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As the sun began to rise, mischievous eyes studied the horizon. Five years, it had been. Five years since the disappearance of the suspicious archbishop, Rhea, and his Claude’s own professor. Five years since the Flame Emperor was revealed as a friend, a comrade— before swiftly declaring war on the place they had all called home. Five years since Edelgard started a bloody war against the church, leaving the Monastery destroyed.
Claude found it strange, to be back in the destroyed halls of the Academy. A place that was once full of life, stripped down bare by five years of thievery and war. His fingers run along the old stone walls, and he sighs. Not a soul in sight. No professor giving him suspicious side eyes for taking out perhaps too many books from the library, no Hilda egging him on to help her do some tedious task she could do herself, and no more Teach, with her curious eyes and gentle expressions.
His research of crests— something he had been secretly doing with the Golden Deer’s new professor, unbeknownst to the church— hadn’t progressed much do to the lack of religious presence in Fodlan. Though the church was rather tight lipped about certain subjects getting through, Claude had found plenty of starting places through the churches limited selection. He had a certain affinity for reading between the lines. But, even though he was quite desperate to research the crests, it lacked a certain charm that it had before, back when she was there.
She, his teacher. He has many fond memories of her, for the brief time she guided him. He remembers in the beginning, when he still was rather suspicious of her quick promotion, watching her fish and the genuine joy that spread across her usually inexpressive face whenever she caught one. He remembers the times she’s found him at the library and vice versa— yet with no scolding to come from either. The thirst for knowledge they shared formed a respect between them.
But he also remembers her merc blood showing through in battle. He remembers her fierce expression as she cut down someone who dared to threaten her comrades lives, who dared to challenge her protective nature. The way her eyes raced across the battlefield before calling out a command, all of her tactics on the spot and always perfect. Claude remembers the way she sobbed over her dead father’s body, the way something in her eyes changed that rainy day. A certain flame emerged, a certain deadliness about her more apparent.
She couldn’t be gone, he thinks. No, he knows.
Yeah, the sun rise always brought out a certain reflective side of Claude. It has nothing to do with the date— the fact that they all promised to meet up again on this day.
He wonders if any of them remember, remember the promise they had made on a night of excitement. He wonders if his teacher will come back. Something in his heart knew that she hadn’t left yet, that she was still there.
The sound of shuffling behind him causes him to turn, lazily, viewing the source of the sound. His eyes widened.
Pale hair, pale eyes, pale skin. Three things so familiar to him— so nostalgic. The uncaring expression she wore, wide eyes and a tiny nose. Unkempt hair that made her look like she’d been sleeping for years. Attempting to hide his surprise, he speaks, desperately trying to fight back the urge to reach out and see if it not just a deception of his own eyes.
“You overslept, Teach.” Giddiness in his chest, he can’t help the wide smile, a
genuine smile,
that takes over his face. “Pretty rude to keep a fella waiting like that, wouldn’t you say?”
She looks at him, mouth agape and Claude
swears
she looks like she slept for five years. No signs of aging at all— just his teach, in all of her bountiful grace and wisdom. He steps towards her with a lax posture, as if joking between old friends. Weren’t they?
“Claude…?” Her voice was sleepy, but it was
her’s.
There was no doubt about it.
“What’s with that surprised look, my friend?” Claude wasn’t used to seeing such a surprised look on her face, hell, he wasn’t even used to seeing her face again. He missed it.
“You…” He’d grown a few inches— she had to crane her neck to look at him now— it was kind of funny to him.
“You didn’t
really
think I’d given up on you coming back, did you?” He teases, and she shuts her mouth, a smile stretching across her face. She didn’t smile much at the beginning, but Claude grew to love the occasional smile she gave. She steps towards him with an outstretched hand, reaching to touch his face— no, his beard. Her eyes look gleeful, and Claude feels
slightly
taken aback by her boldness.
“Things have changed…” She murmured, and Claude frowns. Of course things have changed. “Five years really has come and gone.” Claude cannot fathom what she means— has she been asleep for
five years?
Without realizing? Her eyes shine with admiration, directed at
him.
“With you back, a new dawn is upon us.” He wipes away his doubts to spring inspiring words upon her, a talent he honed from his new experience as leader of the Alliance. She removes her hand, smile not falling from her face. The colours of dawn paint each of them beautifully.
“First, I think you have some stories to tell about what has occurred the past five years.” She suggests, and Claude grins. Truly, he had tales to tell her of this war, and obviously her nap never dwindled her curiosity.
“Ah, desperate for my expertise on petty politics and religious wars, hm? Well, teach, let’s clear this place out of thieves and I tell you as many tales as you desire.” Claude stands with his back straight, a smile that reaches his eyes and a resolve that hadn’t been there five years earlier.
“Deal.” His teacher says, and deep down Claude knows that together, they have a chance to stop the war.