’t obvious but are easy enough to intuit. It’s over for Ashe before it even begins but somehow that doesn’t stop him from wanting to try, doesn’t stop him from feeling. Sometimes, in the moments when he hears Felix snap at Sylvain over dinner in the dining hall or notices a new bruise on Sylvain’s cheek that means another loss on the training grounds that no doubt earned him a scolding, it makes Ashe want to try harder.
His first opportunity one on one with Felix comes in the library of all places, where he’s leafing idly through one of Ashe’s books of all things. He waves but Felix doesn’t see him, never sees him. “Felix!”
“Oh, Ashe.” He turns, holding the book out. “This is yours, yes?”
He nods. “Would you like to borrow it? It’s one of my favorites, not a typical knight’s tale — you might even like it.”
“I’m not especially interested.”
“Come on, I insist. You looked pretty interested when I came in. You didn’t even see me until I called you.” He tries for the teasing edge he hears in Sylvain’s voice when he’s wheedling Felix into eating instead of training, or chatting a girl into goddess knows what in the courtyard or the marketplace. It doesn’t quite come out the same but he’s glad of it in the end. Felix probably couldn’t stand two Sylvains in his life, barely tolerates the one he has even as he trails endlessly after him into battle and everywhere else. The smile on Ashe’s face feels frozen there even though only a moment has passed since he spoke.
“Really, I—”
“Think of it as a way to learn more about me then, not as a fairy tale to struggle through.” It’s bold but it seems to land. “And, maybe a way to learn more about yourself.”
“What could that possibly mean?” He’s irritated but Ashe knows better than to let that get in his way. If he did he’d never make headway, not that he has a chance even without Felix’s… complicated personality.
“You remind me of the knight in the story.” It’s out. Felix’s brows pull down heavily, actually looking a little scary so Ashe rushes to explain. “I don’t mean anything… foolish, like you’d say. I just mean that he’s a little rough around the edges, but deep down he cares more than anyone else. You can tell by how often he saves his friends from trouble, just like you do for us.”
“Well, some of us seem to have a death wish.” And Ashe’s heart sinks because his eyes look too distant to still be talking about anyone else but Sylvain, someone with too unfair a head start for Ashe to even think of as a rival. “I’ll take your book,” he adds though, and that’s enough to bring a smile back to his face.
Later that night, in the dining hall, Sylvain cheerfully waves Ashe over to the table where he and a grouchy-looking Felix are sitting, and to his own surprise he joins happily. It’s been hard to be alone in the middle of a house populated by two groups who already know each other.
“Hey Ashe, can you confirm something Felix here told me just now?” Their plates sit in front of them, barely touched; the conversation on the way back from the dinner line must have been interesting enough to delay them starting. Ashe nods, raising an eyebrow and glancing at Felix, trying not to blush just at the sight of him even though he doesn’t meet his eyes. “He says that you told him that he reminds you of the knight from that book you were reading last week.”
Sylvain doesn’t seem mean, not cruel, just teasing but Ashe doesn’t like it all the same. “Well, yes. Have you read it?”
“Do you think Sylvain actually knows how to read?” Felix’s voice is surprisingly brittle, sharp around the edges though as always. Maybe this conversation was meant to be in confidence to Sylvain, who laughs annoyingly easily, not at all bothered by the insult.
“Hey, let him speak,” he says, and he actually ruffles Felix’s hair, his bun clearly not tight enough to withstand it completely. As a few strands tousle loose, falling around Felix’s neck, Ashe can feel his cheeks heating up and ducks into his food, taking a bite to buy time.
“If you knew the story,” he says finally, not quite keeping the reproach out of his voice, “you’d know that Felix is just like the knight whether he likes it or not. They’re both strong warriors, aloof but always the protector of the innocent, saving those who need it with their superior skill.” Maybe not exactly what he’d said to Felix earlier, maybe slightly tailored to what he thought he might like to hear, but it works. Sylvain pulls up short.
“Huh. That actually does sound like you.”
“Shut up,” Felix says, turning his head away to glare at the table opposite where Sylvain is grinning at him, and for another moment in a string of moments like this it’s almost as if Ashe isn’t even there, as if he’s reading one of the books he loves so much, just looking in on a story that doesn’t involve him and never could.
They’re all pulled closer together during the war and though they haven’t faded completely, Ashe’s feelings have to be shelved away. He sees Felix, Sylvain, Ingrid a few times as he travels through their territories or they move through Gaspard, always a warm hug and a warm hearth to offer. Well, a hug from Felix could never really be described as warm by normal standards, maybe, but just the fact that he gives it willingly is enough. Mercedes and Annette Ashe writes to, Fhirdiad is too dangerous to pass through in his position.
But all that means in the long run is that he hears from all five of the other Blue Lions who haven’t been publicly executed and aren’t missing, presumed dead, when the Millennium Festival date approaches. Under the Ethereal Moon he travels to Garreg Mach, stunned beyond belief when he arrives to find not only the friends he expected, but Dimitri — and stranger still, their professor, bright hair and ageless face uncreased by laughter or tears.
What Ashe sees between Felix and Sylvain now that they’re together again is painful, not in the tender way his heart used to squeeze when he read his fairy tales and the knight swept the maiden off her feet, but in a way that makes his stomach feel like it’s in a vise. The goofiness they maintained in school is largely gone, replaced by a seriousness with each other that’s actually startling, especially from Sylvain. He still wears that mask, the one Ashe has never seen slip, but once in a while the easiness blurs into something a little more weighty, when he looks at Felix over the dinner table, when they consider each other’s ideas at the war council, when he thinks no one is looking.
Ashe is looking, often. He’s looking and he’s not looked at, not by anyone.
Then one night, he’s in the library alone, always alone, poring carefully over a map of Fhirdiad as if there’s some way it might help him feel more at ease about their upcoming mission. In some way, actually, it does — the city is still understandable, still etched somewhere in his memory from trips there with Lonato and Christophe and his siblings. Now they’ll be there to liberate it from the Empire, there to risk their lives and spill blood. Not quite the same as a leisure trip with his family but the nostalgia still floats over him, soft and a little cloying.
“There you are.”
Ashe almost sweeps the map off the table in his speed, his embarrassingly responsive swiftness, to whirl around and face Felix. “Hello, Felix. Were you looking for me?” He tries to keep the hopefulness out of his voice but a smile paints unbidden across his face as Felix nods.
“I have something of yours.” He steps closer to him, actually fairly close or maybe it’s just that whenever he’s at less than an arm’s length Ashe’s tamped down crush blooms again in the pounding pulse in his ears, humiliatingly persistent after five completely unfulfilling years. Felix’s hand is outstretched, in his space, and in it is…
“My book?” His throat feels clenched in an invisible, burning hand. “You still have it?”
“Well, there was no way I’d find a new copy in a war.” His voice is friendly. Sylvain’s absence does a lot to lower the tension in his frame and Ashe doesn’t know whether to be grateful or crushed.
“Well, I couldn’t have picked a less opportune time to lend it to you, so I’m guessing you didn’t have a chance to read it.” Ashe takes the book, and in his mind their fingers brush and linger but in reality it passes between them and Felix’s lips quirk up and maybe that’s better.
“Actually, I know the story already. My brother, Glenn, used to read it to me.”
Glenn. He doesn’t know much, but he knows he’s dead, knows Ingrid’s mouth gets tight when his name comes up, knows he’s Felix but better, ideal, immortalized in memory. Ashe hums in recognition of the name and of what might be going through Felix’s mind. “Christophe used to read to me. This book and others. He’s gone now too.”
Felix’s eyes lower. “I’m sorry. I remember what… what was done to him after the tragedy.”
Ashe nods. “It was awful. Lonato was heartbroken, sick. I still regret now the way I was too caught up in my ideals to notice at the time. Maybe I could have helped him… stopped him.” Saved him, he thinks, but Felix would scoff at him for that.
“We each must cut our own path,” he says, and it’s such a Felix thing to say that Ashe smiles a little at it, like looking to the side and seeing a face to match a friend’s voice. “It’s foolish to think we can influence others.”
“Maybe so.” They’re quiet.
“I wanted to say something to you.” Felix pauses, as if Ashe is going to tell him he can’t — which, in fairness, is definitely what Felix would do if their roles were reversed but he would never have warned Ashe — but Ashe just fixes his gaze on him. He doesn’t meet it. “You said I was like the knight. He reminds me of my brother, so thank you for that. But when I was thinking about the story, I realized there was someone else familiar in it.” Ashe wants to ask when he was thinking about the book. Was it late at night when he was sleeping cold on the ground, under the stars? Was it in the thin light of the Faerghus sun, walking the Fraldarius grounds? Was it while he was piercing organs with his sword? Ashe doesn’t ask. “The squire. He reminded me of you.”
“Really?” He can’t help it squeaking out of him, more embarrassment to cram down before it rises into his face and becomes visible. Felix had thought of him, maybe just once, maybe in a moment of irritation at his own whimsy, but he had thought of him. One moment, one strand of Felix’s consciousness, had spun around him. Not Sylvain. “What do you mean?”
“He’s like you. You don’t see it?” Ashe shakes his head. He’s always wanted to be like the knight, never thought he’s actually like anyone in a story. “Friendly, talkative, always does his best.” Another half-smile. Maybe this is a dream Ashe is having, although if that were the case he and Felix would be making a very different use of the table where his map is spread. Good thing Ashe is already blushing under Felix’s attention because otherwise… “Remind you of anyone?”
“That’s kind of you, Felix.” Maybe. Just like it’s maybe or maybe not kind for the knight to take notice of his squire. “If you’re the knight and I’m the squire, let’s keep working together and protecting each other.”
“Tch.” He shakes his head. “I don’t need your protection. Or anyone’s.” And again his eyes are distant, half fond and half worried, and once more Ashe is just watching from a distance as the knight in his fairy tale falls in love.
Dimitri’s coronation feels like something out of a book, joyful and untainted, the kind of feeling that in reality is usually undercut. But there is no darkness, no shadow to be cast. The professor is smiling, more emotive than Ashe has ever seen them, glowing like the moon and Dimitri the sun. Dedue, as always by Dimitri’s side, eyes shining and mouth held serious and formal by strength of will that only he has. Ashe looks on from the front of the crowd, sitting with the rest of the Blue Lions, holding Annette’s hand in one of his and Mercedes’ in the other as all three of them cry happy tears.
Sylvain reaches over, unoccupied long arm stretching easily over Annette, and ruffles Ashe’s hair. It would be a gesture just as unclouded as the rest of the day if his other arm wasn’t slung so securely around Felix’s shoulders. Ashe can at least take comfort in Felix’s tightly crossed arms.
After the ceremony it feels like the entire city attends the celebration. Ale flows like water amidst the music and Ashe finds himself tipsy and happy, whirled onto the dance floor by an equally unsteady and encouraging Mercedes.
“You look happy.” He beams at her and she beams back. “Do you feel happy?”
“How could I not? We’re at peace, Dimitri and the professor are in love, I have a path to walk… everything is perfect.” She smiles, head tilted, eyes soft but piercing in her way. “Or maybe not.”
Ashe frowns. Her hand is soft on his shoulder. Annette and Felix spin past them, her grinning and his eyes rolled to the ceiling. Ashe’s gaze follows them and Mercedes’ follows his. “What do you mean?”
She doesn’t answer. Or maybe she does. “You should ask him to dance. It might be your last chance before Sylvain finally makes a move.” He doesn’t speak, splutters instead, eyes wide but Mercedes is older and wiser and undeterred. “I’ll take care of it, don’t worry.”
“Mercedes—”
“No more about it!” She smiles again and Ashe feels it’s impossible not to return it to her. “So tell me, what are your plans after this?”
“Well, I’ll go back to House Gaspard. There’s no one left to lead it, and I’ve been doing all right for the past few years.”
“I bet you’re a wonderful leader, Ashe.” Her voice is warm, eyes shining.
“And what will you do? Where is your path going?”
“I’ll be working in the church, under the professor. At last, my dream of helping people can come true.”
“That’s amazing!” And it is. “You’ve gotten enough practice helping people by fighting alongside us.”
Mercedes blushes a little, eyes crinkling. “Oh, stop. You’ve all helped me — you and Annette especially. It’s hard to break in with the others, hmm?”
Ashe hums in response, companionable, trying not to feel nervous as the music winds down and Mercedes’ gaze sets in determination. He’s leading but she’s steering.
“Oh, Felix,” she calls, looking over Ashe’s shoulder, “Annette looks like she’s having so much fun with you. Mind if we trade partners?”
“I don’t care.” Blunt but a little warm too, and Ashe wonders if Felix has been drinking as well. Mercedes gives him one last encouraging glance before she lets go of his hand, spinning him around in the same position and suddenly he’s face to face and hand in hand with Felix. Annette must have done essentially the same maneuver, and the girls wave as they spin away with the start of the music.
“Uh,” Ashe says, “we don’t have to dance if you don’t want. You didn’t sound too excited.”
Felix shrugs. “If it will save me from watching Sylvain flirt with every woman in the Kingdom I don’t care what I do.”
“Okay.” The knight, pining for the maiden as she’s courted by the nobles, the squire always there to help and support. Felix’s hand is stiff on shoulder, his other surprisingly cool where Ashe has it grasped a little too firmly. If it’s his one chance he’s going to take it. “I’m surprised he’s flirting with anyone else.”
“Did you see him with someone?” Ashe watches Felix, eyes searching, face a little pink with a liquor flush.
“No. I mean…” And Ashe sighs, because like the squire from his fairy tale he’s about to give himself up for his knight. “I mean I’m surprised he’s not here flirting with you.”
“What?” Felix snaps. “What are you talking about?”
“Felix, I know you’re not an idiot so please tell me why you even need to ask.” Ashe shakes his head. His hand around Felix’s waist is almost gripping him from the effort it’s taking not to run from this terrible conversation but Felix doesn’t seem to notice. He’s scowling and reddening more and Ashe’s heart is twisting inside him. “You and Sylvain—”
“There’s no ‘me and Sylvain’,” he says sharply, but his eyes look hopeful. Or something.
Ashe sighs. “You really are like the knight from that story,” he says. “Do you remember how he tried to convince himself he didn’t love the princess?”
“Sylvain is no princess,” Felix mutters. “But yes, I remember. He wooed another woman.”
“Maybe that part is a bit more like Sylvain,” Ashe admits, smiling ruefully. “But he kissed her and knew immediately—”
“She wasn’t the one.”
“Exactly. Haven’t you ever been with someone and known?” Ashe has but he isn’t telling. This isn’t his story.
Felix looks down, turning his entire head rather than just his eyes. “Uh… no.”
“What?”
“I’ve never… been with anyone.”
…huh. Ashe shuts his eyes for a moment, begging the goddess for strength not to pursue that thought. “Uh, I didn’t mean anything… intimate. I just mean when you’ve kissed people. You know, like the knight and the other woman.”
“That’s… what I mean. Do not make me spell it out,” he commands, jerking his narrowed eyes up to meet Ashe’s again.
Goddess. “Oh. Well, Sylvain has probably been a lot of people’s first kiss. It’ll be special.”
Felix scowls again. “He will not be. I’m not letting him get that from me.”
“It’s not a contest. In any case, you’ll have to move quickly because I think this song is ending soon, and after I’m sending you his way whether you like it or not.” Ashe tries not to be too hurt over how quickly Felix has moved from no me and Sylvain to this.
“Like the squire,” he murmurs. “In the book he’s the one who helps the knight and the princess reunite.”
Ashe nods. “You know, if you really want to impress Sylvain you ought to ask him to dance. You’re very good.”
“Dancing with you is easy. You lead well,” he replies, and that will have to do. The music spins to a stop and so do they, and something inside Ashe is telling him so is this chapter of the story. Time for the squire’s character to make an exit. He smiles at Felix and Felix actually smiles back, just a little.
“I saw red hair back that way,” Ashe says, dropping Felix’s hand to gesture on his right. “Thank you Felix.”
“What on earth for?” he asks.
What on earth for. “The dance.”
“Oh. No need to thank me,” he says, a little stiffly. Then he’s off.
An arm slides around Ashe’s shoulders after a moment and Mercedes is there again, another arm around his waist belonging to Annette, and the table they sit at is the perfect front row seat to a first kiss that’s right out of a fairy tale.