All This Time

Braids of Action

Byleth detested her hair.

Not only was it the dreadful shade of green that reminded her of the Archbishop, it was unruly and sticking all over the place. She subconsciously ran a hand through her long locks, annoyed when she got caught in her tangles.

"Just look at me. Look at my hair," Byleth sighed, glaring at her green locks. "My eyes, even...I guess I can't blame you for not trusting me, I don't even trust myself."

"You're still here," Claude told her, his emerald eyes glancing over to her. "I believe that you are. You may look different, but you're the same old Teach. My Teach."

"...You're right. I'm still me, on the inside..."

"Of course you are," He smiled at her. "Nothing can change that."

How was Claude not even upset with her for gaining the fame? Her hair and eyes represented everything that the church stood for, and yet, he didn't resent her. He still considered her his 'same old' Teach, even though she was a walking reminder of the Archbishop they detested. She remembered the way he blew the braid out of his face teasingly as he tried to comfort her.

She pulled her hand out of the knot with a frustrated sigh. As she sat there defeated by something as simple as her ugly hair, an idea suddenly popped into her head.

"Hey, Claude? Can you come over here?" Byleth asked from her desk, placing the mirror down. Claude glanced up from where he was sitting on the bed, half dressed.

"Yeah, sure," Claude nodded, pushing himself up and striding up to her. "What did you need?"

"Well...I hate my hair," Byleth sighed, making him laugh. "It reminds me of...her. Constantly," He silenced, shooting her a sympathetic look. She quickly hurried on, trying to move past the understood notion that the Archbishop was dangerous and disliked between the two of them. "So, I was thinking...you know how to braid-"

"Oh, Teach, I've never braided so much hair before," Claude interjected, a surprised look on his face. "Besides, they're associated with Almyran culture, are you sure you want to even bother?"

"Of course I do. I thought I made it clear I don't care what color your skin is," Byleth reminded him with a cocked eyebrow. "Besides, I know it won't erase...her presence...but it will remind me of you instead of her. Please?"

"...Well...I mean, how can I say no when you put it like that?" Claude grinned, and she handed him the brush. He took it from her, running it through her her tangled hair, and Byleth winced as he caught on every single knot.

"Uh, do you mind being a little more gentle?" Byleth requested, and he nodded with a sheepish look.

"Sorry," Claude apologized, continuing his action more carefully. She just smiled as he managed to work out the knots that had been plaguing her. She hated brushing her hair...but when Claude did it, she loved it. Something about the way he moved made everything so much better.

As he gently ran his hands through her hair, Byleth shivered at his touch. She couldn't get enough of him... Claude took a piece of her hair near her part, braiding it backwards towards himself. Byleth fought the urge to grab the mirror and inspect his work as he played with her hair.

"Sorry if I'm hurting you," Claude gave her a lazy grin, one that made her heart melt. He pulled on her hair slightly, but Byleth barely flinched.

"You're not hurting me," Byleth reassured him. She could deal with a little bit of pain; it was worth it to see Claude so open about his culture. "Don't worry."

He nodded, continuing his work. Byleth sat quietly and patiently, even though she desperately wanted to see what he had done.

"Here, can you hold this?" He requested, and Byleth nodded. She took the braided part of her hair between her fingers, confused. He grabbed another piece of her hair, braiding it backwards again. Byleth figured he had a plan, so she shut her mouth and simply waited.