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The one who will soon be known as Lysithea has always had a peculiar air about her – or “him” since this was the way he was known to everyone at the time – which had drawn Claude to her in the first place: he always had a penchant for telling when someone’s hiding something, and he could tell that she was keeping a secret, one that was very important to her. That’s the reason why he first approached her.
He spent their time together carefully observing her and prodding at her when he felt like the moment was right. One thing that he immediately understood was that there wasn’t just one secret she was keeping, but multiple, though there was one that majorly grabbed his interest: “he” constantly rejected anything masculine, even subtly changing “his” uniform to better reflect that, along with “his” appearance – Claude had always been fond of “his” long white hair.
Even during classes “he” seemed more interested in subjects that should’ve pertained women more, but at first he gave it no thought. It was only one day, while they were taking a stroll through Garreg Mach, that he understood, after watching “him” longingly stare at a group of pegasus knights that was taking care of their mounts: “he” wasn’t a “he” at all.
Things led to another, and Claude fell in love. Usually it was hard for him to get attached to someone without starting to overthink everything and cut the relationship short before the other party had the chance to do it – it hurts less this way – but with she was the exception.
The truth was that, until then, he hadn’t managed to find anyone that was truly worth the effort, but she wasn’t like the others, in the sense that she had no qualms antagonizing him when he went too far instead of hanging from his lips no matter what he said. He needed someone like that in his life, someone who wasn’t afraid to say what they thought without worrying about hurting his feelings.
He made his move, and she was receptive, surprising him by not only accepting, but also returning his affection, all while still posing as a boy, even as Claude kept making his attraction to both men and women clear: he wouldn’t have minded going from calling his partner “his boyfriend” to call her “his girlfriend”, or anything else she was more comfortable with, but in order to do that, she had to come clean to him.
He had thought about bringing the subject up, but he felt that, for something like this, it was best to have some tact and wait for her to confess. It was going to take patience, but he was willing to wait.
And then Garreg Mach got attacked.
With the war effort taking most of his time, Claude has had to unfortunately drop the subject of his partner, but that doesn’t mean that he has completely forgotten about it.
It has always remained at the back of his mind, but now it isn’t nor the time nor the place for bringing it up, at least until he begins noticing something weird about her: suddenly, she changes the way the dresses, presenting as much more masculine than Claude has ever seen her. She even cut her beautiful hair, her pride and joy!
She’s obviously hiding something, but if she truly wanted to appear inconspicuous, she should’ve chosen a less obvious method, though to be fair to her, their friends mostly comment on “his” change of style, but don’t notice anything past that, so for some it has worked. Not him of course.
Enough is enough: he wants to get to the bottom of this, help her flourish like the beautiful flower that she is, if you will pardon his overtly poetic language. An idea has already formed in his mind, but in order to make it a reality, he will have to pull some strings; luckily, he’s an expert on the subject, and soon the news of a ball begins to spread going from mouth to mouth. Why a ball now, in war times? To raise everyone’s spirit, of course!
It isn’t the most tactical choice, Claude is aware of that: peaceful times, more suited for such an event, will come, he’s sure of it, but he can see how much of a toll this is taking on her, and he wants to lift this weight from her shoulders.
If someone ever finds out about this plan of his — it'll never happen, but just in case — he can always justify his choice by saying that she is one of the best assets of the army, and one of the key factors to Claude’s win; it would be irresponsible of him not to put her in the best condition to properly do her job.
After the news has spread enough, he asks "him" to meet him in one of the classes to work on some strategies, but not long after they begin he feigns a headache, and they take a break. It’s the perfect moment to finally ask the question.
“Did you hear about the ball? Will you attend?”
He hears a predictable scoff. "Yes, I did hear about it, and I think it might be the stupidest idea you've ever had. A ball, really? I could understand when we were students, but now? Of all times?!"
He already knew he was going to meet some resistance; thankfully, he already knows what to say to convince her.
"It's for morale! You know it's been low recently…" he begins, doing his best not to smile triumphantly when he sees the shadow of doubt appear in her eyes. "It's my duty to make sure that everyone feels as motivated as possible, so why not organize a ball? Everyone's going to wear costumes and have fun, so that they can get back to the fight with a clear head."
Something about what he's just said gets her attention. "Costumes? Nobody mentioned costumes…"
It's cute how her gaze shines immediately at the idea; he can easily imagine what she's thinking about — she would surely love to wear a dress — so he makes his proposition. "They must've forgotten about it, but yes, you can wear a costume, if you want. Even something unconventional."
He puts particular emphasis on that last word, eyes on her to gauge her reaction. Oh, she wants it so bad, he can tell.
"How unconventional?" she asks, cautious but curious.
He takes her hand, squeezing it. "As unconventional as you want."
That's all it takes to convince her to wear a dress. He even arranges for the best tailors in Leicester to come to Garreg March for the occasion.
She's hesitant at first, but after the first session with the tailors — they needed to take her measures — she appears a lot more certain about doing this.
"Claude, this wouldn't happen to be a prank, right?"
He genuinely laughs at the question, though he supposes it's fair, considering his usual streak. He still finds the accusation hilarious. "I appreciate you thinking I'm capable of something this elaborate, but it isn't," he responds. "I just want you to have some fun."
"By dressing as a woman?"
"You can always say 'no' if you don't want to," he shrugs, knowing that she won't do it.
Case in point. "It's a bit late for that now…" she mutters in fact. "You're sure you don't mind?"
"Why would I? It's a costume, no? It's like you're playing a character." She cautiously nods, prompting him to keep going. "And perhaps you should also name this character…"
She thinks about it, and eventually she says, "Lysithea. She's called Lysithea."
At that admission, Claude smiles. "Lysithea…" he says. It feels good saying it. "It's a lovely name."
The progress for the dress goes smoothly, better than Claude had anticipated to tell the truth — at least he's getting his money's worth.
Her gown is inspired by gremories, but fitted to adhere to her body in a way no masculine garb ever could. Even the colors are changed to match her tastes, with lighter purple highlights than the usual dark colors which, in Claude's opinion, exalts her pale skin and white hair: she looks like a character straight from a fairytale.
It's not all: Claude has a last surprise for her, a white wig to match her hair color, with long hair left to flow with only a couple of strands held together by jeweled pins to better frame her face along with bangs. It doesn't make up for the fact that she's cut her actual hair, but it's something.
When the day of the ball arrives, it takes her quite a bit of time to get ready, not to a worrying degree, but you can't fault Claude for being impatient, especially now that he's so close to seeing her being fully realized, or as realized as she can be at the moment.
He's waiting at her door like a good little partner, but after almost making his own head spin with how much he's pacing back and forth, he knocks at her door, unable to hold his curiosity back.
She must know he's the only one who'd do something like that, because he soon hears a reply. "Come in!"
Claude immediately opens the door, wasting no time teasing her as he steps inside. "Very irresponsible of you to grant me entry without knowing who I was, what if…" but the words die in his mouth the moment he sees her.
She looks perfect, especially because of how happy she is in the entire getup. She's trying to appear unaffected by it — like she always does when she's enjoying something — but Claude can see through her facade with ease; not to toot his own horn too much, but he's never seen her in such a joyful state.
She can't help but smirk in front of his reaction; for once, she has the upper hand. She actually feared he'd make fun of her once he saw her, but she's relieved that it's not the case.
"You like it?" she asks, like she doesn't already know the answer.
He swallows, feeling like a fool but also not caring about it as much as he feels he should have. "Y-Yeah…" he mutters in response, before clearing his throat and returning the question, regaining his usual poise. "What about you? Do you like it?"
She makes a twirl, and she's so happy that Claude's heart is going to burst from the visual alone.
"I love it."
He quickly helps her with the last touches, fixing her hair and tying her dress behind her back, before they make their way to the reception hall, where the ball will take place.
Once they step inside, it takes her but a glance at the other guests to find out that Claude has partially lied to her: people are dressed for the occasion, sure, but nobody's wearing any costume except for her.
She should be furious about this, but she's finally gotten the chance to live her dream, even if he's had to lie to her in order to do it, and he's looking at her like she's hung the stars and the moon so she supposes she can forgive him this time, but not after "accidentally" stepping on his foot during the dance.
From the way he has to hide a wince, it must've hurt, but he laughs anyway: as long as he has his way, a little pain is always worth it.
"That wasn't very ladylike of you, Lysithea," he scolds her, with no real heat behind his words.
She tries to step on him again, but this time he swiftly dodges it. "I'd argue it's very ladylike, actually!" she retorts, sparking a discussion which consists mostly on Claude purposefully getting on her nerves and her trying to appear unbothered by it. Perhaps, to an external eye this might seem worrying — a couple isn't supposed to argue this much — but it's nothing out of the ordinary for the two of them: what better way to spend the time together than a battle of wits?
They lose track of time as they twirl across the dance floor, ignoring everything and everyone; for all they care, they are the only ones there, lost in their own little world.
She looks serene, but there's a shadow of something in her gaze that Claude doesn't miss: she's thinking about something, and he can hazard a guess about what it is. Is it finally time to talk about it?
She hasn't said anything yet, so he keeps quiet as well: he knows when it's better to be patient rather than to push it. The last thing he needs is for her to feel forced to confess. If she were to feel that this isn't the right moment for that kind of discussion, he'll wait until she’s ready, even though he will be slightly disappointed that his talent in schemes has gone to waste this time.
He has just resigned himself to the idea that his plan hasn't worked when she finally finds the courage to speak.
"I…" As quickly as she finds it, however, she loses it. She looks around, remembering that they aren't alone. "Can we go outside? There's something I need to tell you."
Not trusting himself not to appear over-enthusiastic if he speaks — the last thing he wants is to accidentally overwhelm her — he nods, guiding her through the crowd until they reach the balcony.
Luckily, it seems they're the only ones in need of fresh air; not that it would've been a problem, of course: if there had been someone there, he would've shooed them away, easily too.
He makes sure to put himself between her and the ballroom. "What is it?" he asks, holding her hands gently into his own. She's shaking a bit, but soon she calms down; it's working.
"I… Well…" she lets out a frustrated huff. "You know already, don't you?"
He understands immediately what she's trying to do: his plan has been discovered — he should've been more subtle — and she's trying to use it as an excuse to get away with not actually admitting anything. If she thinks he'll let her go that easily, however, she's wrong.
"What am I supposed to know?" he asks in fact, sporting his most innocent smile.
She knows exactly what he's doing — the glare she sends his way is enough proof — and she knows that he won't let her go unless she says it, which infuriates her. She should've understood from the start that this was just a ruse to get her to confess, but Claude has been so good to her, so supportive, that he deserves to hear the truth coming straight from her.
"Fine, you win," she concedes. She wants to look at him right in the eyes, but can't hold his gaze for long, as ashamed as she is to admit it. "Lysithea isn't just a character. It's me, it's how I feel. I feared that you'd turn away from me if I told you the truth, but I can't run away anymore: it will be a long process, but soon this dream of mine will become a reality, and I won't look the way I do anymore. You must have noticed some changes already…"
"I did," is all he says, just to let it be known that he had already noticed everything indeed, before dipping down to kiss her lips with the same passion as always. She might be changing, yes, but that doesn't mean that things must change between them too.
She tenses at first — she wasn't expecting such a reaction — but she melts immediately the moment she understands that Claude doesn't care, that he accepts her as she is. He loves Lysithea the same way he loved him; actually, he loves her more, because this is her true self.
Neither of them wants to pull away, but eventually their need for air becomes too strong to ignore. "I know I can be cheeky at times, but I'm serious about this, alright?" Claude says, still a bit breathless, but he doesn't want to wait. "I love you, no matter who you are or who you want to be."
It's too late when he realizes what he's just said: until that moment, he's never used the word "love" regarding their relationship. It's a bigger step than what he feels ready to make, but he doesn't go back on it, not when she's looking at him with such an adoring gaze. After all, how else can he describe what he has been scheming, if not as an act of love?
He's dragged down for another kiss, but this time it's slow and soft, with none of the impetus that has made them kiss just a few moments earlier. It's a silent admission, on Lysithea's part, that she returns his feelings.
When she pulls away, he tries to go after her — he never agreed to stop kissing so suddenly — but stops when he sees the triumphant smile on her face.
"I knew you'd say it first. I win," she happily declares.
He never had the slightest clue they were playing this game; he can't believe Lysithea cheated in such a way, even though he approves of her behavior — he would've done the same after all.
He could try to make his case, cancel this win on a technicality — he can come up with something — but to tell the truth, seeing Lysithea so happy and realized, he can't do anything else but desist.
Sometimes, you just have to accept a loss.