[ Something twists in Claude's chest as he looks at Rafal's profile against the light of the cold winter's sun, expression lost and forlorn. It's difficult to see the ancient dragon that Claude knows him to be like this and not the sad, lost child Rafal had once was, before his imperious father had stamped out any chance of peace. It seems somehow crueler to do that to a child when knowing that they face down immortal lives; there is no reprieve, no end to what they would become, but an eternity to live with it.
It's a surprise to him that it worked. All his life, he has never stopped offering his hand to others, in hopes that one day he would meet someone who'd much more gladly cut it off at the wrist. This was one hand he didn't think would be accepted, Rafal's hand tugging gently at his sleeve. It's a start. ]
Well. Your name means something good to me, so that's a start. Believe it or not, I wouldn't have offered to help just anyone. [ Not if it wasn't someone he didn't feel comfortable touching -- which is most people. Even here and now, where everyone seems to be fairly tolerant of him even if they don't like him, it is difficult for him to let people in. ]
I don't believe in eternal punishment, Rafal. Not for men, not for gods, not even for dragons, [ he says, offering him a small smile. ] I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy -- which you most certainly are not.
[ He closes his eyes for a moment, step not skipping a beat as he turns his face to meet the sun. ]
My dearest wish for someone who's done wrong and has realized it isn't to suffer. I want them to feel the sun on their face, to dance to their favourite song, to indulge in feasts and festivities, to love and be loved in return. To be a person, at the end of it all. I don't consider those to be things you have to earn.
[ He believes it. Every word of it. For all of his feelings of anger and betrayal, for all of his desire to tear Rhea down - kill her, even - to let a new future shine on Fodlan, his willingness to do what must be done, he doesn't want anyone to suffer. If Edelgard changed her mind about the war tomorrow, he wouldn't want her to waste away in prison. He would want her to live, and to live well, the life he knows she could have led if she'd just trusted them. ]
Peace isn't the opposite of war. Joy is. It belongs to you too.
[ Without joy, what's the point? How can one repent, repent, repent, repent simmering in your own loss and guilt and misery and not grow to resent it over time? There has to be room for better. For more. ]
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It's a surprise to him that it worked. All his life, he has never stopped offering his hand to others, in hopes that one day he would meet someone who'd much more gladly cut it off at the wrist. This was one hand he didn't think would be accepted, Rafal's hand tugging gently at his sleeve. It's a start. ]
Well. Your name means something good to me, so that's a start. Believe it or not, I wouldn't have offered to help just anyone. [ Not if it wasn't someone he didn't feel comfortable touching -- which is most people. Even here and now, where everyone seems to be fairly tolerant of him even if they don't like him, it is difficult for him to let people in. ]
I don't believe in eternal punishment, Rafal. Not for men, not for gods, not even for dragons, [ he says, offering him a small smile. ] I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy -- which you most certainly are not.
[ He closes his eyes for a moment, step not skipping a beat as he turns his face to meet the sun. ]
My dearest wish for someone who's done wrong and has realized it isn't to suffer. I want them to feel the sun on their face, to dance to their favourite song, to indulge in feasts and festivities, to love and be loved in return. To be a person, at the end of it all. I don't consider those to be things you have to earn.
[ He believes it. Every word of it. For all of his feelings of anger and betrayal, for all of his desire to tear Rhea down - kill her, even - to let a new future shine on Fodlan, his willingness to do what must be done, he doesn't want anyone to suffer. If Edelgard changed her mind about the war tomorrow, he wouldn't want her to waste away in prison. He would want her to live, and to live well, the life he knows she could have led if she'd just trusted them. ]
Peace isn't the opposite of war. Joy is. It belongs to you too.
[ Without joy, what's the point? How can one repent, repent, repent, repent simmering in your own loss and guilt and misery and not grow to resent it over time? There has to be room for better. For more. ]