He is pale and his hands are delicate in a way no man's has any business being, long-fingered and elegant, an artist's hands. But those same hands are as sure on the haft of a lance or the hilt of a sword as they are with a quill. Khalid has seen him bring flames raining down from the sky with those same hands. For as delicate as he looks, especially compared to the men of Khalid's family, he is no fragile thing to be kept safe in a gilded cage.
His father had tried to do just that. He would no more tolerate it from Khalid as he had the Count. King or no.
Claude's grip loosens on his hand and those lovely jade eyes finally meet his own and Lorenz stands. The hand that had been on his forehead moves down to cradle his cheek and Lorenz' own eyes are damp even as he shakes his head and rolls them dramatically.
"You idiot." He speaks the word with all the fondness in the world, as though it is some loving endearment instead of an insult. Perhaps... by now it is. "I am lost without you." A watery smile, grudging and embarrassed but only because the words are heartfelt. "Ask Byleth. Or- Goddess, Hilda. I was beside myself when you left us. I don't-"
He steps in closer, leaning down so he can press his forehead to Khalid's, the long silken curtain of his hair hiding them from any prying eyes. "I don't think I can do that again."
Even without Lorenz's hand cradling his cheek, directing his gaze upward as he stood, Khalid's eyes would still follow him up. It must say something about them, that the way Lorenz calls him an idiot makes him smile almost as much as the heartfelt confession. He covers the hand on his cheek with his own, a part of him admiring the delicate flush on pale cheeks even as he gives Lorenz's admission the attention it deserves.
He accepts the burden of Lorenz's hurt with a sigh, leaning up into that forehead press. "I had to win the throne on my own, I couldn't afford to look like a puppet for Fodlan's interests. But I am sorry I had to hurt you in the process." The silky wave of lavender hair creates a new level of privacy in the already private sitting room, hiding away their tender expressions. Khalid breathes out a humorless laugh. "It's not like me to let my worries stop me like this..."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
His father had tried to do just that. He would no more tolerate it from Khalid as he had the Count. King or no.
Claude's grip loosens on his hand and those lovely jade eyes finally meet his own and Lorenz stands. The hand that had been on his forehead moves down to cradle his cheek and Lorenz' own eyes are damp even as he shakes his head and rolls them dramatically.
"You idiot." He speaks the word with all the fondness in the world, as though it is some loving endearment instead of an insult. Perhaps... by now it is. "I am lost without you." A watery smile, grudging and embarrassed but only because the words are heartfelt. "Ask Byleth. Or- Goddess, Hilda. I was beside myself when you left us. I don't-"
He steps in closer, leaning down so he can press his forehead to Khalid's, the long silken curtain of his hair hiding them from any prying eyes. "I don't think I can do that again."
no subject
He accepts the burden of Lorenz's hurt with a sigh, leaning up into that forehead press. "I had to win the throne on my own, I couldn't afford to look like a puppet for Fodlan's interests. But I am sorry I had to hurt you in the process." The silky wave of lavender hair creates a new level of privacy in the already private sitting room, hiding away their tender expressions. Khalid breathes out a humorless laugh. "It's not like me to let my worries stop me like this..."