Chapter Text
Ashe Ubert makes quite the impression on Petra Macneary for the short time the Academy is open. He’s kind, passionate about his hobbies, determined to reach a lifelong goal he’d aspired to since he was a child, and cute to top it all off. She seldom felt an attraction to anyone, far too focused on her goal of Brigid’s freedom, yet the strange feelings towards the aspiring knight seized her heart were the few highlights of her time at the Academy in Petra’s mind; a fleeting moment compared to two years they’d be apart.
But when she finally sees him again, Petra can feel her stomach twist. Ashe is helped to his feet by Lonato, leaning into his adoptive father’s embrace as he surrenders to the Empire. Though Ashe doesn’t notice her— they never encountered one another on the battlefield —Petra sees the light in his eyes fade, and she can’t ignore the guilt that wells within her.
Though Lonato and Ashe’s siblings would be safe under the Empire, it came at the cost of leaving behind the dream he’d sought and had attained. Petra thought of her childhood dream of Brigid’s independence and the weight she had to carry on her shoulders; she shivered at the thought of foisting such lofty goals onto her sibling’s shoulders in the event of her untimely passing.
Days later, the Imperial Army set up a semi-permanent camp, allowing Petra to seek out Ashe on one quiet evening. She finds him sitting alone in the makeshift mess hall, poking at the soup he’d made for that evening’s dinner.
“Hello, Ashe,” Petra calls out, gaining his attention. Ashe’s emerald green eyes meet hers, and Petra only now realises how much he has grown in the two years since the Academy closed. His hair is combed neatly, his face slimmer with a far more defined jawline, and more freckles dot his face like stars under Brigid’s sky; it was clear to Ashe had grown far more attractive than she remembered.
“...Petra? Is that you?” Ashe asks, bewildered.
“Yes, it is; I am glad you are remembering me.”
Ashe rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, well…” he trails off, mumbling something Petra cannot hear.
She tilts her head. “Hm?”
“Uh, nothing!” Ashe speaks up, clearing his throat. “I mean, I meant to say that I’ve seen you before, but I wasn’t sure if it was you, you know? It’s been so long that, honestly, I was surprised you remembered who I was.”
It’d take a lot for Petra to forget him. “Even if we were not at the academy very long, I am treasuring our time together, Ashe.”
His eyes widen, undoubtedly caught off-guard at her admission. “Oh, really? Well, I’m glad you do. Honestly, I feel bad; I’ve been so busy fighting both the civil war in Faerghus and this war with the Empire that I can only remember bits and pieces of from back then; I still remember that incident with Anna, though,” Ashe says sheepishly, cheeks tinged red.
Petra chuckles, doing her best to ignore the way her stomach flutters. “That was embarrassing, but I am glad I had a knight in shining armour that was helping me.”
Her stomach drops as the words leave her mouth, and guilt compounds within her as Ashe stares at his food. “A knight, huh?” Ashe says with an insincere smile. “Well, it’s nice that you still think so.”
Suddenly, there’s an air of awkwardness that blankets the room, and Petra realises how in poor taste her compliment was. “You have my sincerest apologies, Ashe.”
His eyes widen. “H-Huh? What for?”
“For talking about knights. I wanted your mood to rise, but I have made it worse because my compliment was having poor taste.”
Petra could tell her apology had left him more flabbergastered than before. “N-No, no, it’s OK, really. I’m… I still haven’t quite come to terms with everything. It’ll be a while before I do, but I appreciate what you said and the apology, even if you didn’t need to apologise. It did sound like you were trying to cheer me up, so it was nice hearing it from you,” he bashfully admits.
Now it’s Petra’s turn to be caught off guard. “Oh. I see. Then if it is OK with you, I would like to catch up.”
Ashe smiles at her earnestly— she can tell with the crinkle in the corner of his eyes —for the first time since he’d defected to the Empire. “Thank you, Petra. I… I’d really like that. You being here to talk with me means a lot; I mean it.”
His smile makes Petra’s heart skip as something within her clicks. Warmth and tightness fill her chest more intensely than rough waves against Brigid’s shoreline, and she welcomes it with open arms.
Taking a seat across from him, Petra clasps her hands together. “I am glad you are feeling that way. Perhaps we can talk like this more often?”
The faded light in his eyes returns, even if for a few moments. “I’d like that, Petra.”