King of Faerghus @blueboarprince - Tumblr Blog

"After all is said and done, we are both murderers. Both stained. Both monsters."

⊱༺༒︎༻⊰⊱༺༒︎༻⊰⊱༺༒︎༻⊰⊱༺༒︎༻⊰⊱༺༒︎༻⊰⊱༺༒︎༻⊰⊱༺༒︎༻⊰⊱༺༒︎༻⊰

#BLUEBOARPRINCE, 25+ Mun, FE3H RP centered. Dead dove/dark themes may apply, follow at your own discretion.

⊱༺༒︎༻⊰⊱༺༒︎༻⊰⊱༺༒︎༻⊰⊱༺༒︎༻⊰⊱༺༒︎༻⊰⊱༺༒︎༻⊰⊱༺༒︎༻⊰⊱༺༒︎༻⊰

MAIN MUSE: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd

OTHER MUSES: MByleth Eisner, Felix Hugo Fraldarius,

Lady Seiros, Shahid & Cyril

"Well, well, aren't you that Almyrian Royalty that General Nardel was talking about?" It's preposterous to think that they're now mingling with Almyrans, when just a month ago these same folks were regarded as border terrors. They all have Claude to blame. For goddesses' sake, how did Claude ever managed to make such friends still leaves much to be desired. He wouldn't even bulge an inch when Lorenz demanded he explain himself behind closed doors.

Ugh.

He turns his thoughts away from Claude and instead focuses on the dazzling man before him. "You were saying, Your Highness?" His eyes couldn't help but wanders. Indeed he did not expect an Almyran to be so well-educated. Perhaps Claude did have merit in seeing the potential of an allegiance, which leads Lorenz to believe that he most probably should be making a good impression.

Reaching out for the prince's hand, he bends forward to bring the lifted knuckle to his lips and kisses the ruby-red gem sitting on one finger. "If you're unoccupied for the night, I would like to have this dance with you." He would have preferred a noble lady of Fodlan descent, but seeing as they're all incredibly shy to ask him for a dance, he supposes he'll settle with foreign royalty.

[ Lorenz to Shahid ; 3 hopes canon verse ]

Shahid regarded the man before him with narrowed eyes, observing with the patient and calculated intensity of a snake deciding if it should pounce. Presumably this gaudy effeminate peacock was Khalid's righthand man, one Shahid remembered seeing shadowing his brother on the battlefield during the campaign to seize Fodlan's Locket, accompanied by that freakishly strong woman who looked every bit the gentle maiden despite possessing strength that bordered on the absurd.

Had word not reached his father that he had unknowingly attacked his brother's forces, the operation would have continued uninterrupted. Such revelations certainly wouldn't have troubled him; yet unfortunately Nader had possessed other ideas, slipping behind his back to ensure the information reached the king's ears.

Once he was king, he'd make an example of that traitor. The consequences of choosing Khalid over him would finally be made clear someday.

At last he deigned to answer the flamboyantly dressed man before him. Crossing his arms over his chest, he fixed him with a gaze utterly devoid of warmth, as though addressing a particularly insignificant servant.

“Correct. You stand before Prince Shahid, future heir to the Almyran throne. And you are?” He asked, somehow managing to keep his politeness intact, though it sat atop an unmistakable layer of superiority.

Truthfully, he could barely recall the half-baked excuse he had devised to justify requesting a ceasefire and an audience with the Federation. Committed to not exposing the cracks in his narrative and embarrassing his homeland, he let the words flow as they came, hoping he wouldn’t accidentally stumble into contradiction amid the web of lies he had spun to preserve his image.

"Our emissary provided us with incorrect information. We were under the impression that the Leicester nobles had allied themselves with the Empire. Given the Empire's history with Brigid, we acted swiftly to ensure our kingdom would not face future annexation."

The irony of citing fear of conquest while Almyra repeatedly sought to invade Leicester was not lost on him. Then again, he was merely humoring a man who undoubtedly trusted him no more than Shahid trusted him. He'd heard often enough how the people of Fodlan spoke of his people.

Suddenly there was a sudden touch of his hand, and though gentle, put him immediately on guard.

instinct nearly drove him to backhand the man across the face, then he saw the bowed head and faint understanding began to dawn on him as the gemstone on his ring was kissed.

Initially the gesture meant nothing to him as it was not a custom practiced in Almyra, however, he recognised it for what it was—a sign of respect.

Interesting.

At least the man possessed some understanding of how to treat his betters.

Even so, Shahid remained suspicious. Was this merely an attempt to lower his guard? Had Khalid perhaps instructed him to behave this way?

Still, so far from home, he found he rather enjoyed the flattery, regardless of whether it was genuine or not.

His surprise only deepened when the man requested a dance, the words landing with an unexpected boldness that made Shahid hesitate for a fraction too long before he could respond.

He had little knowledge of how Fodlan's nobility conducted themselves at such occasions, but he supposed it could prove entertaining. If indulging this self-aware nobody would somehow encourage him to speak more freely about Leicester's affairs, then there was no reason for him to refuse.

“Permission granted. I am unfamiliar with the dances of this land, so I must ask that you lead. Consider it your chance to demonstrate your… competence.”

blueboarprince

Dimitri sighed heavily behind the bars of his cell, wondering how much longer Claude intended to amuse himself with his insufferable quips. He didn’t have to wait long before his patience was rewarded, Claude producing the key and unlocking the door. He barely registered what was said as he stepped free, eye twitching slightly as he swept his gaze across the room, relieved to finally be on the outside looking in, rather than behind the bars staring out.

There had been instances where he’d wondered if he would ever leave his cell, his confinement more than once having stirred memories of a harsher imprisonment, specifically the one that followed Cornelia’s accusation of regicide. By comparison, captivity under the Alliance was incredibly lenient, maybe even relaxing.

Even so, a cell remained a cell. No matter how kindly Claude treated its occupants, Dimitri had still been a prisoner, and the bars were no less real for their courtesy.

Still, he was profoundly grateful to be beyond them at last.

“Mhm,” Dimitri hummed in quiet affirmation, eager to leave the dreary confines that had been his environment for the past six days. Though Claude had apparently prepared a room for him, he had no intention of retiring there just yet. A walk would do him more good, his legs had grown stiff from the confinement, and the thought of fresh air was far preferable to staring at another ceiling.

As for the feast, he wasn’t in the mood to attend. Still, he supposed he should make an appearance if his allies were present. He still did not entirely trust Claude’s word, but there was little point in dwelling on it now. He was deep within Alliance territory, undoubtedly surrounded. For the time being, all he could do was play along with whatever maneuvers was being set before him on the chess board until he found a way back to his true objective:

Reaching Enbarr.

His eyes then met Claude’s as he crossed his arms, letting boredom and impatience radiate from his posture, hoping it was made clear enough that he was ready to be led out. Thankfully, the man didn’t require further persuasion. Claude took the hint, and they were on their way.

Outside the prison, the rest of the encampment began to come into view around them. Dimitri glanced up, drawn to the trail of twinkling stars scattered across the black sky. They held his attention for a moment, leaving a quiet, lingering melancholy settling in his chest that he couldn’t quite place.

Before Claude could guide him any further into the encampment’s cluttered spread of structures and shadowed pathways Dimitri halted midstep and turned toward him, clearing his throat.

“I’d like to take a walk before you show me where I’m staying,” he said, not quite seeking permission, but being transparent of his plans nonetheless.

He would have preferred to go alone, though he knew Claude wouldn’t permit it just yet. Still, he could live with the compromise, as long as Claude kept his mouth shut.

failnaughtt

"A walk?" A weak little laugh and a few awkward shrugs. To think that the first thing anyone would crave after a week-long imprisonment is a walk through a war encampment, rather than the thought of a warm bath and soft bed. Not that he'd ever try to figure out what goes on in Dimitri's head. If he ever thought that he still knew the Dimitri from their academy days, he's probably wrong. The man's an enigma now. A mind field. "Well, I suppose no harm can come of that. As long as you're not thinking that I'll just let you wander off alone in a place under my command."

He steps side way and extends a hand, bowing slightly to gesture for Dimitri to take the lead so he could tail behind. "Beautiful la- Well, only one of us here is a prince." He grins, lying cornily, "I mean, you first." He waits for the shadow to pass, before turning on his heels to walk side by side with Dimitri, just a step or two behind.

Torches around the camp kept it warm, but as soon as they arrive at the perimeter of the main camp, frost seeps between the air. Claude is inevitably reminded of how much he hated the cold. It is not something that will cause him to run away or cry for his life, but as someone who was used to the heat of the deserts, he didn't enjoy the prickly sensation he feels on his skin when the temperature drops below a certain permittable level.

He turns to the side as he sneezes. Ugh. How did Cyril survive here?

The night stretches into the hour of the moon. Dimitri hasn't been talking since they stepped out of the prison, though when Claude occasionally steals a few glances from him, Dimitri seems to be enjoying being just by himself, mentally, enjoying a landscape that hasn't been defiled by the atrocities of the war. Claude, though, is the opposite. The silence had turned somewhat deafening and unbearable to him. Fidgeting with his own fingers behind his back and stealing glances at the most beautiful man on the continent could only get him so far before the urge to break the silence became too difficult to resist.

"Hey, Dimitri," he says, "Uh. Um. I'm sorry for provoking you back when you were in the cell. I was just trying to get a reaction from you." Internally, he winces at how cringe that might have sounded to Dimitri. But then again, with all the things he's said, the damage has already been done. So what's a little more? "I suppose watching you sit there for hours without even twitching a muscle can be a little heart wrenching."

He pauses. Blinks to himself slowly at the last sentence. Perhaps it might have sounded neutral for outsiders, like a friend just feeling concern for another. But someone as emotionally suppressed as Claude would know that it takes vicious effort to be able to admit something like that. It would take more than a friend for someone like him to even attempt the labour of ensuring his thoughts were heard.

He wonders if Dimitri's friends, or even the Blue Lions, were ever able to offer Dimitri even more.

Dimitri already has people who know how to reach for his innermost thoughts. Felix, Ingrid, Sylvain, Dedue. What exactly was Claude hoping to accomplish here?

He laughs awkwardly. "But all's well ends well now. I'm glad that you seem... as good as one can get. We just need to keep our promises to each other and end the war as quickly as we can." He hears the slip in his tone, trying to sound impartial. Goddammit. Nervousness never suited him particularly well. His gaze averts deep sea-blues when Dimitri turns to look at him. His irises dart sideways as he kicks a pebble out of the way. "I just mean to say. I have no real business with your affairs. I'm just," he sighs inwardly, "I'm just glad that you are here with me right now."

blueboarprince

Dimitri bristled as he caught the implication before Claude could finish the thought. Before the man could continue, he leveled him with a look sharp enough to serve as both warning and challenge. Fortunately for both of them, Claude possessed enough self preservation instincts to let the thought die where it stood. The indignation lasted all but a few seconds before Dimitri recognised how absurd he was being as he exhaled through his nose, brushing past Claude with a disgruntled huff.

He then heard the pitter-patter of footsteps following shortly behind, choosing In a moment of petty defiance to lengthen his stride just enough to keep some distance between them. The effort proved pointless as before long Claude had caught up to him once more, seemingly unbothered by the effort.

Surprisingly, Claude seemed willing to honor his request for silence, something Dimitri appreciated more than he cared to admit. He had no idea how long it would last, but he intended to savor every moment of it.

In the absence of conversation, Dimitri’s attention drifted to the sounds surrounding them. The leaves that rustled softly in the breeze, the wind which hummed through the trees, and the occasional flutter of wings that stirred and assumed overhead. Together, it formed a tranquil backdrop that slowly unwound the tension in his shoulders.

For the first time in days, perhaps longer, his thoughts felt almost still.

…

Then Claude sneezed, prompting Dimitri to recoil slightly with a wrinkled nose, the previously serene moment shattering like a stone thrown into a still pond.

He frowned, hand already beginning to rise toward the pelt around his shoulders before he caught himself. He stared ahead in disbelief, processing what he’d almost done.

Had he seriously been about to drape his own pelt over Claude's shoulders?

The thought alone was enough to sour his mood, the impulse having come too naturally to ignore.

Even if it had been nothing more than a momentary lapse in judgment, the incident left him deeply annoyed with himself. He had no desire to encourage misunderstandings, especially with Claude of all people. The last thing he needed was the man walking away with the impression that Dimitri had somehow forgiven him for everything that had transpired between them when he certainly had not.

Before long, Dimitri noticed Claude stealing glances at him from the corner of his eye. The realisation immediately put him on edge, already imagining the man latching onto his near mistake and turning it into the subject of endless teasing, as though the impulse itself carried some deeper meaning.

When the silence finally broke however, Dimitri was caught off guard by what followed. Rather than one of Claude's usual jabs or teasing remarks, an apology had been what awaited him instead.

Dimitri studied the faint furrow in Claude's brow, the unusual heaviness in his voice leaving little room for doubt of his sincerity. Yet, despite recognising the effort, Dimitri found himself largely unmoved in spite of it. He acknowledged the effort for what it was, but if Claude genuinely intended to make amends they had a long road ahead of him. His constant needling and ill-timed humor were only just the tip of the iceberg.

The laugh Claude let out afterward made Dimitri squint, the tension beneath it hard to miss. He wasn’t accustomed to seeing the man so restless, even if only seeping through in fragments, the unfamiliarity of the sight left him uneasy.

He stayed with the thought as they began walking, listening to the pebble Claude had kicked scrape across the stone mosaic. His expression remained distant and solemn, but behind it his mind was turning over everything little thing that had transpired in their short excursion.

In a way, he felt as though Claude was subtly attempting to extend an olive branch, though more precisely only a fragment of it, as though hoping to smooth over whatever resentment remained between them. Dimitri had no intention of accepting it outright, but would take the opportunity for it to be extended further, provided Claude offered more than a handful of empty reassurances of his intentions.

“If you have no business with my affairs, then tell me who you really are, and why you have such close ties to Almyra.”

The request was stern yet spoken softly, carefully even, as though mindful of anyone who might be passing within earshot.

The library is his quiet sanctuary. He liked it because it is not known to be a particularly popular place to hang out in within the Golden Deer. Lysithea is not committed to keeping a keen eye on him as much as Lorenz, who preferred to spend his time practicing romance poem recitals towards clear air in the gardens. It is perfect for Claude to dwell in when he wants to think.

His gaze flutters to the letter he's just received from House Riegan. Oswald's illness isn't as trivial as Judith initially stated when she first visited. A common cold, my foot, the butler wrote. I fear it is not as simple as what the physicians say. But it is nothing uncommon for one of old age either.

Claude slips a hand through his hair. Well. This isn't exactly what he'd hoped for when he'd joked about being disappointed that Oswald only caught a cold. It was a joke. A stupid one, apparently. So why'd he have to say it?

Across the table, someone had pulled the chair out and took a seat. Claude had expected Tomas, whose eyes had been following him around the library since he'd walk in as if wary that he'll seize a book off the forbidden shelf and flee the moment he isn't under strict surveillance.

But it isn't.

Claude inhales as a flash of blue and blond settles into the chair instead. Dimitri doesn't appear to realize Claude is there. He's too focused on whatever contents there are in the book resting in his hands.

"Dimitri," Claude mouths the name, breath hitching. "Hello." Oh. He's never gotten this close up to Dimitri. He blinks as he noticed how long those eyelashes were. His gaze snaps away from those deep, sea-blue gaze at once when Dimitri looks up in surprise. Claude stares at the cover of the book he's holding instead to avoid appearing suspicious. "Register of Empire, Alliance, and Kingdom Nobles... ?" A low whistle slips from his lips, "Wow. That's…" He tilts his head. "That's a very interesting choice of reading material."

Not as interesting as the one who is holding it, though. He quietly adds.

[ for our ratmitri/claude verse's academy days ]

Heavily preoccupied with the details of his investigation, Dimitri failed to notice that the chair beside him had become occupied. His attention remained fixed on the pages before him, already sifting through the contents of his book until a familiar voice greeted him with its usual breezy ease, breaking his concentration.

His gaze snapped toward Claude, eyes widening slightly at the unexpected sight of the man.

"Oh. Hello, Claude."

The words emerged with more warmth than he might otherwise have allowed, the surprise of being caught off guard softening his usual reserved conduct. Normally, an interruption during his research would have earned some measure of frustration. Yet as he looked at Claude, he found himself feeling none.

Unwilling to reveal his true reasons for reading such dry material, Dimitri fell back on the explanation he had been offering whenever anyone grew overly curious about his choice of reading. Thankfully, such inquiries were rare, but he remained cautious all the same.

"My father made it mandatory reading while I was growing up. He wanted to ensure I could recognise sound counsel and avoid falling prey to unscrupulous advisers."

The lie came effortlessly, delivered with the same practiced expression and measured tone he had spent considerable time perfecting. Eager to avoid any further questions on the matter, he swiftly steered the conversation elsewhere.

“What brings you here so late? Were you hoping to slip past Tomas and browse the restricted section?” The softness in his tone made it clear the question was meant as teasing rather than an accusation, though he wouldn't have been particularly surprised if Claude had been doing exactly that.

Rumors of such behavior had circulated among the students, with Claude's name having surfaced more than once, often alongside Linhardt's, among those suspected of attempting it. Admittedly, Dimitri himself had made a few attempts over the years, though none had been successful. Unfortunately, his prudence always seemed to prevail; drawing attention to himself in pursuit of forbidden knowledge seemed a poor trade.

Dimitri did not feel good beguiling his friend. Claude had done little to earn his distrust, but trust was a luxury Dimitri could not afford. Every lead mattered. Every loose thread carried the possibility of unraveling months of effort. His investigation could not withstand scrutiny and certainly not curiosity. However remote the possibility, he could not discount the presence of conspirators within Garreg Mach.

blueboarprince

Dimitri fought the urge to roll his eye at Claude’s characteristically jovial entrance, though he suspected the gesture would lose much of its impact while lying on the floor. Though he could not deny a measure of relief at finally seeing the man, it was tempered heavily by irritation at the hour Claude had chosen to grace him with his presence.

Sleep usually avoided him with remarkable consistency, but for a reason he couldn't quite explain, his confinement had improved matters. Six hours was still well short of what most would consider healthy, yet it was a notable improvement over the meagre four he typically managed.

He wasn't entirely sure why he slept so soundly in such an environment at all. Given how the isolation and monotony were steadily wearing away at his psyche, it seemed counterintuitive. Yet somehow, it did. Perhaps all the restless energy with nowhere to go was simply exhausting him, even if he wasn't nearly as physically active as he would have been outside captivity.

Dimitri took his time pushing himself up from the ground before shuffling over to the bars and accepting the offered parchment. His eyes caught on the faded band around Claude's neck. The sight drew an unexpected feeling of relief from him, though he was careful not to dwell on why.

Ugh. This wretched lack of conviction was rearing its head again. Was this truly how he meant to view those who might one day stand against him?

Whether Claude posed an immediate threat or none at all was irrelevant. Dimitri had made his choice, and yet here he was, burdening himself with remorse as though it would change anything.

Besides, Claude had been the one who instigated, dragging him away without any regard for his opinion or what consequences it might have brought. If Claude was telling the truth, then perhaps things could work out, but what bothered Dimitri still was the fact that it had all been set in motion by the man himself.

At last he skimmed the parchment, brow furrowed in concentration. Reading came slower than it ought to, his thoughts dulled by fatigue and further hindered by the simple fact of having only one eye.

He did not react at the mention of Felix, though inwardly he could not help but feel a faint sense of ease at hearing a familiar name; down to the familiar temperament which, in its own way, lent some credibility to Claude’s account. As far as Dimitri knew, the two had never interacted. Felix had always been either on the training grounds or hauled up in his personal quarters.

Claude’s apparent attempts at provocation did not go unnoticed, not that they were effective, but Dimitri could not help but think the man lacked any meaningful sense of self preservation. He had been in a position to kill Claude, and yet the man continued to address him with the same familiarity as though nothing had changed since the Officers Academy. It was frankly astonishing. Almost reckless enough to be suicidal. When he noticed Claude still hovering close to the bars, he realised he wanted the parchment returned. An unruly, almost childish part of him briefly considered tearing it to shreds in front of the man, but Dimitri reigned in the impulse. it was hardly worth jeopardizing his chances of being released. Instead, he slipped it back through the bars into Claude’s waiting hands. He then wrapped his hands around the bars and met Claude’s gaze. “Enough Claude, let me out.”

failnaughtt

Claude watches as Dimitri stirs from the same spot he'd been sitting in for days. His gait is steady, if a little shaky, the sort of unsteadiness that comes from spending too long confined to four walls. But now, there's humaneness in the light of his eyes. Every movement breathes lightness, unlike someone who's been living on pure survivor instinct.

Claude finds himself quietly amused by the transformation. Funny what a bit of time and reflection can do to a person.

Imprisoning someone who acts as the sole heir to the throne of Faerghus was a bold move, perhaps, but what Claude has done wasn't necessarily within the realms of just the Alliance's interests. After all, Dimitri had been his friend back during their academy days. He and Edelgard had unknowingly accompanied Claude on his maiden battle. It was on that very same day that Claude realized how far the gap between him and his peers stretched. He'd spent most of the months that came afterward forming plans to make do with the cards he'd been dealt. The Alliance couldn't afford to fall behind the Kingdom or the Empire, especially after he'd just witnessed what unity alone meant to their strength, something the Alliance drastically lacks.

But he's not the sort of person who clambers to gather all the power for himself. He's not interested in ruling Fodlan with an iron fist, nor is he interested in being their king. The throne destined for him had been somewhere else. Over the borders of Fodlan. In a land not yet recognized as a civilization of its own.

"That's the nicest thing you've said to me since we reunited in the sewers," Claude chuckles as he swings the keys around his finger. He unlocks the door with a click, pulling it open. "Must be nice, huh, to have friends who would drop everything the moment they hear you're alive. I'm almost envious." He half-jokes, though there might be some truth to it. "But I suppose you'll be glad to be shown to your room, and you'll be pleased to know that a feast is in order later tonight. Golden Deer tradition. Small victory, big victory - it doesn't matter. Give us an excuse and we'll celebrate it. Keeps morale up. Keeps people together."

He offers Dimitri a forced smile, wondered if a week of silence changed anything between them. You never really know with Dimitri, especially since 5 years can change a lot of things.

And yet, some things feel like they'll always remain the same.

Once again, he couldn't help feeling himself falling into a deep, dark hole. It was the sight of Dimitri finally being receptive to words, hearing the names of his friends. Claude knew that there was something he's doing that would jeopardize their relationship all over again. Sylvain, Felix, Ingrid, Ashe, Mercedes. They're all here.

However, a familiar weight settles in Claude's stomach.

Because one name remains conspicuously absent.

Dedue is still missing.

blueboarprince

Dimitri sighed heavily behind the bars of his cell, wondering how much longer Claude intended to amuse himself with his insufferable quips. He didn’t have to wait long before his patience was rewarded, Claude producing the key and unlocking the door. He barely registered what was said as he stepped free, eye twitching slightly as he swept his gaze across the room, relieved to finally be on the outside looking in, rather than behind the bars staring out.

There had been instances where he’d wondered if he would ever leave his cell, his confinement more than once having stirred memories of a harsher imprisonment, specifically the one that followed Cornelia’s accusation of regicide. By comparison, captivity under the Alliance was incredibly lenient, maybe even relaxing.

Even so, a cell remained a cell. No matter how kindly Claude treated its occupants, Dimitri had still been a prisoner, and the bars were no less real for their courtesy.

Still, he was profoundly grateful to be beyond them at last.

“Mhm,” Dimitri hummed in quiet affirmation, eager to leave the dreary confines that had been his environment for the past six days. Though Claude had apparently prepared a room for him, he had no intention of retiring there just yet. A walk would do him more good, his legs had grown stiff from the confinement, and the thought of fresh air was far preferable to staring at another ceiling.

As for the feast, he wasn’t in the mood to attend. Still, he supposed he should make an appearance if his allies were present. He still did not entirely trust Claude’s word, but there was little point in dwelling on it now. He was deep within Alliance territory, undoubtedly surrounded. For the time being, all he could do was play along with whatever maneuvers was being set before him on the chess board until he found a way back to his true objective:

Reaching Enbarr.

His eyes then met Claude’s as he crossed his arms, letting boredom and impatience radiate from his posture, hoping it was made clear enough that he was ready to be led out. Thankfully, the man didn’t require further persuasion. Claude took the hint, and they were on their way.

Outside the prison, the rest of the encampment began to come into view around them. Dimitri glanced up, drawn to the trail of twinkling stars scattered across the black sky. They held his attention for a moment, leaving a quiet, lingering melancholy settling in his chest that he couldn’t quite place.

Before Claude could guide him any further into the encampment’s cluttered spread of structures and shadowed pathways Dimitri halted midstep and turned toward him, clearing his throat.

“I’d like to take a walk before you show me where I’m staying,” he said, not quite seeking permission, but being transparent of his plans nonetheless.

He would have preferred to go alone, though he knew Claude wouldn’t permit it just yet. Still, he could live with the compromise, as long as Claude kept his mouth shut.

blueboarprince

As surprise flickered across Claude’s face, Dimitri could only return it with sheepish eyes and a helpless shrug. He honestly hadn't the slightest inkling what the other man was getting at, and was eager to have the mystery explained to him.

Dimitri followed Claude’s story with rapt attention, nodding at appropriate intervals to show he was listening. As the tale unfolded, bewilderment gradually overtook his features, his mouth parting slightly in disbelief at the predicament Claude had found himself in. By the time the story ended his expression had tightened, his lips pressed into a thin line.

The audacity of that noble girl was difficult to fathom. And involving her father to harass Claude over something so innocuous…The entire affair struck him as deeply distasteful.

The explanation they eventually arrived at left Dimitri briefly stunned. More puzzling however, was the way Claude spoke of the matter, as though he possessed only a passing familiarity with the customs of Fodlan's nobility. Regional differences certainly existed, but surely that could not account for such a gap in understanding. Hadn't Claude been raised in Leicester?

He tucked the observation away for later. It was a question worth pursuing when the opportunity presented itself.

“I agree. It's discourteous to simply turn a blind eye.” He conceded.

“That said, I can’t help but feel the custom is somewhat impractical. The sentiment behind it is certainly sweet, but it relies heavily on both parties being aware of the convention. Otherwise it seems to invite misunderstandings more than anything else.”

After divulging his own stance on the matter, Dimitri smiled readily at the question before shaking his head.

“Actually, I have returned several handkerchiefs here at the monastery but I was never questioned about courtship after. I assume it was recognised that my intent was solely to be of assistance, rather than to imply any desire for romantic engagement.”

failnaughtt

He's learned a long time ago that those from the higher class often gets what they want. Fighting it doesn't help anything. Or maybe, he had simply gotten used being on the short end of the stick. As long as no one got hurt, he would considered the situation to be under control, but Dimitri appears to be taking far more offense for something he hadn't personally experienced.

"Whoa, for a moment, it kinda looked like you're the one being threatened into marriage against your will, Your Highness." Claude places a hand on his hips, looking vaguely concerned for how much resentful energy the prince is exuding out in the air at this moment.

Dimitri didn't have a reason to care this much. Surely, the knightly honour that Faerghus is so famed for didn't extend this far?

"Don't sweat it, 'kay? That's the Leicester nobles for you. It depends, really. Some are better than others, like Judith, but..." He waves a hand in the air, dismissive. "Practically all of them squabble over petty feuds. It's just what the round table does." He laughs easily.

"It's.... exciting. To say the least. Ha-ha..." His voice trails off.

Perhaps Claude might have complained about the round table at every opportunity he gets, but he secretly did feel happy that, at least, democracy is still commonplace in the Leicester Alliance. Hard to exercise free will if you're not allowed to just speak your mind, even if what's being said barely offered help in the situation.

His eyes widen at the mention of Dimitri doing the same, yet hadn't faced similar plight. Seriously, was being born blond and pretty given automatic privilege at birth? Ha, he's just kidding. It probably had more to do with being a prince and respected in Faerghus and Fodlan as a whole.

"Sheesh, you're one lucky fella. Guess that's one of the perks of being Fodlan's favorite prince, huh?" The concern on his face brightens into nothing short of a smile, genuinely feeling happy for the prince. "Even the folks at the Golden Deer house talks about you often. Lorenz, especially, he's a fanboy, as embarrassing as that sounds. He has been talking about meeting you for weeks. At this rate, he might faint when it finally happens."

blueboarprince

Dimitri blinked when Claude drew attention to his expression, only then realising how severe it had become after hearing the brief anecdote. Ordinarily he was far better at masking his displeasure, but something about Claude’s story had clearly struck a nerve he hadn't even known was there.

“My apologies. I simply find such behaviour abhorrent,” he said softly, allowing the matter to rest there.

He had no desire to delve into the particulars. Besides, they were not his stories to tell. Those experiences belonged to Ingrid and Mercedes, both of whom were subjected to a relentless stream of unwanted attention from suitors who struggled to accept rejection. Too many of them seemed convinced that a generous purse and lofty promises could somehow compensate for shallow character and an inability to respect the word no.

Perhaps the woman affronted by Claude’s lack of interest did not belong in the same category as those more unsavoury figures, but Dimitri had little desire to associate with her regardless. A person's response to rejection often spoke volumes about their emotional maturity, and hers had left much to be desired.

“Exciting? That's certainly one way to put it... I think I'd find it exhausting, personally. Still, I suppose it only goes to show how well suited you are for your future role.”

To an outside observer, it might have sounded like little more than polite flattery, but Dimitri meant every word. He had seen firsthand how capably Claude managed his band of misfits, navigating their clashing personalities with a patience Dimitri could only admire. If he were forced to contend daily with Lorenz's inflated sense of self-importance, Raphael's earnest but frequently unhelpful contributions, and Lysithea's biting temperament; Dimitri was fairly certain he would have been pulling his hair out within a fortnight.

Speak of the devil. Dimitri was unable to suppress a wince when Claude mentioned Lorenz's eagerness to meet him. A moment later, he carefully schooled his features back into a neutral expression, though a faint twitch at his eye betrayed his true feelings.

Dimitri tried and largely failed to conceal how put off the idea made him feel. Unfortunately there were certain topics that still slipped past his usual composure, no matter how carefully he tried to contain them.

“Some of my house members are curious about you as well. Ashe has been the most outspoken, with you both being archers. Apparently he attempted to speak with the Black Eagle’s archer, Bernadetta, but she fled the moment he greeted her…”

Dimitri recounted this with a thoughtful tilt of his head, his hand resting lightly at his chin as he considered what, if anything, an inoffensive soul like Ashe could have done to provoke such a reaction.

What a peculiar girl.

“Anyway, I should be going. Dedue is expecting me at the training grounds. It was nice talking to you.” He said with a smile of genuine goodwill when he turned to walk away, cape catching in the air as he went.

blueboarprince

Dimitri didn't give chase to Claude, allowing him to flee like the startled prey his House’s moniker was known for. He remained conscious of the cape tangled beneath his own knees, hearing the fabric rip as it tore free from Claude's shoulders.

He barely stirred when Claude deftly escaped his immediate vicinity and ducked behind the cell door, nor when the mechanism clicked into place, ensuring there would be no leaving for him. It was only when he heard Claude attempting to catch his breath that Dimitri displayed any sign he was still present at all, his gaze cutting toward the man, sharp and bitterly cold like the winters of his homeland, though restrained of some of its earlier savagery.

The coughing fit that befell Claude right after did little to spare him from the intensity of Dimitri’s perusal. Eventually his gaze wandered, almost subconsciously, to the red imprints his fingers had left behind, lingering upon them as though trying to reconcile them with his own actions.

The sharpness in his gaze soon deepened as Claude relayed the particulars regarding his allies. Unfortunately, Dimitri still found himself unable to determine the truthfulness of certain claims, leaving him with more questions than answers. The guard who then suddenly entered drew his attention, though it quickly waned when he realised the man had come only to secure the cell on Claude’s behalf. By the time the guard departed, he watched as Claude abandoned the opposite end of the bars of his prison in favor of the wall.

When Claude spoke again, Dimitri leaned back against the wall of his own cell, letting his head lull forward as he folded his arms and closed his eye. Indignation lingered plainly in his expression, leaving him with little interest in hearing any more of the Alliance Leader’s personal insights regarding the fate of his knights.

He did not believe they would perish so easily, but if they had, then that was that. Dwelling on the possibility served no purpose. Besides, if they now found themselves plotting revenge, it was only because of Claude’s interference to begin with.

Then Claude did something that surprised Dimitri, at last revealing the calculated intent behind his decision to kidnap him. So that was it. He wanted a partnership, one he had clearly meant to impose regardless of Dimitri’s own wishes.

Dimitri supposed in some distant sense there was credit to be given. He would never have entertained such a proposition of his own volition, especially after he’d recieved word from his insurgents that the man was hiding something about his ties to Almyra.

That much hadn’t changed, but if his friends were already en route to Leicester anyway, provided Claude’s pompous right-hand found them in time, then he supposed he had no real choice. The Adrestian sympathisers back in the kingdom were likely seizing more territory as he sat here, while Imperial troops secured surrounding strongholds, coordinating a pincer that would leave the kingdom’s nobles boxed in from both sides.

While Claude had been prattling on, Dimitri’s expression had settled into something almost absent, as though his attention had drifted entirely from the words echoing through the prison.

Though it didn’t last.

Claude’s latest excuse for withholding information drew a faint curl of Dimitri’s lip, quiet exasperation breaking through.

Finally, he opened his eye again and unfurled his arms, clicking his tongue in mild annoyance as he met Claude’s gaze, letting him finish before speaking.

“All I hear are excuses from a man intent to justify collecting more pawns for his ambitions, regardless of the lengths to secure them. Spin it however you wish, but do not insult my intelligence.”

Though he spoke the words laced with venom, the furrow in his brow betrayed something uncertain beneath it, as if there was more he wished to say, though could not quite give voice to.

Then silence that followed stretched between them, as if Claude were offering him the chance to break it.

He did not.

Nor did he acknowledge Claude when he finally left.

-

That liar.

Six days passed without any sign of Claude.

On the third day, Dimitri had grown impatient of waiting and began clutching at the bars, as though sheer strength alone might bend the metal though of course, it did not yield.

When that reality of his unfortunate situation finally settled in, Dimitri began shouting at the top of his lungs, demanding to be let out. He had no idea whether anyone heard him, but by then it hardly mattered. Even when he confronted the man who brought his meals, nothing changed. The bootlicker was too loyal to his master to exchange even a single word with Dimitri, leaving him to wonder whether Claude had forbidden it.

Helplessness had begun to curdle into frustration. By the morning of the sixth day, Dimitri told the guard he wished to speak with Claude. The answer, predictably, was still silence. That silence snapped what little restraint remained and his voice followed in a torrent of vicious, ill considered phrases, all deeply unrestrained and that crossed well beyond his princely decorum, leaving the air itself feeling sullied.

By afternoon, he returned to the bars once more, but they held firm.

Had he not been starved in Fhirdiad, perhaps he would have possessed the strength to tear them apart. But alas, his body had not yet fully recovered from its deprivation, and the meagre portions delivered thrice daily were scarcely sufficient for a man of his stature.

By evening, he had all but given up, exhausted from the strength he had spent for hours in a futile attempt to free himself. The unsettling voices that haunted him offered their familiar reproach, chiding him for his surrender, but he could not summon the energy to care. Instead, he let out a quiet murmur of apology, promising the air that he would free himself and seek their vengeance soon.

Then just as he laid his head down ready to surrender himself to sleep, the cell door swung open and heavy footsteps crossed the threshold.

Anger flared at the realisation of who it was, though it was tempered faintly by something like relief. He did not bother lifting his head from the ground. Instead, he opened his eye, enough to make it clear to Claude that he was not asleep.

failnaughtt

"Rise and shine, your princeliness." His voice arrives shortly after his footsteps. It had remained it's initial sing-song charm compared to the last time they spoke. Claude floats his way down the stairs, feeling empowered by the good news he's received. It didn't matter that the bruise around his neck had faded, but remained visible. Now it looked like an accessory rather than a wound.

The sound of his heels click against the red bricked floors on the ground as he waves the piece of parchment in his hand, blue ink of Faerghus' seal visible just from the light shaded upon it by the torches. Claude leans in close to the prison without reflection, his fingers curl around the bars as he presses his forehead in the space between. He didn't care much for what has happened a little over a week ago. Lorenz had chastised him for what had transpired in the cell. He knew that Claude hadn't been fully honest with the Golden Deers or the Alliance, but for all his pompousness might be frustrating as times, Lorenz possesses keener senses than most of his peers. Claude had merely shrug it off though, framing it as his own misjudgement for thinking that interrogating Dimitri might have worked.

But you don't believe in interrogations, Lorenz had said. This is a terrible lie, Claude. What are you even trying to achieve?

Claude had merely smiled. He lifts a hand to place it on Lorenz's accusing finger and lowers it out of the way.

"Wake up, sleepy head. I know I've broken my promise, but I was waiting for news that were worthwhile to bring to you, see." He waves the letter before slipping it through the bars. "I know nothing productive will come from us staring at each other, so, I had wyerns flew over to retrieve them, and sheesh, your friends are just as much of handful as you were yourself. Felix, especially, sounded like he wanted an entire proposal written before he even considers leaving Kingdom territory. Fortunately for the Alliance, I've already met the peak of Kingdom stubbornness since the beginning of the week."

Dimitri looked better than before. He's not in optimal shape, but he's not starving either. He looked tired, bored, and weak. It was all preferable in what the alternative was. Though the sight of him can't help but reminds Claude that rations were a problem for their growing army, that he'd need to secure more food source for them soon.

Anyone who knew Claude well enough would be able to see that it was there again - his signature smile - the one that doesn't quite touch his ears. His cortisol levels are at all-time high, with the nobles of the Alliance squabbling among themselves, blames and insults being flung about like the continent's running currency, some of them blamed Claude for his interests in Fodlan as a whole and not just the Alliance alone.

The lies, the secrets, are all getting a bit too difficult to keep up or hide. Little white lies he'd thought meant nothing evolved into things he'd have to prove or else it topples his entire plans. It's exhausting, and he's ready to just lie flat and let the Empire's troops trample upon all of them and the Kingdom's army and not have a care in the world.

But he can't. He has a facade to keep up and a peace to maintain and people to please.

Suddenly, getting into that cell and letting Dimitri finish the job looked very tempting.

Emerald eyes flicker, watching the prince as he stares back. Dimitri's rhythm was slow compared to the turbulent thoughts going through his head and Claude can't help but envies that kind of life.

Dimitri made a mess of everything he touched lately, but at least he was allowed to make the mess. What a lucky champ.

"Well?" He watches with that faux smile as Dimitri moves to retrieve the letter, distrust still burning like embers in his eyes. "Are you not feeling like giving me a kiss for all that good news?"