Chapter Text
“So.”
A finger taps down on the sprawled out map of Fódlan, positioned just north of the mountains and valleys that Garreg Mach resided in.
“The bandit convoy will be passing through Kingdom territory here, in two days time. They’re carrying supplies for the Empire outposts that are along the border of the resistance, from what our spies can tell; supplies that we need, and will weaken our enemies if they’re gone.”
The gathered group nods as Claude traces the marching path, huddled around the war table for their most recent strategy meeting.
“We head out in a day, which gives us plenty of time to set up an ambush. If we strike decisively, they won’t have the time to even put up a proper fight. It’ll be a perfect victory,” he continues, placing two yellow game pieces on either side of a valley, right above where the convoy would be passing through.
“And this won’t inspire retaliation from the Empire? Is stopping some bandits really worthy of our time, rather than focusing on establishing much more important trade routes to Garreg Mach? Continuous lines? This seems like little more than a distraction from much more pressing matters for our forces.”
Claude bites back a sigh, eyes flicking up to see Lorenz scrutinizing the map. He has a point, of course, but honestly. Could Claude propose a single plan without being questioned at every turn by the man? It would certainly make his life a lot easier, not having to explain every single little detail.
“Well, the Empire using bandits in the first place means they’re trying to disguise the activity. They certainly can’t blame us for attacking a group of ruffians that fly no banner, and Seteth is already working on those trade routes with Ignatz. Taking care of this is the perfect boost to keep us afloat until they finalize those. As is, we’re waiting on word back from the merchant’s guilds,” Claude explains, tapping a few markers in Alliance territory for said guilds. “Plus, our scouts confirm at least 10 carts in the convoy, which means plenty of supplies. This won’t be some small victory that won’t outweigh the costs.”
“And we’re certain they’re of the Empire?”
“Well, pretty sure. But hey, even if we’re wrong, bandits are bandits, yeah? Good to stop them before they trample and rob any villages they run into along the way.”
Lorenz hums, his brow still pinched, but Claude can tell he’s conceding to his points. Frankly, there was quite literally no reason to not interfere - unless, of course, this was all an elaborate trap. It had crossed his mind, but honestly, it didn’t seem likely. From the reports Shamir had sent in, they were honestly trying to pass by unseen, and he was willing to take the risk. With no more protests, Claude looks to Byleth finally, now that everyone seemed to be in agreement of the plan.
“Well, Teach? What do you think?”
They look over the map for a moment longer, those strange eyes deceptively blank, before they nod with a small smile on their face. Claude takes that for the enthusiastic agreement he’s certain it is, and grins at his gathered allies.
“Let’s go rob some bandits.”
----------
The fight is exceedingly simple. The convoy can’t number more than a few dozen strong, a force that’s easily taken out with Byleth’s expert strategy, and their surprise attack. The ruffians soon litter the canyon, their horses and carriages abandoned where they were initially stopped. Claude slips his bow back around his shoulder, having double checked the threat was truly gone. Mages run about, healing the minor injuries of their allies and making sure they suffered no losses, which Claude is pretty confident is the case. He hadn’t been wrong about the attack going smoothly, and he thanks whoever may listen that his misgivings of a trap were, in fact, unfounded.
Landing his wyvern, Claude dismounts smoothly, joining the investigation of the carriages. On top of the immediate boon of travel ready horses and sturdy carts, he’s pleased to hear reports of plenty of rations and fabrics. He even hears tell of a stash of vulneraries, elixirs, and some steel weapons. Claude whistles low, smiling as Hilda comes up by his side.
“Jackpot, huh? This will be plenty to help us get through the next few weeks,” he says, obviously pleased with their new haul. Even Hilda looks excited, nodding along.
“Yeah! We can do way less gardening and fishing. Finally, some ready to go ingredients for the kitchens,” she giggles, and Claude rolls his eyes fondly. She never changed, that one.
“Mm, right. Let’s just focus on getting everything back, before we really celebrate, yeah?” he chuckles, clapping a hand on her shoulder, before his attention is drawn away by Leonie. He can see her waving from one of the carts further down the line.
“Hey! We got some weird vials over here. Care to see, Claude?”
That’s all it takes for Claude’s curiosity to be piqued, and he turns, trotting over to her and the cart. He peers inside of a chest that Leonie has popped open, spotting a set of 10 lilac vials, all filled right to the stopper. They were strangely ornate, and Claude gingerly picks one up, eyeing the carved glass and wings affixed to the top. It fits comfortably in his hand, maybe worth two mouthfuls of liquid.
“Got any clue here, Claude?” Leonie pipes up, leaning in to look over the vial with him. “I’ve never seen anything like these before. Think it might be a poison?”
Claude hums, swirling the vial around and watching the contents. It isn’t very viscous, and would likely dissipate well into a beverage, but the faint glimmer would be a dead giveaway. There were plenty of other poisons that wouldn’t leave a trace; using something like this seemed like a fool’s errand to him.
“Not sure. This is new to me too,” he mumbles, turning it over once more, before carefully setting it back down and closing the chest. The latch falls back in place with a soft click, ensuring the contents wouldn’t go flying out anytime soon. “We’ll take it back for now. Maybe Seteth or the others will recognize it. I’m sure the library has something, at the very least,” he continues, nodding at her. He leaves once he gets an affirmation from Leonie, taking another quick onceover of the battlefield. Lysithea and Marianne are tending to some of the wounded, trailed by a concerned looking Ignatz. He can hear Raphael yelling about one of the carts, probably one with a healthy stock of food, and Hilda seems perfectly content to settle herself in a half empty carriage. She’s complaining about the massive armour she has to lug around, but Claude is certain she could carry twice as much without breaking a sweat. That girl had enough strength to rival Raphael, Claude thinks, smiling in bemusement. Finally, he spots Lorenz, engrossed in finishing up a last perimeter before he circles back in.
“Well, I do believe we have finished all of them off. No one will be telling the Empire their supplies aren’t coming anytime soon,” he announces, pleased smile in place.
“Yeah, I didn’t see a single soul running for their lives from the air. We’re in the clear here,” Claude agrees, eyeing the taller man. Much taller, as it were, while he still sat on his horse. Claude is glad when Lorenz hops off of his steed to stand on equal ground with him. “And you said this wouldn’t be worth it.”
“I rescinded that statement, as you know. I thought attacking some common thieves to be below our concerns, but clearly, I was uninformed. You need not further gloat about it,” Lorenz snips back, and Claude laughs, reaching up to pat his shoulder. Or, well, his armour, as it were.
“I’m just kidding. Come on, let’s get back already. I’m itching for a nice soak in the sauna.”
“Right back to taking it easy, are we, Claude?” Lorenz sighs, his brow raised in exasperation at the shorter man.
“You know… you could join me in-”
“Ah, look! The Professor needs me!”
----------
Claude sniffs at the substance, swirling it below his nose. So far, the tests had proven infuriatingly inconclusive. Plants didn’t wither when he watered them with it, there were no dizzy spells from the fumes, it didn’t seem to heal any sort of external cuts - he had even tried to clean a stain on his desk, reaching his wits end. The new purple mark practically mocks him from its place on the polished wood. It was truly frustrating him to no end, trying to understand just what this substance could be.
Much to his dismay, no one else seemed to know of it either. Seteth, Catherine, Shamir, the professors… even the library had nary a mention of this liquid. It was either a new concoction that the Empire had come up with, or something forbidden from the school’s library and far removed from public knowledge. Truthfully, both were equally likely, and neither made figuring out its true purpose any easier. Claude was fairly certain it wasn’t a poison, at any rate. With such an ornate vile and appearance, he couldn’t think of a single ingredient that was both toxic and so… well, pretty. Nothing hazardous would produce this colour and shimmer, and it seemed pointless to add something to the mix just for that purpose. Sure, it could be used to trick someone into drinking it, but a fast disappearing powder in a mug of ale was much more effective. Way harder to track.
Honestly, the final nail in the coffin was the smell. Most poisons ran towards the bitter side of both taste and smell, or were neutralized with some other ingredients until there was no discernable characteristic. This, though… the vial smelled sweet, almost intoxicating, and Claude frowns as he takes one more whiff of it. What in the Goddess’ name…
Claude doesn’t even look up when he hears a knock at his door, just calling out a curt, “Come in!” and scribbling out a few more notes on some parchment. He barely registers the foot falls and the door closing, his visitor approaching.
“Still locked away in here? I would have thought you to have these vials figured out ages ago by now.”
Claude groans, eyes shutting briefly. Of course it was his annoying neighbour. Just the guy he wanted to bother him right now.
“Nice to see you too, Lorenz.”
The aforementioned clicks his tongue, taking the last few steps to Claude’s side. He leans down to peer at the vial in Claude’s hand, half empty after all the tests Claude had run on it so far.
“This is surely a new weapon to be used by the Empire against us, is it not?”
“If it is, it’s real good at hiding itself as one. I’ve breathed in enough of this stuff that I should have a headache, at the very least! If it was toxic, that is.”
“You don’t think it is.” It isn’t a question, Lorenz turning to look at Claude.
“Nah. There’s no way this would be any good as a poison,” Claude sighs, head resting on one of his hands. He stares at the vial for a long while, before his eyes flicker to Lorenz, thoughts whirring. It could be dumb, but… “There is one more test, though, that I’ve been putting off. It’ll definitely tell me its effects, hopefully immediately.”
“Wh- and you haven’t conducted it yet? Honestly, Claude, I thought you to be a tad more competent than that. You’ve wasted half the thing already.”
“Well, I had to wait for someone else to come along. Wouldn’t do to die in my room all by myself,” Claude laughs, smirking up at Lorenz. The man in question, to his credit, only looks confused for but a moment.
“Oh, absolutely not. Claude von Riegan, I swear on the Goddess and my family’s name, don’t you dare-”
Gulp.
Lorenz stares at him, mouth agape, while Claude lowers the vial from his mouth. He licks his lips, humming in consideration. It was actually pretty tasty, the sweet tang of peach left on his tongue, along with something much more mild that he can’t quite place. A leaf, of some sort?
“Not bad,” he surmises, right as Lorenz grabs his shoulders and forces him to face the noble, eyes wide.
“What are you thinking?! Drinking a possible poison- or- or worse! We can hardly afford to lose you right now!” Lorenz yells, squeezing his shoulders. “Quickly now, vomit that up. Or do you have- have a- an antidote around? Surely you must. Some universal cure?”
Claude blinks at his ramblings, going to reassure him that honestly, he felt fine. Better than fine, really. There was a lightness in his chest, a soft warmth spreading in his stomach, and wow. Had Lorenz’s hair always looked so soft? He must spend a lot of time on it. Of course, this wasn’t new knowledge, but Claude had never really taken the time to appreciate it before. Unbidden, Claude reaches a hand up, effectively silencing the panicking noble as he gently grabs a lock of hair.
“...What are you doing, Claude?”
“Your hair is gorgeous.”
Whatever response Lorenz had ready looks to dry up on his tongue, leaving him standing there dumbfounded while Claude played with the piece of purple hair. It felt just as soft as it looked, and was that lavender he smelled? That was pretty cute.
Much too soon, Claude feels a firm grip on his hand, pulling it away from Lorenz’s hair. He’d complain, but the prospect of holding Lorenz’s hand is suddenly just as tempting. It’s easy to thread their fingers together, just shifting the grip a little, and Claude smiles at the slightly colder, pale fingers against his own warm, tan ones. Lorenz, for his part, huffs at him, pulling him to his feet by their hands.
“I- would you stop this already,” he hisses, and was that a blush Claude spotted on his cheeks?
“Stop what?”
“Being so- so touchy-feely. You would never compliment my hair like that!”
“A shame. I should really make up for lost time.”
Lorenz stares at him again, and Claude grins, tightening his grip on Lorenz’s hand a little. If he just moved a bit closer…
“Goddess, the potion is affecting you already. You’re losing your mind.”
Lorenz is suddenly turning in a whirl of lavender scented hair, and Claude stumbles after him, still holding his hand.
“Come! We must get you to Professor Manuela post-haste, before anything else may happen to you. I shudder to think what may happen if you lose your sense any more than you already have.”
Claude laughs, and follows after Lorenz, practically jogging to keep up with his long strides. He has to drag Claude practically across the entire monastery, and Claude idly wonders who thought to put the infirmary so far away from the dorms. Should anything happen to a student in their room, it would be quite a hassle to get to in an actual emergency. The stairs hardly helped, either.
As they move, Claude can hear a few aborted attempts at questions or conversations with them. Truly, what a strange pair they must make. Lorenz and Claude, hand in hand as they all but run through the gardens to the main hall? Definitely out of the norm. Claude just manages to spot Hilda as they round another corner, and he throws her a wink as he’s all but pushed up the stairs to the infirmary, a red-faced Lorenz ushering him along.
The next thing Claude knows, he’s being ushered to sit in one of the infirmary beds, Lorenz calling for Manuela once he finally extracts his hand from Claude’s grip. The room, as is common, is empty - the woman probably off lamenting her romances, or perhaps passed out in her room drunk. Claude is perfectly content to just sit there, but the same can’t be said for Lorenz, who is practically wearing a hole in the floor from his pacing and muttering. Claude isn’t too happy to have been forced all the way over here, but at least the view was nice. ...Well, that was a new one.
Manuela arrives minutes later, looking a bit harried as she smoothes down her hair. Evidently, she didn’t expect to be working anytime soon, with no new missions going on. Claude’s pretty sure she’s mostly here to quiet Lorenz’s complaints.
“Alright, I’m here, I’m here. What’s all this ruckus about?” she grumbles, finally fixing her cloak over herself. She looks between the two of them, and is evidently not impressed to see no immediate danger, even after Lorenz sent three different people to go and pester her.
“Ah, Professor Manuela, I apologize for the sudden summons, but it is an emergency - Claude could very well be dying!”
“I mean, I feel fine-”
“His stupidity has finally caught up to him,” Lorenz continues, as if he hadn’t even heard Claude as he shakes his head. Claude gives him a half-hearted glare from the bed. Still, the words seem to peek Manuela’s concern, and she strides over to him to begin the examination.
“What, exactly, is the issue?”
“Really, nothing-”
“He drank one of those mysterious potions, which he isn’t even sure it isn’t poisonous! Look at the flush on his cheeks. He insists he’s fine, but I hardly believe that. It’s obviously having an effect.”
His face was flushed…? Claude presses a hand to his cheek, noting for the first time the warmth radiating from it. Huh. It was something, but really, it was far from a sign of his impending death. He also notes that Lorenz pointedly doesn’t mention the whole hand holding and hair stroking incident.
“...You drank one of them?” Manuela looks at him, accusatory, and Claude huffs, finally speaking up.
“Only half. And I am sure it isn’t poisonous - every one of its traits made it a horrible assassination tool. I can list a half dozen better poisons from the top of my head.”
“Oh, Goddess, Claude. I hope you’re right,” Manuela mumbles, and he can feel her magic gently wash over him, trying to rid any toxic effects that might be ailing him right now.
Lorenz, for his part, is all but hovering over the both of them. His hands are clasped tightly behind his back, trying to hide his nervousness, but it’s practically coming off of him in waves as he worries his bottom lip. Claude doesn’t even think as he reaches out to press a hand to Lorenz’s arm, flashing him a soft, encouraging smile.
“Hey, don’t worry. Really, I’ll be fine, Lorenz. No need for all of this fuss,” he assures, voice calm and… honestly, a lot fonder than it normally was when it came to the man. Uncharacteristically so. Lorenz stares at him like he’s grown a second head, opening his mouth to say something, before it soundlessly shuts. For once, Claude seems to have made him tongue tied. For the second time today, in fact. A personal record. Lorenz raises a hand to Claude’s own, perhaps to pull it away, but he hesitates for just a moment. Claude takes the chance to lace their fingers together again, and it’s honestly a shame he had never noticed how slim and elegant Lorenz’s fingers were. Practically unfit for battle, if not for the calluses on the pads of his fingers and his palm, where he wielded his lance. So like Lorenz himself, just without the whole pompous attitude attached.
He hears a soft, “Oh, my,” from Manuela, but it’s practically background noise, his eyes solely focused on Lorenz.
“Thanks for taking such good care of me.”
“I- you are quite welcome, of course, but- but this is hardly necessary. You are still in danger, after all!”
“Maybe, but I have my knight in purple armour to protect me, don’t I?” Claude replies easily, and brings Lorenz’s hand close enough to kiss the back of it. Lorenz snaps out of whatever stunned reverie he was in at the touch, yanking his hand back like Claude had burnt it, and Manuela quickly presses a hand to his forehead. Her touch is pleasantly cool, but Claude longs for Lorenz’s instead, sighing while she takes his pulse.
“Well, I do have a theory…” she finally says at length, and Lorenz is by the other bed by now, hand clutched to his chest. He tries to compose himself, clearing his throat, and valiantly acting like nothing happened just now.
“And that would be?”
“I only ever heard rumours of it, honestly. We were all warned about accepting mysterious drinks from strangers in the opera company, Dorothea especially, and, well… It was mostly because they were afraid of them slipping in a love potion. A sure way to make a diva fall for you instantly.”
A quiet settles over the room, Claude looking contemplative, while Lorenz is utterly disbelieving.
“You can’t possibly be implying…”
“Claude, dear, what is Lorenz to you?”
Claude blinks at her, then looks to Lorenz, a lazy smile playing at his lips.
“Well, annoying, for one. And one of my best supporters and fighters. I wouldn’t get half as far without him always challenging me and making me rework my plans to perfection, even if it’s a pain.”
Lorenz looks indignant, but Claude carries on before he can say anything.
“He’s also the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, inside and out. Hard to think it took me this long to really realize it,” he continues, his smile softening into something genuine, and he’s starting to wonder if Lorenz will ever return to being a pale faced individual. “I wish everyone else could see that, too. I just hope he’ll stay by my side until I can show them all the truth. Until we can achieve my goals, together.”
There’s a beat of silence, again, and Claude has never felt more sure about his words in his life. There’s a light fluttering in his chest, and he just barely keeps himself sitting, instead of rushing over to Lorenz’s side.
“Well… that certainly sounds like a love potion talking to me,” Manuela sighs, shaking her head slowly. Lorenz is left to flounder for words, taken aback by the sudden confession of such affection. He swallows, mouth dry, before finally choking out his words.
“Claude von Riegan, you shall be the death of me.”