Chapter 2: The Final Respite

Claude awoke from a dreamless sleep.

Though his nerves still ached from his dire resolution, overall, he felt calmer. His ride with Jamilah had clearly done the trick as he was less tense than when he finally collapsed upon his bed. Closing his eyes again, he thought to doze a few minutes longer before getting up.

But then he heard movement – someone had entered his tent. Claude’s eyes opened a pinch, and he listened carefully. Thanks to a childhood of torment from elder brothers and cousins, Claude had learned the benefits of being a light sleeper. 

Mercifully, the form that came into his view was a far more welcoming sight.

“Hard at work, I see?” said Byleth, smiling.

Claude gazed up at her with bleary eyes.

Should I say something now, or work up to it? 

Seeing her brought a wash of thoughts to his mind. Last night, he had resolved to do two things – end this conflict with Edelgard’s dark mages, and come clean to Byleth’s husband about their relationship. It was easy to decide to himself that he wanted everything to come out – it was another to voice those desires to Byleth, and urge her to be on board with them. After all this time, a part of Claude dreaded that she would refuse outright, and fear of that stung. It wasn’t that he doubted her love; it was worry that her ‘sense of duty’ was too strong for her to buckle, that she would see maintaining the lie as the path of least resistance. Byleth had once told Claude, many years ago, on the night he left Derdriu that,  “Dimitri’s always needed my help more than anyone.”  Those words had made Claude angry even then. 

He couldn’t deny that Dimitri’s attitude had remarkably improved in no small part due to Byleth. She had brought him back from the bridge of insanity and transformed him from a savage storm into the ‘Saviour King’. But, the idea that Dimitri inherently ‘deserved’ Byleth because he “needed her the most” bristled Claude; like a cat stroked the wrong way, it made him want to strike out with his claws and hiss. 

“What’s wrong?” Byleth spoke, face now twisted in concern.

Claude flinched a little. 

“Why do you think something’s wrong?” 

“You aren’t smiling,” she replied, sweetly stroking his cheek. “You always smile, even when you aren’t happy.”

Idiot!  he scolded himself.  I’ve been lying here staring at her for an unnerving amount of time. Of course, she knows something is wrong. 

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and groaned.

“Sorry, By. I’m just… still half-asleep. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine – and don’t deflect! Are you sure that’s all?” she urged, sitting beside him on the bed.

No, it’s not.  

Claude did not want to launch into a tirade about his plan nor his desire to come clean to Dimitri. He had to build up to it. So, he forced a smile and nodded. 

“For the time being, yes. Right now, though?” 

Claude reached out for her, running a hand down Byleth’s arm and along her leg. He could feel her shiver of delight. 

“I’m just happy to see you.”

At last, she smiled again. 

“You too,” and she pecked him on the forehead.

Stretching his arms, Claude felt more awake.

“Wait, how did you get passed my guard?” he asked. Not too long ago, Byleth feared reproach so much that she wouldn’t have dared enter his quarters, let alone perch on the edge of his bed and kiss him. “Where’s Wallace?”

“I read your little note straight away, and I followed him back here,” Byleth shrugged. “He seems used to me now, and you were expecting me. So, he let me straight in.”

Claude scratched his head. “Wow, have I only been asleep for half-an-hour or so?”

“No – I was bathing when he arrived.”

“Bathing, huh?”

Imagining a naked Byleth was a joy in itself without throwing water into the equation. The delight of her damp flesh against his own was one he had not fully experienced; closest they ever got to it was the other day in the cave—that, and at the bathhouse in Almyra. Even then, they had been appropriately separated by a stone wall with a crack in the middle. Large enough for voices to pass through, but not peek. Funnily, they had managed to iron out better terms for the peace treaty between Fódlan and Almyra during those nightly discussions than they ever did in the council room with diplomats encircling them.

“Yes, bathing. I offered Wallace tea while he waited for me to finish.”

Claude stifled a snigger.  Ah, ‘Tea’!  Their code word for sex, and a pun he couldn’t help evoking. 

“Bath  and  tea, hm?” he said, stroking a finger along her thigh. “I hope you didn’t share any of our ‘special blend’ with him, By.”

Byleth gave him a playful tap.

“Very funny.”

“Not really.” Hooking his arm around her waist, he pulled himself up to whisper in her ear. “There are a few things sacred in this world. Our tea times is one of them.”

He nibbled her lobe for good measure.

“Hmph, clearly there’s nothing wrong with you,” she huffed, leaning into him. “You’re especially frisky this morning.”

“Hm, you might say I’m ‘thirsty’.”

“Oh dear, shall I fetch you some water?”

“I’d prefer that tea you promised me.”

“Milk this gag any further, and I’ll march right back out of here.”

“Who says I’m not serious?”

“Claude!” she bleated, with one of her infrequent giggles. 

With one last kiss behind her ear, Claude flopped back against his pillows. 

“Spoilsport,” he mumbled.

Byleth loomed above him, her hand coming to rest against his abdomen. The fires of love and desire burst through him. 

“Joking apart, I hear you worked non-stop yesterday,” she said lowly. “I missed you all day.”

Taking hold of her wrist, he began to pepper her hand with kisses.

“The feeling is mutual, my stars-above. Though your little letter certainly perked me up.”

“Really?” Byleth bit her bottom lip. “It wasn’t my most eloquent writing.”

“Au contraire, it’s always wonderful to know how much you…” he smirked, ” Long  for me.”

Their lips met, and they kissed languidly, deliberately…

Gods let us stay like this forever.

Byleth broke contact, smiling coyly. “Every word was true.”

‘The world needs me to be so many things, but all I want is to be yours.’

Claude certainly hoped that was true…

She shifted, as though to pull away from him, but Claude recaptured her shoulders.

He kissed her harder.  Deeper.  He wanted to do it until their lips were sore. 

Byleth responded in kind – quivering beneath his hold…

“Hm, Claude–?”

“Shh…”  They kissed again. “I didn’t get to properly say goodbye yesterday.”

“Hmm that’s sweet,” Byleth gasped, “But this is–” His mouth lured her back into another kiss,  “–Claude–!”  she moaned, ” But seriously, I’m going to–”  another  kiss , “–lose my balance– agh! “

Her shaking arms gave out.

“Oof!”  Claude cried out, half-surprised, half-laughing as she landed on top of him.

“I tried to warn you!” Byleth muttered, hair covering her face. They cuddled closer to each other, side by side, chest to chest.

Snickering, Claude pushed her fringe out of her eyes.  

“It’s not my fault that your lips are so delectable.”

Resting her hand on his hip, Byleth sighed.

“If you have time for  this ,” and she kissed him again, “you really must be done and dusted with the plan for the next march! We should call Ashe and Leonie in here right now so we can brief them immediately.”

The King of Almyra rested his arms behind his head with a huff.

“Would that were the case,” he grumbled. “Weaving a troop manoeuvre all day yesterday damn near drove me mad. Am I not allowed a single moment of respite, my stars-above? A second of sweet relief with my lady love?!” 

Byleth kissed him again.

“I’m teasing.”

“I thought we weren’t allowed to tease each other anymore?”

“When did we agree that?”

“The other night.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “That’s different.”

“What’s good for the gander is good for the goose, my stars-above,” Claude chuckled.

Byleth hooked her leg over his. “I didn’t want you to think I was using you.”

“So what if you were?” His hand swiftly found her knee again, fingers tracing the floral pattern of her stockings. “Doesn’t mean I’ll curse your name for eternity. I’m a king and, apparently, a ‘Master Tactician’.  I’m  useful. Even if I get pissed off in the heat of the moment, I won’t hold it against you in the long run.”

His touches teetered dangerously close to the top of her thigh, making her tremble.

“You promise?”

“I do,” he purred. “I beg but one boon, my stars…  Agh , actually,  two  boons.”

Byleth’s eyes flickered, “What are they?”

“First and foremost, that I can continue to tease you with amorous lustre.”

A beautiful gleam flickered in her eyes.

“I suppose that’s a price I have to pay. Now I’ve scratched your back, I must wait for you to scratch mine?” Byleth breathed with contentment.

“You make it sound so insidious, By,” he responded zestfully, tugging her leg tighter around him. “If anything, I owe you a hearty debt: there’s your strategic genius, your prowess on the battlefield, your integral part to the trade and peace agreement between our two kingdoms.” A deep sigh escaped his chest. “Frankly, I’ll be lucky to have any skin left on my back by the time you’ve finished scratching it.”

“Is that so?” Byleth remarked coquettishly. “I thought you liked a bit of scratching now and then.”

Claude chortled, smothering her lips again. “Now, now, get your mind out of the gutter, my sweet star. Believe it or not, I’m attempting to be serious here.”

“That makes a change.”

“Teach.”

A tiny titter caught in her nose.

“Sorry.” Byleth’s hand cupped his cheek, delicate as a dove. “What was the second boon?”

Now Claude had Byleth’s attention, he didn’t know where to start. Would she really appreciate knowing how much conflict being an illicit lover caused in his mind and heart? Would it even be a surprise to her? Even lying there, side by side and twisted around each other, Claude feared that with the oncoming end to this conflict, Byleth was already preparing to let him go in her heart. 

Come victory, the status quo would be restored. Claude would go back to Almyra, and Byleth would return to Dimitri.

Ugh, I’m overthinking this…

Claude’s mind always seemed to be murmuring, never stopping. Aching for knowledge beyond his reach; schemes came too fast for him to write them down; and thinking of the love that flowed through him. It had such power over him, it felt as vital to his existence as blood and air.

“I want to be honest with you,” he began, slowly.

Claude’s thumb continued to rub circles between the gaps in her tights, using the motion to keep him grounded in that moment. 

Byleth nodded, starting to look tense, “I… I want you to be honest with me, too.”

“That’s good…”

This is hard.

As much as he sought honesty, it hurt to confess how miserable he felt about their situation. How much resentment he felt towards Dimitri.

“You know I live for my dreams,” he resumed, “- and the more time goes on, the emptier those dreams become without you.” He kissed her for impact, leaving behind a faint smile on her lips. “More than anything, I want to be as much a fixture in your world as you are in mine. I wish…”

Claude’s voice trailed off.

I want to be open, but what will she say when I say what I want to do…?

“Gah, I’m babbling!” Claude grumbled, face half-buried in his pillow.

Eyes glistening like opals, Byleth proffered her hand, which he took. 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to…?” she said kindly.

Claude pouted.

“You don’t want to know?”

“Of course I do.”

“But you won’t even fight me for the knowledge?”

Byleth kissed the tip of his nose sweetly. “Claude, trying to get you to admit  anything  is a fight in itself!” 

Hah! 

She had him there.

Somehow, her playfulness eased some of the tension knotted inside him. Still, he was quiet – thinking of how to say what he wanted without deflecting or undermining it with a joke.

“I wish I knew half the things that go on in your head,” Byleth remarked.

He looped her braid around his finger; she had grown out her hair and adopted two side plaits since becoming the archbishop.

“How often have I thought the same about you?” Claude pondered aloud.

Byleth snuggled closer to him. Nose to nose, her voice was a soft whisper. “What do you want to know then?”

She sounded so earnest, her statement knocked the words out of Claude’s brain:

“What do we do when this is all over?”

Byleth tilted her head into his pillow. “This battle, you mean?”

“This  campaign ,” he clarified. “Sure, there’ll be some clean-up and admin to deal with once we’re out of the field. But, if this next battle really ends up being the final, final one. Finally, then it’ll be time for me to return to Almyra.”

A tiny whimper choked in Byleth’s windpipe.  “I… Yes, I know.”

“I  am  the king, after all,” Claude chuckled sadly, trying to inject some levity into his voice, and failing. “Almyra is hardly a paragon of peace and stability. And, well, you’ve met my mother. She’s not quite as genial as me when it comes to diplomacy. I can’t leave her in charge forever.”

“I know,” Byleth croaked.

All her earlier playfulness was gone. It was enough for Claude to wonder if he should have kept his mouth shut until later. Until after this battle was over, even.

But this is driving me insane,  he reasoned to himself.  I can’t go into this next battle without knowing where Byleth stands. I need to know.

The topic had been danced around for too long.

Byleth buried her face in his shoulder, dragging Claude from his thoughts.

“By…?”

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “It’s just… I was thinking about this, too. Yesterday, when I was talking to Ashe, it was all I could think about. How I… I feel as though I’m in prison.”

Claude groaned.

“By, I’m sorry,” he faltered, pressing a kiss into her hair, immediately backpedalling despite his earlier conviction. “Maybe this  isn’t  the time to talk about this.” He forced out a laugh, “Heck, we actually have to  beat  these guys first.”

Glancing at him from beneath her bangs, Byleth cracked a smile. Pulling him into a hug, she sighed. Her breath susurrate, rustling in his ears like wind through the trees. Sweet, calming, relaxing… Claude could forget all his troubles in moments like this.

“You say I’ve done so much for you,” she spoke meekly. “But  you’ve  already done so much – taken so many risks – for me. And I don’t deserve it.”

She sounded defeated, resigned to their inevitable separation.

A sharp, fearful jolt shot through Claude then as he realised how his blathering up until now could have been read.

Wait, she doesn’t think I’m–?!

“Um, By,” he spoke quickly. “Everything I just said–I didn’t mean what I said like a–a break-up or an end to  us  or anything like that. That’s not what I’m getting at–!”

Though that would be the sensible thing to do.

Byleth kissed him, trembling with emotion. 

“But it will be, won’t it? Just like last time.”

Neither Claude nor Byleth had planned this. The core of what they had now was birthed from a  “moment of weakness”.  Before that Claude had long resigned to hiding his feelings away. When she married Dimitri, Claude’s heart had flared with distress – but he resolved to never let those feelings get in the way of his aims. He was taught to be self-reliant and independent – so, he would not surrender to sadness. 

Instead, he would find a bright-side.

When Claude left Fódlan, he had always envisioned returning one day. After all, if he was ever going to bust open Fódlan’s Locket and foster peace between his two bloodlines, an alliance with Dimitri was necessary – and, as much as it hurt, Teach’s position as the queen-consort  and  the archbishop was a gift politically. The first step to promoting cultural harmony was showing the Almyrans that the Fódlans were not  daeva -worshipping cowards and the Fódlans that Almyrans would not scalp them on sight. Who better to demonstrate that than the Ashen Demon-head of the Church-wife of the reigning monarch? Claude – or rather, Shahzahd Khalid – knew that his father’s people would be as much in awe of her skills as the Fódlean were. 

She was the perfect ambassador to bridge the gap.

‘Khalid’ told himself that he could swallow ‘Claude’s’ romantic love and passionate desires for her to serve the greater good, for the sake of the lofty chimaeras that he clung so desperately to. He could do it! He would love her in eternal silence. For the greater good!

…At least, he thought so – until he learned those desires were reciprocated. 

That fateful evening after they had all drunk too much red wine and Byleth had stumbled out into the gardens of  Almariyyah , seeming so distraught.

One tempestuous, uninhibited kiss later Byleth had confessed all.

“I think about holding you–kissing you–being with you–what it would be like. Even just once.” 

Had it been anyone but Teach, Claude would have taken it for a joke, but her face grimaced in guilt and want. Had she not been clinging to his jacket frantically, he might have thought he was dreaming. 

But she embraced him so tightly.

“I know–I’m married, but all I can think about is you.”

They hadn’t made love that night, but Claude had been drunk himself enough to admit the feelings he thought would remain secret for the rest of his life.

“You’re married, yes, but – gods save me – you need only say the word… I don’t think I have the strength to say no. Otherwise, just–pretend as though nothing happened. Because I will. I’m not as proud as some, but I won’t beg you either. You have to come to me.”

A final kiss pressed against her forehead.

“And when you do, be sober.”

Tipsy they might have been that night, but not so much to forget the confession. Claude might have stayed silent forever, but Byleth’s admission had opened the Mashyana’s jar within his heart. The taste of her lips had been like taking a bite from Embla’s apple – and the knowledge could not be forgotten. It had been the death of innocence, and everything had spiralled off from there. 

By the time Byleth left Almyra, after the sinful deed was done, letting her go had been akin to torture. 

Claude clung her harder, still trying to work up the courage to his next request. 

“I can’t do it again, By,” he professed. “Not this time.”

Byleth whimpered. “I-I don’t think I can either…”

Rolling onto her back, Byleth pulled him on top of her. She kissed him hungrily. Claude could feel his hands shaking as he tore away her cloak and dress to nuzzle her bare neck and shoulder. Byleth followed suit, practically ripping his thin shirt aside to reach his chest.

“Tell me what to do!” she begged.

“Tell  you  what to do?” he puffed uncertainly.  How about leaving Fódlan and running away with me? 

Claude was half-serious, almost saying the words aloud. It’s what his mother had done, after all. Emerging as Rhoxana in the east, she dropped her mask of gentility and became “ daevashahbanu ” – the Demon Queen, lawful wife to Dariush, the King of the Almyrans. Nevertheless, Tiana von Riegan was not already married nor an archbishop. She wasn’t even her father’s heir. Godfrey was healthy as a horse and could still have had children. No one depended on Claude’s mother for anything except to be an entertaining guest at vacuous soirees. Nothing  vital  was lost to Leicester when Tiana disappeared off the face of the earth, never to be seen again. 

Byleth was Fódlan’s keystone. A crucial cog in its support system – the Church of Seiros. Dimitri might rule as the king, but the Church still held sway over his people and kingdom. Moreover, without Byleth, Dimitri might well have died, mad and alone, on the fields of Gronder…

A sad thought, despite all the resentment Claude felt towards love-rival. He wanted Byleth, but he didn’t wish Dimitri harm. Claude just wanted to be  free . ‘The world needs me to be so many things, but all I want is to be yours.’  Those had been Byleth’s words, but they could just as well have been Claude’s own.

Stroking her hair, he decided it was time.

“Do you love me?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“More than anyone?”

“Yes,” Byleth beamed. Then, clearly sensing Claude’s ultimate paranoia, she squeezed his forearms and added, “I… I didn’t know I could love someone so much, until you.”

Neither had he.

“And you’ll love me no matter what happens?” Claude pressed.

Byleth stared at him questioningly. “Yes. But… You aren’t planning on doing anything reckless, are you?”

“Reckless? Me?” 

Joking aside, he was determined after that. Leaning over Byleth, resting his elbows either side of her head, a heavy sigh escaping his lungs as it finally, finally came out —

“By, I want you to tell Dimitri the truth.”

Byleth’s eyes widened, her anxiety was palpable.

“He’ll kill you,” she spoke plainly.

“I’d like to see him try,” Claude replied plainly, no hint of humour. 

“I’m serious!”

“Do you see me joking?”

“Mehrbahn, Khal.”

It felt strange to hear Almyran words coming from Byleth. Her pronunciation was off and she often mixed up her tenses, but there was something indescribably moving about her earnest attempts.

Khalid was fluent in Fódlean and the  koine-glótta . Even before he came to Fódlan, he had trained himself to think, write and speak confidently in its language. The majority of his peers did not understand it, and while it opened him up to further beatings, it proved a useful tool for hiding his schemes. To them, the alphabet looked like meaningless scribbles, and it sounded like whispy curses when spoken. They thought Khalid’s demon-witch mother had taught him evil spells when all he was doing was calling them  “dingbats”  and  “thick-headed morons” . 

Then, when he came to Fódlan, the opposite happened. Claude dared not even utter a single word in High Almyran lest people immediately peg him as an outsider. His grandfather told him to never, ever, no matter what, write or speak in  “that damned language”.  Gram Oswald hadn’t meant it to be cruel – it was a warning that any doubt over Claude’s ‘breeding’ would be used as slings and arrows to tear him down. 

So, when he heard Byleth – the supposed-Goddess’s avatar – babble out High Almyran phrases, it felt as though the cycle of misunderstanding between their two nations was broken. His first language was not a freakish thing; merely another way of speaking.

“Mehrbahn’i, eshta’mi,”  Claude assured her at last. “Believe it or not, I’m  still  not scared of Dimitri or what he might do to me. There’s nothing I’ve seen in him that I can term as unpredictable.”

Byleth scoffed.

“Oh! Your husband can be erratic,” Claude clarified. “But that’s not the same thing. There has always been method in his ‘madness’, and there’s only so many directions a raging bull can charge.”

“There’s only so many directions you can run, too.”

He shook his head.

“I’m more concerned about how frightened  you  seem to be of him,” he stated plainly.

Byleth bit her top-lip.

“He’s never laid a finger on me,” she began provisionally. “Never.”

“But?”

“But… Well, I’ve seen him do awful things to other people,” she confessed. Her eyes gazed off to the side, limpid tears forming. Byleth seldom cried, was rarely so emotional, so seeing her on the verge of doing so unnerved him. “When Dimitri’s blood is up,” she went on, “No one can control him. Even now, when he’s in battle, he dehumanises his foe. That’s how he can stomach the things he does to them.”

Peeking up at Claude, Byleth’s breath shook.

“I’ve had nightmares about what he might do to you if he knew. They make me sick. It’s why I was sick yesterday.” That confession gave Claude pause.  Was that really all that caused it?  It was still bothering him. “For a long time, Dimitri lived only to avenge the dead. Now, he lives to destroy anyone who threatens his belief in harmony and peace.”

“Ha!” Claude scoffed. “You know him better than me but – really? Would he  really  start another war over something like this? His Royal ‘Peace-is-Perfect’ Majesty?”

“I don’t know,” Byleth quivered out. “That’s what bothers me. If it were anyone other than you…”

Claude didn’t even need to guess what she meant by that. Dimitri was no schemer, but he was shrewd enough to query any action Claude made as a potential plot. From a twisted, disingenuous mindset, Claude knew that his relationship with Byleth might be perceived as a ploy to undermine the Faerghusian king and the Church of Seiros.

Holding her close, Claude dabbled kisses and promises against Byleth’s ear. 

“I love you. I don’t want you to be scared. But I mean what I say – I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t  lie .”

“I can’t either,” she cried, clinging him faster. “I can’t. I can’t.” 

“By…”

Sure enough, salt tears started to fall.

“I… I’ve made such a mess of my life, Claude,” she sniffed. “Of all our lives. I could have prevented it all. If I’d used all my power or understood my own feelings.” She vigorously tried to dry her eyes with her hands, almost clawing at her face in frustration. “If I wasn’t  me . A freak–!”

“By!”

Cupping her cheek, Claude tried to catch her tears with his thumb. 

“I love you,” she hiccuped. “I do. But… Even if I tell Dimitri, even if we tell the truth – how am I any better for you than I was for him?!”

His heart stuttered.

“By, don’t say such–“

“Ahem!”

Claude let out a curse.

Byleth barely suppressed a scream. 

Startled, they instinctively clung to one another as they looked over towards the source of the third-party.

There stood Nader.

Claude’s heart settled a tad. If  anyone  in the world could have walked in and found them like this, Nader was probably the least destructive. Still, Claude was very conscious of the intimate scene his old tutor had just witnessed, too. In his darkest imaginings of their relationship being discovered, Claude had always envisioned them utterly compromised. Naked abed, or even amid sex. The image of them shamed before the world, with only bed furs and one another’s bodies to hide their decency, and scorching with embarrassment was ingrained in his brain.

Somehow, the reality felt more an intrusion. Being bare before a third party amid physical sin seemed preferable than the idea of his – and Byleth’s – fear and pain and  misery  having been overheard. 

Even by Nader.

“Sorry to interrupt, Your Grace,” the spahbad addressed Byleth, speaking as though he had stumbled into a merry little tea party. “I saw you pop in here and hoped to… beg a few words with you both. But, you are clearly in need of him, so it can wait.”

He wore a faint smile, but his tone was mirthless. 

All that passed Byleth’s lips was a weak gasp, burning Claude’s ear.

“Nader,” the king barked, uncharacteristically authoritative.

“Excellency,” Nader replied passively.

” I  will speak with you  now .”

“Are you sure?”

“Wait outside.”

The elder general quickly bowed his head and turned to leave, giving Byleth little more than a small, lingering glance. It was only once the crunch of his footsteps on the grass faded that Byleth seemed to remember how to breathe again. 

A loud exhale erupted from her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up from his chest, keeping her face firmly buried.

Claude stroked her hair, speaking as though trying to coax out a frightened hind. “By, he’s gone. By…?”

She took an unsteady breath, finally glancing up at him.

“Now what?” Byleth squeaked. “How long was he standing there, do you think? How much did he…?”

Nader was no voyeur, though Claude suspected his old mentor had picked his moment carefully. 

He came in here fully aware of what he might find , Claude imagined. 

“We were lying in bed together. Clothed but close. I don’t think Nader had to see much to get the picture.”

“I know that! But how much did he, um,” and Byleth clung tighter to his shirt, “hear of what we said?”

He laughed darkly. “I have no idea, my stars-above. It doesn’t matter, though – I’ll make sure he never does it again. Now, come on.”

Shyly, Byleth took his hand as he helped her off the bed. 

“I need to get dressed,” Claude announced. “I’m a fairly laid back ruler, but I don’t really want my people to see me in my slacks.”

A nervous chuckle escaped her as she looked around the room for his clothes. “I’ll help you.”

Together, they quietly got him dressed. Neither knew what to say. Their relationship had been etched with the fear of being discovered – it was almost an added thrill. Claude had challenged her to imagine it a few times while in the thralls of love when dangerous suggestions sounded like harmless fun. To visualise the looks on some people’s faces if they could see her, the ‘Holy Archbishop’, writhing in delight beneath the ‘Heretic King’ had seemed appealing while riding high on euphoria.

Caught while bearing their souls had been so much more violating.

Once he was decent, Claude broke their silence.

“Wait while I speak with Nader, By.”

“What will you say to him?”

“Depends on what he wants to talk about.”

“But–!”

“‘ What will I say about us’? ” he finished for her, unnervingly calm. “Knowing Nader, he probably finds the whole thing funny.”

At that, he cupped her cheek softly, hoping his reassuring smile would convince her that he could fix this with just a wag of his tongue.

“He won’t betray me,” Claude assured her before placing another lingering kiss on her lips. “I can promise you that. If there’s one person I trust outside this tent right now, it’s him.”

Her hands rested on his shoulders. “Nader… He didn’t look surprised to see us together.”

“No. It seems my suspicions were correct.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Claude took a deep whoosh of breath. “Just stay calm. I’ll talk to him.”

Byleth wrapped her arms around his neck, quavering, betraying her nerves. Claude had to fight to keep from quaking too – it was so strange to see and  feel  the almighty Teach so scared. 

“Should I leave?” she asked.

“No, stay here. We still have to draw up the final battle manoeuvres, after all.”

Byleth looked up at him, eyes flickering. It seemed she had only just remembered why she had come to Claude this morning in the first place.

“Of course…”

He smiled despite himself.

Lifting her chin to look in her eyes, he kissed her lips one last time. Unnerved as she was, Byleth accepted the gift gladly. 

“Don’t take too long.”

“I won’t.”

It pained him to slip out of her hold and turn away – but he managed. Glancing over his shoulder, he winked.

“Start a pot of tea. This won’t take long.”

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