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 “the first time,” rather speechless. And he can agree that there aren’t 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 doesn’t dwell on those lines of thought for very long. Much larger is the notion that if he doesn’t go after her now, she’ll 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 didn’t.
It’s 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 doesn’t turn to face him, but she says, “I didn’t leave so you could just chase after me, Claude,” and his lips twitch slightly.
“Well,” he says, “I’m not saying you have to cry about it to me, am I?”
Her hand stills. She sighs, head bowing down so her forehead is nearly touching the bookcase in front of her.
“I’m not going to cry about it,” she mutters. “I don’t think we should talk about it.”
Claude watches her for a moment, considering this, then shakes his head and offers, “I think we should. Would you just look at me?”
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.
“I’m not going to live that long,” she says, again, pointlessly.
“Lysithea, if I didn’t know better, I might think you were trying to say something along the lines of…‘It’s not you, Claude, it’s me!’”
A small huff passes between her lips. He would like to think it’s the result of a suppressed laugh.
“That kind of is what I’m saying.” She lifts her head, now, and levels him with a serious—quite dry—gaze above a frown that is unfamiliar only in its particular weight of sorrow. “I…value our time together, Claude, I truly do. But I can’t be your queen.”
So she’s said, but Claude thinks—
“You can be,” he points out. “I didn’t take it back. I’m not taking it back.”
She scoffs, now, and this is almost more comfortable. More normal.
“Don’t be absurd. Were you even listening to me at all?”
“Of course I was.”
“Then, why did you come after me?” Her arms fall, now. She steps forward, as if prepared for a fight. “I think the point was quite clear, don’t you?”
He rolls his shoulders back and shoots her a grin, which only serves to deepen her expression. Still, he says, “C’mon, you don’t think I give up that easily, do you? So, what? Someone did this to you, right? Experimentation and all.”
She sets her jaw and nods once, short and sharp.
“Right. So, if someone did it to you, then—why can’t it be reversed?”
She opens her mouth, furious, but he puts his hands up to slow her down.
“Wait, wait, just listen, would you? All I’m saying is that I don’t believe there’s only one answer to something. Maybe it seems like you’ve been given some sort of life sentence, but I bet there’s a cure. And if anyone can figure it out, well… You’re just about the smartest person I know.”
All at once, she seems to deflate again, with a renewed interest in her shoes. “I’ve tried. I’ve looked. It’s useless. There is no cure.”
“I wasn’t done yet,” Claude protests.
“I’m serious, Claude.” She sighs again, so forlorn Claude can almost believe for a moment that things are as hopeless as she believes they are. “I appreciate the sentiment, but—”
“But you haven’t researched with me.” 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. “And before you try to say I have an inflated ego or something, I know you think I’m pretty intelligent too. We could find something together. Don’t you think so?”
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.
“I do not think so,” she says, very quietly. “And it would be foolish for you to continue thinking so yourself. You…you’ll be a great king, Claude. I just can’t be your queen.”
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 won’t 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 won’t believe in him now, won’t believe in this, then…fine.
Claude/Lysithea is a criminally underrated ship. Their paired ending is so romantic! Pose shamelessly ref’ed from the wikihow article on kissing someone of a different height lmao
