[ Since the day Ashe entered the Officers Academy, he's admired Ingrid. Her strength, her wit, her work ethic, the way she carries herself... in his eyes, she's the very picture of the kind of knight he aspires to be. But the more time he spent by her side - the more he learned about Ingrid Brandl Galatea, whose eyes shine brighter than the stars at the sight of a full plate of food, who shares his passions and dreams but nearly threw them away for the sake of her family's future - the deeper his feelings grew.
"Admiration" is too weak of a word now. Even "love" doesn't feel right. He just... feels so much. He wants to stand by her side both on and off the battlefield, give her reasons to smile for the rest of her days, and support her however he can in reaching her goals. He wants to hold her close when the toll of war weighs too heavily on their hearts and have her sleep by his side, if that would help her get some rest. (he'd like to kiss her, too, but that's lower on his list of desires - and only if she wanted that of him.) Most of all, he wants to make sure she knows just how special she is. Not because of her Crest, Hero's Relic, or family name, but because she's Ingrid.
(deep down, he knows he doesn't have the right be her partner. he's heard enough about her father and the multitude of marriage proposals sent her way to know that he, a crestless commoner set to inherit a small title simply by chance, would never be accepted by her family. but perhaps he can remain with her as a friend - that would be enough for him, he thinks.)
Long after the dining hall's usual hours, Ashe lingers in the kitchen, a book meant for Ingrid set a safe distance away from the Daphnel Stew bubbling away on the stove. If he's timed this out right (and he hopes he has - if she's late, something may have happened to her) Ingrid will be finishing her patrols for the evening and heading in his direction to procure some dinner.
With the war there's little he can do for her. He can't make her as happy as he wants to when there's still so much suffering outside the monastery walls. But hopefully, even the smallest of gestures - a warm, freshly made dinner after a long day - amount to something. ]
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"Admiration" is too weak of a word now. Even "love" doesn't feel right. He just... feels so much. He wants to stand by her side both on and off the battlefield, give her reasons to smile for the rest of her days, and support her however he can in reaching her goals. He wants to hold her close when the toll of war weighs too heavily on their hearts and have her sleep by his side, if that would help her get some rest. (he'd like to kiss her, too, but that's lower on his list of desires - and only if she wanted that of him.) Most of all, he wants to make sure she knows just how special she is. Not because of her Crest, Hero's Relic, or family name, but because she's Ingrid.
(deep down, he knows he doesn't have the right be her partner. he's heard enough about her father and the multitude of marriage proposals sent her way to know that he, a crestless commoner set to inherit a small title simply by chance, would never be accepted by her family. but perhaps he can remain with her as a friend - that would be enough for him, he thinks.)
Long after the dining hall's usual hours, Ashe lingers in the kitchen, a book meant for Ingrid set a safe distance away from the Daphnel Stew bubbling away on the stove. If he's timed this out right (and he hopes he has - if she's late, something may have happened to her) Ingrid will be finishing her patrols for the evening and heading in his direction to procure some dinner.
With the war there's little he can do for her. He can't make her as happy as he wants to when there's still so much suffering outside the monastery walls. But hopefully, even the smallest of gestures - a warm, freshly made dinner after a long day - amount to something. ]