Garreg Mach: Through the Eyes of a Commoner

Trust

Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare.

Sarah whimpered and buried her face in her hands, her tired eyes leaking tears of sorrow, and fear, and grief, and sheer exhaustion.

When was the last time I had a good night? she wondered, as her nails dug in her skin. She couldn't remember.

A whine escaped her lungs at the sound of a soft knock on her door.

No. Not now.

Felix couldn't have picked a worse moment to show up; vulnerable as she felt, there was no way she would be able to keep a clear head while they talked. I should have slept in Ashe's room, she lamented internally, as she wiped the tears from her puffy face. This had been entirely predictable—Felix was nothing short of determined—and also the reason she'd specifically asked Sylvain to spend the night with him.

Fucking Sylvain. I asked you one thing.

Sarah sighed, then left the comfort of her bed, her teeth clattering at the sting of the cool air on her sweaty skin. She lit her candle, then put on the robe Claude gifted her, tying the belt tight around her waist, as if it would somehow convince Felix that her body was unattainable—not that it would prevent her from breaking down and making bad decisions.

She took a deep breath and twisted the doorknob. "Cl–" She bit back the rest of his name. "Since when do you knock?" she whispered.

Claude grinned. "Gotta give Felix enough time to climb out the window."

Sarah's face fell. She was in no mood to deal with his shit, not tonight. Not anymore, a voice said, in her head. She tried to slam the door shut, but Claude slipped his boot in the opening and let himself in.

"Why are you here?" she whispered, as she sat on the edge of her bed and folded her arms across her chest.

Claude eyed her bed, then her grumpy face, then made his way to her chair, which he rotated to face her. "There's a lot to discuss," he replied vaguely, tactfully, then waited for her to take control of the conversation.

Sarah stared at him for a long while, as expressionless as she could manage—which meant he could probably read her like an open book—then, after careful deliberation, she chose her first battle.

"Byleth can control the flow of time, that's how he's been keeping us alive," she whispered, point-blank. "Whenever someone dies, he turns back time and prevents it from happening. He asked me not to tell anyone, but I'm getting sick and tired of having to juggle with all these secrets."

Claude shifted carefully in his seat, as if trying to escape from a predator.

"Also, I've been working with him for a while, apparently. Regularly reporting on everything you and I uncover. I had no idea because he made me forget about our conversations as soon as we were done."

Claude slowly opened his mouth, visibly taking the time to select the right words before enunciating them. "Did he tell you that himself?"

"He did. He said I shared everything willingly. Something about my desire to help him keep the other Blue Lions safe, and my guilt for having wronged them—yes, he somehow knows about the reason I'm at Garreg Mach."

Claude leaned forward and rested his forearms against his knees, his gaze sharp and calculating. "You told him we were working together."

Sarah huffed. "I did not. For all we know, you told him yourself."

"Impossible."

Truth was, she still had no idea how Byleth had come to know about their partnership, and even though Claude had good reasons to believe she'd been unable to keep her mouth shut, his assumption stung all the same.