Recently got Fire Emblem Three Houses and just completed Crimson Flower and Silver Snow routes. Currently on NG+ Blue Lions/Azure Moon playthrough, and I have to say, I'm torn between Ashe and Dimitri, mainly because of the latter's timeskip design lol.

Anyway, my inner shotacon loves Ashe to hell and beyond (you may call the shotacops on me); he's such an adorable sweetheart. I've also read that he's receiving a lot of flak for being your generic nice guy (same with Stahl. I love them both). So, this fic is to give love to my OTP. Everyone is free to flame me but what I'd really appreciate is your heartfelt review.

Thank you for reading!

This is a dramatization of my shock when I found out in Silver Snow that Ashe wasn't in my party anymore. Imagine my horror when I was scrolling through the roster and didn't find his pretty face! Ugh!

Pairings: BylethxAshe, SylvainxDorothea, CasparxPetra

Reunion (Silver Snow)

Byleth left no stone unturned. The more places she visited, the heavier her heart became. It wore on as her feet could no longer bring her to the last place she hasn't visited yet. Stifled tears welled in her eyes.

'Do not panic, Byleth. Maybe he hasn't arrived yet,' was her self-reassurance. It slowly became a mantra as heavy steps uncovered all of Garreg Mach, only to show her that he wasn't anywhere in it. The young woman shook her head. This has got to be some joke! She turned around and she saw Sylvain and Mercedes jogging towards her; the latter with wide open arms typical of her ever-loving nature. It was that moment that her exhaustion fully consumed her.

The blond woman embraced her tightly. Soothed her. Cooed at her, "There, there…"

"He isn't here," Byleth looked at Sylvain, her teary eyes demanding an explanation. But she already knew the answer,

"Come on, Professor… Ashe, he…" the young man couldn't bring himself to say it.

Mercedes looked at him as the woman consoled the one in her arms. The look she gave him meant there was no way around it.

"Gaspard was conquered by the traitorous Cornelia, for the Empire. Ashe serves in its auxiliary army to save his people."

Finally, Byleth submitted to her pain and tightly clung to Mercedes as tears and cries took over her too. "No! No! No! No no no…"

'He was mad. Furious. He's such a nice guy but that day, he was frightening. He was so lost in grief that he ended up assaulting Seteth,' Sylvain chuckled. 'Restraining him earned me a few bruises. I didn't know he had such strength in him. We actually had to throw him into his room. Only through Dedue's help, mind you.

'A few hours later when I checked on him, he did calm down. But you know what? He looked the same that day when Gaspard died. Seteth came to check on him, too. Said that he'd do everything in his power to look for you.'

But that didn't sell to Ashe, thought Byleth.

'Ashe did not mince his words that day. Told Seteth off and lumped him with the lying church that he serves. We all went back to Faerghus after the Church has basically collapsed, Dimitri appointed him as Lord of repatriated Gaspard, and so began the battle against the traitorous Cornelia. But amidst all the fighting, he was deeply absorbed with searching for you. But what could a single guy do? He found nothing, of course, and it took him a year to finally toss in the towel.

'He hasn't been the same since then. Sure, he was still the kind and generous Ashe. But he became cold, distant and unapproachable. Can you believe that?

'He was truly lost, no clue as to where to find you. He surmised that maybe, that was the end to it all.'

The bed was awfully comforting. The warmth of the covers wrapped her in a gentle hug, the same way he had hugged her when her father had died. Byleth smiled. He freaked out the moment he realized he was hugging her tightly. Oh how he blushed up to his shoulders. Byleth giggled to herself. Giddiness brewed in her stomach as more memories came flooding back. A mere distraction to the emptiness she feels.

She turned in her bed.

It was… at least a week after my father died. It was past midnight. Miraculously, I had the strength to get out of my room and have a bath. I considered drinking myself to stupor. But no, the last thing I wanted was for my students to see me drunk, and, well, pathetic.

No one was around. Just me, the trees and the benches. I remember groaning when I sat my ass on one of those ice cold benches. But that wasn't enough to distract me from my anger, from my sadness. I think I broke down right there, bawling with my used clothes on my lap. I tried to be quiet. Didn't want to disturb Dedue nor Ashe, who happened to be my neighbors.

I was too engrossed in my own pitiful silent cries that I did not notice someone approach. When he spoke, I raised my head; his visage was like a phantasm in the night. It was dark, there weren't any lights. Yes, I walked through the darkness without a candle or lamp! I did not have the proper faculties to think about it then. His silver hair glowed in the light of the moon and his green eyes, it's not possible, but they glowed like fireflies to me.

He did not speak anymore words aside from calling my name, and he wordlessly placed a blanket on my shoulders. He sat down beside me. And I continued to cry.

I remember telling him that I now knew what it feels like. It must have been hard for you, I said. He didn't answer. Must have brought bitter memories. The reason why he was there was because misery loves company. But he wasn't completely alone; he still has his siblings. What about me? I hardly know anyone aside from my father. And never did he tell me anything else aside from my mother, which we only talked about in passing a few weeks ago! Dammit Dad!

My tears dried for a moment. And I looked at him. It was then that I realized he had also been crying. Were those tears he had been stifling for months? Yet it was I that was comforted in a hug. It was tight. It was warm against the coldness of the night. And it certainly made me feel I was not alone as we both cried in each other's arms.

"I am here, Professor. You have me."

Everyone came and go, checked on me as often as they could. They were kind to me. And yet, I did not hear their condolences, they all sounded hollow to my ears. Except for Ashe. Well, he didn't say anything. He never said anything, just sat beside me every time, offered me a blanket every time. He did not try to hug me again though, and I missed it a lot.

The last time we met past midnight was a few days after I killed Solon. I stabbed him with all the hatred I had. He deserved it and more; he took my revenge away. It was instant gratification, as if a huge burden was lifted. And yet after that, I was empty.

I sat on the same bench, my head thrown back as I gazed at the stars. His door creaked open, a few moments after, Dedue peeked through his door and saw us both. He never said anything about it.

Ashe sat down, and as usual offered me a blanket to stave off the cold. I took it from him. That time though, I felt cheeky and threw it over his shoulders. And before he could complain, I returned his hug. I should have done it a long time ago, back when he was mourning. But I was too afraid of being inappropriate that I forgot the spirit of consoling.

I found myself outside, standing a few steps beyond my door, barefoot, and the only thing that made me not indecent was the coat the I pulled tightly around myself. That bench in front of me, it has seen better days.

Ever since that month, Ashe and I met often at night. That was inappropriate; he was my student after all. But the guards would always turn a blind eye. I've always wondered why they did, but I guess it was more common than I previously thought. They saw students come and go with their hormones; Ashe and I being together at night was nothing new. They only made sure we weren't doing anything fishy, at times they didn't even stop to look at us. Maybe they figured everything out before I even had a smidgen of an idea of what was happening to me and my feelings.

Still barefoot, Byleth turned right, passed Dedue's door, and stopped at that room she secretly hoped to enter under a completely different reason. Her hands grasped a knob and pushed the door. It was clear of most of his belongings. And there were a lot of overdue books scattered about. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. On his desk was a piece of paper, that at the slightest recognition of the words on it, tears immediately fell from Byleth's eyes.

Where are you?

How convenient this five-year sleep had been for me while it was an excruciating torture to him. I wonder where he is. I hope he's safe.

"Gaspard," Gwendal's gravelly voice called from across camp. It was cold. Well, it was always cold in the Kingdom, and it sank deep into his old bones. He stomped his feet, hoping to get the warmth flowing, as he waited for the young man to approach. "Finally, we are facing the Church you hate!" he guffawed afterwards.

Yet Ashe could not get into the excitement of it. He simply scoffed. He only wished to avenge Lonato and Christophe. Also to uncover all of the church's heinous crimes. And maybe make them pay for losing Byleth. He did not give words to the feelings he harbored, staring off into the distance instead.

Gwendal sighed. "You have a long life ahead of you, Ashe. Instead of being consumed by the past, focus on the present that Providence hath giveth." Still, the cold had not left him; the old man scoffed. "If I die, take care of my daughter."

"Apologies, Sir Gwendal," Ashe turned, his dulled green eyes glowered at the Gray Lion. "I can't." He excused himself to prepare the rest of his troops.

The old man remembers him as a sweet boy, too kind for his own good. Heck, Lonato coddled him alongside Christophe. Now, he was nothing more than a cold-blooded sniper who clears the field without getting touched by the enemy. He shuddered at the thought of giving away his daughter to such a man. Perhaps it was for the better that he rejected the proposal. Still, to have been transformed by the horrors of bloodshed… "Ah, young love lost to war…" Gwendal watched his breath condense in the cold wind, savoring it before meeting the unforgiving heat of the valley.

"Come on! Let's crush them Imperial dogs!" shouted Caspar, unwittingly raising the morale of the ragtag army under Byleth's command. "Now who's with me!?" His mighty roar further hyped everyone, despite the oppressive heat.

"Remember," Seteth began whilst he mounted his wyvern, "We are not the only ones encumbered by this heat. The enemies as well. Attack them the moment they traipse into the lava!"

"Professor, there are archers and snipers on our right," stated Sylvain as his eyes swept through the glowing landscape of the sweltering field. He looked at his helm with trepidation. One thing is clear, it isn't from the heat. Finally, he donned his helm, strapped it and lowered the visor. Caspar sidled to him.

"Archers to our right! Fliers be wary of stray arrows!" commanded Byleth; Seteth, Cyril and Petra, and everybody else in the flight unit took note. "Be wary of stray arrows! Don't wander until we've cleared them!" Then she saw the unlikely pair, Sylvain and Caspar, coming into an agreement. She didn't know that they were particularly close. They looked at her then back at each other. Finally, Caspar jogged to her and unceremoniously dragged her against her protests.

The paladin stood tall upon his mount, pointing his lance at some random point. "Listen, Professor. I'd love it if you'd watch and see how skilled I am during this battle," Sylvain raised his visor so he could show her his wink, to Caspar's chagrin. But he didn't say a word. The redhead continued, "Keep your eyes peeled for familiar faces."

"Are you saying that he's here!?"

"Maybe. I don't know." He grimaced. He didn't like the idea of setting his professor on false hopes. "But it's worth a shot."

"Right," noted Byleth, still unnerved on how she was manhandled. Though, she has something that's worth fighting for. Just as they agreed, a loud pinging noise bounced off of Sylvain's shield.

The redhead was grinning under his helm. "There is only one man known to hit something from that distance."

"Is it him?"

"Yeah, it's Snow White. That bastard!" Sylvain steered his mount, wary of the arrows that whizzed past. "Caspar, Professor, on me!" It was impossible for him to charge the enemy line, what with the softened and unstable ground. The only good thing about it is it kept him in a nice pace with the other infantry soldiers with him. The closer they get, the enemies' accuracy improved and HE started shooting at Sylvain's armor gaps, not to mention the horse. "Damn you, Ashe!" screamed Sylvain as an arrow shallowly dug at his neck through the mail.

"Ashe!?"

"Focus, Professor!" Caspar then ran over the hot soil, skipping and jumping through uneven ground as nimbly as he can, axe in tow. A nearby archer kept shooting at him but he didn't care. He rammed with his axe, knocking the sorry pal down and concussing him with the flat side. Another arrow narrowly missed him and he glared at his attacker. He screamed. He roared, all the while pulling out the arrows that got stuck on him. In the distance, Dorothea healed him, stacking on his brazen assault.

Byleth did the same but with more grace and evasion. What Sylvain had said weighed heavily on her mind, her subconscious controlling her strokes into nothing but glancing blows. She downed an archer, pulled off the poor man's hat and saw no ash. "Is he here? Somewhere?" She frantically looked at the ensuing chaos around her but found not a shadow of him.

"Over there!" cowered the archer at her feet. "He's been looking for you."

Sylvain pointed his lance at a blue clad sniper, fully aware of his identity. "About time you changed sides, Ashe!" he shouted, hoping their professor would hear and take the bait but she was nowhere in sight.

Ashe knocked an arrow and aimed at the gap of the visor, "It's too late for that, Gautier!" He let loose yet Sylvain steered clear. It flew past because of his half-hearted aim, only to be deflected by deft swordsmanship. His heart sank further. Seeing that banner, emblazoned with the Crest of Flames, had already wounded him. To fight her was unfathomable. Yet it is happening.

She had an ethereal glow to her light green hair and a cold yet fierce mien. The archers whispered amongst themselves, lowering their bows and arrows, desperately looking at their lord to give orders. They knew it was her. It only takes one order and they will follow their fledgling lord.

"Byleth... I'm sorry." He clenched his teeth, knocked another arrow and aimed at her. His soldiers followed suit and let loose another volley at the Knights of Seiros. But he didn't have the strength nor courage to let go. As expected she charged him, blade in hand. He did not even bother to evade the stab she made to his shoulder and fell over. Hat fell off and his silver hair spilled forth. The heat, the pain, the shock overwhelmed him. Just as he was taken down, his men ceased their attacks, counted him as good as dead.

Sylvain trotted to him; lance threateningly close to his throat. "Surrender."

"Spare them." A lone tear trickled down his eye. He felt worse because relief washed over him; he had his people to think of yet he was glad to have finally met Byleth once more. Ashe shook his head, reluctant. He pushed himself against the blazing hot ground and smiled at her, causing the woman to mindlessly drop her sword and run towards him. Tears fell on his face like rain as Byleth could no longer hold them back. Yet she smiled brilliantly, joyful that she found him at last.

Gently, she placed her hands over his wound and healed him. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you. Oh, Ashe…" Her sobs were muffled against his chest, her words begging, "Please come back to me…"

Sylvain and Caspar rounded those who surrendered and handed them over to the Knights of Seiros. Then they gave instructions to their troops as they saw fit before heading out to the fray once more.

"They need time."

"The hat fooled you, huh?" Ashe chuckled. "You have no idea how long I searched for you…" The lad hissed at the pain from his shoulder.

Byleth then raised her dirty face, marred with tears, blood and dirt. "Five years?" the two laughed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Ashe."

"This was not the reunion I had in mind." His hand dried away the tears. Gently, he cupped her cheek, he reminisced of the last time he saw her. Of the pain of losing her. All of it were now in the past, and as he stared at her, he saw that time did not pass for his precious Byleth; she hadn't aged a day. His troubles were shadowed by relief, though. To finally be with her for the rest of his life lifted a heavy burden from his shoulders.

"I am yours to command, Byleth."

He was the last man standing from the Imperial auxiliary army; Gwendal did not mind. He looked up to the darkened sky. It was a good day to die. The others demanded his surrender but he was having none of it. Honor through battle, of course. Nothing like an exhilarating fight to the death!

Finally, the so-called new Church leader stepped up, an ethereal glow to her. So, Ashe's description of her was true. Indeed, the young man liked his women busty. My daughter cannot hold a candle against a rack like that! He laughed internally.

"Ah, Gaspard's woman!" the Gray Lion chuckled. "So, you've seduced Ashe back to your side, I presume?" Yet he received no words in return. "Of course, that brat never really was with us since he has always been yours, eh? Well, have at you!"

The graying man raised his lance for one, last blaze of glory.

"How are you feeling, Ashe?" asked Mercedes as she entered the medical tent. She looks worse for wear.

There was pain but it was nothing compared to the pain of others. He doesn't understand why he was confined with the wounded. "I am well, Mercedes. Thank you." Ashe noticed her knowing smile and he didn't like it. "What?"

"Oh, nothing." Yet she continued to smile as she tended to the other soldiers. Of course it is one of the most critical things healers must do, smile, so as to lift the spirits of the wounded. But hers was different! Unable to take the atmosphere, Ashe resolved to get off the cot and leave, only to bump into Sylvain just outside the tent.

"Snow White," he smirked.

"Stop calling me that," Ashe tried to shake him off but the bigger man pulled him aside and locked him in one of his arms. "How did they even make that up!? My hair isn't even white!"

"Anyone would if they saw a pale man, like a ghost upon snow, after seeing one of their friends is dead with an arrow in his eye!" Then Sylvain whispered close to his ear, "With a look as cold as ice upon his features." He finally let go. "Snow White!" Sylvain mocked again.

Ashe finally gave in. He was so lost, pulled in many different directions, that he glossed through the war. He never looked at the faces of those whom he killed, only stepping on their corpses as the army advanced, as if to save what was left of his soul. Maybe now he may recover.

"Snow White?" asked Byleth as she arrived.

"Oh, it's nothing, Professor. On a happier note, our baby boy Ashe Ubert is back!" Sylvain presented Ashe, aware of the sexual tension that suddenly mounted.

Byleth smiled, her eyes curved softly. "Indeed, he is." She couldn't help smiling; her cheeks were pulling on her lips on their own. She doesn't understand how it's happening but happy that it is the way it is. Now that she had a good look at him, he isn't the boy she last saw. He was a bit taller and the roundness of his face gave way to sharper lines.

"Oho, see something you like?" teased Sylvain, further making his two friends uncomfortable. "That is a smile I had not seen in months! Ah, certainly a beautiful miracle given to us by the goddess. I can never stop basking in it!"

"I kind of miss not hearing you," jibed Ashe, causing his beloved professor to laugh. It pulled at his heartstrings and his lips. His bright green eyes gazed at her every feature, his desire to see her finally quenched.

"Well, that's my cue to leave! See you later love birds!"

"Sylvain!"

"You seem against the idea. Just like five years ago," said Byleth. "Well, I am glad you're back." Then she gently squeezed his other shoulder.

It was not that nice to be back in the monastery. Lonato and Christophe's deaths haven't been brought to justice yet and being in the same place as the vile "pious" people irritated Ashe. Yet he had no other place to go; so did his men. Why did they have to follow him anyway? He roamed the grounds, his feet bringing him back to their old homeroom. The Blue Lion banner still hung, faded. Before he could get inside though, somebody pulled at his nape.

"What the!?"

"You little! You shot me the other day!" The loud booming voice was unmistakable.

"Let go of me, Caspar! And how do you even know it was me!?" Try as he may, he could not escape the grasp of someone who excels at brawling. "Why are you angry? You lived!"

"You little piece of—"

"Let go of him, Caspar. The Professor will end you if you kill Ashe," teased Petra, albeit saving Ashe from the deathgrip Caspar had on him.

"So, you enjoyed yesterday's shooting gallery," entered Sylvain. "How cold!" Then he turned to the others. "Have you seen her today? She practically had a grin plastered on her face."

"I would not say grin. But yes, she is more happier."

"Yeah! Looking forward to working with you again, Ashe!"

"What are you guys talking about?"

"It's all nice to play the coy card sometimes. But come on, Ashe! You're going to make the Professor sad if you keep on acting like this."

"He is right. If you must be knowing, she turned all stones looking for you!" said Petra, confusing the silver haired lad.

"I think the idiom you're looking for is 'She left no stone unturned.'" It was Dorothea. She has grown more beautiful throughout the years. And Ashe did not fail to notice how she sidled to Sylvain.

"You notice this but you don't notice her efforts!? Extremely cold, Snow White!" the redhead faked a hurt expression.

"Stop calling me that, please!"

"Anyway, I believe she will be looking for you. She had just finished her magics training." Then Dorothea winked at Ashe, "Good luck!" She pulled both Sylvain and Caspar with her, despite the former's complaints. Petra followed suit but not before waving goodbye at the silver-haired sniper.

"What am I supposed to do now? Wait for her here?"

Answered, Byleth arrived from the direction of the Black Eagles homeroom. She looked around. When her eyes fell on him, her usual stoic face was filled with color and smiles. Her steps had a spring in them she never knew they could ever have. And her stomach was knotting around! She willed herself to imagine what he used to be: the sweet, adorable boy she was fond of. But seeing his longer, side swept silver hair sent her conscious mind to the back of her head and all she could manage was a shy "Ashe." It wasn't just fondness anymore, that she knew.

"Professor." He was similarly shy.

Their four friends looked on from the nearby entrance to the Reception Hall, they were high-fiving each other. Which didn't go unnoticed by Byleth, since she had a good angle. "I think they're spying on us." She bent sideways and peeked through Ashe; they scampered away. For good, hopefully. She giggled at their antics.

Unbeknownst to her, Ashe was staring at her every move. He couldn't believe that she was back. He knew she was real; she touched his shoulder back at the battle. But, "Are you real now?" his voice was a whisper as his hand reached out to brush away her hair from her neck. Every strand that ran against his finger was real. Then he moved to cup her face once again. Her skin was smooth and warm against his calloused touch. And her smile sent his heart a flutter.

She was surprised to say the least but nevertheless happy at his initiative. Her smile grew softer as she slowly leaned into his hand. And his thumb brushed ever so lightly against her cheek.

Ashe sighed heavily, "You really are real."

Byleth nodded. "I am back." Then she beckoned with open arms. Would he take it? No? But the woman hoped he would, so she kept her arms inviting. Ashe was fighting himself, she could tell, what with the bright blush on his cool-toned skin. The longer she waited, the farther down his blush crept. It was a fulfilling sight to say the least. She was feeling smug knowing that she's making him react that way.

She shook her arms, in case he forgot she was beckoning him for a hug. Coaxing him into her loving caress.

"If… If I may," Ashe finally squeaked. Small, uncertain steps he took towards Byleth, too conscious about her… ample chest being close to his. Yet the woman jumped him and clung, her arms around his neck. Her arms wrapped tightly around him, he feared he would suffocate. But it was okay. That is a good way to die. Of happiness. But no dying that day for him. He threw out his trepidation out the window as he returned the hug, lifted her up and spun around. Their laughter rang in the corridors and the rooms, not a care in the world if people were watching. Chortles died down and the two stared deep into each other's eyes. He thought he'd never see her again yet fate is a fickle thing.

Stifling his tears proved to be difficult as Byleth began crying. He put her down gently. "It's alright, Professor," he wiped away her tears as his own began to trickle down his cheeks.

He pulled her in for a second hug. Her hair was still soft to the touch. And her hands could still grip tight to the clothes on his back. She cried the same.

"I am here. You have me."

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