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"Caspar, it's okay,"
"I'll kill you!" Caspar roared.
"You're going to hurt yourself," Ashe said. "Please, just calm down."
"I'll kill you!"
It was no use. Caspar was just becoming more agitated, his wrists already bleeding from the irons attached to the cot. If he kept fighting like this then he was just going to pull his stitches and seeing as Mercedes barely brought him back from the brink of death in the first place, Ashe really didn't want that to happen.
“Breathe,” Ashe said. “Like this.”
Ashe took several exaggerated breathes, using his hand to show the timing by raising it and lowering it.
“Get fucked!” Caspar snapped.
Ashe held back a sigh, dropping his hand fully.
This part of the infirmary was thankfully private, Dimitri knowing full well that as an Empire solider Caspar was at risk of being a targeted by both Faerghus citizens and any Adrestrian spies that could be lurking in the camp, but Caspar was being so loud Ashe was certain that the healers and patients in the rest of the infirmary could still hear him.
"I'll kill you!"
"Okay." Ashe said. "But before you do that, can you please just listen to me?”
“Murderer!”
“That’s what I’m trying to say. He’s alive.”
Caspar froze, his eyes wide.
He considered Ashe's words carefully, calming for the first time since waking, if calm meant heaving breaths. There was blood seeping from Caspar’s bandages and Ashe moved to grab fresh ones. He hated to see Caspar like this. Even after months of war, Ashe missed the days back at the academy where-
Wood splintered and Ashe was on the ground, a weight on his back.
Instinct kicked in and he jabbed his elbow backwards, colliding with hard flesh. Caspar screamed, scrambling off of Ashe with both arms wrapped around his stomach, iron cuffs still connected to his wrists. How Caspar had had enough strength to break free from the bed Ashe had no idea but that very same strength was now draining quickly, his wounds reopened. Caspar staggered back a step, barely keeping himself from falling, and Ashe vaulted up, going to help him.
“I’m so sorry,” Ashe said. “I just-“
Caspar threw himself forwards and for the second time Ashe’s body was on the ground, his head cracking against the wood. His vision pulsed white as pain flared throughout his body. He struggled beneath Caspar but the dizziness made it impossible to move, nausea rising up within him.
A fist collided with his face and Ashe could do nothing but take it.
“I’ll kill you!” Caspar roared again and again, each punctuated with another hit.
The room spun around him and it took him a long moment to realise that he couldn’t breathe. Caspar pressed the chain of the cuffs into Ashe’s throat, his pupils dilated like some wild animal. Ashe should fight back. He needed to fight back. If he didn't fight back he was going to die.
"Cas..." Ashe gasped. "Caspar..."
He raised a hand, clutching onto Caspar's wrist.
Caspar's eyes were wild with anger but it wasn't just that. He was in pain and he was scared and Ashe knew both of those feelings all too well.
"You're safe." Ashe said, his voice raw.
Dizziness washed over him in waves and each time Ashe blinked he could see a little less. He squeezed Caspar's wrist again.
"It's okay."
The metal links of the cuffs pressed further into his throat and Ashe gagged, his legs kicking weakly.
"It isn't..." Ashe mumbled, tiredness seeping into his very soul. "Your fault."
Those wild eyes screwed up in confusion and all of a sudden the pressure was off and Ashe could breathe again. But now new metal touched his throat and with a flash of fear Ashe realised that Caspar had taken Ashe’s dagger. He had been stupid to keep it on him, he hadn’t even considered what might happen if Caspar were to break free from his bonds, but as his own blade pressed closer against his skin, there was little he could do except lay there. He swallowed, the knife cutting into his throat.
Ashe jolted out of instinct, barely keeping the dagger from slicing his throat outright.
“Caspar, please,”
“Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up! I’ll fucking kill you, don’t you dare think I won’t.”
Caspar could have killed him the moment he grabbed the knife yet he had hesitated. Ashe fought against the instincts that screamed to kick to punch to do anything at all to get Caspar off of him. Just because Caspar hadn’t cut him yet didn’t mean the dagger wasn’t still sharp.
“Lindardt’s alive. He’s okay. I can take you to him. But you need to let me go.”
“Liar! You killed him!”
“No. He surrendered. He knew that if he did, we would protect you too. You’re safe here, I promise.”
“Promises mean nothing, Kingdom scum.”
This was going nowhere, Caspar simply wasn’t listening and one slip could slit his throat. Ashe needed to calm him. Now.
“He wants to travel with you, Linhardt. The entire world, just the two of you. I wouldn’t know that if he was dead, would I? Please, Caspar, I’ll take you to him but first you have to let me go.”
Caspar chewed his lip, pressing the blade ever closer to Ashe’s throat, warring with himself wether or not Ashe was telling the truth.
“Lin's alive?” Caspar whispered.
“Yes.” Ashe said.
The weight on Ashe’s chest shifted as Caspar went to stand. Caspar’s hands were shaking and the knife along with it, his wounds bleeding actively once more. Ashe would have to call for Mercedes to heal him again and while she was doing that Ashe would find a way to convince Dimitri and Felix to let Linhardt visit him.
Everything was going to be o-
“Ashe!”
Caspar jolted at the shout, the knife moving on instinct. Ashe screamed but it came out wrong even to his own ears, white hot pain blaring through him. Ashe tried to breathe but he simply could not, his mouth opened and closed uselessly as his chest ached, lungs screaming for oxygen.
Caspar had scrambled off of him and was now several feet away and yet Ashe still felt as though he were dying, still felt as though Caspar was sitting on his chest.
Ashe's body spasmed as he choked for air, for oxygen, for life, but none came. He realised dully that his legs were kicking out, a shaking hand coming up to his neck while the other clutched at his shirt as if that would make a difference.
Blood poured from his neck and Ashe gave off a strangled gasp, his own fingers slipping in the hot liquid. Caspar hand had slipped too. Ashe’s own knife had cut into his throat but he could do nothing to close the wound, too busy trying to breathe.
Hands grabbed at him, pulling him up. He tried to ask whoever was touching him to check on Caspar but all Ashe could do was whimper, the world spinning around him as he was lifted fully. He fumbled to grip onto whoever was carrying him, scared that they would drop him, but just as quickly he was being set down again, the bed soft beneath him.
Ashe shuddered. More blood pooled around him but it felt distant, his vision becoming fuzzy.
"Breathe, Ashe."
He knew that voice.
"Come on Bud, you gotta breathe for me."
Sylvain. Sylvain sounded worried, scared even. Ashe should assure him that everything was fine. He opened his mouth but nothing came out except a strangled unfamiliar sound.
"Mercedes!" Sylvain barked. "Do something!"
Ashe didn't remember when Mercedes had come in but then again he didn't really remember how he had gotten here anyway. He wasn't even sure if there had been a time that he could breathe deeply and completely, maybe his entire existence had just been this unending pain.
"Is he..."
"You shut the fuck up." Sylvain snapped. "Come on Ashe, you need to fight."
Fight? Hadn't he already been fighting his entire life? On the streets where he was nothing but an easy mark unless he fought. At Castle Gaspard where he didn't belong unless he fought to prove that he was worthy of being the adopted son of Lord Lonato. Against the Empire where he fought against those he once considered to be friends, taking their lives needlessly.
Ashe had done nothing but fight. The world was fading now and Sylvain's voice alongside it. He was tired of fighting.
A familiar warmth washed over Ashe as a healing field was summoned around him. The field flickered and when Ashe glanced up he realised that Mercedes' hands were shaking as she re-strengthened the spell.
She had already spent so much energy and time healing Caspar, she was exhausted. Guilt tore at him as he realised she was wasting energy she didn't have on him. He tried to apologise but again words failed him. The pain in his chest had spread to his back and Ashe failed to hold back a moan. That too sounded wrong, the air whistling from Ashe’s cut throat.
"Ashe!"
He was so tired. He should just let his eyes close, rest a little while. But the pain refused to fade and it was all encompassing.
"Ashe please just breathe dammit!"
"C... Can't..."
Even one simple word was so hard and Ashe distantly realised that he was losing consciousness. He was going to die soon. After everything he had been through, after everything he had seen and done and experienced, he was going to die on this bed as Sylvain shouted at him to stay awake, to breathe, with Caspar standing a few feet away his bright eyes filled with horror and guilt.
Ashe reached out towards Caspar. Sylvain stepped in the way, taking Ashe's hand into his own and squeezing it tightly.
“Don’t do this to me,” Sylvain demanded. “Stay with me Ashe, come on you have to stay with me.”
Ashe tried to apologise but it came out garbled. Sylvain was little more than a blur, that hand that clasped Ashe’s feeling cold and distant.
What would they tell his siblings? Would Dimitri speak to them personally, tell them that their brother had done everything he could to protect them and it still wasn’t enough? Ashe prayed that someone would take them in, they deserved better than to be thrown onto the streets again.
His face felt both warm and cold, a drop of water falling onto his cheek. No, not water; Mercedes was crying. She was chanting a healing spell, the strongest she knew, yet she was still crying for him as if she knew it wouldn’t be enough.
Eyelids growing heavy, he tried to fight against the exhaustion. Sylvain was already scared for him and Mercedes was already crying, he didn’t want to hurt them any more than he already had. He vaguely registered that Caspar was still in the room also, his hands no doubt still shaking, still covered in Ashe’s blood.
It hadn’t been Caspar’s fault, not really. The boy had already been scared, Sylvain storming in like that simply scared him more and he had acted without meaning to. Ashe couldn’t blame him for that, not when he could have easily done the same if he had awoken in an enemy camp, convinced your partner had been killed on the battlefield.
No, Ashe couldn’t blame Caspar. But Ashe was still in pain and he couldn’t breathe and even now he could feel himself fading. Ashe’s lungs weren’t even heaving anymore as if they knew no matter how hard they breathed no oxygen would come to them.
“Just hold on a little longer, Ashe.”
The darkness took him.
———————————————————————————————————————————
Ashe would have thought it had all just been one awful nightmare if it weren’t for the fact that his throat still ached. The flesh had been sewn back together, his lungs at last able to breathe in air, but Ashe still felt as though his neck were cut and he was still laying there, choking on his own blood.
He had come to slowly and then all at once, jolting upright as his hands rushed to his neck. There was a raised scar, one that no doubt would heal soon enough now that he had been stabilised. It felt strange, having been on deaths door what mustn’t have been that long ago only to wake completely fine again. Magical healing was always like this but that didn’t mean that Ashe wished to get used to it. It was unnerving, really, to realise just how close it had been this time.
On the battlefield there had been countless close calls, so many times where one more misstep could be his end. He had never thought he would meet that fate at the campsite and to his own blade no less.
Ashe swallowed roughly, his throat raw. It must still be healing after all.
“You’re awake.” A voice mused.
Ashe twisted around, his body aching as he spotted Felix by the doorway. Felix was carrying a tray of food but he set it aside on the table, focusing solely on Ashe. Ashe tried to ask about Sylvain, knowing the young man must have been terrified to see Ashe like that, but when he opened his mouth no words came out.
“Easy there,” Felix said, perching on the edge of the bed. “Mercedes said it’ll take time for your vocal cords to heal.”
The need to know that Sylvain was okay trumped the saw dust in his throat.
“Syl?”
“Sleeping, finally.” Felix said. “Ingrid made sure of it, he was pretty rough but he’ll be fine come morning.”
“And Caspar?”
Felix’s expression darkened.
“The Boar wouldn’t let me kill him. He said it should be your choice of revenge.”
“No revenge.” Ashe’s voice was grating even to his own ears. His throat ached and he blinked back tears. Swallowing glass would have been less painful. “Wasn’t his fault.”
“Ashe, he damn near killed you.”
“I know.”
Felix scrubbed his face and sighed.
“Good to know you’re still yourself,” Felix huffed a laugh, no humour reaching his eyes. “But you should know that Caspar would never have given you the same allowance.”
“I know.” Ashe repeated.
Ashe didn’t expect mercy from anyone. It should never be an expectation; people in pain had every right to act out to that pain. His enemies had lost as many friends and family as he had, what right did he have to make demands of mercy?
“Ashe… It was bad. I don’t care if you don’t blame Caspar but I need you to understand that if Sylvain hadn’t come in when he did, you would be dead.”
If Sylvain hadn’t barged in like that Caspar may not have hurt him at all but Ashe couldn’t question what could have been less he question every single battle he had fought and every single life he had taken.
“If you wanted Caspar’s head,” Felix said. “No one would blame you.”
“Can I see him?”
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Felix asked.
When Ashe tried to speak again, no words came out. Exhaustion tugged at him, his throat feeling all the worst for having been used. Ashe simply nodded instead.
“Alright then but don’t blame me if you freak out just seeing him.”
When Felix returned he had not only Caspar but Linhardt as well. The young researcher was looking more well rested than Ashe felt, that is to say that Linhardt looked absolutely hagged. Ashe wondered what it had been like for him, surrendering to the Kingdom’s army only to hear that not only had his partner been seriously wounded but he had also attacked a General. No wonder why Linhardt looked like he needed a ten year long nap.
Though, Ashe supposed, Linhardt had never refused a nap before.
Linhardt nudged Caspar into the room. Caspar had always been on the shorter side, just like Ashe, but now he seemed even smaller still with the new shackles on his wrist, fresh bandages tracing up his chest. Linhardt had surrendered peacefully and thus had no such binds and no. such injuries.
Caspar didn’t meet Ashe’s eye but Ashe didn’t force him too. Ashe’s heart fluttered at having Caspar so close to him even if Caspar didn’t have a knife this time but Ashe forced it to settle.
“I, uh, sorry. I messed up… And I nearly killed you. If you want to kill me or whatever, I’d get it.”
Ashe shook his head. He held out a hand.
Caspar glanced at Linhardt.
“Go on.” Linhardt said.
Caspar hesitated a moment longer before he shuffled forward. Felix glared at Caspar, making a show of placing a hand on his sword. Ashe pointedly looked at Felix but the other boy just huffed.
“Are you okay?” Ashe croaked.
“Yeah.” Caspar said. “I’m all good.”
“Your injuries?”
“It’s not too bad. I’ve had worst.”
Tension hung in the air but Ashe’s tiredness was seeping into his bones and if Felix broke the quiet it probably wouldn’t be a good thing.
Linhardt nudged Caspar again. Caspar nudged him back. Linhardt sighed, jabbing a finger into his ribs but Caspar hissed and Lin’s eyes widened, his breath catching.
“Sorry,” Linhardt said quickly.
“It’s fine.” Caspar whined, cradling his ribs.
“Serves you right.” Felix said.
Ashe tried to admonish Felix, Caspar was trying to be nice and Felix wasn’t giving him a chance to prove that he was sorry, but the words caught in his throat and Ashe coughed.
Felix surged towards him but Ashe waved him away, coughing again. Ashe shuddered, every breath grating.
Caspar got to him first, a hand setting on Ashe’s shoulder.
“It’s going to be okay,” Caspar said. “Just breathe, slow. Like this.”
Caspar raised his arm out and slowly lowered it. Felix scoffed but did not intercede and Linhardt pressed a finger to his own lips as if to keep himself quiet.
Ashe coughed, muscles tight. He couldn’t breathe. He was going to die. He didn’t want to die.
“Come on,” Caspar said. “It’s going to be okay. Just breathe with me.”
It was going to be okay. It was going to be okay. His throat burned, his eyes stung. Breathe. Just breathe. He was going to be okay. Ashe coughed, his vision blurring.
Ashe mimicked Caspar’s breathing, forcing back another cough. He was okay. He was okay. Everything was okay.
“There it is,” Caspar said. “I knew you could do it.”
His vision slowly cleared, the tightness in his chest loosening. Ashe’s hands shook but more from relief than pain and though the exhaustion wore on him even more deeply than before, Ashe found that he was feeling a little better.
“Thanks…” He mumbled.
“Don’t worry about it.” Caspar said. “It, um, is my fault anyway… Uh, I should go. Back to my cell and all that.”
“Stay.” Ashe said.
Linhardt wrapped an arm around Caspar’s waist, the movement so eased like he had done it a thousand times. Maybe he had, back at the Empire camp. Linhardt and Caspar would probably never be able to return to the Empire, even if Linhardt wanted to, not when Lin had surrendered like that. Ashe felt sad for them but he could only hope that it would be better for them here.
Caspar glanced at Felix, unsure if Felix would let him stay.
“It’s okay.” Ashe croaked. “He won’t hurt me.”
Felix laughed without humour but he did not take Caspar away. In fact, Felix stepped forward, removing Caspar’s cuffs. Caspar rubbed at his wrists. They were still raw from how he had pulled at his restraints hours ago.
“Make one move and I’ll kill you myself.” Felix said.
Caspar kept his distance from both Felix and Ashe, leaning into Linhardt’s touch.
Time passed slowly at the beginning, an awkwardness that could not be broken. But then it did break and Felix actually laughed, genuinely laughed at something Caspar said. Linhardt recounted a story next, full of sly remarks and when Caspar tried to correct him and claim that the tree he had gotten stuck in was actually much higher than Linhardt was claiming thank you very much and the bear that had chased him there was a ferocious beast and not just a lost cub.
Ashe didn’t say much, his throat burning and his eyes drooping, but he enjoyed listening. It had been like this back at the academy, not often admittedly, but there had been a few times when the four of them would stay up all night talking.
It felt nice. Ashe was okay but so was Caspar. If Felix trusted Caspar like this then it surely would not take too long for Sylvain to forgive Caspar too and then Dimitri will understand also that Caspar was just like them, in need of a home. In need of friends. In need of freedom.
Everything was going to be okay.