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Maybe it’s because he’s only been aware of his Leicester heritage for a short time, but Claude has never really thought of himself as a deer. They’re not particularly tricky animals. He thinks they’re pretty, even majestic, but they’re…well, prey. And he knows it’s corny to think of himself as a predator, but if he has to identify with a cuddly forest creature, he thinks a fox is much more apropos.
Okay, so the Golden Foxes doesn’t have the same ring to it. And foxes aren’t considered sacred animals in eastern Fódlan, so that’s another point against them. Still, he doesn’t think of himself as deerlike at all.
Until Jeralt corners him right after their mission to investigate the sickness in Remire Village.
It isn’t alarming at first. Claude’s just walking past his office on the way to the library when the grizzled knight leans out into the hall and beckons him over. Sure, he’s never really chatted with the ex-mercenary before, but then again students and knights aren’t exactly encouraged to fraternize.
Besides, he’s the professor’s father, so maybe it has something to do with a class or one of their missions.
Claude doesn’t even realize he’s walked into a trap until it springs closed around him.
Jeralt asks him to sit—pretty normal so far—and takes a seat himself. He looks as though he’s in a pretty decent mood. He’s even smiling a little, like he’s about to tell Claude some sort of amusing anecdote. Then he leans forward, puts one elbow on his knee, and stares at the younger man with eyes so piercing that Claude feels his body freeze in place.
Just like a startled deer. One that’s now at the mercy of an expert hunter.
“You know, I like you, kid. You’ve got a way about you. I’ve met a lot of people through the years and most of them are full of shit, but most of the time you’re only pretending to be. And while everyone else is writing you off as some prankster, you’re already eight steps ahead of them. Isn’t that right?”
It sounds like a compliment, but Claude’s shoulders don’t relax. There’s steel under the words, and even Lorenz would be able to tell that there’s a great big ‘but’ coming.
“Uh, usually just one or two steps ahead, to be honest,” he replies. Jeralt chuckles appreciatively.
“See? That’s what I mean. You know how to disarm people. Trust me son, it’s not a common skill.”
“Er…thank you.”
Jeralt nods. “So, now that you know that I know how clever you are, we can ignore the preliminaries and get right to the part where you’re honest with me. Because I can see straight through your bullshit, boy.”
Claude bristles automatically at the word boy. It reminds him of the condescending way Judith refers to him. Then he shrugs it off. It’s not like provoking Jeralt will lead to anything good.
“It seems as though you’re the one eight steps ahead of me,” he says as he folds his arms behind his head and leans against the back of his chair. “What is it you need me to be honest with you about?”
Jeralt’s lips twitch into a smile that’s almost sarcastic. “Isn’t it obvious? What every father wants a boy to be honest about. What are your intentions for my daughter?”
“For Teach?” Claude blurts, and there’s this odd screeching quality to his voice that he’s never heard before. “I don’t have any intentions for Teach. Cross my heart.”
He does, too, sketching an X over the aforementioned organ with his index finger.
“I can’t say I’m not relieved to hear it.” Jeralt is staring at him so hard that Claude feels as though he’s been pinned to his chair. “Let’s keep it that way, shall we?”
The captain’s tone has gone all jovial again, but there’s more subtext here. I’ve got my eye on you, is what he’s actually saying. And from Jeralt Blade-Breaker, it’s intimidating enough for this tired old cliché of a conversation to work.
“Anything you say,” Claude agrees, now desperate to flee. He knows his cheeks are red. And he knows now that he is most definitely, beyond a doubt, just as skiddish as those sacred deer that everyone in Leicester love so much.
“Good, I’m glad we cleared that up.” Jeralt stands. “I’d hate to hear of anything inappropriate happening.”
Claude nods, now so focused on getting to the door that he almost doesn’t realize what’s coming out of his mouth.
“This kind of…came out of nowhere. Unless…Does she have intentions for me?”
Jeralt lays a hand on his shoulder. Gives it a friendly squeeze. Keeps squeezing.
“Ah, kid…questions like that are going to make it hard for us to be friends.”
Friends? Claude’s not even sure he’s going to make it out of this office with all his body parts intact, and they’re less than a foot from the door.
“Point taken.”
Jeralt’s fingers relax. He gives Claude’s shoulder an affable pat. “See that it is,” he says, then he shoves younger man gently toward the door.
It’s a bit of a relief when Jeralt leaves a few days later on a mission. At least now he can scamper off to the library without having to worry about getting pounced on by any angry fathers.
Five Years Later
Finding Byleth in the wreckage of Garreg Mach feels suspiciously like a miracle, and he’s never believed in those. But Claude thinks he may have to readjust his position on that topic when it comes to Teach; she just keeps making them happen. He knows he’s staring at her as they share the small meal he’s brought along, but in his defense it is truly hard to believe that she’s real. After five years of waiting, he wouldn’t be surprised to discover this is all some vivid daydream.
“It must be strange for you to feel like we saw each other last just a few minutes ago,” he comments. “Jeralt dying, Edelgard’s attack…that all just happened for you.”
Byleth nods. He can see how fresh those pains are. Then he kicks himself. He doesn’t want to be maudlin today. Teach is back! They should be celebrating.
“You know,” he says with a sudden laugh, “the last time your father and I talked, he asked me what my intentions were regarding you. Scared the living daylights out of me. To this day, I don’t think anyone else has ever intimidated me quite so effectively.”
She looks up with a bemused smile. “You mean he was trying to scare you away from me? Why?”
“Wellll…” Claude rubs the back of his head, suddenly feeling shy. “I may have been harboring a bit of a crush. But I barely even knew it! I have no idea how he figured it out.”
This time Byleth is the one that laughs. “It might have had something to do with you being the first person that made me smile.”
“I…was?”
She nods. ”Right in the beginning, I kept thinking of how you were so sure I picked the Deer just to get to know you better. Jeralt noticed and asked me what was so amusing, and I told him.” She shrugs. “I think he was pretty worried that you’d steal my heart, after that.”
“Well it turns out he was worried about the wrong one of us, Teach. You were the only one stealing hearts. We were all half in love with you by the time that ball rolled around.” He flushed and looks away. “Some more than others.”
Her hand finds his, and he squeezes her gently.
“I must still seem like your student,” he observes, his eyes now on their entwined fingers. “It feels like a hundred years have passed since that time for me.”
She tilts her head and studies him in the light of this new day. “No. I can see that you’ve grown up. You must be older than me now.”
“Only by a year or two,” he says so quickly that she can tell he’s already done the math as far as he’s able to estimate, given her lack of a birth year. He’s smiling again. “The student has surpassed the master.”
She lifts her eyebrows at him, and he laughs.
“Okay, maybe I haven’t surpassed you. But at least I’m not a kid anymore. That’s got to count for something. Now…let’s see what we can do about these bandits, shall we?”
She nods and dusts herself off, then goes to retrieve her weapons. Claude watches her and thinks that somewhere, Jeralt is looking down at them. And he must really be starting to sweat, because those intentions Claude didn’t have five years ago? He’s got them now. He’s got them bad.