Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ashe’s focus had latched onto the chair even before the healer had brought it all the way in, his entire body stiff as the colour drained from his already pale face.

“Hey hey,” Sylvain said. “Just look at me, alright?”

Ashe tried to, Sylvain knew that he did, but it was less that he didn’t want to and more that he couldn’t. He was propped up on several pillows, chewing on his lip as his hands gripped onto the thin blanket on top of him, his gaze honed in on the wheelchair.

It was a simple design, more practical than anything else, being little more than a cushion on a wooden seat attached to large wheels with two handles poking up from the back so that someone could push it.

The cushion itself was styled blue and gold with nice embroidery, much too nice to be relegated to a wheelchair and it was probably the most expensive part of the chair but Sylvain knew that it was not the cushion that Ashe took issue with. It was much more likely the fact that he needed a wheelchair at all that was bothering him and Sylvain could not blame him for that.

It had been hard for Ashe these last few days recovering in the infirmary as every one else celebrated the end of the war, harder still when Mercedes had told him it was unlikely that he would ever walk again, and Sylvain could only imagine the emotions that were swirling around his head right now.

It was a miracle that Ashe was alive, a miracle that Sylvain will be thanking the Goddess for the rest of his days, but that did not change the fact that Ashe might have complicated emotions about his bodies new limitations.

“Ashe,” Sylvain said. “If you want to just stay in tonight, I’ll stay with you. There’s a thousand other feasts that will happen.”

“No.” Ashe whispered. He tried again, his voice stronger. “No, I want to go. I just… I’m sorry, this is so stupid.”

The boy at last looked away from the chair but his gaze just shifted to his hands instead, picking at the threads of the blanket if to keep them from shaking.

Sylvain nodded his thanks to the healer and she left them with the wheelchair, no doubt to return to her other patients. He then perched on the side of Ashe’s bed, reaching out to hold Ashe’s hand. Ashe startled, and Sylvain went to apologise but Ashe then leaned into the touch and linked their fingers together.

“You know you can tell me anything.” Sylvain said. “Or, if you want, we can just sit here until you’re ready. I do have some dazzling eyes you can stare into.”

Ashe’s lip twitched into an attempt at a smile but it dropped almost as quickly as it had appeared. Ashe seemed exhausted and Sylvain wanted nothing more than to take Ashe into his arms and let him sleep the night away but if Ashe wanted to go to the feast then Sylvain will help him get to that feast.

“I’ve had a chair like that before.”

Sylvain tried not to react but given the fact that Ashe’s hand stiffened in his own, he must have shown his shock anyway. Guilt tore at Sylvain, Ashe was being so vulnerable with him here Sylvain was, flinching at the idea that Ashe would have ever needed a wheelchair before now.

“I was weak when Lord Lonato brought me in.” Ashe explained. “The story he liked to tell was of a boisterous kid who had the guts to steal from Castle Gaspard without a single worry of punishment.”

Sylvain had heard the story.

Miklan had been a similar age to Christophe and the blood son of Lonato had often regaled the other nobles about how his adopted brother came into the family through sheer audacity and stupidity. Sylvain had listened to those stories with avid interest, though as soon as Christophe had left for the night Miklan would turn to him and demand to know when Sylvain would fuck off and join House Gaspard too.

Pushing aside the memory, Sylvain focused on the feeling of Ashe’s hand in his own.

“In truth,” Ashe said. “I was barely even aware of what I was doing. All I knew was my siblings were sick and starving and that I needed to get food for them.”

“Everything you’ve ever done is for them.” Sylvain said.

“Of course.” Ashe said. “Older Brothers always protect their little- Oh, Sylvain, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-“

“Don’t worry about it.” Sylvain said smoothly, ignoring the tightness in his chest. “Please, continue.”

“When Lord Lonato found me raiding his kitchen, he could have killed me. He had every right to and any other Lord would not have hesitated. But like I said, I was weak. I didn’t even realise he was there, everything around me was just one big blur. My legs were like jelly and my lungs ached. No matter how deep I breathed it wasn’t enough.”

“You were sick too.” Sylvain whispered.

Ashe swallowed the lump in his throat before nodding.

Sylvain had heard that story too, or at least a similar one.

It had been the worst epidemic in recent history, entire towns had been wiped out within days of the first case. Sylvain was just a boy, barely older than Ashe would have been, so he didn’t really understand what was happening apart from the fact that some of his Aunts and Uncles would not be coming around any more, nor would they ever come around again.

Sylvain had been upset more by the idea of not receiving as many gifts for holidays, unable to comprehend what death actually was. To think that Ashe had not only been aware of what was happening with the plague, his parents most likely dying from it and leaving him all alone to look after his younger siblings, even though he was just a boy himself but that he had been sick too…

“I didn’t even realise I was so sick until I woke up in the softest bed I’d ever felt.” Ashe continued. “Lord Lonato had said that I had already been there for days with fever. I was terrified, I had never left my siblings alone for so long and I was almost certain they would have died in that time.”

“Did you tell Lonato where they were?”

“No.” Ashe croaked. “I couldn’t… Even if they were still alive, I thought if I told a Noble where some sick street kids were they would have been forced into service to the House. You don’t know what they did to kids like us, Sylvain.”

He didn’t.

Sylvain could claim that he understood, he could claim that he knew how certain Lords and Lady’s had particular preferences to the children they would take into their ‘care’ but laughing comments and thinly veiled conversations were not the same as knowing each kid who had been taken from the streets, it was not the same as not knowing that if in confirming your siblings were alive and safe, you were going to damn them to a life of being little more than a toy to a rich Noble.

No, Sylvain did not understand, but he hated that Ashe did.

“I’m sorry.” Sylvain said.

“No, no, I’m not blaming you for any of that,” Ashe said quickly, blinking back tears. “You had nothing to do with it.”

“All the same,” Sylvain said. “I am a Margrave’s son. I am part of the very institution that took advantage of vulnerable people like that. It… It disgusts me, but I am part of it.”

Ashe readjusted, hissing as he pulled at his sore body. Sylvain did not remark on how his legs did not move beneath the blanket nor did Ashe.

“I did not tell Lord Lonato about my siblings. I didn’t really tell him anything, really, I was too busy trying to escape.”

“Escape, eh?” Sylvain forced a smile. “My little Ashe, coming up with escape plans at what, twelve years old?”

“Ten.”

“Right.” Sylvain said. He chewed on his lip, reality crashing back down on him. “Ten. So, tell me, how crazy was this ten year old Ashe?”

———————————————————————————————————————————

It became almost a game.

An annoying, infuriating, and sometimes unnerving game.

Ashe would climb out of bed, slip some small trinkets that would sell well on the streets into his satchel, and sneak out into the garden in the general direction of the city where the stupid Lord would be standing there waiting for him.

“A few more days.” Lord Bastard would say. “Rest just a few more days and then you may go.”

Ashe would snarl at him, he would throw the trinkets, fight against him, do anything he could to get off of the damned estate and back to his siblings but the Lord Bastard would simply hold him, pinning his arms to his sides and wait until Ashe’s energy drained or he fell into another coughing fit.

Ashe loathed this man, loathed how he would laugh at Ashe’s feeble attempts at escape, loathed how he would offer Ashe a thousand different plates to brag about how much food the Nobility had.

Most of all his loathed his own body. Even getting out of that bed felt like torture, his whole body shaking. Some days he could not so much as rise let alone run, his head spinning as the coughs racked through him.

“You’re safe now, Boy,” Lord Bastard would say sometimes as if was the truth. “Why would you ever want to leave?”

Ashe would dig his nails into his palms if only to keep them from shaking as he looked away from the damned Lord. He wasn’t safe here any more than he was safe on the streets, there were simply different dangers. While on the streets he might be jumped at any moment and he had the scars to prove it, there were more subtle dangers in Castle Gaspard.

Ashe knew full well why Lord Bastard kept him here, he had heard the stories of kids being taken off the streets to be pretty little dolls for their new Lords and that was only the lucky ones. While Lord Bastard had not touched him apart from the way he held him each time Ashe failed to escape, surely the old man was just waiting for Ashe to be well enough or attractive enough to do all those unspeakable things the others on the streets spoke of.

No. Ashe had to get out of here. He could not wait one minute longer for Lord Bastard to make up his mind about what to do with him.

Which was why Ashe now was hugged up against the stone wall that surrounded Castle Gaspard, his arms shaking as he hung four metres above the ground. He willed himself to move but his whole body was trembling, he hands threatening to lose grip at any moment. It had been sheer desperation that he had even made it up this high but as that adrenaline had faded he simply did not have the strength to go higher nor did he have the intention of going back down.

If he fell from this height, he might die, Ashe realised numbly.

Well, maybe he could just join his parents in death then because there was no way in hell he was going to stay here.

“Whoah, Kid!”

Ashe’s foot slipped at the voice, barely catching himself in time. It was that damned son of Lord Bastard, or, as Ashe liked to call him Lord Catastrophe. That is, instead of Lord Christophe, as the young man had introduced himself as, because Ashe liked to think that he was clever.

Ashe did not dare twist to see him, his arms shaking even harder.

“It’s okay, Kid,” Lord Catastrophe said. “I’m going to get a ladder, just hold tight, will you?”

Absolutely not. Ashe was getting out of here or he was falling, he was not going to be indebted to anyone let alone a stupid Lord’s son. His whole body was aching though and he felt the tightness in his chest that usually came just before a coughing fit. Ashe couldn’t start coughing right now, he was going to get out of here and he was going to get out of here right now.

Ashe held his breath, wincing as he reached up one arm to the next stone jutting out from the wall. 

Ashe fell.

“Oof!” A voice exclaimed.

Ashe just lay there for several moments, the ground feeling uneven on his back. No, not the ground. That was a body. A body that had broken his fall. A body that was currently groaning. 

Ashe scrambled up off the young man, new fear racing through him. While he had no care for Lord Catastrophe, and honestly it was his fault for trying to catch Ashe, he knew the cost of hurting a Noble.

Lord Catastrophe sat up with a hiss, rubbing at his left shoulder. Oh Goddess Ashe was going to die. Not by the fall but by Lord Catastrophe’s anger or Lord Bastard’s revenge and oh Goddess what had he been thinking.

“Are you okay?” Lord Catastrophe asked.

Ashe stared at him.

“Still not talking, then?” Lord Bitch gave him a weak smile. “Well, it’s not like you need to if you don’t want to. I’m just glad you look like you’re unhurt.”

Okay, maybe Lord Catastrophe had a concussion because he should be cursing Ashe out or throwing him in the gallows or Goddess knows what else not just sitting there being glad that Ashe was fine.

“You’re safe now,” Lord Catastrophe said, parroting his damned Father as if he hadn’t just given Ashe a heart attack . “If you wanted to leave the estate, you could have just asked me.”

Concussion.

Definitely concussion.

Ashe snarled at him, ignoring how the sound made his chest seize, and stormed away. He wanted to try climbing the wall again, he still needed to get away after all, but his arms felt like jelly and if Ashe was being honest he was absolutely exhausted.

Maybe there was a different way to get out of here, one that involved less death defying stunts.

“Kid,” Lord Catastrophe called out to him. “Kid, wait up.”

Ashe wasn’t a Kid. He hadn’t been a kid since the moment he closed his Papa’s eyes. He was as mature as Lord Catastrophe was, probably more so, he simply had a smaller body for all of that maturity. A body that absolutely was not shaking and about to collapse at any moment.

There was that vent in the kitchens that Ashe might be able to use again, the one that got all the way out to the castle walls. All he had to do was give Lord Catastrophe the slip and he would be free to get out of this damned place.

He could look for his siblings, make sure they were okay. And if they weren’t… No, Ashe couldn’t think about it. They were okay. They had to be. It was the only thing that kept Ashe going, the desperate need to see his brother and sister again. The desperate need to know that he had not left them to die.

“Kid, please, you’re still weak.”

Ashe did not remember falling.

He awoke on that stupid soft comfortable bed again and he wanted to scream. He had failed, again, and every moment he spent stuck here was a moment longer that his brother and sister were in danger.

With a jolt, Ashe realised that there was something on his face. He thew it off, his heart racing, the wet cloth landing an impressive distance away

“Boy,” Lord Bastard rumbled. “I would ask that you do not remove that, your fever has resurfaced.”

Ashe snarled at Lord Bastard sitting all high and mighty in that stupid chair beside the stupid bed, watching Ashe sleep with those creepy eyes.

Lord Bastard sighed, leaning back.

“You know,” He said. “Christophe was like you after his Mother died. He was angry. Or at least, that was what he thought he was. In truth he was just scared.”

Ashe wasn’t scared. If he had a dagger he would plunge it right through the Lords chest with no care about how he might be punished for it. He was sick of this unending nightmare, sick of his body hurting, sick of all of it.

“It is why I wish to help you. You’ve no doubt been through some terrible things, things I do not wish to imagine. But, Boy, I want you to know that you’re safe now.”

He wanted to scream. He wasn’t safe, the Lord was just trying to make him lower his guard. He knew the stories, knew the monsters that stood in plain sight.

“But,” Lord Bastard said. “It is clear that you are willing to get yourself hurt if it means that you can leave this safe place. If you do not wish to stay here, I will not hold you against your will. All I ask is that for now you let yourself recover, actually fully recover, from your illness before you go. I would not forgive myself if I let you go to the streets only to collapse like you did yesterday.”

Ashe poured himself over every word, looking for the lie that he knew was there. Lord Bastard would not simply let him leave, not after wasting so much resources on him already.

“Boy,” Lord Bastard said. “Please. A few more days of bed rest. No more climbing walls, no more sneaking through the kitchen. A few more days of genuine rest and you can go, I promise you that.”

It was a lie. It had to be.

Ashe knew the stories of what happened when a street kid was no longer interesting to the Lord or Lady who had taken from the streets. They weren’t simply set free, they were either passed to someone new or simply dumped in the sewers. No, it was a lie.

———————————————————————————————————————————

“If he offered you a free pass to leave,” Sylvain said. “Why did you stay?”

Ashe was sitting upright now, his legs dangling from the side of the bed. Sylvain had an arm wrapped around Ashe’s back, keeping him from tilting forward. They had stayed like that for a little while now, Ashe’s legs spasming strangely despite the fact that he did not feel them, giving Ashe time to adjust to the new position.

“I didn’t want to at first.” Ashe admitted. “I still couldn’t convince myself that there wasn’t some kind of sick catch to them taking me in like that. Even if Lord Lonato had claimed that the only reason was because I reminded him of Christophe, I thought that I wasn’t safe there.”

“It must have been terrifying.” Sylvain said. “Waiting for something to go wrong if you didn’t know they actually were good people.”

“Hindsight is twenty twenty, I suppose.” Ashe mused. “Can you bring the chair a little closer please?”

Ashe planted his hands to the bed, balancing himself as Sylvain hesitantly pulled away from him.

Eyes still focused on Ashe as if he might need help at any moment, Sylvain retrieved the wooden wheelchair and took it next to the bed itself. Sylvain had initially planned to just lift up Ashe and take him to the chair directly but it was obvious that Ashe wanted to do this by himself and if Mercedes was right about Ashe’s injuries he might have to be doing this by himself for the rest of his life.

The realisation lay heavy on Sylvain’s heart. This was real. Ashe was really unable to move his legs, his spine severed in that last fateful fight. Sylvain did not think that the guilt will ever pass, he will always wonder what might have happened if only Sylvain had been a little faster, if only Sylvain had been able to get to him that little bit earlier.

“How long did you stay on bedrest?” Sylvain asked.

Ashe grinned, those beautiful green eyes shining brightly.

“Guess.” Ashe dared.

“Two days.”

“Christophe wishes it was two.” Ashe said with a laugh. “He found me on that wall again like six hours later. When I fell that time, well, I wouldn’t say it was particularly fun.”

“Is that why you… Uh,” Sylvain swallowed roughly. “Needed a chair?”

“Goddess no,” Ashe said. “Don’t you think I would have mentioned breaking my back before when Mercedes told me that I’m paralysed?”

Sylvain did not like how flippant Ashe was being. Ashe seemed to realise it just as soon as he said it and his smile dropped, his hand rushing to Sylvain’s.

“Sylvain,” He said. “I’m sorry.”

“Why should you apologise?” Sylvain cleared his throat. “You have every right to be so… Casual, about things. It’s your body after all.”

“Even so,” Ashe said. “I know that it must be hard for you, seeing me like this.”

Classic Ashe, paralysed from the waist down and still checking to see if everyone else was okay.

“My love,” Sylvain said. “I am just glad to have you at all.”

“Smooth, Gautier,” A voice said.

Ashe whipped around, Sylvain barely catching him as his balance was thrown off completely.

Felix was leaning on the doorframe, his arms crossed tightly though Sylvain had seen how he had jolted forward to help.

“Felix,” Sylvain greeted. “I thought you would be at the feast by now.”

“It was too loud.” Felix said dryly. “I thought I might see what you guys were doing instead. Nice chair, Ashe.”

Sylvain’s heart dropped, expecting Ashe to burst into tears once more, but he didn’t. Ashe just smiled and did that little head tilt he liked to do, the one that always drove Sylvain insane.

“Thank you,” Ashe said. “Though I must ask, is the cushion from Dimitri’s throne?”

“I know nothing about it.” Felix said hotly. Then his lips twitched into a smile. “But… Maybe.”

Carefully Sylvain repositioned Ashe again, waiting for Ashe to be able to sit up unassisted once more, his hands firmly on the bed and supporting his entire weight, before he moved away. Core strength would come in time, Mercedes had assured them, though Sylvain would have preferred to not need to rebuild any strength at all.

“Ashe here,” Sylvain said. “Was just telling me how much a pain he was for Christophe. I had no idea that Ashe could be annoying.”

“Oh, please.” Felix droned. “Glenn always liked talking about the little silver hair demon brother of Christophe, surely you know everything there is to know Sylvain like I do.”

“Did everyone’s brothers talk about me?” Ashe asked though he did not seem particularly annoyed.

“Has he told you about the wall climbing?” Felix asked. “You, Ashe, nearly gave poor Christophe a bloody heart attack.”

“In my defence,” Ashe said. “It looked like a very climbable wall.”

Sylvain found that he was glad Ashe was smiling again, even if there were shudders that were running through his body. Felix always had that effect on Ashe, Ashe no doubt appreciating just how outright and honesty Felix was.
With Sylvain hovering right next to him, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest, Ashe lifted himself up off the bed with only his arms. He twisted towards the chair but overbalanced with a gasp and Sylvain was right there to catch him, keeping him safe on the bed.

“Sorry…” Ashe mumbled, new tremors running through him.

“Keep talking,” Sylvain said. “I want to hear what happens next.”

———————————————————————————————————————————

Lord Catastrophe was trying to kill him and Ashe was certain of it. Why else would a Lord’s son be holding out a spoon to him with Goddess knows what kind of liquid that was.

“Come on Kid,” Lord Catastrophe said. “Just try some.”

Like some kind of crazy guy, Lord Catastrophe sipped on whatever poison he was trying to feed him, complete with a lip smack.

“See? Delicious!”

Ashe needed to get out of here if it damn well killed him because he couldn’t watch this guy keep making a fool of himself like this.

Lord Catastrophe must be able to read minds because he put the spoon back into the bowl with a sigh, setting both aside on the bedside table.

“Kid,” He said. “If you want to be able to leave, you have to build up your strength. You’re like a twig, it’s no wonder you keep falling off that wall.”

Ashe bristled. He wasn’t a twig. Sure, he had lost a lot of weight while he was sick and sure he had never had enough weight to lose in the first place but it wasn’t his fault that there wasn’t five course dinners on the streets.

“Okay,” Lord Catastrophe said decidedly. “If you have some soup I’ll bring you out into town. How does that sound?”

As if it would be that easy.

Even if it wasn’t poison, there had to be a reason why Lord Catastrophe would be so fixated on making him have it. There was always a reason for everything, nothing is free. Nothing is kind. Ashe had learned that the hard way already, he did not need to learn it again. Besides, even if Lord Catastrophe was being honest about taking him into town, the Lord’s son could not risk Ashe running away the moment they were passed those damned walls.

No. There had to be a catch.

“Then again,” Lord Catastrophe said, almost to himself. “Father did say that you must be on bed rest. Though, it’s not like you’ve followed that role anyway given where I found you this morning. Oh I know!”

With a single movement the bastard was up and out of the room, leaving Ashe alone. This was the perfect opportunity to escape. All Ashe had to do was stand up and run in the opposite direction of wherever Catastrophe had gone and he would be home free.

Except his body was so sore and his stomach was rumbling and that poison soup smelled pretty good.

Ashe looked longingly towards the door. It seemed so close yet he knew from experience just how far it really was and the stone walls were so much further and he was already so tired, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad as to wait a little bit longer for Lord Catastrophe to return with whatever crazy plan he had.

No. Lord Catastrophe was not to be trusted. He may not have attacked Ashe outright or paraded him around to all his Noble friends but that did not mean that Ashe could trust him. There was a catch to all this, there was always a catch.

That soup smelled so good though.

Just a little taste, that was all he needed. A taste shouldn’t poison him too badly and besides, Ashe had eaten much worse things in the gutters before.

Ashe leaned over, his lungs protesting with a barely restrained cough. He ignored how his hands shook as he picked up the spoon, too busy watching the door as if Lord Catastrophe was right there watching him.

Oh Goddess it was amazing!

If poison tasted this good then he didn’t know what could be so bad about it. Another spoonful would not harm him, nor would a bit of the bread that the one the guy had left on the bedside table hurt him.

The bread was even better with not a single sign of mould like he had grown used to. Ashe had eaten in Castle Gaspard, it was the only reason why he had any strength to move at all, but that had always been forced morsels that Ashe had felt ill taking, flinging the plate away from him the moment he could like some cranky toddler.

But this… This wasn’t just delicious, it had not been forced upon him and that just made it all the more amazing.

Ashe was so caught in his own elation that he did not realise he was scoffing down the food before his stomach suddenly flipped within him.

“Whoah, Kid!” Lord Catastrophe was suddenly by his side, touching his back.
The touch felt like fire and Ashe wanted to scream, another gag rocking through him.

“It’s okay,” Catastrophe hummed. “You’re okay, you’re safe now, you’re okay.”

Ashe only felt worse as the food he had enjoyed so much burned his throat, distantly realising that he was covered in his own sick.

After his body at last realised there was nothing more to throw up, Ashe lent forward, utterly exhausted.

“Here, Kid, let’s get you cleaned up.”

A stupid part of him wondered if he should apologise. Why should Ashe apologise when it had been Catastrophe that had left an entire bowl of poison here. No, it hadn’t been poisoned. It was just normal food, normal food that Ashe had eaten too quickly.

But that didn’t make any sense. Why would Lord Catastrophe give him genuine food with no expectation of payment for it?
Why did Lord Catastrophe so gently put a cloth into Ashe’s hand, letting Ashe be the one to wipe his own face as if Catastrophe knew how horrified Ashe would be if he touched him like that?

Catastrophe couldn’t possibly be doing this simply to be kind, there was no kindness in this world and Ashe knew that first hand.

Yet… Catastrophe brought new clothes for Ashe right to him, turning around as Ashe struggled to get changed.

“Let me know if you want my help.” Lord Catastrophe said, back still turned.

Ashe did not want his help. But… Ashe’s arms felt like jelly and his head was spinning and he was just so damned tired. He had not spoken to Catastrophe, not less you included snarls and spits and he wasn’t going to start now even if it would have been so much easier if the young man put it on for him.

No. Ashe did not want or need his help.

Ashe sat silently on a chair, glaring the whole time that Lord Catastrophe changed the bedsheets, absolutely not close to falling asleep what so ever. He could not sleep with the bastard so close. In fact, he was not going to go to sleep at all, he was going to run away again the moment Catastrophe left.

“Apologies, Kid,” Catastrophe suddenly said. “I’m not very good at these things but I know you wouldn’t want the maids in here.”

Catastrophe was speaking honestly this time at least because the sheets looked a second away from flinging itself off the bed and the blanket was too heaped in some places and too scarce in others. Ashe stared at it as Catastrophe stepped fully back.

It wasn’t like Ashe had been used to beds in the last few months on the streets but he sure as hell knew that a bed should not look like that.

“Yeah,” Catastrophe breathed. “Yikes.”

Ashe twisted around to stare instead at the Lord’s Son. The guy had used mostly informal language until now, at least more informal than Ashe had expected of a Noble, but yikes? That was certainly a new one.

Most confusingly of all, Lord Catastrophe’s lip was twitching as if he was trying not to laugh. Nope, he was not laughing and Ashe was certainly not going to laugh because it really wasn’t all that funny and he should probably be thinking about escaping already and Lord Catastrophe was definitely laughing now.

“I mean,” Catastrophe wiped under his eye as if there were a stray tear. “I thought it couldn’t possibly be that hard but… Look at it! Goddess, it’s shit.”

Ashe was not laughing but he could not deny that he was not glaring either. He was simply too tired to glare, that was all it was, not because he was starting to grow fond of the Lord’s Son. Not at all.

When Catastrophe at last sobered, and fixed up the bed as best he could, he offered to carry Ashe to it.

Absolutely not. Ashe may be becoming too relaxed around this guy but he was not going to allow himself to be carried like some kind of baby. Ashe’s legs shook strongly every step of the way and by the time he reached the bed he wasn’t really sure if he was even fully awake any more. 

Lord Catastrophe dared to pull the blankets up over Ashe and Ashe would have snarled at him if he wasn’t already closing his eyes.

———————————————————————————————————————————

When Sylvain was at last confident that the new shudders had passed, he slowly wrapped his arms around Ashe, careful not to jar his sore body. Ashe relaxed into his hold easily enough, hooking an arm around Sylvain’s neck before Sylvain stood up.

Ashe had always felt right in Sylvain’s arms but to know that the last time Sylvain had held him like this he had been bleeding and most likely dying made the weight feel a little strange. Ashe was alive, he was okay, he had even been the one to ask Sylvain to carry him to the chair this time and yet Sylvain found himself never wanting to let Ashe go again.

“Careful Sylvain,” Felix grumbled from the door frame.

“You could help, you know.” Sylvain shot back.

Easing Ashe onto the chair, Sylvain kept a hand on Ashe’s shoulder. Ashe was wincing and for a moment Sylvain feared that he had done something to hurt Ashe even more than he was already hurt. Mercedes’ healing had stabilised Ashe’s back much more than it would be so soon after such a significant injury but he was still weak and Sylvain should have just made him stay in bed after all.

Then Ashe looked up and he smiled and Goddess what Sylvain wouldn’t do for that smile.

“Thanks.” Ashe said.

“Are you in pain?” Sylvain asked desperately. “I can get Mercedes, or Annette, they can-“

“Syl,” Ashe interrupted. “I’m okay. I’m just… A little sore.”

“Okay.” Sylvain said tightly. “But you tell me the moment something feels wrong.”

There was a spark in Ashe’s eye, the one that appeared every time he made a sly remark passed off as an innocent comment. Sylvain loved that spark, loved that attitude that most people did not see in Ashe. But, most of all, he loved the fact that Ashe chose not to give a sarcastic comment even when he had the perfect opportunity and instead he chose to be kind.

“I promise.”

Felix did not complain as they waited a little longer for Ashe to settle fully before Sylvain dared take up the handles of the chair. He simply stayed by the door, watching silently, listening intently as Ashe continued his story.

———————————————————————————————————————————

Lord Catastrophe’s grand plan, apparently, was a wheelchair. That is, a chair that had wheels on it. It was the strangest thing Ashe had ever seen, ever the more strange to see an ornamental pillow that was probably worth more than Ashe himself that was on the chair.

Most shocking of all was the fact that Lord Bastard had not only heard of Catastrophe’s plan but he in fact supported it as if he did not realise the risk of letting Ashe outside of the Castle’s walls.

“This chair,” Lord Bastard said, his voice a fond rumble. “Was my late Wife’s. It helped her conserve her strength when she wished to leave Castle Gaspard.”

Catastrophe did something strange then. He reached over and set a hand on Lord Bastards shoulder as if Nobles actually cared about their family members. Ashe knew full well how most of the Lord’s had their side pieces alongside their wives and yet now that he thought about it he did not remember seeing any Noble women each time he snuck around the Castle.
There must be some catch here, some fake sob story that Lord Bastard and Lord Catastrophe were acting upon. As if Nobles even cared for their own Mother’s like Ashe had cared for his Mama, as if Nobles wanted to ease the pain of their Father’s like Ashe had failed to ease the pain of his Papa.

“I hope that it will help you too.” Lord Bastard said.

There must be a catch here too, a reason why the Lord and his damn Son would dare let some common boy touch such a precious heirloom.

“You may leave Castle Gaspard,” Lord Bastard continued. “I only ask that when you do you take Christophe with you. He has a crest, he will protect you.”

Ashe didn’t need protection any more than he needed a damned chair. He had already made it this far after all. But… If he could really leave the walls, if he could really get out of this place. He would be docile for Catastrophe, just as long as he needed to. Just as long as it took for them to get far enough away from these walls.

He did not let Catastrophe carry him to the chair, Ashe had not fallen that far as to let down his guard like that. His legs shook the whole way and he hated how the old man and his son watched him all that time, no doubt loving to see him be so weak.

It felt strange on the chair, not quite comfortable but equally not uncomfortable. The cushion was more raised on the sides than he expected, the form not quite fitting him as if whoever this Lady Bastard was, she had been bigger than Ashe was.

Catastrophe came up behind Ashe and Ashe’s breath caught, certain that he had fallen for some kind of trap but Catastrophe simply started pushing him, slowly. Ashe latched onto the sides of the chair all the same, certain that he was going to fall off or Catastrophe was going to dump him.

“Christophe,” Lord Bastard rumbled. “Do be careful, won’t you? The boy is still weak.”

“I will, Father.”

The way through the hallways was agonisingly slow yet Ashe still felt that at any moment he was going to fall from the chair, a strange mixture of worry and resignation warring within Ashe.

“You know,” Catastrophe said as he pushed him. “I don’t like having to call you ‘Kid’ all the time. You probably don’t like ‘Boy’ either, do you? Boy! Eat this soup! Boy! Don’t climb that wall! Boy! What’s your favourite colour?”

Lord Catastrophe was not shouting and yet Ashe could feel himself tremble at the way he slightly raised his voice for emphasis. Catastrophe must have suddenly notice because all of a sudden they had stopped in the middle of the hallway.

“Sorry.” Catastrophe said. “I didn’t mean to scare you Kid. I just… Surely you can tell me your name at least? You can write it down. Wait, you can write can’t you?”

Ashe was torn between raising a particular finger at the Lord’s son and his seemingly now constant exhaustion.

“Oh, shit, you can’t. I’m so sorry. That was so rude of me, I shouldn’t just assume you would have the same education as I have and now that I’m bringing attention to it I’m making everything worse aren’t I?”

Ashe let Catastrophe talk himself through a guilt filled loop, distracting himself at picking at the fabric of his pants instead if only to keep the amusement that absolutely wasn’t there from showing on his face.

“Oh Goddess I’m so terrible.” Lord Catastrophe said.

They continued on for a time and Lord Catastrophe fell blessedly quiet. Ashe just had to be equally as quiet for just a little longer. As soon as they got out of the gates and maybe a little into town, Ashe would punch him right in the mouth and escape. He should probably take the cushion with him, it seemed so expensive after all. It would sell for a fortune on the streets and Ashe might even be able to feed his whole-

The memory of having left his sick siblings in that little hidden place made Ashe want to die. He had been so distracted with this stupid chair and this stupid Lord’s Son that for a moment he had not been thinking about his family and what if they had survived the last few weeks without him only to die right now because he had not been thinking about them?

“You okay, Kid?”

Ashe bristled, crossing his arms tightly if only to stop himself from punching Lord Catastrophe here and now.

They were outside now, not quite by the walls but certainly coming away from the house. Ashe had to bide his time just for a little longer. 

Lord Catastrophe was talking again, what about Ashe didn’t know or care. Hey would find his siblings and they would be alive and they would forgive him and who was he kidding, who would ever forgive an older brother that abandoned you for weeks as he lived in a damned Castle of all things.

There were gates at the front of the estate, gates that Ashe had not seen until now because he knew it would be suicide to try to escape through the literal entrance.

“Lord Christophe!” A woman greeted. “Oh, and look who we have here. I’m glad you’re feeling a little better, Kiddo.”

Ashe dug his nails into his palms. Just a little longer. He had to be the perfect little doll for Catastrophe to parade around for just a little longer and he’ll be home free.

“We’re going into town.” Catastrophe said.

“That’s an awfully long way to go,” The woman warned. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call for a carriage.”

“I think we will be okay Trina, thank you for the offer. The Kid will probably appreciate some fresh air.”

“Alright then, Lord Christophe, I look forward to your return.”

The lady couldn’t possibly actually care about Catastrophe being comfortable, she simply worked for him for the money. Ashe was certain that if she had been made an offer to sell out the entire Gaspard family, she would not hesitate to do so.

The ground out here was a little more uneven and Ashe had to cling to the chair to keep himself upright. It felt strange, to get this far out and not have his legs shaking like jelly as they did each time he had so much as reached the walls. Perhaps the chair was good at conserving energy after all, energy he would need to make his daring escape.

Lord Catastrophe hummed and Ashe wondered if maybe this was his preferred type of torture, the tune barely a tune at all and more just weird sounds coming out of his mouth and honestly it was kind of laughably bad. Not that Ashe would laugh, this was one of his captors after all.

The sun was warm on Ashe’s skin and he tried not to appreciate it. Soon enough he would be out of here and he’ll be back to the more shadowy streets and everything was going to go back to normal and he could put all this mess behind him.

In fact now was about a good time to start running.

But the fields were a little too open and Catastrophe would easily be able to catch up to him so maybe Ashe should wait a little longer, give himself more of a chance.

It would be more practical that way, smarter, there was no other reason for Ashe to hesitate. Lord Catastrophe was not kind to him and Lord Bastard was simply waiting until he was well enough so that Ashe would be indebted to him for the rest of his life. No, Ashe needed to escape. He simply needed to bide his time and conserve his energy until then.

The fields gave way to a small forest with trees taller than Ashe has ever seen. Some part of him remembered coming through here, and logic dictated that he had in fact come through here in order to get to Castle Gaspard, yet it looked so different to what he remembered. It had been night then, and if Lord Bastard was to be believed he had had an incredibly high fever at the time.

Ashe raised a hand to his own forehead, feeling the ghost of a hand touch him.

“You alright?” Lord Catastrophe asked, stopping them both in their tracks.

Ashe should take the chance and run. He should go. He needed to go.
Catastrophe was kneeling right in front of him, one good punch square in the jaw and Ashe was home free.

“Do you mind if I touch your forehead?” Catastrophe asked.

If the bastard wanted to do that, he could have just done that without asking. Ashe knew the stories, Lords do not ask permission and they do not seek forgiveness.

“I just want to make sure you don’t have a fever again, it’s unseasonably warm at the moment. You know, you should see this place in the dead of winter, there’s snow as far as the eye can see.”

Ashe was not going to see this place in winter, nor did he want to. He was going to be long gone by then. Lord Catastrophe was still annoyingly kneeling in front of him, looking at him with those doe eyes. Ashe should snarl at him, maybe kick out his leg. Take back a point for all the kids on the streets.

He nodded instead.

Ashe didn’t know why he did, especially because he still flinched as Catastrophe reached up and prepared for the blow. There was no hit, not slap, no blow. Catastrophe simply set a hand on his forehead, his lips twisting into the slightest of smiles.

“I think you’re okay.” Catastrophe sat back. “Which is great, because could you imagine having another fever the first time you get out of the Castle? That would absolutely suck.”

Ashe did not want to meet those doe eyes so he readjusted how he was sitting in the guise of appreciating the trees around them. Catastrophe apparently fell for it completely because he stood up.

“Oh, that one?” He said. “That’s an Ash. It’s one of my favourites actually, it has the most beautiful flowers during the Spring.”

Ashe tried not to roll his eyes at the irony of it all. He hadn’t wanted to look at an Ash, he just wanted to look at anything but the damn son of a Lord and he certainly did not care about what the flowers looked like in Spring because he wasn’t going to be here for spring and he did not care about trees even if they looked really nice and he certainly did not like the breeze that was making the leaves dance.

“My favourite tree though,” Lord Catastrophe continued as if Ashe cared. “Would have to be the Rowan.”

Ashe felt like he had been struck in the chest.

Catastrophe was suddenly there again, hovering right in front of him and Ashe wanted to scream.

“Kid! Kid, are you okay? Are you in pain? I swear, I’ll stop talking about trees, it’s just that I really like Row- Wait. Rowan. That’s a name, isn’t it? Is it your name?”

Ashe shook his head, his eyes stinging. He should not be freaking out like this in front of Lord Catastrophe, you should never show weakness, but he could not breathe so he really did not give a fuck about showing weakness right now.

“It’s not your name?”

A stronger shake.

“But you know someone called Rowan?” Catastrophe asked. “Shit, do you have a brother?”

He should run. He should shove past Catastrophe and get out of here while he still could but the tears were flowing freely now and he was just so tired and he was sick of everything he had been through the last few days, no, the last few months and he missed Rowan and he was just so damn tired of everything.

Ashe clutched at his chest, giving off a moan.

Rowan was probably long dead and it was all Ashe’s fault because he had wasted so much time eating soup and looking at trees and falling off of walls.

“Oh shit,” Catastrophe said, his voice distant. “Oh fuck. You have a brother. Of course you have a brother. I should have asked from the start, I should have made sure you didn’t have family that needed help too. Please don’t cry, Kid, we’ll find him okay? Do you know where Rowan is?”

All Ashe knew was that Rowan had been sick when he left him in their little hidden hole on Spence street. Ashe had failed him, he had failed his brother and his sister and he had promised Mama and Papa that he would protect them but he had been here for Goddess knows how long and they were most likely dead already and it was all his fault.

“Kid, you gotta calm down okay? We will find Rowan, I promise, but you’ve gotta slow down your breathing.”

Ashe didn’t give a damn about his own breathing, he was too busy imagining how Rowan died curled up in that little hidden place waiting for his older brother that was never coming back.

“Come on, Kid, just breathe. You’re safe now.”

Ashe might be safe but Rowan was dead because of him and so was their sister.

Dark clouds replaced the clear skies. No, it wasn’t clouds. It was Ashe’s own vision that was darkening. He let that darkness take him, it was all he deserved after all.”

———————————————————————————————————————————

Felix was walking slowly alongside them, not complaining about how long they were taking to get to the feast.
They could distantly hear the party now and Ashe held up his hand. Sylvain stopped instantly and came around so that he was facing Ashe. Felix stopped too but he kept his distance and Ashe was glad, not wanting to be too surrounded.

“Sorry…” Ashe mumbled. “It’s just, when everyone sees me like this… They’re going to stare.”

“They won’t stare.” Sylvain said automatically.

“Yes they will.” Felix said with a huff. “He’s in a damned chair, of course they’re gonna stare.”

Sylvain glared at Felix but once again Ashe seemed happier to hear Felix’s honesty then Sylvain’s own attempts at assurances because Ashe reached out his hand towards Felix and somehow Felix stepped forward and took it into his own.

“But,” Felix continued. “A little staring isn’t something my sword can’t fix.”

“Goddess Felix,” Sylvain said with a laugh. “You can’t just threaten our comrades like that. No, I can go grab my lance. That will put them in their place.”

Ashe was laughing too and Sylvain swore it was the most beautiful sound in the universe.

“What’s this I hear about threats, Boys?”

Sylvain twisted around, spotting Mercedes coming over. She was smiling, smoothing down the skirt of her dress as she walked. Sylvain wondered for a moment if Ashe would even want to see her given the news that she had given him the last time they had spoken but once again Ashe surprised him with that dazzling smile.

“Felix wants to stab anyone that stares at me.” Ashe said.

“As he should.” Mercedes said. “Though he should probably start with Sylvain given how much he stares at you.”

Sylvain choked on air, distantly wondering why his face was burning hot. He couldn’t possibly get flustered so easily, he had heard that and more in his academy days. And yet… And yet when he heard Ashe laugh again Sylvain felt his heart soar and he found that the teasing didn’t bother him because this was Ashe and Ashe was so perfect in everything he does and all Sylvain wants to do is kiss him.

“There it is.” Mercedes laughed. “Felix, your sword please.”

“I’m not staring.” Sylvain claimed weakly. “And even if I was, he’s my damn boyfriend I can stare all I like.”

It was Ashe’s turn to blush, his freckles ever more apparent. Sylvain had always found it so amusing that while Ashe could say the most filthy things with a straight face, just calling him boyfriend was enough to make his face that red. It was adorable.

Sylvain took his place back behind Ashe, not before a quick kiss on the forehead of course, and they continued on with Felix on one side and Mercedes on the other. As Ashe continued his story, Sylvain felt a strange sense of jealousy that Ashe would so easily talk about such difficult things with not just Sylvain but the others too but then he realised that he was just happy that Ashe wanted to share his story at all.

Mercedes, for her part, listened avidly despite missing much of it.

———————————————————————————————————————————

“I’m telling you father,” The voice echoed through Ashe’s dream. “There’s another kid out there.”

“Christophe, be reasonable.” And older voice rumbled.

“Are you saying that we should just abandon him? Don’t see, don’t care; House Gaspard’s new mantra?”

“Son,” The older voice said and Ashe felt himself yearning for his Papa to call him that just one more time. “I want to help this Boy’s brother, I really do. But it has been three weeks since he first came here and you saw how ill he was. You need to understand that this ‘Rowan’ boy may have already passed away and even if he didn’t he might have already left the area.”

“I know that.” The younger declared. “But…”

“But,” The older man interrupted. “I will search with you all the same.”

Ashe snapped upright.

Catastrophe gave off a squeak but Ashe ignored him in favour of twisting directly to Lord Bastard.

“You’ll help find him?” Ashe asked, his voice rough from misuse. “Really?”

“The Boy can speak after all,” Lord Bastard mused. “Yes, but as I was saying to Christophe you will have to understand that you may not find the news you would like. If we do find him, I assure you that Rowan will have a place here too if he wishes it.”

Ashe’s blood ran cold. There had been a reason he had not brought up his siblings. He could not let his brother and sister be taken into the ‘care’ of Nobles, he could not risk them like that. But in his desperation to see Rowan again, in his exhaustion, he had revealed Rowan’s existence and there wasn’t anything he could say to convince Lords Bastard and Catastrophe that Rowan wasn’t some vulnerable kid they could take advantage of.

Ashe could say that he was dead. He could claim that in his exhaustion he had mentioned a brother that was dead and knowing Ashe’s luck so far it probably was the truth. But if he could see Rowan again… If he could know for certain that Ashe hadn’t left him to die…

“Please.” Ashe mumbled, new tears mixing with the old. “We need to find him.”

Lord Bastard came true to his name because in the days after he did not let Ashe join him in the search no matter how much he begged to go.

“You are weak, Boy,” Lord Bastard claimed. “I will find your brother. Christophe will decide when you are well enough to come. Until then, have patience.”

Ashe was being patient. He hadn’t even tried to escape, they had no idea just how patient he had been, eating their food without complaint and even letting Catastrophe wheel him around the Castle grounds. If Ashe so wished he could just go by himself and find Rowan and besides, if Rowan was alive there was no way he was stupid enough to reveal himself to a Noble wondering around on the streets.

Ashe had taught him better than that.

But on the fourth day Ashe was close to clawing his own skin off in worry because there was still no news.

“So, Boy,” Catastrophe drawled in his best impression of Lord Bastard. “Still no name?”

Ashe glared at him.

“And we’re back to this.” Catastrophe sighed. “Look, I get it, you’re scared for Rowan but my Father will find him, okay? Can you at least give me the first letter? Is it R as well?”

The next hour was a blur of names, each more stupid than the last. When Catastrophe followed Rupert up with Radish, Ashe did not let off a small laugh and Catastrophe absolutely did not lean closer to him with those doe eyes and the dopiest grin Ashe had ever seen.

“So, Radish,” Catastrophe said.

Ashe wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t. He was very worried about Rowan and his sister, he could not possibly be laughing over something so stupid.

“Since I finally know your name, I’ve decided that we are to make a circus. Come one and come all to Christophe and Radish, where-“

“Catastrophe.” Ashe said.

“Catas… Catastrophe? Wait, do you mean that the circus would be a catastrophe? Because I think it would be magnificent, Radish.”

Ashe shook his head his eyes stinging with tears. But Ashe wasn’t upset. He was worried beyond belief for his Rowan and his sister and he should know better than to be talking to the Noble that had kept him here when his siblings might still be out there yet Ashe wasn’t close to tears because of any of that, he was close to tears because when Lord Catastrophe looked right at them with those stupid doe eyes Ashe was laughing so hard that he could not hold the tears in.

“Wait, do you mean I am Catastrophe? Kid, my name’s Christophe, with a H. But… You already know that.”

Ashe should go back to glaring and snarling and throwing things but honestly this was too good to pass up so he just nodded instead.

“You little shit.” Catastrophe said. “Have you really been calling me that in your head this whole time?”

Another nod and another laugh and all of a sudden Catastrophe was laughing too. Ashe tried to settle down, he really did, but each time one of them would look at the other they would dissolve into a new fit of giggles until at last Ashe’s laugh broke off into a cough. The coughing didn’t last very long, begrudgingly the bed rest had helped his lungs heal considerably.

“Wow, Kid,” Catastrophe finally breathed. “Your laugh is like sunshine.”

Ashe stiffened.

He should not have let his guard down, he should not be conversing with Lord Catastrophe and he certainly should not be laughing like ‘sunshine’ around him. There was a catch to Lord Bastards kindness, there was a catch to Lord Catastrophe’s friendliness. There was always a catch with Nobles and Ashe had been stupid to forget that.

“Oh,” Catastrophe said. “That was weird to say, I’m sorry.”

Ashe stared at him. A Lord’s son, so easily apologising to some street kid? No, it could not be genuine. There had to be a catch, the other shoe would drop soon enough and Ashe would regret ever sharing a laugh with this man.

Catastrophe had leaned back into his chair, seemingly content under Ashe’s stare.

“So,” He finally said. “Are we sticking with Radish or with Kid? Or, Father’s good ol’ Boy?”

“Ashe.”

“Ashe, eh? I guess I was close with the tree name. So, is Rowan your brother or just a friend?”

He should not say anything. Catastrophe was faking his personality in order to force Ashe to let down his guard. There was always a catch. There was always a catch. There was always a catch.

“My little brother.” Ashe whispered. “I left him there. He was sick but we needed food…”

“So you came to Castle Gaspard.” Catastrophe finished for him. “But you were so sick yourself that you collapsed and the rest is history. Ashe, I am sorry that you went through that. It must have been scary, waking up in some strange place.”

There was always a catch. Ashe should shut up. He should run. He should do anything but speak the honest truth because Catastrophe just wanted to know so that he had the advantage. But Ashe was so tired and he was so worried about Rowan and their sister and he just wanted a big hug from Mama or even for his Papa to reach out and ruffle his hair.

Maybe he just wanted to someone to tell him that it wasn’t his fault.

“The bed is too soft.” Ashe whispered.

Catastrophe shifted. Ashe ducked his head, expecting a slap for the insult. There was no hit and Catastrophe simply settled back down in his chair, his hands casually on his knees.

“I can talk to Father, if you would like. I’m sure we can source a harder mattress if it will help you sleep better.”

“No, it’s okay.” Ashe said. “It’s just… Weird. I’m not used to sleeping in a bed anymore.”

Ashe didn’t understand all the emotions that crashed over Catastrophe’s face, all he knew was the final expression was something akin to sadness.

“I know you don’t want to stay here,” Catastrophe said. “You’ve made that pretty clear but after Father finds Rowan, do you think for his sake you might want to stay for a little longer? A kid like him deserves to sleep in a bed.”

Ashe should be furious at the implication that he could not adequately look after Rowan but if he was being honest with himself it was true. He loved Rowan and his Sister, more than his own life, but he was utterly exhausted and it wasn’t just because of his illness. Times had been tough even before Mama and Papa had gotten sick and everything had just gotten worse from here.

Catastrophe had had every chance to turn around these past few weeks and reveal that he was truely some monster that paraded around in Noble clothes but at every opportunity he had instead been so gentle with Ashe. Here he was, never having met Rowan and yet offering for him to stay at Castle Gaspard.

Red hot anger suddenly rose up in Ashe, his hands shaking.

“Why would you care what happens to a street kid?” Ashe demanded.

For a long moment Catastrophe did not say anything. Ashe dug his nails into his palms to keep him from outright lashing out at the young man, not knowing what he even wanted to hear Catastrophe say.

“I suppose,” Catastrophe at last mumbled. “Mother always liked helping people.”

“So I’m just some pity case?” Ashe snarled. “To try to impress your dead mother.”

“Don’t speak of her like that.” Catastrophe said lowly.

Ashe stiffened. The man had not expressed any anger in these last few days and weeks, not when he found Ashe trying to sneak away, not when he had crashed into the ground in an attempt to catch Ashe after falling off the wall, not after Ashe thew up and not even when Ashe threw the next bowl of soup that Catastrophe had brought him, terrified that it would make him sick again.

Not once in every time that Ashe snarled at him or shoved at him had Catastrophe looked angry and yet even now Catastrophe did not hit Ashe, nor did he walk away and leave Ashe here to rot. He did not speak either, he just simply kept his angered gaze on Ashe as if waiting for him to speak first.

“I’m…” Ashe chewed his lip. “Sorry.”

Catastrophe’s face softened.

“I am too.” He said. “It’s only that I miss Mother very much and I do not like insults to her name.”

The young man was being so honest, so open, with no expectations of Ashe. No, this had to be some trick too. Except there hadn’t been any tricks. Catastrophe wore his heart on his sleeve and Lord Bastard had not once raised his voice and neither of them had ever taken advantage of Ashe’s weakness to force him to do things that he did not want to.

“I miss my Mama.” Ashe said.

Catastrophe shifted again, the smallest head tilt with a warm smile.

“I guess we aren’t all that different, are we?”

“You’re a Lord’s son.” Ashe said. “I’m a street kid.”

“Yes.” Catastrophe said. “I am more privileged than I will ever fully realise. But, outside all that, I’m just a boy like you, boys that miss their mothers.”

The stinging in his eyes was back.

“Catastrophe?”

“Yes, Radish?”

“What if I don’t want to go? What if… Even when I’m better, I want to stay?”

“Ashe,” Catastrophe said. “If that is truely what you wish, Father and I will love to have you and Rowan stay with us.”

“And Ivy?”

“Ivy… Fuck, is there another kid?”

Ashe shouldn’t have said anything, he shouldn’t have revealed his sisters existence nor should he have claimed that he wanted to stay here even if it felt so safe here and even if he was starting to feel somewhat welcome here.

“Okay,” Catastrophe said, wiping his hands down his face. “I guess we can repurpose the guest room in the east wing. Two beds can easily fit there, are there any others? Just you, Rowan and what was it? Ivy.”

Ashe stared at him.

“You…” He mumbled. “You don’t mind?”

“Of course not.” Catastrophe said. “It will be chaos for sure if they’re little shits like you but who doesn’t love some chaos in their lives?”

———————————————————————————————————————————

“You,” Sylvain said. “Absolutely can be a little shit sometimes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ashe said innocently.

Despite Ashe’s fear that people were going to stare at him, when Ingrid saw their growing group she did not hesitate to come over with a warm smile on her face.

“Ashe,” She greeted. “I completely agree with Sylvain on this one. Remember what happened with the cats in the common room?”

“They were cold.”

“And the cats in Seteth’s office?”

“I was trying to help him” Ashe claimed. “You must face your fears head on.”

As their growing group continued on, Sylvain moved slowly if only to enjoy this for as long as he could.

“I finally finished that book you lent me.” Ingrid said. “I know you warned me about how sad the Knight’s backstory was but I found that it just made his journey all the more meaningful.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” Ashe said.

Sylvain was surprised that out of all people that gave Ingrid the updates of Ashe’s story it was Felix and there was not a single hint of boredom in his voice.

———————————————————————————————————————————

Okay, Lord Catastrophe was trying to kill him again but this time it was by racing around in the hallway, pushing Ashe as fast as he could in the chair.

There was still no news on Rowan and Ivy but Lord Bastard assured him this morning that he was still looking. He was looking not just for Rowan but for Ivy too because he too wanted them to be safe at Castle Gaspard if that was what Ashe wanted for his siblings.

Ashe’s worry was starting to resurface though because it had been days since Lord Bastard had started looking for Rowan and even when Ashe started offering the places that they would frequent, even telling him the location that Ashe had left Rowan and Ivy in, Lord Bastard had not found either of them.

Rowan and Ivy could be dead and buried and yet Lord Bastard was still out looking for them if only for Ashe to have closure.

That worry was why Catastrophe was currently zooming Ashe up and down the hallways as if Ashe didn’t know exactly what he was doing and Ashe was not going to fall for it.

“Hold on!” Catastrophe said, turning the wheelchair tightly at full speed.

Ashe yelped, barely keeping himself upright.

A loud laugh echoed off the walls and Ashe realised that it was his own.

Catastrophe at last slowed down, trying to catch his breath. He twisted around so that he was facing Ashe and plopped down to the ground with that dopey grin and that head tilt he liked to do.

“I,” Catastrophe said. “Have not run that fast outside the Officer’s Academy.”

Ashe mimicked the head tilt.

“It’s a school,” Catastrophe explained. “I’m on break at the moment but it’s where they teach you things like fighting and magic and leadership. I still have one more year left.”

“You’re going to leave?”

And there was the catch. Lord Bastard and Lord Catastrophe may not be some monsters in disguise hoping to take advantage of a sick street kid but they were going to let him feel somewhat happy for the first time since his Mama and Papa died and then immediately rip that feeling away from him again.

“Just for a few months,” Catastrophe said. “I can still visit during the holidays, it’s just a little harder to come on weekends because it’s all the way in the middle of Fódlan but I’ll write lots of letters, to you and to Father. And Rowan and Ivy of course because they’ll be here by then.”

Ashe could not be reassured by Catastrophe’s confidence in his siblings being found alive and well if in that same sentence he was saying that he was going to leave.

That anger resurfaced and Ashe wanted to scream. He had been so stupid to think that he was safe here, that things were finally a little bit consistent. He had been stupid to even let himself begin to like Catastrophe, stupider still for having stayed at Castle Gaspard for this long.

“I can’t read dumbass.” Ashe snarled, not knowing what else to say. “I thought you worked that out.”

“I can teach you,” Catastrophe said as if it were that easy. “If you would like. I think I still have my old worksheets I worked through with Mother, and we have plenty of books.”

Ashe was yet again back to staring at the ridiculous Lord’s Son because it was like he thought that he could fix everything given enough time and Ashe hated that some small part of him wondered what it would be like to hold a book in his hands that he wasn’t just stealing to sell off.

A book that he could actually read, a book he could actually understand.

The door opened and Ashe jolted, fear rushing through him. He had no weapon, no way of escape, he had lowered his guard and he was going to pay for it. Catastrophe had twisted around, still on the ground, watching as Lord Bastard came in.

He did not close the door behind him.

“Father.” Catastrophe greeted fondly. “Ashe said that he wishes to stay.”

Ashe wanted to snarl, knowing he couldn’t stay here if Catastrophe was going to leave for months at a time to this damn school of his.

“Ashe?”

Ashe stiffened. He knew that voice. He had dreamed of that voice every single day he had been here, he had feared that he would never hear that voice again.

Two small figures came through the door, hovering close by Lord Bastard as if he was someone they trusted fully and completely. The one on the left was a little girl and it was she who had spoken and as she met Ashe’s eye her own eyes widened.

All at once the little girl was running and Ashe was trying to stand but his legs refused to support him but it didn’t matter because as soon as Ivy reached him they were both on the ground.

“Ivy!” Ashe cried, hugging her tightly. “You’re okay!”

Ivy buried her head into his chest and it felt like she had never left them.

“Oh Ivy,” Ashe’s tears fell freely. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

She looked up to him for a single moment, giving him the warmest smile she had ever seen before she was nestled into him again. In that simple glimpse of his sister, Ashe saw that she was crying too and it tore his heart apart to know that he had failed her but the rest of him was just so damn happy that she was alive, that she was here in his arms.

Holding her close, Ashe looked up at the other figure by Lord Bastard’s side. The boy had not moved, though his little hands were clenched into fists.

“You left.” Rowan accused.

Ashe’s very soul hurt.

“But… Lord Lonato said you were sick.” Rowan continued. “So even though you left… It wasn’t your fault?”

The boy seemed unconvinced of his own words and the guilt tore ever more deeply at Ashe. Ashe had left him weeks ago with no food and no water and with no word about where he was going because Rowan had been so sick when Ashe had left him and yet Rowan looked as healthy as he ever did, the colour at last back in his face.

“And,” Rowan said. “It wasn’t my fault either?”

With one arm still wrapped tightly around Ivy, Ashe held out the other one.

Rowan stayed firmly where he was until Lord Bastard nudged him forward. All at once Rowan was running and Ashe lost his breath as Rowan slammed into him but he didn’t care because his little brother was okay.

“I’m so sorry.” Ashe said to both of them. “But you’re safe now, I promise.”

Ashe should know better than to be so vulnerable in front of a Noble Lord and his son but he also knew that it was a miracle alone that his family was back together so he just let himself cry outright, holding Rowan and Ivy as close as he can.

He felt warmer than he ever had more importantly he felt like he was home with Rowan and Ivy by his side and Catastrophe and Lord Bastard watching on.

No, not Catastrophe. Christophe.

And not Lord Bastard. Lord Lonato had searched for Rowan and Ivy for nearly five days and he had brought them home, never asking for anything in return for his hospitality. He was a kind man, if a little rough around the edges, and that kindness had passed onto his son.

———————————————————————————————————————————

They were almost at the dining hall when Ashe stiffened a little again and Sylvain dutifully stopped, giving him time to process whatever it was he needed to process.

“Syl,” Ashe said. “Is it cold right now? I… I can’t feel it.”

It was a little cool out here and now that Sylvain thought of it he realised that he should have brought the blanket with them. Sylvain didn’t really understand what Ashe’s body was doing right now but they would have to work out ways to make up for the lack of sensation in Ashe’s legs for when they went back to daily life.

Daily life.

What did daily life even look like now that the war was over? Was everyone going to go their own separate ways, only seeing each other in formal functions? Where was Ashe even going to go, back to Castle Gaspard to the ghosts of Lonato and Christophe or was he going to go live in Gautier territory with Sylvain? It wasn’t fair to expect Ashe to move in with him so quickly after becoming an official couple but the idea of forcing Ashe to return to that empty house just didn’t sit right with him.

With Ashe’s injury especially they would have to make a plan as to who was going to help him with daily tasks. Sure he was the bravest person and one of the smartest guys that Sylvain knew but he was still seriously injured and things would have to change as much as Ashe would have wanted things to stay the same.

“Ashe,” Mercedes said, breaking Sylvain from his thoughts. “If you would like, I can get the blanket from your room to make sure you remain warm enough.”

“No need,” A voice said.

For what felt like the dozenth time, Sylvain twisted around to see yet another Blue Lion standing a few feet away from their growing group. It was Dimitri, their King and now saviour of Faerghus, and he was holding out his fur lined cape as if it was some mere blanket. Dedue was standing dutifully by Dimitri’s side and when Sylvain met his eye Dedue offered a warm smile.

Dimitri came forward fully, setting the cape onto Ashe’s legs and making certain that the excess fabric was away from the wheels and the ground.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Ashe said.

“Of course Ashe, anything you need at all is yours.”

“I don’t need anything,” Ashe said. “Apart from all of you to stay by my side.”

Okay, if Sylvain was blushing again then that was his own business.

“And you will have it.” Dedue rumbled.

The hallway was getting a little full with Sylvain, Ashe, Felix, Mercedes, Ingrid, Dimitri and Dedue yet none of them seemed at all bothered. Sylvain was wondering, however, where Annette was if all the others were out here. Most likely eying off the candy table in the feast.

The door to the banquet hall opened up, the ruckus inside echoing all the louder.

A young girl came out, humming a tune to herself, her eyes widening a little when she saw them all.

“Ashe! You’re up!” Annette smiled, coming over with a bounce in her step. “I’m so glad!”

“It is thanks to you and Mercedes.” Ashe said.

“Oh, I didn’t really do all that much,” Annette said. “Mercie was the one who healed you, I was just trying to keep your strength up a little.”

“All the same,” Ashe said warmly. “Thank you.”

Their little band of lions complete, or at least the ones in their primary friendship group, Sylvain felt good to know that they had all made it. The war was over and everyone was safe. Sylvain reached down, setting a hand on Ashe’s shoulder.

Ashe looked up at him with the most beautiful smile that Sylvain had ever seen and he found himself falling ever more in love with Ashe.

The feast was the most fun that Sylvain had had in a long time, especially when they found Rowan and Ivy hiding underneath the sweets table with an entire cake between them.

“Ashe!” Ivy beamed, scrambling out from beneath the table.

She paused, her eyes locking on the wheelchair that Ashe was sitting on.

“It’s okay,” Ashe said.

Slowly, Ivy inched forwards. She reached out, poking a wooden wheel. She climbed up onto the chair, Sylvain holding it steady, and the moment she did so she relaxed fully into Ashe as if she was familiar with the feeling.

“It’s just like back at home.” She said. “When you were sick.”

“Yeah,” Ashe said. “It’s just like that one."

Rowan was watching them from a distance, even more unsure than Ivy had been.

Ashe’s siblings had been told that Ashe had been hurt but they had not yet been told just how hurt he had been. Sylvain wondered if that had been a mistake because Rowan crossed his arms tightly, his gaze locked on the chair.

“Rowan,” Ashe said. “It’s going to be okay.”

“How long this time?” Rowan asked. “Last time it was a month but that felt so long. Are you going to get out of it sooner this time?”

Ashe’s shoulders sank just a little and he held Ivy ever closer to him.

“Rowan, Ivy,” Ashe said, his voice soft. “The most important thing is that we are all together, okay? We are safe now, and everything is going to be okay.”

“How long?” Rowan asked again.

The Blue Lions all fidgeted, none of them wanting to tell the boy that his brother was never going to walk again. Mercedes opened her mouth, ever the one to take the fall, but Sylvain stepped forward first.

“Rowan, Ivy, who do you think would be faster? You guys or Ashe on his wheelchair?”

“I’ll be faster!” Ivy said.

“No way!” Rowan shot back. “I’m always the faster one!”

Ashe silently thanked Sylvain and Sylvain lent down, pressing his lips on Ashe’s forehead.

“Anything for you,” Sylvain whispered in his ear. “Radish.”

Ashe’s laugh was as pure as summer rain and while Sylvain knew that he missed his adoptive Father and Brother, and he will for the rest of his life, Ashe had at last found his new home surrounded by his new family.

The family he had fought side by side with, the family that Sylvain was honoured to be a part of.