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It starts in Ailell.
Some of their soldiers are already swooning on their feet and finding it difficult to stay upright. Smoke from the flames block the sunlight, but their surroundings are bathed in the orange glow of the fire coursing through the cracked terrain, the scorching air burning eyes and airways. They're bound to faint soon.
Yuri swallows, palms sweaty inside his gloves, hair plastered to the sides of his face and neck. He could almost swear the ground is burning through the soles of his boots, the flames licking at his feet, but it doesn't compare to the sudden burn inside his chest.
He swallows again, finding it hard to do as though something is lodged in his throat.
If she hears about it, Dorothea will say it's proof he isn't as cold hearted as he tries to pretend to be. To feel your heart squeezing and your throat closing up at the sight of the one you started to love before the world crumbled around them is proof that Yuri isn't unfit for romance - hence why she's never going to hear word of his sudden breathlessness.
And yet, he can't help but find it fitting, marching resolutely towards one of the many people standing between them and victory.
Even with his hair more black than silver due to all the soot and smoke, Ashe continues to be as perfect as he was back then. No, he's even more, somehow. The years were kind to him, broadening his frame and maturing that adorably cute face into gorgeous, handsome features. A single look and Yuri is as far gone for him now as he was back then, when he'd gotten the chance to dance with Ashe and saw his smile from up close.
Yuri regrets not kissing him then, and missing all the other opportunities that arose when things were simpler. Maybe then things wouldn't have gotten to this point, with Ashe on the other side of the war.
There's still time to smack some sense into him.
Ashe's eyes light up with recognition when he finally spots Yuri, coat billowing around him in the torrid winds of a place that might as well be called hell on earth. Yuri can't pull him into his arms and act on all that was missed, but what he can do is fake his death with no lethal strikes and patch him up, then send him off in the direction of their own troops, giving Ashe the chance to change his mind.
His throat continues to burn, the discomfort in his chest never easing. Yuri makes it through the battle relatively well with few injuries, as most of the blood that soaks his clothes doesn't belong to him. Ashe is in the camp when he returns, already swept in conversation with the professor, who welcomes him back with open arms.
Ashe looks at him in the dim light of the campfire, hair tousled and face smeared with soot, and still so unbelievably beautiful that Yuri can hardly believe this is happening. "Yuri."
"Hey-" Yuri turns away sharply to cough into a fist a couple of times, still finding it hard to breathe despite being miles from Ailell. Ashe approaches him when he stops coughing, fingers brushing on his sleeve but not holding on to it. Yuri clears his throat. "Sorry. My lungs must be full with the dust and soot."
Shaking his head, Ashe gives him a small smile. "It's good to see you again."
His chest squeezes and he has difficulty breathing again. "It's good to see you, too."
They retreat to a dark corner where the air is fresher, Yuri tearing off the pieces of his armor as though it will help air reach his lungs. It doesn't, and his throat itches for the remainder of the night, but at least Ashe is here. That's all that matters.
Yuri hasn’t had the best lungs since he got deathly sick so very long ago, so he isn’t at all surprised at his condition. But when he continues to struggle to fill his lungs with air days after the battle for the Great Bridge of Myrddin, and when Hapi mentions his breathing is a lot heavier than it used to be, he decides that something needs to be done. So he seeks Manuela in the infirmary when they arrive, late in the afternoon after she’s looked through patients with more pressing issues.
“Many soldiers have had the same lasting problem since Ailell,” she says after an examination, and hands him a vial of medicine she fetched from the cupboard. “Take this twice a day. It should help to clear your airways and you’ll be better in no time.”
The medicine is bitter, but Yuri washes it away with some water and goes about his business. Of course he isn’t healthy again after a single dose, but the uncomfortable itch in his throat seems to have lessened.
Ashe isn’t anywhere near the path Yuri takes from the infirmary to the training grounds. Yuri doesn’t really know where he spends most of his time, only ever meeting with him when they’re both in the dining hall for a meal, and even then the talk is brief before they go their separate ways to sit with other people. He only knows that Ashe stays with Mercedes and Annette, and Caspar and Petra on occasion, to avoid being alone with other soldiers.
Being a turncoat isn’t easy. Being from Abyss isn’t either. Knowing the treatment his people get from those who live on the surface and have sided with the church for years, Yuri can imagine the things that could be said to Ashe if he weren’t constantly accompanying someone. It fills him with bitterness and rage that someone could insult or raise a hand against Ashe, the kindest person he knows. The man he loves.
Yuri coughs into his sleeve. The pressure in his chest builds more and more with every hacking cough; it’s almost like his body is trying to force him to spit his lungs out.
After training, he disappears down the tunnels and strolls around Abyss for the better part of the evening, checking on its inhabitants just as they are preparing to retire for the night. Reports are given to him relaying the events of the past days: no big casualties, just the same old bar fights that lead to a couple of black eyes but no deaths; new products and wares brought in by merchants, and the progress the children have made with their studies. Life for Abyssians is so rough as it is; Yuri is always thankful when no more harm or trouble finds its way to the underground.
The day wraps up in the Wilting Rose Inn having a drink with his friends to celebrate another win, and afterwards Yuri goes to bed with his chest feeling tight, but no longer heaving coughs. He sleeps well for the first time since Ailell.
Come morning, Yuri is on his way to the war council when Ashe finds him, looking perfectly glowing and handsome under the gentle sun. That familiar tickle makes itself known again, slowly climbing up Yuri's throat as he balks and halts his stride, cursing it for appearing mere moments after he took the medicine.
"Good morning, Yuri." Ashe's smile is small, but so bright that Yuri can't help but smile back. He swallows around nothing, trying to keep the urge to cough at bay, but it does him no favors. "Can I talk to you?"
“Now’s not a good time,” he says and hates how he sounds so strangled. Can we talk after the war council, he means to follow up, but the itch is too strong to ignore.
Yuri doubles over with a hand over his mouth, whole body shaking from the force of each hack. Concerned, Ashe hovers near him and hesitates for a moment before rubbing his palm between Yuri’s shoulder blades and thumping it. It helps to ease the pressure, though Yuri swears it feels like there is something choking him from the inside.
"Let's go to the infirmary," Ashe says, more panicked now that Yuri's coughing won't let up.
"No-" I'm fine, he wants to insist, this is nothing. Ashe shouldn't be seeing him like this, red faced and choking on his own breath.
Yuri's hand is damp with spit, or worse. Disgusting - but at least something seems to have dislodged in his throat. He spits it out, straightening up to catch his breath between heaving pants. Ashe's hand is still on his back, but he's quiet.
"What's that?" Ashe whispers, fingers closed around Yuri's wrist to keep his palm open. Curious, Yuri looks down.
Specks of blood paint his skin. They’re worrying on their own, but what catches his attention is the lump in the middle, mostly covered in deep red. Yuri pokes it with a fingertip until it unfurls into five red-covered violet petals.
"A flower," Ashe says in astonishment, just as Yuri coughs up a petal. "How…?"
"It's called Sothis's Devotion," Manuela says after observing the flower and petal Yuri coughed up. "Legend says that the Goddess Sothis loved her children so much that it manifested into flowers."
"I thought it was just that: a legend," says Yuri, still sitting on the examination bed with his shirt off.
Manuela purses her lips and tosses the flowers in the trash bin. "It's rare, but it does happen in some cases." He feels like laughing; figures Yuri's case would be one of such.
Ashe looks between the two of them, thoroughly confused. "I-I don't understand. What does this mean, Professor Manuela?"
"It means Yuri is so in love with someone that his feelings have taken the shape of a flower." Yuri shoots her a dirty look, which she promptly ignores with a careless roll of her shoulders. Now he knows exactly where Dorothea got that from.
Still, though, couldn't she have worded it better?
Surprised, Ashe lets out a quiet oh. Yuri wants to give him a pointed, meaningful look. His love took the shape of violets, Ashe's favorite flowers, so clearly he should be able to connect the dots, right? But Ashe is too pale, like all the blood was drained from his face; it must be the shock of hearing that Yuri has literal flowers growing inside him, so he keeps quiet.
Yuri turns back to Manuela instead. "How do I get rid of these?"
"I'm afraid there is no cure," Manuela regretfully answers. "Unless, of course, you confess your feelings and they are reciprocated. Then the flowers should disappear."
Ashe? Reciprocating his feelings? Sounds unlikely. "What other options do I have?"
Manuela gives him a slight judgemental look before continuing, "there are spells that can slow the growth of the flowers in your lungs, but they don't get rid of them. You'll still live a long while, that is if you survive the war, but it's very likely you'll die an early death due to that."
"D-Die?" Ashe sounds so horrified Yuri feels bad for having him in the room right now.
Manuela nods solemnly and looks at Yuri. "What would you like to do?"
That’s easy. "I'll take the spells. "I'm not confessing."
"Yuri-"
"I'm not," he insists, turning to Ashe with narrowed eyes. "They won't return it. And I'm not good at relationships anyway."
Ashe parts his lips too speak, eyes wide and too bright, but decides against it and hangs his head instead. Manuela shakes her head and teaches Yuri the right spells to control the growth of the flowers.
"Consider the other solution," she says, deadly serious. Yuri nods, but doesn't think he will.
By the time midday rolls around, most of Yuri's acquaintances know of his peculiar condition. Predictably, Bernadetta skitters away as soon as she catches a glimpse of him, but he doesn't have the same luck with Dorothea.
Across the table in the dining hall, Dorothea looks at him with a mix of concern and curiosity, chin resting in steepled fingers. Yuri does his best to ignore her presence while he tries to force food down his throat, but it's a slow process.
"Sothis's Devotion, huh," she muses, food forgotten in front of her. "Some people say it's a gift from the Goddess."
"You know, I'm a believer, but I refuse to believe this was a gift." Yuri pointedly clears his throat, feeling the petals tickle at his airways. "What kind of holy gift would lead to certain death?"
Her face contorts with pure worry and apprehension. Shaking herself, Dorothea folds her arms on the table and leans forward to whisper, "so, who is it?" She rolls her eyes at the sharp look he gives her. "Come on, tell me. Is it Bernie?"
"Goddess, no. She's like a little sister who is too much of a handful sometimes." Yuri cuts a piece of the grilled fish and shoves it in his mouth. "It's not her. At all."
She hums, fingers tapping on the table. "If it's me, I'm sorry to say, Yurikins, but I'm taken and happily so."
He barks out a laugh - he can't help it - and promptly chokes on something. Food, flowers; he can't tell. "Full of ourselves, are we?'
Dorothea flips her long hair over her shoulders, her overly sweet, playful smile mellowing out into something small and - Goddess forbid - pitiful. "Whoever it is, don't you think it's worth a shot? This is your life on the line."
He's considered it before, and reached a conclusion fairly quickly. "No. I tell them and get rejected. Not only will I certainly die, but I will do it after being humiliated."
Dorothea scoffs lightly. "Yuri, who would even reject you?"
Those Yuri don't long for, they wouldn't. Like all the ones from before, they don't care about Yuri as a person, but rather as something pretty to keep.
Ashe, though? What good would he even see in Yuri? What would drive him to want to be with someone so similar and yet so vastly different? Someone who went against all his ideals to ensure his survival? What hurts most is that Ashe would be the perfect partner: caring, sincere, loving - and Yuri would give him his everything to return all his love in kind.
Dorothea realizes her mistake as soon as he catches it and offers him an apologetic look, placing her hands on her lap and out view.
"They wouldn't want me," he says again, no longer feeling hungry. "I don't want to talk about this again."
Dorothea concedes and sadly watches him go. Yuri returns to Abyss where it's easier to hide without being obvious about it.
Great Tree Moon rolls by as the most uneventful month since this war began. It almost doesn't feel like a war, if it weren't for the unrest stirring outside the gates of Garreg Mach.
They've known since before returning to the monastery that the Kingdom forces were to engage in Gronder Field against the Alliance and Imperial troops, a twisted reenactment of the Battle of Eagle and Lion from their youths. The clash was inevitable; what comes as a surprise is that Prince Dimitri is alive, after all.
Yuri had seen Caspar and Petra trying to reason with Ashe that day, one of the three Blue Lions that were whisked away from their House before Edelgard declared war. His desire to join his classmates was understandable - he'd spent a lot longer with them than he did with the Black Eagles - but whatever Petra and Caspar said, it got through to him. Ashe had been there as they relocated to Garreg Mach, traveling alongside Mercedes and Annette as they supported each other, and stayed put in the monastery even as the rumors intensified.
When Harpstring Moon finally rolls around, so does the news of the aftermath of the battle at Gronder Field.
Yuri rarely comes to the cathedral. Visiting it means higher chances of Dorothea or the professor dragging him to choir practice, so he avoids it during daylight hours. It's late enough now that choir practice is over, though, so he risks a look inside the cathedral for any glimpse of Ashe.
Behind the people streaming out through the front doors, Yuri sees him standing alone in front of the dais. Light streams through the grand windows in the back, bathing Ashe is the warm glow of the setting sun and painting his hair gold. Yuri stops beside him and watches his profile; even with his brows pinched and eyes tight with sadness, Ashe is handsome in a way Yuri will never be, not with features as delicate as his mother's.
Yuri doesn't try to comfort him, but offers his silent support while Ashe continues to stare at the window. His eyes are too bright from unshed tears.
The more Yuri stares at him, the more it itches to ge somet flowers out.
"I stood here before." Ashe breaks the silence, voice small and quivering. "In this same spot, when Lord Lonato was killed by the Church."
Yuri heard about it, the whole thing. He'd known then that Ashe had been enrolled at the Academy, long before they had even met underground, but never made a move to reach out. They'd been acquaintances then, at best.
"I wonder if they knew how much I appreciated them, if I showed it enough. All of them," Ashe continues, lowering his head and squeezing his eyes shut. Yuri pretends he doesn't see the tears running down his face. "Lord Lonato, Christophe, Prince Dimitri, Dedue… My parents… Even my siblings, I left them alone to fight-"
He cuts himself off, clasping a hand over his mouth to muffle the sobs wracking his body. Yuri wants to hug him, hold him close and protect him from the world. He reaches out and takes his hand instead, holding it until the worst of his crying has passed.
Ashe looks up, tear tracks down his cheeks and eyes so green they're like new leaves after a long winter. "Yuri, I-"
Yuri doubles over, petals escaping through the gaps of his fingers as he forces more flowers out. They drift to the ground, scattered by their feet in a shower of violet on the polished floor, clinging to the corners of his mouth as a physical reminder that it could've been Ashe's lips there, that his hands could've pulled Yuri just a little closer.
When he dares to look up, Ashe's tears have begun anew, streaking down unbidden. Yuri almost asks him why he is crying, but that would be a stupid question.
"Am I going to lose you too?" Ashe sounds so broken and scared that it tears up at Yuri's insides. More flowers drift to the floor; Ashe holds his hand tight until he's finished coughing.
"You won't lose me, sparrow." Yuri manages a quirk of his lips to pass off as a smile. "I've been through too much. It's not going to be this sickness that will get rid of me."
Ashe looks at him like he doesn't believe him. It's okay, Yuri doesn't believe himself either, but he would if his lungs weren't so bad from that illness years ago.
"Yuri, I…" he continues from where he left off, but then pauses and reconsiders, shaking his head. Ashe holds one of his hands between both of his own, keeps his gaze to that point of contact. "We can die at any moment. Will you let me spend more time with you?"
It's a bit pathetic how his heart flutters at the request, but Yuri can't bring himself to feel embarrassed or ashamed, even as he's forced to cough out more flowers. If it's Yuri's impending doom or all the bloodshed in Gronder Field that led Ashe to request that, he doesn't care - he'll take it anyway.
"Of course," he says, feeling warm from the inside out. "I'd love to."
The professor taught all of them the basics of white magic in the Academy so that they would be able to aid companions if needed, mainly once the battle was over to respect limits imposed by their chosen classes.
Despite most advanced sword classes having an affinity with magic, Yuri's magic growth is abysmal. The only person that might be worse than him is Ashe, but here he is anyway, casting a spell.
The spell Manuela taught is an easy one. As part of Ashe's idea of spending more time together, Yuri taught him how to cast it at his insistence, so that Ashe could at least do something to help him since the cure is- well, it's not happening.
Yuri isn't very good with trusting people or letting them get too close, but he makes some effort since it's Ashe. If he's going to die because he refuses to be rejected, then he might as well take what he can get until the flowers take over his lungs. So he sits still on a stone bench near the sturdy parapets of the monastery, watching the sprawling hills and fields in the far distance while Ashe casts the spell on him.
The warmth from the magic seeps through his clothes and tickles his skin. Yuri tries to breathe evenly through it, and to ignore the closeness of Ashe's hands to his chest and the erratic beating of his own heart. Should Ashe press his palms to Yuri's sternum, he'd feel the thundering pace beneath; Yuri wouldn't know how to explain himself.
Absently, he twirls a tiny sprig of violet between two fingers to keep himself grounded. He could weave flower crowns out of these and have Dorothea call him a romantic, have others think it's poetic - but he can't do that with what is slowly killing him.
"Does it hurt?" Ashe asks, casting a worried glance at the petals drifting away in the wind.
"It doesn't." Yuri's heard of other cases, people who had thorny roses growing in their lungs. Violets are nothing in comparison to that. "It's more difficult to breathe if I push myself too hard, though."
Ashe nods, only mildly relieved. "Shouldn't you stay in the monastery from now on?"
"I can't stop living my life because of this, sparrow." What is he expected to do, stay inside all day for the rest of his life because he refuses to confess? Yeah, no. "We have a war to fight."
Ashe's face contorts, as though Yuri's words have hurt him deeply. He continues to stare at anything but Yuri when he whispers, "have you considered confessing?"
How can I, Yuri thinks to himself, watching him, when you won't even look at me?
He turns his attention elsewhere, watching a pair of birds picking at a grassy patch to their left. "They deserve better," he says, gaze focused on the birds. "My feelings are irrelevant."
"I think you're selling yourself short." Ashe's hands fall away, the spell complete. He offers Yuri a bittersweet smile and says, "you're wonderful, Yuri. I'm sure they would be happy to be with you."
Would you? He bites his tongue and nods, patting the empty space beside him on the bench. Ashe sits and stretches his legs, and together they watch the birds soaring in the sky.
There's so much dust in the air that Yuri might as well have shoved his nose behind one of the shelves in the Shadow Library and breathed all the dirt in.
Fort Merceus lies in shambles, the once impregnable fortress now reduced to a mass of debris and rubble in the wake of an attack that cannot be explained by their usual means.
Yuri is one of the people who volunteered to go back to the site of destruction to look for survivors on any side. He'd known the dust would affect his breathing, but he didn't think it would be this bad, though.
As though he has a sixth sense, Ashe is beside him in a matter of seconds, keeping Yuri upright as the force of his hacking coughs force him to bend in on himself to get everything out. Violets and petals fall on the pile of crumbled buildings they walk on, almost beautiful and artistic amidst all the greys and browns.
Yuri glares at the petals, panting. "What do they even mean?"
Ashe casts the flowers a passing glance. "Their meanings vary from region to region."
He gives Ashe a curious look, and he flushes prettily under his gaze, embarrassed. "You really know your stuff, don't you?"
With a half hearted shrug, Ashe smooths his palm on Yuri's back to offer him some comfort. "I read a lot. And Lonato taught me, too."
"That I know." Yuri clears his throat, now free of flowers. "And what are those meanings?"
"Well, down south they mean honesty, protection, and remembrance. Up north they mean faithfulness and everlasting love, which might be the case for you." Ashe gives the flowers a forlorn look. "Violets are underrated romantic flowers, if you ask me."
Yuri chuckles. It's short lived, for it stirs the flowers in his lungs and forces him to expel them again. "I'll remember that."
Ashe stays with him until it subsides. Nothing is found in the area they were assigned, so they return to camp together.
In the kitchen area they set up in the Bridge of Myrddin, Yuri helps prepare their next meal for the troops with him and Bernadetta at the head of the group assigned for kitchen duty.
The onion he's dicing burns his eyes, but it's a welcome change from the usual scratches of his throat. Yuri shouldn't be here dealing with this, but with the professor too busy with strategy meetings to join them, and Ashe in the next town over securing some supplies for their next advance, he was assigned as the one who should help Bernadetta in this task.
It's hard to tell how far along the flowers are. The spell must be doing its job if he doesn't feel anything different in his performance since he noticed the first signs in Ailell. It's not much of a burden casting it twice a day, but he can feel his friends' judging stares for being too stubborn to confess to the nicest person in their army.
He turns to Bernadetta, who jumps at being caught staring from the corner of her eyes. She stirs the pot a little too viciously for it to be casual and spills some of the soup over the rim of the pot, jumping away with a dismayed cry.
"What is it?" He asks, taking the ladle and setting it aside before she spills more of their food. Bernadetta stutters a string of unfinished excuses, and deflates when he doesn't relent.
"I was thinking about your illness, that's all." She looks at the corner Yuri runs off to whenever he can't hold in his coughs any longer, where he keeps the violets our of their sight. "I just- I don't understand why you won't confess. Is your pride more important than your life?" Lifting his eyebrows, Yuri watches as the realization of her words dawns on her hard and fast. "Ah! No! I didn't mean to-"
He sighs and sets the knife down before she can think he'll use it against her or something as ludicrous, crossing his arms and resting his hip against the counter. "I didn't think you had it in you."
"I didn't mean to say that! I'm sorry!"
"It's fine. And no, it's not a matter of pride. I'm just a coward." Bernadetta flashes him a puzzled look, and he ignores it in favor of turning back to the cutting board to keep himself detached from this conversation. "I'm scared of being rejected and the pain it might cause. Physical pain is easy to deal with; emotional, not so much. There, I said it."
Bernadetta steps closer to him, taking one of the garlic cloves in hand and picking at the skin to keep her hands occupied. Yuri lays a bundle of herbs on the cutting board and goes about slicing it thinly. "But what if they reciprocate it? Are you fine with missing the opportunity of having something beautiful because you're afraid?"
He gives her an impressed glance, laughing when she goes red in the face. "Spending so much time with a certain someone is making you more open, I see."
"Who? R-Raphael? What does he- Yuri! Ooh, why do you do this?" Bernadetta puffs out her cheeks and whirls around to indignantly stomp over to the pot over the fire.
Yuri chuckles, using the blunt edge of the knife to scrape all herbs into a neat pile. "And I didn’t even mention his name," he calls out and snickers when she starts stirring the soup again. This time, at least, she doesn't spill any of it. "But yes, I know that."
"Huh?"
"That I could miss out on it. It's hard to not be aware of it when everyone brings it up at every given opportunity," he clarifies, smashing the garlic cloves with the side of the knife to remove the skin with ease. “Is it stupid that I’d rather risk my life than risk my heart?”
Bernadetta considers her words, staring at the food lazily bubbling over the flames. "It's not stupid; it just takes a lot of courage to do that. Love isn't supposed to be easy."
"Love isn't easy, huh? That makes sense." With all the seasonings nicely chopped, Yuri heats some oil in a pan for the next batch of soup. "How do you do it?"
The dying blush reignites to a blazing red that colors up to the roots of her hair. Every yelp of hers attracts stares in their direction; Yuri has long since given up trying to have a private conversation with Bernadetta.
Embarrassed, she grips the ladle so tight her knuckles turn white. He hates putting her on the spot like this, but hey, if Bernadetta did it, then her advice might help someone like him, right?
“I-I’m not sure.” Okay, maybe not, but he’ll hear her out anyway. “He’s so terrifying and I want to run whenever he comes close but… But I like spending time with him. He listens to me and he likes my food, and he says my embroidery is pretty. In the end all that fear is for nothing and the effort I put into it is worth it.”
Bernadetta nods to herself and looks at him again. “I guess that’s where I’m trying to get. Despite all my fears, it’s still worth it, so I keep pushing myself to do it. Would running that risk be worth it for you, in the end?”
“You know how I am. I don’t take risks until I’ve guaranteed my victory.”
The frustrated look she gives him is one he’s well familiar with by now. “You’re betting against an illness, Yuri,” she says, shaking her head. “Coming clean about your feelings is the best chance you have of getting rid of it.”
They’re interrupted by a mage who brings them bowls of sliced vegetables and cleaned fish for dinner. Yuri lets Bernadetta handle it and finally adds the onion to the pot, stirring until it turns golden brown and fragrant. Her words ricochet about his head, as stubborn as he is in maintaining his stance in this mess.
Yuri has looked at this predicament from every angle, but hearing his own observations coming from someone else still manages to put them under a different light. He knows that, if he’s willing to carry these flowers with him until his dying breath, then he might as well profess his feelings on the off chance that they are returned; nothing will change otherwise.
He wasn’t kidding when he said he’s a coward in this aspect, though, and that he won’t know what to do with the pain of a rejection. He can pretend as though he’s unfazed just fine, but it will eat at his insides all the same.
Bernadetta doesn’t pick up from where they’d left off, and Yuri decides they’re better off working in silence. All this food won’t make itself, anyway.
With the ocean close, the air in the Imperial capital is saltier than they're used to. It's more humid, too, even at this time of the year; his hair was clinging to his temples before they'd even begun. Yuri thinks back to the times he'd been in Enbarr before, walking along the piers on the southwestern side of the city and hearing the cry of the seagulls. A much better cry than the metallic screech of blades, that's for sure.
He doesn't know what's more suffocating: the humidity, the heavy smell of blood, the stirring of magic in the air, or the flowers crawling up from his lungs. He leaves a trail of bodies and petals where he passes, chest burning from exertion and the need to get more of the flowers out. Dorothea gives him a reproachful glare for not having sat out of yet another battle, but he moves on unbothered by her stare.
Ashe is too far up to say anything now, but his concern for Yuri's well being grows more palpable each day. Yuri wants to smooth the worried frown off his face with his fingers and lips, but keeps those to himself. Ashe is too sympathetic; his concern doesn't mean anything more than that.
Any hopes they'd had of causing as little destruction as possible to the city are thrown to the wind when flying demonic beasts appear from the direction of the palace. That's worrying in itself, but what has Yuri with his heart stuck in his throat is the sight of Ashe weaving between them and shooting arrows with precision. He’s quite the sight like that, armor gleaming and eyes fierce and focused. How does he not have people throwing themselves at his feet and asking for his hand? Are they blind?
Seteth and Byleth cut through the Imperial forces, headed for the gates of the palace where Hubert awaits. Yuri is too busy picking up stragglers to see how that goes, but when the stirring of dark magic ceases, they know they've won this one.
Once the enemy is dealt with, they regroup and get ready for the next battle. Dorothea slinks off with Ferdinand to check on the opera house. Yuri finds a quiet place to sit and eat his rations for a boost of energy. He isn't alone for long. Ashe finds him again and drops to the hard ground beside him, placing two waterskins in the space between their legs. Yuri is glad Ashe had the foresight to get them both a drink of water; he had been so focused to find a secluded spot where he could breathe that he forgot all about that.
"Here to tell me to stay out of the next battle?" He covers the jab with a slight hint of humor in his tone, but it serves as a warning all the same.
Ashe unfolds the parchment paper wrapped around his ration bar - a cluster of grains and nuts held together with honey and pureed fruits, then baked until firm. "Would you stay out of it if I asked?"
Maybe he would if the request came from a lover rather than a friend - but if they were lovers in the first place, Yuri wouldn't be coughing up flowers all day long, thus he wouldn’t have a reason to sit out.
"Thought as much," Ashe adds before Yuri can so much as breathe in to reply, his smile playful and warm. "I did come here to see how you're doing, though. Do you need anything?"
"Just this." Yuri sets aside his rations and picks up the waterskin to take a deep drink from it. "I'm parched. My throat was so scratchy it hurt."
Ashe's smile dims a little, but doesn't disappear even as he nibbles on his food. Soon it will be time to regroup and storm the palace, and then this will be over. Things will go back to how they were before, or as close to it as it's going to get.
As though sensing that, Ashe shifts closer, though it might be just to get further away from the corner of the road where people cross the street with swift strides. Whatever the reason, his leg touches Yuri's, and even through the layers of fabric and armor, he feels an electric tingle from that point of contact. "Did you take care of the flowers today?"
With an amused noise, Yuri smiles to himself. He almost makes it sound like the flowers are something beautiful that should be cared for, instead of something that is slowly killing Yuri.
"I didn't." He leans back against the wall of the building, stifling a cough; it's almost like they react to being mentioned, or to being in Ashe's presence. "I was so focused on the battle that I forgot to cast the spell this morning."
Ashe crumples the parchment paper once finished with his snack and pockets it. "Do you… want me to do it?"
Yuri's heart kicks out. Of course he wants him to; these are the best parts of Yuri’s days, but... "Can you even do it now? In your Wyvern Lord armor and all?"
"I can't use magic when we're in battle," he says, watching his fingers flex under the gauntlet. "But like this, it's okay."
Yuri finds himself nodding and whispers, "okay."
Ashe shifts even closer. There's nothing glamorous about this - they're both sweaty and red-faced, clothes dirty with blood and other things, Ashe's lips are still dry despite the drink of water he took - and still the closeness takes his breath away. For once, he can tell it's not the flowers.
Murmuring the incantation under his breath, the sigil glows between them and Ashe presses his palm to Yuri's chest. He keeps his gaze turned down, lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones, silver and gold glinting under the sun. He wears it like he was born for it, to be the knight he's always wanted, up in the sky and soaring the clouds while Yuri sticks to the shadows.
Every moment spent with Ashe is precious and much too short. He wishes he could stay here just a little longer, just the two of them.
Professor Byleth is the one who defeats Edelgard. It's fitting that as a teacher, they would be the one to stop their former student.
Units scatter throughout the Palace and the city of Enbarr, moving fallen soldiers and cleaning up, taking Hubert and Edelgard to their family tombs, looking through rooms for anything of importance, searching for Lady Rhea.
Yuri and Ashe are tasked with looking through Edelgard's and Hubert's offices for any piece of information that could be useful, that could shed light on the inner workings of their plans. They hold on to documents until the moment is right, heir chain of command too busy with making sure Rhea is safe.
It's a long way to the Alliance territory where Hubert presumed their "true enemies" to be hiding, as though their existence erases the five years of terror they lived through under the Empire. Despite the weight that's lifted off their shoulders with the end of the war, Yuri can't help but mourn that they'll soon be going their separate ways. Ashe will be bound to Gaspard back to his homeland and siblings, while Yuri stays behind in Abyss, pondering if perhaps it's safe now to visit his mother again.
His chest clenches and he coughs out half a dozen violets into his palm, watching them drift away in the evening wind. He's never heard of people who lost their flowers because their feelings faded. Yuri won't be the first, either; the thought of not loving Ashe is impossible to imagine.
He returns from a reconnaissance mission, sent to scout the whereabouts of the strange mages. Ashe had offered to tag along, but Seteth ordered him to rest after he and others watched their surroundings from above throughout the day as they traveled. A real shame - Yuri would have liked to work with him in that way - but he's happier knowing Ashe didn't push himself too far.
Tents are set and fire is lit when Yuri and his team come back to the camp, sun sunk below the line of the horizon and purple-blue sky turning to midnight black speckled with glowing spots. Conversation flows freely, but quietly, no louder than the rustle of trees and night critters that linger in their vicinity. Yuri sits outside his tent after reporting and takes off his boots to ease the ache in his feet, then looks up when footsteps approach.
It's Ashe, soft smile on his face and bowl of food in hands. Wordlessly, he sits beside Yuri and gives him the bowl, the smell so appetizing and enticing that Yuri's stomach stirs and grumbles. He can't feel embarrassed then, too busy battling emotions and flowers inside him.
How could he ever fall out of love when Ashe is so caring and gentle and bright? He shows his concern differently, in ways that aren't stifling but rather endearing; keeping Yuri's meals warm, helping him with the spells every day, walking alongside him instead of flying with the other airborne units, among so many other things.
"I sneaked into kitchen duty," he murmurs, hugging his legs to his chest and resting a freckled cheek on his knees. Cute. So cute. How can't Ashe realize that he's the one? "I hope you'll like it."
"You know I like everything you make. We have very similar tastes." Yuri scoops some of the food up with a spoon, a mix of potatoes, parsnips and carrots with wild game, the meat so tender it's falling off the bone. "You should be resting, though."
Ashe shrugs and continues to watch him. "I can rest now. How did it go?"
"There is some kind of cave that we think might be the entrance. We didn't reach its end, though." He bites and chews the food - then promptly melts with a low moan at how good it is. The potatoes and parsnips are buttery and soft sprinkled with cracked pepper and thyme that brings out the flavors of the meat. They melt on his tongue the same way he seems to go boneless and sink into the grass, just barely restraining himself from scarfing it down. "Ashe, this is divine!"
Under the firelight, the color on Ashe's cheeks deepen to a red, and he turns his face away with an abashed smile. "I'm glad you like it."
Like? Yuri could start passionately ranting on why he loves the food and Ashe himself, but instead he shoves another bite into his mouth and watches, from the corner of his eyes, as Ashe watches the flames licking at the logs.
The cave leads down to an underground city much too different from Abyss, illuminated by too many bright lights that are unlike sun or candlelight. Dolls like the creepy ones in the depths of Abyss wait for them amidst people who have been living below ground for much longer than any Abyssian has. It's something that is better suited for one of Ashe's fantasy books rather than their reality.
Despite all that, it's just another battle - until the leader of this seemingly lost civilization summons more of the javelins of light. As the ceiling crumbles over them, Lady Rhea is the one who goes and protects them from certain death.
Yuri isn't too surprised about her transformation as some of his peers are. He'd noticed that she'd gone missing at roughly around the same time the white dragon appeared five years ago - it was hard not to notice how concerned and horrified Seteth had been at her disappearance and the sudden presence of a sacred beast.
There's time for amazement and shock later, however. They make haste for Garreg Mach, healers pouring their all to keep Lady Rhea alive. Yuri is one of the few left behind to search for remains of anything useful in the debris; Ashe goes with the professor and Seteth, protecting them from above.
By the time he returns to the monastery, the news that greets him is that Lady Rhea is alive, badly injured and sleeping most of the time, but alive nonetheless. Rumors arise that Professor Byleth should step up as Fódlan's leader should Lady Rhea not make it. Seteth seems more stressed than usual, and even Flayn has lost her usual cheerful countenance.
The silver lining is that Ashe remains in Garreg Mach, and thus Yuri gets to spend more time with him.
"There's much that still needs to be done here," he says when Yuri asks, then adds "besides I-" before cutting himself off with a shake of his head and telling Yuri to forget about it.
So he does. Or rather, it slips off his mind after a while, because every little thing Ashe does occupies more and more space in Yuri's head. He helps rebuild both the monastery and Abyss; he spends the afternoons looking after the children with Mercedes and Annette, both orphans of war and Abyssians alike, making sweet treats and teaching them how to read and write. Yuri sometimes gets roped along in a game of hide and seek, powerless to refuse the puppy dog eyes of the kids and Ashe's brilliant smile. It's fun to let his guard down for a bit.
Ashe looks after the greenhouse, and sneaks extra loaves of bread and ingredients to Abyss once the dining hall closes for the night. He lets Balthus push drink after drink towards him until he's flushed in the face and laughing freely, green eyes brighter when he looks at Yuri and too loose to walk on his own.
He can almost picture the flowers blooming then, petals unfurling and coloring his lungs violet whenever Ashe's eyes catch him from across the table.
Yuri is a mess of petals clinging to his mouth and clothes, trailing behind him and spilling in the space between him and Ashe throughout the day. Hours stretch into days, weeks and soon it's almost been a month, and Yuri barely felt the passage of time, too caught up in Ashe's orbit.
Verdant Rain Moon reaches its end, the last day of the month marked by light rainshower in the morning and bright sunlight in the afternoon. The sky opens up, rays of light glinting off puddles like colorful gemstones. The grass looks greener, the distinct smell of petrichor permeating the air.
Yuri visits the cathedral early in the afternoon to send his prayers to Lady Rhea. As much as he has his gripes with the Church, Yuri still would not wish for her death, though her future still remains uncertain should she survive. Prayer circles have been held on the daily to aid her recovery; he has not participated in those like Mercedes has, but he’s done his part in private.
It’s rare when the cathedral is empty save for himself. Like this, he feels small and insignificant in a place that was built to reinforce the Goddess Sothis’ greatness. With most people’s attention occupied with one of Lady Rhea’s rare moments of wakefulness, Yuri gives in to a silly whim, humming a hymn to himself and letting his voice echo off the sturdy walls and high ceiling.
Though he doesn’t partake in it very often due to strangers ruining one of his few passions growing up, it’s nice to indulge once in a while. So Yuri sings, very briefly, wary that anyone could walk in on him. He lets his voice fill the space around him and reach up to the sky, to reach the one who gave him flowers as a symbol of his love for another man. He sings for Ashe who isn’t here, and sings for a love that will never be returned.
The last notes are drifting into nothingness when heavy footsteps approach the pew he’s sitting on. A cold chill washes over him, dread that he was caught in one of the few moments he’s let himself enjoy singing. He should have known better. He learned this lesson long ago.
Yuri hides his surprise and annoyance well, though, and turns where he sits to face the newcomer. Still in his armor and with hair windswept from his skywatch duties, Ashe lets his footsteps fall quieter on the polished floor of the cathedral now that Yuri is looking at him. It’s no wonder Yuri hadn’t heard him before, and it’s honestly impressive how quiet he can get even in his full armor. Yuri doubts he could get to that level; Ashe must have trained to move silently in armor at some point.
He lowers himself to the empty space beside Yuri, smiling softly. “Your voice is lovely.”
Reminding himself of who it is, Yuri manages a smile. “Thanks.”
Either because he’s noticed Yuri’s concealed discomfort or because he’s got nothing else to say in regards to that, Ashe turns his attention to the dais, casually stretching his legs before him. Yuri relaxes again; Ashe's presence never fails to bring him comfort.
"Being here clears my mind." Ashe's voice is quiet, a whisper meant to stay between them. "It's like the atmosphere puts things in perspective."
Yuri watches the light dancing on the altar and recalls the last time Lady Rhea had been there surrounded by flowers to conduct one of the many religious processions of the Church, five years ago to celebrate one of the Four Saints. Though the cathedral has been cleared of rubble, it will be a long time until it is fully repaired to its former glory.
"Do you come here often? When you’re troubled, I mean." Yuri asks, mimicking Ashe’s position on the pew.
“I do. Back when Lonato was killed and then… When his Highness and the others died too, I came here. It helped me find peace. Lately I’ve been coming here to think about something else.” Ashe clasps his hands between his knees. “I didn’t expect to find you here, though. Sorry for interrupting you.”
Yuri shrugs, folding his arms over his stomach. He wonders what it is that Ashe has been thinking about, but it was never in his nature to pry. “The cathedral isn't my personal quarters. You can come and go as you please.” Though he would very much give Ashe permission to do that, if he wanted.
"I know that, but I also know you don't like to sing in public." Yuri turns to him; he doesn't remember saying that to Ashe so explicitly. Ashe rolls his shoulders, sheepish. "I remember when you sang for the kids years ago, when Dorothea twisted her ankle and couldn't perform. I could tell you liked singing, but that you also didn't want to be there."
His eyebrows raise of their own accord. “You remember that, huh?”
“Of course I do. I got chills listening to your performance.” Ashe flushes, turning away to hide his pink cheeks. Yuri should be the one blushing right now, and it’s a wonder he isn’t; being complimented by Ashe feels a lot more genuine and fulfilling than when someone else does it. Dorothea would say that’s a side effect of being in love if he told her about it.
Yuri lurches forward and coughs, trapping the flowers in his hand as his body forces them out. It’s harsh, but not painful; he just hadn’t expelled many of them at once until now.
Ashe furrows his brow, eyes following a petal as it floats down to Yuri’s lap. He doesn’t look worried, but rather conflicted, which is surprising in itself. Yuri can tell he’s hesitating, as though he’s physically halting himself from doing something every few seconds.
Finally he sighs, seemingly making his mind up and drooping his shoulders, resigned. Defeated. “That thing I was thinking about…” It comes small and tremulous, unsure and faltering, as though he knows he’s already lost. For once, Yuri is the one feeling conflicted, watching Ashe even as he avoids meeting his eyes. “Yuri, I-”
A mighty roar comes from outside, loud enough that it shakes the very foundations of the monastery. Cursing under his breath, Yuri leaps to his feet and runs to the closest door of the cathedral, Ashe hot on his heels. He should have known something would interrupt them again - and this something turns out to be the Immaculate One circling the sky above the monastery in a frenzy, followed by smaller white beasts.
“What’s going on?” Ashe asks in disbelief, taking a step back and away from the parapet and turning his body towards the bridge.
He follows suit, feet pounding on the floor as they run back to the main body of the monastery. “Let’s find out.”
Yuri wakes up in the infirmary. There’s a dull throbbing in his head and a terrible ache in his left side, but otherwise he feels no pain. He flexes his fingers and toes, feels all of them there. He has both arms and legs, he can see the ceiling and hear the quiet chatter from the other beds.
He sighs in relief, tipping his head back on the thin pillow; he’s alive, and he’s fine, aches aside.
“Don’t you dare look so blissful.” A twisted cloth smacks him on the shin. Yuri lifts his head to look at Dorothea, hair swept up and away from her face save two strands that frame it. She looks tired and worried - and angry. “What were you thinking? You almost died!”
Yuri almost asks what she’s talking about - but he shuts his mouth instead, the memory rushing back to him. Right. That explains why his side hurts so much.
“Do you have any idea how worried he’s been? He hasn’t left your bedside since the fight was over! Petra and I had to force him to go get some food because he wouldn’t eat!” Dorothea continues to rant, swatting the cloth left and right in her tirade. Yuri lowers his head back to the pillow, swallowing.
“Sorry,” he offers pitifully, and then answers her only question, “I wasn’t thinking.”
All the fight leaves her in a long exhale. Dorothea sinks on the edge of the mattress; the shadows under her eyes are more noticeable now that her face is closer. “I could tell that.”
“He was going to get hit.” Maybe it’s because he’s just woken up, or maybe it’s because he just can’t keep it in anymore; either way, Yuri is loose tongued. “I couldn’t let that happen. I had to do something.”
“Wyvern riders are better at evading that kind of attack than us infantry soldiers,” she says, suddenly sounding exhausted. “Especially the tail of a big, angry dragon that is on the ground.”
“I had to do something,” he repeats in a feeble attempt to defend himself. Dorothea is buying none of it.
“You had six cracked ribs, four broken ones and your arm was in shambles. If Ashe hadn’t dismounted and tried to save you with his basic knowledge of faith magic, you’d have been a goner.” Dorothea rubs the inner corner of her eyes; she needs sleep, badly. “He was blaming himself for all of it.”
Yuri swallows past the lump in his throat, turns his face to the side and coughs violets on the pillow. He hadn’t stopped to think of what Ashe would think or feel should Yuri have died in his attempt to save him, and he didn't consider that Ashe would try to help him either. Yuri put him in more danger.
Dorothea nods at the flowers. “I saw how you looked at him that night before we entered that city. He’s the one, isn’t he?”
“He is,” he says, seeing no point in lying now. “It’s always been him.”
Sighing, Dorothea brushes the violets off the pillow and onto the floor. Yuri almost scowls at her; ridiculous as it is coming from him, he doesn’t like that they were brushed aside so carelessly, as though his feelings for Ashe are irrelevant. “You should talk to him.”
“I can’t do that,” he insists. Dorothea rolls her eyes and stands up.
“I’m not asking.” She stops by the curtains around his bed, looking over her shoulder to order him before slipping between them, “talk to him.”
Alone, Yuri sighs and turns his attention to the little bedside table to his right. He wants to laugh at the sight of violets in a vase, but the pain in his side prevents him from doing so, and his chest warms at the possibility that Ashe was the one to leave them there. Talk to him, she said; maybe it’s finally time he does as told. Who knows, perhaps he’ll even make Bernadetta proud.
Manuela comes to check on him. If Dorothea appeared exhausted, Manuela looks like she’s been running on two hours of sleep and a hangover. He doesn’t point out the way her hair sticks up in all directions or how her clothes are rumpled, opting instead to remain silent while she checks his ribs and head and murmurs something about needing a drink. Well, Balthus would be more than happy to indulge her on that.
It isn’t long before Yuri has company again, quick steps approaching his bed beyond the curtains, and it’s finally the one he is waiting for. Ashe halts just inside the curtains, his clothes creased and hair barely brushed, green eyes wide and wild. Yuri feels terrible for being the cause of Ashe’s distress and fatigue, but he couldn’t just stand there and watch.
“Hey, sparrow,” he says, trying to play off his injuries as minimal by offering him his best serene smile. It doesn’t have the desired effect. Ashe’s face crumples and his teeth grit together, the first sign of incoming tears.
Ashe strides over to his bedside, pulling Yuri in for a hug as best as he’s able without jostling or squeezing him too much. Yuri lifts his right arm and wraps it around him too, tucking his face in the crook of Ashe’s neck when he begins to sob. He’d been scared too; not of death, but rather of what would happen to Ashe if Yuri hadn't taken the hit i his stead.
The sound of his crying cuts deep at Yuri’s insides. “Don’t do that again!” The words are raw and broken, and their low volume only serves to bury the knife further in. “I thought I was going to lose you!”
Yuri squeezes his eyes shut and burrows as close to Ashe as he can. “You’re not going to lose me, sparrow,” he repeats words from months prior, back when he hadn’t considered sacrificing himself for someone else. Yuri should have known he would do stupid things to keep Ashe alive.
Ashe doesn’t get any more words out. Yuri runs his palm along the strong line of his back, feeling every dip of muscle beneath his tunic, every quiver of his ribs caused by his sobs. His own eyes are a bit too misty, but he keeps the tears to himself and continues to hold onto Ashe. His throat itches, but thankfully he doesn’t feel the urge to cough up more flowers, and that’s just as well; Yuri wants to stay close to him like this for a while longer.
The exhale that leaves Ashe is like a frail leaf in the wind. His lips brush against Yuri’s temple, damp from tears, his breathing wet and fanning his ear. Yuri’s heart stutters, stops and restarts, the simple touch making his blood burn and the flowers stir.
“I’m so glad you’re alive,” Ashe begins, murmuring in Yuri’s ear and holding him in place. Even if he released him now, Yuri wouldn’t let him go. “I love you so much.”
He stops breathing, eyes opening wide to stare at the curtain ahead of him. It's blurry, a large smudge of white right in front of him, and his eyelashes are suspiciously damp.
“That’s what I tried to say in the cathedral. What I’ve been trying to say for so long, but with the illness, I-”
Yuri pushes him away. He only catches a glimpse of the hurt on Ashe’s face before it morphs into understanding and panic when Yuri starts to cough violently, flowers falling on top of the blanket covering his legs. They come in droves, coloring the pale sheet in violet with specks of blood, like his lungs are being emptied.
Oh, he thinks distantly, my feelings are returned.
“I’m going to get Manuela!” Ashe makes to leave, but Yuri reaches out and grabs him by the sleeve of his tunic to force him to stay. He hovers for a moment before allowing Yuri to grasp his hand tight, rubbing his other palm between his shoulder blades. “You’re- you’re crying! Does it hurt that much?”
It doesn’t, actually, but Yuri can’t stop coughing for long enough to even breathe properly, let alone speak. Still he tries, for Ashe’s sake, and chokes out, “how long?”
Ashe furrows his brows. “How long have I loved you?” Yuri nods, feeling another wave coming, chest forcing more violets out. “For years. I wanted to tell you back at the ball, but I was too afraid. Then in the cathedral after- and more times after that, but I thought it wouldn’t be fair to you, since you’re in love with someone else.”
Yuri manages a laugh, tossing his head back and choking on too many petals. It hits him then how absurd this is, that he’d held back from confessing because he thought Ashe was in love with someone else, or because he was too unworthy, or any other half assed reason, when all along Ashe wanted him too.
And this! A confession in the infirmary! More cliché than this only if Ashe had confessed to Yuri after he’d been hit and was at death’s door. Knowing Ashe and his penchant for tales, he probably did, but Yuri was too delirious with pain - if not outright passed out - to hear.
How long has he been in the infirmary anyway? He must look like death warmed over with greasy hair and no makeup. And his breath- ugh. He did not dress up for this.
After several minutes, the coughing subsides. Yuri gasps for air, filling his lungs with it, feeling how clearer his airways are. He’d thought his lungs a hindrance because of that sickness that nearly killed him as a child; he’s never been more glad to have them back as they were, free of flowers that definitely are not a gift from the Goddess.
Yuri leans back against the headboard and lifts a hand to wipe his eyes. Most tears from Ashe’s confession are gone, but his eyes watered terribly from all the hacking and his cheeks feel really sticky from the dried tear tracks. Ashe exhales in relief, one hand still holding Yuri’s, the other on his shoulder, thumb tracing idle circles over the bone. Yuri watches him while he catches his breath, wondering how good of an actor Ashe really is to have hidden his feelings so well and to be able to keep a straight face after Yuri literally pushed him away during his confession.
“Ashe,” he eventually says, splaying the fingers of his free hand and gesturing at the flowers. “These are for you.”
He furrows his brow again. “For… me?”
Possibly because of him, Yuri thinks, but keeps that tidbit to himself so as to not make Ashe feel even guiltier for things beyond his control. “For you,” Yuri confirms, watching his face as he elaborates, “remember what Professor Manuela said? That I was so in love with someone that my feelings took the shape of a flower? They’re for you, Ashe. You’re the one who likes violets. It’s so obvious, I’m honestly surprised you hadn’t noticed before.”
Ashe gapes at him, lips working around words that never find their way out. Yuri gives him the time needed to process all that; he needs some time of his own, too, to process that Ashe loves him. Ashe loves him and it’s real. He won’t be dying with his lungs full of flowers anymore, and they get to be together.
“You… like me back?” Yuri rolls his eyes, impossibly fond, while Ashe continues to try to make sense out of it. “Really?”
“Really.” Once again, he waves at the flowers coating his lap. “And since you love me too, I coughed up all the flowers I had in me. Or so I hope.”
“Of course I love you!” Ashe exclaims louder than intended and promptly shuts up, sitting on the edge of Yuri’s bed.
Yuri shakes his head slightly and plays with his fingers. “About that, you can’t just drop confessions like that, sparrow. I look disgusting. Couldn’t you have waited for when I’m all dolled up for you?”
“It was the heat of the moment,” he tries to explain himself, smiling. “And you look fine, Yuri. You’re not disgusting.”
“Sure.” With an airy shrug, Yuri dips his chin to look at Ashe from beneath his lashes. “But I suppose you’ll have to get used to me like this, if you plan on waking up next to me every morning.”
Ashe's smile softens to something small and private, and so cute and lovely that Yuri wants to keep it forever. "I'd love that."
Yuri can't help but smile, too. "So would I." He entwines their fingers together and squeezes. "Can you go get Manuela now? I want to be discharged so I can have a long bath and get prettier than I already am before I kiss you."
Pink blooms on Ashe's cheek - Yuri may never get tired of it - and kisses his knuckles before disappearing through the curtains. Yuri plays with the violets on his lap, smiling to himself. They're still not a gift from the Goddess, but they were useful, in their own way.
Lady Rhea recovers and retires, so to speak, making a home in the Red Canyon. Catherine follows her, ever loyal. Seteth stays in Garreg Mach to aid Professor Byleth in their new role as the leader of the United Kingdom of Fódlan, donning the mantle and bearing the crown in an open event for all of the continent.
Dorothea boards a ship bound for Brigid with no return date, blows him one last kiss before she enters the carriage that will take her and Petra to the ship docks in former Imperial territory. Ashe is beside him when they go, waving at Petra and promising they'll visit so he can see the blue of the ocean for himself.
Ashe is knighted and appointed the new lord of Gaspard, just like Yuri expected. He's reluctant to go, but eventually mounts his horse and rides towards his hometown, leaving Yuri in Abyss for the time being to finish last minute business.
They write letters often. Yuri offers valuable advice and makes plans to join Ashe in Gaspard, choosing someone to look after Abyss in his periods of absence. With his friends out and finding their footing in a post war Fódlan, maybe this time he can trust the Church to do the right thing.
"Boss!" One of his men calls, several months later, stopping just inside the Ashen Wolf classroom. "Sir Ubert has arrived at the monastery."
Yuri flicks his quill and perches it in the inkpot. "Excellent." He'd been only pretending to be working, a little too excited to actually concentrate. He's even put on some new makeup for the occasion, a flavored lip gloss that he hopes Ashe will like.
It's a bit of a long way to the surface, but Yuri makes it there in record time. The sun is bright overhead in a cloudless sky, wind whipping his hair about his face as he searches for his lover. Ashe is outside his old dorm room, dressed in deep blue and longer hair tied in a short ponytail at the base of his skull. Yuri makes his way over as casually as possible, though still fast, barely containing a dopey grin.
Yuri stops short when he's close, catching sight of the arrangement of flowers in Ashe's hand. Small, violet petals look back at him, and he sniffles indignantly. "Really?"
Ashe snickers, his smile as radiant as the sun itself. Yuri can't possibly stay mad at him, can he? He accepts the flowers and loops his arms around Ashe's neck, pulling him down for a kiss.
"Let's go home," he whispers, and Ashe draws him in again, again and again, not wanting to let go.