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The marks made a messy crosshatch over Ashe’s back: red furrows dug with dirty finger nails till blood had welled up in them. Too wild and uneven to be the work of a professional torturer, to patterned and deliberate to be the work of a feral beast.
Dimitri had been staring at them for a long while. It was morning, and a cold autumn morning at that. They had built a small fire at the center of the ruined tower were they had taken shelter, but it had stuttered out at some point during the night and by the time they had noticed it had been to frigid to stir from their blankets. Fall in Faerghus could be as harsh as winter in Adrestia or Leistster and untangling themselves from their blankets, even to bank the fire, might have meant frostbite.
Besides, Dimitri had not been in a mood to loose his grip on Ashe.
Now with the sun well up and enough heat in the air for Dimitri to risk peeling away the outermost layer of their make shift bedding- his wolf skin mantle- he had risen to gather wood and restart the fire. Once it had begun to smoke and crackle Dimitri had moved to return the fur mantel to Ashe, intending to sit with his own back to the fire to warm himself while Ashe slept on. But as he been laying the fur over Ashe’s shoulders Dimitiri had caught sight of the claw marks and then….he had been unable to look away. Instead he had arranged the blankets and mantel such as to leave Ashe’s back exposed, then sat aside so the warmth of the fire would reach his exposed skin, and still give Dimitri a view of his own monstrosity.
The first time they had fucked, Dimitri had torn apart almost every stitch Ashe had been wearing. It had come after weeks of struggling to restrain himself, weeks of trekking through frigid mountains, weeks of feeling Ashe’s body pressed against his every night for warmth and never letting himself do more then hold the other by the elbows. Weeks of furiously bathing his hands in the blood of Imperial patrol after Imperial patrol, feeling the warmth of the offal from the bellies and chests of those he slaughtered.
Ashe would always come to him after those battles, gentle and blood splattered, and wipe his hands and face clean, and Dimitri would stare into those pale eyes and long to rip, to tear, to bite, to streak Ashe’s skin in the blood of their enemies, to take him then and there on the rough ground of the battlefield.
But he had resisted- pulling his hands free from Ashe and turning his back to his friend. For weeks he had resisted. And then the cold snap had started to set in and Ashe was still refusing to be driven off, and Dimitri could either let Ashe fold himself against him for warmth or let him freeze and-
Afterwards Dimitri had driven Areadbhar blade first into the ground, stripped off the rest of his his armor (in the rush of his bestial instincts he had not removed anything except that which obstructed his sin) and put his dagger into Ashe’s hand, before guiding it’s point to his throat.
It was the same dagger he had once given…that a boy had given his sister. The one Dimitri had sworn to use to avenge them both, and all the other dead piled up in the name of Edelgard’s crusade. It seemed fitting to hand it to Ashe in that moment. If it was suited to exact vengeance from one monster, why not another?
Instead Ashe had pried Dimitri’s fingers from his own, set the dagger aside, and washed them both in river water heated over their fire.
It wont happen again, he had promised.
Okay, Ashe had accepted placidly.
Dimitri had lasted three days.
After that Ashe started to carefully remove his clothing before bed. Dimitri felt sick to his stomach the first time he understood that Ashe was doing this because he knew Dimitri wouldn’t be able to control himself, and was trying to preserve his clothing because he couldn’t preserve his flesh.
Ashe should have cut his throat and sent him to the fires of eternity the moment Dimitri had pressed their mouths together. He should have shoved Dimitri’s face into the firepit. He should have castrated Dimitri like the beast he was and butchered him for meat.
Instead, leal and noble and chivalrous Ashe, who had sworn his oaths to a boar in a human skin, held fast to them. Even when that meant offering himself up like a chew toy. Dimitri could almost hear the justification on Ashe’s tongue- better me then someone else. I can take it. I’m worth less. It’s my duty as your knight.
He would mean none of it to sting. But it would. Far more then if Ashe would just cut Dimitri’s throat and be done with it.
“You’re thinking very loudly.” Ashe’s voice was a soft groggy thing, half muffled by the blankets.
Dimitri looked down at his hands. What could he say? Nothing would be adequate except another offer of his life, and Ashe didn’t want that.
There was a rustle as Ashe shifted, straightening to sit up, and flinching slightly as the scratches along his back were twinged by the motion. Dimitri looked up just in time to see Ashe glancing over his shoulder, his face thoughtful, and then Dimitri looked away before their eyes could meet.
“Hand me the salve.” Ashe said gently as be began to unwind from the blankets and retrieve his clothes from were he had neatly stacked them the night before. Dmitri went meekly to pull it from their things and handed it over, careful not to let their fingers brush as Ashe took the jar.
Ashe hummed softly in thanks and, with his back turned to the fire, began to apply the salve as best he could. Dimitri lowered his head again, to cowardly to watch.
For a while they sat in silence as Ashe worked. Then he spoke.
“Some men drink.” He said, as if thinking aloud. Dimitri blinked, confused, and looked up. In the soft glow of the fire and the early morning light, he wanted nothing more then to seize Ashe by his bare hips and press him back into the furs. Instead he balled his fists and kept them firmly by his side.
“What?” He said, the word come out in a gravely growl. He spoke so little these days that it the sound of his own voice surprised him.
“Some men drink.” Ashe repeated with a shrug, flinching slightly as it pulled the scratch marks. Still he continued in an airy, almost casual voice. “Some men have wandering eyes. Or a problem putting down dice. Or are lazy and demanding.”
Dimitri starred at Ashe, uncomprehending.
“Everyone has vices, Your Highness.” Ashe explained. “Kings and Princes more then most.”
Dimitri’s jaw worked soundlessly, and he shook his head, disbelieving.
“This isn’t….” He struggled to find words to hold the world of difference between this thing he was doing- brutalizing Ashe again and again, night after night- and one too many glasses of wine or a lost shirt at Lair’s Dice. But he couldn’t. To much shame stood in the way, clogging his throat.
“Sylvain chases skirts.” Ashe continued. “Annette can’t resist sweets. Yuri smokes.” He shrugged. “It’s human. Having vices. It’s a matter of learning to live with them.”
“Do you really think so little of yourself?” Dimitri demanded, making his voice as harsh as he could manage. Human to have vices? It was so…so…
So generous. And kind. So much more then Dimitri deserved. Then he would ever deserve. Like the rest of Ashe.
“No.” Ashe said quietly. “I don’t mind. I never have.”
“Don’t lie to me!” Dimitri hissed, slamming a fist on the ground.
“When have I ever lied to you, Highness?” Ashe asked, closing the jar and slipping his shirt on. Dimitri’s stopped breathing as Ashe stood and moved over to him. “Have I ever been untrue with you? Have I ever flattered or simpered or curried your favor? If you know nothing else about me Highness, I would hope you would know I always strive to do the right thing- no matter the consequences.”
“Is that what this is then? The right thing? Offering yourself as a shield to whatever innocents you think I would ruin in your place?” Dimitri snapped. He made himself focus on Ashe’s knees, unable to bare looking him in the eyes.
“No.” Ashe replied kneeling beside Dimitri. He was so close Dimitri could smell the sharp medicinal scent of the salve.
“Then why?” Dimitri demanded. “Why do you…” Tempt me. He wanted to say. But the accusation felt crude and vile. Unfair.
Ashe was silent for a long time. “Because I have vices too.” He said finally.
At that Dimitri looked up, but this time it was Ashe who couldn't meet Dimitri’s eyes. He was gazing at the fire instead.
“I don’t regret my choices. Not any of them.” Ashe said firmly. He hesitated then. Dimitri could almost hear his heartbeat going faster. He didn’t want to admit whatever this was. “But I know…I know what they would have wanted.”
Dimitri looked away. And it’s not this went unspoken. Lanato and Christophe would have wanted Ashe to fight for the Empire. Fight to bring down Rhea, to avenge their deaths. To join Edelgard’s war. Against Dimitri.
But Ashe was a knight. And had chosen his fealty, chosen his prince, over that.
Dimitri did not say Lanato would be proud of Ashe regardless. Would love him regardless. He had never lied to Ashe either.
“Something in you burns to punish. To lash out.” Ashe continued after a moment. “Maybe…maybe something in me longs to be punished, to be lashed, just as badly.”
He turned and looked into Dimitri’s eyes and…Dimitri nodded. He could understand that.
“Then we burn together.” Dimitri said softly.
“Together.” Ashe agreed.
Ashe deserved more. Dimitri longed to give him more. But... if this was all they could have- a shared vice, and a filthy bloodstained road, and a war that would never end…
Then Dimitri would take what he could have, and learn to live with it.