Honorary Golden Deer

Fort Merceus

As soon as Dimitri's black glove clasped the offered dusty brown, Linhardt leaned peacefully against Byleth. Claude had the brightest grin on his face to date that Linhardt had seen since the war began, and inclined his head at the Faerghus prince in thanks. They had been conversing for hours after Linhardt fetched Claude who had been waiting patiently outside. The archer instantaneously regarded Linhardt in a brand new light after the warlock revealed that Dimitri wanted to speak with him. Claude had clapped him on the back which caused Linhardt to wheeze lightly at the impact. He wasn't able to protest the act as the Alliance leader strolled into the cathedral.

Linhardt decided to stay– mostly out of self-interest – following after Claude and settling down in one of the many chipped benches in the nave. He focused on Dimitri at first, the uneasiness and analytic eye trying to determine Claude's motives had Linhardt on edge. When the prince's eyes softened a fraction and Linhardt was certain Dimitri wasn't going to snap Claude like a twig, the warlock turned his attention to the archer. Linhardt could tell Claude was listening intently as Dimitri spoke, his eyes flittering over the Faerghus man's distinguished features. The warlock knew he was following the strategies and tactics he designed play out in front of him, adjusting it appropriately to fit Dimitri and his companions.

Claude curled his finger around his chin when he wished to disagree with whatever the prince requested, and to Linhardt's horrified surprise, he easily voiced it. Claude wasn't afraid of the prince, that much was clear; but the way Dimitri stiffened and clenched his hands at his side, clarified it wasn't often someone opposed him in speech, especially now that he was somewhat unstable. Claude didn't seem to notice, or most likely, chose not to acknowledge Dimitri's agitation.

Linhardt had fluttered his eyes closed more than once, only coming fully back to his senses when he felt a rush of warmth sit down beside him. He flickered his tired gaze to Byleth who smiled softly at him.

"It worked then?" He whispered not wanting to alert either the leaders to his presence. Linhardt furrowed his brow not wanting to ponder on whatever Byleth was insinuating with his question. His look gave off what he hoped was annoyance and the urge for the professor to clarify himself. "I spoke to Claude. It seems my specific words brought about this union of nations."

"By union, I do hope you mean sending in a mediator to ensure the so-called 'Boar' would not tear apart what is left of the monastery before talking of negotiations," Linhardt said accusingly and turned his body from the professor to emphasise his disapproval. Byleth placed his hand on Linhardt's knee and squeezed it gently. The warmth was nice, that much the warlock could confidently confess, but he didn't allow it to deter him from staying nettled with him.

"I'm sorry, my love." Byleth tried to sway him with a pet name, Linhardt involuntarily shivered with want in response. The warlock glanced at the professor over his shoulder and hummed. "If I understand it correctly, Claude will be in your debt for doing this for him."

Linhardt considered that with little thought and turned back to face him. "You have a point there. Let him hope I do not call upon it." He smiled audaciously. Byleth shook his head in affection and they turned back to witness Dimitri and Claude shake hands.

Their small moment was taken when Claude called Byleth over. Linhardt sighed and nodded to his fiancée, closing his eyes momentarily as the man kissed his cheek before leaving. The warlock decided he was no longer needed and headed back to his room for a much-needed nap. He dipped in and out of his slumber, never really falling into a deep sleep. Linhardt's lower spine tingled at a loss of touch; gleaning that the warlock's body missed the flushed and stimulating form of Byleth against his own. The safety net of the professor's arms around his frame and the spark it enticed in the lower regions of his abdomen. He quickly willed away the frivolous imaginations before things got too heated and allowed his more diffident and most pressing thoughts to finally become his fixation as he gazed up at the dark ceiling.