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Everyone is lamenting how they can’t return home for the feast of Saint Serios and attend the ball. Claude wants to laugh, what a problem to have. Hilda discusses the gifts her parents and brother typically lavish her with, and shows him her elegantly penned wishlist.
“What are you going to ask your grandfather for?” She asks, smiling brightly.
Claude shrugs, “Oh, this and that.”
Truth is he didn’t know about any of this. He smiles and nods when Raphael discusses the necklace he’s having Hilda make for his sister. It’s nice. He can appreciate that everyone is having a good time. It’s just… not for him. It’s not his. He can’t relate.
He’ll enjoy the ball, sure, he loves a party. But he never realized just how big Serios day was to Fodlaners. By the end of Ethereal moon he just wants the whole thing over with already. He’s used to pretending. Quite literally everything about this identity is smoke and mirrors.
But fond family memories of a childhood in Fodlan? He never thought about constructing that part of his cover. He can't invent this part of Claude von Riegan, it feels too fake. He can see how pure this is for everyone, he feels like he’s sullying it by making anything up.
Everyone is warmly chatting about memories with their family in the dining hall and Claude is quiet- not that anyone notices. “Oh you’ll never believe me if I tell you what we did,” he waves off the request that he share his own favorite story while his little deer enjoy themselves in their nostalgia.
They won’t believe him, because he doesn’t celebrate and never has and
that
possibility had never occurred to any of his friends. It’s funny, back home there are a few different religions. He followed the major one enough but honestly religion never stuck for him. And that was fine at home, Almyran religion hardly focused on the intangible at all. But pretending to believe in something that demanded
belief
was becoming close to impossible.
He wanders the monastery grounds while everyone is at the Cathedral. Hilda will be mad, the choir is performing, but he can’t bring himself to care very much. It’s freezing here in the mountains, and he can respect that a little levity will help everyone make it through the month.
Claude just wants it to be over.
He finds his way to the sky stables. Wyvern cries are his little cure for homesickness. Their roost is a place where things feel normal and a little chaotic and perfect. He’s not training for flying here. Fodlan lacks imagination of what kinds of war can be waged from the skies.
Even so, the Wyverns are adorable at Garreg Mach. Smaller than back at home, mostly young and pretty docile. He’s not supposed to be here because he’s not a flyer, but he knows where they keep the key.
The Wyverns flock to him, and he’s instantly knocked to the ground. He lets it happen, none of them are going to hurt him and they enjoy playing like this- it means they trust him, think of him as one of their own. He laughs at their little happy chirps. Claude pulls on the snout of one Wyvern and places a small kiss on her, giving her pats along the jaw. Wyverns don’t know how to lie except to pretend they haven’t been fed yet, and he can just be himself here.
He’s too distracted to hear the door open.
“Oh! I was not expecting Claude! Are you okay?” Petra walks into the sky stables, arms wrapped around a bundle of something lumpy.
Claude tries to compose himself, difficult with a Wyvern sitting across his legs. He calls out to her, “Yes Princess. I’m just playing with these beautiful babies.”
“They are being very beautiful tonight! Hunting down an intruder.” She laughs and walks over, pushing the Wyvern off of him with surprising strength before petting down its flank.
He’s yesterday’s news, they flock to her gently, waiting patiently for her signal. Petra has been training as a flyer, and she’s far more graceful atop a Wyvern than even on the ground. Or in a tree.
“Are you not at the concert?” Petra asks, arranging something on the ground.
Claude swallows and decides to lie with the truth, “Didn’t feel like going. You’re not there either I might point out.”
Petra shrugs, “I am not worshiping the goddess of Fodlan, so I am not needed. But the Wyverns are Fodlan, and they deserve a Serios Feast!”
Claude has half a mind to protest that Wyverns are not Fodlaners, because in their souls they are Almyran. But he won’t give himself away to her.
Petra has caught a dozen rabbits, and the Wyverns trust her enough to wait for her to hand them over.
Claude feels a weird bit of pride watching her, even if she’s from Brigid and that’s not the same as Almyra at all. He’s never seen a Fodlaner do that.
“Would you like to give them gifts?” Petra asked, smiling up at him as if she weren’t standing between a dozen Wyverns and their meal.
“Not for Saint Serios,” Claude mumbles, “But sure, they deserve all the gifts.”
“I am agreeing!” She clapped her hands and handed a rabbit to Claude.
They feed the Wyverns together and they fly up, doing loops and chirping happily at their snacks. Petra’s face is lit up brighter than any lantern and she just loves them. He usually goes up here to be alone, to feel at home, but Petra is an outsider too. Maybe she does the same thing.
She’s nicer than him. She caught gifts for the wyverns. Well not nicer. Different.
Well probably nicer, just objectively. That’s allowed. Claude isn't actually very nice under the illusion. Or maybe Khalid isn't nice but Claude is. Or Khalid is nice but Claude is a lie and lies aren't nice and...
It's rough to live in his head sometimes. Too much going on.
Petra is different than he is, and he likes it.
Claude has allowed himself exactly one Serios based activity and that’s the ball- too public to skip. Also probably actually fun, unlike a concert that’s really just an overlong service.
Petra treats the world around her with a level of kindness and respect that Claude simply does not have in him. She’s giving out gifts to her friends, animals included. The Wyverns are Fodlan born, so they should get gifts. Who thinks like that?
“They are the best, don’t you think?” Claude asks, standing back and allowing them to eat. He doesn't want to lose a finger.
Petra beams, “They are! There are many Wyverns in Brigid. I miss them, the Fodlan are babies. You should come see one day! Real Wyverns!”
Claude smiles at her, touched by her offer. “I know a thing or two about real Wyverns, Princess. Maybe I’ll show you one day.”
Petra gives him a little look but just says, “You are very strange Claude.”
He nods. She has no idea.