Title: bargaining chip
A/N: For the Fódlan 2X77 zine! I really wanted to write part of this from Byleth's POV to include Sothis, but ah well. I think I'm starting to improve on my action scenes though!
Summary: Claude and Hilda had only one goal when they went to Zanado: hire a mercenary strong enough to help with their smuggling run. They might have hit the jackpot with Byleth. Now, if only they could get off the planet without alerting the Empire.
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Claude loved coming to Zanado. Sure, it was a rundown planet, full of thieves and con artists, a place where you had to watch your back lest you end up dead. It wasn't the sort of place someone could go to often or for a vacation. But it thrummed with life in a way the rest of the galaxy didn't anymore.
As he stepped into Nabateanbar, he stepped to the right to dodge a knife as it flew past, embedding on the wooden door behind him.
Then again, maybe it thrummed with life because it was so easy to lose it. Claude smiled wryly as he took in the crowded, noisy bar, filled with the lowlifes of every level. At the very least, this place kept him on his toes, and considering his position as a rebellion commander, he needed all of the practice he could get.
"Eww." His partner wrinkled her nose as she stepped in. She pulled off the hood of her brown cloak, her eye-catching pink hair tumbling over her shoulders. Hilda frowned. "Did you seriously pick this place again?"
"What, don't like it?" he teased, unable to help himself. He pulled off his own hoodie and ran a hand through his hair.
"Is there anyone who actually does?" Hilda glanced at a nearby table. Several rabbit-like people played poker as they drank whisky. "The whole town's so dusty. I feel as dirty as those mugs."
Claude laughed. "You don't have to drink anything, princess. It'll be a quick in and out."
Hilda's frown grew deeper. "You say that every time, and we spend like, thirty minutes haggling prices. Why can't you pick somewhere nice for once?"
"Like where? One of the empire's hotels?" Claude patted her shoulder comfortingly.
She rolled her eyes. "I'm just asking for something that isn't a dump. It's not that hard."
"Alright, alright." He held his hands up in surrender. "Next time, I promise. My contact said we'd only find the guy here, so just put up with it today?"
She scrunched her nose, staring at him for a good minute before sighing. "Fine. But you owe me one, okay?"
Claude raised a brow. "How? We both need the extra protection. Hiring this merc is just as much for you as it is for me."
"For the mental damage." Hilda stretched her arms over her head as she smiled sweetly. "Now, where is he?"
Claude laughed again. They had been partners for years, and not just because she could charm, flirt, and con her way in and out of any situation. Hilda was fun to talk to, someone who made those long hours in space actually interesting. "He is actually a she, and she should be wearing a green cloak."
"Ohh, hope she's pretty." Hilda pursed her lips as she scanned the bar.
"Don't break her heart until after the mission, okay?" Claude skimmed over the manketes in a drinking competition, their bright eyes marking out their dragon heritage. A pair of lovers sat in a booth, their hair filled with feathers. Two men tensely chatted, looking ready to fight.
And there, in the back corner, a green-haired woman with a green cloak sat, idly chewing away on a stick of meat. Despite how relaxed she acted, her posture was tense, all stiff shoulders and wooden arms. The second he spotted her, she lifted her head. Electric green eyes met his, and Claude froze.
He could almost feel the power welling within her.
Then, just as quickly, the feeling disappeared, the woman breaking eye contact as she gestured for him to come over.
Hilda leaned against him, following his gaze until she spotted her. She whistled. "Oh, there she is. Nice hair, at least. I like mercs with a sense of style."
Claude curled his hand. Whatever that was, Hilda hadn't noticed. The woman hadn't reacted. Maybe he had imagined it all. Shaking himself out of it, he led the way. "You want her to protect you, not shop with you."
"Who said she can't do both?" Hilda replied easily, following him as he sidestepped tables and squeezed past chairs.
Now that they were closer, Claude could just make out a green choker peeking out of her hair and cloak. There was a symbol on it, one that looked almost like a W, but before he could think anymore of it, the woman shifted and her hair hid the necklace.
The woman gestured at the other side of the booth. Hilda wrinkled her nose but slid in. "These had better be clean," she grumbled, delicately perching on the seat and leaning her back against the booth wall.
Claude chuckled. Her complaint hid the fact that she now had a perfect view of the rest of the bar. "That might be asking too much," he pointed out as he sat down next to her. He slid a finger along the table and showed it to her. "It's as dusty in here as it is outside."
"Seriously?" Hilda groaned.
Claude turned to the stranger and smiled. "Did we make you wait long, miss?" He purposely trailed off, waiting for her to supply the name.
The woman regarded him, then Hilda for a long moment before shaking her head. "Byleth. And no, I just got here, Claude."
So she knew his name too. It all matched up, so at least they'd crossed the first hurdle. Claude leaned back into his seat. "That's good to hear. This's Hilda." He raised a hand to flag down a waitress. "Hungry?"
"Not at all." Byleth lowered his hand and he could feel the strength of her grip. "What's the task?"
"What, skipping the formalities?" It was actually refreshing to deal with someone straight to the point. He was used to mercenaries milking a free meal, ingratiating themselves to him as they tried to raise their fees. "No foreplay?"
"Claude, you can't just ask someone that," Hilda berated, lightly kicking him.
"Alright, alright. Bad choice of words." Claude held his hands up in surrender.
Byleth's expression turned colder, which was impressive considering she had only looked impassive until this point. She repeated flatly, "The mission."
This worked out well; the sooner this was over, the sooner they could leave the planet. "It's just a small mission, small crew. We're smuggling some Arcane Crystals and Argarthium from Fhirdiad to Derdriu. My crew's good, but not that good. We'll need an extra hand during the pickup and delivery."
"Arcane crystals? And from the heart of Faerghus to Leicester? That's high risk." Byleth raised a brow. Despite her words, she didn't look concerned.
Not quite as high risk as the real mission, which was transporting the rebellion leader Judith to headquarters. Claude wondered if she'd actually react if he told her that. She'd also sell him out to the first imperial soldier she could find. The Adrestian Empire's grip on the universe was tight, and what they couldn't reach, they paid others to reach.
And they'd pay quite handsomely for Judith or himself.
"We'll make it worth your while." He interlaced his fingers and rested his chin on them. "As for the price—"
"A thousand," Byleth interrupted.
He blinked. "What?"
Hilda sat up. "A thousand?"
"Yes." Byleth's lips quirked. "You said you'd make it worth my while."
Claude stared at her before laughing. He hadn't expected that either. "Good point. But even I'm not making that much. Three hundred."
"Nine hundred," Byleth counter offered.
"Still a little high." He pursed his lips, pretending to think. "Tough bargain. How about four fifty?"
"Eight—" Byleth cut herself off, looking to her right as though she was listening to something. Her expression darkened. Before he could move, she stood up. "Seven hundred."
Claude hadn't expected her to drop that much that quickly. "Huh?"
"Seven hundred and we leave right now." She was already pulling him up, her grip still oddly strong. Eyes glued to the entrance, she gestured over her shoulder, "There's another exit back there. We're taking it."
It wasn't Claude's first time dealing with someone on the run. He quickly glanced at the rest of the bar, but no one was reacting to Byleth's strange movements. If a bounty hunter was after her, they were being very careful. "Our landspeeder is around the corner. I'll lead the way."
Hilda scrambled out of the booth after him. "Who's after us?" Her hand was already at her holster, drawing her gun.
As though to answer her question, the front door burst open and Imperial troopers rushed in. The familiar fierce reds and cold blacks of the Empire's colours flooded the room. As usual, the soldiers were dressed head to toe in armour, not letting any personality or sense of self peek through. Claude couldn't even see their faces. Sometimes he wondered if they were human or just robots.
However, they weren't the ones that caught his eye. No, that honour was reserved for the pale, wizened old man walking in. Claude immediately recognized the snake symbol on his robes.
One of those who slither in the dark. A Sith Lord.
Hilda paled, eyes wide. "Shit."
"Over there!" a distorted voice yelled, one of the soldier's noticing them at the same second.
Guns raised. Claude's was already in his hand, but the numbers were against them. Around them, the other mercs and lowlifes drew their weapons, eyes wary as they tried to figure out what their move was.
If he was lucky, the three of them could get out before the mercs turned on them.
"Stay back!" Byleth shoved him and Hilda back and yanked out their table like it was made of paper. She flipped it on its side and ducked as the bullets whizzed by, hitting the table and nearby booths. A woman groaned nearby as she got hit. Another screamed.
Crouching, Claude eyed the back exit. They could make it. "Follow me."
Byleth nodded, shooting over the table. She hit a trooper square in the chest. "I'll take the rear."
He grinned, acting more confident than he felt. While he had heard good things about her skills, their escape was still dicey. Still hunched over, he dashed forward, racing his way through overturned tables and fallen chairs. It was like a kid's obstacle course.
A bullet whizzed overhead, just singeing his hair. "Shit."
Hilda squeaked, but she kept up. He chanced a glance over his shoulder. Byleth was a good two lengths behind them, more focused on shooting than running.
It wasn't until they made it through the kitchen's double doors that he breathed in again. Safer. But not safe yet. He quickly scanned their surroundings—the dirty metal cabinets, the bloody cutting boards, the dirty dishes, and the half-open back door, letting in flies. The three cooks inside stared at him in confusion.
Hilda had been right. Nothing here got washed.
"A Sith Lord," Hilda muttered, cursing as she barreled in. "Of all the things."
"Someone ratted us out," he replied tensely.
There was a crash outside, the sound of Byleth hurling another table, and a bullet whizzed through the kitchen door, embedding in a cabinet. The cooks finally reacted, shaking off the shock. The one closest to him took a step forward. "What are you—"
"Sorry, coming through!" Claude shoved past the stranger, knocking him onto the counter as he made a beeline to the backdoor.
Byleth sprinted in, her hair wild as she shoved the doors close. She pulled one of the metal cabinets down in front of it, barricading them inside. "Where now?"
"To the front." Light and sound bombarded him as he stepped out into the back alley. Every square inch of Zanado was covered in illegal markets, and even a tiny space like this was no exception. There were stalls and booths stretching to his left and right, along with a decent sized crowd to hide in.
Or, there would have been, if the imperial soldiers weren't already heading down the left. It had to be the Sith Lord. Claude clicked his teeth and ran to the right, shoving people out of his way. They had to circle the building to get to the landspeeder. If he was lucky, the soldiers would follow from behind, clearing their path forward.
Considering the day he was having, he should have known better than to depend on luck. Turning yet another right, he found their landspeeder.
He also found two imperial soldiers inspecting it.
A green blur brushed by him. "I'll deal with them," Byleth muttered.
"You'll what?" Claude barely had time to raise his gun before she'd gut punched a soldier, knocking him out cold. The other soldier shouted, turning to her. Just as he raised his gun, she shot with hers, sending him flying backwards.
Claude frowned. Since when did their guns have that much power?
The shouts behind him jerked him out of his thoughts, He could figure it out later. They had to go. Hilda panted as she caught up. "Damn, she's good."
"That's why we're hiring her," Claude replied, jumping into their vehicle. "You're driving."
"As long as I'm not shot," she muttered, slipping into the driver's seat. Her fingers already flew across the dashboard, flipping switches. "It's gonna be bumpy, so hold on tight."
"It's always bumpy with you," he quipped. Byleth squeezed in. It was a tight fit with three. Their new 'friend' rested her knees on the seat, her gun drawn, shooting as their pursuers broke out of the crowds.
"Rude," Hilda snapped back, pressing on the gas.
The transporter hummed to life before jerking forward and zooming away. Fortunately, the city was small, and it was only minutes before they left behind the crowded buildings and entered the rocky desert. Expertly, Hilda navigated toward the canyons, where their starship lay hidden.
It was too early to celebrate. The soldiers came with vehicles of their own and they'd caught up faster than he'd like. There were only four now, but more would come. Even worse, the Sith Lord was nowhere to be seen.
Claude ducked as a stray shot flew over his head. "Not good enough!" he taunted, firing back. His precision was flawless, and the driver hunched over, her speeder crashing into another and exploding.
Before he could celebrate, a soldier shot at them, hitting the side. Claude and Byleth almost fell out as Hilda jerked the controls, trying to keep them from crashing. "What are you doing?" she snapped.
"I'm good, but not that good!" Claude muttered, gripping the seat tight to stabilizing himself.
There were only two speeders left. Byleth fired at one. Her precision wasn't on par with his, but then again no one was. Luckily, her shot hit the fuel, and the landspeeder exploded. Their last opponent dodged the flaming debris and the shooter stood up.
Claude's blood froze. Their enemy wasn't holding a normal blaster. No, it was a heavy cannon, the kind capable of wiping them off the face of the earth. "Hilda, dodge!"
"I'm trying!" Hilda gritted her teeth as she started to zig zag through the desert.
The trooper fired. Immediately, Claude knew there was no way to dodge. No way to hide. They were going to die here. The shot grew closer—
"No!" Byleth growled, standing up, her hands in front of her.
—and bounced off harmlessly.
Claude stared, then looked up. Byleth grunted, forcing the shot back at its owner. Her hair blew back, revealing her necklace, and Claude suddenly realized that it wasn't a W, but a symbol far more complex: the Crest of Flames.
His jaw dropped. "That's Jeralt's symbol."
Spent, Byleth crumpled and Claude caught her. As he eased her down, Byleth leaned into him, breathing heavy. "You know him?" she mumbled, face hidden by her green hair.
"Who doesn't?" Hilda glanced at them before returning her gaze to the desert spreading out before them. "He is a famous Jedi Master!"
"Yeah." Byleth gripped Claude's arm weakly as she tried to right herself. "He was."
Jedi Master. Her odd strength. The way she'd sensed their danger before it had happened. The power she'd just used. The puzzle pieces were falling into place; he just needed the last one.
Claude stared at the woman in his arms. "He trained you."
"Trained?" Hilda gasped, her head jerking toward them. It was a good thing there was nothing to crash into. "There're still Jedi left?"
"No, just me." Byleth leaned against the seat now, still looking weak. She pushed her hair out of her face and closed her eyes. "It's been just me for a while now."
A Jedi. Possibly the last Jedi. Claude stared at the woman next to him. Maybe, luck was on his side after all.
Holding out his hand, he grinned. "Let's try that again. I'm Claude. Have you ever considered joining the resistance?"
Her slight frown told him no, but that was fine. He was more than capable of changing her mind.
Claude was exceptionally good at bargaining, after all.
