Last Exile is owned by Ganeon, and perhaps a few other fortunate individuals.
I make no profit from this work of fiction. As far as my planned-for original works, I can only hope…
Please read Tea and Sympathy, published in this section, in order to understand the events leading up to this continuation.
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Claus tugged at the collar of his shirt absent-mindedly as he followed the Imperial Guardsman through the halls of the palace. It wasn't that he didn't like to dress up on occasion; it was just that excessive formality generally went against his easy-going nature.
And there certainly had been more than enough formal occasions to attend since the end of the war.
Sadly, some had been funerals, of friends, even. The most recent being Godwin, who, for as powerful a man as he had been, succumbed to seemingly natural causes just two months ago. He was his healthy and robust self the last time the vanship pilot had seen him, at a picnic the former Sylvana crew held, actually catching and lifting Claus off his feet using his favorite wrestling move. The look of panic on Claus' face, and the way he stiffened his body while the stronger man paraded about holding him over his head brought applause and laughter from the gathered crowd, and a shriek of anxiety from Lavie.
At the last moment, Godwin had relaxed and settled Claus down gently, instead of slamming him to the ground, which had been Claus' worst expectation. The gang doubled over in fits and peals, and some even held their sides at Claus' distress then, slapping him on the back over beer and bratwurst, after.
Lavie, having screamed her lungs out in nervous anticipation over that display of misplaced machismo, calmly walked behind the lead mechanic, who had by now seated himself and was working on a large helping of food, and in the middle of his own guffaw, dumped her mug of brew over his head. He choked and sputtered for a bit, then, after getting his bearings, and to even more of the gang's laughter, took off after her. The young navi had never run so fast in her life.
A week later, Godwin was gone.
Lavie had cried for days after his funeral, as those two had built up a lasting friendship during her time spent in the Sylvana's hangar, when he and the rest of the mechanics crew had slipped her tools and material as she repaired what they all thought had been Claus' father's vanship. Godwin's passing had shaken Claus as well, as once again he was reminded of the unpredictability of life.
He was also reminded of how precious each day spent with Lavie was, and that he had better make up his mind soon as to what his approach was going to be, to make her aware of what his heart held.
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But there had also been other, happier occasions, weddings, in fact, that the two had attended. Now that Claus thought about it some more, it occurred to him how protective Lavie had been during those events, never letting him out of her field of vision. Although they were technically not a couple, she stuck close to him on those outings, allowing him perhaps a snippet of conversation here and there with one or another of the seemingly countless eligible girls who couldn't help swarming about him, chatting incessantly about some inanity or other. With a small smile, he recalled her new favorite dismissal.
"Thank you so much for sharing that. Buh-bye…"
She would barely paste the fake smile on her face for this one before another seized the window of opportunity to try to get in a good word. From somewhere, Claus didn't know where, Lavie had developed this low-pitched growl that went along with the grinding-teeth face. And if they were so bold as to actually reach out and touch him, then a completely new, other face appeared…
That other face, complete with the twitching eye, usually sent them fleeing.
No, they were not a couple, per se, but almost everyone who knew them thought of them as such. It was simply a matter of when one or the other of them would take the bold first step in expressing their sentiments to each other. It was as he had revealed to Sophia. He'd had an idea of how Lavie felt about him, and for far too long now, he had wanted to act on his growing feelings for her. But every time he tried to express himself, she would look up at him, into his eyes, waiting patiently for the hoped-for confession. In that silent moment, that moment that spanned the age of the universe, he would freeze, at a loss as to what to say or do exactly. Without a father or even an older brother to pull him aside and explain the way things worked when it came to women, he continued to flounder about.
Two nights ago, as she stood in the galley area, cutting the potatoes for dinner, he went to help her, to get some seasonings that she would have had to stand on a footstool to reach, and so had squeezed past the small space behind where she stood.
He had turned to look at her then, her head tilted down as she concentrated on her work. Her short bob had fallen forward, revealing the delicate slope of the back of her neck.
So beautiful...
When had he first noticed that? An impulse seized him then, to wrap his arms around her, to pull her to him, to nestle her within his embrace, and to plant gentle kisses on that expanse of soft, sensitive skin that had now revealed itself to him.
Oh yes, that would work. And then, of course, Lavie would shriek in terror, whirl around and slice him to ribbons before she realized that it was him, and that she had killed him. Not… so… good...
He knew how sharp that knife was; he had seen her test it out after working it against the grindstone.
He had made a small strangling sound then, as he crushed that impulse, and Lavie, having heard his gasp, looked up first at the space in front of her, then turned slowly from what she was doing to look directly at him, before asking if he was alright. She was slightly blushed, the hairs on the back of her neck standing, as she had felt the thrill caused by his proximity run up her spine.
Claus looked into her soft brown eyes, and his heart started to trip over itself, suddenly not quite remembering if it should beat, or not. He could not hide his own blush.
'No, Lavie. I'm not alright. I want to hold you. I want to kiss you. I want to reveal to you everything that I truly feel about you. I want to know, to really know, if you want me as well. It's so hard. We've been like siblings for so long, and you're my best friend. But I want more than that. I want to… I want for us to…'
Lavie saw the look on his face, and wondered, the eternal space between the beats of her own heart collapsing as time itself stopped.
'Will this be the time? Is he going to..?'
Claus' confession almost made it, almost got out into the open, past his fear of her rejection, past his fear of her acceptance, even, past the unknown future for the two of them. But at the last second, fear gained the upper hand once again, and once again, it lied.
"Umm, it's nothing, just a twinge in this shoulder. I must have used too much torque on the ratchet wrench when I cleaned the left distributor…"
He rubbed his shoulder for some additional validation of his lie, with more than a bit of remorse and self-loathing at his cowardice. She looked at him quizzically for a moment, before her face softened, as if she understood everything that had crossed his mind. She set the cutting utensil down and turned to face him fully, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Want me to put some ointment or wrap an ice pack on it?"
She was concerned that he may have actually injured himself; it was true, but also, maybe, just maybe…
She was of the age where she now noticed things that she might have ignored before, and one of those things was just how wonderful Claus looked with his shirt off. And then, to actually touch him with his permission, to not bump into him "accidentally", followed by an "oops" or "sorry", why that would be simply...
'Say yes, Claus. Please. Just say yes.'
Her eyes trembled as she tried not to blink, to interrupt the signal she was sending his way. But of course, she had to act as if she was doing it solely for his benefit, and not as if she would get anything out of it. That was just so difficult right now. She imagined what her face looked like, and tried to relax it.
'Don't look like you're begging, stupid!'
But once again, Claus bailed.
"I think it'll be o.k. Thanks."
She let out a deep sigh, her disappointment evident even to Claus, who ground his teeth even as he reached for the spice rack.
'Baka…'
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"Can I make a pit-stop?"
Claus asked his escort. The guard walked another few paces, stopped and motioned toward the door to the left.
"Right here sir."
Claus nodded his thanks and entered, pausing briefly to look about in awe at the fabulous, almost ostentatious accommodations. Everything was marbled, pearled, or gilded, including the toilets. He knew that this was not Sophia's work; the empress had tried her best to eliminate any reference to past excesses of the old regime. She simply had not gotten around to the bathrooms yet.
He washed his hands, and then looked at his reflection in the cut crystal-bordered mirror. A stray cowlick was trying to assert its independence. He reminded it of who was boss, with the help of a bit of water from the sink. Out of force of habit, he quickly turned the faucet off, then, out of curiosity, turned it back on again.
Crystal-clear, free-flowing water.
It was an idea that, until recently, he'd had a bit of difficulty wrapping his mind around. Given the almost ephemeral, mystical quality of this fluid, this Claudia fluid for living engines, it was hard to imagine this precious substance available in such volume. He cupped his hands together and caught the cool stream until his hands filled to overflowing. At once a commodity nearly as valuable as gold itself, it spoke to him as he watched it bubble up and over his hands. He allowed himself this indulgence, just this one time, as the rivulets slipped through his fingers. Claus brought his nose close to the source and inhaled the pure, almost non-fragrance, before caressing his face within it, his communion complete.
He had recently come around in his thinking, and realized that he could get used to the idea of this kind of availability, in spite of the childhood of near poverty that he and Lavie had experienced as orphans. Sophia's reforms had made fresh, clean water available to any and everyone, the new law she had recently signed making it an inalienable right, much like the air one breathed. Even now, the pipeline construction projects to bring even more water from Disith to Anatoray brought the top civil and mechanical engineers of both countries, as well as former Guild, together in teams, quite a few of whom had until recently even calculated artillery trajectories against one another. Former enemies now reviewed blueprints and work-flow charts together, and the projects provided much-needed employment to many thousands.
Sophia.
Gripping the edge of the sink with both hands, Claus allowed his feelings for her to release. He contemplated upon their past, how much she had come to mean to him, and how her kiss had opened his eyes to what he and Lavie had, and what they could have, were he just a bit bolder.
And then he thought of her future, and the life she could expect as empress, with the power and influence that came with the title. But also, hidden behind all of that, she could expect the lies, deception and political intrigue, the underhanded and blatant tests of her will, the power-plays, and, of course, the men who would vie for her hand in marriage. For many of those, love was but a vague concept, spoken of only by the ignorant and naïve. Claus considered that she would perhaps never find true love, as she had committed to putting her people's welfare before her own desires.
With her father's passing, the region had definitely begun a healing process; however, all of the insects he had kept beneath his iron fist now wriggled about in their new-found freedom, many seeking to curry her favor. Some wanted to advise her as to what she was doing wrong, others claiming secrets only they knew, but that would most assuredly benefit her reign.
She continued to move her pieces across the board, however, her skill and ability growing with each move. She continued to build coalitions, even among those she would normally never associate.
She was doing all the right things so that she could continue to do the right thing, but there were those who still doubted her ability, or at least pretended that they did, and some of them were becoming more and more vocal, using the now-free press to challenge her. Claus considered himself a simple van-ship pilot, but he would never stand for anyone to talk ill of her in his presence.
Only a week and a half ago, as he searched for spare bolts and lug-nuts at the scrap-metal supply shop, he almost got into a fist-fight when another patron openly and quite publicly disparaged Sophia, blaming her for the recent rise in prices. That alone Clause could have ignored, but then, the name he called her…
It took four men to restrain Claus then, and they had to remove him bodily from the shop. The proprietor knew him, and asked him to go home and cool off. The other customer, after picking himself up from the floor, had looked on in fear as he felt gingerly about for the loose teeth, Claus' threats ringing in his ears. He would find his scrap-metal at another shop today, high-tailing it out of there faster than Fat Chicken could down a grilled, fat chicken.
Claus looked at his reflection once more.
She had startled him with her revelation; she was becoming so much better at hiding her true emotions, and she now hid even her loneliness well, it seemed. Now he recalled the small, muted signals she had given him whenever the two had met recently. He had to mentally kick himself for being so oblivious. Under other circumstances, he could imagine a strong relationship developing, as she truly was a remarkable woman. Laughing softly to himself, he considered the difficulty he would have had as her beau, trying to adjust to life in the royal court, his disdain for gamesmanship would have her working even harder to correct his mistakes.
She was brave, honest, quite beautiful, and was possessed of an undeniable inner strength, in spite of her expressed doubts about her ability to hold her own.
And she definitely had a lovely figure.
He blew out the breath he had been holding, now actually saddened somewhat that her feelings for him were strong enough to force that confession from her.
Yes, Sophia was certainly all of those wonderful things, but unfortunately, there was one thing that she was not.
Lavie.
Turning off the water, he sighed, and then took one of the warmed, folded hand towels and held it against his face, letting any wisps of what might have been go along with that breath.
'Sophia I do care deeply for you, and I always will. But what you wanted was simply not meant to be.'
He would look out for her, he promised himself, to the best of his ability, to prevent anyone from taking advantage of her good nature. And he would also look out for said good nature, to help it survive amidst the carnivores she dealt with on a daily basis.
Because he would remain her friend.
He completed drying his hands, and adjusted his collar once more, and then went off to dine with the woman of his destiny. Their new life would begin today.
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A/N: Can't believe a year has come and gone before I was able to get to this!
This would have been the epilog to Tea and Sympathy, but it turned out to be too long as I just couldn't keep it short and sweet. I also think that T&S stands better just the way it is. So instead of having a two part epilog (?), I'm making this into a separate short story.
Next: Clearing the air with Sophia and Tatiana. Hoping to have the final resolution (after a wee bit more angst!).
Thanks for reading.
W.