April 20 - Day 3 - "secrets" except not, fuck it

[warmskies]

 Any good king who plans to stick around for a while knows that one of the most important things to one's rulership is to have trusted people in the areas around and underneath him.

That's especially true in Almyra. Certainly, a lot of the ways one might approach their king is rather public. It's why Claude has had to deal with so many challenges, from the verbal to the more physical. That's the easiest part of being a king, even if it is incredibly annoying and occasionally takes up a lot more of his time than he'd really like. Still, he knew that it would be a problem a long time ago. For all that his father is a popular and respected man in Almyra, well, hey. He was still the same man who decided to marry a woman from Fodlan. He'd had his share of challenges to sort through, even if for somewhat different reasons.

So the challenges are fine. Better the enemy that you can see than the enemy you can't.

Because there are enemies that try to lurk in and strike from the shadows. It's not the convention and "approved" Almyran way, but, well... People are people no matter where in the world they may live. Some really do view him as enough of a problem or nuisance that they'd rather get rid of through any means possible. Frankly, a part of him suspects that he has to deal with more of those types than most kings in the past. No one has wanted to kill themselves to put a smear on his name, but that doesn't mean no one doesn't want to kill him. And with how many enemies he still has in Almyra... That means no one has a particular spotlight on them in case he really did end up dying. Like a needle in a haystack.

Mostly, this has meant assassins trying the good old knife method of murder. They may be trying to kill him in his sleep, after all, but by the gods, they're still Almyran enough to use a knife! It's the kind of honor nonsense that Felix would no doubt scoff at, even if it's also the kind of nonsense that he would almost certainly adhere to himself if he had to do anything besides fling himself at someone in an outright fight. Claude appreciates it, really. Those who try to clamber in through his balcony window either fall prey to traps or Mori's jaws. Those who go through his bedroom door... still have to deal with traps, along with Claude having rather light sleep, for better or worse.

The rarer attempts would be poisons, which is almost ironic considering his own knowledge and talent for them... But "rare" doesn't mean "never happens". It doesn't mean he never makes sure to only order certain foods whose change in taste would be most notable. It doesn't mean he should let his guard down, not ever.

What makes poisons a particularly troublesome thing to deal with is that it's one of the few things he can't truly rely on only himself for. Sure, he can order the same predictable dishes every night, and that helps a lot of the time... But for some poisons, they only need the one bite to start affecting him. For some poisons, they only need to be enough to throw him off of his game and a knife will finish the rest.

And what all that means is finding someone who he can rely on. Someone on the ground level who will watch out for him, at most, or at least not even think to screw him over, at the very least.

"Do you remember the way back to my room?" he asks Felix, as they're drying off at the pool after a day of travel and battle - at least, on Felix's end. Claude's just had to sit and look pretty. "We'll get our dinner faster if I go hook someone now and have them get started on it, but you and Hilda don't have to tag along for that." Especially Hilda, who long since ditched both of them to go put herself into something comfortable.

Felix glances over his shoulder at the balcony resting over the pool. "I could probably climb up to your room through your balcony, but it's probably rigged," he says matter of factly, like that's a normal thing for a person to comment on. "And Hilda would probably complain if I went ahead without her while she doesn't know her way around. I know the way."

"I'd tell you if it was rigged, obviously," he says, and then winks. "Which it is, by the way. But I'm glad you remember. I'll meet you both up there in a few minutes, okay?"

Right as he turns away, there's fingers along his, and he jolts to a stop. A quick glance over his shoulder finds Felix holding onto him, but not looking at his face. Instead, his gaze is focused right there on their joined hands. No, not their hands... The simple hair tie wrapped around Claude's wrist, out of place along all the brilliant gold jewelry that still shines so brightly despite the evening quiet. "Does it bug you when it gets wet?" Felix asks, a little quiet, a little stilted. "My hair tie, I mean."

Something gentle and warm curls up in Claude's chest. "No," he says serenely. "It doesn't change much. And I don't want to risk losing it."

"Good." Swallowing thickly, Felix tugs him close, steals a kiss from him again that Claude would freely give. "I want it on you all the time."

Of that, Felix doesn't have to worry. Whether sleep, bathing, or anything else, Claude keeps it right there on his wrist, safe and sound. Frankly, with how much he wears it day in and night out, it's almost half a miracle that it hasn't embedded itself into his skin. Pulling away from the kiss, Claude glances down at what's occupying Felix's other hand. He'd taken it off of his thigh when getting ready to go swimming, apparently, but... "My headband's not quite so versatile, unfortunately," he says of the brilliantly patterned cloth Felix holds. "But hopefully the day will come when we've got things from each other to wear that never have to come off."

Felix elbows him for that, brilliant red at implications that may or may not be there, and Claude sets off, laughing softly and feeling almost as free as he does when he rides out on his wyvern. Still, Felix said that he knew the way to his room, so Claude leaves him to it. Him, he knows the way to the kitchens, and so that's where he heads.

The exact man he wants to see is in fact heading the same way. It's hard to miss him, tall and broad with thick curling hair that falls in a long wave down his back save for one braid draped over the front of his shoulder. Also, the large goat he has slung over his shoulder is a dead giveaway too. He beams when Claude comes strolling up, an expression that takes up his whole face. "Hey, King Khalid!" he says, voice maybe a little too loud before he seems to remember himself. "Or, uh, hold on... Sorry, greetings, Your Majesty."

"No need for formalities, Irbon," Claude chuckles. "Even though I'm going to take a guess that Phoi has been trying to embed them in your brain, huh?"

Hearing about one of his lovers is enough to make Irbon's face soften, although it doesn't slow his stride or lessen his grip on the goat a single bit. "Well, you know how much she's gotta worry about with the treasury and all that. All she's doin' is watchin' out for me, and Vorah too. If she says it's a good idea for me to have a good idea on how to speak to royalty and all that, then I figure it can't hurt. Especially with those Fodlan folks comin' around."

So it's feminine that Phoi is going with for today, which Claude notes in the back of his head for the rare chance that he runs into his treasurer. You never know. More importantly, he just pats one of Irbon's big and muscular arms. Sometimes, while no one can really beat the guy in terms of sheer muscle mass, he's still reminded of Raphael when he's around his head chef. "If you meet any of the important guys from Fodlan, I doubt you would have much reason to worry," he informs him. "Word is that they're more relaxed than you'd think." It's him. He's the word.

"Well, you would know better than anybody!" Irbon says cheerfully without sparing even a second to think twice. He just accepts it, right upfront, before kicking open the doors to the kitchen. "HEY! We got company!" Which is certainly a way to announce the presence of a king.

It's a way that Claude likes, because Irbon apparently does that all the time, with anybody, and the rest of the royal chefs have either learned to pay attention every time or are too busy doing something else to so much as glance over to the doors... and that is something Claude finds interesting as well.

It's all why he rather likes having Irbon as his head chef, trailing along with the man all the way to the butcher area - nothing but the freshest of goat for meals both tonight and tomorrow. "Anyway, I forgot to ask, but what brings you down here, sir?" No hesitation in the respectful address. No lowkey condescension, or disdain, or hatred. That would be the realm of a lot of Claude's family members, but it goes right over Irbon's head. He just grins at him, head completely empty save for the menu he has prepared for tonight for a whole bunch of guests to attend to. For Irbon, and maybe more than a few other people in the country, Claude proved his worth when he made it to the throne alive and kicking. That's all they need to know on the political front; their day to day is far more important.

Irbon is just an especially pleasant case because Claude isn't entirely sure he has any thoughts left in him besides cooking, raising and growing a lot of the food himself when he can, and being in love with three different people. He doesn't have to worry about scheming. There is absolutely zero indication that Irbon could ever carry through with it, both because his mind just isn't capable and he's too focused on being a good cook.

So he doesn't have to tip-toe around it, smiling up at Irbon as he says, "Actually, I was hoping you could make some specific dishes for me, and send them straight to my room. I don't really have an interest in doing public entertainment tonight, but I am thinking of eating a lot regardless. It's been an exciting day! And who knows? I might be doing some private entertaining for some of the guests we received who caught my eye. See what they're thinking."

This isn't quite true, but it's close enough to the truth that it's fine. Nothing particularly scandalous, although he has no doubt some of his more clever opponents could try. Still, his father did it before him when inviting guests over. Claude is just doing the same thing, and he hasn't even married someone from Fodlan.

Yet.

None of the other chefs seem to be particularly caring about this discussion, already preoccupied with a whole lot more on their literal and metaphorical plates. It's just Irbon, nodding a bit as he gestures for someone else to start butchering the goat properly. "Sure, we can do that no problem," he says cheerfully, definitely not thinking this is strange himself. Claude has seen Irbon try to be subtle, or lie. He's generally pretty bad at it. "What are you thinking of?"

Claude is thinking of a lot, actually, because there's a lot he wants Felix and Hilda to try. Still, he can only give them so much food in one night before they likely die of it... and that's before he even starts to talk about spice. So he gives his recommendations - most stuff that's easy to make regardless, or that is probably already on the menu in some capacity. The kitchens have been hard at work preparing all of this to start with, after all. Guests mean feasts mean no end of work.

Irbon taps one of his knives along the counter as he listens to Claude, nodding along with the requests as he pays nothing less than rapt attention. "That's all, huh?" he asks, before beaming. "That's no problem in the slightest! We'll get you all of that up to your room in a short bit, I promise."

"I know you will," Claude says, pleased as anything. "And I'll handle getting it into my room as always." The workers of the palace know how he operates by now, of course, but it never hurts to repeat those words. No one is allowed into his room who has anything less than his full permission on the matter... not if they don't want to have an accident. Literally an accident, Claude isn't looking to harm innocent workers, just people who might want his secrets, or his life.

And that's all he needs to do. Irbon thumps his chest with his fist, promising an excellent meal, and no one does anything strange in the kitchen. Of course they wouldn't; not with Irbon making all chefs try out their own meals right before they leave the door.

Meals are one of the few ways to relax in such a busy life... and they're harder to relax with when he has to ponder if it's the meal that will do him in. But with such a promising kitchen staff on his payroll, who know that he won't ask anything too ridiculous or stressful of them, who won't have their heads for minore mistakes, and even takes care of his own plating.... It's one less bit of stress in his life. He's glad for it.

The journey back to his room is a fortunately quiet one. Everyone else has meals to devour themselves, or gossip to pass along. Felix's decision, while it had worried Claude to some degree, has certainly worked out in his favor. All the talk is now less of Claude's decision to accept Fodlan diplomats into his halls, but rather the fact that one of those diplomats challenged the third prince to a match and won. If he's lucky, then the word will have spread from out of the palace and onto the city streets within the morning... Everyone loves a story with an unexpected start and an equally unexpected twist.

Hilda is on his bed when he opens his door again, flicking through some of the books he's left scattered about and that he highly doubts she can actually read. On the opposite end, Felix has commandeered his desk and is in the process of writing something. Claude barely has time to shut his door behind him before Hilda speaks up. "I'm almost surprised that we didn't get any would-be assassins jumping into your room while we were here. I mean, I'm not complaining, but the day's been so exciting that it seemed like it might happen anyway."

"Nah," Claude says cheerfully, looking over some of his jewelry and debating if he wants to take it off already. The night is still young, but he honestly suspects he'll be eating and then falling asleep instantly tonight. "It's a big day, most people have other things to do. Although you're right that the ones I've had in the past tend to be pretty direct..."

"Are they alive?" Hilda asks curiously, glancing up past the book she's holding.

"Who, the assassins?" Claude asks, quirking up an eyebrow.

"Yeah. I mean, in Fodlan - well you know how it is. But is it more embarrassing for you to stay alive if you mess up on trying to kill someone, or what?" She says it so casually, too - the cost of being in a war for five years where death became an old friend that was always dogging after your footsteps. Over at the desk, Felix pauses for a moment and cocks his head to the side as he too considers this train of thought.

Well, he supposes it is something to wonder about, for those not familiar with Almyra... "Some of them are dead," Claude says mildly, detaching himself from the occasions like he's become so used to over the years. "Some were killed in self-defense, and some dragged to duels of the death in front of witnesses the next day. Proving you can best an assassin both by surprise and in fair combat is a little bit sporting and a little bit rubbing it in."

Necessity and optics both played a role in whatever action he took, Claude has to admit. He hates killing, would rather it be the last resort he ever took... But sometimes, he just isn't that lucky. They find a hole he hadn't considered, or are smart enough to make it past traps he's put into place, and, well. In the war, he didn't have a choice either. It was take out an approaching enemy before they could put a blade or arrow or spell to his and his own, or lose something... he couldn't bear to. With assassins seeking to take him out of the throne, it's still very much the same thing in the end.

Of course, sometimes he's lucky. Sometimes an assassin does get caught by trap, or Mori doesn't kill them immediately, and, well, usually there's good reason for that. Reason enough for Claude to perhaps get some information, hear about who or what has called for his head in that particular case. For a trade like that, there doesn't have to be any retaliation, no public spectacle. Just a quiet deal in the dead of night.

And when it's not any of those...

"But a few are still alive," he says, starting to remove the most dangling of his accessories as he makes the journey over to his vanity. It'll be good to have these off when the food comes, after all. "Mostly high-ranking politics, or brothers of mine. The politicians get exiled, 'tho." The brothers, less so.

When he glances back at Felix, it's to see that his lover has gone still, and he can just faintly see the way his face is drawn into a scowl. Hilda hums thoughtfully, seeming not particularly happy but also not so obviously so. "Just because it would make your dad upset if your brothers were killed, even if they tried to kill you first, or for more complicated reasons?"

"Mostly the former," Claude says, words punctuated by the clinking of his jewelry as they fall back into place in trays or where they hang. "But there are political ramifications to killing a prince as well. Most of my brothers - especially the most active and aggressive ones trying to get me killed or dethroned - have decently sized factions of Almyrans supporting them. Killing them would destabilize things. Anyway!" Dusting his hands off and now significantly less noisy, he grins back over at the two of them. "Dinner has been arranged and will be on the way. And yes, Hilda, there will be desert, so you don't have to worry."

Hilda just laughs at him. "I just had to make sure!"

"I'm sure you did. Although you know, I'm pretty surprised. I didn't think that would be the first thing the two of you would spring onto me when I got back."

"You interrupted a conversation we were having," Felix says simply, getting back to writing now that he's, presumably, not imagining how all of Claude's brothers would look in the dirt with his book grinding into their faces. "It was on the verge of becoming a bet, or at least Hilda was certainly trying to make it happen."

"We can make it light hearted again easily," Hilda promises him, fluttering her eyelashes. "Like how it's great to see that your room is still as messy as ever, even when you're now a king."

Felix doesn't even look up, just mutters down at his paper, "No wonder I had to drag you out of the library back in Fodlan sometimes."

It's been really too long enough; Claude saunters over in the direction of Felix and the desk. "Well, considering the assassination attempts, it's not like I'd let people in here to do the cleaning for me," he says, peering over his shoulder with insatiable curiosity. It looks like an update to Dimitri, both on a professional front and a more personal one. If it was really embarrassing, Felix would probably elbow him away. As it is, Felix just rolls his eyes and bumps his shoulder back against Claude. Claude accepts it with a grin. "Besides, I haven't had access to most of these books for years."

"I hear some people clean up after themselves," Hilda drawls, her words accompanied by the sound of a page turning. "I mean, I don't do it either, but that's what I hear."

"I clean up my books when I'm finished with them!" Claude protests.

Felix's not-too-subtle scoff says that he doesn't believe that in the slightest, the monster, but he doesn't give Claude a chance to counter that. Instead, he just asks, "What are you even reading back there, anyway? I've been listening to you turn pages for fifteen minutes now."

For the time being, Felix's letter seems to be mostly full of the basic stuff: a description of how the trip went, advice on what Dimitri should do or look out for for his own journey to Almyra's capital, what the city and palace look like. The only thing of real interest seems to be a request for a live boar of all things. That means Claude feels fine with leaving it be for the moment just so that he can glance over his shoulder to take in the details of Hilda's book a little more properly. "Looks like a book on Almyran war campaigns through the ages," he remarks. He's gone through it a few times, now. It's good to take in what works, what doesn't, and just history in general. He needs to know a lot of history to help appeal to Almyra, after all.

Hilda just nods. "That explains the illustrations," she says, probably having vaguely guessed the answer a while ago.

"Should I ask why you have a book on Almyran war campaigns, or just assume you're clearing out your library shelf by shelf?" Felix asks.

"Felix, you can't imagine many books there are on Almyran war campaigns, with the culture being what it is," Claude says in amusement.

"I maintain what I said about you clearing out your library shelf by shelf," Felix says simply before putting back his quill. "But that aside, what have you decided to get us for dinner, then?"

Well, well, well. He's glad Felix asked. Claude gives a wide grin. "For my best friend and one of my lovers? Only the best." Raising up a hand, he starts to tick the list off of his fingers. "Stuffed fish with saffron rice tahdig, chicken stew, a nice curry, stuffed grape leaves, fruit juice, and almond cakes and ice cream for dessert. The stew and curry are getting made for more than just us, so it's not as much food as it sounds like."

Hilda is already clapping her hands together as she sits up straight, while Felix looks up at him with no small amount of interest. "What's tahdig?"

At the exact same time, Hilda gushes, "I think I've heard about ice cream!"

Hearing that excitement, that interest... Claude can't stop grinning, heart warm. "Tahdig is just a special way of preparing rice," he informs Felix, fingers coming to a rest on his shoulder. "We oil the bottom of a pot, then put a piece of flatbread on the bottom and crisp it on both sides before piling rice on top. Then you invert the pot's contents onto the plate. It basically gives the rice an incredibly crispy flatbread topping. Not exactly advanced culinary science, but it's delicious." And that's what matters. Speaking of delicious, his next grins goes over to Hilda. "Also, you know what, you probably would have heard about ice cream if anyone in Fodlan would have, what with House Goneril's proximity to Almyra." He winks. "But it is a dessert I  never saw in Fodlan, and I know it originates here, so you'll get to try it for yourself now."

While Hilda seems over the moon for this, Felix is just puzzling over everything Claude has just said. "The tahdig sounds like it could be good, but what's this ice cream? Is it just.." Turning around in his seat to better participate in the conversation, Felix cocks his head to the side. "What, frozen cream?"

"I've heard it's completely different from any of the desserts we have over in Fodlan," Hilda tells him, eyes shining. "Even Faerghus just has flavored ice, right? I've only heard about ice cream a few times... Well, it's not like Almyran and Alliance warriors would casually chat about desserts."

Claude laughs, both at the mental image and Hilda's own eager delight. "I don't think my descriptions will do it justice, so you'd better just try it for yourselves once it's time. And Felix, I know you're not much for sweets, so it's fine if you don't like desserts, but I insist you at least try them. After all, you've never had anything like them before, so it's only fair to give them a shot."

"Is this going to make me actually like desserts?" Felix asks warily.

"I don't know, but it'd give me something to be endlessly smug about to Lysithea if it did," Claude says, unable to stop his grin from warping into a broad smirk. "But once I introduce her to the idea of having ice cream with cakes, all might be forgiven."

"Poor Lysithea," Hilda sighs dramatically. "Tormented by you even now..."

Felix just shakes his head, still not able to understand exactly what Claude seems to enjoy about tormenting her. "You know, this better live up to the reputation you're giving it," he warns Claude.

"I did say I don't know if they'll win you over, you know. But until you've tried them, who can know?" Leaning down, Claude wraps his arms around Felix's shoulders and nods his head over to the letter. In the time it took for him to check in on Hilda, Felix had apparently managed to get some more written down. "Why are you so hung up on Dimitri bringing a boar here, anyway?" he asks, bringing the conversation around to that little peculiarity.

This time, it's Hilda's turn to roll her eyes. "Goddess, is that what he's been writing about?"

Felix makes the executive decision to ignore her, apparently, because he doesn't respond to her commentary in favor of gesturing to some vague... something. Gesturing for gesturing's sake, maybe. "Boars aren't native to Almyra, right?" he asks Claude, before he lowers his hand to the desk, a finger grinding against its surface. "They aren't going to understand what I mean when I start calling him that. They need a demonstration. And it'll be fun."

"Boars are not fun, Felix Fraldarius."

While Hilda makes her complaints, Claude chuckles. "The problem is that most of his boar-like qualities are being downplayed again. The comparison would've been more obvious during those five years of war before Teach came back..."

"I'll figure out a proper way for him to show off. He's a boar in good ways, too, you know. Not just the bad." Before anyone can interrogate Felix on just what that means, exactly, or what talks he's actually had with Dimitri on this particular nickname, Felix gestures through the air dismissively. "They'll get it," he says. When his hand falls again, it's to rest over one of Claude's.

Claude turns his head, presses a kiss into Felix's hair. "You realize it's going to be a hell of a thing to transport a boar all the way here?" he asks conversationally, fully aware that this knowledge will not change Felix's mind even a little.

"That's not impossible," Felix counters, just as conversationally.

When he says things like that, Claude can't help but grin into his hair. "You're so cute," he murmurs, in what others would find a highly debatable sentiment. Hilda certainly counts as one of those with the faint but teasing 'tsk' she makes over where she's still lounging on his bed.

All Felix does is snort again, and his fingers tap along Claude's wrist. "I have no idea how that idea popped into your mind."

"Mostly with how fond I am of you," Claude says shamelessly, and kisses his hair again. "You'd better be sure to mention how much you miss the two of them in your letter, or they're going to pine." He can imagine it now in his mind's eye, as though he were right there back in Fodlan himself. Dimitri and Sylvain have plenty of friends, of course, and each other, but they love Felix so terribly much. Claude gets why.

Felix struggles to win a battle with himself, face scrunched up in a scowl like he can stop the way his cheeks are going pink. "They're going to pine no matter what," he points out. "And I'm not even close to done with that letter yet."

"Well, they'd pine more," Claude says simply. "Especially Sylvain. He must be heartbroken letting you go, even for a month or two."

Despite his victory earlier in the day, it's clear Felix will suffer a loss with his own body. He's red again, now. "Well, that's why he's coming here himself later, right?" Felix says. "Why don't you write them a letter of your own if you're going to dictate from my back?"

"I'm going to," he agrees. "But not right now. I'd just get interrupted once the food arrives, so I might as well wait until I can write about how you two react to it." Ignoring Hilda's groan, Claude grins. "By the way... I've been really merciful tonight. The only thing particularly spicy is the curry. And if you guys can't stomach that, there's plenty of other food." He nuzzles his grin into Felix's hair. "But I knew you'd demand the chance to challenge yourself, sunshine, so I had to make sure there was something."

"Thank you for not killing me, Claude," Hilda says, serious as the dead while she slides her book away.

In neat contrast, Felix just turns his head so that he can properly scowl up into Claude's face. "You're jerking me around by the chain now, aren't you?"

"How so?" Claude raises his eyebrows. "Are you saying that if I'd served you a dinner with no spicy dishes, you wouldn't have heckled me for talking about how spicy Almyran food gets and then not delivering?"

"But you said I'd go after the spiciest thing. Is curry it?"

Ah, yes. Of course that would be what he's protesting. "No, I said you'd need some kind of challenge as opposed to none," Claude corrects. "Curries can get pretty spicy, but I don't know if I'd say they're the spiciest thing. The curry we're having isn't even the spiciest curry we have."

While Felix sulks over this, Hilda shakes her head and rests her cheeks in her hands. "I think you're dating a masochist, Claude."

Felix promptly adds into this particular view as he grumbles, "I'd rather die of heat in your room than during a public feast, just so we're clear."

"See?" Claude says, not without some glee. "Now you wish it was the spiciest thing I could have given you."

Elbowing him with a bit more force this time, enough to get Claude off of him, Felix scowls. "Stop sounding so happy about my mouth being on fire!"

"I'm just happy I know you so well," Claude says, grinning as he makes his way over to the bed. "I called you perfectly." As he sits down alongside Hilda, she offers him the book she was reading earlier.

While Claude accepts the book, Felix picks up his quill again with a roll of his eyes. "Have you ever not?"

As a matter of fact, there were points in his life when he wasn't able to perfectly call Felix. Not yet, anyway, because he only knew him as the hardworking and distant heir to the Fraldarius name, who snapped at the man he was apparently supposed to protect and ignored every girl who looked his way. Maybe he's... worried, a bit, although one would never see it on his face with the soft way he's grinning down into the book he flips open. "We've been apart for months," he points out, "so knowing that it hasn't changed either of us that much is reassuring."

Hilda leans against his shoulder, making herself perfectly at home with a small hum. "Terrible taste," she murmurs again, teasing just like she did at the pool. It makes Claude smile.

Shaking his head when he catches wind of how touchy feely that they're getting, Felix gets back to writing properly. "It was only 'months'," he says, quill scratching along after a quick dip back in the inkpot. "We should be grateful for just that, I guess."

"We should," Claude agrees, adjusting himself so that he can use his free hand to begin gently stroking Hilda's hair. "But it didn't feel like 'only'."

Nights that dragged on. Antagonism by people who hated him like sandpaper on his skin. Thankless work that he could only hope would be seeds planting and spreading like a verdant wind across the land. Scraping up allies as best he could. Waking up in the middle of the night to a little noise that could be nothing or everything. Waiting, desperately, for Nader to come back with a letter from an entire country away...

There's a pause, no more nib scratching along paper. "No," Felix agrees quietly, "it didn't. Although I don't think I would have changed that much in just a few months. You're the one we were thinking about in terms of changing."

"But you're still you," Hilda says, leaning her head down against Claude's shoulder. "Felix might dance around it, but I'll say I'm pretty glad that nothing too much has really changed."

"Almyra tried to change me long before you guys ever met me," Claude assures them, settling his arm around Hilda to give her a slight squeeze. Platonic cuddling is severely underrated, he feels, but fortunately he has a perfect cuddling partner in the form of Hilda. She's never been unhappy about it. Then again, he loves the romantic kind, too, so maybe he's just a cuddler. "It wasn't going to be able to do anything when I came back that growing up here hadn't already done."

Cheek against his shoulder, Hilda points out, "Well, you are a king now. That's the kind of thing that can weigh on people, and change them. And, you know. That's just counting the responsibility, not the dysfunction that is your family situation."

"One good thing about Almyra is that being king isn't quite so formal or involved an affair as Fodlan," Claude says with a smile. "A lot of Almyra runs itself, and the king isn't necessarily doing much except deciding national policy and maintaining foreign relations... to whatever extent the king sees fit. Almyran lords don't need or want the level of say and oversight that, say, Fodlan nobles do with Fodlan royalty. Part of that is because our kings do less with their authority, and part of it is what we do have authority over tends to not interest other Almyrans, for whatever reason. Someone has to deal with diplomacy and bureaucracy, and your average Almyran warrior or farmer is just happy it's the king doing that instead of them.

"My primary function as king is sanctioning - or denying - attacks beyond our borders, and dictating our diplomatic relations." Claude closes his eyes. "That's why people don't like the idea of me - someone with Fodlan blood - on the throne, obstructing their interest in raiding Fodlan and causing needless war. Obviously that affects the warriors, who think that I'm cramping their style in terms of what kinds of fights they can have with who, which is both a source of Almyran pride and also practically a national pasttime. But it's not just them. My views also affect the blacksmiths and merchants who make weapons and armor, so of course they think that I'm interrupting with their livelihoods. A lot of the people who raise horses or wyverns around here also do so with the understanding that they may go out to war at some point, so they think I'm doing the same, although, well. It is Almyra. Horses and wyverns will always have a good home here. 

"Beyond that, there are other things I can affect, sure, but most of them aren't things any Almyran would be that bothered by or object to. If I declared a holiday or something, no one would object to that. It's not even that they think I'm a bad king. Most of them - even the ones who aren't actually warriors or haven't picked up a weapon in ages - just think that wanting peace and emphasizing diplomacy, especially with Fodlan, is deeply un-Almyran of me, and stands in the way of what most Almyrans want."

At his side, Hilda makes the smallest of death rattles, but not so much that she's interrupting him. "I thought the political talk would have happened over dinner with complete strangers, not here in your bedroom, Claude."

Claude sympathetically pats her head. "You knew what you were signing up for when you agreed to a diplomatic visit," he tells her, which is less sympathetic. Still... "Anyway, honestly some of those things are blessings in disguise. If I can convince them that there are other things to be proud of that they're already doing anyway, or to want something else that isn't just constant fighting with Fodlan, or that Fodlan isn't weak, I could actually win them over fairly easily. I just have to change their minds."

"That doesn't sound easy in the slightest, Claude."

While Hilda lightly elbows Claude in the side, no doubt for picking up what is admittedly a ridiculous amount of work even for people who aren't allergic to the concept, Felix's pen scratching kicks up again. "So they want you to be a bookworm, but are complaining about it," Felix says, doing his apparent best to have a conversation and write at the same time. Claude wonders how well that's working out. "Politics really are the same no matter where you go."

"That's the beauty of people," Hilda says sweetly, before looking back up at Claude and giving up on making him take better care of himself for now. This is because she has another tactic. "And so here we are, with you making a delicate flower such as myself fight big strong men."

That she can say things like that with a straight face is proof of just how amazing Hilda Valentine Goneril is.

Claude grins down at her. "Hilda, can you blame me for wanting to see a beautiful, delicate blossom such as yourself turn a burly Almyran warrior inside out?"

"I absolutely can," Hilda says, all serious, before she lets out a peal of laughter and wraps her arms around him. "You should help me pick out what dress I'm going to wear to the feast tomorrow. I need to make sure I have one that covers my arms."

That's enough to make Felix pause, and he looks over his shoulder at the two of them but mostly Hilda. "Why?"

"I don't want Claude's brothers to see them when I go over to have a friendly chat, of course," Hilda says, putting on the wide eyed look that has hoodwinked many a person back in Fodlan.


Claude pats her back. "I wouldn't worry, Hilda," he assures her. "Your arms look as slim and graceful as a bride's when you're not flexing." A grin flashes across his face. "So you can wear whatever you like, and still surprise them, if you can resist the urge to clench your fist around my family."

"But that's the question, isn't it?" Hilda sighs. "Although you'd think guys so obsessed with strength and machismo would know when to properly spot a strong person in turn... Then again, your other brother did trash talk Felix, and, well." She gestures at the Felix in question, radiating nothing less than a pure aura of combativeness both martial and just at life in general, a scowl firmly on his face.

It's a scowl that only intensifies as Hilda waves her hand in his direction. "What's that supposed to mean, exactly?"

"That anyone who can recognize strength and danger would never have challenged you in the first place," Claude tells him, chuckling.

Felix's narrowed eyes give away that he suspects he's still being messed with, but he turns away with a scoff regardless. "Bias blinds people. That's how Leonie got one over me once."

Hilda shakes her head, just as fond of everything about Felix Fraldarius as Claude is, before she looks up at him again. "Anyway, it wouldn't hurt to reaaally drive in what a soft rose I am. I look beautiful like that anyway, so it's a win-win."

"I don't see why you feel the need to do all this nonsense in the first place," Felix says, adding a few more lines to his letter. "Just fight someone and be done with it."

"Some of us like to plan things and not sweat, Felix. Anyway, make sure to point out your brothers, okay, Claude?"

Claude ducks his head with a laugh. "I should warn you I have a lot of brothers," he says, eyes glittering in amusement. "And none of them are such pushovers in the sparring ring that you won't sweat, Hilda, to say nothing of how hot it is here. You may just have to resign yourself to that one."

Groaning, Hilda turns her face into his shoulder. "Could you at least tell me if any of them are weak to pretty and beautiful girls, or having their ego stroked, or both at the same time?"

"Absolutely not," Claude says, and presses a teasing kiss to the top of her head. "I wouldn't want any of them taking a fancy to you."

"Awww, that's sweet. But it does make it harder for me to win a fight."

"I think you winning a fight is actually a marriage proposal or something," Felix says dryly. "At least here that seems like a possibility."

Claude looks over at him with a wink. "Not quite, no. But winning a fight against someone can be considered a show of one's worthiness as a suitor here, so it's not unheard of for the winner of a fight to propose to the loser. Consider it something like a popular romantic cliche, sort of like giving white rose garlands is in Fodlan. If it were an automatic proposal, sunshine, you'd be engaged to Afshin right now."

Pulling her head away from him, Hilda hides her giggles in one hand. She bursts into outright laughter when Felix turns in his seat and tells him deadpan, "Then I'd just say by that logic I'm already engaged to Dimitri."

Hilda's laughter is immediately joined by Claude's own. "We'd be able to see the smoke all the way from here, as Dimitri spontaneously caught fire!" Nose scrunched up from how much he's grinning, he looks down at his best friend. "But you know, all this talk about our love lives, and we haven't even heard about how yours is going, Hilda."

Laughter going down into giggles, Hilda flutters her eyelashes at him. "Very well. Honestly, if Dimitri hadn't told me who the new king of Almyra was, I would probably still be back home with the most beautiful woman in the world."

Claude bats his own eyelashes at her in turn. "Well, I'm incredibly lucky she chose to come here and see me instead." No one can say he doesn't know how to flatter his best friend. Sure, she doesn't fall for it, and they both know it, but putting in the effort gives it meaning in its own way.

He knows it hits because of the way Hilda laughs again, and hugs him all the tighter. "I was going to get back at you for not telling me you were royalty, but I think ice cream will make up for that," she says playfully. "And we can discuss how me, Felix, and who knows who else at this point will fit into your harem."

Just when he thought he could stop laughing. "As much as my harem would be uplifted by your presence in it," he says, eyes dancing with mirth, "we both know Marianne would be far too scandalized by the idea for that to ever work out. You'll just have to stay my harem wrangler, I'm afraid. But hey, at least it's a managerial position."

"A managerial position over Felix Fraldarius?" Hilda sighs, deadeyeing him dramatically. "Did I do something to hurt you, Claude?"

He gives her his sweetest smile. "Not at all. You're just the only other person besides Sylvain that I can think of who'd have any chance at it."

"It's genuinely incredible that you can say that after he arrived here and immediately challenged someone to a fight when I'd been talking about how nice it would be to rest for an entire day, it really is," Hilda grumbles poking his side.

"I don't hear you saying I'm wrong."

"You're wrong if I don't get ice cream as payment," she counters, putting on her most innocent wide eyed look. "I mean, if it's actually good."

Claude's chest rumbles with laughter. "Oh, so it doesn't count if it isn't? But you know I wouldn't promise you something and then not deliver, Hilda."

Hearing him laugh is enough to make Hilda smile as well. "Yeah, but I have to taste it first. That's just good business sense, isn't it?"

"This is business?" Claude presses a hand over his heart, playing up his faux betrayal. "I thought it was an informal agreement between friends."

"With Felix Fraldarius?" Hilda looks over to where the swordsman is still writing, now on a new sheet of paper. "It's business."

Felix doesn't even turn around. "Bite me."

As almost perfect punctuation, there's a knock at the door, and Claude perks up. "Ah, that should be the food." He detaches himself from Hilda, heading over to the door. "Hilda, get Felix to clear that table over there, would you?" Sure, he could ask Hilda to do it, or tell Felix himself, but telling Hilda to delegate a task is like telling a fish to swim.

Behind his back, he can already hear Hilda speaking to Felix with a beaming smile near audible in her tone. "You wanted to try that spicy curry, didn't you, Felix?"

Felix's chair is already scraping against the floor, and there's footsteps indicating him stepping away. "This would go faster if you got over here, Goneril," he says, and Claude highly suspects Felix is pointing a finger at her. Despite his words, however, Felix sounds as though he's already moving over to the table that Claude indicated. No doubt the two of them have gone over this song and dance a million times before, on the way through Almyra and a little bit before.

"Has that ever worked with her?" Claude asks, laughing softly with his hand resting on his door handle.

"No, that's why I move onto threats."

Soft laughter promptly becomes the louder kind, and Claude has to bite it back as he opens the door just enough to take the wheeled cart that one of the servants has brought up. It's loaded up pretty heavily, just like he asked for. Even from under the tray covers, a number of fragrant spices begin to perfume the room. He's not really thinking about them so much, although he welcomes the familiar scent gladly. He's more preoccupied about closing the door behind him to seal away his privacy, and his food and company.

It's only when Hilda speaks up that he looks over. "Oh wow," she says, and he focuses in on where she's straightened up on his bed. Felix has his head tilted back, books in his hand and nose in the air, taking a few sniffs. "I'd like to think you did this all for us, but this is probably normal here, huh?"

A moment has to pass for Claude to realize what's got them sniffing about like hounds, but when he realizes, he grins. "A lot of it is, but I may have gone overboard for you two," he says with a wink, wheeling the card over to their table. It's a comfy little space, especially as Felix steadily clears books off of it. Since it's for his own private use, there are no chairs, and instead it's kept low to the ground where pillows are used as seats instead. Brilliant geometric patterns make up the surface of it, and trail down to its legs. Claude loves it, and he loves even more how it looks with food spread on it. "So does that mean you guys are hungry?"

"Claude, we've traveled all day," Hilda says, hopping off of the bed so that she can trail behind him as he pushes the cart. It's pretty obvious that she's trying to sneak a peek of just what delectable goodies could be waiting for her.

Felix is about as patient, waiting over by the table closest to where Claude stops the cart. "I can't believe you're asking me that after I fought your brother and then went swimming for hours," he says, having dumped the books to the side just so that they're out of the way.

Really now. "I was teasing, not genuinely wondering," Claude says and rolls his eyes before he picks up one of the trays. It's going to take a bit for him to transfer all of them to the table, but he'll manage. "Maybe you guys are too hungry to recognize jokes... That could be serious."

Before he can pick up another tray, Hilda gently takes him by the cheeks and turns his head so that he's facing her. "All day, Claude," she says mournfully. "I'm dying. I was so excited when we got here because I thought we could eat right away, and then Felix got into a fight."

"I'm not apologizing," Felix mutters, and the scrape of metal against plate draws both their attention over to the swordsman.  He's apparently uncovered some of the rice that's going to be a plentiful part of the meal, and the unleashed smell gently warms up the cool evening air.

Claude takes advantage of the distraction to slip out of Hilda's grip, and grins as he takes another and very particular tray. "If you think that's nice, wait until you see this," he tells Felix, admiring the way Felix just drinks in the smell of the rice. It's just the plain stuff, for now, so that they can use with some of the other foods, or as something to help calm down their mouths if juice won't seem to do the trick.

Of course... He says that rather confidently, which is on purpose. Claude tries not to sound like anything else. However, in his heart? It's going a mile a minute as he picks up the tray. Claude says a little prayer in the back of his head. Hey, Teach had clearly had an experience with some sort of divine entity, maybe, probably, so he has a chance of being heard, right? And he could really use that right now as he positions the tray - and flips it over.

He's taken shots with his bow that made him less nervous. Done backflips while his wyvern was mid-flight. Talked people out of killing him. All of those are preferable to him flipping this damn plate... and he could almost die from relief when the tray moves away to reveal bread stacked perfectly on top of the rice.

It's relief that doesn't last particularly long when he has to do it two more times.

Yet he was apparently born with some damn lucky stars in the sky the night of his birth. The other plates are presented just as perfectly, and Claude hides his sigh of relief while glancing over at Hilda and Felix. Neither of them have noticed a single thing. Instead, they're both staring down at the rice with hungry appreciation and fascination. It's almost possible to see the cat ears from Felix's head, twitching in curiosity. "Ooooh," Hilda says, intrigued. "Is the rice naturally like that, or was something put in?"

"Saffron," Claude says, allowing himself a smile. With the most tricky of the trays properly revealed, he goes back to transferring more trays to the table. "It's a popular spice here in Almyra - made from the stamens of a certain flower. As far as I know, it's pretty much unheard of outside of Almyra. The flowers only grow here, and we don't do a whole lot of trade with it. That's partly because my predecessors didn't really work to establish much trade, preferring to make our wealth through what we have here in Almyra already or through simple plunder, depending on the individual lords.

"However, it's also because of a lack of reputation outside of Almyra, and its being hard to gather in any large quantity. If we did trade it, it'd be pretty expensive. And, well, who's going to trade for an expensive spice hardly anyone knows about, much less specifically wants? There's no established market." Claude shrugs, and finishes putting all the trays down. Now all that's left is to remove the covers.

With each tray, more smells begin to spread throughout his room. Every dish has its own heady aroma, and Hilda closes her eyes to take in a deep breath through her nose. "That would explain the beautiful yellow color," she murmurs.

It is a beautiful yellow, and Claude marvels at it even as he removes the next tray cover. But still, there's plenty of other food to appreciate. "A lot of the meats go well with rice, or on it - especially anything in a sauce - which is why there's so much of the rice there. But definitely try it by itself, too, so you can taste the saffron." It's to wonderful a flavor to miss out on.

Felix has his eyes closed too, and it might not entirely be just to enjoy the smells he's taking in, spice and meat and all. "If someone could figure out a way to start farming it properly... that would open up a lot."

For a swordsman who's self-proclaimed that he's only good for his sword, not tactics or economy or anything else, it's a rather thoughtful statement. Perhaps it's just a good consequence of the war's effects slowly settling down in Fodlan. Maybe he's finally growing close enough to his father to take in these sorts of lessons that will be valuable to him when he's finally a duke himself, or he's just been hanging around Dimitri more and has heard his struggles. Either way, Claude sits down at the table between the two of them and smiles at Felix.

As Hilda said: it's not as easy as he's making it sound. But if he can just get to any of those steps leading up to it... Claude smiles as he starts heaping portions onto the plates. They'll get there. They'll start taking those steps in that direction. He really believes that, and he thinks that just the fact he can have Hilda and Felix here today is a good sign of a good future.

But in the present happening right now... Claude's grin gets maybe a little too wide. "Any curry for you, Hilda?" he asks, eyes sparkling mischievously. "Or just for our resident masochist?"

Dragging her gaze away from the mini feast spread out before all of them, Hilda presses a hand delicately to her chest. "Oh, I wouldn't want to rob him of the food he's been looking forward to so much."

Snapping out of his thoughts, Felix opens his eyes to narrow slits as he glances over at her. "So I'm a guinea pig?" he snorts.

All Hilda does is flutter her eyelashes, and Claude laughs. "If you'll take my advice," he says with a wink, "if either of you are going to try the curry, save it until the very end of the meal. They're going to bring up the ice cream later than everything else, so it doesn't melt while we're eating hot food. Ice cream's actually great for cooling off a hot mouth after you've had something spicy."

Felix huffs, because he doesn't know the concept of anything less than impatient masochism, but he nods anyway. "Nothing else here would help with the spice?" he asks, settling down. On his other side, Hilda is already on the move, picking up a dolmeh with her fingertips and cooing at the weight of it.

"The drinks might, a bit," Claude says, right as he's picking up some cups and a hefty pitcher from the tray. That should be everything, he thinks, and he starts pouring for the two of them. The drink is a thick, rosy-yellow liquid that looks more like nectar than juice. When he passes the cups over, Hilda drinks in the sweet and tropical scent almost more than the liquid while Felix wrinkles his nose. "But really, dairy is the best for cutting spice. Milk or ice cream works wonders. Bread isn't too bad either, but since we have the tahdig, I didn't have them give us any..."

Picking up a fork, Felix dryly says, "The more you know." Hilda has already beaten him to the punch, taking a bite of the dolmeh in her hands with her eyes closed, so he presses his fork through the bread on the tahdig in order to get that and a good forkful of rice. "So are these your favorite foods in Almyra?"

"Some of them." Claude smiles, drawing up his own fork into his hand. "Definitely the tahdig and the curry, especially together... Although to be honest, normally when you have curry and rice together, there's not too much point in seasoning the rice, because the curry will overwhelm it. I had them make saffron rice so you could eat it on its own if you like, or with some of the milder dishes. It'll go with the curry fine too, but the saffron flavor will be kind of wasted there."

On one side, Hilda makes a soft noise of delight as she takes in that dolmeh flavor, and Claude's smile only grows wider. Still, he should just let her enjoy it... and Felix, although he glances over to her with a quirked up eyebrow, is still trying to scoop up as much of the rice as he can on his fork. A part of him is kind of anxious about the reaction his lover will have as well...

Keeping busy is the best way to fight against anxiety, Claude has found, so he points over to another food. "This dish here, the chicken stew with pomegranates and walnuts? It's a pretty luxurious dish that tends to be reserved for special occasions. It's incredible, so I'd definitely call that a favorite as well. As for the drinks... Apricot nectar is one of my favorites as well."

"Pampering us, huh?" Felix asks, and Claude just winks, because of course he's pampering them. It's been far too long since he's gotten to see them all, and during a time of peace instead of war. To be able to do this... Before he can even bother deciding if he wants to explain all of that, Felix takes a bite of his tahdig. All it takes is a couple of chews before his eyebrows rise, and he makes a surprise noise of pleasure.

Opposite of him, Hilda is in very much the same position as she leans back with a delighted sigh. "Claude, this isn't fair."

Deep in his chest, a warmth blossoms like the first kiss of a spring sun, and Claude couldn't smile any wider if he tried. "You like it?" he asks, maybe a little more genuine and eagerly earnest than he ever really shows most of the time. He can't help it. He's wanted to share his homeland with the people he's loved for years, and now that he has that chance... He knows they can't like everything, of course, and can entirely handle whatever might not be to their tastes, but seeing them enjoy the same things he does, the things he's wanted them to try... It's wonderful.

A part of him suspects the genuine and deep nature of these feelings doesn't escape his best friend. Hilda leans against his shoulder, a smile on her own lips. "It's incredible," she tells him. "I'm torn between savoring every bite, and devouring it all. I'm telling you, it's unfair."

On the other side of him, underneath the table, Felix's hand searches out for his and squeezes down when he finds it. Claude squeezes back. "I'm kind of surprised about the taste, honestly," Felix says. "Although I guess it's not a surprise considering I've never had these ingredients before."

"The good news is that there's plenty to go around," Claude says, nudging Hilda's shoulder with his own and a grin. "So you can always do both and go to town."

"You cannot do both," Hilda says, all dramatic and faux seriousness before she breaks it with a laugh. She has more important things to do, like finishing up the dolmeh she'd started on in the first place.

In contrast, Felix leaves his tahdig alone, and starts to push his spoon into the stew next. The kind of person who likes to try out everything before making a plan of attack, so to speak. "Dimitri will love the food here, too," he murmurs to Claude, punctuating the sentence with a soft blow to his spoonful. "He loves going to Derdriu, with the recommendations you gave him in that letter."

Claude glances over at Felix, eyebrows raised. "Is it your turn to be a mind-reader?" he asks, a slight smile on his lips. Felix has often accused him of being it before, when all he's done is simply observed and remembered things. Maybe he's starting to learn those traits for things other than battle as well. "But I guess the bar's set pretty low when he can't taste it."

"But he can smell it," Felix counters, getting a good bit of meat in his spoonful of stew. "I'm pretty sure this one meal has more aroma in it than an entire Faerghan feast. He'll like that."

Well... "That's true," Claude concedes, allowing a smile to return to his face. "And who knows - I've always privately wondered if maybe Almyran spices would kick his tongue into working again. This could be a chance to try it."

"That would be something..." Felix doesn't entirely sound like he believes it, but that's fine. Claude knows it's a long shot in the dark as well. Instead, he focuses on the Faerghan who's actually in front of him, and how he takes a bit of his stew. A small intrigued noise leaves him, and he tilts his head to the side. "Some of these... are just a little sweet, huh?"

"That's the pomegranate," Claude says, trying to remember if it grew naturally in Fodlan. Certainly not Faerghus, but the continent as a whole...? "It's a fruit. Probably not one you've seen in Fodlan." Probably. "I'll have to let you try one while you're here - they're definitely a strange experience if you're used to things like apples. But they have a great flavor."

For a moment, Felix closes his eyes, and doesn't chew. He just takes in the flavor, letting it settle on his tongue. "I don't hate it," he says at last. "Which is something. But it's not an overwhelming or bothersome sort of sweetness."

Oh yeah; Lysithea is definitely going to hate him for making progress on the war against Felix and his dislike of sweet desserts. "There's definitely a bit of tartness to them," he says with a nod. "That's why they're good in sauces, sweet or savory. It just depends on how you balance the flavors." It's when Hilda starts working on her stew in curiosity as well does Claude realize that he should... probably start serving himself, too. The process is a little awkward, but that can't be helped. He's doing it one handed, after all.

The alternative is letting go of Felix's hand, and he doesn't want that at all.

Unfortunately, it's the kind of thing that's pretty easy to spot, and Hilda's eyes glitter in amusement over her spoon as she watches his efforts. "Do you need help, Claude?" she teases. "Clearly you're facing some difficulties right now, like letting go of your boyfriend's hand."

Felix scowls, a furious pink overtaking his face all over again now that he's been caught. "Be quiet."

Fortunately, Claude abandoned his shame a long time ago, and he grins at her. "I wouldn't mind, as a matter of fact."

"Well, tell me what you want then!" Although she doesn't get started right away. Instead, she makes sure to put down her spoon, and get a quick sip of her drink to no date keep her content as she works.

Felix huffs, and pulls some of the fish a little bit closer to him. There's no doubt in anyone's minds that he'll like that, after all. "You know, I have a feeling I would have been driven up the wall if I'd been in your two's house back in school."

"Probably," Claude says with a wink. "Although we might have started dating a lot sooner, too, so who knows? It could have balanced out." But then Hilda is leaning across the table to get some of the tongs and spoon in her hands, so he turns his attention back to her. He already has a pretty good idea of what he wants, and how much of it, so directing her is a pretty simple affair. Soon enough, satisfied, he sits back and spears some of the curried meat - beef in this case - and then scoops up some rice. His bite is accompanied by a sigh of pure contentment.

It is also accompanied by some commentary from the peanut gallery. "So we'll die if we go for the curry first but not you, is that it?" Felix scoffs, even as he takes a quick bite of his fish. He clearly likes it, harsh features softening, but he goes back to finish what he already has on his plate - mostly the rice and stew.

"I'm used to it," Claude says mildly, tone completely at odds with the heat rolling across his tongue and along the inside of his cheeks. He takes another bite. "I grew up with it, after all. The drink will be enough for me, although the ice cream will be nice when we have it."

That just draws out an annoyed noise on Felix's end, and Hilda ducks her head down a little bit to laugh as she plops back into her seat. "You always were the most impatient guy in all of Garreg Mach, Felix."

"And you've always talked too much," Felix informs her. It's probably not the first time he's said this to Hilda on this trip, and definitely not the first time he's said this to another person. "I just want to see what it's like. I don't see what's wrong with that."

Claude lets out a breath, partially to relax from the heat he's enjoying, partially because he loves Felix's nonsense so much it's hard to put into words. And trust him, he's tried. "Well, I mean, you should try everything else first, just as a precaution," he chuckles. "But after that... I'm not exactly going to stop you if you want to go for it. I gave you my honest, well-intention advice, but you're not required to listen."

"But then won't I look like an ass when it backfires?" Felix huffs, eyes narrowed over at Claude like a particularly fussy cat. "I'll finish everything else first. Besides, I'm not so ungrateful that I would leave my plate unfinished."

"You're the one who's grumpy that he can't eat it now." Claude's eyes are positively sparkling. "Are you more impatient, or more worried about looking silly? That's something only you can call, sunshine."

"Ugh," Felix says succinctly while Hilda muffles her laughter with more rice. "I'm not worried about looking silly."

Claude grins broadly. "Oh? What would you describe it as, then?"

He gets a scowl for his trouble. "It's about looking like a jackass."

"And you would describe this feeling of reluctance and trepidation at the thought of looking like a jackass as...?" Claude circles his hand through the air idly, the universal gesture for Felix to finish that sentence.

Felix looks at him head on. "Common sense," he stresses.

Wheezing in a sharp burst of laughter as a last ditch attempt to stop it, Hilda almost starts to choke on her food. Claude would help, but, well... He doesn't even try to hold in his own reaction. He just starts laughing quietly, hunching over his plate. That Hilda is trying so hard to restrain herself just makes it all funnier. 

Felix makes a disgusted noise and jabs his elbow into Claude's ribs. "You're both pains," he announces, stabbing his fist as Hilda starts to laugh in earnest - no doubt because of Claude laughing so freely too.

All that does is make Claude laugh harder. "I love you so much," he manages to eventually wheeze out.

That burning pink makes its appearance on Felix's cheeks again, even when he elbows Claude in the side once more. It doesn't really mean anything, honestly. Not when he follows it up with a mumbled, "I love you too."

No matter how many times he hears those simple little words, Claude never gets tired of them. Wiping the mirthful tears from his eyes, he gives one last laugh before letting out a long breath and relaxing. All that laughter has done nothing more than make him all the hungrier. So, with one more squeeze of Felix's hand, Claude picks up his spoon again so he can get back to eating.

Everything that he's put down on the table is something he enjoys, after all. It would be a damn shame to just forget it, even if the reason is because of how much he's amused and loved by his lover. So it's kind of a surprise, after a few minutes of this, when Hilda asks, "Dying, Claude?"

He blinks. "Me?" he asks, looking to her. He can't feel off, but, then, maybe she's just seeing something he isn't. "No, why?"

Hilda opens her mouth, no doubt to tease or say something coy. Unfortunately, she's dining with one Felix Fraldarius, and he just cuts to the chase. "You're sweating," he says bluntly, and then squints a bit. "And red, I think."

"Oh." Now that they're actually saying it out loud like that, Claude gains a sudden awareness of the heat flush throughout his body, and the perspiration that's gathered along his forehead. Reaching up, he wipes it away and grins. "Yeah, that just happens when you eat food that's spicy enough, even if you like that amount of spice. Your body still reacts the same way. Spice is really just a form of heat, so it warms you up."

"That sounds a little bit more like torture than food, you know," Hilda points out, sighing around a forkful of fish. "Have fun, Felix."

"I'll survive, thanks."

"It's not torture if you enjoy it," Claude says around a mouthful of rice. Another grin. "It's masochism. You know the word, Hilda, don't pretend you don't. You keep using it for Felix."

She bats her eyelashes innocently. "Oh, so you admit to being a masochist," she says sweetly. "Then definitely have fun, Felix."

Felix points his fork accusingly at her, looking like he's going to overheat not from the sun this time, but his own embarrassment. "I'm going to throw you off of Claude's balcony," he threatens.

"Mori would catch her," Claude says, grinning as he thinks about his wyvern. "He likes to sleep under my balcony at night, at least when it's not too cold."

Hilda beams, and Felix sends that annoyed glare over to Claude instead. "Does Mori usually catch your friends when they get thrown off your balcony?" he asks dryly.

"Mori tends to catch anything that messes around on my balcony at night," he says mildly, something a few  of his less intelligent assassins have had to learn the hard way.

Trust Hilda to understand those implications immediately, and to treat them as casually as ever as she leans back in her seat. "MORI!" she yells, hands cupped around her mouth. "You better remember who I am!"

After a few moments, there's a low rumbling sort of sound - a wyvern's hum. Claude has heard crocodiles make similar noises, in other parts of Almyra. Wyverns have no trouble growling, snarling, or roaring if they want to, and Claude has learned that hums such as that are generally sounds of relaxation, pleasure, and even friendliness.

Hilda learned that a long time ago too, thanks to working alongside him in the Alliance. She settles back into her seat, perfectly satisfied. "He remembers me," she announces to the table, and goes back to her food.

Leaving some of his rice alone now and moving onto other foods, Felix glances over at the balcony. "You know, besides when I was at Garreg Mach for either school or war, I never got much of a chance to deal with wyverns..." And even then, Claude is pretty sure that Felix's interactions with them were about as minimal as they were with horses.

"Well, while you're here, I'm taking you flying," Claude says, absolutely certain of that fact. "So you'll get to make friends with Mori then."

Felix eyes the curry again. "I'd ask if wyverns make friends, but Hilda apparently proved that point already," he says, dragging his gaze away from his food challenge so that he can go back to the fish. "I know wyverns are a big part of Almyran culture, but how do you go about training one? I could tell you how to deal with a new horse, but I'm not sure how much of that, if anything, would apply to a wyvern."

"It's different for me than for most wyvern riders," Claude admits. "White wyverns are raised with their rider from childhood, since they're reserved for royalty. I almost taught him just by being around him so much, rather than any specific techniques. They can learn by observation of other riders too, especially when they're young."

A nod, Felix chewing on his fish some more as he considers the answer. "Is there any difference between them and the average wyvern, besides color?" Felix asks, after he swallows.

There's something warm that tickles the inside of his ribs; Claude can recognize it without trying. Who wouldn't be pleased about their lover wanting to learn more about something he's so passionate about? "They tend to be a little bigger, and significantly more maneuverable in the air," Claude explains, and winks. "Though personally I think that's not so much a breed thing as a natural selection thing. Before the royal families of Almyra found and began breeding the first royal white wyvern, imagine the complications of being white out in the wild. And once we did tame them... Well, it isn't just for the aesthetics that we ride white wyverns. A white wyvern stands out on the battlefield. It invites targeting, especially when you're obviously leading your side of the battle. So a white wyvern needs to be doubly fast and responsive in combat, and the rider needs to be superb, or both of them are likely to be taken down."

Claude looks over to the balcony with a smile. Now that he's momentarily stopped speaking, he thinks he can hear the faintest sounds of Mori adjusting himself in his spot underneath the balcony. There's always a comfort in knowing that his longest friend is always right out there, protecting him.

"Beyond that, though," he says, turning to look back at Hilda and Felix, "there's not much difference." Wyverns are a rather uncomplicated animal, as far as Claude knows. It's a nice thing about them.

Hilda hums idly, taking a sip of her drink. "If I didn't know better about Almyran culture, Claude," she says, "then, why, I would almost think that standing out on the battlefield is something done on purpose."

That makes him laugh. "Oh, yeah, it's definitely deliberate, very much so," he says with a wink.

"With the things you've told me they demand of you, that's not a surprise either," Felix comments dryly, before moving on. "So does that mean you've only ever used Mori as a mount? Or at least when flying."

It's a good thing he clarifies, or else he'd get to hear about Claude's horse named Wyvern, and Claude can only delightfully imagine what face he'd make at that. He's spared for tonight; Claude will make sure to get him with that one at a later time. For now, he shrugs. "I've ridden other wyverns before, briefly. My father used to have me ride other wyverns in front of Mori when we were both little, to give Mori an idea of what he was supposed to learn how to do. It got him worked up, too! He'd get upset to see me ride off without him.

"It actually helped him fly for the first time - because he wanted to follow enough that he kept trying. And then once he could fly, he wanted me on him, not some other wyvern. That's the benefit of being raised with your wyvern - they develop enough of a bond with you that they want to be with you, and that makes them want to learn to be ridden by you. And they're smart enough that if they want to learn something, they generally will."

Hilda listens to that little childhood tale with a bit more fondness than some of the others he's told her in the past, twirling her fork inbetween her fingers as she savors the latest bite of what she's had. "That's actually pretty cute," she says, "and that's a pretty big goal to clear for a giant flying death lizard. Anyway, why all the questions, Felix? Thinking of taking up wyvern riding?"

"I mean, I've never tried it." Felix shrugs, finishing up his fish. "I suspect I'll probably still prefer to fight on my own two feet, but just riding might appeal to me better than with horses. Who knows."

Considering his lover and his own love of flying, Claude chuckles. "It depends on your opinion of heights, which we'll find out once I take you up. Even some Almyrans opt not to be wyvern riders due to heights messing with them. They don't exclusively make up our cavalry or foot soldiers, but there's a decent number of those types in both groups. As long as you're a good fighter in your chosen area, being afraid of heights isn't looked down on, even here."

"I'm not afraid of heights," Felix says, almost before Claude can finish his sentence.

Claude grins. "Is that something you know, or something you're saying on reflex?"

"I've climbed trees and things like that before," Felix says, in an attempt to argue. Hilda is already shaking her head at him.

"Felix," she sighs, "flying on a wyvern is nothing like climbing a tree."

"She's right," Claude says. "There's basically no comparison. You don't need to speculate on how you'll handle it before you've ever tried it, though."

Felix sulks around a spoonful of stew, but doesn't argue. At least, he doesn't argue exactly. "...When should we go flying, then?" he asks after a moment.

That's a good question. Fortunately, Claude thought about the answer long before this, and he smiles at his lover. "Tomorrow, maybe? It'll be nice. It can help you cool down in the middle of the day, too - the air movement and being higher up where it's cooler will help you when you're hot." It's one of the many reasons why wyvern riding is so popular in Almyra. Certainly there's the thrill of riding and diving, the advantages that come with having a mount that's tough and can fly... But any chance to get a little cooler isn't a bad one, at least for some people. A benefit of something he suspects that his people were going to do anyway.

Beneath the table, Felix's fingers intertwine with his. "Think we can get away with it when that's supposed to be the day of our 'official' greeting?" Felix asks.

"I can excuse it as showing off the city from above," Claude says, a sparkle in his eyes. "Besides, what good is being king if I can't take a little liberty like that with you?"

"Then I won't argue." Having finished off everything of substance in his bowl of stew, Felix picks up the bowl itself and starts taking it down the good old fashioned way. It's the kind of thing that would be looked down in a fancy Fodlan dinner. But on the field of battle, huddled around a campfire? Here in Almyra, where such open signs of pleasure is a compliment to the person responsible, like the chef? It's more than fine. Claude wonders if he'll do the same at tomorrow's feast. Licking his lips, Felix looks over to him. "Alright. I'm done with everything else. Now is it advisable for me to eat the curry?"

Claude grins. "Sure. The ice cream should be up any minute, and you've got a drink to tide you over until it gets here. Do you want to try it on the rice like mine, or by itself?"

Taking a slightly slower and more indulgent speed with her food, Hilda leans back to enjoy what is undoubtedly going to be an amusing little show. Well aware of her quietly laughing at him, Felix just looks over at the curry. "Is there a reason I shouldn't try it by itself?"

"Not really." Claude shrugs. "It just tends to be something you ladle over something else - like rice. It's not required, in the same way you don't need to eat meat and potatoes together, but one often enhances the other." A teasing grin starts to spread over his lips. "Mind you, depending on how bad the spice gets to you, you might not appreciate the finger details..."

Definitely not one for the finer details on anything that isn't a bladed weapon, Felix shrugs. "Then I'll try it on its own first, and then with rice. We'll see if it's enough to make me like a sweet drink like this." He flicks his finger against his cup with a light tap.

"Felix, please don't die from being stubborn," Hilda says, taking a sip from the very same sweet drink that Felix is so averse to. "Who else will fight Claude's brothers if you do?"

Felix dead eyes Hilda, even as he picks up a spoon. "You could try."

"Oh, but I wouldn't be as good." She flutters her eyelashes demurely.

"I want to joke that you might be better, but I think Felix would vault over the table and challenge us both to a duel if I did," Claude says, and laughs at the way Felix is already leaning forward.

For further emphasis, he jabs his spoon forward. "If you're going to say something like that, then you need to back it up," he says with a scowl and a snort. "There's nothing wrong with that." With that very important statement made, Felix eases back into his seat and begins ladling curry onto his plate. While he doesn't get a teensy little amount, he's more level headed than Claude would have guessed at. No doubt it has something to do with what he said before: he's the kind of person who isn't so disrespectful that he won't clean his plate. If he gets too much, and he doesn't like it, then he might have to fail that self-made goal.

With curry retrieved, he takes a slightly bigger spoonful as if to make up for his choice in how much he's put on his plate. There's no hesitation, no dancing around it. He just takes a bite, simple as that. Claude watches him with a distinct interest, a small smile on his lips. He doesn't say anything, not yet. He wants to see exactly how it plays out... and how it plays out is a slow burn.

Maybe across a crowded room, at another table, Claude wouldn't notice the slight jiggle of Felix's leg against his, or how his lover tilts his head down ever so slightly. They're tiny little gestures, inconsequential if one isn't right there to know what's going on. Despite the red burning along his cheeks, down to his throat, Felix doesn't stop... At least, not until he takes a second bite, and then he has to push himself up from the table. Fists clenched at his sides, he turns away, pacing over to the balcony with his sandals smacking aggressively against the floor. When he makes a sharp about turn, it's with just as much aggression, hand rubbing at his face. "Is it supposed to cause pain?" he demands, and Hilda snorts into her hand. Despite his words, however, Felix still picks up his spoon, and goes for another bite.

"That's like asking if training until your muscles ache is supposed to hurt," Claude chuckles. "It might hurt, but there are people who actually enjoy that. Get satisfaction and pleasure out of it."

"This is what you get called a masochist," Felix murmurs around his third bite of curry, this one with some rice to accompany it. His cheeks are a splotchy red as he fills them with the food, but he doesn't seem to have any intention of stopping. In fact... As he finally swallows, Felix flicks his tongue over his lips. "...It really is good with rice."

Pride swells in his chest, and up into his voice. "Of course. You didn't think I would steer you wrong, did you?"

Hilda laughs a little. "So I'm going to take this as confirmation that Felix Fraldarius is just as much of a masochist as you are," she says, sipping leisurely at her drink. She seems in far less of a rush to try the curry, and definitely has no aversion to the sweetness of her drink.

"I never minded spicy things back in Fodlan either, you know," Felix says, scrubbing at his eyes hastily. It doesn't really hide the way he's tearing up from the spice, but it's a good effort. "Although it seems kind of foolish to call those spicy now."

"I was gonna say, I looked for spice in Fodlan and didn't find much." Claude laughs. "Most of what I did find was in Alliance territory. Probably from some minor trade and and pillaging and cultural mixing on the border between it and Almyra. But I never found any evidence any real heat made it as far into the heart of Fodlan as Faerghus." Shaking his head, Claude goes for another bite of curry himself.

Felix looks at them flatly. "What are you talking about? We have pepper."

All that delicious food Claude had just put into his mouth promptly evacuates it, scattering across his plate a little bit of the table before he can slam his hand over his lips. Besides him, Hilda chokes, her own fingers a little quicker where they cover her mouth... and, unfortunately, her nose, leaving her a sopping mess as she starts wheezing out laughter alongside him.

Gods. He loves Felix so much.

"So what do you think?" he asks Felix, voice slightly raspy from when he'd had to forcefully swallow his bite before any more of it could go flying further. "How will Sylvain and Dimitri handle that? Or Hilda, for that matter?"

"Hilda will die, if she was complaining about this already," Felix snorts, before he flicks his tongue over his spoon to gather up a bit more curry left on it. "The boar will probably like it, because he likes anything. Sylvain... might die. We'll see."

Claude hums. "Hilda complains about a lot of things she's plenty tough enough to handle, just because she doesn't want to have to handle them," he says dismissively. I don't think her complaining says much about whether or not she could do it." He grins sidelong at her. "I guess the main question is whether or not she'll try."

Sighing dramatically, Hilda daintily cleans up her mouth with a napkin. "I'll wait until the ice cream gets here," she tells him. "I want an immediate reward for my suffering."

All Claude does is laugh, and then he looks back over to Felix. "You're handling it well," he says with a pleased surprise, watching as Felix continues to work on his curry. "You really like it?"

Felix stops rolling his eyes at their antics. "It's setting my mouth on fire," he tells Claude, right as he sinks his spoon in again. "If it were worse, I'd probably fight you. But I don't mind it like this."

"It sounds like he's fighting his food," Hilda comments. "No wonder he likes it."

Claude chuckles again. "I'm just happy he likes it," he says, eyes shining. And he really is serious about that sentence. That Felix likes the food in Almyra... is something that warms him almost more than the curry. Or maybe in just a better way. Before he can say anything else on that, there's a knock on the door almost as if it's on cue, and Claude straightens up. "Well, Hilda, that'd be the ice cream." His grin is maybe a bit much. He just can't help it. "I hope you're ready."

Groaning, Hilda rests her cheek in one hand. "If I die from spice overload, I really will haunt you, you know."

"It's not that bad," Felix says, actively burning up and all the more obvious for it with how pale his skin is.

Walking towards the door again, Claude speaks over his shoulder. "You'll be better off than Felix either way." And with that, he retrieves the next cart, in very much the same way as the first one. In contrast, however, the dessert cart is much smaller than the one that brought the mountain of a feast into his room. It only really has enough room for a few bowls, the silverware, and, of course, the ice cream itself.

On the main tray lays an enormous bowl, made of metal and filled with ice. On top of the ice is a smaller bowl, and in the smaller bowl is where the ice cream itself lies. There are nine scoops in total, portraying three different colors split evenly amongst the scoops. Each of the colors is unique, standing out from the others with little issue: one golden, one pale green, and the last a soft pink color not too unlike Hilda's hair. Of course, it wouldn't be ice cream if they didn't have some toppings - although maybe Claude is biased in thinking that. The pink ice cream is bare of anything at all, but the other two don't share that little trait. Both the golden and the green ice cream have crumbles of note sprinkled over them, although both are different types. Claude has had them so many times in his life, both as a child and now as a king, that he's more than familiar with them at this point.

He's glad to see that they don't seem to be melting yet. The desert night has long since settled over the city with a smooth quickness. Felix and Hilda can't complain about it anymore; it should be around the same temperature as being indoors in Fhirdiad.

Not that either of them seem to care about temperature right now... As Claude wheels over the cart, Hilda perks up, and even Felix leans over for a curious glance despite having a spoon full of curry still sticking out of his mouth. "I've never seen texture like that before," the latter murmurs around his spoon.

At long last, Hilda begins spooning curry onto her own plate now that her 'reward' is in immediate sight. "You have to tell us the flavors, Claude, because I couldn't even begin to guess."

Claude grins. "Don't worry, I wasn't going to leave you in suspense." Picking up a spoon, he begins to point at the different scoops of ice cream. "This is pistachio ice cream, topped with, well, more pistachios. The pink ice cream is pink rose flavor, made from rose water - we use rose water in a lot of our dishes here. And the gold ice cream is saffron, rose water, and pistachio all mixed together, topped with... hm." Spoon drooping, Claude squints. "You know what, I can't tell what kind of nuts. Almonds or pecans or something, it doesn't really matter. Any of them will be delicious." He brightens up and winks. "The gold is probably the most popular ice cream flavor in Almyra, since it mixes in all of our favorite things together." As he lets that sink in, Claude adds after a moment, "Oh, and just so you know, there's actual chunks of cream mixed in  with the ice cream to make it even creamier and richer."

Hilda leans back with a groan, head rolling back with the movement. "I want to try that now instead of dying..."

"Just eat and it won't be a problem," Felix reports, already having mowed through the majority of his curry - a sight that Claude is more than happy to see. "So do we share from the same bowl, or what?"

"Don't worry, we've got some bowls," Claude says, fetching the very same so that he can put them down on the table alongside everything else. They've really gotten through all of the food he had prepared for them... It's hard to not smile at the sight of it. Before passing the bowls over to them right away, however, he starts to levy out the ice cream - a scoop of each flavor for both of them (and obviously himself as well).

On one side of him, Hilda takes a deep breath and straightens out her back with both hands slowly lowering through the air as though she's preparing herself for some great undertaking. Well, with the level of spice that she's about to introduce herself to, maybe that's not too far off. On the other side of him, Felix bends over to promptly scarf down the rest of his curry, his tongue's ability to function be damned. When he straightens up, his gaze flicks over the bowl that Claude has just placed down in front of him, and then up at Claude himself. "What's your favorite flavor?" he asks.

"The saffron," Claude says without an inch of hesitation, smiling at Felix. "I will say that the pink rose might be a little sweet for your tastes."

"Pink things usually are," Felix comments dryly, poking at the pink scoop with some skepticism. Honestly, Felix is probably right there, or at least when it comes to his encounters with things in the past. Claude definitely noticed more than a few sweet baked goods done up all in pink during his time in Fodlan... Before he can reminisce any further, or Felix can poke a hole through his scoop of rose ice cream, a miserable moan draws both of their gazes.

That would be Hilda - one hand pressed over her mouth, the other loosely holding a spoon. Splotches of pink are starting to spread across her face, although they're not as deep and vivid a red as Felix's own look. "Uuuugh... This is too much," she groans, putting down her spoon and shaking her head. "I don't think I can actually feel my tongue past all the burning." Delicately, she pushes the bowl away from herself, and tugs the bowl of ice cream all the closer.

Well, not everyone can like everything. Claude laughs a little, patting her shoulder sympathetically. "I'm just happy you tried it," he tells her honestly. Would he have been happier if she had turned out to love it? Maybe. But that Hilda had known it would be something she might not like, and had still tried it regardless, just for him... That means something.

Besides, there are plenty of other food in Almyra for her to fall in love with. Case in point: the ice cream that's right there in front of them. As she flutters one hand anxiously, like she can flap away the heat, Claude takes the spoon in her hand and replaces it with a different one - free of any curry remnants. She wastes no time in digging into the ice cream - the pink one of course - and taking a bite. The effect is practically instantaneous. Her shoulders slump, relaxed, and Hilda leans against his shoulder for support. "I can't deal with something that intense," she sighs, tapping her spoon against her lips. "I don't suppose you have curries that don't hurt as much, do you?"

"We don't make them mild as a rule." Claude slips an arm around her. No one can say he isn't a good best friend. "But we can make them that way to order, I think." Irbon would probably find it charmingly quaint.

"Masochists." Hilda sighs again. "A country of masochists." Also, of course, a country that makes a wonderful dessert, and she succumbs to the siren song of ice cream with little fighting for another spoonful.

"I liked everything, personally," Felix says, and stacks some of his now empty plates and bowls so that he can move them further out of the way in favor of ice cream. It seems to satisfy him in some way, tension leaving his flushed expression before he looks down at the bowl. Back during their school days, Claude thinks he can remember Felix shoving vegetables into his mouth with a scowl, all so that he could end dinner on the positive note of meat. Similarly, he digs his spoon into the rose ice cream first, shoving it unceremoniously into his mouth. It doesn't take long for his nose to wrinkle in distaste. "...Yeah, too sweet."

Yeah, he knew that was coming. "Don't worry, Hilda will probably be happy to finish that one off for you. I kind of thought that might be her favorite... and not even because of the color." Claude's barely finished speaking when the two of them wordlessly hold out their bowl to the other, spoons at the ready. Felix rolls his scoop of rose ice cream into Hilda's bowl, not caring that it gathers up some nuts from the saffron ice cream. In return, apparently as a favor, Hilda nudges her bit of pistachio, and seems quite satisfied with the result of the trade.

Adorable, how quickly they've become friends like this. Then again, to Claude's amusement, Felix has always seemed to get along with girls pretty easily. Sure, he might not have noticed why some of those girls liked being around him so much for reasons that were not, you know, strictly platonic, but...

"You're having some, right?" Felix asks, snapping Claude out of his thoughts. When Claude glances over at him, his spoon is hovering over the bowl indecisively, still needing to decide on green or yellow.

"Of course," Claude says, like he didn't get completely absorbed in their own experiences that he'd forgotten about his own bowl completely. Picking it up, he starts on the pink ice cream, just like Hilda is. That perfectly sweet flavor really does wonders for a day filled with activity and energy like this one.

Felix watches him as he eats for a moment, which Claude both doesn't find unusual but can't help notice anyway. It's not that Felix is being obvious about it; far from it. He's taking care on that fact, watching from the corner of his eye only. Claude just figures he's being, well, himself, and tries not to think too much of it. It doesn't occur to him that Felix is waiting for Hilda to get absolutely absorbed in her own ice cream before he finally makes his move.

What that move means isn't immediately obvious. Claude just realizes that there is suddenly a spoonful of saffron ice cream right there in his line of sight, held up to him. Blinking, he looks up, and finds that Felix is now rather determinedly not making any sort of eye contact whatsoever. All he's doing is holding up the spoon, cheeks now a stunning red that have nothing to do with any curry.

It's not fair, the things this man does to him. Claude smiles, feeling as brilliant as a star and eyes as warm as the sun, before he leans over. As he takes a bite of ice cream, he peers over at Felix with nothing less than the most heartfelt fondness.

That Felix - allergic to PDA Fellix, bristly and easily embarrassed Felix, his Felix - is going out of his way to be romantic to him, sweet, while there's a witness around... It doesn't matter that Hilda is currently preoccupied and distracted. Claude isn't sure if he could feel a bigger swell of love than what he does right now.

Apparently it's a little too big a show of love in his eyes alone because, when Felix glances back at him, his face only grows redder and he has to look away again. "You said it was your favorite," he mutters. On Claude's other side, he can feel Hilda perk up at the words, and no doubt she's glancing their way with a little smile on her face. But she doesn't say anything, and Claude doesn't look to see what else she could be doing.

All of his attention is on Felix. "I like you better," he murmurs around the spoon, before pulling back. Felix's ears are absolutely burning at the affection he's getting in return. "Have you tried it yet? I don't want you to give away flavors you don't even know if you like."

"No," Felix admits, still looking away, still red. "And it was just a spoonful."

There's a don't worry about it implication to his words. Claude doesn't plan on worrying about it, of course. All he does is smile. "Well, then..." With no hesitation, he slides his spoon into his own scoop of saffron ice cream, and holds it out to Felix in turn.

That has Felix properly look back at him - or at least his spoon - for the first time in the last few minutes, blinking a few times in surprise before he gives one of his cute little huffs. "This better not become a habit," he murmurs, no doubt part honesty and part performance, before he leans forward. As he takes his bite, Felix closes his eyes. "Hmm..."

"Do you like it?" Claude asks, temping his expectations as best he can. He knows Felix doesn't like sweets. Despite that, a part of him can't help but be a little hopeful anyway. He also can't help but think that there are far worse things than the two of them feeding each other things becoming a habit. Still, that, he doesn't say.

Felix licks his lips, considering the flavor lingering on his tongue. "It's not as bad as the pure rose one," he finally says. "The pistachios help a little bit... and the saffron." Using his own spoon, he finally goes for the final scoop, and his next noise is a little more pleased. "But I think out of all of them... I like the pistachio the most."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised." That more earthy flavor is absolutely something Felix would prefer, if he can't have more meaty flavors for dessert. "We can trade, if you want more pistachio."

"No," Felix says immediately, without stopping to even think about it. On Claude's other side, he thinks he can hear Hilda muffle a quiet laugh... All the more so when Felix takes another spoonful of saffron ice cream up to Claude's lips.

It's hard to say what's melting more: the ice cream, or Claude. Helplessly in love with the man besides him, he leans down, and accepts hit latest spoonful. Beneath the table, he rubs his fingertips along the back of Felix's hand. In return, Felix squeezes right back.

"You were right on me wanting to try this," Felix murmurs, when the taste of saffron has melted fully on Claude's tongue.

"It's delicious," Hilda agrees. When Claude turns his head to finally look back at her for the first time in a while, she's very politely keeping her gaze off of the two of them. They must make quite the sight - a pair of ridiculous lovebirds. "I don't think I've ever had a food that feels like this. It's perfect for when you've burned your mouth off."

Only the best for his friends who were willing to do just that. "I'm glad you guys like it. Maybe you can take the technique back to Fodlan with you. I'd like to see places in Fodlan making Almyra food." After all, one of these days, he's going to go back - for diplomatic meetings or grand events, if nothing else. It would be nice to taste a little bit of home, especially since he never got to as a child and then a young man living there.

"We'd have to learn how to make it first," Hilda points out, but she's grinning as she says it. "I can definitely helping having it trend around in the old Leicester lands, at the very least. I'm sure that, after the war, people would love to have something as nice as this."

Felix nods along with her words. "Faerghus would probably take well to it too. We already eat snow some of the time anyway."

"I'm sure I can get some recipes written up for you guys," Claude says, beaming. Some pride is blossoming in his chest, that Almyran food is making such an effect... And with it, some love, too, for some of his most important people. "For all of the food, and not just the ice cream... although that won't be difficult at all to reproduce. Some other Almyran foods might be difficult due to not having access to the base ingredients, but ice cream... I mean, some of the flavors might be different in Fodlan, but it should be easy to make otherwise."

None of that seems to dissuade Hilda whatsoever. "That could be fun, couldn't it? If we come up with flavors with things you'd only find in Fodlan, and then share it with Almyra, I mean. It might even cool some people's heads for a while."

"Be quiet and eat your ice cream," Felix says, his spoon clicking against his teeth as he finally helps himself to another bite of pistachio with his own hands instead of waiting for or on Claude.

Claude laughs again. "I like where your heads at, Hilda, but he has a point. Eat your ice cream before it melts. We'll have time to brainstorm all sorts of cool ideas between our countries, but ice cream's only got a few minutes."

"Ah-!" Just like that, Hilda jolts upright, and immediately finishes up what little is left of her rosewater ice cream. That takes care of the two scoops she had of that, with only saffron remaining. "Definitely will do better up north-!"

While Hilda scarfs down her ice cream, Felix shakes his head and finishes off his own pistachio ice cream. "So besides a wyvern ride and a feast, what else is there for tomorrow? And how many fights do you bet I'll be challenged for?"

Digging back into his ice cream, Claude considers the questions. "There's nothing specific planned just yet." Taking a big bite of saffron, he offers his next spoonful - pistachio - to Felix. "The feast will be in the evening - the best time of day for big meals - and that'll be the official welcoming o your group, so we don't have anything official planned for before that. Plus, you guys will have most of the day to recuperate from your trip, which is a long one when you're not on a wyvern... I mean, it's long even if you are on wyvernback." And with that, he grins. "As for fights... I'd say at least three. Maybe more, depending on how social you are."

With that bite of pistachio melting in his mouth, Felix hums thoughtfully. "What if I stride into the room and tell people to get in a line so that I can accept their challenges before dinner?"

"Goddess preserve us," Hilda murmurs down into her bowl.

"Listen, I want to focus on food during dinner. I don't see how that's a wrong thing to want to accomplish."

That's probably three times in only a few minutes. Claude almost feels bad for them ganging up on Felix. Almost. "But that's not when you shy away, is it?" he points out with a laugh and a grin. "So that obviously wasn't the kind of fun I was talking about."

"We're not talking about this," Felix decides bluntly. "We are absolutely not talking about this. Hilda, I'm waking you up early in the morning for axe practice."

"I know you were going to do that anyway, but why do I feel like you're somehow going to make it worse?"

There's just a bit of pistachio left in Claude's bowl; he scrapes it all together so that he can hold it up for Felix's waiting mouth. "Oh, he will. But just think, you'd need to get up early anyway to beat the crowds to the market. You don't want to miss out on something pretty just because you got there late, right?"

Hilda groans. "I'm going to have to actually put in a lot of effort tomorrow morning, aren't I?" she says. "If it were anyone else, I could just slip away, but Felix would tear the city apart out of spite."

"Mhm," Felix hums around the spoon.

"He would," Claude agrees cheerfully. "Don't worry, it'll be worth it. Maybe I'll even take you to the royal treasury afterwards, so you can pick something out before you go to the market... in case you want to plan an ensemble around it."

"That's a promise, you know," Hilda says, jabbing a finger into the very same arm she's leaning on. On his other side, Felix rolls his eyes, and jabs his spoon of ice cream at Claude's mouth, which he happily accepts. "I'm not letting you forget it, Claude."

Claude doesn't say anything. All he does is smile, savoring the last bite of saffron on his tongue.

Hilda sticks around for a while after that, because of course she does. There are still almond cakes to enjoy, and plenty of other things to talk about, and catch up on. They haven't seen each other in forever, and, well... Both of them are the kind of people who do better with others around. Especially if those others are their very best friends. But eventually she stretches her arms up over her head, yawns, and makes an excuse to leave a little earlier than Claude suspects she would. Her rather knowing smile as she exits out of his room is certainly a prime piece of evidence,

Having watched her from around Claude's person like a wary cat, Felix only seems to relax when the door shuts, and he leans back with a low exhale. "You two really get along."

"She is my best friend," Claude notes, smiling over at him. "And was as close as I came to having a retainer while we all went to Garreg Mach. Are you really that surprised?"

"I mean..." Felix pauses, fingers tapping against the glass that's still only half done with. Even with his mouth on fire, Felix has been reluctant to indulge in something far too sweet. "I was wondering how she would react, seeing you like this - as a king, and from a nation that the Leicester Alliance was at war with for so long."

It's a good question, and Claude has to admit that it was something he worried about as well ever since... Well. Perhaps ever since he first stepped within the halls of Garreg Mach, and began to make some real friends for the first time in his life. Ever since he looked over to the ship that would sail him home, realizing that one of his biggest secrets was going to be laid bare for those closest to him to see.

But it's fine. "I guess she feels the same kind of way that you guys do," Claude says, at ease in the way he shrugs and smiles. Now that everything's actually happened, that it went better than he could have dared hope for... What else can he do? "I'm still the same person, more or less. Claude is just Khalid with a name change, and King Khalid is just Claude in fancier clothes."

"Good," Felix says, after a moment as he absorbs those words. His hand squeezes down on Claude's once more. "We can't give you everything, so... I'm glad she can give you a bit more of it."

As usual when he says the sweetest thing, Felix isn't looking him in the eyes, or even his face. His own gaze is focused purely on one of Claude's earrings, a bit of heat teasing at his skin. That means he doesn't immediately see the way Claude's gaze softens with the utmost adoration. "You give me more than I ever dreamed someone like me could have," he murmurs. "Definitely more than it feels like I deserve."

It's then that Felix finally glances up at him, and Claude can almost see the way that spark flares to life behind his eyes. "Unfortunately for your own opinion of yourself, we feel you deserve a lot more," he says, and then he leans in, lips pressing against the corner of Claude's mouth.

Claude smiles against the little kiss, untangling their hands so that he can wind his arms around Felix instead. He's still missing a couple of people to make this scene perfect... but there is a perfection its current iteration too. A perfection known as solely Felix Fraldarius. "So now that you're full," he murmurs against Felix's lips, "are you getting tired yet? It's been a long day." An exciting one, too, filled with traveling through a desert and fighting against a seasoned warrior and then swimming around in Claude's private pool.

"I probably should have been asleep hours ago, but the pool was better than the bed," Felix says, leaning against him. "Servants won't just shove their way into your room, right?"

"Never," Claude says, firm and unhesitating. "No one ever comes into my room unless I specifically invite them in. And I've gone through enough assassination attempts that people are aware that if anyone tries to come in without my express approval, I might just respond with a knife in hand." Easing up, he smiles and reaches up to stroke Felix's hair. "So we've got the place to ourselves tonight."

"You don't need a knife in hand," Felix says, turning his head so that he can actually look him in the eyes properly. "Not anymore. You have me." And with that earnest little declaration made, he kisses Claude again - but this time, right on the lips, properly. Claude smiles against it, and even more when he feels Felix's hand settle against his hip. It's a wonderful feeling, one he's more than happy to bask in, which gives Felix plenty of time to consider another question. "So how do you sleep comfortably in a place as hot as the sun?"

Claude laughs outright. "Have you been hot at all since we came inside?" he teases. Rising from his feet, he gently pulls away from Felix in favor of heading to his balcony doors. A simple undo of the lock, and they're open, instantly welcoming a cool breeze into the room. It tugs at his curtains, the clothes he wears, and spreads throughout his room. It's not cold air, exactly, but it's pretty close. "The desert can get positively frigid at night, you know," he says over his shoulder and smiling. "The nighttime hours are actually great sleeping weather."

As he watches, Felix closes his eyes to no doubt enjoy a far more familiar sensation than the heat. "Probably the only way you could manage," he murmurs. "Although I guess that means you never have to worry about anyone sleeping in, once the sun comes back up."

Claude chuckles, turning around and leaning slightly against his open balcony door. "Oh, plenty of people can still do that. We tend to have very light sheets, and we add heavier blankets during the night that we can kick off once it gets hot in the mornings..." Trailing off, he grins even more at Felix. "Or we find someone to keep us warm so that we don't need the heavier blankets at all..."

"I have fights to win, so I think I'll pass," Felix says, pushing himself up with a heavy grunt as though he weighs a ton. "Should I strip then?"

"I'm fine with that," Claude says, moving over to his bedside table so that he can start removing what little jewelry he kept on throughout the dinner. Still, he can't stop his eyes from glittering, or the words he says next. "Although I just meant someone to curl up with, sunshine. Such a dirty mind you've got..."

All that work to get Felix's skin back down to its regular complexion, and it's ruined so quickly now as his face flushes to the point that it seems like he might spontaneously combust. "I meant sleeping in he hisses, trailing after Claude. Despite how vivid his complexion is, he still kicks off his sandals to some forgotten corner and begins working on the buttons to his shirt. After his swim from earlier, it's not like he's wearing much anymore to start with.

Claude bursts out cackling. "In your own way, you're as innocent as Dimitri is," he says fondly, unfastening an earring. "So you're not worried about being too tempted, getting undressed and sharing a bed with me?"

Loving as usual, Felix jabs his elbow into Claude's spine. "I've already seen you naked. We've both been naked, together, in close proximity, remember? Before you left, and we all had that bath together? The boar had to drag us up into his arms so that he could go tell Sylvain he loves him." A reference to a silly little thing, a little event that made Claude laugh more than anything once.

It's a sweet memory to savor. Claude doesn't let it distract him. "That isn't a no," he teases, glancing sidelong at Felix.

Felix glowers and tosses his shirt onto the floor. It joins the mess of books that are scattered all about, where it hardly makes a difference, quite honestly. "We've shared a bed together before," he tries to argue instead.

"Still not a no," Claude says in a singsong voice, unwinding the loose fabric from around his body so that it can slide down in a heap around his feet. The fabric is barely mid-fall from around his body before Felix is up against him, teeth nipping at his shoulder.

It's not hard enough to make a mark, but to be felt? Well, it does that more than well enough, especially when Felix growls his complaints at him. "Maybe you need to worry about the reverse happening."

"About me being tempted by you?" Claude purrs, enjoying that light push of teeth against skin. "I suppose I'm a little concerned, but... I think I'm also less hesitant than you about it."

"Less hesitant?" Another bite, and then Felix is pulling back to huff against his shoulder. "What does that mean?"

Leaning back against his lover, Claude tilts his head back and grins. "Just that, well... In the letters I've exchanged with Dimitri, it's kind of become obvious that he and Sylvain have gotten up to some things of their own, back in Fhirdiad. I don't think we're entirely unjustified in having a little bit of fun without them..."

Felix's fingers tap sharp and quick along Claude's hip, a single time for each one. "You have the energy for something?"

Claude chuckles. "Maybe~. But I don't know that you do, and there's no rush to do anything tonight." Turning around, he slips his arms around Felix's waist and gazes up into those brilliantly warm eyes of his. "My point was just that I'm not worried about being tempted in general. I'm not trying to encourage you to push your limits; you've already done that enough today. You don't have to do anymore of that for me. Just getting to sleep in your arms will be wonderful."

As a simple automatic habit, Felix's gaze flicks away from Claude's for just a moment before he recovers. Slowly, his arms wind around Claude in turn. "...I want to do a lot of things with you," he says, finally. "I know what I said before, but it's been too long."

A grin flashes across Claude's face. "Which things that you've said are you referring to right now?"

For his troubles, he earns a small headbutt and a huff. "I meant when I said it was only a few months that we've been apart."

Claude chuckles, and then leans in to kiss Felix, soft and languid. When he pulls away from the kiss, Felix chases after a little bit just to steal one more. "Way too long," he agrees. "And now you get me all to yourself for two months or so, to make up for how little time we had together before I left."

"I'm going to fill those two months up with as much as I can," Felix says, ducking his head so that he nose presses along Claude's neck. "You know. When I'm not fighting."

That draws a quiet laugh out from Claude's chest. "Oh, obviously," he says, nosing Felix's hair. It still has a faint water sort of scent, from when he'd gone swimming. Reaching up, Claude goes to undo the tie that kept it up. When did Felix even tie it all again? "So.... Can I hear about the things you want to do with me?"

A low grunt on Felix's end. His lips press a little more gently against Claude's skin. "Sexual things, or regular things."

"All the things," Claude says, beginning the gentle but insistent maneuvering of Felix over to his bed.

"Well," Felix says, allowing this movement at the same time that he doesn't let go of Claude's hips. "Trying to figure out what a date would even look like. I don't know if you've noticed-" Removing one hand, he begins to tug at his own pants. "-but it's not like - I have a lot of experience in that area. But the two of us never really had a chance to do that kind of thing with each other. It's just been... hanging around."

It's cute, how Felix tries so hard to think about these things, and Claude grins against his lips. "So today doesn't count?"

"Do you normally go on a date with one of your best friends as third wheel?" Felix asks dryly, finally wiggling his pants far enough down his hips that he can kick and step out of them. "I'll remember that for the next time that we're both in Fodlan, and get Ingrid for my end."

"Did it stop us much?" Claude teases, pulling Felix down onto his bed and the light, silky sheets that await the two of them.

"I mean-" Felix stops bothering to talk for a moment, wiggling against Claude and into the sheets. No doubt they're far better than what he's had to deal with on the way here, the cloth made for warmer climates than Faerghus and thus not inclined to hold much heat. "Maybe it stopped us a bit."

Well... "I do admit that you're right," he murmurs, combing his fingers through Felix's loose hair. He's always enjoyed the length and silkiness of it, just like Felix and Dimitri have adored running their fingers through his curlier hair in turn. "I guess a proper date would be just the two of us. I was just thinking that what we did today felt like the kinds of things you'd do on a date."

Felix scoffs, eyes sliding shut as he finally stills against Claude's body. "Me laying in the water, trying not to die from heat exhaustion?"

"Us eating dinner and lounging around together," Claude corrects with another laugh.

"Is that really a date?" Felix says, skeptical. Just not skeptical enough to open his eyes again. "I always got the impression from listening to other people that it was a bigger production than that."

Somehow, it's not a surprise to hear that is Felix's idea of a date. "It certainly can be, but it doesn't have to be. Still, you will want to consider that most of the people around you are ridiculous romantics." Dimitri is the most flagrant example of this, the kind of person who gives off the aura of a fairy tale prince while longing for that kind of simple affection himself, but even the notorious flirt Sylvain isn't immune. He might actually be as bad as Dimitri, although he'd never admit it out loud or let it peek out from where he's locked it away from deep inside his chest.

Felix's insincere grumble says he damn well knows it, too, before he cracks open one eye to peer at Claude. "But not you?"

"Let's face it, when it comes to romance and emotional honesty, I'm the most reluctant and indirect next to you." Claude chuckles a little bit. "Maybe not right now, because I've missed you so much, and you may not notice it yourself, considering that when you open up to me, I can't help but melt and encourage it... But in general? I don't hold a candle to Dimitri and Sylvain." And that's fine, he's sure. They're all different people.

Closing his eyes again, Felix starts tracing some nonsensical symbols - or at least they're nonsensical as far as Claude can tell. "Then I guess we'll be each other's quiet period before those two get here."

"Ironic, isn't it?" Claude presses their foreheads together with a little smile. "This is probably the most romantic either of us have ever felt or been in our lives right now, and those two are still going to show us up when they get here." Despite his words, he's rather looking forward to it.

Felix apparently has other ideas. "Naw," he yawns, the word only understandable because it's hard to completely screw up a single syllable. He burrows further against Claude; the cool night air must be getting to him if he's actively looking for more heat. "I don't think this could be shown up..."

Leaving Felix to make himself comfortable, Claude reaches down to pull some of the lighter sheets up over them. The heavier ones are at the foot of the bed and, not only is he feeling a little too comfortable and lazy to sit up and get them, but he thinks neither of them will need them tonight. "You might be a little biased right now," he tells Felix as he lays down besides him, soft and fond.

"Hey." There's a sharp tap from one of his fingers against Claude's hip. "I know what I'm saying. This can't be shown up." He takes in a slow deep breath, and then lets it out again. "Because it's you. You and I are our own thing, even without them. Alright? The parts..." Another yawn. His words are starting to a lose a bit of their normal hard and certain quality, softened by sleep. "They're as good as the whole... Different loves..." But then the words seem to lose themselves completely, and all Felix can do is sigh against the pillows.

It's probably a good thing that he does, honestly, because those words.... They're enough to melt Claude's heart, and his smile becomes as soft as Felix's words. "You're right," he murmurs. "Even if I wish they were here, nothing can top being with you like this. At best, all anything else can be is just as good in different ways. And because this is something just between us... Nothing can actually compete. No one else can give me what you do, or make me feel like being with you does... I love you, Felix."

Honestly, he knows it's all a lot of words for one very sleepy swordsman. It's one of his bigger flaws; he talks so much that it's enough for people who are awake and sober. Despite all of the sound, however, Felix squeezes his arm around him, and mumbles into the pillows. "Love you too."

And Claude knows he truly does.