Chapter Text
The reception was a bustling affair, filling the seaside palace of Derdriu with the chatter and feasting of nobles who gathered to give Claude a send-off befitting the leader of the Leicester Alliance and United Kingdom of Fódlan.
And amidst the noise of merriment, there were murmurs of gossip—for Claude was about to become the former leader of the Leicester Alliance and United Kingdom of Fódlan.
When invitations first went out, the gathering was billed as a celebration marking the anniversary of the war’s end. But after the third round of toasts—and after the wine had settled the more contrarian nobles into a compliant mood—Claude dropped the news. He was leaving Fódlan, and Byleth would rule the continent in his place.
Byleth took the transfer of power with remarkable calm. Teach practically governed Fódlan already as archbishop, so what was adding one more title to their crown?
After a speech from Claude filled with allusions to achieving his goals and reassurances that Fódlan would be left in capable hands, Lorenz—who had been raised to Count Gloucester just two months ago—gave another toast and launched into his own flowery speech, which was marred only by his words slurring ever so slightly from too much drink.
Not wanting to be outdone, noble after noble gave their own congratulations. But Claude listened with only half an ear, for his attention was focused on the man sitting beside him.
Ashe held his hands in his lap, the fingers of one hand nearly crushed in the grip of the other. The sweat adorning his forehead had little to do with late summer in Derdriu, especially with the loose-fitting tunic he had donned to stave off the heat. His eyes were wide like he’d seen a ghost, his jaw set and lips bloodless—the picture of a knight staring down the terror of becoming the center of the world’s attention.
“You’re going to be fine,” Claude said. “Great, even.”
“I keep trying to tell myself that,” Ashe muttered through gritted teeth.
Claude reached over. As Viscount Siward droned on, he laid his hand over Ashe’s and was immediately met with the other’s fingers desperately hooking around his.
“Most of their attention is going to be on me and Teach. Since the big news is that I’m leaving Fódlan, I don’t think they’ll be terribly concerned about who my partner is.”
Ashe nodded, his chin jerking downward. “I know. It’s just that all of this…it’s so much. Like everything coming down on us all at once.”
Claude understood what he meant. For several of the nobles gathered at this feast were also their friends—from Sylvain as the heir of Gautier to Hilda as representative of Goneril to Marianne as envoy of Edmund—as well as Ashe’s siblings, who still looked awestruck and a bit mystified as to why they were invited in the first place.
“Think of it as practice,” Claude whispered, his gaze touching on the bright yellow sash tied around Ashe’s waist—the sash Claude had given him when they exchanged promises in private. “If you can do this here in Leicester, you’ll be ready for Almyra.”
Ashe blew out a breath between his lips. “You’re right. I can do this,” he said, grasping Claude’s hand to steel himself.
With his thumb lying over Ashe’s pulse—which stuttered away like the throat of a songbird—Claude raised his goblet in his other hand, bringing the countless rounds of toasting and speeches to an end.
The time for hiding and half-truths was over.
“I have one more announcement to make,” he said, his voice ringing out over tables laden with roast fowl, fish stew, and platters of fruit and pies and other confections.
“In three days’ time,” he continued, “I will depart for Almyra. But I won’t be going alone.”
He rose to his feet, their linked hands pulling Ashe up and out of his seat. Hundreds of eyes followed them, the heat of their curiosity a hundred times heavier than the glare of the desert sun.
“Ashe Ubert, who hails from Gaspard territory in Faerghus, will be coming with me. My partner in my travels…”
Over their raised hands, Claude found Ashe’s nervous gaze—and he held it, held steady for them both.
“…and my partner in life,” he finished.
Gasps of surprise and a burst of applause, but Ashe didn’t look away. And when Lorenz called for everyone to toast the new couple, Ashe’s grip on Claude was no longer tight with fear—his hand now fit together with Claude’s, fingers steady as they twined around his.
