Chapter Text
“Never go on trips with anyone you do not love.” — Ernest Hemingway
“Claude started it.”
The first thing out of Edelgard’s mouth is an accusation. Seteth isn’t even finished sitting down behind his desk. Claude wonders if this is a new record.
Seteth pauses and raises a single eyebrow before taking a seat. He eases himself into his padded office chair, the afternoon light and sound of homebound students spilling in through his open window in equal measure, almost taunting the three students lined up like inmates inside.
“Are you under the impression I was born yesterday, Miss Hresvelg?”
He steeples his fingers, shifting into full disappointed vice-principal mode.
“I don’t care who started it,” he says in a stern voice. “I am finishing it. Right now.”
The trio say nothing else, but Edelgard still doesn’t sit.
Seteth ignores her. “You three are here because, for the third time in as many months, Garreg Mach High School is facing a potential ban from a city venue for disorderly conduct.”
“With respect, sir,” Edelgard says in a way that suggests respect is not the primary thing she’d like to be bringing to this discussion. “I will stand by the fact most of today’s damages arose by fault of the Golden Deer.”
Seteth sighs and reaches over to shake his computer mouse, lighting the monitor up.
“That’s untrue, Miss Hresvelg,” he says mildly, “and since you seem so keen to discuss, let’s go over your house’s share of the blame first.”
He turns the monitor around, revealing a document titled ‘BLACK EAGLES DISCIPLINARY RECORD’. There are… a lot of bullet points. Edelgard’s eyes widen.
Letting the ensuing conversation wash over him, Claude scratches absently at the dry paint on his cheek, sending little flakes of yellow cascading onto the arm of the uncomfortable office chair he’s been allocated to. Edelgard is still out of her own seat, breaking the conformity of their little prisoner line-up to lean on Seteth’s desk as she attempts to debate him.
Behind her back, Claude tries to make eye contact with Dimitri, who is very pointedly trying not to look at him, and is instead vacantly staring at where Seteth’s faded doctorate is hanging on the far wall. Eventually he does look over, though, and Claude pins down his attention with a smile.
You’ve-got-a-little-something-on-your-face, he mouths and circles his finger around his own eye.
Dimitri frowns, which crinkles the blue war paint on his cheeks, but more notably the giant red handprint streaking over his right eye and partially gluing his eyelashes together. Claude doesn’t know who got him in the end, but whoever it was had impeccable aim.
Dimitri holds a finger up to shush Claude, exposing a streak of yellow paint up his wrist. Claude smiles even wider.
“Mr. Blaiddyd,” Seteth says lightly, jolting Dimitri to attention. “Do you have something to add to the discussion?”
Dimitri looks like he’d rather be hit by a bus than add something to the discussion. “No, sir.”
“Are you sure? Because I’m almost finished reviewing the Black Eagles’ infractions, perhaps I could start on the Blue Lions?”
“No, uh, that’s okay, sir. You should finish with the Eagles first.”
Edelgard whirls on her step-brother, paint-streaked hair snapping behind her in anger.
“Coward,” she hisses. “Throw me to the dogs why don’t you?!”
Her cheeks are covered in swirling red designs, but there’s a torrent of tacky yellow down the front of her PE uniform that looks like someone threw an entire cup of paint at her.
The person that threw an entire cup of paint at her rolls his eyes.
“Oh please. Those are bold words from the girl whose house deputy brought an effigy to a fucking inter-house sports day,” Claude says and Edelgard’s eagle-glare snaps to him. “Where does Hubert think we go to school, exactly? Burning Man?”
“He didn’t light it,” she protests. “And besides, who was it that crucified our house mascot on the grandstand?”
Claude closes his mouth and narrows his eyes.
“Maybe Addie the Eaglet deserved it.”
Edelgard’s voice is deathly calm. “Take that back right now.”
Dimitri chuckles, more than a little darkly, breaking the tension between his fellow house leaders. “I think it’s clear both of your houses displayed terrible conduct today. It’s clearly going to affect Garreg Mach’s image for a long time to come.”
“You little snake!” Claude cries, jabbing a finger in Dimitri’s direction. “Don’t act like you’re not a part of this!”
“Exactly!” Edelgard says haughtily. “At least my housemates weren’t the ones digging a hole on the field for pit fights.”
“Hey! I am not responsible for Fight Hole,” Dimitri protests, rising out of his chair. “That was entirely Felix.”
“You guys named it?!” Claude asks incredulously.
“ENOUGH!”
Seteth’s shout rips through the air like a knife. He reaches into his top desk drawer and pulls out a comically thick manilla folder. Sheafs of paper inside are marked by an assortment of coloured sticky tabs, a foreboding range of red, yellow, and blue.
He drops it on his desk with a slam.
Edelgard sits down.
“Time and time again,” Seteth begins, flicking through the folder, “I have to write your house members up for disciplinary breaches that you, as leaders, are supposed to avoid, not foster. And yet time and time again you enable your classmates to commit acts that damage property, reputation, and self all for the sake of a competition that has gone from friendly rivalry to unmitigated chaos.”
He begins to list as he flicks.
“The orientation weekend. The inter-house food festival. The inter-house swim meet. The performing arts festival. If I cannot trust you three to run student-led events with a level of maturity befitting the smart young adults you are supposed to be, what is the point of having them at all?”
He flips past a stack of other infractions, landing on the most recent page, which contain only handwritten notes and a printed out email.
“Today. Inter-house sports day. Multiple fire hazards, attempted theft of a forklift, pit fighting, and the vandalism of rental property. The Gronder Trust Sports Grounds have partnered with this school for years and now they’re threatening to permanently cut ties because you and your peers decided to, amongst other things, empty gallons of acrylic paint into the stands for the purposes of what exactly?”
“Paint war,” they all say in small voices. It’s not so funny anymore. The paint slathered in their skin and clothes grows dry and uncomfortable.
Seteth puts his head in his hands.
“You were chosen as heads of house by the staff and the board of trustees because of your exemplary academic records and the support of your peers as student community leaders.” He looks up at them with stormy eyes tempered by fatigue. “It appears that I need to remind you that these positions were given to you and can very easily be taken away if you are deemed unfit, and this—”
He taps the folder.
“—is not only enough to deem you unfit for this position, but enough to deem you unfit for any position of its kind in the future. Am I being clear?”
They nod.
“Now then. The board of trustees is willing to excuse these infractions as long as you three agree to participate in a counselling program of our choice.”
“Counselling?” Claude finds his voice. He almost laughs at the absurdity of it all. “Are you for real?”
“D—Dr. Cichol, sir,” Dimitri blurts, looking frantic. “I can’t—”
Seteth raises his hand for silence again.
“This is effectively a PR gesture. It will look good if the board can say the school’s heads undertook team-building activities together. It’s not… real counselling. Just… going through the motions. But they are required if you want to keep your roles here.”
He reaches into the desk drawer again.
“We’ve actually been sitting on this for a while,” he says, and for the first time that afternoon his lips curl into something like a smile. It’s not comforting. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll have fun.”
He tosses a brochure onto the desk. All three heads of house lean in.
“Oh God,” Dimitri says finally. “You cannot be serious…”
To: Claude Riegan <[email protected]>, Dimitri Blaiddyd <[email protected]>, Edelgard Hresvelg <[email protected]>
From: Manuela Casagranda <[email protected]>
Subject: FWD: INFORMATION FOR INCOMING CAMPERS!
Enjoy your trip, kids!
xx
Manuela
--Forwarded Message--
To: Manuela Casagranda <[email protected]>
From: Remire Recreations <[email protected]>
Hey there, Happy Campers!
Welcome to Remire Recreations: Outdoor Retreats! We’re celebrating 20 years of helping young people along the path to becoming leaders of tomorrow, and we’re excited to have you join us!
Set against the backdrop of scenic Garreg National Park, our award-winning Troubled Youth program, focused on group-counselling and natural exploration, seeks to help you uncover the full potential in your relationships with your peers. Our three-day retreat will take you into the heart of one of the nation’s most beautiful parks, supervised by an experienced counsellor and guide, where you will take part in fun and challenging team-building exercises with your new friends to foster more positive, healthy communication as a group!
Attached are the equipment lists and Health & Safety information that must be submitted to us via your school/club/workplace before the beginning of your retreat!
Looking forward to having you on board!
Brenda H.
Events coordinator, Remire Recreations.
To: Seteth Cichol <[email protected]>
From: Claude Riegan <[email protected]>
Subject: TROUBLED YOUTH??? HELLO????
can i ask for jail time instead? community service?
claude <3
To: Claude Riegan <[email protected]>
From: Seteth Cichol <[email protected]>
Subject: RE: TROUBLED YOUTH??? HELLO???
No.
Please delete this email address.
To: Seteth Cichol <[email protected]>
From: Claude Riegan <[email protected]>
Subject: RE: RE: TROUBLED YOUTH??? HELLO????
</3
To: Seteth Cichol <[email protected]>
From: Dimitri Blaiddyd <[email protected]>
Subject: Remire Rec Trip
Dear Dr. Cichol,
I hope this email finds you well. I am writing to send you the completed health and safety form for the upcoming trip. You will find it attached.
On more of a personal note, I have several medications that will need to be taken over the weekend and there wasn’t a place to write about them on the form. Do I need to write to Remire Recreations directly or is that something you are supposed to do? They are for mental health rather than physical ailments and I know sometimes this is unfortunately a problem for some businesses, so I am quite concerned about this. Please get back to me as soon as you can.
I am very stressed.
Thank you,
Dimitri.
To: Dimitri Blaiddyd <[email protected]>
From: Seteth Cichol <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: Remire Rec Trip
Dimitri,
Thank you for your promptness. I will speak to the people at Remire about it but it should be fine, don’t worry. If it is a problem we will sort something out. I will not allow a student to go without their necessary health needs.
Also please delete this email address.
Regards,
Seteth.
To: Seteth Cichol <[email protected]>
From: Edelgard Hresvelg <[email protected]>
Subject: H&S Forms
Dr. Cichol,
Please find attached the health and safety forms for the Remire retreat. I have also attached the full text of the Child Civil Rights Act 2017 for your perusal.
Good day,
Edelgard.
To: Edelgard Hresvelg <[email protected]>
From: Seteth Cichol <[email protected]>
Subject: RE: H&S Forms
Edelgard,
I’m not reading that. You are going on the trip.
Is someone giving out my email address? Please delete this from your contacts immediately and use my school email from now on.
Regards,
Seteth.
An assembly is held the following morning.
Seteth informs the student body that all inter-house and off-campus activities are suspended until further notice. He also tells them that they are all in a lot of trouble, and they should all be disappointed in themselves for their behaviour.
He doesn’t tell anyone about the camping trip—about the fact their heads’ titles are in the balance.
The heads of house deliver student notices and do not look at each other the entire time. Seteth hasn’t mentioned their punishment and neither will they. If they’re lucky, they’ll be able to make it to the weekend without anyone finding out what they’re being made to do.
They make fleeting eye contact when they return to their seats, to their houses, separated into three milling, even seas of students in the auditorium. Across churning waters, violet, green, and blue lock for the briefest of moments.
They’re going to be breaking news by the end of the day.
Leonie clears her throat. “What is the soft spot on a baby’s head called?”
“The what—”
“The fontanelle.”
“Sorry, Hilda,” Leonie announces, tucking the card away. “Point for Claude.”
“Shit.”
The table at the back of Hanneman’s Calculus class is a designated senior student zone, made valuable by its position out of the front desk’s line of sight, and overtaken with impunity whenever older students needed to play street rules Trivial Pursuit and gossip.
It is one such occasion during midday classes. Claude, Hilda, Leonie, and Marianne have holed themselves up to talk primarily about Hilda’s latest boy drama, but after she’d exhausted herself after ten minutes of ranting, the conversation had slipped elsewhere.
Marianne, ever the dutiful scorekeeper, slides Claude one of the colourful dice they’re using in lieu of the traditional pie wedges and he places it on top of his pile. It’s a lot bigger than Hilda’s, which is the only important thing in street rules Trivial Pursuit. He’s so busy stacking it takes him a moment to realise Leonie is saying something.
“Wassat?”
“I was asking if you want to come with us to the river on Saturday,” Leonie repeats. “Iggy finally got our inner tubes fixed and it’s supposed to be sunny.”
“I can’t,” Claude says. “I’m booked up the whole weekend.”
Leonie narrows her eyes and purses her lips, not satisfied with his lack of explanation, but before she can speak, Hilda pipes up.
“Ohoho!” She chirps, batting her long (probably fake) lashes over a makeshift fan of discarded question cards. “A prior engagement! It must be something of incredible importance if it’s dragging you, our dearest head boy, away from the allure of inner-tubing with my beautiful self for a whole two days!”
Claude rolls his eyes. “Who told you?”
“Sylvain.”
“Sylvain doesn’t know shit. Who actually told you?”
Hilda sighs, “He did!” She tosses her hair over her shoulder and looks up at the ceiling for a moment, contemplative. “I heard from Sylvain who heard from Felix who heard from Annette who heard from Caspar who heard from Linhardt who heard from Dorothea who spent study period this morning with Manuela and saw her email to you or whatever.”
Claude rolls his eyes. “Oh! Good to know this entire graduating class is a pack of rabid narks.”
“Wait, what is he doing?” Marianne asks meekly, looking up from the scorecard. “Am I missing something again?”
Leonie pats her on the arm. “Don’t worry Marianne, I don’t think anyone knows. Also—” she flips around one of the question cards “—How many feet are in a fathom?”
“I dunno,” Hilda says at the same time Claude says, “Six.”
Hilda hits him over the head with her fan of cards and Marianne quietly tallies another point in Claude’s score table.
“We got called in to Seteth’s yesterday after sports day went south,” Claude explains, not wanting Marianne to feel left out. “I don’t want to admit it but… things have been getting a little out of hand with inter-house stuff…”
“A little?” Leonie scoffs. “I won ten dollars in the Lions’ fight pit before Alois shut it down.”
“So are you three doing something with the school?” Marianne asks. “Like weekend detention?”
“I wish,” Claude sighs. “They’re sending us on a “team-building camping retreat”—in heavy air quotes, by the way—so the school board don’t strip us of our house leader positions. I think it’s designed for problem children or something? But I guess it was just the cheapest option they could get away with.”
“So you’re going into the woods and shit?” Leonie asks. “What’s even the point of that?”
“I think it’s just saving face. It’s easier to make us do some half-assed “let’s all get along” gesture than do all the public reshuffling of positions.”
“Have you told your family?” Marianne asks, lowering her voice.
Claude feels the mood sour a little, and tries hard not to let that show on his face.
“No.”
The girls wince. Claude bites back the petty and defensive remark brewing on his tongue.
“What?! This is nothing. I’m not bothering them with it.”
“You’re not even telling your granddad?” Hilda asks.
“I’m especially not telling him. Ideally he won’t ever find out!” Claude insists. “So don’t go talking about it outside of school, okay?”
His question is aimed at Hilda, because her brother knows his uncle and if that isn’t a path ripe for ill-advised gossip he doesn’t know what is. She seems to catch his drift, waving off the implication with her fan of cards.
“How are you gonna play this, then?” Leonie asks. “Permission slips and all?”
Claude makes a seesaw gesture with his hand. “I’ll forge the signature. Easy. I’ll get Judith to drop me off… tell her I’m going camping with some friends. It’ll be fine.”
They all give him Looks, the kinds with capital L’s, and he rolls his eyes.
“Please don’t feel sorry for me,” he says. “It’s just… it’s a delicate situation. I can handle it.”
“That’s exactly why I feel sorry for you,” Hilda mumbles.
“Hilda…”
“That and the fact you’re going to be stuck with the royal terrors for an entire weekend.”
“Dimitri isn’t… he’s not that bad,” Claude says with far more confidence than he actually possesses on the matter. He doesn’t know Dimitri very well, despite being in his Biology class. All he knows about the guy is that he’s polite to the point of it being annoying.
“He’s nice,” Marianne says quietly. Claude nods; if Marianne is willing to give someone her blessing like that they can’t be all horrible.
“He’s nice but he’s not much else, as far as I can reckon,” Hilda says. “It’s Edelgard you’ll have to really worry about. Little Miss Ice Queen decided to hate your guts the moment she met you and you know it.”
Claude privately agrees, but he doesn’t say it. What he does say is: “It’ll be fine. You’re overreacting.”
And then: “I’ll be fine.”
It’s not very convincing.
Sarah McKinney @addiestanaccount
Hearing some crazy rumours about our heads of house here at GMHS lol!! I get that they don’t get along but what’s a camping trip supposed to do about the Lions stealing our microwave?
sword emoji @f3l1xfr4ld4r1u5
Replying to @addiestanaccount
nah i heard they’re gonna b hunting each other for sport. no microwaves for dead heads lol. real thunderdome shit.
Sarah McKinney @addiestaaccount
Replying to @f3l1xfr4ld4r1u5
Who is this??
“Sylvain!”
“Wuh-woah!” Sylvain cries. “Am I in twouble?”
“Care to explain yourself?” Dimitri asks in lieu of hello, slamming the door to the Blue Lions common room behind him with the aura of an angry bull who has Places To Be.
Sylvain twists around from his perch on the couch so he’s sitting up straight, and leans back as Dimitri strides forward. “I’d love to? Gonna need more context, bud.”
Dimitri comes to a stop and looks down at Sylvain with a glare.
“Do you want to tell me why three freshman girls just wished me luck for the weekend? They said you were ever so worried about me.”
He has the attention of the entire room now. Annette and Felix look over from where they’re doing some kind of craft with popsicle sticks and PVA glue. Ashe peeks up from over the edge of a book. Dedue is the only one that attempts to make his move to watch subtle. He mostly just raises an eyebrow, shooting Dimitri a glance that says ‘blink twice and I can hold him down while you interrogate him’.
Sylvain’s mouth makes an understanding little ‘O’ shape, and then he laughs.
“Dude! They’re obviously just concerned about your upcoming wilderness adventure! Like myself!” He says it in a nonchalant tone, though his not-so-subtle move to scooch a little farther away from Dimitri while he speaks hampers the carefree persona a little. “Nobody wants our favourite head boy dying in the forest!”
Dimitri has now shifted from angry bull to disgruntled mother of three. He plants his hand on his hip. “Did it not occur to you that we might want to keep something like this quiet?”
“Hey! It could’ve been way worse, man. Felix told me you guys were going to be killing each other Most Dangerous Game-style. At least I did everyone the liberty of correcting the story before I spread it.”
“Felix?” Dimitri whirls on the perpetrator. “Who told you?”
Narrow amber eyes peer at him from behind a tower of precariously glued popsicle sticks. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“It was me!” Annette whines, breaking under absolutely no pressure. “Caspar told me and I was worried about you and I thought Felix might know something!”
“I didn’t,” Felix reports solemnly. “Which is interesting considering I fucking live with you, asshole. Have you told dad?”
Dimitri purses his lips. “Of course I have, don’t be ridiculous.”
“Wait, so Hilda was right?” Ashe chirps, cutting of the potential for an argument to brew. “You three are really going camping together?”
Dimitri decides, with great difficulty, to brush past the fact Hilda apparently has access to this information too.
“We are. This weekend. It’s with a company that does team-building programs. If I don’t do it they’re going to replace me as head of house.”
Annette gasps. “Maybe you’ll all become friends! That would be nice!”
“I’ve got twenty on grievous bodily harm by Saturday night,” Ashe says, going back to his book.
“I’ll get in on that,” says Sylvain. Annette looks aghast.
As bets are placed and Annette desperately tries to keep it together, Dimitri sinks into the seat next to Dedue with a sigh. After a moment he leans his head against his shoulder.
“You seem tired,” his deputy says.
“I am.”
“I would offer to take your place in a heartbeat, I hope you know. But I have a feeling that’s not quite the point of this lesson.”
Dimitri huffs. “Oh, it’s a lesson now? What am I supposed to be learning from hiking for three days with a sister that hates me and a guy I saw eating litmus paper in Biology last week?”
“I suppose that will be up to you. But there’s always something to learn from troublesome places,” Dedue says. Wisely. He’s wise. “Would you like half of my sandwich, Dimitri?”
Super wise.
Dimitri nods. “Thank you, Dedue.”
It’s a very good sandwich.
“I’m sorry about Fight Hole.”
The admission shocks Dimitri enough to make him look up from his phone. He stares at Felix. The two of them are like unflinching rocks amongst a current of homebound students, waiting for Rodrigue on the kerb after school. Felix looks straight ahead as if he hadn’t spoken.
“Are you really?” Dimitri asks.
Felix has to think about it for a moment before he shrugs. “Well, no,” he admits. “I’m just… sorry to the extent it ended up getting you stuck with Claude and your stick-up-her-ass sister for a whole weekend. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Not even Sylvain.”
Dimitri frowns. This sentiment is not new; the entire day has been apologies and well wishes, like Claude and Edelgard are horrid gargoyles out for his blood.
“They’re not that bad.”
“They are,” Felix says. “I have Chem with Claude and History with Edelgard. You think I don’t know how insufferable they can be? I swear to God you’d better not come back friends with either of them, okay? I don’t want their valedictorian cooties in my house.”
“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” Dimitri says idly. He catches Edelgard’s eye where she’s walking down the school’s front steps with Hubert and Dorothea in tow. Her gaze is piercing, as always, and he lets his eyes slip off her like water off feathers.
“Seriously though? Don’t worry about packs or anything I, uh,” Felix picks at his bag strap in a show of uncharacteristic hesitance—Dimitri gets the terrible feeling he knows where this is going. “I think we still have all of Glenn’s old hiking gear somewhere. Dad’ll know.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
Rodrigue shows up then—the patron saint of timely interruptions—and Dimitri lets out a breath. The car has barely rolled to a stop before Felix yanks the door open.
“Good afternoon, parent,” he spits into the front seat. “Your foul secret-keeping has come to light at last.”
“Hi, Rodrigue,” Dimitri says, getting into the back. “Everyone at school found out about the retreat.”
“Oh that was quick! I didn’t take you for much of a gossip, Felix,” Rodrigue remarks, waiting for both boys to get buckled in before pulling into the flow of traffic. He raises an eyebrow at Felix. “I guess my plan to take you to Ben and Jerry’s and break it to you gently over ice cream is kind of moot now?”
Felix—predictably—is spluttering at his father within seconds.
They pass Claude on the way home, pushing his bike along alone as Dimitri vaguely recalls he does every day. He raises his hand to wave at the other boy, but quickly remembers the backseat windows are tinted. In a world where Dimitri is a little bolder he might have rolled down the window low enough to say hello, but for now he stays put.
Claude looks… uncharacteristically serious. Dimitri doesn’t quite know what to make of it.
He turns away.
Annette Dominic sent a photo to BAND CHAT [NON MEME VERSION]
Caspar: hmmm… explain??
Annette: Sylvain is setting up a betting pool for camping trip predictions. Anyone want in? I’ve got five on them coming home as friends because I think it would be nice if that happened :)
Dorothea: OOO!! I’ve got fifteen on Dimitri snapping before the second day :D
Caspar: ten on edelgard tryin to kill the boys immediately
Annette: I like my idea better :(
Lysithea: Five on Claude bailing halfway through and driving himself home.
Lysithea: Also this is the NON MEME CHAT can we please move this elsewhere??
“I’m really sorry, Edie,” Dorothea says, leaning up against the locker next to Edelgard’s and frowning. “I promise the only person I told was Lin.”
“I forgive you, Dorothea,” Edelgard says, unable to keep the small smile off her face. Dorothea is an uncontrollable gossip when she wants to be and there’s no way she isn’t loving the buzz around the school.
“Oh, thank you!”
“This was bound to get out at some point.” Edelgard shrugs, pulling out a few notebooks. “But you must have known that Linhardt tells Caspar everything and—”
“—and Caspar wouldn’t know a secret if it held him at knifepoint,” says a new voice, looming like a comfortable shadow over Edelgard’s shoulder.
Dorothea’s expression melts into something far more controlled and sinister as she appraises their new addition. “Good afternoon, Hubert. Your allegories are as colourful as ever.”
“It’s a gift,” Hubert says dryly. “Am I right in overhearing that you were the one who spread such baseless rumours about our head girl throughout the school?”
“You know deputy head is a fake job, right?” Dorothea says sweetly, ignoring the question. “I bet the Deer don’t have to take inquisitions from Hilda.”
“I imagine the Deer don’t take much of anything from anyone,” Hubert retorts, “led as they are by the archduke of clowns and his malignant jester of a girlfriend.”
“You know, I don’t think they’re actually dating,” Edelgard says half-heartedly, stowing the rest of her books in her bag and shutting her locker. “Also, that’s a little rude, Hubert.”
Hubert grumbles but concedes, and Dorothea laughs. “Maybe you can ask Claude about it on the weekend,” she suggests. “Plenty of time for invasive gossip while you two and Prince Charming are roasting marshmallows and baring your souls to each other.”
Edelgard huffs a laugh and beckons the two of them to follow her as she starts walking away. Her lack of a rebuttal is explanation enough for Hubert, whose eyes widen in surprise.
“The rumours are true?”
Edelgard sighs. “Indeed. I apologise for not telling you but I have—predictably—had a lot on my mind today.”
“You know I have questions then,” Hubert says emphatically.
“I’ll forward you all the information emails once I get home,” Edelgard assures. This seems to relax Hubert a little bit, which allows Dorothea to link her arm through Edelgard’s and pull her close.
They descend the steps at the front of school, opening up to throngs of students milling about waiting to go home. Edelgard feels her phone buzz in her pocket.
Bernie: edelgard!! ahh!! lin just texted the group!!
Bernie: are you rly going camping on the weekend!! with dimitri and calude?? why???
Bernie: *claude
Bernie: u know there are bears and wolves in the county now I saw them on the news on friday please be safe!!
Bernie: :O!!
“Perhaps it would be more pertinent to be scared of bears than boys this weekend,” Edelgard muses, sending Bernadetta a quick thumbs up and a ‘ttyl’ before slipping her phone back into her pocket.
Dorothea hums. “Perhaps. But with boys like these, who knows?”
The trio look down the stairs and lock eyes with Dimitri, who is standing next to Felix by the kerbside. He catches Edelgard’s eye and swiftly looks away. A few minutes later, a car pulls up and the boys get in.
“Dimitri isn’t a bad person,” Edelgard says, watching him climb into the back of Rodrigue’s car. “I just… I just haven’t spent a lot of time with him outside of school in many years. Being forced back together with no build up will be… interesting.”
In truth her relationship with her step-brother is a fitful and awkward one, imbalanced and unattractive to her. Hubert knows that, and Edelgard doesn’t feel like voicing it to Dorothea right now, so she leaves it at that.
“And Riegan?” Hubert asks dryly. “Perhaps he’s a dark horse in more ways than one. I have mace you can borrow in case he starts anything.”
Edelgard waves Hubert’s concern off. “I’m a little wary about spending time in a potentially dangerous setting with someone who seems allergic to taking things seriously, but I don’t think he’s dangerous enough to warrant mace.”
Bears might be, though.
She spots the boy in question after that. Claude is off at the edge of the parking lot, unlatching his bike. He catches them staring and stares back.
He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t wink or preen or do anything Edelgard might have expected from him. He just stares, a little cold and empty, and then looks away. A rare show of… normalcy, really.
“Maybe you can ask him why he always goes home by himself,” Dorothea mumbles, leaning against Edelgard’s shoulder.
Edelgard ponders the idea for a moment before stuffing it away. “Ideally I want to walk away from this experience knowing less about them than I did walking in,” she says. Dorothea laughs, bright like a bell. The tension is gone.
“I shouldn’t be worried about you, Edie, you’ll knock ‘em dead!”
“Of course. I just have to make it through the weekend,” Edelgard says.
Two nights, she thinks. How hard can it be?