Chapter Text
I. Cloak
They were in Faerghus, this Claude would know. Afterall, all those nights spent hunching over maps and history books weren’t for nothing. It was colder than Claude expects though, a chill settling into his bones as he shivers. Yeah, definitely colder. Not that it was to be helped, as Claude huddles around the campsite, the army resting for the day no more progress to be made back to their base.
“You- are you hurt?” A hand, cloaked in metal and entirely too rough jolts him of his thoughts. He jumps at the contact, turning around to find his soulmate staring back at him. There was a grim look on the other man’s face that Claude wants to erase immediately, preferably with more flirting and reassurance. Because only the Goddess knows how much Dimitri clearly needs it. “Was… was I too rough?”
Claude shakes his head faster than he had in his entire life. He was pretty sure that he was going to snap something, but it would be well worth it. “No- no it’s not you, darling.”
He gestures around them. The vast mass of a forest that was covered in a sheet of white. A beautiful sight, really, if only it wasn’t trying to freeze him to death. “Just the snow is all. I’m more of a sun and heat kinda guy, but I’ll- I’ll be fine.” He sneezes. “Maybe.”
Claude really wasn’t a sun or heat kinda guy, he hates hot weather in all actuality. But he feels as though he’d rather take the summer heat than whatever the hell this is.
“Oh.” There was the sound of rustling as the figure behind him moves. Claude turns around again, ready (or maybe not) to face his hot soulmate.
He came face to face with fur instead.
Claude would not so proudly admit that he almost screamed.
Instead, he freezes as fur cover his eyes for a few brief moments before sliding away, a new weight on his shoulders coming with it. Claude comes face to face with Dimitri, dressed in only his armor and signature blue cloak gone.
Oh, Claude thinks, face heating. Oh.
Claude couldn’t see much of Dimitri, even with the cloak gone. But he might’ve just gotten a heatstroke. Because in all honesty, Dimitri looks even more handsome like this. Cloak gone and silver armor in its full glory. A glorious sight, Claude thinks, with a scenic snowy background.
Like a painting. One of those about the great King Dimitri that Claude had admired and is now admiring. Except this time King Dimitri is very much warm and alive in front of Claude.
The paintings didn’t do King Dimitri justice, Claude thinks. They didn’t show how pretty his eyes were framed by his dainty eyelashes, they didn’t show how his lips were full and perfect, they didn’t show how his hair falls and shines in the dim sun. They certainly didn’t show how handsome he is and how attractive the gentle blush on his face is.
Claude would be sure to hunt them down and make sure that they paint the great King Dimitri properly. Because this kind of beauty deserves to be immortalized and Claude was not about to not brag to the historians and students of the future about how hot his soulmate is.
“Did I overstep my bounds?” Dimitri asks, hesitant and meek, breaking Claude out of his reverie.
“No, not at all,” Claude answers, pulling the cloak further around him. “Rather, I appreciate this very much, Dimitri.”
Feeling particularly bubbly, Claude leans closer to Dimitri placing a gentle kiss on the king’s cheeks. “But, ah, are you not cold?”
Dimitri doesn’t respond, face very red and mouth agape and Claude chuckles. Moving the cloak so that it shielded them both from the snow, Claude once again leaning against Dimitri. Head rested on the king’s shoulder.
“There, now we are both warm, no?” Dimitri blushes even further, and Claude wonders how far the blush goes beyond his neck. Wonders what else he can do to make Dimitri more flustered. Wonders if he’ll blush just the same if Claude kisses him further underneath his armor, if he’ll become even more flustered or turn feral.
Dimitri turns to look down at Claude, his eyes shining and cheeks red like the sunset as he smiles- it was a worn thing, too small and too weathered but entirely beautiful. “Yes, we’re both warm.”
Really, Claude should hunt down those imperial artists who dared to portray such a man like this as nothing more than a beast.
II. Wake
Claude wakes up rather groggily. With sad lips and limpid eyes as he was very much not a morning person. Feeling the cold of Faerghus settle around his body once more as he shivers. At least it was slightly warmer now, as Claude adapts and taken to heavier clothing and nightwear. Still cold as hell though, but less so now.
He draws the blankets closer around his and Dimitri’s prone figure. The king is a restless sleeper and a surprisingly clingy bedmate. Facts that Claude will make sure to include in his journal to leave for future generations to know. That there was a man beyond the king.
Dimitri looks peaceful like this, eyes closed and lips slightly parted with no frown to marr his face. Claude traces Dimitri’s cheeks with his finger, finding slight amusement in how Dimitri’s brow would scrunch up before relaxing into the touch.
Cute, Claude would say. If Dimitri was awake to hear. But the king wasn’t, so Claude bites his tongue and saves the comment for a later date.
With relish, Claude places his lips on the king’s cheeks. Giving the man the best hug he could before sitting upright, preparing for another day of talking with Byleth (his idol, the best tactician ever-) on strategies and how to deal with the Adrestian Empire. Another day, another army to destroy.
Yet a gentle tug on his sleeves had him falling back into warm cushions once more as-
“Stay,” Dimitri mumbles into his shoulder, drawing Claude into a warm embrace. Muscled arms worming themselves around Claude, strong and solid. There was a slight frown in his brows, a slight downturned of his lips.
Cute, Claude thinks, his heart almost giving out. So damn cute and wonderful. Why did no one warn him that the king would be so damn good at stopping his heart without even trying?
It would be a great way to die, though, if Claude were to choose.
“Of course I’ll stay for you, babe,” he says softly. Resigning himself to yet another apology to Byleth for being late.
But, ah, she was probably too preoccupied with Mercedes to make it on time anyways.
III. Cool and Hot
Claude admittedly wasn’t one for battle. Having been raised in times of peace for about ninety percent of his life. So it was obvious that his experience with actual warfare was a bit lacking.
But wasn’t this too much? Claude thinks, staring at Felix with his (cool, awesome, absolutely amazing) Levin sword (named Selene, this Claude knows) raised to the sky and thunder rumbling and spreading through the land as their enemies fell.
He turns to the other side with Sylvain on his horse (Felicia, Claude thinks, glancing minutely at Felix and wondering how Sylvain hadn’t been butchered for that decision) and his relic glowing amber and bright and cool as his enemies fall as his mount dash through them- like an unstoppable hurricane.
Then there was Mercedes, standing in the middle of a pyre as she chats with Byleth over the screams of dying men, to which Claude very pointedly ignores the way Byleth and Mercedes both giggles and kiss each other over the fire. As though it was a hearth and not a literal death trap.
To each their own, Claude supposes.
But the point was, why the hell was everyone so strong? Claude thought he would be at least decent- but- but this-
“Prepare to die!” Sylvain yells as fire sparked from his hands and Felix groans. “Tone it down, mutt. Those are mine to kill.”
This-
“Sorry, Felix! I just can’t help it!” Sylvain says, with a cheery smile as shadows pass over his face from the damning flames
They- they really were-
“Are you alright your highness?” Dedue, the fucking awesome giant, chucks a boulder at oncoming enemies as Ashe (archer, his hero- oh-) laughs nervously as he downs another wyvern.
Goddess, why did you make them-
“I am fine, Dedue, and how many times-” Dimitri swings at his enemy, his relic casting a warm glow on his armor and shines in his eyes. A look that Claude very much approves of and makes him wants to swoon as Dimitri glances at Claude, giving him a one-over.
Why were they so cool?
This wasn’t fair-
“What are you looking at,” Felix snaps, eyes frosty and sword (Selene, the legendary sword herself-) sparking with lightning and Claude wants to electrocute himself on the blade just to know how it feels.
Felix gives him an odd look and oh-
Claude said that out loud.
“What the fuck, boar,” Felix grits out, his sword turning even brighter, and yep, Claude was probably set to die. “Your soulmate’s an idiot.”
Felix could call Claude an idiot and Claude would still, with absolute certainty, worship him.
“Hey, me and your soulmate’s pretty similar,” Sylvain says, cleaning the blood of his relic. As Claude looks at him the dark knight gives him a nod of approval which means that Claude was ready to renounce the bow and become a knight from now onwards.
“That’s not a compliment,” Dimitri says, heavy steps drawing closer. Sliding off his own horse, Lily (great, beautiful name for a great, beautiful horse) with grace.
“No, silly, that’s an insult!” Annette (the strongest woman he knew, with Hilda coming in a close second with her deadly combination of wind magic and relic, a great warrior to deploy for any battle be it close range or far, magic or physical. Annette was your go-to for any tough battle) says, her relic coming to a dull shine as she swings it over her shoulder.
“Well, I wouldn’t say insult, but,” Ashe began, eyes nervously flicking from Sylvain to Annette. His feet nervously tapping against the ground as his body practically vibrates, yet his hands were still (the absolute legend of an archer, man of stealth and skill, known for his lockpicking and donating his wealth to charity.)
“Anything associated with Sylvain is in an of itself an insult,” Felix says, sheathing his sword.
Sylvain wilts, Felicia whining at the way its rider drapes himself over her.
“Ah, I’m quite, flattered though,” Claude says, somewhat out of instinct to defend one of his childhood idols. “He’s still pretty cool.”
“Cool?” Dimitri frowns as he mumbled the word. “I did not know that being cold is something to be complimented for.”
“Not that Sylvain is cold,” Mercedes says. “You’d know that right, Felix?”
“Yeah, this idiot’s pretty warm,” Felix answers, his face lit with a pretty blush. Cute, Claude thinks. Prickly but soft, almost like the main lead from a novel. “Disgustingly so.”
Sylvain cooed. “Of course I’m warm, just being by your side I-”
No wonder there were so many romance stories poorly disguised as history records written about this man and his soulmate
“No I mean cool like,” Claude pauses, thinking for a moment. “Cool like awesome, you know, great, epic, legendary. That kind of cool.”
Sylvain chuckles, it was a pleasant thing. “Wow, thanks Claude, didn’t know I was that great.”
Dimitri frowns, though, brows drawn together as though like magnets and lips pulling downwards like that of a pout. “You called me ‘hot’ the other day.”
Even when he’s frowning he’s cute, Claude thinks.
“Am I not… ‘cool?’” Dimitri asks distressingly.
“No- no! You’re plenty cool. The coolest!” Claude reassures, immediately cuddling up to his soulmate. Wrapping himself around Dimitri’s neck as he once again jump into his arms.
“Then…”
“Hot is a compliment, you know,” Claude says.
“But-”
“It just means that I appreciate your appearance,” Claude explains. “A lot.”
Dimitri seems to mull over Claude’s word.
“It means that I think that you’re very handsome, Dimitri, oozing with sex appeal and all that jazz,” Claude says, placing a quick kiss on Dimitri’s very defined jaw.
Dimitri blushes then, cheeks bright and flaming with color and Claude laughs.
“So hot,” Claude says as Dimitri blushes further.
Felix blanched.
“I think you’re, uh, hot, too, Felix!” Sylvain yells and Felix’s face turns an interesting shade between red and fucking murderous.