(1157)
Day 18 of the Garland Moon. Sudden Typhoon.
She said yes.
1183
Red Wolf Moon
Byleth had never drunk so much tea in her life. Even once Dorothea had eased the light wounds and burns she'd sustained in the infiltration, a tickle and cough from the smoke had remained. Claude had plied her with a remedy of his own, then the village's doctor; an elderly lady, bent with age, fingers stained green from work in her garden, but with a such an aura of absolute command that had to be obeyed, had brought her own remedy under Petra's recommendation. The old lady had snatched the cup Claude had given Byleth straight from her hands, sniffed it, then scowled and tossed the whole lot out, standing guard over Byleth until she had drunk every drop of her own offering.
Naturally, once Claude had gotten over his momentary indignation, he'd been intrigued. Having identified a kindred spirit he was shortly seen sat by the old lady's knee, as together, despite every barrier of language and custom between them, they identified plant and purpose and devised tincture after tincture for Byleth to take should she as much as clear her throat before speaking.
Byleth's trials might have ended there, except that Hilda had seen what both blade and fire had done to Byleth's hair and was insisting she be allowed to tidy it up. The young noble had a rather convincing argument that Byleth should submit to the scissors for the sake of diplomacy.
"You're the First Commander! You're representing Fódlan! If there's a big party because they're making Petra chief, or chief-in-waiting, then shouldn't you look your best? We don't want to leave a bad impression."
It was the Ashen Demon who gazed stone-faced back at Hilda in an attempt to put her off the idea. Hilda maintained the gaze, smiling cheerfully right up until the moment Byleth's body betrayed her. The tickle started at the back of her throat and grew even as Byleth tried to suppress it, until finally, with a single shake of her shoulders and the very quietest of coughs, she had to clear it. As if that small sound had signalled her surrender Hilda took her hand and pulled her along to a seat in the shade.
"Just enough to tidy it." Byleth conceded, and sat in sullen stillness as Hilda set out brush, comb and scissors.
Of course, to complete her misery that would be the moment Claude approached with the next dose of medicine for her to take. He raised a brow at Byleth's stone faced experssion -it occurred to him that it had been quite some time since he'd seen her so inexpressive and the notion brought a smile to his own face as he took a knee before her to offer the latest tincture.
"Here we are, My Friend. I think I can claim that we have defied all common knowledge and created a medicine that is actually palatable. You can judge." He added, winking.
Byleth nodded tersely and tipped it back. Even she had to admit this one was to her taste, being predominately made from honey it seemed.
"Claude, distract the Commander for me," Hilda requested as she began brushing back Byleth's hair "regale us with one of your weird childhood stories."
"Okay then…" Claude thought, sinking into a seated position on the ground before them "How about an old story from a foreign land that my dad told me when I was a kid?"
~o~*~o~
Petra bounded up to them just as Claude was finishing his tale. Hilda had long since secured her scissors away and was pressed in tightly against Byleth, sharing her seat as they listened.
"I'm so happy for that white camel! I really thought he was gonna die!" Hilda exclaimed through tears.
"Was that story really worth bawling your eyes out over?" Claude asked, a little nonplussed at the reaction.
"It was wonderful! Right, Commander?"
"It was… quite touching?" Byleth offered tentatively.
"Oh you two just don't get it!" Hilda sniffed, and likely would have carried on, but for Petra's arrival.
"Have I missed a story-telling?"
"'Fraid so." Claude answered, standing and stretching. "Don't worry though, I'll have plenty more another time."
"I am hoping that time will be soon! I am being sent from the village!" Petra replied, with a grin that belied what those words would usually mean.
"Uh, what?" Claude prompted.
"I have completion of my trials!" She answered enthusiastically "Now, a message will be going to every island, and each head-person will come to decide if I will be the next Chief! I am not to be in the village so that my actions may have speaking for themselves. I, and any who would come, shall have a camping until the decision."
"You mean, you get to have an extended beach party while other people do the work? Claude, take notes!" Hilda cheered, previous tears entirely forgotten "This is how you run a place. I'm so excited for you Petra! Oh! I'll have to pack!" She sprang up, taking Petra's arm and peppering her with questions as Claude and Byleth followed on behind in mutual bemusement.
~o~*~o~
Petra's "exile" was to take place on one of the beautiful, sparkling beaches where the sand glittered even more than the sea under sunlight, thanks to the ground arcane crystals that were such a large part of it. With skin contact, the colour of the sand would shift to reflect the spells most natural to that person's anima. When Ignatz let slip a stream of ice-blue from between his fingers he was immediately surrounded by those Brigittes who had come with Petra, asking him to call up the cold spirits and, alarmingly to him but greatly amusing to Dorothea who was translating; if he had a girlfriend already.
Hilda had very cleverly arranged and cajoled and hurried them such that no documents, no work, had come along. If she could have managed it, she'd probably have left all the weapons at the village as well, but that was a step too far when they would be hunting for themselves to keep their provisions fresh. Instead, Byleth was finally able to get some decent sparring practice in and spent much of the first day destroying, and then coaching, anyone who would face her. Then when she had, finally, had her fill, plopped down into the sand alongside Claude to take what she hoped would be the last dose of medicine as they waited for the evening meal to be called.
He set her cup aside for her when she had finished it, and they fell into a congenial silence, until Byleth realised that Claude's gaze was not aimlessly admiring the scenery as he was sometimes wont to do, but focused, intent.
"What is it?" she asked. Claude's head tilted towards her a bit to catch the question, but he didn't immediately turn. After a moment he answered her question with one of his own;
"What do you see there?"
She followed the brief motion of his head to where the Victor brothers were situated. Ignacius stood, regarding the camp, slowly shelling nuts to snack on as they waited for dinner to be ready. Ignatz, having extracted himself from his admirers, was seated a little behind him, sketchbook open in hand, angled to make the most of the fading light, fingers rapidly staining dark from charcoal.
"What" Claude had asked, not "who". She considered a moment, regarding the tableau they presented before giving her answer:
"A shield. Against the wind, against distraction or disruption. Perhaps a caretaker as well, ready to be the disruption when it's time to set other pursuits aside for food." Claude hummed an acknowledgement, but his eyes remained focused that way, heavy with the frown that twisted his lips as well. "What do you see?"
"… A veil." He answered after a pause "To hide something shameful."
It surprised Byleth that his answer didn't surprise her, not entirely. She'd noticed his coolness towards Ignacius but hadn't been able to discern the reason for it; especially when the man was poised to be extremely helpful to Claude's Almyran trading agenda. But this, if Claude was wary of him based on his treatment of Ignatz then…
…Then it couldn't be because of the actual relationship between the brothers, which as far as she had seen was every bit as affectionate and caring as brothers could be. If Ignacius was ashamed of anything it was that his parents didn't support Ignatz's pursuit of art.
"Who-" she began, halted, then took the plunge regardless "who could be ashamed of you, Claude?"
"Oof. Straight for the jugular, eh?" He asked, turning towards her and suddenly jocular "Sorry, but you miss your mark this time. I don't-"
She interrupted him by taking his hand. She kept her eyes down not because his gloves were of any interest but so she couldn't see that fake smile, those eyes that glittered in a mask.
"You once told me you always thought you'd have to scrape by on your wits. That you were an outsider. You weren't just talking about Fódlan nobility and stuffy formal dances then, were you?"
The silence stretched out between them. Byleth was a creature of few words, but Claude was not. When he didn't answer she looked up once more. The falsely glittering mask was gone, but she didn't recognise the expression on his face. As though her motion had galvanized him he suddenly drew a deep breath, spreading his fingers so hers slid, interlaced between them and gently tapping their joined hands against the sand, tiny sparks of red and white flashing where her skin made contact.
"In Almyra," He began slowly "a widower with wealth and title, and young children to look after, can marry where he pleases. Even if that is to the daughter of the hated enemy. 'After all' they say 'his line is secure. So long as he does not give her his title it doesn't matter'. Of course," he huffed a chuckle "there are women who could not be satisfied with being anything less than their husband's equal. 'But that is all right' they say 'so long as they have no children it doesn't matter'." He looked up at her at last, a wry brow raised "Oops." He added with emphasis, using his free hand to gesture towards himself before his eyes slid off once more to some time and place only he could see.
"Then you have a crisis of succession. Because his mother has title, the youngest, the half-breed, the mongrel, has equal claim to his father's position as the first does. And even though those children are raised in the same household by the same parents… they know. Perhaps, in private, they'll be polite, maybe even kind on a good day, but outside they won't acknowledge him, they will never defend him. They wouldn't step in even if-" His hand had been squeezing tighter and tighter around hers, voice rising with emotion, but all at once the pressure released with a sudden breath, as Claude reconsidered his words and carried on in a better-controlled tone; "He can never rely on them. When they blush it's because they're associated with him, not because the people judging are ignorant and prejudiced."
He looked up into her concerned eyes once again, this time with a focused determination that stole her breath "I'm going to change that. That ignorance, that prejudice. That's my dream; it starts with the Locket, then, little by little, I'll build a world where there are no halves, no outsiders. Just… people living side-by-side, together."
A soft, glowing smile spread gently across Byleth's face. "You'll do it." She told him, full of faith and sincerity. "I know you will. Your dream is beautiful."
He blinked at her then grinned, ducking his head bashfully "Y'know, someone else told me that once before."
Before she could ask who, Leonie's voice rose above the chatter of the camp, calling everyone in for food. So instead she stood, pulling him up with her, still smiling and began to wend their way over to the fire.
They fell in with Ignatz and Ignacius as they approached and Byleth's smile grew fuller still when Claude gestured magnanimously for Ignacius to go ahead of them to be served. Although, however happy she was, her patience died immediately when the merchant tried to demure despite Claude's insistence and she stepped forward between the two, Claude's snort of laughter following her.
Well, he should have known better than to hold her up when there was food at stake.
~o~*~o~
Hilda had given every appearance of lazing around the whole day. Gossiping happily with those who came by, and offering her best compliments to anyone who brought her a drink, but actually she was watching. Waiting.
Byleth had been training all day and ew, no thank you! The only sweat Hilda was building up would be from the sun and even that she carefully moderated. But then, as the evening approached, Hilda's watchfulness had paid off; Byleth had reached out to take Claude's hand.
Now all she needed to do was get the General alone to sound her out about it. That was a mission Hilda was well prepared for. She'd been navigating the nobility for as long as she'd been alive. She knew how to approach someone for just "a moment of their time". How to appear close enough to discourage anyone else approaching but not so close as to invite scrutiny.
Just a stroll along the beach to look for shells? An excellent aid for digestion. What a fine idea, even if she did say so herself.
The twilight deepened through shades of pink and violet about them as they meandered along the beach and Hilda did actually pick up a few very pretty shells she thought might make cute accessories. It was only as they began to turn back, retracing their footsteps, that she started on her careful assault;
"Sooo… Is there a reason you and Claude haven't announced your relationship yet?" she asked, with all the curious innocence she could muster.
Byleth's foot wobbled in the sand as she brought it down "Pardon?"
"Just so I don't accidentally say something to the wrong people if you're keeping it private for a reason." Hilda clarified, very unhelpfully for Byleth.
"We -there is no relationship."
"Uh-huh Commander. You don't need to hide it from me! I can keep a secret!"
"I'm not hiding anything." Byleth answered, seeming to have recovered from that little stumble, but her perfect stoicism was a tell; Hilda knew she was off-balance "What gave you that impression?"
Hilda raised a sceptical eyebrow at her, as if she still didn't believe there wasn't a relationship "Well, to start with I think you're in Derdriu more often than I am, not that that would mean much, except for how you and Claude are always just so close. You always seem so much happier around each other. And this evening I saw you together before dinner; I dunno but that moment looked very relationship-y to me. I had to look away you two were so cute!"
"We're friends." Byleth stated, though a slight flush was beginning to creep over her cheekbones.
"You were holding hands. On a beach. At sunset."
Three years of living in close proximity to Flayn and Manuela had certainly taught Byleth a number of things she'd not know before about romantic imagery, and now that it was pointed out to her, she could see what Hilda was getting at. The feelings that bubbled up in her under that disbelieving rose-eyed look she identified as confusion, anxiety, exposure; so she deflected. "Don't friends do that?"
"Sure, but would you have done that with Dorothea? Would you even have done that with Leonie?" Byleth was silent, so Hilda pressed; "But you would with Claude, because to you he's already something more, right?"
~o~*~o~
As full darkness fell Claude had settled in near the great bonfire that had been lit to check the flights on his arrows and clean out his quiver ready for the hunting tomorrow. The task was repetitive, meditative, and he only looked up again some minutes later when there was a sudden flurry of activity beside him. Ignatz rifled frantically through his satchel to find his art supplies and immediately began furiously sketching. Claude followed along the direction of his gaze as he glanced up. Hilda had led Byleth to the other side of the fire, stood whispering her ear and-
-and Byleth was blushing.
Ignatz took a new page, beginning another sketch and bless that man, because Claude was going to have to go over there and make sure Hilda wasn't saying anything she shouldn't be.
The very moment he began to stand, Byleth startled and after muttering something to Hilda took off towards the edge of their camp. Hilda looked smug.
Hilda looked smug. And the gleam in her eye only increased as he stalked towards her.
"Hey!" Leonie called as Byleth paced past her "Don't go too far from the fire, Boss! You've seen the size of the cats out there!" Byleth waved a hand over her shoulder in silent acknowledgement, coming to a halt a few steps above the tide-line where the sand turned hard and flat, right on the edge of the firelight. Out there she was just slightly more shadow than visible.
"You are not thinking the commander might be felled by a jaguar?" Petra asked, as Claude finished his whisper-shouted argument with Hilda and went after her.
"No," Leonie answered easily, taking up Claude's quiver to finish checking it over for him "I'm more concerned she might adopt one."
~o~*~o~
"My Friend, whatever Hilda said, you shouldn't let her chase you off from the fire, it's fine now but this wind will-" Byleth turned as he addressed her and the look on her face halted Claude in his tracks. She was upset. Not the sullen discontent of being subjected to his concoctions or Hilda's ministrations, but true distress and agitation. It was written visibly across her worried brow, in her stance as her head dipped, not meeting his eyes, and in the way she fidgeted with the bracelet on her wrist, her motions small, sharp and contained -but constant.
"I'm the First Commander of the Coalition of Fódlan" she said, "I'm supposed to be neutral."
Something thick crawled its way into Claude's throat and he swallowed heavily against it. He couldn't pretend to misunderstand her. He knew what this was. An answer to a question not yet asked. He wasn't ready for it. He wasn't in control of this conversation. He'd barely recovered from how she'd pulled his history, his dream from him earlier with nothing but a warm hand and comforting look. Nothing but her own steady understanding.
"You can thank me later!" Hilda had chirped at him, but she clearly didn't realise how badly this -Claude took a breath and cut that thought off; it wasn't helpful.
He wasn't ready, but even so he wasn't oblivious to how Byleth had responded to his careful advances recently. She hadn't flinched, hadn't shrunk away from him. The distance between them had been decreasing. He could turn this… he would turn this.
Whatever it may cost him, he had to try.
"On the battlefield." He answered carefully, taking another step towards her. She didn't retreat, but nor did she meet his gaze. "We trust you to make the best decision in the moment, to move whichever units need to be moved regardless of who fielded them. Dimitri and all his chivalry might charge straight in, Edelgard's tactics tend to leave a scorched earth and I, well, I'd hold my people back and let them. You though, if you needed Alliance archers to soften a flank up for Kingdom cavalry or Empire infantry, you'd use them and more of our people would live through the fight because of it. But, off the battlefield…" he trailed, taking a moment to order his words and take another step forwards until they were almost toe-to-toe. Byleth still hadn't moved, but her gaze had risen from his boots to his cravat at least, her hand stilled it's fidgeting, thumb pressing the tiny deer charm of her bracelet against her wrist. "Off the battlefield, out of the war room, nobody expects you to be any different than the rest of us."
"No different than you?" She asked, at last meeting his eyes. Before he could answer, something in the bonfire popped, the logs and branches resettling and she flinched, backing away "I'm sorry, that's-"
"Just like me." Claude answered, catching her arm and shifting so his back blocked her view from the fire. He couldn't hear anything from that way over the waves, although given the complete silence he suspected they had an audience. He didn't dare split his focus to check. He was overly aware of the moment as it was, of the shifting fabric of his sleeve as he reached his other hand forward to tuck some stray hair behind her ear and cup her cheek, of the tremble in his arm (or was it in hers? He couldn't tell) where he held her on the other side, of the starlight in her eyes as she ever-so-slightly tipped her face into his be-gloved palm and not away from it. "We're not on the battlefield just now, Byleth." he spoke lowly, just to her. Almost murmuring so his voice wouldn't carry. "Nor at a council. You can be as partisan and biased as you like. You can dream and hope and want. Just like anyone."
His mask was cast aside, from the heavy blush dusting across her face, her mask may well be laying in fragments around them.
"I-" she tried, faltered, and started again "Hilda made me see that I -I didn't recognise it but -I've been -I've been wanting-" she screwed her eyes shut for a moment in frustration with herself. She didn't have the words. She'd never had the words. It remained her greatest regret, that she didn't have the words to tell her father, and since then she still hadn't learnt to say them. She spoke with her actions; she had studied white magic to keep her troop in health, bought Leonie's debt so she could stay with the troop, spent her lunch hours with Manuela, went fishing with Alois, invited Bernadetta into a place where she could contribute without needing to face anyone outside the circle she was comfortable with. And Claude; how many trips had she made to Derdriu for matters that might easily be resolved by letter? How often had she gravitated to his side, simply inviting herself into his company, fitting him so naturally into her personal space that she didn't even realise she was doing it? Opening her eyes again she lifted her hand to the one holding her face, resting her palm over his to keep it there.
She didn't have the words, but Claude would understand, wouldn't he?
"This?" He asked, thumb brushing over her cheek, his head bending down closer to hers "Would you like -more? To be -a couple, courting, lovers, whatever you want to call it?"
Courting.
Courting was a starting point, wasn't it? If she didn't have the words now, then she had time to learn them. They would learn together.
"Yes," she breathed "Claude, please."
His relieved huff of breath fanned across her face, his smile trembled as if it couldn't quite believe in it's own existence, but his eyes blazed, "Me too," he admitted and Byleth felt her own breath catch. Slowly he moved in, his nose nudged against hers once, twice, looking for any hesitance or reluctance. And on the third-
-a cheer went up from the bonfire, lead by Hilda's excited whoop and Leonie's exclamation of "Finally!"
Byleth startled, but Claude used the motion to pull them a step or two further into the darkness, to further cheers and laughter, but that was fine, let them laugh.
Byleth was still kissing him.