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Of all the beds to end up in, Claude's was probably the last on Dorothea’s list.
Well, at least when she arrived at Garreg Mach. Not because he was bad looking, and not because he was a bad person either. But sometimes, ships simply pass each other in the night never to meet again.
With Claude, it was like crashing.
They’d caught the others’ eyes at the five year reunion – both a similar verdant and a spark to show for it – and the rest was arguably in Fódlan’s history books. She looks up at him now, the soft light of morning streaming through the windows of Claude’s home.
‘It’s impossible,’ she thinks to herself, her gaze studying his chest as it rises and falls. It’s impossible that’d he be taken by someone like her, impossible that he stayed by her side. To think that a commoner would ever end up with a noble. To think that she’s deserving of this. Dorothea shifts ever closer, afraid to wake him, afraid to break what seemed like a dream. To see the schemer in such a vulnerable position warms her heart, and she wants nothing more but to care for him. A hand reaches out slowly as the bedsheets crinkle, carefully draping an arm over his bare stomach.
He’s warm and welcoming, and she takes the liberties to snuggle up closer to his side with a sigh. A morning without interruptions is rare for Dorothea, and even rarer for Claude. Though they’d both gone their separate ways after graduation – Dorothea to the opera company and Claude back to Almyra – they’d kept in contact with letters. They were too few and far in between, at least in her opinion, so to see him at the reunion was a welcome treat. Eyelashes flutter as she watches him, his face her target this time, the solidness under her arm confirming that this is, in fact, not a dream.
This is real and Claude von Riegan is in love with Dorothea Arnault.
The thought is enough to send a small blush to her face. Though he’d told her plenty of times last night, it still feels like new to her. She flirts without expecting, a genuine response always catches her off guard. And Claude.. He’s so handsome. He’s always been charming but the years truly refined his jawline, emphasizing his already dashing good looks. Speaking of jawlines.. the arm once draped shifts upward to cup his face. Dorothea gently strokes his cheek, thumb trailing down to the facial hair he’s grown over the years. Her heart aches, realizing just how maddeningly in love with him she is.
It scares her, if only a little bit.
Her first instinct is to run. These relationships have never ended well and it still won’t. Not for her, not for people like her. Girls like her don’t deserve nice things, girls like her don’t get happy endings.
And––
He stirs. Her thoughts, interrupted.
Dorothea pulls back out of reflex, hand and body both shifting away. For a second, she's almost sure that her thoughts were loud enough to wake him. But Claude sleepily murmurs, his own hand pulling back her own to place a gentle kiss on the back. Her heart melts instantly, and she curls back up next to him, a laugh of pure delight as she settles in.
It feels right, it feels like she belongs.
“Good morning.”