Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It quickly became apparent Claude’s lapse was not a one-off occurrence. The next day Claude sat on his lap during their tea time, babbling about some theory for three whole minutes before stiffening and awkwardly getting up. Later during a private dinner Claude leaned over to try a piece of Dimitri’s pheasant and nuzzled him before returning to his own chair. It was done so smoothly that Dimitri was certain Claude didn’t notice the action. It didn’t stop with that, only growing in frequency as the days passed. Sometimes Claude noticed and withdrew, uncharacteristically flustered each time. Other times Claude didn’t notice at all. It was like Claude was drawn to him. So far it only occurred in private. Which was good. He didn’t know how to possibly explain the former Duke of Riegan crawling into his lap and rubbing up against him, silently demanding belly rubs or head pats or back scratches. 

Like he was currently doing.

“And with Rowe’s main force, the empire will—” Claude paused, then went rigid. There it is, the realization. Claude heaved an unsteady sigh, shoulders rising as his head lowered. “You can shove me off, you know.”

“I don’t mind.” He really, really did not mind.

Claude dropped his head and palmed his eyes. “I guess I need to wear your sealskin less if this is the effect it’s having on me.”

Effect? He continued to stroke down Claude’s curls. “Nonsense.”

“Dimitri, this isn’t the first time I’ve done this. At this rate I’m going to crave contact so much I’ll walk up to strangers and hug them.”

He tightened his grip on Claude’s hip. “That is your issue? You believe my sealskin is making you more… cuddly?”

“You got a better explanation for this behavior? Dammit. You never told me seals were addicted to snuggling.” As far as he was aware, that was not a side-effect that came with being a seal. “Look, I’ve adjusted to the cold weather well enough. It’s been fun but it’s for the best if I stop using your skin.”

His heart dropped. “You don’t like it anymore?”

“No, that’s not what I said! It’s the most comfortable thing I have ever had the pleasure to enjoy. That’s some high praise, Your Kingliness. But this,” he gestured to himself, then to Dimitri’s hand still trailing through his hair, “can’t continue. Who knows what other side effects I’ll experience with prolonged use. Imagine if I try latching onto someone like Felix the way I do you! I’ll be cut to bits.”

“You desire others?” he growled.

“I mean, not yet? Hm. Maybe because it’s your skin, it’s sort of… attuning me to you? It would explain why I can’t seem to get you out of my head…”

Odd. His own mind strayed to thoughts of Claude more often than not. Was it possible his sealskin was the cause? The enchanting noble in his lap was distracting even on his most focused days, but Claude made up for the loss of productivity by helping. Yet he’d never heard of any effects of wearing a sealskin like Claude described… At least, not on Claude’s end. It was only natural he bond to Claude. 

Claude mumbled quietly to himself as he burrowed his forehead against Dimitri’s shoulder. Whether as seal or human, he enjoyed Claude’s presence. The idea of losing Claude’s companionship (despite knowing Claude planned to leave after the war) hurt like a dagger to his heart. Perhaps he had grown too attached. 

(But how could he not? Claude accepted him.)

“I’m surprised you aren’t curious enough to experiment,” he surprised himself by saying. “The only way to know if there are other side-effects is to spend more time in my skin.”

“Hah! Too true, however I don’t fancy accidentally gaining a craving for raw flesh as a human.” 

“From my own experiences, I assure you that won’t happen.”

Claude crossed his arms, shaking his head. “No, no. This isn’t the only side effect. You’ve seen me eat — it’s like I’m eating for two. And I’m sleeping far more than I used to. The risk isn’t worth the warmth.”

Something in his chest snapped. “Is that so? We march for Fort Merceus in two days. Our trail will take us through a snowed-in mountain pass. You won’t make it.” They both knew Claude wouldn’t weather that amount of cold comfortably, if at all. 

Green eyes narrowed. “Now that I have proper winter gear, I will be perfectly fine in the elements.”

“Very well. Now if you excuse me, I have matters to attend to. Get off my lap.”

Claude flinched, eyes flickering down as if he already forgot his position. “Of course, Your Majesty. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Claude left the room and didn’t return, as he stated. Dimitri didn’t sleep.

Claude had a problem.

Actually, he had multiple problems. Problem one: he was predictably cold. His warm jacket helped significantly, but it wasn’t enough to keep the chill away. Marching through the snow was just as miserable as before. Problem two: Dimitri was angry and refused to look him in the eye. Problem three: despite not wearing that sealskin for three nights straight, his thoughts still honed in on Dimitri this and Dimitri that. Problem four: his appetite was growing rapidly right beside his desire to hibernate life away. Ever since they left the castle it was much worse. Problem five: he still wanted to cuddle with Dimitri. He wanted to cuddle with Dimitri much more than before. It was a miracle he hadn’t accidently snuggled up to him. It was only through the grace of Dimitri avoiding him that he staved off that pesky side-effect.

Problem six: he was going to freeze to death tonight.

There was no abandoned manor to weather the snow this time. Nothing but a flimsy tent all to himself. His extra layers did nothing to keep him comfortably warm. Claude could be stubborn when he put his mind to it. Survival however held no place for stubbornness. His pride cracked in half during his walk of shame from his tent to Dimitri’s. 

Inside the tent, Dimitri was missing. His cloak however was carefully folded in the corner. Unsurprising. Dimitri hadn’t been wearing it much. With any luck the king would forgive him for whatever cultural transgression he crossed (there had to be more to it than his request to take a break from the cloak). He was freezing to death and Dimitri always melted in the presence of a cute seal face. Wrapping the cloak around himself, he sighed as familiar warmth overtook him. It felt like coming home.

He laid on the ground as he adjusted to being warm. The first time he transformed had been terrifying (his legs melted together, his hands were nothing but stubs, he could barely move, and he had no idea what happened), but now the strange form was only comforting. He’d come a long ways from his original (very understandable!) panic attack. The skin wrapped around him was like a suit of warm, toasty armor. According to Dimitri, as the prince grew up his hide toughened to match his natural Blaiddyd strength. No natural weapon could pierce his hide (which made the scar on his belly concerning). The thick blubber insulated him both from the cold and absorbed even Dimitri’s strongest grip. His seal body was resistant to ice and fire magic, the blubber insulating him from lightning magic, his hide too tough to be pierced by wind magic. Supposedly his seal body was speedy on a snowy field and could outswim any human, but Claude hadn’t tested that yet. Really, the only downside to being a seal was the lack of ground mobility (and hands and voice.)

“Your Highness? I mean, Your Majesty. Still not used to that… You in here?” Claude froze. Dimitri’s tent was much bigger than the standard tent. It was big enough to contain a small table and tall enough to easily stand inside. It wasn’t big enough to have any hiding spots for his round seal body.

“Your Highness?” Sylvain stared at him, eyebrows at his hairline. “Wow, haven’t seen you like this in ages.” The redhead looked away, smile strained in a way he never showed in public. “Is the stress really getting to you? I know we haven’t exactly been on the best terms since… for a long time. But I’m always here for you, Pr—King Dimitri.”

Claude couldn’t undo the seal magic on his own. It wasn’t like he could explain to Sylvain this was a case of mistaken identity. And besides, this was a perfect opportunity to learn a little extra about Dimitri. He looked away, doing his best to imitate Dimitri’s posture. He huffed a gruff noise imitating one of Dimitri’s bad days.

“You look healthier than the last time I saw you. Dedue’s finally getting through to you! No one can resist his cooking.” Sylvain squatted down beside him, holding out a hand. Claude carefully sniffed it (his sense of smell was altered as a seal). He followed it up by laying his head in Sylvain’s hand. Sylvain slowly petted him. Odd. It wasn’t half as enjoyable as when Dimitri petted him. Nor did he feel any desire to cuddle up to Sylvain, thank the Gods.

“That’s it… feels good, huh? Bet it’s been a while since you had this…” Something about Sylvain’s tone struck him as off. Before he could follow up his suspicion, Sylvain scratched a spot under his chin. Every nerve in his body melted under the heavenly feeling. Dimitri never scratched him there, but it felt incredible. Sylvain pushed him, catching him off guard. He rolled onto his back before he could stop himself. Sylvain immediately went for his belly and by the Gods, Dimitri wasn’t exaggerating when he said Sylvain gave the best belly rubs.

“You know, His Highness wouldn’t have sniffed my hand. Thief.” Sylvain slammed his head against the ground, arm braced over his neck. It wasn’t enough to cut off his air supply but he couldn’t get up. “What was your plan? Good luck getting that sealskin off. You’re stuck. The emperor must be desperate if she’s stooping this low. The only reason you’re alive right now if because killing you would mean damaging His H—Majesty’s skin.” He tried to buck Sylvain off of him. During Sylvain’s petting session he got distracted enough that he didn’t notice Sylvain straddling his body, firmly locked in place. Neither of them were going anywhere. 

‘I’m not an enemy!’ he wanted to say. Instead it came out as a sharp “Arp!”

“Pleading for your life will get you nowhere.” Sylvain was decently intimidating without his grin. Dimitri mentioned that stealing a skin was a ‘very serious crime’, and apparently that wasn’t an exaggeration. “You better be ready to face the king’s wrath. The penalty for your crime is a long, painful execution.”

Welp. Hopefully Dimitri wasn’t that angry at him.

“Sylvain?” came Dimitri’s voice from outside. “Why are you in my tent?”

“Arp!”

“Take a step inside and see, Your Highness. Caught a rat for you.”

Dimitri entered, haggard eye slowly drifting around the tend before landing on them. “What do you—” All at once Dimitri shot into action. “Get off of him!” Sylvain was yanked away and roughly tossed aside like a ragdoll. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” He wiggled a flipper towards his throat. Having vocal cords would be very handy. “In a moment.” Dimitri turned to glare at Sylvain. “Explain yourself this instant!”

Sylvain picked himself off the ground. “O-kay, my bad. Apologies, Your Majesty. I assumed your skin was being stolen. Sorry for walking in on your secret lover. Congrats, by the way.”

“He is not my—!” Dimitri groaned into his hand, red steadily spreading across his cheeks. “Argh. Sylvain, I forbid you from telling anyone about this.”

“No worries, I’m not about to tell anyone I almost assaulted our king’s secret consort.” No ‘almost’ about the assault. Not that he was Dimitri’s consort, secret or otherwise.

“Sylvain!” Sylvain chuckled and darted out of the tend. Dimitri scrubbed at his face before returning his attention down. “Did he hurt you?” Dimitri asked as he peeled back the sealskin, freeing him.

“Only my pride. You know better than me how borderline indestructible your sealskin is.” He offered a sheepish smile. “So… hi there Your Kingliness. How has your evening been? It’s funny, see, I might have underestimated certain terrain details and overestimated my personal stubbornness.”

“I see that,” Dimitri murmured and pulled him close. Oh good, Dimitri wasn’t angry at him anymore. He might survive the night without freezing to death. “Do you plan to stay the night?”

“Oh, you know, only if you don’t mind,” he played it off with a shrug. “You look like you haven’t been sleeping.”

“I haven’t been. I suppose I have been… cold, recently.”

“You? cold? I didn’t know that was possible.” He eyed the cloak wrapped around him. “We can share. It’ll be a tight squeeze though.”

“I’m not physically cold.” Dimitri hesitated. Slowly he picked Claude up and settled him down on the bedroll. “I can’t fully describe it. Please don’t laugh. My chest has been cold. Inside.”

“Have you seen a healer about that?”

Dimitri shot him an incredulous look. “Absolutely not.” The king’s expression fell into a pout. “Have you seen a healer about your recent penchant to seek my body heat?”

His ears burned. “That is very different.”

“If my hunch is correct, I believe they are related.” Dimitri fiddled with some of the fur framing his face. “Has your… ahem, your absentminded craving for human contact diminished at all?”

He sunk his head into the fabric. “Not exactly. This seal magic sure is complicated.”

“Claude, this has nothing to do with seal magic.”

If he wasn’t so cozy bundled up, he would have thrown up his hands. “What other excuse do you have for our symptoms?”

Dimitri pressed his lips tightly together. “Perhaps this is a discussion for the morning. You may never wish to see me again… I cannot in good conscience allow you to freeze without me tonight.”

“Oh Dimitri, you know me better than that. Dangling the answer to this mystery in front of my face and trying to leave it on a cliffhanger? Please. Go on, fess up. Let’s hear it.”

The king closed his eye. “In… hold… out…” Dimitri breathily whispered to himself. It was a level of sweet nervousness that Claude hadn’t witnessed since their academy days. Gulping, Dimitri reopened his eye and stared down at him intensely. “I fear if I tell you, you will flee into the night and I will never see you again.”

“In this weather? I will die if I do that.”

“Exactly. You will flee, die in the elements, and I will never see you again.” The king’s expression fell from nervousness into misery. “Even if you don’t, our time together is short. Nothing I have offered has swayed you. After the war you will leave.”

“All the more reason to get this secret off your chest. Listen, I promise I won’t flee. Whatever it is, so long as you don’t say ‘I’m preparing myself to kill you Claude von Riegan, now prepare to die!’ I won’t flee.”

“I would never!”

“Exactly! Now come on, fess up. Let’s hear it.”

Misery switched back to nervousness. “Very well. As you know, Sealskins are typically reserved for being shared between, ahem, lovers. In truth, few selkies ever share their skins.” Dimitri gulped, pausing as he performed another breathing exercise. Claude nearly absentmindedly wiggled into Dimitri’s lap before he caught himself. “It is a frightening prospect to allow another into our skin and walk about. To allow another access to a precious piece of ourselves is… well. It requires utmost trust. For one without crest blood it is simpler, as they cannot truly become one with a selkie’s skin. Typically when crested nobility marry other crested nobles, both are of Faerghus and thus both already have skins of their own. Trading sealskins is intimate of course, but there is a balance of power between sharing. However, in the rare exception in which there is only one sealskin to be shared…”

Dimitri trailed off. Claude fiddled with a tuft of fur, unable to match Dimitri’s intense stare. “Okay, I get it. I, uh, stepped over a dozen lines in borrowing your cloak the first time.” And sent a dozen mixed messages, it seemed.  

Nervousness melted into painful sincerity. “I’m glad you did. I’m glad it was you. I never imagined anyone would so much as tolerate me the way you have. And you say you enjoy my skin.” He dared a peek at Dimitri’s face again. The king was still staring just as intensely as before, cheeks rolling into a cherry red. He darted his eyes away. “To think there is someone who finds comfort in me… who seeks me out, who fights for more time enveloped in my skin and arms, rather than seeking to flee from seeing my true self…”

‘It’s just some leather and fur,’ he wanted to say. But that wasn’t true, now was it? Any skilled tailor could provide him with a replica of Dimitri’s cloak and none of them would be the same. He liked Dimitri’s cloak. It was warm, soft, loved, and smelled of home and safety. And it also turned him into a seal. Mysterious! Fascinating! Obviously he needed to know more! That was why he liked the cloak so much. So what if the skin wrapped tightly around him made him feel held and protected? He could get that from… from… 

Oh. He couldn’t get that from anywhere but the cloak or Dimitri. Oh. No wonder he kept cozying up to Dimitri.

“You never have had a good opinion of yourself,” he tutted out loud, ignoring his burning face. “Of course I didn’t run away from whatever silly nonsense you’ve locked in that head of yours. You’re a good man Dimitri, even if you don’t choose to believe that.”

A tremor jittered through Dimitri. “How can you say that? Even as you lay in my skin, surely you feel the beast within my heart.”

“No beast here. All I feel from your cloak is a big, honest, warm hug. Physically and metaphorically warm.”

“Oh,” Dimitri whispered. “That’s all you feel? You’re certain?”

“What do you expect me to feel?”

“My bloodlust. Wrath. Despair. Hatred. Grief. Disgust. The core of my being. My very heart and my heart’s most fervent desire laid bear.”

He unbundled himself some, sitting up to wrap one end of the cloak around Dimitri’s shoulder. “None of that in here. All I feel is safe and warm. Sounds like those other things don’t run as deep as you think they do.”

Dimitri stared at him like a man dying in the desert eyed an oasis — as if he was too good to be true and might vanish as a mirage at any moment. “I fancy you,” Dimitri blurted out.

The words didn’t immediately process in his brain. “You… fancy me?”

“Since the academy. I find you very attractive in mind, body, and spirit, Claude von Riegan.”

“Is that so?” he asked, a bland smile plastered onto his face as a placeholder while his mind scrambled to keep up with Dimitri’s words. Fancy? Attractive? Academy? Very? What were words anyways?

“You are the sun. Your sunlight brings a warmth to me when everything else is cold and lifeless. These past few weeks have been the best of my life. My thoughts orbit around you even when you aren’t around. Waking up with you by my side is a joy I thought impossible for one as depraved as me. I… I like you, Claude.”

“Ah. I see. Neat.” ‘ Smooth. Real smooth. Try again, idiot,’ the voice in his head (sounding suspiciously like Hilda) told him. “I had the biggest crush on you back in school, you know.”

“I, ah, did not know. You hid it well. I certainly did not hide my feelings so gracefully. Do you… still…?” 

“Let me put it this way: I trusted you would arrive in Derdriu to save the day and my life, and that’s without knowing you… ahem, fancied me. I don’t extend that trust to just anyone.”

“Is that a yes…?”

“Just kiss me already.”

“It’s strange to wake up to your human face,” Dimitri admitted with a smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I like it. You, I mean.” 

“And I like starting the day with flattery,” he teased back as he woke up. Being warm and human was a nice change. As comfortable as being a seal was, it was grating to wake up unable to do anything until Dimitri turned him back into a human. Being human had its downsides though, made more apparent by the freezing air bludgeoning his face. “Sleep well?” he asked into Dimitri’s neck, soaking up what warmth he could find.

Dimitri hummed as strong arms trapped him in a hug. “I want to wake up with you every morning. What can I possibly offer you to have you stay by my side?”

His good mood soured. “Dimitri…”

“I know. You won’t be swayed. Forget I said anything.”

“It won’t be goodbye forever.” He squeezed at the pelt underneath them, threading it between his fingers. “I’ll come back. If you’ll have me. I won’t blame you if someone else catches your ‘fancy’ in the meantime.”

Dimitri’s hug tightened. “Absolutely not. I will wait forever if I must. You promise you will return?”

“Unless I die between then and now, I promise I’ll return to you. Hey, chin up. I’m still here until you finish the war. We’ve still got time together.”

As much as they both wanted to lay in bed together all morning, they had duties to attend to. Claude slipped back into usual old routine seamlessly — with the addition of occasional touching. A part of him still couldn’t believe Dimitri returned his feelings. After so many years believing Dimitri to be dead, a potential future with Faerghus’ king was too good to be true. He felt justified in seeking additional kisses just to affirm his reality. Dimitri enthusiastically did not mind the delay.

“Here, let me lend a hand,” he offered, sliding his hands around the cold metal of Dimitri’s chestplate to strap it into place (but not before sliding his hands underneath to cop a feel and soak feeling back into his numb hands). His ‘help’ was inefficient at best and further delayed them. Regardless they made progress towards being ready for the day no matter how slow.

Finally dressed, Claude hesitated. He wasn’t wearing his stupidly cold Barbarossa outfit anymore but his ‘winter’ outfit was nonetheless colder than the warmth of Dimitri’s cloak. Plus his clothes didn’t smell like Dimitri and weren’t soft and nearly so cozy… taking the cloak off was his least favorite part of the morning. Reluctantly he pulled back the collar, wincing as his fingers brushed hickeys and bites lining his collarbone. He needed a scarf.

“Wear it,” Dimitri commanded, roughly tugging the cloak back into place. “I want others to see you wearing it.”

Fine by him. “The cloak that implies we’re sleeping together?” he reminded Dimitri. Technically true though they hadn’t moved past making out and a lot of touching.

Pale cheeks reddened as the king looked away. “Only if you are… amenable.” Dimitri tightened his grip, bunching the fur of the cloak tight around his throat.

“I am beyond amenable. Enthusiastic, even. I’m shocked you’re so willing to dirty your reputation though.” The people of Faerghus were loyal to their king, so there was no need to fear a scandal. Regardless, it was odd that Dimitri was so willing to bend tradition. To his understanding, Faerghans expected marriage before any sexual conduct. 

“You will never ‘dirty’ my reputation, nor do I care.” Claude’s fault for falling for cultural stereotypes. Dimitri wasn’t like him; constantly calculating political ramifications of every breath he took. “I want everyone to know you are off limits. You are mine now.” For a moment Dimitri’s expression darkened, rushing a hot thrill through Claude. Then the old sweet prince returned as he flustered. “That isn’t to say I own you or anything like that! You’re still your own person, of course, I just—”

“Easy, easy. I get it. I should have expected you to be the jealous type.” He winked, tugging part of the cloak low enough to show off one of the hickeys on his neck. “If you don’t mind associating with a schemer like me, I have no issues in the arrangement.”

“Don’t demean yourself like that. You are so much more than a ‘schemer’. You are everything to me.”

He turned around to hide his own fluster. “Well, now that we’re both dressed, there’s plenty to do today!”

“Indeed,” Dimitri said, smile audible in his voice. The taller man pressed a kiss to his forehead before exiting the tent. Claude spent three seconds to slap his cheeks before meandering casually out of the tent.

“Sylvain!” Dimitri grunted, stomping over to the nearby redhead. Sylvain, leaning against a close tree, winked and waved.

“Morning you two. You’re welcome, by the way. People kept trying to interrupt your morning. I sent them on various errands. The important stuff went to Ingrid so no worries. Did you two have an eventful morning?”

Dimitri groaned.

Claude wandered away (he wasn’t running away. It was a tactical retreat to cool off his cheeks elsewhere). He had duties too, just not as many as Dimitri. For now, his most important duty was breakfast. 

He knew he was going to get some looks for wearing Dimitri’s cloak, but this was ridiculous. He expected the hanging jaws, open stares, and hushed whispers. He didn’t expect the weird degree of reverence.  

As he settled down in the circle of Blue Lions (curious about their reaction, of course), he received hanging jaws, open stares, and dead silence. He winked at Ashe, causing the other archer to turn red and hastily look away. It seemed Dimitri wasn’t kidding when he said wearing the cloak would make people assume they were sleeping together.

“Oh my! Congratulations, Claude,” Mercedes told him, beaming. “This is such a surprise!”

“It isn’t,” Felix snapped, glaring a hole into a tree stump in the other direction. “Don’t pretend you all haven’t noticed them circling each other like animals. His whining excuses about being ‘cold’ were just as annoying and intolerable as Dimitri’s sickening moon-eyes.”

“Excuse you, I don’t like those air quotes around ‘cold’. It’s freezing. Not all of us are magically resistant to the cold!” Claude feigned a wounded look. “And to think my subterfuge with His Royalness was so easily seen through. You hurt me, Felix.”

“Good.”

“W-w-wait!” Annette shouted, jumping to her feet as she openly boggled him. “For real? His H—Majesty really gave you his cloak? For really real?!”

He patted at the soft fur against his shoulders, preening a bit. “What, you think this is some cheap knockoff?”

Ingrid glared at Felix, then him, then back to Felix. “Don’t pretend you saw this coming. Just because they’ve been together doesn’t mean anyone expected them to move this fast!” She turned back and pointed at him. “And you. I’ll trust our king’s judgment about you, but that doesn't mean I’m happy. If you hurt him, I’ll hunt you down and make you regret being born.”

“Aw, cut His Highness some slack,” Sylvain said from behind him, joining their circle with breakfast in hand. “No one would be stupid enough to play with our king’s heart.” The redhead gave him a sharp smile before it softened into a wink. “How’s it feel to be the talk of camp?”

“Oh, you know how I love the spotlight. I might not be a duke anymore but I can’t let Dimitri hog all the glory.”

Annette gasped. “Oh Goddess, how did we not see it? He gave His Majesty the Leicester lands! Just like—like—!” She flailed her hands and made an unintelligible noise. 

“Was this your intention all along?” Ingrid accused him.

“It’s like a story book!” Ashe exclaimed, shaking Ingrid’s attention away from him and somehow softening her icy expression. “It’s so romantic! The duke in distress, casting out his faith to be rescued and saved! His faith being repaid as the righteous king swoops in and sweeps the duke off his feet! They come together, merging their lands and forces to face the wicked empire hand-in-hand! History will tell their legend right alongside Loog’s triumph!”

“You forgot the detail about the shivering idiot who nearly froze to death just to get Dimitri’s attention,” Felix added. “History better not forget that part.”

“For the last time, it isn’t my fault I’m not built like you superhuman ice-immune monsters. I grew up in a very hot place!” He had to admit he was surprised at how much positivity he received so far. Ingrid and Felix aside, everyone was congratulating him for ‘sleeping’ with Dimitri. 

“Ooo Claude! I bet you’re super excited for all the feasts to come after the war! Those are your favorite!” Annette sidled up to him, noticeably keeping a chaste foot between them. “First we’ll have a victory feast if — no, when — we beat the Empire. Then King Dimitri’s official coronation. Then we’ll have a feast for you two, Your Highness!”

The breath left his lungs with Annette’s one-two punch. His thought of ‘why have a feast for us’ was interrupted by Annette’s use of his not-so-well-known title. He hadn’t even told Dimitri yet, how did she know? He cleared his throat, willing his shock to stay away from his face. “What did you just call me?”

Sylvain snickered. “Welcome to the life of royalty, Your Highness.” How?!

“It is your official title now! Unofficially. Unofficially officially? I mean, His Majesty’s cloak makes it as official as it needs to be. Oh! I guess Leicester does things differently. See, there can’t be two kings, because that would just get confusing! So if a monarch marries someone of the same gender — wow, I think this is the second time that’s happened in Faerghus’ history! — then the monarch’s spouse gets the next title down. So for the husband of a king, that makes you the prince consort! Thus, Your Highness. Heh, hope you weren’t going for His Majesty’s title!”

“That makes sense,” he said as his brain screeched together like two broken gears. Marriage. Annette was talking about marriage. “You’re leaping ahead of yourself though. No need to go so fast.”

“I guess it’ll be kinda silly to have three back-to-back feasts. But when else are we going to celebrate it all? Winning the war is a big deal, and so is His Majesty’s coronation, and so is your wedding! It’s not like any of them can be ignored!”

“My wedding,” he repeated with a bland smile pasted over his face. 

“Yep!” Annette confirmed, unable to hear the screeching gears in his head as his mind ground to another abrupt stop. She continued to say words and sentences, probably. His point of reference was trapped in that single moment of time. Wedding. Oh sure, he thought about what marriage with Dimitri would entail. Even back in the academy he had a few daydreams he kept under absolute lock and key about disgusting domestic fantasies between them and their joint kingdoms. And yes, he more or less implied he was down to marry Dimitri as soon as he got back from Almyra. But 1) that was private, 2) they never said the words, 3) the logistics were going to be a nightmare at best and that was assuming his court was stable (and that he succeeded his bid for the throne), and 4) marriage?! Him?? To Dimitri?? Him and Dimitri, married?!

“You had no idea,” Sylvain’s delighted gasp pulled him back into the present. The redhead’s smugly surprised grin was the sort of expression that warped the laws of reality to become the most punchable thing in existence. Sylvain was lucky he was a disciplined man. “He let you envelop yourself in his sealskin and you didn’t realize?!”

“Sylvain!” Ingrid shouted, scandalized red rising in her otherwise pale cheeks. “That’s private!”

“Come on Ingrid, it’s not like I walked in on him on purpose! But I will say, Claude was alone in Dimitri’s tent, enveloped in his sealskin.” Annette and Ashe both turned red, even Felix’s cheeks pinkened. 

Mercedes just giggled into her palm. “Oh my, such trust! You two certainly move fast!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he grit out, feeling how strained his smile was. At least his cheeks were already flushed from the cold.

“Clearly! This is hilarious!” Sylvain threw back his head and howled with laughter. “Of course His Hi—Majesty didn’t think to explain it.” Sylvain leaned close to whisper into his ear. “Usually it goes courtship first, then marriage, then sex, then if you’re lucky you might get to hop into a seal’s heart. Flaunting this around,” Sylvain didn’t even touch the cloak, merely pointing at it, “means you’ve been with King Dimitri in a manner far more intimate than sex. By not rejecting him, that means you two are very married.”

“That so?” he replied as filler while his brain decided that hey, having all the emotions at once was a great idea! Neat!

Sylvain’s smile vanished. “You’ve got a 48 hour window to reject his skin from the moment you transformed. If you have second thoughts, your window is closing. I suggest you think hard about it. Once that time slot is up, that’s it. There’s only two ways to divorce him. The first is to burn his skin.” Amber eyes bored into his. “I recommend not doing that, for His Majesty’s sake as well as your own life. The other way to divorce a selkie is for death to break the marriage for you.”

“Uh.” 48 hours was long past.

Sylvain hauled him to his feet, grinning again. “Well! The rest is a conversation to have with your husband, Your Highness. Better hop to it!”

He didn’t go talk to Dimitri. What would he say? ‘Hey there husband, I don’t appreciate that you didn’t tell me we’ve been married for roughly a month’? He absolutely refused to burn Dimitri’s sealskin no matter what circumstance. Providing Sylvain wasn’t messing with him (doubtful), he was well and truly hitched to Dimitri. 

Did it still count though? Dimitri didn’t willingly give Claude his cloak in the first place. By that logic, any thief off the streets could be married into royalty if they snuck into a sealskin and ran away for 48 hours. Well, providing they had a crest, since crestless individuals couldn’t be transformed by the sealskin.

Hm. Faerghus’ weirdly strict cloak-rules were starting to make sense. So that was why there was a death penalty for stealing a king’s cloak. 

He threw himself into the day’s work as marching began. He strayed away from the former Blue Lions, instead tending to the Leicester forces. Part of him wanted to take the cloak off just to stop the stares. He knew now that people saw the cloak and recognized him as their king’s husband (Gods he still wasn’t used to thinking that). But mixed with the slack-jawed surprise was hope. Apparently his reputation was better than he thought it would be among Faerghans. 

He stole a single hour for himself. Borrowing another’s wyvern (he missed his own but she wasn’t built for the cold any more than he was), he flew into the sky and allowed himself to be above it all for a time. Centering himself, he slipped into the meditation exercise he skipped this morning.

He was upset, both at Dimitri and the situation in general. He was frustrated by his own lack of knowledge regarding the entire subject of selkies. He was disappointed, because Dimitri didn’t trust him enough to actually ask if he wanted to be married. He was scared. He was so, so afraid of destroying what he scraped together with Dimitri. 

It was easy to recognize the full blame wasn’t on Dimitri. It takes two to form a relationship and Claude was the idiot who blundered into a magic culturally-significant piece of Dimitri. Claude was the one who refused to admit he didn’t have a damned clue what he was doing. Claude was the one who refused to open up, unwilling to put down his mask and just ask plainly in the manner that came to Dimitri so naturally.

He was giddy in the worst sort of way, stomach churning at the thought of Dimitri. He was amazed that Dimitri was willing to marry him. He was stunned that anyone would so enthusiastically care for him the way Dimitri did. 

He was terrified, because Dimitri didn’t know him as Prince Khalid. He despaired and grieved. Even if Dimitri accepted him wholly and completely, even if everything worked out between them… 

Khalid still had to leave him behind. 

“Annette talked my ear off this morning at breakfast. She couldn’t decide which feast would be the largest: our victory feast, your formal coronation feast, or our wedding feast.”

“Our wedding feast, of course. I’ll see to it,” Dimitri replied without missing a beat. Ah. So Dimitri didn’t know he was clueless.

Coward that he was, he didn’t bring it up. He tucked his head into Dimitri’s cloak and let the warmth and protection envelop him. It was a handy way to avoid further conversation. The man whose skin he wore chuckled softly. Warmly. 

Claude wiggled on the carpet, nowhere near as dexterous as Dimitri was in seal-form. A true reversal of their typical dynamic. He usually transformed on the bed but in his haste to get out of talking, he neglected the fact that he couldn’t heft himself onto the bed as a seal. Dimitri picked up his slack by picking him up, carrying him to bed. 

Dimitri settled them both into bed. “You don’t mind…?” Dimitri softly asked. “You seem upset.” Curse his inability to hide his body language as a seal. “You’re certain you don’t mind?”

About the marriage. He didn’t mind. How could he? Married to Dimitri. To think at the start of the year he believed Dimitri dead. Only a few months later and he was married to the future king of a united Fódlan. He nuzzled closer as an answer.

“I’m glad. I’m not opposed to it being otherwise! But, ah… while I admire your human face, I admit it’s hard to sleep knowing the possibility I could harm or crush you in my sleep. You’re so vulnerable as a human.” Oh. Dimitri wasn’t talking about marriage. The king’s voice fell to a whisper. “And I admit, I like seeing you like this.” Dimitri pressed a chaste kiss to his snout. “You’re beautiful.”

His body moved automatically at the embarrassing flattery, attempting to flatten himself into a pancake to vanish from sight. Dimitri chuckled at him, stroking down his back and nuzzling his face. He nuzzled back, wondering what it would feel like if they were both seals at once. 

“I’m serious. In both forms you are breathtaking. You make for such a handsome seal.” Roughly jiggling his blubber was how Dimitri tried to express appreciation. Curse his cute, adorable seal face! Glaring at Dimitri only spurred the man on. It was difficult to convey a glare as a seal. Smacking at Dimitri’s hand only prompted Dimitri to rub a different spot of blubber. Squeezing himself as flat as possible, he relented to Dimitri’s assault with nothing more than a grumble. At least the king was happy.

Eventually Dimitri had his fill of teasing, slowing to tracing little circles against his fur. Lines creased his troubled forehead. Unacceptable. Claude jammed his wet nose into Dimitri’s face. The blue eye slowly blinked at him, then slid away in guilt. 

“I wish I knew how to ease your image of yourself the way you do for me. Though I will never allow any other to see you like this, part of me is tempted to carry you onto my throne and settle you beside me back in Fhirdiad. Every man and woman setting eyes on you would be consumed with envy over your perfect body. Don’t concern yourself with your weight in this form. I am endeared by every inch of you. And… I have a confession.”

He hummed a note to pressure Dimitri to continue, hoping to rush the man away from all the flattery.

“I know you’re aware that Dedue is working to reverse some of the thinness I suffered over the past five years of neglecting myself. That is to say, he is trying to return my weight to something healthy.”

Claude nodded, having ferried plenty of meals between the two over the past month. Dedue’s efforts were slowly turning a result — before, Dimitri’s ribs stuck out. Now they were still visible but not sickly.

“My seal form reflects my human form. The cloak is likely to, ah… stretch. A bit. In the upcoming months. Given your smaller stature, a minor stretch for me is a moderate one for you…” 

Oh great. He was going to get even plumper! At this rate he was going to turn into an orb! 

“Apologies. I can fast if you prefer, but—”

He barked a negative. Obviously Dimitri’s health came first. He just needed to ensure his human form didn’t turn into an orb too. That would make defeating his father in combat even harder when his entire combat style was based on being fast and agile. He just needed to solve his little ‘devour everything and nap forever’ issues.

But that was a problem for future-Claude. Current-Claude had an appointment with sleep-time. He laid his chin on top of Dimitri’s mouth, silencing the slow stream of apologies. Dimitri — his husband — took his cue and cuddled closer, falling asleep right beside him.

“Oh, hello Claude! Is everything okay?”

“Nothing urgent,” he assured Mercedes. “You busy? I have a small question.”

“Not too busy for you. Come in, take a seat. Let me get out some snacks.”

“We’re on a war march and you still have snacks?”

“Of course.” She winked and pulled out a round metal tin filled with various pastries. “Help yourself.” She helped herself immediately. His stomach growled. Reluctantly he took the least sweet-looking piece of food he could find, going through his usual ritual to detect any poison. “Did you have dinner? You mustn’t neglect your health now!”

“I ate.” He ate a big portion too. “That’s actually part of the issue.” He patted the cloak around his shoulder. “What are the side effects of wearing this?” Dimitri said there weren’t any, but also admitted he didn’t entirely know.

Mercedes’ smile grew. “Aside from bonding you and Dimitri together?”

He paused. “You mean marriage, correct?”

“Mm, that too. Here, have another cookie. I suppose he hasn’t told you. I lived much of my early life in Adrestia, so I never have quite understood the scandalous nature of discussing this topic. It’s rather silly I think. It’s very important knowledge yet Dimitri is too embarrassed to tell you. At least I assume.” She hummed and rubbed at her own furred shawl. “When a selkie reaches a certain age, their skin ‘matures’. This is typical when they finish growing. A young selkie can share their skin without fearing it bonding with anyone. When a selkie is mature however, their skin matures in preparation for finding a mate or lifelong companion. At this point, anyone who is compatible with the skin ‘bonds’ with it. Compatible in this case means crested. So long as the bonded individual does not reject the selkie within a certain period of time, the pair will bond for life.”

He gulped. Sylvain’s ‘48 hour’ ultimatum. Apparently his newly formed connection with Dimitri went deeper than he realized. “And what does that entail?”

“Not much on your end. Perhaps you’ll find yourself effortlessly understanding Dimitri’s feelings in a heated argument. Or you find completing tasks together easier, as though you perfectly complement one another. You might effortlessly notice pains he hides. Subtle things, so I’ve been told.”

“And on Dimitri’s end?”

“Oh, you have the power to completely destroy him.”

He stared at her. “I think I misheard you.”

She softly giggled. “You didn’t. It’s very silly that no one told you. Faerghus is culturally paranoid about their pelts, at times to their detriment. What’s to stop you from accidentally hurting Dimitri all because no one told you? That cloak you carry holds a piece of Dimitri. If the cloak is destroyed, it will affect Dimitri. He won’t die, but he will never be the same.” Her smile turned sad. “Many waste away. Others take their own life. Some spiral uncontrollably. My sweet younger brother is an example of the latter. You recall the Death Knight?”

The cookie between his fingers dropped onto his lap. “You’re saying…?”

“Take good care of Dimitri’s pelt, Claude. He trusts you with it and with his life.” He opened his mouth but Mercedes beat him to it. “Don’t try to give it back to him. He won’t take it back. That’s like you telling him you reject him. As for other side effects… hm. Dimitri will never be attracted to anyone else so long as you both live. Selkies mate for life, after all!”

“This has been enlightening. Thank you for breaking the Faerghan tradition of silently suffering for no good reason.”

She giggled. “Happy to help! Was there anything else?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Er, sort of. I thought it was an effect of being a seal so often. I’m constantly hungry and sleep more than I should.” And uncontrollably drawn to Dimitri’s body heat. “It’s either that or I’ve contracted a benign illness.”

“It’s because you’re cold.” She patted his head. “Your body is burning more calories to stay warm, and that tires you out easily. Be sure to eat extra and sleep as much as you’re able during our journey. We’ll be out of the mountains soon!”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it!”

“Oh.”

“I wish it could have been different,” Dimitri whispered against him. “She was my step-sister.”

“You tried to spare her,” Claude reminded him. “You did everything you could. She knew the conflict would never end unless she was dead.” He pressed a kiss to Dimitri’s cheek, not receiving much of a response. He wasn’t good at dealing with grieving people.

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri whispered, tilting his head away. “I don’t want to do anything tonight.”

“Don’t apologize.” 

“You’re going to leave me too. Soon now.”

“Soon, yes. I’ll be back though. I promise I will be back.”

Dimitri nodded, hugging him as he always did: as if Claude was expensive glass that he was terrified to break. Dimitri didn’t need words and Claude didn’t have words. But he did know something that comforted Dimitri like nothing else. He tugged the cloak around his neck closer, burying his face in the fur and allowing the warmth to flood through his body.

“Claude? Oh.” He nosed into Dimitri’s neck, patting Dimitri’s arm with his flipper. Pink lips turned down and crumpled, blue eye growing damp. Dimitri pressed his face against Claude’s fur and squeezed tight. Had he still been human, the king would have crushed all his organs with the strength of the hug. Encased in Dimitri’s own fur as armor however there was no need for Dimitri to fear his own strength. It didn’t take long for a patch of his fur to dampen. He let Dimitri hold him and wear himself out.

He could delay returning to Almyra for another week. But no longer. The longer he delayed returning to his homeland, the longer it would take to win the throne.

The longer he delayed returning home, the more his resolve eroded. 

“Take it. It’s yours now.”

He shook his head, pushing the cloak back into Dimitri’s arms. “I’m going east. The heat will kill me if I wear that.”

“Then just carry it with you. Please, take it.”

“Dimitri, listen. I still can’t take it off myself. If I accidentally trap myself in seal form in a desert, I will die. Not metaphorically either.” He patted Dimitri’s cheek, the king’s forlorn expression tearing at his heartstrings. “Take care of it for me. I’ll be back for it.”

“Please.”

He took it with him, despite the danger he was heading towards. He would keep it safe, just the same as he would ensure his own safety. 

“Quit using this ‘heat’ as an excuse to whine, Felix.”

“I will end you.”

Khalid laughed. It was a rare occurrence for him to enjoy the suffering of others, but this was justified.” Come now, come inside. You’ll all find the feast hall a tolerable temperature.”

The Faerghan party rushed inwards. All but one.

“Your Majesty. Welcome to my kingdom.”

Dimitri bowed his head. “Your Majesty.” The other Faerghans already recovered from their shock of seeing Claude in the place of Almyra’s king. Dimitri was evidently still processing it. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me in your letter.”

He grinned and elbowed Dimitri, aching to draw closer. “It was a surprise! You sure you can’t believe it?”

Dimitri’s stunned expression gave way for exasperation. “You’re right. This is exactly the sort of stunt to expect from you.”

He circled around and clapped his arm around his fellow king. “Come along! Let’s get you cooled off. I have a debt to repay, after all! You kept me from freezing to death, it’s only fair I keep you from expiring.”

“You aren’t taking me to the feast hall,” Dimitri noted.

“Gods, of course not! Hey, I missed you. Besides, we have a lot to discuss about our joint kingdoms, my husband.”

Dimitri, like a wilted flower finally being watered, perked up. “I missed you so much.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long.” A year. So short in terms of winning the throne. Forever in terms of pining. “Just wait a little longer. We can talk freely in my bedchambers.” He winked. “Is my position as your husband still valid?”

“Of course it is!”

“Heh, just checking. For anyone else, it might be hard to marry me in the eyes of the Almyran people. In your case,” a devious smile unfurled, “the results will be beautiful. If you want to marry me here… all you have to do is win my hand in a contest. Of strength.” He couldn’t wait to show off his Fódlan husband in front of his court. In front of his people. In front of literally everyone. His court especially was expecting a weakling. Proving them wrong was going to be so fun. “My parents are going to love you.”

Before Dimitri could reply, they entered his bedchambers. Dimitri fell silent, staring at his sealskin bunched together on the bed. “It’s too hot to wear it here,” Khalid whispered into Dimitri’s ear, “but I sleep with it every night. I’d rather sleep with you though. Now. I seem to recall saying I’d help you cool off. Step one to cooling off is getting you out of these clothes.” Later, he would dress Dimitri in his own fabrics — just as Dimitri once dressed him in his seal cloak. For now, he had no immediate plans to replace Dimitri’s discarded clothes.