Tangled Schemes - Claude x Byleth

Also, while I live in Canada, my heart goes out to all of you in the USA right now. I know there isn’t much I can say. But I hope change is coming soon and that it comes before more people are hurt or killed by the police.

For anyone else who wants to help but doesn’t have the funds to donate or the ability to be out on the frontlines, there’s a video you can watch where if you turn off adblock and don’t skip the ads, they’ll generate revenue. Tumblr apparently has a weird thing about links now but if you search Zoe Amira on youtube you’ll find the video.

The plan had been to use Leonie and Raphael’s loud and overbearing natures to force Byleth into choosing somewhere else to stay, at which point Claude would suggest that the only safe place for a pair of fugitives—that wasn’t filled with the same sort of people—was outside the kingdom. But she has taken the maelstrom of people in stride better than he had when he first got involved with them. From the chaotic meals to helping with the myriad of chores, she had fallen into step with Claude as if she’d spent her life dodging high-born egos and high-strung housemates.

Which wasn’t to say he left her completely at their mercy: that would be cruel no matter how well she was adapting. It was only humane for him to sneak her off for picnic lunches to escape the inn; even he needed that break from the others after spending so long on his own. No one should have to deal with Lorenz all day long, and it gave Claude a chance to show off his cooking skills and use supplies. His spices were going to go stale if he didn’t use them soon.

In fact, he had logical explanations for every moment he took her away from the people he was supposed to let her run from…

…Except for why he was bringing her to the gardens to meet Marianne.

Blue hair shining in the sun, her dark dress blending in with the shrubs, the woman in question was sitting with on one of the stone benches when Claude rounded the corner. She was so intent on the book in her lap that she didn’t notice she had visitors. Byleth stopped abruptly when she saw the other woman, and took a step back as she looked around with a touch of unease. Marianne certainly looked peaceful, with the birds at her feet and the flower petals drifting over her skirt; Claude could see why Byleth would be hesitant to intrude. He felt a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, but he took Byleth’s hand in his and drew her forward all the same.

“You haven’t met all of the Golden Deer, yet,” Claude said in response to her unasked question, even as she let him steer her towards the bench. “You’ll like her. Trust me.”

Marianne stood when she caught sight of them, her eyes only a little wide as she shut her book and tucked it into a pocket hidden in her full skirt. For the first time since he’d known her, she didn’t have sleepless circles darkening her eyes, nor did she have an expression of defeat. She was still looking at Byleth as if she was potentially dangerous, but at least she was looking up. She hadn’t even tried to run away, either. Claude could only shake his head, and tried to keep the disbelief out of his expression.

To think he had considered Leonie with long hair to be the most drastic change.

Neither woman spoke, nor would they meet the others gaze. Marianne was looking at Byleth’s collar, and Claude was pretty sure Byleth was staring at Marianne’s braids. They stood in silence for so long that Claude briefly entertained the notion of counting down the amount of time it would take for one of them to speak up; it would probably last until lunch. But he took pity on them when they looked to him at the same time, clearing his throat to hide the smile that he still couldn’t get rid of.

“Marianne, this is Sunshine. Sunshine, Marianne.”

“Ignatz was right.” Marianne was the first to speak after the introduction, giving a slight bow with her hand over her heart as she smiled shyly. “You are beautiful.”

Byleth nodded in response, her eyes softening in that just-perceptible way that was becoming familiar to Claude since they had arrived at the inn. After a moment she mumbled a faint thank you, and mimicked Marianne’s bow before the two women returned to staring at each other.

“…So what were you reading?” Claude asked, before the awkward silence could set in too badly. “New book?”

“Yes, it’s the Goddess’s wisdom.” Marianne nodded solemnly, and she pulled the leather-bound book from her pocket. “A collection of tales to teach and encourage.”

“Ah, I should have guessed that’s what you would be reading.”

“Claude that’s not—”

“I didn’t know the goddess was for everyone.”

Byleth spoke the interruption quietly and without inflection, yet the conversation evaporated as surely as if she had just insulted the Saints with a bar-room brawler’s choice vocabulary. Marianne and Claude turned to look at her as she reached out to touch the book with a hesitant hand. Her fingers rested against the cover as if she was reassuring herself it was real. Her brows were pulled together in the barest frown.

“My mother never…I thought…”

Claude’s stomach dropped. His temperature followed suit, and he even got a little light-headed. It was a feeling uncomfortably similar to his first time on the back of a wyvern, when it had decided to dive for the ground without his input. Unlike his wyvern though, words didn’t have reigns on them he could pull to regain control. There was no explaining what had just been said. Everyone knew the goddess. Everyone worshipped the goddess. Byleth’s comment was a glaring error in the carefully hinted-at-but-never-explained background he had built for her to keep her from suspicion, because no one was a non-believer in the kingdom.

At least not openly.

Marianne wouldn’t be able to pursue them, so all he needed was to get to the barn and the horses before Leonie and Lorenz got word that something wasn’t right with Byleth—she was already on thin ice with Leonie because she had never heard of King Jeralt, and Lorenz would be delighted to take Claude down a few notches. He just needed a head start and everything would go back to plan.

Every excuse he could think of on the tip of his tongue, Claude was already reaching for Byleth’s hand when Marianne smiled.

“Of course the Goddess is for everyone.” With all the softness she usually saved for injured animals, Marianne offered the book to Byleth. “Would you…would you like to read with me? The Goddess can be for you too.”

And just like that, the world started turning normally again as Byleth nodded and followed Marianne to the bench.

Leaning back against a nearby tree as he watched them, Claude silently let out his breath and drew it back in as he tried to calm his nerves. Somehow the gaffe had escaped notice, with Marianne misconstruing it to mean that Byleth had somehow been denied access to the goddess; her ignorance was being seen as something to be pitied instead of suspected. Claude smiled wryly. He really needed to remember that not everyone had grown up looking over their shoulder with one eye.

The sun picked out threads of white-green amidst Byleth’s blue-dyed hair, and made Marianne’s match the morning sky. Their heads close together, framed by the gardens and shaded by the arching branches, the two women were almost painfully picturesque as they read together amidst the flowers. It was something that Ignatz would love to paint, given the chance.

Not that Claude was going to give it to him. Instead, he sat down at the base of his tree and settled himself in the grass. Claude didn’t know what Byleth’s mother had told her about the goddess, but he knew it couldn’t have been good. If his suspicions were correct, it couldn’t have been anything close to good.

Things over here have gotten pretty messed up because of COVID-19. Most of you are probably already experiencing some of the same things. Stores are selling out of essentials, some businesses have closed, and my work has cut hours so drastically I may not be on the schedule for a couple weeks without pay.

While this may seem like a golden time for updates to happen with this story, the precautions being taken by my city are likely going to make my already unhealthy living situation worse. I don’t know if I’ll have the energy to write. Or be creative in general.

I’m going to try my best to do something for this AU during this time (art or story wise), so other people in similar situations have something to enjoy. But I just wanted to put out an update that while I’m still here, things are rocky.

Her red hair had gotten so long since the last time Claude has seen her that it was gathered off to the side in a ponytail. She’d gotten taller too, and she gleefully ruffled his hair once she let him go so the rest of the inn could get at him. They too were all visibly older since he had seen them last, and Claude had to swallow a sudden lump in his throat as they gathered round with smiles and cheers.

Raphael scooped him up into a bear hug that lesser men had died from, and Claude’s ribs creaked before he managed to free an arm and shove Raphael away just enough to breathe. With his lungs taken care of, he submitted to being affectionately crushed and called out greetings as the others laughed at him. Ignatz was trying to be polite about it, but all three girls were openly giggling over the fact that Claude’s boots were a foot off the ground; not that he’d ever accuse Leonie of giggling to her face.

Her caution having turned to curiosity, Byleth closely watched the entire exchange from where she was still standing by the door. Her grip on the sword had loosened and her head was tilted slightly to one side. When Raphael finally put Claude down, the blond noticed her gaze and turned to her with a grin.

“You want a hug too, miss?” He asked in his always too-loud voice, arms outstretched.

Byleth looked at Raphael, considered, and then—to Claude’s great surprise—nodded. Raphael gallantly let her keep her boots on the ground when she came forward, pulling her into his barrel chest for the relatively gentle embrace he reserved for his sister and Lysithea. Claude was pretty sure Byleth still got the air knocked out of her though, if her quiet huff of breath was anything to go by.

When Raphael let her go she stepped back towards Claude, but her stoney expression was soft around the edges as she glanced around the inn. She waved a hand in a vague gesture, and Claude leaned closer to hear her over the sound of the inn.

“Who…who are they?” Byleth finally asked him, her cheeks tinged pink.

“They’re the finest the kingdom has to offer,” Claude said more honestly than he intended, the lump coming back up in his throat. He quickly coughed a couple times, putting his hands on Byleth’s shoulders and moving her in front of him before anything else slipped from his mouth.

“Time for some belated introductions!” He called out.

“About time!” Hilda said, bouncing up from her chair to reach out a hand to Byleth. “Don’t mind Claude’s awful manners, he’s incorrigible. I’m Hilda, what’s your name?

“It’s—”

“—Far too long for such a short stay,” Claude cut in smoothly, hoping he showed no outward sign of the fact that his heart had just slammed into his chest, “I prefer to call her Sunshine, myself.”

Byleth seemed not to mind the nickname he’d given her, for which Claude was ever grateful. She simply nodded in agreement with his statement as Hilda pouted. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Lysithea frowning at them with narrowed eyes though, and he had to stifle the urge to look guiltily at the sword. Had the wrapping slipped? There was a reason why the white-haired girl was his chess partner. If anyone could guess who Byleth might be…

“You’re unbelievable Claude,” Lysithea complained, stamping her foot and nearly causing him to fall over with relief. “You give this woman a gallant nickname like that yet insist on calling me a kid?”

“But Sunshine is such an apt observation!” Ignatz lit up like the natural occurrence in question, leaning forward to inspect Byleth’s face. “Your skin is practically luminous somehow, and your eyes are so bright! Would you let me paint you? Just a sketch at least—”

“Ignatz!” Hilda shoved the young man away in horror that was only slightly exaggerated. “You do not just ask a strange woman if you can paint her, you sound like a creep!”

“Don’t worry, Iggy just likes painting! You can paint me and my muscles instead if Sunshine says no,” Raphael laughed, as Ignatz turned a deep shade of red and stammered out apologies.

The girls were still tsk-tsking over Ignatz’s comment as they assured Byleth that the boys were really just harmless idiots, and Claude was trying to placate Lysithea when a peevish voice drawled out from an upstairs railing and caused half the people gathered to turn towards it.

“I can tell from the ruckus that a certain someone of ill-repute someone must be back.”

Back ramrod straight, Lorenz looked down at Claude with a frown as pointed as his pale face as he tucked a silk rose into his lapel. His glare focused on the state of Claude’s tunic, fussily readjusting his own immaculate clothing as he posed at the rail. But Lorenz visibly deflated—to Claude’s amusement—when Hilda rolled her eyes, and his dignity took a further hit when Lysithea snorted.

“Oh, give it up Lorenz,” Leonie said, flapping a hand dismissively at him as the final blow that had his shoulders practically slumping. “Come down and meet the new girl.”

“By the Goddess, if I must.”

Something about the comment caught Byleth’s interest, her eyes flicking to Lorenz as her mouth opened, and Claude was relieved when Hilda unintentionally cut her off by loudly clearing her throat. Everyone stopped their friendly arguing yet again, Ignatz physically covering Raphael’s mouth to stifle whatever comment was almost made. Hands propped on her hips and scowling at the now-mostly-silent inn, Hilda scolded them thoroughly on behalf of their “new girl”.

“Ahem! Now that everyone is done being too energetic, I think it’s time for proper introductions, don’t you? The poor thing has no idea who anyone is but me!”

“You’re absolutely right, Hilda.” Lysithea sighed and offered her hand to Byleth. “I’m Lysithea, and I’m the mature one. Don’t let anything Claude tells you convince you otherwise, regardless of my age!”

The others crowded around to offer their own names and contradict each other’s claims, cheerfully offering various hospitalities on behalf of the Golden Deer. By the time Claude managed to extract her, Byleth’s cheeks were pink enough that Claude wondered if they were going to stay that way permanently. She sighed in evident relief when he pulled her into the relative quiet of the kitchen though, and sank into a chair as he began to rifle through the cupboards.

“Raphael is setting you up in the room next to mine, or he will once they’re all done arguing in there” Claude called out, head in the cold storage box. “How about a snack while we wait? I can’t even remember the last time I ate today.”

“Yes.” Byleth was looking at the doorway to the main area when Claude turned, her expression unreadable once again. “Are they always like that?”

“Depends what you mean by ‘that’.” Claude started cutting slices from a loaf of bread after he set a pan on the stove. “Loud? Definitely. Friendly? Usually. You might have got a different welcome if you didn’t come in with me but I wouldn’t put money on it.”

Claude could almost feel Byleth’s gaze switch from the doorway to his back, and he fought to keep from visibly tensing up. If she was searching for something, he wasn’t going to volunteer an answer he hadn’t planned on. So he continued cooking as if he hadn’t noticed her watching, glancing over his shoulder to smile at her as he cracked eggs into the sizzling pan. But Byleth didn’t respond beyond a slight tilt of her head, so Claude shook his and focused on not burning himself.

When he handed her the toast, topped with tomato slices and a fried egg, Byleth took it almost mechanically. Her eyes dropped to her plate in vacant deference, and she stuffed the edge of the bread into her mouth without even looking at it; as if eating were a chore to be endured, rather than something to be enjoyed.

Then, as Claude watched with consternation, she froze. Her cheeks turned the faint pink it had been in the main room again, throat bobbing as she hastily swallowed the bite she had taken before she broke into a coughing fit. She covered her mouth with both hands, the sword dropping under the table. But she waved him back when he rose from his seat, so he sat back down and waited.

“So…are you all right?” He ventured to ask after a minute, once he was reasonably sure she wasn’t about to choke and have her adventure outside the monastery be very short-lived.

“Mm.” Byleth nodded, and sipped from the goblet of water Claude had poured for her. “I…It was unexpected.”

“What was? The egg?”

“Yes. It was so different from what Mother used to make.” She shrugged, took another bite, and chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. “More…flavoured.”

“Flavoured?” Claude almost choked on his own bite of his snack, trying not to laugh and spray food everywhere. “I barely seasoned this! If you think this is flavoured, I should take you to my hometown someday. They have some truly tasty dishes.”

“They do?”

“Absolutely. In fact, come here a minute.”

Before long, the kitchen was in a state of disarray that was going to get Claude scolded within an inch of his life as he pulled out his stashes of herbs and spices for Byleth. He got her to smell and taste them as he described the food they would be used with, rattling on about how much more could be done in the kitchen than boiling or baking. Not even a taste of dried pepper dampened Byleth’s interest. The candles burned low as Claude talked long into the rest of the night, and even when his stock of tales burned as low as the light did, Byleth’s green eyes never left his face.

“So this place we’re going,” Claude blurted into the stillness, suddenly overwhelmed by the need to talk, “is called the Golden Deer Inn. You’ll see the sign before anything; it has a stag on it, with curving antlers that reach out towards the sky.”

“…I do like deer.” Byleth climbed up a half-rotted stump to inspect the mushrooms on it, before she slid down into the moss on the other side. “How far is it now?”

“Not far. We should be there before the dark.”

They lapsed into silence yet again when Byleth only nodded, and Claude bit his tongue before he could say anything else.

He wasn’t going to gain anything from his usual chatter if she didn’t engage with it. No matter how much he wanted to take his mind off the way he could see the slightest hint of awe glinting in Byleth’s eyes when she saw something new. Even wildflowers were given the dignity of being inspected before she walked through them. He wondered if she knew she had stopped looking over her shoulder ages ago, the fear of what—or who—might follow them being overridden by everything a forest had to offer.

Claude was convinced she was happy, and that he wanted to keep it that way. She didn’t belong locked away in the monastery if something as simple as nature gave her joy. His gaze flickered to the sword. He could offer her adventure in exchange for her help, if only she would follow him…

The moon was starting to shimmer behind the colours of the dusky sky when they turned the second-to-last bend in the road before the inn. Reds and purples bled through the clouds as the sun set, softening the edges of the landscape as the visibility faded. Claude almost lost Byleth a couple times, her dark clothing and dull blue hair blending into the shadows even though she was pale as a ghost. The third time he felt his heart jump in his chest because she’d vanished from sight, he jogged to her side and cleared his throat to get her attention.

“Hey, think you could stick a little closer? I can’t take you anyway if I can’t find you.”

Claude wasn’t expecting her to say anything in response, but he wasn’t expected her to nod and put her hand in the crook of his arm, either. It took actual effort not to jump from the unexpected contact. For some reason his focus was utterly caught by the gesture, and he couldn’t draw his attention away. He swore he could even hear the soft rasp of the calluses on her hands against his sleeve.

“Is it fine?” Byleth asked, and her already light touch started to withdraw.

“Of course,” Claude said automatically, but he also knew that he meant it even after the words popped out. He shook his head and let her draw away though, gesturing ahead of them. “But I guess it is a little unnecessary.”

Three times as tall as Claude was, the sign for the Golden Deer Inn towered over the road markers at the crossing. Painted bright yellow and shaded to look like actual gold, it caught the light until it nearly glowed. Across the field stood the inn itself, a big wooden boarding house that had more permanent residents than guests—and was currently lit up in a way that suggested they were all home. Byleth’s eyes darted between the sign and inn, enraptured by them so much that Claude smiled crookedly.

“Ignatz did the sign; yet you wouldn’t believe how long it took us to convince him he should do art as a trade. You can compliment him yourself in about a minute if he’s around.”

Byleth nodded, falling into step behind Claude as he turned and headed up the roughly paved road towards the inn. He noted the familiar horses and which rooms were lit, mentally tallying up who was going to be inside. There weren’t any carriages or animals in the stables he didn’t recognize, and Claude thought they might just be fortunate enough for there not to be any strangers around. So with luck, they wouldn’t be recognized. At least by anyone Claude didn’t approve of.

“Although…think you could ease off on the armed and dangerous look before we get there?” He waved at the sword Byleth had kept in her hand since they’d left the monastery. “I promise we’re not going to hurt you.”

“What else would I do with it?” Byleth asked. “I have no sheath.”

“You got me there, Sunshine.” Claude mentally cursed as he looked around. The Golden Deer were good folks, but even they might have something to say if they recognized the relic. “Hold on a second.”

Running to the woodblock, Claude grabbed the leather apron that someone had left behind. It was the work of a moment to roll it up in such a way where it could be tied with its own strings, and afford at least a semblance of anonymity to the saw-edged blade. When Byleth only stared him down in response to him holding out his hand for the weapon, he sighed and handed the makeshift sheath to her instead.

“I can’t believe you still don’t trust me,” he said, pretending to be wounded by her skepticism—judging by her continued unimpressed frown, she didn’t buy it. “I’m not going to take it and run off before I get you to the kingdom. I won’t even grab the sword and swim for it the second I get you to the lights.”

“Do you promise?”

“Of course.”

Claude winced at how fast he replied, knowing it sounded dishonest. But he meant it. The Sword of the Creator was useless to him without Byleth, and he had no intention of leaving her behind. Regardless of who she was, or wasn’t; she belonged in the world. He put a hand over his heart when they stopped at the inn’s front door, the gesture cliché but the feeling behind it sincere.

“You have my word. I won’t even think about leaving your side until after your birthday.”

Or ever, he added to himself when she gave the slightest of accepting nods. But he wasn’t going to explain things he didn’t need to, so he turned his saccharine pose of sincerity into a bow, sweeping out his arm. He took hold of the door handle, and grinned up at Byleth through the wayward pieces of hair that had fallen over his eyes.

“…Byleth.” She dropped her arm, and the sword reverted to its former state of innocuous beige with a crack.

“Byleth? Good choice; I can’t think of anything to make out of that one.” Claude tapped his lips mock thoughtfully, his humour coming back at the way her forehead creased the slightest bit at his teasing. “And yet, I must try.”

He needed her trust; an affectionate nickname was a good place to start if he was going to figure out how to charm her for real. It also gave him time to calm his thoughts and nerves. Running from the guards had been less stressful than dealing with her so far.

She watched him in silence. Her hair was almost white in the light reflecting off the stone walls, and it reminded him of something he had seen that morning. Claude smiled, and the perfect solution occurred to him.

“Wait, I’ve got it. Sunshine.”

“Sunshine?” Byleth blinked at him, glancing up to the sky as if expecting to see herself.

“Yeah, Sunshine. Your hair is like the forest when the sun hits it. And it’s a lot easier on the old tongue than Byleth.”

Not to mention if his hunch was correct, he wasn’t about to run around calling her by her real name. He wasn’t sure about the mother she’d mentioned. If she wasn’t the birth mother, well…if Byleth’s birthday was the same, others things might be as well. That could get messy, and Claude liked to avoid that kind of thing.

“Hm.” Byleth absorbed his reasoning after a few more seconds, her almost-teal coloured eyes unfocused. “What’s your name?”

“Ah, right. Claude von Riegan, at your service: your humble guide and a person of no other importance.” He swept a playful bow.

“…Really?” Byleth still wasn’t really looking at him, and by extension wasn’t buying into his scheme.

“Actually, no; I’m also an excellent cook.” Still no reaction. “Aaand since you now know everything about me, I propose we use the rest of the daylight to make for the border.”

“Border?” Those bright eyes snapped to his face, focusing on him in an instant. Whatever state her emotions were or were not in, she was no fool. Too bad. “The lights are not at the border.”

“Of course, but your birthday is a week away.” Claude picked up his bow—that was somehow still unbroken—and settled it on his back once again. “I thought we could do a little travelling and come back later. I was heading somewhere with that sword, you see, and the kingdom doesn’t quite like me right now.”

Byleth’s expression turned so cold and hard that for a moment Claude thought she was going to knock him out again. He took an instinctual step back, and her saw her grip tighten on the sword hilt when he did. Something akin to red lightning crawled over the blade, though it didn’t segment as it had before. Claude froze, and forced himself to stand his ground. When he didn’t move for a minute Byleth relaxed, and the weapon dulled.

“I will take no risks regarding this.” She glanced at a window in the castle to her left, and her gaze was visibly troubled. “I have only one chance.”

Well that was something to unpack later—preferably somewhere else, if Byleth’s concern was anything to go by. Claude stifled a groan. Somewhere else wasn’t going to be somewhere he wanted to be, either. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Byleth was resistant to his charm, she was stubborn and strong. Pushing his luck might lose him everything, not just whatever good humour she might have. She honestly reminded him of the folks back at the inn.

Hm…that was something to consider.

“If you insist on staying within the kingdom, I may know a place.” Claude’s mood lightened considerably as he warmed to the idea he’d just had. “It’s maybe a day from here, quiet little spot. We could lay low for a while; wouldn’t want to overwhelm you with noise and people, right?”

He mentally pumped a fist triumphantly when Byleth nodded her approval of the suggestion, but his celebration was short-lived; he had to scramble to catch up when she turned and walked away. Her stride was longer than he expected from her height, and her lack of facial cues had surprised him again. She was halfway down the hall before he caught up; right before she went into what he assumed was the kitchen.

A pot of congealed oatmeal sat half-eaten on the table, as bland as Byleth’s expression. She ignored it and wordlessly started packing a bag with food and water from a cupboard, before ducking into the pantry. Starting from the door, she methodically went through all the jars and bags to make sure they were well sealed even if she took nothing from them. Claude followed to poke around whenever she wasn’t looking, but found nothing more exciting than dried herbs and flowers that looked medicinal in nature; the stores were mostly grains and preserved meat, simple things that could have been acquired themselves.

“You’ve got a decently stocked castle for two people,” he said as he rummaged through a wooden chest, while Byleth was elbow-deep in another, checking seals himself to hurry things along, “did you hunt all this game?”

“It’s a monastery, and I’ve never been outside the walls. Mother caught the game.” She shook her head, snapping the lid of the chest shut as she changed topics with as little warning as everything else. “I’m done; we should go.”

Byleth’s mother was sounding more and more like someone he didn’t want to meet, and Claude glanced up the high windows to gauge the light.

“Just one thing,” he said, stepping in front of Byleth to stop her from marching out the door. “I don’t know if you know this, but you have the same colour hair as the kingdom’s missing princess. We go out with you looking like this and we’ll never get anywhere. They might cancel the lights just so the king can question you. Next thing you know your, er, mom, will be involved and it’ll be a mess.”

“You will not discourage me from seeing the lights.”

“I’m not trying to.” Claude pulled the sheaf of dried flowers he’d nicked from the panty out from behind his back. “I’m just saying you should try something…darker.”

xxx

Kneeling over a pail of dye in the courtyard, Byleth watched her soon-to-be guide from the corner of her eye as he massaged crushed flowers into her hair to deepen the colour. The robes from that morning were draped around her shoulders, an impulsive decision she didn’t regret even as they became spotted and ruined. Cloudy, bluish water dripped from her bangs onto the silk and then the grass, staining them both—along with the mismatched leather gloves pulled to Claude’s elbows.

His hands were gentle, even though Byleth had seen the frustration in his eyes when she’d backed him into a corner regarding his taking her to the lights. Every time a strand of hair tangled in the clumsy gloves he apologized and did his best to free it without pulling, even though she had done far worse to him than the pulling out of hair. She could see the lump on the side of his head even through her bangs, and yet he treated her with care.

Byleth wasn’t sure what to make of his kindness.

She knew he wanted something from her, and yet he seemed more genuine than her own mother. Rhea wanted something from Byleth too, her actions always seeming to suggest that every smile was weighed against the day she got what she wanted. But Claude wiping drips of water from her cheek as he told her they were done, with the handkerchief he’d materialized from some unknown pocket, was disturbingly without motive. As if he would have done it even if he didn’t want something.