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Heyy can i please ask for clavis/8/comfort/2nd pov?💕

Characters: Clavis Lelouch x F!Reader

POV: 2nd person Genre: Comfort

Prompt #8: “Just once, I want to hear you say it.”

Wordcount: 3021

A/N: Heyy @aceuuuuu! 💜Thank you for the request. It was a journey to get it finished, got some angst sprinkled in to enhance the comfort, but I hope you'll enjoy the direction it takes. This is the second installment of my reverse-comfort mini series in this larger grab-bag event. Big shoutout to @venulus for the help talking through how Clavis might react in this situation 💜

**Note: Reader is bilingual.

Even with all three wicks lit, the candelabra still felt eerily cold in your hand as you pushed open the door. Night bathed the library in an ethereal, otherworldly view, as though this was a parallel Rhodolite filled with books and knowledge uncharted in your reality. Exotic, mystifying, and taboo.

You tiptoed across polished tile, taking extra care to mask your steps as you peered down the aisles. Rows and rows of lifeless bookshelves returned your curious stares, but you pressed forward with your investigation undeterred. Prince Chevalier was never wrong before.

As scrupulous as he is stubborn, he had said, with more contempt than you thought necessary at the time. But the more you listened to his detailed first-hand accounts, the more confused you grew that they existed at all. How could a person, a prince no less, possibly find the time and energy to think and do and be all the things Chevalier claimed of him without going mad? It spun your own head in circles simply trying to make sense of it. 

The bookshelves lining the wall all came up naught, but you had scarcely begun inspecting the rows by the windows when you heard it. Soft and faint yet determined to subsist, like the sizzling candles at your side. You moved slower, the sound growing more alluring the closer you approached, and poked your head just enough to see what was down each successive aisle until you found him.

Perhaps his head was spinning in circles. Or perhaps he was mad.

Perched at the far end of the row was Clavis Lelouch. But like with the library, the darkness altered his appearance into something utterly unrecognizable, and you struggled to keep your heart from beating out of your chest as you took in his mangled form. The space between the bookshelves was narrow, barely enough for two people to stand side by side, but Clavis managed to sit on the floor with his head resting on one of the lower shelves and his legs bent in odd positions to fit against the opposite bookcase. Beside him he had set a single candlestick in a jar, the flame so small the melted wax threatened to extinguish it at any moment. His long white coat draped over his stomach like a blanket, and his jacket and gloves lay neatly folded in the center of the aisle. In his hands he held a large book, though it was only one of many open tomes and papers chaotically piled around him. Ink-blotched sleeves rolled up to the elbows and wrinkled collar limply hanging open, Clavis looked as though he was knocked out cold in a brawl with the books, his normally coiffed hair sticking widely out in all directions and obscuring his typically brilliant shining eyes. But you knew he was awake, because the sounds you were hearing came out of his rapidly moving lips like a man possessed. 

Smoke and mirrors are his favorite toys, Chevalier once said. You pushed his voice away, tiptoeing deeper into the aisle to focus instead on what came out of Clavis’s mouth. Why did his words sound so familiar?

Before you could come up with an answer, your foot caught in the folded clothing and the candelabra slipped from your grasp and fell to the floor with a loud clank! Luckily the flames went out with the whoosh of the fall, but in the dead of night, the sound seemed enough to announce your existence to the entire palace. Clavis flinched in his seat, eyebrows climbing his forehead and hands zipping behind his back like a frightened child caught doing something naughty. But as soon as those brilliant shining eyes found yours, his shoulders relaxed and his face broke out in a brilliant shining smile.

“Dearie me,” he said, wiping the hair from his face and sitting up straight. “And what reason could a darling little one have in a scary library this late at night?” 

“I was about to ask you the same question,” you replied, regaining your footing and crossing your arms. “Minus the darling part.” You wouldn’t let him treat this as a joke. You came here on a mission. 

“Aha,” he mused, stretching his arms like a large cat. “What reason do any of us have to do anything, really, if not for our own enjoyment?” He locked eyes again with you, but you noticed him surreptitiously shutting books and flipping sheets over as he spoke. “Life would be so dull otherwise.”

Even a child has more patience. The only way to progress is to play his game.

“You find enjoyment practicing contortionism in the middle of the night?” you asked. Clavis let out a low, mirthful chuckle. The kind you’d expect from a villain who successfully fooled the hero.

“Would that impress you? To learn your beloved prince is so multi-talented?” he asked, moving in front of the books and spreading his arms. “These limbs will bend and flex at your command! Now, my sweet, why don’t you come and test out a warming embrace?”

The only way to progress is to play his game. 

Chevalier’s voice grimly echoed in your mind as you knelt before the prince and returned his hug. The dim firelight from the jar bounced off his tired face, giving him the waxy, droopy visage of an old candle, but despite his ghastly appearance he was nevertheless gentlemanly in the way he cradled you in his arms and drew small circles on your back.

“Even the bravest of us fear nightmares,” he whispered after some time. “But wandering around in the dark? That’s practically inviting anyone to spook you even more!”

Find his weak points, or he will exploit yours.

You shifted yourself so that your chin rested on his shoulder, giving you access to the mess behind him. Even in the low light you could tell Clavis covered his tracks well in his haste; books were snapped shut and loose sheets were either turned over or tucked away. But all you needed was one clue. You just had to stall until you could find it. 

“You wouldn’t spook a scared, darling little one wandering around in the dark, would you?” you asked innocently, scanning the book spines for any legible titles.

Clavis’s shoulders shook as he chuckled. “Well, I suppose that depends. It’s always impressive the more people you can manage to spook, so I might do it on a group. But if it’s only you—” he leaned his head against yours, his soft hair falling in front of your eyes and obscuring your vision “—I don’t know which side of me would win out. The gentleman or the beast.”

The urge to rip his arms off and shove him into the bookcase rose in your gut, but you suppressed it and instead brought your hand to his head and brushed his hair, moving it out of your view as you resumed your search. Of the book spines that faced you, none of the titles contained any letters or symbols you’d seen in the palace, but it was too dark to make out anything more. 

“Now, wasn’t that simply marvelous?” Clavis announced with a content sigh. “I always feel much more relaxed after a warm hug. Don’t you? And now that we’re both relaxed, let’s get you safely back to bed, hmm?” 

Find his weak points. Twist them to your advantage.

“Not yet!” you blurted without thinking, wrapping your arms more firmly around him. “I… uh… I’m still scared.” Though you couldn’t see his face, you could imagine the smug grin he grew.

“How about a lullaby?” he offered. “I recently learned one I just know will make you smile.”

“No, no. Just keep talking,” you said. The light in the jar was almost extinguished, and you frantically razed your eyes across the mess to catch even a sentence. “Tell me what your nightmares are like.”

He let out a breathy wheeze. “I don’t think you’re ready to hear about my nightmares.”

“Why? Afraid I’ll laugh?” you said.

“They wouldn’t be nightmarish then, would they?”

It was no use. Everything on the floor was hidden too well. He was enjoying this.

“Cry then?”

“Closer, but not quite.” 

Squinting in the dark hurt your head, and you shut your eyes to think. You missed your chance. Clavis could end the game whenever he wanted.

The only way to win is to break him when he thinks he’s got you.

Your eyes shot open and bore at the spot he previously sat in. And there it was. The book Clavis was holding when you caught him, hurriedly shoved to the back of the bottom shelf. It was much too far away to read, but the cover was visible enough for you to recognize it instantly; a book of nursery rhymes from your childhood.

You turned your head, your lips hovering inches from his ear. “Afraid I’ll find out what you’ve been studying?” you whispered in your native tongue. 

Clavis stiffened in your hold then rocketed backward. His eyes grew to the size of saucers and his mouth gaped open and closed as he fumbled over his words.

“Wha…. How…. Who—?” 

His expression morphed again and again with each question until finally settling on a bitter scowl. 

“I knew you two were talking about me,” he said darkly, in a voice you had never heard from him before. Not even the bliss of night sky from the windows behind him could soften the atmosphere, and your hands grew clammy as the room took on a macabre tone.

“Clavis.” You fought the worry building in your throat. “It’s not what you think.”

“Did you gather enough intel for your lingui-buddy?” he snarled, standing as he spoke. “Were you planning on heading to his room now or waiting until morning to reveal the latest juicy gossip about his failure of a brother?”

“It’s not like that!” you retorted. But Clavis had already turned away, the pile of books scooped into his arms.

“Isn’t it? Why else talk about a man in the same room as him in a language he can’t understand except to laugh at him?” he asked, slipping into the next aisle of shelves.

“Clavis!” you called, chasing after him. It wasn’t true. Even though you’d lived in Rhodolite most of your life, there always existed that veil of separation between you and the natives you could never remove as hard as you tried. And arriving at the palace as the first non-Rhodolitian Belle filled you with the renewed dread of jumping off the deep end from your first day in the kingdom. But despite his reticent introduction, Prince Chevalier quickly proved to be your most reliable companion in the palace. The conversations you held only served to build respect as he helped you navigate your new role, never to provoke others. Except, of course, when you asked about his eccentric younger brother whom you had grown exceedingly curious of.

So impotent he only shows his true self when he is backed into a corner.

You rounded the corner to the next row of shelves and found Clavis furiously shoving books into their slots, the scowl still present on his face. 

“Listen,” you began, “I talk with Chevalier about all of you because it’s my job.”

“Don’t lie,” he spat, ramming a particularly massive book into the shelf. “We already know who you’re choosing as king.” He turned again and disappeared down the next aisle.

“I still have a few weeks until I decide, and I’d like to get a comprehensive understanding of all the candidates before I choose,” you said. “But as some princes aren’t being fully honest with me, I am forced to consult others to fill in the blanks.” Though hot on his heels, you entered the next row to find it completely empty.

“From the day you arrived at this palace, I have been nothing but honest with you,” his voice called from another aisle, followed by the sounds of books getting shoved back into place.

“You just claimed you only came to the library to bend your limbs until I discovered you!” you argued back, dipping into the next aisle. Again, he was nowhere to be found.

“Correction.” His voice floated from someplace else. “You assumed what I was doing, and I only played along because it was enjoyable to me. I neither confirmed nor denied your theory. It’s your job as Belle to determine truth from fiction. And you have at your disposal the greatest fact-checker ever to set foot upon Rhodolite.”

And deflection is his preferred weapon when others are mentioned. Particularly I.

You huffed as you followed the sounds of his footsteps. Why were those two always at each other’s throats? Why was it so difficult to talk to one about the other? It was as if the castle itself was fueled by their rivalry. So why after all these years could they not settle things face-to-face? Why did you, a complete outsider, have to get roped up in their family feud?

“Why must you both be so pig-headed?” You couldn’t suppress yelling the insult in your language. You briefly pictured the two chasing each other in the library, slinging insults over bookshelves like children. But the image didn’t stick for long; it was far too improbable.

And then it hit you. Chevalier’s excessively detailed accounts of his brother weren’t given out of disdain. They were a plea.

“I may not know what all of those words mean,” Clavis called. “But Chevalier is ten times whatever it is you said. And he’s also a big, ugly, ungracious—Goodness!”

The loud thud instantly revealed his location, and you exited the row you were in and made a beeline for the library entrance. Fallen books lay scattered around Clavis’s collapsed body, and you ignored his protests as you knelt beside him and gently brushed your fingers over the fresh bruise growing on his forehead.

“Do you know what a closed door means?” you said. 

“I wasn’t trying to run away,” he groaned, pushing your hand back and sitting up. Darkness masked him, but you could still make out the distressed lines marking his face and the way his shoulders sagged with each breath.

“Clavis, when was the last time you slept?” you asked.

“This afternoon. I took a nap in the office,” he responded quickly.

“No, I mean really slept. Like a full-night’s worth.”

He didn’t answer, instead busying himself with rolling out his sleeves and fixing his crooked collar. It felt awkward watching him, like you were intruding on him getting dressed, and your eyes wandered to the books surrounding you. From nonfiction to folktales, Clavis had amassed a wonderful collection of works from your home. You picked up a children’s book and studied its cover, the familiar shapes and arrangements of letters bringing joy to the desolate library.

“Why?” you asked, flipping through the pages.

“I already told you,” he said. He clasped the final cuff and turned towards you. “I do things because I enjoy them. Nothing less and nothing more.”

“And I already told you I’m trying to learn more about you. And not just as Belle,” you said, your heart growing heavy. You stopped at a page with an illustration of two figures holding hands, a boy and a girl, and traced their smiles with your finger. “Please, just once, I want to hear you say it.”

Clavis inhaled deeply, then scooted next to you and copied your tracing, his calloused fingers occasionally rubbing against yours. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to learn more about you in turn?”

“Then why go through all this effort when you could just talk to me like a normal person?” you asked.

He tapped his finger on the boy’s head. “I could never talk to you the way Chevalier could. And Chevalier’s not a normal person.”

He was right. Chevalier wasn’t a normal person. He was a prince living arm's length from his people, but behind a veil. Neighbors, and yet a world apart. A world inhabited only by those who have seen the sun rise through his eyes, breathed the air that blew through his skies, and slept underneath the same set of stars. 

No, Chevalier and Clavis weren’t normal people. They were extraordinary. 

Pale light filtered in through the windows as dawn approached, and Clavis discreetly caught a yawn in the crook of his elbow as he stretched his back.

“I wouldn’t call that as relaxing as a warm hug, but now that we’re both sufficiently embarrassed, let’s get you safely back to bed and pretend this night never happened,” he said. But before he could stand, you grabbed his hand and pulled it back to the book. 

“Not yet,” you said. Ignoring his half-bleary-half-astonished expression, you dragged Clavis’s hand to the top of the page and placed his index finger on the first line of the text. “Your pronunciation needs work.” 

It might have been more prudent to take up Clavis’s offer of returning to bed. Your head swam with the discoveries you learned about the royal brothers, and you were sure they would better digested one at a time while lying in your comfy palace bed. Clavis’s weary head tettered concerningly as you guided his finger over each word in the book and sounded them out to him, and you were certain he would prefer to have this reading session at a time when he could keep both his eyes open. And you were positive that the best thing the both of you needed right now was a restful sleep. It was what Chevalier would say was the logical thing to do in the situation. But as night turned to day, the second prince’s name was never brought up again. And as the sun bathed the library in an angelic, auspicious glow, Clavis closed both his eyes and rested his cheek against your shoulder, and you closed the book and used your finger to trace the soft smile that bloomed from his lips.

I believe one of the greatest ways people connect is through language learning, and I have the deepest respect for those who learn the language of the place they live in when it isn't the same as their native tongue. Also, I realize this fic super overshot the wordcount limit, but to make up for it, Jin's comfort fic will be bite-sized, lighthearted, and maybe even a little comedic.

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