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The Tales of Three Houses

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“Not today. Please. Not now…let me have a moment of peace.” Dimitri twitched softly, looking at the mound of rubble that had once been the goddess statue. The altar was gone, destroyed beneath the landslide of rocks from the ceiling years before. The rest of the chapel was being restored, slowly but surely, under the guidance of religious masons. Dimitri looked at the rubble, fingertips twitching, the metal of his gauntlets clacking as he tapped them in a rhythm. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Start again. One. Two. 

A noise. 

He took in a sharp breath, eye widening, the crust of blood on his face flaking away as he turned around sharply, his heavy fur cloak slapping against itself. How had he not noticed? No one snuck up on him and lived to tell the tale. His shoulder relaxed as he took in the sight of her. Soft bright green hair and eyes that held history of the future and past. 

Once his professor and now his most trusted ally. 

“Professor…” He reached out a blood covered gauntlet and watched your face crumple with worry. Rough mercenary hands gently took the black armoured hands from him, looking at the blood and bodily fluids crusted into the hinges. 

Something whispered in the back of his mind.

“You don’t need her. You only need to give us peace.” 

His hands twitched. He’d lost control in the last skirmish. It had only been bandits. They were terrorizing a town on the outskirts of his empire, slaughtering innocents like cattle for their own gains. Dimitri could still taste the blood in his mouth from the punch he’d taken to the jaw before laughing and slicing the man’s mouth open wide. It had tasted good, the blood of monsters. The battle had been over as soon as they’d started screaming. The one-eyed monster. He was glad for their screams. He’d enjoyed every last one.

“Dimitri, lets get you cleaned up okay?” Your hands gently led him from the Monastery, watching his blue eye crease with anger before he reluctantly followed, cloak flapping before he gritted his teeth and walked along side you, the faith’s followers parting everywhere to let the two of you move unhindered.

They were scared of him. He was no fool. He could sense the fear all around him. Some had seen him spear wyvern out of the sky, others watch him wrangle great monsterous creatures. 

The bath house was steamy, the water hot and soothing, yet Dimitri froze when faced with the clouds of steam and hot water. Removing his armour would leave him exposed to any blade. 

“No one is going to hurt you Dimitri. Come on. You smell like blood.” You smiled softly, gently easing his cloak free from the clasps under his shoulder plates. His shoulders eased a little as he robotically reached for his gauntlets. The straps came loose and he eyed the plating as he slid his hand free. The hinges would rust without attention, the blood crusted deep in the metal. 

“I need to clean my armour.” Dimitri muttered, eye glancing over the black metal as he placed the plates aside one by one, your hands unnoticed as you gently eased his chest plate free as well. 

“Later, my love. You need tending to first.” You brushed your fingers gently over his clothing and removed the last buckle for his greaves. Dimitri sighed shakily, hand grasping for your own, squeezing gently before he turned to the task of taking off his under clothes, the tunic and soft leather trousers also caked in blood. You smiled before taking off your own clothes, leaving the soft underclothes in a pile before taking his cold hands in your own, feeling the roughness of his palms as you guided him gently to the water’s edge. 

Dimitri looked into the scented water, noting the heavy use of lavender oil. You wanted him to heal. A hand poked at his shoulder, the wound tight and sore, his muscles strained from a maneuver with his lance. 

“Lavender. Now I know you’re coddling me.” A rare smile curled the edges of his lips upwards. It was then he ran a hand through his filthy blond hair, catching the leather strap of his eye patch. Dimitri swallowed, anxiety curling in his gut again before he took a stabilizing breath and stepped into the water, the heat and oil cleansing his wounds from the battle. 

“Would you rather me throw you in?” You teased, pushing your hair away from your face as you sat on the edge of the pool. Dimitri flushed, looking at the exposed skin of your body as he laid his palms against your thighs, sighing when your hands combed his hair. You filled a pot jug with water before pouring it over his head, the water trickling down Dimitri’s muscled chest and stomach. 

“Mmm.” He grumbled as you lathered rosemary scented soap into his hair, undoing his eye patch before continuing. Dimitri shook as you placed it aside. His eye was ruined. Lost to a sword years ago. It was white and cloudy, the scar over it pinkish and tough. He smiled as a soft kiss was pressed to it, “Thank you, my love.” He rumbled and kissed your shoulder, hands cupping your waist as he felt you pour more water over his head, soap gushing down his face and body. He was quick to close his eyes with a grumble.

“Hush you big baby. Anyone would think you were Sylvain’s horse! Sothis knows that horse despises water!” 

“I enjoy them with your here.” He confessed, red flushing on his cheeks, his wet blond hair hiding his ruined eye as his thumb stroked your hips.

“Baths are more fun with loved ones.” You whispered, combing his hair back with a brief kiss to his forehead. You smiled and cupped his cheeks, “Nothing can hurt you here, my love. We are safe together.”

“I love you.” He whispered, kissing a palm before nuzzling your skin with a hum.

“I love you too my great lion king.” 

Chapter Text

Restoring the church to it’s former glory was somewhat of a task. Before the war had begun, masons had begun to restore the frame work, but the holy altar and statue of their Goddess was still in ruins. Looking at the church now, you would have never have guessed what had occurred five years before. You’d seen to it that some of the overbearing gargoyles were replaced with twisting dragons, smiling at their carved eyes and sharp teeth. Somehow they were beautiful. Seteth had smiled, although small, at the statues, his green eyes softening at their visage. 

You’d gifted him a small carved Wyvern after it. The older man had softened at the carving, his hands clutching it close before he’d taken your hand, kissing the back of your hand softly before moving back into his office. He still had all the paper work that came with his duties. 

“(Y/N).” Seteth asked gently, his golden embroidered cape fluttering softly as he moved to stand by you at the altar. The ring on his finger glittered softly. It was a simple band of silver, the gems in it more precious than they seemed. Your mother’s ring sat on his finger. It made your heart swell to think of the meaning of him accepting it. 

Seteth loved you just as much as you loved him. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t join you earlier.” His face turned sour, his eyes closed as he hummed in annoyance, shaking his fluffy green hair from his cheeks, “Elm saw fit to run riot in the Wyvern stables.” He sighed. Seteth had been sent scouting, as much as you were reluctant to let him go, and was needed for a small diplomatic negotiation outside of Church territory. Dimitri had a small matter to discuss with the church, and Seteth was the man for the job in regards to delivery and provisions. 

“She isn’t the most well behaved thing when you leave her, you know that darling.” You laughed gently, moving to hold his arm, sighing with relief. The worry that was coiled tight in the bottom of your gut released at having him back. 

Seteth sighed wearily, rubbing at his head, gently taking the circlet from his hair, “I know. She is a handful when she wants my attention...Much like someone else I know.” You didn’t miss the small smile on his face. Teasing was rare for a man like Seteth. He was prim and proper in almost every situation. His green eyes looked down at the arm you had wrapped through his own, “I was only gone for a day, my sun.” Seteth spoke softly, hushed and quiet inside the echoing stone walls. 

“And I missed you, my moon.” A hand gently gripped your own before a chaste kiss was pressed to the back of your hand, green stubble rubbing against your skin.

Seteth shook his head before pulling away, reserved as ever in the presence of the two worshippers in the pews. You frowned at his distance before tugging him back and giving him a cold look. He was used to the deadness of your eyes, knowing far more than most about your inheritance...and your lack of heart beat. 

“What is wrong?” He asked before making a strangled noise, his lips pressed against your own. Seteth breathed softly through his nose before slim, rough hands cupped your face, kissing you in earnest. You stood before the altar and the statue of the goddess, holding each other close before Seteth pulled away with a blush on his cheeks.

“How very improper of you, archbishop...” He muttered before smiling as you kissed the side of his lips and slid around him, circlet glinting as you began to stride away. 

“I might consider giving you your circlet back for another, my love.” You smiled and gave a soft chuckle at Seteth’s withering look from beneath the Goddess statue. 

Chapter Text

The prospect of being a father hadn’t occurred to Dimitri before. Sex and being married had been pushed aside as a teen at the academy. It was just another duty, and being married to a stuffy noble and forced to have an heir had been brushed aside as nothing more than that. He’d never thought he’d have been so broken that the idea had repulsed him. Now it was different. The voices came and went, lingering sometimes in night terrors and other times whispering to him in meetings. He’d learned to cope. Byleth’s soft touch soothed his nightmares in the middle of the night, and a warm hand in his own in the meetings often pushed aside the voices.

Dimitri had finally learned to rely on someone again. 

She had become the Mother to his children. 

Dimitri had refused to hold their first born, hands shaking and teeth gritted as he stood at a distance, looking at the fragile creature. Much like his mother, he didn’t cry, his eyes closed as he blissfully slept away the hours. 

He’d sobbed into his hands by the bed that night, looking in the cradle at the soft blond hair wrapped in blankets. A winter child. Their baby would need many layers to survive the bitter winter of Faerghus. Tears wet his own hands before he wiped his palms on his soft cotton bottoms and stood over their child. He scooped the baby into his arms and cried again, whispering softly before the child stirred and whined once, burping softly before a small hand clutched at his nose, groping blindly, wide green eyes looking at his father’s face.

“I love you, little one. I will never be parted from you or your mother…not ever again.” 

Their firstborn was named after Byleth’s father, the boy quite mild until he was let out into the castle grounds. Their second son was much softer, green hair reminiscence of his mother yet his bright blue eyes the mirror image of Dimitri’s and named Vladimir. It was Dimitri’s choice and the boy was often tucked under his father’s cloak, sticking his tongue out at his elder brother, a book of tactic’s clutched to his chest.

“Jeralt!” Dimitri’s voice boomed down the stables, his hair pulled back in a leather tie, Vladimir tucked into his side, under his cloak as usual. It was a bitter cold day, snow flaking to the ground, “Leave the mares be!” His gaze softened as Jeralt faltered, eyes lowering to the ground, hands leaving the mare’s flank. She whinnied before kicking the stall, jolting Jeralt out of his stupor. 

“Papa!” Jeralt dashed from the horse, hair flopping into his face as he too slid into Dimitri’s great cloak. Vladimir looked at the horse, nose red as he rubbed it, before smiling and reaching for the war horse’s nose. Rose clamed softly, letting Vladimir pet her. She was young, barely two years old and not broken in. Vladimir laughed at her, petting her nose softly.

“You need to leave them be, Jeralt.” Dimitri grumbled before hefting the nine year old up onto his hip. He stooped to scoop his younger son up, Vladimir poking Jeralt’s shoulder before gently pulling his elder brother’s hand towards the mare. She reluctantly let him stroke the length of her nose.

“You just need to be nice to her, Jeralt.” Vladimir smiled and patted the end of Rose’s nose.

“I am!” Jeralt insisted as Dimitri laughed. The eldest flushed with embarrassment before leaning over to hug Rose’s face. 

“Now now. Stop it, both of you. No arguing. Rose is not your horse, Jeralt, she is Vladimir’s, and you would do well to remember it. Elk is your steed for now.” He let his sons down out of his arms before he pressed a kiss to each of their hair’s. “Go and collect your tack, Jeralt. I’ll help you get Elk ready. Vladimir can ride with me…I’m afraid you’re not old enough to be riding Rose yet.” The younger son nodded and padded after his brother, shuddering as he went. He wasn’t accustomed to the cold, always by Dimitri’s side, tucked into the King’s warmth. 

A rich laugh sounded behind him and Dimitri felt his heart swell, “Byleth.” His mint haired wife moved into the stable and pressed a kiss to Dimitr’s cheek before swooping past him, helping Vladimir reach the top shelf of tack before laughing at Jeralt.

She returned with warmth etched into her features, “They want to know if you were once a pirate, my love.”

Dimitri’s face twisted in confusion, “A pirate? What gave you both that idea?” He shook his head, kneeling down to look at his two sons, his armour clanking softly.

“The eye patch.” Byleth patted the black leather with a laugh, taking Elk’s saddle before strapping the soft tack around the small practice horses’ stomach. The Gelding continued to chew hay as Dimitri sighed.

“It’s true. I did once meet a band of pirates. They gave me this for helping them find their lost treasure.” Dimitri watched his son’s eyes go wide with delight.

“Woah! Papa, that’s so cool!” Jeralt grinned and hugged his brother tight, Vladimir frowning and poking his bottom lip.

“Are you sure? I thought pirates were criminals?” Vladimir grumbled, fidgeting before he tucked himself back into the thick fur of Dimitr’s cloak, Jeralt following. 

Dimitri laughed when he heard Byleth chuckling from behind Elk.

“I’m sorry for lying to you both…No. I got this eyepatch to protect my eye. Its injured you see.” Dimitri stroked his son’s hair as Byleth led Jeralt’s bay horse out of his stall. She quickly placed her son on his horse, watching their stable boys rush to prep the King’s great black war horse.

Byleth kissed each of them on the cheek before waving gently, “Look after each other boys. I have mass to attend…I love you all.” She pressed her fingers to her heart before gesturing the fingers towards Dimitri. He returned the gesture with a warm heart, taking Vladimir to his own horse.

“Come then. We have to get something for your mother while we’re in town. Anything you think she would love.” His sons cheered before offering their ideas as they trotted out of the castle. 

Chapter Text

The terrors had haunted him for nine years. Dimitri had spent nine years fighting to stay awake, avoiding the demons claws that came with dropping off. That had eased somewhat when he’d Byleth had begun sleeping with him. The bed was always warm with her there, despite the complete lack of noise from her heart. Byleth was warm, but Dimitri was warmer. He was quick to sweat in anything above cold but he refused to get out of the covers when Byleth laid herself over him, head next to his shoulder. 

Tonight was hard for him.

Dimitri stared at the wall when he woke up, breathing hard and heavy after the intensity of the nightmare. It was then that the real panic began, his lungs burning as he gasped, a black creature looming over him, hands of the dead reaching for him, drenched in blood and slime. 

Terror gripped him as he began to cry, staring at the ceiling and the monsters looming over him. 

I can’t wake up. I can’t stop the voices. They’re screaming. I can’t stop it. I can’t-

Suddenly, he was moving again, his limbs jolting viciously, moving him quickly out of the sheets and furs. 

Dimitri pushed his fingers into his eyes, still feeling wet tears on his cheeks before he wiped his face and moved up into his blond hair, tugging at it as he caught his breath. A wet sob choked in his throat before he jotled again, warm hands gently moving over his shoulders.

“My love…Are you alright?” Byleth whispered into his ear, wrapping his arms gently around his neck, pressing a kiss to his naked shoulder before cocooning herself around him.

Dimitri shook softly, hiding his ruined eye behind his fingers as he turned his head to look at her, “I saw them die again, Byleth. I coudn’t do anything…My fathers hands…Covered in blood. They touched my face.” He wiped at his cheeks again, tears the only thing covering his skin. He sighed with relief, leaning back into Byleth’s warm embrace, feeling the fear begin to roll away as he looked at the ceiling, annoyed with the blindness in his other eye. 

Byleth kissed his cheek, her fingers pushing the tears away from his skin before she tugged his arm gently, “You’re safe here, my love. Come here.” Dimitri watched her move back to the headboard, pressing her back into a large cushion, her thighs laid out, warm and inviting.

A weak smile curled on his lips, before he followed her, leaning over her to kiss the mint haired woman softly, consuming her mouth, tongue swiping over her lips before he laid his head on her lap. Byleth’s strong fingers scooped his hair backwards, stroking through the knots, soothing him gently as the sounds of the summer night wafted through their windows. 

“I love you, my light.” Dimitri sighed, relaxation soothing his muscles and making his eyes flutter close.

“I love you too, Dimitri…So so much.” He smiled, eyes closed, as Byleth leaned over and kissed his forehead. He clutched her thighs as he felt sleep come over him. Byleth smiled gently, the magic she was granted through faith gently easing his aches and pains as she hummed a tune, love swelling in her chest. 

He slept the rest of the night in complete peace. 

Chapter Text

Byleth grunted before gasping, his arms flinching vioelntly, tearing the sheets away from his body as he felt fear grip his heart. There was only so much more he felt that he could take. Divine Pulse was truly a gift worthy of the Goddess. He had used it more than a few times, rewinding time to save his students, and his best friends from their fates. Byleth breathed deeply, his hands rubbing at his sweaty face as he looked at the ceiling, darkness curling around in his periphery. It was unsettling, and the Professor sat up quickly, pulling his boots and coat on before slamming his door open, and escaping from his oppressively warm room.

As he walked, Byleth gazed at the stars, cold eyes seeing the images again and again.

Felix had fallen in the last battle. 

His stern, sword wielding friend had rushed on his command, ever the lone wolf, cutting down two dark mages with precise and clean slices before turning into a back flip, an arrow flying past his body. Byleth had miscalculated. The arrows didn’t stop, and Felix grunted when one slammed into his shoulder. The others followed in a hailstorm, slamming into his student’s body one by one, like black spines sticking from his flesh. 

“My…my weapon…I can’t see…” Felix coughed blood as he fell to the floor, sword clattering against the fortress’ stone floor.

“FELIX!” Three voices had cried, Ingrid, Dimitri and Sylvain rushing for their blue haired friend. Ingrid went down next, screeching as a spear flung her from her pegasus, her body cracking against the stone, rolling before stopping against a wall, her steed screeching above as it was caught with a flurry of arrows. Sylvain and Dimitri paused in time as Byleth clenched his first, green eyes flaring as he rewound time, the blood disappearing from the stone. He opened his eyes and caught Felix’s shoulder. 

“Go with Ashe! Ingrid and I will deal with the mages!” He watched the sword master nod and run after Ashe, leaping onto the man’s horse to rush and defend Annette and Mercedes who were fending off heavily armoured units. 

Byleth felt something tighten in his throat. A tear stung his eye. A shaky sigh escaped his mouth, clouding in the cold night air. He didn’t see the tall blond until he clattered into the front of Dimitri’s chest.

“Ah! Professor…I’m sorry. I believed you would stop.” A soft blue eye looked down at him before concern curled in the King’s features, “Are you alright, Byleth? What are you doing awake at this hour?” A warm hand cupped the bottom of his back, and Byleth sighed again before leaning up, wrapping his arms tight around the tall man.

“I’m scared that I’m making the wrong choices…Its what’s keeping me awake.” Byleth looked up at Dimitri and saw something flash across his face before warm arms hugged him tightly.

“You are making the right choices.” He said firmly, “You have helped everyone you have ever met…” Dimitri’s hand gently wrapped around the back of Byleth’s head, holding him close before he wrapped the thick material of his cloak around him, “I wouldn’t be here…if it wasn’t for you.” 

Byleth gasped softly, holding back a soft sob before he rubbed his face into Dimitri’s shoulder.

“You are doing the right thing, Byleth…and everyone is here to support you in that. I would lay down my life if you asked it.” Dimitri pulled Byleth’s head away gently.

“Don’t.” Byleth pulled his head away, a serious look on his face, “Promise me you’ll live. None of you will be dying for me…Not today, not ever.” He cupped Dimitri’s cheeks softly, “Promise me.” 

Dimitri’s eye went wide, “Prof…Byleth…I promise. I will stay with you…always.” Dimitri blushed softly before leaning over, cupping Byleth’s face before pressing a tender and soft kiss to his lips.

Byleth went rigid for a moment before kissing the King of Faerghus back, fingers trailing over Dimitri’s cheeks before he wrapped his arms around the man’s neck, enjoying the closeness. He pulled away with a soft noise and smiled, “I love you, Dimitri.”

The blond blushed, his fur collar hiding his face somewhat, “I love you too, Byleth.”

Chapter Text

  • The end of the war left Felix lost. His entire life the man had done nothing but fight and grow stronger. It leaves him at a loss when he has to go to managing the Fraldarius family affairs and lands. It leaves him at a loss for a while, stressed and extremely irritated, looking at the silver band on his finger that was from his wife. 
  • Archbishop duties meant that Byleth was far from her husband for a time, the Fraldarius lands deep in the north of the new empire under Dimitri’s rule. It meant that travelling frequently was out of the question, but the two write to one another and often, Byleth sending it via Pegasus Delivery.
  • Felix keeps the letters on his desk, pinned together with a decorative letter knife you sent with one of his supple wagons. 
  • Byleth often has to leave her post to travel to him. Felix is stubborn and a workaholic. He’ll get annoyed by the mere suggestion of taking a break most of the time.
  • When she does get there, Felix wont be outwardly impressed until they’re alone in their shared chambers. Blushing, he’ll kiss her shoulders, having her in his lap, rested against the headboard of their bed. He’s not one for letting go either. 
  • Felix is a kiss addict. One peck is all it takes to get him going, and the two will spend hours against one another, just kissing each other everywhere.
  • Byleth tempers Felix’s steel. He’s one to bite into anyone for a mistake, and Byleth will soothe over his scornful remarks before they can escape his lips. Its usually a soft frown.
  • With age, Felix grows out a goatee, much like his father once sported, and Byleth can’t help but giggle at the facial hair as they grow older together. It makes him appear a very serious Mortal Savant and Noble. 
  • Felix insists on the two of them sparring like old times, smirking when he gets the upper hand and equally when Byleth sends him onto his back.
  • Tugging his hair to get his attention. It also makes him blush. His scalp is sensitive. Similarly, a crack to the ass with cause the same reaction…though she tends to not be able to walk after either. 
  • Byleth enjoys teasing him about his height. It results in one extremely grumpy Felix.
  • Children are something Felix fears. More than he would ever fear the Goddess. 
  • The two of them have one child. The boy is named after Felix’s grandfather, and the man loves to hold his son, scooping his hands through the Fraldarius blue hair, green eyes so similar to Byleth’s. She is hard set trying to get the boy away from his father even more so when Felix begins to teach him how to walk. 
  • Felix forgets about his hair and it grows out. Byleth enjoys combing the locks and tying it high on his head. He returns the favour with precision, nimble fingers able to do all sorts of plaits. 

Chapter Text

  • Sylvain will never break his promise that he made upon proposing, down on one knee, his heart held out on a silver platter. His flirting with everyone stops. He teases and he jokes around with his female knights, but he remains faithful, reserving his smiles and winks for only Byleth.
  • He becomes a Knight of Seiros while his father lives, using his relic, the Lance of Ruin, to serve the archbishop. The Great Knight is a wall of protection for everyone under Byleth’s watchful gaze. Her black and red knight, the lance a punisher of those that sought to cause ruin and chaos. 
  • Sylvain is quick to pull Byleth away from any man, his armour imposing and lance an even bigger deterrent for even the most threatening of men.
  • “Archbishop. You would do well to avoid a silver tongued snake such as that.” 
  • He causes more problems than Byleth think’s is possible for one an alone. 
  • More than once she has found the knight giving men and women alike glares.
  • Sylvain is never far from her side, his body not far behind his charge, and wife. 
  • “Sylvain! You cannot threaten every man I seek to do business with for the Church!”
  • “House Gautier can provide the same service for half the price.”
  • His actions have resulted in vicious arguments, but most end with the both of them apologising to one another and pressing their heads together.
  • Sylvain is simply very insecure. He’s worried Byleth will one day tell him she doesn’t love him. Despite her trying to admonish his worries, he still clings to them, and so often seeks to chase away any competition.
  • Kissing is his weakness. Any form of kiss from Byleth send him weak at the knees and she loves to kiss his forehead, sat in his lap, hugging his head to her chest. 
  • Sylvain often laughs at his beloved’s terrible riding skills. Byleth is suited for the ground, and will only ride with Sylvain behind her. His black war horse is a temperamental creature, and likes to throw the two of them around on rides. Sylvain only laughs at her misery in the saddle. 
  • Long night strolls, sharing fears for the future, their hands clutched tightly together.
  • Seteth is Sylvain’s enemy for some reason. He despises the man and how close he is to Byleth all the time. Luckily for him, the hate is returned. Seteth hasn’t forgotten his flirting with Flayn. Sylvain is extra close during their meetings under the guise of body guard.
  • His family calls on him often and Byleth always ties a flower to his lance, a red silk cloth holding the stem in place. Never once did he not return with the token clutched tightly. 
  • The two of them don’t have children until Sylvain is forced to take over the house, thirty by that point with his father becoming sickly. Byleth has her duties, and fulfills them with small visits to her husbands northern territories. She falls pregnant there and is forced to remain there for a few years, her husband close.
  • Sylvain suits fatherhood well. He swears to raise the boy outside the influence of crests and nobility. It grounds the man even more, the misbehavior of his youth abandoned to take care of their son, Jeralt, named after Byleth’s father. 
  • Byleth reads the both of them to sleep most nights. 

Chapter Text

“Seteth…” He felt his spine go rigid at her tone. Whatever he had done, he was hopeful that it was nothing wrong. Then again, the burden of a indefinitely immortal God child had a way of making Byleth short tempered at even the smallest of errors. With a soft sigh, he turned from the stove, depositing the small cooking apron over the back of the wooden dining chair before making his way to the stairs and up into their bedroom. Byleth was laid back in her rocking chair, face set in a grumpy pout, cold eyes glaring down at her own tummy. She was heavy with child now, and Seteth stepped into the room, already making his way over to get the blankets.

“No.” She grumped, crossing her arms underneath her breasts before flinching. They were far too sore and sensitive for such movements, and somehow stupidly larger. She was a well endowed woman before, now she just gave herself back ache.

“Pray tell, what is it you want then, my dear? You always want your blanket while you’re in your chair.” Seteth tucked it over his arm and carried it over anyway before leaning over to kiss her mint green hair, tucking some of the strands behind her ear.

“I…” She blushed a little, eyes looking down at her large belly, “I can’t get up.” She admitted softly, easing herself up a little against the cushioned back of the arm chair.

Seteth smiled softly, a fang peaking out from behind his lip before he composed himself and stooped down, wrapping one arm around his wife’s back before holding his other hand out for leverage, “Come then. Hold on. Lets get you up.” She wasn’t particularly heavy, despite crying often about how much fat she had put on for the child, and Seteth gently eased her up and to her feet, holding Byleth’s hands to steady her.

“Thank you, my love.” Byleth smiled up at him, eyes bright as she let him lead her down the stairs, “I’m starving as well…Your child wont even let me have a moment before I’m needing to stuff my face again…Never mind the stupid craving for fish.” She cursed at the stairs before looking at her husband with wet eyes.

Seteth chuckled yet heaved her up and into his arms, carrying her easily, bridal style, down the stairs of their cliff side home. The two of them had retired some years later, leaving the church and the rest of Fodlan in peace, spending a few years of their centuries building a home before settling for a child. Seteth still remembered the morning sickness he had sprayed over his chest before they realised just why Byleth was suffering mood swings. It was safe to say the spray of vomit down him had killed their gentle, loving morning mood.

Byleth kissed his cheek before he placed her down at the table, tucking the blanket over her lap before opening the window, smiling at the cool sea breeze that drifted into their home. Elm grumbled from outside, poking her head in with a screech, demanding one of the fishes from the cooking before she would leave.

“Elm…” Seteth warned as he turned back to his cooking. He knew well enough that the Wyvern had been snatching birds from the air that morning. She was well fed, just simply being greedy, “These are for Byleth, not you.” He glared at his mount until she retreated back into the garden, stomping before curling up on a hot rock.

“You cooked all these fish just for me?” Byleth peered over at the fried fish and vegetables, including potatoes, with excitement. For some unknown reason, the child was just like Flayn, making her adore fish in any sort of meal, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to finish all of this…” She confessed as Seteth laid the plate in front of her.

“Just eat what you can, my love. I remember you mentioning you enjoyed this meal…I made it to try and make you feel a little better. I know you are not enjoying being pregnant.” Seteth took a seat next to her, taking her hand to press a soft kiss to the back of it before he let her begin eating. It was a little terrifying watching Byleth devour the food on her plate, ignoring the vegetables in favour of tearing the mackerel on her plate to pieces.

“And I see that it went down a treat.” He laughed softly, eating his own food at a much slower pace before getting up to replenish Byleth’s plate.

Byleth chewed her food a little slower with the second fish, stealing glances at her husband before she smiled, taking his free hand and pressing it to her tummy, “He’s kicking.” She announced, watching Seteth’s large hands cup the base of her tummy.

His eyes widened a little before softening at the kicks, “Hes going to be strong.” Seteth leaned over and kissed the hot skin of Byleth’s stomach before pressing his forehead against hers, “Just like you my beautiful wife…I love you, Byleth.” He looked into her bright green eyes and smiled when she moved his hair, rubbing his pointed ears softly.

“I love you too, Seteth.”

Chapter Text

It was a delicate piece of knowledge. Byleth knew what had happened to Seteth’s wife. Flayn had spent one night retelling the tale to them after a short tutoring session. She was distraught recounting some of the details, not knowing a great deal due to being so small, but she filled in the gaps with what her father had told her of the events. Seteth had loved her, more than anything in the world. She was his light, and with her death, his own extinguished with her. Flayn recounted the battle with Nemesis and her father’s rage on the battle field, skewering men and women alike, draconian blood stirring as he fought to slaughter anyone in his way.

Seiros had gotten to Nemesis before he could have his revenge. Flayn knew that much. The massacre of Zanado left her buried by the sea at the Rhodos Coast, looking out at the waters she adored so much. Seteth’s anger had been quelled after the war, Flayn had assured Byleth of that, but her mother was still dear and deeply rooted in his heart.

“I see him look at the water sometimes, Professor, with such sadness and longing. I fear he may never move on completely.” She had confided, sipping the Chamomile tea softly before smiling, bright and cheery despite the topic of conversation, “I only hope that you can bring back the smile to his face.” Byleth blushed at her bluntness but didn’t deny the claim.

Visiting the grave felt strange. The Western Church was still lurking around, and it was under that guise that Byleth had managed to get Seteth to come with them to the seafront.

The Saint sat himself in the sand, noting the lack of any real presence on the white sand beach. It was warm with a cold breeze, the sea rolling softly, eating away at the beach as he stared out at the depths.

“Why have you really brought me here, Byleth?” Seteth smiled gently, holding the Lance of Assal resting over his lap. His axe was sheathed on the back of his Wyvern, Elm flapping, clinging to the chalk wall of the cliff. He pressed a hand into the warm sand, taking a deep breath of sea air, shoulders relaxing slowly.

Byleth fidgeted with their hands, pushing mint coloured hair out of their face before answering, “I…I needed to come and ask something. Something important…Well, I need to tell her something important.” Byleth reached out a hand to pull Seteth back up, out of the sand.

“I don’t understand?” Seteth’s face was a mixture of emotion before he worked out the hidden meaning behind Byleth’s words, “Ah…” He said nothing else, eyebrows furrowed and lips drawn downwards, “She isn’t alive anymore, my dear…You owe her nothing.” Seteth’s cool fingers traced over Byleth’s cheek, drawing back their hair, his lance held in his other hand.

“I know…But I feel as though I need to do this.” Byleth confessed, taking Seteth’s hand before wading out into the water, slogging through the sand and seaweed to reach the small island. It was on the small island that Byleth gently crouched before their lover’s wife’s grave, hands clasped and head bowed. Byleth felt Seteth’s hand clasp their shoulder tightly, supportive and strong as they whispered a prayer before speaking.

“I know that you don’t know me, spirit, but I wish for you to know this. I love Seteth…Cichol as you once knew him. I love him more than any other. I would lay down my life for his own should I need to. He had made me happier than I ever thought I could feel and I want to tell you…Thank you. You may not be here to see it, but thank you. I don’t know what for but I know that he loves and misses you…I will…” Byleth felt a tear drip over their cheek, “I will do my best to love and cherish him..just as you once did.”

With the words said, Byleth stood, reaching gently into their leather satchel. They drew a great wreath of flowers from within, kindly crafted by themself and Flayn. With a smile, they laid it over the grave before turning to Seteth. The Saint’s lip trembled before he choked on a sob, wrapping Byleth in a hug, land forgotten in the sand.

Byleth hugged back tighter, pressing a kiss to their husband’s cheek before whispering, “I love you, Seteth…I will always love you. Through every century we have ahead of us…I will love you, always.”

They cried together, stood in the sand, lamenting one lost love before promising their own with each other.

Chapter Text

Dimitri had never been happier in all his life. 

“She said yes! By the Goddess she said it. She loves me just as much as I do her.” 

Thoughts whirled in his head like a storm, throwing ideas about their future around along with wedding plans, and how this would reflect on the church, but also the Kingdom. The Church and State should never intermarry. He was loathe to adhere to it. She was his light. His only one. His everything. Dimitri wasn’t going to let her go just because a rule written centuries ago said it was forbidden. So many aspects of their relationship were questionable. Old rules were the least of his worries. 

“Dimitri?” Byleth’s cool voice broke him from his worries, her smile still plastered over her lips. He remembered what he had said to her nearly six years ago. He had asked her to smile in such a way for him again. Now she was doing it unprompted. His heart fluttered at the idea, his hand tightening around her own involuntarily. Byleth looked at their hands before looking at him again, “Dimitri?” She stopped him, a step in front of him on the tower staircase. 

“Hmm? Oh!” Dimitri felt his face heat up. He had been caught staring at her and he quickly grew flustered, blond hair drooping over his shoulders to hide it, “I apologise…I was simply admiring your smile. It has been many years since I have seen it. Such a natural and beautiful smile.” He tugged her back gently, gauntlet covered hands coming up to push her hair away from her cheeks so he could look at it up close. Byleth chuckled softly, smiling once more, and Dimitri felt his heart melt, looking into her eyes before he took her hand, pressing it to his hot cheek, lapping up the gentleness of his betrothed. 

She will leave you like the rest.

The voices whispered behind his ears. 

We are all you need, my boy. 

“Damn you all to hell.” Dimitri whispered. Byleth looked at him gently, her hands cupping his cheeks, “I’m sorry…I can still hear them, but with you they are so much quieter. It is like you scare them away.” He sighed, looking at the ancient stone walls of the tower before Byleth nodded, “I will be fine. I already feel much better having seen your smile, my beloved.”

Byleth continued down the stairs, holding his cool hands in her own, the metal of Dimitri’s armoured hands grinding against her palms, “I never knew you would become such a sap with one ‘I love you’, my love.” She teased, watching him shake his head at her.

“I am being honest… Byleth. You are my light. I will never let you stray too far. If you wander into the dark, I will follow you like a lantern.” His other hand pressed over his heart, “I will do whatever you ask of me and more…because I love you.” His armour clanked as he slapped over his heart and Byleth shook her head gently.

“Come now. None of that talk. Today is a happy day. We should spend the evening together.” She offered without a hint of emotion.

Dimitri felt his mouth go dry, lewd thoughts circling in the back of his mind, “Surely not yet, Byleth…We…ah…” He swallowed and calmed himself, “We are not yet married…”

The laugh Byleth let out made his face glow with shame. He knew instantly she had not meant an evening of the likes he had been thinking. 

“No, Dimitri. Nothing like that…just…” She took his hands as they turned towards her room, matching rings glittering in the sunset, “Let us spend the evening curled up together. There is so much we have to talk about yet all I want to do is to just lay in your arms.” Dimitri nodded as she dragged him through her door, already ambushing his cloak from him. 

Dimitri laughed and gently unclasped his great, bear fur cloak, helping Byleth figure out his armour before he took eased her from her own armour. The two off them kicked their boots free before curling up on Byleth’s bed.

“The cloak…” Byleth muttered from where her face was pressed into Dimitri’s shoulder.

“It is hardly sanitary…” He relented with a sigh and wrapped the fur and heavy material around the both of them, smiling when Byleth hugged him closer, admiring the ring on his finger before she whispered to him.

“I love you, Dimitri.” She smiled at him.

Dimitri smiled back, kissing her hairline, nose and lips before whispering in reply, “I love you too, Byleth.” 

It was baby steps from here on out. 

Chapter Text

Blood splattered up the side of his face as he launched his lance, the pointed blade skewering the sword master mid slash. The woman wheezed, eyes rolling as he ran to tear the lance free, her body falling to the floor, a great hole in her stomach. The fighting was brutal and messy. He had lost his friends in the battle long ago. He had no idea where Felix, Sylvain or Ingrid were, but he hoped they were together as he spun, slicing a man’s leg open before finishing him in his agony with a stab to the chest, twisting the lance within his rib cage. Other fighters died the same way, Dimitri roaring gutterally as another caught him with a blow. Most of the slice deflected off his armour, leaving only a small cut in the crux of his arm. 

Most importantly. He had lost Byleth. She had disappeared a good hour ago into the foray, and he was worried beyond belief. Dimitri cut down a mage before stopping for a moment, grabbing a heavy shield to deflect a throwing axe. The blade sliced deep into the metal and he grunted with the impact before twisting and plunging his lance between the armour plates of a heavy unit. He was beginning to tire but continued on into the fight, cutting down those who dared to oppose him before he reached the edge of a hole. 

Dimitri figured a magical attack had made the crater. Bolganone and Thoron shots often left such impacts. As he reached the edge he gasped softly. It was huge, the span of it like an explosion had gone off. 

“By the Goddess…” He whispered before looking into the pit. There, within the pit, stood Byleth. The Sword of the Creator dripped with blood, coating her arms and splattered up her body as she twisted, the blade dipping and curving like she was dancing. He heard her scream, the blade extending to slam through a line of armoured units that dared to climb in and face her. A mage ran from the scene and Dimitri caught him by the edge of the pit, wrestling him off his feet.

“SEIROS PLEASE! BY THE GODDESS DON’T KILL ME!” He screeched, magic casting gloves torn to pieces and his hat gone, “Goddess have mercy its the Boar King! The Ashen Demon and the Boar King!” Tears dripped over his face and Dimitri stood over him in confusion before looking back to Byleth’s blood covered arms. More blood slopped into the dirt as her sword took another head.

“Run for your life, boy. Don’t look back.” Dimitri turned from the mage, his cloak billowing as he slid into the pit, black armour staining with a spray of dirt. He heard the young mage scramble away from the scene, his tomes left in a heap in his haste to escape. Dimitri trained his eyes on Byleth, lance held low as he approached.

Byleth was heaving with exertion, blood dripping back down her wrists from her elbows, the hilt of her sword slick with blood, the blade caked in it. She heard him before he was near and Dimitri looked at her eyes. They weren’t green.

Red burning orbs looked back at him. She raised her blade and clenched her teeth before dashing for him with a howl, her sword glowing red and demanding more blood. It wanted her to cleanse the world. Dimitri grunted and blocked the swipe easily. She was too tired to make a true blow yet he felt the power of the strike in his teeth. It shook his stance a little. Dimitri flicked his lance and tried to trip her, only to have to dodge her sword once more, the sharp edge cutting a lock of hair from his head.

“Byleth!” He cried, blocking her blows in retreat, “This is not you!” He tried again, gritting his teeth as he swiped at her lamely. She made no hesitation and swung for his head. Dimitri jumped back before feeling the bite of her foot in his leg. His stance wavered but he did not go down, instead cutting her arm with his lance. The blade cut shallowly and Dimitri watched her red eyes glance down at the wound. 

Her eye watered, wavered and blinked before she cut him in return, the tip of her blade biting his thigh. It was far too shallow to do any real damage but she wobbled from side to side. Dimitri gasped and caught Byleth as she fell, kicking the Sword of the Creator far with his foot, holding Byleth’s back before hugging her tightly, arms securely around her form.

“Goddess…” He felt tears burn his eyes and throat as Byleth’ eyes bled back to green, “Byleth? Are you alright?” He whispered, gauntlets stroking away her blood matted hair from her face, “Please…tell me you are alright?”

Byleth coughed, “I’m…I’m here Dimitri…” She wheezed softly and clung to his neck, “I’m so very tired…I’m sorry for. I thought I could do it. I didn’t think using the blade so much would do this to me.” She confessed, looking into his blue eyes, stopping herself from kissing him.

Dimitri ignored the blood on her face and kissed her lips anyway, shakily, “Please never do that again, my love.” He asked her, quiet and solemn.

“I promise, my love….I promise.” Byleth held their foreheads close before holding him tightly. The Boar King picked her up before letting her have her sword back, carrying his beloved back towards their army, hopeful that she would stay true to those words. 

Chapter Text

The ball was an annual tradition for the academy. Byleth was informed of that with very harsh and stern words from both Rhea and Seteth. The young professor had already chosen his representative for his house, more than willing to let Lorenz have his way and astound with delicate footwork. The purple haired boy was beyond excited, ecstatic at the chance to show off his skills to the young noble girls within the academy. Sylvain had approached him later, upset with the decision, wanting the choice to be removed and changed. Byleth’s refusal had been met with pouting and upset. Apparently, Dimitri was simply glad that he wasn’t chosen. Byleth had long since forgotten the little inter-house competition in favour of gawking at the ball decorations. Many had expressed their distaste at the ball considering the war raging outside of the Monastery grounds.

 

Byleth had never seen a ball before.

 

The male looked at the decorations most of the day, before the festivities even began, gawking upwards at the great chandeliers and hanging beautiful flowers. It was a sight to behold, the flowers swinging softly, as though along to the music, and the candles and lights all glittering with golden light. He found himself simply looking upwards, the drone of Hanneman’s lecture falling on deaf ears. Byleth could tell neither he nor Manuela were listening to the stiff gentleman.

“And so, there would happen to be a correlation between such events!” Hanneman finished, looking to his companions for any indication of conversation about the topic. Manuela was speaking to a handsome knight.

“That interesting, Hanneman…I’m going to get a drink.” Byleth hummed, pushing a lock of dark hair behind his ear before easing himself away from the other Professors, “I’ll see you later.” He nodded, face cold as he moved through the crowds of knights, students and other teaching staff. Byleth waved lamely in passing, making his way over to the large table of drinks, refilling his wine as he looked over the faces.

 

Claude had already pulled him in for a dance, spinning the both of them around with glee, laughing at the Professor’s stumbling across the dance floor before he regained some semblance of grace. Dancing was just like fighting after a while. You had to predict movements and move around one another. Claude had laughed at his comparison, but Byleth was sure in it. After a while of being spun around by his students, he’d managed to sneak away and get himself a drink, easing the tension in his back and face a little with the heat of the liquor. It was very fruity and strong wine, and Byleth found himself feeling a little warm in the cheeks after a few glasses. He took his new glass and sat in the corner by the orchestra, enjoying the new soft melody as he looked around at his class, admiring their smiles.

 

He hoped they would never have a reason to not smile.

 

As the Professor sat in his seat, a set of green eyes watched his every move. Seteth wasn’t too trustful of the male yet, that much was true, but it was in moments like these that he knew he was wrong. The man was just as genuine as the rest of the staff here, though that was, perhaps, a poor comparison, considering the events as of late. Still, Seteth knew in his heart that Byleth wasn’t a threat to any of them. He found himself growing more and more curious as to the man, rather than suspicious. Byleth had no idea about himself. Seteth probably knew more than the young man, yet he was keeping quiet. He didn’t want to butcher the man’s brain anymore. Yet, he found himself walking over, feeling Flayn’s mischievous smile on his back as she slipped away to go and dance with the boys he usually scared away.

 

“Ahem.” Seteth’s abrupt cough caught Byleth off guard, “I do hope I am not interrupting anything, Professor.” He folded his hands at the base of his back, watching as Byleth tucked away his drink out of sight. Seteth smiled, “I see that you are enjoying yourself with the festivities. Although I am unsure whether you should be allowed to drink.”

“Ah! Seteth.” Byleth almost kicked the wine over that he had tucked under his chair leg as he stood up, bowing a little at the waist, ensuring he was polite to the Church’s second in command, “I’m not sure but the wine is… Well, its nice as far as wine goes.” He nodded before Seteth gestured for him to sit, standing by his side, idly observing the students gracing, or stumbling, around the ballroom.

“The wine was selected by Lady Rhea. She has fine taste.” Seteth added, his eyes still on the dancers. He was content to watch but he turned back to Byleth with a small, steeling breath, “Would you like to dance, Byleth? I understand if you are tired-“

“I would love to.” Byleth stood suddenly, shocking the green haired male for a moment.

“Ah…Wonderful, please.” Seteth held out a hand, the fingers long but palms rough from years of swinging weapons.

 

Byleth hoped his hands weren’t sweaty as he took Seteth’s hand, allowing himself to be led off to the side of the dancers, away from the extravangence of the centre. Dimitri and Edelgard were in the centre, the heirs to the thrones being asked to dance by every noble and commoner in the academy. Byleth felt sorry for them for a fleeting moment before Seteth cupped his waist, dragging his attention back to the situtaiton at hand. The man’s other hand took his own, holding it up before he sighed, already annoyed for some reason.

“What’s wrong?” Byleth asked.

“This traditional way of dancing…Well. It is very different to what I am used to.” Seteth tentatively spoke, “I would like to try another dance, one of my people…If that is alright with you?” Byleth nodded slowly, feeling Seteth’s hands both take his own before he pulled Byleth’s arms into position. One set of grasped hands were pressed between their chests, the other out stretched to his right and Seteth’s left. Byleth felt his ears go a little hot at their closeness.

 

“I will lead you. The steps are quite simple.” Seteth took two steps back, allowing Byleth time to follow his lead before he moved again, one step left, one right and two back forwards before he span the male before him slowly, swapping the hands pressed between them before he repeated the process to the slow song. Byleth heard their cape and coat fluttering and tried to keep his attention in check, ignoring the chest in front of him and the golden embroidery on it. Seteth’s golden cape fluttered at the backs of his legs before he dipped Byleth low and drew him back up with a small blush of embarrassment.

“I realise now that this dance is quite…intimate. I apologise, Professor.” He continued regardless, swapping hands, stepping and spinning before bowing backwards at the end of the slow song. Byleth copied him, hands poised at his side before Seteth nudged his forehead upwards and breathed softly against the skin.

 

The green-haired man was gone in an instant, upright and clapping for the chamber orchestra before bowing to Byleth, hand pressed over his heart, “Thank you for the opportunity to dance with you, Professor.” He ducked his head before looking to the crowds along the side of the hall with concerned green eyes, eyebrows furrowing.

Chapter Text

The winters of Faerghus weren’t just cold, they were bitter and foul. Snow fell in sheets constantly from the sky for a good month before it seemed like it was relenting. Ice storms were common in the north along the border between Gautier lands and their ancient enemies. Byleth, either way, was frozen. The relentless cold weather and freezing breeze was getting to the woman in ways she never thought it would. As a mercenary it had been easy, but they had never been so deep into Faerghus territory. 

 

Byleth was sat by the hearth, as close as she could possibly get to the fire without scalding her own skin in the process. It was simply too cold for the woman, and even by the fire she noticed the bite on the end of her nose. She rubbed at the cold end of her nose before looking back at her books which were laid out before her, shaking fingers running over the pages before she sniffled and penned the notes badly into her own notebook. She needed the notes on the ancient kings of Faerghus for the upcoming history she needed to add into her speech. It was dedicated to the history of the Kingdom to encourage faith among the men and women who had lost so much in the war. 

 

It was a hard task to write a speech with shaking hands. 

 

Byleth cursed softly and cupped her hands over her mouth, blowing hot air onto them before sneaking them back into her blankets on the floor. Dimitri had ensured she had the correct, fur lined, winter wear for when she was in the capital of Faerghus, but it was no help. She itched at her collar before tucking the blanket under her chin, shuffling a little closer to the fire to try and get a bit more heat into her cold fingers. It didn’t ease the freezing pain in her muscles any, even when she outstretched her hands towards the flames, wiggling each finger to try and encourage some more blood flow into her extremities. It, once again, didn’t help, and her fingers simply ached by the heat of the roaring flames, burning with the cold rooted into her bones. Byleth sighed and rubbed at each hand, sitting in a lump of blankets with a soft pout on her face.

 

“Byleth?” Dimitri opened their bedroom door gently, his armour and heavy foot-falls quickly giving him away as he entered the room, “Goddess! Byleth!” He blew blond hair from his face with a groan, “It’s as hot as the Eternal Flames in here.” Dimitri was already suffering in the confines of his armour. He had been out training, covered in new scuffs along the metal of his armour plates. He unwrapped himself from his thick, bear fur cloak and quickly set about undoing his armour, heat boiling along his neckline.

“I’m sorry, Dimitri. I’m just so cold.” Byleth lamented gently from by the fire, looking up as Dimitri threw the last of his armour over its stand leaving his greaves on the floor in favour of moving over to tend to his wife.

 

Wife. He felt heat bloom in his chest using the word. She was his own. His wife.

Dimitri walked over, towering over Byleth as he gazed at her with his one, good eye, “Goddess! Byleth, your lips are blue!” He leaned down and glanced over her notes with a sigh, before tucking the wool blanket tighter under her chin, “Come now. You are so cold because you are sat trying to work on the floor.” He shook his head, shaggy blond hair flopping over his kind, ocean blue eye, eyepatch tied tightly in place, hiding the vicious scarring and ruins of his right eye.

Byleth sighed at him, “I have to write this speech. I thought sitting by the fire would help me feel my hands again.” She clicked her tongue and shuffled her papers together before closing the history books, “Evidently, I was wrong.”

Dimitri chuckled before leaning over and wrapping his arms around her bundled form, “The bed will be best for getting you warm again. You need to calm yourself before you die of cold and stress.” The blond giant heaved her up into his arms before beginning to walk to the best.

 

Byleth rested her head on Dimitri’s shoulder, soaking in her husband’s warmth before he plonked her into bed, sliding in along side her after tossing both of their shoes elsewhere. Dimitri laid down next to her, blond hair a halo against the pillow, clad only in a turtleneck and tight under, leather under trousers, the laces fastened tight to ensure he was kept together within his armour. Byleth tried to be annoyed at him for dirtying their bed with his dirt from training but was too satisfied with his heat to protest.

“How are you so warm?” She groaned, cuddling her face into Dimitri’s neck, soaking in the warmth that he was spilling out into the goose feather duvet, “You’re…” She yawned softly, “Like a big bear…All soft and warm.” She felt her eyes flutter, a sudden tiredness over taking her as heat began to slowly seep back into her. Dimitri chuckled softly at her, holding his wife close before he planted a gentle kiss on her lips, breathing against her skin and inhaling his wife’s soft, rosemary scent before he was content to let her rest.

 

“I’ll tell you about all the Kings you need tomorrow, my beloved. For now, rest well…” Dimitri stroked Byleth’s hair away gently, “I love you.”
Byleth kissed his neck softly, arms tight around Dimitri’s waist, “I love you too.”

Chapter Text

A pass time for both Claude and Byleth had always been looking to the heavens and the stars above them. Jeralt had told Byleth that they had never wanted to look down as a child, always sneaking outside of the mercenary camp to seek the stars and look at them. Claude had accompanied them when they’d joined the academy. Byleth had an unhealthy habit of staying awake simply to see them, and Claude tagged along under the guise of getting to know their new teacher better. It had stopped being about that after a while, and they’d lay in comfortable silence, under the trees of the Forbidden Forest, looking up at the stars twinkling overhead. Claude stopped talking after the second time they went out there, and Byleth had never cared much for conversation. The only time he’d spoken was after Jeralt’s death. It had been a hard night, and Claude had dragged Byleth away from their desk, holding their cold hands as they sat and looked up at the sky.

 

“He’s up there now, Teach. He’s with your mother and he’s happy.” Claude smiled gently, white teeth flashing. Byleth had leaned over and sobbed into his shoulder, inconsolable for a second time as they ignored the stars and clutched the man closer.

 

Now it was a little different. They could see the stars from their room balcony. The marble balcony was laid out with sunloungers, full of cushions and comfortable. Claude held Byleth close on top of them, slotted against their back as they called out constellations and giggled, touching noses before kisses became heated. It was one of Claude’s favourite things to have Byleth ride his dick under the stars, the cold air nipping and chilling at their skin.

 

The memories of it made his trousers tighten a little and he took a deep breath as he looked up at the stars over the land of Almyra. Byleth was in another continent and another country now. He had left them, in Fodlan, alone and stressed with a church to run and a new empire to help rebuild. Dimitri was seeing to the unification well, his hand easing the way for the birth of a superpower. It wasn’t a concern. He knew that Byleth had tutored the hate from his bones. His friend would never be normal, he supposed, not with the blood and trauma in his eyes. Still, his thoughts quickly returned to Byleth, cold eyes and the powers of the Goddess in their hands. He chewed his lip softly as he looked at the sky over him, wondering if they were looking at the same sky and the same stars.

 

He had not seen them since the peace talks. Fodlan and Almyra were allies now, and Claude was hard pressed to keep his cool under Byleth’s cold gaze, Dimitri sat by their side, equally as imposing, a giant bear of a man at the table.

 

“I hope you are well, Byleth…I miss you now as I look at the stars. I wish that I could have told you everything. I wanted nothing more than to have you here but…” Claude rubbed at his beard gently, sighing into the cool night air, the marble balcony not the same as the ones within, what once was, the Leister Alliance territory, “You have duties. You have to rebuild that religion and make it just. Just as I have to rebuild this kingdom.” Claude smiled and looked up, eyes widening as he watched a comet race across the sky, twinkling and bright as it rushed past their world.

 

“Perhaps you should turn around then.”

 

Claude felt his stomach churn before he swallowed and turned around. There, in all their stoic glory, was the only one he had ever felt for. Claude’s mouth opened like a fish. Byleth chuckled before stepping closer, standing on their tip-toes to kiss Almyra’s new king.

“I love you as well.”

Chapter Text

The rain could be heard bouncing from the Monastery roof. Night time hadn’t quelled the rain any, and Byleth watched the lashings drip down the glass pane of her window. It was blowing a gale as well, and the Archbishop sighed softly, gazing at the dark sky. She was thankful to be inside at least. There had been numerous nights spend huddled under her father’s cloak when they lived as mercenaries. Now she was sat in a fire heated room, in a plush love seat, pouting at the outside world in her nightwear. Byleth listened to the rain, her chin in her palm as she sat by the window. 

“It doesn’t seem to show any signs of stopping.” Seteth had crept up behind her as she zoned out, watching the outside world, “It is a shame. I hoped we could go to town with Flayn tomorrow. If this keeps up the roads will be flooded.” Seteth hummed and perched himself on the long seat, looking out at the pouring rain with a soft frown. 

“Maybe it will stop?” Byleth looked over at her husband with a soft smile, “I still want to go to town. It’s a shame that the rain will stop us.” She pressed a palm to the cold glass and hummed. Just as she did so, a rumble sounded in the sky. Byleth’s eyes widened before she looked over at her green haired husband. 

Seteth tilted his head and listened to the second rumble, “I fear we may not be able to at all, my love.” He reached for Byleth’s hand and yawned softly as another rumble sounded, “Unfortunate, but we should still retire now.” He tugged Byeth’s hand gently before looking at their bed. 

“Do you think there will be any-” Byleth was cut short as a great fork of lightning flashed across the sky and thunder growled in the clouds, “Never mind.” She chuckled before letting Seteth tug her from the love seat and towards their bed. The man was dressed in a large shirt and thin bottoms, and he smiled from the sheets as Byleth gently eased herself onto the bed. 

Thunder howled again and Byleth jumped before pouting and nuzzling into her husband’s chest, holding his hand close as the rain, wind and lighting continued on outside. 

She took a deep breath, warm in Seteth’s arms in their bed, “Maybe you could write this into one of your fables, my love?” Byleth teased gently, closing her eyes as she laid her head on top of Seteth’s chest. 

“Mmmm.” Seteth hummed, half asleep, “Maybe I will. A love story about the storm and the sun.” He stroked the hair away from her cheek before sighing again and tucking her head away, “Now sleep, my love. You need your rest.” Byleth smiled and cuddled him closer, ignoring the storm outside, content with just being with her husband. 

Chapter Text

Dimitri was the King of the unified Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. The title was as long as the list of his duties. It wasn’t fun ruling a continent, nor was the politics with the church fun either. The Church was run as its own centre, its own doctrine determining who was right and wrong, the laws of the Kingdom nothing to them, though they rarely intervened in any of the state business. Dimitri took a breath outside of the meeting room, ensuring that his cloak and armour were in order. Dedue hummed from behind him as he ensured the furs were layered correctly, idly dusting a section of the King’s cloak before he coughed awkwardly.

“Your Majesty?” He tucked his hands at the base of his back, “I do hope that you will endeavour to not let your…affiliations, with the Archbishop, sway your handling of the state issues?” The huge Duscan man was embarrassed to ask. It wasn’t that he didn’t have faith in Dimitri, he was simply worried.

Dimitri smiled softly before placing a hand on Dedue’s shoulder, “Worry not, my friend, I will endeavour to make choices in the best interest of the Kingdom.” He patted the man’s shining armour before taking a breath and entering the council chambers.

 

It wasn’t uncommon to see his wife working, but for some reason, Dimitri felt his heart catch in his throat as he looked at her, stooped over the table, finger running over the map of the Kingdom. Seteth was stood by her side, stroking his chin as he nodded, the words coming out of his mouth simply falling on Dimitri’s deaf ears. Byleth stood back up then, her golden cloak and high collar making her green hair even more beautiful in the afternoon sun. The circlet on her head glittered as she looked at him, eyes warm but stern as she greeted him with a lowering of her head. Dimitri zoned back into the room when Dedue pulled out a chair for him at the table. They were still waiting for his permission to sit.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty.” Byleth smiled at him.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace.” Dimitri bowed softly at the waist before seating himself in the high-backed chair at the war table, “Be seated. You are guests here.” They followed his example and sat at the table, the Church officials on one side and his lords and leaders on his own side. Felix gave him a scowl from his left side before kicking Sylvain in the leg, stopping his waving at a new female Knight of Seiros.

 

Byleth tapped a finger to the map, quickly down to business after the pleasantries were aside, ignoring the conversation of niceties that they were usually required to participate in, “The Church, Your Majesty, requires passage through the Empire Territories of the Holy Kingdom. It has been rumoured that the Western Church is reforming and employing bandits and assassins within old Empire regions. I have had numerous reports of this and the Knights need to protect the name of the Goddess in these trying times. The villages are being raided and their people must be protected, despite the political blockade within the region.” She sat back, Seteth at her side rubbing at his forehead due to her lack of tact. Dimitri felt his fists go tight. They had already asked these sorts of things of him, and knowing that Byleth was his wife, he had given her special consideration. He knew that this time, he could not give her that.

 

Dedue shifted behind him, and Dimitri looked his wife in the eyes before speaking, “No. I will not grant you passage.” He looked at his wife’s wide eyes and tapped his gauntlet covered finger on the map, right by the markers they had placed out, “This territory is still highly divided. Bandits or not, allowing forces into this area at the moment would break treaties I have with the lords. You will not march into high tension territory and stir up more problems for the locals there. I have already received news that these traitors are being dealt with and offered my support to the region. They do not need to have the Church, which is a hated symbol, march in and begin slaughtering their Western counter parts.” When he finished, he pushed Byleth’s counters back over to her side of the table and waited. Felix smirked softly by his side, and he could feel the grin burning into the side of his head.

 

Byleth was taken back by Dimitri’s vicious coldness. He never said no to any of her advancements. She was shocked he was putting his foot down and stood up suddenly.

“You Majesty, I do think you are thinking too little of the civilian lives at stake here!” She leaned over the desk again and pointed to each of the villages, “Each of them has been attacked within days of one another, does that not…”

Dimitri set his face and stood up, black armour glinting dangerously, “And I have told you, Your Grace, that I will not allow it. You will endanger them and the Knights, along with our treaties.” He snapped and turned his attention elsewhere, “Present the rest of your trading ideas. I will not move on this one, Byleth.” It slipped past his lips before he could stop himself.

“Dimitri, as your wife…” She covered her mouth and she heard Seteth sigh once again next to her.

“Don’t use that against me, Byleth…” He eyed the room before gesturing to the door, “All of you. Out.”

 

The nobles filed out of the room, and Dimitri felt Felix’s hand on his shoulder before he too followed the rest of the council out of the room. With the prying eyes gone, Dimitri looked at his wife and sighed.

“You cannot keep asking these things of me. It makes me appear weak to the Kingdom, and it is an abuse of our marriage rights, Byleth… You know this.” He stood up and moved around the table, taking her hand in his own as he leaned against the table.

“I’m not…I didn’t mean to. I didn’t intend for it to come across like that, Dima.” She squeezed his hand, “I just want to defend the people…I want them to trust the Church again, not fear the consequences of believing something different. We are meant to be there for all of Fodlan.” She smiled weakly before her husband kissed the back of her hand, turning the palm so he could kiss that as well.

“My love, let us not quarrel politics. I know that you want the best for the Church, and the people, but let me help you with this peace. Those villages are not suffering, you have my word. My own knights are there now, sorting the bandits.” He leaned over to kiss her forehead, pushing the hair from her face before he moved back to his place on the other side of the table, “Now. These trading routes will not sort themselves.”

“Of course, my love, let us not argue and mix state and church.” She took a breath as Dimitri let Dedue open the door once more, “Now. About the Western Merchant routes…”  

Chapter Text

The coldness had warmed throughout them years with their students. They had shown them all manner of emotions, from smiles to tears, and they remembered each well. The tears were hot and burned their eyes as they fell onto the chest of their father, and the smile had been met with Dimitri’s wide-eyed expression, asking for them to smile once more for him. The heartache started after that. The war was cruel, and although Byleth had seen bloodshed, nothing was worse than the injuries of their students, and the agony that came with their deaths. Edelgard’s bloodied body still clung to him like a curse. He knew now of the suffering Dimitri had. Edelgard’s body followed him like a ghost from that day, the cavity in her chest dripping fresh blood down her robes. It hurt to see it. Hubert sometimes lingered as well, head back and neck spurting fresh blood down his cloak.

 

It disgusted him.

 

Years after the war, the smiles began to hurt. Dimitri gently eased them under his arm, cloak swathing them in warm fabric, the fur tickling against Byleth’s neck as they settled into his embrace.

“My beloved. Could you smile for me?” His voice was steeped in sadness as he turned Byleth’s face towards his own, nose pressed to their temple.

Byleth shuddered with a hum against him, “It hurts to, my love.” Instead they pressed themselves further into his warmth, glad to be able to feel something.

Dimitri sighed into their skin, “Please.” It was choked and quiet, almost a whisper.

Byleth opened their eyes before smiling, small, crooked and swallow. There was no warmth in it anymore, “I love you, Dimitri.”

Dimitri held Byleth tighter, “I love you more, my beloved.”

 

Their child had grown by the time Byleth stopped speaking at all. Everything hurt. Nothing felt true. Byleth was simply sat, in their chair, by the window, watching the seasons of Faerghus roll past the pane of glass. There they sat, humming, emotionless and blank, looking at whoever spoke but never replying, the memories of battle slipping through the cracks. Edelgard spoke sometimes, asking what they would have taught her, had they led the Black Eagles. Hubert whispered about being able to fly. The healers said they would only have to live out the rest of their days in peace. The quiet and gentle voice of their husband was comforting.

 

“Byleth?” The King dipped into the room, son leaving at the door, unable to face the sight in the chair anymore, “My beloved?” Dimitri knelt by the chair, older, bearded and set with lines along his face now. When had he grown old? Byleth reached gently for his cheek and sighed before kissing his forehead. Dimitri closed his eye before reaching forwards to hug his partner, “I missed you. Meetings were a bore… Alexandre is handling his new duties well.” He cringed as his son left, slamming the door, much in a fashion after his Uncle Felix. The young man couldn’t face the blank stare anymore.

“Dima.” Byleth kissed his cheek again and nodded, looking at his handsome face, “Our boy will be fine. He takes…after you.” They turned their gaze back to the window and Dimitri felt hot tears burn his eyes and throat.

“He takes after you more, my love.” He took their hand and kissed it gently before taking their meal from the small table, “Come now. You must eat. Fried fish is your favourite…”

 

Byleth shook their head, “I am not…” Looking at their husband’s face they sighed and took the platter with shaking hands, Dimitri’s strong hands guiding it onto their lap.

“Thank you, my love. Now, tell me, what have you seen out of the window?” Dimitri pulled a chair over and sat in front of Byleth.

“The foals are in the fields now. They are beautiful this year. One has a great mix of silver and black hair.” Byleth nodded before eating a mouthful of their food, slowly, watching their second son wrestle in the grass with Sylvain’s daughter.

“They are beautiful, Byleth. Do you need anything?” He asked gently as they ate, “Anything at all? Anything to make you-“ He cut himself off with a sigh and stood as Byleth ignored him, humming to themself again.

“Edelgard would like one of those…Hubert…” They muttered incoherently once more.

 

Dimitri cried as he closed the door.

Chapter Text

Retiring from the monastery happened many years after the war. Seteth watched Byleth age minutely, and eventually requested their leave. It would only be suspicious if they were there, not aging and youthful, as the leaders. Byleth stepped down from the role of Archbishop, and the two of them left for the countryside and the sea front. It was there that Seteth appeared at ease, close enough to walk to the water’s edge. It wasn’t too long after they moved that Byleth fell pregnant. It was unlike any pregnancy she had been told about. The woman was pregnant for almost a year with their child and suffered pain like nothing she had ever felt during the birth. Thankfully, with Flayn and village midwifes, she managed to deliver the child without any lasting effects, just with the extreme feeling of exhaustion.

 

Their child was round faced and small, hair the same soft green as Seteth’s own, yet her eyes were deep blue, like Byleth’s before she was fused with the Goddess. The two of them shed tears, curled together on the bed, fresh bedding around them both and their baby swaddled and laid between the two of them. It didn’t cry for three days, and Seteth assured Byleth that it was fine. She was relieved when the baby girl let out her first scream, legs kicking as she demanded food. Nothing was strange about their daughter as she grew. She played with Elm, Seteth’s Wyvern, and threw food on the walls when she didn’t want to eat carrots. Seteth was overjoyed to have another child to dote on and made sure to relent his tight grip on Flayn. His eldest daughter appreciated the freedom, though she often visited the two of them, her husband in tow. There was one thing that their daughter inherited from Byleth, and that was her lack of attention to danger. As she grew into a toddler and beyond, reaching the age of six, she would often escape into the woods and climb trees. Only Elm could seek out the child, and Byleth often sent Seteth out to collect their daughter from the branches of the woodlands.

 

This time, however, he could not find their daughter.  

“Elm?” Seteth called into the woods. His Wyvern screeched from the trees and flapped down into the underbrush, “You have not found her?” The Wyvern grumbled sadly and Seteth sighed before patting her flank and moving once more through the trees, watching Elm as she stuck her nose into piles of sticks and leaves. His mount’s eyes closed before she squawked and bounded off, awkwardly flapping her wings as she thrashed through the brush and into a small clearing.

“Elm!” Seteth followed on foot quickly, his lance in hand, “Wait!” He huffed softly, cloak flapping behind him as he ran after the Wyvern. He was glad she was finally onto their child. What he found in the clearing, he didn’t expect.

 

In place of his round faced daughter, there was a scaley creature, the size of a pony, curled up around a large rock. Seteth’s eyes widened in shock, mouth falling open as he looked at his daughter. He had no doubt it was her as the little dragon’s blue eyes opened. She was a glittering green serpent, deep mossy green scales and armoured plating along her face and back.

“PAPA!” It screeched before running at him, horns low and blue eyes wide, the crystal clutched in her tail.

“Anu?” He tilted his head before the dragon threw him to the floor, cold and rough scales scrapping along his clothes as she curled up on his chest, hiding her face with a cry, black tears dripping from her eyes. Seteth gently eased his fingers under her wings, rearranging where they were laid against her back, easing her discomfort, “How did you do this?” He was still amazed and caught a glimpse of the stone in her grasp shining, the depths of the green rock shining with pale brilliant light.

“This rock, papa.” She curled it closer to herself and Seteth gently took it from her grasp.

“Come, we must get you home, Anu. Your mother is worried sick.” He heaved her upwards, resting her head over his shoulder before climbing on top of Elm, gently easing her around and upwards, back towards their home.

 

“Seteth!” Byleth rushed from their home, worry causing lines to form in her face, “Did you find her?”

“I believe I have.” He gently eased Anu onto the floor and watched Byleth’s face twist into several emotions.

“Mama!” She cried, claws clutching at her mother’s heavy bottoms, “I can’t change back.” She cried again and Seteth shushed his daughter before taking the stone from her tail.

“Here. I believe this is how she has done it.” Seteth gently picked up his daughter again and Byleth picked up the stone, the sense of familiarity pulsing through her.

“I know of this…well…Sothis does. She made these for those who could not control the dragons.” She hummed before turning the Dragonstone in her hand. With a deep breath, she focused on the centre of the stone, the light glowing brighter before she pressed it to her daughter’s snout. Seteth closed his eyes at the bright light, and gasped as he caught his daughter again. When they both looked again, Anu was human, covered in dirt but asleep against her father’s chest.

 

“Thank the Goddess.” Seteth sighed, cupping the back of his daughter’s head, hugging her close, “I was so shocked. I didn’t think that we…could do such things anymore.” Seteth gently stroked her mossy coloured hair before leaning forwards to kiss his wife.

Byleth cupped his cheeks gently before kissing the top of her daughter’s head, “She will be fine, Seteth, don’t fret. We can help her through everything.” She smiled, “She truly is our little amazing angel.”

Seteth chuckled, “Because she takes after her mother.” He teased, taking Byleth’s hand as they started back towards their home.

“And her father, of course.” The two of them chuckled as they walked.

Chapter Text

For a Saint, Seteth was the pure picture of one. The religious man didn’t often stray from the normal marital rituals, including the lack of spice in their marriage bed. Byleth didn’t tend to mind. Seteth was a caring lover and it wasn’t like she didn’t enjoy what they did do. She felt like she knew very little about what he enjoyed, whereas the male made sure she was constantly looked after. She’d had enough one night.

“Seteth.” Byleth stated cooly, watching as Seteth didn’t look up from his journal, nor the new fable he was penning into it.
“Yes? What is it, my love?” Seteth hummed before continuing to draw the fancy lettering at the beginning of the new page. 
Byleth took a breath before walking over to his desk, standing over the man with a frown, “I feel like we need to spice up what we do in the bedroom.”
The hand that had been holding his spiced tea faltered, and Seteth choked on the liquid, coughing rather violently before he looked at his wife, “Byleth!”

“What?” Byleth tilted her head before crossing her arms underneath her chest, pouting softly.
“This is most improper!” Seteth blathered, the tops of his cheeks red and burning with embarrassment.
“It is improper to ask my husband about our sex life, while in private?” She smirked and Seteth cursed under his breath before pinching the bridge of his nose. 
“What...would you like to discuss about it?” Seteth offered quietly, placing his book and quill away.

“I feel like a I know nothing about what you like, my love. Its all well and good saying ‘to make you happy’, but there has to be something that you wish to enjoy?” She moved around his desk and leaned against the wood of her husband’s desk.

Seteth’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish as he searched for something. He looked at her, out of the corner of his eyes, debating whether or not to tell her. He quickly caved and mumbled, “I would...I have the desire to see you bound...” The rest was unintelligible.
Byleth leaned down over her husband, “What was that, my love?” 
“Do not make me repeat myself!” Seteth warned, face red, sharp teeth clenched dangerously.
“I will not, my love, but how would you like for me to be bound...It sounds exciting.” She offered gently before sitting on the desk in front of him with a smile.

Seteth was warm, far too warm, as he thought on it, “Must you ask me such embarrassing...” He grumbled before looking her in the eyes, “I...Ropes.” He picked up his book once more and hid his face in the pages, not daring to look at her.
“Mmmm.” Byleth slid off his desk, “Sounds like fun.” She tapped her chin before walking to her teaching supply closet, “Maybe I have just the thing then, my love.” 

“Byleth! Please stop this nonsense...” Seteth stood suddenly before feeling heat pool in his gut as Byleth pulled out the coils of rope, “I don’t....” 
“I think I’ve sinned, my Saint...And I need a punishment for such heresy to the Goddess.” Sothis would have groaned in her head at the words.

Her husband froze, his cheeks cooling at little as she took off her evening gown, the silk sliding down her arms, revealing the light nightdress underneath. Seteth closed his eyes, looking off to the side to compose himself. After a deep breath, he rose from his desk and looked her in the eyes.
“Are you asking for punishment before the Goddess?” He watched her fall to her knees, ropes in hand, and blushed softly, fingers twitching as he took the coils from her hands. Byleth’s hands found his thighs, soft fingertips stroking at him before she mouthed at his clothes cock. 

“Please...Please Saint Cichol...” She muttered, nails curling into the meat of his thighs.
“Take your gown off, wicked girl, and stand up. You will not be left off so lightly.” Seteth was glad to have her attention elsewhere as the woman stood, stripping her nightgown off before offering her wrists. With another deep breath, Seteth wrapped the first loop, and then a second, and a third before twisting and tying off the first knot. Already the grazing rope set Byleth on edge. 
“Turn.” Seteth commanded, watching Byleth’s ass wobble before he hugged around her and threaded a second coil of rope under her breasts. He drew it tight and shivered as Byleth moaned into his ear.

“Keep quiet and take your punishment before the Goddess.” 

Chapter Text

Seeing his brothers locked to their draconic forms opened up something very deep in Seteth’s chest. The realisation that he was pathetically weaker than he had been a millenia ago was apparent, but to see even his own brothers falling to the same sickness, it was saddening. They were old, ancient in the history of Fodlan, but they were fading, losing their memories and their powers. Perhaps they too, were never intended to last this long, but rather be another failed project of their Mother’s. He smiled nonetheless, looking to his brothers, sitting before them in their cave of lustrous relics and ancient technology. Indech lowered his head first, dipping his neck so he could press his head to Seteth’s, greeting his brother with fondness before Macuil repeated the motion. 

 

“Indech, Macuil, I am...” Seteth felt his throat go thick with feeling, “Nothing can express how happy I am to see you both again. With brief looks to one another, the two brothers rumbled, Macuil’s beak clicking and Indech’s great armoured back creaking, before they shrank down, eyes glazing with green power and light, burning away at their weak dragon forms until two familiar faces stood before him. Swathed in feathers, heavy robes and large sleeves, Macuil shook his hair first, the great wild locks falling about his shoulders before Indech yawned, armour clinking as he crossed his legs and removed his helmet, the feathers fluttering as he placed it on the stone floor. Indech remained silent, feeling naked without his great helmet, his short mossy, messy hair matted to his face a little, short goatee still as sharp as it had been when they were younger.

 

“We have missed you too, brother.” Macuil started, knowing that Indech would be unlikely to start such a conversation and be able to continue it.

“Yes…Truly.” Indech offered quietly, still a little perturbed that he had been beaten not days before this chat. Though, Cichol was the one to insist on it.

Seteth smiled at them, a soft and genuine smile, though age reflected in the creases of his eyes, “It has been many years…I assumed that you had both faded, though I would not know. I have watched Flayn for nearly…” He paused, eyes looking to the stone, “I don’t believe I know how long. She was not long awakened before we returned to Seiros’ side.” He offered and watched his brothers stiffen, though Macuil tensed less noticeably.

The tactician pulled his thick hair away from his face, brushing his feather collar, “There was a reason we did not return… That woman. I do not…” He reserved his opinions for the sake of his brother, and turned his attention elsewhere, “Did you bring the little one?” Macuil’s eyes delighted at the thought of his niece, and Indech brightened at the idea.

 

“Uncles!” Flayn was flustered, only now daring too peer out from behind her father’s back, “You both almost ruined my identity!” She only fumed for a moment, her uncles both peering at her face, Macuil studying her intensely, before growing embarrassed.

“Cichol! She is no more than a kitling, surely?” Macuil puzzled before beginning to pull at her cheeks.

“UNCLE!” Flayn whined through Macuil’s ministrations.

The elder pulling at her cheeks smiled with glee before looking at Seteth with a raised brow, “She is still a child, brother?”

Seteth sighed and pulled Flayn back a step, patting Macuil’s hands away from his daughter, “The restorative sleep.” He said simply as Flayn sat back by his side, his face sour.

“Ah.” Macuil nodded, “Forgive me, Cethleann. I am old, my mind forgets these things.” The mage nodded his head before patting the top of his head, “Neither of you chose to tell my about my hat?”

 

Flayn gasped softly as Macuil clicked and twisted his wrist, hand glowing with blue magic before a pointed wizard’s hat appeared in it, clutched by the brim.

He set about shining the golden decoration, chuckling at Flayn’s joy, “Child, you can do magic, yet you are fascinated by the simplest tricks.” He clutched his hands together and blew on the fingers before revealing a fluttering butterfly before it flickered into dust.

“Uncle that was beautiful!” Flayn laughed before sliding a little closer to her Uncles.

“He is a showman.” Indech rolled his eyes, looking at his niece with a smile, “Those tricks, however, saved armies on the battle.”

Flayn smiled before flashing a bolt of white magic, forcing Macuil to blink rapidly, “Ah, Flayn, what…Oh that is a rather adorable trick. Most useful before pincer movements.” He observed.

Seteth coughed, “Brother, are you quite finished cooing?” He gave Indech a concealed withering look directed towards Macuil.

“I can continue cooing over your precious daughter, if you would like, brother?” Macuil snapped before pulling Flayn into his lap, the young girl fitting easily there.

 

With a flick of his wrist, Macuil summoned his tome, opening the pages with a gust to show his niece. Indech shook his head before turning back to Cichol, his head tilted.

“You knew it was us…yet you still attacked us, brother…Why?” He tilted his head and looked on sternly, “That woman you were with…She seemed familiar.” Indech leaned over to ruffle Flayn’s curls, smiling as she batted his hands away, pouting at her uncle before she looked back at the pages of the book Macuil was showing her.

“Oh, she is a…work collegue. Her name is Byleth” Seteth nodded to himself before looking up, seeing the smirks forming over his brothers’ faces, “No, both of you, it is not like that. She is human!”

“That never stopped you before you were married, brother.” Macuil droned from his spot, flicking his hair over his shoulder before covering Flayn’s ears, “And it certainly never stopped you from chasing your wife’s tail for fifteen years.”

 

Seteth groaned, clutching his face as Indech laughed, enjoying Macuil’s teasing instead of scolding the mage.

“Perhaps she is something more to you?” Indech offered after he finished laughing, tilting his head to the side, “That blush would suggest so.”

“Indech, please, silence yourself.” Seteth glared at his brother, the icy stare sent Indech’s way making Macuil laugh even more.

“Just ask to court her, Cichol.” Macuil let Flayn hold his tome, winking at Indech, “She would be perfect for you…She is just your type. Able to kill you with one hand.” Macuil laughed rambunctiously as Indech took Flayn from him, sitting the girl in his lap, covering her ears with his large, battle hardened hands. The girl continued to read, humming softly before looking at a rune and the markings on her uncle’s armour.

“It would do him well to have another woman in his life.” Indech nodded in agreement.

“Can we please move away from this topic?” Seteth groaned once more but was met with ignorance again as his brother swapped his daughter between them, showering her with gifts and tomes before ignoring him completely.

 

“Father, can we take these tomes? Uncle Macuil insists I learn the applications of this white magic!” Flayn was overjoyed to learn, her uncles’ gifts making her blush with a pure smile.

 

With a sigh, Seteth smiled, looking at Flayn as she laughed and joked with the old beasts. Perhaps one day, they could have a family again.