Chapter 3: The Lovers’ Ascent

As the pair approached the wyvern pit, Jamilah’s whines could be heard from fifty paces. Hearing it reminded Byleth of how the larger-than-typical dragon would stare at her with those piercing citrine eyes like a dog getting ready to bite, and it made Byleth’s stomach twist with anticipation.

This might not work.

The Archbishop-Queen never had the best relationship with the Almyran King’s silken-white wyvern. Whenever she caught a whiff of Byleth’s scent, she would emit smoke from her nostrils. If she tried to greet the wyvern, no matter how politely or gently she did so, Jamilah would spit out a growl with sparks of flame. Byleth sardonically told Claude this was probably the punishment for her sins; hatred from his one and only child. 

Calling her Claude’s “duxtar” was accurate. It was common practice in Almyra for all shahsennu to hatch and rear a wyvern from egg to fledgling. Since wyverns imprinted on their owners, one of the first ‘responsibilities’ an Almyran prince received was an egg to care for. When raised correctly and well-cared for, a wyvern could live one hundred years, though many fell in battle along with the one who raised them. Wyverns were loyal creatures – if their rider died first, they would fight until their own death in revenge. If the wyvern died first, well…

“Almyrans have a saying: true yúdhyatahm die twice,” Claude told Byleth, once. “First, when their heart stops and second, when their wyvern’s felled.”

Most Almyrans, especially princes, would not suffer the indignity of long outliving a mount killed in battle.

“Hey,” Claude said, softly catching her elbow as she lingered. “Don’t worry — this’ll work.”

Byleth left out a heavy exhale. “I hope so!” 

Upon entering the wyvern enclosure, Byleth found the other wyverns agitated. Various red, green and yellow scaled dragons huddled upon their large perches above her head, hunched over as they watched her, while others hopped around on the ground to pick at the sheep carcasses from that morning’s feeding. However, all of them were grumbling, occasionally throwing salty looks towards the hyperactive albino. Byleth gave the ones she could reach reassuring pats as Claude strode straight towards Jamilah.

At the sight of Claude, the silken white wyvern beat her wings excitedly and reared up as though she really were a child about to leap into her father’s arms. She was far too big for that now, but that didn’t stop her from trying.

“Whoa, whoa, back girl, back!” Claude ordered, stopping her from attempting to scramble up and onto him. Reluctantly, Jamilah stepped back, scratching at the ground in frustration. “Now, what’s all this fuss you’re making, silly girl? Come on now, Jami. Cool it, I’m here…”

A warmth curled inside Byleth’s belly. His tone was so fatherly. “She can sense you coming,” she remarked from a safe distance.

“It’s my voice and smell she’s reacting to.” Claude petted the wyvern along her jawline, stirring what sounded like a cat’s purr from her. Wyverns famously had poor eyesight in close quarters, relying largely on scent and sound. “She recognises the scent of mother — or daddy, in my case.”

Byleth smiled. When Jamilah hatched, they called it a bad omen. In Almyra, pale wyverns symbolised unrest, turbulence, and change. Horrible things to any culture set in their ways, but for Khalid it was further vindication of his life’s mission. He would change societal attitudes, through words and battle, and all above his pearl-white mount.

Lost in her thoughts, Byleth didn’t notice Claude saddling his mount and readying her to go until he was already leading her out.

“We’ll ride her up high to survey the area,” he began.

“Shouldn’t we test her ‘tolerance’ of me first?” Byleth cut him off, stepping back. “We don’t know if I smell sufficiently like you yet, and I don’t want to upset her.”

Claude nodded.

“You’re right, By. Try?” He held out his hand, beckoning Byleth forward. Cautiously, she took it and walked closer to Jamilah. “Try not to look so anxious,” Claude reminded her. “She’ll smell your fear.”

“I’m not anxious,” Byleth said firmly, slowly reaching out her hand. “Just flustered. Animals usually like me. I’m not used to non-humans treating me so harshly.”

“Then pretend she’s a giant cat.” 

Easier said than done! Byleth thought.

Claude stroked Jamilah’s snout, making her purr again. “There we go. You’re gonna behave for tata’s delahmi, aren’t you?”

Byleth took a deep breath and held her hand out to allow Jamilah to sniff it. Holding still, she waited for the dragon to approach. Jamilah’s reaction now would determine whether she was going to let Claude put Byleth on her back. 

Scraping her talons against the ground, Jamilah strode like a roosting raven towards her. The wyvern snorted, nostrils devoid of smoke. A good sign, actually! Usually, the sulky creature would literally steam with jealousy whenever she saw tata with Byleth, let alone caught her scent.

She took a few gentle sniffs. 

Byleth held her breath.

Sniff, sniff, snort. From the Archbishop-Queen’s hand, she moved her head up her arm as though feeling her out with her nose. Snort, sniff, sniff, snort…

“Good,” Claude whispered. “Good…” 

Waddling closer, Jamilah craned her head down to Byleth’s trunk, making the woman’s stomach muscles quake. 

This has to be a good sign! the queen thought hopefully. Provided she’s not contemplating ripping my innards out.

Byleth glanced at Claude for assurance; he gave her an unconcerned wink.

That was when Jamilah shoved her nose right against Byleth’s bare midriff, making her cry out in surprise. The beast was unperturbed, utterly fascinated by the woman’s abdomen. Byleth kept her hands above her head as Jami continued her investigation. She gave Byleth a curious coo, then gently head-butted her. It reminded Byleth of the monastery cats, who often bumped against her whenever she offered them food.

“This is an improvement, huh?” Byleth said.

“Massively so,” Claude agreed, satisfied. 

Jamilah continued to press her head against Byleth’s stomach, rubbing and crooning. She lay her hand atop Jamilah’s head, and to her delight, the wyvern was receptive, pressing against it in a sweet, almost affectionate manner. 

“Maybe she’s finally getting used to you?” he suggested.

“Or maybe this isn’t Jami, but a giant cat in disguise!” Byleth chuckled.

Claude snorted. “Welp, we’ll soon find out if that’s the case. Not many cats can get airborne after all.”

Jamilah took wing without a fuss, carrying her riders up and above Miach Forest. When she spread her wings to fly, she leapt with a mighty jerk that left Byleth feeling as though her loins were inside her stomach. She worried it would trigger her nausea, and she’d have to hold back the urge to throw up over the side. That was something she did not want Claude, or anyone else, to have to see.

Bad enough Claude had to hold my hair back for me the other day…

It didn’t help that Byleth hadn’t ever grown accustomed to flying on wyvern-back. The scaly cousins of birds’ movements were far wilder than the gentle canter of pegasus wings, and that unpredictability was something she was naturally cautious of. 

She distracted herself by tightening her arms around Claude. Noting her nervousness, his chest rumbled with a reassuring chuckle. “Don’t worry. She’ll even out soon,” he whispered.

She nodded but kept a firm hold.

Jamilah’s ascent was fast and furious. The force threw back Byleth’s fringe and exposing her forehead to the chilly autumn air. She grounded herself by nuzzling into Claude’s jacket, inhaling his scent. Musky and woody. A twang of spice. Organic. Him. She sighed, grateful for this closeness and wishing she could have more.

As promised, the wyvern straightened out and settled into a glide.

From their high vantage point, Byleth looked out over the red-tinged forest below. The world was like an intricate map. She could see how far Miach Forest stretched; from Bergliez in the west, across the Airmid, and into Gloucester and Ordelia in the east. Upon the horizon, she noted the township of Gwydion peaking out from beneath a bluish haze. Then, resting her chin on Claude’s shoulder, she watched the Gwalchmai Ravine come closer into view.

He gave her hand a rub. “You’re fidgeting a lot back there, By.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“You doing okay?”

Byleth shook her head. “I’m fine. Am I distracting you?”

“Nah, just wondering what was on your mind. You know I’d give all the pennies I possess for your thoughts.”

She smiled. “I’m admiring the view. Everything looks so tiny from up here, doesn’t it?”

“Heh, I know. That’s why I enjoy riding.”

Claude’s arm rested across one of Byleth’s, interlocked around his chest.

“I’ve told you about how much I admired the stars as a kid, haven’t I?”

“You have.”

“Well, while up here, I can see how small we actually are. If the people down there are little more than specks from this height, imagine how minuscule we must seem to the stars, if they can even see it at all. When I think about that, all the things that scare me or leave me feeling helpless become insignificant in the grand scheme of things. I find that oddly comforting.”

He turned back to look at her.

“Does that make sense?”

“It does.” Byleth tilted her head against his, temple to temple. “I’ve always liked how you perceive the world. It makes my worries feel surmountable, too.”

Claude’s thumb caressed her knuckles, prompting her to kiss his cheekbone. “You and I, By. We can overcome anything together, right?”

She answered with another kiss.

They rode in silence, bracing against the snapping air. Steadily, the rocky cliffs where the Almyran-Church forces would stage their last attack came into view. Flying straight allowed Byleth to appreciate the moment. Alone with Claude, comforted by the warmth of his body and his heart beating beneath her palm. 

This would likely be their last time alone for a while, the final quiet before the storm…

Byleth swallowed a sigh. 

And then some.

Even though these enemies lurking in the dark caused more chaos than any of them could have expected, Dimitri remained more frightening to Byleth personally. After all, she knew what he was capable of. He could crumple in despair or flare up with insatiable rage. His unpredictable behavior caused her fear and trauma to intertwine. Fretful images shot before her eyes; a forest aflame and Claude’s heart impaled on the end of Areadhbar while her husband laughed maniacally.

Byleth hugged Claude tighter. 

Watching him leave that morning on Saint Cethleann’s Day had left her heart heavy, as though it had swollen into a boulder. 

She had carried that weight with her for the rest of the day. Her body seemed to move by itself as she focused on completing the festivities to the best of her ability. Determined not to make a fool of herself, Byleth coupled herself to Seteth and allowed him to push him in whatever direction required. 

The strange automation of her body wore off by the evening. At the feast itself, Byleth had been grateful to be off her feet and relieved ‘the worst’ was over. Seteth even congratulated her on a job well done before leaving her to enjoy the rest of the evening in peace.

And for a moment – a brief minute one – Byleth believed she could live with this.

That was when she caught Dimitri watching her.

“You look lovely.”

Byleth’s cheeks flushed. Nursing her goblet of wine, she quietly thanked him. She knew what he wanted before he even asked. Despite his preamble, she already accepted – and decided – that she would give him sex that night. 

“I wish to lie with you tonight. “

It would be the first time in many weeks.

“It’s been far too long.”

Byleth accepted, having no reason to deny him. If she did, he would wonder why — and she didn’t trust herself not to crack beneath the pressure. It was kinder to lie. To accept that fate had placed her with Dimitri and with Dimitri, she would stay.

“Of course,” she agreed, then purposefully added. “My love.”

‘My love.’ For the sake of the man Byleth loved, she had to return to normal. They had danced their last waltz, and it was glorious. Now, life had to go on. Khal would return to Almyra. Doubtless, he would marry within the next few years, too. Life would go on, changing and taking him further away from her. Meanwhile, Byleth would be by Dimitri’s side as his queen, bringing him solace with her words and body.

When they retired to her chambers, Dimitri took all he wished from Byleth. Touched, kissed, and thrust inside her the same as he had done hundreds of times over…

It was a struggle to lie.

A lifetime of being an expressionless, living doll did not prepare her for… for… for the shock. Byleth’s shallow, uneasy breaths went unnoticed as she took her husband’s fuck, but seeing his face hovering above her made her dizzy. It didn’t hurt; it felt the same as it had always done – functionally pleasant. Yet she felt numb. A doe with her neck trapped inside a lion’s jaw—one bite away from snapping. 

She couldn’t bear it, not if she had to look Dimitri in the eye.

Yet she couldn’t tell the truth and risk the alliance or Claude’s safety.

Petrified, Byleth fled in the only way she knew how; into her thoughts. 

Rolling onto her belly, she buried her face into a pillow. 

Face concealed, she could escape reality. She couldn’t help herself. She knew it was dangerous to let her mind wander… but wandered it did…

To Claude. That morning, in that very room, and in that same bed, making love to her. Byleth groaned as she recalled it all. How good it felt to have his naked body pressed flush against her, the hair on his chest tickling her breasts and his mouth around a nipple, teasing her teat with his tongue. His rough archer’s hands glided across curves, as though he were appraising a precious treasure. 

With a playful spark in his eyes, he slipped inside her.

Claude’s kisses were feverish. Hot as the pressure building up between her legs. It drove her wild. Made her feel so… urgent for him… excited by how tender and intense it was all at once. Everything she wanted. Everything she needed.

His pants formed into words. 

“I should just kidnap you.”

In Byleth’s lustful haze, nothing had sounded more appealing. “Do it. Kidnap me, keep me and make me yours.”

He kissed her with a wild smile. 

“Dear One, don’t tempt me!” He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath heavy against her tongue. “I’ll do it! Bundle you into the bedcovers and carry you off.” Then, how it stuttered when she told him she loved him. “I love you, my sweet star. I love you…!” Byleth’s thighs quivered, yearning for a last roll of delight but seconds away. “That’s it! Let me feel it one last time, By. I want to feel you come around me.”

Her gasp was sharp, cutting through the moist air so heavy with sex. Her candle burned down at both ends, making her shudder as he brought her to climax.

Recalling it made her beam. “Yes…” Oh, Claude. Khalid. Claude. Khal. “C—ah!”

Byleth bit down hard on the corner of her cushion, catching the name before it could escape her, camouflaging her frustration with a mask of pleasure. Thankfully, Dimitri didn’t seem to notice, too stuck in his own head, sputtering to a halt as he came. He said some things, she couldn’t recall what. Her mind was completely numb.

Cold, hard reality washed over her.

Claude was gone.

Back in Almyra, too far for her to reach.

As Dimitri slept, tossed and turned, Byleth lay awake, too tense to do anything other than stare at the wall. Watching the rest of her life flash before her eyes. Trapped. Still caught in the lion’s mouth, beneath its paw.

Slipping from the marriage bed, Byleth wandered out to the quiet solemnity of the Starry Terrace. Looking up at the night sky peppered with stars, she closed her eyes and imagined the light breeze against her face was Claude’s breath.

“Stupid, short summer nights.” 

His grumble echoed through Byleth’s bones when she helped him dress. Though the threat of dawn catching them was real, her fingers were stiff as she tied his sash. 

Once done, they walked together out to the terrace. Jamilah was called and while the white wyvern snorted smoke as her ‘tata’ said his goodbyes, she did not push between them or make a fuss. Just waited patiently. 

Claude pressed his forehead to Byleth’s. “Will you be all right here?”

What else could Byleth say but ‘yes?’ even though she felt as though the very air was suffocating her. Yet all she managed was a nod; uttering a single syllable was impossible, with her chest so tight.

Claude persisted. “I need to hear your voice, By.”

Byleth sniffed. 

“I have to be all right, don’t I? For the Church and the Kingdom’s sake, I have to be.” 

He nodded.

Yet as he pulled away, the truth spilt out. Her throat was tight, and her body was full of panic. It came out before she could stop it.

“I’m not all right.”

He stopped.

“I feel like… Like you’re taking a piece of my soul away.”

Claude’s face twisted, caught between joy and despair. 

“Eshtahre’uyla-mi,” he whispered. ‘Stars-above me.’ Usually when he called her that, Byleth’s heart soared. Now, it wept. He returned to her to kiss her lips, cheeks, forehead, and then her lips again. “I am your soul and you’re mine.”

Their last kiss lasted long and threatened to be caught by the sun.

When Byleth opened her eyes again, she was alone. There was no sun or moon, and the dark clouds obscured even the stars above her. Even though their separation lasted only the rest of the summer, Byleth thought those clouds would linger for the rest of her life.

Although it was wrong to be thankful for the Bergliez’s rebellion, it was the reason Claude returned to her. With his foolish actions, Jakob von Bergliez had activated the Crescent Moon clause, and called the Almyran King back to the West and into the Archbishop-Queen’s bed…

Claude’s whistle penetrated her daydream.

Byleth gasped.

“Oi, wakey-wakey, By-By!” her love called to her over the wind. “You fall asleep, you’ll be the one doing the pratfall, not me.”

Jolted from her reverie, she remembered herself and where she was, and she clung to Claude as though to life itself. 

That was when she felt him snickering.

“What’s so funny?”

Claude tilted his head to one side. “You went into a world of your own there and I was getting a little lonely. Then you started muttering my name under your breath.” His suddenly low, gruff tone excited a curl in Byleth’s stomach. “And I got jealous.”

She felt a blush spreading. “D-Did I really say your name aloud?”

“With passion,” Claude teased, smiling smugly. “Gotta say I’m intrigued, given the way your hands, err, heh…”

He tapped her hands; they had slipped down from his chest to his stomach. 

Mortified, Byleth righted them. “Sorry.”

“Ha! It’s fine. You know I love it when you give me a good squeeze. Although—” Looking over his shoulder, Claude lowered his voice to a whisper, as though weary of the clouds, the birds and perhaps Jamilah hearing him. “—I’d give more than a penny to know exactly where your brain was at. It sounded as though you were calling me to join you in that little daydream.”

He spoke so breathy, so dreamily, that Byleth’s mind tumbled into the gutter and was a struggle to pull it out again. 

One more time.

Out here in the woods, no one would walk in and catch there. There were no Naders lurking in the brush….

Just one more time, before he leaves tomorrow.

“Maybe I was,” Byleth sighed, laying her cheek against his shoulder. My mind and heart always seem to call for you. “Do you want to know?”

“I think I can guess. Your wandering hands were a tip-off.”

“Hm. Is it bad?”

“Bad?”

“To want you, ache for you, constantly.”

Byleth felt Claude shiver beneath her hold. Still, he played it cool. 

“How could that ever be bad? It’s… It’s painful, but gods, it’s worth it for you.” Stroking her hand one last time, he retook hold of his saddle. “I’m gonna bring her to land. Hold on.”

With a gentle squeeze of his thighs into Jamilah’s side and a swooping whistle from Claude’s lips, the pearly wyvern began her descent.

“Here we go!” Claude called out.

Jamilah stopped dead in midair, jerking her riders up in their seats. Looking down, Byleth saw they had come to a clearing in the middle of the woodland, about half a mile from the Gwalchmai Ravine, where they would host the ultimate confrontation with their enemy. Claude gave a quick whistle and Jamilah slowly fluttered down, landing with a thud and a whine.

He gave her a scratch behind her horns. 

“Good girl,” he cooed. “You’re such a good girl, not making any fuss at all.”

Byleth chuckled. As fearful as she had been of Jamilah bucking her off her back, she couldn’t help but find the wyvern’s pleased purrs adorable.

“I suppose I should say thank you, too,” she said as Claude helped her off Jamilah’s back. “She was kind enough to overlook me, after all.”

“Sure,” he agreed, gently turning her to face his mount. “Jami, Tata’s Delaxah xahan addahba sakahra-ek. Mieaddahba-ek!” 

Though Jamilah continued to behave as ‘Daddy’ requested, Claude kept his hands firmly on Byleth’s shoulders, bracing for his wayward child to revert to her old ways and attempt to shove her away. 

Cautiously, Byleth held out her hand again and waited.

Jamilah observed the human with her citrine eyes, wobbling her head back and forth in wonder. Their staring match lasted long enough for Byleth’s arm to start aching. 

She sighed, deciding to give up.

“I guess earlier was a fluke….” Byleth began, then gasped.

Suddenly, Jamilah repeated the same motion she had at the wyvern pit; shoving her snout into Byleth’s stomach. It was gentle yet firm, as she curiously snuffed the bare skin.

Then she licked her.

“Ah-haha!” Byleth cried out, the cool tongue taking her taken by surprise. She stumbled backwards into Claude. “Her tongue’s lukewarm! Almost like a dog’s.”

He held Byleth firmly, observing the draconic kisses curiously. “Ha! She’s combusting. That means she’s relaxed.”

“Relaxed?” Byleth repeated. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“I know, right? What did you bathe in this morning? Maybe she likes how your bath oils smell?” he asked in an arch voice.

Byleth knew he was joking, but she didn’t want to question Jamilah’s sudden affection too deeply. She was just grateful they had made progress at last. “Your scent must’ve really rubbed off on me earlier.”

“Hm? Then perhaps that’s a sign I should make out with you more often,” Claude said, kissing the shell of her ear, exciting her senses all over again. “Any excuse to shower you with attention is fine by me, my stars above, and yearn for the day I’ll get to do so openly, with no fear of discovery.”

With a kiss, he stepped away from her.

Blood rushed vigorously through Byleth’s body. Her soul stung, heart hummed and mind was dizzy with delight. 

One more time before he goes… Between ending this conflict and Dimitri looming in the distance, this could be their last moment together. Ever. You may never feel him again after today.

Still, despite the fears bubbling beneath her skin, Byleth was defiant.

There won’t be a last time, she promised herself, smiling. There will be more times. Many more.

There was nothing so wonderful as having Claude in her arms, or her in his.

What if you’re wrong?

There was a nagging shame she felt within the confines of her heart, that part of her that still cared she was married and was reconsidering her actions. 

Dimitri’s fury will know no bounds.

Yet the voice seemed like a muffled echo, weak in the face of Byleth’s resolution.

I’m not frightened of Dimitri.

As she thought it, she truly believed it. Facing Dimitri’s fury was terrifying, but the truth had to come out in order to free them all. Not even the threat of hellfire would stop her.

Fight for the next time, Byleth told herself. You have to. You must.

Byleth and Claude surveyed the area. 

Thankfully, the topographer who created their map, along with preliminary observations made by Cyril and Ashe during their scouting missions, proved to be accurate. The terrain was flat enough to set up small, connected camps with plenty of cover from the trees and the tributary was well within walking distance, promising to provide enough fish and freshwater for the short duration Claude and his hazahran-pasban would be stationed there.

“The branches will provide good roosting space for the wyverns,” Claude observed, pointing upwards towards the thick branches. “It will camouflage most of them, too.”

“Yes. Most.” Byleth looked up at Jamilah, who decidedly did not blend in with the deciduous leaves transitioning from green to orange nor the umber-coloured bark. Clearly noting her concern, Claude piped up, “Worse comes to worse, the forest debris can disguise her scales.” He bent down to pick up a clump of earth and rubbed it between his fingers. Byleth watched as the almost-black soil stuck to his glove, like a paste. “Surprisingly peaty, right? Either way, it’ll do the trick.”

Jamilah gave a tiny croon, as though agreeing with her tata. Throwing the wyvern with another gaze, Byleth realised she was looking at her, not Claude.

What’s got into you?

“Let’s see how far the woodland stretches before we get to the cliff edge,” Claude said, wiping his gloved hands against a tree to remove the peat before pulling the map back out. “I need to make sure we’ll be in range of your Goddess Shield.”

“You will be.”

Of that, Byleth was certain. When needed, she could cover every soul in Garreg Mach and the village below with the protective barrier afforded to her by Sothis. It was an odd power, a little-known skill she rarely implemented, but for this battle, she suspected it would be vital.

“Can’t hurt to double-check, sweet star.”

This woodland rarely saw the feet of men. There were no pathways nor trails, with the only clearings seeming to be below the treefalls and the glades close to the river. Above them, Jamilah hopped between the trees, following on and only stopping when they did – or if she saw a small animal, she might want to eat. 

Byleth kept her eyes down, watching where she put her feet, cautious of twisted roots and rotten branches hindering the way. Claude did the same, only stopping to check the map once both feet were firmly on flat ground. He looked back often, asking if she was feeling okay. She said ‘yes’ every time, but the truth was she was feeling woozy.

Usually, she didn’t mind navigating rough terrain or taking long hikes, but this one was taking its toll.

Fool, it’s because you aren’t eating enough! she scolded herself, resenting her diet of bread, cheese and barely nibbled cold cuts. 

Bracing herself against a tree, Byleth stopped. “Can we st—?”

She hadn’t finished that sentence before Claude was manoeuvring her to a nearby trunk to sit down. He handed her his waterskin, which she gladly took, happy to be filling her stomach with anything, even plain water.

“Do you need to go back?” Claude asked, concerned. “I can finish up here and perform to ruse without you watching, you know.”

“No!” replied Byleth, adamantly. “I have to be there to make sure you’re all right.”

“What about me, hm?” he said, laughing nervously. “I’m worried about you.”

Kneeling in front of her, he removed his glove to pet her cheeks and forehead. Looking for a fever, he suspected, any sign that she was still sick. Finding her no more flushed than he was from trekking through the overgrowth, Claude clicked his tongue. 

“Are you still sick?”

“I’m better than I was,” Byleth insisted. 

“But not actually ‘better’, right?”

“My appetite is just a little off…”

“As in, you’re still struggling to keep anything down, off?”

“Claude, please!”

“Ugh, By!” He rubbed his eyes fiercely, as though trying to scrub away the worry. It only made Byleth feel even worse. “Why didn’t you tell me before? How am I supposed to let you ‘bait’ the enemy, knowing you’re going into battle like this—?”

Jamilah landed beside them with a loud thump, startling them out of their quarrel. Flapping her wings, she blew a pleasant breeze against Byleth’s skin. 

“Geez, Jami!” Claude gasped, clutching his heart. “Way to scare me death.”

She ignored him, lightly grunting as she waddled towards them with a dead pheasant locked in her jaws. Stopping in front of Byleth, she plopped the singed remains in her lap. A peculiar mixture of fresh blood and cooking poultry filled the Archbishop-Queen’s nostrils. While she felt she ought to be disgusted by this strange offering, something primal took over. Rather than repulsed, she felt a strong pang of hunger, her first one in what felt like forever.

Claude lifted the felled bird, shaking his head. “A peace offering, buddy? Or are you just showing off?”

“Maybe she can tell I’m hungry,” Byleth said, rubbing her growling stomach.

He raised an eyebrow. “You want to eat it?”

She gave him a guilty look. “A little more cooked, perhaps, but…” The smell awoke something in her. The revolting stink of fish stew, cold cuts of pork and her nauseatingly sweet honey teas made her dizzy with discomfort. Poultry. All she could think of eating was poultry. Pheasant, duck, chicken, goose… any bird, really. “I don’t think I’ve wanted to eat anything else more in my entire life.”

Jamilah started sniffing at Byleth’s lap again, licking the blood from her thighs. Instinctively, she gave the dragon a pat on the head. Goddess knew where this attentiveness was coming from, but Byleth was thankful all the same. 

“As long as Jami doesn’t mind sharing, I suppose?” she added.

The wyvern lifted her head, giving her a confused look, as though it surprised her the ‘sharing’ aspect was even in question.

Claude looked up at the canopy above, humming. “We need to be careful not to lose the light, but it’s not like we can keep going with you weak from hunger. So, we’ll have to make time.” Pulling off his gloves again, he readied to pull the few feathers Jamilah had left on her ‘present.’ “At least with a wyvern keeping me company, no need to build fires to cook.”

All sense of dignity died for Byleth the moment she sank her teeth into that gamey flesh of the now-roasted pheasant’s leg. Devouring the meat with loud gluttonous snorts, the fat and juices smeared across her lips, chin and cheeks. Each time she tried to wipe it away, another bite would cover her anew. After a while, she stopped caring. Every inch of her body craved more, more to fill the empty pit. She must’ve looked more predator than woman, but she didn’t care.

Sothis, I need this meal!

Byleth only felt grounded again once she had picked the bone clean. No nausea, no dizziness, and no more growling stomach begging for sustenance.

“Heh.”

She glanced at Claude, perched on the log beside her, smirking, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Feeling better?” he asked, archly.

Byleth’s cheeks burned.

He’s been watching me.

Claude ate very little himself, picking at a few bits for himself while throwing every third piece to Jamilah. He looked a little ruffled from the flight and glistened with sweat from their trek through the woods, then cooking this impromptu feast, but overall, he looked perfect. Meanwhile, there was Byleth, scoffing the dead bird with less grace than the dragon felled it.

Gingerly, she placed the bone down, moping at what a spectacle she made of herself.

“Aww, don’t make that face!” Claude said teasingly.

He chuckled. That made Byleth feel worse. She tried to wipe the grease from her face, but the oils caked her hands as well.

Without a word, Claude handed her a kerchief.

“I’m sorry,” Byleth muttered, accepting it quickly. As satisfied as her tummy felt from the long overdue dinner, the rest of her body wouldn’t stop burning with embarrassment. “I forgot where I was for a moment.” Still, she had eaten spoils from the hunt plenty of times, though, and never had it hit the spot so well. “I don’t know what came over me,” she continued to speak, scrubbing her face and hands. “I—”

Claude’s lips pressed against her own, cutting off her apologies. The reassuring peck escalated quickly to a deep, ardent embrace. He pulled Byleth from the trunk upon which she sat, onto her knees and into his arms. Crouched upon the damp ground, they kissed. Every time they broke away, one of them leaned in again.

One more time… Two more times… A thousand more times…

It would never be enough.

They might’ve continued longer, but Byleth felt something tugging on her, pulling her back. She knew exactly who it was.

Jamilah.

Byleth sighed. She supposed it was too much to expect Jamilah to tolerate her kissing her ‘tata’, after all. Several times, she had shoved herself between them to break apart moments like this; it was a boundary the dragon had.

Gently, they broke apart. However, Jamilah was still sniffing around, trying to get to something underneath Claude’s knee. He lifted it, curious.

It was a bone.

Excitedly, Jamilah grabbed it and hopped away, leaving them be.

“I was wondering what that was,” Claude said, putting his knee down again. Snickering, he cupped her face. His gaze was so warm, all Byleth wanted to do was kiss him again. “Feeling better?”

Byleth nodded; she truly was. “Seems I really did just need to eat.”

Her lover sniggered as he climbed to his feet. “Given what a big eater you are usually, this fasting of yours has been niggling my brain for a while now.” He offered his hand to help her up, which she gladly took. Once on her feet, he gave her another kiss, then another, and one more. “It really has been bugging me.”

Byleth took Claude’s hands in hers. She stroked his knuckles with her thumb and thought about his large, rough and warm palms and his nimble, long and calloused fingers. So strong yet so tender. “I’m sorry to have worried you,” she said at last.

“Heh, it’s doesn’t matter now.” Claude gave her a peck at her parting. “At least we’ve found something you actually want to eat.”

“I feel bad not eating the same as everyone else, though,” Byleth admitted. “Everyone else is being forced to eat it.”

Claude snorted back another laugh. “My sweet star, sometimes it’s like you forget you’re a queen. No one will resent you eating a broiler instead of a carp.”

His eyes wandered past her shoulder to his wyvern. Byleth followed his gaze. Jamilah was finishing the rest of the bones, chewing on them as if they were jerky, snapping her harsh jaws down to release the marrow within before swallowing the lot whole.

“We feed the wyverns sheep and chicken,” Claude continued. “People will probably see their fish strews as grander than your bird craving.”

He kissed her again, making Byleth giggle.

“You’re being so affectionate…” she murmured, leaning into him, enjoying the light thrum of the pulse in his neck against her temple. “I was worried about how undignified I looked, tearing into that pheasant.”

“Ha!” Claude wrapped an arm around her, squeezing her shoulders. “I was honestly too relieved to notice or care.”

He looked up at the sky again, as did Byleth. It was a little dimmer than when they first set out. Guilt rushed through Byleth’s blood. 

I hope we haven’t lost too much time because of me.

She didn’t want Claude to be performing his trick in half-light.

He put his gloves back on as Jamilah finished her last bone. Then, taking one of Byleth’s hands, he addressed both his ‘ladies.’ “Come on. We’re close to the top of the ravine, if my map’s correct. There’s still plenty of time to scope out the area, not to mention perform my little sleight of hand.”

“I hope so,” Byleth croaked. She felt as though her heart had lodged itself in her throat – a scorching hot lump choking her. She thought she hid her nerves about this ’sleight of hand’ well; keeping her game face on and allowing Claude to lead them through the woodland as Jamilah followed on behind them.

That was when Claude gave her hand another squeeze. Looking up at him, he gave Byleth a reassuring wink.

“Don’t worry, By,” he told her. “I know what I’m doing. I’ve done it before.”

Byleth bit her lip. 

“I know,” she whispered. That’s why she was so determined to be with him when he did it this time, too.

Watching Claude’s aerial antics could be breathtaking. 

Balance and flexibility was in instilled in him from an early age. It was the custom in Almyran to teach children how to keep their footing upon horses and wyverns. Riding forwards, backwards, or standing upright upon the backs of their mounts, they would then learn how to do it all while jabbing a spear, throwing an axe, or, of course, shooting a bow. 

Every time Byleth spied her dashing Deer attacking with a flourish, twist or swish, her mind buzzed with astonishment and awe. 

Claude could perform daring manoeuvres atop Jamilah. With both hands occupied with bow and arrow, the only grip he ever had on his wyvern was in his thighs. Then, depending on the pitch, length and timbre of his whistle, Jamilah would swoop, dodge or drive towards wherever his legs guided her. Twirling upside down, side to side, or veering to launch him up and out of the saddle entirely. Using all the strength of his lower limbs, he would release arrows upon baffled enemies and slay them with clean shots to the neck or heart. Swift and merciful, they would fall to the ground as Claude fell back upon Jamilah’s back: glorious, handsome, and the image of control.

Still, Byleth worried. She couldn’t help it, for, as skilled and powerful as her lover was, flashes of bloody and gruesome accidents filled her mind. Byleth feared Claude’s actions tested fate, a power beyond her divine pulse. Over and over, she imagined the worst happening. 

Claude falling…

Falling…

Falling.

Like I fell, all those years ago.

Intrusive thoughts. Recurring nightmares. Unrelenting. A stomach-churning crack, crushing his crown, opening his skull, snapping his neck, shattering his spine—

Byleth lurched forward. Her hand reaching out for Claude. Her fingers traced the bumps of his cervical, searching for an injury that wasn’t there and had never been. That she would never allow to happen…

Claude quaked at the sudden touch. He spun around to look at her, eyes wide with surprise. Still, he played it off with a light smile. “Is everything all right, ashibanu-ahliah?”

Hearing her Almyran ‘title’ snapped Byleth out of her daze, and she snatched her hand back, as though she’d touched a scolding kettle.

Caught in a daydream again…

Suddenly, Byleth remembered where she was: in the infirmary, waiting for Claude ‘injuries’ to be seen to by the physical.

Her eyes darted towards Paul, the military medic. 

Fortunately, he had his back to the Shah and Archbishop-Queen, sorting through the various glass bottles on his desk. 

Byleth took a deep, relieved breath. This scheme, Claude’s ‘ploy’, was done and dusted – and it had gone off mostly without a hitch. Thankfully, she had only needed to use her divine pulse once. 

On the first try, Claude had landed on the right shoulder – the wrong shoulder – his bad shoulder – where his scar from Luin lay. Although Claude ultimately recovered from the wounds he took at Gronder Field, the healers warned him it would forever be a weak spot for him and another serious injury could render him incapable of drawing his bow again.

Byleth couldn’t allow that and didn’t linger in that outcome long enough to know how badly he’d hurt himself.

On the second try, Claude dislocated his left shoulder. Even then, Byleth was prepared to go back and try a third time. As she rushed towards him, she spied the Minor Crest of Riegan trigger. Removing his glove, Claude bit down on it and snapped his bone back into its socket with a tremendous crack and a barely strangled grunt. He threw his head back, brow drenched in sweat and breaths coming quick and heavy. 

“I’m alright, By,” he panted, spitting out his glove again. “Look, see!” 

He moved his arm back and forth, showing the bone was back in place. 

That was enough to quell Byleth’s fears. A bit. Still, in was only once Paul confirmed Claude was fine that she truly felt calm.

“Seems your crest has done most of the healing already,” the doctor said, gripping around the joint, checking everything was ‘in place.’ “Any pain?”

“It’s a little tender,” Claude replied, rolling his shoulder smoothly. “But otherwise, fine.”

Paul nodded. “Well, Your Royal Highness should keep it in the sling for the next forty-eight hours all the same. I know you think this is all a performance and I know Riegan’s crest possesses swift healing abilities, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“That makes two of us,” Byleth muttered without thinking.

Claude continued to play the dying dove as Byleth and Paul ‘helped’ him back to his quarters. The Almyran soldiers, those not privy to that morning’s war council, watched with worry. Claude assured them all as he passed, telling them his injuries were “nothing serious,” and that his shoulder was “merely dislocated,” playing the healthy man pretending to be injured while putting on a brave face immensely well. 

“You should’ve been an actor,” came a low, resentful whisper.

Byleth’s blood leapt as she realised Nader was now trailing behind them. Claude stiffened a little under her touch, refusing to meet his spahbad’s gaze. 

“Now’s not the time, old man,” the king hissed.

That did not dissuade Nader, and he followed on in silence.

The disquieting quiet continued until they reached Claude’s tent. Once settled, Paul handed him a small packet. “Clove tea for the pain,” he explained. “Just in case.”

Claude snorted. “Ha, thanks doc, I think I’ll be fine, but I guess one can’t be too careful, eh?” He then gave him a serious look. “Still, I appreciate your concern… and discretion. This plot is crucial, after all.”

Paul chuckled. “Oh, I’m merely being cautious. You nobles think your crests make you invincible, but crest or no, you’re all still mortal.”

“Well, thanks all the same, doc.”

Claude slumped down onto his couch with a huff.

Where we last made love…

Byleth blushed at the remembrance. Hazy pleasure balanced against that unsettled anxiety from being caught earlier that same day…

She glanced at Nader, a look he quickly caught.

As Paul turned to leave, he bowed his head to everyone, finishing with Byleth. “Should I accompany you to your quarters, Your Grace?” he asked politely.

“No, thank you. I wish to discuss a few things with His Royal Highness,” Byleth replied, slipping into the couch at the opposite end to Claude. Her heart felt heavy as she spoke. “This will probably be our final meeting before the next battle.”

Paul did not question her and departed with a final bow, leaving the Almyran shah, the Fódlean Archbishop-Queen, and the spahbad alone.

Byleth tensed. This was the first time the three of them had been in the same place, alone, since Nader caught her and Claude in bed, embracing, whispering of their love and trying to comfort each other in their fears.

“So,” Nader began, breaking through the tense atmosphere with a derisive tone. “Should I order the men to pack up for the retreat now, janob’e-ahli?”

Claude made it clear to his former instructor that he would be the one giving the command with a terse statement and a withering look. 

“Tell the Heydar and the marzpahnran to be here in an hour,” the shah ordered. “No sooner, no later. I wish to speak to Her Grace first. Alone. As she said, this will be the last time we see each other in a while.”

Nader grumbled, shaking his head. 

Byleth’s eyes darted to Claude, desperate to look anywhere but at Nader. She watched as her lover squinted. With a cutting tone, he asked, “Do you have any objections, old man?” 

“I have plenty,” the general retorted quickly, eyes darting between the pair. “But they’d only fall on deaf ears, eh?”

Byleth’s stomach churned. Were it not for her pheasant meal, she might have vomited bile on the spot. 

“Can’t you two cut out the act?” Nader continued, wearily. “Bad enough I know the truth. The least you can do is drop the pretence when it’s just me here.”

That’s it!

She couldn’t take this anymore.

I have to help him understand.

“Nader—” Byleth began.

“Don’t bother, By,” Claude told her, rubbing his eyes in frustration.

“No, Claude.” As she took one of his hands, he gave Byleth a careful look, obviously taken aback. Her eyes pleaded softly as she added, “Let me try.” Confusion shifted to realisation. He knew what she wanted to do. A knowing smile crossed his lips. Leaning in, he whispered into her ear. “You can’t solve everything with a tea party, By.”

“Then I’ll offer him coffee.”

He chuckled despite himself. “By, I’m serious.”

“So am I, Khal.”

Claude shook his head, but, finally, relented. “Fine.”

Byleth’s lips curved upward in a smile. In response to Nader’s request, she gave Claude a brief kiss and let go of the pretence. Standing up, she turned to confront her ‘foe.’ 

Giving her a pensive look, Nader folded his arms. He looked like he was expecting some sort of attack, either through words or actions. Byleth felt slightly relieved, realising that he was as uncomfortable as she was. 

“Would you join me for tea sometime?” Byleth asked, at last.

Surprised, Nader baulked. “You… What?”

“Tea,” she repeated. Let’s have tea together, would you like that? Maybe lunchtime tomorrow, after Claude has left?”

Nader’s eye twitched with skepticism. He even glanced at Claude, as if expecting a punchline. Then, when none came, he turned back to Byleth. “Why’d you…? What… Um. To what end?”

“I want to hear what you have to say,” she said simply. “I want to hear it in your own words, straight from your mouth. Claude has spoken to you. Now, it’s my turn.”

Shaking his head, Nader let out a sardonic snort. Still, there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “You may not welcome what I have to say, my lady. Ugh, damn it all!” Another moment’s consideration and he gave in, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Fine, it can’t hurt.”

Byleth managed what she hoped was a smile. “Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow.” Nader then motioned towards Claude, dryly commenting, “You can’t be any more bull-headed than he was.” The warrior then turned to his king, voice serious. “I’ll give you the hour, kiddo. Everyone will be here on at the sixteenth hour. ‘No sooner, no later.’”

Claude thinned his lips. “Thank you.”

Byleth received one final, puzzled look from Nader before he departed with a sharp snap of the tarp.

Finally alone, Claude let out a long, tense breath. 

“You really don’t have to do this, By,” he told her. “When Nader’s like this—!”

“I told you, I can’t stand seeing this tension between you,” Byleth interrupted, sitting back on the couch. “So, if I can help relieve that, I will.”

“With tea?”

“It’s my secret weapon.”

Claude sagged backward into the pillows with an exhausted laugh. “You’re an odd one, my stars-above.”

“Isn’t that what you love about me?”

“Hm.” He studied her for a moment with his deep green eyes, causing a familiar warmth to spread through Byleth’s body. With a smirk, he beckoned her forward. “Come here.”

Happily obliging, Byleth shifted closer to Claude, perching over him. As she leaned in to kiss him again, her smile was now truly genuine. She gave him some extra kisses, for good measure. This was going to be the last time they’d be together for some time, so they had to make every second count.

Gazing up at her with dreamy eyes, Claude traced the line of her mouth. “What do you even want to get out of this tea party, By.”

“Promise not to laugh?” 

“Ha! I’ll try.”

Byleth gave her lips a rolling bite before she spoke. “I want Nader to understand how this happened.”

Claude curiously looked at her while encircling her waist. 

“Us, you mean?” he asked, and she confirmed with a nod. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks about us. Nader won’t—”

Byleth hushed him by putting a finger to his lips. 

“I’m not doing this because I’m afraid of him telling anyone,” she told him. “To be honest, I don’t even care if he still hates me afterwards. But I need him to know I…” Her words ended with a quivering tone. She felt a tightening in her chest. “That I’ll protect you from anything. Anyone.”

Neither of them had to say who ‘one’ was.

“Ah, By!”

With a deep exhale, Claude tightly hugged her to his chest. For a moment, Byleth felt they could meld into a single entity as he embraced her, just like they do at the peak of passion. She buried her face in his scarf, savouring the aroma that was wholly Claude. It eased her mind and reinforced her conviction that she was making the right choice, even when the world was against them. 

Claude finally noticed after a few more moments. 

“Whatcha doing, By?” 

With her face buried in his neck, she muttered, “I like your smell.”

“Huh?” 

He pulled her up. “Look at you, mumbling away into my cravat. What did you say?”

Byleth traced the point where cloth met skin, enjoying the textures of both. 

“Your scent. It’s so warm, calming, exciting…” She leaned back into him, deeply inhaling his scent, feeling it in her nose, on her tongue, and even in her throat and lungs. Being full with him. A delightful shiver ran down her spine as she let out a sigh. “It excites my senses, unlike anything else.”

Looking up, she stroked his jaw and ran her thumb along his chin. Meeting Claude’s eyes, she found him looking quaintly amused. 

“Do you think I’m weird?” she asked hesitantly.

Claude laughed heartily, throwing his head back. He gave her another embrace, unsure of what else to do. “Agh, what would I do without you? You’re weird, but that’s okay because so am I.” He cupped her face, pressed his nose against hers with a smirk. “We are one and the same, right?”

“Bookends?” she asked, knowingly.

His grin grew wider, spreading from ear to ear. 

“Bookends,” he agreed, leaning in closer. She felt his lips on hers, tenderly kissing her in a low, deep growl. “Mithunatar.” 

All too quickly, he broke the kiss and rested his cheek against her temple. “I need to prepare for my troop movements tomorrow.” 

Pulling back, he ran his thumb across her bottom lip. 

“We probably won’t see each other until—“

“After,” Byleth finished for him. 

After this next battle, what they hoped would be the last. Then, after this war was done, they could prepare for the next one. The fight for the future, about their next steps. 

She stroked his cheek. “I’ll miss you.”

“It won’t be long,” Claude promised her, voice heavy with tension as though he was trying to reassure himself, too. Another kiss, another strained groan. “But, Dear One, this is hard! There’s something inside me telling me not to leave you.”

Byleth tilted her head, smirking. “You’re going to have to, if we want to make this plan work and end this conflict.”

“Ha! True,” he conceded. “We’ll strike a decisive blow against our enemy and put down the last of the Bergliez rebellion, these mages, once and for all. Then, when it’s over and done,” he wetted his lips with his tongue, making Byleth mirror the gesture. “We can look to the future.”

His hand found hers, thumb rubbing the third finger of her left hand, naked and without its wedding band. “Maybe… Maybe it’s what happens next that gives me pause.”

Byleth nestled against him, their bodies intertwined like the last pieces of a jigsaw. “I know. The uncertainty… scares me, too.”

She longed for the future beyond the horizon, but she also knew that this path called ‘life’ had to be traversed carefully. Though it hurt her heart to know they were still so far from the resolution, she clung to that dream of a peaceful, happy world beside Claude. That was the image she would take with her into the next battle, and every further step on the road towards that conclusion.

“I love you,” Byleth whispered, at last. “With everything I am.”

Claude gave her one last kiss to her hairline. “Still, I wish I could shake this feeling. By… Do you promise you’re feeling better?”

“I am. That pheasant really hit the spot,” she giggled.

He puffed out a breath, hesitating all over again. “Will you promise me something?”

“Of course.”

“Do everything you can to keep safe.” Byleth felt a flutter in her chest as she met Claude’s gaze, his eyes shining with passion. His tone was uncompromising. “Do whatever it takes to stay alive. Promise me that.”

Byleth couldn’t resist what she did next. With a final, deep inhale of his musky, warm scent, she breathed out her vow. “Mehrbahn’i.”

Claude let out a light chuckle, pushing her fringe away from her eyes. “Thank you, eshtahre’uyla-mi.”