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The snow is crunching downright insufferably loud beneath their steps. The weather in Almyra never really gets cold, so Claude can't even remember the last time he wore this many layers of clothing, aside from his last visit. Dimitri managed to talk him into wearing the coat he had gotten him after he complained that his fellow countrymen don't tailor winter coats– in retrospect Claude is glad, no matter how ridiculous he looks. He would be freezing his nads off without it.
But as hostile as the weather may be in northern Fódlan, he'd never want to miss his morning walks through the snow fields.
Dawn has barely settled in. The first rays of sun dye the snow in different orange and yellow hues, causing it to glimmer like countless little gems. There's no strong winds to disturb the peaceful scenery, leaving their surroundings to fall silent. And even though the sheer cold is nipping at his every edge and corner, Claude doesn't mind it– the warmth of Dimitri's hand around his own always manages to thaw him.
It's little moments like these where Claude considers simply ditching the throne that awaits him back home.
A masterful tactician he may be, but a king? He simply can't imagine himself in that position, bound to one place for the rest of his life. Seeing the world seems like the better option as of now, especially considering that he's barely thirty; there's too much for him yet to discover. He will be forced to choose one way or another, so Claude would rather spend his twilight years as an Almyran diplomat, living in a shiny little mansion by the sea, until the day someone comes to assassinate him because of some dumb thing he said… or something along those lines. With the future laid out like this, it's clear that this isn't what he wants for himself and just a prediction, but he prefers to see the most realistic course of action (little does he know that his idea of realism is cutting close to pessimism at this point).
So what does he wish for?
Claude and his elaborate tactics intimidate outsiders with ease, but at the end of the day, he's a simple man– there is nothing that he wants more in life than being able to live with Dimitri, here in Fhirdiad. That's all there is to it.
"Is there something that bothers you?" Dimitri's soft voice keeps him from delving deeper into those horrid thoughts.
He doesn't reply, only turns his head to look at the other with an uncharacteristically empty expression. Sometimes he just doesn't feel like making the effort of hiding that there's a lot of bullshit on his mind.
"You… seem tense."
"I'm just... working on my wrinkles again.", he eventually responds. Even though he seems devoid of all emotion, the words rolling off his tongue still carry his usual rather upbeat tone. There has always been a noticeable discrepancy between his voice, mimic and thoughts. By now, it is no more than a mere remainder of his rough youth; old defense lines be damned. "Y'know, just the usual."
He can feel Dimitri gently squeeze his hand, his lover's fingers digging into the spaces between his. Butterflies flutter within his stomach cavity.
"Perhaps more sleep would've been beneficial to you.", Dimitri states and Claude can tell that he's blaming himself, just based on how stiff his way of speaking is– even though he knows damn well that he has no issues with getting up before sunrise. "My apologies. For waking you early."
"Don't be ridiculous.", he huffs in reply, then cracking a small grin at his second sentence, "Like I'll miss the opportunity to have you to myself."
Dimitri doesn't comment.
And Claude doesn't mind. The soft red that crept onto the king's features is enough of a statement.
They come to a halt, at the peak of a hill– coincidentally, their favourite spot on this particular route. The path downward leads to Fhirdiad, which still seems to be in the process of shaking from its comfortable slumber. From up here, one can easily oversee the entire capital and even the mountain range across the valley. Distant lanterns and torches of the town below are easily outshined by the rising sun, illuminating all in its wake. Claude has seen this exact view countless times by now, but it still manages to rob him of his breath.
If only he could wake up to it every day for the rest of his life.
"It's especially clear today.", Dimitri notes, his breath visible in white tufts as he speaks.
Claude only hums in response, disregarding the other's words right away.
The scenery is nice, yes, but there is only so much one can admire. Thus, something else is quick to catch his attention. It's no more than a sheepish look to the side, a mere moment of weakness– the king of Fódlan looks gorgeous in daybreak, he realizes for the nth time in his life. His stare lasts a single breath, before Claude casts his eyes forward again. His grip on Dimitri's hand tightens. With mild hesitation, he leans into his lover's side, head resting against his shoulder. It's slow and gradual contact, all unsure touches– pretty much like when they first fell in love. Certain things just never change.
Same goes for the fact that Claude's stomach starts doing somersaults when Dimitri rests his head against his. Giving affection is one thing, but receiving them? Hell, the mere notion that Dimitri feels the same makes him all soft and mushy inside– which is quite evident in the red color that now adorns the entirety of his ears. He can't even write that one off as a reaction to the cold, damn it. The fluttering at the pit of his gut becomes unbearable, even forcing him to give a soft chuckle as he caves on himself just slightly. How dare his body betray him.
"What?", his lover asks, the smile on his face audible in his voice. He's having those butterflies too, no doubt about it.
Once more, Claude decides to leave words out of the equation for the time being, tilting his head back… and facing Dimitri's lovestruck gaze.
He always looks so… soft and tender at moments like this, completely unlike the facade he shows during public events. The look he's given is enough to thaw even the rest of Claude's body and causes heat to course through him. There's no way he could ever describe it, so he doesn't even attempt to– but if a gaze is able to stagger Claude's resolve, one can imagine just how much heartfelt emotion it bears.
The single inch of space between their lips is closed with ease. He can't tell if he kissed Dimitri or vice versa, but it doesn't matter either way. Their chaste kiss frees Claude of his worldly worries just for a little while, relishing in the warmth Dimitri gives him. This could just go forever for all he cares. Just as he thinks that, his lover breaks their embrace, giving a content sigh.
"We should head back.", Dimitri eventually speaks anew, after turning to Claude and cradling his hand in both of his own. So warm, even through thick leather gloves.
However, the comforting body heat of his lover can't stop him from grunting in unadulterated displeasure, the corners of his mouth curled into a deep frown for a brief moment. "If I can drag you back into bed, call it a deal."
Dimitri frowns in a hilariously similar fashion.
Claude grins, knowing he won this skirmish before it even started. Sometimes they can go back and forth like this for hours, especially when it's about his lover practicing some self care. He still deems himself unworthy of many things; an attribute that Claude has his fair share of troubles with– but what's a relationship without the occasional hardship? Should all else fail, some good ol' puppy eyes do the trick just fine. Every goddamn time.
"Fine.", he says soon after letting his expression slip, but even with his gruff looks, his voice wavers awfully at his following words, "I-if… If I can expect you to hold me close, I permit you to do as you please."
There's a moment of silence before Claude breaks into mild laughter. "Wooooow, 'tis a fine day– can't believe I just got kingly permission to be the big spoon."
Cue Dimitri's frown turning into a pout. Oh no.
It's the last thing Claude shall see before he's scooped into a firm hug, his feet off the snowy ground. Another soft laugh leaves him as his arms curl around his lover's shoulders in reflex. Oh, if only Dimitri could see his face right now– he's beaming from ear to ear.
"Pride comes before a fall, as you know.", he can hear Dimitri mumble, "Perhaps you should keep quiet, lest I roll over to the wrong side in bed."
"Oho, is that retaliation I hear?", he sneers back in good fun, "That better be a promise, big guy, otherwise I gotta roll you on me myself."
They take a moment to enjoy the embrace, Claude even going as far as firmly nuzzling Dimitri's cheek with his own, accompanied by his beard scratching the other's skin loudly.
"Ah, so bristly." There's some undeniable urgency in his lover's voice, likely due to the fact that he's close to getting rug burns on his face.
"I finally grow some nice scruff and you dare complain, wow."
"Oh, goddess, no–", Dimitri begins as he sets Claude down so that they may face one another again, "I would be the last to complain about it, au contraire. I'd even say…" His lover trails off, a hand brought up to caress his face and ever slightly leaning in as if contemplating a kiss. "That… that it's becoming on you. You are– so handsome."
Another chuckle leaves Claude, his voice deep and even wavering the slightest bit when he replies, "My, any more of that sweet-talkin' and you can scoop me up into a bucket for the way back."
"You know full well that I can carry you back, should you get weak in the knees from my advances.", Dimitri huffs before finally, finally leaning in to close the distance between their lips another time, his hand gently stroking Claude's cheek as the two of them melt into their chaste kiss. One might think that this is enough to empty his mind anew but there was an insufferable amount of pride in that statement just now and Claude knows just the thing to get that out of Dimitri. It's almost like an outright challenge– too good to pass up.
They part once more, and Claude is already wearing the worst shit-eating grin known to man.
"Heh, such big talk for someone who spent several weeks working on a way to ask me out for the academy ball.", he says in a honey-sweet tone, dripping with half-hearted malintent.
Cue Dimitri recoiling and scoffing loudly at that. "That was years ago."
"So was me experimenting on myself with wyvern root brew, and you still bring it up at the worst times."
"But can you blame me?" Dimitri is starting to mimic his expression again– a downright foxy, yet somewhat restrained grin plastered onto his visage with canines showing. He can do that better, Claude knows it, but he's always been a bit hesitant about showing the full extent of his feelings and sometimes a grin just gotta suffice. "It's a good story to tell at our friendly meetups."
"Yeah, I'm well aware of that." This time it's Claude's turn to scoff. "Sylvain and Hilda still piss themselves laughing every time."
Who would've guessed that a story about playing with very potent emetics passes as running gag a few years post-incident? Certainly not Claude.
There's a moment of silence during which Dimitri appears to be recalling the exact details of what had transpired, soon sending him into broad laughter... that proves itself to be contagious for Claude and causes his usually so solid self-control to shatter.
"Gods, you're such an asshole sometimes, Dima.", he wheezes after a bout of loud laughter, still in complete and utter stitches. He can't remember the last time he's had a laugh this good, especially at his own expense. Thinking back on it, he was a bit overzealous with his 'grand schemes' and substance-related experiments as a dumb youngin, but that's part of the learning process.
It takes his lover another minute to gather the countless shards of his self, sniffling just a bit as he speaks, "You should've seen your face after Hanneman told you what wyvern root is primarily used for."
"I've seen Hilda's impressions– that's enough for me.", Claude states, wiping a stray tear that started making its way down his face from absolutely losing it. He even finds himself coughing, his throat raw from the awful combination of screaming his lungs out and the frigid temperatures. "I think we–" Another wheeze. "We should get going, though. Before people start looking for you."
Dimitri seems to be at a loss for words while still trying to gather himself and simply follows Claude's steps as he starts walking– but then stops in his tracks.
"Wait! What about your...", he begins but trails off.
In spite of already having set a pretty quick pace down the hill, his lover's words are enough to make him freeze in his spot. Oh, right. There was something he forgot. Claude's hand is brought up to the collar of his coat, fingers slipping past the thick material and pulling a leather band from the confines of his clothes– there's a clunky whistle of copper dangling from it. He blows into it, its tone too high a frequency to be audible. For humans, at least.
Keen eyes are first cast at the sky, then into the dense thicket of a forest a fair stretch away from the hill. Cue a moment of nothing and patient waiting, followed by another blow of the whistle. The sound of branches breaking and masses of snow being shaken off tree tops is what ends up breaking the thick silence. In the corner of his eye, Claude can already see Dimitri take on a more defensive stance, only to flinch at what comes next.
On swift paws, a wyvern leaps out of the thicket, landing on her hind legs and wing talons. Dimitri is used to the sight of the big mean ones that are used as mounts, so hearing of a tame pet wyvern has left him a bit confused, hence his hesitation. Fódlan only houses very few species, while the Almyran wilderness is home to countless in comparison. Different breeds in all sizes for different purposes, different color forms or horn shapes– you name a task and Almyra has a wyvern fit for the job.
The creature sits in the snow, her long serpentine neck stretched to full size with slanted pupils fixated on her caretaker… with a forked tongue peeking from her maw. Little Minerva has no right to be this stinking cute, especially when she tries to tear up his bed at least twice a week and lays eggs where he can't find them.
"C'mon!", Claude downright sings to his pet wyvern as he pats his thighs with both hands, "C'mon, come to daddy!"
By the time the last word leaves his mouth, Minerva has already broken into a full gallop, struggling to get through the thick snow and throw big wads of it everywhere in the process– all while uttering loud keens and squeaks in excitement.
Cue a snort from Claude at the display. She loves snow and digging through it almost as much as treats, so of course Claude can't help but call her 'his little snowplow' sometimes… to which Dimitri either huffs or doesn't even react. It's almost a bit ridiculous to think about the fact that his lover might just be a bit jealous of his pet, but he also knows very well that Minerva will cuddle up to him and make sure Dimitri is looking as she does so.
Once having climbed the top of the hill, the wyvern quickly scuttles over to Claude's side, running the full length of her body against his hip before settling before his feet. Carefully, she nuzzles his stomach with her snout while making a sound that could only be described as loud cooing, although that word still seems largely unfitting. A content smile sneaks its way onto Claude's features as he pets her bent neck and she responds with a soft chirp. She's the cutest little thing, really.
Unlike the ones commonly used in Fódlan warfare, her scales bear a cream hue with curving stripes in dark brown adorning her topside, meant to imitate the color of windswept dunes. She barely reaches Claude's hip, her body slender with long hind legs and a neck that makes up about half of her entire size. Overall, it just kind of looks like someone stuck half of a snake onto the body of a wyvern and called it a day. While they may pose as rather unusual sight to those unfamiliar, this breed is commonly used for hunting quarry that lives in burrows– perfect utility for their long necks and modest size.
Then, Claude's gaze falls onto Dimitri who simply stands there, looking pretty… lost. And with considerably distance between them.
As mentioned before he's quite wary of Minerva because of the pet wyvern concept, but also thanks to getting nipped at by Sol, his leucistic war wyvern. It was just a little nip without any spilled blood, but knowing how clumsy the big ones are, he can understand why he's careful– even more considering that Dimitri doesn't really work with them the same way Claude does. During his years of breeding and raising wyverns, he got bitten real bad quite a few times, especially when he barely picked it up at the sweet age of sixteen. That's a lot of stitches for a growing boy.
Minerva seems to notice the rising tension of the situation and promptly turns her head to the other man, giving him a curious look. Even if the little thing is trying to get under Dimitri's skin when the need arises, she has always been wildly interested in him. They're incredibly smart creatures so Minerva seems to have a vague idea of what Dimitri is to him– which only made her more curious.
And thus, the occasional hilarity ensues. Mostly hilarious for him, less for his lover.
In a slow graceful motion, Minerva gets onto her paws and wing talons, her body following her head's movement as she cautiously crawls away from her caretaker.
Dimitri jumps in his spot.
Claude promptly grabs her by the leather harness she's wearing to hold her back, but surprisingly he earns himself no protest. She even sits down before him. He really has to keep himself from smiling all wide right now– that's years of experience in wyvern parenting at work, baby.
"She just wants to say hi.", he attempts to reassure, patting Minerva's side with his free hand as a reward for her good behaviour.
His lover still seems mostly uncomfortable with the situation– yet, he inches forward. "... You did say that… she doesn't bite, right?"
Oof, Minerva and biting; what a topic. Claude sucks in a breath through clenched teeth before he starts to speak, "I'll be completely honest with you– Minerva does bite, but not really hard. She just likes nibbling on fingers a lot. The leather gloves should help."
His lover closes in on them ever slowly and his wyvern coos at him, her tail whipping against her caretaker's shins in unadulterated excitement. Yep. Yep, that's a healthy load of pain for Claude.
"She likes me… right?", Dimitri asks another time, his gaze frantically flicking between the wyvern and the other man.
"Yes, for Goddess' sake–", Claude can't help but grunt in mild frustration, "I'd even go as far as to say that she absolutely loves you because she can tell that I love you." As someone who isn't that outright about his feelings, this was a perfect opportunity for him to give his lover some long-due lovey dovey validation. "These guys move in packs and as long as the pack leader accepts a new member into the group, the rest will, too."
Dimitri swallows, giving the other a wide-eyed look for a mere moment at his words. The ever elusive 'I love you' from Claude managed to make his stone-like composure waver. Works every-fucking-time, just like the puppy eyes.
"C'mon, jus' pet her.", he pushes on, an ever subtle grin pulling at one corner of his mouth.
"You– you can let go of her, if you want."
"Play nice.", Claude tells his wyvern in a stern tone as he releases his hold on her harness.
Minerva's gaze is fixated on the man's face as she slowly inches closer to his feet, her head and entire body lowered. In anticipation for what's to come, Dimitri already extends a hand and doesn't make any further movements, simply waiting for the wyvern to take the lead in their encounter. Claude can see his lover's hand start to tremble when the creature brings her snout up to his finger tips, her forked tongue flicking out to smell them.
Another tension filled moment passes, but the wait shall be rewarded with something so precious that could make anyone's heart ache.
After deeming Dimitri's hand to her liking, Minerva lowers her head a bit further, then presses it against the man's palm, uttering a beckoning coo at him. She's quite literally asking to be pet. The reaction on his lover's face is one he won't forget– bright-eyed, pleasantly surprised, and filled with child-like excitement. Slowly he brings his other hand close to her head, caressing the sides of it with both. He could easily hold her skull in his hands and one wouldn't be able to suspect what he's holding.
"She's so small.", he notes in complete and utter awe as the wyvern begins to purr, starting to lean into his touch like she's never been pet before.
"See, she's basically just– a dog-cat amalgamation with scales.", Claude says, a soft smile gracing his features. Quite the poet, always finds the right words. "And completely tame."
Minerva permits the petting for a few moments longer before scuttling under Dimitri's cloak and around his legs while rubbing up to them once, twice, even three times. Once done with marking the man's legs, her head pokes out from underneath the thick fur to which Dimitri pats it again, earning himself a delighted coo.
"Are… all of them like this?", he asks, hesitation clearly audible in his voice.
"If you raise them right.", Claude responds, preparing himself to drop some serious self-praise in sight of Minerva's exceptional behaviour. "I'm a pretty damn good wyvern dad, if I do say so myself, so most of mine love cuddling." However, he didn't forget that there's actually mildly pressing matters at hand. "I can tell you aaaaaaaall about my vast wyverian knowledge over a cup of tea at your chambers."
Cue a click of his tongue and Minerva immediately rushing to his side… which leaves Dimitri with a mighty disappointed look on his face.
"Wow, first you're afraid she'd eat your firstborn if she had the chance to, but now you don't want her to leave you alone?"
"... Can– can she sleep in the bed with us?", Dimitri asks another time.
"Sure, if you come back to the castle with me now.", Claude huffs, but can't stop himself from grinning as he continues speaking and already starts walking downward, "Y'know, I was gonna ask you anyway at some point– she always cries when I have to put her into the stables to the mean ones. I utterly, utterly spoiled her by letting her sleep in bed with me as a baby."
"Then it is decided!", he can hear Dimitri exclaim, followed by hurried steps as he tries to catch up to them.
Needless to say, the new kingly house-wyvern preferred sleeping in a warm bed over hay bales at the cavalry stables… and occasionally terrorizing the chamber maids, as if her wyvern dad didn't already do that enough.