Work Text:
Claude tracks her down in the library, and Byleth can tell from the look in his eyes (and the cupcake he’s trying unsuccessfully to hide behind his back) that he’s up to something. And whatever it is, it's bound to mean trouble for her.
“Teach! I need a favor,” he says.
She stares at him over her open biochem textbook. “I’m your tutor, not your teacher,” she reminds him for what feels like the millionth time. He ignores the comment and slips into the seat next to her, finally producing the cupcake he’d brought as a bargaining chip. She eyes it and adds, “You must need a big favor if you’re resorting to bribery.”
He laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “It’s not all that big a favor...I’m just not sure how it’ll go over.”
“That’s not very reassuring, Claude,” Byleth replies. Still, she accepts the cupcake and sneaks a furtive bite before the librarian--a creepy old dude named Tomas--finds her with it. Then she turns back to her biochemistry assignment while Claude figures out how to word his request. The fact that he doesn’t seem to have a few charming remarks prepared is also not very reassuring, but she doesn’t say so.
She’s almost completely reabsorbed into her reading when he says, “I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”
Byleth’s eyes snap up to his face. She can’t have heard that right. “What?”
“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend,” he repeats. His green eyes are locked onto hers and they’re very serious for once. “Please, By. Some news is coming that’s about to change how people see me and I need some backup. You’d be saving my life. I’d ask Hilda but she’d make the least convincing straight girl I’ve ever met.”
Byleth thinks of the way Hilda has pined after Marianne for the last five months and nods. He’s got a point there. But there are a lot of other girls in their class. Why would he need to ask her of all people? She knows that people think she’s a bit of a cold fish--she doesn’t even disagree with them--so a pretend relationship with her shouldn’t be any more convincing than one with Hilda.
“I know what you’re thinking, Teach, but I promise--this makes sense. People will believe it,” he tells her. “Now, before you answer, eat your cupcake and remember how much you like and trust me.”
She rolls her eyes but she does take another bite of the cupcake. “Oh, fine ,” she says, trying not to smile as he lights up with relief. “So, what’s this news that’s going to change everything?”
He tilts his head and stares at her for a moment, and then he grins at her like she’s a co-conspirator (which...she kind of is, she realizes). Then he says, very seriously, “I’m an Almyran prince.”
She snorts in disbelief. “That’s a good one,” she says with a roll of her eyes. Claude von Riegan, a prince? Oh, she’s sure he’s Almyran, or at least part Almyran, but royalty ? It’s absurd.
-=-=-
It’s true.
The news that Claude is actually Prince Khalid, heir apparent to the Almyran throne, breaks over the Officer’s Academy like a tidal wave. He was always a popular guy, but all of a sudden every student in the monastery and nearly all the staff want to rub shoulders with him. He’s the most eligible bachelor in Fodlan overnight, and there are even a few nuns that trip over their tongues trying to flirt with him.
Byleth is sure the world has gone mad, but she lets him hold her hand and tell everyone that he’s really not available, that his heart has already been lost to the most beautiful and mysterious girl he’s ever met. She knows he means her because that’s what they’ve agreed on, but he makes the whole thing sound too romantic. No way people will believe that she’s swept Claude--Khalid--so completely off his feet.
But they do believe it. That’s the part that Byleth can’t get over as the word gets out about them. Everyone just accepts it, almost like they expected it, and she can’t figure out why. She isn’t a desirable partner--she’s too aloof, too distracted by her own plans and goals to care much for romance. But somehow, no doubt because of Claude, her taciturn nature has been transformed into something tantalizing. People want to know about her now, and about how she came to be with him, and she should have asked for a lot more cupcakes because this whole thing is becoming a huge pain in the ass.
He laughs when she tells him as much one morning while they’re walking to class. Despite the storm of attention--some quite negative--that the news of his heritage has brought him, he seems happier than she’s seen him in a while. He doesn’t even seem to mind that they’re on their way to an economics lecture (his least favorite subject, and the one she’s been tutoring him in).
He gives her fingers a gentle squeeze. “What, you’re not having fun? C’mon Teach, don’t you enjoy pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes?”
“No,” she tells him firmly, and that only makes him laugh again. He stops walking, turns toward her and tucks a strand of hair behind her ears. He lets his fingers linger as they brush over her cheek too, and something shudders through Byleth that is so electric and unfamiliar that she freezes and has to consciously remember to take in her next breath.
“Well that’s no good. I’ll have to try much harder to be a good pretend boyfriend,” he murmurs, softly enough that no one else can hear. It probably looks unbearably intimate. It feels unbearably intimate. And why does her chest seem tight? Maybe she’d better go to the infirmary.
“What sort of romantic tokens should I shower you with? Roses?” His nose wrinkles. “That seems too much like Lorenz. Chocolates? Jewelry? Baby wyverns?”
She gives him a small shove with her free hand, but he only chuckles and dips down to touch his forehead to hers. His green eyes are far too beguiling and far too close. Byleth instincts go haywire, torn between urging her to close the gap and urging her to run away as fast as her legs can take her.
She definitely needs to go to the infirmary.
“You’re closest to the mark with baby wyverns, but please don’t take that as encouragement,” she tells him, pulling away.
“No promises,” he replies with a wink, falling into step with her as they resume their walk toward their classroom. “But I have to admit, it’s nice to be with someone who isn’t only after my money.”
“Is there money?” Byleth asks.
“An entire royal treasury,” he tells her, “but we don’t actually own any of it. The government oversees everything from the tax revenues to the crown jewels. There’s some land, though.”
“Land and a title? You really are an eligible bachelor.”
“I told you, Teach--you’re saving my life. I’d be doomed if it weren’t for you.” He squeezes her hand again, and doesn’t let go until they have to take their separate seats in class.
-=-=-
There’s only one problem with Claude’s grand scheme...she’s starting to believe it. Or...not believe it, exactly, as much as she’s starting to want to believe it. He takes her hand and she feels warm down to her toes. He touches her cheek or hair and her chest gets tight. He leans in close or presses a kiss to her cheek, and her brain blanks out. After a few weeks, every part of her is itching to grab him, to kiss him for real, and the feeling is so unfamiliar and so overpowering that it’s hard to concentrate on anything else.
And of course he doesn’t seem to be affected by any of it. It all comes quite naturally to him; he doesn’t struggle with it the way Byleth does, doesn’t think about it at all while she can’t force herself to think of anything else.
Obviously, they’re going to have to fake a break-up. But every time she thinks she’d better suggest it, he tells her how grateful he is that she’s helping him and she clams up and tells herself she can deal with this. Is it so bad, to actually like the attention he’s giving her? Sure, it isn’t real, but she isn’t expecting him to marry her. So why not enjoy it, just a little?
Because it feels dishonest. Because she wants it to be real. Because she’s always liked him way more than she’d admit even to herself, and it’s getting harder and harder to be his friend the more and more she wants something else.
The feeling builds in her as she sits on the edge of the football pitch. In the olden days, the plains outside of the monastery had been used for mock battles and large training exercises--and some of that still takes place--but now there are also a couple of sports fields. She’s wearing one of Claude’s jerseys, and it’s way too big in the shoulders but he’s assured her that it looks good on her (“Better than it does on me,” were his actual words, but said in front of their classmates so maybe it’s all part of the show) so tries not to fidget with it.
Claude himself is on the pitch. He’s captain of the Golden Deer’s football team, and they’re playing the Blue Lions. He and fellow captain Dimitri have a friendly rivalry, and they’re sniping at each other good naturedly even as the game progresses. Beside Byleth in the stands is Annette, and her eyes are locked on Felix as he ignores both captains and steals the football to make a run on the Deer’s goal.
“You like him,” Byleth observes. Annette jumps and glances her way, then she flushes a deep red and shakes her head far too vigorously.
“Who, Felix? No, no no no no...I mean, he’s a good guy and all, but...actually, scratch that, he isn’t a good guy. He just goes around, spying and collecting secrets for who knows what nefarious purposes--”
“Felix is doing that?” Byleth says, her brow furrowing in confusion. He certainly doesn’t seem like the type, but Annette is truly disgruntled. Then, all at once, the smaller girl deflates and sighs.
“Yes,” she admits, “I like him. I like his stupid hair and his stupid eyes and his stupid voice. I even like it when he teases me. But don’t tell him that. It’s just...well. He’s not really interested in dating.”
Byleth watches him score a goal and immediately glance up at the stands to see if Annette is watching, and she hides a smile. “Oh,” she says, “I’m not so sure about that.”
“Really? What do you know?” Annette demands breathlessly, her cheeks redder than ever before, and Byleth stops trying to hide and smiles openly at the other girl.
“I know Felix isn’t as light and teasing with anyone as he is with you. And I know he wants to look good in front of you.” She gestures to the pitch. “I also know he has no idea how to deal with liking you, so he’s probably embarrassed.”
“I’m embarrassed too,” Annette admits.
“Sure, that’s normal,” Byleth agrees. “The difference is, I don’t think you’re afraid to do something about it.”
Annette’s eyes widen as Byleth’s words sink in. Then her expression turns steely with determination and she gives a little nod.
“You’re right. It’s going to have to be me,” she agrees.
Byleth thinks of her growing distress when it comes to Claude and bites back a sigh. It’s going to have to be her, too. The breakup is going to have to come from her.
So when Claude scores the match’s winning goal and climbs into the stands to give her a victory kiss--and it looks like he intends it to be their first in public, on the lips kiss--she shakes her head and slips away before he can close the gap. Her heart can’t take it, a kiss on the lips that she wants so badly but will only be pretend, a show for everyone else.
His victorious smile disappears as she wriggles out of his arms, and she can see the hurt and confusion in his eyes before she turns and hurries away from the pitch. But it really has gotten to be too much. Prince Khalid is going to have to enjoy being single, because Byleth is falling in love with Claude and it’s far too hard to pretend she isn’t any longer.
Still, she feels like a coward that night when she locks herself in her room and texts him that the deal is off. Especially when she switches her phone off right after so she doesn’t have to see his response. Then she curls up on her bed, pulls the covers up to her chin, and tries not to examine the huge hole that’s opened up in her chest.
-=-=- To Be Continued -=-=-