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Chapter Text

"Alright, lets go! They won't know what hit em!" Caspar rallied, charging forward into the fray as he held his battleaxe aloft with both hands.

They were outnumbered, but Hubert had told them to claim as many strongholds as possible before the reinforcements arrived, and Caspar wasn't letting their side down.

"We'll be in and out so quick—Linhardt? Where did you go?" He asked, suddenly screeching to a halt when he realised the friend who had been fighting by his side only moments before was now nowhere to be seen. 

He looked ahead, lowering his axe. Claude had already taken down a bridge and cut them off from the rest of their army. His eyes went wide. He couldn't lose track of Linhardt now, but... he also knew that stronghold wasn't going to capture itself. He felt torn between running towards the stronghold, and going back to look for Linhardt, but that choice was made for him when he saw a line of mages swerve into view.

Shit, shit, shit.

He couldn't take them all out alone, but he couldn't let down the Imperial Army either. What would his Father say?

He took a deep breath, raised his axe, then started charging towards the mages with a battle cry. He was attacked on all sides, but managed somehow to batter his way through them so he came out the other side in one piece, albeit hanging on by a thread. He was too exhausted to make it all the way to the stronghold without stopping to heal himself, but all he had left was a single vulnerary. He cast one last long, wistful look where the bridge had been sunk into the river. It's too late to turn back now, he told himself. You have to keep going. You have to... keep going...

So he kept going, even though he was struggling now just to lift his axe. This is why he pushes you, said a voice in his head. This is why he trains you so hard. So you'll survive a battle like this, or else die fighting, the way Bergliez always...

He felt short of breath. He felt his vision blurring. Then a hand reached out and clasped his arm, dragging him into the shadows just in time to avoid a dark knight rushing by on a large horse. He lost his balance, falling to the ground as the hand dragged him into a darkly-lit alcove, down a side street, as their hooves raced loudly past, kicking up dirt.  His knee drove hard into the dirt, but the rest of him sank into cotton, as whoever had grabbed his shoulder and led him out of the line of fire circled him in their arms.

He lifted his head, slightly, from their shoulders, to see a familiar glint of dark green hair, and a sharp chin, and blue... blue eyes... like the sea.

"Keep down!" Linhardt hissed. Caspar smiled, allowing himself to sink into Linhardt's arms, as he watched like a hawk another squadron of soldiers race past, blissfully unaware of their hiding place. "And keep quiet," he added, a reassuring hand in Caspar's hair. 

"S'good to see you... so dizzy..." Caspar murmurred, coughing into his shoulder. Then his smile faltered, when he realised he was getting blood on Linhardt's nice robes. As his vision resettled, he tried to smear the blood away with the heel of his hand.

"Why are you pawing at me?" Linhardt asked, still staring beyond Caspar at the street where the knight had disappeared.

"Your robes! I'm sorry, I..." He didn't think it was helping. If anything, he was making it worse. He stopped. "I was real scared for a moment there when I thought... when I thought you..." had died.

"Don't apologise. Do you have any vulneraries left?" Linhardt asked, voice still low, although he felt reasonably certain the coast was now clear. They were still far too deep in enemy territory to take any chances. Caspar nodded his head, and unhooked his last remaining vulnerary from his belt to show Linhardt.

"Take it, quickly! I will try to heal you but I don't have much mana left..."

Caspar fed himself the vulnerary. Before he was finished, Linhardt had drawn back, so that Caspar sank out of his arms and onto the hard ground. Then Linhardt raised a hand to cup the side of Caspar's face. He froze, instantly, pupils blown as he looked up at his friend in a daze.

"This better work," he muttered. Caspar swallowed the vulnerary, which went down bitter, and braced himself for the familiar rush of Linhardt's healing magic... Before another knight thundered past, loudly. Then another. Then another. Linhardt swore under his breath. "It will have to wait. Do you think you can still run?" Linhardt asked. 

"If I say no, will you carry me?" Caspar asked with a sickeningly sweet smile, still hazy from his last head injury, head sinking easily onto Linhardt's shoulder once again. All he could parse in that moment was that Linhardt was safe and warm and here and the rest of the world was dangerous and cold and there.

Linhardt groaned and rolled his eyes, helping Caspar up to his feet. Once he was actually on his feet, his vision and his stomach settled, or maybe the vulnerary kicked in.

Something burst into flames, a few yards away from them. The enemy had activated their fire orbs. The enemy had fire orbs, and no one had warned them. Linhardt's eyes went wide. Caspar's thoughts were too disconnected in that moment to feel afraid, so Linhardt felt fear enough for both of them. He grabbed hold of Caspar's hand and broke into a run, down through the darkened alley way and out the other side. Caspar put up no resistance, happy to follow Linhardt wherever he led him.

"Whuh——I'm coming, I'm coming!" Caspar panted as he stumbled after him, their hands still joined. It took him a few minutes to work out they were heading away from the stronghold, and away from the fighting, as they crossed several cities by a circumspect route, cutting through, or taking cover, in as many sidestreets as they could find, in Linhardt's rush. 

Linhardt came to an abrupt stop when he caught sight of a squadron of soldiers up ahead. He growled, actually growled, at the sight of them, then dove in a different direction, behind some wooden merchant carts, dragging Caspar with him. 

He joined him on the ground behind the carts, breath thoroughly knocked out of him, and watched as Linhardt got up on his knees to peer over the top of the carts to see if the coast was clear. It was not. Instead, he sank to the ground behind the carts they were hiding behind and took out his waterskin, taking a swig with gloved hands.

Caspar watched him, still looking mystified.

"...What?" Linhardt asked, raising one brow.

"I've never seen you run like that before!" 

"No surprise, I run faster when I'm being chased by a bunch of soldiers waving axes."

"I got that, but what are we doing here? Hubert told us to take the stronghold!"

"We were outnumbered. You would have died. Here, drink this," he ordered, passing the waterskin to Caspar, who easily knocked it back.

"...You think I couldn't take them?" Caspar asked, unable to conceal the hurt from his voice.

"Maybe! But I didn't want to risk it."

"...Risk what?" Caspar still looked confused. Then Linhardt raised a hand to cup the side of his face a second time, surprising Caspar so much he nearly dropped the waterskin, until he felt the warm, familiar rush of healing magic drift up from his fingers and seep through his skin, making first his face then his entire body warm. He usually closed his eyes when Linhardt healed him, but he kept them open now. He watched him closely, studied his face. He looked so focused, like he did when he was researching, head lost in a book.

"Losing you, Caspar," Linhardt explained with a yawn. "That's my job, isn't it? You fight like a wild bear, heedless of the danger, and I do everything in my power to keep you up."

Caspar made a strangled noise, but in another moment Lin had removed his hand and the spell was broken, and so was that comforting warmth. He knew he missed it, but wasn't sure why. So instead he took another swig from the waterskin and wiped the excess drops from his mouth with the back of his hand before handing it back.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean? You think I can't handle myself in a fight?!" He replied as he started to rise to his feet. Linhardt scrambled forward, rushing to catch hold of Caspar's arm and yank him back down to the ground before he did, and any of the enemy soldiers spotted them.

Oh, right. Enemy soldiers. Somehow he'd forgotten all about them. Now Linhardt was leaning over him, clamping down either arm with both hands, and doing his best to communicate the simple command: stay, without saying a word. His nails were digging into his sleeves. The colour rose to Caspar's face as their eyes locked.

"I know how strong you are, Caspar! But you're also reckless. That's why Hubert assigned us to work together. If you tried anything... ambitious, Hubert knew I'd try to stop you."

After what felt like a lifetime, Caspar relaxed and Linhardt let go and turned away.

"Why send you?" Caspar asked, eventually, voice a little hoarse as he fixed his sleeves. "He could have sent anybody!"

Linhardt huffed, hanging his head.

"Because he knows you're the only stake I have in this war, and I'm not prepared to lose you."

Caspar made a sceptical noise. That didn't check out. He knew Linhardt. He knew he cared a hell of a lot more about the people they worked with than he let on.

"What about Edelgard? The Empire? It can't all be for me," Caspar replied, incredulous.

Linhardt made a face, like this conversation was causing him actual physical pain, so Caspar eased up, and leaned back, away from him. They could talk about this later, right? When it was safe, and they were back in camp, and...

Camp is on the other side of that bridge, the annoying voice reminded him. You've seen the maps. The only way home is through the main gates. The heavily fortified main gates.

He felt his heart sinking. What if this was it? What if they really were doomed? He had prepared himself, mentally, for dying in battle. He knew it was always a possibility, he knew since the first day war was declared... but dying here, like this? Because they had run out of energy and resources and been cut off from their friends? It wasn't how he pictured his last moments. The only part of the picture that made sense was that Linhardt would be right there with him, telling him off for being too reckless.

Linhardt cracked a faint smile. "You think I'd let anyone else bleed all over me?"

"But all our friends and family are in the Empire!" Caspar protested.

The smile went away.

"Several of the generals we're fighting used to be friends, and they all have families." He took another swig from his waterskin. "I'm not like you, Caspar. I'm not prepared to die for the Empire. And I'm not letting you die, either. Sorry."

Caspar's jaw dropped. "You think I want to die?!"

"I think you're far too eager to prove yourself in battle, no matter the cost," Linhardt countered. Then he added more gently: "But I also know why you're fighting. You want to protect them. Well, why not let me keep on protecting you, so you can live long enough to do them some good?"

"Who's them?" Caspar clarified, still a little lost. He couldn't tell if Linhardt was complimenting him or insulting him. Maybe both. Probably both.

"Our friends."

Caspar smiled.

"So you DO care!"

With incredible fondness, Lin replied: "About keeping your head on your shoulders? Yes."

Then he placed one hand over Caspar's where they sat side by side, knees raised, hiding behind a large cart, and Caspar almost felt as warm as he did when Linhardt cast that healing spell.

"Glad to hear it," Caspar replied with a grin.

"I've found Empire soldiers!" One of the Alliance scouts cried out from where he stood to their left, peering behind the cart.

Linhardt was faster, scrambling to his feet to catch hold of Caspar's arm. He struggled to drag him up after him, given the weight of both him and his heavy armour. Caspar barely had time to reach for his axe before Linhardt had levied him back onto the feet through sheer force of will alone and began leading him not towards the squadron of infantry soldiers but... in the opposite direction. They were running away. Again.

"The enemies that way," Caspar reminded him, but Linhardt only hesitated long enough to cast a ranged fire spell into the centre of their squadron, his levitating tome whisking around his head, before once more they were running. Caspar no longer tried to stop him, too busy struggling to keep up.

"This is no time to play the hero. What we should do is find somewhere we can lie low until the commotion has died down... then we can sneak back to camp," he suggested, as they made their way towards what appeared to be a typical market square, just off the field of battle. It had mostly been vacated, the residents told to stay indoors until the fighting had stopped, but here and there a few civilians could be spotted. Out on the streets it was mostly soldiers and armed guards, patrolling. 

The town itself reminded Caspar of Fort Merceus before the war. Linhardt leapt over a few crates and past some crowded stalls before passing down a quiet sideline. Caspar followed with no resistance. Seeing the coast was clear, they crossed the lazy sidestreet into... some kind of shop. The first shop Linhardt spotted which was actually open. As they stumbled inside Caspar, flushed and breathless, looked down and found they were still holding hands. A little bell rang at their entrance.

"Who are you?" The shopkeeper barked. He appeared to be an older man with a graying beard. His shop appeared to be empty of customers, too. Caspar looked around the shop, not overly impressed by the wares. If they had to hide somewhere, he would have preferred if it was somewhere with weapons, medicine, or food, but the shop seemed to be selling everything but weapons, medicine, or food.

"Travellers! Travellers. We come in peace." Linhardt insisted, free hand splayed out innocently before him, and tome whisked away into his satchel for safekeeping. "My fiancé and I wanted to sample the local fare. Do you have any..." he looked back at Caspar, in his shining armour bearing the emblem of House Bergliez proudly, "...clothes?" 

It was one step up over an actual Empire uniform or standard-issue armour, but it was still recognisable by anyone who had a passing acquaintance with Imperial Nobility. Caspar wanted to protest, but held his tongue when Linhardt squeezed his hand and shot him a look that meant: Go along with it. Trust me. Caspar swallowed hard. He wasn't great at lying, but he did trust Linhardt. He squeezed his hand right back and kept quiet, letting his friend do all of the talking.

"Yes, we do. My daughter fancies herself something of a seamstress. Merelda? Help these men," he instructed, summoning his daughter with a snap of his fingers from another room, kept behind a small curtained door. She looked closer to their age, with long brown hair that fell in waves about her shoulders and a pretty face. 

"Oh, hello there!" Linhardt trilled when he caught sight of her, raising himself up to full height and looming over the already slouching Caspar, who scowled darkly. He knew what that tone meant. "Aren't you charming. I'm Lin...dor, and this is my..." he searched for the right word so Caspar stepped in to help him, clearing his throat to assert himself.

"His fiancé. Cas...ter." He nearly said his name there, but managed to catch himself.

The daughter curtseyed, before extending an arm toward the other room. "Nice to meet you. This way, please." 

And they followed her into the next room, away from her father, who manned the counter and watched the door. Merelda gave them a grand tour of the clothes their humble shop had to offer, some handmade and some acquired from merchants or secondhand. Linhardt commented on all of them, clearly trying to kill time. Caspar figured he knew what he was doing. The more time they spent in here, the less time they spent out in the street where they could easily be spotted by enemy soldiers. But he was still wearing armour, with an axe hitched to his back. He hardly looked like an ordinary traveller.

Caspar quietly followed them around the shop, hovering next to Linhardt's shoulder, growing more impatient while he listened to the commotion building outside. Soldiers searching for Empire spies. 

"How do you think I'd look in this, honey?" Linhardt hummed, picking a dress off the rack and pressing it over his robes to cover them slightly. 

"Honey?" Caspar echoed, voice cracking slightly. Then he remembered the cover story. "Oh, right... I think you'd look nice in it, especially with your hair down."

Linhardt beamed. "You're sweet! I know we can't afford it, but I would still like to try it on... maybe with a scarf...?"

Then he slung it over his arm before scouring the hangers and shelves for something else to complete his look. Caspar watched him go, unable to unsee the small blood stain he'd left on the shoulder of Linhardt's robe.

"May I ask when the wedding is?" Merelda asked.

"In four weeks! I can't wait," Linhardt chimed, quickly reaching to grasp the distracted Caspar's hand and give it a squeeze. He jerked to a sudden stop, every muscle in his body shutting down at the simply gesture.

"Do you already have something picked out to wear for the ceremony?" Merelda continued.

"We're not planning to have a big ceremony. The only person I really want there is him," Linhardt said, tugging at Caspar's arm with one hand while still fixedly clasping his hand with the other. Caspar felt his face burning up all over again, only this time it was from embarassment, not healing magic.

"How long have you two been together?" She continued. 

Linhardt replied: "Ten months," at the exact same time as Caspar answered: "Fourteen years." Then he laughed. "You started counting from the day we met!"

"Fine, three years," Caspar corrected. Linhardt wasn't the only one who could make stuff up.

"Three years?" Linhardt asked, cursing himself internally for his own curiosity. He knew Caspar wasn't good at lying and it was a mistake to encourage him this way, but he couldn't help wanting to know where he was going with this.

"Since our first kiss. You remember it, right?" He continued, driving the nail in. Linhardt thought he could get away with being so handsy and calling him sweet names?! Think again.

"H-how could I forget?!" Linhardt stuttered out with a forced smile. Caspar had a found the chink in his armor. Good. He deserved a taste of his own medicine.

"It was before the war. We'd been dancing all night. Even after the music stopped, we kept dancing. You were the one who took my hand and led me outside, under the stars, where you told me..."

Please can we go fishing. "I love you," Linhardt interrupted, giving Caspar a strange look. He was clearly uncomfortable with this particular lie. Caspar had gone too far. Then he laughed, in a forced way. "I don't know why you're telling a stranger all this! You're going to embarass me!"

He said, as if it were even possible to embarass him. Caspar knew better. He also knew, because Linhardt explained it to him, that the best lies always have a grain of truth to them. So why not make the night they fell in love be a real night, to better sell their story? And he was committed to selling it now that it was beginning to feel like a competition.

"Sorry, honey," Caspar said with emphasis, squeezing Lin's hand before awkwardly pressing a kiss to his cheek. Linhardt immediately snatched his hand away from Caspar's and rushed off, insisting something had caught his eye on the other side of the shop.

While his best friend was preoccupied, Caspar stared down a particularly threatening mannequin and tried not to think about Linhardt running away from his kiss. Then the commotion outside grew louder, and his ears perked up. He turned his head, looking to the curtained door.

"Uh, Lin... dor, do you really think it's a good idea staying here? Don't you want to head home before it gets dark?" Caspar tried, feeling increasingly anxious as he realised this store had no back door. If they were attacked here they would be cornered.

"Why would I leave now when we've only just arrived! And we've already found so many beautiful things to try on!" Linhardt explained, grabbing his arm and squeezing it, in a futile attempt to calm Caspar down. He had heard the soldiers, too.

"Try on?" Caspar clarified, voice sounding even more strangled than before. 

"We have to try them on otherwise how will we know they're worth the coin? You do have a fitting room, don't you, Merelda?" He asked, spinning to face her.

She smiled politely, pointing to the 'fitting room.' It was less a room and more a few heavy curtains hung together, but it would suffice in a pinch.

"You are a life saver, thank you!" He purred, clasping her hand in thanks before taking the clothes she was carrying with her off her hands and heading towards the fitting room. Caspar could swear he saw her face go red at the compliment. He narrowed his eyes, scowl deepening, just as he heard a bell ring, and the shopkeeper rushing to greet the newcomer they could not see behind the curtain separating the two rooms.

"Caster, darling, would you be a dear and help me?" Linhardt called in a sing-song voice, leaning out from behind the curtain as he heard heavy boots entering the front room.

Darling? Nope, still weird.

But it was too late to argue. Caspar quickly darted behind the curtain, resisting the urge to glare at the smiling seamstress one last time as he heard the voices of the people in the front room, asking the shop assistant if he had seen any Empire soldiers who answered to their description.

"The guards are here," he muttered in a low voice as soon as he yanked the curtain closed after him. Then he turned around to see Linhardt, mostly undressed.  His voice leapt an octave higher. "Linhardt, what are you—?!" 

Linhardt threw an armful of clothes at Caspar, who scrambled to catch them.

"Hurry up and get dressed!" he instructed. "Unless you think you can't fight your way out of this city, too."

It was a fortress city, and well defended. Caspar could have sworn he had counted a hundred guards just on their way here. He didn't like those odds.

And Linhardt was shirtless.

Caspar, blushing, turned his back to Linhardt and tried to focus on changing. It was a slower process for him because he had all that armour to get out of. The clothes Lin had picked out for him were simple, nondescript. He had chosen them for a reason. He wanted them to be able to pass as ordinary townspeople, so they could slip out of the city unnoticed. It made sense, but Caspar didn't like the idea of leaving behind his armour. 

He pulled his new trousers up over his hip and tied the waist before taking off his shirt, but kept on his undershirt as he scrambled to find the new shirt Linhardt had flung at him. He didn't know why he was so self-conscious about dressing in front of Linhardt. It was hardly the first time Lin had seen him undressed and it wasn't as if he were looking, too busy putting on his own clothes to pay any mind to Caspar, but Caspar was still red in the face as he pulled his new shirt on over his head and did up the strings at the collar.

Then he head the shopkeeper call for Merelda, and peered out from behind the curtain just long enough to see her rushing into the front room to help him. 

"Coast is clear," he mumbled. "You know, you don't have to flirt with her," he added as he tucked his oversized shirt into his trousers, back still turned to Linhardt. 

"What?" Linhardt replied, barely listening.

"The shopkeeper's daughter. You're supposed to be engaged to me, remember?" It's not like they were really engaged or he was really jealous, but... they had a story to sell, and Caspar wanted to sell it. 

"I was reasonably polite to her!" Linhardt replied as Caspar fumbled to pull his boots on. Too many laces. "I'd hardly call that flirting! If I really wanted to flirt with her, she'd be the one in here instead of you," he pointed out, making Caspar feel even more self-conscious that he had no idea what he was doing. He knew nothing about flirting. He couldn't even sell that he was engaged to his best friend by flirting with him a little and cooking up a sweet story, so how could he be expected to flirt with a complete stranger? He'd just get tongue-tied and anxious and...

He was already tongue-tied and anxious. Oh, and Alliance soldiers were still outside, combing the streets for them. And inside, combing the shop for them.

Focus. Caspar shook his head, tugging at the cuffs of his shirtsleeves before a long narrow mirror. He could see Linhardt over his shoulder, still struggling with his choice, some kind of... gown. 

Caspar smiled. It reminded him of the one Linhardt wore to the ball. He usually wore a suit, but he really looked nice in that gown with his hair down. He could have danced with anyone, Caspar reminded himself, but instead he left the ball to go fishing with you. It was a happy memory. Caspar wouldn't change it for the world. That was why he picked that date, when Merelda asked. If he was ever going to fall in love with Linhardt, it would have been that moment, when he first saw him under the stars, bathed in moonlight.

"Anyway, I think she's more interested in you! I saw her stealing glances when you weren't looking." There was a pause before he asked: "What do you think of her?" 

Caspar wasn't paying attention. He was still thinking about how Linhardt looked the night of the ball, and certainly not thinking about what he looked like in the mirror with his hair up and no heavy robes to hide behind. Was that a scar on his back or a birthmark cutting his shoulderblade? Maybe his crest?

"...Huh? What?" 

"Do you think she's pretty?" 

"I wasn't really paying attention," Caspar muttered, gaze falling down to the ground again, then away, at some boxes stacked in the corner of the dressing room.

He had never paid much attention to women, and he kind of hoped Linhardt would have figured that out for himself by now, so he wouldn't have to actually say it, because... why should he? He had accepted he was 'unmarriable' a long time ago, because his parents told him he was, because he didn't have a Crest, or an estate or a title to inherit, and he couldn't have children.

So he took himself out of the running. Even if he liked somebody... why would they like him back? He wasn't exactly romantic, or handsome, or rich, or good at talking, or... good at anything, come to think of it, besides fighting, because fighting was what he was made for, what he was trained to be: a warrior.

Linhardt was the only person who seemed to think Caspar could be anything other than a warrior, but Caspar was still on the fence. 

He returned his focus to Linhardt. There was no good reason not to tell Lin he liked men. Lin liked men, too. Maybe that was the problem. He liked a lot of people, and had no difficulty coming up with new and exciting ways to flirt with them or get them alone. He'd say it was for research, but Caspar knew he only used that as an excuse. He didn't buy for a second that it was 'just an accident' when he brushed hands with his latest crush, or twirled his hair absent-mindedly when he wanted to make someone look his way. There was no way Caspar could ever be that bold, no matter how much he liked someone.

"Can you help me?" Linhardt lamented, still fussing to get into his new clothes. "I still can't figure out this blasted collar." 

Caspar walked closer, gingerly stepping over his friend's now discarded robes. Linhardt turned around, lifting his long green hair with one hand so it wouldn't be in his way and showing off his pale neck, where the collar lay undone. Caspar raised a tentative, shaking hand to do up the buttons on the back of his neck.

"T-there," he said, as he finished latching the last fabric-inlaid button into place and drawing a step back to admire the finished product, staring back at him from the reflection in the mirror, and definitely not the very real, very palpable person standing right in front of him, only a hairsbreadth away.

"Thanks, Caspar," Linhardt replied, taking a hand to the back of his head and pulling free the ribbon tied in his hair so it cascaded down over his shoulders freely. He looked beautiful with his hair down. Caspar's mouth went dry.

"Is that your Crest?" He asked, while lightly tracing the symbol cutting across his exposed shoulderblade. 

He always looks beautiful, Caspar concluded, putting his ducks in a row. It doesn't matter if his hairs up or down, or if he's just woken up from a nap, or he hasn't slept all week because he's too busy researching.

It was hardly a new revelation, but it was one Caspar tried not to dwell on. He knew Lin didn't see him that way, but all the handholding and honeyed words were starting to get to him.

"...Hmm? Oh, yes." 

"Does it glow when you fight, like Edelgard's?" 

"When I'm healing, if it glows at all... but I can't say that I know. I can't look at my own back while I'm casting spells, can I?"

"Maybe I can help? If you want to put that theory to the test next time you fix me up I mean," Caspar offered, forcing a broad smile he no longer had the confidence to support. Was he seriously offering to help Linhardt research his own Crest just as an excuse to make him take his robes off? Yes. Did he steal that line directly from Linhardt's own playbook? Also yes. His hand slid down and away from Linhardt's back with a jerk as Linhardt smiled at him, by meeting the reflection of his eyes in the mirror.

"...I thought you didn't like my research?"

He usually didn't talk about Crests with Caspar because he knew how much his best friend hated being reminded of the fact he was one of the only people in his immediate family, and among the generals in the Imperial Army, who didn't have one. That's why he felt he had to work twice as hard as everyone else in battle, just to prove he didn't need one to be just as good or better than them. Not that Linhardt needed any convincing. He already knew.

"I still think Crests are stupid, but yours... is pretty cool. It helps you heal!"

Linhardt sighed. Caspar was the reason he became a healer, not his Crest. It was Caspar's recklessness that made him overcome his fear of blood, because as much as he hated the sight of an open wound, he hated the sight of Caspar hurt more. He spun around to face his friend, holding in his hand the white ribbon which had, til recently, been holding his hair up in a half-hearted bun.

"Well, it better be 'cool.' It's a Hevring original and it's dying with me. I told my father I'm not continuing the family line, even if I do get married. Children are simply too much effort."

Caspar saw the ribbon and thought back to the first time Linhardt had spent the night in the von Bergliez manor. Caspar hated that place. It was huge, and old, and drafty, and soaked up storms like a sponge. The large windows did very little to conceal the lightning or drown out the thunder on stormy nights, and it scared Caspar so much he couldn't sleep. But Linhardt saw how shaken he was and rushed to comfort him. He didn't laugh at him, like his brother did, or his father, for being afraid, he just hugged him and promised to keep him safe until Caspar eventually fell asleep, holding on tight to Linhardt. The next night they made a pillowfort in case the storm came back. As long as he was there, Linhardt promised, no storm would hurt him. But he couldn't always be there. That's why he made Caspar a grounding charm, which he had worn around his neck ever since.

And that's why Caspar decided to gift him something in return. He saw the ribbon while he was out shopping with his mother. She bought it for him, and he waited until he was alone with Linhardt, lying in a field, to gift it to him. But Linhardt fell asleep before he had the chance to present it properly, so instead... he just tied in his hair while he was sleeping. He knew his gift couldn't hold a candle to the magical talisman Linhardt gave him, but he still thought it would be useful. It meant he could keep his hair out of his face while he was reading, or practicing magic, and it also meant he wouldn't have to cut it like he kept threatening to, so Caspar could keep playing with it when they were together, lazing about in fields and picking flowers, which naturally they would be doing forever, or at least until they were old and gray.

Linhardt guessed the direction Caspar's thought had drifted from his glassy-eyed, thousand yard stare. He waved his hands over Caspar's face to pull his attention back.

"Don't worry, I won't lose it!" Linhardt reasurred him, before tying the ribbon around his wrist and showing it off to Caspar.

"You knew!" Caspar suddenly realised, eyes going wide.

"Caspar. Do you know how many friends I had when I was 10?" Caspar starting uhhing and ahhing, so Linhardt quickly put him out of his misery. "One. And I was with you the day it turned up. You don't have to be a genius to work that one out."

"But all these years you really let me think...?" Caspar started, but immediately came to a screeching halt when Lin pressed a single finger to his lips, shutting him up instantly.

The voices outside grew louder. Despite the shopkeeper's protests, the guards insisted on searching his shop. Linhardt gestured for Caspar to take up a canopy of fabric lying across the floor and toss it over the armour and robes they had been wearing, and his axe. Caspar did as he was instructed, while Linhardt quickly took stock of their surroundings, and identified what Caspar had worked out earlier: there were no exits beside the front door.

Stalling for time it is!

Caspar had no idea how fast Linhardt could be until he had shoved Caspar into a chair and launched himself into his lap just as a pair of soldiers drew back the curtain. His mouth was on Caspar's before he had time to react with a heated kiss. Caspar closed his eyes, grappling to get hold of Linhardt to shove him off, instinctively, but a hand slipped around the back of Caspar's neck, tipping back his head as he deepened the kiss, moaning for emphasis. Definitely for emphasis. And he didn't want to push him away anymore.

"Oh, uh, sorry, we didn't mean to interrupt—" one of the soldiers sputtered. Then another stepped forward and barked: "Please state your name, house, and business in this city!" 

Linhardt ended the kiss languidly, taking his time and making a point of completly ignoring the soldiers to smile with satisfaction at the flustered, blushing man underneath him, who was still seeing stars. 

"Lindor. No house, unfortunately... unless this one makes good," he insists with a wink to the soldiers. "He used to be a mercenary, but we're textile merchants, now. I told him I wouldn't marry him unless he retired. I hate to see him in danger."

He was really milking it. Caspar blinked a few times, but retained the same thousand yard stare. It was only just occuring to him either how light Linhardt had gotten, or how strong he had. 

"I see. And your... husband's name?" 

"Caster," Linhardt answered for him, because he still looked... out of service. Wanting to be helpful, Caspar wove his arms around Linhardt's waist, while he continued holding onto his new shirt. Linhardt liked it. It made him look like a romantic hero on the cover of one of Bernie's novels. Which made him the damsel in distress. He leaned into the rôle, enjoying how easily he had succeded at getting under Caspar's skin. He was burning up.

"Like the oil? Okay," the soldier jotting down their information replied, shaking his head. "And your address?" 

"Oh, we're staying with my sister, not far from the city... funny, but I can't remember the address... Caster, sweetheart, do you?" 

'Caster' shook his head, before dipping it to kiss Linhardt's neck behind his ear. Linhardt laughed. He was ticklish. Caspar smiled at the sound. He no longer felt afraid. He remembered the grounding charm around his neck and Linhardt pressed close against his chest and no longer felt afraid. 

"Well you both answer the descriptions of the two men believed to be Adrestian spies, so if you would not mind coming with me for questioning..." 

Linhardt's smile widened as he leaned in even closer to Caspar, placing one hand on his chest, splayed flat. "You can't blame me for trying!" He said, before his eyes darkened as he began casting a spell. It took Caspar a moment to realise what was happening.

"Linhardt, wait! Stop!" Caspar sputtered before the spell sparked into life and the room dissipated around Caspar as he was shunted into another one. He fell back into a pile of hay and managed to flail his way onto his feet only to realise, to his dismay, that Linhardt was not with him. The initial shock gave way to blind terror as the realisation set in if Linhardt was not with him, he was with them. 

He kicked the pile of hay and punched the wall of the tiny barn, startling a horse so that it jerked its head up, neighing in protest.

"Where does he get off telling me not to play the hero and then he goes and does a stupidly heroic thing like that?!" Caspar lamented out loud, wheeling around in the little barn, until he ran headfirst into a blue-haired woman in a floorlength dress, with a floral headband.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Sir!" She cried. "Excuse me!"

Caspar put up his hands. "Don't worry about it, its fine, not a scratch on me, I——wait. Marianne, is that you?" He had hardly spoken to Marianne back at the monastery, but not for a lack of trying. She was on the introverted and mousy side, like Bernie. Hard to pin down.

"...Caspar? I almost didn't recognise you in those clothes!" She said and then... smiled. At the sight of an enemy soldier hiding in her barn she actually smiled. Maybe this wasn't the real Marianne. Maybe Linhardt had warped him to an alternate dimension. One where Marianne smiled and none of his former friends were enemies and Linhardt had absolutely not just kissed him so hard he was still reeling from the aftermath.

"Marianne, I need your help! Can you keep a secret?" He asked, moving closer and lowering his voice. 

She placed a hand over her heart and bowed her head. "For a good cause, yes, I think so." 

"I'm not here to hurt anyone, I just want Linhardt," he explained, putting both his hands up to show he was unarmed.

"Linhardt... you mean your friend from the Monastery?" The one who was always haunting the library. And the number one reason why she avoided ever going near the library without Hilda or Leonie to protect her.

"I think he's been captured by Leceister soldiers. I'm taking him back... but I could use your help." 

Anyone else would refuse outright, and he would not blame them. But Marianne did not refuse. She listened. He had a feeling she would.

"I'll do anything in return! I'll quit the army! We'll stay out of your hair, I promise!" He realised as he said the words how much he meant them. He would leave the Empire, or desert the army, if that's what it took to see Linhardt again and keep him safe. Nothing else mattered. He knew what everyone else in the army thought of him, that he was too dumb or naivê to work things out for himself, but he knew his own heart. If how he felt about Linhardt wasn't love, what was? 

"I just want him back! I'm no good without him," he said, tears coming to his eyes. Marianne immediately rushed forward and hugged him, startling Caspar. She really had changed from the shy girl he remembered. When she finally let go she took a step back and bowed her head.

"You don't have to promise anything! I'll help you, and so will Dorte. We'll get your friend back."

She later explained 'Dorte' was the horse. Oh, and that Hilda was helping too. Caspar could already feel the colour draining from his face. He knew his days were numbered, but as long as they got Linhardt back, he didn't care how. The Alliance may have him now, but they were not keeping him. 

Chapter Text

Linhardt von Hevring was thrown into a jail cell when he refused to tell his interrogators anything, including his name or the name of his accomplice, after allowing himself to be captured with no resistance. It only took two days for Claude to hear of his capture, and send Lorenz to investigate. Lorenz naturally recognised him the moment he caught sight of him. They had gone to Garreg Mach together. And now he stood, cross-armed, before the bars of his cell, where Linhardt was seated on the floor, with his back against the cold stone wall.

"I know it's you, Linhardt. I want to talk."

"And I want to sleep for six months. We can't always get what we want."

Lorenz snapped his fingers, summoning a guard. "Have my cooks prepare a dinner for two."

Linhardt made a face, stomach growling. "You won't win me over that easily."

"Who said I wanted to? Come, stand up. Join me."

With a groan, Linhardt rose to his feet. The jailer opened the door and he passed out, looking not unlike a ghost. 

Lorenz led him to another room, which Linhardt assumed was his office. Once they were both seated on either side of his desk, and some guards brought in a bottle of wine and glasses Lorenz was quick to fill, he explained this room would be Linhardt's, for as long as he needed it.

"I'm not defecting."

"You don't have to. We aren't savages. With respect to your nobility, and our former... friendship," Lorenz struggled to say the word, and Linhardt struggled to stomach it. They had never been friends. They had rarely even shared words. The only thing they had ever shared was a corridor in the dormitory. "I feel you should be kept in conditions more... suitable, to a man of your station."

Linhardt narrowed his eyes. But he accepted the glass of wine on offer without hesitation. He could tell Lorenz was being genuine. He also remembered, vaguely, overhearing something about his father's 'sympathies' with the Empire. He figured the only reason Lorenz was offering a laurel branch now was because he appreciated how easily their circumstances could be reversed. If he were suddenly taken prisoner by the Imperial Army, this is how he would want to be treated.

He looked around the room. It looked fine. Even comfortable. But the shelves were too empty. "I want books. And writing supplies."

"As you please!" He called over one of the guards and told them to bring paper, ink, and a pen, then insisted he would personally ensure Linhardt was brought acceptable reading material. 

Then their food arrived. Lorenz didn't wait to join him. "You must be hungry. I will take my leave," he insisted as he rose to his feet while Linhardt remained seated at the table, ready to devour the small feast laid before him. He hesitated.

"Leaving so soon?" After his rude interrogation in the prison cell, Linhardt expected Lorenz would waste no time beginning his, once he had enough wine and hot food in him to be a pliable subject.

"There will be time enough for that later. You're not going anywhere," Lorenz reminded him with a smug smile. Linhardt rolled his eyes, then returned to his dinner. He would deal with Lorenz later.

As he finished eating, a guard arrived with the ink and parchment he requested. Books would take a little longer. He asked for them to be set on his study, which he cleared of plates himself before sitting down, pen in hand. He knew there was no point asking Lorenz if he could send a letter, but he figured it would make him feel moderately better about his current situation if he tried to put his thoughts down on paper.

Your Majesty,

I am well.  I have been taken prisoner by the Leceister Alliance. They have made me suffer unspeakably. Just now, I had to talk to Lorenz! I feel sick to my core. When you started this war,

He tore up his 'letter' and threw it into the nearest bin. Attempt number two!

Dear Hubert,

Hubert,

I have been taken prisoner by Claude's forces, thanks to following your orders. Lorenz is acting unnaturally benevolent, so naturally I am on my guard. I am sure they think showing me kindness will win me over, but they do not know how long I have been forced to stomach your daily venom, so that I have become inured to the taste of your

No, he was going to misconstrue that. He scratched out the rest, too, and threw it away.

Dear Bernadetta,

I hope you are well. I am not, but thinking of you in this dreary place is a comfort. You have always been a good friend to me, and I am sorry I never had sense enough to tell you so. I hope one day, when you are a famous author known throughout Fodlan, you will remember me fondly.

P.S.  You needn't be afraid of the world, Bernadetta. It is full of beautiful people who would love you if they only had a chance to meet you, and beautiful sights you must see to believe. You have every right to enjoy these experiences for yourself one day.

P.S.S.  If I die, I need you to find the locked journal under my pillow and burn it, unopened. My enemies must never learn of my research. You are the only person I trust with this important mission, so I hope you carry it out to the letter. 

With love,

Linhardt.

Maybe he was being too dramatic. Claude probably wasn't going to kill him. He would just keep him imprisoned until the war was over... but who knew how long that would be? He sighed. Well, onto the next letter.

Dear Dorothea,

I have fallen madly in love with you,

I appreciate your friendship, and in this dark, lonely cell, when I close my eyes, I can almost hear you singing.

I wish we had gotten to know one another better. I enjoyed our talks. You, so enamoured by the nobility you have only ever seen from the outside looking in, and me, so disillusioned by it all, by everyone.

I hope you are right. I hope you are happy. I hope love is real. I hope you find someone worthy of your time, who makes you laugh and smile and will love you just as much as you deserve. I have hate opera, but I'd give my left arm to hear you sing again. 

Yours,

Linhardt.

Another flawless letter. He started the next one post-haste.

Dearest Petra, Queen of my Heart,

I long to prostrate myself before thine heavenly feet and whisper sweet nothings into thy ear. Sadly, I am forced to whisper them to Lorenz instead. If it were Claude, I would not protest, but Lorenz?!

I digress. I know you are just as eager as I am to see this war ended. I know how badly you want to return to Brigid and enjoy a peaceful reign. I hope you are able to do so soon.

I cannot imagine how hard it must be for you, as a queen, to know you cannot be with the people you love or protect them from so far away. But I am beginning to understand the feeling.

I wish you every happiness, wherever life takes you.

Love, 

Linhardt.

He worried his intentions were getting muddled. Maybe he should re-try a letter to Edelgard. He didn't seriously blame her for his current circumstances. He blamed Hubert. He should have known they'd attack the bridge and not sent them, alone, so deep into enemy territory, without a way to retreat. 

Dear Shez,

I no longer require your services as a bodyguard, as I am now the property of the Alliance. Please break the news gently to Edelgard. If I fought any harder during the moment of my capture, they would have killed Caspar. I think you understand why I couldn't let that happen. Tell Hubert I'm sorry I couldn't take that stronghold, but it's his own damned fault for abandoning the bridge after splintering his forces. Tell Ferdinand I'm sorry I never finished his painting. I have enclosed a preliminary sketch of his horse, which I hope will suffice. Tell Lysithea my spellbooks are hers, along with any of my notes on Crest research which might be of use to her, or Hapi. Tell Hapi she can have my room. If Caspar is there, tell him... whatever you think is best.

No, he told himself. That's too cruel. With a sigh, he started another letter, before he had finished and signed the last one.

Caspar.

I hope you are well. I know you probably hate me, now, for the trick I played on you. I know it was mean. I know I shouldn't have warped you without warning. I know I shouldn't have kissed you without asking. I know I shouldn't have left you alone in a hostile city. But if you are reading this letter, I must assume you made it safely back to camp.

There are a thousand things I wanted to tell you before I was taken prisoner, but I know I'd run out of paper if I tried to write them all down, so instead I have compiled a list of the most salient points:

1. Whatever you do, don't listen to your father. He wants you to be something you're not, and he doesn't deserve a son as kind and gentle and loving and smart and loyal as you.

2. You are very good at fighting! But you are so much more than just a fighter, Caspar. You could do or be anything you put your mind to. Never forget that.

3. Don't die!!!

4. I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you. I know it's too late now for these words to make any difference, but I need you to know I never meant to hurt you.

If one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me... I'll be waiting.

Lin.

He looked long and hard at the last lines, before setting down his pen. Well, that settled it. There was no way he was attempting to send these letters. Even if for some reason Claude did decide to let him freely correspond with his friends back in the Empire, he would naturally have Lorenz or someone else read his letters beforehand to ensure they were free from 'compromising information,' and he couldn't stomach the thought of Lorenz learning all his deepest, darkest secrets any easier than he could stomach the thought of sending his friends a letter—which might be his last!—that was cold and impersonal.

No, no... better to say nothing. Let them draw their own conclusions about how he was taken prisoner, and how he died, and divide up any worldly possessions he left behind as they liked. With a sigh, he collapsed onto the bed, and soon sheer exhaustion dragged him into a deep but dreamless sleep.

☆☆☆

"Wait, wait, slow down... to distract the guards?" Hilda interrupted. "You're joking, right? You've gotta be!"

Caspar groaned, burying his face in his hands. Marianne gently pat his back, to reassure him. He had told her the story already.

"I told you, it was all part of the plan! We convince the guards we're just two ordinary, run-of-the-mill travellers, on our way to get married—"

"We don't have time to unpack 'Lindor and Caster,'" Hilda shook her head, still misty-eyed. "I'm still getting over the part where your best friend since you were six years old, who's been pining over you for years, kissed you out of the blue and you still think it's 'no big deal!'"

"It was a tactical kiss!" Caspar whined. Hilda laughed and clapped her hands, delighted. "Anyway, what's pining?"

"Whennn you spend all day mooning around because the person you want to be with isn't with you!"

Caspar made a face. "But I'm always with Linhardt, so how could he...?"

"Not with, but like. With. You know? Romantically!" Hilda tried to explain. She found talking to Caspar a bit like talking to a brick wall.

"So you... you think Linhardt has a crush on me or something?" Caspar asked, slowly, voice breaking. Marianne gave Hilda a long look.

"You can't tell me you didn't notice! He was always hanging on your every word back at Garreg Mach, and I don't think I ever saw him training without you. And he'd pretend to fall asleep on your desk just to make you carry him to his room!"

"Pretended?!" Caspar repeated, aghast.

"I thought you knew! It's the oldest trick in the book!"

"We're best friends! He doesn't have to trick me! If he'd just asked me, I would have..." carried him anyway, because of course he would. The kiss may have caught him off guard, but... they had always been close. It was normal for them, especially with Linhardt always falling asleep whenever and wherever he was, or on whoever was there, and—and anyway—Caspar found it endearing. The stupid faces Linhardt made when he was sleeping were cute.

"Mhmm?" Hilda leaned in, placing her chin in the palm of her hand and grinning provocatively.

"Why are you looking at me like that?!"

"Because you're cute! So have you told him how you feel?"

Caspar wanted to stick to the usual script. He loved Linhardt because he was his best friend, but that didn't mean he was in love with Linhardt! Although he had recently discovered he liked kissing him. That wasn't a normal friend-thing, was it? He sighed, closed his eyes and covered his face. Maybe they could just be friends who kissed sometimes? How weird would that be? Dorothea had friends like that, and she was happy! 

"He knows I care about him," Caspar eventually replied in a small voice. "Isn't that enough?"

Hilda crossed her arms, not looking satisfied by his answer. "Is that enough for you?"

Caspar groaned and hid his face in his folded arms. "No! I want to kiss him again."

"Great! So where's the problem? He likes you, and you like him—"

"I still think I would have noticed if he had a crush on me," Caspar countered.

He had noticed Linhardt's other crushes. He was always flirting with them, or trying to research them. He never did that with Caspar. He was always just... himself. He never got anxious or tongue-tied around him the way Caspar... the way he... wait. 

Hilda gave him a sceptical look. Then she said: "Marianne, when did you notice I liked you?"

"Oh!" Marianne piped up, startled. "I think it was on our fourth date? You took my hand and kissed me on the mouth, instead of the cheek, and... and then you told me we were on a date!"

"See?"

"See what?"

"Goddess, you're hopeless! I have to do everything around here," Hilda lamented. "Forget Linhardt! We're focusing on your feelings," she said, giving him a light jab in the middle of his chest.

"What does any of this have to do with rescuing Linhardt?!" Caspar asked, not enjoying this interrogation at all.

"We are on opposite sides of this war, Caspar. I'm going to be in a world of trouble if Claude finds out I let two Imperial Generals go! I need to know it's for a noble cause. Reuniting a pair of star-crossed lovers, well..." she shot a dazzling smile Marianne's way, "I know it would make her happy."

"That's fair, I guess," Caspar said, running a hand through his hair. "But now we know... where we all stand, feelings-wise... can we just fast-forward to the part where you show me your plan?" He figured she had one, as she came to this 'meeting' bearing maps.

"Right!" Hilda said with an excited clap, before laying down said maps, and unrolling them with a little help from Marianne, who set down paperweights on either side to keep the maps open and lying flat. It was a surprisingly detailed map of the city. "Okay, so this is the house which has been converted into an Alliance base, where Lorenz is interrogating your boyfriend. It's crawling with guards, but it's still just a normal house, so there are plenty of weak points we can exploit if we need to make a hasty retreat. I'm marked them out here, and here..."

"I never said he was my... wait, you knew where they were keeping him this whole time and didn't say anything?!" Caspar sputtered. It made him feel even worse about wasting valuable time on pointless questions while Linhardt was getting interrogated by the enemy, that they knew where he was the entire time and who was doing the interrogating!

Hilda waved a hand dismissively through the air.

"I needed to know we were all on the same page first. Anyway! We're disguising you as a guard, going in together, grabbing Linhardt, then shuffling you both off to a safe house by this route, until we can get you out of the city."

"You have a safe house? Just... ready to go, on tap?"

"I know a guy who knows a guy. Look, do you want my help or don't you?" He nodded. As long as Linhardt went free, he didn't care about the details.

"Alright, let's go! Come on Marianne! We'll need Dorte's help on this one, too... how does he feel about carts?" Marianne gave a shocked gasp. "It's only a short journey, don't worry!" 

Before they left to start assembling supplies, Marianne put Caspar up in the hayloft of the barn to spend the night. Claude's soldiers were still combing the streets for the Adrestian spy that got away so he had to lie low, but if their plan succeeded, it would only be for one night.

The next day, Hilda arrived at the barn carrying a guard's uniform and armour under one arm, and with several merchants dragging a cart in her wake. They set it down just outside, and she persuaded them to dress Dorte up in the gear to pull it, so he was affixed to the cart. Then she paid them and sent them on their way, while Caspar tried to put on the new armour. It didn't entirely fit, Hilda had taken a wild guess at his size, but he did his best to latch it on securely. Marianne helped him at the end, gliding the helmet into place over his head as the crowning piece. He smiled at her before pulling down the wide visor.

"How do I look?" He asked.

"I wouldn't recognise you at all!" She replied, smiling back. She really had changed. He'd never seen her smile so much.

"Great! I can't wait for Linhardt to attack me on sight," Caspar responded, still unable to stop replaying the nightmare he'd had the night before in his head.

"He won't attack you," Marianne insisted, gently. "I can tell you really care about him, and he cares about you. I'm sure it will be alright."

"You think so?" Caspar asked, still struggling to swallow the rock in his throat. "Well, I wouldn't have a chance if it weren't for you and Hilda. I'd probably just... run in, axe-first, the way I always do, and make a mess of things."

"You have a good heart," Marianne responded, giving his arm a light pat before turning from him, to check on Dorte. "I'm sure he appreciates it. I always appreciate when Hilda runs in, axe-first, to help me."

He smiled at that. "You do?"

"Not everyone is good at talking, but actions can speak louder than words."

He liked that, actions speaking louder than words. Maybe he'd never work up the nerve to tell Linhardt how he felt, but he could show him.

☆☆☆

"You really want me to believe you don't care whether your father lives or dies?!" Lorenz scoffed.

Linhardt shrugged. Not because he didn't care whether his father lived or died, but because he felt confident his father could handle whatever the Alliance threw at him. He would hardly allow himself to be captured the way Linhardt did, without a fight.

Lorenz gave a heavy sigh, steepling his fingers and looking exasperated.

"What about Caspar von Bergliez?" 

"What about him?" Linhardt replied, feigning indifference.

"At the Monastery, you two were always... close. And four days ago you were seen running from a battle with a short, blue-haired, axe-wielding warrior, calling himself Caster... it's too perfect to be a coincidence, don't you think?"

Linhardt felt his confident veneer begin to chip. So they knew it was Caspar. That wasn't good. He could still be in the city, somewhere, if he hadn't found an opening to make it past the guards and back to camp, yet.

"...I'm right, aren't I?"

"About what? I wasn't listening," Linhardt mumbled, idly picking up and examining a paperweight that had been left on the desk. 

"You gave yourself up to protect him."

"So you admit I could have gotten away if I wanted to?" 

"Claude seems to think so."

"Smart man."

A heavy sigh. "Look, if you give me information on the Empire's forces, I can make it worth your while." 

"I'm not interested in anything you could offer me, Lorenz."

Lorenz lifted his head and narrowed his eyes, as they locked with Linhardt's.

"What if I offered you Caspar? You help me, and you can both leave this city, leave the army, leave... everything."

Linhardt's mouth settled into a thin line. His brows furrowed as his eyes fell back to the desk. He thought back to the Monastery. He thought back to a time before the war. He thought back to the day the professor had insisted even priests needed to learn basic self-defense, in case they were unable to cast spells. Caspar had volunteered to be Linhardt's sparring partner so enthusiastically that Linhardt's own protests were drowned out. Just as they were when Caspar dragged him, against his will, to the training quarters and put a wooden practice sword in his hands, as if he had any idea what to do with one.

"Don't worry," he'd said, after showing Linhardt the correct way to hold his sword. "For payback, you can teach me how to cast a fire spell once we're through."

"How is that payback, Caspar? You want me to do even more work?" Linhardt had groaned, already exhausted even before going several rounds in the arena with Caspar. He easily dodged each blow, but made no attempt to strike Caspar back. He couldn't bring himself to fight Caspar. It felt wrong. They had sworn an oath as kids to never fight, after growing up watching the way their fathers fought constantly.

Linhardt was beginning to suspect Caspar was pulling his punches, too. Linhardt knew what he was capable of when he was really trying. He had seen him fight plenty of times before, watching from the sidelines as he threw punches or an axe, glistening with sweat and out of breath, exposed muscles rolling effortlessly as his punches cut through the air... but it was a different experience entirely to be on the other end of those 'effortless' punches. To have that gleaming warrior poised over you, fists raised, as he knocked you off your balance.

And shockingly, in all the years they had known each other, it took Caspar punching him in the face when he was distracted by the sudden revelation he liked how strong Caspar had grown, for him to realise he was painfully attracted to his best friend.

A good realisation to have while you were inelegantly spitting up blood on the floor.

Caspar, horrified, rushed to pick Linhardt up, apologising profusely, but Linhardt, made squeamish by the sight of the blood, did not feel like talking.

He disappeared, only to return a few moments later brandishing a small towel to wipe the blood from Linhardt's mouth. For some reason the intimacy of the gesture bothered Lin. He snatched the towel from Caspar's hand and coughed into it, then cast it aside. For some reason, Caspar didn't move away. Instead, he moved closer, knocking their foreheads together with his eyes closed. Lin's were wide open. He felt so awake, suddenly. He needed that punch. His mind, and heart, were still racing.

He reached up to cup the side of Caspar's face, but his hand didn't make contact, wavering in the air beside him. It's not like they hadn't done this before. They had always been close, and Caspar had always been a very physical person, always hugging and needling and pushing Linhardt around, and Linhardt had always enjoyed it, but now... it felt different. It felt charged. Like every touch was suddenly imbued with electricity.

"Are you okay?" Caspar asked, voice thick with worry, completely unaware of the internal crisis warring in Linhardt's head. Their faces were still so close together. All Linhardt could think of, in that moment, was how desperately he wanted to kiss him, even with the taste of blood still lingering in his mouth.

"Yeah," he answered, still staring up at him from the floor. "I'm okay now. Barely felt a thing. I might be missing a few teeth but..." his words trailed off, his voice deserting him. "...I'm sure they'll grow back."

Caspar examined his mouth then s miled a wide, toothy grin, that made Lin feel warm all over. 

"You look alright to me. Want me to count them?" He asked, joking. Lin's eyes darted from Caspar's aquamarine eyes to his dazzling, showy smile. It wasn't real. Not completely. He could tell. He was worried.

"Go ahead," Lin tried to reply, but the words never left his mouth.

Linhardt von Hevring loved freedom above all else. He was not in the habit of denying himself anything. If he wanted something, he would ask for it. But he could not ask for Caspar. A rejection from Caspar... would be hard to live with. They had already promised to spend their lives together, and that was not a promise Linhardt intended to break—or complicate.

Caspar, who had surely noticed Linhardt staring at his lips by now, cleared his throat.

"Umm, Lin? Are you sure you're feeling alright? We can call it a day, or go back to doing drills..."

He hadn't called him 'Lin' in a long time. Caspar took hold of his arm and gave it a light squeeze.

"...Lin?" Caspar tried again when his friend made no attempt to answer him. "Please say something, you're scaring me."

"Caspar," Linhardt started, trying to force his way around the dam that had formed in his throat. "When did you get so strong? You almost had me seeing stars," he murmurred, forcing a smile.

His friend looked confused for a moment. Then his smile returned, pure and simple and uncomplicated, and so did the warmth pooling in Linhardt's stomach, as Caspar beamed at the compliment.

How had he not noticed sooner how much Caspar had grown? His shoulders and chest had filled out, and his muscles become more toned. His face had lost most of its babyfat. He looked so handsome, and Linhardt, terrible friend that he was, hadn't even noticed. It was like standing too close to the sun. You need to take a step back to really notice and, well... they were always in each other's pockets.

What had Caspar asked about a magic lesson...? They could do that. He could ask Caspar back to his room. Caspar was always in his room. And when they were alone, maybe he could work up the nerve to tell Caspar...

"Are you two lovebirds done?" Dorothea hummed. "Petra and Bernie are booked in for the next slot."

Perfect timing as always, Linhardt thought, daydreaming about how he would exact his vengeance on Dorothea for this.

"But we just started—!" Caspar began to protest, at the same time as Linhardt said: "I think we're done, here."

The mood was already broken. If not by the interruption itself, by how nonplussed Caspar looked at the insinuation the way he was leaning over Linhardt and cradling his face might be misconstrued as 'romantic.'

The idea had probably never occurred to him, because why would it occur to him? He didn't like Lin. He didn't like anyone. He wasn't interested. If he were, he would have told Linhardt by now, because he told Linhardt everything.

Dorothea threw up her hands. "I don't make the rules! I'm just passing on Hanneman's instructions. Hilda's looking for you, by the way."

"Oh," Caspar answered flatly, as Petra and Bernadetta walked over, both armed with training swords. His attention was pulled by Linhardt stripping off his training 'armour,' a flimsy breastplate, and dropping his sword on the ground beside him. Caspar immediately peeled off his gauntlets.

Perfect! Hilda. The girl obviously smitten with Caspar could take care of him, and he could clean his hands of this whole sorry 'crush' business, and get on with his research. Or if not his research, find someone else to distract him from his quickly breaking heart.

Linhardt ducked and wove his way out from under Caspar's arms and up off the ground with as much dignity as he could muster, and it took Caspar a few moments, slack-jawed, to realise what was happening and scramble his way up off the ground and after him. He seemed to be operating on a delay.

"Where are you going?!" He yelped. He actually yelped. 

"To sleep!" Lin said, with a big yawn. "I've found this all very exhausted."

"What about our magic lesson?"

"Another time, maybe."

Caspar looked disappointed, but Hilda was on her way. She could cheer him up.

Linhardt marched straight for the door. Dorothea glared at him, arms crossed, but made no attempt to stop him as he made his way as far from the training arena as his legs would carry him, as quickly as possible.

After that unfortunate incident, Linhardt had made the executive decision to no longer have any feelings for Caspar beyond friendship. If he did, he would simply ignore them. Kissing him had been a mistake. That entire engagement story had been a mistake.

As long as he didn't muddy the waters he could continue being his friend, but now the waters had been muddied... well, he couldn't stop thinking of Caspar's face in his hands while he healed him, looking up at him with so much faith and trust.

Lorenz was still staring at him, expectantly.

"What makes you think I'd betray the Empire and desert the army?"

"Because, Linhardt... I know how much you hate fighting. You never wanted to join this war, did you? Well... this could be your ticket out."

Linhardt yawned, crossing his arms as he leant back in his chair, and crossing his legs at the ankle. "You're desperate. You have to be, or you wouldn't be asking me to betray my friends."

"I'm trying to help you!" Lorenz exclaimed, running out of patience. "I don't want to be your enemy, and neither does Claude. He thinks... you're the smartest general the Empire has. He doesn't want to pardon you—he wants you on our side, as a general in our army. He thinks you share his vision, and could help him bring an end to this war before things get any bloodier than they already have. I think... two less generals to worry about would make my job a hell of a lot easier, which is why I suggested this... compromise."

"I don't want your pardon," Linhardt replied flatly. Lorenz rose from his chair and began dusting off his armour. "You're right. I hate this war and want it to end, but I can't just... walk away."

Lorenz gave him a long look, pausing briefly. This was not his first interrogation. He knew how to read a person's 'tells.' It was obvious Caspar was Linhardt's weakness, and it was a weakness easy to exploit. If Caspar was still in the city, as they expected, it would only be a matter of time before Claude's soldiers found him. And if his suspicions were correct, and he was even half as loyal to Linhardt as Linhardt was to him... he had a feeling he wouldn't be in any hurry to leave empty-handed.

"...Not even if it saves your friend?" Lorenz asked, tilting his head to one side.

Linhardt knew he couldn't ask Caspar to desert the Empire. He was fighting for a reason. It wasn't just a job for him, and it wasn't about 'making a name for himself,' although that's the story Caspar told everyone. It was because he loved the people he was fighting alongside. His love was patently obvious in the countless acts of service he did for them. He was always going out of his way to help his friends, whether that meant being a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen or a shield to defend them or an axe to cut down whatever was threatening them. And nothing could compel him to turn his back on the people he loved.

Linhardt swallowed the rock which had formed in his throat. He looked down, unable to meet Lorenz' eyes.

"He would never choose me over the Empire."

That was the real reason why he couldn't leave. He knew Caspar wouldn't follow him.

"You really believe that?" Lorenz asked, voice sinking. He felt sorry for him. Linhardt could hear the pity in his voice. It only made him feel worse. Lorenz didn't understand their relationship. He didn't understand Caspar. He couldn't.

Linhardt looked up, darkly, at the knight leaning over the desk between them. "With respect... I think I know him better than you. So go tell Claude thanks, but no thanks."

Lorenz took his leave. Linhardt watched him go, and waited until the door had closed before he drifted over to his no longer empty bookshelves to investigate his recent acquisitions. He picked out a volume, idly, opened it to a random page. Bold of them to give him a book on magic. It might make him stronger.

He knew he should feel grateful for the improved surroundings, but... he did not feel grateful. A cage was still a cage no matter how nicely you dressed it up. He still had two guards manning the door at all time, ever-vigilant and always watching. He had no privacy here and no freedom. He closes his eyes and gave a deep sigh. At least he could enjoy the silence.

Then one of the two guards manning the door to his room turned on the other, knocking him out with two well-aimed hits at close quarters. The second guard folded to the ground, as the first, still standing, moved towards him with a lumbering step. "You seriously think I'd choose the Empire over you?!" Linhardt quickly spun around, readying a spell.

Before he could unleash it, the guard put up his arms. "Wait, Linhardt, it's me!" Caspar yelped, pushing back the wide visor of his helmet so Linhardt could see a familiar shock of blue hair and aquamarine eyes. "Please don't zap me to death!"

Chapter Text

Linhardt's jaw fell open, but he immediately ended the spell, letting the magic snap out of life. "Caspar! What are you doing here?!"

"Rescuing you!" Caspar said, looking Linhardt up and down to make sure he was still in one piece and reasonably unscathed before taking a quick examination of the room they were in. It was empty, apart from the guard he had just knocked unconscious, but... nice. Suprisingly nice. "Gee, what are they paying these guys? Maybe we should switch sides!"

Before he could say another word, Linhardt launched himself into his heavily armoured side, hugging him so hard it nearly knocked him over before he could finish speaking.

"It was hell. I missed you," he mumbled, face buried in plate armour.

"I missed you, too," Caspar said, awkwardly patting Linhardt's shoulder. "Did you really think I could just leave you behind?" He followed up, voice cracking slightly as he remembered how lonely he felt when he realised Linhardt had not warped with him.

Linhardt, voice still muffled by armour and face hidden, replied: "No, I guess not."

Caspar pulled back just enough to catch the side of his face with one hand and look at him, as if checking to make sure he was real.

"They didn't hurt you, did they?" Linhardt shook his head no. "And you're sure this is what you want?" 

Linhardt stared at him for a long moment, before slowly nodding his head. "I want to be with you, wherever that is."

The door opened, and Hilda stuck her head in. She couldn't open it all the way because a body was still lying in front of it, obstructing the doorway.

"Caspar, we're kind of in a rush here!" She whispered, loudly. "Can you two... did you kill this guy?"

Linhardt immediately wove out from Caspar's arms and in front of him, one arm defensively shielding him from Hilda and another outstretched, prepared to cast a fire spell.

"Whoa!" Hilda put up both hands, still stuck wedged, but now between a closed door and a body. "Caspar, can you please tell your boyfriend this dress isn't fireproof!"

"Linhardt, she's on our side. She's a friend."

"She's an Alliance General," Linhardt snapped, eyes narrowed and teeth barred. Caspar had never seen him act that way off a battlefield. Even then, it was only when he was defending him.

"She's a friend!" Caspar corrected. "She gave me this uniform and told me where you were. She's helping us escape."

Linhardt made a faint noise of protest, not because he had any personal grudge with Hilda, but because he didn't want anything to get in the way of their escape and he knew better than to trust someone they hadn't seen in years was not going to use Caspar's trusting nature against him. Still, he lowered his hand. She breathed a sigh of relief before stepping over the body and dropping down to check that it still had a pulse. It did. She popped back up again, and briefly inspected the room, as Linhardt wove around to face Caspar.

"Okay, she's a friend, and you're a guard. Now what's part 2 of your brilliant escape plan?"

Caspar cracked a smile. "I'll level with you, I didn't think I'd get this far. I thought we could just... wing it?"

"Oh, Caspar..." Overcome with fondness, Linhardt hugged him again. He did not let go.

Caspar raised a hand, lightly patting Lin's back.

"Umm... Linhardt? You still with me?" 

"Mhm..." 

"Not falling asleep?" 

Hilda coughed loudly to get Caspar's attention. His head swerved.

"I'm going to go distract Lorenz and Claude. Wait two minutes, then go down the corridor and to the left, and take a left again once you get to the end of the hall. First door on the left has a window leading out onto the roof. Think you can get him to it?" Caspar nodded. "Great. Marianne will be waiting with a cart on the other side."

She shot him a thumbs up, then started moving for the door. Caspar tried to give her a thumbs up back, but it was hard with Lin holding on so tight. Which... right. "Wait! Linhardt, do you need anything before we leave?"

He lifted his head from Caspar's breastplace. "They took my spellbook."

"The armoury is just down the hall, last door on the right. Might be there." Hilda suggested.

"Thanks!" Caspar replied as she left, and they were once again alone.

"So... we ready to go?"

"Ready to go."

They slipped out into the hall. Linhardt insisted it would look best for Caspar to play the part of a guard leading a prisoner down the hall for the washroom. Caspar drew the line at actually binding his hands, but he agreed to hold them clasped behind Linhardt's back as he pulled down his visor and directed him out of the room and down the hall. He glanced back, briefly, just long enough to see Hilda leaning in a doorway down the hall in the opposite direction, ostensibly making small talk with Lorenz. She glanced back, briefly, and he removed one hand from Linhardt to wave at her. She didn't wave back but smiled at him, glassily, before turning her attention back to the man she was talking to. Linhardt easily slipped out of his grasp and pushed open the door to the armoury, not giving Caspar time to check whether or not the coast was clear first. He dragged Caspar inside and closed the door very quickly behind them, leaving Caspar a little startled.

It was a small room but packed full of spears, lances, swords... basically everything but a tome. After some searching, Linhardt dropped to the floor and eventually found one dusty tome, but it was not his. Caspar stood guard by the door.

"Care to explain why we're trusting Hilda, again?" Linhardt asked, as he shifted through some old crates and boxes.

Caspar looked down at the ground, shuffled his feet. "She's, uhh... sympathetic to my predicament?"

"Your predicament? I'm the prisoner here! Do you have any idea how much I suffered, listening to Lorenz' banal lectures on the correct conduct of nobles? I would have gotten more enjoyment out of watching paint dry."

"Yeah, well... she doesn't know you. She knows me," Caspar mumbled, scratching the back of his head with one hand as he leant against the door. "Anyway, it was your idea to give yourself up, I would have..."

"Gotten yourself killed trying to fight them all? Yeah. I had a feeling."

Caspar moved away from the door, just as he heard voices growing louder on the other side and feet approaching. His eyes went wide. Before he could inform Linhardt, who was already two steps ahead of him, he was taken by the hand and dragged into the nearest door, before his feet had time to catch up to his brain. Unfortunately the only other door led into a small, cramped storage cupboard. Once they were inside, the short-circuiting in Caspar's brain only got worse. Linhardt was holding the door closed because there was no lock with one hand, but the other still fixedly clasped Caspar's. They stood shoulder to shoulder, but it was really too small for the both of them. Linhardt already had to stoop to avoid the boxes sticking out on a high shelf, scaling easily over Caspar's head.

Linhart pressed his ear to the door, listening to the two guards who entered the armoury. They were taking their precious time. They must have been off duty. They did not seem to be looking for them, so Linhardt relaxed a little, and pulled away from the door. Then he chided Caspar about 'moving too much,' before turning to face him, so Caspar would have more room. Then... well, it only seemed fair Caspar turn, too, to give Linhardt room. They were still far too close for comfort. Caspar couldn't see, properly, in that little room, but he could feel Linhardt's breath on his face. As his eyes began to adjust to the darkness he started to faintly make out the silhouette of Linhardt's face. He was looking down at him. Caspar considered, in the silence of that little room, how easy it would be to grab the side of Lin's face and pull him into another kiss. He smiled to himself at the thought.

He had no idea how five days apart could feel so long. They might have been five years.  

Linhardt looked confused. "What are you doing?" He asked in a low whisper.

Caspar's smile vanished. "What am I doing?!" He whispered back.

"You're acting strange. Did something happen after I warped you?"

"Yes! I mean no! I mean... kind of?" Caspar floundered. "You do remember kissing me, don't you?"

"Vaguely."

Well, that hurt.

"I was more focused on the guards coming to arrest us." 

"Oh. Well that... that makes sense actually." His head sunk, anyway.

"It's not really how I dreamed our first kiss would go," Linhardt added with a yawn. 

"Our... wait, you dream about us?" Caspar clarified, eyes going wide, even in the darkness of that little cupboard.

"What else would I dream about?" Linhardt replied so matter-of-factly it even stunned Caspar into silence. "Do you want to kiss some more? It's rather tiring, but I could make an exception for you." 

"Lin! You can't just say things like that!" Caspar protested, when he found his voice again.

"Why not?" Linhardt asked.

Caspar looked away and tried to remind himself this was just Linhardt being... Linhardt. It wasn't a big deal to him, because he didn't have any weird hang-ups about kissing his friends. Caspar was the one reading too much into everything, jumping to conclusion.

He focused his breathing, closed his eyes, and pressed his ear to the door, but couldn't hear the guards outside of it. Maybe they had left?

"We'll talk about this later," he said, reaching for the doorknob that Linhardt was still holding. He didn't let go. He was staring intently at Caspar when he lifted his face to meet his gaze. He looked... sad.

"Or... we could just pretend it never happened?" 

Okay, Caspar knew Linhardt liked running away from his problems, but he was not running away from this one. Caspar wouldn't let him.

"We're not pretending it didn't happen! That was my first kiss, Lin! Ever!" Caspar snapped, no longer making any attempt to be quiet.

Linhardt immediately let go of the doorknob. With a sigh, Caspar opened it, and walked outside. As light streamed in, he turned around from the other side of the doorway and saw how upset Linhardt looked. 

"I'm sorry, Caspar, if I had known I wouldn't have..." Linhardt started to say as Caspar went to the door to check if the coast was clear just as it opened from the outside, pulling him forward. Hilda quickly darted inside, past him.

"There you are!" Hilda exclaimed, pulling the door closed behind her as a startled Caspar stepped out of her way. She turned to Linhardt, still standing a few strides behind Caspar with his arms crossed. "Looking for this?" She asked, holding up a tome.

Linhardt immediately moved forward, past Caspar, to take it in hand. "Where did you find it?!"

"Lorenz' office! You can pay me back once we're out of here."

"If you're with us... who's keeping Lorenz busy?" Caspar clarified, trying to stay focused.

"Claude. There's been a slight change of plan. Have either of you two ever been in a play before?"

They very quickly formulated a plan, which involved Linhardt 'escaping' after fighting Hilda, who would pretend to be trying to stop him. They didn't have time to work out the finer details, and were left to take what Linhardt styled a 'Caspar approach' to the situation. Before they left the armoury, Hilda did remove from her satchel two cloaks. She gave one to Linhardt, who quickly pulled it on over his shoulders, then hesitated before handing Caspar the other. Linhardt took it, and tucked it away in his satchel. The uniform was a better disguise for the time being, and Linhardt was used to keeping tabs on Caspar's belongings while they travelled. Caspar returned the favour by helping do up the neck clasp on his cloak.

They went out into the hall, where Linhardt and Hilda staged a fight while Caspar made his way to the backroom and pried open the locked window. It did not take too much forcing. Then he rushed to catch the fleeing Linhardt by the arm and lead him towards it. He went out of the window first, and once he felt he had a secure footing on the roof he extended his arms to help Linhardt out of the window. His hand had just connected with Linhardt's waist when he heard the sound of the door opening from the inside and froze.

"Linhardt!" Claude called from the doorway, extending a hand. "You don't want to do this, trust me! We're not enemies! We want the same thing!"

Caspar could not see Claude, only hear his voice. He waved slightly and whispered Linhardt's name, trying to catch his attention.

"I'm sorry, Claude, but I don't think we do. I just want to be left alone," Linhardt answered as Caspar took hold of him and settled him down on the roof, before closing the window and wedging a small plank of wood across the outside, in the hope it might momentarily complicate any attempt to open it. Then he extended his hand for Linhardt to take, which he did, and they made their way along the side of the roof.

Caspar went ahead of him and searched for the easiest way to shimmy their way down. He saw a ledge into a balcony, and led Linhardt down into it. There was some commotion from the people inside the house, but thankfully, they were not heavily armed guards. Caspar shot them a dazzling smile then jumped back onto the banister and over the side, onto another small rooftop. They were closer to the ground now. They just had a little ways to go... a few arrows whizzed past his shoulder. He glanced back, just long enough to see an archer with a shortbow raised. Claude was standing there, too.

Caspar sighed, clasping Linhardt's hand even tighter, and leading him to the edge of the rooftop. He popped down first, breathing a sigh of relief the moment his boots made contact with the soft dirt, then he turned around and extended his arms for Linhardt, who was still perched on the side of the roof, unsure whether or not he would make it if he jumped. A few more arrows flung past. They missed him by a longshot. They're missing on purpose. Claude doesn't want to actually hurt him. He's just trying to slow us down.

"You can jump down! I'll catch you!" Caspar insisted, but Linhardt did not look convinced. He eventually settled with crawling over to the side and dangling off the end of the roof, as Caspar raised himself up to catch hold of him by the waist. "Let go," he insisted, and Linhardt let go, as Caspar gently glided him back to solid ground, still holding onto his waist as Linhardt, knocked off balance, faltered backwards into his arm.

"Maybe I should just carry you to the cart," Caspar offered, as a joke. Linhardt missed the joke, or pretended to.

"I wouldn't mind. I am starting to feel awfully sleepy," he replied with a yawn, wrapping both arms around Caspar's neck and making it very easy for Caspar to pick him up and carry him the rest of the way to the cart. It wasn't far, but Linhardt slowed him down considerably. At least the arrows had stopped.

As they approached the cart, Caspar saw another cloaked figure, which he guessed was Hilda, rush around the front of the car and take the reigns from Marianne, who she sent to the back, just as Caspar set down the surprisingly clingy Lin who insisted on resting his head on Caspar's shoulder after he sat down, as he bundled up in his cloak like it was a blanket and looked moments from falling asleep.

When his eyes did eventually open, he noticed Marianne and gave a start. "What's she doing here?!" He asked, voice jumping, as he raised his head from Caspar's shoulder.

"Don't worry, I'm here to help!" She explained. "We're taking you somewhere safe!"

"She's the one I found when you warped me," Caspar added, disappointed to no longer be Linhardt's headrest.

"So it's fate and destiny? I suppose a thank you is in order. Also an apology. I know I was... persistent, back at the Monastery, but I had never met anyone with a Crest like yours before—"

"Can we please not talk about my Crest?" She asked.

"Yeah, please don't talk about her Crest, Linhardt. She's the one saving our lives."

He noticed a leaf stuck to the side of Linhardt's face and tried to pluck it off, startling Linhardt again. He immediately moved from Caspar's side altogether, and leaned against the far side of the cart, instead.

"I don't think we were in mortal peril exactly," he added quietly, after they had been travelling for some minutes across bumpy, cobbled streets, and he finally accepted that even he could not sleep in these conditions. "It seems Claude's taken an interest in me. Us. I don't know. He wanted to make me a general."

"You weren't really thinking about accepting his offer, were you?"

"I considered it... but I'd rather not fight our friends."

"Oh. Good." Caspar hung his head. 

They arrived at the safe house in silence. Hilda hopped down from the drivers seat with a 'huh!' and enthusiastically flung open the cart door. Marianne flitted out to check on Dorte, while Hilda guided Caspar and Linhardt to the house through the back garden, which was overgrown with weeds and tall grass, but not without its charm. It was full of wildflowers and the remnants of what had once been a vegetable patch.

Hilda took out a chain of keys and let them inside. Then she handed the keys not to Caspar, who stood with his hand outstretched, but to Linhardt. She trusted him not to lose it. Inside, the house was dark, dusty, and full of cobwebs. There were sheets over the furniture. But it was still warm, and quiet, and safe, and appeared to be empty.

"Who's house is this?" Linhardt asked, summoning two orbs of light to illuminate the dark house enough he could find a couple of lanterns. Caspar rushed to light them. Outside it was sunny, but inside it was dark, since all of the curtains had been left drawn. They started, slowly, making their way through the small house, taking off the sheets, and dregging up clouds of dust.

"Yours, for the next few days!" Hilda explained. "I'm trying to work out how to get you out of town, but you may need to lay low for a few days until Lorenz calls off his dogs. Think you can do that?" 

"Sure. As long as I have enough food," Caspar replied with a grin and a salute. 

"Marianne will be here soon with provisions. Can you cook?" She asked Caspar.

"I can learn," he answered with his usual enthusiasm.

"Learn fast. Oh! And there's only one bedroom. I hope that won't be a problem?" She leveled Caspar with a look, as if he were supposed to know what that meant.

Caspar put his hands up. "That's fine! I can sleep in a chair!"

Hilda clapped her hands together.

"Well! I'll leave you to it. I have to get back and explain how you two slipped past me. If you need anything, Marianne will be back in a few hours to check on you!" She said, before walking over to Caspar to give him a quick peck on the cheek. "You can do this. Just like we practiced," she whispered to him with a discreet wink, then rushed out the door, leaving them to do all the actual work, as per usual. Thankfully, there was a broom, dustpans, and a mop lying around, so they weren't completely defenseless against the sea of dust they were left to fight their way through.

Caspar watched her go for a few long minutes, trying his hardest to remember what she had told him to say, than disregarding everything she had told him to say when he remembered this was Linhardt, his best friend since he was six! Normal lines wouldn't work on him. They were too close for that. He'd have to be honest and direct and...

He turned his head, only to find Linhardt standing next to him. He jumped slightly. "What's up?"

"She likes you," Linhardt pointed out, gesturing to his face. Caspar touched his own face where he was pointing, confused, before he remembered that was where Hilda kissed him. He quickly threw up both his hands.

"No, she likes Marianne!" Caspar corrected. "We're just friends! She knows we're just friends! Ever since we..." he trailed off, not wanting to explain the time she propositioned him, it completely went over his head, and it led to a very awkward conversation. But that had all happened ages ago, they were on the same page now. "...We're good now! I explained... she knows." 

"Knows what?" 

"...That I don't like girls?" 

"Huh. Well, that makes sense. Mop or broom?" Linhardt asked, pointing at the mop and broom, lying side by side propped up against the wall.

"I can mop," Caspar offered, extending a hand. 

"Ah. Then I'll take the broom." 

"What... makes sense, exactly?" Caspar asked as he took the mop on offer and started searching for a bucket.

Linhardt promptly started sweeping and kept his head down, before replying: "You never did like girls much." 

Caspar eventually found a bucket with water and started mopping the floor Linhardt had freshly swept. To his surprise, Linhardt didn't seem sleepy at all, even though he was awake and working, the two things he hated most. 

"I was beginning to think you didn't like anyone," Linhardt eventually added, back still turned to Caspar. 

"So was I, honestly, before..." 

You kissed me. 

"You met someone," Linhardt replied, nodding. Why wouldn't Caspar meet someone? He was strong and kind and handsome... who wouldn't fall in love with him if given the chance? 

"You," Caspar said at the same time. 

Linhardt stopped sweeping.

His eyes went wide.

"Caspar." 

"Linhardt?" 

"Did you say me?" Linhardt asked, dropping the broom as he drew himself back up to full height and turned to look at Caspar. 

"Do you think we're allowed to pick the tomatos in the garden? I like tomatoes, and they look really ripe, I bet they'd taste good with a—" Caspar started to say as he moved towards the door leading into the back garden, mop still in hand.

"Please stop talking about tomatoes!" Linhardt snapped, following Caspar to the door. "I wrote you a letter!"

"You—what?" Caspar replied, thoroughly lost, back now to the windowed door. Linhardt could see the garden beyond it. He wasn't looking at the garden. He took hold of the mop, and Caspar let go of it.

"I wrote you a letter because I felt bad about kissing you. I shouldn't have, not without asking. I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable or... confused... I won't do it again."

It had become clear to Linhardt stealing his first kiss had troubled Caspar. He hadn't asked for it, and he didn't want it, and it was giving him some sort of... crisis, trying to figure out what that meant and where they stood, now. That was why Linhardt had tried so tactlessly to give him an easy way out, by pretending in the armoury that it wasn't that serious, that they could stay friends and keep kissing or pretend it never happened. He couldn't bear the thought of losing his best friend.

He had begrudgingly explained it all to Dorothea and Sylvain years ago, when they cornered him one night and complained he was upsetting Caspar by avoiding him. As if he wanted to avoid him or go to the dining hall alone! As if he wasn't just as miserable!

"No, no, no! Don't feel bad!" Caspar stammered out, hands up. He didn't want Linhardt to feel guilty, he would not have gone along with his plan if he didn't want to go along with it. He could feel his face heating up. He tried to hide it in his hands. "I wanted you to kiss me!" he managed eventually. "I just didn't know how much I wanted you to kiss me until... you did."

Silence. Then he felt Linhardt's hand connect with the side of his jaw and he opened his eyes to see Linhardt in front of him, gazing softly into his eyes with an exasperated smile.

"Caspar... do you have any idea how long I've been in love with you?"

"But you—I—this entire time—?!" Caspar sputtered. He was supposed to be the one confessing! He had rehearsed it with Marianne and everything!

Linhardt placed a thumb on his lower lip, and lifted his chin with the bridge of his hand and he forgot everything. "May I kiss you again?"

"Yes!" Caspar said, rushing to meet Linhardt halfway. It wasn't as violent or jarring as their first kiss, but Linhardt poured so much tenderness into it he could cry. He led the kiss, which was gentle, instructive, hooking a hand around the side of Caspar's face and his ear. He knew Caspar was new to this, and he knew Caspar had a tendency to turn everything into a competition, but he didn't want this to be a competition. All he wanted was to make Caspar know, and see, and feel, he was loved with each kiss. And with each kiss Caspar felt more weightless.

"Oh-kay," Caspar said with a nervous laugh when they finally stopped. "I definitely like kissing you."

"Good. I'd hate to spend the rest of my life with someone who doesn't know how to kiss."

"The rest of your...?"

Linhardt pressed another quick kiss between his eyes, using his height to his advantage and shutting him up instantly. He was starting to enjoy how easily he could fluster Caspar into silence.

Caspar did not. He grappled for Linhardt's hands, grabbing hold of both of them so he could keep Lin in place for a moment while his mind recallibrated.

"No, wait, wait, wait," he spoke up before Linhardt could drag him into the next room. "Give me a chance to speak!"

"Go ahead," Linhardt insisted, beautifully, while looking beautiful.

"I'm supposed to be the one... confessing... to you... and you won't even let me!" He complained. He may have been bad at words, but he knew that Linhardt liked them, so he had been up all night worrying about what he would say when he saw Linhardt again. "You're my best friend, Linhardt. I just didn't notice, all that time we were spending together, that I was falling more in love with you, because... in a way... I think I've always been in love with you? I just didn't know because... because nobody told me it could happen that easily? I always thought falling in love was supposed to be like... fireworks going off... but I never felt that way about you. Falling in love with you felt like... falling asleep in a sunny field, or... or coming home. Every time I see you it's like coming home. I think you're my home?"

He closed his eyes and hung his head as he spoke, because he couldn't take looking Linhardt full in the face while he rambled at him like this, but he opened them now, to find Linhardt smirking smugly at him. He made a face.

"I'm not making any sense, am I? I'll shut up. We still have a house to clean—" he started moving away, and Linhardt caught up his arm at the wrist. Then he crested the curve of his wrist and took up his hand, lacing together their fingers.

"No, I like it. Surprisingly eloquent. Keep going."

"Surprisingly?!" Caspar sighed, scratched the back of his neck. "You're really not making this easy for me! I guess... I like spending time with you, and the way you always know what I want to say... and I like the way you hold me when it's thundering, and... never tell me I'm being stupid, or a coward, even when I am. And I like touching your hair! And seeing you smile, and... being the reason you're smiling... and whenever I try to picture the future, you're part of it."

"Caspar. That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me," Linhardt said, stooping to press his forehead to Caspar's.

Caspar lowered his eyes. "Are you doing the sarcasm thing again? I can dial it back. I can be dark and mysterious. Wait, let me start over—"

Linhardt laughed. "Please don't! I like you just the way you are."

Another kiss to his forehead. Maybe it wasn't so bad being shorter.

"Our parents won't approve," he added, casually.

Caspar huffed. "Who cares?! I was never going to inherit anything, anyway," he pointed out with a shrug, as if it didn't bother him. It still bothered him. "As long as your parents..."

"I don't want it. After the war... I'm leaving. They can find someone else to take over the family business."

Caspar moved back out of Linhardt's arms so he could look him in the face. "Would you really give up your inheritance just like that?"

"For a blue-haired, axe-happy warrior who wants to fistfight a bear? It's a small price to pay."

"Wait, seriously?!" 

"You said you wanted to travel once this war is over. I want to go with you."

"But you... you hate travelling! You hate leaving your room!" 

"I like being with you," Linhardt replied with a yawn, moving in to circle Caspar's waist and rest his chin on his plated shoulder. "I think I could be happy anywhere, so long as I'm with you."

"Linhardt...!" Caspar kissed Linhardt one more time, then excitedly rushed to get his mop and bucket.

"Where are you going?" Linhardt asked with a bemused expression, crossing his arms.

"The sooner we finish fixing up the house, the sooner you can take a nap!"

A compelling argument. Linhardt decided to humour him, and help. They made quick work of it.

Once they had finished sweeping and mopping, and made a quick meal out of the provisions Marianne brought them a few hours later, Caspar dragged Linhardt out into the back garden to take inventory of the vegetables. Inventory did not take long, and Linhardt soon dropped into the grass to nap in the sunshine like a particularly lazy and long-legged cat, dragging Caspar with him. But he wasn't out like a light, the way Linhardt was. He stayed awake, using his elbow and the heel of his hand to prop himself up to watch Linhardt nap.

"Stop staring at me like a death knight," Linhardt said, lying on his back in the tall grass with his eyes closed.

"I wasn't staring!" Caspar insisted. Linhardt unfolded his arms and held them out, extended fully. He didn't say anything else so it took Caspar a minute to work out that gesture meant: come here. He got up just long enough to collapse again, this time into Linhardt's side. He quickly folded his arms around Caspar and started drifting back to sleep. 

"Aren't I heavy?"

"Not to me. And this way I can sleep easy, knowing you're right here." 

"Oh. That's sweet," Caspar replied, still a little dazed, as he did his best to relax in Linhardt's arms.

After a few minutes, when he felt Caspar's heart rate finally settle down, Lin opened his eyes and lazily plucked a yellow wildflower from the patch of grass where they were lying, and tucked it behind one of Caspar's ears.

He knew Caspar liked flowers, especially wild ones. Lin liked them because they made Caspar smile. He was smiling now. Linhardt kissed the top of his head, draping an arm around his back.

"I like this," Caspar mumbled, feeling for the flower tucked behind his ear he couldn't see. "Can we just... stay like this forever?"

"Caspar, I could quite happily spend an eternity napping here with you." 

"Does this mean you'll stop complaining about my snoring? Or the way I eat?" 

Linhardt's smile softened, as he tugged Caspar closer, into a warm hug. "Never."

☆☆☆

Dorothea was the first to intercept a courier from Leceister. She had been waiting eagerly for any news of what had happened to either Linhardt or Caspar, but this was the first news they had received. She quickly took the letter from the courier and was already opening it before she had thanked and dismissed them. She read it, then read it again. It confirmed what they all suspected: Linhardt had been taken prisoner by the Alliance. She went at once to pass the message on to Edelgard, who was already in the middle of a war meeting.

"What are we going to do?" Dorothea asked. "We can't just leave them there!"

"We can't. Wait, them?" Edelgard questioned.

"You don't think Caspar would leave without him, do you?"

Edelgard cast her a sidelong look, then shook her head. "I suppose not."

"We cannot stay here indefinitely. There is every possibility Linhardt has already given away our location..." Hubert countered.

"But how will they find us, if we move our camp?" Petra interrupted, narrowing her eyes. "We will not give them a chance, if they escape..."

"With respect, your Majesty, we must put the safety of the entire army over the safety of two men."

"You really are cold-hearted!" Monica muttered. "But I agree with Dorothea. We can't just abandon them!"

"Even if they do manage to escape, somehow... we have no idea what information Linhardt has given the Alliance, or where Caspar has spent the last week. If one, or both of them, has been compromised in any way..."

He meant TWSITD. Edelgard knew Tomas had already tried, and failed, to lure Linhardt into one of their traps, but dreaded the thought of them going anywhere near Caspar.

"Linhardt is far more stubborn than you give him credit for, Hubert. But you do have a point: we must consider the safety of our army. We will move on to our next destination. Ferdinand?"

"Yes, your Majesty?" He asked, moving promptly to his feet and standing at attention like a man who has never had a full night's slept in his life.

"Set up a scouting party to look for Caspar. Dorothea?" She returned the letter. "If you want to stay with the party, you may."

"Thanks, Edie. I'll go tell the others."

☆☆☆

Caspar watched the sleeping Linhardt, transfixed. He combed a hand through his hair, now free from its ribbon, traced the side of his face.

"I can't sleep if you keep touching me," Linhardt complained, turning over in bed.

"Oh! You're awake!"

"Yes." Linhardt snatched up Caspar's hand before he could pull it away and kissed the palm facing him.

"I was wondering... do you want to go explore the city?" Caspar asked, hands still shaking slightly from the kiss. He wasn't used to this. Each one still left him feeling a little drunk. Not that he was particularly used to being drunk, either.

Linhardt yawned, leaning back in the bed, onto his back, then raised his arm and lay his head down, closed his eyes. Before he could fall asleep again, Caspar scrambled up and over him, so he had a knee on either side of his torso, and grabbed hold of both arms at the wrist, holding them down.

Linhardt blinked his eyes open, and looked a little startled to see Caspar looming over him. "What are you doing—?"

"Please stay awake, at least for another two minutes!" Caspar implored. "I heard music! And smelled food! I think they have a festival, or... something going on, and I can't stay at home all day you can't make me!"

Linhardt closed his eyes and smiled. Caspar eventually gave up, loosening his hold on Linhardt's arms when he realised it wasn't making any difference. "Hilda said there was one rule..."

"Don't leave the house, I know, I know! But it would only be for an hour or two, and we could go in disguise! No one will ever notice we're gone!"

"No one will notice?" Linhardt considered. "Then I guess there's no harm." 

"Ahh! Thank you!" Caspar said, excitedly, before leaning down to kiss him on the mouth. It was only a quick kiss but it made Linhardt smile.

"Now get off me, or we'll never leave the house."

"Oh, uhh, right!" Caspar went beet red as he rolled off Linhardt so he could get up. Then he got out of the bed and rushed to the other room to bring out a box of old clothes they had found. When he got back, Linhardt was seated on the edge of bed in his nightshirt. Or somebody's nightshirt.

Caspar started going through the box, presenting possible clothes to him and Linhardt watched him with a soft smile as Caspar tried on different hats and jackets, discarding half of them. Linhardt picked out an outfit for him, in the end, and Caspar picked out one for Linhardt, but it was Linhardt who opted to don a large-brimmed sun hat as part of his disguise. As he walked over to take the clothes from Caspar he put one hand on his waist and dipped down to kiss him in the groove between his neck and his shoulder, and it made Caspar start buzzing all over again.

"You need to stop doing that," he complained.

"Can't make me."

They both got dressed and headed for the door. Just as they went to open it and walk out, they saw Marianne arriving, weighed down by a basket with provisions. She gave a shocked yelp and Caspar rushed to catch up the basket, taking it from her arms before she could drop it. Linhardt then moved forward to take her arm.

"Are you okay, Marianne?" He asked. "Do you want to sit down?" He motioned for Caspar, still holding the basket with both arms, to get a chair. 

She shook her head, one hand raised. "Just... startled... where are you two going?"

Caspar set down the basket on the small kitchen table before returning to them. They could organize their pantry once they got back home. Or, well, he could, since he had already been appointed head cook and head gardener, so the pantry was his domain. He had coerced Linhardt into helping him garden, but he did most of his gardening in the morning or early afternoon, when Linhardt liked to nap, so he was more... what had Hilda called it, emotional support?

"We wanted to see the city! Do you like our disguises?" Caspar could have lied to her, but... well, he couldn't lie to her.

Linhardt took his betrayal in stride. He shrugged his shoulders. "You can tell Hilda, if you want. I don't care."

"Oh-huh! M-maybe I should go with you?" Marianne offered.

"Perfect! We can give you a disguise, too!" Caspar exclaimed with a grin, punching the air.

Linhardt tried to explain why she didn't need one, but Caspar was already dragging Marianne into the next room to play dress up, and who was he to spoil their fun? With a sigh, he stayed behind, and started putting the food on the table away, so Caspar wouldn't have to. It daunted him how easily he could get used to this, as he listened to them laughing from the other room.

☆☆☆

"Call off the search party," Claude instructed a shocked Lorenz, who stood seated at his desk with a pen in hand. He had already given orders to have their guards comb the city in search of the missing generals, after some civillians reported seeing three cloaked figures fleeing the house in a cart, with a forth disguised as a guard.

"W-what do you mean?!" Lorenz replied.

"You heard me. If Linhardt decides to join us, I want it to be his choice."

"Why the... sudden change of heart?"

A sigh as Claude combed a hand through his hair. "He wrote some letters while he was here that he left behind. I don't think he's any real threat to us. He doesn't care about the war."

"Then... you don't think he'll go back to the Empire, now that he's free?" Lorenz clarified, one brow raised. "What about Count von Bergliez son?"

"If they're smart, they'll skip town and never look back. I'd be fascinated to see how the Count reacts to that."

"Were the letters... did he write them to Caspar von Bergliez?" Lorenz asked. He had assumed Linhardt was too clever to leave incriminating evidence behind before making his escape. But everything about his escape seemed rushed. Like it wasn't his plan, but a plan formulated by a headstrong, impulsive warrior.

"One of the letters, yes." Claude raised a hand to his chin. "It was surprisingly... earnest. I see now it was a mistake to separate them."

Lorenz made a note of that, underneath his note to call off the search party: In All Future Dealings, Do Not Separate.