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[The mood around the monastery felt decidedly tense after the last battle, which left Dimitri dead and the Kingdom army fallen. Claude seemed determined to insist to everyone that he was fine, but Linhardt could tell he was suffering. They'd been together for too long for him to hide from the mage's scrutiny.
Still, the false sense of wellness continued over the next week, until Linhardt decided he needed to take an active role in helping Claude just let go and stop putting up what must have been a terribly exhausting front of joviality for the other officers and soldiers.
It had taken a little while to put everything together without anyone else noticing, but he eventually had the perfect setup ready in one of the empty dorms.
And now he's able to see his work at play.
Claude's wrists are securely bound with rope above his head, just at the right height to keep him on his toes. Between his thighs is a flat-surfaced wooden sawhorse with a nice sized dildo attached in such a spot that Claude will have no choice but to sit on it when he tires of standing on his toes. It's heavily lubricated, of course, and Linhardt had made sure to prepare Claude beforehand as well.
This is just the start, however. He has more planned, but one thing at a time.]
There. I think you're settled in nicely. [He smiles, standing close enough that he can press a soft kiss to the side of Claude's mouth.]
Still, the false sense of wellness continued over the next week, until Linhardt decided he needed to take an active role in helping Claude just let go and stop putting up what must have been a terribly exhausting front of joviality for the other officers and soldiers.
It had taken a little while to put everything together without anyone else noticing, but he eventually had the perfect setup ready in one of the empty dorms.
And now he's able to see his work at play.
Claude's wrists are securely bound with rope above his head, just at the right height to keep him on his toes. Between his thighs is a flat-surfaced wooden sawhorse with a nice sized dildo attached in such a spot that Claude will have no choice but to sit on it when he tires of standing on his toes. It's heavily lubricated, of course, and Linhardt had made sure to prepare Claude beforehand as well.
This is just the start, however. He has more planned, but one thing at a time.]
There. I think you're settled in nicely. [He smiles, standing close enough that he can press a soft kiss to the side of Claude's mouth.]
[It's not that he wants to disrupt anyone's mourning for the fallen prince-- far from it, he's particularly generous with giving those from the Kingdom some time and space to grieve. And if that means picking up extra duties himself, so be it, ensuring the well-being of the people who have put their faith in him is a duty he takes very seriously.
Unfortunately, time is a very limited resource for them, and they need to keep pushing forward. So Claude does what he always does, trying to remain a steady presence, to reassure everyone that their leader will not falter. But the terrible end Dimitri had met, that he hadn't been able to do anything to prevent, sat in his stomach like a stone.
When Linhardt had asked him to take the night off for some time alone, he'd happily obliged. A distraction had sounded perfect, and his lover's clever, devious mind was all too good at coming up with new ways to drive him to distraction.
This, he hadn't been expecting. Linhardt's tied him up all sorts of ways, but he's never been perched on his toes like this with a toy just barely teasing at his entrance. Any lower and he'd have to penetrate himself on it, and he wouldn't be able to stay in this position for long.
He's already hard from Linhardt preparing him, face flushed and breathing elevated. He lets out a shuddering breath, turning his head to steal a proper kiss and grinning.] Going to make me do all the work myself this time, huh? I should've figured. [They've only just started, he's definitely not gone enough yet to not tease.]
Unfortunately, time is a very limited resource for them, and they need to keep pushing forward. So Claude does what he always does, trying to remain a steady presence, to reassure everyone that their leader will not falter. But the terrible end Dimitri had met, that he hadn't been able to do anything to prevent, sat in his stomach like a stone.
When Linhardt had asked him to take the night off for some time alone, he'd happily obliged. A distraction had sounded perfect, and his lover's clever, devious mind was all too good at coming up with new ways to drive him to distraction.
This, he hadn't been expecting. Linhardt's tied him up all sorts of ways, but he's never been perched on his toes like this with a toy just barely teasing at his entrance. Any lower and he'd have to penetrate himself on it, and he wouldn't be able to stay in this position for long.
He's already hard from Linhardt preparing him, face flushed and breathing elevated. He lets out a shuddering breath, turning his head to steal a proper kiss and grinning.] Going to make me do all the work myself this time, huh? I should've figured. [They've only just started, he's definitely not gone enough yet to not tease.]
[Linhardt decides to kiss him back a few more times after that comment, one hand digging into his hair while he smirks against Claude's lips. He only pulls away after giving his bottom lip a little bite.]
Don't think I'll just be sitting around watching.
[His free hand runs over Claude's chest, thoroughly enjoying the feel of his musculature stretched out due to his wrists bound above his head. His lover looks so handsome like this, calves and thighs straining to keep himself hovering above that dildo, his face a pleasant shade of pink.
Linhardt can't wait to see how this progresses. He wants to see Claude shaking and sweating, and eventually having no choice but to sit down on that dildo when he tires. Not that he'll be allowed to stay seated for long... part of the fun is making him keep getting up on his toes and then falling back down.]
I'm going to make you work hard for relief tonight.
Don't think I'll just be sitting around watching.
[His free hand runs over Claude's chest, thoroughly enjoying the feel of his musculature stretched out due to his wrists bound above his head. His lover looks so handsome like this, calves and thighs straining to keep himself hovering above that dildo, his face a pleasant shade of pink.
Linhardt can't wait to see how this progresses. He wants to see Claude shaking and sweating, and eventually having no choice but to sit down on that dildo when he tires. Not that he'll be allowed to stay seated for long... part of the fun is making him keep getting up on his toes and then falling back down.]
I'm going to make you work hard for relief tonight.
[Claude moans into the kiss, loving the tug of Linhardt's fingers in his hair. Most of the green of his eyes has been swallowed up by his pupils when Linhardt pulls away, and he barely keeps himself from jerking his hips at the bite.
The pale hand stroking his chest feels deceptively gentle, calming. He can already tell this is going to be a very long session.
His leg muscles are already starting to feel the strain after a full day of work, but part of the game is staying just like this for as long as he can bear. He whines, pouting exaggeratedly.] But I worked hard all day! Such a cruel lover...
The pale hand stroking his chest feels deceptively gentle, calming. He can already tell this is going to be a very long session.
His leg muscles are already starting to feel the strain after a full day of work, but part of the game is staying just like this for as long as he can bear. He whines, pouting exaggeratedly.] But I worked hard all day! Such a cruel lover...
You did, didn't you?
[Linhardt's expression grows serious for the moment as he moves his hand from Claude's hair to his chin, tilting his head just right so that their eyes are meeting.]
Maybe you'll learn the value of taking a break.
[And then he releases his grip, but not before stealing one more soft kiss from his lover's lips. He then steps around, behind Claude, and gives one of his ass cheeks a nice, solid slap.]
I don't mind teaching you, but I'm not going to be easy on you either.
[Linhardt's expression grows serious for the moment as he moves his hand from Claude's hair to his chin, tilting his head just right so that their eyes are meeting.]
Maybe you'll learn the value of taking a break.
[And then he releases his grip, but not before stealing one more soft kiss from his lover's lips. He then steps around, behind Claude, and gives one of his ass cheeks a nice, solid slap.]
I don't mind teaching you, but I'm not going to be easy on you either.
Edited 2019-10-12 00:32 (UTC)
[When he sees that expression on Linhardt's face, he gets the distinct impression that he's fallen into a trap of some sort. Is this-- some sort of punishment for overworking himself?
Unspoken questions sit at the tip of his tongue but he swallows them back, following Linhardt with his eyes until he steps out of view. He was expecting something, and a spank was certainly on the list, but he gasps and rocks his hips forward nonetheless, the movement knocking him slightly off balance. As he struggles to regain his footing, the head of the dildo pushes into him. He lets out another reedy gasp, itching to just impale himself on it, but the strain on his arms is starting to edge past uncomfortable into pain. He straightens back up, pushing back onto his toes with a groan.
Oh. Oh, this is going to be torture. This is definitely a punishment of some sort.]
Heh, I'd-- expect nothing less.
Unspoken questions sit at the tip of his tongue but he swallows them back, following Linhardt with his eyes until he steps out of view. He was expecting something, and a spank was certainly on the list, but he gasps and rocks his hips forward nonetheless, the movement knocking him slightly off balance. As he struggles to regain his footing, the head of the dildo pushes into him. He lets out another reedy gasp, itching to just impale himself on it, but the strain on his arms is starting to edge past uncomfortable into pain. He straightens back up, pushing back onto his toes with a groan.
Oh. Oh, this is going to be torture. This is definitely a punishment of some sort.]
Heh, I'd-- expect nothing less.
Mm. Good.
[He's back to smiling after watching Claude struggle with himself there for a moment. Linhardt has no doubt he's going to figure out the underlying purpose behind this particular setup. Claude is always very clever.]
In a little while I'll loosen the tension in that rope so that you can rest a bit easier without straining your arms.
[After all, it won't be any fun if he can only just barely sit on the dildo. By the end of this, he intends to have Claude fully impaled upon it, absolutely exhausted.]
But for the moment... [Linhardt steps back around, pressing a warm kiss to the side of his lover's neck while wrapping his fingers around his erection and stroking him slowly.] You look amazing. I just have a few little things to add.
[Soon, after he loosens the rope the first time. Every reward should come with a punishment, after all.]
[He's back to smiling after watching Claude struggle with himself there for a moment. Linhardt has no doubt he's going to figure out the underlying purpose behind this particular setup. Claude is always very clever.]
In a little while I'll loosen the tension in that rope so that you can rest a bit easier without straining your arms.
[After all, it won't be any fun if he can only just barely sit on the dildo. By the end of this, he intends to have Claude fully impaled upon it, absolutely exhausted.]
But for the moment... [Linhardt steps back around, pressing a warm kiss to the side of his lover's neck while wrapping his fingers around his erection and stroking him slowly.] You look amazing. I just have a few little things to add.
[Soon, after he loosens the rope the first time. Every reward should come with a punishment, after all.]
["Rest a bit easier". Claude huffs a laugh, knowing what will really happen when he loosens the tension in the rope.
He bites the corner of his lip on a moan as Linhardt strokes him achingly slow, far more of a tease than a relief.]
A few-- little things? [He repeats between gasping breaths, barely restraining himself from thrusting into his lover's hand and undoubtedly knocking himself off balance again.] Well, now I'm worried, with your devious mind.
He bites the corner of his lip on a moan as Linhardt strokes him achingly slow, far more of a tease than a relief.]
A few-- little things? [He repeats between gasping breaths, barely restraining himself from thrusting into his lover's hand and undoubtedly knocking himself off balance again.] Well, now I'm worried, with your devious mind.
You probably should be worried.
[He hums, continuing with the teasing strokes of his hand for a few more seconds before pulling away entirely.
He wanders somewhere behind Claude's field of vision, and when he returns there's a thinner length of rope in his hands.]
You seem a bit too excited. I'd rather keep you contained for now.
[Although Linhardt has no problem taking his time wrapping the rope around Claude's testicles and the base of his cock. No too tight, of course, but snug enough that he might find himself having difficultly reaching orgasm until he's freed.]
That should settle you down a little. ...Or not. [He shrugs before securing the bondage and then sliding his hand back along the shaft so that he can stroke the swollen head of Claude's cock with him thumb.]
[He hums, continuing with the teasing strokes of his hand for a few more seconds before pulling away entirely.
He wanders somewhere behind Claude's field of vision, and when he returns there's a thinner length of rope in his hands.]
You seem a bit too excited. I'd rather keep you contained for now.
[Although Linhardt has no problem taking his time wrapping the rope around Claude's testicles and the base of his cock. No too tight, of course, but snug enough that he might find himself having difficultly reaching orgasm until he's freed.]
That should settle you down a little. ...Or not. [He shrugs before securing the bondage and then sliding his hand back along the shaft so that he can stroke the swollen head of Claude's cock with him thumb.]
[Claude bites back a complaint when Linhardt pulls away, leaving him with only the strain in his leg muscles and the feel of the rope around his wrists. He can't hold back a whimper when he sees the extra length of rope in his lover's hands, having guessed what it was for before it was confirmed by Linhardt's cool voice.
He winces and squirms in place as the rope is tied around his cock and balls, unable to really move without knocking himself off balance again. Frustratingly, his own trick of remaining calm and unaffected is just as effective in reverse, adding a sharp edge of embarrassment at his own reactions while Linhardt sounds as though they could be having a chat over a cup of tea.]
Lin-- [He gasps, his calves starting to shake with the effort as he tries not to thrust into his hand. He bites his lip and falls back on his heels, groaning as the head of the dildo penetrates him again. He wants to hang his head and stay there a moment, but he pushes back onto his toes after a moment, grimacing. He pants for breath between words, no actual bite to them of course.] You-- complete-- sadist.
He winces and squirms in place as the rope is tied around his cock and balls, unable to really move without knocking himself off balance again. Frustratingly, his own trick of remaining calm and unaffected is just as effective in reverse, adding a sharp edge of embarrassment at his own reactions while Linhardt sounds as though they could be having a chat over a cup of tea.]
Lin-- [He gasps, his calves starting to shake with the effort as he tries not to thrust into his hand. He bites his lip and falls back on his heels, groaning as the head of the dildo penetrates him again. He wants to hang his head and stay there a moment, but he pushes back onto his toes after a moment, grimacing. He pants for breath between words, no actual bite to them of course.] You-- complete-- sadist.
[Sadist? Him?
...Well, maybe a little.
Linhardt can't possibly deny how much it turns him on to see Claude squirming and making little frustrated sounds, panting for breath as he lowers himself onto the tip of the dildo again, only to force himself back on his toes.
The more he struggles, the sexier the sight. Of course, the balance between physical discomfort and sexual arousal make the scenario so appealing in the first place.]
You know you love me. [He leans in, only to press a soft, lingering kiss to the head of Claude's cock. When he straightens, there's a grin on his lips.]
Want me to loosen the slack a bit?
...Well, maybe a little.
Linhardt can't possibly deny how much it turns him on to see Claude squirming and making little frustrated sounds, panting for breath as he lowers himself onto the tip of the dildo again, only to force himself back on his toes.
The more he struggles, the sexier the sight. Of course, the balance between physical discomfort and sexual arousal make the scenario so appealing in the first place.]
You know you love me. [He leans in, only to press a soft, lingering kiss to the head of Claude's cock. When he straightens, there's a grin on his lips.]
Want me to loosen the slack a bit?
[He does love Linhardt, and that scares the hell out of him sometimes. And, aside from masking it in a teasing remark, it's not an easy thing for him to say... or hear. But if a helpless, shaky sound forces its way up his throat, well, Linhardt's mouth on his bound cock is a hell of a tease.
He nods in answer to the question, eyes hooded.] Please? [See, he can even ask nice!]
He nods in answer to the question, eyes hooded.] Please? [See, he can even ask nice!]
Okay.
[The 'please' is nice, certainly, and Linhardt gives the tip one long lick before pulling back again and standing straight.]
Hold on.
[He walks behind Claude and climbs a small step stool. From there he unties the knot holding his wrists above his head. Carefully, he loosens it to give Claude a few inches of slack, before retying it in place.
Linhardt steps back down and rubs a hand over his lover's back. When he reaches his ass, he gives one cheek another harsh slap.]
Better?
[The 'please' is nice, certainly, and Linhardt gives the tip one long lick before pulling back again and standing straight.]
Hold on.
[He walks behind Claude and climbs a small step stool. From there he unties the knot holding his wrists above his head. Carefully, he loosens it to give Claude a few inches of slack, before retying it in place.
Linhardt steps back down and rubs a hand over his lover's back. When he reaches his ass, he gives one cheek another harsh slap.]
Better?
[Claude whines at that parting lick, trying to catch his breath as Linhardt moves behind him to loosen the rope.
He arches his back into Linhardt's hand, looking over his shoulder at him, eyes heavy-lidded. Any amount of breath he'd managed to catch leaves him with a high-pitched cry at the slap.
He nods, bites his lip. That couple of inches is a relief, but it also makes him notice the shaking in his legs more, how hard it's becoming to stay on his toes. He sinks back onto his heels, shuddering as the head of the dildo presses inside him again.]
He arches his back into Linhardt's hand, looking over his shoulder at him, eyes heavy-lidded. Any amount of breath he'd managed to catch leaves him with a high-pitched cry at the slap.
He nods, bites his lip. That couple of inches is a relief, but it also makes him notice the shaking in his legs more, how hard it's becoming to stay on his toes. He sinks back onto his heels, shuddering as the head of the dildo presses inside him again.]
[With all the resources of a King at his disposal, there's really no reason for Claude to continue his experiments with poisons... except that, well, it's a hobby, and one he enjoys. Of course, the country being at peace with her neighbors has made "peaceful poisons" less of a necessity, but that just leaves more creative avenues open.
He's experimented with everything from sleep aids to truth serums to crest suppressants, but the colorless, tasteless concoction he stirs into their cups of tea when Byleth goes to fetch the sugar Claude had conveniently forgotten is something else entirely. He's still figuring out appropriate dosages, but those little flower buds he'd obtained from the high peaks of Fodlan's Throat make for a very potent aphrodisiac according to his previous tests, so he keeps it light. A little more in Byleth's cup than his own, to adjust for his lover's literal divine power.
He beams at his former professor when he returns, leaning up for a kiss before he can sit back down.]
Sorry about that, my love... I've been buried in paperwork so long, I'd forget my own head if it weren't attached. [He chuckles, stirring a spoonful of sugar into his tea and taking a sip. Yep, absolutely undetectable.
It's absolutely the truth that he's been especially busy lately-- that's why he was so eager to set up this little scheme, to surreptitiously clear both of their schedules after this "afternoon tea". Yes, it's a test of one of his ongoing experiments, but it's also a much needed respite, an excuse to spend the better part of a day in bed with his husband. The best schemes work to accomplish many goals.]
He's experimented with everything from sleep aids to truth serums to crest suppressants, but the colorless, tasteless concoction he stirs into their cups of tea when Byleth goes to fetch the sugar Claude had conveniently forgotten is something else entirely. He's still figuring out appropriate dosages, but those little flower buds he'd obtained from the high peaks of Fodlan's Throat make for a very potent aphrodisiac according to his previous tests, so he keeps it light. A little more in Byleth's cup than his own, to adjust for his lover's literal divine power.
He beams at his former professor when he returns, leaning up for a kiss before he can sit back down.]
Sorry about that, my love... I've been buried in paperwork so long, I'd forget my own head if it weren't attached. [He chuckles, stirring a spoonful of sugar into his tea and taking a sip. Yep, absolutely undetectable.
It's absolutely the truth that he's been especially busy lately-- that's why he was so eager to set up this little scheme, to surreptitiously clear both of their schedules after this "afternoon tea". Yes, it's a test of one of his ongoing experiments, but it's also a much needed respite, an excuse to spend the better part of a day in bed with his husband. The best schemes work to accomplish many goals.]
[Byleth doesn't mind helping out with the tea. He knows how busy Claude has been lately, and he's just glad that they have a free afternoon to spend together.
He smiles softly at the kiss, then takes his seat at the table across from Claude.]
It's fine. I'm always happy to help.
[He adds a bit of sugar to his own cup, stirring the tea before taking a sip as well.]
Very pleasant, as always. [Another smile as he continues to sip slowly at the brew. Nothing seems off about it at first... but eventually Byleth does feel a certain heat beginning to spread throughout his body. He shifts a bit in his seat, glancing down from Claude's face briefly as he feels a startling stirring of arousal.
So far he doesn't suspect, but still. This is quite strange.]
Which tea is this?
He smiles softly at the kiss, then takes his seat at the table across from Claude.]
It's fine. I'm always happy to help.
[He adds a bit of sugar to his own cup, stirring the tea before taking a sip as well.]
Very pleasant, as always. [Another smile as he continues to sip slowly at the brew. Nothing seems off about it at first... but eventually Byleth does feel a certain heat beginning to spread throughout his body. He shifts a bit in his seat, glancing down from Claude's face briefly as he feels a startling stirring of arousal.
So far he doesn't suspect, but still. This is quite strange.]
Which tea is this?
[That smile makes his expression soften, still a bit lovesick for the sight of it even after all their time together.
It almost makes him feel bad for the little trick, but... well, Byleth knew all too well what he was getting into by being with Claude. And he had agreed to being his test subject from time to time.]
It's the Leicester Cortania blend. Thought I'd spoil you a little, after all the lovely tea parties you've set up for me in the past. [Claude winks, starting to feel the effects himself. He'd already stripped down a bit, taking off his royal accouterments and leaving just the essential articles of clothing, but he unbuttons his shirt just a bit as well. The heat is starting to get to him.
And, well, if it shows off his collar bone and the dusting of chest hair he's so very proud of, all the better.]
It almost makes him feel bad for the little trick, but... well, Byleth knew all too well what he was getting into by being with Claude. And he had agreed to being his test subject from time to time.]
It's the Leicester Cortania blend. Thought I'd spoil you a little, after all the lovely tea parties you've set up for me in the past. [Claude winks, starting to feel the effects himself. He'd already stripped down a bit, taking off his royal accouterments and leaving just the essential articles of clothing, but he unbuttons his shirt just a bit as well. The heat is starting to get to him.
And, well, if it shows off his collar bone and the dusting of chest hair he's so very proud of, all the better.]
[ Evening comes, faster even than Sylvain expects it to, and preparations are made for his first night in the castle. It doesn't sink in, until then, that he's really going to be living here for the rest of his life.
He stands in the quarters he now shares with his spouse, hair combed back to boring flatness, in comfortable sleepclothes, and feeling extremely strange. Not bad, just strange.
Anticipation tingles in his fingers and toes, though, making it hard to stand still. Even if neither of them is female, consummation is still expected of a marriage to finalize the bond, or contract, as it were, and he's sure it's no different here than in Fodlan.
He may not know Claude basically at all, or trust him yet, but there's no denying he's a handsome man. Sylvain can work with that. Goddess knows he's worked with less. He sits on the edge of the bed, just a perch really, not really relaxing, and waits. ]
He stands in the quarters he now shares with his spouse, hair combed back to boring flatness, in comfortable sleepclothes, and feeling extremely strange. Not bad, just strange.
Anticipation tingles in his fingers and toes, though, making it hard to stand still. Even if neither of them is female, consummation is still expected of a marriage to finalize the bond, or contract, as it were, and he's sure it's no different here than in Fodlan.
He may not know Claude basically at all, or trust him yet, but there's no denying he's a handsome man. Sylvain can work with that. Goddess knows he's worked with less. He sits on the edge of the bed, just a perch really, not really relaxing, and waits. ]
[It was rare that the Almyran palace received diplomats from Fodlan, especially from the Alliance, but there was Mihill. Even if it weren't his duty as crown prince, Claude would have wanted to get to know the man, to see if he were a potential ally in his plans. And Mihill seemed receptive-- prudently so, but that in itself lended credibility.
Sylvain had told him of his suspicions, certain he'd heard the Mihills were particularly vocal about border protection, and of course Claude hadn't discounted that. He knew by now that his husband's playing clueless was just that-- an act. But it was such a rare opportunity, Claude couldn't afford to pass it up. So he'd proceeded with caution, he'd looked into what he could about Geffray Mihill, and he'd played his cards close to his chest. He'd even let Sylvain accompany him to all their private meetings, both to soothe his husband's suspicions as well as his own paranoia.
But today, things go differently. Partway through their meeting on expanding trade between Almyra and the Leicester Alliance, a harried stable-hand burst into the room. Sylvain's horse had apparently gotten loose.
Claude had waved him off to handle it, understanding all too well how much Sylvain cared for his horse, and the conversation had continued. It was promising, even. Tentatively, he let himself hope that this could be the start of something.
Smiling, he shook Mihill's hand, and unaware of the dagger he'd drawn in his other hand, he turned to leave the room. Possibly to hunt down where his husband had gotten off to, and investigate how exactly his horse had gotten loose from the stables.]
Sylvain had told him of his suspicions, certain he'd heard the Mihills were particularly vocal about border protection, and of course Claude hadn't discounted that. He knew by now that his husband's playing clueless was just that-- an act. But it was such a rare opportunity, Claude couldn't afford to pass it up. So he'd proceeded with caution, he'd looked into what he could about Geffray Mihill, and he'd played his cards close to his chest. He'd even let Sylvain accompany him to all their private meetings, both to soothe his husband's suspicions as well as his own paranoia.
But today, things go differently. Partway through their meeting on expanding trade between Almyra and the Leicester Alliance, a harried stable-hand burst into the room. Sylvain's horse had apparently gotten loose.
Claude had waved him off to handle it, understanding all too well how much Sylvain cared for his horse, and the conversation had continued. It was promising, even. Tentatively, he let himself hope that this could be the start of something.
Smiling, he shook Mihill's hand, and unaware of the dagger he'd drawn in his other hand, he turned to leave the room. Possibly to hunt down where his husband had gotten off to, and investigate how exactly his horse had gotten loose from the stables.]
[ The arrival of the diplomat was a rare chance at hope for Claude. It was only Sylvain's rapidly growing fondness for him that made him open up about his suspicions anyway. Indeed, maybe it was even Claude's optimism making Sylvain's fears worse. It's a more convenient thing for the enemy, to wear the face of Claude's dreams and hopes.
He's since stopped playing completely dumb around his royal husband. He hasn't played all his cards, yet, but Claude knows well enough that Sylvain isn't useless in politics, and Sylvain is some measure of pleased that Claude is receptive to hearing his fears.
Not receptive enough to turn the suspicious diplomat away. Sylvain can't blame him, really, but it does leave him on edge, and acting far more like a fussy, clingy husband than he ever intended to be.
He's almost starting to let his guard down, though, because things are going well, and Claude seems pleased and at ease, and he's even more suspicious by nature than Sylvain. He's comfortable enough that alarm bells don't immediately go off when the stable hand comes to tell him his horse got out. She's a smart girl, she probably just pulled a fast one on one of the stableboys. He sighs and dismisses himself to go help catch her.
It's a fast enough job doing, since she's trained well to his voice and comes when he calls, but by the time he's handing the rope of her halter back to the stable hand, something pings in Sylvain's mind.
He rushes back inside, taking the stairs two at a time to the room where the meeting was taking place. He sees Claude first, facing toward him, walking away from the meeting.
Then he sees the knife.
His vision goes red at the edges, and time seems to slow down. He barely feels his legs move, but then he's between Claude and the assassin.
He's shoving his arm into the liar's throat, grabbing the arm holding the weapon.
Time and sound return together as the assassin's body hits the wall, a sickening crunch.
Feeling returns and Sylvain feels his heart pounding in his ears and a viscous pain below his ribs. He doesn't need to look down to know that the knife is lodged in there.
He grinds his teeth against that pain, wrenching the assassin face-first onto the floor, where he falls in a heap from lack of oxygen. Sylvain grins his boot onto his spine. ]
Do you want him alive for questioning, your highness?
[ There's something frightening in his voice, and he surely makes quite the image, standing over the would-be killer with murder in his eyes and a bleeding wound still with the knife in. ]
He's since stopped playing completely dumb around his royal husband. He hasn't played all his cards, yet, but Claude knows well enough that Sylvain isn't useless in politics, and Sylvain is some measure of pleased that Claude is receptive to hearing his fears.
Not receptive enough to turn the suspicious diplomat away. Sylvain can't blame him, really, but it does leave him on edge, and acting far more like a fussy, clingy husband than he ever intended to be.
He's almost starting to let his guard down, though, because things are going well, and Claude seems pleased and at ease, and he's even more suspicious by nature than Sylvain. He's comfortable enough that alarm bells don't immediately go off when the stable hand comes to tell him his horse got out. She's a smart girl, she probably just pulled a fast one on one of the stableboys. He sighs and dismisses himself to go help catch her.
It's a fast enough job doing, since she's trained well to his voice and comes when he calls, but by the time he's handing the rope of her halter back to the stable hand, something pings in Sylvain's mind.
He rushes back inside, taking the stairs two at a time to the room where the meeting was taking place. He sees Claude first, facing toward him, walking away from the meeting.
Then he sees the knife.
His vision goes red at the edges, and time seems to slow down. He barely feels his legs move, but then he's between Claude and the assassin.
He's shoving his arm into the liar's throat, grabbing the arm holding the weapon.
Time and sound return together as the assassin's body hits the wall, a sickening crunch.
Feeling returns and Sylvain feels his heart pounding in his ears and a viscous pain below his ribs. He doesn't need to look down to know that the knife is lodged in there.
He grinds his teeth against that pain, wrenching the assassin face-first onto the floor, where he falls in a heap from lack of oxygen. Sylvain grins his boot onto his spine. ]
Do you want him alive for questioning, your highness?
[ There's something frightening in his voice, and he surely makes quite the image, standing over the would-be killer with murder in his eyes and a bleeding wound still with the knife in. ]
[Claude is definitely nervous. That's a normal thing, right? People are normally nervous the first time they spend the night with their spouse in the same bed. He's barely gotten to know Sylvain at all, but he makes no secret of the fact that he's experienced, even if it's mostly with women.
Claude, however... well, casual encounters were never a luxury he could afford to indulge in. Not when that was more likely to end with a knife in his back or his throat slit. Books could only do so much.
It's fine; just something new to learn. And a very attractive partner to learn it with, which certainly helps.
It's a rare moment when Claude's room is actually decently clean-- or at least, he'd managed to keep the mess of books and personal projects contained to his desk, the top of the dresser, the side-tables... any flat surface that wasn't the bed or the floor. Good first impressions, and all that. Give it a week and his reading materials will start creeping onto the bed again if Sylvain doesn't do anything about it.
Though, depending on how the night goes, Claude may be more motivated to at least keep the bed clear of clutter.
He enters the room, freshly bathed and dressed down in his own sleep clothes, and shoots his new spouse a grin.]
Waiting for someone?
Claude, however... well, casual encounters were never a luxury he could afford to indulge in. Not when that was more likely to end with a knife in his back or his throat slit. Books could only do so much.
It's fine; just something new to learn. And a very attractive partner to learn it with, which certainly helps.
It's a rare moment when Claude's room is actually decently clean-- or at least, he'd managed to keep the mess of books and personal projects contained to his desk, the top of the dresser, the side-tables... any flat surface that wasn't the bed or the floor. Good first impressions, and all that. Give it a week and his reading materials will start creeping onto the bed again if Sylvain doesn't do anything about it.
Though, depending on how the night goes, Claude may be more motivated to at least keep the bed clear of clutter.
He enters the room, freshly bathed and dressed down in his own sleep clothes, and shoots his new spouse a grin.]
Waiting for someone?
[ Sylvain actually thinks the clutter, as semi-contained as it is, is charming. It brings character and a sense of comfort into the room. Someone actually lives here, and uses this space as his own. It's almost a cute quirk for a ruler to have, to be a bit messy.
See how he feels about it in a few months, when the books start taking over the bed. But for now, he smiles at them.
And then smiles at a clean and cozy looking royal husband. ]
I hear a very handsome and very well-read prince sleeps here. I was hoping he'd take a liking to me.
[ Flirting with your own husband? More likely than you'd think. ]
See how he feels about it in a few months, when the books start taking over the bed. But for now, he smiles at them.
And then smiles at a clean and cozy looking royal husband. ]
I hear a very handsome and very well-read prince sleeps here. I was hoping he'd take a liking to me.
[ Flirting with your own husband? More likely than you'd think. ]
[It happens so fast-- the door flies open before he can get to it, Sylvain rushing in-- then he rushes right past him, a sturdy arm knocking him backwards as his husband steps in between him and Mihill.
Between him and the knife Mihill had been about to bury into his back.
Claude's heart simultaneously tries to sink into his stomach and leap into his throat and he feels nauseous with it, frozen in place, in shock. Not that yet another attempt has been made on his life, but that Sylvain has thrown himself at the attempted assassin.
Sylvain's question brings him back into the moment with a jolt.]
Yes. I-- [He turns his head, shouts for the guards, then rushes to Sylvain's side. He's been stabbed-- and it's not just the wound that's a danger, the knife could very well be poisoned.] Leave him for the guards, you need a healer.
[The overwhelming mass of emotions is thrown aside for the very practical issue of making sure his husband doesn't die because of him. He knows not to just pull the knife out, especially not without a healer directly present.
The world rushes around them-- palace guards take Mihill to the cells to be questioned, and Claude walks Sylvain to the infirmary, where the palace healers remove the knife and treat the wound. Claude tests for poison himself, and thank every god in existence there is none. Still, Sylvain is put on bedrest for a few days, to recover from internal bleeding-- healing spells can only do so much.
Given his status as the crown prince's husband, rather than staying in the infirmary, an unconscious but healing Sylvain is brought to their room. Still, Claude is hesitant to join him on the bed, for a multitude of tangled up reasons. Instead he pulls up the chair from the desk, taking one of Sylvain's hands in his own and playing with his fingers, running his thumb over his knuckles. His thoughts circle and spiral in anxious, guilty loops, and eventually he falls asleep, still in the chair but with his head and shoulders on the bed, one hand still loosely gripping Sylvain's.]
Between him and the knife Mihill had been about to bury into his back.
Claude's heart simultaneously tries to sink into his stomach and leap into his throat and he feels nauseous with it, frozen in place, in shock. Not that yet another attempt has been made on his life, but that Sylvain has thrown himself at the attempted assassin.
Sylvain's question brings him back into the moment with a jolt.]
Yes. I-- [He turns his head, shouts for the guards, then rushes to Sylvain's side. He's been stabbed-- and it's not just the wound that's a danger, the knife could very well be poisoned.] Leave him for the guards, you need a healer.
[The overwhelming mass of emotions is thrown aside for the very practical issue of making sure his husband doesn't die because of him. He knows not to just pull the knife out, especially not without a healer directly present.
The world rushes around them-- palace guards take Mihill to the cells to be questioned, and Claude walks Sylvain to the infirmary, where the palace healers remove the knife and treat the wound. Claude tests for poison himself, and thank every god in existence there is none. Still, Sylvain is put on bedrest for a few days, to recover from internal bleeding-- healing spells can only do so much.
Given his status as the crown prince's husband, rather than staying in the infirmary, an unconscious but healing Sylvain is brought to their room. Still, Claude is hesitant to join him on the bed, for a multitude of tangled up reasons. Instead he pulls up the chair from the desk, taking one of Sylvain's hands in his own and playing with his fingers, running his thumb over his knuckles. His thoughts circle and spiral in anxious, guilty loops, and eventually he falls asleep, still in the chair but with his head and shoulders on the bed, one hand still loosely gripping Sylvain's.]
[ Sylvain lets out a dark laugh as he's half led half carried away to be healed. ]
Wish you'd have... let me kill him...
[ He's serious about that desire, but growing quickly delirious from shock and loss of blood. The world swims, and even while he's conscious for some of he healing process and the removing of the knife, he doesn't remember it.
His dreams are swimming strange things, hard to grasp and full of faulty logic, but among them he recalls a dream of laying in a field of flowers, somewhere in Fodlan probably and strangely enough, with Claude, watching clouds go by as his husband holds his hand...
That dream slowly meshes with reality, stretching, stretching, until it breaks, and Sylvain feels the familiar pressure of bed beneath him. His eyes flutter open and he groans softly. He's so stiff... But as he starts to try to move, he realizes there's a hand draped over his own, and he turns his head to see Claude half folded over onto the bed. Sitting on a chair for some reason. He's going to feel that when he wakes up, for sure. Sylvain's fingers curl around that hand to hold it properly, feeling several emotions rise up in his chest all at once.
Above all, he's just relieved that Claude is alive. ]
Wish you'd have... let me kill him...
[ He's serious about that desire, but growing quickly delirious from shock and loss of blood. The world swims, and even while he's conscious for some of he healing process and the removing of the knife, he doesn't remember it.
His dreams are swimming strange things, hard to grasp and full of faulty logic, but among them he recalls a dream of laying in a field of flowers, somewhere in Fodlan probably and strangely enough, with Claude, watching clouds go by as his husband holds his hand...
That dream slowly meshes with reality, stretching, stretching, until it breaks, and Sylvain feels the familiar pressure of bed beneath him. His eyes flutter open and he groans softly. He's so stiff... But as he starts to try to move, he realizes there's a hand draped over his own, and he turns his head to see Claude half folded over onto the bed. Sitting on a chair for some reason. He's going to feel that when he wakes up, for sure. Sylvain's fingers curl around that hand to hold it properly, feeling several emotions rise up in his chest all at once.
Above all, he's just relieved that Claude is alive. ]
[Claude chuckles at the obvious flirt, though he's clearly pleased with it.
Flirting's easy. He knows how to flirt. He saunters over to the bed, grinning.]
That's funny, I heard a very handsome knight would be somewhere around here.
[He stops just a bare few inches from Sylvain, lifts a hand to cup his jaw, and presses forward into a kiss. It's an easy way to start, though this is very different from the chaste affair at the wedding ceremony.]
Flirting's easy. He knows how to flirt. He saunters over to the bed, grinning.]
That's funny, I heard a very handsome knight would be somewhere around here.
[He stops just a bare few inches from Sylvain, lifts a hand to cup his jaw, and presses forward into a kiss. It's an easy way to start, though this is very different from the chaste affair at the wedding ceremony.]
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