My Dream? To Be A True Knight!

Only problem was that anyone he knew and could see was already accounted for at the moment. Thankfully that problem wouldn’t last for long as, much to his surprise, someone else approached him first. “..with me?” He pointed towards himself, blinking a few times. “If you don’t mind then.. I’d be glad to, thank you!”

"I am happy to teach you." Innes frowned. "Your stance is all wrong, however. Stand a little straighter - if you have no pride, fake it. How can you be taken seriously if you shrink in on yourself?"

Next were his hands, which apparently were also wrong. Wow, it’s kind of sad at that point how wrong he’s been getting it. At least this guy had enough confidence for the both of them, judging from the way he shamelessly boasted about his talents. Ashe wasn’t sure if that confidence was kind of cool… or kind of annoying.

He was a frank sort of guy, huh? Ashe couldn’t find himself disagreeing with anything he said, but speaking your mind like that was pretty brave.. Then again, it made for a comfortable conversation. He much preferred people who were honest over those who lied with honeyed words anyway.

“Rigid is a pretty apt way of putting it.” Ashe laughed lightly at the comment, covering his mouth with one gloved hand as he did. “Not that I can blame them.. if their lessons had been anything like mine, they’ve been taught to follow a script.”

It was more about making a good impression than to have fun, which Ashe had a feeling Ronan understood.

“As for me, um…” He looked slightly shocked, eyes widening at how close the older man got to his situation. “I wouldn’t say I’m inheriting a title, exactly.” He knew that was a possibility, somewhere in the back of his mind.. but it was never his position to take. It was Christophe’s. And he knew how much Lonato suffered after losing his only true son.. so Ashe never wanted to hurt him by bringing up the topic of inheritance. Because of this, what would happen to House Gaspard after Lonato stepped down.. was uncertain to Ashe. “I was adopted by a very kind nobleman a few years back, though. It’s also because of him that I’m able to attend this school at all, despite just being a commoner.”

Gratitude, admiration and love all shone through in the way Ashe described his adoptive father. He always looked up to Lonato, ever since he extended his hand and saved him and his siblings.

"I'm nobody special. The name's Ronan, by the way. I came to this monastery to make some money, but usually I'm out in the mud and dirt." Raising one hand, he wiggles his fingers and laughs. "It took some scrubbing, but the guys in charge let me in here after I proved I'd washed under all my fingernails. To be honest, this is my first time being near so many noble men and women at one time. And, if I can keep being honest, it's a relief to run into someone else like me."

He glances sidelong at his new helper, his crooked smile still tucked into the corner of his cheek. "Well, a commoner, is what I mean. Our similarities stop at adoption. Maybe the part about not knowing how to dance, too."

Ronan glances out at the dance floor, watching the beautiful couples in their expensive gowns and suits parading in a circle like the point of the dance is less about the footwork and more about displaying themselves to those who look on from the sidelines.

The boy couldn’t help but laugh lightly at the way Ronan spoke of himself, wriggling fingers and all. It was a slightly more natural and comfortable laugh, too. “I know what you mean. Outside of my classmates, who thankfully are very kind, it’s sort of nerve wracking interacting with nobles. I keep feeling like a bumpkin, or like I’m walking on thin ice.” Of course, none of this was said with ill intent.

He made himself available to everyone; commoners and nobles alike. It didn't matter in an event like this, not when most were dressed to the nines. He moved from person to person, offering each a turn. Some names he knew, a surprising amount of names he did not.

He would have to change that - starting with the boy in front of him.

If Innes had to guess, he'd say the boy was about fifteen years old. Regardless, Innes extended a hand out to him. "Would you care for a dance?"

It couldn't be so bad. If the boy couldn't dance, Innes could teach him - so long as his toes remained unbroken for the rest of the night.

Only problem was that anyone he knew and could see was already accounted for at the moment. Thankfully that problem wouldn’t last for long as, much to his surprise, someone else approached him first. “..with me?” He pointed towards himself, blinking a few times. “If you don’t mind then.. I’d be glad to, thank you!”

To dehumanize people like that felt wrong. Treating love like it’s just another choice to make, as if you’re deciding what food you want to eat, felt wrong. To tie your life to someone else is supposed to be a wonderful, happy thing. Many stories end with its protagonist finding love, and with it finding new happiness. A part of him wanted to feel angry, to scold Sylvain for even saying such a thing. But then a different realization hit him.

What a lonely way to view the world that must be.

“Are those really things you have to think about, Sylvain?” That anger subsided just as quickly as it came, but replacing it was a feeling that wasn’t much better. Despite being adopted by a nobleman, Lonato never put any of those expectations on him. If anything, his adoptive father always encouraged him to seek his own path in life, to do what he believed was right. As a result he never really knew what life really was like for a real noble heir.

So the other’s whirlwind of emotion catches him off guard, the poisonous response like acid on his tongue where he holds it and waits. 

A lot of people have Ashe’s ideals. Find love and hold onto it at all costs. It’s the sweetest sort of daydream, but Sylvain knows that what lays on the other side of that dream isn’t the starry eyed ideal. It’s heartbreak. It’s pain and betrayal and the ultimate realization that they are the same as the Hero’s Relics they wield. Expensive trinkets and nothing more. 

Through it all, Sylvain hears himself laugh. Lighthearded if a little confused, tongue still stinging with what he wants to say. “Who, me? Nah, I’m not worried about any of that.” He’s really not, because Sylvain will never be taken a fool by someone pretending to love him. Ashe, though? He braces a hand on his shoulder, stone-faced and serious as any battle they’ve ever had. “You though. You’re an easy target for anyone who wants to wedge their way into a noble family. Sure, you don’t have a crest but - I bet there are a lot of people who’d be grateful for the step up.” And then they’d discard Ashe as a token whose value is no longer the accepted currency.

Once he was a knight, how could he inspire trust in others if he wasn’t willing to trust them in return? And if someday his trust would end up hurting him.. he’d prefer that to the alternative. He’d rather trust and get hurt than to push people away and lose someone he could have bonded with. Or worse than that, risk failing someone who genuinely needed help.

As Sylvain moves to the side of the floor, Ashe walks along with him. And then he asks that question. The question that, when asked, caused Ashe to blush a deep red. “What?! No, it.. it’s nothing like that! I don’t have anyone in mind..” Suddenly everything else seemed a lot more interesting, as he tried to look everywhere except at Sylvain directly. Just thinking about romance kind of made his head spin. Sure, he’d love to one day have the kind of romance they write novels about, the kinds heroes of old had. But he was just 16 and had so many other things to focus on first!

Also.. there’s one difference between him and a majority of the heroes he’s read about.

Sylvain almost feels bad for him, but it’s tells like these that remind him that Ashe is a commoner at heart. Having been adopted, there isn’t the same kind of weight hanging on his slim shoulders…so maybe he can just afford to tell Sylvain all of his secrets. 

Not that he doesn’t like secrets! He’s just caught a little off guard by it, is all, which is how he excuses the way the hand he’d placed at his hip ruffles through his carefully styled hair. The other gets shoved in his pockets in attempt to keep his gestures to a minimum. “No?” He’s hit with a wave of bitterness that he expects. It doesn’t make it any easier to swallow. “Hey, that’s no problem. There are plenty of guys out there too.”

To dehumanize people like that felt wrong. Treating love like it’s just another choice to make, as if you’re deciding what food you want to eat, felt wrong. To tie your life to someone else is supposed to be a wonderful, happy thing. Many stories end with its protagonist finding love, and with it finding new happiness. A part of him wanted to feel angry, to scold Sylvain for even saying such a thing. But then a different realization hit him.

What a lonely way to view the world that must be.

“Are those really things you have to think about, Sylvain?” That anger subsided just as quickly as it came, but replacing it was a feeling that wasn’t much better. Despite being adopted by a nobleman, Lonato never put any of those expectations on him. If anything, his adoptive father always encouraged him to seek his own path in life, to do what he believed was right. As a result he never really knew what life really was like for a real noble heir.

Standing on the side, watching as pairs of students danced to the music like it was the most natural thing in the world, Ashe only became more keenly aware just how different of a world they lived in. It wasn’t that he envied them or resented them. Nobody asks to be born the way they are, after all. It was just a fact that they were different, just like it’s a fact that the sky is blue. It being a fact didn’t make the difference any less intimidating at times though. The cup in his hand made what, the third chilled beverage he had? All in the name of trying to cool off his nerves. When one of the people setting the tables appeared to get closer to him, briefly the boy wondered if he was in trouble somehow for drinking too much. Thankfully for him (and his poor heart) the man seemed to only be here for conversation. “What? Oh, no!” Was he eyeing one person for too long? Was his infatuation too obvious? (Not that he was actually interested in someone right now… of course.) The boy laughed softly, a slight flush to his freckled cheeks. “I was just.. thinking about joining the others on the dance floor. But I keep psyching myself out, ahaha….” “It really is so different, when you’ve been taught to dance since you were young. I only just recently started learning myself.” Green eyes then flit towards the man, watching him work. “Would you.. perhaps like some help? I’d rather be of use to someone than just stand around all night.”

Ronan has never been one for words of comfort, his mother being a woman hard enough to make up for the father he never knew, so instead he just nods his head sympathetically and slides a new - the fourth - glass out from his arrangement over toward the other boy. He thinks at first to tell him that he doesn't really need the help - that the work isn't that demanding and he's been rationing it to keep himself busy anyway - but if he were in his place, he might long for something to do with his hands, too.

"Sure. I don't think anyone will mind." He nods to a box sitting on a chair nearby. It's full of champagne glasses filled with ciders and punch from the ice box in the kitchen. "And if they do, you can just say you're really thirsty."

He takes two more from the box and adds them to the arrangement, which is beginning to look like a triangle.

"I know what you mean, though. These nobles look like they were born knowing all the steps to every ballroom dance, but don't you think it looks sort of rigid?"

He nods to the floor now, where the couples in the middle are engaged in a box step of some kind.

"Elegant, I guess. But not fun at all. You're only learning now because--" Ronan trails off with a hum, turning to look his temporary help over from head to toe, thinking, considering his attire but mostly the freckles across his cheeks. He thinks that maybe this was someone who had spent more time outside than any privileged lifestyle would demand; if he could see his hands he'd know for sure, but the gloves tell him little. Still, Ronan finds him easy to talk to - forthright and unassuming, nothing like what he'd come to expect from noblemen.

He was a frank sort of guy, huh? Ashe couldn’t find himself disagreeing with anything he said, but speaking your mind like that was pretty brave.. Then again, it made for a comfortable conversation. He much preferred people who were honest over those who lied with honeyed words anyway.

“Rigid is a pretty apt way of putting it.” Ashe laughed lightly at the comment, covering his mouth with one gloved hand as he did. “Not that I can blame them.. if their lessons had been anything like mine, they’ve been taught to follow a script.”

It was more about making a good impression than to have fun, which Ashe had a feeling Ronan understood.

“As for me, um…” He looked slightly shocked, eyes widening at how close the older man got to his situation. “I wouldn’t say I’m inheriting a title, exactly.” He knew that was a possibility, somewhere in the back of his mind.. but it was never his position to take. It was Christophe’s. And he knew how much Lonato suffered after losing his only true son.. so Ashe never wanted to hurt him by bringing up the topic of inheritance. Because of this, what would happen to House Gaspard after Lonato stepped down.. was uncertain to Ashe. “I was adopted by a very kind nobleman a few years back, though. It’s also because of him that I’m able to attend this school at all, despite just being a commoner.”

Gratitude, admiration and love all shone through in the way Ashe described his adoptive father. He always looked up to Lonato, ever since he extended his hand and saved him and his siblings.

As if to prove Ashe’s thoughts further, Sylvain accepts his offer. He guides them into the correct starting position and, when the taller boy puts his hand on his hip, Ashe tries to follow by copying what he remembered from his few lessons, putting his free hand on Sylvain’s shoulder.

“Wait. L-Lovers?” Green doe eyes widen, like that of a deer caught in front of a carriage. He’d been so focused on proper form, it wasn’t until just now that he finally processed Sylvain’s words. A part of him internally begins to freak out. Not helped by the eyes he feels boring into his back.

But then the music picks up again and before he can change his mind the dance begins proper, Ashe constantly looking down- both to coordinate the way his feet are moving, but also to try and keep himself calm.

And then it starts to feel kind of fun. The other boy is obviously the more experienced one, but the steps were easy enough to follow along, only further encouraged by Sylvain’s praise. Stares began to matter less, as his focus shifted on just.. having fun with a friend.

When they finally part as the music stops, Ashe felt notably calmer than before. A part of him thinks he usually wouldn’t. “That.. was really fun! You’re a great teacher Sylvain, thank you.” He said, gratitude clear from the way his lips curled up into a smile and his eyes sparkled.

Now that his hands are free, he puts them behind his head, careful not to ruffle the style of his hair as he does. “You think so?” He’s already shaking his head, in no small part to the clear joy in Ashe’s expression. It makes laughing easy, hand sliding from the back of his head to pull over his heart. “Ah, you really know how to complement a guy. My heart can’t take it.”

Nevermind that it’d take a lot more practice for Ashe to do it on his own. To lead a partner rather than follow, but that was normal. By next year who knew? He’d be a proper Kingdom noble dancer. 

As Sylvain moves to the side of the floor, Ashe walks along with him. And then he asks that question. The question that, when asked, caused Ashe to blush a deep red. “What?! No, it.. it’s nothing like that! I don’t have anyone in mind..” Suddenly everything else seemed a lot more interesting, as he tried to look everywhere except at Sylvain directly. Just thinking about romance kind of made his head spin. Sure, he’d love to one day have the kind of romance they write novels about, the kinds heroes of old had. But he was just 16 and had so many other things to focus on first!

Also.. there’s one difference between him and a majority of the heroes he’s read about.

As his own chocolates finished chilling, the boy steadily pushed each one out of the mould. The treats were shaped like little hearts, filled with a jam on the inside. They were supposed to be friendship chocolates, something to show his classmates his appreciation for having gotten the chance to learn with them.

However, as the topic of love kept being brought up by both the chocolatier as well as his fellow students naturally his mind began to wander. To a certain person he found himself admiring more and more..

His initial decision to make regular squares changed into hearts. A commonly liked caramel filling became a more specific flavor of Albinean berry jam.

“I wonder if he’d like these….” The boy found himself wondering, before promptly shaking his head to get rid of the thoughts- as well as the slight reddish tint that threatened to blossom on his cheeks.

And this does make a lovely excuse to get to know him. He may not be one of her own Black Eagles students but that hardly matters.

"I have never made anything like this before. Everything I learned to make growing up had to be created with ingredients I grew or foraged myself. It will be exciting to try something new."

Ashe then carefully listened to her speak as she explained her unfamiliarity with the lesson’s topic. “You grew your own food? That’s amazing!” The boy replied delightedly. “My parents used to do the same thing. You can taste the love if you grow em yourself, they always said.” He thought back to those times fondly. Times spent digging in their yard for fresh ingredients.

“But I’d be happy to help with the chocolates! I’m not exactly a master, but I know my way around a kitchen.” None of the equipment given to them had been unfamiliar. At most, their application took some getting used to, here and there.

"Let us help each other then, hm?" The heart shapes he has chosen for his chocolates do not escape her. There were other molds available. Circles, squares, shapes more suited to all of his friends. But she does not judge and she does not tease. "I am hoping to make mine for someone special, too."

“If the chocolates are for someone special, then.. do you have an idea for what kind of flavor you want to give them?” He asked with a slight tilt of his head. Briefly, he wondered who this special person could be. Surely a lady like her would have a husband or wife, right? ….would that be rude to ask?

Green eyes, usually wide and innocent, narrowed in a look of intense focus as Ashe drew an arrow and pulled back his bowstring in a familiar motion. Around them, other archers had already begun their attack with arrows flying towards the beast.

But the demonic beast flapped its massive wings, screeching as powerful gusts knocked most arrows off course. Those that manage to strike true only scathing its off-putting leathery skin.

“Ugh… it’s really disturbing….” The monster’s pulsating veins and unnatural looking beak could make most people feel queasy. Ashe tried his best to suppress the way the bird both intimidated and disgusted him though; He had a mission, and he would fulfill it with courage.

He waited until the monster would pull back its wings again in preparation for another massive gust. Then, the boy took a deep breath and…. “Now!”

What few arrows did make it through the blast of wind scrape harmless over its leathery hide.

But then, as the creature eases off to recover from the effort of flapping its wings hard enough to create such forces, it reels back with a pained scream. One of the arrows had made a decisive hit, robbing the creature of easily using one of its wings -- and Harken is impressed to see that it had been Ashe to do it. Not only was it a less than ideal shot to take, but he'd had the wherewithal to hold off until the beast had tired itself out and was left open.

"A fine shot!" Harken remarks, glancing over his shoulder just long enough to make eye contact with the student. "Now that it cannot flee to the skies so easily, all we must do is end it swiftly."

Malformed as it was, it did not deserve to suffer in light of the sacrifice it was going to make for them.

"It will get desperate now that it cannot escape us, though, so do not let down your guard." With it more or less grounded, this gave Harken the chance to more effectively carry out his own role and draw as much of its aggression away from the archers as he could. The flat of his sword cracks against his shield -- once, twice, three times -- drawing the maddened gaze of the creature and its ire along with it.

Grounded as it was, it still had brute strength and size to contend with -- and that meant a devastating reach.

With the beast’s focus being on Harken, Ashe took the opening the knight created to draw another arrow, looking for an opening to shut down both of its wings. But with it moving so erratically, finding a clean shot was difficult.

To make matters worse it seemed to have become wise to Harken’s attempt to distract it, its unnerving eyes locking on to the boy that had injured its wing. Despite being grounded it could still rush forward with surprising speed, and like it tried to do with the knight before, the beast plunged its beak towards where Ashe was standing.

Just barely, the archer was able to roll out of the way, narrowly avoiding a grievous injury. But the sheer impact of the beast hitting the ground caused a tremor. As a result Ashe lost his balance, falling to the ground painfully.

As if to prove Ashe’s thoughts further, Sylvain accepts his offer. He guides them into the correct starting position and, when the taller boy puts his hand on his hip, Ashe tries to follow by copying what he remembered from his few lessons, putting his free hand on Sylvain’s shoulder.

“Wait. L-Lovers?” Green doe eyes widen, like that of a deer caught in front of a carriage. He’d been so focused on proper form, it wasn’t until just now that he finally processed Sylvain’s words. A part of him internally begins to freak out. Not helped by the eyes he feels boring into his back.

But then the music picks up again and before he can change his mind the dance begins proper, Ashe constantly looking down- both to coordinate the way his feet are moving, but also to try and keep himself calm.

And then it starts to feel kind of fun. The other boy is obviously the more experienced one, but the steps were easy enough to follow along, only further encouraged by Sylvain’s praise. Stares began to matter less, as his focus shifted on just.. having fun with a friend.

When they finally part as the music stops, Ashe felt notably calmer than before. A part of him thinks he usually wouldn’t. “That.. was really fun! You’re a great teacher Sylvain, thank you.” He said, gratitude clear from the way his lips curled up into a smile and his eyes sparkled.