Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem Three Houses, all rights to the owners.
Back to our regularly scheduled Claude (and Hilda). Claude is a tiny bit paranoid, in case you haven't picked up on it yet.
"Huh." Hilda muses when Claude explains his theory. She has a frown on her face. "Marianne, really? I mean, I guess it makes sense based on her behaviour... but didn't you say succubi are supposed to feed every month at minimum, not every week?"
"That's the only catch I can't quite figure out." Claude admits. "I can't find any species that only needs to feed once a week. Vampires need to feed biweekly, undead generally don't have a strict timeframe and just do it whenever, kitsune don't have to do it period. Succubi are the only thing that make sense, but I don't know why it's weekly rather than monthly."
He pats a few books next to him.
"It doesn't help that the library has very little detailed information on succubi specifically. I can find detailed information on vampires and whatnot, but not succubi."
"Maybe it's the whole 'sex demon' thing." Hilda shrugs. "This is a church after all. Anything lewd, even if it's integral to understanding a species, is going to get pulled from the shelves."
"Yeah..." Claude frowns. "I've been talking to Anna to see if I she knows of a book or two I could get, but it'll take some time for her to consult her sisters and find something. It will probably be months before I get something."
"So what do we do in the meantime? Are we confronting Marianne?" Hilda frowns. "That doesn't sound like it would end well. You probably already did that once and got memory-wiped for it."
"Do we know anyone who's charm-immune?" Claude asks.
"Professor Hanneman?" Hilda suggests. "Are ghosts charm-immune?"
"I think so."
"But are we really going to ask him to talk to Marianne?" Hilda grimaces. "He'd probably be more interested in studying her than helping, and it would mean revealing Marianne's secret."
"Give Hanneman a bit of credit, he's enthusiastic about his work, not indifferent to his students." Claude huffs. "But you're right, he probably wouldn't be the best choice."
"I don't suppose you've made friends with any other ghosts during your nightly creeping?"
"Nope."
"Geeze... what other species are immune to charm?"
"Uh... incorporeal undead, mindless undead-"
"Nope and nope."
"-constructs usually,-"
"Also nope."
"-and other succubi and charm-using species like Kitsune, Sirens, and Nymphs."
"Do we know any of those?"
"Maybe?" Claude shrugs helplessly. "But I don't know who that would be aside from Marianne herself."
"Well shit."
"Yeah. So, if you spontaneously develop charm-immunity at some point, tell me, won't you?"
"Duly noted." She says dryly. "Because we old bloods are totally known for developing random abilities. We're regular chimeras."
"I'm just saying..."
The two of them fall quiet. Claude flips through page upon page of mildly-interesting but not very useful research notes and biology textbooks while Hilda nibbles on a cupcake. Claude shakes his head, closes another book, and glances out the window. It's midday, not to mention a full week since he got attacked, and Ignatz just got attacked again yesterday too. Even if he could find a way to confront Marianne without being immediately overwhelmed by her charm powers, what good would it do him? It's not like he can ask her to stop feeding, she'd just starve to death. She has no choice but to feed.
This would be a trivial problem if there was someone willing to be fed on that Marianne trusted. Someone she didn't feel she had to erase the memory of to erase the trauma of feeding (Claude is assuming this of course, he doesn't know Marianne's reasons for memory-wiping. He's making a guess). Like, sure Sylvain would be okay with it... but that's because he's a pervert, and Marianne would absolutely not be fine with having him remember her feeding on him.
Hmm... "Marianne needs a boyfriend."
Hilda gives him a long, hard look. "I hope you have a good reason for saying that, because if you're implying she needs a boyfriend for mental stability-"
"Well kinda? But in a practical sense." Claude frowns. "I mean, if she had a trusted partner, the need to memory-wipe would go away, wouldn't it? And it's not like feeding is dangerous unless she wants to injure her target, right?"
"Ahhh..." Hilda nods. "Okay, that makes sense. Small problem though."
"Hmm?"
"It's not like we can force a relationship to happen. Nor would I want to if I'm being honest."
"Yeah..."
"I mean... we could offer ourselves. Just as a temporary measure?" Hilda says weakly.
"That might work... it would be super awkward the rest of the time, but it could work." Claude says. The uncertainty in his voice shows though. It's not that he doubts it would work, but it's going to be awkward as hell and Marianne is likely going to be absolutely mortified and ashamed. It's a solution, but not a great one.
And there's still the problem of actually confronting Marianne without getting charmed to high hell and memory-wiped.
"So what do we do then?" Hilda groans.
"Just... nothing..." Claude admits in frustration. This has been his problem all week. There's no good solution, or, at least, no good solution he can actually put into practice. A great solution he though of before was to get Ignatz to offer himself for Marianne to feed it. It seems like a good idea on the surface, the two of them are already fond of each other (even if each is painfully unaware or the other's attraction), and Ignatz actually doesn't mind the side-effects of feeding too much (and without the need to memory wipe, being the target of a feeding would almost be entirely positive).
But.
Marianne self-esteem is rock-bottom, so the target of her affection realizing she's a succubus isn't going to go over well. Ignatz doesn't have all that much confidence either, so convincing him to talk to Marianne about her problem would take a miracle in itself. Not to mention Marianne would probably assume Ignatz is offering out of pity rather than any positive reason... there are just too many roadblocks to get that to work at the moment, even if it's a great solution.
Besides, as much as Claude don't mind a bit of manipulation here and there, he isn't a fan of the idea of playing match-maker. A nudge once in a while is fine, but it ruins the point if outside parties get too involved and makes it all feel artificial.
"Nothing...?" Hilda asks, almost pleadingly. She wants some solution. Marianne clearly isn't happy as she is.
"What do you suggest we do?" Claude shrugs helplessly. "Unless you can magically solve self-esteem issues..."
"Can she feed on... I dunno, animals?"
"Are you suggesting bestiality?"
Hilda cringes. "Never mind."
The bell rings to signal lunch time. Claude quietly packs up his things and checks out a few books. The two of them silently make their way to the mess hall, stewing in their own inability to help their classmate.
###
"An assassination plot?" Claude whistles. "Well well..."
"Apparently so." Dimitri nods. "We found the note on Lord Lonato's body. Rhea is making an official announcement about it tomorrow."
"So why are you telling us now, hmm?" Hubert asks. "That seems quite out of character for you to go behind the church's back, your highness."
"Indeed." Edelgard agrees. "What prompted this Dimitri?"
"I have been considering your words about the church's potential untrustworthiness..." Dimitri admits with obvious hesitance. "And while I refuse to make the jump to vilifying them, I am not oblivious to the fact that the church may twist words and change the narrative to better suit their image. I figured I should at least tell all of you what we saw, so we can judge the church's actions accordingly."
"Do continue then." Claude says, leaning forward with interest. Hilda is lying back in her chair, pretending to be bored, but she's listening too. Claude can tell because she's not actually watching the birds in the bushes anymore, she's only pretending to while she listens in. "What's the juice?"
"The handwriting of the letter itself is not Lonato's own, though the name signed at the bottom is his. Ashe confirmed it for us." Dimitri recounts. "Additionally, the letter was not all that well-hidden on his person. It was merely in an inside pouch is his cloak. If he truly wished to hide, it would have been more skilfully done."
"Or he would not have brought the letter at all." Hubert adds.
Dimitri nods. "We thought of that as well. At the moment, we-" he motions to himself and Dedue "-and the Lions are assuming the letter is a decoy. And if we as mere students can make this deduction-"
"-so can the church." Claude finishes his words. "But they're going ahead with announcing a threat to Rhea's life anyhow."
"Exactly."
"Interesting." Edelgard mutters. "Yet, it is unlikely to have been Lonato that planned this. That man was many things, but a schemer is not one of them I don't think. He was merely a powerful pawn."
"Indeed. In fact, the army he had brought to attack Garreg Mach was pitiful." Dimiti adds. "There is no way he thought he could take the monastery with only a hundred untrained peasants and his personal guard. He didn't even bring his standing army."
"Probably didn't want to weaken the protection of his lands." Hilda suddenly offers. "He knew he was going to kick the bucket, right? It was a symbolic attack. That doesn't mean he wants to leave his people undefended."
"Except those he brought with him." Dimitri mutters darkly. "But yes, that seems accurate."
"Who's in charge of his lands now?" Claude asks suddenly. "A sibling? Relative?"
Dimitri shakes his head. "Rodrigue is overseeing Lonato's territory until someone suitable is determined to replace him, as he had no living close family. It is likely the land will fall to Ashe when he comes of age. Everything was left to him in Lonato's will."
"Damn." Claude frowns. "If someone sketchy had stepped in to claim them, we might have had a lead."
"One thing at a time. We still have the matter of the false assassination plot." Edelgard says firmly. "The time of this note is no accident. The rite of rebirth cannot be so easily re-planned for another date. More guards will be relocated to guard Rhea instead, most likely. That presents an ideal opportunity to break into otherwise heavily-guarded areas of the monastery."
"What in the monastery is worth stealing?" Dimitri asks aloud. "Artifacts perhaps?"
"Seems like a lot of effort for a few old pots. Unless we're talking about weapons or something." Claude muses. "I don't think the church has any relic weapons on them, though I think they have the sword and shield of Seiros, which are legendary at least"
"The monastery supposedly has a large collection of rare plants and materials." Hilda offers, though even she seems to realize it's a weak suggestion.
"Perhaps we are thinking too small-scale. Lonato would not have died so some mere thieves could get their hands on an old sword." Hubert interrupts. "Lonato had a vendetta against the church."
"So he would be supporting a cause that would decredit the church, or injure it in some way." Claude realizes. "So they still could be stealing old relics or whatever, or multiple of what we've suggested, but the point of it all isn't even that they're stealing things, it's to prove something."
"What? That they can break into Garreg Mach?" Hilda asks.
"Perhaps." Dimitri suggests quietly. "It is to prove the church is not all-powerful. I have heard stirrings of discontent for a long time now with how the church handles itself, and how it seems to have an iron grip over the continent."
"So maybe Lonato intended to act as a martyr." Claude nods. "And this upcoming attack as a rallying cry to the like-minded."
Edelgard nods. "That does seem plausible. However I still suspect the intruders will go after a single object or location. While guards will be redirected to Rhea, it is not like the monastery will be entirely undefended. "Jeralt's mercenaries will be here, for one. As well as the students, who I imagine will be asked to aid in the defence of the monastery."
"What is the single most important thing in the monastery?" Claude muses aloud. "Aside from Rhea?"
"Seteth?" Dimitri offers.
"Religiously important. Not bureaucratic."
"The sword and shield of Seiros?"
"Maybe..."
"Perhaps-" Dedue says, surprising all of them. He's been quiet the entire conversation so far. "-the Mausoleum may be a target? Supposedly the body of the Goddess is interred there. Even if such a thing is not true, if the intruders succeed in infiltrating the Mausoleum they could still claim to have stolen the body and decredit the church that way."
Claude blinks, thinks it over, and nods. "Yeah, that makes sense."
"I agree." Dimitri nods. "Edelgard? Hubert?"
"A devilish plan. It sounds appropriate." Hubert approves. "Your Majesty?"
"I agree as well. That is quite an intelligent deduction Dedue." Edelgard praises. "The Holy Mausoleum is also home to a number of crest stones as well, which would make a good consolation prize should the Goddess's body prove to not actually be present."
"This is all great." Hilda interrupts. "But what are we gonna do with this information anyways? You already said Rhea is going to go ahead and announce the assassination plot."
"I believe Lady Rhea will be relying on the students and the professors to handle the actual threat." Hubert mutters. "The church needs to appear fooled so the intruders will attempt their attack, only to be captured by those they did not expect."
Dimitri frowns. "I do realize we are training to become soldiers, but even so this seems an inappropriate mission to hand to students."
"So was the execution of Lord Lonato, but the church did so anyways." Edelgard reminds him.
The prince grimaces and nods. "Unfortunately, I muse concede the point."
"Well then." Claude claps his hands and stands up. "I think we should spread word, quietly, to our classmates. Not our housemates, too much risk of the information getting out, just our classmates. The elites."
Dimtri and Edelgard nod. Claude is speaking of the highest rank of classes in Garreg Mach, the ones that are the most expensive and intended for training up-and-coming generals and military officers. Unlike admission for the rest of the Officer's Academy, which the Church handles, the respective nations handle admission for these elite classes. That's why it is so difficult for commoners to join any house that isn't the Golden Deer, because Adrestia and Faerghus tend to hold slots in the class for young nobles. Everyone in the Lions got in by being nobility, adopted by nobility, or former nobility, and the only commoner in the Eagles is Dorothea because she managed to convince (see: seduce) a nobleman into sponsoring her. The Deer are a lot less picky about who goes to the academy, mostly because they don't put as much stock in it overall. Anyone with enough money is fine by them.
Claude has some strong opinions about this structure, but that's a discussion for another time.
"Let us meet again after Rhea has made her announcement." Edelgard suggests. She stands up from her seat, and everyone else does the same. "Until then." She nods her head to each of them in turn, spins on her heel, and struts off with Hubert in tow. With nothing to discuss between the four of them, Claude, Hilda, Dimitri and Dedue also go their separate ways.
###
"Claude?"
"Hmm?"
"What the hell is this?"
"Oh, that. It's a spore ball."
"A what?"
"A spore ball. You know, ball of spores. Plant spores? Yeah, that. That thing actually cost me a full pig, literally, I paid with a pig. So... don't ruin it."
"Why would you buy this anyways?"
"You never know when you might need a ball of extremely potent paralytic spores, especially considering how much trouble I tend to get myself into."
Hilda gives him a weird look. "Okay... and how did you get this? What sort of plant is it from? Why did you pay with a pig and not money? Did you steal the pig?"
"Well I did have money, but yes, I also stole the pig." Claude chuckles. "I was on the run at the time. Long story. Mistaken identity, racism, scapegoating... all that good stuff. I traded the pig for the spore ball with an acquaintance of mine. I got three actually, two I've used already. I gave her lunch in exchange for some of her paralyzing spores. Best deal I ever made."
"Wait, her paralyzing spores? As in she made the spores?"
"Yep. She's an alraune. Nasty girl if she's hungry. Good thing I knew to bring the pig."
"Alraune as in 'man-eating flower' alraune, right?"
"Yep."
"What the fuck Claude."
"What? So I made a trade with a man-eating flower! It's not a big deal."
"You're insane."
"No, I'm smart. That's why I brought the pig. Besides, I'd met her before, I wasn't going in blind. Besides, she doesn't eat people... usually."
"Only usually?"
"Just those who strike her as bad people."
"And what makes someone a bad person?"
"Well usually she charms them-"
"What is it with you and finding people with charm abilities?"
"-with some spores and asks them some questions, and then decides if she should eat them."
"Great." Hilda says dryly. "And is this normal by the standards of Almyran flora?"
"Eh, it's not the worst thing. At least you'll be so drugged up on spores you won't be in pain as you die. If you ran into a hangman tree instead it'd be a real painful death." Claude pauses, then stares at her. "Wait, you're not supposed to know I'm Almyran. How did you-"
"You're part dark elf Claude. It's not hard to figure out." Hilda snorts. "Worst kept secret of the whole school."
"How do you know I'm part dark elf?" Claude asks defensively. Realistically this isn't something to get worked up about, Hilda is not going to give two shits about his Almyran heritage, but he's used to protecting that information. "Or that it means I'm from Almyra?"
"You just told me two seconds ago. Also, you have pointy ears, and your accent gives you away." Hilda shrugs.
"I don't have an accent..."
"Not a massive one, but it's there. A non-native speaker of a language will never be able to perfectly emulate a native one. Too hard to relearn instinctive mouth movements and whatnot." Hilda explains. "I mean, you could pass for someone who lives on the border, I just made an educated guess that you were from Almyra and were just really good at toning down your accent."
Which, of course, is completely true. Hilda has a read on him, which he supposes shouldn't be unexpected by this point. It still makes him uncomfortable though. She has potential blackmail material on him now, and even if he doesn't think she'll use it he doesn't feel comfortable knowing she could.
"You're quiet all of a sudden. Did I spark your paranoia?"
Yep, she can read him. "No."
"Right, I totally did. What's the problem Claude? Are you worried I don't like boys with pointy ears?" She teases.
"Hilda has an ear fetish, noted." Claude snipes back, trying to regain control of the situation. "I'll be sure to remember that."
"Uh-huh. Stop avoiding the question Claude."
"Hey, you're the one who joked about my ears first."
"Claude." Hilda says in a warning tone.
"Hilda." He replies evenly. He absolutely refuses to expose more of himself. It's too risky.
"Tell me what's wrong Claude."
"What makes you think there's something wrong? I said nothing was wrong." Claude denies. He forces a smile. "See? I'm good, like always."
"Yeah, and that's total bullshit, and we both know it's total bullshit, so cut it out Claude."
"No idea what you're talking about Hil! Maybe you're stressed. Are you worried about Marianne? I know she's your friend."
Hilda's eyes narrow. "Claude-"
"Maybe you just need to relax a bit, right? How about dinner? I'll pay."
"You can't bribe me into letting this drop with food Claude."
"Bribe? Pff. I owe you a lot, remember? This isn't a bribe, it's paying back one of the many favors I owe you." Claude says. He can feel his heart rate even out. Good, he's in control again. He's good at making things up. Bullshit is his specialty.
"Don't lie to me Claude."
Claude feels a little bit bad. Hilda is his closest ally right now, a friend. This really is a petty thing to be stubborn about, right? Or maybe it's not. Maybe he needs to protect himself. He can't play games with potential blackmail material. Plausible deniability, right? He can't know he can trust Hilda, or anyone for that matter.
Play it safe. Control the information. That's what he's always done, and it won't stop now.
"I think you're seeing things that aren't there Hilda. You know I trust you." The lie feels like acid on his tongue. He instantly wants to take it back. He's fine with lying about a lot of things, even to Hilda, but saying that he trusts her insincerely feels like a breach of friendship.
A few weeks ago it wouldn't have felt like that. A few weeks ago Hilda would have rolled her eyes and this subject would have been dropped, but she's pushing now, and he feels bad about denying her now when before it would have been a routine brush-off. Something changed...
"Of course." Claude realizes belatedly. "My panic attack."
He let himself be too vulnerable one time, and now he's paying the price. He got too close. His subconscious even tried to warn him, to get him to push her away, but he didn't.
Hilda is glowering at him rather intensely now. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. Try again."
Shit. Shit. Does he double-down or turn back? He wants to trust Hilda, but every bit of his survival instinct is screaming at him that it's a terrible idea. The logical side of him is telling him it's a bad idea too. It's just his emotional part that disagrees, the part that likes Hilda, that wants a close friend.
The petty, childish, foolish part of him that just wants another hug.
Claude keeps his forced smile. "No idea what you're talking about Hilda."
###
Hilda is frustrated. No, scratch that. More than frustrated. Angry. She knew, and he knew she knew, but he clammed up and deflected all questions anyways. It's not like he had something he could hide from her, he already revealed himself by accident, so there was no point in him refusing to talk about it.
"Paranoid jackass." Hilda broods. She bites forcefully into her... soup. Right. No one saw that. "He can't even trust me with something I already know."
She thought she was making progress too! She watched over him when he was sick, let him stay with her after his freak-out over being attacked, and he started to actively return favors, always offering to do this and that, and she knew that she just had to ask and he'd find a way to help her with whatever it was.
It took way longer than it should have to find a crate of blackleaf from a trustworthy source. Claude did most of the work for her as payment for... some favor. She stopped keeping track of favors early on, she was joking about expecting anything in return in the first place (except her money of course), but Claude took his 'debt' seriously.
Maybe that should have been a sign he wouldn't trust her. He always had to know exactly how much he owed her like it was a contract of some sort; a deal, not a partnership. She joked about it sure, but it was just that: a joke.
"He has no reason not to trust me. I made myself very trustworthy." Hilda thinks. "I never told anyone about his late-night roaming, and I let him copy my notes, I never told anyone about his plans or sensitive details we've discussed. Why was him being Almyran the sticking point? Because it's about his past? He knows about my past. He knows I'm an old blood too, and that's not exactly something everyone knows."
Granted, most people don't know it because no one cares to look into it, and there are very few descriptions of old bloods in public circulation, and it's not like it's a secret or something she needs to deny-
So basically it's just an interesting fact, not a secret.
"Would he feel better if I had traded? A secret for a secret?" Hilda wonders. She doesn't like that idea. It reduces their friendship to a negotiation table, always worrying about things being perfectly balanced and not giving the other person anything without making sure you can secure collateral in return. That's not a friendship, that's a ongoing business deal. "At the same time, friendship is built on trust, right? If he gave me a secret, even a small one, and I gave nothing of the sort in return, that's totally one-sided. It was fine until I tried to demand his trust based on the idea I was already trustworthy."
She pokes at the vegetables floating in her soup.
"Not that I should have to worry about an exact one-to-one, but I never exactly made myself vulnerable in return, did I?" Hilda mutters. Claude hadn't even intended to make himself vulnerable at all, but she took that for granted and assumed it was an indicator of trust, not of "I'm freaking out and you haven't tried to stab me in the back yet".
This is complicated. Hilda hates complicated. Hilda hates work. She wants to do nothing. She wants to sit in her bed and do crafts, or chat with Marianne or Dorothea, or listen to Claude's next stupid plan which he'll inevitable spend too much time at night trying to execute and show up the next day exhausted. He'll have to lean on her again, and she'll complain about it until he dozes off.
(Move his head to her chest so he's lying on something soft, not her hard shoulder. Make sure his neck isn't bent too far so he doesn't wake up with a crick. Don't move too quickly, don't wake him).
Fuck.
(Smiling, shaking, faking calm, failing badly. No memory, pretending he's interested, not terrified. He looks fragile, so Hilda protects him. She likes how he feels against her body and in her bed. She likes that she can comfort someone. He's still there when she wakes up again).
She really enjoyed being able to hold him. It felt weird to take charge. Not bad, just... weird. Exciting even. Though she had to tamper that excitement, it wasn't appropriate for the moment.
Hilda groans out loud and her head hits the table. She hates when things are complicated.
###
Claude is back to his old self, and he hates it. Smile at everyone, never relax but always pretend to, and keep your plans to yourself. No need for second opinions, the only one he can trust without reservation is himself.
No going to Hilda's room to talk strategy or just bug her with whatever inane idea crosses his mind. No more taking her out to dinner to repay debts he's fairly sure she doesn't care about. No more wasting time; just planning, scouting, and action. Downtime is for those who can afford to share their past without heavy censoring so that they don't get blackmailed or targeted politically for being a foreigner. Relaxing? Hah! He forgot about relaxing when he learned being part dark elf meant he was the spawn of the devil himself according to the Fodlandi, and that being part human meant he was a rat according to the Almyrans.
Friends are for people without crippling trust issues.
It's easy to distract himself at least. He has plans upon plans upon plans that he's been waiting for time to execute, and without all that unnecessary 'leisure time' he's been taking part in for the last few months he's really made progress. By listening in on conversations had by the monastery staff and Knights of Seiros he managed to learn that they're well aware of Marianne's feedings (they don't know exactly who, but they know it's happening), but that Hanneman keeps insisting it's nothing to be concerned about and that he's "working on it".
So Hanneman is in on Marianne being a succubus, which is unexpectedbut makes sense. Hanneman may be the father of crestology, but having 'lived' for two-hundred years and read every single book that's come his way means he knows a lot about everything, including magical items and the nuances of various species. He probably realized what Marianne was as soon as he saw her magic necklace and cycle-based behaviour.
Also, Claude has managed to gather various anecdotes about his schoolmates. Dorothea also has some magic jewelry (no obvious cycles though, so she's either not a succubus or has a way to manage her feeding). Hubert only eats meat, no exceptions. He gets physically ill if he eats anything else. Annette... makes potions. Really good potions. A witch maybe? Hard to tell. Bernadetta sometimes forgets to eat for days on end but apparently suffers no ill effects, and Dimitri can break a steel lance with his bare hands.
Claude has also been gathering information on troop movements and political orientations throughout all three major factions of Fodlan. The Alliance is busy fighting among itself as usual, but some of the border dukedoms have been noted to have Empire leanings. Same goes with Kingdom lords that border the Empire, though the Kingdom retains support from enough of the major political powers within it's borders that it doesn't need to worry about a coup. Troop movements are passive as usual within the Kingdom and the Empire with the exception of the Hresvelg's elite armored corps, who have vanished without a trace, and select sections of the Vestra Magic Corps who have done the same. Additionally, the Hresvelg's army has done some serious campaigning for new army recruits for the last few months, which is... worrying. It could just be that the emperor is in a fragile position and he wants a solid army to protect Edelgard during her rise to the throne (as passing the crown and the initial year of rule is always the most dangerous time of a ruler's reign, and the current emperor is clearly on his way out) but it worries Claude nonetheless.
Lastly, Claude has found information through Thomas, the librarian, about an old dragon called The Immaculate One. There's a sketch of it and what looks like old hymns singing it's praise. The thing is... the sketches are a lot more recent than the era of Ancients. They're dated in the Imperial year 103. A long time ago, sure, but past the era of Liberation when all the dragons were said to have died out. Even Thomas didn't know the source book for that scrap of paper, so the exact context of the drawing and hymns and if they were ever distributed is unknown, but its certainly curious.
Thomas even let him 'borrow' the page, whispering that Seteth maybe wouldn't approve of it and may try to take it if he ever found it in the library, so Claude should consider the loan permanent until further notice.
So basically, Thomas let him steal a really old, extremely valuable, potentially controversial picture of a dragon that should have been dead at the time of the picture's making. Claude isn't complaining.
All of that is well and good. Progress you might say, and Claude would indeed say that. Everything is great. Sure he feels constantly tired, he sometimes forgets that meals are a thing he needs to have, and his classmates are starting to ask if he's okay, but it's fine.
He's fine and no one can tell him otherwise. As long as he doesn't get sick again, everything will be fine.
"I hope you all prepared well!" Manuela sings as she strides into class. "Because today is the test!"
Everything isn't fine. How did he forget this was happening? He was sure he made time yester... no he was breaking into Seteth's office again yesterday. The day before that he spent cross-referencing notes about troop movements and political orientations, and the day before that he was eavesdropping on people the whole afternoon listening for gossip, and the day before that... he had a spat with his fri- former friend about the fact that yes, he is indeed half dark elf and of Almyran heritage.
"Usually Hilda reminds me of tests." Claude remembers. "I have to remember on my own now."
He also relied on Hilda to compare notes with on classes in case he missed something. He'll have to find someone else, or pay closer attention.
"That shouldn't be a problem. I have extra time. I don't waste time telling Hilda about my plans anymore, or bouncing ideas off her, or getting second opinions, or-"
Claude wrenches his train of thought away from Hilda. He needs to focus. He has a test.
Two rows ahead of him, he can see Hilda receive her paper, dab her quill in the well, and start writing. She looks like she knows what she's doing. That's-
"Not my concern." Claude reminds himself. "Focus..."
He does awful on the test.
###
Claude manages to make himself sick again. That potent concoction of exhaustion, physical activity, stress, being around a lot of people all the time, and sometimes forgetting meals makes him easy prey for whatever virus comes his way.
"Was there another test this week?" He tries to remember through a hazy mind. "Was it the Demon or Hanneman? What was it about?"
He pushes the covers off his body and grimaces at the chill that rolls over him. His feet are too unsteady for his liking, or is that just him being lightheaded?
Right, at this rate he won't be able to lean over to grab his bag without falling on the floor. Claude drops back into his bed and stares at the ceiling.
"I could really use some water." He thinks dazedly. "What time is it? Is it still morning? Should I have had lunch yet? When was Manuela supposed to come by?"
His throat feels dry, his skin cold, his muscles weak. He feels like shit.
"It wasn't this bad last time." He remembers. "Last time..."
Last time Hilda was here. Fuck. Maybe he can just suffocate himself in his pillow. That seems like a good idea right now.
...
You know, he was joking about that, but now that he's fallen face-first into his pillow he's finding it rather difficult to roll over. Wow, he's a lot weaker than he assumed he was. He won't die from this or anything, he can still sorta breath, but it's really uncomfortable.
"You know, Sylvain once joked that he'd die if I didn't return his affection. I can see you're taking it a lot more literally." Hilda says as she steps into his room. She didn't even knock. Rude.
"Mfroh Hilfa." Claude manages to mutter, his voice muffled by the pillow.
Hilda stares down at him. "You can't roll over can you?"
"Yef I cahn."
"Then do it."
Claude tries... and can't. Hilda sighs and effortlessly rolls him over using her pinky finger. Claude tries not to make his gasping for breath too noticeable. "What-" He coughs violently and grimaces. That cough hurt. A lot. "What makes you think it was about you? I might have been suffocating in general despair."
"Right." Hilda sounds absolutely unconvinced. "You look like shit by the way."
"Flatterer."
"You sound like shit too. How much have you had to drink today?"
"Uh... a glass of water?"
"As in a single glass of water?"
"Yes? At least I think it was full."
Hilda gives him a long, hard look. She abruptly turns around and stalks out of his room.
"...well that went well." Claude mutters to himself. He stares at the ceiling. He feels like shit, he looks like shit, he sounds like shit, and Hilda abandoned him to his misery because he's an idiot that almost suffocated himself in a pillow. Great.
Hilda returns a minute later with a tray of food, a whole pitcher of water, and an extra pillow. She sets the food and water aside and sits Claude up properly, and puts the extra pillow behind him. "You're supposed to keep your head elevated you know."
"I know."
She raises a disbelieving eyebrow. "And you didn't because...?"
"I was trying to get my notes. My head was up before." Claude protests weakly. He crosses his arms defiantly, which probably, he realizes, makes him look like a petulant child. "Since when did you become a doctor?"
"I didn't. I'm just not an idiot."
"Don't compliment me too much Hilda. You might bruise my ego."
Hilda ignores him. She fills a glass of water and shoves it at him. Claude downs it eagerly. The water soothes his burning throat, though it sends another chill through his body.
Hilda notices. "Are you cold or warm?"
"Cold."
Hilda pulls one of the extra blankets at the bottom of his bed (he'd forgotten Manuela left those there...) up to his shoulders. Claude is grateful of course, but the distrust in the back of his brain is already making itself known.
"Danger." It whispers. "You're weak. She's powerful. Stay alert. Dagger under your pillow. Don't take your eyes off her. Don't let her get close."
It's hard to unlearn seeing the world in terms of potential threats. If Hilda wanted to hurt him she could have smashed his head in the moment she entered the room and there's nothing he could have done about it.
That thought doesn't particularly reassure him though.
"Eat." Hilda instructs, handing the plate to him. Her expression is hard to read, as if she's purposefully keeping it neutral.
Claude does so dutifully. Hilda stares at him the entire time, and it's immensely uncomfortable. Claude can't help but feel he deserves it though. When he's done she takes the plate and sets it aside, then stares at him again. Claude opens his mouth, closes it, then tries again. "So..."
"Are we going to talk about it now, or when you're better?" Hilda asks bluntly.
"About what?"
Hilda sighs. "Claude..."
"Sorry."
"No, no, I'm sorry too. I pushed too far."
That doesn't sound right to Claude's ears. "No, I just can't trust people. It wasn't your fault at all."
"What? I knew you were a bit paranoid beforehand, I should have accounted for that."
"You shouldn't have to do that, I should have pushed past my irrational fears." Claude insists.
Hilda clearly doesn't agree. "You shouldn't be forced to do something your uncomfortable with just because I insist on it, even if it is due to an irrational fear."
"You're being too lenient on me."
"And you seem determined to prosecute yourself."
The two of them stare at each other for a long moment. Claude breaks the silence. "This is a stupid argument, isn't it?"
"Just a bit. I feel like an idiot for even being a part of it."
"Me too."
"Can we just decide this... fight or whatever it was is over now and go back to what we were doing before?"
"As in go back to me mildly distrusting you and it inevitably causing problems again?"
"Sure. It's better than avoiding each other."
Claude isn't satisfied by that. It feels wrong, like he's taking advantage of her kindness. "Hilda."
"Yes?"
"It was blackmail."
"What?"
"Blackmail." Claude repeats nervously. "That was the problem. My background is prime blackmail material. It's easy to put a target on the back of someone with Almyran heritage, especially a half-dark elf. It's not that I necessarily thought you'd use it, just..."
"It's bad practice to let anyone know." She finishes. "Take no chances."
"Exactly."
"Geeze, that sounds like an awful way to live."
"Hey, at least I get to keep living. I didn't become distrustful by chance. I learned to act this way out of necessity." Claude sighs. "Almyra kinda sucks. I love it of course, it's my home, but when assassination is the name of the political game, you learn to be paranoid or you end up poisoned, paralyzed, and dying in a pool of your own vomit."
"Gross."
"That actually happened to someone. I'm not making it up." It was ugly, and not quiet. He'd rather not think about the details...
Hilda scrunches up her nose. "Extra gross. Does this mean you trust me now by the way?"
"A little." More like he's forcing himself to put sensitive information in her hands to try and prove to the paranoid part of his brain that it won't end with a dagger in his back or him being run out of the monastery.
"Why is this such a big deal but you were fine with telling me all your plans?"
"The consequences for sneaking into Seteth's office are... what? A few weeks of detention? Big deal. They'd have to catch me doing it anyways." Claude shrugs, then grimaces. "Uh, can I have more water?"
"Yeah, sure..."
###
Claude doesn't feel any more comfortable around her, but that's fine. That can come in time. For now he has his closest ally back, and he can justify putting a bit of trust in her by calling it 'an experiment' to himself.
It's 'an experiment' to slowly reveal his past to Hilda. It's 'an experiment' if he forces himself to sit with his back to her while he does something rather than always having her in his line of sight, even if it sends the paranoid part of his brain into fits. It's 'an experiment' to casually lean against her while teasing, or to not imminently try to wiggle away when grabs him in a headlock for poking fun at her again, or to say "I know you won't" when she threatens to throw him in the lake because he knows that she knows he can't swim.
She doesn't throw him in. She pretends to throttle him instead, but that's a show. He's safe in her hands. Or at least as safe as his survival instincts will allow him to feel.
"Danger." They still whisper. "You're weak, she's strong. Don't let her touch you, don't let her close. Dagger in your pocket, neck is the weak point, be ready, be alert."
Now, at least, Claude has the ability (or maybe just the courage?) to say in return: "Shut up, it's just Hilda. I'm fine."
A bit of a different chapter. Lots of plot, lots of character drama. This was fun. I didn't realize how paranoid I'd made Claude until I wrote the scene where he tries to deflect the conversation and noticed that it felt totally in-character for how I write him. I've made him twitchy, distrustful, and hyper-aware of danger.
Also, this whole Hilda/Claude relationship-building subplot isn't going to drag out through the entire story. It's going to be mostly resolved by the time the time skip comes around. Hilda is absolutely going to remain a central character after the subplot completes, just, they ain't gonna be dancing around their feelings for the whole damn story.
