Work Text:
Night settles over Fodlan like a blanket. The darkness beckoning the stars to come hide beneath it and share their secrets.
Claude quietly walks through this blanket of darkness. Each step he makes is quiet, it’s not that he’s sneaking it’s just... well yeah he is sneaking, just not for nefarious reasons. It’s late, there are people asleep; he doesn’t need to go stomping around and waking them all.
Fireflies drift gently in the air and cicadas sing. It’s a hot night for Derdrui. It’s not a hot night for Almyra. Claude finds himself aching for warmth. He picks up his pace, there’s only one place he’ll find the warmth he desires in Fodlan and its two corridors away.
Still he’s silent with his picked up pace. Not daring to disturb what is sure to be a beautiful night.
White marble walls run on each side of his trek. Walls designed to make the heat more bearable. A chill finds its way beneath his skin. Burrows its way deep in his chest. He shivers.
And still he doesn’t make a sound. The stars are forthcoming with their secrets tonight, but there’s only one Claude wishes to share his with and she’s-
Here.
The entrance to their room is a grandiose thing. Whichever ancestor of his decided it would be best to mark the Master’s bedroom with jewels was a moron. He’d change them to something more unassuming, have these doors fixated to some trap that would catch anyone trying to assassinate him and his wife, but right now he’s tired. Every time he remembers he needs to change the doors it’s when he’s tired or busy. He will do it tomorrow though... after his meeting with Lord Gloucester.
Leaving the dreadful thought of tomorrow’s plans behind him, he carefully opens one of the doors. Easing it open just enough for him to sneak in, just before the door creaks, and shuts the door silently behind him.
“I’m home,” he whispers to the silence of their room.
He surveys the room, always making sure nothing’s out of place. Documents at the desk, books askew everywhere; Byleth asleep in bed. He smiles at the sight of home.
He walks carefully towards the bed, he had learnt long ago to not try and sneak up to the bed; something about his footsteps when sneaking always alerted Byleth to his presence. So he just walks, casually; calmly. She stirs, but doesn’t wake.
As soon as he’s close enough, he kisses her forehead. Just a light innocent peck. He resists grinning at the sight before him.
Byleth had... acquired an odd habit since they had gotten married. It was Claude’s fault, but that doesn’t mean he won’t laugh or tease her or enjoy the entire situation. For as long as he could remember he read hundreds of books a year and (sadly) for as long as he remembers he’s never been good at cleaning up the books he’s used. His bed has always been covered in books; he worried it might annoy Byleth when they got together, but... she just curled around the books. Slipping into the spaces available like a cat. It was utterly ridiculous and Claude wondered if it was due to Byleth just being so tired, but when asked-
“I didn’t want to ruin your work. You have a system no matter how chaotic, right?” The palpitations from Claude’s heart would have been worrying if he wasn’t completely sure why it suddenly increased. He’s falling more and more in love with Byleth.
He picks up the books he had left on the bed earlier that morning. Puts a couple on the bedside table; the rest he takes over to the desk with him (after one last kiss to Byleth’s head).
He sits at the desk with a sigh. Candle light brought closer as he takes out a quill and a leather bound book.
.
Harpstring Moon, Year 1189
Dearest Byleth,
I returned to you late today and not due to any machinations of my own. No. Our friends lay in wait and accosted me for information. Truly their ploy of waiting until I was tired from the flight and hours of work would be praiseworthy if they hadn’t broadcasted their intentions for all to hear. You’d think they’d be better at subterfuge after your tutelage and my leadership, but alas. They’re hopeless.
You’ll be glad to hear I did not give them the information they desired; it is a trifle more personal than they would usually ask. It’s understandable they’d question though, given the subject of the rumours that peaked their interest and- I must admit. Even if not in person, though knowing you you’ll pry the information from me sooner rather than later, I am scared. Terrified really.
Pregnancy. It’s a little overwhelming if I’m honest, but not for the reasons one would assume.
I have no fear of either of our parenting skills. We’ve overcome much more and if we’re honest; government acts more like a child than a baby does. I have no fear of the sudden nature of our parenthood; sure I’d have preferred to have planned ahead, but this is you we’re talking about my wife; you never fail to surprise me. And it’s not like I hadn’t had plans to start a family with you; quite the contrary. Some of my greatest dreams involved the two of us with an infant to call our own. No. The usual fears I’ve heard parents-to-be complain of have no bearing on me. I fear for you.
This fear could be completely unfounded. I’m aware. But, on the off chance I’m right... I’ve never wished to be proven wrong so strongly in my life.
I’ll explain, you probably don’t know what I’m talking about (or maybe you do; you always were good at predicting me). But, the nature of your birth. You’ve explained, Rhea explained, the difficulty behind it. How you were born dead and your Mother sacrificed herself for you. I worry. You would do the same if the situation proves similar, I have no doubt of that, and I... I’m not sure how to process that. Without you in my life... what am I to do?
Of course look after our child. Provide them with the love that you and I already have for them (it is surely destined to grow as we greet them in this world). Of course continue our hard work towards peace. We’ve worked too hard and I’ve had this dream for too long to do otherwise. But, other than that... what else could I possibly do? Without you? It’ll all feel so dull.
I... I guess I’ve found another use for this journal.
.
Claude stops. Quill in hand; words failing. How could he...
He sighs, rests the quill carefully in the ink pot and, making sure the ink has dried, turns the pages of the book. All the way back to the beginning. The book started awfully. Embarrassing to look back on. Really.
Claude smiles as he looks at the first page. The handwriting was so careful. Each word carefully printed.
.
Guardian Moon, Year 1181
Teach,
I have a plan. A plan to take down the Empire and bring peace to Fodlan. A plan that, more importantly, will tear down the walls of Fodlan and bring peace beyond these borders. I have a plan, but I need you for it to work.
I need you.
Sincerely waiting,
Claude, your friend.
.
Such a simple first entry. More of a note than anything. Claude had analysed every word. Scrutinised his entire vocabulary. Worrying. He had kept it short. To the point. There was no heart to his message. It wasn’t what he wanted. He tried again.
.
Guardian Moon, Year 1181
Sorry Teach,
That... wasn’t what I meant to write. I mean it was. I tried hard to write the perfect message; you might have noticed. You’d probably say I tried too hard. You wouldn’t be wrong. You definitely wouldn’t be wrong. I... should probably explain what this is about. It would be weird to suddenly be given a book dedicated to you and you alone, but...
I have your Father’s journal. Jeralt had a lot of secrets about you in there, I couldn’t just leave it behind after the monastery collapsed. Don’t worry I didn’t risk my life or anything, but I got it before anyone could even think to look for it... I’m not sure anyone else would have looked for it. The monastery is pretty deserted these days.
So, Jeralt’s journal. I’ve been reading it a lot nowadays, can recite it passage to passage, it’s comforting. Reading about you. You weren’t exactly a normal child, you caused Jeralt no end of problems, but you brought him so much joy. You bring me so much joy, so while you’re not here the journal is comforting. I can pretend for a few minutes that everything’s ok.
Everything is not ok. The Empire is not relenting. The Kingdom has basically fallen. The little resistance they still provide is the only reason the Alliance hasn’t been slaughtered yet. But, we’re next. I have plans to delay them; plans that can provide the citizens with the means of escape, but the only plans I have where the Alliance win... you’re there. Standing by my side.
I need you Teach. I will wait for you. This hope might be unfounded. Maybe you’ve already fallen to the Empire, maybe Edelgard has you trapped somewhere, yet I don’t believe that. This unshakable belief I have in you makes me wait. Even if I die; I shall wait. But, I need you to carry everything on. I need you to understand my plans. So here I am writing. Telling you my every devious thought.
Of course it’s not all business. I told you that I take comfort in your Father’s journal because of you, didn’t I? I hope, in the case of my untimely death, that this will bring you comfort. I recall how devastated you were after your Father’s death, I’d never presume that my death would affect you so, but if it does. If you need something to help you through the initial pain I hope this can.
I’ll keep you updated.
Eternally waiting,
Claude, your favourite student.
.
He remembers the day fondly. He had been panicking for hours, sleepless hours of just thinking. His first message was truly dreadful. What was he to do about it? Rip it out? It would be obvious. Byleth would question what he had done to the book. An unsolvable mystery. A boring one at that. And how was he meant to write? Formally like a letter to a Lord? Casually like a friend? What were Byleth and Claude at the end of the day? Certainly not student and teacher; not anymore. But, what were they?
That was a question he wouldn’t have an answer to for years, but he got an answer on how to write. All it took was to stop thinking and just start writing. He had never spoken formally to his teacher before, why should he start now? And sure he was going to reveal all his plans and secrets in this journal, but it had a secondary purpose. His favourite moments in Jeralt’s journals were the unsolicited comments. The sly remarks. The brutal honesty. Claude needed to be honest. More honest than he’s ever been before.
It was surprisingly easy when addressing his teacher on the page.
.
Red Wolf Moon, Year 1181
Byleth!
You will not believe what I came across today. Hilda. Good old woe-is-me Hilda putting effort in. Surely this can only mean the end of the Alliance!
I should probably stop teasing, even if Hilda will never have the delight of seeing this, she was helping me after all. She was forced, in place of her Father and brother, to attend one of those delightful Alliance meetings. You’d expect her to do the minimum and delegate her responsibilities onto others, but she actually backed up my arguments and helped keep order. I’m going to assume it’s so she could return home to do nothing quicker; every other option brings me nothing but fear.
I am grateful though. More grateful than Hilda could ever imagine. I really need the help right now. I really need-
You’ve probably grown tired of reading it by now and you’ll definitely grow tired of hearing it when we re-meet, but I really need you. I’m sure I’ve exhausted you with the details of my schemes and I won’t bore you with those details now. Thankfully I can still explain why I need you right now; for once it’s not for the betterment of our world.
My grandfather died.
.
Claude remembers he was called away at this point in his writing. A new emergency on the horizon. His people had just been provided the information that Dimitri had been killed. The Alliance was abuzz. Unsettled. They were next weren’t they? Without the Empire’s gaze focused elsewhere they’d be next, right?
It had been a long night. Claude came back to his room as the sun was rising. The sun’s beams illuminating the page he left off. He hadn’t even the chance to hide his precious gift for his dearest friend.
He settled back in front of the book. His limbs heavy. His heart aching. He did not cry, but a part of him pitied his fellow ex-house leaders. How did Dimitri go? How was Edelgard faring?
He picked up his pen again.
.
Dimitri is dead.
It seems like all I can do nowadays is fend off the inevitable death and even that I fail at. I grow weary of this war Byleth. I understand the inescapable nature of war and death and yet it still brings me down. Still hurts to live through.
I wish you were here. A conversation from you, your support; whatever facial expression you provide (a smile or your stoic acceptance). Any of it would help. Make every day more bearable. I long for you.
They say absence makes the heart grow fonder and they speak truth Byleth. Maybe it’s the mind’s trickery; foolishly omitting the bad, but I don’t think it is. I recall the frustration of not understanding everything about you. Can recall with clarity when I almost let that frustration out when you refused to share your secrets with me. I remember truly fearing you one day, your strength insurable. If you hadn’t picked me... I don’t know what I’d have done. If you ever betrayed me... there’s no scheme that would keep me my life. Yet, amongst these negatives there’s far too much positive.
Your optimism. Your goodness. Your strength. Your concern. Your guidance. Your acceptance.
That last one means so much to me. I’m sure you’ve already figured this out, but I need you to know; I need to tell you, that I’m an outsider. That I’m not from Fodlan. I may be House Leicester’s leader, but before that I’m Almyra’s heir to the throne and before that I’m alone. I truly belong to neither; neither want me. In Almyra I’m considered weak. In Fodlan I’m considered a beast. I want to unite both lands and then disappear in the night. Most likely to reap the benefits I’ve painstakingly acquired. To finally not be an outsider. Your acceptance. It makes me-
It makes me feel like I belong.
I need you. More than for schemes and power. I need you to remind me that I’m not alone. That I belong. That I have a place. More than anything I need you to tell me my place is beside you. I need you Byleth and this wait is painful. It feels like I’m walking across a tightrope, balancing the world’s problems on my shoulders as the rope beneath my feet is constantly shrinking. I’m not sure if your appearance will provide me the ability to suddenly fly or make the burdens disappear, but please arrive before the string all but disappears.
I don’t want to die, but I fear the longer we‘re apart the more likely this is to be my fate.
Impatiently waiting,
Your Claude, always.
.
He had frantically wrote that last part. It was obvious to see. His hand writing was messy. Ink blots splattered across the page and the entry was... a little all over the place. He had been desperate. He had been alone. His only salvation had been his writing. Writing he could never guarantee would be read by the desired party. Still he had laid his heart bare and then he had withdrawn to his bed. Physically and emotionally spent. There was still much to be done, but rest was important.
His sleep was fitful. His body and heart aching for something he couldn’t receive yet.
Flicking through different entries he can’t help but smile. Whether the entry deserves his happiness or not.
An entry about him happening upon Leonie after her first taste of a mercenary mission. Her growing hair an absolute mess and he offering his hairband to her. Her griping as she accepted it and insisting they go for a drink like true mercenaries. Leonie was a horrible drunk. Claude couldn’t help but wonder is this mercenary ‘tradition’ was one Byleth kept and if she did what kind of drunk she was.
An entry involving Lorenz actually working together with him. It shouldn’t have surprised him; the issue at hand involving the common people struggling for food as the Empire completely cut off trade with them. But, it had and it was obvious in his entry for Byleth. He had asked her if maybe he had misjudged Lorenz a little. Told Byleth she’d be proud of their work.
One entry he spoke of his parents. Telling Byleth of his childhood. How his parents loved him dearly, trained him well, would let him get away with murder if he wished, but had a sadistic enjoyment in watching him struggle. He shared his wishes of wanting Byleth to meet them. Telling her she’d show them up with her strength; how he’s already bragged about her. He forces a one sided promise that she will visit them with him once she’s returned.
It’s not hard to see it. His undying love for Byleth. Claude had thought it to be friendship. He hadn’t trusted enough, been accepted enough, to believe he had a friend before. Allies of course. Pawns most definitely. Byleth had been both of them before she had won the title of ‘my friend’, but it’s obvious to Claude now. Now that he’s asked for her hand, now that he’s married her; now that he’s more intimate with her (and she him) than anyone else prior. Now he can tell he was in love with her. Smitten. He sometimes worries about where he’d be if he hadn’t realised that he loved her. If he had foolishly believed his emotions to be friendship for the rest of his life.
He’d probably have left both countries as soon as he was done. He’d probably be orbiting ever closer to Byleth seeking her warmth, or hiding from it; a reminder of what he could of had. Thankfully. He realised. Thankfully. She accepted. Thankfully. He realised quickly.
.
Ethereal Moon, Year 1185
My friend,
You came back to me us. I’ve never been so thankful. I’m not religious, as you know, but seeing you there. The sunlight catching in your hair. I almost wanted to send a prayer of thanks to the Goddess. Though, I guess in a way I’d be sending a prayer your way, what with the Goddess giving you her powers. I-
Thank you. For returning. I had no doubts of course. You can read the years of me believing. But, seeing you there it’s- it’s something else. And working side by side once again. Your skills haven’t rusted at all my friend. I-
There’s so much I want to write, but I can’t. Not now. Now that you’re back I... I have to go see you again. But, one last wish. Call it a plea or a prayer if you must.
Byleth there’s something I realised when I met you today at the Goddess tower. The very same tower we prayed together for our ambitions to come true. I... I need time to understand this. I need time to figure out what this means. Can I beg you to wait for me to understand it all? I mean, it’s only fair, I’ve waited five years for you and-
You’re lovely. Absolutely lovely. That’s what I realised today and- how do I process this? I... please I beseech you to wait for me. I just need some time. Some time to understand and-
I’m leaving now. I- I can’t bear to be away from you right now.
Thank you,
Claude, your foolish schemer.
.
You can read his eagerness. His desperation. It would be pitiful, if Claude had any shame. Ultimately he’s just amused and honestly; the book just gets gushier from this point onwards. Claude can’t remember the last time he wrote about one of his plans; not that he’s needed them in a while. No, now it’s all for Byleth to enjoy at her own pleasure. Now it’s just Claude praising her endlessly. He makes Jeralt’s similar musings about Byleth’s mother seem pitiful. Maybe he took too much influence from his journal.
He grins. Uncontrollably. His lip refusing to twitch anyway but up. Truly this journal has been a blessing. Helping him through the worse moments of his life. Giving him a place to safely gush and confess. Allowing his fears to be released. It’s filled with so much for Byleth. But, not just for Byleth. Not just Byleth...
He turns back to today’s unfinished piece; just a little more and he can slip into bed with his wife.
.
This journal isn’t just for you Byleth, maybe it never really was. Maybe I wrote to help myself through the hard moments, to help organise my thoughts. I’d have eagerly bounced my ideas against you prior to those five long years without you, so maybe that’s why I dedicated all of this to you. Sure, this journal is all I’ve ever said it would be. It would comfort you, direct you; share my every thought, but not only that. It would help me get my feelings out when I’m unable, help me see straight when the path is curved and now if you do die an untimely death. It would be my salvation.
Should anything go wrong through your pregnancy this will be my salvation. Should anything happen after you’ve given birth this will be my salvation. If anything ever happens to you this will be my salvation.
You’ve truly had me wrapped around your delicate little finger. Maybe ever since I first met you. You were a treasure trove of those secrets I love, so you were always going to have my intrigue. You are truly terrifying on the battlefield, so my awe and fear were promised from the beginning. Your happiness has been my goal for a long while now; I’d fly to the ends of the world to keep you happy. I am powerless to your whims.
Byleth. If you must sacrifice yourself for our child do not worry for me. I will raise our child well and this journal will keep us company. Though, I will do everything in my power to keep us all alive. Parenthood can only be sweeter with you by my side. I know you will already do everything in your power to keep us all going.
I’ll love you for all eternity,
Claude, your dear husband.
.
Rereading the entry over, to correct any obvious mistakes, he closes the book once he’s happy. Hiding the book away, and by hiding he means placing it on the bookshelf where Jeralt’s journal stays. Only Byleth would dare pick it up and she won’t, for now. Claude having explained what it was long ago.
He walks back over the bed, stripping his shirts off as he goes. Sitting on the side of the bed he removes his boots. He should just stand back up and finish stripping so he can curl up with Byleth. It’s cold in the night air and Byleth’s warmth is so tantalising. He wants to fall asleep surrounded by it. Before he can do that though, he can’t help but observe his wife for a while.
Her face is completely at peace as she sleeps. He’d say completely dead to the world, but he knows she’s a lighter sleeper than he is and well that should be impossible. Even a breeze can wake him up. Maybe that’s why they sleep so well together; both of them understand the dangers of slumber.
It’s her stomach under the covers that draw his gaze tonight. It makes sense considering where his thoughts have dwelled. He curls his hand around her stomach. There’s the faintest bump, not nearly large enough to be a hindrance, but large enough that people are starting to notice. They’ve known for a few months now and decided to keep it to themselves. There were going to be so many demands from certain Almyran and Alliance officials as soon as they confirm it. He’d rather keep this to themselves.
He slides onto the bed, so his head is resting right by Byleth’s stomach. Right by their unborn child.
“I know if you turn out anything like me you’re going to be a handful,” he whispers to his child. His hands stroking along Byleth’s sides. “But, be kind to your Mother. She deserves some unconditional happiness for once.”
He presses a kiss to Byleth’s stomach. A kiss to their child. Before continuing to get ready. As he slips into bed beside Byleth, his arms wrapping about her middle, their child, he wonders if Hanneman has discovered any new tech designed to make birth easier. He’ll ask him tomorrow. After his meeting with the Lord of Gloucester-
The warmth seeps beneath his flesh. Byleth’s fingers instinctively tangling with his own. He falls asleep amongst a blanket of darkness. Only the stars a witness to his fears. For now at least. One day Byleth will read his journal; hopefully not for decades to come though.