Chapter 3: Hard Truths

Stepping outside, Claude’s eyes were drawn to the sky above. The usual azure heavens were instead covered by a thick layer of cinereous clouds, blockading the dawn. He suspected that if one were to reach up and peep behind the sheet of grey vapours, they would find an ominous red sun lurking.

Hopefully, only sailors and shepherds need to take warning.

He felt like he was carrying his stomach in his knees, and his heart juddered at a rapid and painful rate. 

For so long, the situation between Byleth and himself had been bubbling beneath the surface. Her kisses and love and the sex had all made it easier to bury his dread and focus only on the joy. Like a frog in a burning cauldron, he knew the sensible thing would be to jump out — but he had got too used to the ever-growing danger surrounding them. His morning ride had given him clarity and that discussion in his bed had been comfortingly candid. 

Once more, Byleth had opened up, too. While she had become more emotional over the years, she was still a woman of few words and fewer expressions. But today, she displayed a level of panic and dread that Claude had scarcely ever seen from her. It was both awful and wonderful; seeing their tension was shared, and her tears of fear for him. Everything – their desperation, desire and love – was so crushingly absolute that laying it all bare had felt as intimate as when he was buried deep inside her. 

Why now, Nader? Why the  fuck  now?  he cursed inwardly. 

The Almyran king spotted his quarry sitting alone, building a small fire a respectable distance from the nearest circle of men. Nader was typically the world’s welcome wagon, ready to share hearth, home and coffee with any passing soldier. Yet this preliminary flame looked deliberately antisocial, a titchy thing that signalled to the world:  “I am not open for business.”  

That suited Claude just fine. He did not intend to stay long — he wanted to get back to Byleth, to finish their conversation.

As he began to walk over, Claude spied Rifat and Zaki, ‘proud’ members of his  hazahran-pasban  and Wallace’s relief that morning. Seeing them yawn gapingly and guzzling coffee, irritated the shah in him. 

These men are the most elite bow wielders in the kingdom, fearless and resolute in defending their leader in battle , he thought spitefully.  Yet they allowed someone to just barge right into my tent when I’m prone. Asleep for all they knew!

He charged towards them. 

Seeing his approach, both men scrambled to their feet and bowed.

“Subah’kelyah, janob’e-ahli!”  they addressed him, voices unharmonious.

Claude glared, ready to unleash all the negativity inside him on the two, saving none for Nader.

The pair looked at each other, both confused and a shade paler. It was abnormal for the  shah  to lose his temper.

“Didn’t you tell the  spahbad  I was with the archbishop?” he spoke in the  koine-glótta  through gritted teeth. 

“Well, it was Nader…” Zaki quivered out. “He said he wished to speak with  ashibanu-ahliah …” 

“And Wallace allowed the archbishop in without a formal announcement,” Rifat added, defensively, parcelling some blame onto the night-guard. “W-With respect, Your Royal Highness, you are usually happy to receive Nader unannounced, Your Exalted  Excellency –” 

“Enough!” Claude snapped. 

He was angry – but they had a point. His ‘door’ was typically always open. The King of Almyra did not run the tightest camp when it came to receiving guests, allowing his generals, soldiers and, of course, Byleth, come and go as they pleased. They were used to letting Nader wander in and out without a second thought. And if the king was sloppy, he couldn’t complain that his guards were the same. Besides, Claude was only so furious because of the circumstances. Had he and Byleth been innocently discussing the weather over tea, Nader lumbering in without warning wouldn’t have mattered and he would have brushed it off without a second thought.

Calm down, Khalid,  Claude told himself. Think.

He knew he had to step-back and downplay his overreaction. If he were to lose his famously lengthy temper, word would get around, and gossip would fill in the rest. There would be no need for the truth then. 

Thankfully, a fitting turnabout came to him immediately.

Shaking his head, Claude groaned dramatically. “To think I criticised the archbishop for having dull-witted guards! At least I had to  drug  hers to prove her security is lacking —  you two  just permitted someone to waltz in unchallenged. Twice!”

“Y-Your Royal Highness–!” Rifat spluttered. He seemed to understand what he was getting at, being a friend of Nawid. Doubtless, the latter had shared the story Claude’s midnight machinations at the archbishop’s tent the other night.

Claude resumed his faux tirade. 

“Now, the archbishop wishes to lecture  me  about  your  ‘shambolic performance’ and  ‘ lax attitude’ towards camp security.” Giving them a disappointed shake of the head, he added, “I hope you realise how bad this makes us look. How  humiliating  it is! And with such a crucial battle coming up!”

He could have laughed at the mortified looks on Rifat and Zaki’s faces. 

If only Nader would cave as quickly to my act like these two.

“A thousand apologies, Your Exaltedness!” Zaki stammered out, cheeks bright red. “We will be better for future times!”

“Yes.” Rifat placed a hand on his partner’s shoulder. He spoke the language much better than Zaki. “We cannot apologise enough.”

Deciding they had suffered enough and seeing Nader off to the side watching, Claude decided to bring this sideshow to an end. “I suppose no real harm was done this time. Just know that the archbishop was  shocked  by the lack of discipline. Be more careful in future.”

“Of course!” Rifat promised as Zaki swore by the Wise One in his local dialect. “If there is anything we can do to reassure Her Grace, please let us know.”

“I will bear that in mind,” the king nodded, sternly. Eyeing their mugs lying on the ground, he ordered them to drink up before it went cold. “When I return inside, see that the archbishop and I are not disturbed. We have a lot to discuss – and many lives depend on these talks.”

In more ways than one,  he left unsaid. There wasn’t just the strategy for the next battle on the table, after all.

He heard his old instructor clapping his hands theatrically, motioning him over. 

Claude’s stomach knotted tight with renewed dread. 

Calm down. It’s just Nader.

Nader would never, ever betray him. He was the closest thing to an uncle Khalid had thanks to the preceding King of Almyra, his father’s, bond with him. Even the  Shahbanu,  Khalid’s mother ‘Rhoxana’, used to joke that no two men better embodied the primordial saying that,  “The blood spilt between comrades is thicker than mother’s milk.”   

The indomitable warrior had known the youngest prince since he was in the cradle and at an early age, his parents had enlisted Nader to teach their  “scrawny little brat”  how to fight. 

Little Khalid had always got into trouble since he was old enough to walk, and was not a natural-born fighter. So, they handed off their unusually slender, half-feral son with fresh cuts and bruises all over his body (courtesy of his peers), and hoped for the best. 

Nader proved to be both an excellent tutor, teaching the prince how to compensate for his lack of innate physical strength by focusing on his higher litheness and dexterity instead. He also taught him how to use an opponents largeness against them. This proved effective against Khalid’s childhood tormenters. Nearly everyone was bigger than the little prince, especially in those days. Further, Nader was renowned across Almyra, from Fódlan’s Throat to the Huangyi border. 

While Khalid’s elder brothers and peers never accepted the “ ahmixtan” , they did respect him more for standing his ground in their fights. Nader couldn’t curb  all  of his capricious charge’s life-long habits, though, as Khalid continued spiking their food or leaving booby-traps around his quarters to warn them off. 

The almighty general never wholly condemned Khalid for using his craft to get ahead in battle.

“Do what you can to survive. It doesn’t matter if you don’t always win, just don’t lose. As long as you’re alive, you fight and remain undefeated.”

So, Claude clung to those words in his darkest days and remained grateful to Nader for his abiding faith in him. 

Standing before him now, though, Claude wondered if that faith was irreversibly tarnished.

Nader was still trying to light the fire – usually, he would just get Frigis, his wyvern, to do it for him.

“Pull up a chair, kiddo.” 

“Need some help?”

“Nah, I’ve got it,” the older man grunted. “I can’t promise this flame’ll be as hot as the one you’ve got in there–” he nodded nonchalantly towards Claude’s tent, “–but it’ll suffice for our little chat, hm?”

“Funny.”

“Is it?” 

Nader’s voice was grave. 

Claude tried to ignore it, eyes fixed on his hands. “Seriously, old man, just let me do it–!”

As though Claude’s frustration had been the required spark, a fire sprung forth at last to lick the logs. The king perched atop a wobbly log-bench. “You’re losing your touch, Nader.”

“These flints are getting old.”

“Like you?”

“Cute, Khal. Had any breakfast?”

He waved a roll of bread in Claude’s face.

“Let’s not bother with the niceties.”

“Very well.” 

Claude crouched close to the fire, to speak in hushed terms with his spahbad . 

“Go ahead then, say your piece,” the older man prompted.

“‘Say my piece’?! You barged into my tent, unannounced! I deserve  some  degree of privacy. Even from you.”

“I’ll apologise for that,” Nader conceded. “But we both know you have a lot more than that to get off your chest.” He observed Claude for a moment. “You should be grateful it was  me  who walked in.”

“You already knew?” His chattiness the other day had bugged Claude ever since.

Nader scratched his nose awkwardly. “I guessed.”

“So all that nonsense you spouted the other day wasn’t about camaraderie – it was because you damned-well knew!”

“Damn it, Khalid. I didn’t know, I guessed,” Nader stressed firmly. “I wasn’t sure. That’s why I tried to get you to open up, but you’ve been an immovable object on the matter.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to talk about it with you.”

“And that stings, kiddo. It really does.” Nader poked the flames to help them kindle. “You used to confide in me.”

“It’s nothing personal…” Claude’s mouth felt dry. As he opened and closed his mouth to try and return some moisture to it, Nader handed him a plain clay cup of water like an attentive mother. Claude took it gingerly before swigging down almost all of it in three gulps. “A part of me dreaded having to explain myself to you,” Claude admitted with a refreshed breath. “Like some kid.”

“Ha!” 

Nader’s eyes seemed to glaze over as he stared ahead. He chuckled cheerlessly. “You’ll always be a kid to me no matter how old ya grow or how grand a’ title you acquire.”

Whatever moment of nostalgia passed, and he resumed his gloomy demeanour. “You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you?”

Claude stared down at his cup, silent. 

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”

“Take it however you want,” the king said brusquely.

“Well, how many meetings do you conduct in bed, while mounted atop them in your nightclothes?” 

“Your mind will fill in the blanks anyway – who am I to stop you?” 

“Has your mind gone  completely  blank, Khal?” The  spahbad  grunted, rubbing the frown lines on his brow. “Ploughing another man’s pastures is one thing, but another king’s queen? You’re not just throwing caution to the wind, you’re damn well pissing in its direction!” 

“Will you damn well keep your voice down?”

“Hmph.”

Nader aggressively grabbed a mug of coffee sitting between his feet and took a long, succulent drink, so much so that Claude wondered if it was spiked. 

He smirked despite his nerves.

“By Zodata!” the older man cried out, wiping his lips. “Sometimes I want to smack that smile right off that face of yours.”

“Charming,” Claude remarked, tersely.

“Agh! It’s too early in the morning for this, kiddo! Sure, I suspected your passions for precious ‘Milady Teach’ had graduated to ‘private tutorials’, but I didn’t think you –  you  of all people – would be daft enough to be rolling around in bed with her in the middle of the goddamn day–!”

“We weren’t –!”

“Sandrame take you!” Nader bemoaned. “No, Sandrame ,  take  me.” With a dispirited sigh, the elder warrior continued. “Look, we both know that I am in no position to judge your relationship with this woman, nor can I rightly condemn her. Lord knows I wasn’t a faithful husband to Safiya, rest her soul.”

It had always puzzled a young Khalid why the late Safiya had never beat Nader bloody for his wandering eye. Having multiple concubines on top of a wife was not as uncommon in Almyra as in Fódlan, where only the Adrestian emperors, or the occasional Faerghusian king, undertook the practice. If an Almyran man could afford it and desired it, he could take on as many women as his house could hold. Not that Nader had done  that  – he just ‘got bored’ when on a campaign, and camp followers were plentiful. 

“If he was my husband, I’d cut it off,” Claude recalled his mother telling his father once. The veiled threat upon ‘it’ was not lost even on the child any more than it had his father.

“But… why her, Khal?” He shifted closer to Claude then, looking around them as if he feared someone – one of the guards or perhaps Byleth herself – might overhear. “Tell me, what flimflam do you have going this time?”

Claude’s heart sank. There it was — the accusation that this was all a scheme. He decided to feign ignorance. “Flimflam?”

“Come on, Khal. This is you,” said Nader, calling his bluff. “You always have some sort of scheme cooking in that twisted little head of yours and we both know you’re more vicious than your pretty-face lets on when it comes to getting what you want.”

Claude grimaced. 

“I don’t say it to be cruel. It’s your best feature. People think it’s all on a whim, but I know you better than that.” He flexed his burly arms and cracked his shoulder bones, stretching out the strain that Claude’s actions put there. 

“So, enlighten me how cuckolding the Fódlan King makes the world a better place.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Then does Milady Teach’s magical-green pussy–?”

“Don’t talk about her like that!”

Nader ignored his outburst. “ — hold the key to everlasting peace?! Seriously, Khalid. Assure me that this is all part of some incomprehensible cabal of yours. Preferably one that doesn’t result in all of us dying in this dank country!”

“There is no ‘cabal’, Nader.”

The older man groaned. “Is that really the truth?”

If there’d been a plan, I wouldn’t be in the situation I’m in now.

“We fell in love. Sorry to disappoint you.”

The older man tilted his head curiously.

He thinks I’m a fool. 

When he first came to Fódlan, Claude was always prowling for ‘useful’ people. Talented sets of hands to recruit to his cause and further his goals. Everyone was a potential piece for his game board, including his Golden Deer. As much as he came to love them, Claude had pin-pointed their hidden potential and sought to utilise them, vowing to win them all to his way of thinking – through charm, reasoning or sleight-of-hand, whichever one worked best. And if they opened their hearts to him, he vowed to do the same.

Claude had wanted to peek into Teach’s soul more than anything. Her riddle was the only one worth solving. Professor to the Blue Lions or not, he felt an inexplicable bond with her, like a cord wrapped around his heart, tugging him in. Before they fell in love, he resigned himself to never confessing his true feelings. The twirling emotions of love, desire and admiration had been abandoned to a realm of fantasy and ‘what ifs’. 

I never wanted someone by my side so much, until her.

“There wasn’t a plan,” he reiterated. “If I ever had a plan, it was seven years ago, and it had nothing to do with this. It would have been about…” The Sword of the Creator, her mysterious ability to use it without a crest-stone, and her abundance of skills beyond human logic. “Finding out all her secrets. I wanted her to be my teacher. Then, when I didn’t get that, I wanted to be her friend. I’d ask her questions to see what made her tick. Then, from there, all of a sudden, I…”

His voice trailed off. It hurt to remember those days. The days before Byleth was his.

“She really has got under your skin, hasn’t she?” Nader said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Y’know, I honestly thought you’d never get your dick wet.”

Claude cried out, mortified. “Dear One!”

“What? You once told me you didn’t want to have sex because you thought the woman could kill you. Now you’re shagging that woman any chance you get.”

“I told you that I wanted to wait for someone I love.”

“Love, huh?” Nader mumbled. “There’s that word again. And you’re the only one?”

“Only what?”

“Milady Teach’s only lover.”

Claude glared. “Of course, I am.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

He believed Byleth when she said she had only been with two men – himself, and Dimitri. 

“Alright. Just checking. I suppose this means you have no intention of ending things with her. Before it’s too late?”

“It’s already too late.”

“So what are you going to do? Sling her over your shoulder and carry her off?” 

Claude briefly ruminated a world where that was viable. 

He chortled sarkily. “Steal her. Fake her death and run away with her before Dimitri realises what’s happened.” 

“She wouldn’t be the first Fódlan girl I’ve smuggled over the border,” said Nader, drolly. 

It wouldn’t work.  Not unless Claude  could  think of some unfathomably brilliant scheme to  make  it work. Even if he did, Byleth probably wouldn’t agree to it. 

He sighed sadly.

She won’t want to do a runner like that.

And Claude couldn’t neglect his duties at home much longer; his mother’s letters were getting more irate by the page. Plus, with the snow steadily making its way around Fódlan, the Almyran army needed to pass the Throat before the Guardian Moon’s end. Otherwise, the supply line would run dry until the thaw. 

Claude had to accept with a heavy heart that taking Byleth with him when he left might not be feasible. Even if they won this campaign  tomorrow.  Even if she told Dimitri the truth  the day after , Claude knew that Byleth’s freedom would not be swiftly achieved. She wasn’t just Dimitri’s queen consort, either; she was the archbishop with her own responsibilities. It could take several moons to tie up all the loose ends, maybe longer. 

The thought made him feel dizzy. 

Soon, they would have to endure months and months without each other. Claude still wanted Byleth to tell Dimitri the truth, but short of some drastic turn, a game-changing revelation that would force them to act quickly and couldn’t be ignored, the only way forward was this slow and gentle shift towards change.

“Pah, if only it were that easy,” Nader muttered, echoing his thoughts. “It’ll  never  be easy, Khal. There’ll still be a scandal if she appears in your talahr. As lovely as ya mother is, she’s not quite as remarkable as this one.”

Claude groaned vexedly. “Being the archbishop, then becoming my wife? The truth of our relationship need never come out; people will talk regardless.” 

He noticed Nader’s arched eyebrow. 

“What?”

“You wanna marry her?”

“If she agrees. If she wants to.” 

He would have to ask Byleth. Again, marriage and spouse-status was a very different animal in Almyra. The xsahxsahran’s blood and seed were considered sacred. Technically, if a shah fathered a child by a woman,  any  woman, and acknowledged them, they were legitimate. Thus, the succession was an open playing field and the notion of primogeniture laughable to Almyrans. Even if they had no children, House Arash – each carrying the ‘consecrated’ blood of past  shahs  – had a slew of options available. So, Claude and Byleth could ‘live in sin’ for the rest of their days, and it wouldn’t matter. 

“Are you sure you’re happy with that, given she’s supposedly barren?”

“Don’t use that word.”

“What word should I use?” Nader’s tone wasn’t cruel – it was pragmatic. “The fact still stands that the one-eyed king has failed to seed her. Unless you’ve got her pregnant… You haven’t, have you?”

Not to my knowledge. 

An inkling of something went through Claude’s head, and out again before he could fully comprehend it. He then nearly told Nader about the elixir mani el-Mashyana  he brewed Byleth but stopped abruptly. It was none of Nader’s business, neither was the status of Byleth’s womb.

Side-stepping the question instead, he said, “I want her, whatever way necessary. But it’s all moot while she’s still married, and By seems terrified enough of what Dimitri will do when we tell him. That he’ll kill me.” 

“Hm, yes. I heard that part.”

So you were eavesdropping on us.

Nader narrowed his eyes. “What do you think he’ll do?”

“I don’t think he would go that far, but…” I can’t promise he won’t.

Claude would never forget Dimitri’s actions during the Siege of Garreg Mach and then years later at the Battle of Gronder Field. The worst part was that he seemed to enjoy causing pain upon his fellow man. ‘The Tempest’ slaughtered anyone who crossed paths with one swift stroke of his lance, smiling sinisterly. The Blue Lion leader had practically decapitated an Adrestian soldier who had attacked them during the retreat from the monastery, and eyewitnesses claimed he had crushed a man’s skull with his bare-hands when Edelgard first revealed herself as a traitor. 

He had read about the inhuman strength of House Blaiddyd and its crest. His mother carried that crest! He had seen that formidable strength first-hand. Just as Claude’s crest of Riegan gifted him with a robust immune system and healed wounds miraculously fast, his family’s distant Blaiddyd blood was on show full-force in Tiana von Riegan/Rhoxana. 

Yet Dimitri was something else. He was stalwart – yet unhinged. Claude had always supposed that the Tragedy of Duscar would be a cornerstone in Dimitri’s development, one he could possibly hook the prince in with should he discover something interesting about it. 

But Dimitri was not just traumatised by what happened that day. It had driven him mad. 

Claude had put faith in Byleth bring Dimitri back to the ‘land of the living’. And she had. 

But will he lose his grip on reality again if I take Byleth away…?

“You knew her husband was mentally unstable, kiddo,” Nader said, interrupting his thoughts. “Didn’t you consider for one moment that making him a cuckold wasn’t a good idea?”

“I…” Didn’t even think about Dimitri. Claude cleared his throat. “It happened too quickly for me to do much in the way of thinking. Then, once it happened, it was… too late. Like I said. I– Was overjoyed to finally be with Byleth. Beyond caring about anything else. It’s not an excuse, and I’m not trying to excuse it. It’s awful… But Dimitri couldn’t have been further from my mind.”

Now, he was all Claude could think about.

He vigorously rubbed his eyes. “I trust you won’t tell anyone about Teach and me?”

“Of course, I won’t,” Nader replied, tone affirmative but world-weary. “But you need to take a step back and ask yourself if any of this is worth it. If  she  is worth it.” 

Nader quietened Claude when he tried to object. 

“You might be shah now but shut up and listen!”

The king baulked but stayed quiet. He’s about to lay down the ‘hard truths’, he thought resentfully. Trying to bind me with common sense.

The legendary warrior launched into his sober monologue. “Clever as you think you are, it won’t have escaped our men’s notice how much time you spend with ‘Her Grace’, and it won’t have passed the Fódlans by, either. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them are already talking among themselves, and if they blab to the wrong person, your reputation will be ruined. What will happen to your woman then? Will you protect her from her husband to your last breath?! And what will all of this mean for Almyra? Will we have to fight yet another war over your corpse?”

Drawing breath, at last, Nader finished his mug of coffee and stood up. His expression was despondent, towering over Claude as though he were that skinny, wild child all over again.

“I love you like a son. I’ve watched you grow-up, seen you come so far. You’ve always wanted the world to be an open prairie, but how many fences will go up if this gets out? Think long and hard, Khal. Please.”

The taste of blood was potent in Claude’s mouth. Each word Nader uttered was another consideration that the young king had wished to block out. He  had  to consider them. There had been bloodier Wars of Succession in Almyran history, but becoming an  xsahxsahran  had been a hard-fought-for title. He had united his home-land and the whole reason he had reached out to Dimitri and Byleth a year ago was to bring his two bloodlines closer together, at last. It was all he ever wanted. To bust open Fódlan’s Locket and enter a new era of collaboration with Almyra’s neighbours.

And yet…

“I won’t give her up,” Claude said pithily. “I  can’t . I just… can’t.”

He wished he could change history itself. Maybe try harder to convince Byleth to lead the Golden Deer, or simply swallow his pride that last evening in Derdriu and confess his long-held feelings. If he could do that, maybe things would have played out differently. Even if Byleth hadn’t accepted Claude’s love at that time, it might have made her think twice when Dimitri proposed to her.

He scolded himself.  I can’t rewrite the past, and it’s a pointless exercise to dwell on it. The present is what matters – that’s what builds the future.

Now, his love was so absolute that a world without Byleth was suffering.  You could tear down every star in the sky and hand it to me on a plate, I’d still choose her.  

Claude stood, staring dead into his instructor’s sharp, hazel eyes. 

“Don’t barge into my quarters again.”

Nader deflated. “…As you wish, Your Royal Highness.”

The king left, refusing to look back. It hurt to envision the look on the old guy’s face. What he had said before was true – young Khalid had used to trust Nader more than anyone. Walking away from his senior now, it steadily dawned on Claude that their relationship might never be the same again.

He’ll keep my secret, but he’ll always remember I hid this from him.

Legs like aspic, each step Claude took made him more conscious of the uneasy ground he walked on.

Nader was worried for Almyra. 

Byleth feared Dimitri’s wroth. 

Claude fretted he was out of ideas. Out of control. Trapped between his duty as a monarch and unrelenting love for another man’s wife.

He wanted to scream.

The pressure he carried in his body was immense, begging for relief. Pleading for something –  anything  – to quell his sense of being trapped.

Byleth . Staring beyond the threshold of his pavilion, all he wanted was Byleth. If he could hold her, and be held by her. Kiss her. He was sure he would feel better. Be able to think clearly again.

Stepping back inside, Claude’s eyes were immediately drawn to Byleth sitting cross-legged on his bed with a cup of ginger tea.

“Claude?” she asked tentatively, gazing at him round-eyed.

Immediately, the tautness in Claude’s body curled tighter, aching at his loins. Though her cheeks glistened from dried tears and her lips looked scarlet from repeated anxious biting, she looked so beautiful. So comely.

“By…”

A deep, fervent breath escaped his chest.

He turned to tie the strings for the fly-cover shut, the stiffness had spread to his fingers, making it hard to loop the bow. 

It might arouse suspicions,  he thought apprehensively.  But damned if I care at this point.

Behind him, he could hear Byleth crawl off the end of his bed and patter towards him. Her presence crept upon him like heat from a hearth, scorching him when her hands, at last, reached out for him.

“Are you alright?” she whispered. 

He nodded.

Byleth wrapped her arms around his waist.

“How did it go?” 

Tightness returned to his limbs.  Where do I even start?  “I told him to keep what he saw and heard to himself, and he agreed.” 

That was the crucial part.

“Are you alright?” Her voice was muffled by the thick cloth of his jacket. 

I don’t think I want to answer that. Not yet.

Another deep breath.

Claude spun to face Byleth and pivoted the question back to her.

“Are  you  alright?” His fingertips danced across her cheek, still doughy from her earlier tears. Tears of fear. The dread of Dimitri. “Y’know, after what we discussed earlier and then, well, what just happened?”

Her confession was succinct.

“Nader startled me.” A brave smile followed quick, though. “The ginger tea helped. I’m more concerned about you right now. Just like earlier, and after what just happened.”

Her parroting was welcomingly cute.

“Ha!” Claude bleated out. “I love you.” 

Cradling her face, he leaned down to press a kiss upon her ruddy-lips. The tiny whimper it provoked sent another shot through his lower extremities. He only wanted to collapse into her hold. “I love you so, so very much.”

“Claude, are you…?” Byleth’s hands found his shoulders. “You’re so stiff.” She laid her head against his chest. “Your heart is sprinting!”

Her eyes were wide as pure-jade saucers now. A-leaping hearts still astonished Byleth, whose only sign of life was her delicate, fluttering pulse.

“I’m… overwrought, shall we say?” Claude admitted. “To put it mildly.”

Byleth nodded knowingly.

“It finally happened.” She stroked his jawline, tracing his beard. “Someone caught us.”

His gut flip-flopped. Not long ago, being caught had been a perverse kink. Now, Nader’s warnings haunted him like a ghost. 

“Yes. It did.” It almost hurt to talk. “He won’t tell anyone. I swear he won’t.”

“You trust Nader. That’s enough for me.”  

That trust means more than I’ll ever be able to express. 

“Are you still frightened?”

Byleth inclined her head to agree. “But… another part of me feels…” She bit her lips again; he was worried they would be broken and bruised by tomorrow. “Liberated.”

He sniggered a little. “That’s something, at least.”

Foreheads pressed together like the panels of a book, he closed his eyes to breathe her in. He thought of Nader’s jokes earlier and took the dream a step further.

“I wish we could run away from all of this.” 

One of Byleth’s infrequent giggles escaped her. More and more, they were becoming more usual.

“Let’s just disappear.” She was willing to play this game. “Become travelling vagabonds in Dagda, or scholars in Morfis?” 

Claude grinned. “Think of all those books and magical artefacts we could play with!”

“Sounds fun.”

“We could just read and study by day.” His hands found her hips, tugging her flush against his body. “And make passionate love by night.” 

Byleth cooned dreamily. 

“It won’t matter where we go, as long as we’re together,” he continued, “As long as no one ever finds us.”

“A quiet life.”

“A simple life.”

It’s just a dream—a selfish fantasy.  The world was still broken, Claude was a king and Byleth was an archbishop-queen consort to  another  king. No matter where they went in the world, reality would eventually catch-up with them. But he would sell his soul just to live one day in that reverie of normality.

“I still I want to be candid,” he declared. “There’s so much on my mind, my sweet star. I told you I want to be honest.” He swallowed hard. “As I spoke to Nader, all I wanted to do was get in over with so I could come back here and be with you. Now look at me – I’m a mess.”

“Claude…” She placed her hands against his chest. “Tell me, what do you want?”

What do I want?  She had asked something similar earlier when they were speaking about Dimitri. Even after everything Nader had to say, he still wanted them to tell her husband the truth. To end the lie. But right now…? 

“Honestly? I just want you. To lose myself in you.”

Byleth’s tiny smile was enticing. 

“Then let me kiss you.” She peeled away Claude’s scarf to expose his bare neck, letting it glide to the ground. “Let me pleasure you.” 

She tugged his jacket apart, burrowing for his skin.  

He froze, a little disbelieving.

“By, you don’t have to,” He thought of how she had been earlier. “You really don’t–!”

Byleth hushed his lips.

“I want to.” She returned to her task; tongue tracing his collarbone with a blazing trail, and her lips, chilly on his scorching flesh but red with sensuality. “After earlier, I feel jittery. On edge. I want… release.” Coyly, she gazed up at him. “Is that crazy?”

Damn no!  his blood screamed, making his previously staunch limbs shake. 

His throat was tight. “No.”

“Is it inappropriate?”

“Definitely.”

“I  want  to pleasure you.” Planting her mouth against his hot skin, pure and filled with ardour, he thought he might melt. “Don’t you want me?” 

“I  always  want you.”

Byleth beamed. She ran her hand down his body, coming to rest flat upon the bulge of his pants, against the embodiment of the desire she inspired in him. He rocked his hips forward intuitively, entirely aroused by her words and touch.

“You’re always comforting me. Now, let me comfort  you .” She grazed the heel of her hand against him, earning a strangled groan from Claude.

“By…” He pulled her in for a kiss.

Byleth panted, her body now flush against him, his cock pressed against her soft belly.

Every part of him yielded unto her.

When he caught her eyes again, they were deep with desire, and she purred.

“Let me make love to you.”