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Ties That Bind

Chapter 2

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It would seem that time was almost up, Linhardt mused, pulling his thick fleece traveling cloak tighter around himself in an attempt to keep his teeth from chattering. With his hands still exposed, he summoned a small flame to dance in his palm, effectively warming his frigid fingers; marching on foot in the cold was hardly his idea of fun in the first place, but doing so during the tail end of the Ethereal Moon was truly the height of foolishness, their only saving grace being that there was no snow or ice to speak of around here. The light of the waning moon shone weakly upon the path before him, its light barely enough to see by but his tiny flame was enough to pick up the slack. Fortunately, this road had been well-travelled enough that it hadn’t become overgrown just yet, although weeds had started to take root in a number of niches along the road, and the moss covering several sturdy rocks meant that they had to watch their steps as they went. It was a shame that the road wasn’t more travelled now, but that was to be expected; nobody in their right mind would be heading to the ruins of Garreg Mach Monastery. Linhardt huffed, shaking his head; by that criterion, he wasn’t in his right mind after all, if he ever was, although he took some comfort in the fact that if he was indeed crazy, he was at least traveling with two companions who by definition were equally so.

Ahead of him, there was a cry of “Whoa!” and an answering whinny, and as if Linhardt’s very thought had summoned him, Ferdinand von Aegir, the sunshine cavalier himself, brought his horse alongside the woebegone healer. “Are you cold, Linhardt? You are free to ride Sundance if you so wish!” Linhardt stared at the packed bedrolls, tents, and supplies strapped to the back of the poor black-maned beast and tried his best not to grimace. Ferdinand, out of the kindness of his heart, would likely propose that Linhardt could ride and he would take the reins to walk alongside them, but horseback riding tended to make Linhardt’s stomach sway, and if a battle did crop up, he would be far happier feeling the ground beneath him than the skittish swaying of some scared animal.

“No thank you, Ferdinand. I would rather keep my dinner where it is. Bernadetta, would you care to ride?”

From Ferdinand’s other side came a sudden shriek as the purple-haired plant lover practically leapt at being addressed so suddenly. “AH! N-no thank you! Horses are nice and all, but… I think I’d rather walk. Th-thank you though!”

“Very well!” Ferdinand exclaimed brightly, and urged Sundance forward, taking point once again as Bernadetta fell silent, absorbed in her own little world. She had been like this for most of the trip; Ferdinand and Linhardt had met up as the knight-to-be had rescued Linhardt from a particularly perilous swamp (the loss of all of his reading material for such a long and arduous journey was painful indeed, and the emotional wounds his soul had suffered had taken a good week of complaining to heal), and then they had eventually met with Bernadetta as she was making her escape from Varley territory. It had been a long and sometimes highly annoying few weeks, but their goal was in sight--even in the darkness, Linhardt’s sea-blue stare could make out the towers of the monastery, still standing majestically despite the fact that so much of it had fallen to ruin.

Linhardt sighed; now that they were almost at their destination, or at least what was left of it, several questions swarmed his mind, each one seemingly more pressing than the last. How much of the monastery was intact? Would his other classmates, especially the other former Black Eagles, be there as well, compelled to reunite thanks to a promise made five years previously, years that felt more like a lifetime now? Would the Professor be able to keep their promise somehow, given their sudden disappearance from the battlefield? Yet perhaps what was both most and least surprising was the fact that there was no doubt in Linhardt’s mind that Caspar would be there. If he was alive--which he surely was, given that this was Caspar they were talking about, the fighter with the biggest heart and the craziest luck that Linhardt had ever seen--then he would be at the monastery, right on time. Caspar never went back on his word.

He took a breath, the towers seeming to loom ever taller with each step he took. Unconsciously, his hand moved to fiddle with his ribbon, now somewhat frayed from years of service but not quite willing to give up the ghost just yet. “Caspar,” Linhardt whispered into the night. “Hold on. I’m almost there.”

A handful of miles away, on another road once-well-traveled, Caspar, along with Dorothea and Petra, slowly approached the remains of the monastery. Dorothea and Petra had apparently been traveling together for a while, Dorothea trying her best to help as many people as she could on her travels and Petra fighting back against the Empire whenever possible, and the two of them had run into Caspar as he was stocking up to cross the mountains back into what had once been Garreg Mach territory. Naturally, they had all been overjoyed at the reunion, and together, they had vowed to make it back to the monastery and see if anyone else had been willing (or able) to keep the promise of reuniting after such a long, and at times lonely, five years.

Caspar stared up at the sky, clear except for the weak light of the waning moon. It made it fairly easy to see the twinkling stars in the heavens overhead, and in the back of his mind, he could almost hear Linhardt telling him stories about the various constellations and what they all meant. The one that sorta looked like a pot was meant to be something related to--

“Caspar!” Dorothea exclaimed, and he flinched, his concentration shattered as he turned back to face her.

“What? Are we under attack?” Caspar asked, hands already balling into fists.

“No, you goof. You just looked like you were staring off into space,” Dorothea replied with a smile, shaking her head fondly.

“Oh! Well, I kinda was,” Caspar laughed sheepishly, interlocking his fingers behind his head as they continued their trek.

“Really now?” Dorothea asked, a glimmer of interest in her tone.

“Yeah!” Caspar grinned. “When we were kids, Linhardt would tell me all about the stars and constellations and stuff. He was super into studying it for a while, and some of it stuck with me. Now, whenever I look up at the stars, I can’t help but think of him.”

Dorothea brought a hand to her chin, unable to stifle a laugh. “Aww, that’s adorable. You two really are bound by the red string of fate, then.”

Caspar dropped his arms, looking at her with a questioning, wide-eyed expression. “The what now?”

This time, it was Petra who answered him, an easy smile on her face. “In my homeland, we have many stories of the spirits and how they are enriching our lives. One such story is that if you are loving someone very much, and that someone is returning your love, then the spirits will tie an unseeable red string around both of your tiny fingers so that although you may be separated, you will forever find your way to each other again.”

“Huh!” Caspar smiled, propping a hand on his hip. “That sounds kinda nice, actually!”

“I think it’s rather romantic,” Dorothea chimed in, her piercing emerald eyes practically staring through Caspar. “You and Lin always sort of gravitated around each other, and it was you who gave him that hair band he always wore, right?”

“What?” Caspar exclaimed in surprise. “How did you know?”

Dorothea smiled at him indulgently. “It really wasn’t too difficult to figure out. Lin’s not the type to be too careful with anything he doesn’t deem important, and he was always careful with that ribbon. Not to mention that I overheard him teasing you about it one day.”

Caspar held his arms out in a shrug, shaking his head. “Fine, fine. Yeah, I gave it to him. Honestly, I’m just glad he kept it all this time. Besides, he gave me my grounding charm, so whether there really is a red string of fate, whether we see each other again… we carry a piece of each other wherever we go, and that’s enough for me.”

Petra and Dorothea shared a glance before they looked back at Caspar, and Petra walked forward, clapping him on the shoulder. “That is a wonderful thought, Caspar. I am wishing you and Linhardt all of the best.”

Caspar cocked his head to the side, confusion evident in his tone. “Uh, thanks?”

Instead of replying, however, Dorothea and Petra shared a smile, like they knew something he didn’t, before passing him and continuing on their way. “Hey, wait!” Caspar called. “C’mon, just tell meeeeeee!”

“Nope!” Dorothea laughed, her breath misting in the frosty night. “You’ll have to figure it out for yourself!”

Caspar sighed, readjusting his backpack full of gear. When Dorothea got like this, no amount of begging would get her to talk; he would just have to be patient. His gaze drifted up to the stars once more, hand patting the secret pocket where he stored his grounding charm. Maybe it really was the red string of fate at work, but somewhere deep inside, he knew with utmost certainty that he’d surely see Linhardt again.

Suddenly, Dorothea and Petra stopped in their tracks, and Caspar managed to stop himself just shy of ramming into the songstress. He took a breath, about to say something, when suddenly, he heard it. The ringing of steel and the shouting of orders weren’t far off, and from his position, he could see the smoke of lights and torches. There were people nearby, and from all of the shouting he could hear even from here, it was easy to gather that the castle town was now a battleground. Caspar couldn’t hold back his grin; his blood was rushing in his ears, his heart pounding with adrenaline. Someone in there needed his help, and he was gonna give it!

~~~~~~~~

Thank goodness, Linhardt thought to himself, that they had arrived when they did. The battle was over, various familiar faces cleaning up here and there, and Linhardt grimaced as he sploshed through a distressingly large puddle of blood left behind by the slain bandits. He had retrieved his belongings from Ferdinand (relieving poor Sundance of at least some of her burden), made some excuse to leave, and was now on his way up to the monastery proper. From all of the rumors buzzing around, as well as the briefest sight of that Goddess-blessed green hair, it seemed that the Professor really had returned, but to his own surprise, he found that he really couldn’t be bothered with that right now; the fatigue of the journey coupled with the stress of battle and the early morning hour was enough to override any other feeling beyond the need to lay his head upon his pillow and not wake up for a week.

Much to the magic-user’s misfortune, however, this goal also required remembering where exactly everything was, and given the current state of the monastery and the unreliability of his memory, Linhardt eventually found himself at the crossroads of the entrance hall, the bridge to the cathedral, the Officers’ Academy, and the graveyard. The sea-eyed scholar huffed in exhaustion, noticing with some apprehension that the sky was already lightening. At this rate, morning would come, which would mean that someone would likely try to come and find him so that they could all catch up on everyone’s personal adventures and give their greetings to the unearthed Professor.

With a sigh, Linhardt rubbed at his neck and turned his gaze just slightly, looking in the direction of the bridge spanning the chasm between the cathedral and the common areas. In that moment, all other thoughts flew away like birds on the wing, leaving him to stare wide-eyed and open mouthed at the only other person on the bridge, a blue-haired boy--well, no longer a boy, but a man now--who Linhardt would recognize even if he’d been blinded. He dropped his pack, and with soft, hesitant steps, approached Caspar, whose knicked, grimy, obviously-secondhand armor seemed to shine in the rays of the rising sun. He was holding one hand on his hip and his other hand to his forehead to shield his eyes just enough that he could look out at the horizon, and on his face was an unusually thoughtful expression, one that Linhardt could never have envisioned crossing Caspar’s countenance. They had both changed quite a bit, that was for certain, and yet, as he got closer, closing the gap between them, Caspar turned and saw him, those sky-blue eyes going wide, that gleaming smile even wider, and before he knew it, he was in Caspar’s arms, being held close and tight. Linhardt returned Caspar’s embrace, laying his head on (well, near) Caspar’s shoulder, and oh, he hadn’t noticed at first but Caspar was about his height now, and he would wrap his mind around that world-altering fact later but in the moment he would simply be grateful for the wonderfully convenient, if rather uncomfortable, pillow. Yes, they had changed in many ways, but their bond, thankfully, time had spared. With Caspar alive and his own resolve reaffirmed, for the first time in 5 years, Linhardt allowed himself to think that everything might indeed be alright.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once pleasantries had been given and naps had been taken, Caspar and Linhardt found themselves sitting across from one another in the dining hall with a steaming plate of sweet buns to share and fresh cups of ginger and Angelica tea beside them both. After meeting with the Professor and monastery staff and moving back in, they had both been so exhausted that they had slept until that evening. Now that the sun had gone down and the dinner/dessert rush had passed, they had the pleasure of privacy given that the dining hall was totally empty except for the staff. Caspar was digging into a Noa fruit-filled bun with gusto, wolfing it down with glee, while Linhardt had taken a cream-filled one and was slowly savoring it as he contemplated his eating companion. On the one hand, he wanted to ask about all that Caspar had experienced over the past 5 years, but on the other, he was almost afraid to bring up the subject, considering that Caspar had to have experienced so much more hardship than he. The air of experience and eyes that held lifetimes of stories told him that much.

Linhardt swallowed the lump in his throat and finished his pastry, wiping his hands on a napkin before he brought them below the tabletop to tap patterns on his knees. His gaze began to trace the grains of the table as his thoughts began to race; they had hugged when they’d first seen each other, but now that rational thought was now back in control, he had to wonder if--“Linhardt, are you ok? You have that look on your face like you’re thinking too hard about something,” Caspar interrupted, swallowing the last of his sweet bun, and Linhardt’s stare snapped up to meet his. Caspar’s own eyes fixed him with an appraising expression, as though he was looking through him, and the young runaway was reminded in that moment just how emotionally intelligent and insightful Caspar was, matters of the heart aside (not that Linhardt himself could claim to be much better).

He sighed, trying to find the words. Caspar had always been unusually easy to talk to, but this time, his lips and tongue felt leaden as he struggled to piece together his thoughts without making his worries too obvious. “It’s… well, it’s simply surreal being able to see you again, especially after how we parted. And I am so, so very glad that you’re alive and well, but… I…”

He trailed off, words failing him, and Caspar gave a little huff, not looking away from Linhardt. “If you’re worried about whether I’m mad at you for what you did back then, I’m not. If anything, I’m grateful.” That was not entirely the response that Linhardt had expected, and his confusion must have shown because Caspar gave a wry grin and brought a hand up to scratch at the back of his head. “Look, I was impulsive back then. I mean, I still am! But… well, if you hadn’t saved my life when this place fell, I wouldn’t have known how much I didn’t know, I guess.”

He took a sip of tea, slurping it a little bit. “After we defended Garreg Mach from Edelgard’s first attack, I thought we’d won. And when the rest of her troops moved in, Lady Rhea turned into a dragon, and the Professor went missing, I thought I needed to stay back and fight. I had to lay down my life for this place because that’s what it meant to fight for what I believed in. But the next thing I knew, you were holding a cloth to my nose and I fell asleep. After that, I woke up in some merchant’s cart heading to the Alliance!”

Linhardt’s fingers stopped their tapping to ball into fists, resting atop his knees. Here it was. He had expected at least some condemnation, because even if he had saved Caspar’s life, the warrior put much more stock in pride than he did and would no doubt be displeased that anyone, especially his best friend, had deprived him of such “glory.” His muscles tensed and he could feel himself withdrawing, waiting for the reprimands--

“Hey.” Caspar’s metal glove tapped the table in front of him, and he opened his eyes (when had he closed them?), raising his gaze to meet Caspar’s once more. There wasn’t a hint of anger in Caspar’s face, nor disappointment or disgrace. There was only acceptance, and the knowledge that he wasn’t about to lose his best friend all over again filled Linhardt with such a profound sense of relief that were he not already sitting, he might have fallen over. “I’m not mad, Lin,” Caspar continued, a small yet genuine smile on his face. “Really. Like I said, I’m grateful. Thanks to you, I lived. And yeah, I was angry for a while, but as I went around and met people and learned things, I kinda realized that if you hadn’t saved me then, I probably would have been executed for treason or something. I mean, I’m a crestless second son, and my father would care more about saving face than leaving me alive, so… it’s thanks to you that I’m here now. Thanks for saving my life!” he grinned, bringing his hands up to clasp them behind his head, and Linhardt couldn’t help but smile back as his eyes began to fill with tears, a wave of emotions coursing through him, and he brought up his napkin to dab at his cheeks, unspeakably happy that Caspar had understood after all. The brawler reached out and Linhardt took the offered hand, grasping it tightly, before letting go and putting the napkin aside.

“I’m glad, Caspar. Truly, I am.”

“Heh, me too! But what about you, Lin? What happened to you?”

Linhardt sighed, his smile slipping from his face. Turnabout was fair play, and Linhardt had expected the question after Seteth had insisted on updating everyone’s records with their most recent information, but that didn’t make it an easy story to tell. After taking a few sips of tea and a moment of contemplation, he began to explain.

“After you were… ah… taken off the battlefield, I was found by some Imperial soldiers. They took me to Ladislava, one of Edelgard’s generals for this campaign, and after I had explained that I was the only heir of Hevring, I was immediately sent back to Enbarr. Fortunately, my father was able to receive word of my arrival before it was made public, and through some well-placed propaganda, it was quickly spread that I and the other noble children who had been ‘rescued from the cruel clutches of the church’ had been brainwashed into helping the Church of Seiros, and now that we were safe, we had been sent to our own territories to rest and recover. It was a rather bold move on my father’s part, especially because your father realized the ploy for what it was. If not for Edelgard neither confirming nor denying the rumors, he might have managed to sway public opinion. I consider it highly lucky for us all that he did not.”

Linhardt took another sip of his tea before placing the teacup carefully on the saucer. “From there, I continued my research at the family manor in Hevring, and was kept up to date on the various affairs of the house. However…” Linhardt lightly tapped his index finger against the tabletop, staring at Caspar with a slightly devious smirk. “Father has been devoted to his work and thus has remained in Enbarr these past five years, only returning for the occasional vacation, and Mother has stayed close to his side, as ever. The point of interest here is that all records regarding finances for the Empire are kept in three places: the Imperial Palace, the Enbarr estate of the Minister of Domestic Affairs, and, for archival purposes, the Minister of Domestic Affairs’ estate in their home territory. What is important to note is that in the right hands, this data can be rather illuminating regarding troop movements, supply chains, and what the army needs that is not weapons and ammunition, as well as the prominent families backing them. Hence, if someone needed such information for reasons including, but not limited to, espionage, predicting routes that the army would take, and the like, then perhaps if they were to bring one such as myself a delicious baked good, I could drop a piece of paper on the floor in my excitement and that would be that.”

As Linhardt concluded his explanation, Caspar blinked once, then twice, as he parsed this information. “So wait, Lin… do you mean… you were a spy!?” he exclaimed, slamming his hands down hard on the table and causing the plates and teacups to rattle ominously.

Linhardt thanked the Goddess that the kitchen staff were paid to be hard of hearing. “It would be dangerous for me to confirm such a thing one way or another, but let us phrase it as our mutual friends being very grateful for my five-year-long convalescence.”

Caspar chuckled and shook his head. “Man, Lin. That sounds like a lot more work than I’d expect from you.”

The corner of the green-haired healer’s lip curled up in response as he took another long sip of tea and placed a strawberry jam sweet bun on his plate. “You’d be surprised; it was so easy that I got away with indulging in laziness much of the time.”

Caspar laughed, then, the sound bursting up from his belly and spilling out into the air, with a wide grin on his face to match. “HA! Now that sounds more like the Linhardt I know. Speaking of…” His eyes darted toward Linhardt’s hair. “I noticed you don’t have the…” His hands mimicked the small ponytail that Linhardt had sported for the past 10 years, and seemed almost baffled at Linhardt’s chuckling. The lithe magic-user turned around in his seat, and Caspar’s eyes widened at the sight of a familiar white silk ribbon, securing long, forest-green locks in an elegant bun. His heart began to beat a little faster in his chest, and he swallowed, resolving to think about that later. “So you wear it in a bun now, huh? It’s, uh, a good look for you.”

“Thank you,” Linhardt replied evenly, turning back to face Caspar and taking another sip of his tea. He tried not to make a face at the fact that it was cold. “I’m glad that you don’t mind my hair being this long either; during our years apart, I simply let it grow, and truthfully, I think long hair looks nicer on me.” He gave a somewhat shy glance at Caspar. “Don’t you think?”

Caspar was nodding his head even before Linhardt could finish the sentence. “Yeah, it does! It really, really does. I mean, I’m pretty sure I’ve said it before, but I like your hair long. I’m just glad you still have a use for…” he trailed off, making a “you know what I mean” motion with his hands, and Linhardt’s shoulders shook in a quiet giggle.

“Oh, this hair band? I could never part with it. It’s far too precious and dear to me, a sign of a bond that is as tightly woven as this tie, and I can be surprisingly sentimental about some things. This is one of them.”

“GOOD!” Caspar almost yelled, his face now crimson. “I mean, good. That’s good. Everyone should have something like that.”

“While we’re on the subject though, perhaps you’d like to tell me what you’ve done with your own hair?” Linhardt prompted, having taken note of Caspar’s slicked back and rather interesting style choice, and noted with some amusement that Caspar’s blush only seemed to intensify at the question.

“Yeah, about that. I, uh, tried cutting my own hair first, and that just didn’t go well, so…” Caspar continued to spin the story of his new ‘do, and Linhardt listened, enthralled, as the talk turned to Caspar’s tales of travels and trials as he roamed the countryside, with Linhardt contributing some of his own anecdotes here and there. Before they knew it, the moon was almost fully overhead, and the dining staff were ushering them out with no small measure of forced patience. The two meandered back to their rooms, in no particular hurry, and once they stood in front of Linhardt’s door, the green-haired healer opening it but not yet walking inside, he turned to face Caspar with a warm, fond gaze. “I suppose this is good night, but… it’s good to see you, Caspar. And… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The truth in Linhardt’s words, the simple joy of the fact that they could indeed see each other tomorrow, brought twin smiles to their faces. “Yeah,” Caspar replied, giving a little wave as he turned to walk up the stairs to his own room. “See you tomorrow.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caspar grinned as his punch pierced a bandit’s chest, killing his foe in two short strikes as the brigand’s body slumped against the base of a tree trunk. A spurt of blood splashed against Caspar’s cheek, staining his skin with crimson streaks, and as another nameless foe came his way, the brawler again brought his might to bear, beheading his opponent in the blink of an eye. The afternoon sun beat down overhead, and Caspar was grateful for it as he dodged a sniper’s shot, the glint of sunlight reflecting off of the metal arrowhead the only warning he’d gotten. Adrenaline surged through him, and he could feel the tension, the pressure, of knowing that keeping his life hinged on his ability and skill to survive. While some found battle intimidating, and others saw it merely as an unfortunate means to an end, Caspar revelled in the challenge. He didn’t enjoy taking a life, nor did he fight simply because he wanted to; battle was one tried-and-true method of making himself stronger, and the feeling of confronting and surpassing his own limitations, of stacking his strength against strong opponents and challenges and seeing where he measured, made him feel alive.

His gauntlets crashed through the spine and sternum of another enemy, his forearm bathed in a spray of blood, and before he could make his next move, a wind spell came wooshing at him from behind. Caspar could feel the magical chill run through him and he winced, goosebumps springing up all across his skin. Moments later, however, the uncomfortable sensation gave way to a familiar feeling of warmth, and the familiar scent of pine needles and old books hit his nose as healing magic flowed through his body, returning it to its proper temperature and state. He cast a glance over his right shoulder, giving a grin when he locked eyes with Linhardt, whose magic circle was just starting to disappear. “Thanks, Lin!” he yelled with a wave, and ran off to go hand to hand with another attacker as the rest of his troops engaged other enemies.

The battle raged on, and Caspar wiped his face on his sleeve, leaving dim red splotches all over his cheeks; his tunic was soaked with sweat and his armor was covered in the blood of his enemies, and unfortunately for all of them, this battle was far from over. The bandits were strong, and they were just starting their final push against the bandits’ leader, which would be no easy feat in these dense woods. The crunch of leaves behind him drew his attention and he turned back momentarily to see Linhardt coming over to stand next to him, giving him a once-over before they pressed on. “Caspar, are you feeling well? You’re not wounded anywhere?” The grappler gave a little laugh, flexing an arm.

“Nah, I’m fine, but I should be asking about you, though! Are you alright, Lin?”

The healer ran a hand through his sweaty locks, pushing a few stray strands out of his fair face. “I will be fine, Caspar. It is somewhat of a struggle to keep my stomach from turning, but better that I be here at your back than wringing my hands in the infirmary, worrying about what state you’d be in the next time I saw you.” Caspar could feel his expression shift into something more sullen, and he was about to open his mouth to say something when Linhardt’s gaze suddenly slid to stare at something behind him. “Move!” Linhardt cried as an arrow cut cleanly against the side of his scalp, and with a cry, he winced in pain before bringing his hands up in retaliation to cast two quick blasts of wind into a nearby bush. The enemy archer staggered back with a final cry before falling lifeless to the ground, and Linhardt grimaced in pain before searching through his pants pocket and grabbing a vulnerary, downing about one-third of it in a single hearty chug. Caspar put an arm around Linhardt’s shoulders to steady him, eyes darting around to try to perceive further danger.

This had been another unexpected change; up until they had reunited all again, Linhardt would never have offered to step onto a battlefield, mainly doing so only because none of the other healers were available or because he had been convinced to come along. In fact, for the first several weeks after their collective reunion, Linhardt had secluded himself in the infirmary alongside Manuela, Mercedes, and Marianne, tending to the various patients and treating their wounds, but now, Linhardt was bound and determined to tag along whenever Caspar was deployed, and the Professor seemed to be on board. At first, Caspar had assumed Linhardt would be taking an adjutant role, but the Professor had deemed his Physic and Warp spells to be too useful to squander, hence why he’d been given his own battalion and told to stick close to Caspar. At least that made it easier to protect him… for the most part. “I know I can’t convince you to go back now,” Caspar sighed, as though he were talking to himself as much as Linhardt, “so hang in there. I’ll get you through this, Lin. Don’t you worry.”

A faint chuckle came in response. “I trust you, Caspar,” Linhardt replied, steadfastly not looking at Caspar’s gore-spattered skin, and with a deep breath, the Faith-user gathered his courage and pulled away. “Let’s go. The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

~~~~~

Under the Professor’s guidance, they soon managed to mop up the last of the bandits, the sun already starting to set as they began to sluggishly wind their way back to Garreg Mach. As if to make up for the day’s heat, however, the evening brought with it a cool and refreshing breeze, and Caspar stretched his hands up gratefully, relishing in the relieving feeling. “Ahhh, that feels nice.”

“I’m sure it does,” drawled a familiar voice, and Caspar looked up just in time for a wet towel to connect with his face, Linhardt’s amused chuckles filling his ears and making his heart race.

“Geez, Lin,” Caspar pouted, blushing in what could only be embarrassment as he took the towel in hand and thoroughly wiped his face and neck. “You didn’t have to ambush me, you know. You could have handed it to me like a normal person.”

“And risk getting some unknown brigand’s blood all over my hands after I spent so much effort cleaning up after tending to our own men? No, thank you.”

Caspar was about to retort, but despite the sarcastic monotone of Linhardt’s voice, he could see the healer’s hands trembling, and it wasn’t just from washing them. A familiar pain pricked at his heart at the sight, but all that came out was “Yeah, that’s fair. C’mon and walk with me.”

Linhardt accepted the invitation without complaint, falling into step beside him and walking as closely as he dared without being overwhelmed by the stench of battle still hanging around Caspar. They walked in silence, each immersed in their own thoughts, and Caspar’s gaze slowly roved over to Linhardt. They may have been here together in body, but from the look in Linhardt’s eyes, his mind was miles away, mulling something over. The more Caspar stared, the more he wanted to know just what the other was thinking about. Was it the war? Home? Him? Probably not that last one, but… He had just opened his mouth to ask when he blinked in confusion, leaning back to get a closer look at Linhardt’s hair. “Oh. You… took your hair band out.”

Linhardt suddenly shook his head, blinking rapidly as his mind pulled itself back to the present moment, and turned to face Caspar, bewildered. “What was that?”

“You’re not wearing your hair band. That’s all.”

Furrowing his brow, Linhardt brought a hand up to the back of his head. “What do you--” Suddenly, the confusion on the Faith-wielder’s face was replaced with fear, and he stopped in his tracks, Caspar having to pull him to the side so that they didn’t impede traffic. Linhardt brought up his other hand as well, patting at where his bun normally sat only to find that his hair was down and the hair band was conspicuously absent. “No. No no no no no. Where? Where would it be?”

He sounded so lost and confused that Caspar placed a hand on Linhardt’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him, hoping to keep his best friend focused enough that they could figure this out. “Lin. Did you have it with you when we finished the battle?”

“I… I’m not sure. I wasn’t thinking about it,” Linhardt answered in a weak voice. “I must find it. I don’t feel right without it.”

With a sigh, Caspar looked toward the setting sun. It was more than halfway down by now, and the light would fade fast. They really needed a plan.

“What’s going on?” interjected a smooth voice, and as if summoned, the Professor came trotting over on horseback, glancing rapidly between the two of them.

“Linhardt lost his hair band and I need to find it,” Caspar blurted out before Linhardt could speak, and the Professor’s eyes honed in on the healer, noting his paler-than-usual complexion, unfocused eyes, and worried expression.

“...Alright. Caspar, take this horse; I know you know how to ride at least a little bit. Find the hair band and catch up with us; we will make camp further up the road. Hurry back.” Without fanfare, they dismounted the horse like a professional and handed the reins to Caspar, who accepted them gratefully. The Professor placed an arm around Linhardt’s shoulders as Caspar mounted the horse and gave a loud “Hyahh!” as he rode off back in the direction of the forest.

Linhardt turned back to watch him go, anxiousness buzzing throughout his body as Caspar rode away. “Come back soon,” he murmured, his unbound hair blowing freely in the breeze as the Professor urged him along.

~~~~~

Caspar rode for about 30 minutes before he found the battlefield. He dismounted the horse and tied its reins to a nearby branch, then began his search by looking carefully at his surroundings as he tried to deduce where he and Linhardt had been fighting. There--the body of a bandit he’d defeated earlier was still sitting against the base of a tree. Now he was getting somewhere! He continued his search, trying to stick close to that general area, and just as the first stars of the evening were beginning to twinkle in the heavens overhead, Caspar spotted a flash of white among the corpses. Speared on the end of a bloodied arrow was a familiar white ribbon, one he’d recognize anywhere. With a wide grin, he picked it up and examined it. Luckily, it was still in one piece, meaning that Linhardt could still wear it, and while it had gotten a little blood on it, likely from when that arrow had nicked Lin’s temple, it wouldn’t be too hard to wash out. Clutching it tightly in his left hand, Caspar started to meander past the corpses back to his horse, and had just set eyes on the shaggy mare when his instinct demanded that he move. He jumped backwards with not a moment to spare as an arrow buried itself right where he’d been standing, and his eyes darted among the trees, trying to locate his attacker. “Get out here!” he called, his voice echoing throughout the area, but predictably, there was no response.

Unfortunately, Caspar knew full well that he had a clear disadvantage in this position; from where he was on the ground, his assailant was hiding in the treetop, and he couldn’t see nearly as well as a keen-eyed archer at night. Just as he was considering what to do, ominous laughter echoed from the brush nearby as two burly brutes with axes on their backs walked out, their garb indicating that they were from the same bandit gang as the ones Caspar had fought earlier today. “Well, well!” one of them chortled, sizing Caspar up. “Looks like we got a straggler here, and he’s all by himself. I think it's time to get revenge for all our dead boys!”

“You said it!” the other one chimed in, taking his axe in hand. “Let’s get ‘im!” With a roar, they charged at Caspar, who dodged out of the way of the first attack but got clipped with an axe on the second. He grunted in pain, but forced his muscles to move, badly injuring one of the broad bandits with twin gauntlet strikes. He barely dodged another arrow that came flying his way, but received a gash across his arm for his effort as the brutes continued their attack. The less injured one came barreling toward him, but Caspar saw in that moment his weak point, a sliver of exposed flesh under his ribs. With a shout of “I’ll have your head!”, he aimed his Whirlwind Blade attack carefully, his claws piercing the man’s heart as the bandit slumped to the ground, dead.

“YOU BASTARD!” screamed the other, and he charged in, dealing Caspar a heavy blow to the chest.

“GAH!” Caspar cried out, spitting blood, and after setting his jaw, he reared back and delivered a decisive strike through the man’s throat, a final cry serving as his last utterance. Caspar pulled his gauntlet back, grabbing a hand axe from one of the bandit’s belts with his free hand. However, just as he turned away, another arrow flew, landing true and piercing his shoulder. Caspar bellowed in pain, throwing the axe on reflex, and perhaps he still had some luck left because there was an answering “ARGH!” and the sound of a body hitting the ground.

Caspar brought a hand up, clutching his head. His vision was swimming, and his head felt like it would split apart. Oh no. He had almost certainly been poisoned, and between that, his injured arm, and his fatigue, he really needed to find the camp fast. He stumbled over to the horse, unfastening its reins from the tree, and hopped on, trying to direct it back to the campsite. With every ounce of resolve that remained in his body, he forced himself to stay awake, stay alert, stay focused, even though his body felt like it was burning, his muscles aching and breaking from the strain. Each time he felt like he was about to lose consciousness, his eyes slipped to the ribbon resting in his hand, and he would take a deep breath and close his eyes, willing his body to resist the poison and his mind to stay awake for just a bit longer.

Finally, as his eyes drank in the welcoming glow of the camp’s torches, his vision became blurry and he could make out shouting as hands grabbed at him and the horse. Looking around, his eyes locked onto a familiar mass of green, and he reached out for it with a shaking hand, still clutching the ribbon tight. A pale, familiar hand reached out to him in return, and with the last of his willpower, he urgently pressed the hair tie into Linhardt’s palm. “Lin...hardt…” he managed to murmur, only vaguely registering the panicked shouts of his name and the feeling of cold fingers grasping at his cheeks, and then his world went black and he knew no more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Garreg Mach infirmary had, thankfully, not changed much in the years that everyone had been away. Some of the supplies had been switched (or snitched) over time, but thanks to the influx of merchants who had managed to return to Garreg Mach, as well as a steady stream of uncommon components supplied by Anna and her associates, the infirmary was fairly well-stocked with all of the herbs and medicines one would need to treat just about any injury. Linhardt was more than grateful for that fact, as the combination of wounds, poison, and exhaustion that Caspar was suffering from made his healing process rather difficult. The antitoxin had purged the poison from his body and would stave off any lingering infection, but he still needed regular application of healing spells in order to boost his body’s vitality and return him to a healthy state more quickly.

Linhardt closed his eyes and lifted his hands up, palms facing Caspar, and in his mind’s eye, envisioned Caspar exactly as he remembered: healthy, whole, with a great big smile on his face that could lift the heart and bolster the spirit. He could feel the warmth of his magic as it coalesced at his fingertips, the smell of fish oil and forget-me-nots hitting his nose for merely a moment as the Crest of Cethleann activated, and a wave of healing magic flooded Caspar’s form before the luminescent sparks of magic faded and the magic circle that surrounded his hands disappeared as well. Linhardt let his palms fall to his knees and took a deep breath. Caspar’s complexion, which had been worryingly pale, was returning to its normal color, and although he was still asleep, it was likely that he would come around sooner rather than later. The healer’s gaze slid to the bandaged laceration on Caspar’s arm, and, taking another deep breath, Linhardt slowly undid the wrapping. Fortunately, the wound had stopped bleeding by this point, so he simply applied a poultice and redressed the injury. Caspar had already been unconscious for a day and a half, and Linhardt had felt like his body was moving itself, an automaton of a nurse, performing his tasks with unthinking precision as he cared for Caspar’s wounds. Once he had finished, Linhardt seated himself on the mattress, facing the door, waiting.

Ever since Caspar had been admitted to the infirmary, Linhardt had refused to leave his best friend’s bedside for any meaningful length of time other than for the Professor to insist that he at least take a shower. They didn’t bother asking him to try to sleep, and Linhardt was grateful for it; Manuela, Marianne, and Mercedes had only come by to bring him food and give him some small gestures of comfort before they left to tend to patients in other rooms.

Almost hesitantly, Linhardt placed his right palm over Caspar’s right hand as he slipped his left into his pocket, taking out his own manhandled hair band and clutching it tightly. As he stared at it, a fresh feeling of guilt washed over him. If only he had been more attentive, more careful! If only he had noticed that it was missing sooner! If only… Linhardt swallowed the lump in his throat. What’s done was done, and thinking about it any more would serve no helpful purpose. Still, for Caspar to do such a thing was so reckless and yet so very true to his character that Linhardt couldn’t help but feel an odd warmth in his chest that contrasted the chills that ran down his spine at the thought of Caspar’s many wounds. “Oh, Caspar…” he murmured, giving Caspar’s limp hand a slight squeeze. It hurt his heart to see the usually boisterous brawler so unnaturally still. “Don’t you know how much you mean to me?”

Tears started to drip onto the bedsheets, and Linhardt ignored them, unable to contain the flood of words that threatened to burst forth. “We have an unbreakable bond, remember? You promised that we would survive together, and you never go back on your promises. You can’t even lie all that well. So please, come back…please forgive me...” He trailed off, syllables devolving into sobs as his hand moved from resting atop Caspar’s own to holding it properly, giving it another, tighter squeeze as tears continued to fall.

Suddenly, he felt Caspar’s fingers flutter in his palm and heard groans leaving Caspar’s lips, and as Linhardt lifted his head to see what was wrong, Caspar’s eyes slowly cracked open, blearily surveying his surroundings. He blinked several times, gradually coming back into consciousness, and as his eyes locked on to Linhardt, his lips curled up into a wide smile. “Heya, Linny,” he rasped, and Linhardt’s eyes immediately darted to the glass of water sitting by his bedside. The healer let go of Caspar’s hand and surged forward, picking up the glass and holding it firmly to Caspar’s lips.

“Drink,” he commanded, and Caspar obeyed, practically gulping the water down until the glass was empty. Linhardt placed it back on the bedside table, staring at Caspar with a worried expression. “Caspar. How do you feel?”

The fighter moved like he was about to sit up, then winced and laid back down against the pillows. “Ow ow ow! Still pretty achey, I guess,” he replied with a laugh, and despite his words, a weight in Linhardt’s stomach lightened at the sound. “But Lin, what about you? Were you… crying for me?”

Linhardt huffed, a small smile appearing on his face as his tears began to dry. “Of course I was. You’re my most important person, Caspar; I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

Caspar was silent for a moment, Linhardt’s sincerity obviously having struck a chord with him, and as sky-blue eyes met his sea-blue gaze, Linhardt could see the gears turning in Caspar’s head as he took a long, deep breath, looking like he suddenly, desperately wanted to say something, if only he had the words. “Lin, I…” It was at that moment that his gaze slid to Linhardt’s left fist, still holding the hair band, and his expression turned to one of surprise, and then of glee, looking back up at Linhardt and fixing his nurse with a gleaming grin. “Hey, there it is! I found it, just like I said I would!”

Linhardt took a deep breath as he quickly glanced at the hair band, trying his very best not to fixate too much on the blood spatter as another wave of emotion welled up within his heart. As he looked back over at his… well, his everything, his free hand moved to gently cover Caspar’s once more, and he began to speak, voice quivering. “Thank you, Caspar. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry that I didn’t notice sooner. If it weren’t for my negligence, then--”

“Linhardt. It’s ok,” Caspar interrupted, his expression weary but still so full of spirit. “I don’t blame you. These things happen, and I know how much that ribbon means to you considering you’ve worn it every day ever since I gave it to you.” He let out a laugh, trailing off as the motion agitated his injuries. “Ow.”


A sad-looking Linhardt holds his hair tie in his left hand and holds Caspar's hand with his right as Caspar stares at Linhardt, smiling gently

Linhardt went silent, eyes widening and his lips parting as Caspar’s words resounded in his ears. Before he could stop himself, slight snickers started to escape him before they escalated into full-blown laughter, and Caspar could only stare at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Uh, Linhardt? Hey! What’s so funny!?”

“Oh… I’m sorry…” Linhardt wheezed, giving a little cough as he got his giggles under control. “It’s not you. It’s just that all this time, I’ve been waiting for you to confess that you were the one to give me this hair band, and now of all times, it had to be when our positions were reversed and you’re the one resting in the infirmary while I watch over you.”

“Wait, WHAT!?” Caspar groaned, bringing a hand up to his forehead in disbelief. “Man, if I had known that’s what you wanted, I would have said so ages ago! Geez. Well, even if you have been teasing me about that since forever, I’m glad I’m still the one who got to give it to you!”

Linhardt shook his head and looked straight ahead as he pulled his hand away from Caspar and began to tie his hair back, binding it into his usual bun. “It just wouldn’t be the same coming from anyone else.”

“...Yeah,” Caspar replied quietly, and as Linhardt looked back down at him again, he was struck by the sheer amount of emotion in Caspar’s eyes. The brawler reached for the healer’s hand once again, as if unwilling to let go, and truly, Linhardt was less than inclined to pull away. “Lin, I… I have something to say.”

Linhardt blinked. This was new; usually, Caspar was the type to blurt out his thoughts rather than wait for acknowledgment of his turn to speak. “Yes, Caspar?”

The bluenette swallowed and took a breath, not once breaking eye contact with Linhardt, and the Faith-user couldn’t help but give Caspar his full and complete attention, sensing the seriousness of what he wanted to say. “I don’t know much about love and stuff like that. I’m not that kind of guy. But what I do know is that I would do anything you asked. And when I saw how well you treated that ribbon I gave you all those years ago, it made me so happy knowing that even though we hadn’t seen each other for so long, you still cared about it. About me.”

Caspar took another deep breath and tried once again to sit up. Linhardt leaned forward as if to stop him, but Caspar set his jaw and didn’t make even a peep of pain as his gaze seemed to pierce through Linhardt’s eyes, down into his very soul. “Lin, I… once this war is over, would you like to leave our noble names behind and travel the world with me?”

Linhardt could only blink slowly, processing Caspar’s proposal, for there was no doubt in his mind that that’s what it was, an invitation to spend the rest of their days together, journeying across the continent and beyond, to see all that they could see. It was a tempting offer, and though it did sound like it would take no small amount of effort to pull off, if it was with Caspar, then it was well worth it. But first…

“While that offer does sound delightful, you'll have to ask me again when we’re closer to our goal. That said… Caspar, are you asking me to be yours? Not just as best friends as we have been, although we can be that too, but rather, do you wish to make me your partner in love?”

A crimson blush suddenly exploded across Caspar’s face, quickly spreading from the bridge of his nose all the way across his cheeks, and he stared at Linhardt bashfully, yet earnestly. “...Yeah, I guess I am. Like I said, I don’t know a lot about all this love stuff, but you make me happy, Lin; you’re willing to listen to me no matter what, and you always give the best advice to help me grow even stronger. Whenever I’m by the library or the docks, all I can think of is you, studying stuff like ‘degrees’ and ‘curves’ of crests, or trying to catch fish to feed to the cats. Linny, all my life I’ve just wanted to do what was right, and you’ve always helped me up when I was down. I want to make you happy too, now and for the rest of our lives.”

Linhardt could feel his heart melt at the confession, a deep and fulfilling warmth blazing through him, and as carefully as he could manage, he enveloped Caspar in a tight hug, holding him close. “Caspar, you do make me happy. More than anybody else. You listen to my rambling without a word of complaint, you try to make sure that I eat properly, and you come collect me from the infirmary when everything simply becomes too much. You are my rock, the person who makes me feel safe no matter what the world throws at us. When I saw you for the first time after all these years, all I could think of was how handsome you were, and my heart felt like it was about to beat out of my chest. Nobody else makes me feel the way you do.”

Caspar pulled his head away to meet Linhardt’s eyes once more. “Linhardt… I love you.”

“I’m quite certain that I love you too, Caspar.”

“Can I… kiss you?”

“Of course.”

Slowly, their lips met in a gentle kiss, and the two parted for only a moment before they dove right back in, as if trying to express all of their appreciation and devotion through this simple yet so very sacred act of love. After a while, they pulled apart, and Linhardt could see in Caspar’s face how only his sheer stubbornness was keeping the exhaustion at bay. He pushed against Caspar’s chest as gently as possible, laying him back down on the pillows, and Caspar gave him his best pout, which was quickly softened with another peck.

“Sleep well, Caspar. I too need to catch up on my rest, considering how many naps I’ve missed,” Linhardt smiled, and before he could turn away, Caspar grabbed his sleeve.

“Wait.”

“Hm?”

“Could you… maybe sleep here? Next to me?”

“...Well, I’ve never said no to a convenient sleeping spot.” Caspar scooted over as much as he could, and Linhardt set about making himself comfortable as he shucked off his shoes and unfastened his overcoat, draping it over the back of a nearby chair. He then crawled under the covers, rolling over onto his side so that he could face Caspar.

“You comfy?” the bluenette asked, and Linhardt gave a noncommittal grunt.

“It’s not the worst bed I’ve slept on.”

“Heh, fair enough.” Linhardt’s arm encircled Caspar’s waist as Caspar’s own arm draped over Linhardt’s shoulder, their eyelids fluttering as they succumbed to sleep. “Mmmm… night night, Linny. I love you.”

He received a squeeze and Linhardt’s quiet reply of “I love you too” in response, and the two of them drifted off into dreamland, enjoying the first truly peaceful sleep they’d had in some time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caspar breathed a sigh of relief as the hill he was looking for came into view, a satisfied smile stretching over his face as he recognized this particular landmark. “C’mon, Lin! We’re almost there!” he called, throwing a glance over his shoulder at Linhardt, his official best friend and the love of his life, who was lagging slightly as he tried his best to keep up with Caspar’s punishing pace.

“Haaaah… that’s easy for you to say, Caspar,” the green-haired healer panted, holding the straps of his pack with one hand as he used the sleeve of his other one to wipe the sweat from his brow. “You’ve always had the stamina for ‘adventures’ like this.”

“Look, I’ll carry your stuff when we go back, but this is important!”

“So I’ve heard. Give me… just a moment--ah!”

Linhardt yelped as he was suddenly picked up in a bridal carry, Caspar sweeping up both him and his burden in those strong arms as if he were weightless. The gesture was rather sweet, and the now ex-noble found himself blushing as Caspar bounded his way up to the top of the hill, closing the distance in what felt like mere moments. He set Linhardt down gingerly, then removed his own pack and placed it by a tree as Linhardt followed suit. Caspar had apparently passed this place when returning to Garreg Mach, and he had desperately wanted to show Linhardt ever since. He’d even marked it down on a map so that he’d remember, and the effort was well worth it.

“I can see why you wanted to come here, Caspar,” Linhardt murmured breathlessly; now that he could take the time to look around, the scenery was simply stunning. The early morning sky, slightly lightened by the rays of the not-yet-risen sun, seemed to stretch indefinitely across the mountaintops stretching out before them. High above, too many stars to count twinkled with unearthly light, the sight almost ethereal as a gentle breeze blew through their hair. At the bottom of the hill was a cliff that dropped off into a valley below, and in the far, far distance, a thin column of smoke snaked into the sky, indicating that somewhere beyond the mountains, a town was just waking from its slumber, beginning the bustle and business of the day. The entire tableau was so vibrant and beautiful that Linhardt could have believed it to be a startlingly realistic rendition of one of Ignatz’s paintings.

“Isn’t it great?” Caspar answered appreciatively, eyes wide as he stared out at the horizon. Suddenly, he gave a gasp of excitement, and quickly tapped Linhardt’s shoulder, pointing straight out in front of them. “Quick, Lin! Look!”

Linhardt turned his gaze toward the horizon line, and his eyes widened as the sun slowly began to rise, bathing the mountains in a glorious golden light. The deep blacks and blues of the night sky gave way to a tone more akin to Caspar’s, and the stars flickered once more in farewell as they took their leave for the time being. Linhardt was struck speechless at the sight; now that the sun had risen on the first day of their journey, the first day of the rest of their lives, he found that he had not the words to express the emotions in his heart. A gloved hand slipped into his own, and Linhardt gave Caspar’s hand a gentle squeeze, knowing that he would carve this moment into his memory forever.

After a few moments, Caspar turned to Linhardt and took his other hand, pulling him slightly so that they now faced each other, and Caspar beamed, giving a wide, bright smile reminiscent of the same sun they’d just been watching. “This is it, Linny. You and me, traveling the world.”

“Hm. Seems almost like a dream, doesn’t it? And yet, here we are. The war has been won, you and I are no longer bound by the shackles and chains of titles and propriety, and we’ve both upheld our ends of the promise. Wherever you go, Caspar, I will too, and that includes the very ends of the Earth you seem to be set on seeing.”

“Well, I dunno about ‘the ends of the Earth,’ but I wanna see Almyra, for sure!”

“Almyra, hmmm? That sounds like as good a place as any to start.”

They fell silent once more, lost in their own thoughts, before an idea suddenly dawned on Linhardt and he reached for his bun, undoing it and pulling out the ribbon.

“Uh, Linny?” Caspar asked, staring at his partner with visible confusion. “What are you doing?”

“I just had an idea,” Linhardt replied, holding his ribbon between them “Have you heard of the traditional ceremony of handfasting?”

“Nope! What’s that?”

“Well, according to Flayn, it’s an old ritual that essentially indicated a betrothal or an unofficial wedding. It’s a way of binding two people together, such that they would never part. Now that we’re about to embark on this journey together, and hopefully stay by each other’s side for the rest of our lives, I felt that it might be appropriate to perform such a rite, both to commemorate our new beginning and because, well, our fates seem to have been tied together long before this.”

Caspar had been listening attentively throughout the entire explanation, and once Linhardt had finished, enthusiastically nodded his agreement. “Yeah! That sounds great, Lin! I already knew I loved you more than anyone else and never wanted to leave you, so something like this is perfect.”

Linhardt could feel his cheeks redden at Caspar’s genuine yet so very carefree declaration of love, and the small flicker of nervousness he’d felt snuffed itself out, leaving him with only a warm feeling of satisfaction and adoration for the man before him. “Very well. Take off your glove then,” he murmured, lightly tapping Caspar’s right forearm, and the warrior did so, setting the armor aside to reveal his bare hand. Giving a little cough to clear his throat, Linhardt took Caspar’s right hand in his left and began to recite the words to the rite, lightly winding his ribbon around their joined hands.

“Oh, Goddess who dwells on high, before your gaze this day, I, Linhardt, hereby bind myself to this man, Caspar, that we may be acknowledged by all as partners and equals on the road of life, and… oh, this is all so stuffy.” With a huff, Linhardt locked eyes with Caspar, neither looking away as Linhardt started to speak once again. “Caspar, I wish to remain by your side for the rest of our days, seeing the world with you, finding a home with you, sharing my dreams with you, and growing old with you. I want you to be mine, and I want to be yours. It will take some time, but once we are ready to settle down, we can retire to the countryside. A place where the air is fresh, the lakes are full of fish, the sun is warm, and where we may nap deeply. When that day comes, to have you there lying by my side... Paradise. And we will have made it so.”

Caspar’s eyes were wide and his lips quivered like he could barely hold himself back, but with a herculean display of restraint, he took a deep breath and began to speak. “I don't... I don't really know what to say. I guess I never thought about stuff like this during the war. I mean, I never really had a reason to. Ugh, now I'm babbling. I just… I always secretly hoped I could spend my life with you, and now… I'm just...so happy. And I can't stop grinning. I bet I look like a real fool right now!” Linhardt was about to say something reassuring but Caspar pressed on, giving Linhardt the biggest grin he’d ever seen. “I love you, Linhardt! And listen, I know I can be reckless, stubborn, and generally difficult to be around at times... But you’ve always accepted me, even with all of my flaws. Knowing that, I made a promise to myself. I promised that I'd always protect you. And, well, sometimes you might have to protect me from myself, but I intend to keep my promise.”

Linhardt could see the moisture beginning to gather in Caspar’s eyes, and knew that he himself was a compliment away from crying as well, the love and joy in each and every word they exchanged making this moment even more important to them both. “Very well. Just use your free hand to help me tie this knot--there you go--and… done.”

Caspar stared wide-eyed at their bound hands, and then up at Linhardt, like he couldn’t quite believe this was real. However, the blush blooming across his face certainly was, and he gave a nervous chuckle. “So uh… now that we’ve done all this, Lin… can I kiss you?”

Linhardt laughed, endeared. “Oh, Caspar, you don’t even need to ask,” he answered, and pressed his lips to his fiance’s in a sweet kiss. They lingered for a heartbeat, then two, before pulling away, wide smiles on their faces and warmth in their gazes.

“Phew! OK! I gotta let all these emotions out…” Caspar grinned, and Linhardt chuckled once more as his beloved looked out once again over the landscape before them. “One, two, and...three! I LOVE YOU FOREVER!” he shouted, and the mountains echoed his pledge, such that Linhardt was sure people could hear it from as far away as the Leicester Alliance.

“That’s that, then,” Linhardt smiled, undoing the knot and freeing their hands so that he could tie his hair back up as Caspar once again equipped his armored glove. “You and I may have had an inescapable, unbreakable bond before, but now, it’s officially unofficial. Delightful, isn’t it?”

Caspar simply laughed in response, positively beaming. “If anything, that’s what really makes it sink in that we’re setting off together!”

“Indeed it does,” Linhardt smiled, and he walked over to their packs, slinging his up on his back. “Now that we’ve undergone a sacred pledge of unity, I’m ready to set off. How about you?”

Caspar couldn’t hold back a loud whoop of excitement, grabbing his own pack and hefting it onto his back. “I thought you’d never ask!”

Hand in hand, they descended the hillside, and as they began to walk away from Garreg Mach, smiling brightly and chattering excitedly about all that they planned to see and do, Linhardt’s ribbon blew gently in the breeze, proof of a love that would last a lifetime.

Caspar and Linhardt are smiling at each other as their hands are bound with Linhardt's ribbon

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes:

And that's the end! A big thank you to the mods and participants; this minibang was a ton of fun. And of course, another big thank you to my artists; you guys are amazing! However, the biggest thanks goes to my partner (who also happened to be my artist), MariettaRC <3 Couldn't have done it without you, babe! Be sure to take a look at the other great pieces being made for the minibang, and enjoy what all of the other talented artists and writers have to offer~

Take a look at the original piece at MariettaRC's twitter here!
Update: The final piece was commissioned from DrawingDDoom!! Their casphardt art is amazing; please check them out!

You can also check out my writing twitter here!