Work Text:
“But what do you think a dream like that means?!” Caspar exclaimed, waving his arms in front of him.
“Caspar, please, can we simply rest a moment before we must get into places and be on guard for the Rite of Rebirth? Patrol has been non-stop, and I’d like just a moment or two to rest my eyes.” Linhardt yawned as he and Caspar walked along the path outside the cathedral. His blue-haired friend was always just a mite too excited, but even when Linhardt would bluntly tell him to leave, Caspar would simply return later or the next day with the same level of energy. Simply looking at Caspar sometimes made Linhardt exhausted.
Caspar shot his friend an incredulous look. “What do you mean ‘patrol has been non-stop’? You’re never around! The only places I ever see you is the library, the dining hall, and...well that’s it!”
“I never said my patrol was non-stop, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been working hard to research some different things around the monastery that may help us against those who may cause harm to the Archbishop.”
“Well sure, but-”
“Aha, Linhardt, Caspar. I take it you two are heading to the cathedral to discuss our plan of action with the rest of the house?” Ferdinand had walked up behind the two boys and placed his hands on each of their shoulders.
Linhardt huffed, “I guess we are now.”
“Excellent, let us make our way over quickly. I’m sure the professor is already there discussing matters with Edelgard.”
The two were led into the cathedral by the red-haired noble, and spotted Hubert, Edelgard, and Byleth standing together in front of the rows of pews. Their voices bounced around the high ceilings of the cathedral, and Linhardt picked up a few words about the Holy Mausoleum, a staircase, and suspicions.
“Edelgard! I assume that the others are on their way? I ran into these two on my way in, we are curious as to what you and the professor are planning.”
“Ferdinand, Linhardt, Caspar,” Edelgard nodded at the trio as they walked up, “we spoke to Seteth and Flayn not too long ago. I have reason to believe the enemy will be entering the Holy Mausoleum. We don’t have much time before the ceremony, so we’ll have to move into place quickly to cut off the enemy’s escape. The professor should be able to guide us well if we have to confront our enemy.”
The classmates didn’t have to wait long to see Petra arrive with Dorothea, who was practically dragging Bernadetta along behind her. Linhardt felt a tiny bit of sympathy for the girl, he too would much rather be in his room, asleep. An unexpected guest was at Petra’s side, however. The mysterious mercenary Shamir was walking up with the rest of the class with a smirk on her face.
“You kids might need some expert help, if you’re really so certain of this threat. Lucky you caught me on my own,” Shamir said, crossing her arms in front of herself and looking from Edelgard to Byleth. “So what’s your plan?”
“We need to go to the Holy Mausoleum now. We’re certain those who threatened the Archbishop will be there, and will do all that we can to stop them,” Edelgard commanded.
The Black Eagles, Byleth, and Shamir set off in the direction of their destination: The Holy Mausoleum.
“We were right. Unwanted guests have come to visit,” Edelgard stated, looking around at the trespassers.
Byleth frowned and pointed to some of their troops, “And it seems they have noticed our presence, and aren’t too happy that we’ve caught on to what they’re attempting to do.”
Edelgard glared scornfully at the distant assailants, “Our enemy appears to be after the tomb of Saint Seiros in the back...are they attempting to steal her bones?” she questioned in horror. “It would be best to defeat them before they achieve their aim.”
“I can’t believe you kids were right,” Shamir said with a chuckle, “good job. Let’s get out there and give them a real show.”
“Right,” Edelgard looked from Shamir, to Byleth, and around to each of her classmates. “Petra, I need you to take Dorothea, Linhardt, and Caspar and go to the right. Ferdinand, to the left with Bernadetta, Hubert and Shamir. I’ll sweep up the middle with the Professor.”
Petra gave a quick bow before leading the other three to the right side of the Holy Mausoleum. She was at the front of the group, sword drawn, with Dorothea close behind. Caspar kept pace with Petra, holding the heavy axe ready to strike. Linhardt silently cursed the two in front for running ahead, forcing him to pick up his own pace. Reckless, he thought, running directly into danger.
They hadn’t gone far before an enemy mage had sent fire hurtling in their direction. The group managed to dodge it with some ease, and Dorothea fired back a direct hit. One mage down, but there were other soldiers running towards them with swords ready to strike. Petra and Caspar took the lead, engaging in melee combat and doing their best to avoid any injury that was more than a scratch. Linhardt was on the defensive with Dorothea, both doing their best to spy any archers or casters trying to attack from a safe position. Their shouts and the clanging of swords echoed in the chamber, annoying Linhardt as it took away from his focus. Why couldn’t battle be a quiet thing?
“These guys are it? This is nothing, we’ll cut through them in no time!” Caspar shouted with a swing of his axe. The Western Church soldier attempted to block the attack with his sword, but was disarmed instead as it skidded loudly across the ground. Caspar grinned and swung once more, crushing the man’s ribs in a devastating blow to his side. The soldier fell, unmoving, and Caspar moved ahead to the next enemy.
Linhardt’s frown deepened at the sight of the violence in front of him. At least they were in good shape so far. He had to admit, though Caspar’s constant push for training tended to annoy him, it paid off when it came to battle. He noticed that his movements seemed almost more graceful, more purposeful, thanks to the extra help from Petra in their practice. The princess herself was dodging spells and swings left and right, and for every jump and dodge she took Dorothea was there to counter with magic.
The four pressed ahead further, the mausoleum walls and structures colorfully lit up from the magic being cast by the priests and other mages as well as from Linhardt and Dorothea. Deep purple spikes mixed with inky black, teal and emerald green like ocean waves in the air. If Linhardt could spare a moment, he would have loved to just watch the colors mix around him, but there was no time to lay around and gaze at the spectacle.
However, he wasn’t sure if he had been distracted for a moment or if a mage had simply found an opening in Caspar’s stance, but suddenly a shockingly bright beam of magic hit his friend square in the chest. Linhardt’s eyes went wide, and for the first time since they entered the mausoleum, his heart pounded with anxiety. They were actually in danger. This wasn’t practice anymore, this was something sinister, and Caspar was hurt.
“No, Caspar!” Linhardt shouted, the sharp desperation in his voice unfamiliar to his ears.
The blue-haired young man was knocked back a few feet by the force of the spell, landing hard on the stone floor. Linhardt ran towards his friend, narrowly avoiding another flash of purple in their direction. He stopped abruptly and turned to face the mage that had struck his friend. Anger welled inside of him and burst forth in the form of a spell. A gust of wind knocked the other mage out, and he leaned down to Caspar. His usual cool, carefree attitude was gone. He felt angry, worried even. There was an ache in his heart unlike any he’s ever felt before, and he questioned where it came from, and why.
“Caspar, Caspar, are you alright?” Linhardt put his hand on Caspar’s chest, swearing at himself for not practicing healing more than he was. The fabric of his uniform was singed, exposing skin that was dusted and darker from the ash of the burned fabric. He couldn’t see any bleeding, but that didn’t mean the force of the blow hadn’t caused internal damage. Linhardt’s head swam with what-ifs, and he tried to recall all that Professor Manuela had said in lectures about injury and aid- lectures where he wasn’t sleeping, that is.
“Lin, watch out!” Dorothea called out, glancing over her shoulder to the boys several feet behind. She had a sword raised in one hand, sigil glowing in front of the other, and was attempting to hold her own with Petra while the other two were down. She shot lighting at an enemy in dark robes rapidly advancing towards the two, and the figure dropped immediately.
Linhardt stood once more, yelling a quick “thank you!” to Dorothea, and guarded his friend who was still knocked out. Petra had thrust her sword into another soldier with a battle cry that Caspar would be proud of, tearing through the man’s body and splattering blood along the ground in front of her. Linhardt glanced back at Caspar every moment he could to assure that his friend’s chest was still slowly rising and falling. The last few enemy forces were slewn without mercy from Linhardt with a mask of rage on his face. The trio finally saw an end to their oncoming enemies and took a moment to catch their breath. Dorothea’s normally perfectly coiffed hair was a mess of tangled curls around her face, Petra had specks of blood staining her white shirt, and even Linhardt’s uniform was ruffled and his face red from the effort put forth during the fight. They could see the others in the distance had cleaned up their sides, and were starting to move to the back of the mausoleum. Petra and Dorothea both jogged over to their fallen friend, whom Linhardt was once again leaning over.
“Caspar, can you hear me?” Linhardt waved a hand above the boy’s body, and a stream of white magic flowed over him. His eyelids fluttered, and Caspar groaned. Lindhardt breathed a sigh of relief. All he wanted to do was hold his friend close, but he resisted the temptation.
“How do you feel? Are you better?” There was still a tinge of concern in the green-haired boy’s voice.
“I’m fine, I’m fine! Let me at those bastards-” Caspar said in a raspy voice. He tried to stand up, but only got as far as leaning back on his elbows.
“Stand down, Caspar. You need healing.” Linhardt put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, trying to calm down the eager nobleman.
“Can’t you do that?” Caspar asked, furrowing his brow.
Linhardt’s heart felt like it was in a vice. Couldn’t he? Is what he could do sufficient enough to at least get him on his feet to make it to the end? Or should they stay behind and wait things out- but then, Dorothea and Petra would have to go on alone, and what if they fall? Reinforcements wouldn’t be here too soon, would they?
“Hey, are you seriously sleeping with your eyes open in the middle of a fight?!” The blue haired boy snapped his fingers in front of Linhardt, who shook his head and refocused.
“No, just- patience. Let me do what I can.” He attempted another healing spell, and Caspar jumped up.
“Ah-” he held a hand against his chest, “maybe I moved too quickly. Guess I should stretch out a bit first.” Caspar raised his arms up and moved from side to side. Linhardt rolled his eyes.
“What you should do is take it easy and stay back. You may be mostly healed but we still need to see Professor Manuela to make sure you’ll be alright.”
“We’ll have time to see Professor Manuela once we take care of these bad guys trying to raid the Holy Mausoleum! C’mon guys, let’s go!”
“Wait-Caspar!” Caspar took off running, picking up his axe from where he initially fell, and Linhardt followed closely behind. Petra took a step forward but Dorothea grabbed her wrist to stop her.
The brunette raised an eyebrow at the princess, “Do you see that?”
“What do I see?” Petra asked, puzzled.
“Linhardt is running.”
“Oh...he does not often do that.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Dorothea’s lip curled up in a smile, “I think we finally found something...or someone...that Lin cares about. Now let’s go before Caspar gets himself knocked out again.”
Petra nodded, and the two ran to catch up with their classmates. Caspar’s excited shouts echoed in the air, and Linhardt was wide awake behind him ready to do what he could to keep him safe. He thought that perhaps he liked having loud, unrestrained, honest Caspar at his side. But, that was not something Linhardt was going to admit any time soon. He would simply keep that in his heart.