Like a statue, Asterix stood there, smiling, until everyone had announced their good wishes; stood there while everyone congratulated Obelix, and stood there while they planned a banquet to see the happy couple off. Seeing what appeared like the whole village crowding round Obelix and Latraviata, he retreated. One step, then another, until he was clear of the crowd.

"Not easy, is it," said a voice at his back.

Asterix blinked. "Oh, hullo, Druid Getafix."

"Do you think he's really going to go for good?"

"If that's what makes him happy…" Asterix trailed off.

Getafix drew in a deep breath. Asterix looked over at him, expecting him to say something. Instead, his old friend put an arm round him, and the two of them stood watching the couple as they were congratulated.

As the last of the villagers walked away, Obelix's head was in a whirl. He wasn't even sure what had happened. Latraviata was steering, and all he could do was hold on. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Asterix, standing with Getafix, looking lost, leaning a little into the druid's supporting arm. Obelix wanted to hug him tight. Instead, he let Latraviata pull him away.

The actress led him to a shady, secluded corner behind his hut. Obelix followed blindly, waiting until she let go of his hand. The moment they were definitely out of sight, she sighed, visibly deflating as the mask of grace dropped. She collapsed onto a menhir that lay on its side and slumped backwards against the tree behind her, perfectly-coiffed head coming to rest against the bark with a thunk. "By Semele!" She looked up at Obelix soberly. "Someone went to a lot of trouble to get you out of this village."

Obelix flinched. So this was the agency of the gods. He must play along, then, even though he had no desire to. Latraviata was nice enough, but… "You're not really going… to marry me, are you?" he murmured, drawing close to her and looking furtively to left and right.

"Hardly." The Roman diva shook her head, frowning. Strands of hair from her elegant bun caught and pulled in the tree bark. "It's the most believable fiction, though. My orders are to get you to Rome as fast as possible. What you do there is up to you."

Obelix nodded. He supposed it was possible that Moccus had spoken to Latraviata directly – actors, it was known, could speak to the oracles and to demigods. Real actors, of course, not the rabble he and Asterix had once met in Condatum. He ached to ask her what exactly she had heard, and whether she'd met Moccus in person or if she had merely seen him in a dream… But it wasn't his place, and his conscience had sworn him to secrecy. "You've caused enough grief with your well-intentioned blundering," it had said.

Latraviata's graceful figure straightened. "Here comes Asterix," she announced, rising from where she sat. "I'm going to rest in your hut. I'll let you say your goodbyes."

Obelix looked down at the grass. All of a sudden, he felt very cold.

"Hi, Obelix."

Asterix's eyes were clear, soft, gentle. Obelix's chest twisted and tightened as he looked up at the tentative expression on the face of his friend. His best friend. The one who'd always defended him, always stood by him, always thought, always planned. Always protected him. Asterix. Asterix, looking at him now, quizzically, with a little smile, looking betrayed – as well he might – but still trying to understand. Loyal to the end. Obelix's head spun as he remembered his conscience's words.

"Remember, when you speak to him, use your sharpest words. Cut him to the heart."

"What?"

"Be hurtful. Tell him of the times you quarrelled. Tell him of every slight and grievance, however old."

"I… I don't remember any…"

"Make yourself remember. Invent reasons. Tell him he is holding you back and that you wish to seek your fortune unencumbered by him."

"But…" Obelix froze. The words sounded like blasphemy. "But it's Asterix! I couldn't!"

"It is the only way to cut the ties that bind him to you. He must think you are breaking them of your own accord."

"I… I…" Obelix swallowed back tears. "I don't want him to hate me."

"Blubbering again! Look at you! And they call you a warrior? I can't think how. 'Don't want him to hate me?' How selfish can you be, Obelix of Gaul? After all this, you STILL crave a place in his good graces, rather than do what he selflessly would without thinking?"

Obelix bit down on the knuckle of his forefinger. "I…" There didn't seem to be anything left in the world for him. 'For him.' There he was, thinking of himself again. His conscience was right. He was a selfish, greedy pig, and he had to do whatever he could to rid Asterix of him. If he threw away his best friend's love… if that must be the price…

"Think of it this way," his conscience said smoothly, as though continuing his thoughts. Which made sense – it was his conscience after all. "The years you had with him were a gift from the gods, a gift you never deserved. Now it has been revoked, but it's your duty to give them thanks that they allowed you so much luxury in the first place."

Faced with his friend's open expression, his loving, clear hazel eyes, Obelix thought of the words his conscience had taught him. Of every time he had shared a laugh or a meal or a game with Asterix, or just sat watching the sunset. Every day had been a gift from the gods. Now, he had to leave Asterix, maybe to share meals and laughter and sport and peaceful moments with someone else.

It was for the greater good. To protect Asterix from his, Obelix's, failures and lapses. Asterix deserved better than Obelix. He'd do it.

"…never told me about it! You sly thing," Asterix was saying. Obelix blinked – it was clear Asterix had been speaking for some time.

"Mm," Obelix nodded. He couldn't form words.

"You could have told me, you know." His friend was smiling, but his eyes were pools of hurt. He looked lost. "Are you planning to come and stay here in the village with us in the off-season for theatre, or move to Rome for good?"

Obelix hadn't much experience with feeling helpless, but once, when he was a very small boy, he had fallen into the water before he'd learned how to swim. That terrible feeling, of kicking out for solid ground and finding none, was upon him now. He looked away, and shrugged noncommittally.

Asterix took a deep breath and soldiered on. "The Chief's preparing a big banquet. I think the women are secretly pleased to be talked into it. Talking about having some culture and art in the village." His smile became a touch more natural. "Can't think why they don't count Cacofonix!"

Obelix tried to imagine a big banquet, a wedding banquet. Flowers and song, light and music, warmth and friendship, the villagers assembled, flames leaping high around spits groaning with sizzling roast boar. Friends gathered all around, celebrating not a union, but a parting. His stomach heaved. For a moment his throat closed, and he choked on his own saliva. Then he blurted, "We'll be leaving straight away."

Asterix actually rocked back on his heels, as though he'd been struck. "I see. I…" Asterix swallowed. "I could come with you? Like… like our dads. Not now, of course," he added hurriedly. "I mean after your honeymoon. If you're planning to go into business there. I could help you set up—"

"No." Obelix sounded harsher than he'd intended, he was so full of shock. Asterix would leave the village for him? "No. I—" He scrabbled for a phrase from his conscience's arsenal. "…I think it's time to cut ties."

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of Dogmatix, whining quietly as he stood between the two friends.

"Obelix," Asterix murmured. "You're not serious."

Obelix folded his arms over his chest. "Why not, Mr Asterix? Because you think I'm not good enough to do anything but run around after you?"

Asterix's eyes widened. It broke Obelix's heart to see the soft, conciliatory expression in them. "Obelix! That isn't true. I've never thought that!"

'How many times,' his conscience whispered, 'has he apologized first, though you're the one to blame?'

Taking a deep breath, Obelix bellowed, "WELL, I DISAGREE WITH YOU ENTIRELY!"

A spark of anger appeared in Asterix's eyes. "What's the MATTER with you?"

"The matter, Mister Asterix, is that now I have a woman who'll treat me the way I deserve." The words sounded odd on his own lips, but he'd rehearsed them with his conscience enough times to know what he was saying. "Like a hero and a leader. Not like a slave!"

Asterix stepped back, as though he had been struck. "A… what?" The stricken look in Asterix's eyes almost made Obelix falter.

If you're sorry, then show it. Set him free.

Almost.

"You just want me to be hopeless with women, like you! Now I've got Latraviata to like me, Mister Asterix is jealous!"

"Have you gone completely bonkers?" Recovering, Asterix stepped forward with his usual spirit. "Mister Obelix is out of his fat head!"

"I—" Obelix nearly said 'I am not fat,' but the words of his conscience came rushing in. Barrel of lard. Slothful glutton. He choked on his own arguments, his tongue not knowing what to do.

Asterix, observant as he was, had caught it. His eyes had gone soft, concerned. The eyes of a friend, the most loyal, devoted friend in the world. "Obelix," he said gently. "What's wrong? You can tell me."

"Asterix—" Obelix swallowed. This was it. With every ounce of sincerity he had, he stepped forward. Someone had told him he had a talent for acting, once. "I… I want to walk alone, out of your shadow. " No no no no no no no, his heart cried silently, not without you, I'll be miserable without you, the sun won't shine if you're not there. He silenced it, and went on. "To have my own life, not be part of yours." My life's your life – never want to be without you, never, ever without you…

Asterix stared. "What?" he said, a stricken whisper.

"I want to have my own adventures. I—" What was that word his conscience had said? "I know you won't begrudge me that."

Asterix's wide, shocked eyes were beginning to well with tears. "Is that what you want, Obelix?"

Obelix nodded.

Although he looked struck to his soul, Asterix blinked hard, and stuck his chin out. "R…really and truly?"

Oh Toutatis, he could see he'd knifed Asterix in the heart. With everything in him, Obelix wanted to reach out and fling his arms round his friend and tell him he was sorry and of course he didn't want anything of the sort and the only place he belonged was always and forever by Asterix's side. Instead, Obelix nodded. "Yes. You can understand that, can't you?"

"Obelix." Despite Asterix's best efforts, tears were starting to roll down his cheeks. "I'm sorry. If I'd only known you felt that way, I'd have done something about it sooner."

"It's my fault. I should have told you long ago."

Asterix's face crumpled. "Isn't there…" He manfully choked down a sob. "Isn't there anything I can do? To… to make it up to you?"

Seeing Asterix's heart broken by his own hand was like a knife in Obelix's own heart. It's for the greater good, he remembered his conscience saying. He swallowed the urge to apologize, to grovel, to do anything to erase that look on Asterix's face. His conscience had been right after all: he brought Asterix only pain. He fell back onto more words carefully rehearsed. "I'm sorry. It's too late."

Dogmatix whined, like the prick of conscience. Both humans ignored him.

"Obelix." Asterix's voice shook. He swiped an arm across his face, and Obelix nearly burst into tears himself. Asterix shouldn't cry for him, him leaving shouldn't hurt Asterix this much, he wasn't worth it. "I'm sorry." Asterix stepped forward, reaching out. "Whatever I've done wrong, please let me—"

"Don't!" yelled Obelix. He knew he'd weaken if he saw that pleading look in Asterix's eyes any longer. As it was, he was barely holding himself back from grabbing Asterix's proffered hand and pulling his friend into a hug and begging for his forgiveness. He took a step backwards. "Don't touch me!"

"Obelix!"

The look on Asterix's face would haunt Obelix to his dying day. He barely registered Asterix reaching for him still, wordless entreaty, before he blurted, "Goodbye forever, Asterix," and ran.