I'm having a bit of a dilemma here, folks. Should I take the last several chapters and throw 'em into a new fic to keep this crazy self-indulgent bullshit going? Or should I just keep going? (Everything from Save Me to Fade Into The Dawn would be moved/placed into a new fic to keep Aegis a one-shot/focused on the snowstorm/blanket scenario with varying levels of romance, cute moments, hilarity, etc?)
Let me know what you think, please!
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"I'm positive that was a record even for one of Seteth's infamous lectures," Claude says as the two of them make it down the last set of stairs from the second floor. In true form, his hands are folded behind his head as he follows Byleth through the halls to the outdoors.
"I imagine it would have been shorter if not for your 'pass the time' comment." The Professor responds so dryly he's tempted to ask if she needs some water.
If nothing else, Claude is simply shameless and offers an awkward looking shrug. "Hey, he asked what we were doing, I gave him a simple and honest answer. It's not my fault that he can't contain his reaction to the truth."
"You made him blush, Claude."
"I know, I'm pretty proud of tha- ow! That's cold!" He's caught off guard by the faceful of snow out of nowhere and splutters.
She has a second snowball in hand and eyes him speculatively.
Claude's eyes narrow in response he brushes the remnants of snow out of his thin beard and slowly lowers his hands to his sides. He's already taking stock of what his memory of her skill five years ago was and comparing it to what little information he has of her current skill set.
"You know, Teach," he comments in a completely harmless, conversational manner meant to lower her guard. "It's really not wise to pick a fight with someone who's specialty lies in ranged weaponry."
Her response is a particularly wicked glimmer in her eyes and a pair of snowballs- she'd split the one in her hand into two when he wasn't paying attention- lobbed one after another. The first misses and the second stings his ear. He hisses in response, wipes his ear, and ducks down to scoop up a pile of snow himself.
"I tried to warn you." He throws the first, ducking down the moment it leaves his hands to grab another handful. His snowballs are not large by any means, quite the opposite. But they're quick to make and even quicker to hurl at his intended target as he chases her across the courtyard.
For a little while, he's able to forget they're in the middle of a war.
He's able to set aside the fact that there are two highly anxious, highly damaged people who await word from them an hour or two's flight from the monastery. That they're waiting to see whether or not the war will be resolved easily and relatively bloodlessly. Or if the three of them- four of them- are going to team up as one against the place that had once served as something close to "home". He doesn't have to worry about the fate of the Alliance, the Kingdom, or the Empire. He isn't worrying about Fodlan's future or what it means for Almyra or what decision he makes is going to do in the far-flung future.
His world, for the moment, is centered on a black and grey shrouded figure with bright green hair and brighter eyes and cold-pinkened cheeks who keeps throwing snowballs at him like she has any idea what she's doing. She's particularly good at managing to get him in and around the collar of his coat and that snow is cold. He doesn't care about the people staring at them as though they've lost their minds within the monastery, he doesn't care about how it looks to have the Leader of the Alliance acting like a foolish child, and he definitely doesn't care that he's all but asking for a cold by getting soaked to the skin.
Their game continues on for quite some time; she's nimble enough to give him a challenge without being utterly impossible to counter. He figures out a way to manipulate her movements and herds her in the direction of a snowdrift just off the back stairway. He sacrifices his dignity to a snowball directly on the chin in order to hit her high with one in return. She's caught off guard with a load of snow to the brow and that's when he makes his move.
Byleth is busy wiping the snow out of her eyes when she's tackled off the stair entirely and lands back first deep into the snowdrift. It's cold and she finds her hands are pinned above her head by the wrists. Claude is surprisingly heavy and the shadows make his smug green eyes look all the brighter.
"That, Teach, is strategy in motion."
"I can't believe you can say that line with a straight face." She retorts and tests the hold on her wrists. "How long have you been practicing that one in the mirror?"
He squeezes her wrists in response, a gentle but firm warning that he's not quite done claiming victory yet. The grin that flashes across his face is telling. "A while."
Claude leans down to claim his prize. Their lips barely brush before the world goes dark and cold. There are muffled shouts they can hear as Claude's forehead knocks against Byleth's. He groans in sheer frustration. "Someone just dropped an entire load of snow on top of us, didn't they?"
"It was Seteth." Byleth confirms solemnly. There's a suspicious glint he thinks he sees in her eyes that makes him think his dear Teach finds this situation infinitely more amusing than he does. He'd be willing to bet the entire treasury of House Gloucester on that.
Claude groans again and vows, there and then, that he is going to get revenge on the stern advisor if it's the last thing he does.
"No sign of a body being dragged out and buried. So either they've killed each other in there, they're both sulking out in the woods somewhere, or nothing actually happened." Claude comments as they find a safe place to land. Byleth's arms are off his waist, much to his displeasure, and she vaults off the white wyvern's back like a natural-born Almyran; landing and all.
"Show off." He calls after her, grinning, and does the same thing a few moments later.
A few softly spoken words and a firm rub against the great beast's muzzle later and Claude helps the Professor remove the goods from the saddlebags secured to the wyvern's tack via a series of straps and buckles. There's a good deal more than he initially thought, thanks to Flayn and the Professor both, and he feels the night is going to go by a lot quicker than the last one did. Less stressful too.
They divide the goods between them equally, another few words of praise and with a solid scritch around the base of the wyvern's antlers later, Claude sends his other dearest friend off with a slap to the shoulder. More intelligent than a horse, even the ones brought up specifically for the battlefield, and with sharper claws and teeth to boot, he liked the hardy nature of the draconic beasts. During the last five years, Claude's especially come to appreciate their adaptability to the extreme temperatures of the high mountains, deserts, and the unpredictable plains from his homeland.
Byleth watches her leave with a little half-smile on her lips until she vanishes from sight. She sees Claude watching her in the next moment, tilts her head a little to one side in unspoken inquiry, and watches him smile, shake his head, and head for the door of their shelter. After all was said and done, she'd have to get him alone to finish what they'd started- twice- and help the poor leader of the Alliance out with some of that frustration of his.
Without interference this time.
Claude's the one with a hand free and pushes the unlocked door open. It takes a brief moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light within the room itself before a sharp grin crosses his features at what he sees. If he can't have a moment alone with Teach to have a little fun... well, these two troublemakers sure as hell aren't getting any of the fun either.
Well, not without him involved in some way, anyway.
"Huh, looks like Teach and I worried over nothing." He's aware of Byleth's presence at his shoulder and feels her use him as a brace as she stands on tiptoe to peer inside. "Maybe we should come back a little later, say... an hour or two?"
The two of them are on the opposite sides of the room in a matter of seconds, he's honestly impressed and never knew the two heavily armored leaders could move that fast and refuse to look at each other. He and Byleth enter the room, close the door, and begin setting the goods to one side for later divvying.
Edelgard and Dimitri are awfully quiet.
"So," Claude breaks the silence a little too cheerfully. "You want the good news or the bad news?"
"Good." Edelgard replies a little too hastily.
"War's over."
Dimitri speaks up in a voice Claude finds a little too gruff to be his normal voice. "The bad?"
"Seteth's working on the ultimate lecture along with some stipulations. We meet him in a week's time to settle the details and get the announcement ready for all three of our respective territories."
"...Seteth gets to prepare a lecture for an entire week?" Edelgard and Dimitri have mutual expressions of dismay on their faces.
This is a lot more fun than Claude anticipated. "Ooh yeah, you should've heard him go off on Teach and I. I thought we were going to be there the rest of the night."
"...worse than Sylvain." Dimitri mutters darkly to no one in particular. Edelgard gives the blond warrior a sideways look. There's a moment Claude's convinced that the Empress is going to inquire further about the notorious womanizer from Faerghus and his past lectures from Seteth before she shakes her head and chooses against it.
Claude is oddly disappointed by this.
Byleth is busy sorting through the packs they'd been given when she replies. "The week gives him time to speak with the Knights and make proper arrangements for our return."
"Did he say why it would take so long?" Edelgard presses for a better answer, one that makes more sense than this waiting business.
Their teacher shrugs. "He has more pressing matters." That gets a look from all three of them.
"Professor, what could possibly be more important than ending the war?" Edelgard manages to ask without being rude. For the most part. There is a sharpness in her tone that implies she's biting back harsher words.
Byleth points to the window to the outside. "A series of storms- and no, I don't know how he knows they're coming. He wants to make sure the monastery is as secure as possible against the snow and cold for those who live there."
"Will we be staying here?" Dimitri inquired, polite but tense as he eyes the cramped area in dismay. He's slept in and around worse and among even more treacherous company these last five years, but…
"For tonight." Byleth confirms with a nod. "We're to report back to Garreg Mach tomorrow. He expects us no later than early evening."
Dimitri and Edelgard exchange a confused look. The latter of which is the more comfortable of the two in speaking up. "I thought you said we were meeting him in a week?"
Claude grins in return. "We're meeting him officially in a week."
"And tomorrow?" Edelgard is understandably tense.
He offers an open-palmed shrug as though there's nothing they can do. "Tomorrow we're just three lost, lonely travelers who got picked up by a warm-hearted Professor from the former Officers Academy and taken back to the one place they could think of to seek shelter from the storm."
"Edelgard." Byleth's voice breaks the growing tension in the air. Light green eyes reflect the stern face of the woman in front of her. "Where are Hubert and the rest of the Black Eagles who sided with you?"
"Back in Adrestia." I think. The latter part is unspoken but clear in her eyes for a moment before her notorious composure resettles on her face. "If need be, I can send a message."
"Let's do that in the morning then." A pause. "I'll go with you to meet them."
She looks at Claude. "Have you already sent word to Hilda, Lorenz, and the rest of the Golden Deer?"
"That's why we were waiting for Halide." He replies and heads over to help her unpack the bags and lifts an eyebrow at the growing stack of wrapped packages. "...did Flayn think we were starving or something?"
"That was Seteth's doing." Byleth corrects the assumption with a shake of her head. "You can ask him why he loaded the packs the way he did, I'll watch."
"Chicken." He replies.
Byleth sends him a sideways look. "Strategy in motion."
"Hey!"
"What about those loyal to Faerghus?" Edelgard is the one that asks, watching the way Byleth and Claude act with an ease between them that both hurts to watch and reminds her, a little, of the rapport between herself and Dimitri from earlier.
Dimitri is silent and that catches everyone's attention.
Edelgard can't breathe. Panic rises as she runs through the mental tally of the names of those she's received put to death after Cordelia's take over. No. I would have… I knowI would have heard of several of their deaths from Dorothea. The songstress had connections in and out of the Empire even after breaking from the monastery and hadn't mentioned anyone they'd known from Faerghus as one of them. She'd promised to let her know if they met, and killed, anyone from the monastery on the battlefield.
Hubert too; she'd made him swear it on penalty of removing him from his position.
Cornelia, however, had lied about Dimitri, however, and that would prove to be fatal for her in due time. She's not disappointed in the mage, however. Quite the opposite. If she had succeeded, well, this would be an entirely different series of conversations as well as an undesirable outcome.
"Dimitri?" Byleth's voice is a gentle prompt.
He studiously avoids looking at any of them when he answers. "I do not know."
Claude opens his mouth to press further, Byleth lifts a hand to stop him. The universal sign to wait before she lowers it back to her side. Give him time, the unspoken words hang heavily in the air as she keeps her eyes firmly fixed on Dimitri's pale face.
"I have not spoken or interacted with any of them these last five years. Who lives, who has fallen… neither is known to me.
Did you hide from your own allies out of fear I would find you through them? Or were you so broken that you could not trust even those who pledged their lives for your sake? All this time she had believed him dead or hiding among those who'd sworn fealty to him. She never thought he would eschew…
His eye flicks to Byleth and back down. "...I have not seen their visages nor heard their voices among the number that haunt me. Perhaps they still live even now."
Edelgard and Claude exchange a confused look. The voices that haunt him? The visages of the fallen? Both of them look to their Professor, who hadn't moved an inch or changed expression during the entire exchange. What could Dimitri mean by that? He'd mentioned it before, now that Edelgard thinks about it. She'd always chalked it up to his prattling about revenge and tuned the rest of the ranting out for being dull and repetitive.
Did… did Dimitri truly have the ability to hear, and see, the dead?
"Why don't Halide and I take Dimitri tomorrow morning and see who we can get a message to? We can gather some information along the way and meet you back here to coordinate our next move." Claude offers after a moment to collect his thoughts. In all honesty, the less time Dimitri has to sit alone and think, the better at this point. I don't know about the whole seeing and speaking with the dead thing, but he's not who he used to be, and something is definitelynot right with him.
Dimitri glances his way. "...Halide?" His mispronunciation of the word makes Claude internally wince, but the Faerghus born noble is showing interest instead of retreating further into himself.
He'll take whatever he can get. "Halide's my wyvern, you ever ride one of those, Your Highness?"
A shake of his head.
Claude grins. "You're in for a treat; flying is much more fun than riding a horse."
Dimitri isn't sure whether or not he doubts Claude's intentions or is more interested in the idea of something entirely new. Either way, it does sound, regrettably, like a better option than sitting here and doing nothing but wait. "It will be done then, I am grateful for your offer, Claude."
"Thank me later." He replies a little too cheerfully.
Halide was going to have the most fun tomorrow.