highly recommended song to listen to while reading this: gimme love by joji.

i.

The first thing that struck him as utterly wrong was the fact that his bed was cold. Empty. Like a tomb without the flicker of flames.

Claude woke with a start, the movement mechanical colored with blind madness. She wasn't next to him, and he was in a bed he hadn't seen in years. His bed at the Academy, clad in the color of the Alliance.

Suddenly his entire body felt chilled to the bone.

He stared at his hands. Still calloused with years of wielding the bow, but no scars. No ring. His braid hung at the edge of his vision, and as he tugged at it he slowly came to himself.

Was it all a dream? He thought. The golden shade of his skin glowed in the sunlight streaming from outside his messy room, noises drifting from the training grounds reminded him of friends he thought long dead. No, it couldn't have been just a dream. Even a vision granted by Sothis herself couldn't be that vivid.

His fingertips brushed the corner of his lips. The feeling of her lips pressed against his just before he drifted off still hauntingly present like a phantom limb. But there he was, twenty years younger and sitting in his bed, waiting for deliverance.

A knock on his door shook him out of his stupor.

"Claude," a voice said, and he stiffened when he realized it belonged to Edelgard. Why was she here? The professor herself killed the empress decades ago. "Wake up. We're leaving for this month's assignment in ten minutes."

With those words said, footsteps echoed away from his room down the hall to wake Dimitri. Claude dragged a hand through his face, trying to shake himself out of it. Something wet came back, staining his calloused fingertips, and his eyes widened in shock.

He was crying.

He hadn't cried since…

When?

It was their wedding, he thought. That was the last time he cried. His tears fell without his permission at the sight of his wife in all white, her mint hair draped against lace and silk. Their friends had cheered and whistled, flower petals falling around them like silver snow, and he had kissed her with all of his heart as they walked hand in hand out of the cathedral, andー

Something choked him from the memory. It wasn't like that, his mind insisted. The last time he had cried was before setting foot on Fódlan soil, when he had said goodbye to his mother. No, no, it couldn't have been a dream all along.

He startled when he realized he couldn't recall her name anymore.

The bells toiled outside his door, signifying that he really, really needed to go.

Pushing himself off the bed, he slipped on his uniform and slung his bow across his shoulder. Tightening the straps keeping his weapon in place, he looked at his room for one last time, wondering if this was divine punishment.

As he left the door, all that filled him was a sense of loss.

ii.

They really ought to hire better professors, Claude thought with a grimace. Gritting his teeth, he gestured for Dimitri to keep up, letting an arrow lose over the blonde's shoulder. A gurgling, sickening noise told him that his arrow had found its mark. Edelgard was right on his left, her axe brandished but she was panting. Blood dripped from the blade, and it might've been the pale moonlight but he swore her face was tinting green. She probably had never killed anyone before.

Bandits yelled and chased after them. The flickering light from their torches made him a little dizzy and sick, but he kept his eyes forward and gestured for his fellow house leaders to take refuge in what looked like a village ahead of them.

"Are you mad?" Dimitri heaved as they hunched over a few trees, trying to catch their breaths. The prince was inhumanly strong, but Claude could outlast him in any race. "I refuse to bring bandits to a village of civilians. What if the bandits raid them too?"

"It's either that or dying a painful death, your princeliness." Claude replied with a dry smile, his emerald eyes sharp in the night, trying to keep track of their pursuers. "Besides, that is Remire. It might be a small village, but there's word of mouth that a band of famous mercenaries are staying there. We gotta take a gamble."

Edelgard frowned. "That does not seem very reasonable, Claude," the princess straightened her back, leveling him with a stare. "To place our lives in a gamble? We don't even have much gold to offer if there really are mercenaries there."

Claude shrugged. "You don't have to follow me, princess." And took off into the night.

"This guy," Dimitri grumbled, before giving Edelgard a look. She finally gave in, and they followed Claude, speeding up at the sound of the bandits right on their tails.

They never would've suspected the Ashen Demon herself to be their savior.

iii.

Byleth, she had said after the fighting cooled off and the three lordlings clamored to introduce themselves. With the Ashen Demon and the Blade Breaker on their side, those thieves stood no chance. She killed with purpose, the look in her eyes cold and nonexistent. No remorse, unfeeling. Claude found himself unsettled by the way she moved in the darkness as if she was invisible, flying effortlessly on the battlefield like a wood nymph in her dance. The only difference was that everywhere her feet touched, death followed. Blood spilled beneath her as if it was a sacrifice.

But the moment she turned around, something took his beating heart in a chokehold.

Her eyes. They were a deep blue, like the ocean he stared at from his father's palace in Almyra, on the edge of the unyielding desert. And yet, a feeling he couldn't put a name to stirred in him at the sight of those eyes, and phantom memories filled his mind in deja vu, pictures of rare smiles and warm embraces.

The memories were gone as abruptly as they had come.

Byleth. Her name tasted thick on his tongue, as if he had called out to her many times, in his dreams or in his prayers, he couldn't remember. His brows furrowed at the thought. Since when did he start praying?

"You must consider lending your services to the Empire," Edelgard's voice once again shook him out of his thoughts. The princess was back to her normal confidence, carrying herself with an aura of royalty and absolute as she tried to sway the demon to her side.

"Halt, Edelgard," Dimitri said, and Claude saw something in the demonーin Byleth's ーeyes that sparked with recognition. It was faint, barely there even when you know what to look for, and he felt his heart sink in dread at something he couldn't quite place.

He put on his cheery smile again and offered his own proposition in the form of a joke, showing the world his well used mask, but even then he knew he wouldn't be her choice.

And somehow that thought stung.

iv.

His classmates exchanged a wary look at his seemingly distracted mind. He didn't catch what they were saying, either, when his eyes were glued to Dimitri and Byleth walking together across the courtyard.

Professor Byleth, he reminded himself. Lady Rhea had gone and done the impossible, putting a mercenary up as their newest professor, after their previous one ran away from the bandit attack that almost killed him, Dimitri and Edelgard. Byleth had picked the Blue Lions to lead, and the only thought that had managed to offset the deep and resounding disappointment in his guts had been the image of Seteth's absolutely livid face and sputtering opposition.

He quirked a small smile. It can't be so bad after all, right? He would still see her, albeit not everyday, but he could attend her seminars and maybe, perhaps, even ask her out for tea? The thought widened his smile, and next to him, Hilda looked even more disturbed.

"Uh, Claude?" she asked, her voice hesitant. "Are you okay?"

He blinked. "Huh? Why wouldn't I be?"

Hilda was fidgeting, and the action was so uncharacteristic that he straightened up and gave her his full attention. "We're worried about you, Claude," she finally said, and Marianne next to her gave a nod, as well as Lysithea. "You keep getting these migraines and being distracted; are you working yourself too hard again? I mean, it's not like I really care, but it would suck if our house leader is missing in action for the mock battle, you know?"

A genuine smile bloomed on his face, warm and soft. They relaxed a little when they could tell he meant it, and as he explained about his late night reading trying to come up with a good enough tactic to win them the battle, they looked at each other but finally let up and left him alone, reminding him to get the rest he needed.

Of course, the reading was just an excuse.

Claude gritted his teeth as the pounding headache came back, thankful that it hit just as his friends were leaving the room. Images slid past the back of his eyes, a reality that wasn't his but something so tangible it was almost a consciousness. Pain bloomed, and he ran his hand through his hair in a fruitless attempt at trying to alleviate the ache. He couldn't catch the memory or even make out the faces anymore. There wasn't much left but feelings, so strong it made his guts turn. Loss, love, ecstasy and agony, everything mixing together in a blend of poison that made his head feel like it was stuffed with cotton. If he could bottle this stuff it would've been great.

He briefly wondered if he could sneak into the infirmary and steal a couple of tonics for the pain. Deciding against it, Claude picked himself up and left the Golden Deer classroom, heading for his room. Hopefully a nap would fix this.

A nap did not fix it.

As soon as his eyes closed, the strain in his mind opened a collage of images, blurry as if he was looking at everything through colored glass. The Saints' alcove, a kiss in front of the statue of Saint Cethleann for good luck, candles for Saint Cichol for victory. Rough, battle hardened palms held against his own, blue and mint colors flickering with the golden sunlight, swords and bows on the chaotic battlefield, soft kisses and warm embraces and blue, no, green eyes, no, no, it was something in betweenー

Claude's eyes flew open, panting. Cold sweat stuck to his back, his brown hair damp and matted to his head. His braid came undone in his tossing and turning, and the light of the dying sun told him he had slept for at least four hours.

He cursed. Pulled the blanket off and got to his feet. It was dinner time already.

Claude took a deep breath and put on his mask again, ignoring the emptiness staked so deep inside his chest it nipped at his soul.

v.

The Sword of the Creator.

It was a myth. A legend. A wishful thought in his younger self's mind, an invaluable tool to aid his dreams of unification. A sword so ridiculously powerful it could cleave a mountain in half. How could that be real?

And yet, there it was. Sitting on her sword belt by her hip. He blinked once more to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

The Blue Lions had accompanied her down the Holy Mausoleum, and they had come up worse for wear, decorated in bruises and bloodstains, but their professor had wielded the legendary sword. Why was the sword there and not Saint Seiros' remains? Claude couldn't think of a reasonable explanation for this; if the remains weren't there then where was she buried? Was Saint Seiros even dead?

Only questions with no answers in sight. He could tear his hair out in frustration.

"Hey Teach," Claude approached Byleth, and the woman turned around from her conversation with Dimitri. The prince took his cue and excused himself, leaving her alone with the Golden Deer's leader. Claude took a deep breath and steeled his mask of a smile, slightly faltering when he saw the smallest hint of, out of everything, regret, in her eyes. Why was she regretful?

Images flashed in his eyes of a happier life, a life without war and turmoil. He shook them away.

She seemed to have noticed this, because her immovable expression softened just the tiniest bit. "You don't look so well, Claude," she said, and oh, the sound of his name on her tongue had his stomach doing flips, "Would you care for some tea?"

He blinked, and said something very typical of his outstanding intelligence like, "Guh." She smiled gently at his befuddled expression as if she couldn't help herself.

Wait.

A smile?

"Come now," her smile came down as soon as it appeared, but her eyes were still warm with that indescribable soft heat, and Byleth gestured for him to follow, "Let's have some tea in my office. You like Almyran Pine Needles, don't you?"

"How'd you know?" He sputtered, and she had that bright gleam in her eyes when she said, "Oh, it's just a lucky guess."

In that moment, as he blatantly stared at her visage he thought, perhaps a bit dumbly but with absolute resolution, that he would've followed her to the edge of the world.

vi.

And follow her, he did.

Months passed and more challenges came for Byleth and her Blue Lions. Demonic Beasts and the story of how she almost lost her life for Felix still haunt Claude at night, how Miklan Gautier had turned into a gigantic monster from the relic he stole. He had spent a whole week in the monastery's library then, trying to look for any warning signs that the Sword was unsafe for her.

But her crest, the Crest of Flames that colored her blood crimson hot, would keep her safe. Numerous texts and scrolls have reassured him of that. He had breathed a sigh of relief then, collapsing into his bed after countless sleepless nights.

A vision of what he now recognized as her graced his restless dreams. Cloudy moments of repose, of her head resting against his shoulder in the warm afternoon air of Derdriu in their garden, the Riegan Estate a soft background behind their happiness. Her smile was much wider, much more radiant, and she gave them to him like candies, plentiful and sweet. He had pecked her lips then, in front of their servants, and she had giggled like a school girl despite them being fully grown adults. Her face was young and radiant, the sort of eternal youth only the divine could give and his mortal body could not hope to rival, and he had gone to great lengths to remember it well, to carve this painting of her perfect, beaming laughter into the depths of his memory. He had kissed her hand and brushed a lock of her mint hair away from her rosy cheek, and she had grinned and leaned in.

And yet, as he startled awake from his dream with tears running down his face, the sensation of her lips against his sun kissed skin faded yet again.

Just like that, his days passed as he watched her get closer to Dimitri, the prince blushing furiously in her daunting presence every single time they looked eye to eye. That's what near death experiences do to you, he thought; it made them grow closer and closer, until the night of the Ball, when he spotted them both going to the Goddess Tower. It had broken him, then, a sort of pain he couldn't comprehend the source of. Sure, by the time he led his professor to the dance floor during the Ball, he had figured out that he harbored feelings for her, but the loss he felt when Dimitri took her hand was more than an unrequited schoolboy crush. It felt as if someone had taken a part of his soul away, the Goddess given, Sothis-blessed fragment that would've made him whole. Without that, he was nothing but a halfbreed from Almyra, a prince without a throne or a people.

Claude clenched his fists and forced himself to walk away. He wasn't her choice and he had nobody to blame but himself for falling so deeply in love with her when it was clear she had chosen another. A dry chuckle left his throat at the thought that he would never be somebody's first choice.

But you are, my child , a voice, soft and feminine and holy, spoke in his mind at his bitter thoughts. She loved you.

He scoffed.

His unfounded anger didn't last long, however. The very next day, her father had returned for her monthly mission, and everything had gone to hell.

Maybe the goddess isn't real, Claude thought, as he stood in front of her room, trying to come up with a way to comfort her. How could he possibly comfort her at the face of such loss? Her father, her only family, was gone, and she must've felt so alone and lost and goddess he doesn't know how to comfort her.

"Teach?" he called out, voice hesitant but full of care, and gently knocked twice. No answer.

Muffling a curse under his breath, he sat down on the other side of her door. Letting out a heavy, mournful sigh, he started talking. Rambling about his day, about how much everyone cares about her and how so, so many people here would give their life for hers. He would give his life for her. He told her stories of his childhood, opened up about his own losses without even knowing if she could hear him, but he kept talking. Anything to keep her mind away from the spiral he knew so well.

"Teach," he said, choked up in his anxiety, "We're worried about you. We all are. IーWe…love you so much. I understand you need your space. I'll leave your dinner here, so please eat something, okay? If you need me, I'll be right here for you. Right here, Teach."

And with that, he scrambled to his feet and left, missing the longing look she gave him when the door inched open just the tiniest bit.

vii.

Two days later, his professor finally found enough strength in her to leave her room.

Seeing her in the dining hall, with her hair a mess that Mercedes and Annette fussed over, demanding to take her to the bathhouse, was more than Claude could handle. He barely managed to stop himself from marching over and kiss her right in front of everyone, determined to wipe away the dried tear stains on her cheeks. He had never seen her cry before. For the longest time, he thought she was incapable of it, even though his dreams told him that he was very wrong. Hilda apparently noticed his distress, because she put her hand over his, and when he turned over the look on her face was all compassion. His friends peeked at him with the same expression, and he quietly thanked the goddess for blessing him with them.

Byleth's pain morphed into anger. The surface of her lake was still calm, but oh, Claude could tell when he looked into those blank eyes; he could see the barely contained rage swirling beneath those dark pools. Everyone in Garreg Mach offered their help in avenging Jeralt, including himself and the Golden Deer, and she had thanked them gracefully. But whenever she blinked, the fury would be there, lurking in the shadows like a wolf lying in wait for its prey. He shuddered at the thought of her wrath, as terrifying as the goddess's divine punishment.

And a week after that, the subject of all that pain and anger surfaced.

What a fool, he thought. He had accompanied her on this battle, refusing to take no for an answer. He needed to make sure that she wouldn't lose her rationality, driven to madness by the need for revenge. Claude eyed Dimitri warily. The Faerghus prince would not have been the best person to hold someone back from running to their doom for the sake of vengeance. Good thing Claude had decided to come.

Monica, or no, Kronya, as the girl corrected them arrogantly, had seemingly dug her own grave the second she decided to lay a finger on Jeralt. It had been a long time since he had seen the blue haired woman he cared for not as Byleth, the professor, but Byleth, the Ashen Demon. He had almost forgotten how she killed with such grace and so little remorse.

The thought made Claude want to laugh. How could he have forgotten?

Letting out arrows to cover her ruthless path of destruction, he tried to keep an eye on the battlefield. His protection wasn't needed, since he had seen Byleth snap arrows from her shoulder and kept on fighting before, her face not betraying the smallest hint of pain or even discomfort. But he didn't want her hurt in any way.

So he had cursed himself when the wall of purple smoke covered her, and screamed his lungs out in anguish when Sothis didn't answer his prayers and Byleth disappeared.

The rest of his comrades stood in utter shock but quickly steeled themselves at the sight of Tomas, no, Solon , grinning like he had somehow managed to kill the goddess. Claude's vision tinged red. Next to him, Dimitri's crest activated and he ripped a tree clean off its roots, throwing it at their enemy. It caught Solon by surprise for a fraction of a second, before it disintegrated inches in front of him. The prince snarled, and was about to charge straight for the dark mage when the sun blazed.

Claude squinted his eyes at the abrupt light. No, it wasn't the sun. It was the tip of a blade, burning hotly through the fabric of time and space itself, severing the ancient ties. Power so absolute it fried the air around them, humming like a choir welcoming the return of a deity, static numbing his lungs and fingertips. His labored breath caught in his throat at the sight of the Sword of the Creator, first tip, then blade, then hilt, and then a woman stepped out from the void, her hair blazing with the might of the goddess.

Byleth.

"So the Fell Star consumes even the darkness itself." Solon said, voice quivering in justified horror, and Claude could barely stave off the growl of victory bubbling at the back of his tongue. His classmates cried in relief and disbelief, and as Byleth raised her sword with a flash of blinding light, death followed her heels like always and Solon collapsed at her feet.

And her hair was mint.

viii.

Soon after her transformation, the people of Garreg Mach started calling her Byleth, the Goddess Touched. The title was so ridiculous to him; if anything Byleth had become Sothis herself, with those turquoise eyes speckled with gold and an aura so divine it made him balk at the thought of loving her. What he said must've been at least seven charges of high blasphemy, but he couldn't care less.

His dreams of her had turned more intense, visions of sharp steel and the taste of blood mingled with words of reverence whispered in his ears on moments of weakness. He still woke up crying, but by now he wasn't sure what he felt was sorrow anymore.

The only thing that had distracted him from all of this was the fact that Edelgard was the Flame Emperor and had somehow managed to work under all of their noses.

The entire monastery was in disarray. The princess, now Empress, had declared war on the Church of Seiros, and Garreg Mach was her first target. How bold, he thought, to target an enormous stronghold never before invaded in its near one thousand years of existence, and not for lack of trying. But Rhea had insisted they prepare for the Imperial army, and when the battle came, Claude was glad they all listened.

The soldiers kept on coming and coming. His house, the Blue Lions and the Black Eagles who didn't follow their house leader all geared up for war, fighting alongside the Knights of Seiros. But, no matter how many enemies he felled, more kept taking their place. It was as if Edelgard had thrown her entire army at them.

And maybe she did. As Claude struggled to ration his arrows and had to resort to the silver sword in his hands, he tried to keep an eye on his fellow classmates. Leonie fought with fervor, still running on hatred and adrenaline after Jeralt's death. Lysithea created an impassable line, surrounding any fool who tried with hellfire. Dimitri threw men who tried to overwhelm him like bags of sand, snapping their spines as easily as sticks between his fingers. The prince's inhuman strength still made Claude uneasy, but at least it served him well. Ducking behind a somewhat clumsy sword strike, Claude slashed open the man's body before realizing it was only a boy, much younger than he was, who probably enlisted because he was going to die of hunger.

Claude growled at Edelgard. Absolutely unacceptable.

Shaking his head to find clarity in the chaos, he noticed Byleth had somehow escaped from his vision. Frantically he tried looking for her again, and the sight of sunlight reflecting from her mint hair brought him momentary relief.

Only for it to disappear as a gigantic creature roared, and the earth beneath him trembled as one. It was a dragon, with scales as white as snow, glinting sharply like silver. The creature took flight, spewing beams of light and fire that immediately fried everything that came into contact with it. Soldiers from the Empire scattered, terrified, and the chaos turned the tides of battle to their favor. His comrades used this to push back against the imperial line, and he could see Edelgard in sight, clad in crimson armor, the commander flag above her head. He pushed himself, feeling his Crest lending him much needed power to push through, and he was so close to reaching her and ending this all when an anguished wail reached his ears.

Turning back so quickly he could've gotten a whiplash, Claude's eyes widened in horror at the sight of Demonic Beasts, clamoring over themselves to attack the white dragon, the Immaculate One, his mind helpfully supplied.

But what made his heart stop was the Sword of the Creator, stretching out its spiny, segmented blade and immediately killing one of the beasts. So Byleth was there.

Cursing under his breath, he turned around and ran to her, his pulse hammering in his ear. A feeling of cold dread washed through his burning body, and he pushed harder, ran faster and prayed to Sothis yet again that he'd make it in time to be by her side. The impenetrable walls of Garreg Mach had fallen, opening up a chasm so deep he couldn't see the bottom of it.

But, as his legs screamed at him and he screamed right back, a ball of black magic materialized and hit the woman he loved with all of his heart. She stood her ground, but even the legendary sword couldn't save her, and she was pushed back, back, until her feet no longer found solid ground and she was flying, hovering, floating like the goddess for a moment before her form tumbled down the abyss.

The dragon wailed, and his throat felt tight and hot, and it took him a second to realize he was wailing, too. His feet finally carried him to the edge, and he looked at the Immaculate One for a second, held down from flying down and saving Byleth by two Demonic Beasts, at the sight of his friends screaming and yelling for him to back away, and then straining for a glimpse of Byleth in the endless darkness.

And when he saw it, the Fell Star shining in the void, celestial light cutting through twilightー

He did not hesitate.

My love, she said right by his ear, and her voice was almost sweet enough to drown out the whistling wind tearing at his body, clawing at his lips. My little deer.

Claude had nothing but a smile on his face. I love you, he told her.

She might've said it back, but the dusk of her sunset consumed him before he could hear those words.

ix.

He awoke in a dream.

"Shh," a familiar voice said. "Go back to sleep."

He looked up from the shoulder he was leaning on, and there she was, all bright smile and sunny eyes. The dying candlelight reflected little golden bits in her irises, and he sighed at the balmy Almyran night. They were sitting on a wooden swing in their garden, her feet rocking them slowly in a rhythm that made his eyes flutter in a losing battle with sleep.

"Mama," another voice asked, smaller and higher, hushed. "Is Papa sleeping so early?"

She smiled, her fingers carding through the child's brown hair, hand cupping his rosy cheek. The little one had his hair and her eyes, Claude thought, but oh, he was so sleepy. When had his hair lost its lustrous color, again? Ten, twenty years ago? His consciousness barely registered the feeling of her free hand massaging his scalp, the gesture so soothing it made sleep even harder to refuse.

His body ached terribly. It had been too long since the pain didn't plague his thoughts.

"Go play, starlight," she told their son. "Let your father rest."

And the boy giggled so cutely it made him smile in pride. Their son really took after his mother in that. Those sea foam green eyes echoed with divinity; he was truly a child of the goddess. Small, soft lips pressed against his temple and he leaned into the contact, peeking an eye out at the boy who started giggling uncontrollably. His wife, Byleth, let out an amused snort before shooing their son away.

The sky above them was studded with stars. Constellations sparkled with stories he hadn't told, stories he will tell his beloved wife and their adorable son, he told himself.

One day.

Her feet kept the swing rocking. The rhythm matched with his heartbeat, and he strained to listen for hers before his eyes inevitably slid closed. His head was nestled comfortably in her lap, breathing in her comforting scent, carried by the gentle breeze. She leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to the corner of his soft mouth.

His last thought before his consciousness slipped away was that if this was all a dream and he had to wake up, he would still be content.

x.

Floating beyond the reaches of time was a fallen star.

His starlight.

And as he strained to reach out to her, to touch that celestial holiness, Claude found himself coming up short.

Only to awaken in a reality that had long became a memory to him.

ok so i listened to joji's newest song, gimme love, sat down for three hours straight and typed this out. my gods. i hope someone caught the reason why byleth resetted, and i also hope someone caught the loop at the end hehe

my boyfriend read this and then yelled at me for ten minutes straight for hurting his feelings what a wuss