Everything is ready. The wagons have been loaded, leather oiled, mail polished, extra bowstrings packed, spearheads assembled, barding fitted –it has all been triple-checked. The army is ready. At daybreak they will move out to the plains to meet Nemesis and end this dark chapter of Fódlan's history.
All that remains is to sleep. So, naturally, Claude's brain has gone into overdrive working through his next steps. Almyra is never far from his thoughts of late. The closer they come to bringing Fódlan together, united and peaceful, prepared to look out at the rest of the world, the heavier it weighs on him.
Nader is a blessing; already he'll be telling tales of the battle at Merceus. Of Grondor and Myrddin, of Claude's skill with bow and wyvern, laying a groundwork of success for him to build upon (the thought flits across his mind that he'll likely have several ridiculous titles to choose from by the time he makes it across the border; each longer than the last).
It is a start –and a good one. But it has been almost eight years since he last set foot in his homeland and his mind reels as it tries to calculate who will be his ally, his enemy –who even remains in power and influence that he knows of? Who is likely to have risen, who will have fallen, what will his first opportunity to prove himself be? To prove the value of Fódlan?
The Star Terrace is, aptly, the best place in the monastery to view the stars and his feet had led him there automatically; but tonight it isn't enough. Nemesis is coming at them from the south, but it is east he faces. He should be sleeping, tomorrow is too important to mess up because he's fatigued; but his mind isn't on tomorrow, it is on all the days after tomorrow as he reaches forward to something better, something beautiful. Something too vast for the stars to soothe him.
A quiet step sounds behind him, but he knows that gait like his own pulse and the world sharpens around him. Only she could pull him so easily from possibilities into the present. "Evening, Teach" he speaks, loud enough to reach her, while he keeps his gaze on the stars "Couldn't sleep again either?"
"No, I'm tired enough" she admits, and he can hear the concern in her voice "I just needed to do one last patrol."
"Ah." He says, and leaves it there, knowing he's exposed himself but confident she won't think less of him for it. She knows his mind is rarely quiet and he wonders, suddenly, if this last patrol was for him. It's easy to believe –it is the sort of thing she would do. It's too easy to hope it means more than just one friend checking on another, that the far-off dawn he's working towards could be exactly as he wishes it.
The stars aren't helping. His dream has only grown bigger and more detailed. The steps to get there more numerous.
"You won't achieve your dreams because the stars make them seem smaller." Byleth's voice cuts through his introspection as she comes to stand alongside him "You'll achieve them because you're capable, because your friends will support you."
He chuckles; of course Teach would see right through him. "And you?" he asks, not turning, but tilting his head just enough to glance at her –and it always surprises him that he has to look down to catch her eye, her sheer presence belies her stature.
"Of course." She answers, surprised "Am I not your friend?"
"You're something else entirely, Teach." He responds, nudging his shoulder against hers. "Irreplaceable. We wouldn't… we couldn't have gotten nearly this far without you. To call you 'Friend' isn't nearly enough." And that is the truth as he knows it. As he had lived it. Five years taking all of his effort just to stay in place, until she had returned and his schemes and plans had finally aligned and he could move forward. He needed her command of the battlefield, her calm instructions to anyone seeking to train, her endless efforts to improve moral, her quick grasp of his schemes, her smiles, her –everything.
Byleth Eisner is not a guiding star leading him forward. She is a supernova, filling his vision and spilling her light into all of his plans.
And somehow he has to bring Almyra round to heel without her. There is no-one else he trusts to leave Fódlan to. They will be apart –but he swears to himself it will not be five years this time. If he can possibly help it, it won't even be five months. His dream was always noble, but his motivations were personal; and nothing had ever motivated him like she did.
"You said something like that before…" she muses and he turns at last to face her directly
"Did I? I'll have meant it just as much then too." This is the limit, he knows, to go further would be dangerous. This is as much as he can say when there is still a battle to be won tomorrow and an entire country standing between them. After, once the battle is won, when Nemesis has been defeated and Fódlan is secure, then he can tell her the rest; all of his secrets, the name he'd borne long before 'Riegan', the full extent of his dream, the place he's built for her in it, if she'll have him. "Can't be doing without you, Teach."
She is smiling at him, he realises, reaching forward to take his hand. "I'm with you. Always." And he is stunned, left breathless by her simple sincerity. He shouldn't be, he knows she chose him –chose the Deer- in the first place, he knows she is at his side, on his side and had been even during the times when he hadn't deserved her (nobody deserved her, but there were moments when he especially hadn't, and he knows it). Perhaps it isn't too much to hope for that she will keep choosing him, that fate will grant him this miracle. Her smile shifts, and he doesn't know this expression; it is gentle, delicate, her eyes glitter with starlight and, oh, how he hopes this look is just for him. She squeezes his hand in hers "Get some sleep, Claude. We won't make it far without you either."
He nods, agreeing, and she holds his hand just a moment longer, finding assurance in his eyes, trusting that he will find his way down shortly, before she heads back to her own rest, slipping away as quietly as she had come.
He gazes heavenward once more; but his mind is clear. Who needs stars when they have Byleth Eisner in their corner, making even his ambitious pipedreams possible?
"Set you stars," he whispers to the night "At dawn I shall win. I shall win." His eyes light on Byleth, making her way back towards the dormitory, glowing in the moonlight, effortlessly capturing his attention by the mere act of existing
"I shall win."