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Chapter Text

Linhardt von Hevring liked to take it slow and steady, to do things at his own pace and avoided stress and conflict whenever and wherever he could. Everyone around Garreg Mach knew that and while not all were contempt with his way of living, at the very least they seemed to have given up on trying to change him after a while. He was glad he had decided to change houses to study under Professor Byleth, the mysterious ex-mercenary with an even more mysterious crest that fascinated him so. He had finally found a way of living and studying the way he was comfortable with, even if that had meant abandoning his Adrestian peers within the Black Eagles to mingle with the nigh-strangers from Faerghus that made up the Blue Lions house.
After all, his old friends – especially Caspar – were only a few steps away one classroom over.
It had seemed like the perfect situation.

But then, things quickly changed.
From the gruesome fate of those who pick up heroic relics without a proper crest and the stomach-churning Remire Calamity to mysterious, almost non-human figures attacking, the rate at which things around Byleth and his students suddenly evolved was more than Linhardt was comfortable with.
When it all culminated in Edelgard’s ascension to the Adrestian throne and the subsequent imperial attack on the monastery, the mage thought he was stuck in a terrible dream – one where days ran by in mere minutes and it had only been yesterday that he had set out from his Hevring county home to study at the military academy.

It would have been so much better if all of this had only been a dream.
But this was reality.

Caspar was left in shock over how his father had seemingly planned all of this together with the new empress without his youngest son noticing even a single bit of it and even Linhardt was unsure what to think of his own father’s unconditional support for Edelgard’s plans.
When the Adrestian army stood quite literally before the gates of Garreg Mach, both of them were glad that Dimitri and Byleth took the charge in cooperation with the Knights of Seiros, putting together a defensive plan that mostly involved the professor’s own students from Faergus. 
Once again it seemed as though the fight concluded in the blink of an eye, which at first felt like a good thing to Linhardt. 

That was until, just as quickly, things turned around once again and the battlefield sunk into chaos. 

When a giant, silvery-white dragon rose over the walls of the monastery, Linhardt couldn’t help but be fascinated by the spectacle unfolding before him. Its scales almost appeared to sparkle in the sunlight setting over hills of Garreg Mach, its breath obliterating anything and anyone in its path. Nobody knew where it had come from, what it was, why it was suddenly here, but it was immediately clear to all that it was angry. There was a certain elegance to the way it fought, practically slaughtered the incoming imperial soldiers, despite how gruesome the event overall was.
And yet, as much as he loved to keep staring and studying this initially unknown creature, the Adrestian army was quick on the rise. Yanking him across the fields, Caspar tried his damndest to make sure nobody would confuse his friend for an enemy and take him down within the chaos of this boiling war.
They fled through the forests, caught news that the dragon had been subdued and captured, Prince Dimitri defeated and Byleth had disappeared. For a moment, none of this seemed real.
Especially the last part, it just couldn’t be true.

Linhardt was instructed by his friend to stay hidden for the time being, before the blue-haired himself returned to the battlefield, admittedly unsure which side to take for the moment, but he just knew he had to do something .

The smaller boy’s sturdy back as he grabbed an axe and made through the trees was the last thing Linhardt saw of his best friend for quite some time.

Whether the following hours ran by fast or slowly Linhardt couldn’t even quite make out as they were clouded by an almost dreamlike daze fueled by the instinct of survival. Nothing seemed real anymore, his exhaustion so extreme he thought he might fall over on the spot and yet it never happened. Somehow, his body managed to press on.
Eventually, the mage was picked up by a group of Adrestian soldiers who identified him as a student of Garreg Mach’s military academy, led him around almost like a prisoner until someone realized he was Count von Hevring’s son. He was being escorted back home, he was told by Edelgard herself, who appeared to be unwilling to concern herself with him much further.
When they were about to part ways, she looked at him one more time and sighed.

“It’s such a shame it had to come this way, but… I had no choice. Perhaps you find it in your heart to make the right decision after all.”

Once he had returned home, however, it seemed as though the world stood still. Reports from the battlefield had reached his family, Byleth was gone and declared dead. Adrestia had begun to advance towards Faerghus.
Linhardt didn’t want to hear anything of this anymore.

Having studied in a house that was connected to the empire’s enemy, the mage was put under house arrest for the time being. Linhardt didn’t mind, he had no aspirations to go anywhere, the one place that had become interesting enough to stay over the past months was desolated now, the only reason for his interest was gone. His father was mildly furious over this development, but had no measures to do anything about a decision made by Edelgard herself. Linhardt didn’t quite care what she thought of him, whether she saw him as a potential spy or tried to break him and make him swear his allegiance to her.
He didn’t care about her politics.

At the very least, this was the perfect opportunity to lay low and relax and let the world sort out its problems by itself. He had no interest in participating.
And so Linhardt spent his days sleeping and reading, and because his father was now busier than ever in his position in the ministry due to the growing war, at least no one could pester him about any plans for the future, any “responsibilities” and “just work with Lady Edelgard and everything will be fine”. At least for now.

A few weeks later, Caspar came to visit and reported on the things he had heard and seen in the aftermath of the attack on Garreg Mach. What small hopes Linhardt had had of Byleth having been miraculously discovered to be alive after all were smashed. 

“Sorry I couldn’t prevent these soldiers from treating you like a prisoner though”, Caspar said with a sigh, “I should have made sure you’re safe before heading out there.”

It was fine, Linhardt replied, things had worked out somehow after all. And yet, Caspar acted like he had failed his friend. To make up for it, he promised to use his new military position to talk to Edelgard and hopefully lift the mage’s arrest.
He really didn’t have to, but if that’s what Caspar wanted to do, Linhardt wasn’t going to stop his friend. He doubted the blue-haired would be successful, anyway.

As it turned out, Linhardt’s predictions had been right, as no word from the Adrestrian emperor about his house arrest ever came. What she did send him, however, were dozens of letters in which she tried her best to persuade him to finally “make the right decision”, join her cause and put his skills to work for the future of the empire – no, of all of Fódlan.
She made offer after offer and the scholar had to admit that some of them sounded rather enticing, like an entire institution just for crest research he could helm, but in the end, it wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t care. 
The most interesting subject of his research was no more.

Time went by like this, in a slow waltz of books and letters and dreams.
Caspar was caught up in Edelgard’s conquest, fought dozens of fierce battles as Adrestria broadened its influence across Fódlan in a seemingly never ending cycle of violence. Linhardt imagined there was some greater meaning to her conquest, didn’t quite believe this did all of it just to attain more power, but at the end of the day, as long as she didn’t carry war into his home, the mage couldn’t quite bring himself to become involved in more violence and bloodshed.
He already saw enough wounds whenever Caspar returned to visit him from time to time after another successful campaign. And every single time this happened Linhardt had the feeling whatever healers were enlisted in Adrestria’s army didn’t do a very good job, as his friend getting ready for some training in the Hevring county fields usually revealed some new scars. He was fine, Caspar always said, the healers in his regiment did the best they could, but his green-haired friend was never quite satisfied. It felt unfair that Edelgard’s ambitions pulled her own classmates into this ocean of violence.

And sometimes, no matter how often he said he was fine, it was as though Linhardt noticed a shadow or two creeping over his friend’s expression, could hear the exhaustion in his voice even when he was declaring his last mission had gone fantastic. 

When they were sitting together alone, Caspar’s facade fell a few times as he kept wondering how far Edelgard really wanted to push this, for how long they were still going to keep fighting. His beliefs in the logic behind her decisions was stronger than Linhardt’s, even though it did not seem as though she had let him in on any of her secrets. Both of the boys’ fathers knew more, apparently, but none of them were really interested in fully letting Caspar in on it. He was the war minister’s son, sure, but at the end of the day he was hardly more than a soldier, not even a general, and that meant following orders no matter what.
If they pulled through this now, Caspar said, the future would be all the more peaceful.

“I don’t know if a future that’s built on all this blood is worth having”, Linhardt sighed while letting his magic run over another one of his friend’s fresh scars. For someone this young, he surely had attained quite a lot of them over the past year or two.
“Look, Linhardt”, his friend retorted with a similarly deep sigh, “it’s not like I’m really liking all of this, you know? Fighting is great, but killing , just… is not after a while. Sure, it’s what I have to do,  but it’s not fun . I’m not a monster, I’m not Dimitri or anyone crazy like that.”

“I know, I know, I’m just saying… ah, whatever.”

There was no point in turning this into an entire discussion on the ethics of war, Caspar didn’t even have any influence over what was happening in the world right now. Several territories within both Faerghus and the Leicester Alliance were considering swearing their allegiance towards the ever-expanding empire, he had heard, things were changing rapidly and it seemed as though Edelgard’s triumph over the entire continent was only a matter of time. 
Moreso than Linhardt, who fancied himself a watcher rather than a participant, Caspar was simply caught in the waves of the empire’s currents and had to swim with them in order to not drown. It was sad to think his best friend was ultimately powerless like this, but no matter how many times he suggested Caspar found a way to remove himself from all of this madness, the blue-haired always declined. He said he wanted to keep fighting, but at the same time Linhardt knew he didn’t actually have a choice in the matter either.
There really was no need to talk about it anymore.

The green-haired yawned and made Caspar’s lap his pillow as they spent the rest of the afternoon under this one specific tree within the woods around Linhardt’s home in this mild summer of 1182, as they had done so often since they were children.
Sometimes Caspar dozed off into a nap himself even faster than Linhardt could, but that seemed not to be the case today, the topic of their previous conversation hanging heavily above both their heads. Since it meant Linhardt couldn’t really sleep either – as it had become the case more and more often after he had to see Caspar scarred and wounded – the two young men spent their time listening to the songs of the birds around them, the scuffles of squirrels rushing through the bushes, the ignorant peacefulness of Nature.
Oh, to be a forest animal with no care in the world.

The fact that Linhardt could not fall asleep despite the serene mood of the situation annoyed him greatly. He was tired, had spent most of his night going through the books he had ordered from the imperial library in Enbarr and that had finally arrived just the day before, and while none of the ones he had looked at so far had yielded the answers he was searching for, it was this kind of lifestyle he greatly liked. Maybe Edelgard’s offer wasn’t so bad after all.
But right now all of that only meant that he was dead tired and still not able to nap like he would normally do. Looking at Caspar above him, who had not put his shirt back on for some reason (it wasn’t even hot today) only seemed to reveal more and more small scratches and bruises that the mage hadn’t seen before. Almost as if his friend had been hiding them from him, to conceal that despite his now years of experience as a full-fledged soldier, he was still somewhat reckless and too fast to act for his own good.
If this continued, he might even one day find his end on the battlefield.
A truly scary thought.

“Linhardt, is there something on my face? You… keep staring so much…”
The green-haired shook his head, hadn’t even thought he was looking so much that it had become noticable. Usually, Caspar was a lot more dense when it came to this kind of thing, had a hard time realizing whenever Linhardt examined his face and body for more wounds to treat that he’d just not talk or know about.
But recently, the other boy had been a lot more attentive in this regard.

“Put your shirt back on if there’s nothing more I’m supposed to treat…”

“Why’s that suddenly an issue”, Caspar grumbled, but obediently grabbed his clothes, “it’s warm enough and this has never bothered you before?”

Linhardt sighed.
“It’s just… forget it. You look pretty roughed up lately.”

His friend groaned, leaned in towards Linhardt, who for now was sitting next to him with one shoulder resting against the mighty trunk of “their” childhood tree. Was he seriously going to be hung up about this comment? All the green-haired had wanted to do was to tell him to stop being so reckless during his future battles.
“Well”, Caspar suddenly retorted, “and you look pretty damn tired lately! Get some sleep!”

“I’d be able to sleep if I didn’t have to worry about your injuries all the time!”

The two of them stared at each other for a moment, Linhardt awaiting another bold reply from the blue-haired that would probably not help matters any further and instead might just escalate things even more in the worst case.
It did not come to that, however, and the next few moments – that felt like long minutes or even hours – they spent in awkward silence that even the sounds of Nature seemed unable to break. 
It was absolutely ridiculous and the longer this went on, the dumber Linhardt felt.

It seemed Caspar was thinking the same, as after who knows how long, his overdramatic scowl finally disappeared from his face and gave way to a hearty laugh that Linhardt could not help but follow. Like a reminder of their childhood and how often they had already gone through similar situations – getting into petty arguments about nothing really whatsoever, the hotheaded Caspar pushing things further than Linhardt wanted to take them, only for both of them to decide that the other one was dumb to react the way he did and reward him with the silent treatment.
Linhardt had mostly done that because fighting was way too exhausting for him, whereas Caspar, it had always seemed, had indeed tried to make a point.
Whatever the case, it had always inevitably ended with both of them realizing how petty this all was sooner or later and whenever it had been Caspar to make the first step, he had done so with a wide grin followed by a hearty, compelling laugh.
Some things would never change, it seemed.
Linhardt was glad they didn’t.

“Well, that was stupid”, he remarked while trying to calm his laughter and Caspar was only able to agree with a “yeah” in between his own laughs.
However, when they had both finally managed to calm down enough, their eyes were still locked, and the green-haired wasn’t even sure what compelled him to keep doing it. Maybe, just for a moment, it was as though their childhood had returned, their peaceful, careless days without any war and bloodshed. 
But now they were losing themselves – each other – to the changes of time. If only they would have been able to carry the innocence of childhood into their adult days.
Or perhaps adulthood as such wasn’t even the problem, rather everything else that came with it. The responsibilities, the confusion, the pain, Linhardt could truly go without all of that if he were able to keep the rest, keep both himself and Caspar here under this tree enwrapped in the mild summer winds of Adrestria forever. Just the two of them.

That would be ideal.

And like those mild summer winds that were barely noticeable yet so warm and comforting, Linhardt found himself silently moving closer in towards his blue-haired friend, until there was hardly a gap between their faces.
Caspar understood, had seemingly made a move on his own that Linhardt had only realized had happened when they were so close to one another.

Then the gap was no more.

Linhardt wasn’t sure for how long it lasted, but it felt like an eternity, warm yet mild like the breeze around them.
It certainly wasn’t what he had imagined Caspar’s lips to feel like, had thought they would be much rougher to match his appearance, but they were surprisingly soft. A little dry because he just didn’t take that much care of them, Linhardt knew, but still much more enjoyable than he could have ever expected.
Had he ever thought about what Caspar’s lips would feel like? He wasn’t even entirely sure about that at that moment, but it didn’t quite matter in the end. When they moved apart again and Caspar blushed rather heavily as he scrambled to put his shirt back on after all, it seemed like there was no chance this was ever going to be repeated.
At least that was how Linhardt viewed the situation at the time.

They both decided it was time to return to the Hevring estate for the night and sure enough, neither of them brought the kiss up again.