The ale was bitter and burned his throat going down as he threw the alcohol l back in his throat. A wiser man shouldn’t be so glum. A more grateful man wouldn't be sulking after just having won the tournament at Victors Hollow. His name would be remembered for years, they said. He defeated the reigning king, defeated Gustav, and now he was here. Drinking ale all by himself in a crowded, excited tavern.
The commotion was as loud as the song was terribly off-key. In a flash he felt a pinch in his heart as he was reminded of times long gone spent in ale houses such as this one. He would even join in on the singing, his arm slung around the blond man’s shoulder, ale sloshing from his cup, the man’s laugh loud and cheerful.
Erhardt.
To think that that man was fueled by such revenge for so long. Did it make it better or worse that every moment they spent together was a lie? Better or worse that nothing changed Erhardt one day, that he was always plotting the same task, waiting for his perfect time to strike.
He always wondered why Erhardt talked so little of his hometown, but then again, neither did Olberic. He could never have known of the town that no longer was, the lives that turned to ash before a young man’s eyes. The horrors that he must have witnessed are unimaginable even to Olberic. His people saw solace and hope in a king that cared naught for their plight. Olberic’s chest burned at the thought of sympathizing with the man who destroyed everything he had built, everything they had built.
When Erhradt betrayed Hornburg, he was not only betraying his country.
And yet, even so, it was times like this when he truly missed the man he once knew. His friend, his confidant, his love, but somehow that man was also his enemy. The one he despised most, the one that made him see red. The one that brought him here, the one that plagued so heavy on his mind-no matter what the thought was-it all stemmed from him.
He took another swig of the ale. He wondered earlier if Erhardt now suffered as he did. If he had lost his purpose and now found himself aimless and wandering. Why did the thought bring him comfort? The idea that even now they shared in their thoughts, emotions. The idea that the understanding he seeked could still be found in Erhardt. That he would see him like he always did and suddenly they could be as they once were.
“Draw your sword, Erhardt.”
“Olberic…”
“Now.” A small smile graced Erhardt’s face as he slowly pulled his word from his scabbard. The sword that killed a King.
“Very well.”
“I can end it for you Erhardt. All of it. Your anger, your pain, your regret… This lie your life has become.” He flexed his palm on the grip of his sword, words choking in his throat, heart aching in his chest. The battle between the man who wished to end Erhardt and give him peace had found solace. But at what cost? “I’ll cut you down and give you the peace you seek.”
“And will you?”
“When I search my heart, I find no room there for forgiveness. I find only…” He paused, trailing off. What did he find? If not forgiveness then what? “I should have bested you that day.” He whispered, “if only to save you from the monster you would become!” Erhardt’s gaze shifted, his feet changing weight. If Olberic didn’t know any better he would have said his eyes softened, a look of pity on his face, but he did not back down.
“Let us fight! For warriors such as us there is no other way!” He bellowed throughout the empty cavern, his voice echoing back to him. He flinched, did he truly sound that angry? Erhardt turned, smile growing wider, his gaze fixed on the floor as he let out a soft chuckle.
“I could tell you to learn from my mistakes. But then, what right have I?” He seemed to be engaged in a conversation with himself. “Nay,” He grinned wider, turning to face him. Olberic held himself higher, recognizing that determined look in his old friend's eye. The one he saw before every fight, every duel, every battle, moments before he struck their king down. “We’ll do it your way. No holding back, eh, old friend?” He shook out his arms a few times before gripping his sword and raising it high. He flashed Olberic that same old grin he knew from years long gone. The one that made his heart flutter in a way it hadn’t before, the one that brought a blush to his cheeks, the one that made him hold his sword tighter.
“I would not have it any other way.” Olberic found himself smiling back, ever so slightly, heart full like he hadn’t known in years at seeing his old friend’s resolve so strong and steadfast. But nothing would be forgiven that easily.
“So be it!” Erhrdta shouted, smile replaced with that still familiar battle snarl.
“In victory, truth!” Erhardt shouted, heart pounding fast in his chest, watching as Erhardt shifted his weight, his position, suddenly holding himself like a different man. Different than the one fighting lizardmen to protect a town, different even then the one he met so long ago.
**
As a knight I could not protect my king, my realm, or my countrymen
Ophilia, could you also...pray for me?
Just holding his hair and face and shaky breaths.
-why? Why are you here?
-kiss. Do you feel better now?
-I wish to see you again. As do I. Stay, while you can. I will
olberic got REALLY lucky with erhardt if you ask me. everyone else’s closest companion is dead (don’t read into this if you don’t know spoilers. go frolick in the fields or something), but olberic got the whole mutual pining, enemies to lovers, old man yaoi
I made up some more casual clothes/what's under their uniforms mostly so I wouldn't have to draw everything anymore . But now I'm enjoying imagining that they get obnoxiously lovey dovey as the day draws to a close
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
“Sir Berg?” Erhardt tilts his head to the side with a smile. “Should I start referring to you as such?”
“It is the title I took up when I first began to reside here, and the people wish to keep it out of respect.” He’s used to it, truthfully. It would be a shame to see it gone. “You need not humor me.”
“And here I thought it was a charming title.” He laughs softly, and stands upright. “It is good to see you, old friend.” He extends a hand.
A year after his travels come to an end, Olberic finds himself reuniting with Erhardt once more when the latter comes to Cobbleston with a single purpose in mind: to see his old friend.
