Everyone in this house is incredibly shippable with each other. Yes, I drew them naked predominantly to avoid drawing any of their complex post-timeskip costumes.
it's time to live your claude/lysithea dreams... do it... be free....
request a character/characters and i'll write a short fic!
wc: 980
She leaves Claude in the courtyard, rendered, for what he thinks she would normally be the one saying âthe first time,â rather speechless. And he can agree that there arenât many things that really surprise him. The more the thinks about this, even, the less surprising it becomes.
He could, perhaps, give her space. He could let her come back to him, as he suspects she eventually will. He could leave well enough alone, knowing that she will not appreciate him seeing her vulnerable.
But he doesnât dwell on those lines of thought for very long. Much larger is the notion that if he doesnât go after her now, sheâll start to get the wrong idea. Start to think, perhaps, that he really did say all the things she thought he was going to but didnât.
Itâs not really hard to find her, either. Lysithea, since they were mere children at the monastery, has always loved the security of a well-stocked library. There are plenty of things people can hide between pages of books, after all.
Her back is turned to him when he approaches, her hands brushing faintly, unfeelingly, over the spines of worn, dusty tomes that peek out from their spots on an overfull shelf. She doesnât turn to face him, but she says, âI didnât leave so you could just chase after me, Claude,â and his lips twitch slightly.
âWell,â he says, âIâm not saying you have to cry about it to me, am I?â
Her hand stills. She sighs, head bowing down so her forehead is nearly touching the bookcase in front of her.
âIâm not going to cry about it,â she mutters. âI donât think we should talk about it.â
Claude watches her for a moment, considering this, then shakes his head and offers, âI think we should. Would you just look at me?â
For a beat, neither of them moves, and then she turns around, shoulders braced against the bookcase as her arms come to wrap defensively over her chest. Her gaze is averted, but he thinks he can imagine the look in her eyes well enough anyway.
âIâm not going to live that long,â she says, again, pointlessly.
âLysithea, if I didnât know better, I might think you were trying to say something along the lines ofâŚâItâs not you, Claude, itâs me!ââ
A small huff passes between her lips. He would like to think itâs the result of a suppressed laugh.
âThat kind of is what Iâm saying.â She lifts her head, now, and levels him with a seriousâquite dryâgaze above a frown that is unfamiliar only in its particular weight of sorrow. âIâŚvalue our time together, Claude, I truly do. But I canât be your queen.â
So sheâs said, but Claude thinksâ
âYou can be,â he points out. âI didnât take it back. Iâm not taking it back.â
She scoffs, now, and this is almost more comfortable. More normal.
âDonât be absurd. Were you even listening to me at all?â
âOf course I was.â
âThen, why did you come after me?â Her arms fall, now. She steps forward, as if prepared for a fight. âI think the point was quite clear, donât you?â
He rolls his shoulders back and shoots her a grin, which only serves to deepen her expression. Still, he says, âCâmon, you donât think I give up that easily, do you? So, what? Someone did this to you, right? Experimentation and all.â
She sets her jaw and nods once, short and sharp.
âRight. So, if someone did it to you, thenâwhy canât it be reversed?â
She opens her mouth, furious, but he puts his hands up to slow her down.
âWait, wait, just listen, would you? All Iâm saying is that I donât believe thereâs only one answer to something. Maybe it seems like youâve been given some sort of life sentence, but I bet thereâs a cure. And if anyone can figure it out, well⌠Youâre just about the smartest person I know.â
All at once, she seems to deflate again, with a renewed interest in her shoes. âIâve tried. Iâve looked. Itâs useless. There is no cure.â
âI wasnât done yet,â Claude protests.
âIâm serious, Claude.â She sighs again, so forlorn Claude can almost believe for a moment that things are as hopeless as she believes they are. âI appreciate the sentiment, butââ
âBut you havenât researched with me.â He lunges forward and grasps her hands, drawing her eyes up to his. When they meet, he smiles at her, though she does not smile back. âAnd before you try to say I have an inflated ego or something, I know you think Iâm pretty intelligent too. We could find something together. Donât you think so?â
He thinks, for a moment, that there is a small shine in her eyes, but it flees as quickly as it comes. Gently, with annoyingly steady hands, she frees herself of his hold and steps to the side, away from him.
âI do not think so,â she says, very quietly. âAnd it would be foolish for you to continue thinking so yourself. YouâŚyouâll be a great king, Claude. I just canât be your queen.â
And with that, she spins on her heel and hurries away again, leaving him behind once again. In her absence, he looses a short sigh, equal parts frustrated and determined. She has always been stubborn, but she has left him, this time, surrounded by all sorts of resources. Maybe she wonât believe him now, but all she has ever needed, as long as he has known her, is a little bit of a push. Some evidence, something to believe in⌠There was a time when she believed he would see them safely through the war. If she wonât believe in him now, wonât believe in this, thenâŚfine.
Claude/Lysithea is a criminally underrated ship. Their paired ending is so romantic! Pose shamelessly refâed from the wikihow article on kissing someone of a different height lmao
