A Catalyst of Brides

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/20594264.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: F/F, F/M, M/M
Fandom: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Relationship: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth & Claude von
Riegan
Character: Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth, Hilda Valentine Goneril, Lorenz
Hellman Gloucester, Ignatz Victor, Marianne von Edmund, Mercedes
von Martritz, Leonie Pinelli, Raphael Kirsten, Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix
Hugo Fraldarius
Additional Tags: Hilda/Marianne, Ignatz/Mercedes, Sylvain/Felix - Freeform,
Lorenz/Leonie, Judith/Nader (just a mention tbh), Lorenz is a terrible
matchmaker, Hilda thinks she's a better matchmaker than she really is,
Pining, Fluff, Mutual Pining, not really a slow-burn but kind of?, my tags
aren't super helpful, F!Byleth, spoilers for post time skip GD route,
verdant wind, Verdant Wind Spoilers, Post-Time Skip
Stats: Published: 2019-09-10 Completed: 2019-10-09 Chapters: 12/12 Words:
28493

A Catalyst of Brides
by DistractedSiren

Summary

or; Lorenz invites every eligible bachelorette in Fódlan to Garreg Mach in order to marry
Claude off, causing Byleth to feel uncomfortably jealous and leading Hilda to seize the
opportunity to meddle.

“Claude’s getting married?” The shock and dismay were so evident on the professor’s face
that Hilda did a double take to make sure she wasn’t just seeing things.

“I don’t think he has any immediate plans for it, no.” The pink-haired girl shrugged and
cocked her head to one side. “But he *is* the leader of the Alliance, he has a Crest, and he’s
winning the war against the Empire. He’s not my type or anything, but even I have to admit
he’s kind of a catch.”

Notes

This was supposed to just be a fun, haha sort of idea, like "What if Lorenz took it upon
himself to arrange Claude's marriage and bungles it in a way only Lorenz could...and what
it the whole situation made Byleth super uncomfortable?" Then, around 12,000 words later
it had turned into a fic spanning the entire end of the war. So spoilers for the end of Verdant
Wind (roughly chapters 18-22), but really it's kind of its own story with the major events
from the game acting as kind of a signpost.

This isn't completely finished yet but it's getting close. When I wrap it up, I'll update the
chapter count. Hope you enjoy!
 Chapter 1

It wasn’t easy to fluster Byleth. They all knew that; they’d all spent months at the academy
watching Sylvain, Hubert, Catherine and Claude attempt to catch her off guard using various
methods, and nothing had ever worked. It was only by chance that Hilda was the one that finally
realized what it took to get under her professor’s skin.

It was jealousy, of course.

It seemed strange, the idea that generous-yet-unflappable Byleth felt something as common or
selfish as jealousy, but Hilda couldn’t think of another word for the reaction Byleth had to the
monastery’s latest inhabitants.

She and the professor had been waiting in line for rations when Byleth noticed the visitors. The
dining hall was half again as full as it usually was, and the head chef seemed a little frazzled from
the extra work.

“Are we taking students again?” she asked Hilda with a frown, looking at the young newcomers.
“It doesn’t seem like a very good time to reinstate the academy…”

Hilda shook her head, glancing around the crowded room. “Oh, it’s nothing like that. These aren’t
students, they’re just guests. And…well, they’re prospective brides.”

“Prospective…brides?” Byleth repeated, her eyes going slightly wide. She took a closer look at the
latest additions and sure enough, they were all women.

“For Claude,” Hilda explained. “I think it was Lorenz’s idea. I bet Claude is furious. I can’t wait to
tease him.”

“Claude’s getting married?” The shock and dismay were so evident on the professor’s face that
Hilda did a double take to make sure she wasn’t just seeing things.

“I don’t think he has any immediate plans for it, no.” The pink-haired girl shrugged and cocked her
head to one side. “But he is the leader of the Alliance, he has a Crest, and he’s winning the war
against the Empire. He’s not my type or anything, but even I have to admit he’s kind of a catch.”

Byleth’s distress visibly worsened and she’d gone even paler than usual.

“Are you okay, Professor? Do you need Professor Manuela?”

Byleth shook her head. “Please excuse me,” she said. “I don’t think I’m hungry anymore.” Then
she all but fled the dining hall, leaving Hilda by herself in line to puzzle out just what was wrong…
until it came to her. Her dear professor was afraid, very afraid, that Claude was going to marry one
of these girls.

A slow smile spread over her face. There weren’t many opportunities for amusement during a war,
but this latest development might prove very entertaining indeed.
Claude’s reaction to the news that a great number of prospective brides had arrived was
somewhat…lacking in dignity. In fact, Lorenz was starting to realize that he’d never truly seen his
leader angry before, but he was certainly angry now. The pair of them were isolated enough,
standing in what had once been the cardinals’ conference room, and Claude’s normally impish
expression was now tight with exasperation.

“Lorenz, I don’t think I have to remind you that we’re in the midst of fighting a war, do I?”

Lorenz’s chin came up. “Certainly not. I am of course intimately acquainted with the
circumstances and politics that have brought us to this point.”

Claude pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling loudly in frustration. “So why, exactly, did you
think it was an appropriate time to bring a bunch of young noblewomen to Garreg Mach?”

For a moment, Lorenz just stared at the Alliance leader in stunned silence. Wasn’t it obvious? In
fact, wasn’t it the solemn duty of every Crest-bearing noble in Fódlan? Surely Claude couldn’t be
that ignorant of his duties and responsibilities?

“I invited them here,” he said slowly, as though he were explaining something to a particularly
obtuse child, “because you must marry. To be frank, you must do so sooner rather than later. You
are the last heir of House Riegan. The fact that my father and the other lords have not insisted that
you engage in matrimony before now is unforgivably irresponsible.”

“They have insisted,” Claude said in a tone of strained patience, “and I’ve rejected.”

Lorenz shook his head. Now he was the exasperated one. “Forgive me Claude, but that isn’t within
your purview. You must marry and produce a Crest-bearing heir, preferably two. You could fall in
battle at any point, and if that happens before there is a legitimate heir for your house, everything
we’ve accomplished up to now would be for naught. Surely you see that. I will admit that you have
some talent as a fighter, and that you have a minor affinity for strategic thinking—”

“Try not to overwhelm me with praise there, Lorenz,” Claude cut in drily.

“—But all it would take is one stray arrow, and all would be lost.”

“Teach wouldn’t let that happen. Even if I were to fall, she would carry you all forward into
Fódlan’s new dawn. She shares my dreams and she can make them come true—with or without
me.” He looked so fundamentally certain of that fact that for an instant, Lorenz considered…but
no, it was impossible. Impressive as she was, Byleth was not an appropriate partner for the leader
of the Alliance. Or the king of Fódlan, should the continent reunify. She was the daughter of a
mercenary, and while she made a useful figurehead for their resistance against the Empire, her
heroics on the battlefield did not erase her humble birth.

“But she could not carry on the Riegan bloodline,” he said out loud. “Only you can do so.
Therefore, I have invited the most appropriate and eligible noblewomen from across the Kingdom
and the Alliance, in hopes that you may strike up a favorable partnership.”

“Besides,” chirped a cheerful voice from the doorway, “just think how much fun a wedding would
be! It would give people something to celebrate for once. And I could handle the dress, and the
decorations!”

Claude threw his hands up and turned to look at Hilda. “Don’t tell me you approve of this
nonsense,” he said to her.

“You have to admit he’s got a point, Claude. And it could be fun, flirting with all those ladies.
Besides, it would be rude of you to send them all home without even speaking to them,” Hilda told
him. Then she looked at Lorenz with a sly grin “And Lorenz will no doubt try to console any of the
women you don’t pick.”

“I’m not going to pick any of them,” Claude told her as Lorenz tried to sputter out a denial of her
suggestion.

“How do you know? You may end up really liking one of them,” Hilda replied, watching him
closely. She looked like the cat that caught the canary, and suddenly Lorenz wondered what she
knew that he didn’t. He turned his gaze to Claude as well, looking for clues in the leader’s
countenance.

“Even if that is the case, now isn’t the time. Any marriage proposals will come after the war.”
Then he pointed a finger at Lorenz just as the other was about to protest. “I mean it. It can wait.”

“You will, of course, at least give them a gracious welcome,” Lorenz replied, rising to his full
height to pin Claude with a disapproving stare. “Anything else would be discourteous, and offer
grave insult to their families—all of whom, may I remind you, are offering us troops and support.
These are not people you should alienate, Claude.”

This time Claude threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine, fine. I’ll make the time. But don’t invite
anyone else, Lorenz. And you’re in charge of making sure they all get safely home once they’ve
been duly welcomed.”

Lorenz smiled, savoring the sweet taste of victory. “I would be delighted to be of assistance, of
course.” Then, before Claude could ruin this moment with some clever quip, he took his leave. It
was time to organize a ball.

“I was excited about the ball until Claude said there wasn’t enough food for a proper feast,”
Raphael was saying as the former Golden Deer all sat down to breakfast the next day. “How are
you supposed to enjoy the party on an empty stomach?”

Leonie tried to hide her grin. “I’m sure some people will manage,” she replied.

“It’s so romantic,” sighed Marianne. “Like out of a children’s story. A prince falling in love after
just one dance…”

Ignatz smiled a little and shook his head. “That is romantic, but it doesn’t seem like much to base a
life together off of.”

Hilda was watching Byleth through all of this, but the professor said nothing. She kept her gaze on
her plate and ate steadily, though Hilda could have sworn she looked…sad.

“He seems pretty against the idea, or at least he was yesterday when Lorenz told him why all these
girls had suddenly shown up,” she informed the group, though she watched Byleth out of the
corner of her eyes. “Maybe he’s already given his heart to someone else.”

Lysithea swung her head around to peer at Hilda. “Do you think so? He’s never shown anyone any
undo favor, at least not that I can recall.”
“Well,” Hilda laughed, “no one but the professor, anyway.”

Byleth looked up at last. “We don’t really speak of anything but the war. Our work requires us to
consult one another often, that’s all.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think you know more about Claude than any of us,” Hilda replied.
“He tells you all his secrets, after all.”

That won her a little chuckle. “Oh, definitely not,” the professor said before returning her gaze to
her meal. “He likes to keep us all guessing.”

“I cannot picture Claude married,” Lysithea commented thoughtfully. “He’s far too immature.”

“That doesn’t seem very fair, Lysithea,” Ignatz protested. “He’s done so much to ensure our
success in battle, and he’s managed to hold the Alliance together when half the lords were against
fighting the Empire. He even secured help from Almyra. An immature person couldn’t have
accomplished those things.”

“He’s got a point,” Leonie agreed. She grinned at the younger girl. “You just hate the fact that he
still teases you about being a child.”

“I fail to see how my age is relevant, when I work harder than—!”

Byleth cut her off. “He’s proud of you, Lysithea. He likes to tease, but he appreciates your work
ethic and he values you as an ally.”

Lysithea crossed her arms over her chest and made an indignant noise, but her cheeks were slightly
pink with pleasure at the praise.

“Do you think Claude should get married, Professor?” Hilda asked, leaning forward a little.

“I—if—if that’s what he want. If he falls in love, I don’t think anyone could begrudge him a little
happiness in such dark times.”

“Love doesn’t usually have much to do with marriage when nobility and Crests are involved,”
Leonie said, her mouth twisting a little. “It’s all about alliances and power with them.”

“You sound like Dorothea,” Marianne said quietly. “But some nobles find love.”

“Why are we even talking about this?” Raphael asked. Now that his plate was empty, his mouth
was finally available for more than chewing. “If Claude gets married, great! I’ll be happy for him.
And if not, that’s fine too. Even if he does have a wife, they wouldn’t really be able to spend any
time together until the war is over, right? So we don’t need to worry about anything changing.”

“Of course, of course. I’m just curious about what everyone thinks, that’s all. But you didn’t really
answer the question, Professor,” Hilda said to Byleth. “I didn’t ask if you’d support his marriage, I
asked if you thought he should get married.”

“I think…” At times like these, Byleth wished she could still her Sothis’ voice. Maybe the goddess
could have kept her from getting tongue-tied. She shook her head. “I’m really not the best person to
make that call, Hilda. It’s up to Claude. I trust him to make the best decision.”

“If his marriage is inevitable, the obvious solution would be for him to marry you, Professor,”
Lysithea announced out of nowhere. Everyone at the table fell silent, and suddenly they were all
staring at Byleth. “You are already our principle leaders. You work well together. You both inspire
people, and push them past their normal limits. You clearly tolerate and perhaps even enjoy one
another’s company. It’s a logical conclusion.”

“Very practical,” Hilda agreed with a smug little smile. “It really is quite sensible if you think
about it.”

“The professor and Claude? Yeah, that’d be great!” Raphael said, and beside him Ignatz nodded.

“You do seem perfectly matched,” he agreed.

“He could do worse,” was all Leonie said, but she looked interested in the idea.

“I think you two would make a wonderful couple,” Marianne said with a happy little sigh, clasping
her hands in front of her chest. “You really are a good team, and he was so sure you’d come back.
He never doubted you, Professor, even when everyone told him you were dead.”

Byleth stared at each of her former students in turn, her eyes wide with shock. Her mouth opened,
then shut again, and a faint flush colored her cheeks.

“That’s not—Claude and I aren’t…”

Aren’t what? asked a mocking inner voice that sounded suspiciously like Sothis.

“I have to go,” she said as a bell tolled over the monastery grounds. “I’m late for a meeting with
Seteth and Alois.”

“Byleth von Riegan…it’s got a nice ring to it,” Hilda mused, and Byleth had to resist the urge to
cover her ears as she fled the dining hall for the second time in as many days. So much for her
tough mercenary reputation…she’d just been chased away from a bunch of her own former
students by a bit of idle speculation. Though perhaps that shouldn't have been so surprising in
retrospect...Claude had tried to warn her all those years ago: life with the Golden Deer was never
boring.
 Chapter 2
Chapter Summary

“Something bothering you, Teach?” Claude asked.

“Other than you shirking your duties and attempting to distract me from mine? No,”
she said.

He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and facing her back. “You don’t
usually lie to me, my friend,” he said in tones that more genuinely reflected his
concern.

Chapter Notes

I'm really excited about the response to this story! I did Lorenz's character
development a little dirty...but I'll try to make up for that by the end.

Thank you so much for the support and love for this fic, it truly means a lot!!!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

There was something to be said for laying down in a bed that wasn’t covered in books and scrolls.

Claude rested on his back on top of Byleth’s blankets with his arms folded under his head. His eyes
were tracing the patterns in the wood above him, though his mind was too busy with other thoughts
to really observe much. He had to admit this wasn’t his most cunning hiding spot, but it was a
comfortable one. The room was quiet and smelled faintly of tea leaves and some sort of mildly
floral soap.

The Battle of Enbarr loomed in the near future. He wished now he’d asked Nader and his Almyran
troops to stay and aid them, though he doubted his father would have agreed to spare his best
general for much longer. And then there was his mother’s letter…

The door opened. He glanced over just as Byleth noticed he was there. He flashed her a smile that
must have looked a little hollow. She had halted in place when she’d spotted him on her bed, and
was now studying him—and his false smile—with a raised eyebrow.

“I can sense your disapproval and I reject it,” he said before she could comment.

“Don’t you have a bed of your own?” she asked, switching tack from disapproving to disinterest.
She crossed the small room and hung her cloak on a hook before settling herself at her desk with
her back to him. She pulled a stack of reports closer and began reading through them, pointedly
ignoring the way he was sprawled out in her personal space.

“Sure I do, but people look for me there. I needed a place to lay low.” He stretched out on hers,
yawning a bit as he did so. “Getting chased around the monastery by Seteth, Lorenz and a bunch of
noblewomen is exhausting.”

She snorted. “If you’re looking for sympathy, you’ve come to the wrong room.”

“So cold! I’m wounded, Teach, I really am.”

Still, she didn’t turn. Claude frowned to himself. They’d played this game before, the one where he
did or said something annoying or petulant and she pretended to be bored. But this time something
felt off. Her normal air of fond tolerance for his antics wasn’t present; instead, something seemed
to genuinely be upsetting her. Someone less familiar with her might not have been able to tell, but
Claude could.

“Something bothering you, Teach?” he asked.

“Other than you shirking your duties and attempting to distract me from mine? No,” she said.

He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and facing her back. “You don’t usually lie to
me, my friend,” he said in tones that more genuinely reflected his concern.

She glanced at him over her shoulder at last, just a flash of troubled green eyes. “We’re weeks
away from our final assault on the Empire and the monastery is full of young women that think
they’re on the verge of matrimony. Matrimony with you. And I got the news from Hilda.”

He felt a quick sting of irritation. “And I found out from Lorenz. At least Hilda would have made it
funny.”

“But it isn’t funny.” Byleth’s shoulders were high and tense. For the first time since the earliest
days of their acquaintance, Claude got the sense that she was trying to build a wall between them.
For some reason, that thought was infuriating. She’d somehow disassembled his own defenses
brick by brick, and now she wanted to establish barriers?

I don’t think so, he thought with bite, though outwardly he forced his expression to be calm and
patient.

“Just what do you think is going to happen?” he asked.

She turned in her chair to face him. “What’s already happening. The others are all distracted, the
supplies are being pushed to their limits, and you’re hiding in my quarters instead of coming up
with some devious plot to ensure our victory in Enbarr.”

He placed a hand over his heart as though she’d wounded him. “Who said I’m not coming up with
a devious plot?”

She grit her teeth and turned away again, obviously irritated at his refusal to take her worries
seriously. She knew he was being theatrical, trying to mask the truth of his own emotions. He
could see that, she was getting easier to read every day. But what did she want him to say? That he
had to host these guests because they were the daughters or sisters or nieces of their allies and he
didn’t have a choice? She had to know that. She was too smart not to see his hospitality for what it
was

“What’s really on your mind, Teach?” he asked, and this time some of his own frustration leaked
into his tone.

Her eyes flashed his way again. She was still irritated, but there was something else…she wouldn’t
hold his gaze for long, her cheeks were slightly flushed…and then it hit him. What he’d read as
simple frustration was much more complex. He could see it now that he was really looking:
anxiety, embarrassment, discomfort. Her whole body was shouting the truth at him now that he’d
recognized the signs.

“These women are really upsetting you,” he said, for once too stunned to express anything other
than exactly what he was feeling. It couldn’t be jealousy, could it? He just couldn’t imagine Byleth
feeling threatened by anyone, much less a bunch of giggling strangers. “Why?”

Her fingers flexed and then curled. “I…don’t know,” she admitted through tight lips. “But I can’t
seem to focus with them here.”

He sucked in a breath, wondering how to ease her…fears? He wasn’t even sure if that was the right
word. “Well, try not to worry, my friend. I haven’t lost sight of what’s at stake. And my mind is on
victory, not romance.”

She nodded, still reluctant to meet his eyes. He wanted to touch her, to put his hand on her shoulder
or tilt her head up so that she had no choice but to look at him…but he didn’t. Instead, still feeling
like something was off between them, he stood.

“All I want is to make our dreams come true. I promise you that. These girls…” He waved a hand.
“I can’t think of them right now. What we’re doing is so much more important.”

She stood too. “I know. I know how much winning this war means to you. I’m sorry that I let my
emotions get the better of me.”

This time his smile was genuine and a little wry. “Don’t be. Frankly, it’s something I wouldn’t
mind seeing more of. Now, I’d better get back out there. You were right about one thing: I have
been shirking my duties. But if I procrastinate any longer, it’ll be Judith dragging me behind her
horse, and I don’t think she’ll be as careful as my father was.”

“Probably not,” Byleth agreed with a quiet laugh. He laughed too, and he almost reached up—
almost tucked her hair behind her ear—but he forced himself to leave before he could give into
that powerful urge.

Sylvain had drifted back to the monastery the same way many of the academy’s former students
had, once rumors of Byleth’s return had begun to spread. He had been surprised to find
reconstruction well underway when he’d arrived at the monastery with Ingrid and Felix in tow, and
even more surprised that the former Golden Deer had been the ones organizing it all.

And Claude! Back in their school days, he had seemed so nonchalant, one of the only boys at the
academy that Sylvain ever thought was truly his competition when it came to wooing the ladies,
only Claude had never seemed to spend much of his energy on things like that.

That part hadn’t changed. There were eligible young women everywhere, just hoping for one of his
charming smiles, but he didn’t seem to notice at all.

But a lot of other things about Claude had changed. He had matured and stepped into the role of
Duke Riegan as though he had been long prepared for it, though he’d only been the heir for a few
short years. Though still just as quick with a joke or scheme, he also had an unmistakable air of
purpose. That combination of easy smiles and competent leadership was turning out to be pretty
potent as he and Byleth drew more and more allies to themselves.

Allies that now seemed to include a bevy of attractive young noblewomen. It was enough to make
a guy green with envy, only Claude didn’t seem too interested. Sylvain just couldn’t figure it out.
Almost every single girl of noble birth from the Kingdom and the Alliance had come running as
soon as Lorenz had invited them, and Claude just carried on as though they weren’t there.

It was unfathomable behavior In Sylvain’s opinion, but he didn’t intend to squander the
opportunity the same way their golden leader was. So, ignoring Ingrid’s protests and Felix’s
exasperation, he set to work.

News of a ball in honor of all the lovely guests was music to his ears. A ball was the perfect place
to fall in love. And he would come across as sweet and charming in comparison to Lorenz’s overly-
formal bumbling.

“This is idiotic,” Felix muttered as he watched Sylvain dig through his wardrobe. “This is no time
for a ball. We should spend this time preparing for the next battle. That’s all that really matters.”

“There’s more to life than fighting, Felix. Damn, I didn’t pack much formal wear. I didn’t think I’d
need It.”

“You don’t need it. This whole thing is a farce.”

“Just wait until you fall in love. I’m sure you’ll be singing a different tune then.”

Felix made an unimpressed sound. “Or maybe I won’t sing at all,” he replied, “and maybe it
wouldn’t change anything else, either.”

Sylvain finally stopped rummaging through his clothes. He looked up at his friend, his brow
furrowing. “What does that mean?” he asked, genuinely baffled.

Felix looked away and crossed his arms tight over his chest. He looked angry, but there was a
telltale flush in his cheeks. He hated to be embarrassed or caught out, he always had, but Sylvain
couldn’t figure out what was bugging him this time.

“Nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. If you’re going to insist on making a fool of yourself in front
of a bunch of power-hungry harpies, be my guest. I have no interest in participating.”

Then he stood up and strode out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Sylvain stared at
the closed door and wondered why his friend had seemed so hurt, and knowing he needed to find
out soon so he could fix it.

Back in their academy days, Ignatz had harbored something of a crush on Marianne. At first he’d
just wanted to put her at ease. But as the year had progressed he’d found himself feeling more and
more drawn to her. And then one day he’d been walking through the greenhouse when he’d spotted
Marianne and Hilda, tucked away in a hidden corner, whispering together and sharing stolen
kisses.

His crush hadn’t disappeared right away, but he wasn’t an idiot either: Marianne and Hilda had
looked very happy together, and he knew he couldn’t compete with that.
A few other girls had caught his attention through the years, but he hadn’t really pursued a
romance. His parents had relied on him to protect their business as the war had picked up speed,
and that had kept him busy right up until the millennium festival. He’d sent a couple of
mercenaries to take his place now that he was a full-fledged part of the Alliance resistance, and
since then the war had taken up even more of his focus.

But he couldn’t deny the small rush of excitement he’d felt when he’d spotted Mercedes among the
newcomers.

“You’re here!” he said as he strode up to welcome her. “And you’ve cut your hair.”

“Oh! Hello, Ignatz. It’s so nice to see you. Yes, I thought shorter hair would make a nice change.”

“It looks—you look lovely,” he told her. She blushed and smiled her pleasure at his compliment.

“Are you here for Claude?” he asked as their feet automatically took them in the direction of the
cathedral.

“No, I just happened to run into one of the groups on my way. I thought I’d offer my services to the
professor, now that she’s in charge of the Church.”

“She’ll be happy to welcome you,” Ignatz assured her, feeling a great sense of relief when she told
him she wasn’t a potential suitor. “I think she feels a little out of her depth, even with Seteth trying
to help.”

“I’m sure she has so much to do, what with all the battles she’s been fighting, too. It must be
overwhelming,” Mercedes agreed. She smiled at him again. “You look well, Ignatz. I like your
new hair, too.”

His ears turned red but he smiled back. “Thank you. I—I know you just arrived, but I was
wondering…there’s a ball in a couple of days to welcome all the visiting noblewomen…and I
would be honored if you’d be my date.”

He could hardly look at her as he stumbled through the request, but when he did finally risk a peek,
she was smiling at him.

“That sounds wonderful,” she agreed. “I’m sure we’ll have a lovely time.”

“Yes,” Ignatz agreed, his relief and delight making him a little lightheaded, “I’m sure we will,
too.”

“It seems strange to have a ball for all these women, though. I’d heard that Claude and the
professor are inseparable. And they always seemed so fond of each other when we were students.”

“It seems to have been Lorenz’s idea,” Ignatz told her as they stepped through the cathedral doors.
“But I think Hilda has plans of her own.”

Hilda had no plans. She wanted to have plans, but she was a little stumped. Obviously Claude
couldn’t take Byleth to the ball as his date without upsetting all the women that had traveled here
just to meet him, but pairing Byleth off with someone else didn’t seem appropriate, either.
Hilda was just trying to stir the pot for her own amusement, but the fact that their Leader Man and
the professor were perfect for each other was too obvious to ignore. Especially when Claude’s eyes
went all soft and warm whenever he smiled (actually, honestly smiled for once, no bullshit) at
Byleth, or the way she blushed whenever she caught him staring at her.

The idiots were in love, they just didn’t want to admit it. Maybe they didn’t even realize it.
Therefore Hilda intended to make this whole prospective bride mess so uncomfortable and
awkward that they would be forced to admit it to each other and everyone else.

It sounded good on paper, anyway, but so far she hadn’t accomplished much.

Oh, teasing them both was certainly fun, but the ball was now twenty-four hours away and, for the
first time that Hilda could remember (minus a five-year nap), Claude and Byleth hadn’t been seen
together for an entire day. Could it be possible that she was doing more harm than good?

No, no way. I got Marianne to fall in love with me. I can get Claude and the professor to realize
how they feel about each other too.

And the first step was to make sure that both parties looked their best for the ball.

Claude wasn’t too difficult. He knew that putting on a little finery for an occasion like a ball was
just another part of being a leader. Besides, his personal taste was a little on the showy side
anyway, so she didn’t have to meddle much to make sure he was going to look his best. And he had
really great hair. That always helped. She insisted that he let her style it on the evening of the ball,
and he’d grumbled a little but agreed, so she was feeling confident in that area.

Byleth was another story. It wasn’t that she wasn’t beautiful, because she was. It wasn’t that it
would be hard to enhance her natural charms, either. No, all the trouble came from trying to
convince the professor that Hilda should enhance those charms. She just didn’t seem to see the
point.

“I don’t mind wearing an appropriate gown and shoes, Hilda, but there’s no reason to go to
extremes. This isn’t an official Church function, and I’ll just be a bystander,” she said.

“Nonsense. This is a rare chance to have a little fun, and you’ll feel more confident if you know
you look your best,” Hilda insisted for what felt like the five-hundredth time. “Besides, a lot of our
guests are curious about you. I don’t think you’ll be allowed to just be a bystander.”

“You’re not going to give up on this, are you?”

Hilda shook her head, already grinning wide as she sensed her impending victory.

“Oh, very well,” Byleth relented with a sigh, “but try to keep it simple.”

Hilda was true to her word…mostly. It was just that she found the most charming dress: A subtle
grey gown trimmed in misty lilac, which complimented her unusual hair color. And then there
were the lovely, silvery sandals which would lace all the way up the professor’s glorious calves,
making her look even more like a goddess. A necklace of white fire opals with matching droplet
earrings and an appropriately elaborate hairdo would complete the look. Hilda was very proud of
her selections. She had Mercedes and Marianne help her let out the bodice so that it would fit
Byleth properly, and now all she needed to do was wait until it was time to have the professor put it
all on.

“You’re going to look like a moon goddess,” she sighed happily. “I can’t wait to see the final
product.”
 Byleth looked wary but didn’t argue. And once Claude sees her, he won’t be able to look at anyone
else, Hilda thought, careful not to let her professor catch any hint of these private musings.

Chapter End Notes

Next time: It's another ball at Garreg Mach, and Claude make sure that he gets in a
dance with his beloved Teach.
 Chapter 3
Chapter Summary

“You seem happy,” he said, his voice soft and wistful. “You show it so much more
than you did back in the academy days.”

“Well, you’re a better dancer than you were back in the academy days.”

He laughed. “Ouch! Way to hit a guy where it hurts, Teach.”

Chapter Notes

These next two chapters have been some of my favorite bits to write for this fic, so I
really hope you enjoy them too!

I'm sorry that I'm behind on comments. I've poured pretty much all my free time into
writing, but I promise to take the time to thank you guys personally for all your kind
support and amazing comments!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Claude had thrown Lorenz out of his room at least twice before finally barring the door. He didn’t
usually lock himself away; as leader, he felt it was important to be available to anyone that might
need him. But Lorenz had pushed him past his normal tolerance for nonsense. He had more than
enough on his mind without being pestered to death about suitable brides for the future of the
Alliance.

And, though Lorenz couldn’t possibly have known it because Claude had kept his lineage to
himself, it wasn’t as if he could choose with nothing but the best for Leicester or even Fódlan to
consider; as the crown prince of Almyra, his choice must be made with his homeland in mind too.
Not that he was too hung up on those facts. He’d never exactly done things by the book anyway,
why should his hypothetical marriage be any different?

Besides, there were plenty of other things to worry about. He still had no idea what had caused the
obliteration of Fort Merceus, meaning he had no idea how to protect them from a repeat attack.
Then there were all the details that still needed to be planned before their upcoming assault on
Enbarr. Issues like those made Lorenz’s endless pestering about a comparatively trivial matter hard
to hear with his usual forbearance. In fact, it was starting to make him want to tear his hair out, or
else climb onto the back of his wyvern so he could make his escape.

As soon as he did, however, he knew Judith would drag him back by the ear. Not that this
knowledge stopped him from daydreaming about escape with almost frightening regularity…but
there was nothing for it. He’d always known that ruling meant he’d have to grin and bear all
manner of unpleasantness.

He dressed for the ball, taking his time and enjoying a few rare moments of privacy. But it couldn’t
last: he’d forgotten he’d agreed to let Hilda dress his hair until a knock sounded on his door. With a
quiet sigh, he opened the door to admit her.

“You really should keep this room a little tidier,” she said when she entered, glancing around at the
books and paperwork that covered all of the flat surfaces in the room, including his bed. “It’s not
becoming for the reigning Duke Riegan, after all.”

He glanced around. “But I need all this stuff. No point in putting it away when I’m just going to
drag it all back out again a few minutes later.”

“I guess that’s true…I’m just glad you’re the Leader Man and not me. This all looks like way too
much work.”

Claude gave her a wry smile and then sat himself in a chair as Hilda pushed aside a stack of books
so she could spread out her combs and shears.

“So, are you excited? There are lots of pretty ladies waiting to dance with you,” she said as she
went to work.

“I’m excited for it to be over,” he shot back. “I’d rather celebrate the war being won.”

“And soon enough, we will be. But just imagine—after tonight, you may be announcing your
engagement on the eve of our victory over the Empire!”

“Why is everyone suddenly so keen on marrying me off?” he asked.

“Well, Lorenz and Sylvain probably just want to get you out of the way so there’s less competition.
But most of us…I think we just want to think about something happy for once. Victory has been
sweet, but the cost is so high. A wedding doesn’t have the same strings attached.”

Claude only hummed as he thought her answer over. Hilda let the silence stretch for a moment or
two, and then asked (in a voice way too obviously innocent, he noticed), “What does the professor
think?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair before he could stop himself. After their earlier discussion,
he hadn’t let himself wonder, and he certainly hadn’t asked her what her opinion was. Maybe it
was cowardly, but he didn’t think he could bear it if she suddenly decided that it would be a
prudent decision for him to spend his life with some virtual stranger.

“We haven’t discussed it,” he said.

“But you discuss everything!” Hilda replied, sounding just a little more aghast than he thought the
situation truly merited. What was she up to?

“Not this.”

“Well, any girl you do pursue is probably going to feel a little jealous. You’ll have to be careful
about how much time you spend with the professor from now on.”

“That’s not exactly feasible,” Claude replied. “We’ll need to work closely together even after the
war is over. We both have a part to play in shaping Fódlan’s future. And anyway, there’s no point
in thinking about that, because I’m not going to pursue anyone until the fighting is done. It
wouldn’t be fair, not when I’m still needed on the front lines.”

“Methinks you protest too much, dear leader,” Hilda mused as she added some sort of cream to his
hair.

He sighed. Lately it felt like the only place he could win was on the battlefield. But before he
could make any further remark, Hilda stepped back.

“There. You look great. You’ll have to beat your brides off with a stick after they get a look at you
now.”

“I’ll have to remember to bring one,” he said, but after he’d seen how expertly she’d styled his hair,
he relented. “It looks good. Thank you, Hilda.”

“Anything for you, Leader Man,” Hilda replied with a mock salute. “And just in time, too…the
ball’s about to start, and true love awaits.”

He threw a book at her as she danced out of his door, laughing.

Byleth knew almost as soon as the ball started that at some point she’d retreat to the Goddess
Tower. There were a lot of women in the room, all chattering excitedly as they waited for Duke
Riegan to arrive. The myriad perfumes were enough to make her head spin, and some of them wore
skirts so full that it gave her the impression of claustrophobia. Or maybe it was just that the idea of
watching Claude flirt with and charm all these ladies was strangely painful. Imagining it left her
chest feeling hollow and cold.

Leonie found her, pushing past a group of Alliance girls giggling into their champagne glasses as
they talked about how handsome Claude was.

“There you are! I thought you had skipped out and left the rest of us Deer to muddle through,” she
said as she stopped in front of Byleth.

“I’ve had worse ideas,” Byleth replied. “I hadn’t realized how many Lorenz had invited until they
all gathered in this room.”

“No kidding.” Leonie made a face. “It seems like such a waste of time and resources.”

They both grew quiet for a while, and then there was a burst of music and Claude stepped into the
room. His smile was wide and welcoming as he formally greeted the guests, but Byleth could see it
wasn’t a true smile even from across the dance floor. He looked strained and nervous under his
polite mask, and he seemed to be scanning the room in search of someone in particular.

Some warmth returned to his expression when their gazes met, and he gave her a small wave.
Then, dutifully, he allowed Lorenz to begin the introductions. A few minutes later, Byleth spotted
him leading a woman with auburn hair onto the dance floor.

Suddenly Felix stepped in front of her, blocking her view. He bowed to her.

“May I have this dance, Professor?” he asked. She took his hand with some surprise. A moment
later, Felix was leading her through the steps of the dance with all the same precision and grace as
his fighting. Before long, she was even smiling, surprised at how easily she moved when led by
such an expert partner.
He didn’t speak much, which suited her just fine, but he smiled back at her when the song ended.
He bowed to her in gratitude.

“I thought I’d save you from Sylvain, but that was quite enjoyable,” he told her. “Thank you,
Professor.”

She thanked him in return, and then Ignatz requested a dance. After that, Sylvain did get her onto
the dance floor, and Raphael—who had never learned the formal waltzes this kind of party called
for—simply picked Byleth up and spun them both in slow circles, making her laugh quietly.

Lorenz appeared and bowed over her hand, asking her for a waltz in such formal tones that Leonie
began teasing him. He too was an expert dancer, though his posture was so stiff and correct that she
had to admit Felix had been the better partner.

And then, just before Lorenz could claim her for a second dance, someone tapped him on the
shoulder.

“May I cut in?” Claude asked, and when it looked like her partner might protest, he winked at
Byleth and added, “I’ll have to cause a terribly inappropriate scene if you refuse, Lorenz.”

“Oh, very well,” Lorenz sniffed. “But then you’d better dance with some of the Kingdom
noblewomen.”

“I’ll get right on that,” Claude replied, already spinning Byleth away with a playful flourish. Then
he tugged her toward him and leaned in to put his mouth close her ear. “You look incredible,
Teach.”

She shivered, and her ‘thank you’ came out sounding a little breathless.

Raphael may have physically lifted her off of her feet during their dance, but it was in Claude’s
arms that she truly felt like she was floating. They didn’t say much, but his green eyes were
glowing as he looked down at her, and she knew that she was smiling up at him almost helplessly
as her body was flooded with joy.

“You seem happy,” he said, his voice soft and wistful. “You show it so much more than you did
back in the academy days.”

“Well, you’re a better dancer than you were back in the academy days.”

He laughed. “Ouch! Way to hit a guy where it hurts, Teach.”

They danced in silence for a few moments, neither really sure of what to say in such an intimate
embrace, with so many eyes on their every move.

“You know Teach, if I’m honest, I never really saw myself getting married. I know if I don’t, I’d
be ‘failing in my noble obligations,’ or however Lorenz would put it, but my dreams are so big that
I just kind of…set that possibility aside,” Claude said at last, perhaps attempting to smooth things
over between them after their last discussion.

Byleth hummed in agreement, considering her own future. “I’d never given it any thought at all.”

He didn’t seem too surprised by this admission, though he gave her fingers a small squeeze. “And
now that we’re talking about it? Do you picture yourself getting married someday?”

She closed her eyes, trusting him to lead her as she tried to imagine what being married would be
like. To have such a deep connection, to utterly rely on someone as a partner, friend, confidant…to
have a lover, to cherish someone and be cherished in return…

Before she could answer him, the song drifted to a close. Her eyes popped open in time to see that
Lorenz was already approaching them with a look of determination on his face.

“I suppose we’ll have to table this conversation, Teach,” Claude said, eyeing Lorenz wearily.
“Looks like I have to get back to work.”

He gave her an apologetic smile as Lorenz took him by the elbow and pulled him toward a lovely
young lady from the Kingdom territories.

Once he was gone, swallowed up by the crowd, she took the opportunity to slip away, escaping the
crowded ballroom and plunging into the cool night air. There was an echo in her mind, a memory
more than a voice, that said, “Ah…I see... The Goddess Tower waits for you.” As her feet carried
her in that direction, Byleth found herself wondering what Sothis would have made of tonight’s
events. No doubt she would have teased Byleth for being so emotionally obtuse.

But she couldn’t help it. It was hadn’t been so many months ago, minus her five-year slumber, that
the idea of love and marriage would have been so foreign to her as to be impossible to imagine. In
twenty years, she’d barely witnessed that type of relationship, usually only catching glimpses in the
villages that had hired her mercenary group. And even now, with her life so full of people that she
cared for and wanted to protect, she didn’t really know what love should feel like.

Except…that wasn’t exactly true. Even as ignorant of love as she was, she knew what she felt for
Claude was far deeper and more profound than what she felt for anyone else. The idea that he
might share his life with someone else hurt her in a way she couldn’t describe. All she wanted, the
only thing she could picture when she thought of marriage, was to be with him for all the rest of her
days.

Well, of course that’s love, whispered her memory of Sothis, sounding impatient even in Byleth’s
imagination. Silly child, you’ve been in love with that boy since you found him waiting for you in
this very spot.

Byleth went to the window Claude had been standing at when they’d reunited, touching the sill as
the memory of his smile came flooding back.

Choose me, she thought, knowing it was a selfish wish but unable to stop herself from making it.
Marry me.

It wasn’t the right night for wish-making, at least according to legend, and she was alone…yet she
hoped that wherever Sothis now was, she could hear this silent plea.

“Has anyone seen the professor?” Leonie asked, searching the crowded dance floor to no avail.
Marianne and Hilda stopped whispering and looked up, both frowning thoughtfully.

“Now that you mention it, it has been some time since I’ve seen her,” Marianne said.

“We should ask Raphael. He’s so tall, it should be easy for him to spot her, even in all this,” Hilda
remarked, gesturing to the crowd.
 “I’ll go find him.” Leonie had already zeroed in on the big blonde. It wasn’t hard to guess where
he’d be, after all: if there was a buffet table available, Raphael was sure to be nearby. She crossed
the distance between them quickly, weaving through the glittering crowd and tamping down on her
feelings of self-consciousness. There were so many soft, feminine ladies around…Leonie always
felt out of place in company like this.

“Leonie! That’s a nice dress!” Raphael called as he spotted her making her way toward him. She
smiled up at him, grateful for his praise.

“Hey, Raph. Can you see the professor anywhere?” she asked. He looked around the room and
then shook his head.

“I can’t see her, but wait—hey, Claude!” he bellowed over the din of the crowd. The Alliance
Leader’s head snapped up at the sound of his name, and Raphael beckoned him over. A moment
later, he’d managed to make his way over to them.

“That’s quite a set of lungs you’ve got there, Raphael,” he said with a theatrical wince and rub of
the ears. Raphael grinned at him.

“It’s cuz of all my muscles,” he said, but before Claude could ask him how exactly that worked, he
asked, “Have you seen the professor? We can’t find her.”

“Uh…no, come to think of it. Not in the last hour or so.” Claude’s eyes fell on Leonie. “Is
something wrong?”

She was quick to shake her head. “No, I’m sure she’s fine. I just thought Raphael might be able to
spot her since he’s so tall. She must have gone to bed.”

“Bed? But there’s still a dessert on the way,” Raphael said, sounding dismayed. Leonie gave him a
comforting pat.

“You can have her share. And mine, if you want it. Anyway, sorry to drag you into this, Claude.
I’ll go see if I can find her, I know you’re kind of stuck.”

He grimaced slightly. “I guess it would be bad manners for me to disappear too. But don’t worry, I
think I know where she’s at. No need to send out a search party.”

“Claude,” Leonie said slowly, eyeing him with suspicion, “what are you up to?”

“Me?” Claude gave her his most innocent smile. “Nothing at all, I promise.”

He left them with a jaunty wave, moving back into the crowd and stopping to chat with several
groups of young ladies. He put on a good show, but Leonie wasn’t at all surprised when, fifteen
minutes later, Lorenz found her and asked if she’d seen him.

“He was just here,” she said. “I’m sure he’s just making certain he’s had a chance to speak with
everyone. He can’t be far.”

She only felt a little bad for lying.

Chapter End Notes

Next, the Goddess Tower awaits...
 Chapter 4
Chapter Summary

“You and your secrets,” Byleth said, sounding exasperated but fond. Claude smiled
back.

“One day, you’ll know them all. I promise.”

Chapter Notes

Two chapters today! Mostly because I wanted to keep the Goddess Tower isolated
from the rest. Both will be kind of short, but hopefully posting two at once kind of
makes up for that. <3

Claude climbed the steps of the Goddess Tower, feeling such a strong sense of déjà vu that for a
moment the whole situation took on dream-like quality. They always seemed to find each other
here. He had no doubt that Byleth would be in the chamber above, and a few more turns of the
tower stair proved him right.

She was wrapped in starlight.

It was a silly, overly-poetic thing to think, even in the privacy of his own mind, but it captured the
moment so perfectly that he couldn’t help it. In that gown, with delicate strands of hair falling
loose around her face and her eyes soft with memory, she truly looked like a goddess. His heart
seemed to stop for a moment in his chest, just as it had a few months ago when she’d found him
here on the day of the millennium festival.

Then she turned and saw him there in the doorway, and it resumed beating again almost painfully
fast.

“Claude,” she said. “Shouldn’t you be at the ball? Lorenz is going to be very cross with you.”

“He’s always cross with me,” he replied, stepping toward her. It was like she was exerting some
powerful pull on his body; he couldn’t have stayed away if he tried. Not that he cared to. “My
friend, why are you up here all alone?”

“It’s peaceful here. And…I have good memories of this place.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “me too.”

He couldn’t shake the sense that he was dreaming. The feeing was intense, helped along by the
isolated atmosphere of the room. It seemed to take a long time to reach her side, but he didn’t
mind. He wanted this time, wanted the moment to stretch out as long as possible. They were so
rarely, truly alone.

“You look so serious,” she murmured as he drew near.

He reached out and caught her hand. “This feels serious, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” she admitted, watching him lace their fingers together. There was a hint of fear in her eyes
when she glanced back up at his face. “Have you made your choice?”

“My mind was made up a long time ago, my friend.”

It was true, he realized as he said it. So true that it didn’t seem to him as though any other option
was possible. And yet there was this strange sensation…this feeling of something changing
between them at a fundamental level. And, under that, there was an alarming feeling of fear; it was
as though this one, last dream was too much to hope for. As though wishing for it was asking the
gods for just a little too much.

“I understand,” Byleth said, breaking into his thoughts. Her tone was resigned.

“I don’t think you do, not yet. But I meant what I said to Lorenz about waiting until after the war is
won.”

Byleth’s fingers twitched in his. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand in slow,
comforting sweeps.

“There’s still some time then,” she murmured, more to herself than him.

He didn’t answer. After a long, silent moment she looked up at him, her lips curled into a wry
smile.

“You and your secrets,” she said, sounding exasperated but fond. He smiled back.

“One day, you’ll know them all. I promise.”

“I have one for you this time. You asked me earlier if I could picture myself being married,” she
said, gently pulling her hand out of his and turning back toward the window. He turned with her,
following her gaze to the stars. “And I think tonight, for the very first time, I can picture it. But it
still seems…impossible.”

“Well, that’s the interesting thing about life, Teach,” he said. “Sometimes the impossible ends up
being possible after all.”

Was that his sudden, wild hope talking? Could she possibly have pictured herself being married to
him tonight? That seemed like the most probable answer, but even if it was so, their timing was off.
If she said she wanted him, wanted to be his wife, he didn’t think he could wait until the war was
over, and he that was something he had to do. Until Fódlan was safe—at least until it was unified
and somewhat stable—his personal desires had to be set aside. He couldn’t give himself to her
completely until that came to pass, and until things were settled in Almyra as well. If he left things
half-done, his father’s people might decide that their splintered, war-weary neighbor was ripe for
invasion. Only Claude could keep that from happening.

“We should get back,” she said at last, meeting his eyes again.

“Probably,” he agreed. He was reluctant to leave this starlit haven of theirs behind, but he knew she
was right.

“You go first. I’ll wait a while and then follow, so people don’t think we snuck off together.”

“Did you just come up with a scheme? Very devious, Teach. You’re learning,” he quipped with a
grin. It turned into a chuckle when she rolled her eyes at him in a near perfect imitation of Hilda.
“I’ll see you soon?”

She nodded, smiling that little smile that he liked to think was just for him, and he headed back
down the stairs.

Don’t worry, my friend. I won’t let anything keep us apart for long, he promised. Then, with a
fortifying breath, he slipped back into the ball and prepared himself to face Lorenz’s inevitable
wrath.
 Chapter 5
Chapter Summary

Escape via wyvern was looking more and more appealing, Claude thought as the
blessedly now-clothed young woman left his room with an air of injured pride. He
never would have thought that winning a war against Edelgard and the Empire would
be the easy part.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“Despite your childish antics,” Lorenz informed Claude the next morning, “you seemed to have
made a very good impression on most, if not all, of our guests. And after observing your
interactions very carefully, I think the choice is obvious.”

“Well, you’re right about that,” Claude muttered. Lorenz decided to ignore his companion’s more
superfluous comments.

“I can make arrangements at once as I am well-versed in the etiquette of courtship and the
arrangement of proper dowries. You won’t have any cause to complain, I assure you.”

“Aren’t you putting the cart before the horse, Lorenz?” Claude asked, leaning back in his chair and
linking his hands behind his head. Well, perhaps he wasn’t taking this seriously, but Lorenz
certainly was.

“A speedy resolution to these mundane matters is highly desirable. If you’ll permit me free reign, I
can have your wedding organized before we make our push into Enbarr. I’m sure the professor
would be happy to assume the role of archbishop in order to officiate the proceedings, and many of
the appropriate guests are already present—”

“Lorenz—” There was a warning note in Claude’s voice, but again Lorenz chose to ignore it.

“I’m sure Earl Filbert will be delighted to hear that you have chosen his daughter. After his early
sympathy for the Empire, this will go a long way in repairing his standing among the other
Alliance lords. I couldn’t have chosen better myself, had you left it up to me.”

“But I haven’t chosen Earl Filbert’s daughter.” Claude stood up. “And until this war is over, I’m
not going to tell you—or anyone—who I have chosen.”

Lorenz sputtered a little. “That simply won’t do! Of course you must tell me of your choice. This
union is of vital importance to the Alliance—no, to all of Fódlan. The match must be vetted, to
ensure that none of the powerful families in the land have any cause to protest, and of course her
good health and breeding must be determined…this is one of your most important responsibilities
as leader!”

“This conversation is over, Lorenz.” Claude was already striding out of the conference room. “And
don’t bother bringing it up again,” he added over his shoulder, “because you’re never going to get
a different answer.”
“It must be Maria Terese, don’t you think? They looked so wonderful dancing together, and he
seemed to enjoy their conversation ever so much,” Mercedes said with a dreamy sigh. She,
Marianne and Hilda were just sitting down for afternoon tea in the gazebo behind the dining hall.

“Ah, but I saw him speaking with Isabella, that Kingdom noblewoman with the beautiful hair? She
blushed every time he looked at her, and he was very gentle with her and didn’t even tease as much
as he usually does,” Marianne said.

“She’d bore him to tears, Marianne,” Hilda protested. “I thought he looked interested in Margaret.
She’s a duchess in her own right, and they talked about the need for church reform for a long time.
I didn’t understand half of it, but Claude seemed impressed.”

“She was a little…intimidating,” Mercedes said, searching her memory for Margaret’s face.

“Yes, I agree. I think he was more interested in the topic than Margaret herself,” Marianne added.
Mercedes sipped her tea and tried to remember if anyone else had caught Claude’s particular notice
when the sound of rushing feet interrupted.

“Mercie! Mercie, you won’t believe what I just heard!” Annette cried as she spotted the little
group. Her voice was breathless with excitement.

“Oh Annie, there you are! I tried to find you earlier, to invite you to tea, but—” Mercedes began,
but Annette waved her off.

“I was just making my way back to my room from the library when I heard—Claude found one of
those noblewomen in his bed naked after breakfast!”

Mercedes’ eyes widened and she could feel her cheeks flushing. “Really?” she asked, knowing she
shouldn’t enjoy the gossip but unable to stifle her curiosity. Annette nodded, pleased that the three
other women were reacting the same way she had to this bit of salacious news.

Hilda burst into giggles after a moment’s stunned silence. “That’s certainly one way to get a man’s
attention! What did Claude do?”

“I think he told her to watch out for the vials of poison he’d left there,” Annette replied, causing
Hilda’s giggles to turn into outright laughter.

“That sounds like him,” she managed through her mirth.

“What in the world was she thinking?” Mercedes mused. “I’d have died of embarrassment! And
now the whole monastery must know…”

“Sylvain says there’s no justice in the world,” Annette agreed with a little giggle of her own. “Just
wait until the professor hears!”

That made Mercedes pause. “Oh, I do hope she doesn’t, or if she does, that she isn’t too hurt.”

“Hurt?” Marianne inquired.

“They just seem so close,” Mercedes said, trying to explain something she’d noticed without
having the proper words for it. Was there a word for the connection people had when they
understood one another so fundamentally that they barely needed to speak aloud? Perhaps there
was in some other language, but Mercedes couldn’t think of one in her mother tongue. “They
always seemed to work well together at the academy, but now…it’s different.”

“Forget the professor,” Hilda interrupted. “I want to be a fly on the wall when Seteth finds out.”

Escape via wyvern was looking more and more appealing, Claude thought as the blessedly now-
clothed young woman left his room with an air of injured pride. He never would have thought that
winning a war against Edelgard and the Empire would be the easy part.

Cyril was dusting the furniture in the Archbishop’s quarters when Claude swept past in the third-
floor corridor, heading for the private courtyard that overlooked the inner monastery grounds. He
had a face like thunder, and the younger man wondered if it had anything to do with finding a
naked stranger in his bed.

It sounded like some teenage boy’s fantasy, but it must have been embarrassing, and rumors had
already been dogging the Alliance Leader’s heels for days even before this girl had jumped into his
bed. Cyril didn’t envy him at all. Girls seemed like more trouble than anything else. If Claude had
come up here, it could only mean that he was seeking refuge. Most people didn’t bother with this
area, now that Lady Rhea was gone.

He finished up with the dusting and put away his cleaning supplies, but before he headed down to
the audience chamber to begin his next set of chores, he found himself stepping out into the
courtyard.

“Are you okay, Claude? Or—Your Grace?” he amended, remembering all at once that Claude was
a powerful duke now, and not just a student at the academy.

“Just Claude is fine,” the older man said, waving off any official titles. “I’m fine, just a
little…done with present circumstances.”

“Okay. I’m glad you’re okay.” Cyril found himself at a loss and decided the only thing he could do
was leave quietly, but he paused after a few steps. “You shouldn’t have to get married if you don’t
want to. Especially not to some stranger. I’m never going to get married.”

Claude favored him with a tired smile. “Never say never. But as it happens,” he added, spreading
his arms in a conciliatory gesture and shaking his head, “I agree with you. No one should be forced
into marrying.”

Cyril nodded, pleased that Claude understood. “Lady Rhea never married.”

“No. I suppose she felt as though she already had plenty of children to look after with all the
students running around the place.”

“And she was fine with it,” Cyril agreed. “Not being married never upset her, and I know she
thought of Seteth and Flayn as family. Besides, love doesn’t seem so great. It looks…” He made a
face. “Distracting. And inconvenient.”

That got a laugh out of the older man. “A shrewd observation, but I don’t think it’s something that
can be helped.”

“You mean you can’t control it?” Cyril asked, horrified. He definitely didn’t like the sound of
being held hostage to something so impractical as love.

“Not if it’s really love. At least that’s been my observation,” Claude replied, looking amused by
Cyril’s reaction. “And most people seem to enjoy it.”

“Most people are idiots,” Cyril shot back before remembering who he was talking to. His ears went
red. “Ah, that is—sorry, sir.”

“Claude,” the older man insisted. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to hide out up here for a little while.
Can you keep it a secret?”

“Sure I can. Just don’t mess anything up, I spent all morning cleaning.”

“You have my word,” Claude promised with mock-solemnity. Cyril turned to go again, but looked
back one last time.

“If you do have to get married, it should at least be with someone you like.”

Then he left, wondering why Claude had looked so wistful just before the door had closed between
them.

“Can’t you do anything about this?” Seteth asked Byleth when she and Claude had joined him in
his office a couple of hours later. He was looking more frazzled than normal. “I can’t have naked
women running around the monastery while Flayn is in residence!”

Byleth looked at Claude and raised her eyebrow, but he just lifted his hands in a helpless gesture.

“I didn’t ask her to show up naked in my room,” he said, sounding almost like the boyish young
student she’d first met in Remire. “If anything, we should be lecturing Lorenz. He was the one that
invited them all.”

“You told her to watch out for poison you left in your bed,” Seteth replied, nearly sputtering in
outrage. Byleth had to bite the inside of her cheek to smother her urge to smile, but Claude made no
effort to hide his mischievously satisfied grin.

“It worked, didn’t it? She left pretty quickly after that.” He winked at Byleth. “Whatever gets the
desired result, right Teach?”

She made very sure that her tone was bland and disapproving so she would appear totally immune
to that wicked charm he was so good at wielding. “That was a lesson for the battlefield, not the
bedroom.”

“Ah, but all is fair in love and war…” Then, when both Byleth and Seteth gave him equally
unimpressed looks, he gave up. “Alright, alright…it won’t happen again if I can help it.”
 Seteth thanked him and they walked out of his office. Once they were well out of earshot, Claude
trailed to a halt and stuck his hands behind his head.

“Yeesh, I haven’t been lectured like that since—”

“Breakfast?” Byleth asked sweetly.

“I was going to say the academy,” he finished with an exaggerated wince, “but Judith did sort of
lay into me this morning, didn’t she?”

“She still seems a little upset that you didn’t tell her who ‘Nardel’ really was.”

“I think she’s more upset with herself for not guessing earlier, but maybe you’re right. I’d better try
harder to smooth her ruffled feathers.”

“I don’t think you need to worry. She likes to henpeck you a bit from what I’ve seen.”

“And I like to provoke her. It’s a beautifully symbiotic relationship, wouldn’t you say?”

Byleth gave him the smile he was so clearly trying to wrestle out of her, but then she sobered.
“Claude…about that woman…it occurs to me now that if she could get into your room without
being noticed, there are plenty of other sensitive areas someone could sneak into while the
monastery is so busy. And some of these girls have come from families that used to support the
Empire.”

He nodded. “You’re right, we should take more precautions against spies while we’re hosting so
many unfamiliar guests.”

“There’s just one more thing I want to say, though I feel like this should be obvious: please stop
falling asleep with vials of poison on your bed,” she said, and he laughed and crossed his heart with
his index finger.

“You’re always looking out for me, Teach,” he teased. She sighed.

“And you’re going to drive me into an early retirement,” she shot back. Then the monastery bell
rang, reminding them both of the time. Claude blew out a quick breath and scratched the back of
his head.

“Duty calls, my friend. See you at dinner?”

She nodded and he left her alone in the hallway. Then she sank back against the wall and sighed.
Vessel for a goddess or no, Byleth had never been particularly religious…but she was going to
offer a prayer of thanksgiving when all these visiting ladies were gone.

Chapter End Notes

Next: the monastery FINALLY gets back to normal. Just in time for the Battle of
Enbarr.

Some fun trivia: I picked the name Filbert because Leicester City's mascot is Filbert
the Fox. I knew way before I bought the game that the Golden Deer would be my first
house because my mother immigrated to the USA from Leicester. Plus I really liked
Claude's design. Then when I played the game, it seemed even more like kismet
because Judith is the name of my late mother-in-law and will be the name of our
daughter if we ever have one. So GD quickly became near and deer to my heart (I
know, I know...I'll see myself out).
 Chapter 6
Chapter Summary

"I have come to…” Petra frowned, trying to remember the proper phrase in this messy
language of his. “I have come in pursuit of your hand in marriage.”

Chapter Notes

We're getting closer to the end. I still don't know exactly how long it will be, but I'm
writing the wind-up now, so I anticipate this story wrapping up around chapter 10.

And here I thought originally that I was writing a one-shot.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. There's a bit of Sylvix thrown into the mix
here. And Judith! I love Judith.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Now that the ball was over and it was clear that Duke Riegan was not on the verge of announcing
his engagement, many of the noblewomen were preparing to leave. The courtyard outside of the
entrance hall was full of dust and noise as various groups packed their carriages for the journey
home. Felix watched the chaos with a sense of relief: it would be nice to have the monastery back
to normal. Sylvain was watching too, uncharacteristically silent as a bunch of Kingdom girls
harangued their attendants.

“I could have ended up with one of them, if things had gone differently,” Sylvain said, his voice
devoid of emotion as he stared. Felix glanced his way, his lips twitching down a little with distaste.

“You would have been miserable,” he replied, not bothering to spare his friend’s feelings.

“I know.” The redhead nodded, his face grave. “I always knew a marriage like that would make
me miserable. But what I didn’t realize,” he said, turning so that his whole body was facing Felix,
“was that there was a whole different future right in front of me.”

Something wild erupted in Felix’s chest. It felt like hope, and he immediately tried to squash it
back down into the box he’d wrestled it into so many times before. He had thought that they were
about to have this conversation a hundred different times over the years, but it had never happened.
He didn’t want to end up bitterly disappointed again when it turned out all Sylvain meant was that
they could be roving mercenaries or some other impulsive whim of the kind.

Something of his internal struggle must have shown on his face, however, because Sylvain
frowned and said, “Felix—”

But before he got any further, Ingrid jogged over. “Felix, Sylvain…is that…Petra?”

Both men turned to look. Sure enough, the Brigid princess had just come through the main gates
and was passing through the chaos in the courtyard with hardly a glance. People parted for her as
she walked toward the entrance hall, whispering about her strange clothes and tattoos. She looked
almost wild, surrounded by so many Fódlan girls in their proper attire, but the effect was arresting.
Even Felix, as uninterested in women as he was, had to admit that she had become a beautiful,
confident woman in the past five years.

“Isn’t she allied with Edelgard?” Ingrid asked.

“Something must have happened,” Sylvain replied, sounding curious. “Someone had better go find
Claude. I have a feeling he’s the one she’s come here to see.”

“We’ll go,” Felix said, stopping Ingrid before she could run off again. He shot a look at Sylvain.
“There’s something I need to say to you.”

They left the entrance hall, moving swiftly through to the reception hall. A few groups lingered at
the tables that lined the sides of the room, but no one paid them any attention. Next they entered
the hallway that branched to the graveyard, cathedral and classrooms. Felix turned toward the steps
that would take them to the faculty offices and audience chamber.

As soon as they turned into the stairway, however, he stopped and whipped around to face his
friend. Sylvain nearly slammed into him, not expecting the sudden halt, and he gave Felix a
confused look.

“Felix, what are you—”

“I care about you.” The words burst out of Felix almost without permission. Sylvain blinked at
him.

“I care about you, too—”

“Stop talking,” Felix ordered. “I need to get this out. I care about you. That’s why I’m always so
angry when you take risks on the battlefield, or when you…Or when you flirt with women I know
you don’t really want.”

He took a deep breath, ignoring Sylvain’s wide, stunned eyes, and ended his confession with, “I
love you. I have for a long time. I thought you’d get married and I’d get over it, but it never
happened and I couldn’t stand it anymore…I needed to say it.”

He found he couldn’t look at his friend, too afraid that he’d see disgust or rejection on the other’s
face. Sylvain made one quiet, desperate noise, and then he pulled Felix’s face around to his with
shaking hands and kissed him right in the stairwell.

“And you’re always calling me an idiot,” Sylvain said with a quiet laugh when he pulled back to
see Felix gaping at him. He kissed him again, softer this time. “I love you too.”

They stood together, processing everything that had just happened, barely even touching but closer
than they’d ever been. It took a long time for them to remember the reason they’d ended up on the
stairs in the first place.

“Oh yeah! Gotta find Claude. Library?” Sylvain suggested.

“That was my idea,” Felix agreed. “And then I think we have a lot to talk about.”
Petra tried not to remember her days as a student at the academy as she and Claude walked to an
inner courtyard in search of some privacy. It was painful to think of all the bonds she had made
here that were now in tatters. Even now, she had returned only out of duty to her homeland, and not
because of any particular desire to be drawn deeper into Fódlan’s conflicts.

She could sense Claude’s mind racing as they finally came to a halt in a small grassy area, a quiet
spot that was sheltered from view by high hedges and contained a pretty little gazebo.

“Your Highness,” he said, his tone respectful. “It’s good to see you looking so well.”

“You also look well,” Petra replied, matching his careful, formal tone. “Fate hasn’t been giving
you much kindness, but you are triumphing.”

He smiled, still polite. Still wearing a mask.

“Forgive me,” he said after a moment, “but last I heard, you were fighting for Edelgard personally
and Brigid had declared its neutrality. Since that’s the case, I have to admit I’m a little surprised to
see you here.”

“I have…much personal sympathy for Edelgard. I am understanding her reasons for fighting. But I
was coming to Fódlan the first time as a hostage, and I have fear that the Emperor does not care for
Brigid. It is too far away and she has much worry for her own land. Also, Brigid does not want to
be a vassal state to the Empire, and as Brigid’s princess…”

“I understand,” he said gently. “This must be hard for you.”

“Forgive me, I must be forward.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a ring. “Even in
Brigid we are hearing of your search for a bride. And I am thinking you will have sympathy for my
people, and treat us with honor. I have come to…” She frowned, trying to remember the proper
phrase in this messy language of his. “I have come in pursuit of your hand in marriage.”

Claude reached out and took the ring from her, turning it this way and that so it caught the sunlight.
Petra held her breath. This was not the path she would have chosen for herself, but if it was her fate
she would see it through with courage.

“This is beautifully made,” he said as he examined it. Petra smiled with pride, thinking of the
craftsmen at home that worked the metal so patiently.

“Our people have much skill.”

“I’d like to see Brigid someday,” he said. “But…as a guest, not as a consort. I’m sorry, Petra. I
can’t accept your proposal.”

Relief crashed through her like a tidal wave. He handed her back the ring, smiling ruefully at her
jubilant expression.

“I…I apologize, I know joy is an improper response, but…”

“This was a duty, not a desire,” Claude finished. Petra nodded, grateful that he understood her so
easily. “Your Highness, I know I haven’t won this war yet and I am not asking you or your people
to fight for us, but…if the Alliance is victorious, would you consider a treaty of mutual friendship?
I wish to open Fódlan up to the world beyond its borders, to destroy the old prejudices. A pact
between these two nations would go a long way toward making that dream a reality.”
“I will be bringing this idea up to my people,” she promised. “I cannot decide by myself, but such a
thing would be bringing me much happiness.”

When he smiled at her again, she could see that the mask was gone. “It would bring me happiness
too,” he said. “And I hope you’ll rest and enjoy our hospitality for a few days before you return
home.”

Petra agreed with a heart much lighter than it had been when she’d arrived.

Ignatz had gone into battle many, many times. Yet as he marched forward under their new banner,
the one proudly bearing Byleth’s Crest of Flames, he felt an unfamiliar sense of nervousness
churning in his belly like acid. He guessed that it probably stemmed from having something new
to live for.

Mercedes was ahead of him in the column, walking with the other mages just behind the metal
wall that was the heavy armor division. Every once in a while he spotted her white veil fluttering a
little in the wind, and his nervousness increased. The goddess wouldn’t be so cruel as to bring them
together again, only for him to fall on the battlefield…right?

He liked to think she wouldn’t, but of course thinking one knew the mind of the gods was
downright blasphemous. Or had been, under the old regime. In these new times…well, who knew
what direction Byleth would take the church.

He slipped his fingers under his leather jerkin, touching the pouch he’d hung around his neck. He
could feel the ring he’d asked his parents to send, the one he meant to give his sweet Mercedes.
After this—after Enbarr—that was when he’d ask her. Maybe he was moving too fast, but they
could have a long engagement. He just wanted her to know that he was completely hers, even if she
wanted to wait.

And they were so close to the end now. Already he could make out the tallest buildings of the
Empire’s capitol city. If they could just win here…

Everyone seemed confident. Some of the soldiers were even laughing, joking that they’d go see the
opera preform tomorrow night after they’d won. The falcon knights and wyvern riders were
bantering back and forth whenever they flew within shouting distance of one another, though they
were also careful to keep watch for any surprises as Claude was up there with them on his great
white wyvern. But under the bravado, Ignatz could sense that he wasn’t the only one harboring
some anxiety. They hadn’t lost yet, but it was Edelgard that was waiting for them. If she lost here,
she lost everything, and she would fight them like a cornered tigress.

When they made camp that night just a few miles from the city walls, Mercedes came and found
him. He had a little fire going and was already brewing tea over the flames. She smiled at the sight
and showed him the little cakes she’d brought for them to share. Then they sat together on the hard
ground, and she leaned against his side and put her head on his shoulder.

How strange it was, to be so full of joy when battle awaited them both in the morning. He wrapped
his arm around her and kissed her hair, deciding not to think about anything at all except the
perfect feel of her body pressed to his.
Claude stroked a brush down his wyvern’s flank, whispering endearments to her in Almyran. She
stretched her neck out to its fullest, rumbling low with pleasure at his ministrations. He laughed
and pressed his face against her smooth scales. She always managed to lift his mood.

“I’ll take you home soon, my star,” he crooned to her, setting the brush down so he could scratch
the spot just behind her jaw that he knew was her favorite. She nudged him gently with her snout,
asking for more, and he obliged. It was late and he should be heading off to his bedroll, but he
didn’t think he was going to get much sleep tonight. He was pretty sure Edelgard wouldn’t be
sleeping either.

My dreams are in reach, he reminded himself. The fighting is almost done.

He stepped back from the wyvern, knowing he’d at least better let her get some rest before the
battle tomorrow. He murmured a soft goodnight to her and left her to bed down, then he stepped
out of the stable tent and looked up at the stars. Normally they soothed him, but tonight he was
more restless than usual.

He tried to pretend that he didn’t want to go in search of Byleth. She needed to sleep before the
battle too, if she could, and there was no privacy in an encampment. Even if all they did was sit
across from one another at a cook fire, everyone would know by dawn. And anyway, they’d talked
the tactics for this battle into the ground at least three times already. There wasn’t anything left to
say.

You’re a shit liar, kiddo, said an inner voice that sounded very much like Nader.

Okay. So maybe there was one thing left to say. But it still wasn’t the right time.

He picked his way slowly back through the camp to his own tent. It was identical to everyone
else’s except for the Crest of Flames banners hanging on either side of the entrance flap. He slid in
through the entrance and stretched, wondering if maybe a book might help him wile away the next
few sleepless hours, when a shadow moved in the corner.

“There you are,” Judith said, sounding exasperated. “I thought you’d be with your little battalion of
Deerlings, but none of them had seen you since making camp.”

“I helped the scouts for a while, then saw to the wyverns…Judith, no offense, but what in the
world are you doing in here at this time of night?”

“Your beloved Teach had a message from the Emperor,” she replied. “I think it upset her, but it’s
hard to tell with that one…”

“From Edelgard? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” he demanded, feeling a pang of unease. He was
instantly more alert than he’d been only a heartbeat before.

“I just told you we couldn’t find you, boy,” she said with an annoyed toss of her head. “And when
it started to get late she said it didn’t change anything so there was no use bothering you about it.”

“I should go see her…is she still awake?”

“She was when I left her an hour ago. I suppose you’ll have to go see for yourself.” She gave him a
shrewd look. “She’s something special, I knew that right away. And she believes in you just as
much as you believe in her, if that’s possible. But it’s a hell of a thing you’re asking her to do,
 killing her former students.”

Claude hung his head. “I know.”

“I think she needs you right now. But be careful with her.”

Then, quiet as a shadow, Judith slipped out of the tent flap and disappeared.

Chapter End Notes

Next: Pre-battle emotions and the sacking of Enbarr.

 Chapter 7
Chapter Summary

“You know, Lorenz…over the past few months I’ve really come to respect you. I’ve
even started to like you. But if I hear the word bride come out of your mouth one more
time, I swear I’ll make you the unwitting guinea pig for my next experimental poison.”

Chapter Notes

The updates might slow down a TINY bit, as we're almost caught up to what I've got
written. That's the bad news. The good news is, we're getting close to the end, and it
should only be a slow down of updating every other day rather than daily.

THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE! <3 This fandom is so incredible, I am so
humbled and grateful for you!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Claude found Byleth’s tent pitched near the rest of the Golden Deer, as unremarkable as his apart
from her Crest, stitched in gold thread, over the entrance. Her cook fire was little more than embers
now, and no lantern burned from inside the tent, but some instinct told him that she was awake.

“Teach? Can I come in?” he asked, leaning close to the tent flap.

“Claude,” she said, and he could hear the imminent refusal in her voice, but he could also hear the
anguish, so he wrapped his fingers around the flap and twitched it, giving her a chance to prepare
herself before he barged in anyway.

When he did duck into the tent a moment or two later, he was met with a sight he hadn’t glimpsed
in years.

Byleth was crying.

The last time he’d seen her like this, it had been in the stormy, unsettled days following her father’s
murder. Foolish boy that he’d been back then, he could think of nothing to do but drift back to her
quarters over and over, listening to the sounds of her grief though the closed door and wishing he
could tear Fódlan apart town by town, stone by stone, until he’d uncovered her enemies. Now that
he was a little older, a little more familiar with mourning, he knew there was little he could do that
would ease her pain, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave her now that he was here.

His eyes searched the small space. A moment later he spotted the letter, an innocuous bit of curled
parchment on her camp desk. Even in the darkness he recognized Edelgard’s bold handwriting
spread across it.

Byleth was sitting on her bedroll. Her gear had been set neatly aside and she was wearing a simple
linen tunic and leather trousers. Her hands were open and resting in her lap, palms up and fingers
slightly curled, and she was bent forward slightly as her tears dripped down her cheeks.

“Oh, my friend,” Claude murmured, his heart cracking as he witnessed her deep despair. He knew
he was the only one she’d trust enough to see her like this, and that knowledge carried him to her
side. He knelt next to her and took one of her hands in his larger one. Her fingers slipped in
between his, lacing them together palm to palm.

“She wants me with her. Begs me to help her reforge Fódlan for the betterment of all. And she says
that if that isn’t possible, and if the battle goes against her, I must be the one to…finish it.”

He studied their linked hands in the low light, thinking of Edelgard’s last, desperate attempt to win
their professor to her side. Would he have attempted something similar, if their situations were
reversed? He closed his eyes and thought, not for the first time or even the hundredth, how lucky
he was that she had chosen him—and the rest of the Deer—five years ago.

He shifted until he was sitting beside her on the bedroll. They stayed that way, silent except for her
grief, for two or three endless minutes. Then, when her shoulders stopped shaking and her
breathing grew easier, he took her chin in his other hand and turned her face to him. He dried the
last of her tears with gentle sweeps of his padded silk sleeve.

“I would give you anything in the world, my friend. Anything you asked of me. But it seems all I
have to offer is another battle.”

She took one deep breath, searching for her usual calm, and shook her head.

“That’s not true, Claude. I know you’ve given me more of yourself than you have anyone else.
You are my friend and ally just as much as I’m yours. Even our dreams are the same.” Her eyes
met his, red-rimmed but determined. “Tomorrow won’t be easy, but I made the right choice and
I’ve never regretted it.”

He bowed his head, unable to find words for how powerfully humble and grateful this declaration
made him feel.

Her fingers touched his hair, feather-light, and she urged his gaze back up to hers.

“I’m with you,” she told him as she stared into his eyes, like she was making a vow to him, “and
our new dawn is coming.”

“Byleth,” he started, aching to tell her the truth he was holding close to his heart, but she shook her
head before he could continue.

“We should try to rest.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he spread his cape on the ground next to her. She stretched herself out
over her bedroll and their hands found each another again. Then, hoping to offer her a little peace,
he began singing to her: it was a lullaby from his childhood, an ancient song about Father Sun and
Mother Moon and all their many star children. He wasn’t much of a singer, but the low, soft
rhythm of the song and the melodic Almyran words soon lulled her to sleep. It wasn’t long until he
followed effortlessly after her into dreams.
Hilda had just stepped out of her tent and stretched her arms out over her head when Seteth walked
past her, entering Byleth’s tent with almost no warning. A moment later he stepped out, his cheeks
slightly red, and disappeared again without a word.

“That was weird,” she muttered as she watched him go. Behind her, Marianne emerged from the
tent as well, looking adorably rumpled.

“What was weird?” she asked with a yawn. Hilda didn’t answer. Instead she took Marianne’s hand
and tugged her over to Byleth’s tent. Carefully, she pulled the flap aside just enough so that she
could peek inside, and then she gave a little squeak of joy.

Byleth and Claude were both fast asleep, her on her camp bed and him on the ground, still holding
hands.

Marianne made a soft noise, smiling at the sight. Together they backed away quietly, so as not to
disturb the couple. As soon as they were back in their own tent, Hilda clapped her hands together
and giggled.

“I knew it!” she said. “He’s definitely going to marry her.”

“I really hope so,” Marianne replied, reaching up to brush Hilda’s hair back with a gentle hand.

“Lorenz is going to have kittens.”

“We’ll have to wait until after the battle to see,” Marianne reminded her.

“In that case, bring it on,” Hilda replied. “But I promise you, our wedding will be even prettier than
theirs.”

Marianne giggled softly. “And it will have a lot more pink,” she teased, then she soothed Hilda’s
playful pout away with a kiss.

There was no laughter as they battled through the streets of the Imperial capitol. As a professor and
tactician, Byleth admired how efficiently Hubert had organized the city’s defenses. As an opposing
commander, she wished he hadn’t been such a keen student in his short tenure at the academy.

Battles in city streets were always especially unpredictable, and despite her rather ominous
nickname of Ashen Demon, she had no interest in harming any non-combatants. Hubert had taken
advantage of that fact, stationing mages on the second or third floors of the residents’ dwellings.
Fortunately, Ignatz had taught his snipers and assassins well, and they fought back with precision
shots whenever they spotted the tell-tale glow of magic in the windows above the streets. Above
them, Claude was leading the wyverns and falcon knights in offensive sweeps all across the city,
trying to provide cover for their ground forces as they battled their way toward the Imperial palace.

Edelgard had retreated behind its lovely façade, and Byleth had no doubt that the entire interior of
that building was now a cleverly constructed death trap. One she had no choice but to enter if this
was ever going to end.

She gripped the Sword of the Creator tighter and fought on.
Victory came with the rise and fall of a glowing red sword. Perhaps Claude was the only one
present that understood what the cost of winning had truly been for Byleth, but he knew all of the
Golden Deer would mourn their fallen classmates despite five and a half years of enmity.

And even in their moment of triumph, the work wasn’t done. Hubert’s posthumous letter made it
clear that it wasn’t time to celebrate a hard-won peace just yet.

Just a little longer, he promised himself, though he was sick to death of those empty little words.

Judith and Claude were discussing the best way to approach Shambala with their army when
Lorenz walked into the Golden Deer’s former classroom like a man on a mission. For a moment,
Judith contemplated escape…but by then it was too late. Gloucester Boy was already talking.

“The war is over. You cannot hide behind that excuse anymore. It is time to choose a bride.
Arrangements must be made,” he said to Claude, ignoring the maps of Goneril territory spread
across the table. “If Earl Filbert’s daughter is unacceptable to you, there are still many other
suitable candidates.”

“You know, Lorenz…over the past few months I’ve really come to respect you. I’ve even started
to like you. But if I hear the word bride come out of your mouth one more time, I swear I’ll make
you the unwitting guinea pig for my next experimental poison.”

Judith glanced at the boy. His tone was light, almost jovial, but she could hear the promise
underneath. He meant every word. That meant he was even more stressed than she’d realized, and
who knew how long it had been since he’d gotten a decent amount of sleep?

“Gloucester Boy,” she said, trying to defuse some of the tension in the room, “I really think you’ve
exhausted this particular topic.”

“There are already remnants of the Imperial army hoping to incite rebellion. Our allies need a
strong show of unification right now, or the Alliance lords will splinter back into their old factions.
And our hold on the Kingdom and Imperial territories is tenuous at best.” Lorenz glanced from
Judith to Claude. “You know that. You’re far too adept a leader to have missed the signs.”

“Won’t marrying one lord’s daughter over another only cause more problems? And if we’re strictly
talking politics, I think it would be far more shrewd to marry one of the Imperial heiresses, as a
show of good will,” Claude replied, though his mind was clearly more on the maps than the topic
at hand.

“That would show you to be a magnanimous victor, and probably garner us favor with anyone
afraid that you’re about to demand heavy war reparations from the Imperial nobles.”

“So you do it, Lorenz.” Claude waved a dismissive hand. “Go marry yourself off to buy us some
favor in Enbarr. Besides, once we have destroyed those who slither in the dark, I won’t be of much
value on the marriage market.”
 “How could that be true? You’ll be the King of Fódlan.”

Claude rolled up the maps he and Judith had been examining and tapped them straight on the table.
Then he fixed Lorenz with an even stare.

“No, I won’t. The plan is—has to be—to crown Teach. So you see, Lorenz…you really should
have been searching for grooms this entire time.”

“The professor…is to be queen?” Lorenz murmured, stunned. He looked as though he’d just
missed a particularly obvious answer on a particularly easy exam. It was such an amusing
expression that Judith couldn’t help but laugh.

“And you can strike Nader off of any list of candidates you draw up,” she told him, “because we
eloped two weeks ago at Fódlan’s Locket.”

Lorenz was now almost as purple as his hair. “The head of House Daphnel, second only to House
Riegan, married an Almyran?”

“Sure did,” Judith replied cheerfully. “And Lord Holst walked me down the aisle. It was beautiful.
You should have been there.”

Lorenz made a strangled noise, turned on his heel, and made to leave. Claude called out after him.

“Oh, and Lorenz? I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention the whole queen thing to Teach…I
haven’t had a chance to spring that one on her yet,” he said.

Lorenz was nearly running in his hurry to avoid any other shocking news. Judith was still grinning
when he’d disappeared and Claude had turned back to her.

“So…when is your actual ceremony?” he asked, looking delighted with her deviousness. She
shrugged.

“Whenever you can spare me long enough to make the trip,” she replied. “So let’s hurry up and
beat these creeps, shall we?”

“Absolutely,” he agreed. “We should be ready to march in a few days.”

Chapter End Notes

Next: Hilda is not happy with TWSITD, Nemesis is defeated, and Claude is sneaky.
 Chapter 8
Chapter Summary

“And what are these duties you’re seeing to so diligently?” Claude asked. He already
knew what the other was up to, but he also knew that Lorenz hated it when he was
nosy. “Ah, of course—that pesky list of possible grooms for Teach.”

“You’re correct…and if you have no intention of being helpful, you are more than
welcome to see yourself out.”

“As a matter of fact, I do have a suggestion.”

Chapter Notes

I love you peeps. In the immortal words of Keanu, you're breathtaking!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Hilda was extremely annoyed. She was never the most enthusiastic warrior, and the fact that those
who slither in the dark weren’t inclined to stay in their hole and mind their own business was a
source of extreme irritation for her. Hadn’t they just toppled an entire evil empire? Couldn’t they
have had just a little time to enjoy that fact?

“Ugh. These slithery guys are so inconsiderate,” she complained to Marianne. “But,” she added,
glancing around at their subterranean headquarters, “I do kind of dig the vibe in here. Those lights
are kind of pretty.”

“You sure have a unique way of looking at the world,” Leonie said in a clipped voice. “Who cares
about the lights?”

Hilda made a face at her.

“Please, ladies, this is no time for us to argue amongst ourselves,” Lorenz cut in. He was running
his eyes over their strange surroundings. He glanced at Leonie and added, in a much quieter voice,
“I have your word that you will stay close during the battle?”

Leonie flushed. “I promise.”

Hilda’s eyebrows flew up. When did THAT happen? She tried to catch Leonie’s eye, but the other
girl kept her gaze averted, still blushing.

Before she could ask, and boy did she want to ask, Judith urged them into position to begin the
assault. They were one of four groups that had moved ahead of the main army to infiltrate this
weird stronghold at its deepest level.

“We’d better get a move on. I’m sure Rhea, Claude and the professor are already starting their
advances.”
“I’m ready,” Hilda muttered, gripping her axe. “These guys are messing with my victory party, and
they’re going to be sorry.”

In the end, she never knew exactly what had happened. Lady Rhea and Byleth had disappeared into
the central room of the stronghold, and she heard shouting over the noises of battle and the zapping
of those weird metal things that seemed to randomly attack. Then Claude was ordering a retreat, his
usual tone of command replaced by a desperate urgency that had Hilda scrambling to grab
Marianne’s hand and flee.

A second later, the ceiling was crumbling, Lady Rhea had turned into a dragon, and those javelins
of light were dropping much too close for comfort.

But somehow it was a victory. And had it ended there, Hilda might not have proposed to Marianne
quite so abruptly. But it didn’t end there. Of course it didn’t. So it was only two weeks later that
they were deployed against Nemesis himself.

“The goddess herself can’t stop me from marrying you as soon as we put this asshole back in the
ground,” she growled to Marianne.

Marianne smiled at her, somehow beautiful even on the edge of a magically noxious swamp. “I
agree. I would hate to argue with a sacred order from a divine being, but for you I would defy the
goddess herself.”

“Well,” Hilda said, fighting back an embarrassing rush of happy tears, “that’s settled then.”

Byleth ignored the offers of a horse or wyvern to convey her back to Garreg Mach. Every part of
her was sore, and she was tired enough that once in a while a wave of dizziness made her miss a
step, but she was not going to leave the wagon behind.

Claude was in that wagon. Claude, Marianne and Mercedes.

She didn’t enter the covered back of the wagon. She wanted to give Marianne and Mercedes space
to work. But she kept her ears open as they made their way slowly along the road, hoping to hear
Claude’s voice.

He’d stayed conscious just long enough to ensure that Nemesis had truly been defeated. Then his
eyes had rolled back into his head. He was carried off the battlefield and straight to the medical
wagon just moments later, with their two best white mages holding their skirts up as they rushed to
aid him.

Had he opened his eyes since then? She hoped so. Long periods of unconsciousness were a bad
sign, she knew that from her mercenary years. But surely with the help of both Marianne and
Mercedes, he’d be alright…?

She heard the sickening impact of Nemesis’ crushing blow in her memory and closed her eyes.
Stay with me, my friend, she thought, reaching out to touch the linen tenting that covered the
wagon.

“Professor?”

Her eyes popped open. Marianne was waving her in.

“He wants to see you.”

She blew out a shaky breath and climbed into the the shaded space.

“Teach,” Claude said as he straightened up from his makeshift pallet with a groan. “You’re okay?”

“Me?” she asked with a small laugh. He entire torso was wrapped in bandages. They covered him
from breastbone to hip, more to immobilize his upper body than to cover any gaping wounds. “You
definitely got the worst of it.”

He grinned at the echo of his own words from their first meeting. “So I did. It was worth it.” Even
on his sickbed, he looked extremely pleased with himself. “I love it when my schemes work.”

“That was a very distracting speech,” she agreed, teasing him gently. “Nemesis was so annoyed by
your sappy ramblings that he forgot all about that last arrow.”

He snorted, amused, and then winced in pain. “Sappy ramblings, were they? I’ll have you know I
meant every word.”

She patted his arm. “Well, you’re right, it worked perfectly. It gave me the opening I needed.”

Their gazes met, then lingered. He reached up and brushed her cheek with fingers that weren’t
entirely steady.

“It’s over,” he murmured. “It’s finally over.”

She covered his hand in her own, cradling it against her face. “It’s over,” she confirmed.
“Tomorrow the sun will rise over a brand new Fódlan.”

“Do you guys really have to go?” Raphael asked as Felix and Sylvain slung full saddlebags over
the backs of their mounts. “It just won’t be as much fun when you’re not around.”

“Just think of it this way, big guy,” Sylvain replied, reaching up to give Raphael’s shoulder and
affectionate clap, “there will be more food for you.”

“More food isn’t bad, but I don’t mind sharing if you want to stay.”

Coming from Raphael, Sylvain knew that was almost as good as an I love you. “I’m gonna miss
you too, Raph, but it’s time we went home. The Kingdom might not exist anymore, but our old
lands need our help. It’s been a hard five years.”

“Come up and spar with me some time. Your strength should pose a unique challenge,” Felix said
as he joined them. “And I’m sure you’d enjoy the food. It’s very hearty. It has to be, to keep us
warm up there.”
Raphael’s eyes lit up at the idea. “That sounds amazing! When can I come?”

Sylvain laughed. He was really going to miss Raphael’s endless optimism. “We’ll write to you as
soon as we get everything settled,” he promised.

“Ah, I’m glad I caught you.”

Sylvain glanced around Raphael’s bulk and caught sight of Claude making his way toward them
from the stairs of the entrance hall. He was moving a little slower than usual, but he seemed to be
well on his way back to full health.

He stopped and bowed to them both, though it had to hurt. “I really appreciate everything you did
for us. And everything you’re going to do back in your homes. I can never thank you enough for
how hard you fought.”

“Hey, don’t mention it.” Sylvain hated this sort of thing. He didn’t feel like he’d done anything
special. Beside him, Felix looked equally uncomfortable.

“All the same…but I suppose we can leave it at unending gratitude if it makes you more
comfortable,” Claude said with a half-smile. “And congratulations. What you two have found…I
think it’s pretty rare. I’m truly happy for you.”

He let them go after that, though not before ensuring they had extra supplies and hefty bags of gold
for their long trip home. After they’d left the town of Garreg Mach behind, Felix shot Sylvain and
amused look.

“You blush too easy,” he said.

“If you keep teasing me, I’ll do something that makes you blush, right out here in the open,”
Sylvain replied, unable to keep from grinning like an idiot.

Claude should have been preparing for his own departure. The new unified realm of Fódlan hadn’t
settled down completely yet, but he knew that all that remained were a few pockets of token
resistance. Once the coronation ceremony had taken place and the new government was up and
running, the last few rebels would either be quickly defeated or fade away soon enough.

And there would be plenty of people to help guide Fódlan’s new queen as she donned her mantle
of power, though he hesitated over Seteth’s name when he’d compiled a list of Byleth’s potential
ministers of state. That man was too used to protecting the church’s secrets, too keen to hide away
any information he found distasteful.

But it wasn’t really Claude’s place to choose who helped govern Byleth’s realm. And he trusted
her. She knew Seteth as well as he did. If she deemed him worthy of serving the people of Fódlan,
it would only be after careful consideration, and he knew she wouldn’t hesitate to remove him from
power if that became necessary. He also knew that Byleth would never ask Seteth to do the things
that Rhea had. Mysterious as she was, manipulation and secrecy weren’t her style. That was why
he knew he could return to Almyra so quickly; Fódlan was in safe hands.

He frowned at himself a little. Thinking about politics, planning his journey home…it was all
putting him in a bad mood. What he needed was a distraction, and it wasn’t long before he
stumbled across one in the form of Lorenz and his usual, ridiculous hang ups about status, power
and marriage.

The young noble was in the conference room. He had spread a map of Fódlan over the table and
was writing down a list of names, pausing occasionally to consult a large tome detailing the
various great houses and their histories. He’d started with the men of the old Alliance and was
steadily working his way through the old Empire families, adding question marks next to names he
needed to gather more information on.

“Well well well, if it isn’t my pal Lorenz,” Claude said, dropping into the chair next to him. He
kicked his feet up onto the table and cupped his linked fingers behind his head, just because he
knew how much his casual posture would bug his companion. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Must you prop your feet up on the table, Claude? Some of us are trying to see to our duties, and
your dirty boots do not facilitate a productive work environment.” Lorenz shoved his legs off of the
table and straightened his own clothing.

“And what are these duties you’re seeing to so diligently?” Claude asked, leaning closer to the map
and list. He already knew what the other was up to, but he also knew that Lorenz hated it when he
was nosy. “Ah, of course—that pesky list of possible grooms for Teach.”

“You’re correct…and if you have no intention of being helpful, you are more than welcome to see
yourself out.”

“As a matter of fact, I do have a suggestion.”

“A serious suggestion? Or do you merely intend to distract me with one of your asinine schemes?”

Claude gave him an innocent smile. Byleth would have recognized the sharper edges of it, but
Lorenz took his expression at face value.

“Oh, very well,” he said with a sigh. “Let’s hear it.”

Claude tapped the eastern edge of the map. “Why not a king for our new queen?”

Lorenz gave a dismissive sniff. “The king of Almyra is already wed, Claude.”

Claude laughed. Who would know that better than him?

“The current king of Almyra is wed. However, I happen to know for a fact that he is preparing to
abdicate in favor of his son—and that son is not married. Think about it: if Teach marries their new
king, we’ve unified not just all of Fódlan, but the entire continent in one fell swoop.”

Lorenz eyed him, not bothering to hide the suspicion in his gaze. “How would you ‘just happen to
know’ that, Claude?”

“Have you forgotten already? I was the leader of the Alliance. Lord Holst and I have a small
network of spies on the other side of the border. We had to, so we could be sure the Almyrans
wouldn’t attack us in the rear while we were focused on the Empire,” Claude explained. The lie
slipped so smoothly from his lips that even he almost believed it. The truth was far less
complicated, but why ruin the surprise?

Lorenz had lapsed into deep thought. “If what you say is true, and if the new Almyran king would
be amenable,” he mused—
 Oh, he’s amenable alright, Claude thought with a private grin—

“Then that would be quite a diplomatic achievement. It would certainly be more politically
advantageous than marrying the professor to any of the native nobility, although there may be
some resistance to an Almyran match…they’re not very popular in the east…”

“Ah, but what better way to repair years of hostility than a royal marriage? It would ensure peace
for a generation. Maybe longer.” Claude pushed himself to his feet. “It seems to me that it’s worth
the risk.”

Lorenz paused, searching for a downside to this plan. Then he nodded. “Yes. I shall have to put this
to her immediately.”

“Let me talk to her first,” Claude urged him. “I’ve still got to break this whole queenship thing to
her. Once she’s gotten used to that idea, we can suggest the Almyran marriage.”

“Scheming again, Claude?”

He lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Call it what you like. I just don’t want to overwhelm
Teach with too much at once. She’s already been through a lot.”

For once, Lorenz softened. “You’re correct. It would be better to take such weighty matters one
step at a time. Very well, I will keep my peace for now.”

Claude clapped his shoulder with jovial affection. “You’re a good man, Lorenz.”

“…As are you, Claude. Much to my surprise, as are you.”

Chapter End Notes

Claude getting Lorenz to agree that he should the one to marry Byleth, without Lorenz
knowing that he's just agreed that Claude should be the one to marry Byleth, is maybe
one of my favorite things I've ever written. I wish I could have done the idea more
justice, but I had an absolute BLAST with that part, and I hope you all enjoyed it too!

NEXT: Another meeting at the Goddess Tower, because the war is FINALLY over
and Claude can FINALLY be honest about his feelings. Then a few goodbye-for-nows
with the Deer.
 Chapter 9
Chapter Summary

Perhaps Claude shouldn’t have asked Byleth to meet him. Perhaps it was the wrong
time to tell her, when it meant he’d have to fly away from her almost as soon as the
words were said. But, goddess help him, he’d been waiting for so long. He wasn’t sure
he could keep it in any longer no matter what happened next.

Chapter Notes

Sorry this one took a little longer. I wrote it a few times and I just could not get the
Goddess Tower scene where I wanted it. I started by trying to just write Claude's S-
Support from Byleth's POV, but it just didn't seem to work. I don't hate his S-Support
or anything, but it didn't flow right and I also didn't want people to read a scene they
may have already watched several times, so I came up with my own. If anyone wants
to read my horrible attempt to embellish the canon S-Support, it will be up on my
tumblr: https://itsbylethbish.tumblr.com/

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Claude’s head tilted back as a breeze filtered in through the Goddess Tower's window, bringing
with it the scent of incense, wood fires and roasting meat from the monastery below. He closed his
eyes and breathed in, willing himself to be calm. But his heart wasn’t receiving the message: it
thumped a bit irregularly every time he thought he heard a noise from the stairwell behind him.

He could pinpoint the exact moment he’d realized that friendship and affection had stopped being
adequate labels for his feelings for Byleth. And ever since then, he’d had dreams that at some
point he would be standing here, waiting for her just like he was now, with one last request for her.
One last dream he hoped she’d help him achieve.

That moment of clarity had been just before Edelgard’s successful sacking of Garreg Mach. It had
been the day that Rhea had led them all down into the Holy Tomb. Everything about the
‘revelation’ that Rhea had expected Byleth to receive had felt off, and his nerves had been jangling
long before they entered the sepulcher. He’d known without knowing that Rhea had wanted
something to happen to his Teach, something that had felt instinctively dangerous to him.

When Byleth had climbed the dais to sit upon the goddess’ throne, he’d barely restrained himself
from reaching out to stop her. Wrong, this is all wrong, was all he could think, and the desire to
shield her from Rhea’s machinations had been overpowering. Moments later, Rhea’s obvious
dismay when Byleth had taken her place on the throne and nothing had happened only confirmed
his suspicions that whatever was happening here was not for Byleth’s benefit.

Nothing but Edelgard’s sudden appearance in the Tomb could have stopped him from defying
Rhea, with force if she’d made it necessary. But then the scene had dissolved into chaos anyway,
and two weeks later both Rhea and Byleth had disappeared. It would be years until he realized the
full extent of what Rhea had been planning, and even now the thought that the archbishop had
hoped to erase Byleth in order to have Sothis back made his stomach churn with rage.

That moment in the Tomb, just as Byleth reached the empty throne—that had been when the
lightning bolt of realization had struck him. His need to protect her at any cost and from any threat,
including one posed by the supremely powerful archbishop, had come out of nowhere and was
savage enough in its intensity that it should have shocked him, but events had progressed so
quickly after that he’d had no time to analyze his response until later.

Even then, he hadn’t fully recognized his emotions. Or maybe he’d deliberately avoided the
inevitable label. Two weeks hasn’t been enough time for him to come to terms with his feelings
before they became a moot point anyway, but after…

Well, after, he’d had five long years to think about exactly why he’d missed her so much, and held
on to his hope that she’d return to him so hard. He’d told her that just before that fateful battle,
hadn’t he? I know you and I will meet here again.

The war had done nothing but prove to him what he’d privately known all along. The past few
months especially had forced him to stop hiding behind safer terms like respect or deep regard.
He’d at last found the courage to call it what it was: love. This led to the further realization that his
love for Byleth was indelible, as vital to him as breathing. It brought his heart a kind of joy that
was impossible for him not to show; he felt as though every look, every smile that passed between
them must be akin to him shouting the words out loud.

Nader is going to have a field day when he sees me, Claude thought with a smile. Then it faded as
he realized that he must be on his way to his homeland within the next two days.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have asked Byleth to meet him. Perhaps it was the wrong time to tell her,
when it meant he’d have to fly away from her almost as soon as the words were said. But, goddess
help him, he’d been waiting for so long. He wasn’t sure he could keep it in any longer no matter
what happened next.

Anyway, it’s too late to turn back now, he thought as he heard her steps on the stairs behind him.
He took another deep breath and tried to force down the legion of butterflies in his stomach before
he turned to her with a smile.

“My friend,” he said as she crossed the room toward him. “I’m glad you came.”

She smiled back at him, her head tilting just a little bit as she looked up at him, and his heart
clenched. His fingers did too; he wanted so much to gather her into his arms. But this wasn’t the
sort of conversation that should be rushed, and she might not want his arms around her when she
realized he was all but on his way to Almyra already.

“I assumed it was important, since you wanted to meet all the way up here,” she said.

“It’s hard to find privacy anywhere else in the monastery,” he admitted. “But we have history here
too, so it seemed fitting.”

A hint of playfulness crept into her smile. “That makes it sound a lot more torrid than I remember
any of those meetings being,” she commented.

“We’ll have to spice up those bits in our memoirs,” he quipped, though his hand came up to rub the
back of his neck. Damn, he was more nervous than he thought.

“We can ask Sylvain. I’m sure he can come up with something appropriately salacious.”
He chuckled and reached for her hand, drawing her closer to him. Her eyes searched his face; no
doubt she was curious about his odd mood.

“I have a few things to tell you…and to ask you,” he said.

She nodded. If his serious tone concerned her, she didn’t show it. The only thing he could see in
her eyes was the same trust and willingness to help he always saw in her. He swallowed.

“I’ll start with the…less than pleasant news. I…I won’t be able to attend your coronation
ceremony.”

He’d expected disappointment, maybe even a flash of uncertainty. But the hurt in Byleth’s gaze
made him feel awful.

“You’re leaving?” she asked, and her voice cracked a little on the word leaving. He squeezed his
eyes shut in a guilty wince.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I didn’t plan to go so soon, but I received a letter from my mother that forced
me to move up my timetable. There’s a situation back home that…well, suffice to say it’s an
emergency.”

Byleth’s eyes narrowed a little. “What kind of emergency?”

He lifted empty hands in a helpless gesture. “It seems as though someone—or several someones—
have been slowly trying to poison the king of Almyra. He was planning to abdicate soon anyway,
and the plot was discovered before the situation became fatal, but…it seems his health is bad
enough that he’s unable to continue with his official duties. Now there will be a fight to see who
ends up on the throne next.”

“And you have a stake in that fight?” she asked, searching his expression.

“I do,” he told her with a short nod. “The king of Almyra is my father.”

She gave him a small shove. “I should have known you were a prince too,” she muttered. Then she
looked up into his eyes again. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t say things like that when you’ve just told me
someone is trying to kill your father.”

“It’s okay, he’s a tough old bastard,” Claude replied, tugging her hand to urge her to step closer to
him once more. “He’s not in danger anymore, at least for now. And my mother has the situation
under control. But I have to get back if I’m going to be in time to win the throne away from those
trying to take it.”

“My Claude,” she murmured, “King of Almyra.”

The possessive sent his pulse skittering out of control. He squeezed her hand a little.

“I don’t particularly want the crown,” he told her, “but I’m afraid that whoever does want it will be
keen to start a war, and Fódlan isn’t stable enough to fight off an invasion just yet. I would hate for
the peace we won to be destroyed so quickly just because I’m avoiding my responsibilities.
Though…once things quiet down again, I’ll hand the throne over to someone else. My dream was
never to be a king.”

“When do you have to leave?”

“Ah…” He looked away, grimacing slightly. “In a day or two. No later.”

She took in a sharp breath. “And…will you…will we see each other again?”

Her voice was so small. She’d ducked her head down and her hair shielded her eyes from him, but
he could feel how still she’d gone. Her fingers were stiff and cold in his.

“Oh, Byleth…” he breathed, his heart clenching hard. He let go of her hand so he could tilt her
chin back with gentle fingers. Still she wouldn’t meet his gaze until he bent his knees a bit so that
he’d dipped down to her eye level. “Of course we’ll see each other again. Nothing will stop me
from coming back. You know that, don’t you?”

A tear slid down her cheek, and he sighed as he realized he’d gone about this all wrong. He’d
wanted to start with the news that he’d have to leave so that they could end the conversation on
much happier terms, but now she thought might never see him again.

He drew her into his arms and her fingers curled into his shirt like she was afraid he was going to
disappear any second—like she was afraid to let go. He wrapped himself around her as best he
could, trying to offer her a little comfort while coaxing some warmth back into her skin.

“I will come back to you. I’ll always come back to you.” His fingers fumbled with his pocket. “In
fact, there’s…there’s something I want to ask you.”

He was stuttering. Gods, but he was nervous.

He pulled away from her just a little bit, just so he could see her face as he brought his hand out of
his pocket and opened it in the small space between them. There, on his palm, was the engagement
ring he’d been carrying with him since before they’d stormed Enbarr. Since before Lorenz had
invited all those strangers that never even stood a breath of a chance at capturing his heart the way
Byleth had.

“Please,” he said, and his voice broke on the word. His hand trembled, just a little, and the sunlight
sparkled off of the ring’s central stone. “Please, Byleth…be my wife?”

For a second or two, all he could hear was the rush of his own blood in his ears. His heart seemed
to be on the verge of pounding out of his chest. Byleth’s slender fingers came up and took the ring
as the silence stretched.

She studied it, her eyes carefully never straying to his face. She was as expressionless as she’d
been the night they’d met, and he was on the verge of begging her to say something—anything—
when she placed the ring very carefully back in his palm.

His heart stopped in his chest.

“Yes,” she said. Her eyes met his at last, and now she was crying in earnest: huge, fast tears that
spilled down her cheeks. Despite the tears, she was giving him the biggest, warmest smile he’d
ever seen from her before. It was even more radiant than the one she’d worn after they’d defeated
Nemesis together.

“Yes,” she said again, laughing a little the second time the word tumbled from her lips, and she
added another ring to the one in his hand: her mother’s ring. She’d told him once that her father
had passed it on to her, and now she was giving it to him. That left no doubt: she was truly in love
with him too. As Claude’s heart painfully restarted in his chest, he gave into the impulse he’d been
struggling to hold at bay for months; his arms slipped around her waist and he lifted her off of her
feet so he could capture her lips with his own.

It was hard, when he was grinning so much, to kiss her properly, but after the first giddy seconds
passed, it deepened into something much more earnest. He set her back on her feet before one of
his hands came up to cradle her head, and his fingers buried themselves into her silky hair. She
sighed into his mouth as he parted her lips with his tongue, and her arms wound around his neck as
she pressed closer to his body.

“I love you,” he murmured against her lips. “With everything I am.”

“I love you too,” she whispered back, pressing higher on her toes so she could touch their
foreheads together. He grinned as he nuzzled his nose against hers, and a tide of warmth washed
over him as she closed her eyes and nuzzled him in return. He slid his ring onto her finger,
delighted to see that it fit just right. Her mother’s ring wouldn’t fit onto any of his fingers, but he
promised to find a chain for it so he could wear it next to his heart.

“The others are going to be insufferable,” Byleth observed after they’d shared a few more sweet
kisses. She had already discovered her favorite spot against Claude’s chest, and she pressed her
cheek into his shoulder as he gently rubbed his chin against the top of her head. He gave a warm
chuckle and she smiled as she felt it rumble through his body.

“About that…I have a favor to ask you,” he said. “I may have convinced Lorenz to ask you to
consider marrying the new king of Almyra.”

Byleth pulled back a little so she could see his face. Her brow wrinkled a little in confusion. “But
won’t you be the new king of Almyra?”

“Exactly,” he said with a wicked grin. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “And
can’t you just picture the look on his face when I return from my homeland and he finally realizes
that he’s spent months arranging your wedding to me?”

“He’s going to strangle you,” she warned him, and he gave a happy little sigh.

“It’ll be worth it,” he replied. He kissed her forehead, then her lips. “But nothing makes me happier
than knowing that soon you’ll be my wife.”

“Soon,” she repeated as their kisses deepened again, and it sounded like a promise.

Ignatz and Mercedes were up with the dawn to see Claude off. They’d both been surprised to hear
he was leaving so soon, and Mercedes had insisted that she go and offer Byleth some emotional
support. These days, it was hard to imagine one of their leaders without the other. Not having
Claude around was going to be strange enough, but Byleth roaming the monastery without Claude
at her side would take some getting used to for everyone.

When they arrived in the courtyard where Claude was making his last minute preparations to leave,
Ignatz found that he and Mercedes hasn’t been the only ones with the idea of seeing Claude off. All
of the former Deer were there, gathered around the white wyvern that their leader had flown into so
many of their last battles. Hilda was haranguing him, but the rest of his former classmates only
looked a bit depressed.

“But why now? We just won, how can you leave us all now?” Hilda demanded with a frustrated
jerk of her arms. Claude was smiling at her a bit ruefully.
“I’m needed back at home,” he told her. “But this isn’t goodbye. You’ll see me again. Probably
more than you’d like.”

Hilda sniffed and rubbed at her eyes. “Alright. But I reserve the right to be mad at you until you
come back.”

Raphael’s eyes were watering too as he stepped forward and yanked Claude into a hug. “What if
you need us? My muscles can’t help you if you’re far away.”

Claude patted the larger man’s back. “I promise I’ll be extra cautious, Raphael. And I’ll come back
with some special food supplies just for you. Maybe I’ll bring Garreg Mach an extra chef, and then
you can try dishes from my homeland.”

That seemed to cheer Raphael a bit, though his eyes didn’t completely dry. Next, Lysithea and
Marianne both said their goodbyes as well, and Lysithea didn’t even complain when Claude ruffled
her hair. Leonie let go of Lorenz’s hand and stepped forward to punch her leader in the shoulder.

“I think you owe us all some explanations when you get back,” she said. He chuckled.

“Oh, I expect all will become clear fairly quickly. In the meantime…try to give Lorenz a bit of
grounding. You seem to be a good influence,” he said. Leonie opened her mouth, closed it again
and nodded with a flush.

“I understand him better now,” she murmured softly. “Hurry back, okay? Lorenz needs me, but
she—” she indicated Byleth with a jerk of her chin—“needs you.”

Now it was Ignatz’s turn. He moved toward the taller man with a smile.

“Maybe it’s bad etiquette for a commoner to say that he’ll miss a noble, but I will miss you,” he
said as he held out a hand. Claude clasped it.

“I expect etiquette in Fódlan is about to receive a major overhaul, but even if it weren’t, there’s
nothing wrong with a friend telling another friend they’ll be missed. That said, I’ll miss you too,
Ignatz.” Claude winked conspiratorially. “Make sure you get a painting of Teach all done up for
the coronation.”

Ignatz chuckled. “If I can get her to sit long enough to do it justice.”

“I have faith in you,” Claude replied, still smiling.

Then, at last, he turned to Byleth. Ignatz took a couple steps back so they were standing somewhat
apart from the rest of the group.

“My friend…after our talk the other day, you know how hard I’ll work to resolve the issues at
home. Don’t lose faith in me.”

Byleth shook her head, and Ignatz was shocked to see that her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“I never will,” she promised. He took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Then he
straightened, leaned in close and whispered something in her ear. For a moment, Byleth’s free hand
found and clutched his shirt over chest as if she wanted to physically hold him in place, but she let
him go when he turned to address the entire group.

“Take care of Her Majesty for me, would you? I’ll see you all soon,” he said. Then he climbed into
his wyvern’s saddle. With a few powerful flaps of those pearlescent wings, they were airborne, and
after a final loop of the courtyard, they disappeared into the sky. His escort was taking off in his
 wake just a few seconds later.

Ignatz turned to Mercedes when they’d gone and found her already reaching for his hand.

“It’s always hard to part with friends,” she said as he took it.

“It is,” he agreed. “It feels like we’ve lost an anchor now that he’s gone. But if he promised the
professor he’ll return, I know he’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”

Chapter End Notes

Claude would ABSOLUTELY find some devious way to figure out exactly what
Byleth's ring size is in advance. Also, she's not wearing her ring because they haven't
told anyone yet, which means Lorenz is in for a shock haha...

Next time: Byleth and Claude accept their separate crowns but rebels soon threaten
Fódlan's new capital city, Derdriu. Too bad for the rebels that Claude has a promise to
keep.
 Chapter 10
Chapter Summary

“To what do I owe the pleasure of such a late-night visit?”

Judith grinned and pointed to Claude's chest. His hand came up automatically, fingers
curling around the ring that he was wearing on a chain.

“Damn,” he murmured. “I thought I’d tucked that into my shirt.”

“I take it this means congratulations are in order?” Judith asked with a raised eyebrow.
She knew her smile was a little smug. For a moment, Claude looked as though he
meant to clam up. Then his countenance cracked and he grinned. It was so open and
boyish that it took her aback for a moment: even with a friend as old as her, he rarely
expressed himself so easily.

Chapter Notes

To the shock of definitely not me, it turns out that ten chapters won't be enough. I'm
thinking now there will be one more chapter and then an epilogue. (This was supposed
to be a one-shot!)

Also, I am so behind on responding to all of your lovely comments, but I promise I

will get back to you very soon! Thank you for the love and support this story has
gotten, it's made this a really fun journey. It's amazing to be a part of such a creative,
positive fandom!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The coronation was a beautiful if lengthy affair. Lorenz seemed to enjoy it immensely, but Leonie
was glad when it was over, and she could tell that the professor felt the same by the time the last of
the feast was cleared away.

She was doing well so far. Claude had been meticulous before taking his leave, providing Byleth
with piles of references, thorough analyses of the various social and political situations across all
the territories of Fódlan, and the names of many people she could draw to her for even more
effective help. Many of those wheels he’d started in motion himself, so communications for the
new queen poured in every day. Lorenz and Hilda were often tasked to help her sort through it all.

On top of all those careful preparations, Byleth was a shrewd and even-tempered leader. The
nobles and church officials were discovering, as the Golden Deer had years ago, that nothing
seemed to faze or ruffle her. She was calm, intelligent and unimpressed by tradition or etiquette.
She sliced through to the heart of the matter whenever possible.

But life wasn’t perfect. Leonie knew that better than any of them. Byleth had appointed her head of
her personal guard, so she knew that many former Imperial soldiers were on the move in the west,
raising dissidents wherever they traveled. It wouldn’t be long before action would have to be taken.

“I’ll see you back at our room,” Leonie said to Lorenz as Byleth stood, wishing everyone a
pleasant night. As she headed back to her quarters, Leonie fell in step beside her.

“Are you alright, Prof—Your Majesty?”

Byleth smiled. “Professor is fine. You’re also more than welcome to call me Byleth. Titles are
for…” she waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the audience chamber.

“You seem tired,” Leonie observed, not unkindly.

“I am tired.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Byleth let out a short puff of air. “I’m not comfortable with being head of the church and reigning
monarch. And I know next to nothing about the church. Seteth is trying to help, but I think I’d
better elect a new archbishop. I’d like to find someone that will work with me to reform
questionable doctrine in a way that minimizes the shock for the more devout believers. My hope is
that Mercedes will accept the offer, but first I have to make sure it’s correct for me to even make a
suggestion. Seteth is searching for precedence.

“Then there are the preparations to move the capital to Derdriu, which are taking much longer than
expected. There’s been some resistance from the other regions about the choice of the old Alliance
capital, but Garreg Mach is already the headquarters of the Church—and like it or not, the Alliance
did win the war. There’s a more tangible resistance building too. Alois and Catherine both brought
me reports of Imperial rebels bolstering their strength near the coast. I don’t want to start this reign
with bloodshed, but we must secure our new capital.”

Leonie gave a low whistle. “That is a lot to think about.”

“And, on top of everything else…” Byleth trailed off with a little sigh.

She wants Claude, Leonie thought.

As if reading her thoughts, Byleth continued. “Claude has always been better at anticipating
problems and moving to counter them. I’m good on the battlefield, good with the action, but
planning is his forte. The Knights…overestimate my abilities. They think I can face down
whatever might come our way. But it was never just me. I always had Claude, and we always had
you.”

“You’ve still got us, Professor.”

Byleth nodded, but her brow remained furrowed. “I just keep having this feeling that there’s
something I’m missing.”

“We beat the Empire,” Leonie replied, interjecting a little more confidence than she normally
would have in the hopes it might cheer Byleth up. “The odds of that were almost impossible. I’d
say we’ve got a pretty good chance of beating anyone else that comes along to stir up trouble.”

Byleth nodded and wished Leonie a pleasant evening when they’d reached her quarters. As soon as
the new queen had been safely deposited to her rooms, Leonie sought out Alois. If Byleth was
worried, it was time to increase the guard.
Judith waited until Claude had retreated to his personal quarters to pounce. She’d arrived in Almyra
only a few hours before, but one glance had been all it had taken for her to see that the boy was
lonely and distracted. Nader’s…enthusiastic greeting had kept her busy in his rooms for a while,
but now that the general was asleep, she sought out her old friend.

The younger man didn’t seem too surprised to see her when he opened the door to his solar, but he
did give her a knowing look that made a slight flush come to her cheeks.

“I didn’t expect to see you until morning,” he commented as he stepped aside to admit her into his
private quarters.

“As to that…don’t expect Nader to rouse himself until midday.”

Claude laughed and gestured for her to make herself comfortable.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of such a late-night visit?”

Judith grinned and pointed to his chest. His hand came up automatically, fingers curling around the
ring that he was wearing on a chain.

“Damn,” he murmured. “I thought I’d tucked that into my shirt.”

“I take it this means congratulations are in order?” Judith asked with a raised eyebrow. She knew
her smile was a little smug. For a moment, Claude looked as though he meant to clam up. Then his
countenance cracked and he grinned. It was so open and boyish that it took her aback for a
moment: even with a friend as old as her, he rarely expressed himself so easily.

“We haven’t told anyone yet, but…”

“I’d ask who the lucky girl is, but that dopey grin says it all. It’s your professor, isn’t it?”

“Did you come here just to ask me questions you already know the answers to?” Claude asked. He
poured her a glass of wine, though she noticed he was drinking water. Smart, she thought. No doubt
the attempts to poison him had begun already.

“As a matter of fact, apart from wanting to say finally and it’s about damn time, I do have some
news.” Judith leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and placed her chin on a curled fist.
“Lord Holst is preparing to greet your lovely queen in Derdriu, and I’m not the only one that knows
it. With him leaving the Locket, I’m afraid your enemies might think it’s the perfect time to ruin all
your efforts at diplomacy.”

Claude nodded and rubbed at his jaw, considering possible ways to counteract. “Hilda can defend
the Locket if needs be, though I hope to neutralize that threat before hostilities break out.”

“Normally I’d agree with you…but I’m not so sure now is a good time to pull one of your most
seasoned fighters away from the queen’s side.”

Claude’s eyes were suddenly very sharp as he studied her face. “What do you know?”

“That group we destroyed in Goneril territory? I’m not so sure we got them all. And before you ask
—no, I don’t have any proof. All I’ve got are whispers, hints of their presence in Galatea and
Conand. But it’s enough to make me worried. From there, it wouldn’t take them long to get to the
new capital.”

He swore in his mother tongue and thumped his fist down on the table. “And in the meantime, I’m
stuck here.”

“I’ll keep my ear to the ground, but you had better get a move on, boy. I have a feeling we’ll need
our Master Tactician sooner rather than later.”

Claude groaned at the use of the nickname. “And to think this time I was planning on playing
nice…”

Judith raised an eyebrow and the younger man laughed. “Well, maybe nice isn’t the right word,”
he amended. Then he grew serious once more. “Thank you for looking out for her.”

“The way I see it, looking out for her is the best way of looking out for you, and anyway, I’m
invested now.”

He nodded and grew quiet as she finished her wine. She could tell his mind was already running
through every possible way to get the outcome he wanted. She drained her goblet and stood.

“I’ll wish you goodnight. Just…try to get some sleep at some point, alright? Collapsing of
exhaustion isn’t much of a strategy.”

“I promise,” he told her, though he didn’t put a lot of effort into masking the lie. Well, she’d done
what she could. Hopefully the boy would take her advice sooner rather than later.

“Did you know that in Almyra, the heirs to the throne have to fight for the crown? And I mean
fight, as in physically battle one another. And any male in the family is considered an heir, not just
the eldest son. They don’t have Crests, either, so basically it’s just a big free-for-all and whoever
wins the fight, wins the crown too,” Hilda was saying to the remaining Deer when Byleth joined
them for lunch. The girl’s words sent a tendril of unease through her, though Claude was one of the
most effective fighters she’d ever seen.

“Turns out, a lot of times they try to sabotage each other before the fight, or even poison or kill one
another beforehand so there’s less competition. And any of the men can decide not to take part in
the fight, but they’re never allowed to try for the throne again, and usually there’s some shaming
Involved.”

“Where did you learn all this, Hilda?” Ignatz asked.

“Cyril! He knows all about it. Lysithea coaxed it out of him when I said I was curious,” Hilda
replied, tactfully ignoring Lysithea’s pink cheeks.

“Did you know the Almyran king was going to step down, Professor?” Leonie asked. Byleth
glanced up from her food and nodded.

“I’d heard that there had been an attempt on his life and that his health is bad enough that he
decided it was for the best,” she replied. “It seems dangerous to leave things uncertain for that
long, but Almyra has never been successfully invaded and most of the coups have failed as well, so
perhaps I shouldn’t be so hasty to judge.”

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” Lysithea asked. Byleth nodded again, though she could feel her
shoulders droop a little when she thought of the tasks ahead. Tomorrow she’d officially enter the
city of Derdriu and formally invest it as Fódlan’s capital. There would be a grand procession to the
palace and a feast. It was going to be a long day, but at least she wouldn’t be actively fighting for
her life the way Claude was.

Perhaps it was better not to think that way. She had no desire to tempt fate after they’d all survived
so much.

“Lorenz and Count Gloucester should arrive a day or two after that,” Leonie told her. “And Lord
Holst will be arriving from the Locket soon as well. Most of the other major Alliance lords are
already there. Do you still plan on traveling to the old Kingdom and the former Empire to receive
fealty from those lords?”

“Yes. The war did a lot of damage. I’d rather they stay in their lands and see to reconstruction than
undertake such a long journey just to swear a few vows,” Byleth replied. “In the meantime, Lorenz
and Seteth can oversee things here.”

The Deer nodded and returned to chatting amongst themselves. Byleth touched the ring she had
tucked under her shirt. Would praying for Claude help? Would she only be praying to herself?

I love you, she thought instead, hoping somehow he’d know she was thinking of him in that
moment. Please be safe.

Nader was growing impatient with the royal family. Most of them were dragging their heels on the
way to Mahtabah, the capital city. Claude had been waiting there for two months, growing visibly
more agitated at every fresh delay. The rest of the heirs weren’t so keen to fight, not after hearing
of the kid’s exploits on the other side of the border. He was a formidable foe, and so far none of
their attempts to poison or incapacitate him had worked.

“They should just hand you the damned crown and be done with it,” he grumbled to the younger
man as they watched one of the royals make a formal entrance into the city. “There’s precedent.”

Claude’s expression darkened. “They’re too afraid of losing face. And it doesn’t help that I’m a
half-breed. If they don’t fight for the throne, they’re the cowards, not me with my Fódlan blood.”

“Will you kill them?”

Claude sighed. “Not if I can help it. I’ve shed too much blood as it is. But if they force my hand, I
won’t hesitate.” He glanced at the general. “I’ve worked too hard to die now. And Byleth is
waiting for me.”

“I’ll see if I can hurry your dear family along then, shall I?”

Claude’s smile was grateful. “I’d appreciate that, my friend. I do have a wedding to attend, after
all.”

Nader threw his head back and laughed, startling a bunch of pigeons into flight. “Aye, you do at
 that. My men and I will round up the stragglers. You’ll be king in a fortnight,” he promised.

Claude watched him leave the palace balcony and then looked down at his royal cousin as the man
rode through the city streets on horseback. He frowned a little and touched Byleth’s ring for good
luck.

I’m coming, my love…as fast as I can. Hold on just a little longer, I’ll be with you soon.

Chapter End Notes

The name of the Almyran capital Mahtabah is my creation. I've been studying Persian
influences on the Ottoman and Mughal Empires, and that crept into my mental images
of Almyra. The name was inspired by the Mehtab Bagh, or "Moonlight Garden,"
which is a lovely charbagh complex along the Yamuna River in Agra, India near the
Taj Mahal.

I made up the Almyran method of royal succession, though it resembles that of a few
cultures around the world (and several fictional ones as well). I thought it made the
most sense, considering Claude's mentions of fighting for the throne rather than being
the sole, acknowledged heir as the son of the king. I made the fighting part a bit more
literal than perhaps it was meant to be as alluded to in the game, but I didn't want to
complicate things so an actual battle for the throne seemed the way to go.

NEXT: a dashing last-minute rescue, Lorenz's unfortunate discovery, and the end of
this story minus the epilogue.
 Chapter 11
Chapter Summary

"Really, I should be thanking you. Our chat about the benefits of this marriage
convinced me that I needed to go retrieve my crown in order to qualify as a proper
candidate for Byleth’s hand.”

“You—you—I never would have agreed to your scheme had I known that it was
*you* we were speaking of!” Lorenz managed, his voice sounding oddly strangled.

Chapter Notes

Finally, FINALLY, Lorenz gets the news we've all been waiting for him to hear. I
hope it brings a smile to your faces!

And, please know that everyone's support has meant the world to me and I've been so
excited and moved by it!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Judith followed the majority of Mahtabah to the arena outside of the city walls. Huge stone steps
that doubled as seating lead down to the packed dirt of the arena floor. There were brightly colored
silk streamers fluttering in the wind, covered in the intricate geometric patterns the Almyrans loved
so much, and the excitement of the people was palpable. Beside her, Nader was watchful and
tense.

“Don’t worry about the boy, he’ll be fine. After what he’s ben through, this is nothing.”

“I’m not worried—I taught the kid myself, after all,” he said with a laugh. There was too much
bravado in it for it to ring true—what was with these Almyrans and their need to act tough? “I just
hope no one is up to any funny business.”

Both of them looked down to the arena floor. Claude was there, his usual restlessness held in check
for once. He stood still and let his gaze roam over the arena’s occupants. Nader tried to catch his
eye by waving, but the younger man didn’t respond.

“Twelve combatants, including Claude,” Judith observed. “And all he has to do is subdue them,
correct?”

“Technically.” Nader frowned a bit. “Some will only feign submission, and some won’t give up
until they’re killed. Almyra’s throne is a rich prize. Worth dying for, I’d say. But the kid is young
and strong, especially compared to some of his uncles.”

“Are there any rules?” Judith asked. Nader shook his head.

“Not really. No magic, but other than that…poison on the weapons, biting, groin shots…it’s all fair
game. These things are brutal, but usually they’re over quickly.”

Judith opened her mouth to ask another question, but a huge rumble from the traditional drums
drowned out all else. As the sound throbbed away, the battle began.

Almost immediately, the arena was a mess. The contestants were kicking up so much dust and had
grouped so tightly that it was hard to see what was happening for a few moments. Then men began
to fall, and it was easier to make sense of the action.

Judith had never seen Claude fight with a spear before. She knew he was proficient with axes and
swords, and of course he was nearly unmatched with a bow, but apparently he’d paid attention
during his lessons about polearms as well. He used the length of the weapon to keep his attackers
back, and he made the blade sing with wicked speed. He all but danced with the spear, using swift,
wide sweeps to give himself some room before he’d whip or thrust the blade right into his target.
The axes most of the others carried could not reach him when he moved so fluidly.

But it ended as it inevitably must: one of his cousins managed to crush the haft of the spear badly
enough that the blade became useless. Claude threw the weapon away from him and reached to
unsheathe the axe he’d strapped to his back. Chaos descended again.

In the end, he killed three men: two uncles and a second cousin. He’d subdued five more. The other
three had been killed by different combatants.

Judith was on her feet as soon as the drums signaled the end of the battle, whooping as loud as she
could. Around her, the Almyrans were roaring their approval of Claude’s clear dominance on the
field of battle: their new king was strong, brave and clever. His warlike people couldn’t help but
approve after seeing his prowess.

Claude dropped his axe into the dirt and lifted a hand to acknowledge the cheers. He made his way
to the gates and was released from the central pit. Judith could make out his smile, wide but
hollow, and knew he wished that now that this chore had been seen to, he could fly off to Derdriu
and his queen.

Not yet, boy. He had his own coronation to attend, and his own government to organize. But he was
unarguably a step closer.

She tugged on Nader’s arm. “Come on, let’s go congratulate the King of Schemes,” she said. But
even as they made their way toward Almyra’s new monarch, Claude doubled over, vomited what
little had been in his stomach to begin with, and collapsed.

My Queen, (I’m imagining the face you’re making and yes, I do find amusement in your discomfort.
You knew that about me when we proposed to each other. Just remember: it’s not annoying, it’s
charming.)

(Are you smiling now? I bet you are. I miss that smile. I hope to see it in person soon. Anyway…)

You mean to tell me that Hilda asked Cyril how Almyra would choose its new king, and she still
hasn’t guessed the truth? Huh. I would have given her more credit than that.

I thought she might have guessed about me a while ago, but then again…she isn’t the type to—how
do I put this gently?—not spread gossip like this as far and wide as she possibly can as fast as she
can. Maybe she guessed the Almyran part and not the son-of-the-king part? Oh well. I’m just glad
Lorenz is still in for the shock of his life.

As for the poisoning incident at the battle of the crown…well, it was only a little poison, my love—
nothing to worry about. A few days ignoring the court physicians and mixing my own antitoxins
saw me right soon enough. I’m already back on my feet and preparing a council to rule in my stead
while I return to you. We’ll have to come back here soon, but in the short term I’m quite happy with
my choices. I hope you don’t mind the quick turnaround, but I’ll need to shore things up here, and
besides, I’ve always wanted to show you my homeland. My mother will love you, I know. And my
people couldn’t ask for a better Queen. They’ll love you too. Just not as much as I do or I’ll have to
use my kingly authority to rid myself of any competition. Joking!

In all seriousness: I do love you. So much. I’ll be with you soon.

I’m yours. Always.

-Claude

P.S.: We really need to do something about Judith’s penchant for nicknames. She keeps addressing
me as the King of Schemes…in official reports, mind! The disrespect…Maybe she’ll listen to you?

Oh, who am I kidding? At least she isn’t writing “Boy” on top of all her dispatches anymore.

I love you.

When the enemy came to take Derdriu, they came fast. Ignatz watched as former Imperial soldiers
and black-masked Agarthan mages swarmed the gates and walls of Derdriu. Magic was thick in the
air as he shouted for more archers to man the fortifications. He fired volley after volley into the
enemies, glad that his fiancée was far away in Garreg Mach. Those that slither in the dark might
have hated the Church of Seiros, but they still seemed focused on killing the professor instead of
the new archbishop.

Some of the fighting had spilled into the city streets. A small force had slipped in through the quay
and allowed others in, though most of the opposing army remained shut out by Derdriu’s huge,
carved gates.

“Where’s Her Majesty?” he shouted to Raphael. The huge Knight was hauling barrels of pitch up to
the battlements so they could be ignited and dropped over the walls.

“Fighting by the quay! Leonie is with her.”

Ignatz nodded and refocused his attention on their enemies. They hadn’t even realized a true army
had mobilized before the attack had started. It hurt to see so many people still opposed to Claude
and Byleth’s peace.

And Claude was still gone. He’d left four months ago. Lorenz wasn’t present either, though
hopefully he’d return any moment. He’d gone to escort his father back to Gloucester territory once
Byleth has ascended to the throne, but he should be nearly back by now.
The defenders were stretched thin. Ignatz found himself wishing for one of Claude’s clever
schemes. Somehow they were losing this fight, and if Derdriu fell at this early stage of Byleth’s
reign, it seemed all they’d fought for would be lost.

Byleth had made a serious mistake.

During the war, she’d grown used to fighting with Claude. Her trust in him had been absolute and
freeing: it let her range far away from the others to make lightning strikes against key targets. No
matter how far she ended up from the front lines, Claude would be there, covering her from above
with precision shots, often picking off any enemies that tried to catch her or else clearing the path
ahead of her so she could kill an opposing commander.

Without him, that maneuver had become deadly. She’d outstripped her royal guard—even Leonie
was far behind—and now the black-masked mages were closing in. They were the last of Thales’
Agarthans, and they were still targeting her specifically. They appeared out of nowhere in this
section of streets, and had obviously been smuggled deep into the city in order to create this trap.
Byleth had been tricked; the Imperial rebels had been herding her toward this trap from the
beginning.

Somewhere behind her, her royal standard dipped and then disappeared completely. Almost
immediately, her army began to falter—had their queen been killed? Should they surrender the
city? Why else would her standard fall?

Meanwhile, the Agarthan mages were chanting. Byleth’s grip tightened around the hilt of the
Sword of the Creator. Perhaps there was still a way out of this trap, if she could just keep cool…

The sword whipped out, the long chain of the blade flicking lithely and catching one of the mages
mid-chant. She spun and the chain-blade spun with her, catching another of the magic users even as
she felt the air heating around her. It was quickly becoming unbearable, worse even than the fires
of Aliell, and her breath seemed to be evaporating from her lungs. There was no air to replace it
with, whatever it was that she was drawing into her lungs was searing them from the inside out, she
couldn’t even cry out—then a blade cut deep into her shoulder—

An arrow thunked into the mage in front of her. Two more sprouted from the throat of the one next
to him. A third mage was already collapsing as an arrow pierced his eye. Byleth sucked in a frantic
breath of cool air even as she realized that all four of the projectiles had familiar fletching…

Claude!

His wyvern was already swooping down, his bow discarded for an axe. The blade of it sank deep
into the chest of the swordsman that had cut her, and she could see the cold and deadly fury in
Claude’s eyes as he made sure her assailant would never rise to attack his beloved again. His
wyvern then twisted and caught an incoming assassin with her powerful hind claws, knocking him
to the ground as she landed on top of him. He shrieked as his bones cracked beneath her weight,
but the sound was quickly cut off by one snap of those sharp draconian teeth at his throat, and he
was dead too.

In the brief respite, Claude eyes met hers. Their gazes held for just a second as chaos swirled
around them. He’d saved her life, arrived just at the moment of her greatest need—just as he always
had. Her heart lurched painfully against the Crest stone in her chest.

But they weren’t out of the thick of it yet. Gratitude, love, relief…it would all have to wait for a
few minutes more. As Claude urged his wyvern into the sky again, Byleth spun back toward the
last of the mage group that had so nearly killed her. Her sword cleaved through the sixth magic
user, and together she and Claude brought down the seventh and final mage of the group. Behind
him, from the east, a wave of Almyran wyvern riders had swept over the tops of the gates and were
decimating the Imperial rebels below. A few wore the brightly colored uniforms of the Barbarossa,
and one of them had even picked up her royal battle standard and flown it high above the city to
reassure her troops that all was not lost and allies had arrived—but no one else commanded a great
white wyvern into battle.

Immediately, the resistance began to collapse. This mage group must have been the leaders, and
with them dead or dying, the rest of the army began to panick. It was as though they had exerted
some sort of control over the battlefield, held the troops together somehow with their powers. Once
that connection had been broken, Claude’s Almyran warriors and Byleth’s army started carving
through the opposition without any trouble. Later she learned that in addition to the wyvern
warriors, more Almyran troops had crushed the Imperial rebels against the eastern walls of the city,
fighting like demons.

They had saved Derdriu—they had saved Fódlan—right alongside so many of the Alliance soldiers
they usually thought of as enemies.

As the Fódlan army helped the Almyrans mop up the last of the fighting, Byleth made her way
back to her Deer. Her shoulder was throbbing with agony and she was losing too much blood, but
Marianne would be able to patch her up long enough for the royal physicians to arrive with more
complex aid.

Marianne rushed to close the gap as Byleth stumbled toward her, and the shivery-numb feeling of
white magic soon soothed away the worst of the pain. The blood slowed and, though the wound
didn’t knit itself completely closed, it began to scab over. While she worked, Claude’s wyvern
landed a few feet away.

He was off the animal and crossing toward Byleth in the blink of an eye. Before she could even
finish a breath, he caught her around the waist with one arm and—careful to avoid her wound—
captured her mouth in a searing kiss.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get here earlier,” he said, pulling away just enough to murmur the words against
her lips.

“Ah, but your gallant rescue made for a very dashing entrance,” she replied with a smile. Home.
She felt like she was home now that he was holding her.

“It is going to make a truly epic song one day, but I would have preferred not to find you in mortal
peril the moment I arrived.”

The fingers of her uninjured arm threaded their way deep into his hair. His smile was soft and
relieved and joyful, and it was just for her.

“My love…once your wound has been properly tended to, would you be up for one more dramatic
display today?” he asked, tugging gently on the chain that hung around her neck. She nodded and
pressed her face against his shoulder. She could almost feel her heart stitching itself back together
as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“Claude,” she said as they all began to make their way back through the streets toward the palace.
He glanced at her in askance, and she caught his hand in hers. “I never want to be apart like that
again.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist as they walked, nuzzling another kiss into her hair. “Never
again,” he promised. “I’m never going to let you go again.”

It was only when the royal physicians were tending to her wound that Byleth realized none of the
Golden Deer that had been present—Leonie, Hilda, Marianne, Ignatz, Raphael and Lysithea—had
seemed all that surprised by their passionate reunion.

That evening, the King of Almyra, publicly proposed to the Queen of Fódlan on the steps leading
up to the royal palace of Derdriu. The celebrations lasted for two days. On the second of those two
days, Lorenz arrived after escorting his father back to Gloucester territory to the news that his
queen was formerly betrothed.

This is perfect, Lorenz thought as he raced through the palace to the queen’s apartments. Even
Claude couldn’t have planned it better. I wonder if he was among the Almyran fighters? He’ll be
pleased to know that this scheme of his has worked.

He stopped before the large wooden doors that led to Byleth’s private rooms. There he took a
moment to smooth down his hair and straighten out his clothing. Once he was satisfied that he
wasn’t too unkempt, he requested that his presence be announced to Her Majesty, and a waiting
valet conveyed the message.

The doors were pushed open and Lorenz entered the solar. Byleth was there, as were Claude,
Hilda, Marianne and Leonie.

“Welcome back, Lorenz, “ Byleth said. He immediately dropped into a bow.

“Your Majesty, I was so gratified to hear of our victory, and that your wound did not put you in
danger,” he began. Leonie groaned even as she walked up to him, going on her toes to kiss his
cheek.

“You know you don’t have to be so formal,” she said.

“But—but I am addressing my queen, it’s only correct that I…”

Byleth laughed quietly, and all eyes turned to her. She was, Lorenz noticed, glowing with
happiness. But should Claude be standing so close to her, when she had granted her hand in
marriage to another, to a king no less? He made a mental note to have a private word with the
former Alliance leader about the impropriety of his conduct.

“Ah, and allow me to congratulate you on the happy news of your engagement. Marriage to the
King of Almyra will ensure the safety of Fódlan’s eastern border for a generation at least,” Lorenz
said, unable to keep a satisfied grin off of his face. He also couldn’t resist a peek at Claude—and to
his surprise, he saw the other man lace his fingers through the queen’s and bow to him.

“Thank you, Lorenz. We both appreciate your warm approval of our engagement,” he said as he
straightened up. He was smirking at Lorenz the same way he had whenever one of his annoying
tricks had worked back in their school days…smirking as though, once again, Lorenz had missed
something monumentally obvious.

Shock rolled through him from the top of his head right down to his toes. He looked back and forth
from Claude to Byleth, then down at their joined hands and the ring on the queen’s finger. Then,
belatedly, he noticed the richness of Claude’s clothing, saw the ring hanging from his neck, and
remembered the Almyran guards he’d passed on his way to the solar…

“You—it’s not possible. It is simply not possible. You cannot mean to suggest that…that you of all
people are the—” he sputtered.

Claude satisfaction was painful to see. “That I’m the King of Almyra?” he finished. “I’m afraid so.
Really, I should be thanking you. Our chat about the benefits of this marriage convinced me that I
needed to go retrieve my crown in order to qualify as a proper candidate for Byleth’s hand.”

“You—you—I never would have agreed to your scheme had I known that it was you we were
speaking of!” Lorenz managed, his voice sounding oddly strangled.

“But your logic was so sound. I was completely convinced,” Claude replied with an innocent look
of confusion.

“That was your logic, damn you!”

“Oh. Oh yeah. No wonder it made so much sense.” Claude turned and grinned at his betrothed.
“And, all that aside, there was no way I was going to stand by and let anyone else have you.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” Byleth replied softly, smiling up at him with such affection that Lorenz
felt another jolt of recognition. She loved him. She truly loved him. And, now that he was really
looking, he could see that Claude adored her. Would, if the shockingly open and tender expression
on his face was anything to go by, do anything for her.

Lorenz felt his shoulders sag in defeat. He let out a long-suffering sigh. There was no choice now:
he’d simply have to appeal to Byleth for a high position in her cabinet. Someone had to keep
Claude from running two countries into the ground, after all.

“I…congratulate you. Most sincerely,” he said, and flushed when Leonie, Hilda and Marianne all
cheered. Claude wrapped his arm around Byleth’s waist and urged her gently into his side.

“Thank you, Lorenz,” he said, much more sincerely himself this time. “Your support means a lot.”

“May we be dismissed?” Leonie asked, taking Lorenz’s hand. Byleth nodded, still smiling, and the
pair of them turned and walked out of the solar. Just before the door closed behind them, he heard
Hilda burst into laughter.

“You were right, Claude—the look on his face really was priceless!”
 Lorenz bristled, but Leonie laid a soothing hand on his arm. “Ignore her. Let’s go to my quarters. I
missed you,” she said.

“She’ll never respect me if—oh, very well. I have to admit, spending the afternoon with you
sounds much more appealing than lecturing her.”

“Good,” Leonie laughed, “because I already ordered the tea.”

They’d just sat down together when another horrible thought struck him: he was going to have to
call Claude—Claude!—Your Majesty. The thought alone made him groan; luckily, he missed
Leonie’s grin as she hurried to hide it behind her teacup.

Chapter End Notes

Next up: an epilogue to put the bow on top; AKA: Claude teases Byleth for being
jealous and other pillow talk.
 Epilogue
Chapter Summary

"Y’know, it’s probably not too late to just elope,” Claude commented as he and Byleth
watched a delegation from Brigid—with Petra at its head—make its formal entrance
into Derdriu.

Chapter Notes

This has been a crazy ride and I have been so lucky to have your support as I worked
my way through it! I truly can't thank you all enough for the encouragement and
inspiration!. <3 Thank you for sticking with me and this story until the end!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

"Y’know, it’s probably not too late to just elope,” Claude commented as he and Byleth watched a
delegation from Brigid—with Petra at its head—make its formal entrance into Derdriu. The
wedding was in three days and the city was packed to the brim with visiting dignitaries and notable
guests.

He looped an arm around her waist and she smiled up at him, leaning into the touch. The crowd
beneath their balcony ate the romantic little gesture up, calling out their approval to the royal
couple. Their story was already making its way into music and poetry, but Byleth didn’t pay much
attention to that. She touched him not because it was expected or even encouraged by her subjects.
She touched him because she loved him, because he wanted her to, and because they’d spent far
too long denying themselves the simple pleasure of it.

“I’m afraid Seteth would disagree with you, my love.” Then her smile widened into an outright
grin. “Which probably only makes it even more tempting, doesn't it?”

“You really do know me so well,” he said, his eyes twinkling fondly as he leaned down to kiss her
smiling mouth.

They turned their attention back to the parade-like procession of Brigidians. Byleth tilted her head
as she watched their colorful group make its way through the streets, accompanied by musicians
playing the most enthralling music.

“Were you ever tempted?” she asked, indicating the group with a nod. “I heard even Petra asked
you for a match.”

“No. She’s a beautiful person and I admire her tenacity and love for her country, but…” He
shrugged. “How do I say this without sounding like a total sap? My heart was already yours,
najmay.”

She turned and hid her burning cheeks in the soft fabric of his sleeve, smiling at the endearment.
My star.
He didn’t let her hide for long. He tugged her chin up with gentle fingers, and his eyes were full of
impish delight. “You were jealous,” he said in the same tones as a boy that had been given a
particularly longed-for gift. “Byleth Einser, Ashen Demon and Fell Star, was jealous of a bunch of
silly noble girls.”

“Petra isn’t a silly girl,” she protested. He only laughed, still watching her for more signs of
discomfort. He was relishing this, she knew.

“That’s what you were so upset about back then. You thought one of them was going to run away
with me.”

“It didn’t seem so far fetched at the time,” she mumbled, wishing she could hide again. “The
whole monastery was full of women who had already decided they’d say yes if you asked them. It
was…I…”

He captured her lips, humming softly as she tilted her head back and opened her mouth for him.
“And here I thought I’d made such a convincing show of not wanting any of them.”

“I didn’t think I was an option. But I…wished for it. For you to pick me.”

His eyes glowed as he stared into hers. “Ah, By. I had picked you. But I see now I should have
been even more obvious about my frankly embarrassing regard for you. Maybe I should have filled
your quarters with roses, or hired a traveling bard to regale you with songs about my hopeless love,
or—”

She shoved against his chest a little and he laughed, holding her tighter. He lifted her hand to his
lips and pressed a kiss to her fingertips. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time. Well before
Lorenz stuffed the monastery full of would-be brides, I can tell you that.” He paused, then added,
“You know, I really should have messed with him more. He turned out to be such a hypocrite too,
giving me all those lectures on marrying for duty and acceptable breeding. Leonie’s an amazing
woman and she’ll make an exceptional Countess of Gloucester, but he didn’t follow a single word
of his own advice.

Byleth tried not to giggle, but it failed. Claude was adorable when he was mildly disgruntled. He
glanced down at her and his expression melted into a smile.

“I hope to always bring you laughter, my love,” he murmured as he looked at her, tucking her hair
behind her ear.

“You,” she told him, “have always been the beginning of everything good in my life.”

Before he could sweep her up into his arms and carry her back to their bedchamber, visiting friends
from Brigid be damned, Seteth knocked and then joined them on the palace balcony.

“Your Majesties,” he said, “it is time to greet your guests.”

Byleth smiled at Claude’s dejected mumble of, “Always duty with this guy.” Before Seteth could
protest, she pulled free of her fiancé’s embrace and clasped his hand.

“The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can retire to our rooms…” she said, her voice full of
promise. Seteth’s cheeks immediately went pink, but Claude only grinned.

“You always do know just what to say to motivate a guy,” he purred in response before following
her happily down to the reception hall.
Chapter End Notes

Najmay is Arabic...I would have liked to have come up with my own word but I'm no
linguist so I avoided it by using an existing one.

<3 <3 <3

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