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Claude didn’t trust words. They could be twisted and bent, misremembered and rewritten as much as one whimmed it. No, no stock could be put in words.
For him, actions spoke far louder than words.
He always abided by that.
He wanted to go to Fódlan. It wasn't as though he was betraying Almyra, though he knew the neighbors thought otherwise. He loved the people of the country. But he loved his other half as well, and he needed to find out more about the both of them.
If Almyra were to truly prosper, it would need to break down the walls between it and Fódlan, and that would begin with Fódlan’s Locket.
It was a harsh and threatening fortress. He had seen it once, on a casual flight with Nader, and from there his heart was set.
He had a last name with power, and he would use it to his best ability.
When he told his mother he was moving, she only laughed, slapping him hard on the back several times. After she’d gotten her giggles, and realized he was serious, she gave him a small brown box, longer than it was tall.
Within was a letter, yellowed and crinkled from age, written in quick handwriting he recognized as hers.
It was a letter recognizing him as House Riegan’s heir.
He left, for Fódlan, for hope of a better chance at a better world. He didn’t bother telling his mother why he was going to Fódlan, and she didn’t bother asking. It was what he did in Fódlan that truly mattered.
Life was unfair.
Claude may have had a tiny, baby crush on his teacher. Not even a crush— more like overwhelming admiration. After all, she bore the Sword of the Creator. That was why he was so interested in her, why his eyes kept drifting from her notes to her in class.
He, much to his chagrin, spent the dance more preoccupied with Byleth’s dance partners rather than his own.
After an awkward waltz with Ingrid and an earful on his awful dancing, he decided to escape to the Goddess Tower. Away from Byleth’s glowing smile as she twirled with Sylvain and giggled with Marianne. To see others getting her to smile so easily made his heart twinge in ways he disliked.
Lo and behold, fate truly hated him that night. She happened to meet him there, clearly exhausted from the non-stop dancing.
He kept his words simple and floaty. Distant. She was his damned teacher, he couldn’t be flirting with her. Now wasn’t the time anyway; he had grander plans that he couldn’t afford to lose focus from.
Though, he knew Byleth was the key.
So maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get her on his team a little early. She’d already chosen his house, of course, but there was nothing to lose by showing her just how important she was to him. Casually, of course. Casually. Flippant and cool Claude reporting for duty.
He rattled off a rumor he couldn’t care less about and put his hands together in a prayer he knew would reach no one.
She seemed interested, at least. If nothing else she was lending an ear to his rambles.
But the next part was what he really cared about. Prayers about a school legend were nothing.
She accepted his offer to dance with a slight smile. A smile! Byleth emoted so rarely, it was a miracle to see her with anything but a look of disgruntled confusion. And that was a smile for him!
They reentered the ballroom together, and he offered his hand for a dance properly, with a slight bow and a wide grin. He heard Hilda and some other students whispering to the side. She took his hand just as dramatically, pressing her other hand to her heart as dramatically as possible. Hilda could eat her heart out.
He danced, danced with all his night, keeping his words tight to his chest and instead pouring his heart to the sway of his hips, his hand wrapped gently around hers.
I need you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.
It was a complicated emotion, for which words were not sufficient. Action wasn't either, not truly, but it was all he had.
Byleth suddenly crumpled to the ground.
He thought his heart stopped. Was she dead?
No, he realized, gently patting her face, she was definitely alive. Just unconscious. Asleep.
He called for Hilda and together they carried her back to the monastery.
She chittered vaguely about the crush they both knew didn’t exist, Kronya’s horrifying makeup job, and the size of Solon’s forehead. He knew she was cheering him up, in her way, and he played along.
When they returned, he let Hilda scurry away and carried Byleth on his shoulders to her room.
Not a moment after laying her on the bed, Manuela burst into the room and began bustling about. After heavy insistence from Claude’s end, she allowed him to stay and help her with the non-magical healing.
Not that there was much to do. From a quick inspection, there was no immediate danger to Byleth— she’d simply fainted, likely from whatever fusion had happened with the goddess.
Still, it was Claude’s idea to remove her bloody armor (with Manuela’s watchful eyes), brush the dirt and grass from her hair, and bring her soup for when she woke.
He didn’t even know if Byleth would realize it was him, or if she’d assume it was Manuela, or the magical touch of the soup-giver-and-dirt-removing fairy. It made no difference. As long as she was taken care of, Claude knew it would be alright.
It had been one thing, to prattle on and on about reforming Fódlan. It was another to truly make it happen.
It would begin, he decided, with ending the war. And that would begin with upholding a five-year-old promise.
The monastery looked empty enough, from the outside. The giant stained-glass window in the chapel was still broken, and flying around Claude realized the entire monastery had been abandoned in the aftermath of the Imperial assault. With a deft pull of his reigns he’d landed his wyvern inside the chapel without a scratch.
He gave her a good stroke on the neck and instructed her to lay out of sight.
The rest of the class was late, of course. They never were good at showing up on time.
Or maybe he was early. The sun was barely creeping over the hillside. Maybe he was a bit anxious about not seeing the professor and accidentally missing her. Maybe.
Oh, who was he kidding.
He was putting his promise into action. He could only hope Byleth would do the same. He needed her more than ever.
It had been five hard years, inheriting the House Riegan, trying to manage the discordant Alliance nobility, all while the Kingdom crumbled. When he could, he would send letters to Lorenz, trying to maintain solidarity with House Gloucster as they sided with the Empire. Most of the Golden Deer had returned home after the Battle of Garreg Mach, and he used their friendship as leverage whenever he could.
But, but. He was only one man, and without his professor, he wasn't much more than a schemer without a scheme.
In the distance, he heard the shuffle of footsteps. Slow and tentative, but not sneaky, not like a thief.
She was here. With perfect timing, the sun had begun to truly rise above the sky, brilliant and bright, beckoning forth a new day.
Byleth's steps hesitated as she rounded the staircase, her face hidden in the shadows of the archway. He spoke the first thing to his mind-- a quick jape about sleeping, enough to get her to jump.
She moved forward, and the light hit her in full. She looked the same as ever; mint green hair, verdant green eyes, and a mild expression. Full of life and hope, as if time had never touched her.
Oh, how long it had been. At last, the new dawn had arrived.
Byleth looked tiny with the ring in her hands, running her index finger over the delicate green gems.
Before he knew it, he spoke. ”I love you.” He couldn’t recall the last time the words touched his lips. "With everything I am. And the next time we see each other... it will be at the dawn of a whole new world. A peaceful, happy world."
He hugged her tightly against his chest.
Claude never said it before, yet somehow he knew it had to be true. He didn’t know when it had happened, didn’t know how. But it didn’t matter, not really. He knew, she knew. The words were more like the bow on a present than the gift itself.
Byleth didn’t speak. She kept hugging him, and he allowed her to soak in the moment.
Claude opened his mouth to respond, and she kissed him quiet.
”Actions speak louder than words, you know.” She gave him a cheeky grin and poked him on the nose. Like a child!
He groaned and grabbed her by the waist, twirling her in the air.
He would have to leave soon. But he would come back and fulfill his dream, and when he did, all would be well.