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“I don’t know what the future holds, but… come what may, will you stay by my side?”
Memories of snow-white hair and rosy cheeks come flooding in. Memories of a tower made for gods and a passionate red.
“You chose to protect me at the Holy Tomb. Will you choose me again?”
Violet eyes shine bright in the foggy haze. It’s hard to say who is speaking, but the unbearable urge to reply ‘yes’ is all that’s clear.
“What I’m trying to say is… I love you.”
“I love you too, El.”
Vocal cords act of their own volition before there is even a sense of clarity to be found. But the way that simple, one-syllable name flows right off the lips—the shape it takes, the movements it makes—begins to shine some light. The haze starts to fade and suddenly the situation is familiar.
“From now on, we walk this path together.”
It’s Edelgard von Hresvelg standing there, so open and vulnerable, her face turning the color of her scarlet ensemble. Edelgard von Hresvelg standing tall as an emperor, but timid as a woman in love.
Such a scene should be utterly shocking for the figure that she is, but instead feels pleasantly appropriate. Appropriate for all the time spent with her, all the hesitant gazes, all the hard-fought battles, all the painful decisions. All done for her.
Everything was for her, and it shouldn’t be any other way.
But for some agonizing reason, this familiar scenery feels too much like a distant memory. Not the kind of distant memory that surfaces after years of a well-earned happily-ever-after. But a distant memory from a lifetime ago.
The heart-shattering pleas that beg her to stay aren’t enough to keep that warm red from fading into the past.
Life must go on.
There’s a world in need, and it’s time to wake up.
——
Byleth comes back to reality, chest heaving. Hands that feel too wide grasp at their shoulders, and for a split second, the bed fit for a king is too small to breathe in—too confined to share. But they start to regain composure as they notice the concerned look they’re receiving.
Claude’s gentle, green eyes stare down at Byleth, wide and worried.
That’s right, there’s no reason to feel unsafe next to Claude.
Claude: their friend, their partner, their leader, their husband. It all comes rushing back, guilt in tow.
“Are you okay?”
Byleth has to shake away the invasive memories to murmur, “M’fine.”
The concern doesn’t fade from his face, “You were yelling in your sleep. You kept saying the name El.”
Unsurprised by the information, Byleth can’t bring theirself to meet Claude’s eyes. They aren’t worthy of such genuine care and unadulterated love.
Leaning back into his pillow, Claude eases his features and tucks a stray hair behind Byleth’s ear, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I just don’t want you to worry about something on your own. We share our burdens, remember?”
Now, our burdens are for you and me to share.
Edelgard’s voice tugs at Byleth’s heart, ringing in their ears as clear as the first time they heard it.
Byleth’s dry throat stings as they swallow. Slowly, they push theirself into a sitting position, “It was just a past lover.”
“Oh?” Claude feigns his usual, nonchalant attitude, shifting to rest his head on his fist, “I would’ve thought I’d have heard about somebody like that by now. Do I know them?”
Claude understands Byleth’s silence just as well as he understands any of their diluted emotions. He concedes to sitting back up, shoulder just barely touching his lover’s. He doesn’t try to elicit eye-contact from them.
“I don’t know any El’s, but… can I take a stab in the dark?”
Byleth only hums their consent, yielding to the ever-present knowledge that Claude is too smart for his own good.
“Is it Edelgard?”
The understanding that Claude had already caught on proves to be too weak of a buffer for the confrontation. But as overwhelming as the emotions are, Byleth is simply too tired to react. They pull their legs up to their chest as they mumble their affirmation, “It is.”
Claude only leans his head back as he hums. It’s not a noise of anger or sorrow or disappointment. Just one of thought. Gently, he turns his head—not enough to look Byleth in the face—but just enough to warrant their attention, “Y’know, I’ve had a feeling that was the case for awhile now.”
For the first time this evening, Byleth can’t help but whip their head to face Claude, wide-eyed with shock and uneasiness.
But just as they had interpreted through his voice, he’s not upset at all. If anything, he’s looking at Byleth with something like pity—slight and unintentional as it may be. Byleth can’t bring theirself to be bothered by it though, because his smile—his genuine smile—is enough to set them at ease. The way his sleep-worn eyes crinkle at the edges as he gazes at them and his unkempt hair curls to provide the perfect frame. The Claude that’s presently beside them is what’s familiar to them now. Claude is their home.
Slowly, he takes their hand in his; first reaching out with his pinky, before pulling their palm into his warm embrace. “Back in our academy days—when it was still an academy—I’d see how you’d look at her. I used to think that you regretted joining our house instead of her’s.”
Guilt stings at Byleth with the observation, but they let him continue.
“Even after the war started—after you woke up—I’d catch you on the upper floor of the dormitory going to her room. I wanted to think you were trying to research her as an enemy but,” Claude lets out a mirthless laugh, “I, uh… I saw you once. While you were in there, I mean. You looked like you wanted to cry and I couldn’t understand why. At that point, I didn’t doubt that you were loyal to our cause, but I knew there had to be something there. If not for Edelgard as a leader, then for her as…” he goes silent as he thinks for the right word, his hand remaining still in Byleth’s. His features don’t falter again as he continues, “For her as herself.”
“I’m sorry,” Byleth isn’t quite sure what exactly it is they’re saying it for, but they feel they need to regardless.
“You don’t have to apologize,” Claude gives their hand a reassuring squeeze and turns to face them completely. His smile is soft but so full of undeserved beauty, “I have my fair share of questions, but I know what you had with her was in the past. I don’t doubt that you love me now.”
And when Claude brings their intertwined hands up to kiss their knuckles, Byleth knows that he loves them too. As he said himself: there is no doubt in that.
“You’re too good to me,” Byleth can’t help the grin that’s spreading as Claude leans forward to place another kiss at the corner of their lips.
“Really? Great, now I can stop putting in effort,” his warm laugh, spills over their own smile.
It’s moments like these that truly set Byleth at ease; the moments where all they can feel is their pure love for Claude. These are the moments that they feel most grateful for the life they have. He’s right, they did love Edelgard, but that’s in the past. And right now, in the present, Claude is here for them, as loving and understanding as always. It’s for this very reason that Byleth realizes he deserves some answers to those questions they both know he has.
Byleth stops him from leaning in once again with a hand on his chest, “I know you put a lot of value in it, but what would you say if I told you there was more than one possible ‘fate?’”
Claude obliges to leaving some space as his eyebrows knit in consideration, “Is this an actual, hypothetical question or another one of those Sothis situations that we like to talk about in rhetoric?”
“It… is a ‘Sothis situation,’ yes,” Byleth can’t help but huff out a laugh.
Claude holds his chin in thought as he provides, “Well, then I’d say that you don’t have to keep talking about your celestial knowledge in analogies… And that it’s an interesting concept. How would you know that it’s true, though?”
For as comical as he’s acting, Byleth can see the gears turning, his interest already piqued. There goes a fleeting moment in which they consider not telling the truth, worrying that their most loved one might not believe them. But the anxiety quickly fades as they reassure theirself that if anyone were to believe their bizarre history, it would be Claude.
Byleth stretches their legs out in front as they meddle with their fingers—something to focus their jittery nerves on while they attempt to recount their strange relationship with fate.
“I would know it’s true because I’ve lived through a different turn of fate. One where the empire won.”
It’s no surprise that Claude seemed to be expecting an answer like that, but the way he goes stiff next to them does not go unnoticed. And yet, he doesn’t stop them. Eyes still trained on Byleth, Claude allows them to continue.
“In that…” a hand is waved in the air as Byleth tries to conjure the appropriate wording, “timeline, we’ll call it, I was the Black Eagles’ professor.” The hand returned to their lap as they start twiddling their thumbs once again, “I oversaw Edelgard’s inauguration to become emperor and in the end… I willingly chose her over the church.”
Claude’s voice is quieter than it should be but as steady as ever, “You knew back then? About Rhea?”
The question makes Byleth laugh, “No, no, nothing like that. It didn’t take long for her to show her true nature though. But… No.”
Their smile falters, not wanting to admit to the man that loves them so that he isn’t the first to look at them like that. That he isn’t the only one, aside from their late father, that can truly make them feel at home.
But Byleth knows that not knowing the truth would only hurt him more. He doesn’t deserve to be in the dark about this when he trusts them so wholeheartedly with his own secrets.
Byleth sits up straight, eyes still downcast, as they continue, “I guess I was just too enamored. After Jeralt died, Edelgard was the only one I found myself truly trusting. I realized, then, that she had been keeping big secrets from me, but it’s not like I wasn’t doing the same to her. I don’t think I even really cared if she was right in what she was doing back then. I just wanted to be by her side, even if it meant betraying everybody else. I would’ve done anything for her back then.”
Claude must be able to sense the shame that washes over his partner, because he leans in closer as he softly reassures, “You couldn’t have known what she was planning back then. You don’t know that you would’ve done the same thing if you knew what her waging war on the church would mean for all of Fódlan.”
A bitter laugh escapes their lips, “I appreciate that you seem to have so much faith in my moral compass, but I know what I was thinking back then. The future of Fódlan was the last thing I cared about. But that doesn’t matter now…” They tighten their grip on their own fist as a heavy sigh escapes their lips, “I was asleep for five years—same as in this timeline. And when I woke up, I immediately ran to be by her side again. I fought so hard for her, and killed so many people—ones that I care about—that I still have trouble looking face-to-face now.”
Byleth’s eyes pinch shut as they bring their hand up to cover their features. They aren’t going to cry—they had already done enough of that—but the emotions are beginning to get overwhelming.
Claude takes that chance to hold their free hand in his, “We killed a lot of people too. It’s war.”
“War that she incited,” the words strain Byleth’s throat on their way out.
“One might say it was inevitable.”
Claude begins to massage circles into their hand as he patiently waits for them to continue. It only takes a few moments for Byleth to regain composure, but remorse still hangs heavy in the air.
“Regardless,” Byleth removes the hand from covering their eyes and places it over Claude’s, “we won. Pretty quickly, too. Rhea died, and my hair went back to normal, and we restored peace to Fódlan, and I—” they tighten their grip on Claude’s hand, as if worried he might try to flee, “Edelgard and I got married and we spent years together—happy.”
“You really loved her a lot, huh,” It isn’t a question. Claude shows no signs of animosity, but the quietness of his voice tears away at Byleth’s heart.
Their lips thin into a line as they slowly nod their head, “I thought I was free from Sothis’s powers after Rhea was gone. But then— I don’t even know what happened. All this time and I haven’t even been able to recall my last memory of that life. The only thing that’s still clear to me is that Sothis returned one day, but I could only hear her voice.” Starting to feel more reassured that Claude isn’t going anywhere, Byleth lets up their grip, “She told me that I needed to change fate—that I had to save Fódlan again. She told me that what Edelgard and I had done wasn’t the only way to bring peace, and I had other options. She didn’t know which choice was the right one to make, so it was up to me to make the decisions that would turn the tides.”
Byleth finally finds the courage to look Claude in the eyes again, and yet his features betray nothing but patience. A painful smile forms on their lips as they recount, “And then, I was saving you from bandits again.”
At that, Claude’s eyes do widen a bit, “That’s when you started to change the fate of Fódlan?”
His surprise drags a laugh out of Byleth, “Who knows? But it seems apparent that whichever one of you I choose seems to change the course of the war.”
The surprise in Claude’s eyes fades into something unreadable, even by his partner. If the way his eyebrows slightly knit together revealed anything at all, though it could only be described as uncertainty, “So you’ve known this whole time? Since then?”
Byleth watches as their husband finally begins to show signs of unease in the wake of all this extraordinary information. As minor as it is, the concern turns Claude into an openbook for Byleth alone. They can only imagine what he’s thinking: Did they only stay with me out of necessity? Did I force them into a life they didn’t want? Did I make them sacrifice the person they loved most?
Seeing Claude—who was always so warm and optimistic—look so unsure and insecure hurt Byleth in a way they don’t often feel. They want to reach up and smooth the worry out of his brows, kiss the doubt off of his lips, wrap their arms around his neck and never let go. And Byleth has never really been one for holding back, so they do just that.
“I didn’t know. It felt strange and familiar, but I didn’t know. Not for a long time.”
“Okay,” Claude bumps his forehead against Byleth’s, reaching up into their hair to run his fingers through waves that have gotten a bit too long. They plant kisses over his lips, his cheeks, his nose, his neck, until he’s smiling again—laughing into their shoulder.
Claude’s breath is warm on their skin as he mumbles, “I just have one last question.”
Byleth hums sleepily, the late hours of the day—or perhaps early hours of the morning—catching up with them.
When Claude lifts his head, Byleth feels a bit too cold and holds him closer, “Was this the right choice then? Or are you going to have to…” Try again?
The unfinished question lays heavy and chilling in Byleth’s chest. They want to say, Of course this was the right choice or I’ll never leave you, but they can’t bring theirself to lie to the man they love so much.
“I don’t know,” their eyes are downcast as they begin to release their grip around Claude, “I’m sorry.”
He stops them before they can completely let go, holding both their hands in his own. He brings the knuckles of their left hand to his lips, kissing the spot on their finger where he placed that silver band years ago, “I told you, you don’t have to apologize. I understand.”
If Byleth looks closely, they could still see the afterglow of fear swimming in his eyes, but his smile is bright enough to let them believe the words that follow, “We can figure this out together. I’ll do anything in the world for you.”
Byleth’s racing heart makes it hard to fall back asleep, but Claude’s breath against the back of their neck and arm around their waist soon gives them the comfort of mind to slip back into a well-deserved rest.
This time, Byleth doesn’t dream of red. They don’t dream of past loves, a lifetime away.
In fact, they don’t dream at all.
——
“You’ve really done it this time.”
The small, but commanding voice registers with Byleth before they even have a chance to take in their haunted, jade surroundings.
Seemingly unperturbed by this turn of events lounges a certain figure adorned in similar shades of green on her lonely throne. For the first time in what most would consider over a decade, Byleth has come face-to-face with Sothis yet again.
“No…” Byleth isn’t aware they’re saying the word, but their throat reverberates from the action nonetheless. Her presence here, after so long, could only mean one thing. And this one thing filled Byleth with the kind of dread that might as well have left them as an empty husk. They shake their head slowly, repeating the same word over and over.
With more grace than her form would suggest her possessing, Sothis slides off her throne, her long, thick hair curling every which way.
“It is not what you think,” her commanding voice echoes in the cognitive chambers.
Byleth cuts off their rambling with a slightly agape mouth, “What…?”
Sothis’s stern gaze softens as she steps closer to the trembling hero before her, “I am not here to take you away again. Simply to clean up your mess,” and once again that steely look returns to her features as if she were a mother scolding her child.
Byleth has to shake their head to let up the slackness that had set in their jaw, “What do you mean?”
“I mean your conversation with the King. Really, what were you thinking?” The way Sothis’s voice jumps an octave at that last word only confirms how indignant she is, but Byleth can’t wrap their head around why.
“I was just telling him the truth. He’s the only one I’ve told.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Sothis continues to glare at the one she shares her destiny with before finally letting up, a sigh escaping her lips. “He is probably the most influential individual in your world right now. You did not think that telling him something like that might have some consequences to this new path you’ve set out on?”
“It’s Claude, though. He would never—“
“Intentional or not, his very knowledge will turn the tides of fate,” a small hand reaches out to envelope Byleth’s in its grasp, “As trustworthy as the King may be, he is a mortal nonetheless.”
Byleth’s eyes sting with understanding, “Then what would you have me do?”
Long lashes cover Sothis’s eyes as she casts her gaze down at nothing in particular, “We must undo what you have done. We will use a divine pulse.”
“And if I do, will I be free from this?” They tug their hand away from Sothis, fists clenched. They aren’t mad at her, not in the slightest, but it’s hard when there’s nowhere else to direct their anger.
Sothis meets Byleth’s eyes again and speaks, features unchanging, “You already know I cannot say until the time comes. Not even I can see what fate has to hold.”
The muted jade of the immaterial palace is beginning to make Byleth sick. They had spent indistinguishable amounts of time, a guest in their own head to Sothis’s courtroom. It had been years since they had been back, but time is beginning to blur together and suddenly they find themselves hating this green prison.
Against their will, Byleth’s legs buckle and they’re on their knees, hand covering their mouth for the nausea has yet to subside. Unmoving, Sothis allows them to grip at her robes with their free hand.
They open their mouth to speak, but the rage spills over instead. “I want out,” they cry for the first time in this life since they saw Edelgard’s disheveled corpse strewn out across the cold ground and for the second time since Jeralt was murdered before their eyes for a long-forgotten cause. “I want out!” They don’t even realize they’re screaming until the noise echoes back off the walls,
As carefully as if she were dealing with a wild animal, Sothis wraps her arms around Byleth’s trembling shoulders and pulls them into a hug that is warmer than one would expect for a lonely goddess.
“I am so sorry, Little One. I would never wish such a cruel future on you,” the pain in her voice does not go unnoticed as she pulls Byleth as close as possible, burying their face in her shoulder. Byleth returns the sentiment by embracing her so tightly, it would have left tiny, crescent moons on her immaculate skin if it had been a real body.
As time has no presence in these halls, Byleth slowly loosens their grip on her after a couple of moments or perhaps a couple of hours. Sothis holds their cheek in her hand as she declares, “I will use the divine pulse to send you back,” slowly, Sothis’s hand falls from their face as Byleth’s arms, too, lose their grip on her. “I do not know when, if ever, we will see each other again. But know that I am always with you.”
And Byleth’s tear-stained vision goes black.
——
When Byleth opens their eyes again, they’re laying in bed with a warm body next to them. They touch their cheek to wipe away any leftover tears, but the skin is dry.
The familiar body next to them leans back into the pillow behind them and reaches out to tuck a stray hair behind Byleth’s ear, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I just don’t want you to worry about something on your own. We share our burdens, remember?”
It’s all starting to come back to Byleth. The mental whiplash of being thrown back into the past subsides as they recall what led up to this moment.
Claude is worried about them. Claude doesn’t know what Byleth hasn’t told him.
Overflowing with guilt and regret and frustration, Byleth shuffles closer until their face is buried in Claude’s chest. “It was just a past lover.”
This time, the finality of their voice warns Claude not to press any further, so he obliges.
“I see,” with the kind of patience and understanding Byleth doesn’t deserve, Claude kisses the top of their head and settles back into bed, arm wrapped around his most loved one, “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Byleth sighs into Claude’s chest and finally, they can dream peacefully of gold.