A/N: Finally, I played FE4: Seisen no Keifu! A whole new world of fandom is open to me!

But of course. No one else actually ships this couple. Literally. NO ONE. So here I am, the first to do so!

This fic ranges from a silly experiment with tone - I wanted to convey Tiltyu's cheerfulness and confidence in the first part - to a much darker representation of Tiltyu's life, with shorter pieces from Claude's POV in between. It follows canon as best as I could figure it out. Please, as always, read and review, especially on something so unknown as this. At the time of publishing, this is the ONLY piece of Tiltyu/Claude fanfic on this site!

Words: 2460
Characters: Tiltyu, Claude
Time: During 1st generation and in between the generations
Genre: Drama/Romance

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to Nintendo, not me.

Her heart throbbed with childlike excitement. Oh, how silly she was! But she could not stop herself smiling like a fool when Father Claude told her that he was leaving, and before her heart could freeze in fear, he said that she could come with him. That had to mean something, didn't it?

She was only sixteen, but she knew very well what would happen to a young, pretty, and vivacious girl if she were to be left on her own. Tiltyu was indeed one such girl. Father Claude used that word, "vivacious," to describe her, all the time. Father Claude, however, wasn't like all the boys and men that she'd met before. He was so kind. Every time he smiled at her, Tiltyu just about melted inside, feeling so lucky to have found him. She'd known a few nice boys in the past – what was his name, Axel, Azal, something like that? – but not a nice man, someone smart, someone who could really protect her from her family. As Princess of Freege, she had many comforts, but little love. Her father, Duke Reptor, didn't care for her too much since she didn't have major holy blood. He had his lovely glorious son, Blume, for that.

Well, anyway, Father Claude had to feel lucky too, didn't he? As a priest, he mustn't have had many friends. Especially not girl friends. Until he met her, he did seem rather lonely, simply praying all the time. Now he smiled a lot more and saw the sun and everything. How could he not appreciate her for that? He certainly made no effort to avoid her. He taught her of spells and staves, myths and legends, faith and virtue, love and loss. Everything that a well-rounded girl ought to know in order to be a well-educated wife sometime in the future, right? No one else had ever taken the time to teach her such things before. Princess or not, they just taught her manners, and left it at that. It grew rather tiresome after a while.

She was beginning to fancy herself in love with Father Claude, to be honest. Wouldn't that be so grand, to have a man like Father Claude as a husband? He was such a kind man!

She followed his quick footsteps as they fled towards the Blagi Tower. That's where they were going, their final destination, Father Claude said – a place where one with the right Holy Blood could commune with the gods and receive powerful prophecies. Tiltyu didn't fully understand, but she was happy to get out into the real world, with someone she trusted by her side. A man. She could hardly be any luckier – unless, of course, she were that man's wife, and then she'd be sure of his protection.

But she couldn't get her hopes up. He was a priest, after all.

"How much farther, Father Claude?" said Tiltyu cheerfully, bouncing in front of him and walking backwards. They had just passed Augustria, hadn't they, so surely not too much farther?

"If all goes well once we reach the desert, perhaps only a day more," he said, squinting over her head. His cheeks were just the slightest bit browned by the constant sun during their travels; he was such a fair person. "You've held up well, Tiltyu, I didn't know if traveling would suit you."

"Me! I was more worried about you!"

"Well, I thank you for your concern," he said, smiling a little.

"You're welcome! Someone's got to worry about you, after all – oops!"

The back of her foot banged against a loose piece of wood in the bridge, sending her tumbling backwards, and if there hadn't been the tiniest bit of railing along the outside edge, she would have fallen right into the sea. As it was, she hit her poor bottom quite hard against that rail, and yelped with the pain of it.

Father Claude, being so kind, of course, rushed to her aid. "Tiltyu, are you all right?" He knelt beside her and put an arm around her shoulders, helping her to her feet.

"Ouch," she mumbled as she rose. "Ouch. Um, yes, I'm fine, Father Claude! Thank you!"

Before he could take his arm away, Tiltyu threw her own arms around him, and since he was already standing so close to her, he really had no choice but to hug her back. She was quite talented at stealing hugs from him like this. She held him tight and relished the feeling of his arms around her, too. She never felt quite as safe and warm as she did when in his arms, and even that besides, the hug very much distracted her from the pain in her bottom. Who would ever want to let go?

But they did have to move on. Tiltyu soon couldn't walk backwards and talk to him face-to-face anymore, for the sand was much too thick for her to keep her footing. Father Claude had to catch her twice before she deemed tripping a wholly unnecessary consequence of travel, one that was easily avoided simply by walking like normal people did. Though, soon she did rather miss feeling Father Claude's hands catch her safely by the wrist or shoulders.

As they passed a frightening-looking precipice, Tiltyu couldn't help but grab his hand. He didn't say anything, but he didn't make her let go either. She pressed herself close to him, determined to put as much distance between herself and that horrible cliff as possible.

"Father Claude," she said at last. This one silly, unanswered question had been getting quite in the way of her happier thoughts of their friendship. "Why'd you let me come with you? I mean, I'm happy that you did, really happy, I just can't figure out why. I don't have enough Holy Blood to hear prophecies, and I can't help you understand them, and I'm not the best fighter, if we were to be attacked, and I don't have much money, and - "

"I let you come," he said, interrupting her well-rehearsed little speech, "because I knew that if I did not, you would delay my departure for hours with desperate begging that in the end, I could not resist. Even if I did, you would follow me, and thus be in even more danger, being alone and subject to the inherent perils of solitary travel."

Tiltyu blinked some sand out of her eyes. "Oh," she said finally. "Wow, Father Claude, I didn't know you cared about me so much! I mean, you know I like you, so of course I'd try to go with you – but I didn't know you liked me too!"

He gave a great sigh, glancing down at her cheery smile, her face resting against his arm. Tiltyu almost thought she could see a blush on his cheeks, but it was impossible to be really certain. Father Claude looked back at the unbeaten path of sand in front of them. "Of course I care about you. It is my duty as a priest to care for those in need, such as you, when we first met. Palace life was suffocating you. Now I am simply continuing that duty. It is no trouble."

Tiltyu didn't try to get any more out of him. Just that last comment was plenty enough to strike her fancy. Her heart felt all warm and fuzzy with love of him, and she didn't let go of his arm for a long time, and he didn't complain.

That girl was going to be the undoing of him. He was quite certain of it.

He had lived so many years without once being charmed by a beautiful woman, and here he was, quite taken with the silliness of a girl. Claude sighed as the Princess of Freege clung to his arm, his only companion in the vast desert. It was the least he could do for her, taking her out of the palace. Her family was not cruel to her, by any means, but they were negligent, and that was often worse. Poor Tiltyu, though anxious to get out, still never wished them harm, and Claude had to admire her for that, along with her constant cheerfulness, her confident outlook on life.

Her smiles were infectious. Her whole face lit up when her lips so much as twitched, and she was never shy; she always beamed.

What I am doing, thinking of her like this? He quarreled inside his head. Yes, she is a pretty girl, but I have known pretty girls before. She is so very different.

But it was no matter. Even with Tiltyu's companionship as a constant distraction, first and foremost on Claude's mind was the looming war. Only he could help Sir Sigurd by learning the truth, through prophecy, of what really happened to Lord Bryon, Sigurd's father.

When they reached the Tower of Blagi, Claude – rather regretfully – extracted himself from Tiltyu's grasp and entered alone to commune with the gods, and he missed her presence almost at once.

"Is is true?"

Claude started and turned around. A tear-stained face was peering into his tent, with eyes red and puffy. He had never seen Tiltyu look like that. Like all hope was lost.

"Tiltyu, whatever is the matter?" he said, hurrying over to her and beckoning her into his tent. It was late, too late for her to be awake – for either of them, really – but he, at least, had been praying.

At once she threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly, her damp face pressed against her chest. When she spoke, it was though barely restrained sobs.

"I… I overheard you t-talking to Sir Sigurd," she said. "About… my father… you said he wanted to kill Sigurd. M-my family is fighting against this army. I don't know what to do, Father Claude, I… I…"

"Shh, Tiltyu, don't cry," Claude said, rubbing her shoulders. "Oh, Tiltyu, I'm sorry… I should've told you as soon as I knew."

"What if they all find out who I am? What if they hate me? What if I have to fight them? Everyone here is so kind…"

"No one could hate you," said Claude. He moved her arms away from his shoulders, but held both her hands and met her eyes squarely. It was almost unbearable, to see the fear and sadness in her normally bright and cheerful face. "You will not have to fight if you do not wish to. I swear it. I will make sure Sir Sigurd understands. Please, don't cry, I can't bear to see you so sad."

She sniffed and tried to rub her cheeks, but since Claude was still holding her hands, she brought his fingers up to her face instead. Wordlessly he brushed the tears away, his heart racing, his mind warring against his heart and condemning the foolishness of his spirit.

"Could you ever love me, Father Claude?" Tiltyu said, very quietly.

The question caught him so by surprise that he froze with his fingers still against her skin. He struggled to sort through the emotions that coursed through him at her words. How could he deny her, when she was so alone save for him, and when he knew there was bound to be some truth in her words?

He spoke slowly, softly, as she fell into his embrace once more. "I have not often known love," he said. "But… after meeting you… I feel very lucky."

He heard her catch her breath sharply. And then, hardly aware of what was happening, he felt her lips press hesitantly against his, and he was lost.

In the back of his mind, this was no surprise. He had always known that she would be the undoing of him, after all.

Everyone said little Tinny looked just like her. As lovely as her mama, they said. But Tiltyu thought she could see more of Claude in Tinny's face. Her eyes were as soft and kind as his. But no else seemed to notice that. No one but Tiltyu knew who her father was, anyway. She didn't even know if Claude knew about Tinny. He had been there when Arthur was born, but Tiltyu was already trapped in the castle with Blume and Hilda when she realized she was pregnant again. Now both Arthur and Claude were gone, and she didn't even know if they were still alive.

In a dark corner of her palace "room" – a room that was more apt to be described as a dungeon cell – Tiltyu clung to her little daughter, feeling Tinny's sobs warm against her chest. There was no kind Father Claude to protect them now. Tiltyu wondered, vaguely, if he regretted what they had done – he was a priest, after all.

She did not regret it for a moment. She loved her children too much for that. Even with all the suffering she had endured at Hilda's hands solely for her refusal to reveal who Tinny's father was, Tiltyu did not regret their brief affair, and out of love for him, she would not reveal their actions. He alone would suffer if she did that.

She reflected on their time together. Once, she had been scared and sad, and he had been there, kind and loving, to comfort her. Another time, they had been hurried and desperate, reveling in each other's touch but knowing how little time they had left. He could never stay with her. He could never risk being discovered, and losing everything he had in life. Even if it meant losing her. She never would know whom his departure had hurt more – she herself could hardly breathe from the pain of his absence sometimes, but the look in his eyes when he left her and their son – the last look she would ever see – was one of such conflict and distress that Tiltyu looked away rather than attempt to understand it.

But none of it mattered now. Tiltyu held her daughter to her, alert for the sound of Hilda's dainty, cruel footsteps outside their door. Soon she would enter and demand a puppet, a toy for her abuse, and Tiltyu would volunteer, refusing to let Hilda lay a hand on Tinny. Her own blood didn't bother Tiltyu anymore, but any bruise on little Tinny's skin was as painful to Tiltyu as if her heart was being ripped right out of her chest.

There was no one else to protect her now.