Work Text:
Petra was anxious. The morning was warm in the Alliance when she awoke, she could hear the birds singing a melody that was beginning to be familiar to the foreigner, but that didn’t last long. Petra had done the first half of the job she was sent back to Fodlan to do, now she needed to move on. The fact that her entire country was relying on her never quite left her, made her feel like she was constantly being watched.
Though, that could also simply be because merely being in Alliance territory was treason in the eyes of the Empire. The word tasted bitter on her tongue, a certain kind of rot festering in her brain at the thought of their grip on her home. Her relationship with them had always been a bit rocky; their countries have been fighting for so long, sometimes she’s sure anyone else would forget why. Of course, she doesn’t have that privilege nor does she have the luxury to bat her eyes and put on a smile for the oppressive nature of Imperial leaders any longer.
It was why she was sent to the Academy in the first place. At first, she despised her grandfather’s decision to send her away, asking her to mingle with the families who held her hostage and murdered her father, but it was her duty and so she did it without rebuttal. That was one thing about Petra that didn’t weaken over the time she was abducted; she would do anything for Brigid. While she was there, she can admit that perhaps she made a few friends, some with deeper connections than she ever cared to make. Those friendships allowed her to overlook the Empire’s aggressiveness, the honeyed words they spoke to her with, the wandering looks.
They were so close too, her hard work paid off every day she was there, but then there was a line Edelgard had crossed that Petra simply wasn’t willing to follow her across. Her patience, her willingness had limits and by the end of that year when Edelgard launched a full scale attack on Garreg Mach, she had reached it.
She’s just glad her grandfather shared her opinion when she returned to Brigid two nights later. Neither of them were willing to risk Brigid’s only heir - their future - to a war that is not even their own; it wasn’t something Brigid could obey blindly. Petra spoke to Edelgard all those years ago when she declined her offer to fight with them, secretly afraid of what response that might stir, but her house leader was understanding. Being a fellow leader in the making, she understood the danger Petra fighting would pose of her vassal.
hat didn’t mean they got off scot free however; to compensate for her absence, Brigid would be helping supply the Empire during this frightful time with various materials. That was how things were going for the first three years of the war; Brigid giving away resources aimlessly. In all honesty, it would probably be in Brigid’s best interest if the Empire did not win the war, that would free her country from their claws embedded in their back, but given their history - it would not be wise to challenge them.
Petra has always been proud of her home, which meant she didn’t always like hearing about their repetitive losses to the Empire, no matter how many of their citizens liked to bring it up when talking to her. Still, Petra has studied their past conflicts enough to know where they went wrong. There is a reason the Empire is still Fodlan’s oldest power, why they have more land than both the Alliance and the Kingdom; they were not to be trifled with. Yet, when three years passed and the war they had started was still raging, she figured they were growing tired, which is exactly what she needed them to be.
Countless war meetings and many miles of seeing council members to consult their options, finally Brigid agreed to give freedom another shot. Happy to see they have not gone soft yet, Petra prepared for treachery. In a matter of weeks, the princess was once again pitched off on a boat headed to Fodlan, but this time - it wasn’t the Empire she was hoping to convince.
The foreigner wasn’t all sure what she was expecting once she arrived, she supposed a part of her couldn’t think of the land being any different than the last she had walked it three years ago. Her mind hadn’t yet begun to imagine what three years of fury would do to it. At some angles, it was hard to see how it was the same place she had been to before. Monuments had been bombed, villages burned, all signs of peace torn down. It reminded her of home - back when she had seen war for the first time with her own eyes, not yet knowing that it would cost them her father. Though she was only nine to eleven then, now she was nineteen and knew a great deal more about its consequences; about the atrocities that lurk in the shadows of eras like these and she wasn’t helpless this time.
Even so, there were seldom places that brought back a memory or two that made her bask in the air of Fodland and grin. She was still young, she knew that, but somehow she felt so different and unfledged then than she does now. She let herself get swept up in her nostalgia for a little while longer while on her own, it was better than thinking about what could have become of her friends.
Since she left, she’s been getting letters from her closest friend Dorothea, who honestly is more like a sister to her than anything. She didn’t write much about the destruction the war was causing throughout the land, but for a while she seemed confident. Things changed a few months ago, for some time, she even stopped writing. Petra was starting to get worried she had fallen when finally, she wrote to tell Petra an update. Most of it had to do with her and Ferdinand finally courting - something Petra wouldn’t have thought would take so damn long - but she did explain that she had switched sides in the war as well.
Now her loyalties are aligned with the Alliance, their old professor Manuela having vouched to take her in. Petra could tell it was a big decision to make for the songstress, she had been telling her about her doubts for a few months now and hearing about her guilt brought out Petra’s as well. She knew this was what was best for Brigid and she’d be lying to say it wouldn’t be sweet to finally break from the Empire’s fascist ways, but Petra still couldn’t think about the Empire without remembering the friends she made in the Black Eagle house.
Edelgard was demanding, she was strict and intense and expected much from all of them, but she was also honest. She didn’t sugarcoat her criticism, but she didn’t wish to hurt anyone either. Most times, Petra had to admit that she was rather distant, always in her own head, but there were moments when she was nothing more than a friend. When Petra had a nightmare about the night she was taken, how she had returned to her home with relieved but disappointed looks, Edelgard was there. She knew those feelings well, almost too well for someone who was on the victorious end of all of those memories. Edelgard didn’t shy away from mending someone’s brokenness or making them feel understood.
She was in many ways kinder than she usually let herself be perceived. Most of all though, they could relate to how far they’d go for their people. Only other leaders can understand another, and during those moments when both allowed their minds to ponder their futures, she was nothing but a friend. It wasn’t a relationship Petra could easily replace anywhere, even with the power dynamic that blocked much of their growth together.
Then there was Hubert, her liege, the ever-faithful attendant. He was quiet, didn’t talk much unless it was about their studies or strategies. He was content to leave the shining for others, as long as he did his job. She had never met another so devoted, so pious to someone else. It was enviable to say the least; made Petra wonder if she’d ever have something like that. He was also nicer than people think, though his demeanor is much pricklier than Edelgard’s. In the beginning, she disliked how he kept comparing her to Edelgard, but over time she grew to expect it.
He was the one who noticed things not many others did; like how hard she worked to communicate with her peers, how she drinks tea to calm her natural overactive tendencies in class, he even remembered pieces of her past he had read in her file. She doesn’t know how he got that, but everyone knew Hubert could get his hands on almost anything. He was her friend, even if he only said so once, and she enjoyed their conversations when her mind was weary.
Bernadetta was similar in many ways. She didn’t speak up if it wasn’t to ridicule herself, question her assignment, or from a scare. Petra had known her the least, half way through the year the noble transferred to the Golden Deer house to learn under their old Professor Byleth. Still, she was quite memorable.
She had a sweet tooth, could never get enough of cake in particular. Her face would always light up when class ended early and wore her hood up when walking through the halls. She was more unsure than most, in fact, she was the only one in their house who wasn’t outwardly self-assured. It was refreshing to tell the truth. She never giggled when Petra misspoke, she didn’t try to teach her everything there was to know about Fodlan all the time, and when she was in the mood for company, came up with the best stories. Petra isn’t ashamed to say that she was quite saddened when she transferred. She still misses her bounce with glee every time she saw a cat roaming the halls.
Dorothea, most know, was the one Petra gravitated towards the most. She was friendly, but not insincere; confident but modest, skilled but not intimidating. The way her voice could cheer any sad soul up was quite incredible. The girl hardly let Petra stray too far, always showing her the best spots to hang out, sneak out, and laze around. Her tea parties were the best in the school and she made sure Petra was invited to nearly every one. Her penchant for gossip was a welcome distraction when she was worried about her grades or other.
Over the time she’s been gone, Petra found herself feeling strange without their morning outfit debates or late night antics. There were way too many times both of them showed up to class with nothing but powder covering the bags under their eyes for staying up too late. She was the one who made Petra feel included in a place that wasn’t her home. Petra never had to worry about what she thought of her. Sometimes, Petra looked to her for inspiration when she was feeling down. To Dorothea, she wasn’t some foreigner from Brigid, but just another friend to laugh with.
Ferdinand was warm, matching Dorothea as the social butterfly of their group. He could talk to anyone - even strangers - and feel like he’s known them their entire lives within the hour. He took his responsibilities seriously, but wasn’t afraid to have some fun while he did them. He never hesitated to bring Petra along for the ride either. He could talk about anything, it always surprised her how well-rounded and care-free he was. Though, that was before she had heard him thinking about his fear of not being good enough for his title or living up to the reverence people expected of him.
The thing about Ferdinand is, he was never scared to air out his doubts, he didn’t shy away from his faults and was always trying to improve. He took people’s words to heart, even when he maybe shouldn’t. He didn’t like seeing people upset. Those qualities made Petra feel comfortable with him to confess her failings too. She had always tried to put up this picture of the unwavering perfect princess she felt she had to be to earn herself some respect in Fodlan, but he showed her a whole new side to them.
Caspar was a character. He was loud and boisterous and always acted before thinking things through. She couldn’t recount the amount of times she had to help bring him to the infirmary after one of his impromptu duels. She kept thinking that either he’d learn his lesson, improve, or get expelled, but he never did. At least he was persistent. There wasn’t much to Caspar that you didn’t get up-front and she enjoyed that about him. It was nice to chat to someone who wasn’t hiding anything up his sleeve or behind his back.
Of course, he was always slow to admit when he’s wrong, but he perhaps had more heart than anyone in their house. His aspiration to fight for his country was admirable, it was practically all he did - his dedication was applaudable. He never quit, no matter how many times he failed. He liked making people laugh, especially when everyone else was so melancholic. When they lost the battle of the Eagle and Lion, he was the one that put the smirks back on their faces - though she might have been the only one who was willing to admit it. If nothing else, she was never bored with him.
Linhardt was studious, it was hard to get a word out of him most of the time. He was lazy and didn’t care to spend much time with others, but he wasn’t apologetic about it. He never apologized for who he was, he embraced it more than Petra had seen almost anyone do. She knew how hard it was to accept parts of yourself that you didn’t much like, but never cared about what anyone else ever thought of him.
A trait like that helped Petra do the same, even if he doesn’t know it. She always regarded him well, even when others would sometimes bicker about his frankness. The thing Petra respected the most about him though, was that he was always there when they needed him. It didn’t matter how much time he spent on his own or how uninterested he was in his peers most days of the week, if they asked him for help he was usually there anyway. He didn’t gripe about much if anything, which was better than the majority of the people Petra has met and his dedication to his studies is commendable. She could listen to him talk for hours at the Dining Hall if he ever wanted, something most wouldn’t typically allow, it also helped that his occasional ramblings introduced her to many new words.
Those were just the people in her house, there were others in the Blue Lions and Golden Deer that she had befriended as well, but she considered the Black Eagles her second family. So, her decision to fight back against the Empire wasn’t one she made lightly and it wasn’t something she held little remorse for. Luckily, it seems from Dorothea’s letters that the only people still residing in the Empire were Edelgard, Hubert, and Caspar. She couldn’t say she blamed them one bit. It felt odd to her to ever even think about abandoning her country, but from what she’s heard overseas, the Empire had forgone their considerable facade.
Having a view no one else in Fodlan did, a side to Petra always knew the Empire could one day do something like this, though her friendships had sometimes brought her to reconsider that opinion. Now that it was here, now that Brigid wasn’t their only victim, Petra was morose to say she wasn’t surprised. Edelgard had always been intense, so focused and driven, she presumed she was always bound to reach farther than she should have. Saying such things still gives her a sting, no matter how true they may be.
When Petra journeyed back to Fodlan last year, she went to the Alliance first. From what she’s heard, the Kingdom was in shambles and largely divided. It was best she give them time to recover before asking them for aid. There was also the fact that the Empire would likely pick up on a ship from Brigid docking in Faergus ports, but going around to the Alliance granted more obscurity for the time being. Not to mention that being in contact with Dorothea allowed Petra an audience with Claude von Riegan and at least a temporary shelter; she wasn’t their enemy after all. Petra couldn’t credit their acceptance to form an alliance with her to luck, she had been trained in diplomacy since she was old enough to read. It did come with a price of course, something she never expected to part without.
They asked for her to help them ward off their most immediate threats before leaving back to Brigid. Petra was a little hesitant, their request mirroring Edelgard’s three years ago almost to an unfortunate degree, but she accepted. It was not as though they were asking her to join the war. Besides, she couldn’t bring herself to turn away from so many familiar faces in need. They weren’t the Empire, they weren’t the cause for this madness, she presumed it was only just.
A few battles turned into a year. This wasn’t from neglect or forgetfulness or even threats, she simply altered their deal. If she helps stabilize the tensions from Almayra, then they would send Brigid some provisions - they were in need of some with how much they were giving to the Empire. It also made sense that the Alliance couldn’t fight the Empire while also dealing with Almayra. It wasn’t what she thought would come out of visiting Fodlan again, but she also couldn’t say that she was unhappy about it.
While she missed Brigid dearly, catching up with her old classmates and strengthening their odds against the Imperial army put a smile on her face. That was something she missed back home, fighting always gave her such a thrill. She got along extremely well with the old students of the Golden Deer house, rekindling some unfinished business and wasted friendships she left behind when returning to Brigid years ago. Having people to laugh with, get to know, and count on made her time away from home all the more bearable.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t forget her role in all of this. She wasn’t here to reconnect, she was here to make new allies to split from the Empire. Now twenty years old and finished assisting the Alliance, Petra was off to the Kingdom. In complete truth, it wasn’t in too much better shape than it was a year ago, but one ally wasn’t enough; she knew that. Worst comes to worst, Petra was prepared to offer her services in trade for their aid. To be honest, she didn’t care how long it would take if it freed Brigid from their punishment. Besides, there was someone she was looking forward to seeing again. As the foreigner traveled her way through the border between Faergus and the Alliance, she couldn’t get him out of her head.
There is a tiny voice in her head that is questioning why. He was just another friend, she shouldn’t be so excited; yet she knows that isn’t exactly true. Petra knew that her grandfather hoped she would meet a nobleman from the Empire while she was at school - to help strengthen bonds between them after only a few years since their loss, even if he didn’t say as such in so many words. She was the heir to Brigid, which meant she wasn’t allowed to love for herself, so Petra expected it.
In fact, she’s surprised it took him so long to mention it. Yet, she let out a silent apology to her loving grandfather when a certain classmate caught her eye. It’s not as though Petra was looking for a potential husband, but she wasn’t not looking for one either. She had her first impressions on a few men in her house; Hubert, possibly Ferdinand, but the more time she spent with them the more obvious it became that she couldn’t feel that way for them.
It was an upsetting thought, considering that it likely wouldn’t matter what her heart wanted to say anyway, but she also knew there was no way Hubert would ever leave the Empire or Edelgard. Ferdinand might’ve, but she was dubious; he never stopped talking about his noble duty to Fodlan. It would be a hard bargain she imagined. After a while, Petra stopped searching, which was slightly disappointing, but it also lifted a weight off her shoulders. She presumed then that it would only make sense that right after she moved on from that thought, a friendly face came and swept her off her feet.
She had seen him before in the halls, at the archery grounds, exchanged a few glances here and there in the Dining Hall, but they had hardly even spoken before that one day at the market. To be frank, the boy was rather petite and unassuming at first glance. He wasn’t too much taller than her at the time, he didn’t parade about the academy asking for attention all the time, and didn’t possess a voice that boomed when he spoke. Without truly knowing him before then, she had always assumed he was another shy type, but he reminded her that being soft and being timid weren’t mutually exclusive.
The boy with tenderly tousled hair swooped in and prevented her from dueling a saleswoman she was bargaining with, Petra not even aware that she was in need of help. Petra bowed to him in thanks, something he found quite odd seeing as he wasn’t of the nobility, but gave her a smile all the same. She’s sure anyone who passed them by didn’t think much of their interaction, but it was a moment Petra has scarcely forgotten over the years.
As though seeing him for the first time, Petra let her plum colored eyes admire him. His ashey grey hair appeared unbrushed but not necessarily in a bad way, his clothes were loose with a sweatshirt underneath that looked more cozy than any other school uniform she had seen thus far, and his pale skin made him nearly sparkle when it probably should have clashed with his light hair. The blush highlighting his cheeks was quite pleasing to the eyes which made her grin with him - well, that and his charming freckles scattered over his cheeks and nose. His eyes resembled olives and lily pads that were hard to tear herself away from. He stood casually and unbothered as he haggled the merchant who Petra still thought challenged her to a duel. She couldn’t place it exactly, but something about him was rather compelling, at least to her.
It made her regret never having spoken to him before. She left that day quicker than she thought she would, after he helped her with the rest of his shopping, with a newfound warmth in her chest.
If that was the last time they talked, then perhaps Petra’s mind would not have lingered on him so much, but she was happy to say it wasn’t. Her brain wouldn’t leave her alone until she went to him again, so after a few weeks of wandering looks and late night thoughts, she did. Their conversation that time went in circles, her language barrier was rough at best, but she was just gratified to hear him accept her request for more teachings. That’s how things began to progress. She was like a moth to a flame with him, the pair always meeting in the town by the monastery to learn new skills about the commoner lifestyle. She thought it was quite interesting despite his multiple mumbles about not wanting to bore her.
He fumbled with his hands a lot, his ears perked up and blushed when he succeeded at something, and his laughs after a few hours of teaching somehow always made the air around them sweeten. Petra wasn’t always aware of how much she studied him, but it soon started to become one of her favorite pastimes.
Eventually, she began teaching him stuff too. Most of it was things he could have easily picked up from someone else, but she was proud to know he came to learn it from her. Then he gradually asked about Brigid every now and again, making her stomach do somersaults. Again, with how much he enjoyed to read, it might have been a lot faster and definitely less biased if he were to read about Brigid in a book, but he kept coming to her with his questions and curiosities. Then they started to train together, both specializing with bows; training had never been so diverting. She often wished they could stay out there all day.
Time never seemed to pass with him. When the ball rolled around, she even taught him how to dance. That night she had hoped he’d invite her to one, but stayed cheerfully chatting to people instead, likely still unsure of his ability. A night she wished would end at the Goddess Tower instead ended like all the others. She had a nice time, received many dance invitations from others, but none of them was the one she really wanted to spend the night with.
Howbeit, no matter how much more she wanted from their relationship, they became close and she valued any of the kindness he gave her. It struck a nerve when she then departed back to Brigid at the end of that year. Neither had the opportunity to say farewell with the battle that had just occurred and it was perhaps one of her biggest regrets. All these years later, Petra was still thinking about him.
After every marriage proposal her grandfather pitched her, during all the moments she practiced with her bow, or when she helped her king from wasting needless gold. She could hardly even attend a dance without remembering how her stare was trained on him that entire night. In hindsight, maybe she could have told him how she felt, but she never thought to rush things. Petra was okay with just spending time with him for the time being, she was having fun just getting to know the boy; how was she supposed to know that would only last a few months? She doesn’t think about him a great deal more than the rest of her friends from Fodlan, but she couldn’t deny that extra spark that ignited in her when she did. She did miss him. So, when it was time to head for his homeland, he was the only thing on her mind, even when she should have been thinking about her proposition.
How different was he from the boy she knew before? Was his hair still disarrayed? Did his freckles still twinkle in the sunlight? Had he grown some? Did he still barter? Did he still read? Was he still hopeful and optimistic? Did his eyes still tell all the things others were afraid to say? Would he once again make her lose sense of time, forget about the time spent servicing the Empire unreasonably? Petra knew he would be different, they all were, but she doesn’t know what she’d do if the war had devastated the amiable spirit that made everyone smile. The world needs people like him. She can’t stop imagining what he’d do when he sees her. After four years, he would no doubt be stunned to find her in front of him once again, but the surprise was half the fun.
Petra can already picture the way his brows would rise, how his mouth would fall into an open smirk, the hearty laugh that would send her pulse racing. After nearly a day of traveling to what she heard was a resistance outpost in the forest, Petra arrived on the outskirts of the woods they were rumored to reside in. She scolded herself for the slightly faster beating of her heart at the thought of the archer. This was a business trip, she told herself it should be nothing else, but something else inside her felt doleful of that frame of mind.
She would do what was best for Brigid no matter what, but she couldn’t ignore how badly she wanted to see him. She’d settle for a wave or a grin or almost anything if that was what he wanted, she hadn’t crossed the ocean for him anyhow. Yet, she hasn’t felt like this in years. She doubted that feeling would ever go away and she didn’t want it to. Ashe made her enchanted, throughout these past years - that has always remained.
⇼
Another day, another chance; that’s what Ashe told himself with every wake. It’s easy to let the harsh violence dictate how the world looks or wash the smile off your face; much too easy. Ashe is still working on the smile part, but he refuses to surrender to such a morbid point of view. Of course, something like that is easier said than done and he’s sure he still has a long way to go before he reclaims the jejunity that colored his vision during his academy days. Part of that is to help others do the same.
Ashe has always considered himself lucky that hasn’t lost anything to this war, but some of his friends weren’t as fortunate. He remembers how devoted he was to tending to Ingrid, Sylvain, and Felix when Dimitri went missing and then to the others once Dedue went after them. Their group has faced a lot of anguish over the four years they’ve been fighting, but he wouldn’t want it any other way. He would cook, he would distribute blankets, he’d help them train, make sure they stay healthy; he doesn’t care how much it takes out of him.
Sometimes, Ashe feels as though it costs more effort to keep everyone going than their battles. He doesn’t know where he’d be without them, when Lonato died, he had nowhere to go. He was given a chance to serve for one of the noble houses - with everything going on, they accepted all the help they could get. House Gaspard still wished for him to return to their estate, to take him his given role as heir, but he can’t. It was hard enough to know that he would one day take up the home of the kind man he had let die; to put aside his dreams of becoming a knight, but it was another to roam its halls trying to pretend like he deserved it. His brother and sister were safe and so he visits from time to time, but this was where he belonged.
Ashe may not be a knight yet, but fighting alongside his friends against the Empire - doing his all to protect its citizens and order, that was more than enough. He didn’t need to be admired or the protagonist in some honorable story like the ones he reads to maintain his hope, he just needed to be present and able. There was so much at stake.
There are days Ashe doesn’t recognize himself. He nearly bites his tongue at the sound of that. There was something ironic in the haze of his endeavors that he couldn’t miss. Ashe always knew he’d have to step out of his comfort zone to become a knight, he did all he could to prepare himself - to be strong enough to do what needed to be done when the moment arose. When Lonato perished, he thought that would be the worst of it; he cried for weeks.
Now, even when his memories of the man were still tainted red, they have been surpassed. The academy gave them plenty of experience in battle, he’s injured so many people - he’s afraid he’s lost count. Then, on rare occurrences, he drew the final blow to the stubborn outlaws unwilling to back down. It never felt good, but it was just the price of morality. Things were different now. Ashe could no longer stand in the back and let his bow do all the work, he had to get his hands dirty. He had to be on the front lines, willing to do whatever was necessary.
He still has nightmares about the first time trickles of blood splashed on his face, blood that wasn’t his own. The images of their eyes when he swooped in and brought about their end haunted him wherever he went. At times, he thinks he can hear someone crying out for them. Watching their limp and lifeless bodies as his allies took care of them was seared into his brain, decaying everything good in its path. Ashe tries not to wonder about their families, he used to do that back in school. It was simpler then however, to identify his victims, trace their families, and inform them personally with a heart-felt letter.
Now, it is only destruction. The amount of people he fatally injures in a single battle has more than doubled; it seems as though people can’t get enough of testing their mortality. Not that he’s any better. It hardly feels like there is any reason to this madness anymore, they just fight and fight and fight like there is no end. Is there? Sometimes, he doubts. He didn’t expect things to ever come to be like this.
The only thing that lets him sleep at night is the fact that he still mourns, is still repulsed by his behavior on the battlefield, he still feels remorse. Ashe clings to that feeling probably more than he should, some days that is all he feels. Yet, not even that can rid himself of his aversion for what has now become instinct for him. Even back at the academy, after countless missions and assignments and favors he had done, he still said a little goodbye before letting his bow fly. He still closed his eyes once he knew where his arrow had landed, turning his back on the body that would fall because of it. The Ashe then still considered death a last resort, no matter who the punishment was for.
After all, ruthless people were still people, they still were worth saving. He wished he could say the same about things now. It appears that today, yesterday, tomorrow - death was akin to the first option. He no longer had to will himself to stop them in their tracks, he didn’t hope his targets would survive in time, he stopped trying to find a way to get around death; now it was just a waste of time. It was dangerous - his old perspective, that kind of thing can get him and his friends killed. Blood stains on his clothes didn’t make him shutter anymore; they were sadly, very very normal.
It did make Ashe feel better to know that he wasn’t the only one though. Maybe that’s selfish, a horrific thing to say, which is probably why he never does out loud. On the surface, he is genuinely disheartened to know that his friends suffer the same heinousness that he is, but inside he is also comforted to know he was all alone in it. He is ashamed to admit it, but it gives him solace to share the rare ferocious affair with people that can understand; that he won’t be persecuted for his change in management. It was an odd thing, to grow beside others for all this time. Sure, everyone kind of went their own ways after the war first started and the academy was disbanded, but when things went from bad to worse, it was only a matter of time before they joined up again - even if they’re not together all the time. Strength in numbers and all that.
He knows they all have thoughts and feelings they don’t talk about from this war, everyone does, but just being there for them made him feel better. Them, the freedom and peace they are fighting for is the only thing keeping him going anymore.
Perhaps that is why he doesn’t think about the old days very much. Some do, like Mercedes and Annette, but most of the time - he can’t. Ashe is best when looking toward the future, which isn’t something that many others can do either, so at least he has that. There are those like Felix or Hapi that refuse to plan ahead past the war, unsure and afraid that it will never come. Ashe can't live like that, he doesn’t know how he’d continue on if he did. His whole tactic to deal with the war is to build a better future, so with how much he plans for that - comes with a lack of reminiscing. He used to do it so often, think about his parents and their restaurant, the way the countryside looked in the summertime.
Memories like that always cheered him up when he was down, he never viewed them in a light too painful to revisit. Memories still aren’t painful exactly, but with how much has changed, they may be a bit too morbid now to dwell on for long. Life used to be so simple before, perhaps they are still simple now, if not severely uncertain. Life was never promised before, but now it was a risk to expect anything more.
He and his friends will never be those kids they were when they first met, when the cry of carnage rang vigorously in their ears, calling them forth like sirens at sea; he knows that. He just hopes there will be something left of those kids when this is all over. He didn’t want to be someone completely different from who he used to be, he liked himself then. He can’t always say the same for the person he is now, even though he tries so hard.
That could be what scares him the most; not that the war won’t end - even if he isn’t there to see it, he has faith someone will put an end to all this butchery - but that he won’t like who he’s become when it does. He’s never mentioned that to anyone before, he knows what they’ll say, that he will still be him no matter what he’s forced to do. Mostly he tells himself the same thing as well, that he believes in his values enough not to abandon them, but deep in the darkest places of his mind he can’t help asking how can one ever be sure? He just wished he knew how to not be afraid or doubt. Shouldn’t he have more trust in himself than that?
Ashe let the arrow pressing against his bowstring loose and watched as it hit its target dead on. He’s been out here since breakfast this morning. Considering how the only friends he has at this outpost right now are Hapi and Constance, students he didn’t know too well before they joined the Kingdom following the fall of Garreg Mach, he figured he had the whole day to be productive. It’s not yet midday, the sky is all but clear despite the uncommon bout of blazing sunlight out today. Ashe waves and greets everyone that passes him by as he maintains his archery skills dutifully.
There was never all that much to do in between traveling and fighting, so he used this time to not fall behind. He had to be in tip-top shape, ever vigilant if he wanted to make sure no harm comes to anyone here. As much as he enjoys chatting with others, Ashe appreciates this time alone. It was nice to train, when he does, nothing else matters but him, the target, and the bow. It makes everything less complicated and silences his worries.
This time, he grew so focused on this one target he couldn’t yet hit that he was startled to the point where he actually jumped once another arrow came flying from the side and hit his own dead on out of the way. Ashe doesn’t know what he was expecting to see when he cast his head over to the direction it came from, a new arrow notched at the ready, but it wasn’t Petra Macneary, princess of Brigid, standing next to the target with a hand at her hip and a faint smirk on her face. He almost choked up seeing her, he felt his face immediately warm at the sight of her. He had no words, not a breath in his lungs. Still, a vibrant grin spread his lips wide. It was so good to see her again. “Will you be having a shot at me, Ashe, or be putting the bow down?” She teased her old companion with a melody that almost seemed too light for a time of war.
Ashe instantly felt blush color his cheeks to his ears as he lowered the bow he had already forgotten was aimed at the princess with a lopsided chuckle. “O-oh, right. Apologies, princess.” He let the words slip out of his mouth with a strange sense of alleviation he hasn’t felt in a long time before giving her a bow - a proper one native to how he read they do in Brigid, by nearly setting one knee of the ground with a dip of his head.
Finally, with a soft laugh from them both, the pair closed the distance between them gladly. Step by step, Ashe felt something familiar wash over him, something gleeful. “There is no need for such formalities between old friends, will there be Ashe?” The visitor shook her head breezily, her hand motioning to him the way it always did, speaking mostly the same as she did before - perhaps slightly better. He’s never felt nostalgia so contended before.
“It’s been a long time.” The fact didn’t need to be said, but when he did it suddenly made him ache a little bit. “I just wanted to make sure.”
“Make sure of what?” Petra then questioned, Ashe unsure if she didn’t understand what he said or what he meant, but he was happy to answer her anyway.
“Where we - well, how our friendship has changed, I suppose.” Part of him hadn’t wanted to say it, in a way it hasn’t changed on bit since they haven’t seen each other since the fall of Garreg Mach, but as a commoner of Fodlan talking to foreign royalty, he had to be certain nothing had changed on her side of things before he said anything more.
The princess let out another deft chuckle at that, letting her hand raise up to rest under her nose before continuing. “Of course, we are still being the same friends we have always been being, Ashe. Time influences much, but not that.” He can’t deny the wave of relief he felt at hearing her say that, her voice sounding the epitome of enthusiasm yet somehow feeling so blase; it was hard to pinpoint or describe - it always has been.
He matched her casual composure with a slow nod, a big smirk on his face. “I absolutely agree, Petra .” Ashe assured candidly as he slung his bow behind his back, saying her name bringing back a rather saccharine taste on his tongue.
While they both let their agreement and confirmation linger in the air between them, Ashe took this time to look her over for the first time in years. Her hair looks longer; while the shade hasn’t changed, she had let out her large dangling braid to fall down her back and both shoulders. The end appeared to skim the small of her back if he had to guess from this angle. The next thing he noticed was her green earring, it looked like some kind of thread likely from her homeland - definitely something too long for the academy. Speaking of, her attire was so bright and chromatic, it pleased the eyes well.
So much jewelry that hung around her neck and waist and even a cape sliding down one shoulder. Purple was no doubt her color. Her sashes and armor blended in with a fervent touch that really brought it all together. He had to say, the style in Brigid was much more creative and interesting than anything he’s seen in Fodlan; it was a shame they all had to wear their uniforms in school. He was a bit embarrassed to note how exquisitely her garb defined her lovely fitted form. The purple tattoo banded around her arm jumped out at him nicely and complimented her facial marking with appeal.
She looked great, in fact, he doesn’t think he’s seen her more beautiful than she is now, in the dressing that made her feel at home. Although, there was one part of her he didn’t possess the strength to stop admiring. Her sharp and lively irises played with his senses. They flattered the slightly darker tone of her hair with allure and even valor. They shared a similarity to crushed blackberries and Hellebore Blossoms, shining like Amethyst in the sun.
Ashe smirked without thinking when he stared at them for perhaps a second too long, they were so warm; he could swear that he is transported straight to Brigid whenever she gapes at him. It really is quite extraordinary, almost like a blessing. He couldn’t get enough, he was undoubtedly fixated, but he didn’t mind. If she allowed it, he just knew he could gaze at them - at her - all day. There seemed to be nothing better when he considered it then. He had always thought she was pretty in school, so stunning in fact that it made him flustered on more than one occasion, but she wasn’t a girl anymore.
Pretty, even charming didn’t measure up to how she was now; he struggled to find a suitable word. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised, everyone has grown since their time in school, including himself. Staring at the woman, Ashe found details littered subtly here and there that he can confidently say weren’t there before. The most evident were the few extra scars added to the couple she already had back in the academy, he didn’t think much of them though, everyone has picked up their fair share since the war started.
Then there was her assurance that spoke zealously in her orbs and the way she carried herself; before, she was always questioning if she was saying the right things and intently making sure she didn’t misunderstand anything, but now she either didn’t take things of the sort so critically or was no longer unclear. Either way, it was a good look on her, he had to say. Finally, there were the hidden intricacies that he nearly missed; like the additional tapering to her otherwise nonchalant brow or the delicate silhouette behind her positively sunkissed features that somehow looks more and less burdened at the same time.
It made him wonder what she’s been through in the four years she’s been gone.
“Time has being treating you well, Ashe.” Petra broke the silence with a cool tilt of her head. “Have you done with becoming a knight yet?” Her tune made him feel so free.
Shaking his head back into reality, Ashe let out a low chuckle that vibrated in his throat as he pondered what she saw in him to think he seemed to improve during the war. He hadn’t thought so, with all the things he’s done he often wonders if he was better off before, but he is inexplicably beyond grateful and consoled to hear it. “Not yet. With Fhirdiad currently under Adrestian governance, it’s kinda hard to knight anyone. I’m still working on it though; honestly, having that title isn’t really important for me right now with everything going on.” Ashe shrugged in reply, making sure not to sound too upset as he offered Petra a seat with him beside the designated makeshift shooting range.
Swiftly, Petra dropped her head into her hands, running her fingers over her forehead with a slightly more attritional expression painting her face. “Of course, I am apologetic. It makes sense to be more watchful about the war.” She appeared so ruffled at the thought of over-looking such a crisis, it made Ashe mirror her concern.
Ashe wanted to reach out to her, put a hand on her shoulder or something to soothe her worries, nothing major - just a little sign of security, but something stopped him. It probably wasn’t appropriate to be grabbing a princess’ arm, especially out in public like this. He didn’t want to unnerve her or go too far. So, Ashe settled for a smile and a shake of his head. “Oh, no no. It is completely understandable. Life is supposed to go on in spite of all of this, right?” The pale man close to giggled tenderly to lighten the mood, feeling more than satisfied when she joined him. It grew quiet once more, the silence not exactly awkward but perhaps unwanted before Ashe’s olive orbs traveled back to her form. “You look amazing by the way, if I haven’t said so already. Your clothes are really interesting and unique. I’m glad to have seen them, a-and you. Has it been too long?”
For a moment, Petra’s cheeks darkened just a little and she nodded at his wavering compliment with gusto. “Much thanks, Ashe. I am happy to hear you are liking it. I prefer greatly over Fodlan’s garments; they are much too stiff.” They both laughed at her earnest remark, Ashe joyful over the fact that her unbidden tact hasn’t faltered. “A-and yes, it has been too long. I deeply missed everyone I befriended at the academy.” As she talked, her voice turned softer as if remembering her separation from the others. Ashe couldn’t imagine what he’d do if he had been so far away from everyone during this time.
“Well, on the bright side, I am sure that they all missed you just as much. I know I did.” The words left his mouth before he could consider them, something that happens quite often with Petra, tinting his cheeks pink. He doesn’t want to come off too forward.
Because the truth is, he has missed her. While he believes it important to remember the good times and not forget about the past, he tries not to frequent it, not wanting to become distracted from the commitment the war and fighting off the Empire requires. It works most of the time, Ashe making sure he busies himself with anything that could be of use and gives himself time to relax with activities that don’t stir up too many memories, but when he does - Petra is no stranger to them.
Other than his family, she is beside his house members with the people he recalls the most, no matter how seldom he’s tried to limit it to be. The picture of her climbing a tree, dragging him by the wrist through the merchant side of town, or tucked away in the courtyard with him as they chatted about something or other never failed to warm him up even in the heart of Faergus’ coldest nights. Once he started to think about her, it was always difficult to stop; something about her was simply infectious. It was so easy to get carried away, but he never could figure out why it made him so fond and attached.
He doesn’t tell her that though, if he thought touching her arm was scandalous, then telling her so much of his inner mind was definitely uncalled for. Petra calmly rested a hand on his chin, her engaging irises now drifting while she reflected. “Yes, many of our Golden Deer classmates were very happy to have been seeing me when I first arrived, that is true.” She thought aloud, Ashe catching a glimpse of something speculative in her purple eyes.
With a raise of his brows, Ashe was shocked to hear her mention the Alliance. “Visited? You saw them too? How long ago was that? H-how are they?” He had to admit, he was curious about his other peers as well. Secretly, he even pondered about his Black Eagle classmates sometimes too, despite the bridge they burned long ago. He still found it hard at times to see them differently from the youths they were in the academy, how solemn things had turned since.
All Petra did was nod. “I have just returned from my visitation by two days. They are fine, they have gotten a lot of progress down since I was first arriving last year.”
“Last year?” He tried not to sound too bewildered.
Again, Petra nodded so matter of factly, he questioned if she had forgotten he didn’t know. “Correct. I have had coming back to Fodlan on behalf of Brigid in efforts to be newly allied with the Kingdom and the Alliance. Now that my business with the Alliance is having concluded, I have came here.” The conviction in her delivery was impressive, it was clear that she was determined to earn the Kingdom’s aid at any cost and it made Ashe remember how she was in school when she had offhandedly revealed that her grandfather sent her to school to improve relations. What a turn her goal has taken, she sounded much more in favor this time around. He was delighted for her and for Brigid.
Even so, there was something inside him that was a little crestfallen to hear she had been in Fodlan for so long and they had never reconnected until today. If he had known, he would have been sending letters at least. It was a trivial and likely undeserved discontentment that brewed in his chest when thinking about all the days they could have been just like this or how they used to be in replace of what his memories could offer, but he understood.
Spending time with him wasn’t her priority nor her job, he was just being sensitive, so he shook it away. Maybe one day he might contain the courage and the right to ask why she hadn’t come to him - well, the Kingdom he means - first, but for now he merely swallows his curiosity and nods. “Oh. That makes sense. So, you’ve come for Dimitri.” Ashe pushed out a gentle smirk, hoping that it didn’t portray his peculiar moment of dismay.
Brushing a strand of hair over her shoulder, Petra continued to sit up right and perfect without a second of irritation - he always wondered how she did that. “Correct again, Ashe. It is like you are reading the book of my mind. I had heard from Hilda and Dorothea that he escaped a deheading. Is he with you or is he at another outpost?” The princess explained entirely unaware, though admittedly, Ashe was having a bit of trouble discerning anything after the dulcet chuckle she let out at the beginning, his eyes going to adore the way hers closed when she did so.
Biting his lip, Ashe thought about what to say. It was one of the subjects many of his friends don’t like to discuss, how their prince, their peer, their friend narrowly escaped death all those years ago yet hasn’t been seen or heard from since. Most thought him dead, but those who didn’t were just as disheartened to know that he hasn’t returned to them for whatever reason. Ashe doesn’t know which he believes, all he knows is that he lost a friend that day. He didn’t want to distress Petra, but if she came all the way out here for him, then she’d be going around in circles for quite a while. Gawking back at the fellow archer, Ashe opened his mouth to break the news, but he hesitated.
Petra, she brought out this desire in people to be there for her, she inspired fealty; whether that be from suitors attempting to win her favor or acclamatory strangers seeking her hand in friendship. For Ashe, he wanted to be what she needed. He couldn’t give it a name or even decipher where it came from and what it meant, but he felt it all the same. If she was cold and needed a fire, he wanted to be it. If she was injured and needed a medic, he wished he could heal her. Even if she was simply bored and sought something interesting, he hoped he could entertain her.
Maybe that was just because he immensely enjoyed spending time with her, he always had the best fun with her back in the day. Again, he didn’t know, but it was a trait that has remained dormant since she departed back to Brigid over four years ago. Now, it told him to be careful. Speaking to Dimitri was important to her, he shouldn’t give such updates mindlessly.
“I-I’m so sorry then to tell you, Petra; Dimitri isn’t here. He-he’s not anywhere. No one has seen him since he went missing years ago.” He went slow and gradual, even going as far as to prevent his distinct frown at the mention of his old friend, but he could tell his expression didn’t match the woe clouding his pupils; he hoped she didn’t notice.
Petra studied him for a minute, the duo sitting across from each other and possibly leaning in at such a dire topic of conversation, he could feel her thinking it over. After a short while, the foreigner nodded in comprehension as her head dropped slightly trying to come to a new verdict. Her brow furrowed and lips pursed, hands tightening while she deliberated. “Hmm, that is not fortunate. Is there another I can make this kind of arrangement with?” The twenty year old canvassed neutrally, Ashe unable to detect what she’s thinking or how she felt about it at all; she is quite intimidating when she looks like that.
Clearing his throat, Ashe shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Not unless you want to take it up with the Empire.” He chuckled at his own joke, his attempt to sever some of the staidness in the air.
He’s gratified to see that earn him a weak smirk from her highness before she huffed, sounding less disturbed and more decisive than he would have figured she’d be. “I know what I must do then.”
“Oh?” Ashe perked up, now intrigued and moved by her quick resoluteness; he fears it would have taken him much longer to come to a decision about such crucial matters. Though, he should have presumed a royal would be trained in directing skills like this. “You do?”
Nodding, Petra met Ashe’s glance and shrugged. “If I am to be accomplishing my goal to free Brigid from the Empire, then I will be having to help the Kingdom and the Alliance win the war. It is the only way. It seems I will be here longer than I thought.” Ashe strangely loved the sound of that. “Will you assist me, Ashe?” The shorter woman turned to him now with a steadfast intrepidity and drive, he almost thought the ground would rumble underneath them.
Like old times? That’s what he wanted to ask her then, the idea a fond one to the ardent and diligent archer, but he held his tongue. Nevertheless, he couldn’t withhold the grin that crept on his face at her suggestion, it was wide and bona fide and accompanied a pumped fist in front of him. Sometimes he feels like his participation in the war doesn’t make a difference, but now that he has the opportunity to bring Brigid in to help them both, he was quite jubilant. “Of course I will, Petra. You can count on me; I promise you.” He bowed again without a second thought, after everything he’s read about Brigid since he met her, it was almost second nature to him now.
Petra’s smirk brightened at the notion until she pumped her fist back at him, eye to eye and ready. “I have faith in you, Ashe, as I hope you can put yours in me. I will do my best to see Brigid and Faergus come out wielding victory!”
Petra and Ashe paralleled in the way they looked at each other then, a newfound spirit to fuel and guide them down the rest this war has to offer. It felt odd to say, but in this, he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather share this feeling with. Petra had always been so high-strung and gallant; always excited to fight for what she believed in. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her terrified before. Ashe felt like he was viewing the war through a new lense, his previous feelings of dubiety, dejection, and fear washing away like tides against the shore.
Right now, he feels like he can do anything as long as she is there next to him. This might have been exactly what he needed. He doesn’t know how long it will last, he knows better than to think the throes of strife and bloodletting won’t come back around to weigh him down just like they had before, but he feels better about having her with him now. He just wants to soak up this feeling for as long as he can, savor and capture it in a bottle.
Without fully understanding how deep and particular that feeling goes, Ashe suddenly has a sense that this moment, this decision - she - is worth all these past four years of tribulations. He has a hard time thinking of anything worth more than her. This will certainly be a day to remember, if not for unofficially aligning Brigid with the Kingdom, then for finally reuniting with Petra Macneary. He really did miss her .