Archive of Our Own

Training with Nader was exhausting, to say the least. Even after having been his apprentice for as long as he could remember, it was impossible for Claude to fully prepare for whatever Nader had in store for him with each combat session. New ways to swing an axe with minimal energy, secret techniques so as to not strain oneself when parrying attacks with swords, how to sneak up on opponents even when wielding a hefty weapon… The difficulty curve to master the many arts Nader was in the process of teaching him was steep. It was tiring. Claude was tired. He wanted to go back to sneaking around in the shadows, silently shooting arrows with the utmost precision. He was good at that.

Instead, he found himself charging at Nader again with sword in hand. Claude was still young and barely half of Nader’s height; it was hardly fair to pit him against the renowned undefeated general of Almyra with the expectation that he could best him.

Claude’s charge didn’t last long - just like all of his previous attempts, Nader swiftly moved out of Claude’s reach despite his hulking size and maneuvered behind him, smacking him in the back with the blunt edge of his own blade. Claude landed face first into the dirt, some of the soil finding its way into his mouth and up his nose.

“You’re not listening to me!” Nader bellowed and Claude heard the sound of him sheathing his sword, fed up with his poor performance at last. “You can’t just wildly run at your opponent without a plan of attack. They’ll read you like an open book, kiddo!”

Claude huffed, hating the way Nader wouldn’t stop referring to him as “kiddo”, as if he was still just a helpless child. He was nearly eleven! And it wasn’t as though he was recklessly charging in like what Nader accused him of doing but how in the hell was he supposed to defeat someone twice his size? He had always been interested in puzzles and problem solving but methods of fighting off a behemoth of a man? No textbook Claude encountered had ever documented such techniques and it wasn’t as if Nader was teaching him any.

He sat up, spitting out the dirt from his mouth and rubbed at his nose. “I’m tired of this.” he pouted uselessly, knowing that he would have no choice but to stand up and try hitting Nader again. Only to fail. Again. Claude was glad that his back was facing his combat instructor, not particularly in the mood to deal with his scrutiny at his own miserable tone.

He reached for his sword that had fallen out of his grip and stood, mentally preparing to attack once more, but one of Nader’s hands fell onto his shoulder, stopping him. “Well, it’s a good thing we have something else to do today.”

Claude perked up at that, but he tried his best to not let it show. He looked over his shoulder at Nader, his face lighting up enthusiastically. “Archery?” he involuntarily let his excitement leak through and he wanted to kick himself.

Nader thankfully didn’t tease him, but he denied Claude’s hope and he felt his shoulders sag in disappointment. “Not today. I’ve decided it’s about time you learn how to ride.”

Claude felt a shudder creep up his back, the memories of being tied to a horse and getting dragged around by his father resurfacing at the words. “I already know how to ride… enough.” his declaration was weak-spirited and he looked away from Nader, focusing on his feet.

He didn’t dislike riding horses - or rather, ponies, given his stature. In fact he very much enjoyed the activity. It was freeing, moving at such a fast pace with the wind blowing against him, nothing being able to hold him back. When he was riding, he could forget all of his troubles, all of his insecurities... He could forget them all, if only for a little while…

Nader let out a loud laugh but Claude found nothing humorous about their conversation. “I ain’t talking about horses, kiddo! I know you can ride those, but you’ve never mounted a wyvern before. I’d wager it’s about time you do.”

Claude blinked, finally turning around to face Nader properly.

Wyverns? Kids his age normally weren’t allowed to go anywhere near the wyverns. They were all domesticated beasts, of course, but they were still fickle and temperamental creatures. Given how hyperactive children could be, even those training to be a part of the Almyran army at the ripe age of ten, they were all prohibited from getting too close to the stables, even if adults were nearby.

Before Claude could ask why he was being granted the special privilege of interacting with the wyverns despite his age, Nader continued. “All of us warriors need to be able to ride these beasts to properly serve in the army. That’s the way it goes for us.” he shoved a finger at Claude’s chest hard and he winced at the impact. “But you are a special case. This is more than just another card up your sleeve — this is a rite of passage . If you ever hope to lead, you need to dominate the skies we soldiers put our lives on the line to protect. This is proof of your strength .”

He had been listening to Nader’s speech attentively but at the word “strength”, Claude instantly bristled.

It was always about strength, wasn’t it? Nothing else mattered to his people; everything boiled down to brute force and strength. And if someone wasn’t strong enough, they weren’t worth anything.

His father’s words rang in his head: “You won’t grow stronger if you don’t learn how to fight your own battles.”

His mother’s words followed: “You won’t be able to survive if you’re always relying on other people. You need to become strong on your own.”

He knew that his parents meant no harm. He knew that they were only trying to do what they thought was best for him. At heart, they were both warriors, demons on the battlefield who had always been capable of taking care of themselves. There was no doubt in Claude’s mind that they were simply raising him in the way they themselves grew up and thought would benefit him most...

But none of that was what he wanted. They hadn’t even asked him what he wanted! His parents were aware of the beatings he received from complete strangers, the vile words thrown at him, the people who judged him and tormented him over something as petty as his mixed blood. But they stood by and did nothing, simply told him to man up and figure things out for himself.

He didn’t want to learn how to get stronger to defend himself against the torture. He didn’t need strength so he could beat down his abusers by force.

He needed something definitive to make those people realize that he wasn’t a mutt, an outsider - a coward .

Claude averted his gaze, choosing to stare at a random space on the ground to the side of himself and Nader. “I guess I can learn…” he chose to hide his frustrations behind a nervous mask; he wasn’t going to take out his personal troubles on Nader. No part of the way Claude felt was any fault of his, after all. Not to mention that Nader was one of the few people who stayed by his side, despite the hate he experienced daily.

Seemingly pleased with his response, Nader squeezed his shoulder before walking past him, beckoning in the direction of the wyvern stables.

Let’s just get this over with… Claude griped silently.

*

It didn’t take long for them to reach the stables; they were only a short walk away from where their training sessions took place. There were quite a number of people in the grounds, smiling and petting their assigned wyvern but upon noticing that Claude had entered the vicinity, many of their happy expressions turned into scorns and the stables quickly cleared out.

Claude scoffed bitterly. They can’t even handle being within five feet of me, like I’m contagious or something…

He glanced up at Nader who was quietly watching most everyone make their exit. He made no comment about it specifically, but he brightened when the scuffling of shoes against dirt grew distant. “Alright! More room for us, eh, kid?”

Claude nodded and followed after Nader as he made his way to the far end of the stable. Along the way, he glanced around at all of the wyverns. Most of them were taking naps but a few of them were awake, watching the pair as they walked by. They didn’t appear to be hostile, at least that was what Claude hoped; he was small and probably looked like easy prey but he wasn’t exactly in the mood to be reptile dinner. He found himself sticking as close as he could to Nader as they continued on their path.

When they finally reached the rear end of the build, Nader told Claude to wait for him for a moment - something about going to grab equipment from the shed a little further along. Thankfully only smaller wyverns were nearby on that side of the stable so he wasn’t too anxious about being left alone with them.

He sat down on the ground and crossed his legs, taking in his surroundings again. Brown. There was a lot of brown in the stables: brown wood, metal turning brown from rust, brown wyverns, brown dirt…

Claude paused his rotary scan, his gaze catching hold of something that was off-colored from most everything else in the area. If he’d believed in ghosts, he was sure that shock would have been his first and only reaction to the sight. But he didn’t believe in ghosts, at least not to the extremities that they were visible for humans to see. Ultimately, he accepted what he saw as reality.

It was a white wyvern. It was quite small, its size being more than enough to inform Claude that it was a juvenile. It couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old; as long as wyverns could live, he knew that they grew to their full size in less than a year’s time.

The creature hadn’t been looking at him but it had grown perceptive to his stare. It turned its head in his direction and Claude flinched the moment eye contact was made. It didn’t give off the impression of being antagonistic, in fact it appeared to be quite calm, but the color of its eyes left him shaken. Typically, wyverns had dull yellow eyes but that strange white wyvern’s eyes were piercing, as though they were glowing.

Its eyes were gold.

They stared at each other for a few long seconds, Claude only realizing that he had been holding his breath when he thought he was struggling to breathe. Finally, it looked away from him and settled its head on the ground in front of where it lay. Claude exhaled a shaky breath as it did so, and at the same time, Nader returned. His booming voice was enough to snap Claude out of his state and it brought him to his feet. He made his way over to Nader to begin his instruction.

The thought of white scales and golden eyes distracted him during his training that day more than he wanted to admit.

When Nader had told him that it was about time for him to start learning how to ride wyverns, Claude hadn’t expected that he would be working with the beasts nearly every day from that point forward, without so much as a single flight happening during that time. In the first few weeks, Nader would always accompany him to the stables and make sure he was doing everything - from feeding, to cleaning, to petting - properly. Eventually, he left him to work with them on his own, deciding that he seemed to be getting the hang of it.

When Claude had asked when he would actually be able to fly, Nader only laughed and said flight was impossible until he completely earned the trust of his wyvern partner.

This isn’t riding practice! He whined internally to himself every day that he had to spend cooped up in the stalls. It wasn’t that he hated taking care of his assigned wyverns or that he desperately wanted to fly - if flying only meant being able to demonstrate his “strength”, he really wanted nothing to do with it - but he felt more like he was doing chores than actual training. He would rather be getting smacked around by Nader’s sword strikes every day than cleaning up after wyverns!

Still, despite his complaints, there was one thing he liked about taking care of the wyverns and it was that he got to see the strange white juvenile more often than not.

He learned quickly that it was different from the other creatures of the same species, and not just because of the unique color of its scales. None of the other wyverns seemed to pay it any mind. They weren’t the most affectionate of beasts, but Claude would still witness some of them curling up next to each other, or affectionately bumping noses together on occasion.

The white wyvern appeared to be the only exception to the welcoming gestures. It would usually maintain distance from the rest of them but if it did happen to wander over, the other wyverns would seemingly lose interest in whatever they were doing and hide their faces from it.

During those moments, Claude would pause whatever task he was doing and choose to silently watch how each scenario would play out instead.

Eventually, he was able to pinpoint what exactly the white wyvern was compared to the rest of them:

You’re an outsider.

Finally, after weeks of babying wyverns and weeks of grueling sword practice, Nader allowed Claude a day to work on his archery.

On archery days, Nader typically left him alone, agreeing that practicing how to fire off arrows was more of an individual task than that of a team effort. He even acknowledged Claude as already having surpassed him in the skill: “You’ve always had a knack for the scheming art of sniping, not like me” or something like that.

In any case, it was a relief to at last have the chance to get in some good training with his bow again. He missed the feeling of tension in the bow and in his arms, the release of the stress as he let go and allowed his arrow to fly true.

Archery was calming, it was quiet, it resonated with him.

Stop daydreaming, you have something important to do! Claude shook his head at the automatic thought, remembering the plan he had come up with for the next time he got to train with his bow. It wasn’t so much of a plan as it was a favor. He pulled an arrow from his quiver and readied his stance.

He listened to the sounds around him, trying to discern where the best place to shoot would be. He closed his eyes, dampening his sense of sight in hopes of heightening his hearing.

After a long quiet, a faint snapping noise finally sounded somewhere in the underbrush. Without opening his eyes, Claude aimed and fired.

*

He didn’t know who was scheduled for wyvern duties that day but they must have already finished their tasks; the back of the stable where he had been working the past couple of weeks was free of humans and all of the wyverns appeared to be satisfied with themselves.

He crept inside the stable, not entirely sure why he was trying to be stealthy about it. He quietly but quickly made his way through the rear stalls, keeping the hide pouch he had brought with him close to his chest. When he reached his destination, he poked his head inside the stall belonging to the white wyvern.

He was unsurprised to see it laying down with its head curled under its tail, but a moment after Claude appeared, it looked up and in his direction. He involuntarily flinched at making eye contact with it - it had grown quite a lot over the past while - but he swallowed, steeling himself.

“Hey…” he greeted it hesitantly, only feeling a bit silly about doing so after the fact. It was a wyvern , for stars’ sake, it couldn’t understand him! But maybe it could tell by the way his voice sounded that he was only trying to be friendly.

He was unsure if he had accomplished even that. It blinked at him slowly, apathetically.

Well, it didn’t seem mad. That was a start, right? Carefully, Claude slid one of his feet forward toward the beast. It took note of the movement, he noticed how its head tilted a touch, but it didn’t react negatively beyond that. It simply looked back into his eyes, nostrils twitching a touch.

It probably already knows. Claude noted and he pulled the pouch he clutched to his chest away from his body. He opened it cautiously and pulled out its contents, offering it to the wyvern.

When Claude had deduced that the white wyvern was an outsider, he began to feel an undeniable attraction towards it. While it didn’t seem to suffer abuse from its fellow companions, it no doubt struggled to simply belong among the herd. The way it would try to get involved to only be pushed away, how it would hide away in its corner stall and rarely leave after failing to interact… He decided that he wasn’t so different from it. He didn’t understand what it was about its white scales that made it so dissimilar to all of the other wyverns or why that would even bother them in the first place, but he knew that no matter what, it didn’t deserve such treatment.

The wyvern moved its head toward his hand - toward the dead rodent Claude had killed earlier during his archery training. It wasn’t a big animal and it probably wouldn’t come anywhere close to filling the wyvern’s belly but it wasn’t necessarily supposed to. He wanted to earn its trust, to be able to come together and accept one another, as two simple outsiders.

It sniffed at the carcass for a moment and it prodded at it with its nose. And then, in the blink of an eye, its tongue shot out and deftly wrapped around the rodent, sucking it into its mouth. Claude’s heart skipped a beat at that, only then realizing how close he could have come to losing his hand.

But he hadn’t lost his hand. The wyvern swallowed the rodent in an easy gulp and looked back at Claude, its gold eyes peering into his curiously.

Seeing it like that, its eyes opened much wider than they had been every time prior, nose twitching in an innocent, almost cute manner…

Claude smiled honestly for the first time in a long while.

Time moved swiftly upon befriending the white wyvern and Claude had learned many things over the course of five years.

For starters, Nader had almost instantaneously registered the pair’s budding friendship after Claude’s rodent offering was accepted and he informed him that his wyvern partner was, in fact, a female. Claude was unsure as to how Nader knew that but he personally knew little on the topic of discerning a wyvern’s sex - it wasn’t as if it was obvious -  so he didn’t think too hard about it.

Claude spent most of his free time with his new friend from then on. Whether he was reading, devising new tactical schemes or mixing herbs into poisons - which was one of his more recently discovered hobbies - he would always try to do it in the stables with the presence of his wyvern within arm’s reach. She was welcomed company; a comrade who saw him for who he was, who accepted him and made no biased judgments against him.

Over the course of multiple moons thereafter, Claude had accepted that strength was going to be a necessity for him no matter how much he resented the very notion of it. Still, he knew his physical limits and was well aware that “warrior” strength would not come easily to him, if at all. As a result, he poured his efforts into his training from a different angle. If he failed to sharpen his body to an acceptable degree, he could still sharpen his mind.

Charisma, an easy-going attitude, a clever way of speech. He had learned how to use those tools to effortlessly put on whatever mask he needed to manipulate any given situation. Fake smiles used to disarm his peers came easily to him over time, and he sometimes wondered if he could even fool himself with them…

Still, his masks and newly developed silver tongue didn’t always succeed in keeping him out of trouble. Some of his beatings ended up feeling worse than usual, and the after pains that would come the next morning lingered in his muscles and joints for much longer periods of time.

Regardless of his treatment, he stopped fighting back. Kicking, punching, yelling in retaliation… it was all a waste of energy. None of it did him any good. Even when those who were making serious attempts on his life struck out against him, he only did what was necessary to ensure that he would at least be able to keep breathing. He focused on survival and how to properly tend to his injuries first and foremost.

As long as he could survive, he could get through anything. As long as he could survive, he could keep fighting in his own way.

As long as he could survive, so too could his dream.

His back was aching when he awoke but it wasn’t from any sort of physical abuse he had recently suffered. Claude had gone into the wyvern stables earlier that evening and had fallen asleep while leaning against his friend. As much of a suck-up as she had become toward him, it didn’t change her hard, scaly exterior. She made for a poor pillow and an even worse bed but the comfort of sleeping next to someone he trusted was a feeling that couldn’t be beat.

Claude’s brow furrowed, resenting the fact that that would probably be the last comforting sleep he would have for the foreseeable future.

He moved to sit up and his wyvern responded immediately. She lifted her head and nudged Claude’s back with her snout. He tried to laugh lightly at her gesture but it came out as a weak, breathy sound instead. He swiveled on his bottom and rubbed under her chin with both hands.

“You already know, don’t you?” he muttered his words more to the ground than to her. “But I can’t stay… Even after sixteen years, the court can’t accept my parents’ love for each other… and me being here is only hindering any progress they otherwise would have made.” Claude’s hands fell into his lap and he heard a whine sound in his wyvern’s throat.

It was difficult for him to be honest with his feelings. Even when he was alone and was  merely thinking about them in private, Claude struggled to accept himself. Sentiment was weakness, after all.

But with her, he could confess everything he kept locked away inside. He didn’t need her to understand his exact words, he just needed someone to listen. “Turns out, Mother is the daughter of a Fódlan noble, but not just any old noble - he’s acting as the head of their entire Alliance nation. Apparently, they’re running into troubles and are frantically searching for an heir. She refused to go back… but if I take her place, if I can rise to a position of power, then maybe… maybe I can see things from a new perspective and work on changing things from the outside , while she and Father work on the inside .” He looked up into gold eyes that watched him closely. “Then, we can destroy the walls that separate us and leave only one side for everyone to share.” Claude allowed himself a tiny smile. “That way, no one will have to be an outsider.”

It was a weight off of his shoulders to finally vocalize his hidden goals but at the same time, he felt a bit ridiculous having released them out into the open using real words. It was a crazy pipe dream, a wild ambition, but it had also been the anchoring hope that manifested in his chest over the past five years.

He had his wyvern to thank for helping him come to the realization of what he truly desired. Sure, he had always wanted to be accepted, always wanted somewhere to belong. Hell, he had always longed for unconditional love but that hadn’t been enough.

There was no place in the world for such harsh prejudices against “outsiders” that were based on nothing but pure ignorance. Had he not found a companion to empathize with, who he could project himself onto and witness his position from an external perspective, he was unsure if he would have been able to identify what it was that he had desperately been yearning for his entire life.

Claude stood and his wyvern’s head rose with him but she made no move to stand. She was clever for a creature who couldn’t understand the human language. Still, she appeared distressed, face angled slightly downward and to the side.

He breathed out through his nose in a sigh, defeated. “I’d take you with me, you know.” he admitted and he reached out to pat the space in-between her horns. “But I have no idea what it’ll be like over there. I don’t care what kinds of schemes I have to resort to, or who I have to use or how I use them to get what I want… But not you.” A rumble sounded in her throat, almost like a cat’s purr, and it earned her another small grin from Claude. “I don’t know how long I’ll be, but I’ll come home. I’ve never been one to roll over and die, but you already know that, don’tcha?”

She snorted at that and if the back of Claude’s eyes hadn’t been burning, he would have laughed. Instead, he withdrew his hand and turned on his heel.

He left the stable without looking back, and wouldn’t return for seven years.

It was at Nader’s request that Claude stayed behind in the council room. He had just finished introducing Byleth to “Nardel” and had excused themselves when he felt a hand clasp his shoulder as he turned to leave. Nader insisted that Claude stay for a few minutes longer, needing to discuss something important with him in private.

Byleth looked a tad confused and maybe even anxious at being left to wander the Riegan estate alone, but she simply nodded when Claude encouraged her to go ahead without him.

Nader invited Claude to sit on one of the two chairs situated at the end of the conference table and he complied, watching as he extracted two drinking glasses and a bottle of rum from a cabinet nearby.

“It’s been a long time, kid.” Nader spoke when he seated himself next to Claude and poured them both a drink. He slid Claude’s glass toward him and he graciously took it. “But I gotta say, when I used to call you the “scheming” type, I didn’t think you’d take things this far.”

Claude smirked at what he perceived as a compliment, bringing the rim of his drinking glass to his lips. “What can I say?” he singsonged and took a sip of his drink. It instantly warmed his tongue and throat. “Whoo! That’s smooth!”

He received a loud laugh from Nader in response and he downed a rather large gulp of rum himself. “I have something else for ya, besides the drink.” He set his glass back on the tabletop with a clack and reached for the large parcel that was sitting a little ways away. He held it carefully in both hands and when he extended it to Claude, his eyes closed and his head bowed.

Claude straightened at the sight. For as long as he hadn’t seen Nader since he left his homeland behind, it had always been rare to see him display such blatant and honest respect. He silently placed his drink down and accepted the parcel with two hands, mimicking Nader’s posture.

He eyed the package for a few moments when he placed it on his lap and only moved to open it when Nader nodded his head upward. He carefully undid the bindings, not wanting to potentially damage its contents. At the first peek of what was contained inside the parcel, Claude’s breath hitched.

“I know you didn’t want them to find out, but there’s only so much a non-schemer like myself can keep hidden from Their Majesties.” Nader’s voice was quiet, another rarity when it came to him.

Claude didn’t respond, only stared dumbly at what Nader - or rather, his own parents - had gifted him: silky gold clothing and armor, reminiscent to the gear his father had always sported.

Giving him such a thing… was that their way of telling him that they approved of his actions? Approved of him fleeing from Almyra like a coward for seven years, approved of his personal successes across the border… Approved of his strength?

Claude opened and closed his mouth a few times but couldn’t find any words that made sense to him. Nader took the opportunity to speak again. “You’ll make a fine king, kiddo.”

That snapped Claude out of the flabbergasted state he was in. He redirected his gaze to Nader and was greeted with a grin. He managed to return it with one of his own without much effort. “I’m not there yet.”

He wasn’t being modest, though being told he would make a great king so suddenly was admittedly a bit off-putting. He still had work to do in Fódlan. Before he could ascend the Almyran throne, he had to take care of the war, make sure all of his pieces fell into their proper places...

“...And quit calling me “kiddo”, would you?!” Claude belatedly frowned at how Nader continued to refer to him and his chest involuntarily puffed out, a childish habit he seemed to have failed to break. “It’s unbecoming and besides, I’m nearly twenty-fo—”

Nader cut him off with a laugh, frustrating Claude even more. “Sorry, but that ain’t happening! Leader of Fódlan’s Leicester Alliance or King of Almyra, you’ll always be a kiddo to me, kiddo .”

He continued guffawing despite Claude putting on his best “if looks could kill” expression. Still, he managed to relax somewhat, the peaceful atmosphere of getting to enjoy a drink with an old comrade settling in once more.

An uncomfortable knot suddenly formed in Claude’s stomach but he forcibly pushed it aside.

They chatted for a while after that, topics of conversation varying and not particularly harboring much meaning. Eventually, after his second glass of rum, Claude stood, deciding it was time to return to Byleth.

He was in the process of rewrapping his new armor but Nader’s voice halted his movements. “Actually, there’s one more thing I need to give you.”

Claude looked up at Nader skeptically. “My, three gifts in one day?” he teased with a smirk. “Pray tell, what sort of trinket am I receiving this time?”

Nader let out a low chuckle and made his way over to the twin doors that led out onto the terrace. “Oh, I think you’ll like this one.” He pushed his way outside and beckoned for Claude to follow.

They stood near the railing at the far end of the terrace and Claude quickly noticed that Nader was looking up, so he followed his line of sight.

Blue sky and white clouds.

His jaw tensed a touch, not understanding what was so special about the sight of the usual daytime sky. Sure, he was glad that he was still alive and got to see it everyday but the stars in the night sky had always brought a greater sense of comfort to him.

Beside him, he heard Nader click his tongue and he followed it up with a high pitched whistle.

Claude faintly winced at the noise, about to openly complain about it but a surprised yelp came from him instead when a powerful gust of wind pounded against him and a large mass ascended from below the terrace. He looked up at the object which had flown a little ways overhead—

He froze.

“Is that…” he couldn’t finish whatever it was that he was trying to say. Words and their meanings eluded him; both his body and mind went numb even as the white creature landed on the terrace next to them. His heart pounded in his chest when they made eye contact, its gold eyes piercing his soul. It excitedly stomped over to Claude in two easy steps before smacking him in the chest with its head, knocking him to the ground.

He faintly heard Nader bellowing again - “Look at that! Recognized you right off the bat, eh?” - but Claude wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. Genuine laughs from his stomach burst out of Claude as his wyvern sniffed and licked at his face, as if she were a giant, overgrown puppy.

She finally calmed after a few minutes and backed off, allowing Claude to sit up. He wiped at the wyvern spit on his cheeks, unable to hide his look of joy when his eyes met her own once more.

“Hey!” Claude greeted his old friend casually, as if they’d never been apart.