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Their heavy breaths echo through the room, the sound of flesh on flesh breaking through what should only be silence. He fills her, holds her close as he takes his pleasure. Byleth holds on, ignoring that terrible feeling of hollowness that settles in her gut alongside the physical pressure, simply along for the ride.
Her partner doesn’t seem to notice, or he doesn’t care. He would, that traitorous part of her mind whispers. He would know immediately if you weren't enjoying yourself.
Byleth tangles her fingers in brown strands of too short hair, the noise of anger that escapes her lips blessedly mistaken for eagerness. Her partner's movements grow faster, sloppier really. Byleth shifts her hips, angling him so he hits just the right spot inside her. He comes with a cry, Byleth gritting her teeth as she reaches between them, well practiced fingers working herself and within a few moments pleasure washes over her as well.
Her partner is too distracted by the aftershocks of his own orgasm to notice whatever Byleth is doing. She is being unfair to him, she knows she is. He is a perfectly pleasant man, a touch naive but all too sweet. In the afterglow, with stars fading from her vision, and his arms wrapping around her waist, Byleth feels only guilt.
He kisses her shoulder, lips lingering in a way that stirs once treasured memories, memories that now only bring pain. She sinks into his embrace, focusing on the strong chest against her back and those lips that turn in the smallest of smiles. They are so familiar that for a moment Byleth can imagine warm desert winds and silk sheets, glasses of cooled juice and the scent of jasmine in the air.
And then he speaks, and her illusion shatters . "That was amazing," he says, lips still pressing against her skin.
Byleth gives a noncommittal hum. She allows herself the warmth of his embrace a moment more, before slipping from the bed. Her lips press firm together, denying the heavy sigh that wishes to come into the world. “I have to go.”
His eyes widen for a moment, his face falling. He tries to smile, but it is so forced it would fool no one, especially not someone like her who has spent centuries decoding the secret meanings of the world’s most powerful beings. “Ah, all right. Do you want me-”
Byleth cuts him off with a shake of her head. “No. We paid for the room, so you might as well enjoy it.” And then, because he looks at her with those pleading eyes, and because she knows she has used him in more ways than she admitted to him earlier in the evening, she leans down and places a kiss against those frowning lips. They feel like his. Byleth tears herself away before her mind pulls her back into something dangerous. She knows she needs to stop. She knows this is not healthy, that it is not worth what she feels after. But like an addict, she chases an elusive high, a drug she once called love.
Byleth flees from the room, flees from the brown eyes staring at her back; brown eyes she so desperately wishes were green.
/
Byleth hunches her shoulders as she walks through cold streets. Very few people are out at this hour, so she is alone under the lamplights. She hates the artificial lights. Always has. There is something about them that hurts her eyes and makes her head ache. But she continues on, not paying attention to where her feet are taking her.
She gives in every so often, craves the touch of another being close to her. So she seeks out someone that reminds her of him, a man whose smile shines with secrets, a woman whose eyes laugh with mischief. Or the brown eyed man she just left, who has his kindness. She desperately runs toward the companionship and pleasure they offer, only for guilt to ravage her mind as soon as the act is over. Betrayal, her unbeating heart screams at her, despite that he has spent long centuries in his grave. He went to the one place she cannot follow, and she hates him for it.
But, only for a moment. Guilt is quick to come crashing down around her, washing away any justification she could fabricate for her desecration of his memory. And it is worse now, so much worse, because they dug up his grave. Her morning sun has had his eternal slumber interrupted, and she simply stood by while they pillaged the treasures of their home, shifting aside stones that once formed the walls of their palace until they came upon the ultimate prize.
Numbness shot through her when she saw the news. The legendary King of Unification found! Proven to be history instead of myth! They praised him for all he had done, warping their history with false beliefs they believe to be facts. They are going to put him on display, like some common roadside attraction all can come to gawke upon.
And she did nothing to stop them.
Byleth pulls up short, a sharp hiss escaping her lips when she realizes just where her feet have taken her. Spread out in front of her, marked off in offending yellow little squares, are the foundations of one of the proudest forts in Fódlan’s history, the jewel they had turned into the symbol of their dreams.
She can see the halls starting to form, the tiles and marble long since tarnished by time. In her mind she walks those halls again, fingers caressing works of art she long ago took for granted. She can hear the laughter of her friends, the squabbling of politicians and warriors alike. And most clearly, she sees him, his smile so bright it blinds her. He marches forward with a confidence that is all his own, and sweeps her up in his arms. And for a fleeting moment, she is home again.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
The voice breaks her dream, and a darkness grips her heart. She fights the urge to lash out, to scream and cry at the woman who has stayed by her side for so long despite Byleth best efforts to push her away. Instead she simply says, her voice as cold as the winter air around them, “What do you want, Flayn?”
“We’ve been worried about you.” Flayn steps up beside her, survey the remnants of the Locket with a different type of sorrow in her eyes. She is older now, taller and more mature. She looks like a young woman. No one would mistake her for a teenager now. “I’ve been looking for you since the announcement.”
“I didn’t want to be found,” Byleth answers simply. She found out long ago why Macuil and Indech decided to isolate themselves from their brethren. Some things were just too hard to deal with when someone who understood was by your side, especially when you were trying to run from that thing.
Flayn says nothing, simply stands beside her. As the minutes drag on, Byleth feels her resolve crumble slowly brick by brick. She has been so lonely, so desperate for anything to make her feel some kind of optimism again, but the more time that passes, the more her own bitterness lingers on her tongue.
He would hate you if he saw you now. He would be disgusted.
A single choked sob leaves Byleth’s throat, and Flayn immediately takes her hand. She does no more, but that simple gesture is so much more than Byleth knows she deserves. Flayn holds on as Byleth takes deep gasping breaths. Even after centuries of having emotions, she still finds them difficult to process. There are times when she wishes she had never learned to feel, but those thoughts are quickly quashed. It would mean tearing out the place in her heart that is his, and she can never do that.
Flayn’s question is so unexpected, something Byleth never thought to hear, that it takes her a moment to work out the meaning of the words.
“Would you like to see him?”
Byleth shivers from something deeper than the cold. Her fingers squeeze Flayn’s, mint green eyes wide with hope and desperation. “You can do that?”
Flayn nods and squeezes her hand in return. A kind smile is on her lips as she begins to pull Byleth away from the excavation site. “Come with me. I shall show you.”
/
It is the dead of night by the time they reach the museum. Seteth waits on the top of a staircase that has no right to contain so many steps in the first place. As Byleth places a foot on the first step, she feels his eyes on her, judging her. By the time they are scaling the last ten steps, Byleth feels ashamed when she realizes that what she took for judgement is actually worry.
“I’m glad you came,” Seteth says in a voice both calm and low. Byleth has not heard that voice in years, and it sets her off kilter. Seteth is dressed in a fashionable suit, his hair shorter and slicked back. He looks like a proper businessman. No one would look at him and assume he was once part of an ancient race, venerated by thousands for centuries. No, the goddess had left Fódlan long ago, and her mark had faded. She is now more myth than the legendary king who shaped borders still in place to today.
Seteth takes her hand and helps her up the last few steps, guiding Byleth into the museum. She wants to tear down the posters and hanging advertising the treasures of Fódlan’s forgotten age, the center of which is the king himself. She does not realize how hard she is gripping Seteth’s hand until he gently squeezes hers, the gesture so remarkably similar to the one Flayn had used on her earlier that night.
They glide past other exhibits, rooms and rooms filled with valuable artifacts. They are as nothing to her. Byleth focuses only on the destination, but when they arrive, it is all too soon.
Seteth lets go of her hand and bows, arm sweeping out to invite her inside. “He is just through there,” Seteth tells her.
If her heart could beat, it would drown out all noise. But it does not, so there is only a dull echo roaring in Byleth’s ears, growing louder as she takes the first tentative step away from Seteth. The low lights reveal artifacts already taken from their resting spots. There are weapons after weapons. She vaguely recognizes Nader’s battle axe and Judith’s rapier. There is a collection of accessories, many of which Hilda made for Byleth with her own hands. There are documents and diaries, their pages yellowed and crumbling, only in the early stages of translation.
But at the center of it all, surrounded by so many of the objects they had loved, is the man she has not stopped loving for more than a millennia, body preserved and perfect as the day he was buried. It was the one gift she could give him, if she could not follow him into the grave herself.
Byleth fights to pull air into her lungs as she takes step after step. By the time she reaches the casket, Byleth is shaking so hard she feels she will fall apart. She raises her hand, sobbing when it meets glass, preventing her from touching his sleeping face.
His name is ripped from her, her very heart pulled from her chest. The part of her mind that is still coherent notes that she has not said it since he drew his last breath and she was left begging him to come back.
“Claude!”
Byleth sinks to her knees, leaning her forehead against the glass. He is so close, just inches away. She could easily break the glass and reach him, but she cannot bare to taint him like that. She has destroyed the woman he treasured so dearly, stabbed the memory of his love until it became nothing more than a bloodied mess left floating in the endless expanse of time.
She cries, grieving for all the things she has lost. Her hate, her bitterness, her shame, kneeling there she realizes how much they have haunted her over the years. She cries them out, releasing them into the ether. It would be much too late to start over now, expect she is immortal, and time means nothing to one who is not swept aside in its flow.
When her tears have stopped and breathing once more comes not in heavy sobs, Byleth gets back to her feet. She kisses the glass, right above Claude’s lips, caressing the cold material and wishing it were his warm cheek beneath her fingers.
The soft click of Seteth’s shoes echo in the chamber, alerting her to his approach. “I’ve done what I can to keep him safe,” Seteth says.
Byleth’s heart swells with gratitude for the man she has so mistreated. “What will happen to him?”
Seteth sighs heavily, those shoes clicking again as he taps his foot. Byleth knows then that she will not like the answer. “He will remain here while the exhibit is up, but after that I will be forced to give him over. There are those who wish to run tests on him to determine how he could have remained so pristine after so long.”
Byleth growls, the sound completely animalistic. Seteth’s eyes widen in surprise and he takes a step back. His moment of fear breaks her yet again, Byleth huddling against the glass as she experiences another whiplash of emotions.
“I will not allow it,” Byleth whispers, pulling back the powers that had flared up at her call. They feel strange, leaving an iron aftertaste in her mouth. When had she last used those cursed powers?
Seteth shakes his head, recovering from his shock. “Byleth, there is not much I can do to stop it. I will continue to try, of course, but…” He sighs again, looking over his shoulder as Flayn joins them.
“They will not be dissuaded,” Flayn adds. “There is only one thing we can think of to keep the nature of his entombment secret.”
“What?” Byleth asks. She turns back to Claude. Her heart knows the answer, even before Flayn explains it.
To her credit, Flayn’s voice breaks as she speaks, the words leaving her slowly as she fights through them. It only reminds Byleth of how loved her husband was, how loved he still is. “You have to remove the enchantment.”
Her enchantment that stops time from effecting him. If she removes it now, all those years will catch up to him, and then he truly will be lost to her. But how else can she protect him now? Claude would hate to have his secrets revealed in such a manner, to have them laid bared to the world. She owes him this, after all her betrayals, she cannot let that become his legacy.
She stands there for an eternity, one too short for her liking, staring down at the man who had loved her so well. She replays the memories of all her favorite times with him, all those little private moments that lived on in the thoughts she tried banishing in her hurt. No more. She could not be this woman he would not recognize anymore.
Byleth kisses the glass one last time, pulling apart the threads of her power that surrounds him. A terrible sigh breaks the silence of the room, imprinting itself upon her heart. It sounds just like him. Slowly, starting at his feet and working its way up, her powers let go of Claude’s body, and he crumbles to dust.
“Goodbye, my love,” Byleth whispers, holding the pieces of her heart together as that beautiful face of his flakes away. “I’ll do better, Claude. I promise.”
And then he is gone. Byleth loses him for a second time, and somehow she will have to live through it again.
Two arms, one slender, the other strong, wrap around her shoulders. The two people she has tried so hard to push away allow her to lean on them, guiding her from the past and into the future she has fought against for so long.
I love you, Claude.
He smiles at her, the sunlight shining through their bedroom window. He is beautiful, hair messy and floating around his face as he brings himself to consciousness. And his eyes, the emerald eyes that look at her with such naked love, shine brightly as he smiles.
I love you too, By. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.