Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For the first time in five whole Goddess-forsaken years, Linhardt felt like his entire world, which had not quite gone fully upside-down alongside the rest of the continent but had certainly skewed sideways at a rather dramatic angle, had, to some extent, righted itself. It wasn’t due to seeing many familiar faces, oh no. If anything, adjusting to everyone’s new looks, both in terms of fashion and the steely resolve reflected in their gazes, was a rather disconcerting development that would take some time to get used to.

Caspar especially had taken him by surprise; seeing him again after all this time had Linhardt admiring his incredible physique and height, as well as the confidence and awareness with which he carried himself. No longer was he the short king Linhardt remembered, who had a heart of gold and donned a mask of bravado to hide his insecurities; rather, he seemed to accept all of who he was, and strove to overcome himself, looking toward the horizon with the same unwavering determination that Linhardt had always known him to possess. Now, however, years of experience, of survival and loneliness and facing down the best and worst that the world could offer had honed his edge and tempered it some. There was a maturity there, and a kindness too, that Linhardt could only assume as having been born from seeing the world through one’s own eyes. It was a new side of Caspar, one that awoke in Linhardt that familiar sense of eagerness that tended to accompany making a new discovery. It was so rare that he felt this way about people, but Caspar had always been one of the few to pique Linhardt’s interest with whatever he did, and to see him come so far and grow so much wasn’t nearly as off putting as it had been for several of his other former classmates.

And yet, for all of the questions that Linhardt desired to ask, all of the details of Caspar’s life that he longed to know, it was the little, familiar moments that had righted his world. It was the fact that when he had opened his door just before noon a week before, Caspar had been leaning against the wall outside, waiting for him like it came as naturally as breathing. Even though it was the first time either of them had done so in about five years, Linhardt had given him a little smile and a “good morning,” just a little something extra to commemorate the occasion, and Caspar had beamed at him like his birthday had come early, practically shouting “Morning, Lin!” right in his face. He had certainly been louder than Linhardt remembered, and at his obvious expression of surprise, the bluenette had flinched and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly before inviting him to the dining hall. Well. Volume aside, Caspar’s usual boisterousness hadn’t changed much; his sunshine smile was still as infectious as ever, and that in itself had helped Linhardt find his own grin again.

They had set out for the dining hall at once, shielding themselves as best they could from the Guardian Moon’s great gusts, and every day since then, they had kept to this routine, with Linhardt at this very moment sitting across from Caspar, who was eagerly stuffing sweet buns into his mouth with seemingly few plans to chew. When Linhardt was younger, such a thing would, and had, annoyed him to no end; now, however, much like Caspar’s complete disregard of “inside voice,” this too was simply something to be appreciated, an islet of old in the unknown seas of the new.

Now that a week had passed since their reunion, the flurry of greetings and plans and losing oneself among once-familiar halls had passed, and Caspar had deemed it time to show Linhardt the fruits of his training, practically dragging him by the arm to the training grounds. Now that it was early afternoon, there were a few people training outdoors, but most had opted to use the indoor facilities, meaning that the blue-haired brawler could go all out without having to worry about anyone else being in his way. Linhardt took a seat on an empty bench, settling in to watch; as much as he disliked blood and weapons to this day, he also wanted to be ready to heal Caspar should he go overboard with his training, and if he were being a little more honest with himself, a rather vocal part of his heart simply didn’t want to leave Caspar’s side. He supposed that this was the remnants of his loneliness talking, and allowed himself to indulge it for the time being; besides, to his first point, he felt fairly confident in convincing himself that he was here on some measure of business, after all.

Caspar began to warm up, and oh, Linhardt found that he couldn’t look away; Caspar was still wearing the armor that he had apparently received from an old man back near the Faerghus--Alliance border, and the added burden of training and being forced to constantly wear such a weight had done wonders for his muscles, his strength having clearly increased by leaps and bounds. But it was not only that which caused Linhardt to gape like a fish, eyes wide in an expression that was oddly emotive, coming from him. No, it was the swiftness with which Caspar dispatched the dummy, his instinct clearly having sharpened with time and experience as his sky-blue eyes honed in on some perceived weak point. “I’ll have your head!” he shouted, and with a cleanly-executed spin attack, decapitated the dummy in one clean sweep. “Might makes right!” he crowed, promptly wiping his brow with his sleeve and turning to Linhardt, giving a thumbs up. Linhardt couldn’t help but return the gesture, finally managing to school his face into a more neutral expression, but Caspar must have seen the tiny upturn of his lips because the bluenette gave a loud laugh and pumped his fist in the air with a whoop. Linhardt simply shook his head, the grin not leaving his face at the familiar sight; at first glance, this too hadn’t changed. However…

Linhardt stood up from his spot and grabbed a towel before walking over to the brawler and handing it to him. “Caspar, that was rather impressive. I have to ask, though, about that catchphrase of yours. Is it new?”

Caspar blinked as he toweled off his sweat-soaked face, seeming to be slightly taken aback. “Ah, well, sorta. Back when we were students here, I’d ask myself if ‘Right makes might, right?’ I thought that if I was in the right, then that was what would make me strong, and same for everyone else: if they’re good people, then they’ll either be protected or be able to protect themselves.” Caspar brought his hands up behind his head, looking past Linhardt and into the clouds, seeing some faraway vision meant for his eyes alone. “But thanks to going around Faerghus and the Alliance and meeting lots of people, I realized that sometimes, just being right doesn’t guarantee justice or protection. Too many people lost their lives to the war or bandits or lots of other things just because they were in the right but they didn’t have the might to protect themselves. I dunno if that makes sense, but…”

Finally letting his arms down, Caspar trailed off, his gaze sliding back to meet Linhardt’s as a pensive expression appeared on his face, and the healer put a hand on his shoulder, regarding him with a gentle expression. “It’s alright, Caspar. I understand. From what you’ve told me, it must have been rather difficult, hm?”

Caspar simply sighed, but made no move to shrug off Linhardt’s hand. “...Yeah, it really was.” He began to remove his gauntlets, pulling away from the healer’s gentle grasp. “I think that’s enough training for now. Have you been to the library yet? Let’s go do what you want to do!”

Linhardt had indeed been to the library since his return, twice before in fact, but in truth, he had only been there for brief periods of time, nowhere near long enough to become reacquainted with all of his favorite books. Besides, even he recognized the segue for what it was, and Linhardt nodded his head, giving a small, pleased smile. “Yes, that sounds good. I’ll be waiting by the door.”

“Alright! See you in a sec!” Caspar agreed cheerfully, and as though he were trying to outspeed the wind, he swiftly ran off to return the training equipment and towel. As Linhardt meandered toward the exit of the training grounds, he couldn’t help but replay the entire conversation in his mind. So Caspar had learned such a thing during the time they were away, hm? As life lessons went, it wasn’t a bad one, but… Linhardt’s heart gave a little pang at the thought of the circumstances in which Caspar had learned it. He really had changed so much, and on occasion, the visage of the more worldly warrior that he had become clashed with the familiar face Linhardt had grown up with. Still, there was some comfort to be had in the fact that at his core, Caspar had not changed who he was as a person; rather, he had evolved and grown, finding his own road to walk and motivation to succeed.

Once he reached the front gate, Linhardt leaned against a pillar, his gaze trailing up into the frigid blue skies as he waited for his childhood friend’s return. Caspar may have picked his path, but with any luck, wherever it would lead him, he would accept Linhardt’s company for as long as the healer could give it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As they meandered their way to the library, Caspar snuck a peek at Linhardt out of the corner of his eye, still not quite over how different he looked. For one thing, although he hadn’t gotten any taller, his hair was so long now, and Caspar had to admit that it was a good look for him. He almost wanted to run his hands through it like he had when they were kids, just to see if it was as soft as he remembered, but now probably wasn’t the best time. Not to mention that his clothes looked so comfortable, as though he could easily take a nap in them. Then again, that was probably the point; if you didn’t know him, it would be easy to think he was just a nap-loving layabout, but in Caspar’s mind, Lin was one of the hardest workers he knew! Nobody was more devoted to research and study than Lin was, except for Annette and Lysithea, and… alright, so on second thought, none of the guys he knew were more devoted. Yeah! That was a good compromise.

They reached the library shortly after, and as luck would have it, it was fairly empty; most of their comrades and the slowly returning staff had gone to evening prayers or early dinner, and so the library was quiet, just how Linhardt liked it. Caspar watched as Linhardt gently ran a soft, slender hand across the shelves, walking slowly and carefully inspecting the titles. The look on his face was warm, as if he really relished being here, and to Caspar’s inquisitive gaze, it looked as though Linhardt was meeting old friends for the first time in a long while. The idea made him feel warm, but also somewhat sad. Did Linhardt not have enough books while he had been stuck at home…? The idea seemed too silly to think of, but once it had found its way into his thoughts, it seemed to have no intention of leaving. To distract himself, Caspar looked around, gaze landing on a specific section. Ah! He recognized those books. “Hey, Lin!” he called, and his maybe-still-best-friend perked up, turning to him. “I found some of your favorites! You like The Saints Revealed, right? ‘Cause it had all that interesting stuff about Saint Cethleann and you were telling me how she liked Teutates Herring, or something? Here’s another one!” He carefully plucked a book from the shelf, doing his best to handle it with care, and proudly held it out before him so that Linhardt could see it, the green-haired healer gingerly taking the tome and flipping through it delicately. “The Life and Times of Saint Cethleann! You wanted to read this one right? Although… well, I mean, I guess you could have had this in one in your house, but I remember you saying you wanted to check it out and--oh no! Lin! What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

To Caspar’s complete confusion, Linhardt had closed the book and was now staring at him, eyes brimming with tears. Caspar began to flail his arms, becoming more concerned by the minute, until finally, he reached into his tunic pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled handkerchief, holding it almost hesitantly out to the healer. “Awww geez, I’m sorry Linny; did I treat it too roughly or something?”

With a sniffle, Linhardt tucked the book under his arm and took the handkerchief, dabbing at his eyes lightly. “No, it’s… I’m the one who should be apologizing, Caspar. Just… hearing you say all of that, picking out a book that you thought I would like… it means so very much to me, and I…” he trailed off as Caspar gently enfolded him into a hug. Maybe it wasn’t “proper” to hug people at his age, but that didn’t matter because this was for Lin. Lin was always the exception, and he was proven true once again as the healer’s free arm came up to embrace him as well, returning the hug.

“I missed you,” Linhardt murmured, resting his head against Caspar’s dumb bulky shoulder plate in a way that just couldn’t be comfortable.

“I missed you too,” Caspar replied, and he was proud of how he kept his voice from breaking, cracking, even if on the inside all of his emotions seemed to be going haywire all at once.

They stood there for a few more minutes in comfortable, companionable silence before Caspar breathed deeply, and felt like he was home. All too soon, Linhardt let go and pulled away, eyes still a little red but tears no longer rolling down his cheeks, and he began to hold the handkerchief back out to Caspar before his expression momentarily shifted into one of insightful surprise and he instead slipped it into one of the pockets of his giant, poofy pants. Idley, Caspar hoped that Linhardt would keep it; maybe if he was lucky, Linhardt would forget it and only find it when he was doing his laundry. At that point, his hopefully-still-best-friend would probably just end up stashing it somewhere, and hopefully he’d have it for when, if ever, he needed it again, a little bit of Caspar comfort for whatever he was going through.

Linhardt picked out a few more books from that same shelf, handing them to Caspar, who held onto the tower of tomes like his life depended on it. He had offered to take The Life and Times of Saint Cethleann as well, but Linhardt had simply shaken his head gently, seemingly determined to take this one himself. The two of them checked out the books and left the library, momentarily stopping by Linhardt’s room to drop them all off, and with a little time left in the afternoon, the sun just barely starting to set, they made their way for the fishing docks, greeting the attendant and taking up two matching fishing rods.

With some effort, Caspar settled himself somewhat comfortably at the edge of the dock, letting his feet dangle over the water’s edge and gazing almost thoughtfully at his reflection. It was still a little weird seeing himself now; did Linhardt feel the same way? He cast a glance back over his shoulder at his companion, who had brought over some bait and was now taking a seat beside him, shoulder to shoulder as he too glanced into the water, staring at his own reflection. It was nice to be side by side, Caspar thought; now that they were pretty much the same height, even their reflections looked a little more even, a little more unified. The thought made his heart warm.

As Linhardt placed some bait on his line, Caspar suddenly had a thought; he reached into his pack and pulled out one of the animated baits he had made using the schematic he and Linhardt had drawn up all those years ago. Although small, this little guy had been a big help to him during his travels, and somewhere out there, it was hopefully making a difference for some Alliance kids too.

“Oh, Caspar… is that the animated bait we made together?” Linhardt asked, startling him from his thoughts.

“Ah, well, not that exact one, but one just like it! I gave the other one to some kids who needed it,” he explained, bringing a hand up to rub bashfully at the back of his head.

Linhardt graced him with a satisfied smile in reply. “I’m glad to hear someone got some use out of it.”

“Well, yeah! I mean, I certainly did!” Caspar retorted, slightly annoyed at the response. “When I was out there on my own all this time, this little doodad saved my hide, Lin! We made something amazing, so don’t you forget it!”

Linhardt blinked, clearly taken aback, before his features softened into a smile once again. “I see,” he replied simply, before turning back to the lake and casting his line. Caspar gave a little huff, his own smile breaking across his face at Linhardt’s expression of quiet pride. Good; that was how it should be. Linhardt sometimes had to be reminded of how amazing he was, but fortunately, Caspar seemed to have kept his knack for doing just that.

The two friends fished long into the evening, catching some tasty morsels to feed to the cats and swapping a few more stories of their time apart, and by the time they had gone through all of their bait, the sun had set and the first stars of the evening were starting to shine in the sunless skies. With a great yawn, Caspar stretched his arms up and carefully got to his feet before extending a hand to Linhardt, who took it gratefully as the brawler pulled him up. They returned the fishing rods and fed a few cats as they moseyed their way to the dining hall, in no particular hurry. As they approached, however, Linhardt placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. The healer turned his head to meet Caspar’s gaze and Caspar did the same, unable or perhaps unwilling to look anywhere else. “Caspar, thank you for today. I really did enjoy spending time with you.”

Caspar bellowed out a delighted laugh, giving Linhardt’s hand as gentle of a pat as he could muster with his plated gloves. “Same here! I was a little worried about you when we first got back, but I guess that even though we’ve changed, our friendship hasn’t, huh?”

The corners of Linhardt’s mouth curled up into a relaxed, open smile that reached all the way up to his eyes, and Caspar’s heart skipped a beat upon seeing it. “No, it hasn’t. I am so, so very glad that I may still call you my friend, Caspar... or rather, no. My best friend.”

At those magic words, Caspar beamed, the sheer force of his grin almost blinding. “Me too, Lin! We were best friends before, and we’re best friends now, and I’m really hoping we can stay best friends in the future too!” He had barely finished shoving the words out when his stomach gave a loud growl and he broke into a blush. “Alright, let’s go get some food! I’m hungry!”

“That sounds like a plan to me,” his definitely-still-best-friend replied, and together, they walked into the dining hall, ready to enjoy eating together.

Chapter Text

Adrenaline surged through Caspar’s body as another opponent fell to his swift strikes, the blue-haired brawler feeling alert and alive as he clawed his way through foe after foe. He dodged a sword slash by a hair’s breadth and returned the favor two-fold as the opposing swordmaster fell to his fast slashes, the Imperial soldier giving a final cry before crumpling to the ground. Taking a deep breath, he wiped his sweaty forehead on his collar (it really wasn't fair how it could be cold enough to find ice on his armor and yet in the heat of battle, he'd be boiling) and turned his sky-blue gaze to survey the rest of the skirmish.

Their side had the situation fairly under control, from the look of it; the battle had begun in the late morning and was now rolling into the early afternoon, the frigid winds of the Pegasus Moon not yet hampering their progress but still worth watching for. The Professor had taken point, practically invincible against opponents of this caliber, and beside them were stationed various other members of their army, with Ferdinand mowing down his opponents beneath his horse’s hooves and Petra cutting away at the enemy’s numbers with unparalleled swiftness as her blade brought knights far bigger than she to their knees. Nestled safely behind this defensive line, however, stood the source of both Caspar’s greatest worry and his greatest relief: his best friend Linhardt, who was readying a Physic and focusing on healing Professor Hanneman over where he’d been staving off some sorcerers.

Caspar held no illusions about the fact that the battlefield had always been where he had felt the most useful. He was a Born Fighter, or so his record said, and ever since childhood, he’d heard and answered the call of battle, the thrill of pitting oneself against tougher and stronger opponents with one’s life, and sometimes another’s, hanging in the balance. Of course, after his years of roving around Faerghus and the Alliance repelling Imperial forces, he had eventually found other reasons for fighting; if he could have told his younger self that there was more to life and battle than glory and defeating criminals, he likely would have laughed in his own face. However, this was hardly Linhardt’s favorite place to be. For as long as Caspar had known him, Linhardt hated the sight, stench, and sensation of blood, and so the first time Linhardt had taken to the battlefield willingly once they had all reunited had boggled his mind. The green-haired healer had been though a few more battles since then (fortunately, Caspar had also been present for each mission and additional battle Linhardt had been assigned) and the bluenette had really wanted to ask about it, but they’d never had time or he’d simply forgotten, all else falling by the wayside in light of the relief of a job well done. He made a mental note to himself to ask as soon as this battle was over.

Caspar took a swig of water from his waterskin and moved to place it back on his belt, giving a wince as a sharp stab of pain shot through his side. Right; he needed to deal with his wounds while he still had a breather. He took a deep breath, calling on his Healing Focus to strengthen his pain tolerance and force the discomforting sensations from his mind. This technique was no substitute for Faith magic or vulneraries, but it was a strong stopgap measure for when he needed to hold out for just a little longer. He exhaled once again, eyes sharp. It was time to get back to work.

He glanced around, searching for his next battle, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a brigand give a loud snarl and turn to flee the battlefield. Oh, no. Not on his watch. Caspar quickly broke into a sprint, giving chase and yelling out to the brigand, demanding that he stop and taste his steel. His battalion followed as Caspar tore after the fleeing man, putting increasingly more distance between himself and his allies. After a few more minutes of running, Caspar was fairly confident he had this guy cornered; his target was making a break down a small hill, the man almost close enough that Caspar could reach out and grab at his padded armor, and the only way forward was through a dense thicket. Caspar gave a grin as he picked up his pace, wholly confident in his ability to catch this brigand, when the unthinkable happened: Caspar’s boot came down on an icy patch of soil and he was sent sprawling, hitting the ground hard and giving a hiss of pain as his shoulder struck a rock jutting out from the hillside. He rolled down the hill, arms waving wildly, until he came to a sudden stop at the bottom. The brigand, not waiting for Caspar to recover, dashed into the thicket, wasting no time in leaving the fuming fighter behind.

Once they descended the hill, Caspar’s men quickly gathered around him, helping him up, and he balled his fist, no small part of him demanding that he pursue the fleeing foe. He was about to give the order when both his ankle and shoulder quickly protested, his words only coming out as a gasp of pain instead. Dammit! He needed to use Healing Focus again and get himself together; if the runner returned to camp and relayed his information, then he could be giving the enemy more information to use against them and it would be all his fault! Gritting his teeth, Caspar used his Healing Focus technique once again, finding his balance once more. He could tell he was hardly in good shape, but he needed to do this. If only Linhardt was here--

The thought crashed through his adrenaline-hazed mind like he had just been doused in cold water. Linhardt was here. Linhardt was here, and Caspar had just been about to run off like a madman to pursue some random guy when his best friend in the world was still back on the battlefield and possibly in need of help. “C’mon, you lot!” he shouted to his men, who stared at him in shocked silence. “We’re going back to the main force!” His battalion hastened to obey, two of them helping him back up the hill and rejoining with the rest of the army.

From the look of it, the rest of the battle had finished about as smoothly as could be expected; they’d had some casualties in their various battalions, but as many wounded were being treated as possible, with several more sitting in a cart along with the supplies to be transported back to Garreg Mach. The Professor took one look at him and gestured for him to go see Linhardt while the rest of his battalion, looking rather tired but not too badly off, were told to get some water and help clean up.

Caspar made his way over to the makeshift healer’s tent, where Mercedes and Linhardt were tending to two of their troops. Linhardt had just finished wrapping a warlock’s wound and sent them on their way before he looked up and locked eyes with Caspar. “Come sit,” Linhardt invited, gesturing to the now empty stool across from him, and Caspar obliged, stepping into the tent and waving to Mercedes before taking a seat. “What seems to be the problem?” Linhardt asked in a professional tone, before he interrupted himself with “No, don’t answer that. I’ll find out.”

The soothing sensation of Faith magic began to surround Caspar’s body, and he gave a relaxed sigh as the familiar feeling of Linhardt’s particular touch permeated his armor and informed the healer of just what was wrong with him this time. He could vaguely hear Linhardt scribbling some notes onto a sheet of paper and murmuring to himself, but he didn’t bother trying to decipher the words; the signature scents of old books and pine needles that accompanied Linhardt’s magic seemed to put him at ease in a way that nobody else’s application of Faith magic could, and he knew that Linhardt liked it best when he wasn’t bombarded with questions and could just do his job.

The familiar tingles of his wounds starting to close up and knit themselves together would be a feeling he would never get used to, Caspar thought. Never again would he take Faith magic for granted; while he had been away, far fewer people than he expected knew the Faith arts, and many poorer people who didn’t have a church in their town relied on time and vulneraries to heal their wounds. The efficiency and expediency of Faith magic felt almost like cheating, and Caspar felt like he could better understand Mercedes’ goal of trying to help as many people as she could with her skill. Goddess knew many more people than he had expected needed it.

Before he knew it, Linhardt was giving him a gentle pat on the back and his shoulder and ankle were both bandaged up. “You’re all done, Caspar,” Linhardt sighed, motioning for him to stand. “Your ankle shouldn’t give you any more pain for the time being, but you need to let me know if it does.”

“Alright,” Caspar responded, walking around the tent in an experimental lap. “Nope! No pain! Oh, but Linhardt, when will you be done? I want to talk to you about something.”

Linhardt raised an eyebrow at Caspar’s question, then leaned over to glance outside and see how many people were waiting. “Why don’t you go ahead, Linhardt?” Mercedes interjected. “I can handle these folks. You could use a break.” Caspar shot her a grateful smile as Linhardt hesitated for a moment, but without another word, the healer stood from his stool and walked up to Caspar, the two exiting the tent in unison.

Caspar led them over to a grassy knoll a short distance away from the battlefield, far enough removed that the smell of blood wouldn’t waft all the way over to them. Caspar took a seat on the untouched grass, crossing his legs as he got as comfortable as he could while Linhardt gave a loud sigh before laying down and resting his hands behind his head, staring up into the deep blue sky. Caspar couldn’t help but laugh. “Long day?”

The green-haired healer groaned. “Extremely so. These missions are always so draining; I have to use up much of my magic at a moment’s notice and it never seems to go exactly as planned. Still, if nothing else, my ability to think on my feet has improved tremendously, and I suppose that’s something to be grateful for. But I’m sure you didn’t just want to ask me about that; you mentioned that you had something that you wished to discuss.”

Caspar swallowed. This was it, wasn’t it? There was no good reason for him not to ask, and it wasn’t like he was asking an overly intrusive or personal question, so why did he feel so nervous all of a sudden? He wiped his brow again, sweating not from exertion this time but rather from nerves. “Um, yeah. So, if it’s so hard working on the battlefield, why do you keep doing it? I mean, it’s great that you’re here, and I’m glad that you have my back, but this isn’t exactly your idea of a good place to be, so--”

Linhardt mercifully interrupted his rambling with a raised palm, and Caspar took a deep breath to stem the tidal wave of words, exhaling as Linhardt put his hand back behind his head. “Caspar,” he began, “you are correct that I really don’t want to be here. If I could, I would happily sequester myself in Garreg Mach’s infirmary, waiting patiently for the next injured soldier to be brought in and staying far away from the actual battle. However, I do have a reason that compels me to be here, one that outweighs my wish to stay behind.”

He turned to face Caspar, only to find that his best friend was meeting his gaze with wide eyes and bated breath, hanging onto every word. “You see, I found that each time you went out onto the battlefield without me, I would be left worrying, waiting, about whether or not you would come back. I had no way of knowing. What if you had been severely wounded and I had not been there to help? On nights when you would be traveling back from a mission, I would often wake up in a cold sweat, pessimism and worry conspiring against me to keep me awake and sap my energy. Thus, I decided that the only cure for such a malady was to go with you; acting like some lovelorn maiden wringing her hands while waiting for her knight to return was hardly my ideal activity and yet I found that I was indulging in it far more often than I would have liked. By going with you, I would know that you were safe, and if you weren’t, then I would be by your side to patch you up. While it is true that I still cannot get used to the sight of blood, I am able to stay conscious, and that is the best that I can ask for, I suppose.”

At some point during his confession, Caspar could tell that his cheeks had gone pink, and he struggled to find the right words. “So… you’ve been coming onto the battlefield just for my sake…?”

At that, an answering blush began to appear on Linhardt’s face, and the Faith-user blinked several times, as if he too needed to find the proper words. “I mean, it wasn’t solely for you, Caspar. It was for our other friends too, like Annette and Ferdinand and all of the others.”

“...Oh.”

“Yes.” Linhardt must have seen the slightly downcast expression on his face because he cleared his throat slightly and pressed on. “But if I had to pick a primary reason for why I’m out here rather than in the safety of the monastery, it would be you, Caspar. You always seem to get into some kind of trouble, and as your best friend, my duties often entail getting you out of it.”

Oh. Oh! Well, that simple statement sent butterflies humming throughout his entire body, and he took another deep breath, suddenly feeling a similar alertness to how he’d felt earlier. “Well! You’ll be happy to know that this time, I actually avoided trouble!”

Linhardt raised his eyebrow, clearly wanting to hear the whole story, and Caspar was all too happy to tell it. “I chased after a bandit running away from the battlefield, and my battalion and I were this close to catching up when BAM! I slipped and fell down a hill, and that’s how I hurt my shoulder and my ankle.”

“Oh, yes, that would make sense for these injuries… alright, go on.”

“Well, I’d planned to just use Healing Focus to power through and catch that guy, but I realized that we were pretty far from the main army and from you! So I told my guys that we were going back, and they helped me back up the hill, where we rejoined everyone.” A proud smile had found its way to his face as he recounted the tale, and Linhardt listened intently, paying close attention to each and every word. “See? I avoided trouble this time! I bet I could have caught that guy eventually, but who knows where we would’ve ended up.”

A small smile crossed Linhardt’s face at Caspar’s proclamation, reaching all the way up to his eyes. “Is that so? Well done, Caspar. I’m somewhat surprised you didn’t decide to go for the glory anyway, but I am glad that we didn’t have to go searching for you this time.”

The grappler couldn’t help but let out a huff. “Well, yeah! I didn’t want anything to happen to you. I promised myself that while you’re out here, I’m gonna make sure to keep you safe!”

The smile on Linhardt’s face morphed into an expression of surprise, and then one that Caspar could only describe as delight; it was a look he hadn’t seen on Linhardt outside of the scholar making some kind of breakthrough regarding his research, and to see it aimed at him only further excited the butterflies in his stomach. “Well, then. I’m glad that I can count on you for that.”

It was Caspar’s turn to break into a grin, wide and bright. “Always! Besides…” His smile dimmed somewhat as he gave a deep sigh. “Glory and fame and stuff like that just… it just doesn’t do it for me anymore. I want to fight for justice, but also for the people I want to protect. If I die, who’s going to protect all the innocent folks who are just doing their best to get by? Who’s going to protect people like you, who shouldn’t even be on the battlefield and who don’t even like to fight? If I die, I can’t protect anyone. That’s why… that’s why I have to be extra careful not to go too far.”

Linhardt had been silent the entire time he spoke, and at the break in his words, a smooth hand came to rest on his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. “So… yeah. I don’t want to lose you, Linny. I don’t want to lose anyone. And I don’t want to lose my life by running off too far. I know that I’ll still do things my own way and I’ll still be a pain in the Professor’s side, but I’ll also try really hard not to put myself and my battalion in danger for stupid stuff.”

He trailed off, gaze dropping to his lap, and after a moment, Linhardt spoke up. “...You really have given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?”

He nodded. Linhardt squeezed his knee again, but said nothing more.

The two sat in silence for a little while longer before a loud call of “LIIIIIINHARDT!” reached their ears. Linhardt gave a loud groan, recognizing Ferdinand’s voice, and he sat up, retracting his hand and pawing at his hair so as to clumsily comb out the many blades of grass that had infiltrated it. Once he had freed his hair of the clippings, he turned his head to face Caspar. “It sounds like our break is over,” the green-haired healer pouted.

Caspar snorted, a small smile returning to his face as he got to his feet. “Yeah, it’s probably time to get going. Look at how late it is.”

Linhardt blinked as he stared up at the sky, which was just starting to morph from a beautiful blue into a vibrant shade of red. “Oh, so it is. Well then, I suppose that we can talk more on the way back to the monastery,” he replied, holding his hands out to Caspar, who grasped them and pulled his best friend to his feet. “Let’s get going, then. I, for one, am quite tired and deserve a nap.”

“That sounds pretty good, actually,” Caspar laughed as they let go of each other’s hands, and they walked back to rejoin their comrades, talking together about their newfound philosophies all the way back to the monastery.

Chapter Text

The sun rose over Garreg Mach Monastery just as it did every morning, bathing the bridges and walls in glorious golden sunlight. One stray sunbeam, however, landed right upon the eyelids of one Linhardt von Hevring, who gave a loud groan as his eyes fluttered open and he was forced to confront the fact that it was now morning. Dragging his leadened limbs from the cozy confines of his bed, Linhardt stood up, gave a half-hearted attempt at a stretch to loosen up his muscles, and plodded his way out of his room to the dining hall in order to grab some sweet buns for breakfast before he secluded himself in the library until it was time for his infirmary shift.

Once he had acquired a few Noa fruit-filled buns and wrapped them in a napkin for easier transport, he made his way outside and almost dropped his precious bundle as a particularly pernicious breeze blew right by him. It was about halfway through the Lone Moon, meaning it would still take some time for the wicked winds of winter to thaw into perfect napping temperatures. Crossing his arms and rubbing at them to warm himself up, Linhardt walked past what used to be the Officers’ Academy and was about to turn right to head upstairs when the wind carried up to his ears the familiar sounds of ringing steel and boastful battlecries. From the uproarious clamor coming from the Training Grounds, Linhardt could tell that the Knights of Seiros and several of their allies were already hard at work, and a stray thought meandered through the green-haired healer’s mind that perhaps he ought to visit and see if his best friend was there; if so, he would surely appreciate Linhardt generously rewarding his efforts with a sweet bun before beginning his self-imposed solitude.

His feet apparently approved of the decision, because before he had even fully adjusted to the change in plans, he was already walking briskly in the direction of the training grounds, green hair bobbing slightly as he hustled over there before another wicked wind blew his way. Linhardt pushed open the doors and quickly closed them behind him, giving a loud sigh before taking a look around the grounds. There were a fair few fighters facing off against some training dummies, as well as a multitude of magic-users slinging spells at faraway targets. Linhardt carefully picked his way through the troops, skillfully staying out of everyone’s way until he reached where Caspar enjoyed training, and it seemed that his foresight was proven right once again as Caspar was indeed already here, squaring off against Raphael as the two warriors clashed in a fierce spar, both trying to push each other back but neither willing to give an inch.

Linhardt quickly glanced around for a bench, sinking onto it and staring breathlessly at their brawl. Caspar was matching Raphael punch for punch, Raphael retaliating with a speed that felt almost unreal with his massive bulk, but even more impressive than that was the twin smiles that the two sported. Caspar had always given battle his all, and even training was no exception. It made a fair amount of sense, Linhardt supposed; on the battlefield, for a frontline fighter like Caspar, to falter was to die. Even a single misstep or moment of hesitance could prove to be one’s undoing, and so Caspar never took a single training session for granted. He always gave it his all. And that wide smile of his, the face of excitement he wore when giving it his all against his opponent… Linhardt had to admit that part of him was unnerved by that smile. It was a feeling he could never hope to understand, nor did he particularly want to. And yet, seeing it on Caspar’s face was rather reassuring, because it meant that he was challenging himself and most likely not about to lose his life. Confidence was a good look for him.

Linhardt felt his heart skip a beat as he continued to stare at Caspar, and he brought a hand up to clutch at his robes over his heart. Oh… that feeling was back. That strange, disquieting feeling of what he could only think to call love, zipping through his veins with an energy alien to the rest of him. Some people described it as butterflies in one’s stomach, but Linhardt understood it to be the far more scientific explanation of nerves, most notably nerves that activated when one held strong feelings about someone else. It was a far cry from how they’d looked at each other as classmates, and in Linhardt’s mind, this was rather definitive evidence for his hypothesis. There was little doubt in the crest scholar’s mind that he was harboring an honest to goodness crush on his best friend, and yet… as much as he wished to confess his feelings to Caspar, to deepen their bond from a close platonic friendship to one more romantic in nature, to even one day kiss the man, his worry and doubt leadened his tongue and stole the air from his lungs.

Although he had seen Caspar follow his instructions for defeating a band of Knights of Seiros, that wasn’t to say that the Imperial army had even more formidable forces lurking within. Although they had promised to live through the war together and that their bond would remain for all time, that didn’t mean fate or the Goddess were kind enough to cleave to promises made between mere mortals. If Linhardt should fall even deeper in love with Caspar and the war’s cruel tides take him, then the crest scholar could truly see no happier ending than throwing himself into his studies and dying in his sleep after having cracked some great code regarding the role of crests in daily life.

Linhardt held onto the seat of the bench tightly, knuckles white as he continued to watch the blond and the bluenette spar. It was simply a gamble, wasn’t it? If he played it safe and kept his feelings to himself, then if he lost Caspar, he wouldn’t be too badly hurt, surely. And if they did both survive the war, then they could continue to be friends, and if Caspar hadn’t already found someone else with whom he wanted to spend his life, then perhaps Linhardt could revisit the issue of his messy, messy feelings and try to sort them out properly before they all went their separate ways after the war’s end.

However, if he did confess to Caspar now… Linhardt gulped. The loneliness he had been experiencing would likely abate, for although it had been wonderful to reconnect with his many acquaintances upon returning to Garreg Mach, Caspar always seemed to be busy with various tasks and didn’t have nearly as much time to spend with Linhardt. To be fair, though, Linhardt was nowhere near as idle as he had been the last time he’d been here; his own schedule consisted of research projects, late-night infirmary shifts (because he had always been a night owl, so to speak, the Professor had assigned him the late shift, thinking that he would be more attentive then. Unfortunately for him, they had been right), and trying to fill the slight gaps in his time with leisure activities such as fishing. His and Caspar’s schedules suffered from a truly unfortunate mismatch, and so it was really only on their free days on Sunday that Linhardt could spend any meaningful amount of time with his best friend unless they had pre-planned it. If they were dating, however, then that would be a perfect excuse to realign their schedules so that they could spend more time together.

Beyond that, of course, there was also the fact that they could enjoy a level of intimacy that Linhardt was quite sure neither of them had indulged in since returning to the monastery. Obviously he couldn’t speak for Caspar, but Linhardt hadn’t gotten a proper hug other than the ones Caspar had given him once they’d returned since… well, since the last time Caspar had given him hugs here at the monastery back when they’d been 17 years old. That was a rather long time to go without proper affection, and even if Caspar’s hugs were rather wonderful as they were, there was the distinct possibility that they would feel even better if they were dating. Besides, Linhardt reflected, that wasn’t even to mention all of the other acts that followed such a thing, such as holding hands, kissing… Linhardt felt a blush rise to his cheeks and he gave a little cough to clear his throat, immediately banishing the thought from his mind. Best not to think of all of that now.

Setting all of that aside, none of that even encapsulated all of Linhardt’s favorite qualities about the blue-haired brawler: his wonder about the world, how attentively he listened to whatever Linhardt prattled on about, how he constantly brought him shiny rocks and flowers and sweet buns fresh from the oven, thinking that these little gifts would bring Llinhardt a modicum of joy… if he were to date Caspar and they lived through this war, he would be granted the blessing of enjoying those things for the rest of his life, and the thought was so compelling that he almost wanted to give voice to his desires right then and there.

Either way, the choice really came down to the question of whether he was willing to take the risk of loving Caspar and enjoying his company for however long they lived, Goddess willing long after the war. If he didn’t, then his heart would be safe, free to continue as it was and perhaps not suffer the pain of loss if Caspar died during all of this. But if he did, and Caspar felt the same, then he would experience great joy… but also the possibility of deep sorrow. For being someone who tended to run from any and all options that even suggested such hurt, he was almost amazed this was worth mulling over at all; upon reflection, perhaps this too was a measure of how much he loved Caspar.

A loud “ALRIGHT!” coming from Caspar broke him out of his thoughts, and he blinked dumbly as he parsed the sight of Raphael laying on the ground, Caspar standing over him and helping him up. They were chatting away, seemingly about tips for improvement, and suddenly, Linhardt knew that he just couldn’t stay and risk Caspar seeing him like this, at this key moment of indecision. He placed the entire bundle of sweet buns on the bench where he’d been sitting and dashed off, beating a hasty retreat through the training grounds and not stopping to catch his breath until he reached the welcoming shelter of the library.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caspar happily munched on one of the Noa fruit sweet buns, eagerly tearing into the treat as he set off in the direction of the fishing docks. He’d already put away all of his training equipment and bid a fond farewell to Raphel, splitting half of the stash of sweet buns with him before they’d parted. At this point, he just needed to find Linhardt and thank him for dropping these off. He wouldn’t usually have suspected the forever-drowsy Faith-user of coming all the way out here just to leave him a snack, but the napkin undoubtedly smelled faintly of the soap that he always used and the buns bundled inside were all Linhardt’s favorite flavor (not that Caspar disliked them, mind you, considering the way he shoveled them into his mouth with gusto), so it only made sense.

Still, why had Linhardt come all the way out to the training grounds and then leave without saying hello? Was it really just to drop off a bite to eat, or had he meant to stay and chat, but was needed elsewhere? It puzzled Caspar greatly, and no small part of him was trying to unravel the mystery behind his best friend’s behavior. He knew that Linhardt was someone special to him and always had been; they had been best friends ever since they were children, and had stayed that way despite their father’s animosity. Even now, he was starting to suspect that he had a crush on the green-haired healer thanks to the butterflies that seemed to regularly inhabit his stomach whenever they were together, and while part of him was worried about what this meant for their friendship, it just felt so right that he also wasn’t too inclined to question it.

The thought gave Caspar pause. Putting the matter of was this actually a crush or not aside, did he really deserve to have a crush on Linhardt? What could he even offer him? He had no inheritance waiting for him, and he had more or less relinquished his family name as soon as he’d joined his classmates in their battle against Edelgard. All he had to offer was himself, and if he was being honest, that sometimes didn’t feel like enough. He had a strong sense of justice and some incredible punching skills, if he said so himself, but he knew from times past that sometimes even his raging fists and best efforts weren’t enough to win.

He did know that Linhardt appreciated him in certain respects; he could see it in the smile the scholar gave when he listened to Linhardt’s lectures and even managed to remember some small fact about what he said. It was evident by the way he chuckled each and every time Caspar offered to carry his books and how he always, without fail, decided to entrust his precious reading and research materials to him. He could even see it in the times they had hugged each other when their moods were at their worst, Linhardt being a rather clingy person and needing that feeling of safety and strength that only Caspar could provide, and in turn, whenever it was storming outside, Linhardt’s room was a haven, a non-judgmental shelter from the storms that still sent shivers up his spine (even though he was no longer reduced to hiding under his bed when one rolled overhead).

And yet, he was also aware that he was lacking in many ways; he was well aware of his hot-tempered recklessness, and although he had used it to great benefit at times, there were plenty of examples where it hadn’t worked out so well. Sure, he had held himself back the last time he’d been on the battlefield, but would he be able to do it again if the need arose? Well, in a sense, that was a no-brainer; he had to, because now that Linhardt had expressed his resolve to go into battle, it was his duty to be there for his best friend whenever they deployed. Protecting the healers was not only one of the most important jobs in the army, but as he’d said, Linhardt was special and Caspar would not fail him.

However, would that be enough for Linhardt to agree to date him, to take the risk of jumping into whatever future adventures Caspar could offer once the war ended? He had no intention of dying here, not after they had promised each other that they would live, and part of him longed to take Linhardt to meet all of the strange and varied people he’d met on his journey (well, the nice ones at least) and show him the world, let him see just how much was out there. His instinct told him that his best friend (and secret crush) would surely enjoy solving the mysteries of the world at large, and since Caspar would be right there with him, he’d have nothing at all to worry about.

He took a deep breath as he approached the fishing pond, and a quick scan of the area told him that Linhardt hadn’t come this way. He was likely in the library, then. Caspar continued his trek, the supply of sweet buns he’d been carrying slowly dwindling as he walked, and his thoughts continued to swirl about Linhardt, about himself, about their feelings. Did Linhardt even like him that way? Honestly, it was anybody’s guess. Even Caspar’s gut hadn’t been helpful regarding this particular subject; it seemed that he would just have to take the plunge and find out, for better or for worse.

His feet walked him up the stone staircase to the library, then stopped just before the open doors. A peek inside revealed his best friend and secret crush, sitting there with an open book and a sheaf of paper ready to be transformed into notes. By his elbow was a tall stack of six more books awaiting his attention, and Caspar couldn’t make out their titles from this distance but if he had to guess, they were all crest-related. That was generally a safe guess when it came to Linhardt.

Caspar let out a sigh, feeling the butterflies begin to swarm once more the longer he looked at Linhardt. It was rude to stare, he knew, but he could hardly bring himself to look away; Linhardt was just so pretty, and if that particular line of thinking wasn’t proof enough of a crush, he wasn’t sure what would qualify. He swallowed, his palms suddenly feeling rather sweaty, and he backed away from the doorway as if it would bite him. He should really just leave Linhardt to his reading; he had never liked being disturbed, after all, and if Caspar made some kind of sound and disturbed him, he really had no idea just what would come out of his mouth.

As Caspar beat a hasty retreat from the library and headed back to his room, he let out a loud sigh, somewhat disappointed with himself. Really, what was stopping him? Other than nerves and the question of whether Linhardt liked him as well, what had caused him to retreat just then? He wasn’t running from his feelings or anything like that! No way! He just… oh, who was he kidding. That had been totally lame.

Giving himself a quick slap on the cheeks, Caspar steeled his resolve and pumped his fist in the air. No more running away! Once he had some free time, he would get Linhardt a nice bouquet and then he would have to ask out his best friend! If Linhardt didn’t like him back, then fine. Caspar would deal with that crushing aftermath if it came; maybe he could just convince Linhardt to forget the whole thing and they would simply stay friends. That outcome was vastly preferable to just waiting and seeing if anything happened; the uncertainty plaguing his soul was far more likely to kill him than any stray arrow or sword strike ever would.

Chapter Text

The stars were just beginning to gleam as Linhardt left the library for the day, the shining sentinel in the sky having turned in for the evening and leaving the silver-clad watchman and his heavenly garrison to light the night for the mortals below. Luckily for him, the weather today had been temperate and mild, quite befitting of the Great Tree Moon, his favorite time of the year. He rubbed gently at his aching shoulders, casting an appraising glance at the heavens above. Hmm… well, he supposed that he could get dinner considering that he hadn’t eaten today due to his interest in a particularly interesting facet of crestology, but truthfully, he wasn’t terribly hungry, and more than anything he felt he could use some fresh air. Meandering his way down to the fishing docks, he gave a brief nod to the fishing attendant, who waved in return, and settled himself among the empty docks, finding his favorite fishing spot and casting out his line.

The pond was rather quiet tonight, bathed in the moon’s glowing light, and it seemed that few fish were biting. Nobody else was around, although that was a given considering how many fishermen, novices and naturals alike, disliked fishing at night, which automatically made it Linhardt’s favorite time to fish precisely because he wouldn’t be disturbed unless it was for something urgent.

Linhardt had always found fishing to be a rather relaxing hobby, and like many times before, he felt himself slip into a meditative trance after a few minutes, letting his thoughts drift. Usually, he would spend this particularly precious quiet time recalling his research notes or mulling over the multitude of books that he had recently read, but this time, his mind seemed to latch on to thoughts of Caspar, and in his mind’s eye Linhardt could envision his muscular physique, beaming grin, and the sparkle of anticipation brightening those ever-excited sky-blue eyes. The crest scholar let a sigh slip from his lips; fantasizing about Caspar to this extent wasn’t exactly a skill he was proud of, but he did appreciate his brain for giving him something this exquisite to consider today.

Just as Linhardt was beginning to consider the finer points of Caspar’s rather unique hairstyle, a loud, familiar voice startled him from his thoughts. “HEY! LINHARDT!” The angler turned his head to see Caspar barreling down the stairs just outside the dining hall, a picnic basket on one arm as his free hand waved wildly. Interestingly enough, he wasn’t wearing his armor this evening, instead choosing to simply wear his brown undercoat and pants. Linhardt gave a gentle huff and waved back, and Caspar walked over, planting himself beside the healer and gingerly placing the basket down on the dock next to him. “I figured you’d be out here! Nobody had seen you eat already, so I was pretty sure you just needed some fresh air.” He gently patted the basket sitting beside his knee, giving it a glance of anticipation before turning back to Linhardt. “I also went ahead and brought you dinner so you wouldn’t have to walk all the way up there!”

Linhardt had just opened his mouth when his stomach suddenly gave a loud gurgle, and he belatedly realized that it had been doing so for the past… however long he’d been here and that he’d simply tuned it out. A bright blush blossomed across his cheeks, and he gave a small nod. “That was quite thoughtful of you, Caspar. I would love some.”

The bluenette grinned and opened the basket, allowing the tantalizing aroma of succulent meat and roasted vegetables to fill the air and further incite Linhardt’s stomach to make even louder growls. Caspar handed Linhardt a napkin-wrapped bundle seated on top of a plate, and Linhardt took the plate gratefully, setting it down on the wooden planks of the dock beside him. It took a little effort, but Linhardt managed to untie the napkin to reveal a still-steaming slice of Garreg Mach meat pie, as fresh as if it had just come out of the oven. Caspar pulled out two such slices for himself, as well as his own plate, and dug out a fork and knife, handing both to Linhardt. The forest-haired Faith-user accepted the utensils gratefully, and once Caspar took up his own set of silverware, the two dug in, savoring the juicy flavors of one of their favorite freshly-cooked foods. “Ohhhhh,” Caspar groaned. “This is so good!” Linhardt simply replied with a hum of agreement, far too busy stuffing his mouth full of flaky crust, baked tomatoes, melted cheese, and tender meat to bother with trying to form words.

The two ate in silence for a while, each of them expressing their appreciation for the meal through their various hums and haws, when suddenly, Caspar paused in his incessant chewing to stare up into the starry heavens above. “...Hey, Linhardt.”

“Hm?”

“I’m glad you decided to come all the way out here; there’s so many stars out tonight!”

Linhardt blinked in surprise, looking up from his plate to stare at Caspar, only to watch the brawler finish off his pie with a few more greedy gulps before giving a satisfied sigh and setting the plate and utensils back in the basket. “I mean it,” he began, bringing a hand up as though he were going to wipe his face on his collar before he thought better of it and used a napkin instead. “It feels like there’s more stars out than usual or something.”

“I suppose so,” Linhardt replied, downing his final morsel of pie in one big gulp and setting his plate aside. He took a deep breath, casting his gaze upward at the skies above. “But in truth, the number of stars in the skies remains the same each and every night; the reason why how many you can see differs is because certain environmental conditions such as the weather, moonlight, altitude, and ambient light all determine how many stars someone can see on any given night. In fact, the reason why…”

Linhardt’s brain began to unload facts about the stars, ranging from how they were used in navigation to their connections with crests and whether the Blue Sea Star was really a star at all, and somehow, his mouth managed to do the rest, the words flowing freely as he described the particular importance of each star’s placement in the sky. He could tell that he was gesticulating along with his words, but he couldn’t help it; once he was well and truly absorbed in talking about a topic, he knew that his hands would often speak just as often as his lips. It was just when he was about to discuss the relationship of the stars to Saint Timotheos, however, that he became suddenly, painfully aware of the fact that he’d been rambling, and for quite some time. His mouth abruptly clamped shut, and he slowly turned to face Caspar, an apology on his lips, but instead found himself struck dumb by Caspar’s expression.

The warrior had been holding on to every word, listening to Linhardt’s lecture with rapt attention, and the best way that Linhardt could possibly describe the look that Caspar was giving him was awe. Awe and wonder and interest all mixed into one, the kind of look one gave to something precious and beautiful. Linhardt would know, because it was the same sort of look he had given Caspar several times before now, desire mixed with absolute affection. Caspar had been tapping his fingers against his knees as he tended to do when he was trying his best to stay focused, but as Linhardt trailed off, he stopped, blinked, and the look of wonder made way for an expression of complete confusion. “What’s wrong, Linny? Why’d you stop?”

“I…” Linhardt swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling rather dry. “I don’t want to bore you--”

“You didn’t bore me,” Caspar decisively interrupted. “You could never bore me. I mean, yeah, I don’t always follow everything you say, but you always try to explain stuff in a way I can understand and you answer my questions without making me feel dumb. I always like when you get all into explaining things, so I try my best to listen. You’re not boring, I promise,” he finished, placing a comforting hand on Linhardt’s knee, and oh, that, coupled with the memory of how Caspar had looked at him earlier, made Linhardt’s pulse shoot up. Giving a little cough to pull himself together, he shot Caspar a grateful smile, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks as he looked down at the water of the pond, Caspar’s reflection sitting serenely alongside his own.

“I see… thank you, Caspar.” The two went silent for a little while, Caspar’s hand staying exactly where it was, until Linhardt’s personal conundrum spoke up once more, hurriedly retracting his hand from Linhardt’s knee.

“T-the moon’s really pretty tonight, too.”

Linhardt swallowed the lump in his throat and tore his eyes away from the pond to peek up at the silvery sphere travelling overhead, neither hurried nor worried by any of the events unfolding on the planet below. In some ways, Linhardt almost envied it. “You think so?”

“Yeah! It reminds me of you. You’re always up at night, doing your research and watching, waiting, looking after your patients like the moon watches over the rest of us. The moon also lights the way when you’re lost, and you’ve helped me find my way plenty of times before. Plus, the moon feels… I dunno, nicer than the sun does. They both give light and stuff, but the moon’s hurts less,” Caspar explained, staring up at the moon with a look that teetered just on the edge of wonder.

Linhardt huffed and turned away, eyes landing on his empty dish and used silverware, which he promptly handed back to Caspar to place in the basket. “Is that so? Well, I like the sun more,” he replied, planting his hands on the planks of the dock and leaning back as he looked up. “The sun’s light is what allows plants to grow. It provides the best light for reading. Just seeing the sun makes most people feel somewhat happy. Scientists have even theorized that the sun is what gives the moon its light. Besides, the sun reminds me of you, so...” he trailed off at the sight of Caspar’s smile, wide and glowing in the moonlight, the rest of his brain immediately abandoning all further attempts at words to just admire his smile and his heartbeat starting to pick up as that odd energy continued to thrum through him. Oh, he really did have it bad, didn’t he?

“Oh yeah?” Caspar replied, clearly happy with the answer, and if Linhardt didn’t know better, he could have sworn that Caspar’s cheeks were tinted pink. Still, given that it was almost certainly a trick of the light, he didn’t bother to follow up on that thought, instead gracing Caspar with an affirming nod.

“Indeed. You’re bright, you bring me joy whenever I see you, and although sometimes your light can be overwhelming, I feel warm when I’m around you.”

“O...oh,” Caspar replied, giving another blink, and wait, his cheeks looked distinctly rosier now. If it wasn’t a trick of the light like Linhardt had first thought, then… could that possibly mean that… “Hey, Linny?” Caspar asked, abruptly shattering his concentration entirely, and Linhardt could feel that his own blush had intensified, perhaps even beyond the point of hiding it. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to look away from Caspar in that moment, couldn’t bear to flee from his gaze. Anticipation thrummed through him, and he swallowed once again, sensing that something was coming.

“Can I… can I kiss you?”

There it was. The million gold question. Did Linhardt really want this? He had already considered the pros and cons of entering into a relationship with Caspar, and--

All of his thoughts flew out of his head like birds on the wing as his body, knowing what he wanted far better than his stupid, foolish brain, leaned forward and captured Caspar’s lips in a kiss. Course, chapped lips met sweet, smooth ones for but a moment before the two pulled apart, staring at each other. It wasn’t a good kiss, to be certain. Linhardt had exchanged a fair few kisses over the course of his life and this one just objectively was not a good kiss. However, one glance at Caspar’s starstruck face told him that really, they might have plenty of opportunities in the future to exchange more, and with enough practice, Caspar would be more than capable of learning how to kiss.

He was about to lean in for another when Caspar suddenly put his hands to Linhardt’s chest, pushing the healer back. “W-wait, Lin,” Caspar stammered, his cheeks now colored a dashing crimson. “Does this mean… that you like me too? I mean, you… love me?”

“Yes, Caspar, I do,” Linhardt murmured, and he took Caspar’s hands in his own, a smile beginning to form on his face as he stared at the bluenette with no small amount of affection. “I love how much effort you put into your training, and your strong sense of justice. I love how you think of me in your own little ways and how compassionate you are. I love how you strive to better yourself, and how far you’ve come in pursuing your goals.” The words rushed from his lips in a torrent, and he briefly wondered if he should be holding himself back but that small, insignificant part of his brain was quickly drowned in the flood of emotion surging through him. “Caspar, you are my sun. My warmth. The one who gives me strength and sustains me. I want to remain by your side for as long as we both shall live, and just as we promised, we’ll make it through this war together.”

Caspar’s hands trembled slightly in his own, and Linhardt could see small tears begin to gather in the corners of Caspar’s eyes, contrasting with the sheer amount of joy he saw reflected there as well. “Yeah, Lin! Same for me! I love how passionate you get about researching stuff like crests and stars and fish! I love watching you and listening to you just talk about stuff you love because you never get to do that, and you look so happy that it makes me happy too! If I’m your sun, then you’re my moon because I love looking at you, you light my way when it’s dark, and I can always count on you to be there, even if I can’t see you.”

Linhardt closed his eyes for a moment, feeling all of his accumulated doubt and worry wash away with Caspar’s proclamation. It left him feeling rather tired, but somehow, at the same time, more energetic than he could ever remember being in his life, not to mention the small thrill that went through him at Caspar’s praise. “I will always be there for you, Caspar. I promise you that. Although I had been nervous about where a relationship such as this might take us, about the risks and consequences should you or I lose our lives, I find that I would rather believe in our promise and take the risk, for I think that being with you for as long as I still draw breath is what I want most in the world.”

Caspar simply stared at him with wide eyes for a moment before unclasping their hands and embracing Linhardt tightly, pulling the healer as close as he could and resting his chin on Linhardt’s shoulder. “I… honestly, Lin, I was nervous too 'cause I worried about whether I had anything to offer you. I don’t have a title or lands or anything like that, but I wanted to try anyway because it's you. Because… I wanted to think that maybe you wouldn’t mind, and that you’d accept me just like you always have.”

Linhardt returned the embrace, holding Caspar just as tightly as he murmured into his beloved’s ear. “Oh, Caspar. I’ve always loved you for being you and I always will. You and I have an inescapable, unbreakable bond, remember?”

“Heh, yeah. I remember.”

They pulled away from each other slowly, neither one of them quite ready to let go, until Caspar’s expression suddenly shifted to one of surprise. “OH!” he gasped, turning back to the picnic basket. He sifted through the contents for a moment, and with some effort pulled forth a small bouquet of flowers. “I, uh, meant to give these to you WAY earlier, but I hope you like them.” Linhardt surveyed the slightly-crushed collection of flowers; forget-me-nots, sunflowers, and roses were all bundled together carefully, and the bishop’s gaze softened at the sight.

“You remembered that these are my favorites…”

“Well, yeah!” Caspar exclaimed proudly. “I never, ever forget that kind of stuff; you’ve liked forget-me-nots ever since we were kids, and even when we were apart, I never, ever forgot you!”

The corners of Linhardt’s lips curled into a fond smile and he shook his head, touched. Even now, Caspar was finding new ways to surprise him, and that was just another aspect he adored about this hotblooded, unpredictable, infinitely amusing man. “Thank you, Caspar,” Linhardt murmured, bringing them to his face so that he could enjoy their scent. “They’re perfect.”

Caspar granted him the sight of that sunshine smile once again, and Linhardt’s heart gave a happy little flutter in reply. “Haha, I’m glad you like them! Now, what--hm?”

Caspar’s next words were interrupted by Linhardt carefully setting the bouquet down beside him and wrapping his arms securely around Caspar’s neck, Caspar’s own hands coming to settle on the small of Linhardt’s back to provide support. “Now that we’re officially dating,” Linhardt began, his voice low and inviting in Caspar’s ear, “I would very much like to get back to kissing, if you don’t mind. I think we could both use some practice in that area, and there’s no better way to train than with a partner.”

Caspar pressed his forehead to Linhardt’s, letting out a joyful laugh at the suggestion. “Sounds good to me,” he agreed with a smirk, and leaned in to plant another kiss to Linhardt’s lips beneath the moon and stars’ twinkling gaze.

Chapter Text

A sudden squall befitting the Garland Moon had descended upon the monastery, howling and shrieking as it battered fruitlessly against the unflinching walls of the stone stronghold. For many, this meant missing a day of training, whether by themselves or with trusted partners (animal and/or human alike), while for others, the news that the council meeting had been canceled was a blessing unlike any other. The latter could certainly be said for one Linhardt von Hevring and his boyfriend Caspar von Bergliez, both of whom were currently cooped up in the sleepy scholar’s room, delighting in their newfound free time as neither of them had the slightest smidgeon of interest in venturing outside. Various pieces of Caspar’s armor sat alongside Linhardt’s bevy of books, and the room smelled faintly of angelica and ginger, a lingering trace from the night before. The unceasing patter of raindrops against the glass of Linhardt’s bedroom windows filled the otherwise serene space, the sound fading into background noise as the two tuned it out, intently focused on their own activities.

It was on a day like this that one could be forgiven for trying to put the war being waged right this very moment out of their mind, and Linhardt was determined to make the most of these precious hours when he could pretend that the world was at peace. Thus, Linhardt was reclining on a few feather pillows atop his bed, leaning against the headboard as his fingers dexterously wove the stems of a handful of white roses into a somewhat amateur garland. Every so often he would pause to consult a book resting by his side, closely following the instructions and diagrams detailed within. “Ouch,” he hissed suddenly, breaking the peaceful quiet of the room. He jerked his hand away from his little project to reveal that a thorn had pierced his thumb, and a ruby red droplet of blood had formed on his fingertip. Linhardt gave an audible gulp, forcing himself to release his stress in the form of a long sigh; he had seen far worse wounds while making his rounds in the infirmary, but even a prick like this was still enough to make the back of his neck break out in sweat.

His noise of distress alerted Caspar, who up to this point had been sitting on the floor right beside the bed and playing with the Bergliez shorthair he’d been caring for alongside Ashe, now named Cashe Money (or Cashie for short). The bluenette had been tasked with bringing both himself and Linhardt some food before the impending storm, and while on his way back with a parcel of sweet buns to split between them, Caspar had overheard some sad mewls coming from somewhere nearby. The brawler had sworn that he’d recognized the voice, and with some quick readjustment, managed to wrangle the cat and carry his cargo all in one trip, barely reaching Linhardt’s room before the skies opened up and the deluge began. Luckily for Caspar, the cat seemed less than interested in Linhardt’s many towers of tomes; it was evident to both humans who would be cleaning up after him if he made a mess. Although it was taking Linhardt some time to get used to him (and his rather ridiculous but adorably Casparian name), they had at least formed something akin to a mutual bond of respect, and in Linhardt’s mind, that signified a fairly strong start to their relationship.

“What’s wrong, Linny?” Caspar inquired, looking up at Linhardt with a concerned expression. Linhardt simply held out his throbbing thumb, and without delay, Caspar grabbed a cloth from the green-haired healer’s bedside, wiped away the blood, and gave the gash a kiss, causing Linhardt’s cheeks to go pink. “Kissing wounds is hardly proper medical procedure, Caspar,” he couldn’t help but retort, and Caspar simply grinned at his words.

“Eh, I’ve never been good at being proper,” he replied, clearly expecting such a response, and Linhardt huffed good-naturedly, leaning over to plant a kiss on Caspar’s forehead in return before settling back down to continue his crafting. Before he could resume his weaving, however, Cashie mewled pleadingly, and with a long-suffering sigh, Linhardt extended his hand down to the cat, petting him gently and stroking his fur. The little beast gave a loud meow of contentment, and Linhardt pulled away, Caspar picking up the slack so that their fuzzy little freeloader wouldn’t be displeased.

Linhardt reached over to his bedside table, plucking a sweet bun from the pile and biting into it. He gave a happy hum at the taste; it was surprisingly nostalgic, combining the traditional Faerghian recipe with a dash of cinnamon, which one could usually only get from Adrestia. It seemed that Bernadetta had been cooking today. That said, it was fortunate, he supposed, that he and Caspar both liked sweet buns; they had discovered this fact during tea parties they’d held as children, and like a lingering echo of those effervescent days, Linhardt still heard Caspar slurp his tea every once in a while, just as he always had. His penchant for shoveling food into his mouth before dashing off to his next destination hadn’t changed much either; Caspar had always been of the opinion that slowing down and savoring one’s food was a waste of time, and despite Linhardt’s many warnings about choking hazards, Caspar was bound and determined to act like a goat and just inhale his food. The blue-eyed bishop had sometimes wondered if Caspar could even taste any of the dishes before they’d made it down his throat. Yet despite the fact that Linhardt had once abhorred such behavior, he’d simply learned to look past it by keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead and not bothering to look. It was for the best, really.

Linhardt carefully bent a stem into its proper place, braiding it with another so that it would stay, and snuck a peek over at his boyfriend, regarding the brawler with a warm smile. Whether in medical practice or dining etiquette, Caspar had indeed never been the proper type, but that was part of what Linhardt loved about him; the bluenette didn’t let himself get caught up in what were ultimately rather trivial things, instead choosing to live his life on his own terms. He gave his all to what he deemed important, answering to nobody but his own self and to nothing but his own moral standard, and Linhardt had to admit to himself that he both admired and envied those particular qualities.

Caspar had always seemed to know what he’d been aiming for, and even if his short-term goals changed over time, he had never deviated from his personal ideal. Even more so, Caspar had never been the type to force his ideals upon anyone; rather, as he’d learned more about the world and the people in it, he simply adjusted as needed and continued to selfishly, admirably remain true to himself. Somehow, both surprisingly and not, he remained optimistic in even the bleakest of times, and as he’d told Linhardt in hushed tones during quiet nights, not all of his experiences had been particularly positive ones, even if all of them did leave an impression on him. It just went to show how much he’d grown while Linhardt hadn’t been looking, and Linhardt felt in his heart a sense of wonder at who Caspar had become. Perhaps he was just feeling sentimental, but he never could have imagined his hotheaded, sometimes rather ignorant best friend making his return as a battle-hardened warrior whose eyes spoke of untold experience rather than unfettered enthusiasm. Making the choice to remain hopeful despite all he’d seen would have been difficult for anyone, and Linhardt, despite his personal bias toward his boisterous boyfriend, felt that he could objectively respect that sort of outlook. He had always been rather pessimistic by nature and the constant bloodshed and loss of life that inevitably accompanied war had only reinforced that, and so he and Caspar balanced each other out in their own ways; Linhardt’s sometimes-cynical pragmatism was useful for keeping them alive in body, and Caspar’s sunny disposition sustained them in spirit.

Up and over, down and through; Linhardt’s hands went on weaving, and as his awareness began to narrow and sharpen to solely focus on the task at hand, he was unaware of the goofy grin Caspar was aiming in his direction.

Cashe Money mewled again, and Caspar obediently continued his petting, eyes still locked on his lovely Linhardt. He loved the expression Lin had when he was utterly absorbed in whatever he was working on at the time, the little crease in his forehead and the way he squinted slightly serving as proof of his concentration. Then again, Caspar loved all of the little faces that Linhardt made. Others tended to think that the healer wasn’t terribly expressive, and Caspar supposed he could see why they thought that; his partner tended to default to wearing a neutral expression, and people who didn’t know him often had a hard time gauging his mood. For Caspar, however, who was well-versed in all matters related to Linhardt, it was clear that they just didn’t know what to look for. Linhardt’s expressions were, for the most part, subtle and swift; blink, and you missed it. In that sense, Caspar felt no small amount of pride at the fact that he could easily make out the pleased upturn of the corners of Linhardt’s lips when he was amused, which was often, or the slight change in the way he held his eyes if he was annoyed or bored with a given situation. By the determined glint in his eye, however, Linhardt wasn’t likely to lose interest anytime soon, and Caspar couldn’t help but feel a pleased little thrill zip up his spine at the thought.

Cashie mewled again, and Caspar reached into his hip pouch to pull out some meat for him. The little glutton began to dig in, eating straight from the brawler’s hand, and in a moment of boldness, scooped up the cat and deposited him in his lap. Cashie screeched in protest for a moment before deciding that this was a rather favorable turn of events, and curled up comfortably, continuing to eat. Caspar repositioned himself to lean back against the side of the bed, getting himself settled as he stared down at the cat, satisfied.

Suddenly, in the span of a blink, a flash of quicksilver lightning illuminated the entire room, bathing the walls in bright white light before disappearing as quickly as it came. Caspar barely had time to catch his breath before a resounding thunderclap echoed throughout the room, causing Cashie to yowl and jump up in fright, the fat cat immediately dashing for Linhardt’s desk and hiding beneath it.

Immediately, Caspar’s body felt like it was collapsing in on itself. Tremors raced across his skin, and the breath he’d inhaled moments before felt trapped in his chest, unable to leave. His vision went blurry and he closed his eyes, practically hearing his heart in his ears. His hands shot up to clutch tightly at his grounding charm, secured carefully in a pouch he kept under his tunic, forcing himself to take deep breaths and narrow his focus down to the trinket grasped in his hand. 1, 2, 3, in. Hold. 2. 3. 4. Out. 2. 3. 4. In. 2. 3. 4. Timing his breaths seemed to calm his body down somewhat, but it wasn’t nearly enough just yet; all he wanted to do was hide--

A familiar hand suddenly landed in his hair, fingers beginning to rub small, soothing circles into his scalp. Caspar heard the sound of bedsheets rustling as Linhardt shifted above him, and although he wasn’t yet willing to open his eyes, he leaned into the touch as unhurried hands massaged his head, encouraging his taut muscles to relax. “Mmm…” he hummed, satisfied, as his body slowly took the hint and began to unwind, letting the stress and worry from such a tense situation wash away. After a few more moments of letting Linhardt have his way, Caspar’s hands released his charm and he slowly opened his eyes, blinking a few times as his eyes readjusted. He tilted his head back, noticing that Linhardt had scooted himself forward in order to find a better position to pet him with, and he graced his pretty Linny with a grateful smile, taking the healer’s hand and placing a gentle peck on his palm. “Thanks, babe,” he murmured, his voice somewhat shaky but still understandable. “I think I’m ok.”

“If you’re sure,” his partner replied, worry creasing his sea-blue eyes, and Caspar promptly turned around, getting on his knees and facing Linhardt. He reached over to cup Linhardt’s cheeks, planting a kiss on his forehead next, and his favorite Faith-user couldn’t conceal the little chuckle that escaped him in response. Finally, Caspar pressed a loving kiss to Linhardt’s lips, reveling in the sweet smile he received in return.

“I’m sure,” he answered evenly, feeling noticably calmer now. As he retracted his hands, he spared Cashie a glance. He looked fairly content laying right where he was, so Caspar didn’t bother trying to coax him out. Cashie was the sort who took life at his own pace. Instead, Caspar rested his hands on the bed and turned his head to look out the windows; it seemed that the storm wasn’t about to abate anytime soon, and a sigh slipped out as he turned back to Linhardt, who had retaken his earlier position against his headboard and resumed his weaving. “You used to do that when we were kids, too.”

Linhardt didn’t look up, but Caspar could see that the corners of his mouth had lifted ever so slightly. “Indeed I did,” he replied, adjusting a bud. “You’ve always been the type to find comfort through touch over just about anything else. Then again, I am much the same way, so perhaps it was no surprise that such a method helps you even to this day.”

“Man, I wish it could always be that easy.”

Linhardt hummed as he adjusted a stem. “That would be ideal, wouldn’t it? Well, you have my solemn oath that I shall comfort you in your times of trouble as much as you need, for as long as I can.”

“As long as you can, huh…” Caspar muttered, his mind latching onto that thought like a fish chomping at bait. “That reminds me. What were you thinking of doing after the war?”

The healer’s hands paused just as they were about to braid another stem into the garland, and a considering gleam entered Linhardt’s eye. “Hm. To be quite honest, I hadn’t particularly given the matter much thought. All I know is that after this war, I shall never set foot upon a battlefield again, and that if at all possible, I should like nothing to do with politics or nobility or anything even remotely related to such, although I suppose it would be foolish to think that I could just run away from that sort of thing, even if I technically already did so once.”

“Why can’t we?” Caspar replied half-heartedly, only for his thought process to suddenly sputter and stop as his brain caught up to his mouth.

“Why can’t we… what?” Linhardt asked, turning to Caspar in disbelief, and the brawler met his eyes, willing him to understand.

“Why can’t we? You know, run? Once the war is over, I mean. Let’s give up our stupid titles and just… go!”

“Go…? Go where?”

“ANYWHERE!” Caspar yelled exuberantly, jumping to his feet and holding his hands toward the ceiling as he stared starry-eyed at Linhardt. “That’s the thing! Once this war is over, we can do what we want! I’ve always wanted to see the world, like Almyra and Brigid and Dagda and Morfis and even the rest of Fódlan if we wanted to!”

Linhardt stared back, his expression one of surprised stupor, and Caspar half-worried that Lin had zoned out at some point before the scholar blinked and shook his head. “I… how strange. For some reason, I had envisioned planting myself here, studying crests while you… were being you, and yet… the more I think about it, the more some part of me thinks that perhaps you might be onto something with this particular plan.”

“Right!?” Caspar beamed, clearly warming to the idea. “You can study all sorts of stuff! Maybe there’s actually stuff about crests in other lands that we don’t know anything about, like that big turtle-beast-thing living under Lake Teutates, or some sort of new, neat magic like Brigid’s spirit stuff! It’ll be so cool!” Caspar exclaimed breathlessly, wearing a grin wide enough to make his cheeks hurt, and Linhardt couldn’t suppress a smile of his own.

“Very well; you’ve made a rather compelling argument, so I’ll think about it. Ask me again when we’ve survived this terrible war, and then I’ll give you an answer.”

“I’ll hold you to that!” Caspar cackled, taking Linhardt’s hands in his own as he bent over and leaned in for another kiss. “There. Now it’s official.”

Linhardt laughed against his lips, kissing him back before pushing him away gently. “Yes, yes, sealed with a kiss. Now, hold still so I can see if this fits.” Caspar obediently held his position as Lin placed the garland atop his head. A few thorns scratched at him slightly, but it more or less fit, and at his partner’s questioning gaze, Caspar grinned.

“Thanks, babe! I love it!”

A relieved expression crossed Linhardt’s face, and he gave a little sigh, bringing a hand to his chest. “That’s good. This is my first time making one of these, so…”

“It’s great! I’ll be sure to take extra special care of it,” Caspar replied, adjusting the angle slightly, and Linhardt smiled, all the way up to his eyes. Caspar loved that smile.

“Even if something does happen to it, don’t worry about it too much,” Linhardt answered, interlacing their fingers together and giving Caspar’s hands a strong squeeze. “I’ll copy down the notes in this book for future reference; now that I’ve done it once, I can somewhat confidently attempt another next year.” He paused for a moment, then still holding Caspar’s hands, stood up and pulled him close to give him a kiss on the cheek. “And perhaps if we get rather lucky on our travels, each and every year after that.”

Chapter Text

At long last, it was over. The war had been won, Edelgard and her forces had been eliminated, and the dizzying flurry of events that came afterward would have brought Linhardt to his knees were it not for Caspar supporting him every step of the way. The past few moons had passed in a blur, and before he knew it, the Verdant Rain Moon had come and gone, punctuated by a final showdown that shook the very foundations of Fódlan. Now, the first fall winds of the Horsebow Moon were blowing in as if to herald both the turning of the season and of an era, and on one particular morning, Linhardt woke to the sound of the monastery bells ringing nine, gentle beams of sunlight brightening his face as he blinked into alertness. A questing hand reached out to Caspar’s side of the bed, and finding nothing but cold sheets, Linhardt forced his languid eyelids open as he looked around for Caspar. Seeing nobody else in the room with him, Linhardt sat up slowly and readjusted his blanket, his nightshirt riding up with the motion, and slowly swiveled his head to stare at the entrance to his room, as if desire alone would summon Caspar back to his side.

As he waited for his wish to be realized, only now did it truly register in the sleepy scholar’s mind that the war had been won, for this was his seventh straight day of getting a good, uninterrupted night’s sleep. There were no drills to be had, no all night infirmary shifts, no forced marches; it was simply he and Caspar, sharing a room and a bed far too small for them both but that they’d managed to make do with anyway. He stared down at his hands, rough and calloused from the many days and nights of washing bandages and linens, treating patients, handling instruments, turning pages and earning paper cuts, and even wielding the Caduceus Staff on occasion. They were the only places on his body where his skin wasn’t smooth and fair, and if he was being honest, he found that he didn’t really mind it nearly as much as he’d thought he would. After all, Caspar loved his hands as they were (“Hey, this just means you saved a whole lotta lives, right?”), and really, nobody else’s opinion even came close to mattering. Speaking of Caspar, he was taking quite a while; nothing would have happened to him, right…?

Luckily, it seemed that the universe was in a charitable mood this morning, for soon after the niggling thought crossed his mind, there was the squeak of a handle turning, quickly followed by the door opening, familiar footsteps entering, and the satisfyingly solid thunk of privacy being restored. His oh-so-handsome boyfriend bolted over with a parcel in his palms, a smile on his face and a sparkle in his eye.

“‘Morning, Linny,” Caspar grinned happily, reaching out and gently cupping Linhardt’s cheek as he pressed a loving kiss to Linhardt’s lips. The sleepy-eyed scholar sighed in relief, and brought a hand up to cover his, giving it a light squeeze.

“Good morning, Caspar,” he murmured in reply, trying to suppress a yawn and failing miserably. Caspar laughed, endeared, and deposited the present onto Linhardt’s lap before stepping aside and starting a set of squats. Linhardt unwrapped the package to find some scrumptious sweet buns inside, and as he dug in, the delicious taste of fresh Noa fruit hit his tongue and he hummed appreciatively. Once he’d polished off the first one, he turned back to Caspar. “Thank you, my love, for bringing me sustenance. Now, did we have any plans for today?”

At the question, Caspar stopped his exercise and grinned widely at Linhardt. “Well, I think we have our meeting with Seteth today... "

“Yes, but that’s not until this afternoon. Is there anything else?”

Caspar walked over to stand beside the bed, resting his hands on his hips as he stared down at Linhardt with an expression of absolute fondness that made Linhardt’s heart skip a beat. “If that’s the case, then the only plans I know about are to do whatever we want.”

Linhardt felt the corners of his mouth turn up, and he shook his head with a good-natured huff. “Whatever we want, hm? Well, I can think of all sorts of things that would fall under that category. Would you care to be a little more specific?”

“Well, I figured we’d stop by the library so you could return some of your books and get some new ones, then we’d go to the training grounds and see who’s up for sparring. We could go to the sauna after that, get some lunch, and then, uh… I dunno, maybe go find some quiet spot to hang out and kiss for a while ‘til we have to go meet Seteth?”

A quiet laugh slipped from Linhardt’s lips as he picked up his second sweet bun and tore into it. He swallowed the piece with another pleased hum before wiping his hands free of crumbs and looking up at Caspar. “It seems that you have a rather meticulous schedule planned out. I suppose that saves me the trouble of trying to think too hard about it before I’ve fully awoken, so we’ll go with your ideas.”

Caspar was the one to shake his head this time as he brought his arms up in a shrug. “Fully awoken? You? Now that’s something I’ve gotta see,” he grinned, and Linhardt swatted at him playfully, devouring the rest of his sweet bun in two big bites. Picking up the third, the blue-eyed bishop held the pastry out toward Caspar, who put up the briefest of protests before leaning down so that Linhardt could feed it to him. Once he’d finished, he placed a jam-lipped kiss on the Faith-wielder’s forehead as thanks, completely unable to hold back a cackle as Linhardt sighed in resignation and wiped it off.

Putting the napkin aside, the green-haired healer then pushed away his blanket and planted his feet on the floor, finally vertical for the first time that day. Considering that they had such a packed schedule of their favorite things to do, he supposed he really ought to get dressed and greet the day; the future was theirs to fathom, after all, and whether his sudden burst of energy and optimism stemmed from the slightly delayed internalization of the fact that the most gruesome war in Fódlan’s modern history had finally ended, the sheer miracle of the two of them surviving said war, or simply the blessing of getting plenty of sweet, sweet sleep these past several nights, Linhardt couldn’t say. What he did know, however, was that in his eyes, he was now truly free to do whatever he wanted, and once they’d had their meeting with Seteth, the same would be said for society’s eyes as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caspar knocked lightly on the door to Seteth's office, causing the administrator, who had been pouring over some papers, to look up briefly at the noise before standing up to beckon them in. He held out his hand to shake theirs, the two returning the gesture before Seteth retracted his hand and began searching his overcrowded desk for something. In some ways, Seteth reminded Caspar of Ferdinand; both of them were strong, level-headed leaders who cared deeply for their people and who strove for excellence in order to best help those they deemed worthy, not necessarily to take power for themselves. Now that Seteth was assisting the Professor--well, maybe they weren’t officially the Professor anymore, but they had never seemed to mind whenever the familiar title slipped out by accident--the rather strict administrator currently had the authority to handle all affairs relating to what was once the Adrestian Empire, and for their service (and also because Caspar was pretty sure that Seteth secretly liked them both) he had promised to help them fulfill a surprisingly simple wish before they left the monastery.

“So. You’re quite confident that this is what you truly desire?” the emerald-eyed administrator asked as he turned his head, staring at them solemnly, and Caspar and Linhardt both nodded, their hands joining together and fingers intertwining as they stood tall beneath Seteth’s scrutiny. He must have been satisfied by what he saw, because he gave a brief nod and produced two sets of papers, evidently having found what he was looking for. “Very well. I have prepared what you requested of me. By following these procedures, you, Caspar von Bergliez, and you, Linhardt von Hevring, will have legally relinquished your noble titles, and in doing so, will no longer be permitted to claim any sort of assistance from your family on the basis of blood. By that same merit, however, no longer do the dictates and duties of nobility bind you, and thus, you are free to do as you wish. Do you both agree to these terms and conditions, understanding all that you stand to gain, as well as what you may lose by doing so?”

“We do,” the two swore in unison, and Caspar gulped as Seteth gave a single nod, reaching for his quill and writing something down on the top sheets of each of their stacks of papers.

“Then listen well, and each of you will repeat after me,” he explained, looking toward Linhardt first. “I, Linhardt von Hevring, do solemnly swear…” he paused, waiting for the healer to echo him as Caspar watched it all unfold with baited breath. Once Lin repeated the phrase, Seteth continued, the two of them alternating for the rest of the vow, “...to resign from my position as the heir to House Hevring of the former Adrestian Empire. I swear before the Goddess Sothis that I renounce my nobility and shall be stripped of all titles bestowed upon me, that I will no longer request the aid of my kinsmen by virtue of my blood, and that I am no longer able to receive any obligation nor carry out any duty that would require one of noble stature. Thus, I declare myself a free person in the eyes of the law and of the Goddess, that I no longer claim nor purport myself to be of the nobility.”

Once the two had finished, Seteth turned an appraising eye toward Caspar. “And you, Caspar von Bergliez, hereby solemnly swear as a witness to this action that this person has relinquished his title of his own will, under his own power?”

Caspar’s mouth felt drier than the desert, but he managed to squeak out an “I do.”

“Then so be it,” Seteth replied, and took a stamp from behind his desk, stamping the top sheet of one of the sets of documents and then the page below. He turned the sheet toward Linhardt, handing him the quill. “Sign your name here, here, and initial here, and then it shall be done. Your name shall be struck from the records of your house, and no longer will you be a noble.” Linhardt’s hand fell from Caspar’s grasp as he bent over the desk, quill in hand as he speedily scanned over each page. Seeing nothing amiss, Linhardt signed his name in each area indicated, handing the pages back with an expression bordering on eagerness. Seteth quickly flipped through the pages, and with a final sigh, took up the quill once again and signed his own name. “It is done. From this day forth, you are simply Linhardt, a commoner. Now then, let us do the same for Caspar.”

Caspar’s abandonment of his title proceeded only slightly less smoothly than Linhardt’s did; despite knowing what to expect, he found himself becoming tongue-tied on a few of the more complex phrases, but for the most part, the wording was the same as Linhardt’s, with a few minor differences. Finally, it was Linhardt’s turn to vouch for him, and once more, Seteth stamped some pages and Caspar signed them in a hand only slightly shaking with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. Once he had finished and Seteth had signed his sections, the assistant of Fódlan’s newest authority lightly tapped the papers and set them aside, fixing them both with a neutral expression.

“Congratulations. You are now both commoners, and your lives are yours to do with as you wish. I would happily offer you both a place to stay within these walls, but I get the feeling that you have other plans.”

Caspar grinned in relief, feeling like he could finally breathe again now that the important part was out of the way, and gave their now-favorite official a beaming grin. “Yeah! We’re gonna go see the world, and since I know Lin doesn’t want to fight anymore if he doesn’t have to, I think I’ll learn a trade or something. I’m thinking of learning blacksmithing!” he grinned, flexing an arm and patting his shoulder to help get his point across.

“...Is that so,” Seteth murmured, and Caspar’s eyes went wide as he graced them both with a wide, warm smile. “I wish you both the best of luck on your travels, then. The world is a far bigger place than one might realize at first; take care as you go, and keep an open mind. You’ll enjoy it more that way.”

“Uh… yeah,” Caspar replied lamely as he brought his free hand up to scratch at the back of his head, mentally kicking himself for not having anything better to say. Fortunately, Linhardt had recovered from when he too had been staring, dumbstruck, at the usually strict assistant and picked up where Caspar had left off.

“We appreciate it, Seteth. Now then, we should be going. We have much to do before our departure.”

“Yes, of course.” Seteth rose from his chair and extended his hand once more, Caspar and Linhardt each returning the handshake before they turned to leave. “Thank you once again for all that you have done for us. We shall never forget it,” Seteth called, and the two slipped their hands into each other’s once again, giving a final wave with their free hands until they were out of sight of the office. Once they were sure Seteth could no longer see them, they both practically bolted down the hallways, Caspar lifting Linhardt into his arms as he sprinted down the stairs to the first floor. Once they were out of the building and back under the boundless blue skies, the two burst into joyful laughter, Caspar spinning the love of his life around and around until they could stand it no longer.

They were alive. They were free. And best of all… they were together.

Caspar pressed his lips to Linhardt’s, his heart practically bursting with joy, and his partner eagerly returned the kiss, neither of them bothering to care about who might be watching. Finally, the necessity of air dictated that they pull apart, but Caspar could still feel himself grinning, his body feeling energized at the thought of everything that awaited them. Caspar set Linhardt down carefully before taking the healer’s hand once more, the two making a mad dash for their room to start packing and settle their debts. They had kept their promise, and now, it was time to fulfill it. Their future was theirs to figure out; from now on, the only ones they had to answer to were each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright, Linny! I think we have everything!” Caspar called, the large pack on his back making a slight clinking noise as it brushed against his armor. “Ashe will take care of Cashie, you returned those overdue library books, and I paid for all of the training dummies I broke! We’re set!” the blunette grinned, sending a bright smile Linhardt’s way.

The healer took a deep breath as he stared fondly at his boyfriend, adjusting his own pack and supplies. “Excellent.” The two left Linhardt’s room, the green-haired healer closing the door with a final, definitive click of the latch, and they walked slowly across the monastery grounds, wishing their friends and comrades fond farewells as they slowly headed for the front gate. As they meandered through the entrance hall one final time, Linhardt looking around as if trying to take it all in for the last time, he heard Caspar draw in a sharp breath of air next to him, and he turned his head to look at him, patiently waiting for the other to vocalize his thought.

“...You know, ever since we decided that we would give up our nobility, I was kinda thinking about what our new names would be. I mean! Not that we need new last names, but it would be kinda nice to pick our own this time, since we’ve given up our old ones.”

Linhardt blinked at him, stunned. It wasn’t like Caspar to think about such things, but in truth, that only made his proposal all the more exciting (because really, that’s what it was even if Caspar himself didn’t quite seem to realize it yet), and once they reached the top of the steps overlooking the marketplace, Linhardt stopped in his tracks, Caspar following suit, and met his gaze evenly. “I would love that, Caspar. Truly. Do you have an idea?”

Caspar rested one hand on his hip and extended the other toward Linhardt, his expression shifting into one that belied his nervousness. “I mean, I do have one, but it’s kinda… well, ok. I’ll just put it out there. How about Freedom? ‘Cause other than you, it's the most important thing in the world to me.”

The words hit Linhardt square in the heart, and suddenly, staring blankly was all he seemed to be capable of as a wave of emotion swept through him. By the time he came back to reality, Caspar was stammering an apology, trying to retract his statement, when he suddenly stopped of his own accord, likely because he had finally registered the warm, slow smile that had unconsciously crept across Linhardt’s face. "Freedom, hm? Yes, that does sound quite appealing. In fact, we could even use the old Adrestian version, Freiheit--"

"Caspar Freiheit…” the bluenette interrupted, trying it out much like he was savoring the words, tasting each syllable as it rolled off his tongue. “Linhardt Freiheit... Caspar and Linhardt Freiheit... Yeah. Yeah, that sounds really good, Lin," he replied with a wide grin, clearly pleased with their joint contribution, and with a start, Linhardt quickly reached around for the cross-body book holster he’d worn for months now, deftly undoing the straps so that he could take out the tome held within. Flipping to the first page, Linhardt plucked a quill and a vial of ink from his pack and quickly scribbled down the remarkably quick process of selecting their new surname, signing it a few times for good measure and offering Caspar the opportunity to do so as well. He did so, clearly confused but willing to humor his partner, and once they had finished, Linhardt placed the quill and ink back among his items and rebound his book. Caspar stared at it with open curiosity. “What’s that for, Linny? Are you planning to drag that book around with us everywhere we go?”

At that, Linhardt gave a slight huff, his cheeks going pink. “I had thought that since we are about to embark on what could be considered a journey to last a lifetime, I would keep a travel journal about all of the places we’ve been and the things that we did. This way, once we find a lovely place in the countryside to retire, we can feast our eyes on a written account of our deeds and enjoy it for many years to come.”

Caspar’s eyes visibly brightened at the thought, and he leaned in to plant a kiss to Linhardt’s forehead, grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah! I love it! Just let me know if you need me to do anything; I’ll know we’ll make some amazing memories!”

A quiet chuckle slipped from Linhardt’s lips, and he shook his head fondly in response. “Of that, I have no doubt. Now then, Caspar… shall we begin our adventure in earnest?”

Caspar gave a hardy laugh in return, taking Linhardt’s hand in his own and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Yeah! I don’t think I could BE more ready!” They resumed their walk, hand in hand, making a beeline for the front gate. Once they reached the portcullis, the two paused, each of them taking a deep breath. “Let’s go, Linny,” Caspar grinned, and Linhardt squeezed his hand in reply. In tandem, they took their first final step out of the monastery, closing one chapter and beginning another as Caspar and Linhardt Freiheit set out from Garreg Mach, hand in hand, on what they would come to fondly call the first day of the rest of their lives.

Chapter Text

Nestled in the northern foothills of the Oghma Mountains, resting just on the border between what was once the Adrestian Empire and the Kingdom of Faerghus, was the quiet, cozy village of Marsibel sleeping deep in Magdred territory. To its back were the mountains, tall stalwart defenders that none could penetrate, and before it stood a tall forest that stood between the village and the closest major road. The village had begun life as a forestry outpost, but with time grew to have a life and a name of its own.

Like most of the settlements in the region, it had wept as it had been forced to send forth all of its able-bodied folk to battle in the Crimson Emperor’s War, leaving only single parents, children, elderly, and infirm to defend their beloved village. Luckily for them, however, unlike most of the other settlements, Marsibel was just enough off the beaten path that its natural defenses did much to repel their enemies (and allies) for them, and well-placed palisades took care of the rest. Happy days brightened the village once more as a handful of their conscripted soldiers made their way home, claiming that the war was over, and once some poor government sap representing the lord promptly brought the mayor a letter declaring that the war was officially over, and that the lands would be under new management. Once it was known that the good people of Marsibel could still expect their taxes to go to Lord Magdred and that Market Days held in the territory’s capital city of Solamu were still on the first Wednesday of the moon, however, the townsfolk lost all interest in any other affairs of state, deciding to spend their time and energy rebuilding their bonds of community.

Over the years, the village and its people had slowly begun to recover, and while it was far from being as populous as it had once been, the townspeople had been able to get by, replanting their farms and fields and some taking up husbandry as they worked to restore their beloved home. Marsibel became even more remote from civilization than ever before, to the point that only the most enterprising merchants and the most meticulous (or sometimes, just plain unlucky) government officials ever bothered to pick their way up the sparsely maintained dirt road to reach the village. Another few years passed by in languid ease, and since then, not much of note had happened beyond regular local activities, much to the joy of the villagers, up until one spring day during the Great Tree Moon, 15 years after the war had ended.

Matten, daughter of Balrigar, owner of the village’s general store and their traveling merchant when it came to Market Day, had been assigned watch duty for the day. With the village’s single spyglass in hand, the 17-year-old lazily leaned herself against the watchtower’s log railing, staring out into the windswept emptiness of the rolling green hills. There was really very little point to keeping an eye out for anything other than a random traveler or, more importantly, a forest fire, but until the usual watchman, Iriel, recovered from a back injury that they had received from slipping and falling from the ladder leading up to the tower, Matten had been volun-told that she would be keeping the day’s watch until further notice. The teen had assumed that this would be a fairly easy job, and for the most part, she had been correct, up until she spied with her little eye two well-dressed strangers trekking through the treeline, hiking their way through the foothills and rapidly approaching the front gates.

Fumbling with her spyglass, Matten quickly peered at the two, trying to get a sense of who they were and what they may have wanted. One of them lifted a hand, waving it in greeting, and Matten focused on him first, quickly calling for the mayor and the rest of their battle-ready villagers. He was a tall, sturdily-built blue-haired man with some impressive sideburns and an enthusiastic gleam in his matching sky-blue eyes. He was dressed in an oddly patchwork set of armor, with large bronze pauldrons, secured to his torso with thick brown leather straps, that gleamed in the early afternoon sun, as well as a matching pair of bronze gauntlets. He also donned a simple dark blue top with short, rolled-up sleeves that seemed to be somewhat small on him, highlighting his well-defined chest and abs. Around his waist was a blue belt with a small leather bag and a waterskin attached to one side and what appeared to be small pieces of blue metal, similar to what armorers used to craft splint mail. Beyond that, he wore beige cloth pants that evidently afforded him a comfortable range of movement, along with bronze greaves that matched the rest of his armor and a set of sturdy boots, and from his waist down was a flowing brown cape-like garment similar to the bottom half of a duster jacket, although this one had a long slit in the back and appeared to curve down and around rather than being cut straight. What was most impressive about this man, however, was the massive hammer slung casually over his back, strapped tightly to the massive backpack he carried with ease. The head of the hammer gleamed imposingly, the handle seemingly forged of the same material as the man’s armor. This traveler was clearly a warrior of some sort, and a shiver ran down Matten’s spine at the thought of facing him in battle.

Trailing a step or two behind him was a magic-user with long emerald hair that reached down to their waist and sleepy sea-blue eyes fixated on the front gate. They donned a dual-toned dark- and forest-green Gremory gown with all of the accessories, including a small but still stuffed sack of their own, lending its wearer a rather elegant flair, although Matten could see the faded brown tips of well-worn traveling boots poking out from under the skirt every so often. While the bluenette appeared to be quite energetic, this one seemed more tired than anything, looking for all the world like they would resort to stabbing someone in exchange for some sleep. Personality aside, only the best of the best could attain a Gremory certification, and Matten felt a wave of wariness engulf her as the two approached. If they were hostile, it would likely take all of the village’s power to stop them, and even then, they would face heavy losses.

Matten hurriedly relayed all of this information and the townsfolk gathered, the mayor coming forward as the leader of the welcoming party. Mayor Geruul had lived in this village for all of his life, even heading to Solamu for knightly training before returning to serve as head of the village militia, taking over the position of mayor at his retirement. He had personally trained several of the able-bodied soldiers who had been sent off to war, not to mention leading the village’s tactical planning when it came to beating bandits, meaning that he had developed a fairly accurate eye for aptitude over the years. Hence, once he managed to get a solid grasp of the situation from a stammering, panicking Matten, he stroked his beard and stared through the gate, sizing the strangers up.

By the time the two travelers had arrived, the mayor was flanked by about 10 of the village’s strongest, all of whom bore weapons but made no move to draw them just yet. They did, however, stare suspiciously at the strangers, and the duo shared a glance, stopping just before the entrance. “How now!” the mayor called. “M’name’s Geruul! Who might you be, and what is your business here?”

“We’ve come to live here!” the bluenette bellowed, and it took all the mayor had not to step back from the sheer volume of his exclamation or the force of his blinding grin.

“We were told that this place was about as far off the beaten path as one could go while still having sufficient access to town,” the green-haired gremory cut in. “We are ex-adventurers, you see, and we have been seeking a place to retire. A traveling merchant named Anna pointed us your way.”

The mayor frowned as he considered this information. Anna had certainly passed this way before, but it had been quite some time since last she’d visited. Even so, if these two were adventurers, such a connection wouldn’t be entirely unusual… He crossed his arms. “Fine, then. What are your skills? Did you retire by choice, or because you had to?” He emphasized this last point with a glare; he was none too keen on inviting trouble right through his front gate, and if this duo turned out to be dangerous, he would send them packing right back into the woods.

The blue-haired man simply let out a loud laugh in response, taking the mayor and his militia aback. “Don’t worry, we’re not here to cause problems, or to run from them! We’ve been all over Fódlan, and a quiet life in the countryside’s what we decided on once we were ready to retire. By the way,” he continued jovially, jabbing his thumb into his chest, “the name’s Caspar. Caspar Freiheit.” He then pointed his thumb in his partner’s direction, taking their hand in his own as he introduced them. “This is my spouse, Linhardt Freiheit.” The ocean-eyed gremory gave a deferential nod in response. “We really just want to live somewhere remote and quiet, away from it all. As for skills…” the burly traveler patted his hammer. “I’m a blacksmith! The armor I’m wearing now is what I made from my original set after it got too dented and dinged up to use.”

“Meanwhile, I think it should be evident what I excel at, but just in case…” Linhardt pulled a carefully rolled scroll from their pocket, holding it out for someone to take. “Here is my certification that I am indeed a proper gremory. Thus, I am well-equipped with Faith and Reason magics.”

Chatter broke out among the villagers at these claims; the village couldn’t afford to have a proper doctor of their own, and thus paid a traveling one to stop by every so often. Even on horseback, the time between here and the closest major town was a half-day’s ride, meaning that unless the situation was an emergency, the townsfolk had to rely on time-honored recipes for vulneraries, concoctions, and elixirs to get by. If a gremory with strong Faith magic really did settle within the village, it would go a long way toward improving everyone’s health. A blacksmith was a fairly fortunate find as well; Werthly Hobson was their current smith, but he’d returned from the war barely able to see, and had been struggling for some time with repairing their farming equipment and horseshoes.

Mayor Geruul sighed and peered at the two strangers closely. The bluenette, Caspar, appeared to be a rather open sort of soul, energetic and kind, although judging by the various scars adorning his arms (all of which appeared to be rather old and faded, even if some were still prominent), he had seen his fair share of battle. Perhaps he was lucky enough to be alive to tell the tales thanks to Linhardt, the gremory standing beside him. They seemed to be the sullen type, what with their expression reserved and a slightly off-putting aura about them, but Geruul couldn’t deny the affection he saw in their face whenever they looked at Caspar, or the small squeezes that passed between their joined hands. Whatever these two had been through, they were no strangers to the ways of the world, and if they had been involved in the Crimson Emperor’s War like he was rapidly coming to suspect, then that would provide a rather plausible explanation for both their behavior and their story. Still…

His hesitation must have shown on his face, because Linhardt spoke up once more. “Four weeks. Please let us stay here for four weeks. We will pay for our stay with our work, and if we all get along, then we would happily purchase a home here. If not, we will leave. Does that sound reasonable?”

The mayor pondered it a moment, then turned to look at the townsfolk gathered behind him. They seemed far more relaxed than before, and they all looked at him with an expression of trust; they would follow his lead, whatever happened. Mayor Geruul turned back to the two, and gave a curt nod, holding out his hand to Caspar, who shook it eagerly, and then to Linhardt, who followed suit. “Very well; you have yourselves a deal. Welcome, Caspar and Linhardt Freiheit, to the village of Marsibel.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the Great Tree Moon danced by in a blur, and as much as Linhardt would have preferred to enjoy his favorite napping weather, he simply hadn’t the time; he and Caspar had gotten to work straightaway, proving their worth and bonding with the people of Marsibel. The two had been given permission to temporarily stay in the small house that the town lent to the traveling doctor whenever they came around, and Linhardt had not wasted a moment in reorganizing and cleaning the room to suit his specifications. Out of his pack came bottles of potions, as well as raw ingredients, bandages, books, and diagrams. With how much he had fit in there, it seemed almost magical how much it could hold. Shelves were scrubbed, sheets laundered, and curtains hung until the tiny clinic was in full working order; were it not for his many years of travels together with Caspar, he surely would have given up before he’d even begun, but even this was made manageable thanks to his invaluable life experience.

Hours after he’d officially opened up the clinic, he had his first patient. A young girl by the name of Tamara had accidentally ingested a poisonous mushroom, and unlike most, which could be cured with an antitoxin, this fiendish fungus induced a terribly deep sleep, to which few would wake up from. Linhardt had been able to use his magic to locate the source of the problem, reading glasses carefully balanced on the bridge of his nose as he analyzed her condition and scribbled some notes, and thanks to his wide range of expertise and a few tests, Linhardt got the girl to open her eyes after a mere three days of treatment. Her family had rejoiced at the news, and rumor spread through the village’s 70-some residents like wildfire, leading more and more villagers to visit the clinic and get checked up.

Caspar was pulling his weight as well; Werthly, at first, had taken none too kindly to Caspar’s presence, assuming the stranger was here to usurp his job, but Caspar’s assistance proved to be invaluable and the two managed to complete their entire backlog of orders within the span of two weeks, greatly pleasing the farmers who needed their tools back. Not only were they fixed, however, but they were upgraded; Caspar’s unparalleled strength and insightful eye made him well-suited to the task and the tools often turned out to be of higher quality than ever before. It was also nigh impossible to resist Caspar’s sunny personality, and the prickly blacksmith found himself warming to Caspar after a few short days, much to the surprise of Mayor Geruul and the other villagers.

Once their trial period was up, a village meeting was called to decide whether to allow the two newcomers to stay. Those who hadn’t interacted with them much weren’t terribly inclined to keep them, but impassioned pleas from those in Linhardt’s care and ringing endorsements from those who wielded Caspar’s tools swayed the naysayers until a majority vote decided the issue: the two would be allowed to stay. Mayor Geruul delivered the happy news to the two that very night, and the next day, the entire village celebrated its two newest residents with a grand party that lasted well into the evening. Linhardt and Caspar slept somewhat restlessly that night, resting in the clinic one last time before morning saw them setting out alongside the mayor to officially choose where they would start the next chapter of their lives.

The tour had proceeded fairly smoothly; they had seen two houses of the three available, but neither were quite what they had been looking for. For one thing, they were both too small, and too close to the village proper; both Caspar and Linhardt had come to crave their space, and spending four weeks in the clinic, which had been located fairly close to the center of the village, had grated on both of them; neither particularly enjoyed the loud bellowing coming from the small bar across the way, nor the many lamps shining through their windows into the one-room building. Thus, they hoped that the third option, although somewhat removed from the rest of the town, would better suit their needs.

Finally, after a 10-minute walk down a sparsely-traveled trail overgrown with weeds, three pairs of eyes alit upon a slightly dilapidated house on a lower hill, wildflowers abounding all over the hillside and flying breezily in the wind. Linhardt’s gaze was drawn to a particular patch, and a grin spread across his face at the sight of a small clump of white roses, perfect for the season. Puffy white clouds rolled lazily overhead as the gorgeous Garland Moon sun shone down, promising that the rain would stay away today, and another 10 minutes away was a rocky trail leading down to the lake that the villagers used to draw water from. A few trees surrounded the building, and although at a slightly lower elevation than the rest of the town, it wasn’t a terribly difficult trek to make. As the three approached, Caspar and Linhardt’s eyes lit up; although the house wasn’t in the best shape, the mayor had already promised that he would help gather some workers to aid in the construction, and it was clear that it had been sturdily built, with well-crafted walls and floors made from pine logs and a reliable wooden roof. The exterior hadn’t been painted, but it had been treated with sap to help keep the wood from rotting, and the village carpenter was more than happy to work with Caspar to ensure it was completely ready for their use. The building itself was a sprawling one-story house with a kitchen, living area, two bedrooms, and a private area for bathing. It was a rather spacious residence that had once belonged to a family that had since moved away, and now that Caspar and Linhardt were here to breathe some life into it, Mayor Geruul was more than happy to sell it to them for a fair price, promising to gather everyone needed within the next day or so. Hurrying away so that he could begin the preparations, the mayor left Caspar and Linhardt alone to admire their new house, the two moving in unison to hold each other close and stare softly at what would eventually become their home.

Their eyes met, and then their lips in a tender, loving kiss, the joy and excitement at having a place of their own palpable in the fervor with which they pressed themselves together. Once they had managed to pry themselves away from each other long enough for him to catch his breath and begin to speak, Linhardt let out a chuckle, cupping Caspar’s cheek in a smooth, gloved hand. “Caspar,” Linhardt murmured, a smile brightening his face and reaching all the way up to his eyes, “we’re here.”

Caspar placed a hand over the back of Linhardt’s own, turning his head to press a kiss to his partner’s palm. “We are,” he responded reverently. “This is the home you’ve dreamed of, right? Out in the countryside, near a lake, away from the rest of the world? I mean, the house itself needs some work, but…”

He was interrupted by Linhardt trailing his free hand through Caspar’s hair, momentarily stroking his sideburns. “You know full well that you are my home, Caspar, far more than any physical location could ever hope to be. Even if this place was paradise, if you didn’t like it, then I would pack my bags and prepare to leave at once. However, this house does meet all of my standards, and the villagers have warmed up to us quite a bit, so I would indeed like to plant our roots here, but only if you feel the same.”

Caspar grinned then, his sunshine smile on full display and just as broad as it had always been, and wrapped his arms around his lover’s waist, scooping Linhardt up and spinning him around. “I do! I love it here, Linny! I wanna be a blacksmith and raise our chickens and spend the rest of my life with you. So long as you’re with me, I’ll be happy, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure you’re happy too.”

His voice had quieted by the time he’d finished, and he continued to hold his spouse close, sky meeting the sea as they stared deeply into each other’s eyes. Linhardt bent over to place a loving kiss to his husband’s forehead, smiling against his skin, as Caspar gave a happy chuckle in response, setting Linhardt down gently as the gremory began to speak. “I am happy, my love. Unbelievably so. And now, I think it time to unpack our things and see all that our new home and our new life together has to offer, hm?”

“Yeah, of course!” Caspar agreed enthusiastically. “And hey, now that we’re settling down, maybe you could turn your travel journal into a real book; make us sound all adventurous and cool as we travel the world!”

“A 'real book,' hm?” Linhardt mused, tapping a thoughtful finger to his lips. “I see… perhaps it would be fun to pen a novel based on our travels. We would have to think of a proper name for it, however.”

Caspar gave a loud whoop, and before Linhardt could react, Caspar had scooped him up into a bridal carry, carrying him across the threshold as peals of pleased laughter left Linhardt’s lips. “The Tale of Inferno Caspar and Linhardt? No… hm…”

The two bantered book titles back and forth until the sun set, laughing at each other’s suggestions as they reveled in each other’s presence and the joy of having a home of their own. It was time to close the curtain on the story of their travels, but the tale of their new life together was only just beginning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~