Author's Note: This takes place right before Chapter 28 (Valorous Roland) in Eliwood's story.
"And then the knight approached his Lord Roland, and greeted him, and kissed him, and—"
"Ew," said Hector, interrupting Eliwood's reading of the history. They were lying out in the grass by the stables in Ostia, trying to finish classwork, and Hector had insisted Eliwood read their latest text aloud because that would be faster than both of them sharing the book. "He kissed him? Like, on the mouth?"
"Probably. That was the old custom, you know. Nobles kissed each other whenever they met after a long time, or whenever they were about to part for a long time. It showed goodwill."
"I think that's strange."
"You shouldn't disrespect your elders," said Eliwood, feeling a little ruffled, "even if times have changed."
Hector snorted. "Well don't expect me to go kissing you when you leave, even if you will be fifteen by then."
Eliwood rolled his eyes at the coming-of-age jape; Hector had just turned fifteen the month before and was holding it over his head. "Why would you kiss me when you have that tavern wench you—"
"She's not a wench!" Hector slammed him back onto the grass before he could dodge away.
"Careful with the book!" he insisted indignantly. "It's very old!"
Eliwood was wrenched out of his memory by Hector's voice, just as indignant, but a good deal louder: "What do you mean, he has to make it to the altar alone?"
"The sword Durandal is a holy weapon," Athos answered, calm as ever. "To reach it by himself a test, to see if he is worthy of wielding it."
Eliwood looked around himself, remembering where he was, and felt his lips press into a thin line. His old friend made a grab for the ancient hero and found him, somehow, just slightly out of reach; his big hands met only air.
"Of course he's worthy, old man! He shouldn't have to do this without me. I'm not leaving his side."
"It is of no consequence. You will not be permitted to enter the inner temple, try though you might."
"Hector," Eliwood said then, "I must do what Athos says. I have to prove myself."
"You'll get hurt," Hector answered, turning sharply to face him. "Killed."
"Then we were all doomed from the start."
He saw his friend's hands clench, saw him understand the logic of it. With a frustrated swear he closed the distance between them with long strides, commanding, "Don't die, then, don't you dare, or I'll kill you myself—"
When he reached Eliwood he grabbed him by the hair and kissed him hard, breaking away with another swear and storming off without a backward glance.
Eliwood watched him go, bewildered, and wiped off his stinging mouth with the back of his hand. It came away streaked with blood.
"You must hurry," said Athos, giving no indication of whether he'd seen the gesture, a relic of his time.
"…I understand." He squared his shoulders, touched the rapier at his hip, and entered the temple alone.
Author's Note: So I'm still not really sure whether to call this a bromance or a romance. The idea occurred to me while reading some Arthurian Lit, where men—especially ranked men—kiss each other all the time, because in those days it was normal (same with the Odyssey, and same with crying. We seem to have made some odd distinctions on "manliness" as time has gone on). I guess from an old Arthurian standpoint this is just a friendship fic, and from a modern one it's a romance. So you can pick whichever you prefer.